Merlin was startled to find the bed empty, the bright morning sun in his face. The empty space was cool beside him. He tried not to worry too much, despite the growing gnaw in his chest. He popped out of bed, hearing the front door slam open, then closed. He was nude, standing in the bedroom doorway, apprehensively watching Arthur gathering clothes and items into a pile. Merlin stepped closer, and realized it was his clothes Arthur was holding. His items Arthur was trying to arrange.
"What are you doing?"
"Merlin, is this really all you have?" Arthur said condescendingly.
He simply laughed. "I'm no king." He pressed to Arthur's front and bent down to kiss him. "I'm no prince either."
"You would never pass for one." He threw the clothes to the floor. "You can bring whatever you want with you. It won't be difficult to carry," he said mockingly more jokingly.
"Prat," Merlin whispered, grinning from ear to ear.
Arthur took an appreciative view of his blatant lack of clothes, before stepping back, "get dressed. We'll be leaving soon."
"What am I going to do in Camelot?"
"Warm my bed?" Arthur smiled cheekily. Merlin glowered, causing Arthur to laugh. "We'll think of a proper title when we get there. I'll find someone for you to stay with." He said, as an afterthought, "Do you know anyone in Camelot?"
Merlin shifted through his clothes on the ground, unknowingly giving Arthur a very pleasant view of his arse. "I was told once, about a family friend. But I don't know his name."
"Well, when we get to Camelot, we can try and find him. There will be a feast. Lots of people there."
"I doubt my mother knew a noble."
"It's a start. Apparently there's even going to be singing, from a Lady Helen, or so I heard from the drunk messenger the night before. As I understand my father is excited about this." Arthur stepped forward, grabbing Merlin's hips and pressed his groin into his rear.
Merlin closed his eyes, feeling the hard line in Arthur's trousers, and his growing need. "My lord," he parodied, "we'll be late."
"It'll be quick," Arthur said, unlacing his breeches.
Merlin walked, heading to the pack of horses on the outskirts of the village. It was serene, leaving one home for another. It was an adventure of his own making. It was the accumulation of months, weeks, days, minutes, and seconds to his thoughts, and fighting his desires.
It was the admittance to something more than lust.
As Merlin watched Ealdor grow smaller, sitting on a horse beside Arthur's, it was giving in to the most sweetest surrender.
A/N: Yes, I am aware that "the most sweetest surrender" is not grammatically correct, but I ignored it for aesthetic reasons. -_-' So there really wasn't much to make this rated M, only a few words from the first chapters needed some tweaking and/or deleting. But for the most part, this story is as it is. This fiction was completed late January of this year, posted, forgotten, then I realized I hadn't posted it at my account here. I hope you readers enjoyed.