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Guilty or not

As everyone should know, the combination of Gwaine, boredom, and alcohol, does not bode well. Especially for a certain manservant who hasn’t had a drink in over two years.

A short patrol around the eastern borders of Camelot had quickly become an impromptu hunting trip: jovial and relaxed.

The knights of Camelot, their King, and his servant were all sitting around a large bonfire, drinking and having fun. Well, the knights were having fun; Merlin had spent most of his evening preparing, cooking, and cleaning, but finally, come nightfall, he was able to sit down and enjoy a warm cider with the rest of the men.

It was his first drink in many, many years, and he thoroughly enjoyed it. He sipped it gently as it warmed his hands.

After some time, Gwaine grew bored, and suggested they all play a game of “Guilty or Not.” Upon the confused looks, he explained the tavern game.

“We each take a turn making a statement, and if it applies to you, or you are guilty of doing this, you must take a drink.” He took a small sip of his ale as an example.

Merlin laughed with the others. It sounded like harmless fun.

“Eventually, we will all be so drunk we end up revealing all our darkest secrets.” He shot a wicked grin to the group, who chuckled at him. As he was the one to suggest the game, Gwaine volunteered to go first.

“I am guilty of having more than two maidens in my bed at once.” He grinned and took a dramatic sip. Elyan smirked as he took a drink. Everyone hollered and laughed. “Alright, because you drank, it’s your turn now, Sir Elyan.”

“I’m guilty of…stealing from the palace kitchens.”

Everyone drank at this, including Arthur, and the laughter continued. “Who now, we all drank?” Someone asked, and Gwaine pointed. “Elyan gets to pick who asks the next question.”

Merlin watched as Gwen's brother pondered for a moment before he pointed at Leon, who was sitting next to Gwen's husband.

“I pick Leon.” The knight smiled at his commander. Sir Leon, who sat opposite Merlin, looked deep in thought. “Alright, alright. I’m guilty of…” He paused and smirked, “— lying to the King.”

Once again, everyone drank, and Arthur laughed loudly. He slapped his hand on his thigh in mock surprise. Merlin nearly fell off their shared log from the movement.

“What? All of you! For shame, I’ll have to throw my own knights in the stocks. Fine, fine. I get to choose, then. Merlin, you’re next.” Arthur cocked his jaw out and eyes Merlin in a combative way.

“Please, he’s got nothing exciting to add. Let’s see, he’s guilty of falling asleep standing up.” Sir Kay laughed, and while Gwaine smiled a little, it wasn’t entirely genuine.

“Or guilty of tripping over his own feet into cow dung!” Arthur added, laughing. The young servant sat beside him, nursing a small cup of cider. He’d only drunk twice so far. He smiled and pretended to think.

Fine, if this is how the Prat wants to play it.

“Hmm…” Merlin hummed. He looked up at the clouds above the trees as he spoke perfectly clearly. “I’m guilty of receiving the favour of a Princess.”

No one drank. Not even Arthur. Merlin, however, took a big sip of his cider. Feinting innocence, he asked, “What? Have none of you revived such a gift?”

“What?!” Arthur exclaimed as he grabbed Merlin’s shoulder. “Who in their right mind would give you a favour?” Had Merlin not known his king so well as he did, he would’ve assumed the outrage was real and not just a way to cover up his surprised shock.

“You sound awfully jealous there, princess.” Gwaine teased. Neither Merlin nor Arthur deigned to respond.

“Mithian — yes, she asked me to call her by her maiden name — gave me a silk embroidered neckerchief as a token of our friendship. She called me handsome and said should I ever wish to work as a court physician, I would be welcome in her Kingdom.” Merlin smirked at his King.

Silence befell the camp. The knights sat with mouths wide open, staring at him. Merlin smiled innocently. He reached down into a bowl and popped a grape in his mouth. He chewed loudly in defiance.

“Since no one drank, I suppose I should ask another question.” He tapped his chin in false ponder. Beside him, Arthur scoffed because, of course, he did. Merlin decided on his next question.

“I am guilty of throwing hard steel objects at innocent servants when they’re two minutes late with breakfast.” He looked pointedly at Arthur, who had to take a small sip. The mood around the campfire soured a little.

“Alright, fine. It won't happen again. Next question; I am guilty of spending all my free time at the tavern.” Arthur tried to get back at Merlin, making him drink, but only Gwaine and Kay drank. The King rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Merlin. We know that’s where you spend your free time — and your working hours too!” Arthur cajoled, but Gwaine coughed. They both look over at the knight. “I’ve never seen him there, Princess. Never.”

Now, everyone looked at Merlin. Raised eyebrows and confused smiles stare back at him. Merlin shrugged at them.“You do know I have another job, right?” Arthur nodded uncomfortably.

“I’m a physician; I heal your citizens. I make and deliver medicines, and I forage for herbs and ingredients in the woods at night when I have time.” Merlin ate another grape, and the knights hummed in understanding. They’d all seen him return in the early mornings, covered in moss and river water, bags filled with plants and.

“Or maybe I’m simply visiting a friend; my free time is my own time, sire. It’s not for you to judge.” Merlin poked a knobbly finger into Arthur’s rib. The King huffed a little in defeat and smiled.

Leon, however, looked a little unsure. “But then why does Gaius always say that you’re at the tavern?”

As Merlin answered his question, he directed his head at Arthur, because really it was for him to hear.

“To be fair, he’s only said that, like, twice. And both times, I was out...snooping.” Arthur laughed at this, as did many others. Merlin’s eyes softened at his king as he continued.

“As a servant I am often overlooked, and so I hear and see things others don’t. I spend some of my time spying on people who wish our King ill. I find the proof and hand it over to the guards because who would trust the word of a servant? Occasionally, I handle the situation myself. But any other time you’ve not found me, you've just come to your own conclusions, and even when I tried to correct you, you didn’t believe me…so.”

Merlin ended it all with: “I’ve only set foot in a tavern twice — and always with you.”

“And once with me!” Gwaine shouted and held up his cup in a mock salute. He was clearly wanting to smooth over the conversation and get back to the fun.

Merlin saluted with his cup, too, allowing his friend to steer the conversation. “Alright, enough serious talk. Let’s get deeper! I am guilty of being banished!” Gwaine drank at his own question and laughed as Lancelot drank too.

They decided it was Sir Lancelot's time to ask the question. “Oh, it’s me then? Hmm, I am guilty of passing the knight's test on the first try.” He drank, as did Leon and Kay.

“That’s not fair, we never had a test!” Elyan interrupted, but Arthur held out his hand. “You helped me retake Camelot after Morgana invaded. I’d say that’s a pretty good test of strength. In my eyes, you’ve all passed the test on the first try.”

Gods, his king was incredible. Even now, surrounded by the dark trees and the moonlight shining down, his golden hair glowed like a crown adorned his head. He sat tall and confident on a log, legs stretched out before him, warming his feet by the fire.

Merlin hated how beautiful he looked, even while disheveled and tired.

“In that case, Merlin also passed the test.” Lancelot pointed out and threw him a bread roll. “You go next.”

Merlin didn’t know what to say next, or what he could possibly confess too, without revealing his magic. Most of his life has been, and must still, remain a secret. But he could possibly bend the truth a little. Besides, this was meant to be a fun game.

“I am guilty of sharing a bed with someone here.” He took a sip and then another. Both for Gwaine and for Lancelot.

Percy and Gwaine drank too, and Lancelot giggled a little as he took a small sip of his drink. “Don’t suppose you mean that in a friendly way, Merls.”

He winked. Nope, he definitely did not. Once again, laughter and voices echoed through the trees, as each knight tried to pry out of the others whom they might have shared a bed with.

The evening continued in a happy fashion, each man making more ridiculous and fantastical statements and more and more alcohol being drunk. Their happiness was infectious, and soon he felt himself relax and bask in the happiness.

He drank once, and then twice, and then again, and again, and again until he lost count of how much cider he’d drunk.

Merlin, who rarely partook in these activities, was beginning to feel the effects of the copious amounts of alcohol he’d drunk. His legs were heavy, his ears ringing a little, and his blood rushing through his body with excitement.

He was a giddy and giggly mess.

The moon was shining bright. The birds were asleep on the branches above their heads. The grass was lovely and dewy to the touch. His hands were kept warm by the hot cider in his cup, his feet too were warmed by the fire, and his King sat next to him, their thighs touching.

Merlin hadn’t had such a lovely evening in the longest time.

“Now you again, Merls.” He heard Percival tell as he wiped a tear from his eyes. Sir Kay had told a particularly funny story involving a donkey, a tavern wench, and a missing apple pie.

Merlin, who was already drunk and trembling with excitement, stumbled up to his own two feet. This would be fun, he thought. Everyone thinks him an idiot, but this will show them he can be just as brave as a knight.

“I am guilty of surviving a serket sting!”

He took a big swig of his cider and sat down again. He laughed at their shocked faces. Of course, they didn’t believe him.

“I’ve got the scar to prove it,” Merlin said, and he lifted up his shirt to show the left side of his torso, where the scar was still etched into his skin. Around the campfire, murmuring and gasped voices echoed.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled, pulling him closer as if he was currently in any danger. As knights, they had all seen wounds and scars like that before, but only ever on dead men.

“How did you survive it?” Percy wondered out loud. Merlin smiled at his friends' worried eyes. He was so happy he had them in his life.

“Dragoon found me,” Merlin explained as best he could. Of course, it had been his dragon coming to his rescue, but he couldn’t say that. So a tiny little lie was all the answer he could give. “He saved my life using magic, which is why I could never tell anyone.”

Leon gulped, and Arthur winced in embarrassment. Any whisper of magic would’ve been a danger to Merlin, and they both knew it. Even if he was just the recipient of it.

“How did it even happen?” Arthur kept his hand on Merlin’s side, warm fingers tracing the scar. Merlin’s skin shivered at the touch.

“Remember when I told you that I snooped around?” Arthur nodded.

“It was after Morgana had returned to Camelot. I suspected she was secretly working with Morgause to overthrow you and Uther. She was, of course, but I couldn’t tell anyone. So instead I spied on her, and kept foiling her plans whenever I could.” Merlin chuckled at the memories, failing to notice the horrified looks on the knights' faces.

He went on to explain how Morgana had discovered him in the woods that night and left him to die in a serkets nest. He could see the heartbreak in Arthur’s eyes, but as usual, his king hid it well from the others.

If Merlin was a braver man, he’d kiss him happy again.

“They say the pain is…unimaginable.” Elyans soft spoken voice drew Merlin away from staring at Arthur's eyes. Elyan sighed as he spoke, as if he didn’t even want to hear Merlin’s reply.

“Oh, it was more painful than anything you will ever experience on the battlefield. Death by a thousand cuts would be more merciful.” Arthur’s hand gripped at his torso and pulled him in even closer. Merlin revelled in it.

“How are you so…nonchalant about this?” Sir Kay seemed baffled at Merlin’s comments. Perhaps to a younger knight, it was difficult to understand the plights of servants and how impossible it was to keep a certain royal prat alive.

“Oh, it’s like I always say: try your best to hide your sadness!” Merlin winked at him, which earned him another strange look.

Hmm. This simply wouldn’t do. He was having such a lovely evening, and Merlin refused to let the good times pass.

“Now, don’t look so down! I lived, and I spent the whole next day cleaning his highness’s royal socks!” He jabbed, but no one laughed.

He’d have to find another, perhaps funnier or more surprising, sin to confess... “Ugh, you guys are no fun! Next one, I am guilty of grave robbing!” Merlin declared happily.

Multiple eyes were fixed on him as Merlin took another sip. No one drank. Hmm.

“Another one then, alright. I am guilty of breaking into the royal treasury.” He boasted as he took another big gulp of cider. No one spoke or drank. Something had to change, surely they had more things in common.

The warm apple cider filled him with courage, and Merlin knew exactly what he would say. No one would ever have guessed this!

“I am guilty of attempted regicide!” Merlin yelled happily. He took a hefty swig of his drink, smiling sappily at Arthur. There, that ought to get the conversation going again.

No one noticed Gwaine taking a drink.

“You’re supposed to drink, Arthur.” He said, handling his arm as he tried to lift the cup to his mouth. The king stopped him.

“Merlin,” Lancelot tried to interject, protective as always, but the damage was done. He sat down again as Leon looked over.

“Me or my father?” Arthur questioned with sadness in his eyes. He looked like he couldn’t possibly believe what Merlin had said, yet he needed to know the answer.

Merlin shrugged, still feeling warm and pleasant from the cider. “You. I never actually harmed Uther, even though I wanted to. And believe me, I wanted to.” He grumbled.

“But don’t worry, Arthur; It was Morgana who had enchanted me into killing you. I didn’t do it on purpose. Thankfully, Gwen noticed my behaviour and stopped me. Lance also helped break the curse.”

Merlin rambled and waved at Lancelot. “Your wife is so smart and so kind, even though she hit me over the head with a bucket.” His two best friends had worked tirelessly for days to end the curse before Merlin ended Arthur’s life. He loved them both so much.

“You were cursed to kill me?” Arthur grabbed his hand and drew Merlin out of his happiness. He nodded dumbly.

“Morgana kidnapped me and stuck this ugly snake thing in my neck. It took over my mind and body completely, I barely remember waking up. Guess we should all be thankful I am a terrible assassin.” He giggled and sipped a little more cider.

“Leon was in on it, too! He gave me weapons, and my only real plan failed because you turned around at the right second. Otherwise, the arrow from Leon’s crossbow would’ve killed you instantly.”

The senior knight gasped in realisation, “You told me you needed a crossbow to kill the king! I never thought you were being earnest, though. I just assumed you were annoyed with Arthur, as usual.” Leon looked at Arthur in apology, but his fellow knight grabbed his hand.

As Lancelot held his hand, he grimaced. “He also poisoned your bath water, sire, and rather spectacularly if I may say so. It was bubbling and oozing green, I’ve no idea how Merlin thought anyone would get in there willingly. It melted away the steel, and we had to replace the tub.” Lancelot tried so hard to turn the conversation pleasant again, by making a joke, but no one laughed.

A pity, Merlin thought. The memory of it was rather funny.

Merlin smiled at Arthur again. “Don’t worry, sire. I would never actually harm you. Gaius believed my subconscious was working against the cursed snake, deliberately trying to fail my attempts. Even while cursed and unconscious, I would never wish you harm.”

Now happy that he had assuaged Arthur’s worries, he continued on his course. “But it wasn’t just you. I also considered killing Bayard once after the poisoned goblet, you know. Remind me never to drink poison for you again; it was awful.”

“And I tried twice to kill Cendred and Alined for harming you and Camelot. They both wanted to start a war, but I didn’t let them.”

He pursed his lips in deep thought. “Does it count as regicide if I tried to kill a Duke? Because Lord Abarnathy had it coming.”

“How did you…what?” Percy asked gently about the admitted treason, and Merlin was very happy to explain.

“The old duke was far too handsy with the young maids, so I doused his regular sleeping draughts with a tincture of poppy flowers, which is said to have a rather…relaxing effect. Safe to say, he’s never gonna get it up again.” Merlin giggled into his cup, the cider warming his lips.

“You made the master of coin impotent?”

“Yup!”

“Any other important people you’ve killed or seriously injured?” Leon choked, and Merlin replied simply.

“A High priestess or two.” Arthur’s grip on his thigh tightened, and Merlin delighted in it. It wasn’t just the alcohol keeping him warm.

“I killed Nimueh after she released the questing beast so that you could live. A life for a life.” His king looked at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging open. Merlin was happy to see that his king was happy about this. He was rather proud of that decision.

See, he thought, as the knights seemed perplexed. He could be brave and dangerous, too. Merlin added at last;

“And though it was technically Morgana who delivered the final blow to Morgause, I was the one who cracked her skull open.” Merlin smiled happily.

“Merlin, mate, let’s get you some water. Right, come here.” Gwaine, ever ridiculous but kind, tried to get him away from the fun with promises of fresh water.

Water.

“Speaking of water, my dead lover lives in a lake.” He said as Gwaine handed him a waterskin. It was refreshingly cold. He drank half of it. For a second, he wondered if Freya ever drank the water she lived in, but as she was dead, he assumed she didn’t.

Gwaine sputtered above him, and Arthur withdrew his hand that had been holding onto his thigh for so long. He missed the touch already. “I haven’t seen her in a while. I’ve been far too busy looking after a certain king.” Merlin reassured the man, hoping he wouldn’t be too upset.

The hand didn’t return, and Merlin felt himself grow colder. Why did Arthur stop holding his thigh? It was so nice.

“Your lover?” Someone asked, Merlin couldn’t make out who. He downed the rest of his water. “Well, we only knew each other for two days before she died in my arms, but I buried her in the lake, and I still see her from time to time. She’s very nice.”

“You’re drunk outta your mind, aren’t you? None of this is true. I don’t believe you.” Kay muttered to himself.

“When was the last time you had a drink, Merlin?” Gwaine asked as he handed Merlin another waterskin.

“D’you remember when we fought those pheasants? In the perilous lands? Yeah, I found you in a tavern!” Merlin beamed.

“What on earth were you two doing in the perilous lands?” Elyan exclaimed.

“Looking for a fisherman’s trident, or hook, or something. We had to save Arthurs ass like always; he wore this cursed bracelet from Morgana, and he was about to die, but in the end we saved him!” He clapped Gwaine's chest as if they had just won a round of dice.

“He joined you on your quest?” Leon whispered incredulously.

“The bracelet was cursed?” His king mumbled as he kept his gaze down.

“Yup, she wanted you to die alone and afraid. Horrible, horrible person. She’s done so many awful things that you don’t know about because I couldn’t tell you.” Merlin said and clicked his fingers to explain. “Like when she framed Gwen as a sorceress so she would burn at the stake.”

“What?!” Several people burst out.

“The love enchantment, it wasn’t real, of course, but you knew that. Morgana planted it so Gwen would die. Lucky for all of us, I found a sorcerer willing to take the blame and escape, otherwise, she would be dead now.” He sombered.

Arthur, Elyan, and Lancelot all looked at each other, horrified. “She wanted to kill Guinevere?”

“Hmm, she feared she would be the queen of Camelot, and Morgana detested the idea of a servant,” Merlin spat, “sitting on her throne.” Although her plan did work in a roundabout way, Gwen had, out of fear for her life, decided to stay with Lancelot.

“So you found Dragoon, and what? Asked him to take the blame and burn at the stake? Who in their right mind would do that?!” Arthur reacted. At least he was looking at Merlin now. Good, he had missed his pretty eyes.

“Someone who didn’t want to see you heartbroken. Anyways, we both knew he would escape, and it enraged Morgana. That was a fun day.” Merlin kicked his feet together.

Wait.

“Dragoons escape, that is, not Gwen's trial. That was horrible, and I still have nightmares about it. But seeing Morgana slowly getting angrier and angrier was fun.” He explained to Elyan, who hasn’t been present for any of this. He had unfortunately been the victim of Morgana himself, though.

Which reminded him;

“It was also she who kidnapped you and Gwen because she knew Arthur would come to your rescue. And because he would have to cross the border, it would incite a war. She was working with Morgause and Cendred to organise the whole thing.”

Gwaine tried to grab him and make him stand up, but Merlin didn’t feel like it. He had more to say.

“I think it’s my fault she turned evil, you know…because I tried to kill her. But I had no choice! Morgause had cursed the whole of Camelot to sleep, remember? When we tried to dress your father up as a servant woman? And the only way to end the curse was to kill Morgana.” Merlin spoke to his shoes, toeing his left foot under some wet moss.

She never forgave him for that. And maybe he would never forgive himself for it either. Oh well.

“Anyways, they’re both dead now,” Merlin mumbled into his waterskin, the cool water calming his too-hot skin. Gwaine still had a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. Such a wonderful friend, and handsome too.

“Thanks, mate. But let’s get you some food to soak up the cider, huh?” Gwaine replied as Merlin realised he’d said the last part out loud. He was handed a somewhat stale bread roll. Merlin munched on it.

“I think you should sleep now, Merls. Come, I’ll get your bedroll out.” Percival stood up and gestured for him to do so, too, but Merlin simply giggled.

“Taking me to bed, Sir Knight? You know, I had a dream like this once, only you were not wearing—”

“Someone make him shut up!” Arthur grumbled angrily, and Merlin winked at him. “Don’t worry, sire, I’ve dreamt about you too.”

Arthur grabbed his jacket and pulled him closer, clearly not done with the conversation. Merlin would have made an embarrassing noise had this not been in front of the others.

“All of this happened, and you never told me.” Arthur's voice was small. It hurt his heart to hear his great king speak like this. Arthur deserved all that’s good, not deception and lies.

“Well, how could I? She was your friend and equal, the King's ward…I was just a servant.” Merlin hummed in response. That part was true.

“You were never just a servant, though, at least not to me.” Arthur professed.

“Maybe not to you, but to anyone else I was. And still am. My word counts for nothing, so I tell no one.”

Sir Leon handed him another piece of bread. “What else have you done for Camelot but had to keep secret?”

Too much, was the answer. Too much to remember. Merlin tried to focus his thoughts, but his brain felt like scrambled eggs. After a few seconds, he could recall a couple of memorable stories at least.

“I killed Cornelius Segan when he attacked. I killed both of the undead armies, even though Morgana took the credit for the first one, despite it being her who summoned the skeletons.” Bitterness soaked his voice as he remembered how spiteful she had looked at him.

Thankfully, his second attempt had worked better.

“The second time, I killed them with Lancelot's help.” Merlin smiled at his friend, who smiled back. “He protected me as I went up against Morgause and emptied the cup of all the blood. Gods, there was so much blood! And it took days to scrub the floors clean, I still have blisters.”

Merlin thought further back.

“I stopped King Alined when he gave you a love potion so you would defile Lady Vivian, and her father would start a war in her honour. I couldn’t tell you because then you’d confront him, and he would demand a war against Camelot. After all, I was just a servant, and such an accusation would be a slight on his character.”

Arthur inhaled quickly as Merlin kept talking. “Keeping you out of the loop was safer for everyone.” He swallowed some dry bread and reached for his cup, but it had disappeared.

Huh?

“Anyways, Gwen broke the love potion, and you were saved! And you ended the fight in an honourable way like always.” Merlin was nothing if not besotted. And a little miffed that he never got a chance at kissing Arthur.

The King and Leon had opened their mouths in recollection and seemed to be processing the memories in a different light. Merlin ignored this and continued.

“When a sorcerer tried to kill your father in a tournament, I interrupted his fighting so he would lose.”

That had been a difficult week, and he missed Gilli very much. He would like Gwaine, Merlin realised. He’d have to write to him and hope he would come visit one day.

“Also, I stopped the Witchfinder and any other druid catchers who captured innocents for payment. Your father bought humans, Arthur — he bought people from them with no proof that they were sorcerers. You know Gaius was innocent, but the witchfinder's word was final. Others were innocent too…like Freya.”

He sighed and kicked his foot a little. A small pebble flicked across the camp. Merlin suddenly felt cold and tired; the cider had either worn off, or he was simply feeling the effect of the evening turning morose.

He looked down at his bread roll.

“I’ve thrown out so much food and drink because someone had poisoned it. That’s why I always eat off your plate, I am your poison tester. Gaius says I’m immune to a dozen poisons at this point.”

At least that was cool. He didn’t have much else going for him, but at least he could drink hemlock and survive long enough to make his own antidote.

“I have done so much work from the shadows, sire, I cannot recall it all,” Merlin whispered into the sky. The cider was no longer making his skin buzz but had instead become a thundering headache.

“You’re not really a manservant, are you?” Leon surmised. He phrased it like a question, but everyone could hear the truth in his statement.

“I was awarded the position as manservant to the prince for saving his life. All these years, I’ve done exactly that, yet no one has noticed.”

Arthur moved away from him. Merlin felt himself grow colder.

“I know none of you believed me when I spoke of it before, but I have always been Arthur’s protector. Call me spymaster if you wish, for all I do is look out for him. And sometimes Camelot, but always Arthur.”

“So you’re not really a fool then; that was also a lie.”

“No…just another part of my charm. I’ve always been clumsy, but playing it up helped cover up my spying. No one would believe me capable of snapping a man’s neck if I kept spilling wine all over myself at dinnertime.”

“Have you done that?” Gwaines sad eyes met his and Merlin nodded. Sure, he’d not done it with his hands but rather his magic…but as his magic was a part of him, so yes.

“Come here, Merlin. Let’s get you ready for bed.”

“No, no, I gotta get Arthur ready for bed, he gets prissy when I don’t tuck him in at night and then I gotta listen to his complaints in the morning, and then he will throw his breakfast at me and—”

Arthur stopped his rambling. “Shut up, Merlin.”

“You always say that, but we both know you don’t mean it. You like my voice and my rambling, even my nagging, you told me once that it brings you peace and that it calms you down when you’re—”

Arthur clapped his hand over Merlin’s mouth. Merlin licked it.

“Gross.” His king grimaced and pushed Merlin into Lancelot's arms. “Hopefully, he will sleep off this ridiculousness. We will talk tomorrow.”

“He always calls me ridiculous, but we both know he doesn’t mean it,” Merlin mumbled as he leaned on Lancelot. The older knight walked them over to the shaded corner of the campfire. They had splayed out some bedrolls for the first watch there, and Merlin was happy to see his next to Arthur’s.

Side by side. Next to each other in sleep but never in life.

“It’s not fair, y’know,” he mumbled into his friend's arm. “Gwens got both you and Arthur, and I’ve got none, she kissed him and I never did. And Will died and Freya died, and Gilli left and you married Gwen, and I’m all alone. I share a room with Gaius, ugh.” His mouth was stale and dry.

Lancelot pulled his boots off and removed his jacket. Merlin’s limp arms allowed him to do all the work.

He smacked his lips together. “And I’ve got no one; the only one who talks to me is ‘Garrah but he’s a rude old lizard, and he never laughs at my jokes, and he doesn’t like Arthur, so I don’t like him anymore, and my mother lives so far away, and—”

Lancelot helped him lay down into the roll, literally tucking him in. He’s so kind, the very picture of a knight. If Merlin had been born an artist he’d like to draw Lancelot with his red cape and glorious hair.

“And I’ve killed so many people, and I hear their screams in my nightmares, and I can hear the sound of druid children screaming for help when I’m out in the woods, but I ignore them because all my attention is on Arthur, and the guilt is eating me alive.”

Merlin closed his eyes and felt Lancelot stroke his hair, just like his mother used to do when he was sick.

It was a welcoming comfort in the cold forest. He felt the ground rise up and down underneath him like a ship on the waves, except he’d never been on a ship, he’s hardly ever left home before.

Maybe one day, he and Arthur could go on a boat trip. They’d fish and bask naked in the sunlight, pick seashells, and count the birds.

“But he has to do the rowing because my arms get tired easily, and I bet he’d look good covered in sweat and sea salt,” Merlin told himself as he tucked his chin into his arm.

In his sleep, he failed to notice the confused and horrified looks from all the knights.

- - - -

“So we all agree never to let Merlin drink again, yeah?” Gwaine told the group. The fire crackled throughout the camp. The men nodded as they kept their gaze on the sleeping servant. He had fallen asleep within seconds.

“Did any of you know?” Arthur accused his knights and frowned when Lancelot returned to his place. He nodded gently.

“I knew some of it, sire. But not all. Merlin keeps his cards close to his chest and rarely tells anyone unless he must. He prefers to act on his own.”

“He spoke as if you’ve helped him with his spycraft before,” Kay remarked, and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard that when I first became a knight, it was at the basis of a forged seal of nobility.” He saw the men nod in acknowledgment.

“Who do you think made that near-perfect seal?” Lancelot smirked a little at their baffled expressions. “He’s smarter than he lets on. By playing the part of an idiot, he stays alive.”

“Looks like he deserves a day off,” Leon joked. “Working three jobs; manservant, physician, and spymaster…he’s been busy.”

“If I may suggest something, Arthur? We could invite Hunith to Camelot, allow her to stay for the spring harvest, and a longer stay would please Merlin greatly.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. The knights dispersed around the camp, some to tidy and some to keep watch. But Arthur stayed on the log he once shared with Merlin.

He watched as Merlin’s chest rose and fell in perfect silence. His servant looked so innocent and sweet as he slept, but Arthur knew now that his demeanour could be deceiving.

Merlin took on the role of spymaster voluntarily and untasked simply because he wanted to protect Arthur.

Merlin had killed people. For him. For Camelot.

Merlin, the same man who cried at pretty flowers and baby birds, had snapped a man’s neck. He’d attempted to kill several kings. Despite all this, Arthur wasn’t afraid of him. He could never be afraid of Merlin.

While he had always felt as if he knew Merlin like he knew himself, it turned out that Merlin knew him better. “I do enjoy his nagging. As annoying as it can be, I do enjoy it.” He admitted to himself, not caring if the others heard. Merlin knew him so well that he had even noticed this.

Now that Arthur knew this other side of him, he could begin to mend the broken trust between them. He would show Merlin that he deserved his honesty. That it was safe to tell him more of his secrets without fear of losing their friendship.

To think that he might never have known this side of Merlin, had he not been in a stupor. All this was wilfully concealed from him. For his own good, as Merlin described it.

Arthur didn’t recognise half of the names Merlin had mentioned in his drunken state, but he hoped Merlin would be brave enough to tell him about them in the morning. Or maybe the day after, depending on his headache, come morning light. Gods knows how much his own head will hurt when he wakes.

Arthur readied himself for bed, missing the touch of Merlin’s expert hand. He downed enough water to sober him up and unlaced his boots. Merlin was fast asleep in the roll beside him, and Arthur found his presence comforting.

Merlin had always been a comfort to him. His easy smile and happy laugh. His bright eyes and mischievous behaviour enticed him. He had never let anyone in as close as Merlin.

Merlin had entered his life ten years ago and attached himself to Arthur like fungus to a tree. And Arthur had enjoyed every last second of it.

Merlin meant more to Arthur than he’d ever admitted to anyone, let alone himself. Hearing Merlin’s drunk admission of wanting to kiss him filled him with hope.

Tomorrow, they would talk.

Tomorrow, Arthur would tell Merlin all that he deserved to hear.

Until then, he fell asleep breathing in the scent of Merlin, feeling his warmth beside him, and listened to his sleepy, senseless mumbling.