Merlin was in a slight daze for the rest of the day. He couldn't shake that stupidly elated feeling. It a residue of Arthur, of having him close, of holding him, kissing him, being with him. Was this part of their destiny? Was it foretold, the way his heart quivered every time he caught sight of his prince, the way he constantly intruded on his thoughts? Kilgharrah had said that they were two sides of the same coin, two halves of a whole, but he hadn't mentioned any kissing. Then again, he was a dragon. As far as Merlin knew, dragons didn't exactly kiss very much, and though they tended to understand human behaviour, sometimes better than the humans in question, the concept was perhaps not one they deemed important. Perhaps he was destined to fall in love with Arthur. The notion was slightly strange, but tantalising. Was he in love with Arthur?

Of course he was. He had been for a very long time, though he hadn't realised it properly until he was watching him from afar. How beautiful he was, and how he missed being noticed by him, talking to him, quibbling with him and laughing at him. In moments of great weakness he even missed the incessant shouting and the objects that so often came flying in his direction whenever he got cheeky or wasn't doing his job well enough. At those times, Merlin would shake his head and tell himself to get a grip. There was no use sitting around daydreaming about Arthur, not when there were things to do, and a real Arthur to keep safe.

Now, when Arthur's reciprocation was made clear, Merlin was over the moon. He hadn't allowed himself to hope that he would be able to speak to Arthur again, let alone that if he did, he would receive anything but anger. Their budding friendship was a thing he had considered lost, and the idea that Arthur might be harbouring similar feelings to his own was simply absurd.

There was only one moment when he had allowed himself to hope.

He had seen himself forced to sneak into the prince's room at night in order to lay out a few protective spells which he deemed necessary now that he couldn't frequent the chambers like he used to. He was careful to be as quiet as possible, since the spell needed to be performed with Arthur in the room. Once everything was in place and the enchantment felt strong, he allowed himself one moment to watch Arthur sleep. It was rare that he had an opportunity to be so close to him, and he relished it. The sleeping prince lying there, right in front of him, illuminated by the moonlight. His golden hair was fanned out on the pillow, and his face was at rest. Merlin marvelled at the curve of Arthur's nose, and the little sleepy smile that played on his thin, red lips, betraying the presence of a pleasant dream. How long he stood there just watching, he didn't know, but he was awoken from his trance when Arthur rolled over, and the mumbled word that escaped his lips sounded so much like Merlin's name that his breath hitched. The muffled nature of sleep talk ensured he didn't know exactly what Arthur had said, but the tone had been so soft, so full of affection, that he couldn't help himself imagining a tortured 'what if' as he hurried out of the castle, having lingered for just a moment more than he should have.

Now, though… Even if it was completely nonverbal, the kiss had certainly clarified many things. It struck him as quite possible that Arthur might in fact have been dreaming of him that night, just as he knew he was going to dream about Arthur's embrace, and the feeling of his lips against his own, even more so now that he could recall them and not just guess at how it would feel. He closed his eyes and smiled, allowing himself one more sigh before he pulled himself together. The encounter with the hunters had been a wake up call in more than one way. The illumination in regards to their mutual feelings for each other was very pleasing, less so was the realisation that he was getting reckless, and had almost gotten caught. Actually, he had gotten caught, and it was only luck that it was Arthur that had apprehended him and not someone else. The bandit attack had been a greater challenge than he thought it would be, and he hadn't seen the man with the axe until his weapon was nearly embedded in Arthur's skull. The thought made him cringe. He had risked losing Arthur, and then he had risked exposing himself. He knew the knights had recognised the incident as magical - he always said they were thick, but not even they were that unobservant.

He would have to remember to be more attentive, and that he was not invisible, in spite of his successful subtlety so far. He would be no good to anyone dead, not to Arthur, nor to his parents.

Since Merlin had found his own dwelling in a small cave in the forest not far from the city, a place which he had shaped to his needs with magic, communication with Hunith and Balinor had picked up. Hunith had come across a young raven one day, and used the skill she had from growing up around aminals at the farms of Ealdor - though her own family had never owned anything but a cat, she had helped others out just like every other youth in the village - to domesticate it. Balinor's experience was sparse when it came to anything but dragons, but he insisted that he could be of help in training the bird as well. It was a flying beast after all, and ravens were well known to be among the most magical of birds, hence their association with druids as helpers and messengers. A messenger raven is what theirs became, with Hunith's kind, caring hands and a few whispered words of magic from Balinor.

The two of them had reacted with terror at the news of Merlin's discovery and disappearance from Camelot. The news would have taken months to reach them had it not been for Gaius's experience in communicating with those banished. A little touch of the magic he so rarely practiced saw a simple but obscure spell aid a letter in finding the cavern in which they dwelled, too cautious to live openly among other people. It had been a lonely existence, and they missed their old lives, being able to work, to help. They were both charitable and sociable by nature, though Balinor was more used to both independence and solitude. The isolation had been hard to get used to, and sometimes it had strained their relationship, but mostly they were grateful that they at least had each other. The absence of their son, however, brought them down. They worried over him constantly, and when word came from Gaius, they were relieved to know he was alive, but to have him banished from another kingdom shook them. That he too had had his existence uprooted was a heavy knowledge to carry.

But the fact that Merlin was no longer in Camelot did make communication with him easier. Ofost, their raven, named for a word often used in spells to bring about great speed, was ready to take messages, and Hunith sent the first one off only a few days after they heard of Merlin's new exile. She prayed for his safe return with word from her son, and sure enough, it took little over a day before she had a letter in reply.

Through this mode of communication, they learned a lot about Merlin's current life, and were able to tell him of their own. The sparse dealings with the locals in a nearby village, the occasions on which they encountered travelling Druids and offered them shelter. Those times were a highlight for both of them, though it was not always easy. Merlin loved hearing of their life, and quickly grew fond of Ofost, discovering the bird's love of elderberries and the spot on the back of his head where he liked to be scratched, like a cat. It was nice to be a family again, albeit at a distance. Hunith and Balinor suggested that Merlin come to them, since he was condemned to living in a cave anyway and might as well be with those who lived him, but he insisted on staying in the kingdom of Camelot. There, he could be close to Arthur, and he insisted that it was his first duty to protect the prince.

I know it is difficult to understand, he wrote, but it is my destiny. Kilgharrah told me of it, and my heart has confirmed its truth. Arthur is our only chance of bringing magic back to Camelot without war and vengeance that would damage more than it would help. You know as well as anyone how dark magic can cause ruin. I'll be careful, I promise.

I love you,

Merlin.

It was a great comfort to him to be able to ask them for advice on matters, whether concerning magic, of which Balinor had a slightly different breed of knowledge than Gaius, or practical questions of life, which Hunith was always ready to councel him on. He hadn't detailed the nature of his feelings for Arthur to them - he really didn't think it was necessary, and it would only complicate things.

Two whole days passed after the incident with the hunt before Arthur came to seek Merlin out. He had placed several spells on the castle that acted as alarms, some of which were there to tell him if Arthur was leaving Camelot. Usually that meant that he'd have to follow and keep watch, protecting him against threats, but this time he knew that Arthur was coming for him. He could almost feel him searching. He found Arthur standing some way into the forest, having dismounted his horse, looking around with uncertainty. The prince hesitantly called out,

"Merlin?"

Merlin almost laughed. The nerve he had to expect that all he had to do was go into the forest, and Merlin would follow him and find him. Then again, presumptuous or not, it was the truth. He emerged from the trees quietly. At the rustle of branches, Arthur turned towards him, and his face broke into a smile so wide and beautiful that for a moment, nothing but that smile existed.

"Arthur."

"I knew you'd find me."

"And if I hadn't? It's hardly wise for a price to ride out on his own, unguarded."

"You have no faith in me at all, do you?" Arthur accused with a smirk.

"I have every faith in you."

Arthur averted his eyes for a moment.

"We need to talk," he said.

Merlin nodded.

"Come," he said simply, and then lead the way further into the forest.

Arthur wasn't sure exactly when he lost track of where they were going. He could have sworn he knew these woods as well as the back of his own hand, but the time they were in the clearing in front of Merlin's cave, he was certain he would not be able to find the place again on his own. It was magic, of course, employed to protect Merlin's home. It stung him a little that he still felt he had to protect himself against Arthur, but there was nothing he could do about that at the moment. The clearing didn't feel like it was part of Camelot, or even in the same world. Magic was to blame for that, no doubt.

"This is where you live now?" he asked, as if there was any doubt.

"Yes. It's far enough away to be reasonably safe, but close enough to protect you."

As he spoke, Merlin was running his fingers along the trunks of trees, tracing their knots and patterns, possibly working some kind of magic even now.

"Why do you keep insisting that I can't protect myself?"

"Really, Arthur," said Merlin and turned around. He froze for a moment, apparently not aware of how close behind him Arthur had been. When he spoke again, he was smirking.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've had to save your skin?"

"No, I don't, actually."

Merlin drew a deep breath.

"Even before I left, I had saved you from being stabbed, poisoned, bitten by snakes, sacrificed to Sidhe elders - "

"To what, now?"

"Sidhe elders. They're a kind of faerie. Remember Sophia, that girl you were trying to elope with?"

Arthur's cheeks reddened, he was still ashamed of his folly on that occasion.

"Yes?"

"She was a Sidhe, who enchanted you and nearly drowned you in a lake."

"Really?" Arthur said, intrigued and slightly disturbed by this new information. "What did you do?"

Merlin looked at his hands, which were writhing.

"I killed her," he said lightly, as if having performed that action did not bother him at all.

"Oh," said Arthur, slightly taken aback. Then he accused with a smile, "Jealous."

Merlin laughed, a pleasant sound like the clucking of a brook.

"My point is," he eventually said, "You'd be dead a dozen times over if I hadn't sworn to protect you."

"Sworn?" Arthur's brow furrowed. "Sworn to whom?"

Merlin sighed. This was a potentially contentious point.

"To Kilgharrah, the Great Dragon," he admitted, seeing no reason to lie now.

"So you have been in contact with it!"

"With him," Merlin corrected, "And he is not as great an enemy of yours as you suppose. He told me your destiny and mine, and they are intertwined." As were their fingers now, he noticed. He wondered briefly when that had happened. "You are to be the king who brings peace back to Camelot."

"Camelot is peaceful," Arthur claimed, but even he didn't sound convinced.

"Not for everyone," Merlin said, and let go of Arthur's hand. "Not for me."

Producing two wooden cups from beneath a mossy stump and filling them with water from a small spring beside the cave, he continued.

"Besides, that is not all. If his prophecies are correct, you stand to unite all of Albion one day. Somehow, your coming will unite the good kings and queens of these lands, and end the reign of… Certain others."

He mentioned no names, but that he was thinking of Cenred was quite obvious. Handing a cup to Arthur, he commented,

"I suppose it may not be wise to tell you all of this. But I've no reason to think you will even believe it. Drink, you must be thirsty."

"I believe that you believe it," Arthur answered thoughtfully, "But I also believe that dragons are not to be trusted."

"Do you mean to teach me about dragons?"

"I suppose not."

Merlin sat down, leaning against the trunk of an old oak. He closed his eyes contently. Arthur came to sit beside him, watching him silently. Merlin was aware of it, of course, and after a small while, he opened one eye and raised his eyebrows.

"So," said Arthur, "That's where your loyalty lies, then, with the Dragon?"

"Well, he is my kin, in a way. But no. There are things that Kilgharrah has said that I've… Disregarded." He thought of the dragon's inexplicable hatred for Morgana, and his paranoid claims against the young druid boy they had rescued from execution. "I know I cannot trust him fully. After all, yours was not the only of our fathers to have a hand in his imprisonment." He leaned his head on Arthur's shoulder. "Yet he seems to believe in our destiny."

Arthur raised his hand to Merlin's face and ran his hand across his cheek.

"Our destiny," he repeated. Merlin leaned his head into the caress, closing his eyes again. Arthur was certain the serene satisfaction on the face in is hand made the depths of his soul smile. Then Merlin looked up.

"You haven't kissed me yet," he observed.

"Is that part of destiny, too?" Arthur teased. Merlin snorted and head-butted Arthur's shoulder.

"I don't know. I was rather hoping you'd do it anyway."

Arthur chuckled, and the look on his face was positively malicious. He took Merlin's hand and lifted it to his mouth. He kissed his knuckles one by one, then he leaned his head close to Merlins. Instead of kissing his mouth, however, he twisted around and kissed him behind the ear. Then he kissed his forehead, his chin, he even leaned down and pushed Merlin's scarf aside in order to kiss his collarbone. Merlin gasped in surprise. Then, finally, Arthur kissed him on the lips. The kiss was soft and sweet, and entirely different from the one they had shared days before. It was calmer, and a whole different kind of bliss.

Everything about the cave and the clearing it was in was all touched by Merlin's magic. Arthur wondered, as he kissed the sorcerer goodbye after staying maybe a little bit longer than he had intended, how he had gone so long without realising that his servant had magic. The magic in Merlin's home was like a physical presence, prickling his skin, and it and Merlin were one and the same. It was as if Merlin was part of the air itself, he felt himself surrounded by him, breathing him into his lungs, wanting to keep him there, keep him part of him. He turned for one last look before he rode off, knowing that he'd find his way home, but not his way back. He wondered how long it would be until the next time they'd meet like this.

If Merlin were to decide, it would have to be quite a while. The prince's absence was sure to have been noticed, and though he undoubtedly had a sufficient excuse at hand, there was a limit to how many times he could leave like that without rousing suspicion. Surely Arthur could see that, but he might not want to see it. Merlin, for one, found Arthur's presence intoxicating, and the touch of the prince's skin to his was dangerously addictive. He knew that the affair was one that couldn't last forever, and eventually his feelings would get them both into trouble. Arthur had asked where his loyalties lay, and they lay with him, obviously. For better or worse, so did his heart.