Chapter Text
“This is ridiculous Merlin. I can’t do this.”
Merlin rolled his eyes, even as a smile tugged at his lips. “Yes you can. You’re just nervous.”
“King’s don’t get nervous.” Arthur snapped back, automatic and without any heat.
Merlin sighed. “Arthur.”
He turned to look out at the glade they had finally found. It was beautiful – truly something magical, as if the buzzing of wild magic around him wasn’t enough. Merlin sighed and let his own magic loose to mingle with the wild magic in the air. A gentle wind blew between the trees, rushing out into the glade and towards the sliver of lake Merlin could see from where they were standing. His magic ran with it, and flowers bloomed everywhere it touched, bright red and beautiful. They extended over the little hill and down towards the lakeside.
There, Merlin finally caught a flash of their prize; the briefest glint of metal in the sun.
Arthur had seen it too, Merlin knew. He’d gone tense beside him, emotions expertly hidden but clear for Merlin to see. He turned his full attention to his king, smiling lightly when Arthur instantly turned to him.
He took both of Arthur’s hands in his own and squeezed lightly. “When the sword was thrust into the stone, the ancient king foretold that one day it would be freed again at a time when Camelot needed it most.”
Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes. “I know the story Merlin. I was there when the druid told us as well, you know.”
Merlin squeezed his hands again, silencing him. “It was said that the man who freed it would unite the land of Albion and rule over the greatest kingdom the world has ever known. “ He paused, looked deep into Arthur’s eyes. “That man is you, Arthur.”
Arthur gulped, his eyes shooting over to the glint of the sword before focusing back on Merlin. “You have so much faith in me.”
Merlin smiled and let go of one of Arthur’s hands in order to cup his cheek. “You deserve it.”
Arthur’s smile was small, and disappeared quickly. “What if I don’t? How can I possibly be good enough for a legend like this one Merlin?” His shoulders slumped, and Merlin wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms. Or to slap some sense into him. “I’m only one man.”
“You, King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot, are an idiot.” Arthur spluttered and Merlin smiled, then leaned in until their foreheads touched. “You are a fair and just king, and a good and kind man. Your people adore you, your knights would lay down their lives for you, and the other kings and queens respect you. You are the Once and Future King; you will pull that sword from the stone, and you will prove to everyone – including yourself – that you are worthy of the crown of Albion.”
Arthur’s eyes were blown wide open, a small flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. Merlin’s eyes dropped to Arthur’s lips – an inevitability when they were this close. Arthur closed his eyes and leaned into him, his doubts melting away with his tension.
Arthur pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then another, and another, until Merlin was giggling between kisses.
Arthur drew back, a smile on his face. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Merlin said, grinning dopily.
Arthur took his hand and intwined their fingers. Together, they made their way down the slope and towards the lake. Merlin ran his hands through the flowers his magic had bloomed, smiling softly at the tingle of life up his arm.
They stopped by the water of the lake, the sword and its stone looming in front of them. It was a beautiful sword, shining and golden in the late afternoon sun. Merlin could see runes etched into the side, though he couldn’t quite make them out yet, half buried as they were. Magic seemed to pulse from it on waves, a power far greater than Merlin had felt from anything else before. It made his breath catch in his throat.
Arthur squeezed his hand, once, then let go. Merlin stood still as Arthur stepped into the rock and rested a hand gently on the swords’ hilt.
He glanced back at Merlin, tight lipped. “Will you use your magic, if I can’t pull it out?”
“I won’t need to.” Merlin said instantly, confidently.
Arthur smiled, that soft smile Merlin loved so much, and turned back to the sword. He gripped it tight with one hand, and Merlin could read the determination in every line of his body.
“Believe in yourself.” He murmured.
Arthur grunted, muscles straining as he pulled at the sword. Merlin watched with bated breath as he pulled, and for a moment he thought the druids had lied, that the legends weren’t true, that Arthur would think himself a failure when he was anything but-
And then a loud scraping noise filled the air, and Merlin watched in awe as Arthur smoothly pulled the legendary sword free of the stone. He held it up to the sky, both him and the sword golden and shining.
Merlin fell to his knees in an instant. “My King.”
There was a moment of silence, of utter stillness, and then Arthur was on his knees next to him, the sword still held tightly in one of his hands. His other hand reached up and grabbed at the back of Merlin’s head, pulling him forward and into a desperate kiss.
“Marry me.” Arthur whispered into his lips, and Merlin froze.
Then it was his turn to surge forward and bombard Arthur with kisses, breathing his answer into every press of their lips.
“Yes.”