A/N: Hello again. Thanks for the reviews, they're really appreciated. So the season 5 spoiler character shows up in this one. I realize he introduced himself to Arthur back in season 1, but for my story's sake, I'm going to pretend Arthur doesn't remember that particular detail. Which, really, isn't too hard to believe, is it? What with all the things that man seems to forget in the actual show ;P
Another thing I might've forgotten to add—this story takes place a couple years after season 4 ended.
Alright, I'm done. Enjoy ;)
Every direction Arthur looked, there was chaos.
Left and right, servants and peasants scattered, desperate to escape the turmoil that surrounded them. The ground shook beneath their feet, rendering their attempts of flight unsuccessful. Bits of the castle walls were starting to collapse, effectively taking down any poor soul who happened to be unlucky enough to get caught beneath the rubble. In certain areas of the lower town, the ground would even open up, swallowing innocent bystanders down into the earth.
There was only one person Arthur knew who was capable of inflicting this kind of damage.
Really, he thought. Does Morgana have nothing better to do than stage attacks on Camelot's defenses?
Glancing to his left, Arthur saw Sir Leon and Sir Mordred running up to him.
"Sire!" Leon called out to him. "We've evacuated the majority of the lower town."
Arthur nodded. "Good. Do we have word of Morgana's location?"
"Not yet, Sire." It was the new recruit, Mordred, who spoke next.
Arthur looked at him then, and, noticing his tense posture, placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't lose hope. We'll find her."
Though he was somewhat inexperienced, Arthur trusted the boy with his life. He had met the young knight on a hunting trip. Arthur was out alone—except for Merlin, of course, but he hardly counted—when bandits had ambushed him. It was rather odd, given that the king was so close to the castle, that the burly men would dare set foot around those parts.
Right when Arthur thought he and Merlin were in serious danger of being taken hostage, Mordred had shown up out of nowhere, sword in hand, and helped him overpower the bandits. As it turned out, Mordred was headed towards the kingdom in order to request official training as a knight of Camelot. Arthur thought it would only be natural to reward his bravery by granting the daring boy's wish.
It was almost comical how well the whole thing turned out.
Coming back to the situation at hand, Arthur turned to Leon. "Do we have an idea how Morgana is doing this? I can't imagine her powers have grown this much since the last time we saw her."
"Yes. Gaius believes she is using some sort of artifact to channel her powers."
Arthur's eyebrows furrowed together. "Did he say where this object might be found?"
"He believes that it is located somewhere within the city—perhaps the castle itself—and that it would make sense to be close to the earth—buried or underground."
Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "Alright. You two continue as you were. I'm going to look for this artifact."
Leon bowed and hurried back towards the chaos behind him. Mordred, however, was not so quick to follow his king's orders.
"Wait, Sire." The young knight seemed anxious, unwilling to let Arthur leave. "How will you look for it? The item could be anywhere."
"I'll search the tunnels below the castle first. It's the only place that fits Gaius's description."
Mordred's eyes narrowed, his shoulders tense. "That seems dangerous, Sire. You should be above ground, in the castle where it's safe—"
"I have to try something. My people are dying."
Seeing that Arthur would not back down, Mordred tried a new tactic. "At least allow me to accompany you. The king should not go unguarded in an attack such as this."
"No, Mordred. You need to return with Leon. There are still people out there who need your help."
For a moment, Arthur thought he saw the knight's face flash with anger. But in an instant, the expression was gone, replaced with a look of submission. "Of course, my lord." He bowed, and he was gone.
Arthur turned, and bolted for the castle. When he came across the tunnel entrance, he paused briefly, taking in the instability of the walls around him. The screams of servants echoed behind him, and a second later he began his descent into the darkness.
As Arthur made the climb down the stony staircase, he came to the conclusion that Morgana might've had help in this endeavor. Help from inside Camelot. It would not be the first time a mole was planted by his half-sister in an attempt to destroy the kingdom.
Shaking his head, Arthur returned to the task at hand. He didn't want to consider traitors at such a critical time. He didn't want to consider them at any time.
Maneuvering through the tunnels proved difficult. After every shockwave, a chunk of the ceiling above him would break off and nearly take off Arthur's head. Right when he was about to deem his attempts useless and turn back, he saw a dim light coming from a room ahead of him.
Slowly, carefully, Arthur crept towards the room's entrance.
In the center of the dome-like room stood a staff that protruded from the ground. Its veined carvings glowed a greenish color, leaving no doubt about its magical origins. Just as Arthur stepped forward to further examine the artifact, he caught a movement from the corner of his eye.
He was not alone.
Stepping back, Arthur hid partially behind the room's arced entrance. A shadowy figure emerged from behind one of the pillars. He wore a dark cloak, effectively hiding his face beneath the fabric. Luckily, Arthur hadn't been spotted yet, so he continued to watch the stranger from afar.
The cloaked figure crept up to the glowing object. For a moment, Arthur thought he would do nothing but stare. Then, with an outstretched arm, he began to chant lightly in a whispered voice. Even with the distance between them, Arthur recognized it immediately as the Old Tongue.
Magic. Arthur's hand instinctively shot to his side, his grip held firmly around the hilt of his sword, but he made no move to apprehend the sorcerer. Instead, he waited. Since Arthur had the advantage—that is to say, since Arthur knew the whereabouts of the man in front of him, whereas the opposite could not be said—Arthur had assumed the man couldn't surprise him. He quickly learned that wasn't the case.
The glowing light that had illuminated from the staff began to fade. The staff itself started cracking, splitting in two. The rumblings from the earth came to a complete stop, creating a silence that filled Arthur's heart with relief. He realized then that the sorcerer in front of him had been the cause—he'd stopped the earth shakes. But if the sorcerer had stopped the destruction, instead of spurring it on, then…
"It's you." Arthur half sighed, half laughed his realization before he could stop himself.
The sorcerer's hood whipped to the side, though it still covered the man's face. Arthur realized he'd have to correct his mistake quickly, or the sorcerer would disappear before he could get another word out.
Just as he started off towards the other exit, Arthur called out to him. "Wait!" To Arthur's utter surprise, the man froze in place. "Please… wait."
Arthur swallowed. He hadn't expected to get this far.
"You are Emrys, are you not?" The man gave no verbal response, but his shoulders tensed, which was good enough for Arthur. He knew that he must talk fast, if he intended to keep the man here for long.
"I know that I have given you no reason to trust me." Arthur started slowly. "You have shown great loyalty today, and yet I have been stubborn, refusing to let go of my father's prejudices."
Arthur took a deep breath. "I have not given you the trust you deserve."
Ahead of him, Emrys still stood with his back to Arthur, completely unmoving.
Arthur eyed him. He wondered briefly if he was making a mistake—talking with a sorcerer, practically pleading with him—but he suppressed the thought. He owed Emrys that much. "But I am willing, if you would let me, to make you a promise."
"I believe I am ready—if you'd give me the chance—to rebuild the relationship our people once had."
The weight of such a promise seemed to resonate against the room's walls, causing both the king and warlock to stand in silence for several moments.
"It should not have taken me this long." Arthur's regretful remark was practically a whisper. "If you choose not to trust me, I understand. But I think you and I both know there is far too much at stake to let this hatred go on for any longer."
Once again, silence overtook the room. As Arthur awaited a response, he wondered if the man was still wary of him. He couldn't blame him; Camelot had been at war with sorcery for a very long time. Just as Arthur opened his mouth to try again, the sorcerer moved.
The cloaked figure shifted, very hesitantly, so that the front of his body partially faced Arthur. His face, still hidden beneath the dark fabric, was unrecognizable. They stared at one another for a moment, and then Emrys inclined his head.
He's bowing to me, Arthur realized in amazement.
Arthur wasn't sure what to do next. He knew this moment was a momentous step forward—that many lives would be changed if Arthur carried out a truce with this man. But after so many years of being enemies… Arthur had trouble figuring out how to proceed.
"Sire!" He heard a knight—Elyan, Arthur decided—call his name from the tunnel behind him.
"I'm down here!" He shouted back into the darkness.
When he turned around, Emrys was gone.
Arthur shut the door to his chambers behind him. It had been a long day in the council room, and he was glad to finally be done with the negotiations. Throughout the entire thing—hours of debating in that hot and musty room—Arthur couldn't focus one bit. While the other nobles spoke of relevant matters such as recovery tactics and food provisions, his mind was elsewhere. No matter what he did, it always wondered back to the same topic.
Magic.
Arthur hadn't told anyone about his meeting with Emrys. Not even Gwen. Partly because the sorcerer had yet to show any signs that he wanted to be found, and partly because he was still terrified of making such a life-altering change in Camelot. It was all he had ever been taught—to resent and reject the ways of sorcerers. His father had held that hatred inside of him until the day he died, and now Arthur was considering uprooting Uther's entire life's work.
Still, Arthur had made a promise that day to Emrys—one he still found to be fair and just—and the king of Camelot did not go back on his word.
The only problem was that Emrys never responded. After all that he said, all that he promised… nothing. Arthur hadn't heard a word out of the sorcerer's mouth.
Were his efforts not good enough?
Merlin sighed in relief as he finished polishing the last piece of Arthur's armor. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately—sighing.
It had been two days now since the attempted takeover. Normalcy in Camelot returned rather quickly to the kingdom. Merlin figured it was beginning to become something of a regular occurrence to the poor peasants, what with how often Morgana attacked the bloody place. Of course, Arthur hadn't hesitated in ordering Merlin to resume his daily chores, while he went off and did his kingly duties—or, as Merlin liked to put it, his prat-ly duties—which seemed to consist of ordering Merlin around. Go figure.
Despite his complaints, menial tasks were not the main source of Merlin's concern.
Shortly after Morgana's assault, Arthur called together the Round Table group to make an unofficial announcement that he suspected a mole inside of Camelot. He believed someone was aiding Morgana in her most recent attempts, and wanted only to inform his most trusted allies of this suspicion. Really, with all the evil plots that went on around the daft king's head, he was sure to figure something out eventually. Unfortunately, he was still oblivious to practically everything else.
Like the fact that the mole was currently a part of the Round Table group, thanks to Arthur.
Merlin knew Mordred was behind it. He knew from the very beginning that the deceiving "knight in training" was once a bitter little boy who promised revenge. The same could not be said for the king. Naturally, Arthur had forgotten all about the druid child they had saved almost a decade ago. Merlin supposed it wasn't that odd, considering Arthur had only really met him once, and seeing as how he was ignoring a direct order from his father at the time, he probably wanted to erase the memory from his mind.
At first, Merlin wanted nothing more than to deny his suspicions. He had hoped Mordred's fabricated story had been the truth. He hoped that, for once, it was not all just a grand scheme to gain Arthur's trust. And he had hoped—above all else—that the rapidly growing affection Arthur felt towards the boy would not end once again in heartbreak and betrayal.
But he knew. He and Gaius had worked it out only a few short hours after Mordred's arrival in Camelot. Morgana and the boy formed an alliance against Arthur, and were constantly coming up with ways to bring him down.
And so began the evil glares and crooked smiles and Merlin's silent fight for his king.
He wanted so badly to tell Arthur. But past attempts in annoyingly similar situations told Merlin it would not at all go well. Arthur was quickly growing fond of Mordred—frighteningly so. He treated him as one would a brother, or even a son. Merlin knew from a painful list of experiences that telling Arthur of his loved one's betrayals never went in Merlin's favor. And, of course, there was another reason Merlin couldn't say anything. Mordred knew. He knew what Merlin was—who Merlin was—and that threat hung silently in the air around him.
So, as these things normally went, Merlin hid in the shadows, protecting Arthur from unrealized threats that he somehow always managed to thwart. As days turned into months of fending off Morgana and Mordred's attacks, Merlin grew weary. Weary of Mordred's smirks of triumph when Arthur scolded him for things Mordred was responsible for. Weary of the brotherly affection that he had always hoped to receive from Arthur—directed towards a man who wanted his death. And weary of the truth that sat on the tip of his tongue like a bitter taste in his mouth. He had grown so weary, in fact, that Merlin had considered leaving Camelot—and the weight of his destiny—behind him. He would never do it, of course. The thought was just so tempting at times, and the constant torment of his enemies didn't help, either.
But then, that day came. The day when everything changed. The day that Arthur promised peace.
Albeit, Arthur didn't know he was talking to Merlin. But that didn't bother him much—it might've even relieved Merlin, if he thought about it.
No, the most important part about that day had nothing to do with Merlin's secret. It was about Arthur's destiny, and the future of Albion. It was about thousands of people like him—people who wanted nothing more than to express their abilities, and practice magic in the open.
That day, when Arthur had found him in the tunnels, Merlin thought it was over. The day had finally come for Arthur to discover his identity. What really happened shocked Merlin more than words could describe.
I believe I am ready—if you'd give me the chance—to rebuild the relationship our people once had.
Merlin was… he didn't know what he was. Thrilled. Overcome with so many emotions he didn't know what to do with himself. Arthur's words meant so much to him—so much to so many people who have been suffering for over two decades.
And yet… he couldn't tell him. He didn't know how. After so many years of hiding, so many years of being just Merlin, how was he to go about revealing himself? So many lies went into that façade; he didn't know how to break it. What he and Arthur had—it was no perfect friendship, to say the least. But Merlin knew Arthur trusted him, though the prat would never admit it out loud.
The question was, could he risk it? In the end, there were only two outcomes. Either Arthur would accept him, or he would not. More than likely, it would be the latter, thought Merlin sadly.
What Merlin didn't know was that Mordred would leave him with little choice in the matter.
A/N: So I do realize that my thought process is a little scatter-brained. I hope it wasn't to confusing for you all. Again, thanks for reading!