Merlin glanced at Gaius' departing figure, then at the door behind which his prince now knelt in vigil for his father. A father I killed. Not you, Gaius had claimed. But did that even matter?

I meddled again, like always. Gaius is always warning me and I never listen.

Merlin stood, paced a couple steps, and stared at the closed doors. He stepped as close as he dared, reaching out his right hand to lightly touch its wood. If only he could have said something, told Arthur he knew the pain of losing a father in your very arms, the heartbreaking grief swallowing your soul. But he couldn't. And that he'd been the cause of it...

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Merlin whispered, then brushed an escaped tear from his cheek. He glanced once more down the hall. His hand firmed on the door. I'm not leaving him alone.

Merlin moved into the antechamber. If Arthur had need of anything, he'd pass by here. He slipped down next to the curved stairwell. He brought his knees up and buried his head in his hands. There would be no sleep for prince or warlock this night...

I should have seen the charm! Why didn't I look? I should have looked. Rushing again, running headlong, too eager, too fast. Merlin clutched his folded arms to his chest. Over and over Merlin beheld Arthur's face the moment his father died: fear, desperation, and then the worst of all, betrayal. He thought I betrayed him...he still thinks I did. It didn't matter if Arthur blamed a conjured old man, it was him through and through.

Merlin craned his neck upwards, staring at the blank ceiling high above. He dug his nails into his arms and clenched his jaw. He wanted to shout it wasn't him, that he'd never betray Arthur, but he had unwittingly.

Merlin bowed his head, eyes smoldering. Morgana. I should have made sure she died. Snatched her from Morgause, made sure the poison completed its work. Then none of this would have come to pass. Or would it?

Destiny. Was it finite or fluid? Half the time he ignored thinking about it. It was too confusing, too frustrating, at times too terrifying to try to wrap his mind around all he'd been told about himself and Arthur and Camelot. Now he questioned, was this destiny?

Merlin glanced at the doors. Was I meant to kill Uther? If he'd only known...Fate be cursed!

Tormented thoughts continued to pursue the broken servant now lying on the frigid wooden floor. How much time passed, he did not care. He'd heard not a sound from the throne room, but he hadn't expected his prince to sob and despair. It wasn't like Arthur, but that made this even worse. Arthur wouldn't wail; he'd just stoically blame himself for the rest of his life.

If I could only tell him the truth. Tell him what really happened. How free he would feel if he could pull himself up from the antechamber floor, enter the throne room, put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, and tell him how he'd been cruelly used by his half-sister. If only he could apologize properly, show Arthur what he'd tried to do. If he wouldn't try to kill me first.

He wanted so much to be honest with Arthur. Arthur's life was an open book to him; even more so. He knew things Arthur could never know about himself. It wasn't fair. He had to keep pushing back the feeling that his friendship was partially false, built on lies he had to tell. And if he but once spoke the truth, Arthur would condemn him.

Merlin pressed fingers into his eyes, breathing slowly in and out, feeling magic tingle under his skin. He rested his hands on his chest. He could feel magic coursing through his veins. I can't change who I am and who I am Arthur would destroy. And now he'd made it even worse. His attempts to help had doomed him to a forever secret concealed from the closest friend he'd ever had. Magic, Arthur had said, was pure evil.

An ache welled up in Merlin's chest. It wasn't the heat of magic; it was pain pure and unabated. Merlin succumbed to silent tears.

Night grew long, but time for Merlin stood ever still. Would he ever be whole again? Would he survive the grief crushing his heart? He didn't think he'd ever be able to face Arthur again.

The only indication of time was the longer the night, the colder the castle grew. Merlin huddled under the stairs, curled into himself for warmth. He could only hope Arthur found comfort for his body and soul in the throne room.

As much as he grieved for himself and his prince, when his thoughts turned to those like him, pain threatened to break him. What had happened hours ago now had damned them. We'll never live free. Death will be on my hands. It was startling and soul crushing truth.

Why did I bargain for them? he berated himself. What a foolish trade to make! Gaius had told him it might not go as planned. He should have considered such. If he'd just taken Arthur's gold then perhaps a greedy old warlock with a chip on his shoulder would have been to blame, and maybe there still would have been a chance for those who loved magic to find peace.

Merlin blew into his icy hands. He stared at the antechamber doors. He'd promised himself he would do no magic this night out of respect for the grieving prince.

Merlin turned his eyes away from the doors. How could Arthur not hate magic? Look what it had brought him. If Uther hadn't made a bargain for his son...and Arthur had bargained for his father. And I bargained for my people's freedom.

"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered feebly, this time begging forgiveness from a people who didn't even know he'd sealed their fates for years to come.

Merlin stared blankly at the wall next to the stairs, sitting with his back to them again, legs bent in front of him. Swirling thoughts of pain and guilt and regret had long given way to continual dead ache. Life could never be the same. This would change everything and there was nothing he could do about it.

He rolled his head briefly to the doors, then back to the wall. Was Arthur still awake? He would not sleep, Merlin knew. He loved his father too much.

Merlin recalled again Balinor's final moments, the awful pain, yet sorrowful joy when he'd said he knew Merlin would make him proud. I haven't made you proud. A sob choked Merlin's throat. He closed his eyes and swallowed it. I've let everyone down. You and Gaius...and Arthur.

Arthur, who kept watch over his father because Merlin forced him to. Morgana did, Merlin heard his thought in Gaius' voice. Yes, Morgana, but I gave her the opportunity.

Merlin opened his eyes and breathed out slowly. I have to live with my part in it. How would he ever manage it? He'd have to face Arthur every day and he didn't know if he could bear it.

The antechamber doors opened. Merlin's breath stalled in his chest. The blank wall had come alight except for a shadow he knew too well-Arthur, his prince, the soon to be king. He didn't dare turn and meet the eyes of the friend he'd destroyed.

"Merlin?"

Arthur's voice challenged Merlin's fear and he breathed again. He obeyed the waiting voice, turning to the prince's pained gaze. But he didn't see what he thought he would. Arthur looked on him with almost a certain peace.

Arthur nodded to the light streaming onto the wall. "It's a new day."

Merlin stared at the windows in the hall. He felt the warmth of the sun as if he were a ray itself. Perhaps his magic could not help but respond in the light of the dawn nor his soul, for in Arthur's words he heard what he needed most-hope. He rose unsteadily from the floor.

"You been here all night?"

Merlin felt suddenly his gesture had been inappropriate. "I didn't want you to feel that you were alone," he explained.

Arthur didn't chastise, nor disparage. Merlin saw something rare but cherished-gratefulness. "You're a loyal friend, Merlin."

Merlin wished he could believe so and scrub away his fatal mistake.

Arthur closed the antechamber doors, then turned to face him again. "You must be hungry."

Merlin didn't expect such a routine statement and something in his soul eased. "Starving."

"Me, too." Arthur let the hint of a smile play on his lips. "Come on," he commanded, climbing the stairs. "You can make us some breakfast."

Merlin followed behind the prince, the soon to be king, his friend. He'd fix a million breakfasts if it meant he'd regain what he'd thought he'd lost forever. Perhaps nothing much would change after all. Maybe it would even get better with the man ahead of him on the throne.

With every step, the torment of the night faded away. Merlin had no recourse now but to let hope in Arthur's reign take its place.