A/N: Sorry- both for the delay in getting this out, and also because I know I missed responding to some of your reviews. Hope you like this chapter, I've rewritten and edited it so many times it just about killed me. And despite deleting about 1,000 words, it's still really long because Merlin and Arthur just won't shut up, they have far too much to say.


"Yes. I killed with magic, Arthur."

The gauntlet was thrown, it was there, in the open.

Merlin knew this was the real truth for Arthur, the truth that magic was evil, that it could not be trusted, that he could not be trusted. It was with a sense of resignation he accepted it, it was unsurprising, a defeat he'd accepted long ago, a familiar pain.

But still, he had to turn away from Arthur, eyes that were blind he worried would choose this time to see. His magic felt his grief, and he strode almost too quickly across to the window, to Aithusa.

The young dragon was still unsettled, the unfamiliar press of humanity and sounds of civilisation as they'd entered Camelot had been a lot for him to take in. It hadn't helped that Aithusa was now in a situation where he was also uneasy because of the tension emitting from his dragonlord. The lack of open interaction with Merlin because of the need for Aithusa to stay undiscovered had increased Aithusa's unease, and more than once he'd come close to breaking his cover and appearing for all to see.

But so far, the slight golden shimmer surrounding Aithusa had stayed in place, and other than anxiously changing a dead beetle carcass from black to a glossy forest green in his attempts to distract himself, Aithusa had remained safely hidden.

Merlin gazed out the window, at the bright shining sun, a perfect day, at Camelot's citizens going about their daily business unsuspecting of the sorcerer in their midst. Aithusa nudged at his boot and Merlin wished he could openly acknowledge the dragon, but all they could settle for was contact in mindspeech.

The sun's glare stung his eyes, and he took a deep breath.

Once long ago he'd been optimistic, once he'd had all the useless speeches planned; it's nothing to fear, it's saved your life, or the old warhorse, it is but a tool that can be used for good speech, all representations of futile hopes and dreams.

Once he would have begged for forgiveness, and for understanding.

Once he thought he could be accepted for who he truly was.

Once he'd been arrogant enough to think what he'd be able to say to Arthur in whatever time Arthur deigned to give him, would be enough to change a lifetime of prejudice.

Once he'd been a fool, because he knew Arthur, and this truth had broken their friendship beyond repair.

Now all that was left, was all he had to give; he had to make sure Arthur had the inner strength to work through yet another betrayal without it crushing him, because this time Merlin wouldn't be around to pick up the pieces and to encourage him to move beyond it.

He didn't think Arthur would become another Uther, and lay the blame at magic's door for Merlin's failings. But as much as Arthur was different to his father, when it came down to the heart of it all, Arthur was not ready to accept those who had magic, especially not from someone he'd trusted to be honest with him, who'd hidden such a vital truth for far too long.

Arthur had taken some baby steps in the path towards the destiny Kilgharrah had said they'd share, but Arthur's desperate wish to save his father had turned out to be a deal with the devil for both of them, and his acceptance of the druids as his people had not resulted in any changes to the laws on magic.

The friendship that Merlin valued beyond anything else was in tatters, and the best he could hope for was that one day, in the distant future, Arthur would come to understand, and to forgive.

But now, Arthur had a kingdom to lead, a relationship with Gwen to rebuild, and the loss of his uncle to work through, and Merlin didn't want Arthur bogged down in anger, or hurt, or any sense of betrayal because of him too. Merlin had to make it as easy as he could for Arthur, and he knew just what to do, in this, Arthur would be far too easy to predict.

And so Merlin turned and faced Arthur and said it again, quiet yet firm, so there could be no mistake. "Yes, Arthur, I killed with magic."

Merlin took a few steps forwards, closing the gap between them, stopping when they were only a few paces apart. He glanced behind Arthur, at Gwen's tears, at Leon's pale face, at Gwaine's troubled gaze, at the other knights. They weren't all lost to him yet, but they would be, he'd make sure of it, because they were Arthur's, not his.

He chose his words carefully, deceptively calm. "I've killed many times with magic. Why would I use a sword? Do you know how easy it is for me? Just a glance, and that's it, they're all dead. I don't need a sword, or a crossbow, just a thought, just magic, and it's over."

He saw their doubt, but they were looking at the wrong person. He didn't want it to be like this, but he'd always do what was necessary. "Watch," he said. Seeing would make them believe. "I'll show you."

He sent a sharp burst of thought at Aithusa to remain quiet in his corner by the window. There would be no divided loyalties here today, when it ended even Gwaine would stay.

He waited, they watched, and he tried to remember how to breathe. For so long he'd tried not to see this truth about himself, but he accepted it now, it was him.

He flung out his hands, and all the chairs in the room lifted in synchronisation and hovered, floating in the air, a prelude to something ominous. Merlin spoke no words and left the chairs suspended above the table for a long, drawn-out moment, then at a slight movement of his fingers they began to spin, slowly at first, then gradually with ever-increasing speed until they were a blur above the table.

Merlin's eyes flicked to his left, and the chairs flew with lightning speed and slammed into the stone wall, shattering under the impact in storm of beautiful violence. Splinters of broken wood twisted in the air and rained down like daggers near Leon, who flinched, but the shards stopped as if they'd hit an invisible barrier and clattered to the floor away from him.

The silence was louder than the cries of battle, the tension in the room a palpable thing. Merlin slowly lowered his hands and dipped his head so they wouldn't see the sheen in his eyes. He crossed his arms to hide the tremor in them, and his voice was calm in contrast to the horror of his actions. "That's how easy it is for me, Arthur, to kill."

He swallowed and collected himself. "And that's what I did to Agravaine. This is who I am, and now you know."

He waited.

He'd never seen Arthur so lost for words. He watched the expressions flick across his face in rapid succession; anger, a trace of fear, disbelief, raw anguish, anger again ... and then a studied blankness, and somehow it was that lack which made Merlin feel worse.

It was Gwen who broke the strained silence. "Merlin ... this isn't you ... I don't believe it.".

Merlin was shamed but defiant. "You're wrong, Gwen. It is me. It's always been me." And it was, because his magic wasn't all sweetness and light and cleaning Arthur's muddy boots, there was a necessary darkness to what he did too. He couldn't protect his king and carry out his destiny without being prepared to do whatever it took, even if it was to lie to those you loved, and to kill.

He switched his attention back to Arthur again, and to Leon, who'd come up behind his king, his hand resting on his sword hilt. United they stood against him. "Yes Arthur, this is me. What are you going to do about it?"

Something flared in Arthur's face, and then the king reigned himself in. "I'm trying to have a conversation with you about it, that's what."

The explanation was too easy, whatever Arthur was feeling was held too much in check, and Merlin wouldn't accept it. And so he pushed. "But why, Arthur? I mean, why bother? After all you've told me often enough what you think of magic, of me. Bit late for a conversation about it, isn't it?"

Arthur's mask cracked just a fraction, he took a step closer. "Now, hold on, that's hardly fair. This was your choice to hide what you can do, what you are, from your king."

Back down and obey me, it was said, but not in words.

But Merlin wouldn't back down, it was too late for that. "No, I won't hold on. I've hidden what I am, what I can do, all my life." He'd weathered Arthur's temper often enough too, but never had he seen the tightly held emotions simmering in Arthur like this, and for a moment he felt a sense of wonder that he could be the cause of so much emotion in his king.

But his wonder was quickly cast aside, because Merlin was angry too: angry, resentful, hurt. He'd had to bottle everything up for so long, to pretend he didn't feel, to be powerless when he was anything but, to turn a blind eye when he could save a life. "How do you think it makes me feel to know the people I care for and protect would see me burn if they knew what I could do?" For just a moment the loneliness and despair was crippling, and the dull pain in his head sharpened to a vicious throb.

Arthur's face was a war of expressions Merlin couldn't comprehend, he said tightly, "I wouldn't see you burn, Merlin. None of us would."

It didn't matter. "No, I don't suppose you would, that was your father's style, wasn't it? Banishment is the best I can hope for, right?" Words had always been his weapon.

Arthur gritted his teeth, he seemed to be fighting a battle within himself, then his eyes narrowed and that was the only warning Merlin had before he launched himself at Merlin with a fighter's speed. For a moment Merlin thought he was going to get a punch in the face, and he had a split second to gather his magic and think oh no you won't, but instead Arthur grabbed the front of Merlin's shirt, yanking him off balance.

The gauntlet had been taken up with vehemence, and Arthur hissed, "So you think I shouldn't be angry? You think I shouldn't care that you lied for so long, that you said nothing to me, not once! What do you expect of me? To let it go, to tell you I'm fine with it, just like that?"

Merlin had to grab onto Arthur's arm to stop himself falling, magic buzzed at his fingertips and his injured side hurt again because he'd knocked it against Arthur's hip. "Just be honest, won't you? Because you're not fine with it, are you?"

Arthur shook him, and Merlin stumbled again. "I am trying to be honest, but all you're doing is arguing, and throwing your ... abilities in my face, you won't discuss anything. What's with you Merlin, are you goading me on purpose?"

Merlin almost laughed. "Right, Arthur. Make it about you. Of course. You asked me for the truth, I gave it to you. I have magic, I said it. Should I have told you it was harmless, that I used magic to ... grow flowers, or something? But I kill with it, I do. This is me. What's the point of a discussion? Why? What do you think will come of it?"

Arthur's fist was white-knuckled around Merlin's shirt, he took a step forwards, pushing, and his other hand closed vice-like over Merlin's elbow, his fingers hard through Merlin's jacket. "I don't know what to think, I've only known about this for half a day, how can this be easy? And you want honesty from me? Then honestly, I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do, there you have it. That's honesty."

Arthur was a breath away, he was too close, and for a moment there was naked anguish in his face, and Merlin didn't want to see it, he wanted away. He wasn't thinking when he pushed at Arthur with his magic, it wasn't hard but it was enough, and Arthur dropped his hold and stared at him with something bordering on shocked outrage.

Merlin took the opportunity to twist away, his eyes were stinging, his head was pounding in a brutal rhythm, and the ugly bruise around the cut in his side throbbed with pain. He hunched his shoulders and squeezed his eyes shut, but one tear escaped and trickled down his face. The grief he felt as his world continued to implode around him was all encompassing, and he struggled to keep his composure.

He didn't want it to end, but there was no other way. How had it come to this? How had he messed up so badly? Now there was nothing left, no home, no friends, the great destiny he was meant to have in jeopardy. Why hadn't Kilgharrah warned him there'd come a time when his only option was to walk away?

Across the room, Aithusa made a tiny sound of distress, and the golden glow surrounding the dragon stuttered. It was like a cold bucket of water and Merlin was almost grateful, because Aithusa's distress helped him remember his other responsibilities. There was a world out there that'd carry on regardless and he had to go on with it, and he scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand and took deep breaths and concentrated on calming himself, and Aithusa.

He could feel Arthur's stare burning into the back of his neck, and when he felt he was in control of himself again, he gathered his courage and turned around.

Merlin flinched, they'd almost bumped shoulders, Arthur was closer than he'd expected, only a hand span away. Merlin's magic twisted uneasily in the pit of his stomach as Arthur gave him a narrow-eyed stare, but he kept his head up and met the challenge defiantly.

But then Arthur sighed and dipped his head, and ran a hand through his hair wearily. Whatever he'd read in Merlin's face seemed to melt his anger away, he pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his forehead, and when he spoke he sounded as tired as Merlin felt. "Why are we doing this, Merlin?"

He wouldn't cry. "There's not much point, is there? I'll go, Arthur. Just ... I'll go. I'm sorry."

Arthur's eyes were very blue. "You're not leaving."

He had to. "What else can I do?"

"We can get through this, Merlin."

Merlin shook his head. "No, we can't, Arthur. We can't. It's too late." His throat choked, because he knew that to be true. The distance between them now was too wide to bridge, it was as simple as that.

Arthur's hand closed over his wrist. "Don't you want to even try?"

Merlin pulled away, hurt sparking. "Do you? Why, I mean, there's no point, is there? There's no trust now, it's gone. I lied, I kept all this from you, and now you don't trust me."

"And you never trusted me, Merlin. Not with this truth about you. I thought we were friends."

"We were friends when it suited you, Arthur. Don't pretend that you care."

Arthur swallowed the retort, because there was a truth there, their friendship had been too one-sided, he hadn't been a good friend. "But I do trust you, Merlin. I trust that you would never harm me with your magic. I've never once even thought you would."

"But it's not enough, is it?" Because it wasn't, it wasn't enough for either of them, the truth had opened a chasm between them.

Arthur stared at him for a long moment, and then he gave a tiny shake of his head and said almost inaudibly, "I don't know how to keep trying with you, Merlin, and I am trying." And it went against the grain, the only other person he'd bothered with to this extent, and fought so hard to keep a connection with despite everything, had been his father. Part of him didn't understand why he'd put himself out on a limb and fight for this friendship, and it was a fight, both with himself and with Merlin. "Why can't you give me the same courtesy of belief, as I do you?"

But Merlin couldn't explain. How could he believe in someone else when he didn't believe in himself? He lied all the time, how could he expect trust and honesty when he couldn't give it, he couldn't expect forgiveness because it wasn't something he deserved.

Merlin gave him a small, sad smile. "I have to go. You know I do. I can't stay, it wouldn't be fair, to you."

"Don't make this about me, Merlin. I didn't lie. I didn't withhold information."

"And why do you think I did, Arthur?"

"Why did you stay, if you had such little faith in me?"

The ache was deep in Merlin's soul, it would never ease. It had been the purpose of his life, but he couldn't talk about destiny and what should have been, not now. "I wanted to."

"And you don't, now?"

"Yes. No. Well, I can't, it won't be the same, will it?"

Arthur asked, "Why not?"

"Because you know about the magic, Arthur. You know. You were never meant to. It wasn't supposed to happen." He bowed his head, it felt like they were going over and over the same ground time and time again.

"Why couldn't you tell me? Maybe not when my father was still alive, but why not afterwards?"

Merlin's emotions were like a wave, up and down. "Why would I tell you? Everything in my life has changed now, because you know. Do you think for a single moment this is what I wanted? And what if I had told you, a few weeks ago, or a few months ago? You valued Agravaine over everyone, Arthur. It wouldn't have mattered if I'd begged you to not to tell him about me, you would have given me up to him, then where would we be? Still out in the woods probably."

Arthur's hand flew up and grabbed his wrist again, his eyes were stormy. "That's a low blow, Merlin. Not a real reason."

"You really want to have it all out, don't you Arthur?" Merlin couldn't let go of the hurt and pretend it didn't matter, it cut too deep into his soul. "You told me, you told me, magic is evil and can't be trusted. You said it! And you're right. I am magic, and I lie, I've lied all my life, it was the first lesson I learnt, hide your magic, never ever tell. Lie about who you are, about what you can do."

Arthur tried to understand, to see past his own turmoil, because he did want to see, as difficult as it was. "I'm sorry. I am sorry. I know I said it. But I ... I didn't mean you were evil, Merlin. I would never mean you. You must know that."

There was a long silence. Then Merlin said quietly, "I understand. Yes, of course. I get it."

"You do? Then – what is it?"

"It's not about any of that." Merlin's head came up, he tugged at his arm, hard, and Arthur let go. "It's a strategic decision, isn't it? It's tactical, about what's best for Camelot. It's not about accepting me, it's not about friendship, or ... trust. It's making sure I'm on your side, that I don't join up with Morgana. You don't have to pretend Arthur, I'd never help her."

The accusation, true or not, was an insult, and Merlin knew it, but he couldn't stop the hurtful words tumbling out of his mouth. He saw something ugly in Arthur's eyes, but before either of them could escalate it further, Gwen was there between them, and Merlin jumped, he was so focused on Arthur he'd almost forgotten there was anyone else in the room.

She reached out and clasped one of Merlin's hands in her own, tugging him closer so she could reach across for Arthur's hand too. Her face was flushed, she looked on the verge of tears. "Stop this, please. I can't listen to what the two of you are doing to each other any longer. Please don't do this, don't tear each other apart. Remember that you care for each other, that you're best friends."

Merlin's heart was thumping too fast, and hand felt awkward in hers, he was uncomfortable and he didn't want to be touched, he was too close to flying completely apart. Her hand was too warm and too soft, the antithesis to his, he was brittle and too ready to shatter.

And his magic mirrored his unease, it jumped around his body in the same crazy rhythm as his heart. It was automatic to duck his head to hide the golden flickering of his eyes, it had been years since he'd been so tense for such a long, drawn out period, he kept his head down and other than a tightening of his jaw there were no outwards signs of his turmoil.

Gwen sighed quietly. "Arthur, when I asked you what you wanted when we found out Merlin was a dragonlord, you said you wanted a friendship based on honesty. You both need to be truthful with each other, but it has to be done with mutual respect, please. All I'm seeing is the two of you trying to ignore your own hurt, by hurting each other."

Merlin couldn't look away from the floor. A friendship based on honesty. His nose prickled, and he tugged away from Gwen's grip, tucking his hands under his arms. There was a sour taste in his mouth. "But you see, Gwen, if I'm honest about things ... then all I can say honestly is that I don't know if I can be honest."

He thought about the lies he'd told over the years, the poisoning, he thought about those he'd killed, how it had gone so wrong with Uther, how he'd enchanted Arthur, and misled him to save Aithusa, and how he'd do it all over again. He couldn't talk about any of it, it defeated him. "I can't promise to be honest. I just don't know if I can."

Gwen squeezed his shoulder gently. "Then we start with the small things. The two of you can do this gradually, okay?"

He didn't want to, the idea of forcing himself to be open about things he tried not to think about filled him with unease. But at the same time the idea of a life where he wasn't always at Arthur's side even in some insignificant way, was unbearable. And he couldn't understand why Gwen wasn't pushing him away, it was something he couldn't comprehend. Merlin risked a glance at Arthur, who was regarding him steadily.

"Arthur?" Gwen also looked at her husband-to-be.

Arthur cleared his throat. He squeezed Gwen's hand in brief acknowledgement and then let go, turning his attention back to Merlin before glancing over once at the knights. Merlin followed his gaze; Leon was still cautious but more relaxed than he'd been previously, Percival was silent and serious, Elyan had an odd expression on his face of what might have been sympathy, Gwaine was shifting from one foot to another and holding a shattered piece of one of the chairs, and Tristan was still propping up the wall, vaguely curious but detached from them all.

Arthur touched Merlin's arm to gain his attention, then he motioned his head to the side and strode away. Merlin followed, and when Arthur had decided they had sufficient privacy he stopped, and Merlin hesitated behind him.

It was another uneasy truce, and Arthur broke the silence. "Okay, the magic, and the dragonlord thing. I don't know, just ... just let's forget about it, for a moment."

"Forget about it?" He wished it could be that simple.

Arthur pushed ahead. "There's something ... I don't know if this is easier, but I have to know."

Merlin swallowed, cautious. "What, Arthur?"

"Who is Emrys, Merlin?"

It was unexpected. "Emrys?" The few steps past Arthur and away were instinctive, then he stopped, the wall was in front of him, there was nowhere left to go.

"I know about him." Arthur was behind him, he felt too close. "Is he you?"

No, he couldn't do this, it was too much.

Merlin's stomach lurched, his magic had been rebelling against its constraints almost from the time his dragonlord heritage had been announced to the room, and now, with a loud crack, the stone wall in front of him fractured, and slivers of brick and mortar trickled down, sending up a hazy cloud of dust. Through the jagged break in the wall the sun beamed in, bathing him in a soft, gold light.

The shock of the damage he'd caused was enough to pull him out of his self-centred misery. It had been years since he'd lost control of his magic, sickness churned in his gut as he realised what he could have done if he'd been facing the other way, he could have killed them all.

Arthur was right not to have faith in him, and he never had, and he never would.

He whispered, "Weallstilling," and the stone whirled back into place, the wall repaired itself, and the sun and its warmth faded away. He had to think. He felt on the verge of tears again. Emrys. Arthur. He mustn't lose sight of the end goal, Arthur had to have faith in Emrys, if he didn't, then Albion would never be.

Merlin pressed a hand against his forehead, the throbbing behind his eyes was increasing its tempo and moving into the back of his head. In the end there wasn't a choice, he'd lie because he had to, again and again and again, he'd lie when Arthur had asked for honesty, when he'd demanded it from Arthur himself.

Lies, hidden truths and lack of trust would always come between them now. For Arthur to know the truth would be the end of it all, to tell another lie left the faintest chance.

Liar. Murderer. What else was he? He reached out and touched the now unbroken stone, picking at the traces of mortar with his fingernail.

"The wall ..." Arthur shook his head. "What happened then, Merlin?"

He shut his eyes. "I repaired it."

Arthur's voice was a low hum behind him. "That's not what I meant."

Merlin shook his head and swallowed, his throat working. Then he said quietly, "I'm not Emrys, Arthur."

Arthur's hand on his arm made him turn around, and Merlin hurriedly wiped the torment from his face. Arthur seemed troubled. "You're not Emrys?"

Merlin knew how to deceive, he shook his head, reinforcing the lie. "No I'm not."

"Geoffrey told me Emrys is a powerful sorcerer. A warlock."

Geoffrey? It threw him. "Yes he is."

"You know that?"

"It's prophesised. Anyone magical has heard the story."

"You speak of the prophecy concerning Emrys and the Once and Future King?"

"Yes."

"You called me that, the Once and Future King."

Yes. Merlin tried to shake off his sadness, it was like a blanket smothering him.

"What about the old man, Dragoon?"

"What about him?"

"I know he tried to heal my father, Merlin. Gaius told me about the pendant that reversed his healing spell. I know he meant well. Is he Emrys?"

The shock was so great, Merlin almost forgot to breathe. "You know he meant well? Why didn't you say something?"

"I thought you knew." Arthur didn't understand the significance of his casual revelation. "If Gaius knew ... then I was sure the two of you would have discussed it. You mean, you didn't?"

Merlin was numb. "No, we did. I just didn't realise ... I didn't realise that you thought ... that you didn't blame him. I thought ... I thought you hated him."

Arthur made a leap, and misunderstood. He said slowly, "Is he related to you, Merlin?"

He should have realised. "No."

"Then tell me, Merlin. I need to know. Dragoon, the old man. Is he the Emrys Morgana spoke of?"

Merlin looked at him for a long moment, his fingers curled into fists and his nails dug into the palm of his hand. His mind raced, it could work. He could still see Arthur, as Dragoon. To be with him. To protect him, to start to get him to build a trust in someone with magic, all without their failed friendship coming between them.

He thought feverishly, and tried to weigh up the pros and the cons. It could be a new beginning. And after all, Morgana knew Dragoon as Emrys too. Was it fated to be?

"Merlin."

Merlin was finding it hard to concentrate, and he needed time to think this through, to work out if more lies were better than the truth. He stalled. "You really want to know who Emrys is?"

"Merlin, do you know? Tell me."

It wasn't lies that were a weight around his neck, it was the truth, but they were so tangled together they almost seemed as one. Merlin ignored the little voice that cautioned him and said don't do this, he had to believe this way out was right.

Merlin looked Arthur straight in the eye and forged ahead. "I know, and I'll tell you. Emrys has many faces, and Dragoon is one. Yes, Arthur, Dragoon is Emrys. He's Morgana's greatest foe."

It was done.


A/N: Thanks for reading, it's difficult to try and keep this in character when we haven't seen a situation like this on the show. If you like this, please let me know, positive reviews are a big motivator when I'm wrestling with this fic. :D