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The prince found himself in a bind--not unlike the one in his dream- ahem.
His manservant thought himself clever, trying to hide the gold glint in his eye while playing the fool he was. That was fine and all; what wasn't fine was the object of said dreams. Arthur felt he was going mad, pestered by the menace that captured his heart by day, tormented by a beguiling figure wearing the man's face by night. It left him exhausted, but he'd rather burst into flames than tell anyone he dreamt of Merlin every night.
Merlin held Aithusa as he surveyed the land, lost in thought. To his friends, he was a dear friend, lovable and clumsy. To other magic creatures, he was Emrys, the cambion of terrifying power and some supposed saviour. To Arthur...
Aithusa peeped as his master squeezed him. Merlin murmured an apology, staring off into the distance again. It was his mistake--for finding camaraderie in his victims, for choosing to protect these puny humans...for falling for the golden prince. Though other demons knew not to touch him, they grew impatient with his inaction.
Well what did they know? Did they ever feel the warmth in their chest at making Gwen laugh? The satisfaction of a successful spar with the knights?
Did they even know how it felt to be in love?