Merlin watched as the crown was placed upon Arthur's head. It almost seemed cold, the speed of the past few days—Uther was hardly cold and in the ground, and yet here they were, crowning his son King. Arthur was still so young, with so much to prove, so much to learn. Merlin couldn't pretend he wasn't happy the old King was gone, however—maybe now magic would be safe in Camelot.
Not a day after Uther had died, Bayard had (almost predictably) made his opinion of Arthur's taking of the throne very clear. The Crown Prince was too young, and thus should not be allowed to rule. Arthur's knights had stood up for Arthur brilliantly, but the kings of the other surrounding kingdoms agreed with Bayard, and it had been agreed that there would be a competition for the ruling hand over Camelot.
Merlin had had to think fast, and he patted himself on the back when he had come up with the solution. There was a sword, he'd let slip to some reliable sources, a sword in a stone very near Ealdor that no one had been able to budge. A plaque was under the stone, stating that whoever should pull the sword from its resting place would be King of all. As he'd hoped, the word had spread like wildfire.
Merlin watched the sword at Arthur's side as it swung when he stood, stony-faced. The proceedings had been unconventional, at best, but necessary and effective—Merlin's spell had worked perfectly, and the sword had only budged for Arthur. The people had looked up to him with reverent looks, realizing (not for the first time) that the young monarch before them would be the greatest King the land had yet seen.
Perhaps even the world.
Merlin had held his head high with pride as Arthur had stood, face stoic, but eyes scared. The people didn't notice the latter detail; they saw only the King that he would be for them. But Merlin noticed. Merlin always noticed.
A banquet was thrown that night, and as he saw Arthur making his final rounds of 'so good to see you's and 'goodnight's, Merlin slipped away. Arthur's things had been moved up to the King's chambers, which didn't feel nearly as friendly as the Prince's had. Merlin suspected it might have been the shadow of Uther still hanging over the kingdom. Over him.
Merlin's heart began to pound at the thought—should he tell Arthur tonight? Was it too soon? Too late? Should he have said something before this, before the ceremony, before they had actually become real friends? Should he never have come here in the first place?
He mentally shook himself fiercely at that thought. This was his destiny. He was meant to be here.
Merlin turned and straightened to his full height as the door opened behind him. Arthur froze in the doorway.
"What are you doing here?" Merlin cleared his throat.
"These are your chambers, are they not?" Arthur's eyes flashed, and Merlin mentally kicked himself for lack of tact. Of course they were Arthur's, Arthur was King. But Arthur probably still saw them as Uther's. Merlin sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"
"Merlin." Arthur's hand softened from where it had clenched on the doorknob, and he opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again. "Merlin." Merlin waited as Arthur steeled himself, and then seemed to deflate. "You're no longer my manservant, you know. You don't have to do anything for me anymore."
"I know." Merlin went forward, taking Arthur's wrist lightly and bringing him into the room. Shocks flew up his arm, originating from where his bare skin met Arthur's, soft, electrical shocks that were so familiar. Merlin didn't know when things had changed for him, but he definitely knew that they had…his stuttering heart had been telling him so for months. He let go of the King's wrist in favour of shutting the door.
The King's wrist.
Arthur…Arthur was King.
A shudder ripped down his spine at the sudden realization. He almost felt angry at himself; of course Arthur couldn't have stayed Prince forever. But the thought of Arthur as King, as his King…
He'd known, of course, known as he'd placed the spell over the stupid sword in the stupid stone that Arthur would soon have absolute power over him and the entire land, but it hadn't really sunk in until this moment. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying himself before turning around to meet Arthur's calculating gaze.
"I know," Merlin continued, too many moments too late, "but did it ever occur to you that I might want to?" Arthur swallowed, and Merlin fought to keep his eyes on Arthur's.
"Very well, then. Let's see if you're any more competent now that you're handling a King." Merlin had to fight down a groan, but he strode forward a little too quickly anyway, trembling fingers starting to work on the clasp of the cape at Arthur's neck. The tops of his fingers lightly brushed the bottom of Arthur's jaw as he worked, and Merlin tried to ignore the way the King's pulse point fluttered.
Arthur's torso was soon bared as Merlin worked the tunic off of him, eyes and hands focusing on the task, but mind wandering and lingering on each brush of bare skin, the quick intakes of breath from Arthur after each one. He tried to focus on how he would tell his King about himself, but it was a losing fight when, finally, Merlin pulled Arthur's breaches down slowly, and was suddenly staring at his King's half-hard arousal. Merlin's tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips, and Arthur let out a choked groan.
Years of want and need and Arthur seemed to take over him as he leaned forward, tongue swiping a broad stripe up the King's now fully-hard cock, and his own prick attempted to stand at attention at the sturdy King's whimper. Body buzzing with electricity, Merlin took the head into his mouth, knees sore with disuse, jaw beginning to cramp already. He hadn't done this since Will.
He pulled off quickly at the sound of metal clattering to the ground, whipping his head to see the sword lying on the floor, having fallen from where he'd propped it on the table.
"Your idea." Arthur's voice was hoarse, but firm. "The sword was your idea." Merlin sighed, and the cock in front of his face twitched as the gust hit it. The King's hands clenched around thin air.
"It was your magic." Merlin stiffened, and Arthur's hand found his hair. "It's always been your magic." Merlin looked up to see Arthur's eyes, dark with arousal, but soft around the edges with something like affection. "I've known for a while and you're still not dead." Arthur's eyes got impossibly darker. "But I swear, Merlin, you will be if you leave me like this."
Merlin licked his lips, and Arthur's eyes watched his tongue. Merlin smirked.
"Wouldn't dream of it. Milord." He cut off Arthur's sentence before it began by bringing his mouth back to the cock in front of him, sucking eagerly, relishing in the feel of the hand clenching almost painfully in his hair and Arthur's moan from above him.
There would be a morning for him after all.
Sabrina sat on the porch swing, looking desperately at Destiny. No wonder he'd avoided her question all night. She
tried a last, desperate plea.
"But…you're Destiny. You decide these things." Destiny shook its head, smiling slightly.
"I used to. I haven't made a significant decision since King Arthur. It's been all downhill since the sword in the stone."
AN: The last part is taken from the Sabrina: The Teenage Witch episode "Date With Destiny," which was also the inspiration for this fic.