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As the spell faded, Arthur placed soft kisses on eyes ebbing from soft gold to passionate blue. He had long since gotten over the fear of seeing Merlin's eyes take on the hue that had so often accompanied threats to his life, his father's life, and his kingdom. He had long since accepted Merlin's magic as a wondrous part of his lover, a beautiful thing as natural as the wind blowing through the autumn leaves or the soft babble of a clear mountain stream. Now, when Merlin worked his magic and his eyes flared golden, he saw only love and devotion. And at times like this, when it was just between them, the simple act of stoking the fire or warming their bath or pulling blankets over their still shaking bodies as they lay entwined on the floor, these were the times that Arthur loved the most, reminding him of the faith Merlin had shown in him that first night and the faith that he so eagerly returned.