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Summary
Arthur could never remember the exact moment he fell in love with Merlin. Maybe because he always has been. Or maybe it was such a gradual fall, he didn’t even notice until he’d hit the bottom.
And here he is, Crown Prince of Camelot, pining after his own manservant like a blubbering fool.
The truth is Arthur had been up for half an hour. But he knows by now, if he waits long enough, Merlin will start tugging on his arm, dragging him out of the bed.
It’s stupid. It’s a stupid thing to want. It’s a stupid thing to look forward to each morning. A small, nimble hand around his wrist, pulling him into the cold of the day, and usually, onto the floor.
But Arthur doesn’t get the privilege of touch very often. That’s what it is, isn’t it? A privilege?
Series
- Part 1 of The Measure of a Good Man