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Something was… different about Arthur, Merlin just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Sure, the King had dark circles under his eyes, but he had been staying up late recently going over various reports and training hard with his men and sitting through petitions from his people. He still snapped at Merlin when he was irritated or annoyed or simply just bored and looking to rile his servant up. He still looked pensive, like he carried the weight of the entire world on his shoulders, when he thought Merlin was looking. Nothing about him had really changed, he was perfectly normal, and maybe that’s what was catching Merlin’s attention.
~~~
“Merlin?” Arthur’s voice cuts into Merlin’s ruminating thoughts and he blinks several times as he looks up to meet the blond’s eyes. The King looks thoroughly unimpressed. “You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying, have you?”
Merlin offers up a cheeky grin. “I would if you had anything of interest to say, Sire.”
Arthur scowls at him, but there is no heat in his expression. Actually, if Merlin didn’t know better, he’d say there was amusement and fondness encroaching at the edges of Arthur’s expression. But he does know better, and is, of course, proven right when Arthur cuffs him gently on the back of his head.
“I’m the King, Merlin. That means everything I have to say is interesting.” Arthur replies. Merlin quirks an eyebrow and opens his mouth, ready to shoot back his reply, but Arthur lifts a hand. “Don’t, Merlin. I already know what you are going to say. Now, back to what we were discussing before.” He drags off and looks at his servant meaningfully.
Merlin groans internally. Arthur had been prattling on about some court matter that was entirely easy to resolve, and Merlin is well aware that Arthur knows that, the blond prat just wanted to drag Merlin into the mess as well so he didn't have to suffer alone.
Still, Merlin nods dutifully. “Yes, of course, Sire. Anything you wish, Sire.”
Arthur gives him a deadpan look and Merlin breaks out into a wide grin again.
“Honestly, Merlin, why do I put up with your insolence?” Arthur asks, and Merlin knows that its a rhetorical question, not one to actually be answered, but he just can’t help himself.
“It’s my irresistible charm, Sire. It’s whittled even you down.”
The arm suddenly swinging around Merlin’s neck, pulling him into a complete headlock is not entirely unexpected. Merlin squawks and flails his arms uselessly in an attempt to escape the King’s hold, to no avail. He could use magic to free himself, and they both know it, but he allows Arthur to hold him captive. In doing so, he misses the red blush dusting across Arthur’s nose and cheekbones, a clear sign that his words had hit just a little too close to home.
By the time Arthur finally lets him go, again asking him if he is finished and ready to get back to the matter at hand, the colour gracing the King’s cheeks is gone. When he is finally allowed to leave, he chances a quick glance back at the blond as he he pulls his chamber door open. Arthur is looking studiously down at something on his desk, unaware that he is being studied himself. And he looks… tired. And Merlin wants to say something, to tell His Majesty to get more sleep, but he knows its a lost cause. Arthur did not sleep until he was satisfied that the citizens of Camelot, his people, were well looked after. It’s what made him a great King, even if it was eventually going to kill him.
Finally sensing the eyes boring into his head, Arthur looks up and lifts an eyebrow. “Is there something you need, Merlin?”
“No, Sire. I’ll see you later.” Merlin slips out into the hall, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
~~~
It is later that night that Merlin finds it. It being the armour waiting for him when he returns to his chambers at the end of the day.
It had been a perfectly normal day, except for the excursion into the forest for herds for Gaius, a duty he had not had to perform for the Physician since he had taken on a dedicated apprentice. Merlin had admittedly been surprised when the older man had asked him for his help, but instead of questioning it, he had happily obliged. He had been cooped up inside the city walls for much too long, Arthur having been too busy with Council meetings and petitions lately to leave the castle for longer than his usual training with the knights. Even that had been passed onto Sir Leon on more than one occasion as the King had been busy writing and rewriting the newly revised laws on magic for Camelot and arguing with his Council that he did, in fact, know what was best and how best to go about the process of allowing magic back into the kingdom (the Council, of course, did not know that the King had, had Merlin’s help drafting up the laws and revising them as necessary as the process was dragged out).
He had been outside for longer than he had planned, apparently, as it was enough time for someone to sneak into his chambers and leave the stunning pieces behind for him. There was the main piece, designed to undoubtedly cover Merlin’s entire torso from his neck to the base of his waist. The shoulders were crafted as well, resembling the large plates found along a dragon’s back. Two vambraces, one for each arm, sat alongside, just as carefully crafted as the rest.
It is absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful, and Merlin’s fingers shake just slightly as he reaches out to run his fingers over each piece. Upon closer inspection, it is clearly made from the finest quality leather. Covering the chest is the Pendragon chest, intricately etched into the leather. Spreading outwards from the chest are expertly carved dragon scales, varying in size as they spread out towards the sides. Down the back are raised ridges from the base of the neck to the bottom. On each vambrace, the crest appears again, branding the wearer as one of Camelot’s.
Merlin sits down on the bed, eyes roaming over the rich reddish brown colouring. He wracks his brain, trying to think of who could’ve left it for him, but he comes up empty. It wouldn’t be Arthur. After learning about Merlin’s magic, and taking his time to come to terms with it, they had sat down together and had a proper conversation about everything that Merlin had done for Arthur and his kingdom. The King was well aware of the fact that, realistically, Merlin didn't need armour. His magic often reacted so instinctively to threats that it lashed out to protect him without him needing to consciously think about it himself.
Lancelot was equally as unlikely. Having known about Merlin’s magic basically since they had first met, he was also well aware of what Merlin was capable of.
Gwaine? Maybe. While Merlin had finally confided in his friend about his gifts shortly before telling Arthur himself, the knight still worried about him. It was clear as day whenever they went out on the rare patrol together. He always stuck close by when he was able to, quick to protect whenever the need arose.
Balling his empty hands into fists, Merlin rises to his feet. He needed to get to the bottom of this, and he knew exactly who to talk to.
~~~
“Merlin?” Gwen asks as she opens the door to her own chambers. When she and Lancelot had announced their relationship, Arthur had insisted that the two take chambers in the castle, as befitting a Knight of Camelot and one of his closest confidantes and advisors.
“Hey, are you busy?” Merlin asks.
“For you?” Gwen says, already pulling the door open further and stepping out of the way to allow him to enter. “Never.”
Merlin steps inside with a grateful smile. He glances around quickly, feeling lightly relieved when he notes that Lancelot is not around. While he loved the man, he had a feeling that this was a matter better kept between him and his best friend. When he turns back around to face the woman, he finds her smiling. It practically melts off her face however, dissolving into one of concern when she notes the look on his face.
“Merlin? Is everything okay?” She asks, taking several steps closer until she can reach out and grasp his forearms with her hands.
Merlin swallows. “What do you know about armour?” He asks.
Gwen blinks. “I was the blacksmiths daughter, Merlin. I know pretty much all there is to know about armour. You’re going to need to be more specific.”
“Right.” Merlin huffs out a laugh, suddenly feeling nervous. “Leather armour, specifically.”
Gwen’s face screws up in thought. “I know it’s mostly used for training purposes, rarely ever in combat. Some knights will use it at tournaments where they know killing your opponent is heavily frowned upon. I’ve even seen some wear it out on patrols during times of secured peace. Why?”
“Because,” Merlin starts, “I currently have some, sitting on my bed in my chambers. It’s beautiful. Obviously a lot of time and effort was put into crafting it.”
Gwen immediately pulls her hands away from Merlin’s arms, hands instead flying to cover her mouth, open in shock. It’s Merlin’s turn to blink now, surprised at her obvious reaction. Before he can ask about it, however, Gwen is already dropping her hands, allowing them to hover in the air as she asks, “Do you know who it’s from?”
Merlin shakes his head. “No. But I was hoping you’d have some insight into that.”
“Merlin,” Gwen presses, “do you know what gifted armour like that signifies?”
Merlin blinks in surprise again. “No?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement. Gwen’s eyes widen almost comically.
“It is not common, not in many years anyway, but a gift such as this is a clear offering of courtship amongst the nobility. In the entire time I’ve been in Camelot, I’ve only ever heard about it once, and that was from Morgana because she loved to gossip about the nobles.”
Merlin’s mind goes blank for a minute before spinning back into motion. He feels vaguely ill from the feeling. An offering of courtship? From who?
“Are you certain that you don’t know who its from?” Gwen presses.
“No idea.” Merlin shakes his head. “It’s obviously not going to be from Lancelot. I’m not close enough with anyone else, except Gwaine.”
“What about Arthur?” Gwen suggests hesitantly. Merlin flinches slightly. He almost regrets ever telling her about his feelings for their King. She had respectfully, but subtly, been needling him to say something about his feelings ever since telling Arthur about his magic. Merlin always flat out refused. He knew Arthur would be gentle about it, but the thought of hearing the blond tell him that he only viewed Merlin as a friend was just too much. The idea of things changing between them after such a confession and subsequent rejection was more painful than Merlin liked to think about.
Merlin scoffs. “No. It’s definitely not Arthur.” Gwen opens her mouth, presumably to argue, and Merlin prematurely cuts her off. “It’s not, Gwen. Please, just drop it.”
Gwen scrunches up her face in distaste, but thankfully lets the topic slide. Instead, she asks, “So are you going to try to find out who did leave it for you then? Surely you feel comfortable enough with Gwaine to ask him.”
Chewing on his lower lip, Merlin contemplates that. He was very close with Gwaine, and trusted him with his life. He loved him like a brother, but that was it. While he did not relish the idea of having that conversation with the other man, he knew that Gwaine would be okay with it. He just had to find a way to let him down without spilling his own feelings for a certain blond prat.
“Yeah. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to him.” He offers Gwen a small smile. “Thanks, Gwen. If you hear anything, let me know?”
Gwen reaches out both of her hands to grasp one of Merlin’s. “Of course. I hope you find your secret admirer soon.” There’s a sparkle in her eyes that Merlin doesn't entirely trust, but he brushes the feeling off. When he looks back to say his final goodbye at the door to her chambers, he swears he sees a knowing smile on her face as he turns away. The only question is, what did she know that he didn't?
~~~
So, it isn’t Gwaine. When Merlin had cornered him the next day after training (before Arthur had yelled for him to hurry up because he had more important and pressing matters to attend to that clearly Merlin had to help him with), the knight had actually laughed. He had firmly slapped Merlin on the back, wiping fake tears from his eye with his other hand, and had profusely thanked Merlin for the question. When he had finished his theatrics, he had assured Merlin that while he also dearly loved him, it was very much in a platonic way.
When Merlin’s shoulders had slumped a bit, he had quietly asked the question, “What about the Princess?”
Merlin had blanched, wondering how the hell Gwaine knew about his feelings too, and promptly pretended to hear Arthur bellowing for him again and scampered away before having to grace the question with an answer. He caught a glimpse of Gwaine’s expression as he fled, and the smile on his lips looked entirely too knowing as well.
Arthur had given him a strange look when he had finally caught up, cheeks flaming with red heat. Merlin had ducked his head and waved him off, earning him a gentle cuff to the back of his head for the ‘insolence’. The touch had sent a flurry of butterflies ricocheting around his ribcage.
~~~
Merlin lies in bed that night, staring sightlessly at the ceiling as he ponders who else could’ve left him that armour. He glances to his right, where said armour is carefully sitting on the table by the large window. He supposes it could be some noble he doesn’t remember, but clearly remembers him. Something about that thought doesn't sit well with him. He wants to know the person that he eventually decides to build a relationship with, preferably before they start courting.
Rolling onto his other side, he resolutely closes his eyes and tries his best to ignore the problem behind him. It’s not that he doesn’t like the gesture, he truly does. He just doesn't like the mystery around it.
~~~
Systematically, Merlin works his way through all the knights that he knows well enough to suspect. Some conversations go much more awkwardly than others (Sir Leon) and some are as gentle and polite as they can be as they inform him they do not feel that way about him (Sir Percival).
What is consistent is that, one by one, they all deny any and all knowledge of the armour still sitting in Merlin’s chambers, or how it got there in the first place.
~~~
Just shy of a fortnight later, and Merlin still has not solved the riddle of who had crafted such lovely armour and mysteriously left it waiting for him in his chambers. He can’t even find out how exactly it had gotten into his chambers. None of the other serving staff recalls seeing anyone entering or leaving his chambers other than himself and the King. When asked if they had seen anyone carrying out a set of leather armour, they had all appeared to be equally clueless.
With each passing day the unknown gnaws just a little more at Merlin’s insides. His curiosity is getting outweighed by his frustration that whoever had left it for him did not simply step up and let him know. Surely by now they would’ve desired an answer to their unspoken question. Yet, nobody approaches him. He simply continues his day to day duties for the King undisturbed.
And Arthur… well, Arthur is almost annoyingly normal. Merlin had tried to hint at the armour subtly, never directly bringing it up but pushing the topic every now and then to get the King’s reaction. Surely if anyone knew the goings on in the castle itself, it would be the King. The blond, however, always answers Merlin’s questions with a blank look, bordering on bored. He offers up the same information Gwen had given Merlin that first night, but nothing more. He hadn’t even looked sincerely curious when he had asked Merlin why he wanted to know, and simply nodded when Merlin had lied about hearing a rumour circulating amongst the staff that someone had been gifted a similar courting gift. The love affairs of his people were not his concern, nor his problem, unless they were particularly scandalous.
When Merlin had tried to push the topic, Arthur had predictably told him to shut up because he was trying to get his work done and his manservant’s incessant yapping was making the task increasingly difficult. Merlin had stuck his tongue out at the top of the prat’s golden head when he had ducked his nose back down into his paperwork. Without looking up, Arthur had chucked an empty goblet at his head, intentionally missing and hitting the floor by the table instead.
“Please, for the sake of my sanity, go find something useful to do.” Arthur had dismissed him with a wave when Merlin had continued to linger, and that was that. Merlin had accepted defeat and moved on.
But surely someone had to know something.
~~~
Finally, after exhausting all other possible options, Merlin gathers the beautifully carved leather into his arms and makes his way to the King’s chambers. He had not wanted to directly show Arthur the evidence of his subtle questions before, but now he was afraid that he really had no other choice.
He knocks softly on his door, waiting for the command to enter before he does so. Arthur looks up from his desk as Merlin steps inside, closing the door behind him. A look of surprise crosses his face, no doubt shocked at Merlin’s sudden manners and sense of propriety. His expression shutters closed as his eyes fall to the dark washed leather in Merlin’s arms, however. For the first time in longer than Merlin can remember, he can’t read Arthur’s expression as their eyes finally meet again. It sends an uncomfortable, cold shiver down Merlin’s spine.
“Merlin.” Arthur greets, dropping his gaze back down to the documents he is poring over on his desk. “What can I do for you?”
Merlin swallows thickly. Why was this so much more difficult than he had thought it would be? He can already picture Arthur’s pitying gaze when he explains the situation.
Inhaling deeply, he softly says, “I found all this is my chambers over a fortnight ago. I have not been able to find out who left it for me.”
Arthur hums. “You are, of course, aware of what such a gift means. I remember you bringing it up before, only you told me that it was a rumour spreading around my castle staff.”
And this is where things got difficult. Merlin nods. “Yes, I know. It wasn't really a lie, I just left out one little detail.”
“And what are you plans for if you find the one responsible?” Arthur asks, finally looking back up.
Merlin swallows thickly. “I will inform them that I, unfortunately, cannot accept their offer.” He looks away from the King’s face, unable to stomach the pity he knows he will see there. “My heart is no longer my own to give, it already belongs to someone else.”
There is a beat of silence, in which Merlin hardly dares to even breathe. Then he hears Arthur shifting behind his desk. When he glances over, he sees that Arthur has sat back fully, attention solely focused on him. His eyes look blank, making distant alarm bells begin to ring in the back of Merlin’s mind. He ignores them.
Looking down, Arthur says, “If you wish to leave it all here, you may. I can find the one responsible and inform them for you, if you want.”
Merlin sags slightly, gratitude for his friend rushing through him. “Would you?” He asks. Arthur does not move. “I would appreciate it, Arthur.”
Arthur gestures sightlessly to the corner of the room. “Just set it all down over there, and then carry on with your duties elsewhere. I am, in fact, quite busy at the moment.”
He glances up with a smile, but it looks thin and tight, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. Still, Merlin does as he is told, depositing the leather in the far corner and then scurrying off to the doors. Once outside, with the solid wooden doors closed, separating Merlin from the King, he realizes that this had been the first time since the whole debacle started that Arthur hadn’t been maddeningly normal. He has a brief thought to storm back into his chambers and demand answers.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he walks away, each step heavier and more difficult than the last.
~~~
When Merlin brings Arthur’s dinner up to his chambers later that day, he finds them empty. He frowns in confusion, unaware that Arthur had, had any plans for that day. Usually, Arthur let him know everything. Feeling a little untethered by the sudden absence of the King, Merlin sets the tray down on the table and goes about tidying up a bit. Clothes get stuffed into the wardrobe, sheets gets hastily pulled back into some semblance of order.
Merlin idly cleans and organizes for as long as his patience allows him to. When Arthur never appears, Merlin slips back out into the hall and travels the familiar path down to the Physician’s quarters. Perhaps Gaius was aware of Arthur’s whereabouts.
To his great annoyance, Gaius does not know where the King has gone to, but immediately and happily puts Merlin to work until the sky outside grows dark. When Merlin slinks away, arms a little sore and fingers feeling a bit raw, he stops at Arthur’s chambers again. He is still met with a cold emptiness when he pokes his head in through the cracked door, and the tray with the King’s dinner is untouched on the table. Frowning, Merlin closes the door and retreats to his own chambers.
They feel oddly empty now, without the leather sitting by his own desk, glinting in reflected moonlight from the drawn curtains. He ignores the unease gnawing at his stomach and instead slips out of his clothes and pulls on his night clothes instead. He crawls into bed, preparing himself for an unrestful night as his mind wanders to Arthur and where he could possibly be.
~~~
When the King’s chambers are still empty the next morning when Merlin arrives to bring breakfast, and the dinner tray from the night before has still not been touched, Merlin decides he needs to do something. That something is to leave the breakfast tray on the table beside the tray holding Arthur’s cold dinner, before stepping back out into the hall and taking hurried steps to Gwen and Lancelot’s chambers.
He knocks almost frantically, having truly worked himself into a state by the time he arrives. When the door gets flung open, he flies past and into the room before whoever opened it can say a word. When he turns around, he is met with Gwen’s glaring eyes. He flinches back in surprise.
“Merlin, what have you done?” She demands.
“Me?” He asks. “I haven’t done anything!”
“Yes, you have!” She counters, raising a finger to brandish almost threateningly at him. He takes an involuntary step backwards, feeling decidedly wrong-footed.
Shaking his head, he holds up both hands between them desperately. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I swear.”
Gwen huffs. “Then why was Arthur here yesterday, clearly upset? He didn’t say a word as to what was wrong, but he took Lancelot out hunting with no word as to when they would return. He only does that when he is truly unhappy. So, again, what did you do? Was this about the armour?”
The armour? Merlin’s mind is scrambling to catch up with the conversation. “No, I dealt with the armour.”
Gwen raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “And how exactly did you do that?”
“I— I took it to Arthur to ask him for his help with finding who it was that gave it to me. He told me to leave it with him, that he would deal with it.” He says, entirely unsure of what he had done wrong.
Gwen groans (dramatically, if you asked Merlin), and reaches up to run her fingers through his slightly disheveled hair. “Merlin, to return the gift to the one who gifted it to you is a show of rejection. You are refusing their hand in courtship.”
“So?” Merlin asks, uncertain as to what that had to do with anything.
Gwen crosses the space between them in the blink of an eye, settling her hands firmly on Merlin’s shoulders. “Merlin, Arthur was the one who left it for you in your chambers! That is what everyone has been trying to tell you for over a fortnight!”
“No.” Merlin shakes his head slowly. “No, cause that would mean—”
That would mean he had turned down Arthur’s offer of courtship. He had told Arthur to his face that he loved someone else, when it was him that Merlin loved. Suddenly the King’s behaviour the day before makes all the sense in the world.
“Yes.” Gwen replies sternly. “It means you have royally messed up, but it's not too late to fix it.”
“But how?”
~~~
Merlin is chewing on his thumbnail as he paces the floor of his chambers. The armour that he had left in the corner of Arthur’s own chambers is now back in his own where it belongs, sitting on the bed in full view of the door. He had left a scribbled note on Arthur’s desk to please come see Merlin when he returned to the castle, as it was urgent business. He had heard not that long ago that the King and his Knight had crossed through the Lower Town and were on their way back into the main citadel itself.
Merlin feels sick with nerves.
A sudden knock on his door makes him jump. His voice sounds shaky as he calls out, “Come in!”
Moments later, the door swings open and there stands Arthur, bathed in the golden glow from the torches lit nearby. He looks… breathtakingly beautiful, achingly beautiful. Merlin’s throat feels like it closes up.
“You wanted to see me?” Arthur asks, lifting up the familiar note and waving it slightly on the air. “You are aware, Merlin, that I am, in fact, the King, and therefore cannot just be summoned about the castle at will?”
Merlin smiles slightly. “Apparently you can be.”
The banter falls short, however, as Arthur steps inside and softly closes the door behind him without biting back a snarky reply. “What is it that I can do for you, Merlin? You mentioned whatever it was, was urgent? What is so important that it cannot wait until light tomorrow?”
Merlin, suddenly unable to form a single, coherent sentence in his mind, let alone getting his tongue and lips to cooperate to actually speak said sentence, simply takes a single step sideways, bringing the leather armour on his bed into full view of the King. Arthur’s keen eyes zero in on it immediately, and because Merlin is intently studying him, he sees the subtle shift in his expression, his demeanour.
“I thought I told you to leave that with me?” Arthur asks, and he would sound normal to anyone else, but Merlin can hear the tension swimming in between his words, in between each syllable, because it’s Arthur and he loves him more than anything in the world.
“I have been made aware of a most unfortunate misunderstanding, Sire.” Merlin says quietly. He feels Arthur’s sharp gaze turn to him, but he feels unable to meet the blues of his eyes just yet. “You see, I have foolishly made a mistake. I was unsure where the armour had come from, originally. I asked just about everyone I knew, and nobody was any the wiser. The more people I asked and got denied, the more terrified I felt, because I wasn’t lying when we spoke before. My heart truly does already belong to someone else. The error that I made, I believe, I hope, is that I never once considered that the one to gift me such beautiful armour could possibly be the one that my heart beats for.”
He finally dares to glance up when he hears a hastily stifled intake of breath. Arthur’s face is still unreadable, guarded, but it doesn’t feel as unreachable as it had before. Merlin inhales, silently prays to all the Gods above that he isn’t wrong.
“If I told you that I would accept the hand of the one who offered me this gift of courtship, what would you say?” His voice sounds small, terrified.
For a moment, nothing happens. Neither man speaks. Neither man moves. Merlin is beginning to panic, second guessing his decision to do this.
And then Arthur is striding forward, a determined look on his face. Before Merlin can ask what he is doing, the blond is curling a strong hand around the back of his neck and is pulling him into a long, slow kiss. Merlin squeaks slightly in surprise before melting into it, kissing Arthur back as enthusiastically as the King is kissing him.
When Arthur finally pulls back, his eyes are sparkling and he is short of breath. With a huff of laughter he says, “I think I would say that I fell in love with an idiot, but I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
A laugh of his own bubbles up in Merlin’s throat, and he leans closer to press it into Arthur’s mouth, just because he can. He revels in the feel of Arthur’s fingers curling up into his hair, the warmth of a set of fingers digging into his hip and practically branding him as the King’s, and the King’s alone. He curls his own hands into the fabric of Arthur’s tunic, feeling the heat of his lower back seeping into his own fingertips.
“I love you, too. Prat.” He murmurs into Arthur’s mouth, laughing again in delight as Arthur tugs him closer, nipping his lower lip gently in retaliation. He tightens his hold around Arthur’s waist, unwilling to let him go just yet. But he needn’t worry, as Arthur seems perfectly content to stay exactly where they are.