Work Text:
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Prompt: This is just the sweetest thing! The whole series is just so good and I KNOW it's already three parts long but pleeeeeaseeeee more???? - Grey_eyed_Birdie
*takes a very big breath*
*that one meme of the Grinch screaming during yoga*
FEED ME MORE I BEG THEE - lilou0922
Okay, I know we have like three parts now and it's just pushing luck, but... Wouldn't you like to see Uther's face when Arthur and Morgana slowly take over...? - LittleMermaidsBestFriend
YES - T1ld3
Ii starts slow.
Arthur and Morgana simply ask questions at first, pointing out how they’re going off of suspicion, not actual proof. Then asking if the person has been hurt by their so-called ‘evidence.’ Then pointing out how if you offer a monetary reward for coming forward, more people are likely to come forward.
“It incentivizes lying,” Morgana says, “making up a story for their own gain.”
“Sorcery is not a matter to be taken lightly,” Uther says sternly, “what possible reason could they have for lying?”
“A large bag of the crown’s gold.” Arthur looks at Uther. “Most of our people are poor, barely able to survive on the few crops they are able to grow themselves. Any source of income would be viewed as an opportunity.”
“Taking that into account, it’s far more likely that these aren’t a substantial basis for persecution.” Morgana tilts her head and smiles.
Uther glares back and forth between the two of them. “You two have no basis for this accusation, the reports of sorcery have always been—“
“I-if I may, sire,” the steward stammers, “the Prince and the Lady Morgana are correct in stating that the-the confessions have changed as of late.”
Merlin can’t help tighten his grip on Gwen’s hand when Uther’s icy glare turns on the steward.
“Explain,” the king says in a tone that really means ‘take it back or I will have you punished.’
“W-well, sire, it’s just that the—the confessions did start to happen more frequently once you…decided that there would be a reward for coming forward.”
“Have the nature of the confessions changed,” Arthur asks, “in a similar fashion? Are they more severe? Less? More specific?”
The steward casts a frightened look at Uther before answering. “Th-they are less specific, sire, and more…vague.”
“Thank you,” Arthur says kindly before turning his attention back to his father. “The confessions are more likely than not driven by the end goal of seeking the reward. That’s not a firm enough basis to take any significant action.”
“How dare—“
“If not for the sake of ensuring we do not waste our resources,” Arthur cuts in smoothly, “if we waste time sending the guards after small, non-specific leads, we risk not being equipped enough to deal with any significant threats.”
“We are already stretched thin as it is,” another knight points out, “we do not have the manpower to devote to these…sources.”
“If we pull back the guards,” Arthur says thoughtfully, “and devote more of their power to the daily patrols, could we reestablish a steady pattern?”
“Yes, sire, I believe so.”
“That will also help the people feel more at ease,” Morgana says, “which in turn might help lower the rate of the confessions.”
“Enough!”
Uther slams his hands down on the council table.
“I will not stand here and let this happen.”
“Take a seat, then, sire.”
Merlin has to hide a snort. Gwen giggles. Even Morgana’s lips twitch up when Gwaine blinks innocently at Uther.
“I’m afraid I don’t see the problem, Father,” Arthur says, “we aren’t trying to do anything untoward.”
“You are undermining my rule by destroying what I have in place,” Uther says through gritted teeth.
“Have we requested that the confessions no longer be heard?”
“…no.”
“Have we suggested that the guards withdraw entirely?”
“You are attempting to stop the confessions.”
Morgana blinks and smiles. “We are suggesting that the confessions may not be, in fact, driven by actual sorcery, but rather the money. We are attempting to narrow down the confessions to the ones that are not. After all, what would people think if the great Uther Pendragon was paying anyone who sniffled and said they’d seen something that could possibly be magic?”
Oh, Morgana is brilliant.
Before Uther can muster up the words to say anything, the steward pipes up with the suggestion that they make the payment after the sorcerer has been found, or get rid of the payment altogether.
Morgana agrees. Arthur agrees. Leon, Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan agree.
Uther glowers and says it shall be done.
It starts slow.
Merlin comes in to wake Arthur in the mornings and Arthur rolls out of bed, without protesting most days which is…surprising, at least until Merlin figures out why.
When Arthur gets out of bed quickly, Merlin’s face lights up in pleasant surprise and he’s much less likely to stop smiling when Arthur smiles back.
He doesn’t have to dress Arthur right away either, not most days. Most days they’ve got about half an hour before they have to anything important, more if Arthur gets out of bed quickly.
Arthur stifles a yawn in his hand, leaning his chin onto his forearms and resting them on the table as Merlin starts serving his breakfast. Merlin catches his gaze sometimes and Arthur smiles, still all soft and warm from sleep and it makes Merlin’s head go fuzzy.
“Thank you,” Arthur says with that smile, then he stands up and gently pats Merlin’s shoulder. “Sit.”
“W-why?”
Arthur guides him into the chair and sets a plate in front of him. Merlin’s eyes widen when Arthur starts to serve him breakfast.
“Arthur—“
“This is another courting ritual,” Arthur murmurs, smile widening at Merlin’s soft ‘oh’ of realization, “if you serve me food, it’s only fair that I serve you as well.”
Merlin’s eyebrows raise. “Is that true of all my chores?”
“Of course not.”
“So why is this one different?”
“Because,” Arthur says with a grunt as he sits down, “maybe once you’ve had a proper breakfast you won’t try and steal my sausages anymore.”
Merlin laughs, only to realize that, uh, Arthur may have a point.
“See? I told you,” Arthur chuckles when Merlin all but inhales the breakfast, “though…when’s the last time you’ve eaten like this?”
Merlin scoffs, rolls his eyes around an apple. “You’re joking, right?”
Arthur’s mouth twists before he shoves his own half-eaten plate towards Merlin. “Take what you want.”
“You’re serious?”
“You’re my Merlin,” Arthur says softly, smiling and reaching out to tuck an unruly strand of hair behind Merlin’s ear, “and you’re hungry. Of course, I’m serious.”
“…hmmm.”
“If you’re thinking about what else you can get, I swear—“
The act dissolves as Merlin snorts, having to bend over his plate as he laughs. Arthur laughs will him, that soft smile still on his face.
It’s the knights that make the next move.
“Sire,” Leon says, addressing Arthur, not Uther, “the guards have reported a significant decline in the people who wish to report a sighting of sorcery.”
“And has the city become any more…unruly?”
“No, Sire, as a matter of fact, the guards have made a note to report that the people seem happier.” Leon smiles. “They are more willing to strike up a conversation.”
“That’s excellent news,” Arthur says with a smile, “isn’t it Father?”
Uther sits at the head of the table, his hands folded, and his eyes firmly on the paper in front of him. “The common people are not our friends, Arthur, it should make no difference if they choose to smile.”
“Well, a happy people is better than a frightened people,” Morgana says cheerfully, “isn’t it?”
“Sorcery—“
“Father, surely if there were sorcery at work and harming the people, the confessions would not have stopped quite so quickly,” Arthur points out.
“And without the constant stream on information, you let it fester in the shadows,” Uther spits.
“With all due respect, Sire,” Leon says, “the people are content. They do not seem to be under the effects of any ill will, neither myself nor the others have seen it.”
“What would you know of sorcery,” Uther says, looking up at the knight, “were you there when it tore apart the kingdom?”
“…I entered your service when the Purge had been completed, Sire.”
“And have you personally fought a sorcerer?”
“Father—“
“Uther—“
Uther raises a hand to silence his two children. He keeps his stare fixed on Leon’s face. “Have you?”
“…I have not, Sire.”
Uther smiles; a horribly smug and bitter thing. “Then how can you be so sure that no magic is at work?”
“I cannot, Sire,” Leon says diplomatically, “I can only report what I have seen. And I have seen the people happier and more at peace than I ever have.”
“Only a fool would take that to mean that there is nothing afoot.”
“Forgive me, Sire,” Leon says, inclining his head, “but I did not say that.”
“You implied that the fact that the people are happy means that there is nothing to worry about.”
Leon’s eyes narrow the slightest bit. “Then perhaps if you were to…train the knights and the guards on the signs you wish for us to see, the patrols would yield the results you seek.”
The rest of the Council notices how Leon chooses his words very carefully and more than a few disconcerted looks are sent around the table. Morgana makes eye contact with Arthur and they both exchange a small nod. Gwaine sends an almost unnoticeable wink in Merlin’s direction.
Merlin smiles. Gwen squeezes his hand.
Uther notices none of this, waving a dismissive hand at Leon. “That is not something that can be taught.”
“Then perhaps we would benefit from having you conduct the patrols yourself.”
Well, that certainly gets Uther’s attention. He stands up, glaring at Leon with such a force that it makes Merlin and Gwen take a step back.
“If you have something you would like to say,” Uther says quietly, “I suggest you say it.”
Leon barely flinches. “Sire, how many years have I served you?”
“…almost twenty.”
“And have I not been loyal? Have I not served you faithfully, have you not found my counsel to be of use?”
Uther straightens. “You have.”
“Then I ask respectfully, sire, that you trust my judgment.”
“I will not have my knights questioning my authority or insinuating that they know how to do my job better than I do.”
“Father, please,” Arthur bursts out, also getting to his feet, “this is ridiculous. Leon’s right, you know him, I’m sure any number of people at this table would vouch for him.”
“I would,” Gwaine says immediately.
“As would I.” Lancelot.
“Aye,” Percival nods.
“He is an exceptional knight,” Elyan adds.
“One of the longest-serving Camelot has ever seen,” Morgana says, smiling at Leon.
“W-with all due respect sire,” the steward says, glancing at Leon before back to Uther, “he speaks the truth. He has long been a faithful servant of Camelot.”
The rest of the council nods slowly, either looking at Leon, Arthur, or the table. Only the knights and Arthur look at Uther, whose face is slowly turning the color of puce.
“I have only the best interests of the people of Camelot at heart,” Leon says, easily meeting Uther’s gaze. “I can assure you that their protection is my top priority.”
“As is mine,” Arthur agrees, “thank you, Leon, for your service. The crown is in your debt.”
Leon nods graciously, sitting back down. Arthur remains standing, looking at the rest of the council, then at Morgana. She raises her chin and gives him a nod.
“For as long as I can remember,” Arthur says, “I have watched this Council make the decisions to keep the people safe, to protect them and their way of life. There is nothing more important than that.”
A round of murmured agreements. Gwen clutches Merlin’s hand tightly.
“If the people are happy and at peace, Father,” Arthur continues, turning to Uther, “is it not then our duty to help keep it that way?”
“You do not know,” Uther hisses, “you are blind to the true nature of sorcery. You cannot simply take their word—“
“With all due respect, sire,” one of the lords says nervously, “the…reports and sightings have indeed gone down as the guards have been pulled back. It is…possible that the people have relaxed as well, they are no longer as frightened to see sorcery everywhere.”
Uther’s face darkens.
“Are you—“
“Please,” Morgana says, swiftly cutting Uther off, “your people are not sheep. They have some modicum of intelligence. If they are behaving in such a way, then you must think of why. They are happy, they are less afraid.”
She tilts her head and smiles at Uther. “Is that not what we should seek to maintain?”
“Oh, she’s good,” Gwen whispers as Merlin’s grin widens. Morgana’s trapped Uther, and judging by the way his fists clench, he knows it.
“Of course,” he grits out, and Morgana’s grin is blinding.
“Excellent. Well then, gentlemen,” she says, addressing the Council as Arthur sits down, “shall we move on?”
Uther is forced to watch as the meeting proceeds, each of the lords addressing their concern to Arthur, as he stands there, overruled.
It’s the knights that make the next move.
“Come on!” Gwen tugs Merlin down the stairs, her skirts whipping up behind her as they run to the training ground. They burst outside in breathless excitement, having to throw their hands up to shield their eyes from the sun.
“Merlin! Guinevere!” Gwaine grins and waves them over. “You’re just in time!”
“In time to see me win,” Morgana says easily, testing out her mail shirt.
“As if.” Arthur rolls his eyes and picks up his sword. “You’re out of practice.”
“Lucky I was better than you to begin with, hmm?”
Merlin grins, taking a seat next to Lancelot at the table where the weapons are. It’s quite something, seeing the two Pendragon siblings in armor, strutting about the field like they own the place. Morgana twirls her sword, testing its balance as Arthur flips the blade in his hand.
“Don’t they look good?” Gwen grabs his arm and he squeezes back. “I can’t believe after all this time they finally get to spar again.”
“It’s been a long time coming,” Merlin agrees, “though they can’t really say no to them anymore, can they?”
“Oh, Merlin, aren’t you excited?” Gwen bounces up and down. “It’s working! It’s really working!”
“You’re damn right it’s working,” Gwaine mutters, tossing a waterskin at Percival, “the rest of them are finally deciding to wake up and stop being idiots.”
Merlin can’t deny the rush that gives him.
“Alright!”
Leon’s call gets their attention. He stands between Arthur and Morgana as the two shoot looks at each other over his hands.
“This duel is to the first to draw blood,” Leon says as the rest of the knights gather around, Elyan sitting next to Gwen. “And…begin!”
Gwen winces at how Leon almost doesn’t get out of the way fast enough, the rest of the knights chuckling as he beats a hasty retreat back to safety. Merlin’s too in awe of the dance that’s happening in front of him to join in.
Although he’d never admit it out loud, Arthur’s an incredible warrior. ‘Trained to kill since birth’ and all that. He wields a sword like it’s part of his arm, the armor becoming a second skin as he twists and turns.
Opposite him, Morgana moves like water, never too slow, never too quickly, every strike arriving exactly at the right moment. She moves with a grace that speaks of years of practice, of knowing exactly what one’s body can do.
He doesn’t know how to describe it as anything other than beautiful.
“Gods,” Gwen breathes from next to him, “they’re bloody brilliant, aren’t they?”
Merlin barely has enough brain left to make a noise of agreement.
“You’re rusty,” Morgana pants, a smile on her face as she backs up.
“You’re still short,” Arthur throws back, raising his sword.
Their blades meet with a clang, each holding the other in place.
“Ready to give up yet?”
“Never.”
“Bloody hell,” Lancelot murmurs as they start off again, “we could fight back an entire army with those two leading us.”
“We will,” Leon says with such a certainty that it breaks their focus on the fight, all turning to look at him. He stares back. “Well, surely you’ve noticed what’s been happening?”
Wide grins crawl across their faces.
“Hah!”
Morgana’s victorious shout snaps their gazes back in time to see Arthur tumbling over. She kicks him onto his back with one foot, smiling as he blocks her swing with his sword.
“Do you yield?” she asks sweetly.
“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur grumbles, “help me up.”
“Don’t be too disappointed, Arthur,” Morgana giggles, “I’ll get you used to losing again in no time.”
“Keep dreaming,” he sniffs, heading toward the table.
The knights break into uproarious applause for Morgana, who bows gracefully. Merlin watches as Gwen rushes to embrace her with a smile.
“They look good together,” he remarks as Arthur grabs a waterskin, “don’t they? Knight in shining armor and her lady?”
Arthur glances over his shoulder. “They do,” he murmurs, smiling. “Good for them.”
“And she’s earned it,” Merlin says, “after all, she had quite the victory today.”
“I let her win.”
“Didn’t look like it.”
“What would you know about it?”
“I’m just saying, it looked like you were fighting for your life.”
“I wasn’t fighting for my life!”
“Oh, of course not.”
“Merlin!”
Merlin throws his head back and laughs, the giddiness from how well everything’s been going still coursing through his veins. When he trails off, a few giggles still escaping, he catches Arthur looking at him with a fond smile. Then he sees a gleam of mischief in his gaze.
“Well,” Arthur drawls, sauntering closer, “it’s a good thing I’ve still got my prize.”
“Your what?”
Merlin does not squeal when Arthur scoops him into a princess carry.
“My very own damsel in distress, of course.”
“Put me down!”
“But there’s such danger here,” Arthur teases, “I just had to fight for my life!”
“Arthur!”
“Merlin.”
Morgana’s high laugh, clear as a bell, rings out over the knight’s guffaws.
“Oh, come now, Gwen,” she grins, “we can do better than that, surely?”
“I think we can.”
The knights form a guard of honor around the Pendragons as they carry their damsels back to the castle.
“Sire, this is—“
“This is not a discussion,” Uther snarls, whirling around to face Gaius, “the laws of this land are clear. The punishment for sorcery is death.”
Merlin can’t help the flinch that runs through his shoulders, Gwen shifting around a little to place herself between Uther and Merlin, keeping a tight grip on his hand. He sees Lancelot’s, then Percival’s, then Leon’s, then Gwaine and Elyan’s gazes flick to his before looking back at the fuming king. Arthur’s gaze lingers a moment longer before his jaw clenches.
Merlin tightens his grip on Gwen’s hand. They found each other immediately upon entering the Council chamber, instinctively grabbing each other’s hands and fleeing to the furthest corner from the table. They knew this one was going to be difficult.
Ever since the reward stopped and the guards pulled back, less and less murmurs of magic had reached the castle’s ears. The majority of the Council had viewed this as a positive. In fact, even an indicator that spreading alarm through the ever-present nature of the guards had been detrimental. And so slowly, the threat of force had been pulled back, until the people’s streets were mostly filled with just that, people, and happy people at that.
Uther had not taken well to the removal of his guards from the city, growing more and more irritated as time wore on, unable to do anything in the face of Arthur and Morgana persistently reminding him that it was working, there was no need for more force. The twitch in the king’s brow spoke volumes, itching to reestablish an iron fist in the city, to remind someone that he was a force to be reckoned with.
Whether that was the people or himself, Merlin didn’t know for sure, but he had a sneaking suspicion.
Then something had happened.
A Druid boy had been found hiding in Camelot.
Uther hadn’t hesitated.
“The boy is a sorcerer,” he says to the Council chamber, “the law states he must die.”
“A law you made,” Morgana points out, folding her arms, “and a law that you do not have to obey.”
“You have spoken about the crown being above the law, before, sire,” Gaius points out, “surely you can make an exception for—“
“If we rest now or grant them any leeway they will take everything from us,” Uther spits, “don’t you see? This is how they win! By taking advantage of bleeding hearts and ripping everything away from you!”
“The more brutal you are,” Morgana says, “the more hatred you spawn, the more enemies you will create. You have no idea what slaughtering this boy will do!”
“It will do what it has always done,” Uther insists, “it will keep Camelot safe.”
“From what,” Morgana says, spreading her hands, “a single boy? This cruelty is unfounded, there is no reason to—“
“He is a sorcerer. That is enough of a reason.”
“He is a child,” Arthur cries, all but throwing his hands up, “and more than that, he’s a Druid child. The Druids are a peaceful people, they've never tried to do anything against Camelot!”
Uther’s face snarls, little specks of spittle flying from his lips as he glares at Arthur. “How would you know?”
The chamber goes silent.
Merlin can almost hear the heartbeat in his throat.
Arthur moves slowly, his face stone. Even Uther looks a little taken aback.
“How would I know, Father?” His voice is emotionless. “How would I know, is that what you’re asking me?”
Uther barely nods.
“I know because I was raised in a household where every mention of magic was met with seething hatred. I know,” he continues, still walking, “because when I was growing up that was the only thing I knew would make you happy, if I spoke out about how much I hated magic.”
Merlin holds his breath. Arthur gets closer still.
“I know because when I was fifteen,” he whispers, his voice still carrying throughout the room, “I led a raid on a Druid camp because I thought it was right.”
No one moves. No one dares hardly breathe.
“I know because I watched knights of Camelot, men I had been led to believe were good and noble, slaughter men, women, and children like they were sport.” Arthur’s lips curl up in a horrible sneer. “I know because not once did the Druids fight back, even with all their magic. Not once.”
Uther flinches.
“I know because when I close my eyes I can still hear the screams,” Arthur murmurs, “though I’m sure I don’t hear nearly as many as you should.”
Far, far away, a dog barks.
“I will not have the blood of another innocent life on my hands,” Arthur says, making them all jump as he turns his back on Uther, “not again. Never again.”
It takes a moment for Uther to recover. But he does, clearing his throat. “Then that will be treason.”
Arthur freezes, turning around slowly. “What?”
“Treason,” Uther repeats, his confidence returning as he speaks, “if you would not follow your king.”
“No king that insists on the slaughter of innocents is a king I want,” Morgana spits, coming to stand beside Arthur. “You will not hurt him. You will not hurt anyone.”
“I should have you both thrown in the dungeons.”
Morgana arches an eyebrow. “Any king who fears dissent or refuses to speak the truth—“
“—is no more a king than a tyrant,” Arthur finishes.
Uther scoffs, only to realize that every other member of the Council is looking at him with the same fierce determination that his children have. He looks around.
“And who will you have,” he says scornfully, “to support you?”
Merlin blinks. In an instant, the knights gather behind them, standing tall and firm. Leon raises his chin and Lancelot folds his hands behind his back.
In another, Gaius has joined them. Then the steward, the other lords, and even a few of the guards have shuffled behind them.
Arthur and Morgana stand, unflinching, as the Council moves away from Uther to stand behind them.
Uther’s eyes flash with anger as his gaze darts around, looking at each and every single person, almost ordering them to step away. No one flinches.
His gaze finally lands on Merlin and Gwen, still in the corner, and Merlin knows what he has to do. Judging by the way Gwen’s grip tightens in his, she does too.
Without breaking eye contact, they walk forward, never once wavering, to stand next to the Pendragons. Merlin on Arthur’s side, Gwen on Morgana’s. He gives Arthur a solemn nod.
“It seems,” Arthur says, looking back at Uther, “the question is who will support you?”
“This is treason,” Uther breathes, finally starting to look small in the face of their fury.
“No,” Morgana says clearly, “this is progress.”
“Release the Druid boy,” Arthur says, “and send him back to his people safely with a message.”
He turns to look at the guards. “Camelot wishes to make peace.”
“What are you doing,” Uther hisses as the guards go to do Arthur’s bidding.
When Arthur looks back at his father, it is with the eyes of someone who no longer believes in him.
“What should have been done a long time ago.”
And as the Council parts in the middle to allow Arthur and Morgana to walk out of the room, Merlin’s heart feels as if it’s about to burst.
It’s even better than he’d hoped for.
“Come on, Merlin,” Morgana laughs, “show me one more time.”
“It’s not like it’s going to get easier the more you watch it.”
“Perhaps it will.”
Merlin rolls his eyes fondly and casts the spell again, unable to help the smile from spreading across his face as he sees Morgana light up.
They’re in her chambers, just as the sun is starting to set behind the horizon. After careful consideration and more than a few talks with Gaius, Merlin had decided to tell Morgana he has magic. He should’ve known she would instantly clamor for him to teach her.
“So…tell me the incantation again?”
“Morgana!”
“Oh, you may as well,” Arthur calls from where he’s sitting at the table, “she’s remarkably stubborn, you know.”
“She’s very determined,” Gwen agrees, refilling her goblet and taking a sip.
“Which is why I could always go longer than Arthur could at sword practice,” Morgana says, winking at a protesting Arthur.
“You just needed more work.”
“Hmm, is that why I moved onto an actual sword faster than you did?”
Arthur groans, gesturing at her. “For all I know, you were using magic back then too.”
“Oh, no, don’t be silly,” Morgana says airly, “we both know I can beat you without it fair and square.”
Merlin can’t help but laugh when Arthur sticks his tongue out. Gwen joins him when the two dissolve into more bickering. Fearsome royals right now they are not.
“At any rate,” Morgana says after artfully dodging the pillow Arthur throws at her, “we can get the knights to prove it. I’m not using magic to beat you.”
Merlin’s still giggling until Morgana’s words sink in properly. “Wait, what?”
Morgana turns to him, her eyes gleaming. “Did Arthur not tell you? For shame,” she scolds, playfully glaring at Arthur, “keeping such a thing from your Merlin.”
“I was going to tell him.”
“But you didn’t.” Morgana turns back to Merlin, taking his hands. “We’re going to lift the ban on magic.”
Merlin’s brain stutters to a glorious pause.
“Y-you’re going to what?”
“Lift the ban.” Merlin turns to Arthur to see him smiling. “Well, I can’t very well have it keep being illegal, now, can I? Not with my Merlin and my sister having it.”
Merlin mouths the words as if he can’t believe them. Which he can’t. Gwen’s got her hands clapped over her mouth in delight.
“You’re—what—how?”
Arthur shrugs. “Well, we’ve got the Council. They can’t argue that the pullback hasn’t worked.”
“And with a peace drawn up with the Druids,” Morgana continues, “and Arthur’s king in all but name, we can do it.”
“Plus,” Arthur adds, looking at Morgana, “someone’s been making very good points lately.”
“I’ve always made good points, it just took you a while to realize that.”
“Yes, well, we’re here now.”
“Yes,” Morgana smiles, “yes we are.”
Merlin’s still reeling from it. Magic. Magic is going to be legalized again. He’s…he won’t have to lie, to hide who he is anymore.
“I think we may have broken him,” he hears Morgana giggle distantly, then he feels warm hands on his face.
“Merlin?”
He looks up to see Arthur gazing down at him.
“Y-you would do that?” Merlin wets his lips nervously. “F-for me?”
“Well, not just for you,” Arthur teases, tapping Merlin’s nose, “but yes, Merlin. I’m going to do it.”
Merlin can’t do anything else but smile as wide as he can.
“I did stay I’d start a coup if anything tried to hurt you, didn’t I?”
“You did,” Merlin says breathlessly, “you did. Oh, Arthur—“
Arthur chuckles as Merlin throws his arms around him, his entire face flushing bright red. It’s happening, it’s happening—
And Merlin gets to keep it all. He gets to keep Gaius, he gets to keep the knights, he gets to keep Morgana, he gets to keep Gwen.
He gets to keep Arthur.
Arthur pulls back just a little, enough to see Merlin’s happy face, and leans forward.
“Wow,” Morgana says when they pull back from the kiss, panting, “I’ve never seen you so excited about anything.”
“I’ve just found out magic’s going to be legalized,” Merlin says breathlessly.
“Oh, no, no, you I understand,” Morgana teases, “I was talking to Arthur.”
Arthur shoots a glare over his shoulder until he gets an idea, looking back at Merlin with a smirk.
“Bet you I can make Merlin more flustered than you can make Gwen.”
“What?” Merlin squeaks.
“W-wait, Morgana—“
“Oh, what’s the matter, dear,” Morgana purrs, pulling Gwen in close, “come on, I’m sure we’ll win.”
Gwen and Merlin exchange frightened and excited looks before their attentions are pulled…elsewhere.
And yet, Merlin can’t find it in himself to be too upset at how things turned out. In fact…
It’s even better than he’d hoped for.