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King Arthur Pendragon was, without a doubt, the best fighter in all of Camelot. Nay, maybe all of Albion.
He’d rarely faced an opponent he could not beat in a fair fight and even then, it only took a few more turns against him before he could figure out the man’s weakness and win. He was far from ever needing any sort of luck or incentive during tournaments, so the idea of a favor was beyond him. He’d seen knights parading around favors from their ladies but he’d beaten all of them at some point. What use could it have?
After all, he was content to stay a lonely king if it meant he didn’t have to deal with a prissy queen whose only redeeming feature was the fact he could stand to look at her. There were quite a few people he could bear to be around, but none of them were fit to rule. Well, maybe one.
When Arthur really thought about it, he didn’t know how he could rule without Merlin. The man had revealed his magic a little over a year ago – simply burst into Arthur’s chambers the day after the ban was lifted and blurted, “I have magic and you can’t kill me for it.” They’d had a long discussion afterward about how his endearingly clumsy and witty manservant could possibly be Emrys and how he’d kept it hidden all these years (Arthur numbly remembered the time he accused Merlin of being unable to keep a secret and promptly stopped talking). Now, Merlin sat on the same board as his council members as his Court Sorceror and highest council. They’d always worked well together, and considering Merlin’s deep understanding of, well, everything, he made a perfect candidate for the job.
But the year following had prompted a lot of deep thinking, particularly about what Arthur wanted in a partner. Whenever he pictured someone standing at his side, it was Merlin. Whenever he imagined waking up in bed next to someone, it was Merlin. Whenever he needed to rant out his stress over a drink, he ran to Merlin. Whenever there was an unsolvable problem, Merlin was by his side with ten different solutions. Merlin was the missing piece to his puzzle; the other side of his coin. No one else could be that for him.
It was because of this that he refused to take any favors during the spring tournaments: no man or woman in the entire world could measure up to what Merlin had to offer him. He’d seen his fair share of handkerchiefs, gloves, sigils, scarves, rings, and even had to avoid one particularly insistent noble lady who was set on giving him her underwear. The favors, as flattering as others might find them, were insults to his ability to choose his own wife (or husband, his brain argued) and were likely only the result of others wanting a chance at the throne. So every year he sent out rather miffed council members to intercept the eager ladies before they could drown him in favors.
Well, almost every year.
An issue had come up with the King of Elmet and Arthur had spent the better part of the winter trying to figure out if he was going to war or not and wasn’t at all concerned with the spring tournament….until his council breached the subject out of the blue.
“You want me to fight...for what?” he’d asked and the old stuffy men had exchanged glances while Merlin snickered in his chair next to Arthur.
“A...a queen, sire.” A meek voice said from the other side of the round table.
Arthur clenched his jaw. “And why would I do that?”
“You need someone to rule by your side,” someone offered.
Arthur abruptly stood up and everyone in the room flinched, except for Merlin who was used to Arthur’s outbursts by now. The mere thought made Arthur’s stomach flutter but he squashed it down to turn on his council.
“I do not need a wife and I do not want a wife. I am perfectly capable of ruling by myself. If it comes down to the matter of an heir, I will find you a successor, but I am young and capable. I will not be doubted like this.” He gritted out, trying to keep himself in check before he did something incredibly petty like throw his wine in the nearest councilor’s face.
“But, sire,” one of them piped up and Arthur shot him a murderous glare. Apparently, it didn’t quite convey how much he wanted to throttle him, though, because the man continued shakily, “You have never even considered one of the women who has offered you her favor. Perhaps if you simply accept one, you might find yourself a worthy match.”
Arthur blinked, feeling his rage simmer down in favor of confusion. “You wish me to fight for a random lady?”
“Arthur,” Merlin said, and Arthur immediately turned to him, desperate for a break. Besides, how could he ever give Merlin anything but his full attention? Merlin sat up a little straighter under Arthur’s scrutiny and fiddled with his neckerchief. It was a shimmery silver, a quite beautiful one that Arthur had gifted Merlin upon his appointment to Court Sorcerer. It paired well with the gorgeous, quilted, night-blue jacket that Gwen had made for him and he wore both over a royal purple tunic and dark brown breeches. It was nothing overly elegant, but the clothes suited Merlin perfectly and made his raven hair and blue eyes stand out just a little more. Every time Arthur saw Merlin wearing his gift, his stomach pulled some impressive acrobatics; naturally, now was no different.
“Yes, Merlin?”
Merlin bit his lip and Arthur realized he was trying not to smile. “Maybe they’re right. Taking one favor could dissuade others from offering you theirs. And if – or when – you win, you can simply offer her the opportunity to dine with you and then cut it off. She’ll leave having had an afternoon in the King’s presence and nothing more.”
For all Merlin’s idiocy, he was by far wiser than anyone else Arthur had met, and despite how every bone in his body wanted to be prideful and petty, he couldn’t help but see sense in the warlock’s argument.
“Very well,” the king sighed. “I will take a single favor, but I cannot promise you a queen.”
That seemed to please the council so, with another weary sigh, he dismissed them.
~
The few weeks after went by in a blur as noble ladies and princesses and widowed queens arrived at Camelot to watch the tournament and maybe offer the bachelor king their favor.
Arthur had sent out invitations to the tournament with the request that no favor be offered until the day of the tournament; that way, he could weed out the especially over-eager ones and get to know the more patient ladies. He had, after all, decided with Merlin that lunch in the lady’s honor was in order, and he would rather spend his afternoon with someone vaguely tolerable.
The more persistent women tended to follow Arthur around like dogs so he set to keeping Merlin by his side far more often than usual. The man was brilliant in coming up with escape excuses, often hiding in the shadows and showing up with a “Lord So-and-So has requested your presence” or “You’ve been invited to meet the Lady What’s-Her-Name” and Arthur would bid the lady good afternoon and then the two men would scamper off snickering together.
Of course, keeping Merlin by his side wasn’t much trouble considering Merlin insisted he still carry out most of his duties as Arthur’s manservant. He dressed him and cleaned his chambers and tucked down the blankets just right and warmed the bathwater to the perfect temperature and polished his armor just so: all in ways that only Merlin could. He used his magic for half of it, of course, but Arthur was fine with that as it gave Merlin more downtime so they could just talk.
He felt like he needed Merlin’s companionship just as much as he needed his council, and Merlin was all too happy to oblige.
By the time the tournament rolled around, it was slightly warmer so Arthur spent his afternoons training with his knights to prep them for the tournament. It was entirely open this year, and he was having all too much fun goading his wins against Gwaine and Elyan, who together had decided to compete as well (Elyan had been goaded into doing so by the other knights and Gwaine’s bid was out of pure lack of foresight and maybe idiocy). They were both excellent swordsmen, but Arthur was even better. Still, no matter how many times they ended up flat in the grass and groaning, they got back up to train and he couldn’t be prouder.
Merlin spent his time watching the training, usually using his magic to “accidentally” send a sword flying or a dummy spinning just to make things more entertaining. Arthur couldn’t fault him for it because seeing Gwaine nearly lose his marbles at a dummy suddenly lighting on fire was the highlight of his week.
“Are you sure you don’t have better things to do?” Arthur asked his Court Sorcerer one afternoon just after he’d tripped up Percival by making his boot slip off.
Merlin grinned. “And miss out on the entertainment?”
Arthur chuckled. “I suppose I can’t fault you there.” he gazed out at the training field where Lancelot and Elyan were now locked in combat, swords swinging with precise and deadly movements. At this point, they were using real swords: no better motivation than the fear of getting your head sliced off. “Who’s going to win?” He asked Merlin as he sipped the water the warlock gave him.
“Hmm. Elyan’s looking tired, but Lancelot just got hit in the leg. I’d give it about two minutes before Lancelot surrenders, but only because he doesn’t want to misstep and hurt Elyan.”
Sure enough, three minutes later, Lancelot stumbled back clutching his leg, and dropped his sword and Arthur caught the tail end of him saying with a laugh, “I think my leg was about to give out. Sorry.”
Arthur shook his head fondly; Merlin’s magic allowed him to read people a lot easier, something he’d always said was his “six-sense.” Of course it wasn’t.
The knights gathered around for water, all sweat and stink as they clambered to mess with Merlin, still treated as the younger brother of the group.
“See my new move, Merls? Perce almost bit it!” Gwaine goaded, winking at Percy who rolled his eyes.
“Your “new move” was you flailing, Gwaine. Almost took my hand off,” Percy said, giving him a playful shove into Leon.
Gwaine feigned offense as he picked himself up and then turned on Arthur. “Say, Princess, you training any more today?”
Arthur shook his head. “No. The council wishes to speak to me again about the tournament next week.”
“Aw, too bad. At this rate, you’ll never win for your lady.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow, smirking a little. “Gwaine, I’ve beaten you at least a dozen times in the past week.”
“Perhaps,” Gwaine conceded, “but there may be more knights who are better than me.” he swirled his water around thoughtfully as if it were a goblet of wine. “Whose favor are you taking anyway?”
That seemed to get the other knights’ attention and Arthur flushed. Did he really need to tell the knights about how the court was forcing him to pick a random lady? “I-”
“He wants to keep it a surprise!” Merlin suddenly said and Arthur had never been more surprised and relieved at once. “Arthur didn’t want anyone to receive unwanted attention beforehand on his behalf, so he’s opted to keep it quiet.”
Everyone except Gwaine bought it. He turned to Arthur with all too much smugness for one man and Arthur considered drawing his sword and making him do battle right now. “That right, Princess?”
“Yes,” Arthur immediately said, taking up Merlin’s lie, “I feel that putting out a name will cause people like you to get all up in our business. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate leaving this a private matter.”
Gwaine squinted at Arthur and Merlin and then at the other knights before throwing his hands in the air. “Right. Well. I’ll be at the tavern if any of you need me. Think I earned myself a break, aye, boys?”
The lot of them tottered off to the armory, giggling like schoolchildren, and Arthur swore he heard his name a few times as they retreated.
“Was that alright?” Merlin asked him, suddenly appearing at his side. He looked like he might have regretted lying, so Arthur jumped to ease his concerns.
“Yes, and I’m indebted to you for it.” That made Merlin beam brighter than the sun and Arthur’s heart consequently melted.
~
The day of the tournament was finally upon Camelot and absolutely everybody was running around in a panic. Arthur had barely processed Merlin literally tugging him out of bed before an apple was shoved into his mouth and the warlock was gone in a flurry of raven hair and exquisite fabric. Disgruntled and hair askew, he set about dressing himself in the clothes Merlin set out for him, and then, eating his apple, wandered down to the throne room where he found his council talking about him. They bowed slightly as he entered and he handed off his apple core to the nearest servant before addressing them.
“Anything of importance you wish to tell me, gentlemen?”
They exchanged glances and Arthur narrowed his eyes at them. “Sire, we’re still concerned about the lady you’re to choose today. Have you found anyone suitable?”
This again?
“No,” he said tightly, “and you would do well to be patient with me. After all, if this lady is supposed to be your queen, I should hope you don’t want the woman I choose to actually be random?”
He left the room before he could hear their responses and settled for seeking out his abnormally busy manservant. When he found Merlin, the man was down in the armory whispering some spells in the direction of – was that Arthur’s armor?
“Merlin?”
The warlock started and the armor he’d been enchanting dropped to the floor where it was hovering. Gold drained from his eyes as he turned to look at Arthur.
“Arthur!”
“Merlin,” he repeated warily, looking at the armor on the floor, “What were you doing?”
Merlin picked up the armor and brushed it off, then held it back out at arm’s length to inspect it. “I was enchanting it to protect you,” he said simply and then squinted down at it. He repeated a few more words and it shone with a slightly blue color before returning to normal. “There. Now, if anyone uses magic against you during the tournament, it will paralyze them upon contact.” he beamed as he held it out to Arthur, looking for all the world like a child who had just done something right for once.
Arthur couldn’t help but smile back, his whole body feeling warm and fuzzy as Merlin slid the chainmail over him. He then puttered around Arthur, suddenly becoming fixated on the rat’s nest of his head of hair and smoothing it down (with a few spells, but Arthur didn’t need to know that). He felt safer just knowing that Merlin’s magic was around him as if the man himself was giving Arthur a warm hug at all times.
The warmth carried on to that afternoon when he stood in his tent preparing for the tournament. Kings normally didn’t fight in their own tournaments, but he was never one to back down from uprooting tradition and was all too happy to get his blood going and adrenaline pumping.
Merlin was dressing him as usual, looking as if he had something he wanted to say but didn’t want to offend Arthur. He opened his mouth a few times and then closed it before grabbing another piece of armor from the table. It was maybe the fourth time that he did that when Arthur snatched his wrist, effectively drawing his attention and stopping him from doing anything else.
“Merlin, I know I’m going in to fight but you don’t have to be worried about me.” He said, under the impression that Merlin was concerned for him. Apparently, that wasn’t it because Merlin shook his head with a slight smile.
“Oh, I know. I’ve enchanted your armor for that.” He bit his lip and then looked down at his boots, a new pair he’d gotten when his old ones had worn through the toes. “No, I was just wondering what you’re going to do about the favor. Your council will be upset if you leave this tent without one.”
“Not you, too,” Arthur groaned, releasing Merlin’s wrist.
“No, no!” Merlin said hurriedly, “It’s not that. I just… you need something. It’ll look bad if you don’t.”
“Merlin, I’ve already spoken with all the ladies here at some point or another and I don’t think I could bring myself to accept any of their favors, even if it doesn’t mean anything. Actually, I think that’s what worries me most. I don’t want to give them false hope.”
Merlin nodded solemnly and Arthur could almost see the gears turning. And then, as if a switch flipped, Merlin’s cheeks flushed and his head dipped down as he fiddled with his neckerchief again. “I...I have an idea, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”
Arthur wasn’t sure he even liked the sound of that voice, all doubtful and concerned, so he said, “It has to be better than being yelled at later by a group of old men. What is it?”
Merlin glanced up at him, locking eyes with him a little too sincerely and Arthur was drowning in how blue they were when there was no gold, all ice and scalding fire and sky blue and periwinkle. He couldn’t help gulping as Merlin looked at him with those eyes, searching his face for answers Arthur knew he didn’t have.
Finally, cheeks redder than Arthur had ever seen them, he said, “What if….what if I gave you a favor?”
“You?” Arthur echoed, not for lack of wanting but because he was so surprised Merlin was even considering doing that for him.
The man looked down at his shoes, his expression crumbling. “I’m sorry; it was stupid. You don’t have to – forget I said anything-”
“No!” Arthur blurted and Merlin looked up in alarm. “No,” he amended softly, “that- yeah, that could work.”
“Oh.” a slow smile spread across Merlin’s face and Arthur felt himself blushing a little under the sheer childish joy Merlin radiated. “Right, okay. Um, favor–”
“Your neckerchief,” Arthur suggested, nodding at the present he’d given Merlin.
Merlin shook his head, though, and fiddled with the fabric. “Not this one. It’s my favorite; I don’t need you ruining it.”
Something about it being Merlin’s favorite made some possessive animal inside Arthur purr proudly.
Merlin cupped his hands in front of himself and whispered a spell into them. When he opened his hands, a small square of red fabric sat in them and Arthur frowned at it in confusion. His confusion was cleared when Merlin pinched a corner and shook it out, revealing the old, worn, red neckerchief that had been a favorite of his years before. It was stained in multiple places and ripped on almost all the edges, but he’d still refused to give it up. Merlin and his sentimental things, Arthur chuckled to himself.
They didn’t say anything as Arthur held out his right arm for Merlin to tie the fabric onto, only smiled at each other a moment too long for just friends. Then the horn sounded and the pair left the tent, heading up to the stands to watch the first rounds of the tournament.
~
Upon arriving at his place in the stands, Arthur was immediately bombarded with questions from the knights. Gwaine and Elyan were down preparing to fight, leaving Lancelot, Leon, and Percival as his personal bodyguards. Not that he needed them (he had Merlin for that and his own skills to boot) but he enjoyed the company. On a good day, they kept him from having to interact with Morgana too much, who liked to tease Arthur about whatever little thing he’d almost forgotten about and have him blushing in embarrassment in front of his kingdom. Today was not a good day, though, and the knights were just as bad as his half-sister who all seemed dead-set on weaseling answers out of him.
Morgana was the first to pounce. “Ah, finally got your favor have you?”
Arthur felt himself flushing further as Percival exclaimed, “Oi, look at him! Blushing mad already.”
Lancelot clapped Arthur on the shoulder as he passed by to settle into his seat. “Who’s the lucky lady?” he asked, and Arthur wondered what might happen if he revoked a few knighthoods.
“None of your concern,” he said tightly but he only got grins in return.
“You know,” Morgana started, and Arthur immediately hated that tone that was all too prying when he was trying his best not to be dreadfully transparent, “I feel like I recognize that fabric. Does it belong to a lady I know?”
That was slightly laughable. It wasn’t a lady at all. “No,” he said honestly.
Morgana either didn’t hear him or didn’t believe him because she reached over anyway and made a grab for the fabric. Arthur yanked his arm away as best he could but her eyes flashed gold and he froze in place, completely unable to help himself as she yanked it loose from his arm.
“Morgana!” he growled, grabbing for the neckerchief once he was free, “Give it back!”
“No,” she said petulantly and grinned like the conniving devil she was.
As Morgana squinted down at the neckerchief trying to place where she’d seen it, Arthur was hyper-aware of Merlin standing at his left shoulder, watching all of this happen. He was probably wondering why Arthur was being so weird about his favor, which made Arthur blush further in embarrassment. He was ready to simply lie and tell Morgana it was a random lady when the horns and drums sounded and Arthur was forced to rise and address his kingdom.
“People of Camelot, knights of the realm, ladies and gentlemen of Albion,” he began, pasting on a pleasant smile, “I welcome you to the spring tournament. It is my honor to bear witness to and fight amongst some of the greatest fighters of our land and I wish you all the best of luck today. May the tournament begin!”
Cheers went up from the crowd as he sat back down, still not over having the authority to command an entire tournament’s proceedings on a whim. He glanced around him and took in the smiling faces, momentarily forgetting his drama with the favor.
It would be fine. He’d survive this, just as he had survived everything else far worse than this.
All he had to do was fight with Merlin’s favor on his arm.
~
Arthur was to face the winner of the tournament, so he divided his time quite efficiently between studying the knights fighting techniques and attempting to dissuade his prying companions. If Gwaine were there, he would no doubt be whispering a list of names in Arthur’s ear, trying in vain to land on the right one. But since he wasn’t, he had to put up with Lancelot and Percival’s slightly more romantic questions (“Is she beautiful? How long have you known her? Are you really set on making her queen?”) and Morgana’s devilish ones (“Somehow I doubt you’ve got a lover, Arthur. Sure you didn’t coerce a girl into giving you a favor just for show?”). All the while, Merlin said absolutely nothing, something that Arthur was infinitely grateful for. Despite having kept his magic secret, Merlin was rubbish at keeping anything of minor importance under wraps, especially when it was from Morgana whose insight and skepticism were unparalleled.
Eventually, they tired of asking and Morgana all but threw the neckerchief at him. Merlin stepped up beside him and retied it, this time around his left arm, and he couldn’t help a smile. Unfortunately, that was all it took for Morgana to put the pieces together and she suddenly gripped the armrests of her chair, jaw dropping as her gaze flicked between king and sorcerer. “Oh my gods,” she said, “It’s from Merlin, isn’t it?”
Everyone in the royal booth froze. The clashing down in the arena continued, but Arthur could barely hear it over the pounding in his heart. He swallowed and said nothing, staring unseeing at the knights swinging at each other.
“Oh my gods,” Morgana repeated, grinning wickedly now, “It was never a lady. You asked Merlin for his favor!”
“I didn’t ask him for his favor,” Arthur said carefully, wondering what on earth he could say that could possibly save this from being the worst moment of his life, “I was unhappy with any of the ladies who presented me with favors, so he offered me his as a kindness.”
Merlin was fidgeting uncomfortably beside him, still not saying anything, and when Arthur chanced a glance up, his cheeks were flushed an attractive pink in the afternoon sun.
“A kindness?” Leon said slowly, bearing the same grin that the rest of Arthur’s knights had.
“Yes, a kindness.”
“Right. So are you or are you not fighting in his name?” Morgana pried.
Arthur gritted his teeth. As much as he wanted to, what if Merlin was uncomfortable with it? He opened his mouth to deny it when suddenly a raucous screaming went up from the crowd and he gazed down into the arena to see none other than Gwaine victoriously tugging off his helmet and beaming at the crowd. It was then that Arthur realized Gwaine had won the tournament and now he had to face off against his own knight. He stood up nonetheless and silenced the crowd with a raised hand, smiling proudly despite the previous events.
“Congratulations, Sir Gwaine,” he called to the knight who saluted Arthur in the most obnoxious way possible, “I look forward to beating you in the next round.”
That caused laughter to ripple over the crowd and Gwaine only smirked at him as he ran toward the tent, waving to the screaming ladies as he did so.
Arthur quickly took advantage of the lack of prying and raced off to his tent to grab his helmet and finish suiting up. Merlin trailed after him, laughing.
“I can’t believe you’re going to fight Gwaine.” He said, holding open the tent flap for Arthur, “I bet you’ll have him down in just a few minutes.”
“Hopefully. I don’t wish to draw this out any longer than it has to be.” He glanced up at Merlin and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry about...whatever drama or unwanted attention this –” he gestured at the favor “–is causing, and we can drop it if it’s making you uncomfortable–”
“No,” Merlin said quickly, “You keep it. I...I really do want you to have my favor. Think of it as a good luck charm.” He added, smiling shyly at Arthur as he tightened up his armor.
Arthur scoffed. “I hardly think I need luck. I doubt Gwaine is packing any magical spells and he’s bound to be tired from fighting all day. I have little to worry about.”
“Maybe,” Merlin said, rather mysteriously, and Arthur squinted at him.
“Something you want to tell me?”
“Hmm?” Merlin looked up from where he was adjusting Arthur’s sword at his belt. “Um, no, nothing important.”
“But…” Arthur pried, hoping Merlin wasn’t just messing with him.
“But, well…”
“Merlin-”
“The favor.” Merlin blurted, “Think of it as a proper favor. If you want to. If that’s okay-”
“Merlin, what are you on about?”
“I-” Merlin bit his lip, looking oddly flustered, and then he mumbled something that sounded oddly like “to hell with it” and leaned forward to press his lips against Arthur’s.
Arthur inhaled sharply at suddenly having Merlin so close but that only served to bring his scent even closer, something that smelled like warmth and earth and fragrant life. He wheezed a little as Merlin’s lips recklessly assaulted his, completely at odds with the gentle way his hands had come to rest on his jaw and his waist. It took Arthur an embarrassingly long time before his brain finally kicked in and he swung the pair of them around so that Merlin’s back hit one of the tent poles and then he was kissing him hard, all lips and teeth and heavy breaths in the stuffy space. Merlin’s hand migrated from his jaw to his hair and tugged insistently at it while Arthur worked his tongue over Merlin’s lips, tasting and feeling and just breathing in his closeness.
Arthur pulled away first if only to see the awestruck look on Merlin’s face as he opened his eyes, all blown wide and shimmery in the dim light. The king stroked a hand delicately over Merlin’s jaw and then up to his flushed cheeks. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered reverently and Merlin beamed, that wonderful gorgeous smile of his that had Arthur’s insides turning to mush.
“And you’re an idiot,” Merlin sighed as Arthur traced his bottom lip with his thumb, “You really didn’t know why I gave you my favor?”
That calmed Arthur down enough to pull away, leaving only his hands resting on Merlin’s waist. “Truthfully, I didn’t think you felt the same way about me that I did about you.”
Merlin laughed at that, a light, giggly laugh that was more like the tinkling of tiny bells than a human sound. “Arthur, why do you think I’ve stayed your servant this whole time even after having my Court Sorcerer duties placed on me?” When Arthur shrugged helplessly, Merlin rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself from doing something dastardly if anyone else was given permission to touch you like I do.”
Arthur smirked and leaned forward to nibble on Merlin’s lip. “Good thing I never considered hiring someone else, then.”
Merlin mumbled “Good thing indeed” before leaning in to kiss him again.
~
In the end, Arthur won the tournament, much to no one’s surprise.
Gwaine took it like a champ with the promise that he’d beat Arthur one day and then shoved Arthur off to “go meet with whoever gave you that favor.”
The crowd seemed to hold its breath as Arthur grinned and walked over to the stands. There, Merlin was sitting unsuspectingly, but he turned and watched Arthur with wide eyes as the king stalked over, smirking, and then in front of God and all of Camelot, kissed his warlock right then and there. He barely heard the screaming of the crowd or the whooping of the knights or the triumphant “I knew it!”’s from Morgana. He was only laser-focused on the way Merlin kissed him back and he never wanted it to end.
The council could deal.
Merlin was made for him and that was all there was to it.
All it took was that stupid favor.