Don't hold yourself like that/you'll hurt your knees.
It is the day that Arthur is finally crowned King. The coronation is a lavish affair, with every knight and noble in his kingdom paying their respects, kneeling in their fealty before him. Merlin does not come before him. Merlin is locked in the dungeons beneath Camelot. Merlin is a sorcerer.
Contrary to popular belief, Arthur is not blind, nor is he an idiot. He has known about Merlin's magic almost from the start. What hurts him, what makes him angry, isn't that Merlin has magic, it's that he didn't trust Arthur enough to tell him.
He has been in the dungeons for a week now. Imprisoned the day before his father died, finally exposing his magic irrefutably. He had been scheduled to be burned the very day that Uther died. Arthur can't help the hard knot of guilt that forms inside him when he feels glad that his own father is dead instead of his manservant. His Merlin. His magician.
The reason why Merlin is still behind bars is unclear, even to Arthur himself. He doesn't know how to deal with this; the open acknowledgement of all Merlin is, all the power that he holds. It scares Arthur, that the first thing he wants to do with his rule is reject the very principle that his father built his kingdom on. Reject the premise that all magic is evil. It is fear at this huge thing inside of him that keeps Merlin locked up in the dungeons.
Once the last noble has been dispersed from his throne room, Arthur sighs and takes off his crown, leaving it on the seat behind him. He heads to his rooms, the same ones he has always had, he is not taking Uther's rooms, even though they are technically the King's quarters. He doesn't want to sleep in a dead man's bed.
He stops at the entrance to the dungeons along the way. Steels himself with a heavy breath, and calls the guard on duty to him.
"Yes, my Lord?"
"Release the prisoner. Release Merlin."
"But..." The knight falters, realising he is no longer questioning just Arthur, he is questioning his King.
Arthur stares at him, prompts him to continue.
The knight barely breathes his reply; "he is a sorcerer, sire."
"Yes, I know," a tight smile graces Arthur's lips. "Release him." And he walks away.
Arthur waits in his rooms. He is pacing when he doesn't remember to stop himself. He hadn't expected Merlin to come to him straight away, knew he would be unsure. But it is well after sundown now, and there is no sign of him.
Arthur is about to give up, go to bed, sleep away his first night as King, when there is a tentative knock on his door. He knows it is Merlin.
"Enter."
Merlin is pale, and looks thinner than ever. Not surprising, Arthur surmises, considering he's just spent a week in the dungeons.
"Arthur..." His voice is as tentative as his knock; unsure and unsteady.
Arthur looks at him for a long moment, assessing, calculating.
"Uther's dead."
Merlin stares back, uncomprehending. Yes, he knows the King is dead, news travels to even the dungeons, and he wonders if Arthur set him free just to tell him this. To tell him that his death, his execution, is at Arthur's behest and not his father's. His chest tightens uncomfortably and he is unable to look at Arthur any longer.
"Uther's dead," Arthur repeats, "and you have magic."
Merlin draws in a sharp breath, unsure of where this is going. Arthur seems to be waiting for a response.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
And just like that, Merlin identifies the emotion in Arthur's eyes. It is not disgust, it is not hatred or loathing. It is hurt, it is anger, it is confusion. Arthur doesn't hate him, doesn't want him dead. So Merlin does the only thing he can think of now he is standing in front of his King. He kneels.
"My Lord. My King. I am sorry."
Arthur stares, and he is silent.
Merlin remains on his knees.
"Merlin..."
Arthur is in front of him, kneeling as well, hands grasping Merlin's arms a little too tightly.
"Whoever," he seems to be struggling to find the right words, "whatever I am, you are..." The words trail off and Merlin raises his eyes to meet Arthur's.
"You do not kneel to me."
Merlin opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Every man kneels before the King. Every man.
It is almost as if Arthur has read his mind. Although that is impossible, Merlin is the one with magic, not Arthur, never Arthur.
"You're the most powerful wizard who ever lived. Or so they say. You're my equal, you're my... You're Merlin. You do not kneel to me."
And just like that, magic is no longer banned in the kingdom of Camelot.