So, the plot bunny attacked me and demanded I write a second chapter to this (like six months ago; I'm lazy like that) and after some consideration I realized I actually really liked the idea of making this story a bit more fluffy and thus, chapter two was born. And when I say fluffy, I mean tooth rotting sap because I can. It doesn't really go with the original prompt chapter one was written for (technically part of it does, but overall not really) but I think if you squint you can pretend it does.

Again, credit goes to Kweandee for the original prompt and I, of course, own nothing.

(Wrap My Flesh) In Ivy and in Twine

It's one of the hotter days in Camelot when they find themselves nestled atop the soft grass of the meadow, the summer sun beating relentlessly down on them as Merlin's head rests lazily on Arthur's chest. His slender fingers are moving slowly through Arthur's honey colored hair, the other hand resting over the rhythmic beating of his heart.

It's a slow day, one where they do nothing but relax in each other's company because it's much too hot for training and they both know if they stay in the castle there's absolutely no chance of avoiding interruptions. So instead they sneak out not long after breakfast, fingers laced together as they move through the trees and their faces are lit with smiles and childlike glee, as if this was a secret all their own that no one else was to know of.

The meadow is some ways into the woods, hidden behind a hill just above the stream that runs through the heart of the trees, practically invisible if you're not looking for it. Sometimes Merlin thinks that's what he likes best about it, the fact that no one's besides Arthur knows of his secret, and disappearing is almost as easy as breathing.

He remembers the day Arthur found out about it, when an argument had sent Merlin running for the cover of the trees and the sound of the rushing water as he lay beneath the clouds and let the sun warm his skin. He'd barely heard the footsteps, so entranced with the images the clouds were painting above his head that he'd failed to hear Arthur until he'd dropped down beside him in the grass and the shocked look on Merlin's face had enticed a humored chuckle from the king.

"How'd you find me?"

"Please Merlin; I'm one of the best trackers this kingdom has ever seen. Surely you didn't think you could stay hidden from me?"

"You are an insufferable prat, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

Needless to say Merlin had been able to cross have sex with Arthur somewhere besides the castle off his list after that day and ever since they've found themselves retreating to the same spot when they simply wanted to be alone.

Today is one of those days and Merlin is absolutely relishing the feel of the breeze on his skin and Arthur's arm wrapped around his waist. Lazily he raises his head, watching Arthur's cerulean eyes follow the clouds as they float by and when he presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth the blond looks to him, a small smile tugging at his still swollen lips.

"Something on your mind?" he inquires, eyes flashing with that subtle hint of mischief that makes Merlin's stomach knot in the best way possible.

The raven haired man smiles, the hand that's resting on Arthur's chest carefully snaking its way down, under the fabric of his shirt so Merlin can feel his warmth. His calloused fingers are rough against the smooth skin and Arthur sucks in a series of tiny breaths as Merlin moves across his body, lips and hands tasting and feeling as the King moans below him and Merlin thinks if he doesn't stop now they'll never leave.

He positions himself until he's centered across Arthur's hips, resisting the urge to grind against the hardness pressing against him and instead leaning down to press open mouthed kisses to the expanse of Arthur's chest. His skin is sweet with a musk that is so distinctly Arthur that Merlin thinks he'd know it anywhere, tastes it on his tongue as he moves down Arthur torso and his hands are bruising themselves into Arthur's hips and gods there was no way they were going to make it back for supper tonight.

He continues moving across Arthur as if it's the first time he's laid hands on him, goes from being gentle and slow to hard and demanding and Arthur absolutely keens beneath him. Merlin's almost sure the noises coming from the blonde's mouth are enough to break him but then his fingers flick across the jagged, puffed skin just below Arthur's heart and Merlin feels himself freeze.

Arthur eyes flick open then, settling on Merlin's broken face before he's sitting up and trying to grab at Merlin to pull him close.

"Merlin," he says gently, "It's alright. Come here."

He beckons Merlin forward with the crook of his finger, hands curling around his warlock's shoulders and pulling him in until the younger man collapses against his chest with a defeated sigh.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, "I'm sorry."

Arthur practically deflates at the sound of Merlin's voice, so small and sad and far away despite his close proximity. It pains him to see Merlin like this, racked with guilt and fear despite the fact that the past was a ways behind them and they were safe and alive.

Pressing a kiss to the mess of black hair Arthur waits for Merlin to calm himself, gently breathing in Arthur's scent and digging his fingers into the meat of Arthur's thigh as if tethering himself to reality when his mind wanted so badly to let him slip away.

After a moment's time he finally looks up, attempts a small but weak smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes but let's Arthur know that the worst part is behind them.

"I'm sorry," he says again, "It's just…hard to think about what almost happened, you know? That if I hadn't been able to save you…"

Arthur cut Merlin off with a stern look and a rough kiss that was sure to bruise, pulling back just enough to whisper against the warlock's lips, "Don't ever think like that Merlin. What happened was no fault of yours and if things had ended differently don't ever believe for one second that it would have been your fault."

Merlin takes in a deep breath and his gaze drifts downward, as if he hears what Arthur's saying but can't quite bring himself to believe it. Arthur lets out a growl at that and pulls back, shucking off his shirt and tossing it to the side, Merlin's confusion purely evident on his face as he stares at his king (who very well may have lost his mind).

It's not until Arthur reaches forward and grabs Merlin's hand, bringing it to the scar from Mordred's blade and splaying the fingers across the still pink flesh that things begin to make sense.

"Merlin, look at me," Arthur's voice is demanding, kingly, and Merlin finds himself doing as commanded with little hesitation. "This scar is a memory of the past. It does not dictate the future, our future, any more than yours do. Every day when I look at it I'm reminded of everything I almost lost and everything I should be thankful for, especially you."

As Arthur's voice trails off Merlin feels his heart clench with untamable love and admiration for the man in front of him, nearly unable to comprehend the emotion that floods Arthur's voice when he speaks, trying so hard to get Merlin to see what he can't seem to make himself understand.

Because although Arthur is here with him now Merlin constantly dreams of worlds where his lover is gone and the guilt slowly eats at him. And then, when he remembers how close to this reality they actually came it infects his thoughts like a sickness. In the past his own scars were reminders of his destiny, how he protected Arthur down to his nearly dying breath time and time again but the mark that rests so close to Arthur's heart only serves as the reminder that he was almost too late last time and for Merlin it's nearly too much to bear.

Arthur seems to sense what's going through Merlin's head because he leans in and kisses him again and again until Merlin's nearly dizzy and his breath comes in soft little gasps that ghost across Merlin's cheek.

"You cannot protect me from everything, you know?"

And Merlin manages a smile at that, pressing against his lover and nipping at his bottom lip until he moans, fingers still resting over the reminder that will never fade.

"Doesn't mean I won't keep trying."

End