A/N: Well this is it. The end. I am truly more than a little sad it is over, this has been so much fun! I want to thank all of you for reading, commenting, favoring and basically encouraging me to continue. I loved writing this, I adored reading your reactions and it pleased me beyond words to see the biggest response to the chapters I enjoyed the most. This won't be my last Merlin fic, I can promise you that! In fact, if you have any ideas you always wanted to see written, feel free to drop me a line. So thank you again, and have a wonderful Christmas and New Year.

Arthur opens one eye. Dawn is pink and creeping up slowly between the trees surrounding the makeshift camp he built around the injured Merlin last night. There is something different about today, something has changed but he can't quite put a finger on what. He tries to swallow but his mouth is dry and when he attempts to lick his lips all he achieves is making it feel even more desiccated. The obvious is literally staring him in the face but it still takes a while to sink in, when he turns to look toward a still sleeping Merlin.

First it's - didn't I start out at the other side of the campfire last night? Arthur extends an arm still heavy with sleep and rubs his eyes, his mouth stretching in a wide and noisy yawn.

Then, he snorts softly and rolls his eyes at the way Merlin is all tangled up with cloak, bedroll and neckerchief, a brown leaf sticking to his face, his skin color a shade short of death.

And finally, it really sinks in, when he is thinking to himself it would be funny to wake Merlin by pouring ice cold water all over his head. His head. Merlin's head! Not his head!

He scrambles to his feet in a frenzy, shouting Oh yes!, goes on to palm his own face, his hair, counting his fingers, checking they are all still there and Merlin didn't accidentally chop one off while running around in his body. There is a bit of a bruise on the back of his head but nothing worse than what he has had before. He flexes the arm that had mended before his very eyes the previous evening, looking and feeling as if it had never been broken to begin with. When he is sure, absolutely sure, he tilts his head back, laughs loudly and throws his arms up in the air, yelling yes, yes and yes again and again.

He turns to Merlin, now a bit peeved by the lack of response and he nudges him gently with his foot.

'Merlin,' he drawls. 'Wake up Merlin.'

'Please,' Merlin groans, shrinking into himself and away from the offending foot, opening and closing his mouth a few times in an attempt to fill it with enough moisture to actually speak. 'Please,' he repeats, one hand moving over his eyes. 'Stop -saying -words.'

'But Merlin,' Arthur insists, a little annoyed he isn't ready to join in his happiness. 'We're back to normal! Well at least I am, I'm afraid there is no hope for you. Never was, never will be.'

'No, really?' Merlin mumbles, his hand moving over the dead leaf still sticking to his cheek. He peals it off with a vague frown. 'It never occurred to me this headache was a result of you consuming large amounts of alcohol last night. I thought it must have been your brain being so tired of residing inside that head of yours, it is attempting to escape through your eye sockets.'

Arthur wants to respond something harsh to that. Wants to call him an idiot and nudge him a little harder with his foot. But he can tell he is really miserable. And it is sort of his fault. On top of that, he is obviously freezing cold. He can hear Merlin's teeth clatter from where he is looming over him. He understands now, that Merlin's body isn't as resilient as his, so instead of doing something prattish he nearly gives himself away by saying; 'So why don't you just-?' his hand flailing a little aimlessly yet meaningfully in the air. It stills when he can almost see the atmosphere thicken around Merlin and contort into an invisible cloud of tension.

Merlin's eyes have flared wide open, an expression Arthur has seen so many times, not knowing before now what it meant. Merlin's body goes unnervingly unmoving, even his breathing stutters to a halt, and there is something of a trapped hare about him. It occurs to Arthur then, that maybe, just maybe, Merlin isn't this nervous by nature. Maybe it is a result of constantly having to be careful of what he does, what he says, of who he is really, when he is around people. A result of living with the continuous threat of being found out, the unabating fear that one wrong move, one careless word, could be his last. So Arthur drops his hand by his side and finishes his sentence a little lamely with; '- just stay where you are for a while. I will relight the fire, fetch fresh water. Maybe cook some breakfast. We are in no hurry to return to the castle.'

Merlin visibly relaxes at those words and Arthur bends down to pick up the discarded cloak, still warm from his own body heat.

'Here,-.' He hurtles it into Merlin's face with a grin that stretches from ear to ear when Merlin mumbles something inaudible but no doubt not very friendly. 'I'm not carrying you anywhere if you freeze to death.'

Arthur turns away to add more wood to the smoldering embers, his eyes distant and seeing something other than his own hands. The resolve of the night before still holds, to keep this hidden. The secret and wonder that is Merlin, he would guard them both with his life. Even keep it from Merlin himself, for now. Because revealing his knowledge is most certainly going to change who they are forever. Things would be… different. And Arthur isn't ready for that destiny they are bound to share. Not yet.

[End]

Awesome prince, get your sleep

Lose your heart in history

Make us laugh or nothing will

I set a fire just to see what it kills.

(The National - Little Faith)