A.N: Oh look, an update! Hopefully it won't take so long for the next one, and there looks to be some slight smuttiness in it, for all of you who've been waiting not-so-patiently for it!

Arthur likes secrecy. For obvious reasons, Merlin knows. Uther has rules about his sons dalliances. Sex is permitted. Love is not.

Arthur steals kisses in hallways, some quick and bruising, others soft and sweet, tinged with the taste of apples fresh picked from the orchard. They don't talk about it, never talk about it. Merlin doesn't ask "Why are we doing this?" and Arthur doesn't answer "Because I love you, you idiot" and mostly things are the same, except that they aren't at all.

Gwen is away, gone with her husband to the eastern borders, and her letters are few and far between, though Merlin treasures the arrival of each one. I hope you and Arthur find yourselves well she writes and Merlin's heart beats an odd little staccato, uncertain of his reply.

(I am well. Arthur is... whatever Arthur is.)

Spring stretches out towards summer and it is during one warm afternoon that Merlin first feels it. A tingle, an itch, thrumming beneath his skin. It's unfamiliar, pleasant almost, for in these brief moments Merlin feels more like himself than he has for a very long while.

"You're quiet today" Arthur says, wine in hand. Merlin smiles, continues polishing the pile of armour so recently dumped in front of him. His fingers ache, they're to thin and soft for this kind of work, and if he's slightly resentful towards Arthur for that, he's not showing it.

"Come here a minute?" Arthur's voice is low and soft, smooth with wine, and like an arse, Merlin listens. Arthur has never kissed him in his chambers before, there has been from the moment they became whatever it is they are, an invisible line at the door that neither have dared to cross.

Arthur's eyes are glazed with wine, and Merlin finds himself thinking oh to hell with it and kisses the taste of wine from the prince's mouth. Arthur is terribly still for a moment, but then his hands are reaching and Merlin falls ungracefully into his lap.

"Hello" He says, for want of anything better to say, because what exactly does one say in a prince's lap? Arthur's eyes are wide, and Merlin can feel his heartbeat beneath his fingertips, and his hands on the warm curve of his waist. The wine is sweet on his tongue, and underneath that Arthur is all his own taste and Merlin seeks it out hungrily, humming his pleasure against Arthur's lips.

No no no no no! Acid rises in Merlin's throat, the hand cupped around his arse stroking gently and it needs to stop, has to stop. Merlin's entire being is narrowed to that one soft movement and he's suddenly twisting away, fingers scrabbling against skin as he struggles against the arms that try to hold him still.

"What the hell-?" Arthur hisses as Merlin finally breaks free, leaving several long deep scratches up his inner arm. It stings like an absolute bitch, and Merlin is skittering across the floor like a spider, horrible broken sounds tearing from his throat.

"What the hell?" Arthur says again, and Merlin is backed up against the door, shuddering and gasping for breath. He's looking at Arthur with an expression like a kicked puppy, which is why it's such a damn surprise when he whimpers and starts muttering sorry sorry sorry over and over again.

"What was that?" Arthur breathes, and he doesn't dare move any closer, not with Merlin behaving like some deranged creature who might be perfectly willing to give his other arm matching scratches.

"You touched me" Merlin grinds out, his arms wrapping around himself tightly, like the room is too cold, despite the fire crackling in the grate.

"Well, yes, I thought you'd like it-" Arthur begins and Merlin is shaking his head furiously.

"You can't touch me,not like that" His voice is calmer at least, Arthur counts that as a positive, even if he does have a near hysterical girl curled against his door, who's really a boy and clearly not as okay with that as he might have led people to believe.

"I thought- You didn't mind the other things" It sounds ridiculous, even to him, his uncertain voice.

"You can kiss me" Merlin says quietly, "You can't touch me"

"I thought it was better, I thought you were better-" Arthur regrets the words as soon as he says them, and he doesn't like the look in Merlin's eyes, nor the absolute fury twisting over his features. The sparks of magic crackling from his fingertips aren't exactly comforting either.

"Better?" Merlin is off the floor, stalking across the room like a wild animal, and Arthur finds himself retreating back against the windows until he can go no further and Merlin has him cornered.

"You think you can cut my hair and give me some new clothes and everything will be better? You think you can just pretend like everything is normal and it will be?" He's shaking with fury, and the next words out of his mouth hurt more than any of the previous. "You make me hate you"

Arthur thinks Merlin might be about to hit him, he certainly looks angry enough, his whole body is practically vibrating, but then he jumps suddenly and gives a cry like a wounded animal.

"Son of a-" The curse sounds all wrong to Arthur's ears. It's too soft, too pretty and not at all Merlin. Merlin, who is currently staring at his hand, wincing.

"I guess we have to get along then" He says with annoyance and shows Arthur his palm. It's red and shiny, something like a burn, and Merlin hisses when he straightens his fingers.

"What exactly is this? And don't say magic" Merlin grins with a kind of sadistic pleasure at this and then responds-

"Magic"

"You got so angry you burnt yourself?" An odd expression ripples across Merlin's face, his lips twisting, fighting back the inevitable smile, and the burble of laughter that escapes is like a breath of fresh air.

"Of course not, you absolute berk" And Merlin is gone, giggling helplessly, falling against Arthur, who wonders exactly what possessed him to fall in helpless love with someone so completely mental.

"It's this horrid bloody curse, I can't hurt you. I can't even think about hurting you, not when it's supposed to make you love me"

"What?" Arthur finds he intensely dislikes the thought that he might be bewitched into loving Merlin, and opens his mouth to say so, but Merlin stops him with a smile.

"You're not bewitched Arthur. But what were the chances of you fancying me as a man? I had to be a woman to have any chance of attracting you" He sighs. "Which I suppose means if this ever wears off you won't be interested anymore"

Arthur doesn't know how to respond, he settles on the first, most ridiculous thought that pops into his head.

"Will you still feel the same when you change back?" What he actually wants to ask is will you still love me? but he doesn't know that Merlin does love him at all, only that he seems to like being kissed and doesn't like being touched, and he doesn't know how much of that is Merlin and how much is the magic binding him to this body.

Merlin's face is very soft now and he strokes Arthur's cheek with his non-burnt hand.

"Oh Arthur" He sighs "I've been stupid in love with you since we met. I want to be clear on this, so even your silly little prince's brain can understand: you won't be rid of me so easily"

Arthur's vision goes swimmy for a moment, but when it clears Merlin is still looking at him with warm eyes and a sad smile. Arthur recognises that they are in dangerous territory here, walking a knife edge that sooner or later has to give. He rather hopes it tips in his favour, fate could not be so impossibly cruel as to give him such a brief taste of something so lovely and then snatch it away.

"You're lovely" Arthur says, and immediately feels stupid, because of course that should have been when he confessed his undying love and he's gone and cocked everything up, again. Merlin blushes and looks away for a moment, his fingers curling into the hem of his shirt.

"I don't know who I am anymore" Merlin says, and Arthur pulls his chin up to see his eyes, blue against blue.

"You're brave and stupid and kind and reckless, and you're magic. You're the worst manservant I have ever had, and also the best, and when I'm king you'll make me good, and if I'm very, very lucky you'll let me love you too"

Merlin kisses like he's drowning.

So life goes on, and Merlin tries to ignore the lovely tingle that keeps rippling beneath his skin, because it's too wonderful, too impossible to hope that it might mean what he thinks it means. He finds himself daydreaming about his body, his real body, with all it's awkward angles and ears that stick out too far, and he wonders if Arthur daydreams about it too.

"When you change back-" Arthur breathes in his ear one night, "-I'm never going to let you out of my bed" Merlin laughs at this, because he can feel what his presence in Arthur's lap is doing to the prince and he knows that the moment he changes back it will be he dragging Arthur to bed and making up for this unusual form of torture.

"Let's hope this curse breaks soon then"

"Midsummer" Arthur murmurs between kisses, and Merlin freezes, every nerve ending suddenly on fire.

"What?" Arthur looks at him with half-lidded eyes and says again:

"Midsummer"

Midsummer. Merlin decides not to question Arthur's conviction in this date, decides not to argue or tell him not to pin his hopes on such an arbitrary date. Instead he lets a small part of him swell with hope and lets Arthur kiss him until both their mouths are swollen and sore.

Somehow, midsummer feels just right to Merlin.