****** SPOILERS FOR THE FINALE*******
Author's Note:
I was very unhappy with the way the series ended and had to rectify it in my mind. If you want to read my thoughts on the finale I have included them in the endnotes of this story.
This was originally supposed to be a short one-shot. Yeah…not so much.
This story is consistent with everything that happened in the show right up until the scene at the end of 5x13 where Morgana intercepts Merlin & Arthur just before they reach the lake. From there, things happened differently in my universe (not least of which includes Arthur not dying). In my world, I like to pretend it happened like this. Ah, the joys of living in one's mind.
Note that this story is set about two weeks after Merlin rescued Arthur from Mordred's mortal wound.
Just in case any of my Mistaken Trust readers happen to stumble across this fic (unlikely since this is a completely different fandom), I assure you that I have NOT abandoned it. I was just too devastated by the finale of my favorite TV show and could not rest until I'd written this.
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin. I am merely borrowing the characters for my own enjoyment and am not making any money from this work of fiction. No copyright infringement intended.
The Missing Piece
The sun sank low on the horizon and a chilly breeze welcomed the approaching dusk. A twig snapped beneath his boot, and Arthur cursed under his breath, ducking lower to avoid discovery and hoping distractedly that the ten paces he'd kept between himself and his quarry was enough. Since when did a King stoop to cowering in the foliage like a complete fool? He'd never hear the end of it if his knights caught wind of it. Releasing a quiet breath of resignation, Arthur ordered himself to turn back and abandon this pointless expedition. Just what did he hope to achieve, anyway? He was just about to slip back through the trees in the direction he'd come when the all-too-familiar figure he'd been pursuing came to a stop in the clearing up ahead and flopped down unceremoniously to sit on the edge of the embankment, looking out across lush plains and rolling hills glowing beneath the western sky, his shoulders sagging with an almost defeated slump.
Arthur paused where he stood barely concealed in the shadows behind the tree line, his body half turned, unsure which way to proceed now. His brow creased with indecision and unbidden apprehension, and he stood there for a moment, staring at the solitary form of his manservant as the evening light crept lower in the sky. He was startled out of his stupor when a bird took flight from a nearby tree in a rustle of leaves and a flap of wings, causing his hand to instinctively fly to the pommel of his sword at his hip and alerting him to the fact that they were now currently located outside the span of Camelot nightly patrol, and would thus be inadvertently vulnerable to any kind of rogue groups roaming or…worse. He felt a flare of annoyance—and something dangerously akin to concern—when he noted that his servant hadn't moved a muscle after the disturbance of the bird taking flight, seeming completely oblivious to his surroundings, his scrawny frame looking more hunched and vulnerable than ever against the backdrop of the setting sun.
Well this was just great! he scoffed with growing indignation. Just dandy! Didn't the idiot realize that nighttime was descending rapidly and that if one fancied going off for a several mile trek away from the safety of the city guards that one should at the very least be vigilant to one's surroundings? Sitting with one's back turned to any approaching danger was just asking for trouble. And anyhow, what on earth had possessed the idiotic man to take a stroll out this late completely alone and defenseless when—
Arthur cut that thought off short. Ah, but of course. Merlin was anything but defenseless. And therein lay the very reason why he, Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, stood there, the turmoil warring inside him while he spied on Merlin of all people.
Merlin. His servant. His closest friend. Was a sorcerer. Merlin was a sorcerer. A warlock, if one was to be more precise. A warlock who also happened to be the most powerful magic-user ever to walk the earth—if one was particular about such details as this, which, frankly, Arthur had to admit, he was. It was rather hard to overlook such a detail, particularly when he was walking, breathing proof of the accuracy of that statement. It had been but a fortnight since the battle at Camlann, and Arthur could remember all too well the potency of promised death wrought by Mordred's blade. Even he himself had felt the difference, had known it was no ordinary wound the moment the blade had pierced him. He had been all but dead.
And yet here he stood.
Here he stood because powerful magic had saved his life again. Arthur had no qualms as to the truth of that statement. He could no more refute than deny it. Only the most powerful of magic could have pulled him from the jaws of a death so assuredly ingrained that he had felt it within his very core, had felt the inexplicable pull of the sword fragment, intransigent in its journey to his heart. No, there were no doubts in this respect. No matter which way one circled it, the fact remained that there existed a magic-user that housed an unfathomable amount of raw power and that he had used it to save Arthur's life on more than one occasion. Of this, Arthur was certain. The entire picture was solid and could not be bent. However, there was one piece that, despite strenuous efforts, Arthur could not force into place, no matter how much he knew it doubtlessly belonged there.
Merlin was this magic-user. Merlin. It was fact as much as any other. And yet Arthur just could not fathom a way to fit that particular piece into place in his mind, no matter which way he turned it. Merlin, his bumbling, errant manservant, and Merlin, the all-powerful sorcerer; he could not consciously merge the two—not without the flurry of unsorted turmoil ravaging through him.
It had been so much easier when he'd been on the brink of death. Knowing certain death was so close in hand brought everything into sharp focus, hacking through the raging emotions right down to the heart of things. It had been easier then. The details hadn't mattered. But now… well, everything was that much more complicated.
One could forgive. One could accept. One could even understand. But one could not mend the damage of near a decade of deceit.
Arthur had tried. He truly had. Lying on his deathbed for those two days spent in the wilderness had pulled him through the initial shock and anger, because, somehow, despite everything, there had been no one he'd rather have at his side at the end of it all than Merlin, his best friend, the one person who had always been there through every obstacle, every quest, every battle. In that moment in time that had been all that had truly mattered. Deep down, he'd understood just how much Merlin had done for him, for Camelot, and that he'd never had a more loyal friend. It had been enough.
He'd known it then, and he knew it now. And yet, it didn't change one simple fact. Even knowing he owed Merlin—no, the entire kingdom owed Merlin their gratitude, the fact remained that Merlin, the Merlin he'd thought he'd known, didn't exist.
And damned if that didn't hurt. Damned if that didn't leave a hollowness in his chest he couldn't ignore. Damned if that didn't bother him more than anything else.
Merlin, his manservant, his friend—his best friend—had become his one constant in a life full of chaos and uncertainty, the one person who had kept him grounded when the weight of the kingdom resting upon his shoulders had grown almost too heavy to bear. The exuberant camaraderie existing between the two of them had always been simple and easy, had been one of the few things in his life that had felt solid and right; natural, with no expectations, no pretences. It just was. Or at least, it had been.
Now, Arthur could not even simply look at Merlin without the numerous questions tugging him in all directions. He could not fit the two pieces of the man together in his mind—Merlin his clumsy, brave, idiotic, wise and loyal friend vs Merlin the all-powerful sorcerer. Which parts of him had been genuine and which parts had been pretence?
Arthur didn't know.
And so here he stood.
Here he stood because he missed his best friend more than he would ever care to admit, even to himself. And he wanted him back, whatever parts of him he could have— because surely not everything had been a lie? The problem was, Arthur hadn't the faintest idea where to even begin mending the bridges. From the moment he'd woken to find nothing but a tiny scar where Mordred's blade had penetrated, the white-hot pain in his chest anomalously absent, Merlin's face hovering over him, the questions had been the same.
Where did they proceed from there? Would they return to Camelot with the guise that nothing had changed, that Merlin was nothing more than a servant? Had Arthur wholly and truly accepted Merlin's magic? Would he repeal the ban on magic? How long would it take? How would he even begin to allow magic to return to a land that had been taught to fear and hate it with such vehemence? How would the people react?
Arthur still had no answers.
He and Merlin had returned to Camelot together with a somewhat mutual understanding that they would take each day as it came, but again Arthur hadn't known where to even begin, hadn't even known whether Merlin was still to be his manservant. As it happened, Merlin had returned to his duties without any prompting either way, and Arthur hadn't objected. For whatever reason he hadn't been able to bring himself to, choosing instead to hold on to that small shred of normalcy after a huge chunk of his world had turned on its head.
Needless to say, what little interactions the two of them now had were anything but normal; they were awkward, strained, and what little banter they attempted was feeble at best. Days and days had passed in this manner, and Arthur had had enough. He needed to understand. He needed to make sense of this complex riddle that was Merlin.
Though, how following the man miles from the castle and spying on him behind a tree was going to give him the answers he sought, Arthur had no idea. But after stepping out for some air to momentarily escape his duties—duties that had compounded tenfold in the aftermath of battle—he had seen his servant setting off into the trees on his own and had felt compelled to follow. He'd had every intention of making his presence known—lord knew they had much to discuss—but had then found he was too much of a coward to do so. This was owing to the fact that they had both been walking on eggshells around the other, and he had no idea how to approach the man. Besides, complex conversations of a personal nature had never been Arthur's forte.
So where did that leave him now?
Arthur released a weighty breath, his shoulders dropping slightly as he leaned wearily against the broad oak tree keeping him in shadow. He and Merlin desperately needed to talk things out, he knew, and now seemed an ideal time, but, once again, Arthur couldn't muster up the courage to tackle the overflow of questions left in the wake of years and years of secrecy.
Resisting the urge to pound his head against the tree in an attempt to alleviate the conflict running rampant in his brain, Arthur heaved himself from where his back rested against the tree and straightened his posture. His self-reproaching anger at his own cowardice turned outward when his eyes once again landed on the lanky figure of his servant. The redirection of anger was an automatic response to quell the twinge of guilt he felt upon registering the distinctly melancholy profile of his friend. Clearly, Arthur wasn't the only one weighted down by his persistence avoidance of Merlin's secret. Still, it was much easier for Arthur to channel his emotions outward than acknowledge the guilt churning in his stomach.
He clenched his jaw. Why had the idiot come all the way out here alone? Yes, Camelot had been victorious at Camlann, but the battle itself had left the kingdom in a considerably weakened state and thus susceptible to further attack. They had just recently received word of a renegade army assembling forces, and the Saxons themselves had been regrouping. Now was not the time to go ambling off out of range of Camelot patrols! Especially alone and unarmed and—
Arthur inwardly slapped himself, irked that he'd once again allowed himself to momentarily forget that Merlin was the last person on earth to require protection, and even more irked that, despite knowing this, he still couldn't bring himself to turn back and leave the young man out here alone. Perhaps it was because he was so accustomed to looking out for his clumsy servant, or perhaps it was because Merlin somehow looked more vulnerable than ever in this moment—slumped with his arms around his knees, chin resting upon them, gazing up at the fading pink of the horizon.
Whatever the reason, Arthur couldn't leave, and this only served to irritate him further.
Scoffing, he started pacing between neighboring trees—less concerned about discovery now in his indignation—only to find himself quickly ducking behind the large oak again when he registered Merlin pushing up to his feet.
Arthur held his breath, his back pressed to the rough tree trunk. When he heard no sound of approaching footsteps through the grass, he peeked an eye out from his hiding place.
Merlin hadn't noticed him, it seemed. The warlock was just standing there silently, staring off sightlessly, and in that singular moment the younger man looked so profoundly…sad, and…deflated all of a sudden that Arthur's petty irritation promptly fell away, an awful stirring in his gut taking its place. This was wrong, all so very wrong. For this hollow look did not belong there, not on the face of one that had always harbored such a bright, endless cheer, contagious to all those near. This was the look of one who had seen far, far too much. The look of one who shouldered a weight too heavy for even an army of men to bear, let alone one man.
Yet bear it alone Merlin did, moving slowly and quietly across the clearing now, each step leaden with the weight of a thousand men. He stopped near the stream bordering the opposite end of the clearing, seeming to take some measure of peace from watching the water trickle through the rocks whilst the last glow of sunset shimmered dimly off its surface. Then his shoulders drooped lower and with a quiet sigh he sank down once again, this time near the water and using a fallen, lichen-covered log as a makeshift bench. Hunching forward with his forearms resting on his knees, he picked up a stray tree branch that lay by his foot and twirled it absentmindedly in his hand before holding it up in front of him, his features softening with an almost wistful expression as he stared at it. Then his eyes changed.
Arthur had seen Merlin use magic before, certainly. During that two-day trek to Avalon—after he'd witnessed the man manipulate flaming embers into the shape of a dragon (heaven help him)—the mortally wounded king had spent every waking moment watching, observing his servant of nearly ten years with fixated scrutiny through bone-weary eyes and mind-numbing shock. Each time he'd witnessed even the simplest execution of Merlin's magic it had felt more a fictitious rendering of the mind than actual reality to Arthur. And, though he knew it was unfounded, Arthur had yet to abate the cold sense of dread each time he vividly recalled one of those particular incidents. It was no doubt for this reason that Merlin had not once used magic in front of the King since their return to Camelot, obviously sensing his discomfort and unease around such displays.
And so, it was not surprising that Arthur's initial reaction to the sudden golden fire that now alighted Merlin's eyes was to stumble backward a few steps, that cold dread forming in his stomach and tightening his chest. Arthur swallowed, watching as the branch in Merlin's hand ignited easily, the flame flickering like a torch, bathing the warlock's face with its soft glow. And it was easy to see the way said warlock gazed at the flame for several heartbeats, a small, reluctant smile tugging up the corner of his lips before he finally let go of that part of himself few had ever seen.
The single flame erupted into thousands of tiny glowing embers, shimmering like diamonds in the darkness. But it was not this visual display that was the most spectacular. No, the most spectacular of all was the way the magic seemed to take on a physical presence of its own, encompassing the entire clearing and touching everything within its reach, including Arthur himself.
And it was then that Arthur finally understood.
It was then that that missing piece slid into place in Arthur's mind.
It was then that Arthur truly saw Merlin for the first time. The real Merlin.
Out here, far away from wandering eyes that would persecute, judge, or fear him simply for who he was, Merlin bared himself to the world.
The embers took shape, and the ridiculous urge to laugh bubbled up Arthur's throat. Here was the most powerful sorcerer to ever live and he was shaping fire embers into cute little animals and unicorns—unicorns! It was an utterly preposterous notion yet at the same time made an insane amount of sense. Somehow, the oddity of it all was just so Merlin.
And that realization brought great comfort to Arthur.
He recalled back to his conversation with Gaius a few days ago.
~o~
The door to the council chambers closed with a subtle bang that resounded loudly in the now nearly empty room, only two occupants remaining. The king rubbed his temples in a futile attempt to relieve the pounding in his head before turning to regard the physician of the court.
Like many others that knew the two and their unusual bond well, Gaius had been watching the king and his manservant skirt around each other over the last two weeks. Of course, unlike the rest of them—save for Guinevere (the king had yet to divulge to anyone else the shocking truth about his manservant)—the old physician knew the reason behind the shift in demeanor between the two. He had chosen not to interfere, electing to give Arthur the time he needed, and whenever Arthur had attempted to—even if somewhat subtly—extract information from him he had not been extremely forthcoming, hinting—subtly, of course—that he was not playing donkey in the middle between the two and that Arthur would do well to go straight to the source—Merlin himself—should he wish for detailed answers of any kind. The man certainly had a way with words, Arthur would give him that. Just as he had a way with making the young king feel but a child again under his ever-watchful eye.
Upon dismissal of the council, Gaius lingered behind, waiting until the room had emptied of all save the king and himself.
In all honesty, Arthur was in no mood to speak with the old man. The meeting had been long and grueling, the central subject matter unsettling to say the least, and he would've liked nothing more than to retire to his chambers and be alone with his thoughts, thoughts that mainly revolved around the renegade army of sorcerers said to be rallying up against Camelot in an outcry following Morgana's defeat. No doubt this would be the very subject Gaius currently wanted to broach with the king, for, contrary to the concerns of the other council members, he and Arthur both knew that they did in fact have an ally in the court that could hope to counteract a small army of sorcerers. The problem was Arthur was not yet ready to divulge that piece of information, and, if truth be told, neither did Merlin seem ready. The warlock seemed more than happy to remain nothing but a servant, and the fact that he didn't appear to crave any kind of recognition for singlehandedly saving the kingdom was utterly perplexing to Arthur.
He scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed as Gaius approached him. The physician was watching him keenly, but there was also the barely concealed hint of worry and anxiety that creased his weathered brow and added to his already haggard appearance.
Arthur felt marginally guilty when his voice came out rather sharp. "Yes, what is it, Gaius. Something's troubling you. Speak your mind."
Gaius stepped forward and bowed his head in a show of respect before returning his unnervingly intuitive eyes to study the young king. "Sire, I know all of this must be incredibly overwhelming and I understand your weariness, but Merlin's time in the shadows is drawing to a close, whether we wish for it or not, and I fear the repercussions it will bring about for him. I have always looked after him as best I can, but such are the times that I fear he will need more than an old man looking after him."
Arthur stared at him for a moment, processing his words and the implications behind them. Then he laughed once, the sound erupting from him in retaliation when he once again felt that unexpected blow low in his gut. "He's the most powerful sorcerer ever to walk the earth. I hardly think he needs me to watch his back."
The older man smiled sadly, seeming unsurprised by the sudden bitterness in Arthur's tone. "I don't think you quite understand, sire. Keeping his true identity a secret has kept him safe in many ways. Safe from those who would seek to exploit him. Whether or not Morgana is alive or dead, I fear many of her followers now know of his identity."
Arthur's heart sped up a notch and he turned away and paced several steps with his hands on his hips, battling with his raging emotions and the urge to seek an outlet for them. None of it made any blimmin' sense. He swung back around and threw his hands up in incredulity and exasperation. "He called lightning down from the sky, Gaius. Surely he can take care of himself." His tone was still hard but the unmistakable weariness that had crept into it softened the impact. He was loath to admit it but the obvious distress Gaius was displaying on the matter unsettled him. Realizing he'd let slip a moment of weakness, he turned away again, crossing his arms across his chest. It was a fruitless gesture on his part, however. Gaius could read him like a book.
Dropping all sense of formalities, the old physician placed a sympathetic hand on his arm. "Arthur," he began, his tone softer but imploring. "I understand how hard this must be for you, truly I do, but…he's not as different as you think. In many ways he is still the same Merlin you know."
Arthur's lips tightened into a thin line and he said nothing. Trust Gaius to know the source of his turmoil, to know that his remote bitterness was his way of dealing with the hurt. Because, yes, it hurt to be reminded of the fact that for so many years his best friend had pretended to be this defenseless, clumsy oaf when all the while he'd been anything but. And now Gaius seemed to think Merlin—the all-powerful sorcerer—needed Arthur to look after him? The concept was entirely laughable and absurd and made Arthur decisively angry.
Gaius wasn't deterred by Arthur's grim lack of response. "He may be powerful," he went on, "but he's still human. He has his weaknesses just like the rest of us. And you and I both know that while he's no fool, he can be extremely naïve at times. Merlin he…he sees the world differently than the rest of us, and while this is often his greatest strength, it can also be his greatest weakness."
~o~
Arthur's gaze remained transfixed on the magical display before him as he recalled Gaius's words. He now understood them.
"Merlin he…he sees the world differently than the rest of us, and while this is often his greatest strength, it can also be his greatest weakness."
It was this strange paradox that was, and, Arthur realized, had always been Merlin that suddenly made everything else make sense.
It was this strange paradox that set Arthur's greatest fear to rest. A fear that had unwittingly been plaguing him since the moment he'd first seen his friend perform magic right before his eyes.
It was this strange paradox that answered the question he'd been asking himself over and over again:
How could one man hold so much power?
How could one man hold so much power and be so…unaffected by its compulsion?
Arthur had always been taught that magic was evil. That it corrupted the soul. And while he had never truly believed that magic itself was evil, he had come to realize that when man was afforded too much power, such as that of magic, the temptation to use said power for his or her own gain was too great. That it was in fact the power itself that corrupted. He had seen it happen more times than he dared count.
So how could anyone possess the magnitude of power Arthur knew Merlin held inside of him and not eventually fall prey to its corruption? Arthur had seen first hand just how powerful the warlock was. Barely conscious and near death, he had watched the younger man engage in a magical battle of the likes Arthur had never seen before—with Morgana no less, High Priestess of the old religion. Despite Morgana's renowned magic, however, it had very quickly become clear to Arthur that Merlin's powers much exceeded that of Morgana's. He could recall the scene vividly, despite having watched it through pain-induced eyes. Merlin had deflected the fiery bolts of energy she had thrown at him with a mere flick of his wrist and without uttering but a single word. Arthur hadn't needed to be told what that meant.
Merlin was the most powerful magic-user ever to walk the earth.
The man could command a bloody dragon, for heavens sake! He had the power to raise kingdoms to the ground, if he so desired.
Who could ever hope to resist such a temptation? Who could hope to use that power so selflessly?
For the first time, Arthur knew the answer.
Merlin.
Merlin could.
Standing here, embraced by the enigma that was Merlin's magic, Arthur no longer doubted it were so. He no longer felt that awful, deep-rooted fear that he'd once more lose someone dear to him to magic.
He watched as the shimmering embers expanded and reformed, taking the shape of a magnificent horse galloping through the air. The details were exquisite. This was not simply a fictitious shape formed to the likeness of the animal. It had an essence of its own, with its flowing mane that blew radiantly in the wind and its eyes that shone bright and expressive in the darkness. It was as if Merlin had given it a life of its own, as if the warlock had done the impossible and created life—and from something as simple and innocent as manipulating fire embers into shapes, no less.
Arthur had never witnessed magic of its like. Death and destruction was all he'd tasted of magic. This was anything but.
If Morgana's magic was death and destruction, Merlin's was life and healing.
The warlock had a connection to the world around him that Arthur could not explain. Yet in this moment it was as clear as night and day. Arthur could feel it. He could see it.
"How did you know this place was sacred?"
"Well, it's obvious."
"Pretend it isn't."
"Everything here…is so full of life. Every tree, every leaf, every insect. It's as if the world is vibrating. As if everything is much more than itself."
"You feel all that?"
"Don't you?"
Arthur hadn't felt anything, of course. But he remembered the conversation well. Just as he did all the other times Merlin had spewed on about something that had left him perplexed but undeniably impressed and maybe even a little awed. He recalled Merlin's words now, however, and this time he could feel something. Perhaps not in exactly the same way Merlin had described, but there was definitely something. Something not all together unfamiliar.
This…warmth, this glow…he'd felt it before. He'd felt it before on more than one occasion. The first had been when Merlin had drank from the poisoned chalice and Arthur had travelled to the caves beyond the Forests of Balor in search of the Mortaeus flower. A glowing orb had seen him to safety.
He had felt it then.
And, more recently, on the eve of the battle at Camlann he had woken with Merlin's voice of warning in his mind, unable to explain it but somehow knowing he must heed the words.
He had felt it then.
And, most recent of all, when Mordred's blade had finally drained every last ounce of strength from him and he had closed his eyes to welcome death, something had tugged him back.
He had felt it then. As if it had simply willed him to live.
And he felt it now. More powerfully than ever, he felt it now. And, this time, he knew what it was.
Merlin's magic.
Merlin's magic filled the clearing, touching every tree, every leaf, every insect, instilling a ethereal beauty that could not be denied. Every living creature was drawn to it, absorbing its gentle, loving touch.
Such a thing could not be evil.
Merlin could not be evil.
And such was this conclusion rooted in the realization that the Merlin he'd known truly hadn't been a lie.
How many times had he witnessed this gentleness, this affinity to instill hope and warmth and happiness in others that Arthur had secretly admired of his ever-spirited manservant?
And how many times had Arthur teased him for daydreaming, or breaking out with that ridiculously dopey grin for the stupidest things?
The occasions were numerous to count.
But it was that innocence, that naivety, Arthur realized, that made him special.
As was his inherent goodness.
Arthur had never known one more pure of heart.
For the first time, he understood why his friend had been given such an incredible gift. For, in Merlin's hands, that was what it was—a gift.
And there was no one Arthur would trust more with such power.
The embers reformed once again, this time into a dragon. A dragon so much more radiant than that first display of magic Arthur had seen his servant perform. The tiny dragon that had flown up from the flames and then fizzled out soon after was but a shadow compared to the one before him now. So much so that Arthur fell back a step and swallowed before gathering himself again. He took a deep breath and then crept along the tree line that circled around the clearing and brought him up behind the warlock—though still concealed in the shadows of the trees—so that he could observe more closely. If he were to make headway with his friend he would have to learn to quell the automatic twinge of fear that wormed its way into his gut at such displays, especially when deep down he knew there was no reason for it; the touch of Merlin's magic embodied all around him belied the danger beget by the sight of such a vast creature, illusory though it was. Night had fallen completely now, but the fiery splendor set the clearing aglow in more ways than one. The otherwise night-quieted clearing hummed with life, embracing the new presence rather than cowing to it. Arthur would not be cowed either.
Always one to tackle things head-on, he crept even closer, daring to step partially out of the shadows now that Merlin's back was to him, his gaze fixed on the deceptively life-like creature of embers floating in the air before the warlock. Despite its intimidating size and prowess, it was hard not to look in awe at the intricate details the warlock had managed to capture so effortlessly. Arthur wondered how he'd done it. How exactly did it work? Did he simply picture it in his mind and then poof just like that the fire ignited and reformed to his desire? Arthur had no knowledge in the logistics of magic. He supposed it was yet another line of questioning he would have to pursue with Merlin.
With that thought in mind, he shifted his gaze to the man in question, ducking behind a neighboring tree now so that he could study his profile in the reflecting light of the glowing dragon. The warlock was watching his creation with a fond smile and seemed that much more at peace with himself than he had when he'd first entered the clearing; and yet, still there was a despondent air about him, evident in the way he held his shoulders, the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes, that made Arthur's chest feel tight and brought him back to his conversation with Gaius once again.
Unfortunately he hadn't been of a mind to appreciate much of what the old physician had been saying that day.
~o~
Arthur's patience was running thin. He was tired, his head was pounding, and he'd had about all he could take for one day. It was too much at once. He couldn't make head nor tail of anything anymore. If Gaius was concerned for Merlin's safety he wished he would just come out and say what on earth he expected Arthur to do about it.
"Perhaps he should just take on a new identity," Arthur snapped. "Pretending to be something he's not is what he's best at after all, is it not?"
The physician's chin and eyebrow went up a notch in typical Gaius fashion at that. Arthur knew it was a low blow and that he would regret having said it later, but once his sanctimonious tongue loosened itself there was rarely anything he could do to stop it in the heat of the moment.
He shoved one of the chairs that was positioned around the round table back into place and then gave a sharp tug on his cape when it snagged on his chainmail. Blasted thing.
He whirled to face Gaius again. "Just when exactly did he plan on telling me, anyway?" he demanded suddenly, not bothering to specify what he was referring to. Gaius would know. "Or was he even going to tell me at all? Figured that since I was dying he might as well tell me, is that about right?"
Gaius breathed out audibly. "Arthur…" he attempted.
But Arthur was on a role. The fact that he'd gone noticeably off topic was of no consequence. He was angry. Angry at the world, angry at everyone, angry at the entire situation, and angry that he'd been denied the chance to ever get angry in the first place. Where had been the decency in dumping such a shocking catapult of news—such as that of his manservant's astounding magical abilities—when he'd been half dead?
"The two of you were so bloody expert at deception," he went on, his hands going up in emphasis. "Now that I didn't actually die, you probably wish he hadn't told me, would've been much easier that way, am I right?"
Gaius fell silent for a moment at that, meeting Arthur's gaze as he continued to glare at the physician with a look that said he was expecting some kind of answer.
"No, Arthur," Gaius finally answered quietly but with a steady determination, "Not for a moment have I wished that. Many a night I have prayed for the day Merlin would have to hide no longer."
Something in the old man's tone quashed some of Arthur's anger.
"For far too long Merlin has carried this secret—and the weight of so much more along with it. With great power comes great responsibility, and Merlin has had to bear his alone…so very alone. The fate of the kingdom, the fate of countless lives, have rested in his hands more times than I dare count. He has been forced to make decisions of drastic consequence, decisions that weigh heavy on the heart."
Arthur's stomach was sinking with dread, but his kingly pride was refusing to let up. "He had you," he said shrewdly. "He wasn't alone."
"I fear my support offers him little console now. There are few who could hope to understand such a burden." He was looking at Arthur meaningfully now, and Arthur knew why; Arthur understood all too well the weight of such a burden.
He averted his eyes, deflating visibly, and Gaius's voice softened again.
"He needs you just as much as you need him, Arthur, probably even more so now.
"Merlin's no warrior. He is resilient, yes, but such is his nature that he blames himself for much. Every decision made, every sacrifice, every life lost…it has taken its toll on him. I see it everyday, have watched him slowly lose parts of himself over and over with little I could do to prevent it."
~o~
Arthur had watched it too. With a sinking heart, he realized it were so. Especially in the recent months leading up to the battle. Beginning with the trip to Ismere to rescue his men Merlin had become more and more withdrawn, his carefree and goofy smiles fewer and far between. And what had Arthur done? Nothing. He'd attempted to ask him what was the matter on a number of occasions, yes, but mostly he'd gone the easier route and brushed it aside under the false pretence that nothing was amiss, secretly hoping that whatever was bothering the younger man would eventually blow over instead of being a true friend and delving deeper. But then, would Merlin have divulged his secrets if Arthur had made such an attempt? Such a thing seemed unlikely.
Arthur felt a stab of hurt punch his gut once again, but this time it was soon trumped by remorse when he continued to study the remoteness in his friend's profile.
Secrets notwithstanding, Merlin had always been there when Arthur had needed him most. Always.
Whenever Arthur had felt crushed by the weight of responsibility in his journey to the throne, Merlin had been there to lessen the load in one of his rare bouts of wisdom that had always left Arthur more than a little perplexed yet undeniably lighter of spirits. The younger man just had this…way about him that…well, Arthur couldn't explain it. Somehow he'd always known exactly what Arthur had needed to hear, even if Arthur himself hadn't realized it at the time. He'd never been afraid to tell it like it was, and though Arthur would never admit it, that was one of the qualities he had appreciated most about his manservant. He had secretly grown to value and respect his opinion above all others.
Merlin had never let him down.
And what had Arthur done in return?
He'd turned a blind eye when his friend had needed him most, that's what he'd done.
Was it truly any wonder Merlin hadn't divulged his secrets? Arthur hadn't exactly given him reason to. He had taken much and given virtually nothing in return.
But no, that wasn't entirely true, Arthur retaliated. He may not be one for offering moral support, but he'd always done his best for those he cared about the only way he knew how, and he'd done no less for Merlin.
And that was precisely one of the reasons Merlin's deception had hurt. To think that all those times he'd tried to keep his clumsy, useless-with-a-sword servant out of harms way had been for naught…
To think that the time he'd travelled all the way to Ealdor against his father's wishes because he'd thought he was helping a friend when in actual fact Merlin obviously hadn't needed his help at all…
It made him feel he'd been made a fool of. And it hurt. It hurt to think of it, to not feel needed.
But now Arthur was beginning to realize that it wasn't quite that simple. If there was one thing he should have learned by now it was that scarcely anything in life was simple.
"He needs you just as much as you need him, Arthur, probably even more so now."
Arthur was beginning to understand what Gaius had been trying to tell him. He still knew little of Merlin's trials, but after observing his friend this night, seeing how the hollowness never quite left his eyes, Arthur was starting to get an inkling.
And for what was possibly the millionth time over the last two weeks, Arthur's brain started raking through all the miraculous victories, all the narrowly escaped brushes with death, all the slaying of supposedly undefeatable foes over the years, trying to piece together exactly what had happened right under his nose in each of those instances before coming to the same conclusion: if he wanted to fill in all the holes, to find out exactly what had happened on every occasion, he would have to heed Gaius's words and go to the source: Merlin himself.
He heaved an inward sigh. Gods, why was doing exactly that so blasted hard?
He drew his eyes back to the shimmering majestic creature as if it might provide some kind of answer. It soared gracefully through the air toward the center of the clearing now, and, though still unable to help feeling a bit unsettled by it, Arthur also found himself watching in wonderment, entranced by the aura of magic flooding the area.
So entranced, in fact, that he didn't realize he'd stepped out of the concealment of the trees until the sound of leaves crunching beneath his boots cracked through the air.
And just like that the clearing was aglow no longer, that indefinable aura extinguished from one moment to the next like a candle being snuffed out.
Merlin whirled around and everything went dark as the fiery display flickered for a millisecond and then disappeared. One could almost see the magic retract back into the warlock and lock itself tightly away, leaving Arthur feeling oddly bereft and inexplicably…sad. The way Merlin so easily and automatically slammed the doors on something that was so obviously a huge part of who he was seemed almost tragic. And Arthur couldn't fail to notice just how well practiced the younger man was at concealing that part of himself.
When his eyes landed on Arthur standing only a few paces away, they widened considerably. For a moment they both just stared at each other, as if unable to quite believe the sight of the other. Then Merlin leapt into action, toppling over backwards from his perch before scrambling to his feet.
The sight was indeed a welcome one for Arthur, cementing another part of the Merlin he'd known into the man before him. Evidently Merlin's clumsiness had never been an act.
"Arthur!" exclaimed a flustered Merlin, who was looking decidedly uncomfortable at the prospect that Arthur had likely just witnessed his completely unveiled use of magic. "I was just – ah…well, that is to say – I, um…"
Arthur recovered himself quickly. "You were just taking an evening stroll that just happened to turn into a several mile trek after dark, which also happened to extend outside the reach of Camelot patrol?" Arthur supplied for him scornfully, opting to turn the situation around to his own advantage and draw attention away from the fact that he, the king of Camelot, had just been caught spying—and on his own servant, no less.
Merlin winced at the king's recounting. "Well…" he began, trying to come up with a more favorable retelling, but then his eyes narrowed pointedly in the moonlight as he realized something. "Wait, what are you doing all the way out here?"
"I'm the king, Merlin," Arthur reminded him with his usual haughty tone. "I don't need to explain my whereabouts to you. You, on the other hand—"
"You followed me," Merlin said accusingly, and with a note of incredulity.
Arthur opened his mouth to deny it but then realized the evidence spoke for itself and went a different route. "Any more brilliant deductions, or can we get back to the matter at hand?"
Merlin cocked his head to the side. "What exactly is the matter at hand?"
Arthur shot him a heated look. "What you are doing here."
"Oh. That. Well, you know, just…taking a stroll… Why did you follow me?"
"Stop trying to change the subject!"
"You stop trying to change the subject."
"Argh!" Arthur growled, throwing his hands up in surrender. You're impossible." How could the idiot always manage to be so bloody irritating?
It was with that thought that it occurred to Arthur that he had just engaged in a typical—albeit infuriating—conversation with his manservant without once feeling the strain of Merlin's newly revealed secret hovering like a wraith between them. Of course, with that realization the brief moment was broken, both of them realizing it at the same moment. And then the forbidden subject of Merlin's magic settled over them like a heavy blanket once more.
Merlin shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, and Arthur's eyes moved studiously to settle anywhere but on his manservant.
Unfortunately, unlike when they had both been confined to the castle with much to be done in the way of duties, this time there was no means of escape.
Needing a moment to collect himself, Arthur wordlessly stepped over to the fallen log, then adjusted his sword belt accordingly and sat himself down, passing a hand over his eyes. Gods, he was sick and tired of this.
The heavy silence lasted only a minute or so more before Merlin shuffled up behind the king, ringing his hands out awkwardly, and cleared his throat. "So, um, how long have you been out here…following me—just out of curiosity…?"
Arthur knew the question was the younger man's attempt at subtly trying to decipher how much Arthur had seen. "Long enough" was Arthur's clipped response, and he winced inwardly at the harsh way the words had come out.
"Right…" Merlin swallowed audibly. "Well, you know what they say about eavesdroppers, sire," he attempted with forced gaiety, "Never do hear what they want to hear. Or, I should say…see. They never see what they want to see. That is to say the eaves…see'ers…wait, that's not a word, is it? What I meant to say is—"
"Merlin."
"Sorry, sire," Merlin said with exaggerated decorum. "I'll stop talking now."
Arthur sighed and rubbed his temples, even if somewhat amused by his servant's typical boisterous rambling and lack of tact. Not that Arthur himself was doing any better at broaching the subject that desperately needed broaching.
There was a long bout of silence before Arthur squared his shoulders and turned to look meaningfully at his servant. "Right, so let's see it then."
Merlin shot him a confused and startled look. "See what?"
"Oh, come on, Merlin, I think we both know how you've been dying to show off some of your magic tricks, especially since you decided to come all the way out here just to practice them."
It was perhaps not one of the most gracious of ways for Arthur to set about mending the bridges and take that first step to complete acceptance and forgiveness, but he'd never been one to coddle. Besides, Merlin didn't need the offering to be wrapped up in pretty packaging to recognize it for what it was.
At first the warlock just stared back at his king, incredulous, but he knew Arthur too well not to quickly see behind the goading words that was his friend's way and understand. Then a huge, all-encompassing grin broke across the younger man's face from ear to ear. It was, after all, the first time Arthur had actually invited him to bring him into his world, the world he'd had to keep hidden for so very long.
Arthur took in the sight of Merlin's grin that would make anyone think the oaf had just been gifted with the entire kingdom and felt remorse fill him, flooding his insides until it became a powerful ache in his chest. He hadn't seen Merlin smile like that for a long, long time.
As if in response to Arthur's thoughts, Merlin's smile faltered, and he suddenly looked uncertain. "What…what did you want to see exactly?" he asked. "I, um…what should I do…?"
"How should I know? You're the warlock, not me." Arthur grimaced internally again for letting his tongue get the better of him once more. Hell, what was the matter with him?
But instead of making the situation worse, Merlin's grin returned in full force at the retort. It was the first time Arthur had acknowledged that he was a warlock.
Evidently, Arthur had once again made Merlin's day. For some reason, however, that did not make Arthur feel even remotely charitable or better about himself. Quite the opposite in fact. Knowing that his friend was so ecstatic over such a simple morsel of acknowledgement from him made Arthur feel very low indeed.
Oblivious to his master's torment on the matter, Merlin sat himself down on the log beside his king and brought his cupped palms together.
Arthur watched on a bit wearily now, unsure what to expect. He supposed watching Merlin perform magic would take some getting used to, no matter how assured he now was that the man would never wield it with a shred of evil in his heart.
Merlin's smile was softer now, a little more hesitant, perhaps sensing Arthur's reluctance and seeking to assure him. He glanced up at the king briefly as if to ascertain he still had the go-ahead before returning his attention to his hands, apparently satisfied by whatever he'd read on Arthur's face.
Watching the warlock closely, Arthur could have sworn there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, as if he'd found humor in something Arthur wasn't privy to. Arthur didn't have time to dwell on it.
Bending lower over his closed palms, the warlock spoke quietly but fluidly in a language Arthur didn't understand, the words flowing effortlessly off his tongue in a way that was almost soothing in its cadence.
"Gewyrc an lif."
Merlin's eyes flashed gold briefly, then he ever so slowly, as if holding something infinitely fragile and precious, eased his palms open.
And out flew a butterfly.
It took Arthur a moment to identify it as such in the murky darkness, but the moon was full and reflected brightly off the brilliant azure of its wings, so it didn't take him long. He stared, mouth slightly open. It was not at all what he'd been expecting. But then, he supposed he should have known. What possibly said Merlin more than this?
The thought brought forth a profound sense of relief and another unidentified emotion to Arthur as the image of his friend continued to shape itself in his mind.
For this Merlin was not quite so different to the one he'd known. This Merlin—the real Merlin—had in fact been there all along. Arthur simply hadn't had the whole picture. He'd been missing one crucial piece.
Magic.
Magic was the missing piece. And it seemed so obvious now that Arthur wondered how he'd never seen it before. Merlin and magic. Magic and Merlin. Now that Arthur had the entire picture it was impossible to imagine one without the other. The two were inextricably woven. Anyone having witnessed the young warlock's execution of magic as Arthur had today would be able to see it.
The butterfly fluttered upwards gaily, and Arthur watched it, casting a few glances at Merlin periodically as he did so and observing the way the warlock himself watched the tiny insect's movements with a tender joyfulness lighting his eyes. Arthur shook his head good-naturedly at the image. He couldn't deny the beauty of Merlin's magic, but he doubted he would ever be on the same wavelength as the dopey oaf.
He settled his gaze on his friend and looked at him in amusement. "Honestly, Merlin, a butterfly? That's hardly a very useful spell. What are you supposed to do with that? I must say, I expected something a bit more impressive."
That wasn't entirely true, of course. The spell may not have been overly dramatic or impacting, but it still spoke of something equally as grand, maybe even more so. For, unlike the fiery rendering of creatures he had witnessed earlier, this butterfly was most certainly not illusory.
It was real.
In every sense of the word, it was real.
The warlock had not simply created a life-like representative; he had created life. He had created a life.
Arthur may not know much about the magical world, but even he could not overlook the enormity of such a feat. And Merlin had made it look easy.
Still, Arthur's less sentimental side was thinking, a butterfly? Really? Couldn't the man have picked something a little less…girly? Arthur rolled his eyes. But of course not. This was Merlin after all.
The man in question had turned to shoot him a glare. "Not everything has to have a quantifiable purpose, Arthur. Some things just are."
Arthur turned that over in his head several times with no success. Then he rolled his eyes again. "Right, whatever you say, Merlin."
Merlin grinned wryly. "Besides, I didn't want to overwhelm you now, did I? You were looking rather terrified before I started the incantation."
"I was not looking—" Arthur broke off his vehement protest when he saw Merlin attempting—unsuccessfully—to withhold a laugh. He changed tactics and clouted his servant upside the head.
"Ow!" Merlin protested, rubbing the source of impact.
"You really are an idiot, aren't you, Merlin?" Arthur said with another shake of his head, but there was a fondness and newfound respect in the way he was looking at his manservant.
A slow grin stretched across Merlin's face as if Arthur had just paid him a huge compliment rather than an insult. For the first time, his friend was seeing him for who he really was, was realizing that he was still the same man he'd known in many ways, and, for Merlin, that was the best gift he could ever ask for.
~o~
An hour later still found the two seated side by side, the darkness of night still cradling the little clearing.
Neither would speak of anything of import on this night, but an unspoken understanding now lay between them.
Both had much to discuss, much to iron out, much for Arthur to learn about all those years Merlin had spent in the shadows, and much to build in the way of foundations for what was to be a new kind of bond between the two men. But, for now, for this night, they would both just take comfort in knowing that, while change was in the air, some things would always remain.
Merlin's inability to keep quiet for any reasonable stretch of time being one of them.
"You never did tell me why you followed me out here."
"Merlin." The name was spoken as a warning.
"You were worried about me, weren't you? That's why you followed me."
"Merlin."
"I knew it, you were definitely worried about me."
"MERLIN!"
"Yes, sire?"
"Shut up."
Author's notes:
(Note that I borrowed some dialogue from episode 5x05 – The Disir)
Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. I always love to hear from readers so reviews are very welcome.
I loved the butterfly scene in 5x12 as I thought it was a great mark of Merlin's character, and I wanted to have Merlin recreate that for Arthur to see.
This is a one-shot and stands fine on its own, but there is a possibility that I might write some follow up scenes in the future. Once I started writing this my muse ran a bit wild on me and I was picturing additional scenes. (ie. more scenes with Arthur learning about Merlin's magic and/or learning about all the things he'd done with it in the past to save Camelot, scenes with Merlin gradually becoming more open with using his magic, and scenes where others – including Gwaine because he doesn't die in my world – learn about Merlin's magic, etc…). Not sure when/if I will get to write any of it down, but it's not out of the question. For now, though, I'm marking this as complete. If there's something you'd particularly like to see let me know, and I may be able to make it happen. No promises, though. I have to feel inspired enough to write it.
Also, if you're interested, I made a youtube video that compliments this story quite well. You can find the link to it on my profile.
Below I have included my thoughts on the finale. I know not everyone will agree, and that's fine, but I wanted to share my opinion. Feel free to ignore if you prefer.
*******My Thoughts On the Finale********
I did enjoy the reveal (along with all the Merlin/Arthur moments) and thought Colin and Bradley (especially Colin) did a phenomenal job, but that's as far as it goes in terms of me liking the final episode. Honestly, if it weren't for the performance of the actors, the finale would have been a total and utter disaster (in my opinion). The writers completely disregarded some pretty darn important aspects of the entire show. Throughout the whole series it was stressed over and over that together Merlin and Arthur would unite Albion and restore magic to the land. Did we get to see either of these two things happen? Nope. And not only that but then they decide to kill Arthur and have the dragon say something about how everything they'd meant to do had already come to pass. Whaat? Um, sorry, buddy, but not from where I'm sitting! Grrr. What was the point of having Merlin save Arthur's life over and over if he was just going to die before he actually became the great king he was supposed to? The way I see it, he hadn't yet done anything so spectacular that he had earned the label of 'greatest king Camelot has ever known' and for his and Merlin's story to 'live long in the minds of men.' Arthur was only king for, what, 4 years? I mean, really! I never would've been happy with an ending where Arthur dies (too heartbreaking!), but if they were going to go that route the least they could have done was have it happen after he had done what he was meant to do! Gah! And, yes, I do know the legends, but that doesn't mean they had to end the series with Arthur's death! This was a light-hearted family show and I feel ending it in such tragedy (especially on Christmas eve!) was just wrong. I actually would have been happier if they had ended the series at season 4. At least that way we would have been able to just picture an ending we wanted rather than having everything tainted by knowing Arthur dies like that in the end. I'm just going to pretend he didn't die, ok? Ok.
To be honest, I'm not a huge fan of the entire season five [side note: why the devil didn't Arthur remember that Mordred was a druid and had magic right from the start of the season?!] I hated what they put Merlin through (and how they changed his character so drastically), and there were also so many pointless filler episodes that did nothing to progress the plot. They could have done so much more with it, but instead they write these pointless episodes and then jump to a tragic, rushed ending. They should have had Merlin's magic revealed at the start of season 5 and then shown the slow progression of Arthur accepting him and eventually lifting the ban on magic. That's what I wanted to see. Magic was one of the biggest themes of the show and it should have ended with magic finally being accepted once more. And I wanted to see Merlin get the recognition he deserved. I liked how in the first part of the finale (5x12) they had his character discovering himself and starting to step up to his full potential. They set things up very nicely but then had me smacking my forehead when Balinor gives Merlin the line about his true self being revealed and then out steps OLD Merlin. So apparently his true self is him hiding behind an aging spell?! I think not! I wanted to see an epic magical battle with YOUNG Merlin. There should have been one with him against Morgana. Instead we get a 20 second Morgana stabbing scene? Ugh.
And what the heck was with old Merlin picking up Arthur like he weighs nothing and then at the very end young Merlin can barely hold him up? If he used magic to give him strength or something the first time why not do the same again? And why on earth didn't Merlin make things easier on them both and remove Arthur's armor?! And for the love of all that's holy, WHY didn't Merlin call the dragon sooner? WAY too many holes for my liking. I'm prepared to overlook those kinds of details during the more light-hearted aspects of the show but when one of the main character's life is at stake (not to mention when it's the final episode of the entire series) they need to make more of an effort to make it believable!
And don't even get me started on the Gwaine and Percival suicide mission. Yes, I was not a happy camper, as you may have noticed. I could go on all night complaining about the finale, but this is already long enough, so I'll spare you. I apologize for my rant, but I had to get it off my chest. I applaud you if you have actually read this far into my rant.
Just one final parting comment. I am aware that if a TV show is able to evoke this kind of a passionate reaction from viewers, be it positive or negative, it is indicative that the show must have been well done in the first place, so I'm not totally hating on all those who worked hard to make this show such a success. I will always be forever grateful to the hard work of all those involved in bringing me a show that gave me much enjoyment. I just wished they could have given me a more satisfying (and not so unbelievably heartbreaking) ending!
*******End of rant!********