The World Will Follow After

When Arthur wakes, his face is pressed into Merlin's chest and he can hear the warlock's heart beat out a steady rhythm in time with his own. Sunlight is still pouring in through the window though it's fading, and he opens his eyes to see Merlin awake and staring at the ceiling.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, and the warlock starts slightly.

"Better, thanks," he says quietly, and looks down at the Prince. "I don't suppose you could sit up or something? My arm's gone dead."

Arthur yawns widely and pushes himself up, running a hand through his hair as Merlin shakes his arm out. The bruises that littered his chest are nearly completely gone, though he still looks tired and the minute scars are still dusted over his face. He wants to ask, but knows better now. But apparently Merlin is in a sharing mood.

"She told me about your own magic," he supplies as he sits up against the headboard, and Arthur copies him for ease of discussion. "About her side of the story, of her part in your birth. She was also pretty annoyed that I kept on foiling her plans to kill both you and your father. That's what the whole revenge thing was about."

Arthur reaches up and brushes his fingers across the silvery marks on Merlin's skin and the warlock flinches almost imperceptibly before leaning into the touch. He drops his hand.

"She was angry. She kept lashing out at me with magic – those are the result of burning ashes that she cast at me. They don't hurt," he added, guessing what Arthur was thinking. "They just look awful."

"They don't."

Merlin's lips quirk up at that, but he doesn't respond directly.

"I realised that your own magic is probably what's been protecting you from my own – acting as a buffer or something, somehow. It makes sense. Keeping that small amount of magic within you, having it grow until it was so powerful, should have killed you."

"So what, you knew that you'd not stripped me of the magic?" he asks, slightly bitter, and Merlin shrugs widely.

"I knew, I think. Sometimes you'd do little bits of magic that nobody else would notice, and you certainly didn't. Or I'd feel something within you reacting when I used magic around you. But I was never sure, and I wanted to be before I said anything."

"You lied to me."

"Never," Merlin hisses, jumping up and grabbing him by the shoulders. "I did this to protect you, Arthur. I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. You should know that by now."

Arthur looks up at him, and Merlin's glaring right down at him, and of course Arthur knows this. He always has, he realises, and looks away.

"I do. I just… it scared me. I was being irrational and when I saw you with Nimueh, when she took you away, I convinced myself that you'd gone with her willingly because she was magical and I wasn't. Which is why I took so long to come and find you. And I'm sorry."

Merlin sighs, releasing his grip and sitting back down, shoulders pressed together.

"I assume you know by now that I'd never do anything like that?" he queries, and Arthur nods.

"You have Morgana to thank for that. She was quite brutal with me. But that, coupled with seeing you helpless whilst she hurt you… I don't know. I was furious."

"But I'm fine now," Merlin points out, and the light shines of the tiny scars over his cheeks. "Gaius healed me, and I'm back home with you, where I belong. There's nothing to worry about."

And Arthur knows this, but he still feels as though something's been ripped out of his chest. He feels vulnerable, telling him this much – as though he's opened himself up and now he's just waiting. But it's a good feeling too, it's liberating, so he finishes what he's started.

"I can't lose you, Merlin," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper as he stares at the floor. "You mean far too much to me."

Merlin says nothing for too long, and Arthur continues to stare downward as he waits for his advisor to just say something. He doesn't, but he shifts and wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling the Prince into his side, and presses his lips to his temple.

"Are you going to take my magic from me?" he asks, his voice barely a whispers, and Merlin nods slowly.

"And you know why. This isn't something that I want to do, Arthur."

Arthur raises a hand to his face and scrubs at his eyes. He's been dreading this since he realised that he still had some magic within him, and whilst he knows that Merlin would let him keep it if he could, he knows that it has to be done.

He starts when he feels the crackling of magic in his hand and pulls it away from his face – Merlin's fingers are inches away from his, and sparks are flying between them in flashes of red and gold. He feels himself smiling despite himself.

"You see?" the warlock says quietly, twitching his hand to vary the flow of magic. "You have your own, and it belongs to you. I'd never take that away – I just need to remove my own. It's still too dangerous for you. Short times are fine, but for too long and you'll burn up."

Arthur knows that he's right, but still – the idea of losing the magic again, after only just getting it back, is painful. Even though he knows he won't be completely without magic because he has his own, royal crimson and thrumming, but it's not the same. Sharing Merlin's magic is like sharing a part of his advisor's heart and soul and he doesn't want to give that up.

"You're sure I can't persuade you otherwise?" he asks hopefully, and Merlin shakes his head.

"But last time I was unsuccessful in taking it all away, I couldn't even managed that. So I'll be keeping an eye out this time, just in case."

Arthur pulls a face as though to protest, even though he mentally agreed to this a while ago, and he knows that Merlin knows. Merlin always knows.

"So how do we do this then?" he asks, voice rough, because he's not looking forward to it. "Spell? Potion? How?"

"How did you think I removed my magic from you in the first place?" Merlin asks, a smirk beginning to form, and Arthur can't help but smile, even though he has no idea what the answer is. What else could it have been if not a potion or incantation or something similar?

Then suddenly Merlin right in front of him and kissing him, right there in his bedroom. Only Arthur realises that he isn't really kissing him when he feels the magic being pulled out of him, sparking out through his eyes and into Merlin's as their lips touch, the other man holding onto Arthur's tunic for support as the power floods into him.

And then the flow of gold stops, but Merlin doesn't. And Arthur feels warm hands on his face and the warlock's lips curling into a smile, arms around him, clutching and never wanting to let go. He can sense Merlin's power, taste the magic on his lips and tongue, feel it thrumming through them both as they stand there, wrapped up in each other. And damn it, it all feels so right, and they're no longer trying to remove the Merlin's magic.

Merlin pulls away, almost reluctantly, and presses his forehead to Arthur's as his breathing comes heavily. His eyes were glowing. And maybe Arthur's are too, or maybe it's just his whole being.

"You're not losing me," his advisor breathes, magic fizzling between their skin, hands still spread across each other's backs. "I'm not going to leave you."

And Arthur believes that – and he smiles, nodding ever so slightly, and pulls Merlin against himself and into an embrace. He holds on tight and prays for this to never end.

**

The sun begins to set outside as Arthur and Merlin walk back to their own chambers, and the sky is streaked with red and gold.

An approving rumble echoes up from the bowels of the castle.

These lines of lightning mean we're never alone
Never alone