a/n Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/favorite this! I hope you enjoy :)
ruby890: I'm so happy you liked it. Sorry the update took a bit longer than I was expecting.
Merlin lifted his hand and started speaking in a low, tremulous voice. Arthur did not understand a single word, but he did not have to. He recognized the language from hours of studying, of drilling, with Uther so he would be able to recognize magic...so he could eliminate it and everyone, anyone who practiced it. Then Merlin's blue eyes were not blue anymore, they were gold, and Merlin was not Merlin anymore, he was Emrys...and Emrys was holding an orb of light in the palm of his hand.
"I did it for you," the sorcerer whispered, the light in his hand fading, his eyes returning to their normal shade of blue, but the man lying on the cot was not Merlin. Perhaps Merlin never existed. "My magic...it was always for you."
Lies. Lies. They were all lies. Those ten years, the best decade of Arthur's life...all a lie. For once, Arthur found he had nothing to say. There were not words, not even in the forbidden language of magic, which could quantify the rage, the grief, the sense of betrayal. The king turned, "Arthur, please," the traitor begged. Arthur ignored him and strode from the tent.
Outside the camp was in chaos as the army prepared to leave. Tents were being dismantled, weapons gathered, horses loaded. In the midst of everything stood Sir Leon, who sported a gash on his cheek but otherwise seemed uninjured, barking orders in every direction.
"Your Majesty!" he called as Arthur approached, "It's good to see you!"
"And you, Sir Leon!" Arthur called, trying to make his voice cheerful but he realized, failing miserably. "How did we fare?" he asked, dropping any pretense of good humor.
"Overall, very well," the knight said, "We lost twenty knights, and many more were injured, but truthfully, we were expecting far, far worse." He hesitated, "If it hadn't been for that sorcerer, I'm not sure any of us would be standing here now, Sir."
Yes but he lied, Arthur thought, staring at the ground, All those years, all those battles, all those mornings when I'd wake up, and he'd be the first thing I saw. All the time he was lying. "Any sign of Morgana," he said finally.
"No Sire," Sir Leon said slowly, seeming to notice Arthur's discomfort, even if he never could have guessed why, "Do you think the sorcerer may have..."
"No," Arthur said firmly. Merlin...Emrys...would have undoubtedly mentioned killing Morgana...lying scoundrel though he was.
Leon shot him a curious look, clearly surprised by the finality in Arthur's tone, "Anyway," he continued uneasily, "That's why I went ahead and started organizing our departure. Morgana's army is all but destroyed, but she can do plenty of damage on her own."
"Very good thinking," Arthur said briskly, "Thank you Sir Leon. I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner."
"There's no need to apologize, Sire," Leon said kindly, "How's Merlin?"
"Merlin?" Arthur repeated sharply.
"Yes," Leon said uneasily, "We heard he was injured."
Arthur blinked. He had been so consumed by Merlin's betrayal that he had forgotten the sorcerer was hurt. Well, Arthur thought to himself, He can just heal himself, surely...maybe that's why he finally told me. "He's fine," Arthur said briskly, "I'll take over from here."
"Sire, I can stay, if you would rather be with him," Sir Leon said kindly.
Arthur looked up into the gentle knights eyes. He was scared for Merlin; of course he was-they all were. The servant had accompanied every hunt, every patrol. He had been at every training session, stood alongside them at every battle. They had long counted him as their friend and brother, though he had never been knighted. Arthur wondered what they would say when they learned the truth. "No, Leon," he said finally, "It is my responsibility."
"Actually Sir Leon," a cool voice said behind them, "If you could remain a few minutes longer...I need to speak to the King."
Knowing better than to disobey when the Queen took that tone, the knight nodded.
"Leave it, Guinevere," Arthur scowled.
"I'm afraid, My Lord, that I must insist," Gwen said in that same, cold voice.
Knowing that it was useless to argue, Arthur followed her to the edge of the camp, near Merlin's tent, the king realized furiously. Once they were safely out of earshot, Gwen rounded on him, fixing Arthur with a cold, furious glare.
"What is it Guinevere?" he demanded.
"Merlin is calling for you," Gwen said in that same, cold voice. When Arthur did not reply she continued, "He hasn't stopped calling for you since you left."
"He's a sorcerer," Arthur growled.
"Yes, he is," Gwen agreed, "And he is your best, your most loyal friend, and he needs you!"
"He lied!" Arthur said furiously, "He defied the laws of Camelot in the heart of the palace itself!"
"Didn't you listen," Gwen shot back, "He was born with magic, Arthur! It wasn't his choice. He was only able to choose what he did with his powers, and even you cannot deny he could not have served Camelot better!"
She was missing the point. The fact that Merlin was a sorcerer was one thing, Arthur never hated magic with the passion his father had. What hurt far, far more was that he had spent every day of his life for the past decade with Merlin and never known.
"He betrayed us," Arthur hissed, "Don't you feel angry, Gwen, betrayed that he has been lying to you all these years?"
"Yes," Gwen admitted, her voice softening, "Yes, of course I did." She took a deep breathe, "But then I thought about how lonely and scared he must have been, every single day fearing that his friends would discover his secret and banish or execute him, yet he stood by us. He never, ever failed us. And it made me wonder...who had truly betrayed whom?"
For the first time since Merlin's confession, Arthur felt more than blind, heartless rage. Gwen was right, it would have been lonely, terrifying even. Was that why Merlin had always smiled so much, to try to hide the constant fear he lived in, even from himself? The anger was still there, still howling about traitors, evil, and lies, but it was tempered, if only slightly, by something else...pity.
"I don't know him," Arthur confessed, "After all these years I thought I knew him like I knew myself, but now...all I see is a stranger."
Gwen's eyes were loving, but firm, "Then I think it's about time to meet him."
Arthur opened his mouth to agree, but stopped himself. He could not bring himself to see Merlin again, not yet, not if it meant losing the kind-hearted, bumbling, idiotically loyal servant he had relied on all these years, replaced by the all-powerful sorcerer who made entire armies turn and run. "Fetch Gaius" he said instead, "If he can spare the time." Gwen sighed heavily, "Please," Arthur whispered.
Gwen's dark eyes met Arthur's own. She nodded and returned to the tent. Arthur caught a glimpse of her taking Merlin's hand before the tent flap fell closed.
Sighing, Arthur turned away from the tent and looked out over the now-deserted battlefield, and the cliff where Emrys? Merlin?,.. Arthur could not decide who the man in the tent really was, had rained lightning down upon Camelot's enemies. "How is that," Arthur murmured to himself, "The same man who still can't polish my armor properly."
"Quite easily, Sire," Gaius' voice said from behind him. Arthur whirled around; the physician was looking straight at him. His old eyes were calm, yet overpoweringly sad.
"Thank you for coming Gaius," Arthur murmured.
"Merlin is calling for you," the old man replied.
"Yes," Arthur said, glancing down at the ground, "I know, but first, I need some answers."
"I'll do my best, Sire," Gaius said calmly.
"You knew about Merlin," Arthur surmised, "All along."
With the slightest hesitation, Gaius nodded.
"Why did he come here?" Arthur asked, "To Camelot, of all places?"
"It is far easier to hide abilities such as his in a large city, rather than a tiny village," Gaius said simply, "He never meant to attract Uther's attention, or yours, if it comes to that."
"If he wanted to avoid our attention," Arthur said quietly, "Then why didn't he leave when Uther made him my servant?"
Gaius peered at him curiously, "Surely you know the answer to that, Sire," he said. When Arthur did not reply, the physician sighed heavily, "You and Merlin fit each other like a hand in a glove. Without a glove, the hand is exposed and defenseless, yet at the same time, a glove without a hand is empty, purposeless. Merlin realized that, as, I think, did you, Sire. He never even considered leaving."
Arthur frowned at the ground. Gaius was right; Merlin had quickly become an extension of himself, albeit a far clumsier one. Soon, everyone assumed they would be found together: the knights, the nobles, the other servants, even his father. "Arthur's shadow," they had called Merlin, "Arthur's other half," and Arthur had eventually accepted their comments without complaint because, he had come to realize, they were in many ways true. Was it still the truth?
"What's his name?" Arthur asked suddenly, "Mordred called him Emrys...is that his proper name, and he has just been giving us a false one all this time?"
Gaius' face broke out into a bemused smile, "Of course Merlin is his real name, Sire. It is the name his mother gave him at birth. The druids, and other creatures of magic, simply refer to him by another name...Emrys, whom many believe to be the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the Earth." Arthur caught his breath at this, and the old man raised an eyebrow, "It is really nothing to fret over, Sire," he said, "His magic was only ever for you, and the druids often have their own names for people...even you."
"Me?" Arthur asked incredulously, "What do they call me?"
"The Once and Future King."
"What does that mean?" Arthur asked blankly.
Gaius shrugged, "Not even the druids know that I'm afraid."
"Gaius!" Gwen's voice rang out from the tent. Without another word, Gaius rushed in, surprisingly nimble for one so old. With only the slightest hesitation, Arthur followed.
"He's burning up," Gwen said in a slightly panicked voice.
Gaius strode over and felt Merlin's neck and brow, "Something's wrong," he murmured, turning to his bag of supplies and withdrawing a small glass bottle. He poured a few drops of the liquid into Merlin's mouth, "That will help control the fever," he muttered, "But something is very wrong." He hesitated then glanced up at Arthur, "Sire," he said carefully, "There is a spell that would allow me to better diagnose his injuries..."
Of course, Arthur thought resignedly, even Uther had known that Gaius had once dabbled in magic...it only made sense that he still did on occasion. Arthur nodded, and Gaius laid his hands on Merlin's chest, murmuring more of those strange words. The king watched numbly, his mind reeling from all that had been hidden from him. He glanced down at Merlin; he was unconscious again and paler than ever, and Arthur remembered how serious the wound had been. Concern for his manservant, or whoever the man in the cot was, overtook him again, outweighing even his rage.
Gaius looked up, and his expression was, if possible, even graver. "There is magic in this wound," he said, "Mordred's sword was enchanted, and a fragment of the blade broke off...it is traveling towards his heart...there is nothing I can do."
It was as if the ground had been ripped out from under him, No, this cannot be. Gaius got it wrong, Arthur thought desperately, "Can't he heal himself?" he spluttered.
"The blade was burnished in a dragon's fire," Gaius whispered, "No spell will be able to reverse its effects."
Was Gaius giving up? Arthur thought blankly, How could he...this is Merlin. "There must be something we can do," he said furiously.
"I'm sorry, Sire," Gaius sighed, looking much older than the king had ever seen him, "He has two days, at best."
"You can't seriously be saying we have to just sit here and watch him die!" Arthur roared, "This is MERLIN!" Even if I do not know him he thought.
"Arthur," Gwen said soothingly, standing up and taking his hand. Arthur squeezed it instinctively, but it only helped slightly. It did not stop Gaius from being a stupid, stubborn old boar trying to stand there and convince him that Merlin was going to die.
"Please, Gaius," he pleaded, "There must be something we can do."
"Arthur," a small voice murmured from the cot. Merlin's eyes flickered open, "You called," he murmured in the same, resigned-sounding voice whenever Arthur was about to tell him to do something that Merlin knew he was going to hate. It made the king want to laugh and cry at once. Instead, he knelt by the cot and took Merlin's hand, "I'm sorry I woke you," he said.
"No," Merlin said, that same ancient and tired look in his eyes, "I'm sorry. All those years...I'm sorry..."
"We'll talk about it later," Arthur said, because of course there would be plenty of time for later, "Right now, we need to make you well."
"I'll be alright," Merlin said, a shadow of his old, goofy smiling flitting across his face.
"Of course," Arthur said, forcing himself to smile, "I need someone to polish my armor."
Merlin chuckled again, but thankfully did not start to cough, "I'll take care of it as soon as we reach Camelot."
"I expect so," Arthur said in mock seriousness. He glanced desperately up at Gaius, "There has to be something we can do."
Gaius hesitated, "Our only hope is to seek aid from the Schree in the Lake of Avalon. They are the only ones who will be able to heal the wound."
"Avalon," Gwen repeated, "But that's a day and half's ride in the opposite direction...the woods will be crawling with Morgana's men."
"Perhaps even Morgana herself," Gaius agreed, "Sire it is far too dangerous..."
Arthur held up a hand, and the physician fell silent. Arthur sighed and stared at the ground. Part of him, the part that was Uther, agreed. It's too risky, the voice said, You are the king...you can't go risking your life like this. Besides, he's a sorcerer, you can't trust him. Arthur looked back up at Merlin and stared into those deep blue eyes that he knew so well, yet at the same time he barely knew at all. Merlin. Merlin who had served him so faithfully for so long, who had questioned and criticized him when no one else would, who rode off with him to fight dragons and armies and kings without a second thought, who had accompanied him on every patrol, every hunt, and when Arthur asked why, Merlin would just smile and say that someone had to look after the royal prat. Then Arthur would laugh, and Merlin would laugh too, though the laugh never reached his eyes, and he would look at Arthur as if begging him to see something, something vitally important, but then the moment would be gone and Merlin would be just Merlin again.
Merlin had meant it; Arthur realized with a start, he had meant every word. He had protected Arthur all these years, and the king had never realized. How many times had Merlin saved his life and never once asked to be thanked? Arthur's eyes fell to the hand that had recently held the orb of light... and felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. As if from a nearly forgotten dream, he remembered clinging to the cliff face of a cave, the dark and the cold threatening to send him to a pathetic death. Then, just as he was resigning himself to the fact that he was going to die there, alone, an orb of light had appeared out of nowhere and guided him to safety. He had wondered how it had gotten there, but over the years had nearly forgotten the incident entirely.
The answer had been standing next to him in a stupid neckerchief the entire time.
"That settles it," Arthur murmured, getting to his feet, "Pack any medicines he might need. We'll be leaving within the hour."
"Where are we going?" Merlin asked.
"To Avalon," Arthur said simply.
"Arthur, no," Merlin protested, "It's too dangerous."
"We'll be fine," Arthur said dismissively. He stuck his head out the tent flap, "Sir Leon!" he called, "Sir Gwaine! Sir Percival! I need to see you!"
"Arthur," Merlin said as Arthur returned to the cot, he sounded almost angry, "Arthur I'm not..."
"Don't," Arthur said, pointing a stern finger at Merlin, because no one was going to say that he was not worth it...especially Merlin, "Don't even start."
"You called, Your Majesty," Sir Leon said, before Merlin could argue, entering the tent. Gwaine and Percival followed, looking battered, but overall not worse for the wear.
"Yes," Arthur said, "Thank you gentlemen." He paused, suddenly frightened to admit the truth, as if it words would make it real, "Merlin has been injured," he said finally.
"Yes, we heard," Gwaine said, unable to keep his concern out of his voice, "How is he?"
"I'm afraid it's quite serious," Arthur confessed. Sir Leon frowned, clearly confused, and the others wore identical masks of horror, just as Arthur knew they would. He cleared his throat and forced himself to continue, "I'm taking him to the Schree in the Lake of Avalon...they will be able to heal him. Sir Leon, I need you to finish overseeing the army's departure. Gwaine, Percival, you will assist him in whatever he needs."
"Let us come with you," Gwaine said, "With Morgana's men out there... you'll need all the protection you can get."
"I'm afraid you can't," Arthur said, "Time is of the essence, and it is imperative that we not attract attention to ourselves. The fewer of us there are the better."
Gwaine opened his mouth to protest, but Percival nudged him, and Gwaine nodded in acquiescence.
"In the meantime," Arthur said, reaching his hand into the pouch on his belt and withdrawing a small, gold ring on a chain...the royal seal. He gripped the seal in his hands for several seconds before finally turning to Gwen. "The trip," he murmured, not wanting Merlin to hear, "Will be dangerous," he pressed the seal into her hand, "I need you to look after this while I'm gone, and if anything should happen to me, I will need you to use it." He cupped his hand around Gwen's cheek. There were tears in her eyes, but her gaze was steady and calm, "No matter what happens," Arthur continued, "Camelot needs a ruler...and I can think of no one better than you."
"I will take care of it, My Lord," she whispered.
"I know Gwen," Arthur replied, "I know." He kissed her, briefly but fiercely before returning his attention to the knights. "See that two horses are readied with all the provisions we'll need," he said, "We'll leave as soon as they're ready." The knights nodded and retreated from the tent.
Wearily, the king turned back to the cot to find Merlin staring at him with a mixture of anger, exasperation, and confusion. "You shouldn't do this," he murmured.
"You're not in much of a state to stop me, are you?" Arthur said, trying desperately to keep his voice brisk and light.
"I didn't risk my life all these years for you to die trying to save me, Arthur," Merlin insisted.
"Neither of us are going to die," Arthur said, "Gaius, help me prepare him for the journey."
Gaius rebandaged the sorcerer's wound and gave him several potions to ease his pain. Filling a small sack with the remaining potions as well as a plentiful supply of extra bandages, he gave the king careful instructions on when and how to administer the potions as well as how to contact the Schree once they reached Avalon. Merlin protested all the while, but Arthur ignored him. He had forgotten how insufferably selfless his manservant could be.
"There's no use blabbering on about it," Arthur finally said in exasperation as he and Gaius helped Merlin out of the cot.
"Mordred's dead, Morgana's defeated," Merlin murmured as Arthur and Gaius helped him out of the tent. Gwaine, Leon, and Percival were waiting with the horses, "You don't need me anymore Arthur."
"One always needs a manservant," Arthur replied.
"You'd let me stay?" Merlin asked, sounding both shocked and, Arthur was surprised to realize, a little hopeful.
Arthur hesitated; in his rush, he had forgotten about the magic. What would he do with his unspeakably loyal, yet undoubtedly criminal, manservant when this was over? Fortunately, he was rescued from that particularly tortuous line of thought when Gwaine approached, clapping Merlin lightly on the shoulder, "See you soon Merlin," he said with a wink, "I've still got to tell you about the time I got engaged to three separate women in one evening,"
Merlin chuckled, "I bet they were devastated."
"Not once they found out about each other," Gwaine laughed, "Then I was the one who needed to worry."
"I'm looking forward to it," Merlin murmured.
"Me too," Gwaine said with a final pat on Merlin's back.
"It's been an honor, Merlin," Sir Leon said, extending his hand. Carefully unwrapping his arm from Gaius' shoulder, Merlin took it, and the two men shook solemnly. Percival approached next. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then seemed to change his mind. Instead, he gave Merlin a warm smile and enveloped his hand in bone-breaking shake. The knights stood back as Arthur and Gwaine lifted Merlin onto the saddle. Grimacing, Merlin hunched forward but grabbed the reins nonetheless. Gaius stepped closer and started speaking to Merlin in a low voice, a fond, sad smile playing his lips.
Feeling as if he were intruding on something very private, Arthur turned to the knights, "Thank you, gentlemen," he said.
"Just take care of Merlin," Gwaine said quietly.
"I will," Arthur promised.
"Of course," Percival said in his low gentle voice, "Just as he took care of you."
Finding that he could think of nothing to say to this, the king merely nodded and turned back to the horses. Gaius had just turned away from Merlin, tears shining in his eyes. Arthur extended a hand toward the old physician, and Gaius took it, "Thank you, Sire," he said.
"Merlin would do the same," Arthur murmured. Despite all the sorcerer's betrayals, he was sure of that.
"Yes," Gaius agreed, "He would." The old man walked past him to stand next to Sir Percival, and Arthur turned his attention to Gwen.
She too, had just been saying farewell, and Arthur noticed there were tears in her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him, "We'll be back soon," he promised.
"I know," she whispered. She kissed him, "You be careful," she said sternly.
"I will," Arthur promised, "I'll see you in a few days...we'll both see you in a few days."
"Of course," she said, "Now go. You haven't much time."
Arthur nodded and mounted his horse. With a last, swift glance at the assembled group, he spurred his horse to a quick trot, and rode out of the camp. Merlin, as always, followed.
a/n I hope you enjoyed, and I'd loved to hear your thought/critiques/whatever :)
