Disclaimer: IDOM

AN: Here we are, everyone! The second to last chapter of Only Friend. :D I feel it's not my best, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!


"When I thought that I fought this war alone

You were there by my side on the frontline

And we fought to believe the impossible

When I thought that I fought this war alone

We were one with our destinies entwined

When I thought that I fought without a cause

You gave me the reason why.

So will you please show me your real face

Draw the line in the horizon

'Cause I only need your name to call the reasons why I fought

When I thought that I fought this war alone..."

(Song: "War" from Poets of the Fall's 2010 album Twilight Theater)


Scene 5: Understanding Emrys

~Part III: Gaius~

Arthur could not believe his luck.

It was strange…surreal even. For what felt like the first time in his life, he wasn't even being sarcastic.

After leaving Gwen, who wandered off with the gaze and stride of a sleepwalker—Arthur guessed that she was making her way to her childhood home, where she felt most comfortable, where she would have plenty of privacy, and where the bustle and distractions of the castle wouldn't be able to interrupt her thoughts—and Merlin, who smiled sympathetically and apologetically at him before squeezing his shoulder in reassurance, standing, and gawkily walking in the direction of Arthur's chambers, where, despite Merlin's unending complaining, he knew Merlin liked to work when he needed to do something with his hands to take his mind off of his stress, troubled thoughts, or restlessness, Arthur, feeling the irresistible urge to get out, ranwildly through the castle, which he was quite sure looked very undignified (he was too intent on getting fresh air to really care how many strange looks had been cast his way), and out into the courtyard.

Where he nearly crashed into one of the squires, who was leading his mare, fully saddled and bridled.

Yes, he was very lucky.

"My apologies, Sire!" the squire squeaked.

Arthur, steadying himself, blinked in astonishment for a moment before gruffly saying, "No need to apologize. It was my fault."

The look the young man gave him—the look of a wide-eyed owl—was priceless, and he was sure that Merlin, if he had been there, would have been really struggling to contain hearty chortles and snorts of amusement at the sight.

He might have been amused himself, but he really wasn't in the mood for bootlickers staring at him as though he was a five-legged horse in their shock at his genuine apology—it was his fault, after all, for not watching where he was going—which, to them, was otherwise known as a severe lack of propriety, apparently.

Or something equally as ridiculous.

Gods, what has that idiot done to me? Arthur managed to wonder as his mare affectionately butted his shoulder.

His mare…which was fully saddled and bridled…

Arthur needed to ride. Now.

"What are you doing with her?" Arthur asked quickly.

"Just taking her out for a bit of exercise, my Lord," he answered promptly, but warily.

The poor fellow was weak-kneed in his presence, Arthur noted perplexedly. Does the fellow really fear my displeasure that much?

It was one of those rare occasions when Arthur thanked whatever power watching over him that Merlin—

He needed to ride. Feel the wind. Be free of this mess Merlin made of his nerves and peace of mind…

Some do say that ignorance is bliss.

Beaming broadly with a mixture of relief and enthusiasm, the King gestured for the reins and said with a cheery urgency, "I'll take her off your hands for you."

"But, Sire—"

"I was going for a ride anyway."

The squire opened his mouth to protest again, but Arthur's face's sudden morph from a sunny grin to an exasperated, impatient frown effectively cut him off.

The moment the reins were in his hand, Arthur nodded briefly at the squire, pointedly avoided Leon's—the Knight had just entered the courtyard and had been witness to Arthur's odd confrontation with the squire—quirked eyebrow, and was mounted in a heartbeat.

It was unfortunate indeed that Arthur's horse had been cooped up for far too long. Otherwise, the King would have gladly pretended that hell's fires were at his heels and would have gladly galloped out of there with maniacal laughter on his lips. However, not only was that not very befitting of a mentally sane King (though Merlin might disagree) and not a very prudent idea seeing as the people might get the wrong idea and suspect another attack, but also he knew that, since the poor beast had been locked away in the stables for a long time while he regained Camelot, doing so would strain her muscles and legs and perhaps even ruin her.

So, choking back his impulse and soothing his prancing, restless blood, he clucked his tongue and gently led his horse out of the courtyard, and only half-aware of his surroundings, Arthur steadily built his mare up in speed and was thundering through the forest in no time at all.

The force of the wind tore at his fair hair and pricked at his eyes until tears trailed across his temples, and with his vision and colors of the forest blurring with his tears, heart swooping with exhilaration in the speed, and mind focused on remaining as lithe and light in his saddle as possible so that it felt as though he was soaring low over the ground, Arthur let his confusion, his guilt—for there was plenty of guilt, he realized—and his thoughts fly with the wind that kissed his face.

It was about three kilometers before his mare, her sides heaving, began to falter and pant, and it was only then that everything the young King had learned crashed down upon him like the rock-fall that nearly took Merlin from him those months ago. Closing his eyes and wincing, Arthur reined in his horse rather sharply and slowed her to gentle trot.

Merlin…Oh gods, Merlin

How was it that it was no less than a few days ago that Arthur learned of his magic? Now, there was the damn dragon, which he still refused to think about, the horrifying and eye-opening situation with the Fomorroh, which Arthur had easily accepted and forgiven—there was no need to dwell on that…especially when the tortured look in Merlin's eyes portrayed just how painful the experience was when he was so loyal to Arthur—the poisoning, then the blasted old man…who he had believed to be his father's murderer… Dragoon, he recalled with the slightest twitch of a wry smile…

And just when he was ready to rebuild his relationship with Gwen—another bump in the road.

She was a lot easier to think about. A lot less confusing. A lot less frustrating and a lot less overwhelming.

To Arthur's vague surprise, he felt something cut into his palm, and he looked at his hand to see that the bracelet was still clutched in his fingers.

This, Arthur mused, regarding the marks of the Old Religion adorning the silver band in disbelief, is the cause of all our grief? Our pain?

Anger and hatred gripped the King, and squeezing the bracelet so tightly that it nearly bent under the pressure, Arthur released the rein of his horse to hurl it as far as he could into the woods…

But no. Taking a deep calming breath, he stopped himself and gingerly tucked the bracelet into one of his saddle bags, vowing, instead, that the moment Arthur told Merlin that he knew of his magic, he would instruct Merlin to help him come up with the most creative and most memorable way to destroy the damn thing to a lovely pile of fine powder…

Yes, that seemed far more satisfactory than throwing the bracelet against a tree, and when a surge of vindictive pleasure surged through him at the thought, Arthur grinned broadly and diabolically.

Merlin would probably come up with some marvelous ideas, he was sure.

Suddenly, his grin twisted into a scowl, and growling in sudden frustration, he shook his head violently.

Even when the idiot wasn't standing before him, he still managed to annoy the hell out of him. Wouldn't the idiot leave him be for one bloody moment?

Gwen. He was supposed to be thinking of Gwen. Because she was easier to think about and because, while it made his whole perspective flip upside down, it wasn't necessarily life-altering to think about what the bracelet meant.

He had already forgiven her, accepted her into Camelot and back into his arms…

Now, he could only hope that she could forgive him.

Remembering her confusion, her tear-streaked face, and her wide eyes and remembering his own heart-wrenching pain, his mind-numbing disbelief, and red-hazed anger, Arthur cringed. All in vain.

He yelled at her, grabbed her, threw her in the dungeons, banished and shunned her…she who did nothing wrong but fall just as deeply into the trickery as he had and accept a supposedly not-enchanted gift of supposed goodwill from a conjured dead man in the supposed form of her friend...

The day after he had witnessed the kiss, the day that Guinevere left Camelot, never to return on pain of death, he had told Merlin that he'd never trust her again.

And to hear his own misguided vows echoing in his ears… that—that made it all the harder to bear.

Guilt wiggled from the barriers of Arthur's heart and seeped into his limbs, weighing them down and making his horse, which sensed his mood, sidle uncharacteristically. He calmed her with a melancholy pat, and with a disdainful snort and sassy jostle of her harness, she plowed on.

In Arthur's recent state of mind, it was easy for him to imagine that even his horse believed that he didn't deserve her forgiveness at all.

Nor did he deserve Lancelot's.

She had been enchanted, and seeing as she was enchanted, it was only safe to assume that Lancelot, who, out of nowhere, hadreturned from the dead and who, now that he looked back on it, had seemed off. Distanced. And being near him—whatever he was—it had sent ominous chills deep into his soul. He had ignored it for the sake of his friend. He had ignored it because he had been so relieved to see Lancelot, who should never had taken Arthur's place to heal the veil, alive….

Now, he knew. That man hadn't been the same noble man who sacrificed his life for the benefit of Camelot. That man was a creation of Morgana's…who helped enchant Gwen, who pretended to be involved in a horrible scandal that would stain the future Queen of Camelot's reputation, and who then committed suicide.

And Lancelot's true memory was tarnished in the process.

Had he always been so stupid? So blind? The Lancelot he knew… would never do that.

Arthur had ordered Merlin to give Lancelot a proper burial; he would have to ask Merlin where he had laid the Knight to rest so that he could pay the respects that he owed to the man noblest of his companions.

But first—he must apologize to Gwen…and talk to her about Merlin.

He would then have to confront Merlin about poisoning Morgana, which, when he thought about it, really didn't bother him so much as he might have thought it would (what bothered him more, truth be told, was the little mound of secrets piling up and up). Merlin always had a reason, and as he thought earlier in the dungeons, the action, even if it made him shudder to think that Morgana considered that one moment to be the very moment that ultimately turned her against them, had probably saved more lives than Arthur could possibly imagine.

Possibly imagine…Your own life has been saved using magic more times than you can possibly imagine, the old sorcerer—Merlin had said.

Of course, only Merlin could create an alter ego who was simultaneously wise and insane. And of course, only Merlin would hurl those bizarre insults whilst he was being tried by his father… only Merlin who would take so much pleasure in climbing on his back and kicking him as though he was no more than a horse…

Of course it was Merlin who would try to heal his father and who would be so distraught—Arthur remembered how quiet he had been following his father's death, and he remembered that there was a spirited light missing from his eyes—when he failed…

Because it had been working, he realized that now. The charm—Morgana admitted it herself. She killed Uther. Merlin…Merlin did not, and yet, Arthur knew that Merlin had blamed himself.

I... I should've... I wish that there was something I could have done.

But his servant's voice had betrayed something deeper. His mood, his eyes…The lost light—it was lost hope, a lost opportunity and chance…

Because Merlin had tried so hard—and had done so in the most peaceful way possible—to show him that magic wasn't evil. And he had failed.

You were only doing what you thought was right. I'm sure that that old sorcerer meant no harm. Perhaps the spell went wrong. Uther was dying. Maybe nothing could have saved him... Arthur heard the timbre of passion and entreaty in Merlin's voice even now.

We'll never know. All I know for sure is that I've lost both my parents to magic. It is pure evil. I'll never lose sight of that again.

Another vow made. Another vow that would be broken gladly. Another vow that should never had been necessary to make.

A vow he shouldn't have made regardless.

Arthur bit his lip and released an unsteady sigh, which sounded more like a sob to him than anything. Guilt weighed heavier on him than ever, sitting unbearably on his shoulders just as the entire world did upon the trapped Titan Atlas' own shoulders.

Time after time, he turned Merlin away. Time after time again! And still, Merlin stood by his side. Without falter. Without doubt or regret.

That was another apology he was only too willing to give.

I know you have suffered because of magic, as many have. But not all magic, and not all sorcerers are the same. I wish only to show you that magic can be used for good. I hope one day you'll see me in a different light.

The day had come, and it was up to Arthur now to prove that he believed, with all his heart, that there was such a thing as good magic in this world and that he was honored to have a friend strong, determined, and compassionate enough to prove it to him.

With his inner demons soothed, Arthur took a deep breath of fresh air, and tilting his chin to the sky, he noticed from the position of the sun that he had been running for far too long and needed to turn back to Camelot.

For there were still questions that needed to be answered and still things that needed to be revealed.

After Arthur skillfully wheeled his mare around to head back down the path, he finally felt composed and level-minded enough to consider the true reason that he had gone to see Morgana in the first place: Emrys.

It was only expected that what Morgana had revealed about this strange other-name of Merlin's… Well, Arthur had no more answers than he did questions.

The strange glint in her eye and the loathing poisoning her dark tone, it suggested indeed that Emrys was her enemy, as she had said, but there was also the deep-rooted fear in her snappish responses and scornful ranting which suggested that Emrys—Merlin was more than an enemy.

There was only one reasonable conclusion. A few days ago, he had thought that Morgana and Agravaine's manhunt for this Emrys was either to get him to come to their side or to dispose of the threat he posed. Either way, it had made him wonder how powerful Emrys—Merlin was. But now, he was sure.

It shocked Arthur to the core to realize that Merlin was more powerful than he could ever comprehend.

Without Gaius' help, that is.

Because he knew that Merlin, the same humble idiot who took Arthur's verbal abuse and hefty chore-lists without much more than a witty wisecrack in retort when he could have easily used magic to do whatever he wished to his unknowing, arrogant master, would be of no help whatsoever.

Gaius, who knew more about magic and its myths and legends than any man Arthur knew, would probably answer that question and any others he had…if he was careful, the King reminded himself. A protective Gaius wouldn't be too keen on him prying into something that might incriminate Merlin, who the physician loved as his own son.

But was that all he was after? Why it was Morgana was so frightened of Merlin as Emrys? No. No, not at all. He had said to Gwen he wanted to know why Merlin was Emrys and why the name meant anything to anyone at all. But that wasn't it either.

The elderly physician, too, would be able to tell Arthur just how much Merlin did for Camelot under the name of Emrys.

And Arthur, who felt a twinge of disappointment in that, if he played his cards right, he should hear from Gaius instead of Merlin himself, would not only finally be able to see exactly how much he owed Merlin but also would finally begin to know him for who he was so that, when he did reveal his knowledge of magic, he would be able to give Merlin the thanks and reassurance that he deserved.

Merlin's voice, trembling with emotion, reverberated in his thoughts. All I have ever wanted is that people like me can live in peace. That those who practice magic are accepted, rather than hunted.

All he ever wanted…

Arthur closed his eyes, and a bittersweet pang travelled through his chest and constricted his heart.

Soon, Merlin, you will no longer have to live in fear. As I had promised.

~…~

When Arthur cantered into the courtyard once again, he was surprised to see Guinevere, whose face was clear of any tears, sitting and waiting on the steps to the castle for him to return.

Gwen, ignoring the cocked eyebrows, covert looks, and whispers headed in her direction, fiddled with her fingers, and upon hearing Arthur's horse's hooves clicking on the cobblestone, her brown eyes flew up to him.

And as she stood to greet him, she smiled.

Despite himself, Arthur felt a smile spreading across his own lips in response.

Without taking his eyes off her, he dismounted, threw the reins to a waiting stable boy, and muttered an absentminded thank you, and in a few great strides, he stood before her and unhesitatingly drew her into a tight embrace.

Burying his face into her curls, he closed his eyes and whispered, "Oh, Gwen. I'm so—"

"Don't you dare finish that statement, Arthur Pendragon," Gwen chided sternly, pulling a few centimeters away from him to look up at his face. When he was about to protest, she said passionately, "There's nothing to forgive. We were tricked, and it can't be undone. Each and every one of us knows the truth, and each of us made our mistakes. The blame falls on no one. Not you, not I. So—" she smiled gently and brought her delicate fingers to his jawline "—why not live in the present?" Her tone became shy, and she stammered, "It is behind us, and I would much rather think of the—our future. Together. Wouldn't you?"

Her loving eyes danced as Arthur, feeling a portion of his guilt lift from his shoulders, grinned and kissed her deeply.

In that moment, the King did not care that the people bustling in the square stopped whatever they were doing to stare at the open display of affection nor was he aware of it. It was simply he and Guinevere, as it should have been long ago.

With tingling lips, he drew away and whispered quietly into her ear, "I'm glad that this is behind us, my Queen." Gwen colored and brightened at the title, and Arthur felt a surge of pleasure when the words claiming her to be his passed his lips. "And I am so, so glad that Morgana still has the love of gloating." He chuckled suddenly, teasing, "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

Gwen beamed and admitted in an undertone, "You have no idea how good that felt."

"Oh, I can imagine," Arthur joked, taking her hand and beginning to walk with her.

Sighing and losing the light of humor in her eyes, she said flatly, "As satisfying as the slap was, I daresay I may one day live to regret it."

Arthur hesitated in his tracks and said forcefully, "Should she live to see another day, she will not touch you, Guinevere. I will not let that happen. Nor will Merlin." She pursed her lips worriedly, but he smiled and said consolingly, "But come now. That is a worry for another day."

"True," she said sagely. Shaking her head of curls, she tucked her worries to the back of her mind as she was reminded of the matter at hand, and she smiled knowingly. "We seem to have enough trouble on our hands with Merlin, don't we?"

Arthur snorted in response, and she asked, "You still plan to speak with Gaius tonight?"

Arthur nodded and muttered, "Morgana didn't give us much of anything to go off of. Except…"

"We do need to talk to him," Gwen agreed, reading his thoughts. "Do you have a ploy to get Gaius alone?"

The King shrugged and smirked. "Do you really have to ask, Gwen?" Adopting a mock-arrogant tone (the effect was rather ruined by the mischievous glint in his sapphire eyes), he said, "I do believe the stables need to be mucked, after all."

She shoved him exasperatedly and looked ready to reproach him for torturing his manservant needlessly, but even she couldn't keep herself from smiling and acknowledging that setting Merlin to chores out of the palace (and in a public place) was the best way to keep him away from Gaius' chambers when Arthur went to question him and the best way to keep him from speeding and cheating his way through his chores with magic.

"I will come with you to the library," Arthur reminded her, pushing open the door to his chambers, where he suspected Merlin was and where he had decided to check first for the normally elusive manservant, "to tell Geoffrey to help you find anything that might—"

"Wow," Gwen breathed beside him as his eyes widened and jaw dropped.

His rooms were absolutely spotless. Every overturned thing, righted. Every torn fabric, replaced.

And sitting at his dining table, helping himself to some fruit—or perhaps Arthur should say playing with some fruit—was Merlin himself.

Merlin, his dark hair a tousled mess, flashed his slate blue eyes to the pair, and dropping the apple he, deep in thought, had been somberly rolling back and forth, a lopsided grin spread across his face. "I see you appreciate my work of magic here," he teased, standing.

Arthur, vaguely amused at the joke, blinked at him in astonishment, and more out of habit than anything—a productive, effective Merlin was always a shocking thing to the King, given that the younger man was the rudest and most lazy manservant of the five kingdoms—he asked, gesturing around the room, "Did you really do all this by yourself?"

Merlin pretended to look offended. "Do honestly have so little faith in me?"

Arthur giddily barked a strangled laugh at the irony, which Merlin seemed to take as an 'are-you-kidding-me?' expression of disbelief, and with gleaming eyes and an impish grin, the secret sorcerer admitted, "Alright. I had George help me with the hangings."

"George?" Arthur repeated with his brows disappearing into his hair.

The King would have been quite content to continue to think it a cover-up story if the stuffy servant George himself hadn't scrambled speedily out of the anteroom at the sound of his King's "summons."

The bootlicker stood erectly before them (not before shooting Merlin an annoyed look, of course), and with his chin tilted upward in the most absolute posture of self-importance, he said loftily, "Yes, Sire?"

It was at times like this when Arthur couldn't help but compare the two servants and when he subsequently had to hide hysterical laughter. Whereas George was tidy and prim, every hair in place and every bit of fabric on his body perfectly smoothed, Merlin had no shame in his tousled, shaggy hair or shabby, wrinkled clothing. Whereas George, feeling it never proper to smile or speak unless spoken to, was the exact image of propriety and had the tastefulness of a servant to the highest of Kings—he had been servant to Uther after all, and since Arthur's father's death, George had been promoted to "head" servant of the castle—Merlin had no patience with being proper, couldn't give a damn about style or respectful titles, and had no fear in speaking his mind. Whereas George was obedient, Merlin was stubborn. Whereas George utterly boring and devoid of personality, Merlin…insolent, full of life and humor and bravery.

True loyalty was there. True friendship was there.

There was no contest, and that is what made him want to burst into laughter.

George, whose face and eyes were emotionless (as it was meant to be… it never really occurred to either Merlin or Arthur that they completely annihilated the traditional, unsaid rule that servants couldn't be friends with their masters and vise versa—not when they once had had trouble admitting it to themselves) and lingering with a hint of disapproval and distastefulness (directed at Merlin, of course), waited patiently for his King to respond, and all the while, Merlin himself gaped and stared in complete horror and amusement at George's efforts.

After a moment, Arthur managed, "Thank you for your help, George. You may go."

The older servant looked positively appalled for a moment—he cast a quick, longing glance back to the anteroom, where there must have been work still needed to be done—bowed dramatically low and muttered the expected, "As you wish, my Lord."

Arthur hid a sigh of relief and moved out of the way of the door for George, and before the head servant left, he turned and said authoritatively (as was his right, after all, as the master of the serving staff) to Merlin, "Be sure to finish polishing in the anteroom, Merlin, if you will. There's still a smudge that I couldn't seem to work off on one of the candlesticks, and if you remember me teaching you that—"

"Yes, of course," Merlin interrupted hastily.

Arthur bit his lip, and his chest shook from the force of his contained laughter at the sight of Merlin's face, which was twisted into a forced, polite smile.

The other servant looked slightly concerned and wary at the prospect of leaving Merlin to finish his work, but after looking at his King, he nodded once and dutifully left.

Immediately, Merlin shut the door and sagged against it, looking for all the world as though he had been saved of a terrible fate. "Thank the gods!" he sighed in absolute relief. "Arthur, remind me to never ask other servants for help ever again. I'd rather face the risk of falling and breaking my neck when trying to rehang curtains myself than get stuck in the same room, alone, with him again!"

The King finally allowed laughter to escape from his lips, and Gwen, too, giggled at Merlin's melodrama.

"There's nothing wrong with a man passionate about his job, Merlin," Arthur pointed out grinningly.

Merlin released a hysterical snort and said sarcastically, "Passionate? He's a fanatic. You should have seen him…hovering over me like a mother hen and trying to tell me I was somehow picking up a chair wrong. Arthur," Merlin said seriously, his blue eyes twinkling with hidden mirth, "how in the world is there a right and wrong way to pick up a damn chair? Tell me that's not insane!"

"That's not insane," Arthur deadpanned.

"Hilarious, Arthur," Merlin scowled, standing straight again. "For someone who once complained to me about those brass jokes of his, I would expect a little more sympathy. That was perhaps the most torturous two hours of my life."

Suddenly, with all lightheartedness disappearing from his eyes and with something far darker taking its place, he sobered and pursed his lips, and a thoughtful mistiness filtered into his eyes. The younger man seemed to forget that Gwen and Arthur where there as he cringed and mumbled under his breath, "No…not even close. Shouldn't joke."

After the King and future Queen exchanged a look, Gwen asked concernedly, "Merlin?"

Merlin snapped out of whatever dark, bad memories he was trapped in and studied the pair with clear, soul-reading blue eyes before he asked quietly, "Are you both… alright?"

Brow crinkled, Gwen immediately consoled Merlin with, "Of course we are, Merlin."

"It was a lot," Arthur said slowly, "but nothing we couldn't handle."

A small smile slipped onto Merlin's face, and as that profound, knowing depth came into his eyes, Arthur asked, "How're you holding up, Merlin?"

Merlin looked a little surprised at the question, and he answered teasingly, "Well, I'd be lying if I said that George's not good for one thing."

Gwen quirked a brow and asked, "And what's that?"

With a wry smile, he, looking as stiff and tense as a pillar, said honestly, "He effectively distracted me from thinking too much about this moment."

It really was incredible how much pain and torment Arthur saw in those kaleidoscopic eyes, and that Merlin was so worried… there was a moment of silence before Arthur decided to break the ice with a gentle joke. "I didn't think you cared so much about our opinion, Merlin."

His stormy eyes brightened with a glowing light, and with an impish grin, he said both truthfully and jokingly, "Not always, but in this…of course I care, you prat."

"And it's not every day your secrets are laid out for friends to see," Gwen added knowingly, taking Merlin's hand.

Merlin avoided their eyes and said bluntly, "I expect you have questions for me."

"Only if you're willing to answer them."

There wasn't the slightest hesitation, and even before Merlin lifted his eyes determinedly back to them, he said, "I will."

Gwen's lips twitched, and she looked to Arthur, who had been silently staring at his friend, and gestured with her head to push him to speak.

After swallowing, Arthur said in a cautious, but considerate tone, "When Morgana was accusing you of...poisoning her, she gave hints that this event happened while she was still on our side."

"That's not a lie," the servant said in a deep voice imbued with wisdom. "But nor is it truth."

Arthur blinked, and his brow furrowed. "What happened, Merlin?"

Merlin pursed his lips, and his eyes hardened obstinately. "It was the only way. She—to save us all, it was the only way."

"The only way to…?" Gwen prompted.

Merlin sighed, and the entire story spilled forth in a rush: "A few years ago, when the Knights of Medhir were summoned from their slumber—" Arthur's eyes widened, and he inhaled sharply at the memory "—Morgause put the entire citadel under a sleeping spell. Even you and I, Arthur, were affected after we returned from the ruins."

"But Morgana wasn't…and you…" Arthur choked and closed his eyes as the memory flickered in his mind. "I remember you telling me…"

"The source of Morgause's magic needed to be destroyed," Merlin supplied quietly. "Otherwise, Camelot, defenseless, would have fallen to her."

Arthur pinched the bridge to his nose and said, "So you're telling me that Morgana was the source?"

Merlin nodded, his eyes full of pain. "She had betrayed us to Morgause even then. So…while my poisoning of her might have driven her into Morgause's arms, she was already stepping into them without my help." He chuckled humorlessly, his eyes blazing, and he muttered darkly, "She daren't place her evil upon me."

"How were the Knights stopped then," Arthur asked carefully, containing a shiver at Merlin's tone, "if Morgana survived?"

A muscle in Merlin's jaw twitched, and he said with piercing eyes, "As you fought, I bargained with Morgause. The knowledge of the poison I used—in exchange, she would call off the Knights and cease her attack on Camelot."

For a few moments, the King stared unblinkingly at his servant, and all of a sudden, he punched him in the arm, saying, "Merlin, I suppose I owe you my thanks. Again. After all I've learnt today—" here, Arthur choked and could not continue with that train of thought, and shaking his head fondly, he finished, "Without you, Camelot would have been done for. You did well."

It was almost comical seeing Merlin so taken aback (he was not used to praise, Arthur realized), and after recovering, he said cheekily, "Not a complete idiot, then?"

Smirking, the King cuffed him again and teased, "Not this time at least."

Gwen snickered at Merlin's scowl, and she, without qualm, kissed him chastely on the cheek. "I'm proud of you, Merlin. You're not the same goofy boy I met with his head locked in the stocks anymore, are you?"

Both Arthur and Merlin laughed, and the secret sorcerer said, "I would certainly hope I'm not that much changed, Gwen."

Unbidden, Morgana's words floated to the forefront of Arthur's mind…Words that had not seemed nearly as significant then as they did now…

managed to get under my skin even more so than Merlin in the past year alone, she had snarled.

He suspected this, but it made him ever more curious…

"Merlin, what el—"

Knock-knock!

The three of them jumped at the loud knocking on the door, and before Arthur could answer, a certain someone forced his way into the room.

"Is this where you three have been all day?" Gwaine demanded irritably.

"Practically."

"Not necessarily..."

"What's it matter to you?"

The answers from Merlin, Gwen, and Arthur sounded at the same time, and Gwaine looked between the three of them confusedly. "What? Wait, never mind," the rogue Knight said, shaking his head. "That doesn't really matter. You can lounge around all day while we practice on the training grounds if that's what you really—"

"Gwaine!" Merlin exclaimed suddenly. "Gaius said that you shouldn't exert yourself—"

The dark Knight pouted and interrupted, "And I didn't, Merlin. See?" He spread his arms open wide and twirled in a circle. "I'm completely fine, and there's no reason to let Gaius know about this, is there?"

Amused, Merlin regarded Gwaine's hopeful grin for a moment before caving and saying, "Fine. I won't tell him, but I want you to come to us the moment—"

"Yes, yes," Gwaine placated absently. "I promise."

"Gwaine," Arthur asked, "why the hell are you here?"

"Ah, about that," Gwaine said, leaning on the doorframe lazily. "I heard some rumors, some gossip…and wanted to see if it was true. I see it is."

"What gossip?"

He shrugged. "A little bird told me that you two made up." Suddenly beaming, he came forward and drew Gwen and Arthur's heads underneath each arm. "Ah, I'm glad, my friends. So glad," he said to a speechless King and future Queen. "I expect a full story soon and a wedding date, but for now…I've dawdled enough, unfortunately. I need Merlin to come with me. Gaius needs his help with something."

Arthur shoved Gwaine's arm off him and asked, "What for?"

"To make his rounds for him," Gwaine answered. "He still doesn't feel well enough to walk far, and he would rather care for the more severe cases that are here in the castle infirmary anyway."

Immediately, Arthur found himself wondering if that'd be enough time for him to speak to Gaius, but Gaius too was busy…

Merlin nodded and said, "Of course I will."

"Right!" Gwaine said cheerfully. "We be off, then, mate."

Gwaine drew his arm around Merlin's shoulder and wheeled him around, and thinking quickly, Arthur called, "Merlin, now that things are dying down, I hope you don't think this gets you out of chores."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Sire," his servant quipped cheekily. "What's the list then?"

Quickly, Arthur picked chores that'd keep Merlin far away from Gaius' chambers, and he rambled, "Laundry, armor, stables."

And so the King smirked victoriously and amusedly as Merlin threw back his head and groaned as Gwaine led him off to do Gaius' rounds.

~…~

After a few short hours of helping Guinevere search threw the castle's extensive library—Geoffrey had said that he had heard the name 'Emrys' only but once in a child's fable he heard told by some traveling Druids long ago, so they had very little to go off of—the King sent her with a few books they managed to wheedle out of Geoffrey (he was quite protective of the few books he was allowed to keep that Uther had once banned) on Druid myth and legend to his chambers to begin researching, and Arthur himself finally felt it safe enough to make his way to Gaius' chambers.

He felt rather silly for staking out outside of Gaius' chambers for a few minutes just to see if Merlin was there, and soon he came to the realization that he was King and that Kings generally didn't sneak around as thus in their own castle (1). Really, it was absolutely ridiculous.

So, with that self-conscious thought on mind, Arthur strode confidently across the corridor and, having adopted Merlin's bad habit, he admitted himself into the physician's quarters without knocking.

Gaius was busy working on a potion, and without looking up to see who came in, Gaius said, "Ah, Merlin, I hope that you don't mind—Arthur!"

"I'm sorry," the King said, cursing the idiot for being a bad influence on him. "I really should have knocked, and I could come back another time, if you—"

"Nonsense," Gaius said, waving a hand dismissively. "Pull up a chair and sit."

As Arthur, his heart speeding a little in his apprehension, did as he was told, Gaius drew up a bench himself across form the King and asked, "What're you doing here so late, Sire? Is something the matter?"

"No, nothing's the matter. I'm not ill," Arthur quickly reassured, his throat becoming dry. "I'm here to talk. I need to ask you something."

Gaius' eyebrow raised, and shrugging, he sat back and said, "What do you need to ask me?"

Arthur licked his lips and swallowed thickly, and when he spoke, his voice came out a little more hoarsely than normal. "I—I was wondering," he said slowly, watching the physician's face warily, "if you could tell me about a man—a sorcerer, I should say—named Emrys."

Gaius' reaction was more violent than Arthur could have expected. The elderly physician leapt to his feet with startling speed, and his icy blue eyes blazed with guarded suspicion. "Where did you hear that name?" the physician whispered, struggling to keep his tone composed.

Arthur stammered, "I—I heard Morgana say the name…in the throne room." Gaius, who must have heard this from Merlin, relaxed ever so slightly, and the King continued more boldly. "And Agravaine. He mentioned it once in passing, but it was what Morgana said that captured my attention. She told me that…Well, she made it out as though this Emrys has saved my life. In the past."

Gaius nodded and said with a gentler voice, "And why do you seek him?"

"I just want to know if it's true. And if I have the chance…" Arthur trailed off and finished strongly, "I think I'd like to thank him."

"You'd like to thank him?" Gaius repeated in utter disbelief.

"If it's true—" he, knowing that he couldn't possibly let Gaius figure out exactly how much he know, floundered a moment before saying carefully, "Morgana said that this Emrys had thwarted quite a few of her plans in the name of Camelot. If it's true, I think I have quite a lot to thank him for."

The physician contemplated Arthur for a few milliseconds, his wise, omnipotent eyes flickering across the King's face in search for a lie, and when he found none—Gaius was very good at looking for lies, particularly in Arthur, who had long since made attempts to fake health when he was injured—his eyes glinted with something Arthur couldn't read, and he said apologetically and wearily as he retook his seat, "Forgive me for snapping at you, Arthur. You can imagine that I'd be cautious…in that the last time I was asked about Emrys, it was by your uncle…and it was for that information I was kidnapped a few months ago."

Gaius...who abducted you?

I couldn't say. But I'm certain they were in league with Morgana.

What did they want?

Information. About you...Camelot...to help bring down the kingdom.

Arthur's eyes widened, and he breathed, "I didn't know…"

More of Gaius' words echoed in his conscious. I chose to protect him. I feared you would seek him out and execute him. That would've been a grave mistake….

Gaius smiled gently and interrupted both his speech and the replaying memory. "It's alright, Arthur. I shouldn't have reacted that way because I know that it is information I can pass to you. For you alone deserve it, and I would think that you are ready to know."

"…Me?" Arthur asked in disbelief. "Why would I deserve—?"

"Because your story and his are as one."

"Wh—?"

Gaius' eyebrow raised higher, and the King stopped speaking immediately, knowing full well that Gaius was not a man who liked his stories interrupted by what he felt were unnecessary questions that would be answered….in time.

An ominous tone overcame the elder's voice, and he warned, "Be sure to be careful whom you share this information with, Arthur, and if I have your word that you will do so, I will tell you."

"You have my word," Arthur said sincerely.

Nodding in satisfaction, Gaius asked, "What do you wish to know?"

Arthur struggled for a moment, but he suddenly blurted, "Who is he? And why does Morgana seem to think that he, a sorcerer, has been protecting me, a Pendragon?"

A sly, but amused smile slipped onto the physician's face as he answered simply, "That's because there is a sorcerer protecting you. Emrys…is no ordinary sorcerer."

Arthur knew that much, of course, but the way Gaius said it made him ask, "What d'you mean?"

Gaius leaned forward. "It has been foretold," he began, "in the Druid prophecies—"

"Prophecies?!" Arthur yelped in shock.

"Yes, prophecies," Gaius sighed in exasperation. "It is said that Emrys will protect the Once and Future King—" Arthur stiffened in recognition "—and help him realize his destiny, which is to unite the land of Albion…and create peace for all her peoples."

Arthur's heart pounded in his ears, and spluttering, he closed his eyes and pinched himself impulsively. There was something incredibly significant in Gaius' last few, powerful words, but he was too dazed to get much past the word 'Albion.'

"Gaius, you cannot think I'm this…" he croaked.

"You are."

The man who freed it would unite the land of Albion and rule over the greatest kingdom the world has ever known…

Overwhelmed, Arthur, who had not been sure what part of Merlin's inspiring, spirited, and faithful speeches about his new sword were true or false, shook the memory away, sat back, and denied, "Gaius, uniting Albion is nothing short of—"

"Impossible?" Gaius scoffed, finishing his statement. "Arthur, look at what you've done since becoming King! You've found an ally in Caerleon's Queen, befriended the princess of Nemeth, and let's not forget the alliances that you still have from your friendship with Princess Elena of Gawant, the loyalty you inspired from King Olaf once you showed yourself to be an honorable man, and the treaty you and Merlin helped save with Bayard of Mercia. All of Uther's oldest friends, too, are now yours. Sure Odin and Alined might have a quarrel with you, and Lot has yet to hold conference with you, but without even realizing it, Arthur…"

I believe in you. I always have.

Because...you're Arthur. You're noble. You're the Once and Future King.

You're destined to be Albion's greatest King.

Every step of the way, Merlin, wise and deceptively idiotic, had been there…as Albion rose, bit by bit…

Put like that—it made the King's head spin, and after blinking mutely at the wise physician in absolute, speechless, numb shock, Gaius, putting a hand on his shoulder, smiled and said profoundly, "There is no denying that you are the Once and Future King. That Emrys protects you and Camelot with such ferocity and loyalty…it only makes it more undeniable."

I'm not the only one seeking to protect you. There are many more who believe in the world you are trying to create. One day you will learn, Arthur. One day you will understand...just how much they've done for you.

"But don't believe that destiny is the only reason why Emrys uses his power to protect you," Gaius said, breaking through Arthur's thoughts. "Emrys is said to have a unique bond with his King. His loyalty is true to you and you alone. So, yes, while he's thwarted plenty of Morgana's plans, his assistance and magical abilities saved Camelot from destruction time and time again."

From beginning to end, Merlin had been there. When Arthur thought he stood alone (2), when he pushed everyone away, he had been there anyway… protecting him from the shadows, guiding him…

To become the King Camelot deserved.

"Arthur?" Gaius asked cautiously.

Glazed eyes clearing, the King jolted upright, smile weakly, and responded, "Sorry. It's just… a lot to take in."

Gaius chuckled, and Arthur said, "I just...all this time?"

"What do you mean?" the physician asked patiently.

Arthur laughed shakily and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess it still stuns me to think that a sorcerer was brave enough to overcome the fear of the Purge and…I need to know all that he's done, Gaius…" the King pleaded. "For me. For all of us."

"Should he reveal himself to you," Gaius said slowly, "it is for him to say. Even I cannot tell you that."

Silent, Arthur clenched his hands into fists on his legs, and he vowed aloud, "I haven't given him reason to reveal himself to me, but he should know—" Arthur's bright blue eyes flickered to Gaius' again "—that I want to give him reason. After—I know that he had a hand in our most recent victory, and I've recently realized Gaius, after the most recent incident with Elyan and the spirit of the Druid boy and after speaking with Morgana and becoming aware of Emrys…magic can't be all evil."

Gaius tried to hide it as he smiled and patted the King's hand proudly, but Arthur couldn't miss the distinct tears welling up in the elder's blue eyes. After composing himself, Gaius praised, "I'm proud of you, Arthur. Your father was a great king, but you have long since surpassed him. I'm glad that you see what he never could."

"Thank you, Gaius."

The physician's smile broadened, and he asked fondly, "Is there anything else you wish to ask of me?"

Arthur, whose head still reeled with the information, stood and said, "No—but wait, yes," he amended. "Morgana said that she and Emrys were enemies, but there was something deeper there. Even beyond the animosity, beyond the loathing, she was afraid. Why would she be?"

"She is right to be afraid of Emrys' wrath, as are any enemies of Camelot, seeing as he is a warlock born into his abilities," Gaius said in explanation.

Arthur, of course, didn't understand and prompted, "And this is…rare?"

"Beyond rare. Emrys is the only one to ever have such a heritage."

The only one… a chill racked him as he asked, "Does that make him powerful?"

Laughing, Gaius shook his head and said, "My boy, a warlock born with magic… He not only can do elemental and instinctive magic from the moment he's born, but he can tap into the very magic of the earth and spin it into his own—command it as he wills. He can create things, change the very nature of things…He, essentially, is magic. And Emrys…Emrys is destined to be the most powerful warlock to ever walk among men."

The King, eyes as wide as saucers and brows disappearing under his fringe of blonde hair, wheezed suddenly and began to have a hysterical coughing fit, and before Gaius, his eyebrow soaring higher, could ask, Arthur forcibly ceased coughing, smiled far too brightly at Gaius, and said, "I shouldn't take up too much more of your time. It's been a long day. Thank you very much for your help, Gaius."

"Of course, Arthur," Gaius said slowly, a bit baffled. "Should you need to ask me…"

"I will find him, Gaius. And he can answer any further questions I may have," Arthur assured determinedly, backing away.

Gaius shrugged imperceptivity, and confusion disappeared from his eyes as joy replaced it. "Have a nice night, Sire."

"You too."

The moment Arthur turned his back to Gaius and shoved the door open, the cheerful grin fell from his face and was replaced by a twisted expression of incredulity, shock, and, interestingly enough, a form of panic that Arthur could not necessarily name in his current state of mind.

Most powerful… Emrys? Merlin? Merlin's the most powerful? Bloody hell

So consumed by the repeating mantra in his head, Arthur did not realize where he was until he violently collided with someone, equally lost in thought, heading towards Gaius' chambers.

After the grunting at the impact and preparing an aggravated, witty scolding for whoever was unlucky enough to so rudely run into the King, Arthur recognized the dark head of hair, which was being rubbed vigorously by a long-fingered hand, and glowing blue eyes, and scrambling away, Arthur exclaimed, "Merlin!"

"Arthur? Gods, will you watch where you're going? I know you're the King, but that doesn't give you the excuse to go bombarding your way through—"

Merlin's insolent rant was cut off, and peering at Arthur, who was staring at him in all his neckerchief'd, shabby glory, the servant asked, "Is something the matter?"

"No, no!" Arthur exclaimed quickly, "It's just—" Suddenly, his nose wrinkled, and he gagged. "Merlin, you stink."

Merlin looked down at himself and grinned impishly. "Stable-duty does that to a person, I suppose," he said offhandedly.

Damn irony. Damn it to hell.

This statement made Arthur start staring again, and Merlin, who was waiting for a witty insult from his King, frowned, quirked an eyebrow at his King's look, and continued awkwardly, "Well, I'll take a quick bath before—"

"No, that's alright, Merlin," Arthur said, "You can have the rest of the night off."

Merlin, hay sticking up from his hair and muck smudging one cheekbone, gave him a strange look and asked, "Arthur, are you feeling alright?"

"Of course!" Arthur scowled. "Now go clean up. I bet the kitchen-maids can smell you from half-way across the castle." He pinched his nose to emphasize his point.

A mischievous, diabolical grin crept onto Merlin's face, and Arthur had only a split second to realize what was on Merlin's mind before the servant opened his arms wide and lunged forward.

The King only just managed to dodge Merlin's smelly embrace, fall to the floor, and shuffle backwards on his backside to escape down the corridor, and after an enraged yell of "MERLIN!" rang through the halls, said servant laughed hysterically and dashed away to avoid his master's irritation.

All Arthur could do was feel the fleeting smile come and slip from his face as he realized that that idiot was the same Emrys, most powerful warlock that ever was and would be…

The King didn't know whether to believe that they were all doomed or to wonder how it was Merlin was so...

Great gods, Arthur sighed.

~…~

When Arthur stumbled into his chambers a few minutes later, Guinevere briefly looked up from the musty book she was pouring over and said apologetically, "I haven't had much luck here. Everything time I've caught the name Emrys, it's usually followed by some strange language I can't read, or some other such incomprehensible gobbledygook that I can't make head over heels of, but I—"

Gwen's report fell on deaf ears, however, and Arthur, ambling over like a drunkard to his bed, collapsed face first onto the cover and released all of his emotion, his frustration, and his confusion in a single, strangled moan.

"Arthur?" Gwen asked. "What's wrong?"

The King's shoulders tensed, and after a short silence that felt to Arthur like a lifetime, he lifted his head to see Gwen's shining brown eyes locked on him.

Taking a deep breath, he deadpanned numbly, "Guinevere, I have 'the most powerful warlock to ever walk among men' mucking my stables."


(1) Inspired by a line in Heart of Gold

(2) Reference to the lyrics for the chapter

AN: And that was Part III! :D In the next chapter, Arthur and Merlin will finally have their revealing chat, and yes, it will indeed be the last chapter. I have the most cliche, most cheesy ending line prepared for you guys *rubs hands together eagerly*! ;P

Oz out.