Title: Myne Owne Hertis Rote

Rating: Well, given my track record…

Summary: A series of windows into the journey of Merlin and Arthur's relationship.

Disclaimer: Right now it's 99% canon. If I'd been one of the writers it would be 110% canon.

Author's Notes: This is a series of drabbles, spanning from season one to season five, so they contain spoilers. The title is Medieval English for, "Mine Own Heart's Root," which was a term of endearment at the time. You can thank the amazing Celeste. for coming up with the title. As a matter of fact, you can thank her for getting me into this television show in the first place.

Also, there is very little plot to these, as they are a supplement to the main plot of the episodes. Consider them deleted scenes or minor script rewrites.

Merlin hated Arthur from the beginning. Of that, he was certain.

He was attracted to Arthur the moment the prince said, "I could take you apart with one blow," of that he was certain as well.

What he wasn't quite as certain of was when he fell in love with the prat.

Because Arthur was a prat.

He was insensitive, boorish, impatient, condescending, selfish, quick to anger and blame, spoiled, brave, quick thinking, devoted, dedicated, handsome…

Damn it!

Of all the inconvenient crushes to have—really, being queer was one thing, something he couldn't really control, like magic, but falling in love with the son of the man who hated magic more than anything—and a Crown Prince to boot—that was just stupidity. And Merlin was not stupid, despite what Arthur and Gaius seemed to think.

Perhaps it had been when he'd shown Arthur the snakehead and Arthur had taken one look at him and said, "I believe you." He'd had no reason to believe Arthur, they barely knew each other by that point, and yet he'd trusted him. Merlin couldn't deny the memory gave him a small thrill in his stomach.

It might have been when he'd seen, in his fever, how Arthur was risking himself for Merlin's sake. He'd been dying and yet he'd somehow known the danger Arthur was in, and he had reacted instinctively to save Arthur.

Or, wait, it could have been when Arthur had risked everything—Uther's wrath, his own life—to save Ealdor from bandits. Ealdor wasn't even a part of Camelot and yet Arthur had not hesitated to help. Merlin found himself smiling at the memory and schooled his face into a stern expression.

Unauthorized smiles were another thing he'd been doing around Arthur lately, that and the fluttering stomach, the flushing cheeks, and the stumbling around. Really, no wonder Arthur thought he was so incompetent.

It was so bad he had a feeling Gwen suspected.

But no, no Merlin was going to be strong. He was going to deal with this crush as he had with all others—by suffering in silence until it went away. And it would eventually go away. It had to. (And the Great Dragon, Mr. You and Arthur Have a Shared Destiny, Mr. Two Sides of the Same Coin, could keep his thoughts to himself, thank you very much.)

That plan was actually going very well until Nimueh.

With Arthur balanced on the knife's edge between life and death, Merlin had not once hesitated to bargain his life for Arthur's. When he'd learned that the life traded had been his mother's he was upset, for she deserved life more than anyone else he knew, but he would fling himself again and again upon the sword so that Arthur could live.

It was then, standing in the rain, about to drink from the cup, that he knew. This wasn't just a crush. People with crushes didn't do absolutely anything the object of their affection said, no matter how inane the request (order, in Arthur's case). They didn't picture spending the rest of their lives serving their crush and be perfectly content with that image. And they certainly didn't sacrifice their own lives without even a second thought.

He'd fallen in love.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!