A/N: Wow, it has been ages since I've written - and especially published - anything!

Disclaimer: Merlin, Arthur and the rest of them belong to mythology and so to no-one. These particular incarnations belong to BBC. Certainly none of them belong to me.

A Promise Made

As Merlin let four drops of the elixir fall down into Uther's mouth, he noticed something, a flickering of the light that should not be there. When he looked down he saw that the candlelight was reflected by a charm around Uther's neck. 'Wait', he said, in his old man's voice, 'What is this?' When Arthur shrugged Merlin knew for certain that the necklace did not belong and carefully removed it from around Uther's neck. And like that, Morgana's plan was thwarted and Uther's life saved. And the future of Camelot was altered forever.

Uther lived, and though the fire of his spirit had been rekindled somewhat by his love for Arthur, it was never restored completely and he never reclaimed the throne. The king in him had died when Morgana betrayed him, but in this way he had two more years of life to be a father to Arthur. Finally though it was his time and no medicine, whether magical or not, could prolong his life any further. He died and Arthur was properly crowned king. And the moment arrived when he would need to honour his promise…

Merlin stood in the council chamber, behind the chairs of the councilmen, by the pillars, almost obscured by them. In the shadows. Watching Arthur rule. As he saw his friend and king confer with his councilmen he was conflicted, tormented by indecision, as he had been the past three days since Arthur's coronation. And the seven days before that, since Uther's death. A part of him wanted to remind Arthur of his promise two years ago, that those who practiced magic would have no more need to fear. Remind Arthur that he had promised to revoke the ban on magic. For him, it would mean the freedom to finally show who he truly was and he wanted that freedom desperately. These last few days he had learned to suppress the very thought of that freedom for that thought alone was enough to cause in him a longing so strong it cut his heart and stole his breath. On the other side was his hope that Arthur would do the right thing on his own, that he would need no prompting, and this thought was even sweeter. And as his hope was joined by his fear, the instinct to wait usually won out, though but narrowly and for no more than a few minutes at a time before the battle raged again. But still it won, and Merlin remained silent. Merely watching.

To Be Continued