A/N: Corianna15 was kind enough to point out something I'd completely missed: that by the end of the fourth season (up to which I had been trying to keep this story in canon), Arthur actually did know of the definite connection between Emrys and 'that old sorcerer who killed his father'. I'll freely admit I honestly have no recollection of that. (All the more reason to start watching the episodes over again—as if a reason were ever needed!) So, do forgive me, but I'm afraid we'll just have to keep going as is, though if you've gotten this far into the story I doubt you mind.

"Are you sure this is for the best?" asked Guinevere.

Arthur's shoulders slumped. He had just dismissed the meeting, had just sent out word that he was looking for a man named Emrys and would provide a small reward as a token of his gratitude to the bearer of any information that proved fruitful, and they were alone once again. Gwen's voice was quiet and gentle. Soothing. Yet it still held a note of reproach, of question.

"They needn't know why I seek him," Arthur answered.

A light touch on his shoulder. "Your ears will be filled with lies if you allow them to be," Gwen pointed out, "since you've chosen to proceed in this manner."

"I haven't any other choice."

"You could let him be."

Arthur finally turned to look at his wife. "I cannot. He's a sorcerer."

There was a look of determination on Guinevere's face. Of defiance. It reminded him of one of the many reasons he loved her so. "And if he is indeed a sorcerer, and as powerful a one as is implied, then surely he would have harmed us already if that had been his intention."

"Sorcerers are crafty," Arthur said quietly. "He may well be biding his time."

"You told me Gaius believes he means us no harm."

Arthur couldn't say anything to that. He wasn't entirely convinced either way. He'd seen too many evils of magic to dismiss it so easily, and anyone who wielded such power….

"Arthur." Gwen's voice pulled him from his thoughts again. "I trust Gaius. You trust Gaius. He has proved time and again to be loyal to you, to Camelot."

Before Arthur was completely aware of it, he was speaking. "I know. I do. But I suspect he knows more than he is telling. That he may be protecting the sorcerer."

His doubts, now given voice, seemed to swell. He wouldn't convict Gaius of treason, even for this. As Gwen had said, Gaius would never intentionally do anything against them. He just…. Gaius was, in all likelihood, doing what he believed to be right. If they merely convinced him of the necessity of discovering the identity of Emrys, he should come around to their way of thinking. It was for the good of the kingdom, after all. It was for Camelot.

"Then perhaps he does so for a reason." Gwen's voice was quieter than his own had been.

"What reason can there be?"

"That Emrys truly is protecting you, and by protecting you, protecting all of Camelot. You know the laws as well as I do, Arthur. Sorcery is punishable by death."

"As is treason," Arthur pointed out, even though he hated himself for it.

Guinevere, as always, seemed to see right through him. "Is it treason if Gaius believes his silence will protect you? Whatever he does, he does for the good of the kingdom. I'll not have you sentence a dear friend to death when he has done nothing but try to keep you—all of us—safe."

"I wouldn't," Arthur said, though he knew Gwen was already well aware of that. "I just…. We should talk to him. In private. If we cannot obtain any viable information from any other route, I mean."

"Then we will, if necessary," Gwen agreed. "But until then, rest easy and trust your judgement. Gaius has proved his loyalty, and you told me yourself how heartbroken he had been to know that you had once suspected him of being a traitor."

"I know." Arthur paused. "I just seem to find traitors in the unlikeliest of people. Morgana. Agravaine. If this Emrys is the same, pretending to be good but waiting to strike—"

"Do not judge him until you know him," Gwen said simply. "Your father made that mistake, deeming all sorcery evil. But if magic can be used to fight magic, then perhaps it is not." She fell silent for a moment before adding, "When I was first accused of sorcery, they said they had found a magic poultice in my house. That it was the reason my father was cured of the plague that had taken everyone else." This he knew, having been in charge of the search for the plague's source. "But I did not put it there, Arthur," Guinevere continued, "and to this day I do not know who did, but whoever it was gave me time with my father I would otherwise not have had. I am grateful to them. I have seen the evils of magic as well as you, but I need only think of my father's miraculous recovery to know that good may come of it as well."

Arthur had also wondered, secretly, whether his father had been right to condemn all magic, but admittedly most of those musings had been since he'd realized Gaius had once practiced it. Gaius…Gaius was not someone who would take advantage of the power he wielded. And he was sure his father, on some level, must have also known that. For all that Gaius had stopped practicing sorcery in accordance to Camelot's laws, Arthur was certain that his father would have still sentenced him to death if he had believed the man would ever turn against Camelot.

But he hadn't. Uther had let him live, and Gaius was a trusted advisor and the court physician, and when sorcery was suspected, Gaius had proved time and again to be a valuable source of reliable information.

This was simply another time where Gaius could provide them with information, if Arthur could get him to admit that he knew more than what he'd already said.

"I'm not planning on throwing Emrys in the dungeons when we find him," Arthur said quietly. "Nor do I plan to order his execution on the spot."

Guinevere looked at him evenly. "You plan to do what Uther would not, then," she concluded. "You seek to understand."

Arthur didn't correct her.

She wasn't really wrong.

She was too perceptive for that.

She sometimes knew his intentions better than he did himself.

"It may be for the best," Gwen continued when he didn't say anything.

"We won't know that," Arthur said, "until we find him."

He didn't want to say unless. He didn't want to admit the all-too-real possibility that his search for Emrys might come to naught. After all, if the man was a powerful sorcerer and he had remained hidden for this long….

"I pray it will be soon," Gwen said simply.

So did he.

When Gwaine returned late that night, he did not, as Arthur had hoped, return with news.

"They met me," he said, referring to the Druids, "before I got near where I thought they might be hiding. Thanked me for bringing Coran to them. Didn't ask any questions."

"They knew you were coming."

"They at least suspected it and sent out a party to meet us," Gwaine allowed. "Bit of a shame, really. I'd hoped to at least taste some mead before riding back."

Arthur frowned. "They said nothing else? Nothing of Emrys?"

Gwaine grinned. "See, I knew you'd want me to ask that. Considering Coran had been asking after him, I mean. But all they told me was, 'He bears our gift to your king.' So we aren't any further ahead when it comes to figuring out who he is. Just that he's got something for you."

Arthur's frown deepened. "'He bears our gift to your king'?" he repeated. "What gift?"

Gwaine shrugged.

"You're certain they didn't say anything else?"

Gwaine shook his head. "They weren't a very talkative bunch."

"Of course not," Arthur muttered. But then a serving boy turned up with a plate of food and a tankard of ale for Gwaine, and Arthur could see the hunger written on the knight's face. Even if he had stopped at a tavern before coming, he hadn't had enough. Arthur dismissed him, confident that Gwaine had told him all he knew.

That was precious little, in Arthur's opinion, but it was still something.

Something that didn't help in the slightest, but something nonetheless.

"Did Coran say anything to you about this?" Arthur asked.

There was a pause. Then, "You're talking to me, aren't you?"

"No, I'm talking to myself," Arthur snapped. "You're the only one left in the room, Merlin. Of course I'm talking to you."

"Well, I wouldn't be the only one here if you'd listened to sense. Gwen said she wasn't going to be getting any sleep until you came to bed, but no, you insisted she go anyway and that I stay here to wait for Gwaine with you instead. What would you have done if he hadn't come until tomorrow?"

"I'm not asking for your opinion on my decisions, Merlin," Arthur ground out. "I wanted to know if Coran mentioned anything about a gift from the Druids."

"Not to me," Merlin admitted. "But for all I know, he didn't even know about it." Then, sounding slightly put out, he said, "Do you really think I'd keep something important like that from you?"

"Honestly?" Arthur glanced at Merlin. "Yes. Because it's the sort of important little thing I'd expect you to forget."

Merlin huffed. "I am not that forgetful."

"No, you're just ungrateful. Do you know how many servants would give their right arm to stand by my side like this? And all you do is complain about it."

"Well, it mightn't be so bad if you were better company," Merlin retorted, but even Arthur could see that Merlin couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards any longer.

"Can I have your honest opinion on something, Merlin?" Arthur asked at length.

"You always have my honest opinion, Arthur. You just usually choose to ignore it. Even when I'm right. Especially when I'm right."

Arthur chose to ignore Merlin's comments. Though there was a bit of truth to them, he felt no need to admit that. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

Merlin, who had been reaching to refill Arthur's goblet, paused. "In seeking out Emrys, you mean?" When Arthur didn't reply, Merlin continued, "You're more worried about the fact that you're looking for a sorcerer, aren't you?" Then, "Oh, no, that's not it, is it? You're worried about the fact that there might be a sorcerer here, right under your nose."

He'd implied as much earlier, so Arthur didn't bother confirming Merlin's words. Sure enough, after Merlin had poured Arthur some more water and handed it to him, he said, "I don't think it matters if you're doing the right thing or not."

Arthur frowned. "And what do you mean by that?"

Merlin shrugged. "I don't think you'll find him."

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "You don't think he's here?"

"I don't think he wants to be found," Merlin replied frankly. "You said yourself that if he is here, he's disguised. You're not exactly giving him a reason to come out of hiding."

"I've made it clear he won't come to any harm," Arthur countered. "You were at the council meeting when I made the announcement. You know that."

"I stood behind you with a pitcher of water no one called for, yes," Merlin agreed, "so I know what you said. But think about it, won't you? If this Emrys fellow doesn't know you very well, why should he trust your word? The Pendragons don't have a reputation for being friendly when magic is involved."

"I have never—" Arthur began hotly, but he snapped his mouth shut before he could finish his denial. He had quite happily led the old man to his father, knowing full well it would get him executed. He'd done so because he'd known it would mean Gwen would be released.

He hadn't been thinking, at the time, of the fact that he and Guinevere both knew they hadn't been enchanted, which meant there was really no reason for him to come across the old man placing the poultice under his bed in the first place.

A magic poultice.

That hadn't been the first time an unexplained magic poultice had turned up. No, that had happened the first time Gwen had been accused of magic, all because her father had been cured of the magical plague that had taken the lives of the rest of the infected.

Had that been Emrys, too? Even then? Even then, when Gwen had been nothing more than a serving girl, when Morgana had been good and Camelot's greatest magical enemy had been Nimueh?

"That's what I mean," Merlin said, taking Arthur's silence as his answer. "If you're so convinced that Dragoon the Great is Emrys, then he'll be well aware of the fact that you once tried to have him burned at the stake."

"He should also know I didn't seek him out after my father's death," Arthur countered.

"But you aren't happy with him," Merlin pointed out. "You'll never be happy with him, not as long as you keep thinking that Uther's death was his fault—or worse, yours, for trying to save him."

Arthur's lips tightened. "And what makes you say that?" he asked carefully.

If Merlin heard the warning in Arthur's words, he ignored it. "Because it's true. I know what Gaius told you, Arthur, and I believe him. I don't think it was the sorcerer's fault, whoever he is, and it certainly isn't yours for trying to save Uther. You know I would have done the same to save my father, if I could."

Merlin's voice cracked on the last words. Arthur wondered, briefly, what had happened to Merlin's father. He'd figured out that the man was dead, or at least presumed dead, for he certainly hadn't been in Ealdor with the others and Merlin never really spoke of him, except to say he'd never known him.

But now was certainly not the time to speculate about that.

"I know Camelot's views of magic, Arthur," Merlin said quietly, "and I understand how they came to be. And perhaps it's because I didn't grow up here, like you did, with a father who was telling me that sorcery was evil at every turn, but I truly believe that Emrys, whoever he is, only wants to help you. I'm sure that's all he's ever wanted since he came." He was silent for a moment before adding, "But I cannot blame him for remaining in hiding, if that is what he does. He cannot save your life if he hasn't his own."

"But why would he save my life if he's a sorcerer?" Arthur demanded. He was well aware that it was not the first time he'd asked that question, but he'd never gotten a satisfactory answer.

A small smile flickered across Merlin's face, there and gone in an instant. "Perhaps he sees what I do. On rare occasions, Arthur—very rare ones, mind, since I've known you to make plenty of absolutely prattish decisions—you prove that you're everything people say about you. That you are the rightful king of Camelot and that you truly deserve your people's respect. At the risk of making your already-swollen head as large as your waist, I have to say that you really are a good and just king. You are a great king. You rule well, and your people are happy." Merlin paused. "Of course, you are woefully unprepared to protect yourself from magical attack—Morgana's proved that over and over—so if Emrys is helping you by providing that protection, I shouldn't think you'd want him to stop."

"I don't want him to stop—" Arthur argued.

"Don't you?" Merlin asked, interrupting. "That's why you're trying to find him, isn't it?"

"Merlin—"

"Arthur, you're seeking out a sorcerer. If you find him, what excuse are you going to have not to have him executed on the spot? Uther's laws against sorcery haven't been repealed. There's not even any talk of it."

"I haven't made it known to everyone that he is a sorcerer," Arthur bit out. There was no point in reminding Merlin that of course there weren't any talks of repealing the ban on sorcery. It was sorcery. And Morgana was still out there.

"No, but it's not going to take them very long to figure that out once he turns up, is it? You said yourself that people would recognize him. His death sentence still stands."

That was all very true. Of course…. "Merlin, you almost sound like you don't want him to die."

Merlin's mouth, which had been open, snapped shut. Then, finally, "If he has saved you, if he has saved any of us, I don't think he should."

"Even though you're terrified of magic?"

Merlin sighed. "I'm not terrified of magic, Arthur."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And that's why you make yourself scarce whenever there's mention of it made?"

"I was friends with Will," Merlin said quietly, "and even you saw how magic saved us when Ealdor was attacked. Dark magic has been used for dark purposes, yes, but not all magic is dark magic, and I do not think it all needs to be feared and treated so." There was a pause. "Gaius used to use magic to heal, before the ban. I think…. I think it can be used for good, Arthur, and that Emrys has done his best to use it that way, if he has indeed saved you. Camelot would not be the same without you."

"So you think a sorcerer has saved Camelot? Repeatedly?" Arthur did not hide the scepticism in his voice.

To his surprise, Merlin didn't back down. Then again, Arthur supposed he shouldn't really be surprised. It wasn't often Merlin changed his mind once he'd made it up. "If that sorcerer has saved you, then he has saved Camelot, whether you choose to recognize his efforts or not. So if you want my honest opinion, Arthur, then, no, I don't think you're doing the right thing, but I don't think it matters either way, because I don't think you'll find Emrys until he chooses to come to you."

When Arthur had asked Merlin for his opinion, he had not expected his manservant to contradict him. He'd just been looking for a confirmation of what he had already known, and he hadn't gotten it. "So you think I couldn't find him if I needed to?"

Merlin stiffened, and Arthur guessed it was in reaction to the bite in his tone. "I didn't say that," Merlin countered. "I'm just saying…. I don't think you need to find him. I think you're wasting your resources looking for someone who doesn't want to be found. If Emrys is powerful, then he can remain hidden."

"Even if I bring in another witchfinder? I'm sure there are some skulking around somewhere. They cannot all be like Aredian." Aredian had seemed impressive, yes. But the first person he'd accused was Merlin, of all people, and he'd planted evidence and coerced a false confession from Gaius when he'd been a sorcerer himself all along. True, if he merely worked by calling out innocent people and planting evidence of sorcery with which to convict them, Arthur could see why he'd been successful.

But intending to frame Merlin as a sorcerer? Merlin? Arthur would have thought that Aredian would have picked someone who would have been believable. Gaius, at least, had practiced magic in the past, though Arthur had long since realized he'd likely only claimed Aredian's evidence was his own to protect Merlin from the tortures he knew he'd face. Those two had as strong a bond as any one of blood that Arthur had known.

Stronger, in fact, since his bond of blood with Morgana stood for little more than their shattered childhood friendship.

Merlin's thoughts, apparently, weren't far from Arthur's own. "And perhaps not all sorcerers are like Morgana or Morgause or Nimueh or—"

"You don't need to list them, Merlin. I'm probably more aware of them than you are."

"You asked my opinion."

"Yes, and I'm regretting it. Merlin, I thought you were against magic."

Merlin was silent for a moment. Longer, perhaps. It was an irritatingly long time, anyway, given his swift replies earlier. Finally, staring down at the pewter pitcher in his hands, he said quietly, "When it's used for the wrong purposes, I am."

"Then why are you defending a sorcerer?" There was no need to quibble with Merlin about what purpose magic was used for now. Merlin already ought to know that every sorcerer used magic only for their own purposes and that, while that purpose may seem to benefit others, it was undoubtedly doing little more than setting the stage for the sorcerer's next move. Ensuring complacency on their part, perhaps. Taking advantage of naïvely placed trust, of which Merlin clearly had an abundance. Something that, somehow, would eventually turn in favour of the sorcerer, most likely to the detriment of the rest of them.

Besides, this wouldn't be the first time Arthur had let a near treasonous remark from Merlin slide. It was Merlin, after all.

Merlin looked up then, sharply, and Arthur couldn't quite discern the meaning of the look in his eyes. "Do you remember," Merlin asked, "what you promised the Druid boy?"

Arthur blinked. "Mordred?" He could guess how Merlin's thoughts had turned to him—he'd been thinking of Mordred earlier himself—but he couldn't guess what Merlin was getting at.

Merlin, however, shook his head. "No. I mean the little boy who was drowned during the attack you led on his camp."

Arthur's insides went cold. He knew who Merlin was talking about: the ghost child, the boy who had possessed Elyan.

"You said," Merlin stated clearly, "'From this day forth, the Druid people will be treated with the respect they deserve. I give you my word.'"

Arthur tried not to let it show quite how much those words unnerved him. "How do you even remember that?"

There was a seriousness on Merlin's face that Arthur did not often see. "I remember it because you meant it, Arthur. I could see that. The boy could see that. That's why he forgave you. That's why he let you live and let Elyan go."

"Why bring it up, then? I certainly didn't wrong Coran. He's back with his people. He's safe. You heard Gwaine."

"Coran came here looking for Emrys," Merlin pointed out, "and Emrys is, apparently, well known by the Druids. Perhaps he is one himself."

"You don't know that."

"No. But even if he isn't, should you not show respect to him if they would? If you believe Emrys has saved you, then he has not done you harm. You have no good reason to be hunting him down."

"I have every reason! He's a sorcerer, in Camelot, and sorcery is banned!"

"So you would persecute him for using magic to save your life."

"I am not going to persecute him. I just want to talk to him!"

"But he doesn't know that, Arthur. Why should he come forward just because you're looking for him? Because you say you won't harm him? Perhaps, if you know who he is, he will not be able to do what he does. And if he can't protect you—"

"I don't need his protection!"

"How do you know that? Just because he's a sorcerer, it doesn't make his protection less than that of any of the knights who fight alongside you in battle."

"Merlin, would you just listen? I'm the king. I say what happens to him. And I've said I won't harm him!"

Merlin was clutching the pitcher so tightly his knuckles were white. "So you've said," Merlin allowed. "But how is he to know you can be trusted not to go back on your word?"

Arthur threw up his hands. "By that logic, I've no way of knowing he wouldn't turn on me, either!"

"Sure you do," Merlin said. "You've got all the years he's saved your royal backside without any acknowledgement from anyone. If he's as powerful as they say, Arthur, and he wanted Camelot destroyed, then why do you think Camelot is flourishing now? Camelot's been much weaker in the past and much easier to take down. You know that as well as I."

"That's ridiculous, Merlin. He could just be biding his time."

"Waiting for what, exactly? For Camelot to grow stronger?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Really, Merlin, do I need to explain this to you? It's simple—"

"It's not. It's never been simple. If it were simple, then Emrys would openly stand beside you. Didn't Gaius tell you, Arthur, that Emrys seeks to serve the Once and Future King? That it's his destiny to do so?"

Arthur's arguments died on his tongue. "What?"

Merlin suddenly looked as if he feared he'd said too much.

Arthur rather thought he hadn't said enough.

"Would you care to explain that? Because no, Gaius conveniently left that part out."

Merlin shifted on his feet, his surety of earlier gone. "I just…. It might be you, that king they speak of."

"Right. Because Emrys has saved me before."

Merlin shook his head. "That's not why I think that. It's…." He trailed off. When he started again, his voice had regained its certainty. "Arthur, you're the true king of Camelot. You pulled the sword from the stone. You were the only one who could draw out that sword because you were destined to be Albion's greatest king."

Despite Merlin's reassurances, his words were rather disquieting. Being Camelot's true king, well, that he could believe. Rule by Morgana's hand would be nothing less than tyranny. But Albion's greatest king? He still didn't feel worthy of that title. He felt no more worthy of that now than he had then.

He didn't feel worthy of being called this 'Once and Future King', either, and he knew better than to think Merlin hadn't been implying it. He wasn't even sure if it was the first time Merlin had called him that, which made it all the worse, because then there was no denying Merlin had meant it rather than just said it in passing or in fun.

Yes, he'd always been grateful when Merlin had had so much faith in him, faith he hadn't had in himself. Still, he didn't like to think that this may be why. This, mere story, as opposed to anything he had done in the past to earn that faith.

"You can go, Merlin," Arthur said evenly.

"Arthur…."

"You're dismissed."

"But I—"

"You didn't want to be here before, remember? So now I'm saying you can go. Eat something, if you're hungry, and get some sleep." It wasn't anger in his voice—he had asked Merlin's opinion, after all—but even he wasn't completely sure what was colouring his otherwise flat tone.

Merlin looked at him for a long moment. "Yes, sire." And then he left.

And Arthur was alone.

And that was no better than it had been earlier, because his thoughts were just as loud and confused as before.

A/N: As you can see, I'm betting on Arthur not remembering many things. Dragoon's name, that Merlin has definitely called him the Once and Future King before (let's face it, Arthur had more important things on his mind at that point)….

Also, many, many thanks to everyone who took the time to vote/comment last chapter ('twas easily among the most reviews I've ever gotten for a single chapter). Some of you were quite earnest in your appeals, and your eagerness was certainly an incentive for me to get this chapter out faster than it would have otherwise been. (This is undoubtedly unnoticeable to you, but I'd been thinking it would take me another week and a half at best. Let's just say I spent considerably less time on my research proposal than I should have, so the next chapter could be longer in coming…unless I have a similar incentive. *grins*)