There was no doubt about it. Merlin definitely preferred the time when Arthur hadn't known about his magic. In fact, Merlin didn't think he was above looking for a time travel spell and undoing the mistake of revealing his magic. Granted that Arthur would have succumbed to his wounds and died otherwise but at least dead men couldn't speak.

It had begun the way it always did. With a hunt. A completely unnecessary hunt in the middle of winter that Arthur had absolutely insisted on, pointedly ignoring Merlin's protests and dragging the warlock along with him. Merlin was getting slightly concerned about their co-dependency.

And that's how Merlin had found himself in the middle of the woods, clutching hunting gear with frozen fingers and cursing the day he'd met Arthur Pendragon.

Arthur was getting increasingly frustrated because the steam he needed to blow off wasn't evaporating anywhere since there was no poor animal in sight he could ruthlessly kill. Merlin was secretly pleased, even though he knew he was the one who'd have to deal with Arthur's temper tantrums later.

As Merlin was daydreaming about warm blankets and some hot stew, an arrow went whizzing past his ear and lodged itself in the tree behind him. He dropped the hunting gear, his heart thudding loudly against his chest.

"Merlin, look out!" Arthur shouted, grabbing Merlin's arm with one hand and unsheathing his sword with the other. They flattened themselves against the tree, and Arthur peeked around to survey the danger.

"Bandits," he muttered. "Two of them, as far as I can see."

"Still think a hunt was a good idea, sire?" Merlin hissed venomously.

"For goodness' sake Merlin, not right now!" snapped Arthur, a trace of guilt colouring his voice.

Merlin was about to retort when another arrow went flying beside them and Arthur uncovered a sharp knife from his boots and threw it towards the source with a precise aim.

The knife found its mark as they heard a painful cry and the thump of a body on the ground.

Arthur took a deep breath, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword and stepped out of the cover of the tree, lunging and swinging at the second bandit.

Merlin slipped out just in time to see the felled bandit getting up and aiming an arrow at Arthur's back. Merlin instinctively felt the surge of magic in his veins and he flicked his wrist at the man, the arrow turning around and sticking itself into his chest instead. His eyes rolled backwards and he collapsed against a tree with a sickening crunch.

Merlin averted his eyes from the body to find Arthur easily overpowering the second bandit. However, as Arthur was about to deliver the final blow, the bandit exposed a dagger from his belt and stabbed it deep in Arthur's stomach, the blade ripping through cloth and skin.

"NOOO!" Merlin screamed in horror, tripping forward in an attempt to reach his king.

Arthur continued with his previous action and drove his sword through the bandit, not losing his balance till the thug was lying on the ground with his life snuffed out.

Arthur dug the tip of his sword into the soil and leaned against the hilt, as his knees buckled underneath him, one of his hands covering the bloody knife wedged into his stomach.

Merlin caught him before he fell forward.

"Arthur, Arthur," he breathed, blood pounding in his ears as he laid him on the ground with shaking hands.

Arthur's breath was coming out in short, painful gasps and his eyes were unfocused.

Merlin knelt beside him, trembling and trying to gain some semblance of control.

"Okay, okay," he said raggedly. "Let's see how deep this wound is. You're going to be okay, Arthur."

Arthur's eyes snapped to attention at that and Merlin found himself on the receiving end of his intense stare.

"Merlin," he said weakly.

Merlin ignored him and concentrated on the wound, slowly peeling Arthur's hand away from it and surveying the damage. There was a bluish tinge to the blood and Merlin leaned forward to inspect it. The blade of the knife that was visible was covered in what looked like…poison. Poison that was already in Arthur's body and spreading rapidly.

Merlin swallowed hard, desperately wracking his brain for ways he could fix this. He couldn't come up with anything. They were half a day's journey from Camelot, there wasn't enough time to somehow get Arthur to Gaius. He removed his jacket to apply pressure to the wound but he couldn't think of anything else. He could still try to do something about the knife injury but he didn't know how to stop the poison from spreading, especially without knowing what kind it was. Not without –not without using…

Merlin's helplessness must have shown on his face because Arthur grasped his arm. "Merlin, look at me."

Merlin lifted his eyes to meet Arthur's. He was smiling slightly.

"I'm dying, aren't I?" he asked bluntly, his chest rising and falling shallowly.

"No," said Merlin fiercely. "You're not. Not on my watch."

"Merlin –"

"Shut up, clotpole and let me think," Merlin admonished, not quite able to hide the tremble in his voice. He looked at Arthur, with his hair sticking to his forehead and his too blue eyes, and he made his decision. There was never any other option. Arthur's life took precedence for everything. Everything.

Arthur's gaze upon Merlin's face was steady, his expression unreadable. He inhaled slowly, his jaw set.

"Merlin, I'm going to do something," he announced, looking determined.

Merlin frowned at him, involuntarily leaning closer. "What?"

Then before Merlin knew what was happening, Arthur's hand shot out to clutch at Merlin's neckerchief as he brought his face down to kiss him on the mouth.

Merlin made a small squeak of surprise, his brain shutting off immediately on the searing contact.

Arthur released him just as quickly, and said, "I was not about to die without ever having done that."

Merlin gaped at him.

"You're –you're not going to die," he finally managed to stammer, his lips still tingling. He decided to shove the kiss in a faraway compartment in his brain to revisit later. He didn't think he could handle the enormity of Arthur's actions right then, on top of everything else that was going on.

Arthur huffed out a laugh and then winced, his hand going to his stomach. "At least don't lie to me now," he said through gritted teeth, eyes shutting in pain.

"I'm not," said Merlin. His voice was a lot calmer than he had anticipated. "Arthur, I'm also going to do something. Just –just-"

Arthur raised his eyebrows at him questioningly.

"Just -don't hate me."

Averting his eyes, Merlin removed his blood-soaked jacket from the wound and placed his hand lightly on it, feeling his magic rising up to heal Arthur, to make him whole again.

He heard Arthur inhale sharply, and guessed that his eyes had turned golden. He swallowed and kept going. He couldn't afford to think about anything else.

Merlin felt the poison retreat back on to the knife, and Arthur's skin starting to knit itself, repairing the tears. The knife slowly slipped out and hit the ground with a clang, the blade glimmering with the crimson of blood and bluish green of poison.

Where there was a deep gash earlier now remained only had a fresh, angry looking scar. Merlin called his magic back and nearly toppled over with the strength of it.

He breathed hard and stared at his hands, suddenly feeling drained of all energy.

He didn't dare look at Arthur.

Arthur demanded that they head back to Camelot, instead of spending the night in the forest. Upon seeing Merlin's terrified face, he assured him somewhat angrily that it wasn't to execute Merlin, he wasn't a complete tyrant.

Arthur didn't speak much on the journey, his eyes stormy and conflicted. However, he didn't stop Merlin when he desperately explained why he'd done what he'd done and apologised again and again.

Arthur listened to everything. He silently acknowledged every reason, every incident, every explanation that Merlin offered him.

Merlin didn't want to get ahead of himself but he thought maybe Arthur's face seemed just a little bit softened by the time they spotted the turrets of Camelot in the moonlight.

Merlin wordlessly cleaned the area around Arthur's wound, the scar till raw and requiring care. He could feel Arthur's eyes on him the whole time, observing him carefully.

Merlin didn't know what to think, didn't know where they stood. He'd said all he wanted to say, spoken and explained till his throat ran dry, only to receive no clear response from the king. He was exhausted, his mind was a jumbled mess and his heart ached every time he looked at Arthur.

So he didn't look.

He kept his eyes on the ground as he stoked the fire, as Arthur got into bed and as Merlin started blowing out all the candles.

He bit his lip nervously when he reached the one on Arthur's bedside. Arthur's gaze was still steadily focused on his face. Merlin was starting to wonder if he'd grown horns or something.

Feeling dizzy with a myriad of intense emotions, Merlin quickly blew out the candle and started to leave.

Arthur caught his wrist, his warm fingers circling the delicate bones and skin.

Merlin's breath caught and he slowly turned to face him.

"Stay," Arthur said quietly, and he looked so impossibly young in the moment that Merlin's heart lurched uncomfortably, feeling too big for his chest.

Swallowing hard, Merlin tentatively lay down on the bed, because when had he ever been able to deny his king anything? Especially when he looked at Merlin like that, with unguarded eyes and fragile vulnerability reflecting off him.

The toll of the day caught up to Merlin as his head hit the pillow, exhaustion enveloping him completely.

Merlin sunk into the mattress and let sleep take him, barely registering Arthur's hand still holding on to him.

Merlin didn't know who moved first but suddenly it was light outside and Arthur's golden hair was tousled from sleep and his hands were on Merlin's face and they were kissing.

"This –doesn't mean –I've forgiven –you," Arthur mumbled between hot presses of his lips to Merlin's mouth. "I'm –still so angry, Merlin –and I don't – I don't know what to think –but gods, I've wanted to do this for such a long time."

Merlin, feeling lightheaded and completely in over his head, didn't think he was in any condition to speak.

So he just counted his lucky stars and held on for dear life.

Arthur took his sweet time processing everything, and Merlin gave him his space. Merlin gave him whatever he needed.

Sometimes they would receive reports of rogue sorcerers wreaking havoc in the villages or a child dying at the hands of a vengeful witch and those were the periods when Arthur became aloof and distant, his face like a canvas painted with a maelstrom of conflicted emotions. Those were also the periods Merlin showed him the most sacred, the most pure, the most beautiful forms of magic he possessed, desperately seeking to restore balance in Arthur's warring mind.

Meanwhile, they both picked up habits around each other.

Merlin developed a habit of sleeping in Arthur's bed every night and Arthur, in turn, started to asking Merlin relentless questions about his power, and about sorcery in general. How it could be used as a weapon, how it could be used to fortify the kingdom, how it could be used in medicine, the dastardly practices of dark magic, how agricultural output could be increased, how disasters could like draughts could be handled, how the lives of his people could be improved –and Merlin answered these questions eagerly and honestly, not wishing to lie to him about anything anymore.

Arthur never dared speak of this in the daytime. This new part of him only seemed to bloom and reveal itself in the cover of darkness. It stung Merlin a little but he knew Arthur needed time to unravel years of bigoted beliefs indoctrinated by his father. He just needed time.

After some time, when Merlin had an especially tiring day, Arthur's late-night discussions felt horribly tedious and Merlin didn't know how to ask him to shut up and go to sleep, not when the topic was so sensitive.

Merlin found other ways to do that. Sometimes he would pretend to be asleep and sometimes he even resorted to pressing Arthur down into the mattress and kissing him until he was so breathless that he couldn't possibly think of speaking.

An extremely frustrated Merlin once considered taking Arthur's voice away for a week. However, that also meant that he would not get to hear the partly insulting sweet nothings Arthur hotly whispered into his ears at times and Merlin rather liked those. Not to mention, he also had a kingdom to run and speeches to give and problems to solve. (And maybe Merlin was also a little in love with the sound of his voice.

The barrage of questioning increased tenfold after Merlin introduced Arthur to Kilgharrah, who gave him the whole spiel of their shared destiny and Merlin seriously debated just going back to his own chamber to sleep but as it turned out, luxury was very easy to get used to. And so were their stolen moments of privacy in the morning that Merlin would guard with his life, no matter how much Arthur talked his ears off.

It wasn't long before Merlin started noticing little changes in Arthur's decisions, his ruling. Like when he ordered the arrest of two thugs who had destroyed the Druid camp near Camelot, or when he offered the same Druids aid and sanctuary in Camelot. Or when he specifically told Gaius that he could use magic in his practice, if it saved lives. Or when he banished a guard who was harassing a little girl whose eyes he saw turning gold, or when he personally made sure she safely reached home to her parents.

Merlin's heart swelled with pride for his king during these moments. He would gladly engage in a lifetime of discussions about magic-induced crop productivity with Arthur in the middle of the night for just a glimpse of them.

Merlin was drained to his bones. Every muscle in his body ached and his eyes felt like lead. He wanted nothing more than to be dead to the world for the next eight hours.

His wish was not granted.

It started with Arthur's hand finding its way into Merlin's hair and gently running his fingers through them.

Oh. Oh, that felt so good.

Merlin gave a contented sigh, burrowing deeper into the pillow.

In hindsight, he should've realised that it was too good to be true.

"Merlin?" came Arthur's voice.

Merlin didn't answer, hoping he would take the hint and leave him alone.

"Are you awake?" Arthur tried again, nothing if not persistent.

He tugged a lock of Merlin's hair and Merlin elicited a petulant whine.

"Arthur, no," he said, his speech muffled. "Please go away."

"Do you think we could forge better weapons using magic?" Arthur asked, casually ignoring Merlin's protests.

Merlin didn't listen to a word of what he'd said. "Arthur, I'm warning you. I won't hesitate to abuse my power and fling you out of the window," he threatened.

Arthur laughed and tugged at Merlin's hair again.

Merlin wanted to scream. He was maddening and Merlin was currently entertaining several regicidal thoughts.

"Come on, this is important," Arthur insisted, shifting closer to lightly wrap his arm around Merlin's waist.

Merlin twisted around to face him and hissed, "That's what you said when you roped me into talking about grain stores last week. I am not falling for it again."

"Merlin –"

"I don't care," Merlin snapped. "I'm going to sleep now and you can't stop me, Arthur. Enough is enough. I don't want a word out of your mouth after sunset for the next month, unless it's to–"

"Then I suppose you're not interested in the position of Court Sorcerer? Hmm, fine. Goodnight," Arthur said nonchalantly and turned his back to Merlin.

All the anger drained out of Merlin immediately and he stared at Arthur.

"What did you say?" he asked, stunned.

Arthur didn't answer and shuffled into a more comfortable position.

Merlin sat up, his exhaustion flying out the window. He shook Arthur's shoulder. "Arthur, did you just say 'Court Sorcerer'?"

"Gods Merlin, do keep quiet. I'm trying to sleep," Arthur said obnoxiously, and Merlin could just hear him smirk.

Prat, he thought and glared at his ridiculously blond head.

"It's not funny," Merlin ground out, grabbing Arthur's arm and turning him around to face him. "Are you sure? You're going to have a Court Sorcerer?"

"A Court Sorcerer? Are you seriously speaking about yourself in third person, Merlin?" Arthur asked, a stupidly delighted grin gracing his features.

It seemed like Merlin's heart had climbed up his throat, and his magic excitedly crackled at his fingertips.

He laughed in disbelief, running his hands through his hair. "Arthur –" he said, "I –I don't know what to say."

Arthur was watching him with impossibly tender eyes.

"You do know what this means, don't you?" Merlin asked, as a bout of uncertainty seized him. "This is the last step. You've already lifted the ban on magic but this means you're officially encouraging its use. Having a Court Sorcerer, having me, standing beside you in a position of power sends the message that Camelot is –that you're –I just…you're sure, right? You're absolutely certain this is what you want –"

"Goodness Merlin, yes I'm sure," Arthur said with a roll of his eyes. "I've thought about this for ages. You're the reason I reached this decision. Our nightly talks –you didn't think they were for nothing, did you? All my questions, they weren't random, Merlin. I've been moving towards this step for months, perhaps taking much longer than I should have."

Merlin just gaped at him, his brain processing information at an annoyingly sluggish speed. "I –"

"I trust you, okay? Now stop worrying," Arthur said, and then his lips quirked up. "Though I must tell you that almost the entire court thinks you've been convincing me through sexual favours and your appointment as Court Sorcerer will just confirm that."

Merlin couldn't stop the smile threatening to split his face. "Well, they're not wrong," he admitted. "As long as I'm not called your consort, I think I'll be fine."

Arthur brightened up. "That can be arranged –"

"I will literally poison you," Merlin warned him.

"The number of threats to my life you make on a daily basis is alarming, Merlin," Arthur said with a lazy smile, pulling Merlin towards him. "I think it's about time I informed the guards about your intentions."

Merlin fisted a hand in Arthur's tunic and brought his face closer. "If you don't shut up and put your mouth to another use in the next five seconds, I'll –"

Arthur didn't need telling twice.

A/N: I take no responsibility for this fic.

Some chaotic demon possessed me, wrote this in a couple of hours and now I'm posting this, fully knowing that it may be complete shit. I have not even proofread this, RIP.

That is all.

Stay safe in quarantine, everyone!