Chapter Text
Merlin's lung were burning, his legs screaming at him to stop, but he keeps moving. It had been foolish of him to leave his Prince in the small room above the tavern to go talk with Kilgharrah. He had known that it would be a long shot, the dragon helping them with the journey they were on, but he had still hoped. While making his way back, he had spotted a fire. A camp of burly and dangerous looking men. Men apparently with a vendetta against the Royal Family of Camelot. How they had heard that Arthur was there now, in this small village, Merlin did not know. All he was sure of was that, if they managed to find him, they would undoubtedly try to kill him. If he had been able to sneak away from the camp undetected, he may have been able to get to Arthur, and have them both gone by the time the men ever stepped foot in the village. Instead, he had tripped magnificently, drawing too much unwanted attention, and had to run.
His legs nearly give out in sheer relief as the village comes into view, but he forces himself to keep sprinting forward. He can hear the sounds of the men and women inside the tavern as he approaches, laughs and shouts and off-tune singing. He pays all of it no mind as he careens into the door, nearly knocking it right out of place as he falls through. He narrowly avoids falling again, lungs heaving in deep breaths as he steadies himself. All eyes are again on him as he rushes into the room. Disgruntled shouts, and rather rude names, are tossed at his retreating back as he weaves his way through the crowded floor to the stairs at the back. He bumps into some poor soul, and gets a shove to his back in retaliation. He stumbles into the wall, barely taking a second to shake himself off as he moves for the stairs. The angry shouts die down as he takes the rickety stairs two at a time. They groan threateningly under his feet as he charges up them.
As soon as his feet reach the upper floor, he's moving quickly in the direction of the room he had left Arthur behind in. He is keenly aware of his pulse racing in his chest as he nears the door. He doesn't have many options available to him. As good a warrior as Arthur is, there are too many highly skilled men for the Prince to handle alone. The room is too small for Merlin to risk using his magic to defend him, and he doesn't have time to grab Arthur, and their things, and leave before the men get here. His only option, really, was to hide Arthur. Disguise him long enough for the men to move on. But how?
Arthur snaps his head up in surprise when Merlin bursts through the door. "And where exactly have you been? And why do you look like you've just come from a rather arduous training session? What's the matter with you?"
Merlin ignores the Prince's questions, instead asking one of his own. "Arthur, do you trust me?"
The Prince's face contorts slightly. "What kind of question is that? What's going on, Merlin?"
"I don't have time to explain." Merlin replies in a rush, taking a step closer, keenly aware of the door to the tavern banging open again downstairs. "Do you trust me? Yes or no?"
For one heart stopping moment, Arthur doesn't reply. Merlin almost asks again, more urgently, when the Prince finally says in a soft voice, "Of course I do."
With a sigh of relief, Merlin angles his body so he is between Arthur and the door, then steps close enough to cradle the Prince's jaw, keeping him steady as he leans in and kisses him soundly on the mouth. Arthur makes a muffled sound of surprise, hands coming up to rest on Merlin's wrists, and for a moment, Merlin is worried that Arthur is going to pull away and yell at him, effectively giving them both away. Instead, he starts to kiss back, fingers settling over the pulse point in Merlin's wrist.
Merlin's head swims for a moment, but he quickly comes back to himself as he hears heavy footfalls on the stairs, ascending to the second floor. His heart very nearly gives out as he suddenly remembers the ring bearing the Pendragon crest adorning Arthur's finger. If anything now was going to give them away, it would be that.
Easily enough, he pulls his wrist away from Arthur's grip, moving his hand to run gently over the back of Arthur's. Deft fingers grip the cool metal, and slide it from the Prince's finger unnoticed. Under the disguise of gripping the Prince's hips with both hands to walk him forcefully backwards into the wall, he slips the ring into the small pouch hanging from Arthur's belt. Just in time, too, as the multitude of footsteps reach the upper floor and start down the narrow hall, opening doors roughly as they go.
As Arthur's back connects with the hard, unforgiving stone wall behind him, he separates from Merlin's mouth with a soft, breathy gasp. Startled blue eyes fix on Merlin's face before sword calloused fingers curl into the hair on the back of his head, and pull him back in for a much more heated kiss then before. Merlin makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he realizes just how much Arthur seems to want this.
He lets his attention wander to the footfalls approaching the door he so stupidly left open. Not that it would have made much of a difference. Arthur must hear them too, because he tenses in Merlin's hold, and again Merlin fears that Arthur will push him away. He tightens his grip on the Prince's hips. A warning. A plea.
"Hey, you there!" A gruff voice growls out. Merlin's heartrate explodes, and he presses closer to Arthur, trying to make their embrace look as passionate as possible in a desperate attempt to make whoever these men are feel awkward and want to leave. He hears one of them take a step into the room, and he fears that they're about to be made, when he hears a snort of disgruntled disgust behind them.
"Damn bloody kids." The gruff voice snaps, before footsteps lead back out of the room. Merlin keeps his mouth firmly against Arthur's until all the footfalls from all the men have passed the door. When they're gone, he pulls away, but only far enough to catch his breath. There is only one way to and from this floor, and the men will have to pass by again on their way back to the stairs. Arthur is again staring at him with wide, shocked eyes, looking slightly dazed. Under any other circumstances, Merlin would revel in his ability to render the great Prince of Camelot speechless.
He tenses as he hears the men returning. He presses his face closer to Arthur's letting their noses brush, but their lips remain separate. He hears grumbled curses shot their way in several different voices as the men all pass. Merlin closes his eyes tight, and prays that none of them decide to approach them after all. He doesn't realize that he's held his breath until he hears all the men descend the stairs back into the tavern below. Arthur noticeably shivers as Merlin's breath ghosts across his still slightly parted lips. He stays where he is, pressed close to the Prince, until he hears the men leave.
"Right." Merlin says, pushing away as he steadfastly ignores his body begging him to kiss Arthur again. "We need to leave."
Arthur blinks at him. "What?"
'Gods above, he even sounds dazed.' Merlin thinks as he takes another step away, turning to survey the room, and what of Arthur's belongings had been unpacked. Thankfully, there's not much there, so he moves to the bed to repack everything into Arthur's bag. When he turns, both his and the Prince's bags slung over his shoulder, he finds Arthur exactly where he had left him, leaning against the wall, blinking owlishly at him.
"Arthur, come on. Those men are here, looking for you. We need to get out of here before they come back." Merlin says, bordering on slightly desperate. Honestly, what was the matter with him? Merlin waits with bated breath as Arthur blink again, then seems to give himself a little shake.
"Right." He says, finally pushing away from the wall. Merlin heaves a relieved sigh, and heads for the still open door, peeking out to look both up and down the hall to make sure none of them were still lingering in wait. They were completely alone, so he steps out, leading them carefully to the stairs.
"Merlin." Arthur says, close behind him, sounding alarmingly more coherent.
"Not now, Arthur. We need to leave first." Merlin snaps back. There's an annoyed and irritated huff behind him, and he knows that he's walking the line between pushing Arthur too far and coming off as his normal, insolent self.
He treads down the stairs slowly, ears strained to hear anything out of the ordinary from the crowd downstairs. He can feel Arthur behind him, much closer than normal, if the heat along his back is anything to go by, but resolutely refuses to think about it. He won't let himself linger on the feel of Arthur's lips pressing back against his own until they are completely clear of any and all immediate dangers.
When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Merlin casts an uneasy look around the room. He doesn't see any new faces from when he burst inside earlier, but he remains tense and on guard. Who knew what these people did for a living, or in their spare time. Any number of them could have been bought off by those men. They heard of Arthur's whereabouts somehow, after all. Deciding to lead them around the perimeter of the room, so as to avoid the people scattered over the tables throughout the center of the room, he grabs Arthur's wrist and tugs. Arthur huffs behind him again, but surprisingly allows himself to be lead forward. Several hard glares are sent their way, the patrons still unhappy with Merlin's rather rushed entrance earlier.
Merlin gasps in a breath of fresh air as they make it outside. There's no one around, but seeing through the quickly fading light is difficult, and far from accurate. There was an almost vibrating tension underneath Merlin's skin, and he just wanted to get out of this village as soon as possible.
"We need to get to the horses, and ride as far from here as we can." Merlin whispers to the Prince, now standing beside him.
"Good idea. You get them, and meet me back here." Arthur replies. A jolt of panic runs through Merlin's body at the thought of them being separated again.
Before he can stop himself, he blurts out, "No!"
Arthur looks at him, eyebrows raised. "No?"
"We should stick together. We'll be safer that way." Merlin says, not wanting to give away just how little he likes the idea of being apart from his Prince when he knows that danger was nearby. He holds his breath as Arthur looks him over with an unreadable expression on his face.
"Of course. How could I forget how useless you are at protecting yourself. Very well, Merlin, we'll go get the horses together." Arthur replies, but something about the tone of his voice tells Merlin that Arthur actually does agree with him, he just doesn't want to admit it.
Without another word, Merlin leads them off in the direction of the stables nearby. He keeps his eyes and ears trained for any sounds that could alert an attack, but everything around them is quiet. Where did the men go? Before he can take another step, Arthur grabs his shoulder and pulls him around the corner and out of sight, just as two men appear out of the stables, grumbling about royalty and spoiled princes. They wait for several beats after the voices have faded to nothing before ducking back out onto the narrow street, and jogging the rest of the way to the wooden building.
Merlin's usual mount nickers softly as they slip inside, and he brushes his fingers gently over the mare's nose before hurrying to grab their tack from the wall. To his surprise, Arthur grabs his own, easily getting his own stallion ready by himself. If they weren't so pressed for time, Merlin would allow himself the opportunity to stop and gawk at Arthur actually doing something for himself. As it is, he rushes through dong up buckles, and settling their bags behind his mare's saddle, as Arthur leads his mount to the large doors. Merlin leads his own over as Arthur slowly opens them.
With no one in sight, still, they lead their horses out into the fading light, being sure to close the door behind them. No need to announce their presence, or their sudden departure. They both swing up into the saddle easily, making eye contact as they settle on their mounts. Through wordless agreement, they decide to head west, out of the village away from Camelot, and closer to the border of the kingdom. Arthur naturally takes the lead as he kicks his horse forward, the stallion shaking his head in disapproval before surging forward. Merlin's mare follows close behind, happy to let Arthur lead. They hear a few shouts as they gallop through the village streets, but hear no signs on pursuit.
Arthur doesn't slow until he reaches the tree line, and even then, he only slows enough so neither horse trips as they move through the dense foliage in the coming darkness. Merlin remains tense until he feels that they're far enough away from the village, still with no sounds of pursuit, that they're out of danger. His magic stops prickling under his skin, ready to burst forth at his command. His shoulders drop from their previous tense line, and he takes a deep breath, to properly fill his lungs since before he found the men to start with.
"What were you doing?" Arthur asks, and Merlin startles at the sudden noise in the otherwise quiet forest around them.
"I'm not doing anything." He says, confused. Arthur gives him a look, easily telling him that he's an idiot by the expression on his face alone.
"No, I mean before. You left. What were you doing?" The Prince clarifies. Merlin's heartrate picks back up again, the tension returning to his shoulders. He couldn't exactly tell Arthur that he was consulting the supposedly dead Great Dragon about the reported magical disturbances along the border of the kingdom. Not yet, anyway.
"When we passed through earlier, I had noticed some herbs that Gaius was running low on. They're notoriously hard to find, so I thought I'd go back and try and find them." He lies smoothly, internally wincing at how dirty he felt to have to continue to lie to his Prince.
Arthur hums thoughtfully. "And did you? Find them?"
Merlin grunts. "I found something, but it wasn't herbs." He replies. When Arthur raises an eyebrow, barely seen through the dark, Merlin elaborates. "I came across the camp of those men. They had a grudge against your family, and had heard you were there. They wanted to kill you. I couldn't let them."
"So," Arthur starts slowly, "instead of just telling me that before..." He drags off, and Merlin's cheeks redden, either from embarrassment or annoyance, he isn't sure.
"In case you didn't notice, I didn't have a lot of time to explain anything to you." He grouches. "Besides, if I had, you would've just wanted to fight your way out, and there were too many of them. Even for you."
The Prince merely hums again, and Merlin would give anything to be able to read his thoughts. Memories of kissing the man rise back to the forefront of his mind, and he finds himself wanting to make more of the same memories. The feel of Arthur pressed so close to him had been intoxicating, in a way, and he desperately wanted to know if Arthur felt the same way. He had kissed back, after all. Despite the questions burning in his mind, he holds his tongue, obediently following after his Prince in silence.
They ride for another hour or so before Arthur deems them safe, and they stop to make camp for the night. Again, to his vast surprise, Arthur takes care of his own horse, avoiding looking at Merlin at all costs. Merlin feels the sting of that particular rejection strongly, and mumbles about going to find firewood before slipping back out into the quiet solitude of the trees. When he returns with an armful of dry kindling, he finds Arthur seated on the ground, back to a tree, staring thoughtfully ahead of him. He blinks back to the present as Merlin approaches and drops the branches on the ground.
They remain quiet, much to Merlin's fraying nerves, as he sets the branches up properly, and sets them alight. He sits back for a moment, wanting to rest for a second before laying out their bedrolls. His muscles were protesting his long sprint from earlier, and he just wanted to sleep. He's just about to force his body up to continue setting up their camp, when Arthur inhales deeply, readying himself to speak.
"Was there any other reason?" He asks, voice quiet. Merlin stares at him, body freezing still as images of having to confess his magic here and now flood his mind. When Merlin doesn't reply, Arthur look directly into his eyes, and adds, "For kissing me. Did you only do it to hide my identity from those men?"
Merlin stares at him, trying to keep his mouth from falling open, as he registers the almost vulnerable way in which the Prince had voiced his question. Was there another reason? Yes. Simple as that. Merlin had been fighting back feelings for the Royal Prat since shortly after everything with Valiant happened. When Merlin still fails to reply, Arthur flushes slightly in the firelight, and looks away, mumbling something under his breath that could be, "Nevermind."
"Did you want there to be another reason?" Merlin blurts before he can really think of a proper response. Arthur's eyes snap back to meet his. Merlin meets the scrutiny head on.
"If there were... other reasons," Arthur says slowly, "I wouldn't necessarily be opposed to them."
That was not the answer that Merlin has been expecting. He had long ago resigned himself to the fact that his frustratingly growing affections would always be unrequited. The fact that this assumption may not actually be the case has him staring mutely at the Prince again. When Arthur shifts uncomfortably, so subtly that no one but Merlin would notice, Merlin forces himself to speak.
"What exactly would you do if there were other reasons?" Merlin asks, heart in his throat. Arthur studies him intently for a long moment before nodding to himself, seemingly coming to a decision.
"I would tell you to do it again." He replies, voice sure, and face even more so. There are absolutely no hints of uncertainty or indecisiveness anywhere around him. He means every word. Merlin inhales sharply, eyes dropping to Arthur's lips without him consciously doing so. Arthur seems to notice, as he shifts slightly, leaning ever so slightly closer. Merlin forces his eyes back up to Arthur's as he swallows thickly. Intense, deep, blue eyes are already looking back at him. Practically boring down into his very soul.
"Kiss me." The Prince orders, voice low and sure and commanding. Merlin's body obeys before he even fully realizes that he's doing so, crawling forward to straddle the Prince's outstretched legs. Arthur exhales heavily as he leans back against the tree trunk behind him, hands on Merlin's waist pulling him closer.
"Kiss me." He says again, quiet this time, so only the air around them gets disturbed by the words. Merlin has to swallow thickly again before complying with the Prince's command.
This kiss is even better than their first. There is no outward sense of urgency to it, no looming dangers to them. It's just them, and the crackling of the fire next to them. The distant sounds of forest life, and the horses munching contentedly on grain. Merlin's heart flutters madly in his chest as he focuses solely on the feel of Arthur's lips pressed willingly to his own.
When they slowly break apart, Arthur looks up at Merlin in his lap, eyes sparkling in a way that Merlin has never seen before. He smiles back, soft and shy, keenly aware of the red flush to his cheeks.
"Your other reasons are permissible." Arthur says, in as much of a royal tone as he can muster. Merlin barks out a delighted laugh.
"Good to know, Sire." He says, leaning in to kiss him again languidly.