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Merlin glanced over at him, and, as it sometimes was wont to, Arthur's brilliance seemed to catch fire, his edges all burning to silhouette, strong and proud.
The blue of his eyes stared back at Merlin, his brows dimpling with collapsed crinkles, softening his eye's shape so that they were almost lidded. He was smiling quietly.
Merlin felt his pride to serve the man before him and his unspoken adoration toward Arthur, his unyielding loyalty to Camelot, rise to the surface of himself as he held Arthur's eye, face up to meet his gaze, chin high. He exhaled through his nose, and the moment captured him like he was a butterfly. Arthur reached forward for Merlin's shoulder, hand landing weightly against it.
"Thank you, Merlin."
Arthur's own expression glistened with earnest and his smile was small, private between them, although still arranged widely enough that his pointed and crooked teeth poked through onto his lips.
It was so true to Arthur's character that Merlin could have felt his own expression intensify, now burning like blue fire. His devotion scraping him raw, plainer than day.
"Of course, sire," the moment felt too tender to speak loudly.
The touch of his words on the atmosphere's tendons was warm and pressing, like applying the smallest amount of pressure when he touched Arthur's neck, and the breathless effect of his voice was lingering delicately around them as a soft fog.
Gods, it was really just Arthur,
Arthur,
Arthur.
It always was.
If he saw the devotion reflecting in Merlin's eyes and the bow to his head... well, Merlin almost hoped he could.
He knew what Arthur was thanking him for, and it would be good for Merlin to show him why he had done all he had, just maybe. Gratifying, to give him answers before he was curious.
"Cabbage head," he added into the silence, still preciously.
He grinned widely as Arthur let out a breath, huffy, turning his head, big smile still visible as he reached out to roughly ruffle Merlin's hair, relinquishing his grip on his shoulder.
Once the had hand retreated, Merlin ducked his head and looked up at Arthur through his eyelashes. He still had his own face turned, chest rising and falling as if he was chuckling, or snickering, possibly.
Tomorrow was a battle. Tonight, by the fire, they felt like something else.
It was a tender feeling.
King and Servant.
Merlin and Arthur.
In many ways, their titles held true, no matter how close they may have been.
Arthur was the king of Merlin's priorities, rare prayers uttered in desperation, devotions and heart. Merlin lived to serve.
But he served only to see Arthur's happiness.
..Sometimes Merlin thought that that was his biggest secret.