Arthur woke in the night to the sounds of sobbing. He woke disoriented, it was hard to remember that this wasn't his home, let alone that the events of last night were not a dream, but a terrible, tragic reality. That they had done all of that, and then simply returned home to sleep the efforts of the evening off. The feeling of another body lying next to his was yet another off-putting sensation. He was used to being blissfully and painfully alone most of the time.

It could have been either of two things that woke him; the noise or the shaking, yet somehow he knew it was neither of these things. His body simply knew that he had to be awake at that moment.

He wanted to rage. He wanted to let Merlin suffer, because he deserved it. Merlin was a mass murderer. No matter what Merlin had said about him, Arthur hadn't killed a single thing in his life. He was more likely to catch a spider in a can and throw it out of the window than stomp on it.

Arthur had been the one who had stood by and watched as people died though. Time after time, with so many people. And he'd done it again yesterday.

Merlin was right, he had all the power than any magic user had, and more besides.

He found himself placing his hand on the shoulder of the crying man. Crying boy, god he was just a boy really wasn't he? Mass murderer or not, he was still so young.

"Merlin? Are you awake?" Of course he was awake, even if crying in his sleep he would have woken himself up by now. Arthur could feel that he was awake, but it seemed like a courtesy to ask, though perhaps one that wasn't deserved and maybe equally it might be one that was not desired. If Arthur was left with nothing else in this world, he had courtesy.

He was sure that Merlin was going to pretend that he hadn't heard Arthur. He hadn't survived this long by showing his real raw emotions to someone who could still all too easily be the enemy. Even if Arthur had helped them in their mission, that didn't mean that he had the trust of the magicians.

Instead Arthur was almost shocked into a scream as Merlin turned over and buried himself into his side. Arthur froze still, the arm that had been outstretched, now limply enveloping Merlin's wracked body.

"I wasn't sure he was gone." Merlin babbled, catatonic with grief. "I knew he was strong, I was hoping that it wouldn't be. I didn't want to do it. Of course I didn't."

Arthur sat up, pulling Merlin into his lap, curling his arms around the boy and tucking him into his chest.

"Oh god, he only just died." Merlin moaned brokenly, "How long did that take? Did anyone even help him? Was it burns, or crushing or smoke? It's been hours and I've just been sleeping. I didn't even look for him."

Arthur started rocking back and forth with Merlin cradled like a child. Hushing as Merlin descended back into wordless sobs. He stroked a thumb against the curve of Merlin's neck, that strange bond between them sparkling at every brush, but this one, unlike the last, was feeding a sense of calm. Bringing together between them the idea that they could help each other.

Some small dark corner of Arthur's mind thought of Morgana. He tried not to, it wasn't his turn to fall apart. He had done some of that last night, and when the story hit the newsstands in the morning he would let himself think on her again, but this was Merlin's time to be weak and fragile. The only moments where Merlin was able to be anything but a soldier were in the dark seconds of the midnight hour. The darkest point of the day was all that Merlin could take to let himself succumb to the reality that was around them.

He wasn't purely callus as he had pretended himself to be the day before, and Arthur wasn't going to jeopardize that momentary show of weakness by speaking about his own problems and his own losses.

But there was no space for condolences either. Merlin had both brought this upon himself, and had this life thrust on him by circumstances beyond his control. They may have been beyond Arthur's control at that moment as well, but there was little to be gained from pretending that it would get better. It might get better eventually, but for Merlin life had continued to grow from bad to worse, he was trying to bring down a system of which Arthur was the figurehead by doing things differently. Things might never get better and in no way was Arthur entitled to belittle these problems by treating them as simple teenage drama. These were governments and people and organisations fiercely opposed to Merlin's very being.

He hated and pitied him equally in that moment. Any condolence he could utter would emphasise both of those feelings. Merlin wouldn't hesitate to hurt him for expressing either one.

Merlin did need comfort though, words would not be welcomed, especially when they would only remind him that the deaths were all on his hands, but being silent together might help. The only real help Arthur could give was practical help. That would be the only useful and welcome thing he could manage. So he held him until the crying calmed to silent hot tears.

He had been crying, sobbing uncontrollably. So he needed water. His face was likely puffy and sore from the salt tears. His head was probably throbbing with the force of his emotions. Arthur could feel all of these things somehow, as if they were linked to him too.

The best place to fix all of those problems was the bathroom. Merlin was light in his arms, and Knowing that they wouldn't be able to separate from each other he carried him to the nearest deposited Merlin as softly as he could onto the edge of the small bathtub. Merlin almost protested, both the letting go of Arthur, and the being treated like a child, before it was clear that he couldn't have it both ways. So instead he sat relatively quietly, sobs breaking through his chest on occasion, and curling his arms around himself in lieu of clinging to Arthur.

"Drink this." Arthur instructed, filling one of the glasses from the tap. He handed it over to Merlin with barely a word and then started looking in the cabinets for something recognisable.

Merlin took it, barely flicking his eyes up to look at Arthur, before silently focusing on the glass and finishing it on one smooth draw. Putting it down precariously beside him on the edge of the tub. He sighed deeply, but Arthur intervened before he could curl back in on himself.

"Take these." He offered two small white painkillers to Merlin who opened the palm of his hand to accept them. Arthur filled the glass again and handed it back. He took them without question, not that Arthur could have harmed him with the contents of Merlin's own bathroom, but there was still and unspoken trust there, despite everything they had just gone through. Once Merlin had finished the second glass, Arthur ran a flannel under water, getting it as cold as he could from the tap, and gently pressed it to the red blotches under Merlin's eyes, trying to soothe them.

"You do realise I've already killed you once." Merlin gave one hollow laugh whilst sitting up to let Arthur attend to him.

"Well it was only for a brief moment."

"I've supervised the killing of dozens of people today. Probably including your sister."

"And I was the head of the group torturing them on a daily basis. I watched a man get kicked to death and said nothing. I think we've both committed our share of human rights atrocities for the day haven't we?"

"I'll almost certainly kill people again."

"I know. But that's another day. For now, you've suffered a great trauma. Let's focus on that."

Arthur leaned to place a soft kiss on the warm forehead in front of him. There was little to have made Arthur think to do it, except for the lingering memory of someone doing that to him fondly, perhaps in his sleep. In his mind it was his mother, but he knew that wasn't possible, she had died just as Arthur himself had taken his first breath, there wouldn't have been time for her to hold him, let alone treat him with any affection. Perhaps it was a dream, or perhaps a kind nanny, but there it was anyway, the thing he felt like he should do. Maybe it wasn't even his memory at all. There was a blurring of the lines between his mind and Merlin's mind that he had never felt before.

"Do you want me to carry you back?" Arthur asked.

"I could life this entire house from its foundations with a single thought." Merlin reminded,

"I didn't ask if you were physically capable of walking on your own. I asked if you wanted to be carried."

Merlin didn't speak, but instead nodded and placed his arms around Arthur's neck for support. Neither of them had been used to wanting things, Arthur was almost certain. The two of them were focused on things that they felt they had to do for the good of their people and their country. For the approval of their teachers and their guardians. They were entitled to want something for once. They had both suffered enough. They had both sacrificed enough of their lives to causes that broke and used them up and spit them out.

Merlin was asleep before Arthur had taken his first step, and then, softly as not to wake him, took one foot in front of the other until they collapsed into blessed unconsciousness.

o0o0o

Merlin woke for the second time with his mask firmly in place. Internally he was both terrified and embarrassed. He had become so needy around Arthur because of something he had entirely done to himself. He had let his guard down in the worst sort of way and he could only hope that Arthur didn't hold onto that memory for long, or that those fleeting moments didn't have longer repercussions.

But that wasn't the most of his worries. He had just killed a lot of people (or rather had let Nimueh kill a lot of people and facilitate her actions) and there would be consequences. Nimueh alway had a plan, but he needed to know where they were going to head next. And in addition this thing with Arthur was becoming more and more solidified. He swore he could almost hear what Arthur was thinking in his sleep.

He needed the druids for both of those reasons. On the one hand they would know what this thing with Arthur truly was. On the other hand he was almost certain that whoever died last night, a handful at least had to be druid. Despite being a outwardly peaceful people, they were fiercely protective of their own, and they were being backed further and further into a corner day by day by Uther and his ruthless KRT. He had a responsibility to fix what had happened. Or at least to smooth things over, to let them know as much as possible that he had done what was for the greater good.

Some part of him hoped that if he had been planning something that was counter to the druid's own interest, then they would have foreseen it and stopped him. As a culture and a people they had a far greater than average number of seers. Such a great and devastating task would have been foreseen by them if it had any negative consequence, surely.

If the consequences were anything more negative than the status quo at any rate. Their spirituality was almost pragmatic: everything from the earth and too the earth from whence it came. If they believed that then perhaps they would understand that sacrifices had to be made. Even painful and devastating sacrifices. Sacrifices like Merlin's own… No he wouldn't think about it.

He knew that was probably overly naive on both accounts. Firstly, the sight didn't work that way, and even if it did, what power would the druids have in the center of camelot itself, where magic was not just outlawed, but actively hunted and suppressed? Second, they believed in more than the cycle of life, they believed that everything had its rightful place and its rightful time. A druid had the right to choose his own time and his own place, which was more often than not, the forests in which they were born and raised. Trapped beneath piles of burning concrete in a facility that sought to strip them of the very thing they held most dear was neither the right place or the right time.

Merlin simply had to hope that if they were upset by the situation, they would be more upset that their fellow druids were trapped in a place so far removed from everything they loved and cherished, and would therefore overlook the terrible demise that came from the rebellion's actions.

He had so much to fix and smooth over with them, but he feared meeting with them. It was normally Nimueh's task, but he knew that she would need backup after such a decisive blow as this. Nimueh spoke at times somewhat ambiguously of what Merlin meant to the druid people. They were prone to prophecy that was to be carried out many generations after the words were spoken, and yet she was so certain that Merlin was the culmination of one of the earliest prophetic utterances of its kind.

Emrys. Since the very first moments with Nimueh almost as soon as he had laid eyes on her she insisted that it was him. She said that only the druids could truly confirm it, but she knew, and despite everything, Merlin had rarely see her be wrong. He didn't want to meet the druids in case they were correct.

'I don't know it in detail' Nimueh had once said to him, 'the druids are protective of their prophecies, they tend to only share them as they see them about to come to fruition, but this one is so old and of such importance that when it was passed down, from generation to generation, the whispers of it were spread far and wide. Some on the wind, some merely rumour, some from those rare druids who chose to tell, but the point stood that throughout the magic in this land everyone foresaw this time coming, and who would come and fix it.

'When the hour is darkest' Nimueh's tone changed, clearly quoting something or someone, 'a child will come who will be born of the purest magic in his blood and he will break the bonds of magic. He will free the beast and free the people and let magic fly. And his power will be great and terrible.'

Then Nimueh had smiled and shrugged, trying to make somewhat light of the situation. 'Old prophecies were always so dramatic. Obviously the wording is old, too. When it says terrible, it probably means terrible in the original sense of the word meaning strong or astounding. Perhaps great. I may not be a druid, but I still consider myself a high priest of the old religion. That was what I was raised to, that was my calling and my mission in life before all of this horror wrought by the Pendragon line. I know what I felt when I saw you the first time. I know what I still feel now. Small and young you may be, my dragon lord in training, but you are the Emrys of legend. The one spoken of.

'I shan't treat you differently to anyone else. I believe that prophecies will come no matter what we try to do to prevent them or change them. You are only, merely and perfectly yourself. But yourself is a great well of potential my dear. Do try to remember that.'

Merlin never knew why Nimueh chose to share her beliefs with him. He had never wanted to be seen as anything other than normal. Even among all of those being born with magic it seemed to him as though he was supposed to be outside the realms of normality. There was nothing he wanted less. Perhaps it was this desire, perhaps he had been thirteen, fourteen, training for the fight that was forever on his front door when he snapped. Perhaps he had cried, perhaps he had screamed, perhaps he had merely sulked in silence; he couldn't exactly remember, but he knew from that day of Nimueh's belief in him, her belief in his role in the cause and what he would ultimately become for all of them.

Whilst she had said that he would only ever achieve that role by simply being himself, he couldn't help but see it as a badge, a blazon that he had someone pin to his chest. He believed in the cause so much, and the importance of serving it no matter what the cost. If Nimueh believed that this was the price he had to pay, the role he had to take, the person he had to be, then by simply telling him that Merlin was probably Emrys, he had taken that role to heart.

That didn't mean that he didn't wish with all his heart that he wasn't Emrys, that it was some fanciful notion of Nimueh's, but he knew he still had to live up to this strong potential as if he were Emrys. If it turned out that he had to play that role, when he knew none of the lines, none of his parts, then everything would fail.

For now his role was simply this; he was Nimueh protege and right hand man. He would bend to her will and he trusted her judgement.

But there were some things that even she wasn't able to tell him. And some things that he felt that he couldn't even tell her.

The feeling of his father's… death. He had to get it over with and say it. His father's tragic untimely and horrific death, had burned through him. Waking him, sending him rocketing into Arthur's arms in grief. How would he ever be able to share that with Nimueh? Nimueh had lost the love of her life, her entire family and everyone she had known, bar a precious few, to the anger orchestrated by the Pendragons, and she would not be impressed by him crying over the loss of one single person. One person who he had never met in his living memory, and not only that, but he had let himself be taken in by Arthur for comfort.

How could he share that there was some deep connection with Arthur that made him desperate to protect, to serve, to facilitate all of Arthurs, plans and needs?

Those would be two blows to everything that she had suffered for and fought against in quick succession.

So that was it. He had no choice. He either stayed silent, and never understood what was happening, or he spoke to the druids, and possibly found himself to be Emrys, or not to be Emrys. (Having in the back of his mind prepared for the first eventuality, he was almost scared for either to be the case. If he wasn't Emrys, then he had wasted Nimueh's precious time, and the real Emrys was still out there needing to be brought into the fold, trained and protected.

No option was a good option. So there he still was; sitting in bed, mentally preparing himself to share and receive more revelations than he felt he could deal with.

What was it that normal sixteen year olds should be doing again? He was pretty sure that they weren't particularly supposed to be planning on sharing with an old respected tribe that; 'Hello, I've probably murdered several of your own, but by the way can you confirm to me whether I am the one the legends spoke of? And if you don't mind why do I have this frighteningly strong instant connection to the mortal enemy of everyone here present?

'Cheers, cup of tea anyone?'

He placed his head in his hands. Just closing his eyes for a moment to try and gather his thoughts. Where could he truly go from here? Should he tell Nimueh that he planned on meeting with the druids? Should he simply join in when she met with them? Should he leave Camelot to go and find them, should he, should he, should he?

He watched Arthur, still blissfully asleep and unaware of the myriad of thoughts that were rushing around Merlin's skull and envied him. He hoped, against his better judgement, for the next night, when perhaps in that brief cover of darkness he could be honest again, he could be himself again, and this pain might begin to lessen.

o0o0o

Arthur didn't know what to make of Merlin when he woke up again. He was, on the one hand, grateful for this glimpse of humanity in the young man. Arthur wanted to know that the deaths they had helped cause (Arthur couldn't wash himself of the blame now he had had time to think on it) had affected Merlin as much as they had shocked and appalled Arthur. Now he had some proof of Merlin's own devastation. However, some deep and shockingly powerful instinct welling up inside him knew that Merlin was beyond Arthur's limited experience of importance, and he had to protect him against everything in the world, even himself. If Merlin was not protected then Arthur and everything he wanted to build would fall.

It was stupid and irrational, but that was how he felt, and now in the wake of seeing a mussed up and tired-eyed Merlin clutching woefully to a cup of coffee, even if his face was set hard again, Arthur could see that pain still lingering behind his eyes, Arthur wanted to do nothing more than bend to Merlin's every wish.

He wouldn't, he would be more careful with his help now than ever. He had to remember that he was a hostage here, and no matter what he thought about their cause, and despite everything, despite the rightness of it. The rightness of all of Arthur's subjects having a freedom to live and exist and simply be who they were without fear of death was ingrained in him from birth. Uther had always told him that their job was to protect and care for their people.

Merlin was saying exactly the same thing, but he now thought that Merlin and Nimueh had a point, that trying to protect his people by villinising one small group of his own was as wrong as it was possible to be. But by killing and hurting others, Merlin had purportraited the exact kind of terrible crime that Uther was so scared of. He had in a sense justified everything that Arthur had ever been told about the unchecked and unregulated power that magic users could wield.

And yet, looking at Merlin's world, looking at this set up of events, looking at the lens of those who had been killed and institutionalised for even the meanest of magical uses, it was no longer easy to separate the two sets of injustices.

He would have to create his own morality. It was already hovering in his churning mind, little more than a formless mist right now, but he thought that, maybe there only thing that mattered is that people were free to do whatever they liked as long as no one got hurt.

He had no role model now, no-one in his life who represented what he really wanted. So instead he would just have to live in the world he occupied in that moment. He would live in a world where Merlin was idealistic, but sought his freedom through machiavellian means, and where everything he learned from his father still held the truth of Arthur's own motivation, but was corrupted by a prejudice that Arthur was now having to unlearn.

He said none of this to Merlin, though he knew the other boy might have easily been able to feel it through their connection, and instead he placed a hand on the back of Merlin's neck as he walked passed him to get his own coffee and delighted in the spasming twitch that it caused.

For a second there was something unguarded in Merlin's eyes as he looked at him. So brief, but Arthur liked it. He liked knowing that not all the power between them was in Merlin's hands, that he had the power to surprise and throw Merlin off balance too.

o0o0o

When Merlin had got word from a Nimueh that she had to lay low in another safehold until the patrols died down, which could take days if not weeks, Merlin instantly knew he'd been relegated to babysitting duty. She couldn't even tell him where he was through the telepathic line that she had connected in the event that Uther's men and the KRT had some way of tapping into the line. They still had very little intel on whether Uther had any magicians in his employ, but they couldn't risk it. The facility where Merlin had let himself be held gave enough of an indication that they were trying to harness the power that magic users held without giving them any autonomy. So for now, Nimueh was only able to share the meanest amount of information and then the line was cut.

He tried to be annoyed by it, but he had already been part of babysitting duty for the better part of a fortnight already, and even whilst his fingers itched to so something useful, he was almost delighted by the break. He could be with Arthur without the fear of Nimueh's reaction.

There was some chance that he would be clawing at the walls in a couple of days time, but for now, it was nice to think that he could get his mind and his strength back and have a reason not to face the world. He was not going to be expected to sit and do nothing. He would be expected to research and plan for whatever strike came next, but he would be grateful for that too when the time came.

That just left a day of doing nothing important, of saving his reserves and preparing himself for the days and weeks ahead.

He started by walking back into the room, leaving Arthur sitting at the table whist pottering around the kitchen clearing plates and cleaning glasses. He contemplated what else his meditative state of tinkering around the kitchen was conducive to, mopping, sweeping? Did they even have a mop?

He finally let himself glance at Arthur, he had been making himself avoid it, because he didn't want to admit that he wanted to look. When he did he could see the way Arthur had been watching him in turn. There was that question on his lips that Merlin could understand without needing to hear it.

Arthur opened his mouth a couple of times, as if trying to decide whether to ask the question or not. He finally took a breath to ask, "Why…" but then he stopped, thinking better than to finish asking the question that was on his mind. Merlin's answering glance was a little withering, although he didn't feel as annoyed by it as he would have been if Arthur had voiced the inevitable question of: why would you bother to do this by hand. Such a question only had one acceptable answer: It's none of your fucking business why or how I use my own magic and you especially are not entitled to ask me anything of the sort.

Or at least not during the daylight hours.

Arthur realised that even beginning to ask the question was a bad idea, and then closed his mouth and shook his head gently, dismissing the idea that he had even been attempting to ask a question, Merlin could feel it in some unknowable corner of his own mind. There was a small soft smile on his lips and Merlin had to glance away. How could he dare to act so domestic and content, when people had died, when Merlin was barely holding himself together by completing mundane housekeeping chores?

How dare he seem so at peace when he was the driving force behind all that was wrong with their city? He scrubbed the plates with ferocity at the thought. Merlin wasn't sure of the details, he hadn't been born at the time, but he knew that the purge and the onslaught of violence and death directed towards his people started on the day of Arthur's own birth.

That brought him up short, self admonishment and embarrassment coloured his cheeks as he realised what he had thought.

That, at least, wasn't Arthur's fault

He didn't ask to be born into that house, into that life or into that station, but still. Maybe Merlin didn't want to think rationally about it. He went back to the cupboard, finding a cloth to wipe down and bleach the countertops. He eventually looked back at Arthur again, eyes inevitably drawn towards the other boy. Arthur was simply sitting, idly tapping his fingers silently on the counter in a inconsequential rhythm. Merlin couldn't kid himself, Arthur had shown himself to be anything other than the harbinger of destruction that Merlin had wanted him to be. Hating him just wasn't a realistic option. Even the cold indifference he had been trying didn't seem to work.

Arthur had been so genuinely helpful, even in the wake of their first terrible day together, Arthur had been immediately considerate and unfazed. He was not the sort of person Merlin wanted around his home, but now that he was here, he couldn't say that he was sad for it.

"Do you want any help?" Arthur offered, an open ended invitation which he must have been aware would have allowed Merlin to take complete advantage of him. Words were so powerful and had to be chosen carefully.

"No," Merlin shook his head, and tried to smile in turn, "No, just stay there. We've nothing to do today."

o0o0o

The days that followed were filled with silence and calm. With Nimueh gone Arthur's ever present fear softened. Though he couldn't pretend that Merlin didn't terrify him at times, he knew at least that the fire in his eyes was borne of righteous justice, rather than a desire for revenge on the Pendragon line. Only some vague notion of destiny protected Arthur from the priestess's torment. To be spared that, at least a little, seemed practically like a holiday.

Merlin continued to sleep fitfully in the days that followed, though he was never as vulnerable as he had been on that first night, and when he inevitably woke himself from whatever nightmare plagued him, Arthur had been there too.

The second night after the explosions, Merlin had awoken with a sudden gasp. Arthur was unsure of what he could expect. He had stared into those old eyes, and thought perhaps that silence was all that he could hope for. Minutes passed and perhaps Arthur could fall asleep counting Merlin's eyelashes, but then Merlin whispered.

"Do you miss your mother?" Arthur was silent for long moments, he felt as though he should speak, but Merlin wasn't done, he knew. "Even though you never knew her, do you miss what could have been?"

"Sometimes?" Arthur shifted, curveing himself into Merlin's space, their knees almost touched each other as the bright moonlight in the illuminated the angles of their faces. "Maybe? I don't miss her as much as I just… daydream sometime. I wish things were different sometimes."

"Everytime I wish for something to be different, a bigger part of me says that I'm being selfish for it. What right would I have to a better life, a simpler life, when everyone else is suffering."

"It's not selfish." Arthur insisted, though he himself knew that feeling all too well. He inched his fingers towards Merlin's though stopped short of taking the other man's hand, "Only your actions can be selfish, your thoughts aren't anything but thoughts."

"I'm not sure my actions would be selfless if I thought I had a choice."

Destiny, life, love, family… Arthur thought that all his subjects should and would have a choice to those things in his realm, but hadn't he thought the same things time and again throughout his own life? He had always thought that choice was reserved for other people. He had told himself that he couldn't tell others that they were able to have a choice, if he didn't acknowledge that sometimes choices are made for others. The choices they had weren't much of choices at all, obey or escape.

Maybe it wasn't much of a choice, but they still chose it. Maybe they were limited in their futures, but they had that option. Escape, leave, abandon all and let the world sort out its own messes.

Maybe that little sliver of power that they held in that most basic of choice was enough to keep the two of them fighting.

Maybe they would never have the answer.

"What's your favourite colour?" Arthur ventured into the resulting stillness.

Merlin stared wide eyed at him until a single startled peal of laughter burst forth from his lips. "Dictionary definition of non-sequitur brought to you today by Prince Arthur Pendragon."

"Well, you never know what information might be important in the future. What if you got replaced by a pod person, I would have to ask questions to establish your true identity. This could be of vital importance."

"I never really made time to think about it," Merlin admitted, and Arthur grew a little sad again, every young child thought about their favourite colours. "I suppose, if I had to say, maybe blue?"

"Me too," Arthur smiled, "Though I'm growing partial to gold."

"Of course you would, you bloody narcissist. Camelot's own golden princeling."

Arthur had to laugh at that again, clearly Merlin had never looked in a mirror, the gold in him was brighter than any poor imitation that Arthur could scrounge together.

They spoke softly, of things of little consequence, of things they hoped and dreamed and forever wished for. That first night had opened the floodgates and the single night turned to two, turned to three turned to two weeks of secrets shared and connections built.

o0o0o

The days were not the calm peace that the nights brought, whilst Merlin had told the truth that they had nothing to do that first day, the days following started the next mission, the next lot of research to complete and the next life of inquiry into what was happening in the city.

It was ARthur's city, Arthur's home and he thought he knew it and yet… and yet.

The place he thought was home was a monster, eating itself from the inside, tearing itself apart, biting off its own right hand to release it from the trap of its left. Arthur had never seen it, never known it until now. He had thought that the KRT, despite some of the things he had seen, were mostly there for the good of everyone. They kept peace and kept order. They kept people safe and generally had good intention, but multiple sources across the city were terrified, there were riots, brutality, deaths and lynch mobs. There were things that Merlin shrugged off as nothing more than the life of Camelot, but to Arthur they were nightmares.

It had been his whole life, he whole world and he didn't know it at all.

The more revelations of horror the day brought, the more he fell into the secret whisperings of the midnight hour, and the more that Merlin brought him careening into a world of fear, the more he clung to the other boy.

And the days ran on.

o0o0o

The thing with seers was that they had the terrible habit of coming to you first.

Nimueh had returned the day before, only speaking to Merlin long enough to reassure him of her continued health before she collapsed into a deep sleep that betrayed her words. Arthur hadn't made comment about it, and for that Merlin had been immensely grateful, but now she had returned, he knew her next plan would be to seek the druids to fix the relationship between the two groups.

Merlin had spent far too long stoically waiting for Arthur to be done with his morning ablutions, and working up the courage to find Nimueh and see how long it would be before she left again, or to ask if she would let him go with her to see the druids as well, when he almost jumped out of his skin to see a small boy sitting at his kitchen table. This boy was pale, with sharp eyes and contrasting dark hair, almost made Merlin believe he was hallucinating, when a voice spoke in his head.

It's good to meet you Emrys.

"Who are you and how the hell did you get into my home?" Merlin was startled, he knew that this boy had to be a magic user, and therefore should have been trusted and welcome here, but that didn't change the fact that there were strong wards and passwords around this building, that a small child could seemingly get past them unaided was terrifying.

I wasn't unaided Emrys, but I'm flattered that you could think so highly of me. I am with Cerdan, he said I was too young to sit in with him for this conversation with the priestess. Although I already think I know what she has to say, I felt them die just as you did.

"I am sorry that it was necessary." Merlin offered no explanation or rationalisation. This child would either understand or he wouldn't, there was little that Merlin could say to change that at this point.

"What?" A surprised voice came, "He didn't answer you and now your apologising to him. What could you even apologise about if he didn't speak to you?"

Arthur. Merlin kept almost forgetting he was there, so ingrained had his presence become under Merlin's skin that it felt as natural as not thinking about the presence of one's own arms.

"He did answer," he commented, tapping gently at his own temple with a single finger.

"Oh?" Arthur said questioningly, and then he sat bolt upright, a change in understanding blending it's way across his face, "Oh. I suppose, it's good to meet you too considering the circumstances." Arthur had decades of etiquette training behind him when it came to acting politely around complete strangers, but he could not be used to the invasion of mind that came so naturally to even the youngest of druid children. Theirs was a silent people, so easy could they speak to one another in this fashion.

The child gave a single weak cough, his voice when it eventually passed his lips, was strained, underused. What was the point of speaking words that could so easily be twisted or misrepresented, when sharing your thoughts directly with others to their minds was so much more efficient?

"I think it might be more polite if I speak out loud for our distinguished royal guest." Even at such a young age the boy, Mordred (Merlin's mind somehow supplied), had well mastered sarcasm. It was even more surprising to Merlin that there seemed to be some genuine deference. As though, despite all the Pendragon line had done to the boy's people, he did respect Arthur's status and position and future leader of the country.

Merlin, who knew still that he had a lot to condone for where the Druids were concerened, wanted to give the boy as much comfort and freedom as possible. "You don't have to do that on our behalf." He placated, "even if it's unusual Arthur will quickly get used to your method of talking." He then gave a sharp glance to Arthur, daring him to say any different.

Arthur only, smiled kindly and reassuringly and nodded. It hit Merlin all over again, that it was this man, so supposedly terrible, who stood for so much that threatened Merlin's very life for simply existing, was so easily agreeable even in the face of people invading his mind and slaughtering his subjects. So terrible was he, and yet showed such goodness. How had Merlin been so quick to kill him all those week ago?

Because I do exactly as I'm told, just as he always did exactly as he was told. We've forever been just a men following orders. Merlin was saddened by that intrusive thought, to be raised your entire life to believe in the lies of one psychopath and to know your role as merely a beautiful face on which the nation's hopes and trust was built. Not to think for himself, or speak out of turn, but simply to exist as a paper image of a person. It made it harder and harder to hate Arthur.

It didn't always make it easy to like him either. Who could he care about someone who let himself behave as such an empty vessel? He hated the very question because whenever he thought it, it hit a little too close to the bone.

Mordred in response to this overwhelming politeness, flushed high on his cheeks with embarrassment, standing out starkly against the ghostly pale skin.

"I appreciate your concern," He whispered, finding his voice a little easier now, "but I'm not good at projecting my thoughts to more than one person at a time, and my message is for the two of you."

Neither Arthur or Merlin commented on that, he didn't want to embarrass his guest any further by offering either support or advice. He was an apprentice, he had his master for that. It was not Merlin's job to assume he had the right to make such comments. Instead he waited quietly, for Mordred to speak. Getting him a glass of water silently from the tap and placing it in front of him to unblock his voice. The glass remained untouched.

"We have a prophecy concerning you," Merlin had been waiting for this moment since Nimueh had first mentioned it all those years ago, but he was surprised to see that Mordred was not looking at him, but Arthur. "It's as old as you are, but it has become unclear as to whether you're ready to hear it yet."

He turned to Merlin now, as if to consult with him, even though Merlin was the one who had been contemplating a consultation with the druids himself. "Perhaps the two of you are ready to hear it, but my teacher hoped to bring you to our encampment. To teach you some of our ways, and to help you be prepared for what the prophecies foretold."

"No." Merlin tried to be direct without seeming harsh, but it was difficult to disguise his vehement hatred for the idea. "Your kind have avoided the ghettos. You hold your own against the onslaught, you even have your own lands still under your own laws. You don't need help. The cities need help, the ordinary people whose houses and forests aren't penetrated in every corner with the magic of a hundred generations of protection. You're on your own. I have my place here."

"I understand. We all have choices to make, you've clearly made yours."

"If you need help, we will give what we can, but you and your people are strong still. You don't need us."

"So you say," Mordred seemed disappointed, but resigned. It was odd in the face of someone so young, as though he was channeling in himself someone much older. Perhaps his teacher had given him a boost of wisdom and courage for this conversation. There were spells, enchantments, charms that could give someone that beyond their years, even if only for a small amount of time. Merlin doubted it though.

Arthur had watched the exchange with fury building behind his eyes. What that fury was directed at, Merlin didn't want to ask. Arthur had spent his life saying 'how high' to a man who was a terrible and ruthless person. Perhaps hearing Merlin talk of Arthur's own cities and nations in such negative and desolate terms riled him. Even from the first meeting the pride of his position in the world, not as a powerful person to be deferred to, but as a leader and protector of the people. Perhaps he had been taught that he was a protector of the people by heading the KRT and rounding up the people who he had been told his entire life were criminally dangerous, but no matter the situation, Arthur was a protector.

it would be a great blow to his pride to believe that he failed.

To know that he had failed.

"The prophecy that I may still share with you pertains to you alone, your majesty. The Once and Future King of Albion."

Merlin froze, then turned to Arthur wide eyed. There was nothing on Arthur's face to show he understood the significance of those words, all of them or any of them, but Merlin knew. Merlin trembled in awe at the mere suggestion that Mordred might just be right. He almost felt tears welling in his eyes at the thought of it. Nimueh had spoken of it, even Gaius had spoken of it at one time or another, and yet, despite all the destiny that everyone had hinted at involving him, he never thought that he might even potentially lived to see the day.

He hoped that Modread had not misspoke. He equally couldn't understand how it could be possibly true.

"So what is this prophecy?" Arthur asked, simply staring back at Merlin with some bemusement, if not a little humour at his reaction.

To him they were merely words. Nonsense words at that, he couldn't know that they possibly meant more. They possibly meant everything. They held the potential for everything that he hoped he had seen in Arthur the moment their hands touched, and everything that he had not seen brought to fruition yet. It was like trying to see the mighty oak that might form from the formless pilot leaves that poked from the ground. Yes, perhaps to the druids, their shape was as clear as day, but Merlin had no proof apart from their certainty. He could only hope.

"No." Mordred spoke, assessing them both, "But I can tell you the other. There is one that involves the both of you."

Arthur made a little abortive open palmed gesture with his hand as if to say, 'continue then', but then thought better of it. He was no commander here, no matter what Mordred's words had been - not that Arthur had seemed to understand them anyway. However, Mordred took the polite request for what it was and, with eyes that began to glow gold, he spoke in a voice that was not entirely his own.

"The golden prince shall rise, and Emrys will lead him to his victory. Two sides of the same coin, they will rise and fall together. Their lives will not be theirs alone, nor their destinies. Albion awaits."

This was prophecy, no doubt, and there it was again. That word that had Merlin's heart pounding in his chest. And yet Arthur still did not understand, and every second that bond Merlin had felt between them was growing more and more solidified. He didn't need to ask why he was here now, his questions didn't need answering. This was destiny. There was no doubt.

He felt it in every corner of his body, and he looked inward to wonder how on earth he could have thought that it was anything but the path he was supposed to take, how mere moments ago that hope could have seemed so misplaced. Arthur was unformed, but he wouldn't remain that way. If what was said was true…

o0o0o

Arthur though that the words that were spoken seemed odd and flowery. Though that didn't mean much; in general Mordred had spoken like a child out of time (possibly living in an ancient forest did that to people) but it was Merlin's reaction that had intrigued him. Except for their small midnight moments, these days and weeks with Merlin had been mostly stoic and silent. Only the small breaks showed anything of the boy behind the mask.

His face had held some glimmer of shock and surprise, and perhaps Arthur had only imagined it, but he couldn't help but feel as though Merlin had looked at him with something like wonder. That face, unguarded and almost innocent in its expression made something twist deep within Arthur. Whatever it was that made Merlin look at him like that, he wanted to live up to it. He wanted that face to appear every day and never fall either into the cold mask of indifference that he used as a barrier, or the cruel and malicious bitterness that he had shown Arthur on his arrival at this house. Merlin was a soldier, and would continue to act like one, but if Arthur could give him a reason to be something else, even briefly…. He would do whatever it took to achieve that. There was sheer beauty in that expression.

He had felt it all the way to his soul. He had felt the same those weeks ago when Merlin had been so catatonic in his grief that he had all but reverted to a child. He felt the same as the words were spoken by Mordred. Perhaps he didn't understand them, perhaps he couldn't, or perhaps he had simply been trained too hard to dismiss the words of prophecy ass a foul and corrupting magic to take them at face value, but Merlin had believed in them and he had felt it. That belief went beyond mere words. It went to his very core. He had to be all that Merlin believed him to be.

He looked at Merlin from the corner of his eye, until Merlin could realise that Arthur could see him and glanced away.

"Will I ever know the other prophecy?" Arthur asked, wondering why he was so desperate to hear it. Perhaps that was another side effect of Mordred being able to speak to his mind, but he somehow knew that those words that had yet to be spoken would be just as important to him as the words that had been said aloud had been to Merlin.

"Maybe, one day." Mordred admitted, "But today won't be that day, I feel it, and I think you feel it too. These words are too strong, too powerful for you right now. If you heard them, then you might change them and what they will do. I don't want to be the one responsible for making that happen."

He looked over at Merlin for some hint that he knew what those words were, and perhaps he did, but Merlin, firmly looking in front of him having been caught staring in wonder at Arthur, belied no more of his feeling. He had reverted to the porcelain mask that he effected, staring a hole in the wall as if it was the most interesting thing that had ever been created. He seemed even to refuse to look at Mordred lest looking at him encouraged him to speak into the other's mind.

"I thank you for your kindness in sharing this with us." Merlin spoke stiffly, and Mordred seemed almost amused. A childish and happy smile caught his face just for a moment before losing itself again to the blank expression that he wore.

Arthur jumped as the door opened. Though Merlin, either through some power of his own or simply because he had been concentrating so hard on the wall barely moved.

Nimueh and another man, Arthur assumed that this much be the master or teacher, Cerdan, entered the room and shook hands with one another in a fashion that seemed uncomfortable for both of them. The little Merlin had spoken of about the druids and the old religion made it seem as though they were offshoots of the same belief system that had grown and changed in vastly different ways. Perhaps to default to any religious or magical method of farewell before departing would give unwanted priority over one kind or the other. He may not have excelled in diplomacy, but he knew it when it saw it.

Mordred looked, blank as ever, towards Cerdan, and a thousand words seemed to pass between them. Perhaps they did, Arthur would never know, but whatever Cerdan heard, he seemed satisfied. He gently patted Mordred on the shoulder, who then stood straight to follow the other out of the room,he paused only to look behind him at the threshold and smile silently to Merlin and Arthur.

"Merlin," Nimueh called once their guests had left, "I need to talk to you," She slammed the door behind her.

Arthur was dismissed to the other side of a locked door, where he sat unable to hear through the eerie silence of the locked room, waiting for Merlin to return and reflecting on everything that had been said.

o0o0o

Nimueh looked tired. In as much as she ever did; she never looked anything other than perfectly beautiful and made up, but a good majority of that came from a liberal application of magic. There was always an age, wisdom or tiredness behind the eyes that she couldn't hide for very long. On days like this where her control over the destiny of her group and her people was beyond her grasp, even the strongest magics couldn't mask her exhaustion. This was compounded by the interactions with the druids, the only way she could work with them was to show every inch of herself as honestly as she could. For a person who spent her life behind a mask, it was not an easy thing.

"You seem troubled." She said, it was calm, but there was no disguising that this was a question that required a satisfactory answer.

"I'm not sure if it's troubled or just a bit confused to he honest."

Nimueh raised her eyebrow, it was suddenly easy enough to see Nimueh and gaius as contemporaries rather than several generations apart. "Something the druid boy said?"

"Yes," Merlin knew that his job was to report what had gone on with Mordred and Arthur, but there was a large and not inconsequential part of him that said honesty was a bad idea. There was something about Mordred's message that was making him question whether it was his right to pass it on, or whether it had been for Arthur and his ears' only.

"Go on," Nimueh tapped her fingers against the table patience wearing thinner by the second. "anything that might serve the slightest bit of use to the cause is of the utmost importance."

"He addressed Arthur as the once and future king, and then said that Emry's fate was tied with Albion's."

Nimueh's mouth opened gasping for the words that would make sense of what she had just been told. "He said those exact words?" She asked again, "He specifically said 'once and future king'? He mentioned Albion?"

"Yes, yes and yes." That hadn't been the whole story, but he figured that Nimueh would be occupied enough with the broad strokes he painted, that he wouldn't need to relay the minutia. He hoped that those details might be enough to treat Arthur with some protective urge just as she had Merlin on meeting him, but instead of the reaction he expected, her almost porcelain face took on a tinge of red, something that was as rare as an eclipse taking over Nimueh's face.

"Well he must have been wrong." Nimueh, protested loudly. "there is no way that a Pendragon would do anything but cause the destruction of everything that is good and pure in this world. Look what they have done to Camelot. No, the boy must have not known what he was talking about. Your fate with Albion I might believe. One would assume as much just by looking at you, but the welp. No. Not at all, there's definitely been a mistake."

Merlin bit his tongue, and decided not to call upon Nimueh's hypocrisy. She had always said that the prophecy of child druids was more revered than anyone else, because they were not so clouded by years of prejudice and societal expectations that their words tended to be true and unfettered. The ultimate truth lay in the simplicity and honesty of their unblemished hearts. That was why mad men had historically made such revered seers. But Nimueh had her own ideas of the future and what the long standing visions of the druids had meant. And she would not change them for anyone, especially not from information that had been fed second or third hand to her by a child who hadn't earned the right yet to take up the cause.

To Nimueh, if a person had not suffered for the cause as she had suffered, as Merlin and Gwen and Edwin had suffered, then they were not entitled to an opinion about the course of the cause. They could offer assistance, but it would only be accepted if it was silent. People like Gaius, and people like the simple and sheltered druid children of the north couldn't possibly know what they were talking about. They hadn't seen what she had seen.

Merlin had always believed her on that front. Perhaps he would always agree to some extent, but another part of him thought that perhaps the outside influence and opinion of someone not so blinkered by their absolute absorption of themselves into the cause, might let them see where the cracks truly lay.

Merlin, of course, would say absolutely none of this. He would wait for Nimueh to wear herself out in her rant and then let her tell him whatever it was that she had really needed him to know. She had called him to this room, a magically silenced door away from Arthur, for a reason. He didn't have to wait long.

"Anyway," Nimueh said, sitting herself down quietly as if her anger had never been raised. Her face was now completely composed, not a single hair was out of place. "Cerdan will be taking Mordred and heading out back to their lands, I need to go with them. He didn't ask it of me, but I got the impression that in order to secure our continued bonds of friendship between our peoples he wants help performing the last rites for those who had been lost in order for freedom to prevail. I think it's only right that I go, as a priestess, I am still a holder of the rites of the dead. You are not to leave the house 'til I return."

"Where would I go?" Merlin asked softly. With Arthur permanently attached to him he wouldn't be going anywhere.

She gave him a sharp glare, "Do not be glib with me. I mean it, Merlin. Now more than ever as we have confirmation of you place in Albion, you need to stay safe. Yes you can get some planning done, you can listen to the news feed, but whatever you hear, whatever happens do not leave. Unless you are one hundred percent certain that the safehouse is compromised, do not leave. Do you understand me Merlin?"

"But you only just got back. Wouldn't it be better if I went with you? I could talk to the druids maybe, get their confirmation on everything that Mordred told me. Maybe they can share more details of what they meant? Or maybe if they really do think of me as Emrys, my presence will go some way to convince them that what we did was for the best."

"What we did was for the best." Nimueh emphasised.

"Yes, I know that, but the whole point is that the druids don't know it, not fully anyway, otherwise you wouldn't think it so vital to leave when you've already had to lie low for so long.

"Oh, you're such a good boy Merlin, so full of fire and justice, but you can wait. You already said it yourself, you're not going anywhere. Not with the Pendragon problem. So you're just going to have to stay here and hold down the fort. We need someone here ready to protect and defend the safe house anyway. This place is of vital importance. I'm sure Gwen could fight admirably given the chance, but there would be no way of protecting this place from anything akin to a large scale or magical attack. It would be much better for everyone if you stay here for now."

The 'Pendragon problem' was certainly an evocative turn of phrase. It could have easily described Arthur, or his tyrannical father, or just what the two of them represented in combination. Whichever Nimueh really meant, the outcome was the same.

"I'll be back soon my dear. I'll try to let you know when I'm returning as soon as I establish how much work needs to be done with the druids, but I doubt I'll be more than three days. The new moon is then and the druids are quite particular about their lunar cycles and last rites."

With that Nimueh was gone in the blink of an eye. He suspected that she was still in the room, translation of the kind that would allow her to enter the druid strongholds unaided would be far too big a drain on her energies if she also needed to assist with the important ceremonial rites of who knew how many druids. Merlin prayed that it wasn't too many; that Uther's relentless campaign of hatred hadn't pushed that far into the north, but one could never be sure. He hoped that the only druids that would have found themselves in the institutions were only those who had ventured into the towns and had been unlucky enough to find themselves in the path of a KRT patrol.

He hoped.

That hope was probably unfounded.

o0o0o

Merlin returned too quickly and easily to the routine that he and Arthur had established whilst working out their bond in the week of Nimueh's absence. It was so calm and so familiar by this point that he hadn't even realised how quiet and withdrawn Arthur was being at the table whilst Merlin magically updated maps of the city. Uthur's paranoia meant that there were constantly paths he could feel were being changed or cut off or built. It was hard to pick individual people and see where they went, or who they were, but he could feel the crowds and where they could go and not go it told him a lot about the lay of the land.

Arthur coughed to himself and Merlin originally don't deign to look up from the map, whatever was ailing Arthur probably wouldn't be anything of real consequence, but then it happened again, and there was a small sound of. 'Mer..' before Arthur cut himself off.

Curiosity pushed through whatever connection it was the two of them shared, and as he had already explained the mapping system he had organised previously, he knew it had to be something knew.

Instead of speaking, words were sometimes offputting, He looked up at Arthur expectantly and stared until Arthur decided it would be worth trying again.

"Mordred," Arthur began, "The boy that we saw earlier today?"

"I think I might possibly know who you were talking about, yes." Sarcasm dripped off every word.

"Right, well he talked about something and then you completely panicked." Arthur breezed on, "I just wanted to know what that was. Why that was. What did he say that was so important?"

"I didn't panic." Merlin defended.

"Maybe not on the outside, but you definitely, definitely panicked. I could… I don't know, feel it I suppose. It was deeply ingrained, as though something that you heard was a long time coming. You also looked almost… impressed. It was a good panic if it can be said that there is such a thing."

"Anything in particular you'd like to know?" Merlin was weary as soon as he even asked the question, he wasn't ready to admit what it all might mean. But Arthur would have to know, whether it was true or not the very idea of it would change everything about how everyone approached them and planned around them. Even though he himself had admitted he couldn't leave the house with Arthur in tow, he knew now that the emphasis on why had changed. There was the minute but important shift in how Nimueh had treated him; he hadn't been asked to stay behind because it was really the best thing to do, the safehouse had been left empty multiple times before, but this time she had used that excuse to tether him to the place. Merlin was the one who had to be protected this time.

It was no longer about the cause, it was about some undeterminable destiny and he didn't like it. What good was destiny if he didn't know what on earth he was supposed to do with it?

"Everything, I suppose." Arthur answered "The strange phrases that you were using that seemed important, Emrus, Albion, once and future king did he call me? It's all very strange, but it clearly means something to you."

"It's Emrys, and I don't know honestly how much of that I could even attempt to explain to you. The name's just what Nimueh has called me from time to time because this Emrys bloke is supposed to be some part of the grand unified prophecy, or something. Apparently, Mordred thinks so too, but aside from that, I have no idea what it might mean."

He sighed, and Arthur for his part looked distinctly put off. Knowing prophecies were important and held in high regard my magicians was one thing, but when he had been told his entire life that they were probably the work of the devil designed to corrupt and betray. When Macbeth was taught in schools not as warning against the folly of man, but the evil of magicians and witches, Merlin could hardly blame him. Except, all those times that Merlin had blamed him entirely. But that was a different matter.

"As for the rest, are you sure you want to know? Knowing too much can be a terrible burden."

These were not his own words, but ones that had been relayed to him by Gaius at one time or another. He didn't see the old man very often, the man wasn't about to risk his position to spend time dwelling amongst guerrilla magicians, but it meant that every word Gaius had a chance to utter to him seemed important, perhaps more important than it was. After how important could the words of an old fool who had turned against his own people to maintain his leverage in the house of lords be?

There was no love lost between him and Nimueh, and therefore Merlin didn't look all that kindly on him either. If he was being honest with himself though, he did sometimes wonder what might have happened if the KRT hadn't raided Gaius's home. Would he have still found the cause, or would he have found a different path?

Maybe that was all part of destiny. It didn't matter where he started, all roads led to the appointed end.

"No, I'm not sure that I want to know, but I already know more that I should probably know, and I know things about you, and about the people who suffer in my cities than I perhaps every wanted to know as well. But that doesn't mean that I shouldn't have known. It was my duty to know. By knowing I have the opportunity to meet whatever it is head on. Don't' you think?"

Merlin almost shrunk back in embarrassment, he had tried to give Arthur sound advice, to pretend to be wise and give him and easy out (although Merlin may have mostly been protecting himself) but now he felt almost chastised by thoe words. They were words that showed a true sense of justice and responsibility beyond idealistic and righteous anger. It called everyone to find the truth and act on that instead. He didn't think that a few years could make such a difference in the wisdom of and individual, but that little time between them might have been the one thing that made all the difference.

"Albion is…" Merlin pondered for a moment, "Albion is hard to put into words. It is the culmination of the best parts of our culture, it's a unification of all people and all places in peace and prosperity. It's the promised land that rises from the ashes of everything that has been burned here. It's a utopia, without all of the removal of personality that often goes with a utopian ideals. Mostly it's a catch all phrase for the time that Magic and those who practice it's arts will be free to be themselves again. When you hear someone talk of Albion you hear them talk of freedom, of free will and peace."

Arthur seemed a little shocked or perhaps put off, but that didn't stop him enquiring, "And the rest?"

"I supposed that's just another transmuted phrase as well, but the Once and Future King is the herald of Albion. By his or her actions Albion will be formed and the darkness that has risen over the land will be struck down. Something like that anyway. The basic principle is that such a person would be so vital, so important that even if they died their soul would live on, possibly being transferred to another person, or perhaps just tethered to the earth, who knows, just to make sure that whatever else happened, Albion would live on in its purest and most perfect form." Merlin trailed off from his more heightened ramblings, "Or, you know, something like that."

Arthur was silent again for few moments more, before breathing deep and speaking, "Let me see if I can set this straight in my head. According to what the Mordred boy said, this Emrys character will help this eternal king character to build this utopian Albion place. And that according to current Prophetical theory, those two leaders of this revolution in the land are you and me."

"That's the gist of it yes, maybe I didn't need so many words to explain it after all." He tried to laugh, but it didn't come out right, so he let it die in his throat.

"I'm sure there must be a mistake, When it comes to your sort of world I'm really not sure of anything Merlin, but of this I feel certain someone somewhere has their divine wires of sonnet spouting crossed."

"Prophecies are surprisingly not that often repeated in sonnets. Very little rhyming all told, quite disappointing. I should talk to the druids on this matter and get them to fix this egregious problem." He sighed, dropping his poor attempt at humour, "I know; that's what Nimueh thinks to."

"Then she's probably right, she's supposed to know the most of anyone here isn't she?" Merlin was surprised to hear Arthur even vaguely agree with Nimueh, she hadn't been his most vocal supporter, and he had been visibly terrified of her in turn, but he supposed that was what they all did upon hearing a prophecy. Deny it was real. The idea that the path was set out for them already, possibly since birth and there was nothing that any of them could do about it, was terrifying and soul-crushing and oddly humiliating. Other people were allowed to live their lives and they chose (well with in the certain limits of decisions that were allowed by Uther and his ruthless KRT) but Merlin seemed to be set on a path where it was possible not just for him to choose wrong, but to choose so wrongly that the fate of the entire world rested on them.

Most people who had the fate of the world resting on their shoulders, on the minor decisions that they had made in a split second, generally didn't know that they had been forced to make that decision until after the fact. Knowing it before it even had a chance to start was horrifying.

"Perhaps." Merlin acquiesced. He hoped so too, even as he equally hoped that it was true.. He wasn't certain what he believed to be true either way.

That was a lie. He knew exactly what he believed, but the people who he could share his belief with had both desperately and vehemently rejected it because it was beyond the scope of what they had wanted for themselves and their people.

"You don't think so," Arthur was easily able to pick up,

"I didn't say anything," Merlin half heartedly protested, although there was little point to that.

"You didn't have to, it's written all over your face."

"I also think that it doesn't really matter what I think, it won't change what will or won't be, we will just have to wait it out and see what happens.

"Well, if it is real, then I want you to know that I'm glad that it's you. Whatever that means. whatever that entails, I would prefer it to be you than to be anyone else."

Merlin loved him for his honesty, and he hated him for saying it aloud, because it made him admit just how much love for Arthur there might be simmering below the surface.

o0o0o

Arthur felt those fingers brush his skin in a way that made every cell within him spark. He knew already that this bond between them, whatever it was, had made Merlin precious to him from the moment they had first touched, (or at least, Arthur admitted, the moment Merlin had stopped killing him,). Even though they had been sharing a bed for days, weeks now, it felt as weighty as it ever had. Arthur thought they had been working together so closely and so intimately that he could learn to studiously ignoring that feeling that bolted through them every time they touched, that eventually it would just be a fact of life, as inevitable as the need to breathe,

But now there was no denying -with Merlin's thumbs brushing against his cheek bones, palms placed gently along his jawline - that this feeling was real and deep and completely addictive, it was stupid to lose himself in the feel of that touch, let alone to return it. That didn't stop him from trailing the tip of his index finger along the nape of Merlins neck, tracing a path down to his shoulder, across to his collarbone. watching Merlin twitch and shiver with every millimeter covered. This was a bad idea. A bad, bad idea.

They were rebels, fighting against the established world order. Arthur originally had stood himself apart from all Merlin had done, all that Nimueh and the order had done, but in the things that Merlin had spoken about today, of Albion and freedom and the right to live as one could in peace made Arthur believe. Arthur believed in all those things. He believed in achieving those goals sooner rather than later, so maybe this was a bad idea, but Merlin was a magic user. All of this was a bad idea full stop.

But destiny had no time for silly little concepts of 'good idea' and 'bad idea'.

Whatever destiny had in mind, it generated this feeling between them. Perhaps simply it wanted that the two of them wouldn't see fit to separate from each other at a moment's notice, or perhaps simply to understand that the two of them had to work together, but Arthur doubted that destiny (and it made him a little uneasy to think of it as a conscious and cognisant thing) had this particular side effect in mind.

Merlin was the one to close the gap between them, to bridge that space between idle thought and full action. Arthur simply felt that it was right. It was right for both for them to be this way, but also for Merlin to initiate it, despite everything and every power that Merlin possessed. If it was true, if Arthur was to be this Once and Future King, he understood, perhaps more than he would like, that it would give him the position of ultimate power. He wanted for Merlin to take this, to want this for himself, because if Arthur started anything between them he would never be able to shake that feeling that it came from a misplaced sense of loyalty or duty.

Maybe it did anyway, but he wanted good reason to believe that Merlin felt the same way about him as he had inexplicably and suddenly began to feel about Merlin.

The kiss wasn't chaste but it also wasn't sudden or full of burning fiery passion. It was powerful and slow and insistant, the feeling of falling into something before you even really understood what it was that was happening. Maybe that encapsulated their relationship than anything else; unexpected but inevitable.

But there was no more time to ponder on how the small moments might reflect their whole relationship. Those lips pressed insistently against his, were moving, as were fingers in hair and legs twisting around each other. The feeling of Merlin hard against his hipbone was little more than a mildly unexpected sensation. After all, the two of them were still teenagers, if anything should have been inevitable it should have been this.

So close together, and for the first time in forever Arthur realised how isolated he was, how free from society and restraint. He had never been allowed such indiscretions before, he had never let himself think about it because of the pressure it might place on someone who he would potentially care deeply about.

But all of that was lost now, they existed in a world of simply feeling. The feeling of rubbing himself on the soft worn cotton of Merlin's thigh, of hot hands on hotter skin, of desperately chasing something glowing warm and comfortable in the pit of his stomach. When he came in his underwear, like the teenager that he still was, he couldn't even bring himself to be ashamed. After all that had come between the two of them, if there was anything left to be ashamed of, this would definitely not be it.

o0o0o

"I believe it." Merlin said, after they had curled up and tried to get to sleep. He whispered The word into Arthur's chest, hardly able to be heard, and yet it was as though he knew he had to share them.

Arthur didn't speak, but pulled back to look into Merlin's eyes, questioning.

"You asked me before, about Albion, about you and about me. I believe it. I don't know why I believe it, but it's not just because of the Druids or the prophecy. I think there's something else that's making me feel this way. We are connected, we must have been connected for a long time but just had no way of knowing. I feel like this link is permanent and old."

Arthur didn't know what to say to that, he agreed wholeheartedly, but they weren't exactly in a healthy, or even remotely normal situation, or frankly a normal or healthy relationship. One didn't easily build a strong bond of love and mutual affection when both parties were involuntarily bonded to one another, especially when the sparse few weeks of knowing one another started in a mixture of torture and recovery. The following weeks were full of attacks on the city.

Not the best basis for what seemed like the worlds most important and life long commitment. The commitment to the prophecy and to destiny was more important than any potential romantic inklings the two of them might have had towards each other, but Arthur couldn't deny either, that any feelings that Arthur might have had for Merlin under normal circumstances were both heightened and torn to shreds by the intensity of their situation, and the intensity of their potential power over one another.

Merlin had his magic and the ability to stop Arthur's heart with a single thought, Arthur had more inside knowledge on the number one undesirables in the country than Uther's entire network, and could bring down the wrath of the entire KRT on this operation with a single word. They could have been in the city's most devastating nuclear arms race, but this connection, this magic that had called the two of them to listen and pay attention every single time that they touched. That had left both of them to push the terror they could wrought to one side and just collapse into something akin to love.

"I don't think I would have chosen this." Arthur admitted to himself that Merlin was probably right, he felt like Merlin was right,

"Trust me, neither would I. But if I am to be a part of that machine, then for some reason I agree with what you said earlier; there would be no one better to fight with than you. I feel like I've been waiting for you, for this sense of destiny to be fulfilled my entire life."

And that was true too, it had nothing to do with any physical or emotional relationship, but instead one of honour and duty and destiny. It was the future of the entire nation resting on the two of them, and if Arthur had to do it, then it felt right.

"Do you really believe that hard?" Arthur had to question, it wasn't something he could throw himself into unless he was certan, without a shadow of a doubt that the two of them would and could work together towards their final end. They couldn't have opposite motives and goals. And considering the worlds they had both haled from, that would be almost impossible.

Merlin paused for a moment, looking Arthur deep in the eyes willing him to understand something that Arthur couldn't put into words. It was only after Merlin was met with silence that he got out of his bed and onto one knee, bowing his head and placing his right hand solemnly on his chest.

"A bit early for a proposal of marriage," He joked, though deep inside him he knew that it simply wasn't the case. This was something even more serious and deeply ingrained in the very nature of their beings.

"Prince Arthur Pendragon, I hereby take this most solemn oath, to pledge to you my unwavering fealty as long as I am able to serve you, for as long as it takes for us to see Albion brought to these lands. I swear it by the thing that I hold most dear."

Arthur sat up at that, blanket pooling around him. He could feel it in every corner of the room, he swore he could feeling it crawling up the walls, filling the air, pressing on him from all sides and locking itself to his very being.

"Fealty? What the buggering hell is happening Merlin? What the fuck does that even mean in this context?"

Something between them, perhaps the same feeling as had strung them together before, but this time even more so, thrummed to life. This time there was no contact with Merlin required. It was permanent, and could be reached into. Arthur could feel every inch of Merlin's being down to the very core of magic that made up the heart of himself.

"Merlin, what did you do? What did that mean?"

"That means that I am at your disposal, whatever the cost."

Arthur could feel it now, Merlin had given him a sacred promise that he would help fight to build Albion. He had given Arthur the right to command the world's greatest power.

He had sworn on magic itself.

o0o0o

So... How are you all doing?

It's been a year. A full year and 5 days.

I've had this chapter fully written for 6 months.

I don't know why I'm like this. I'm using camp nanowrimo to finish this story so I can get the chapters out quicker, but considering this chapter pulled in at 14,000 words, I'm not sure that'll be enough. I don't promise anything. My promises are meaningless. It will be finished, that's all I can say.

My chapters are also of a vary variable length. I might need to fix that somehow.