Chapter 17

Merlin was already too late.

By the time he reached the knights, it was chaos. Riding fast towards them, he could see a spray of red, bloody against the mists, and a scream gurgling into silence. There were shouts and the clang of swords, cries of warning and retreat. Shredded cloaks and horses with their sides ripped open and more roars of fury. In amongst the trees, Merlin could hear Arthur telling them to regroup, and then in the tumult, there was another agonized cry.

His horse fighting him, Merlin jumped off, grabbing the medical kit just as the horse bolted. But he didn't have time to think. Running toward the turmoil, he could see the huge white dog, coated in blood and gore rearing up and then charging into the scatter of knights, Arthur foremost among them. Swords rose and then crashed down, but like the griffin so long ago, the metal shattered, useless against it. As Arthur disappeared in the fray, his voice rising over the din as he tried to reform the knights, his shouts were cut short, groans instead painting the air with a terrible finality.

For the merest second, Merlin froze. Then quickly, spying a half-broken sword lying in the dirt, he grabbed it, chanting as he sprinted toward the monster. "Bregdan anweald sweord; ácwele helrúnan."

The blade was glowing, blue with magic, soaked with power. He raised it high, then threw it, end over end, sending it hard and fast into the fiend's back.

With an unearthly roar, impossibly, the gigantic dog turned and charged him, saliva-soaked, blood dripping from its powerful jaws, eyes glowing hellfire-red. He'd never seen anything move that fast; he didn't even have time to react. As the animal ploughed into him, he was thrown upward and away with one powerful swipe of a massive paw. And for a moment as he flew through the air, clear as glass, he could see the knights scattered, bloodied, below him, and Arthur lying on the ground, curling inward as if wounded, his chainmail ripped, life pouring out between his hands.

His heart stopping as he realised that he'd failed, he'd failed. It had all been for nothing.

Then, a tree rose up and hit him and there was an agony of broken things against his skull and finally, thankfully, darkness.


When he woke, headache as awful as any he'd ever experienced, he was in Gaius's rooms. There were guards by the door and the old man was fussing somewhere nearby. Merlin could hear the mutterings, of stupidity and recklessness and how he'd managed not to get killed while being such an idiot.

But when Merlin tried to move, groaning as he did, Gaius was at his side. A firm hand pushed him back down and the old man's face sharpened into a deep scowl. "It is a good thing you have such a thick skull."

"It feels like there's a herd of badgers inside pounding away with war hammers." Even saying it hurt. In fact, everything hurt. It was if he was one giant bruise interspersed with ripples of jagged bone sticking into his back, his sides, his everything. But that didn't stop him from grabbing onto Gaius's hand. "What happened? Where's Arthur? Is he all right?"

"Mer…," Gaius started to tell him, then glanced at the guards and changed into a low, hurried murmur, "Emrys, he's… he's in a bad way. I couldn't do anything for him. Blaise, too, tried, but…."

Merlin didn't want to hear what he was going to say. He knew that it was bad, that whatever he'd seen in the forest in those brief moments was somehow true, all that pain and terror and spilled gore.

As Gaius pulled his fingers out from under Merlin's hands, wincing as he did so, Merlin steadied himself, expecting nothing but devastation.

"It's a gut wound, deep, and bowels shredded."

For a heartbeat, he couldn't breathe, couldn't even comprehend what Gaius was saying. The words washed over him, unfathomable noise morphing into grief. "We stopped the bleeding. There may have been poison in the fangs but that was the least of it. We were able to counteract that but although we pieced him back together, reconstructing bowel as best we could, infection had already set in. It's only a matter of time before the end."

Fury kicked in, and despair. "No, no, I won't let him, I can't…I can't let it end like this." Merlin pushed himself up, ignoring the ragged lightning thrashing about inside his skull. "I can heal him, I know I can."

"The king has refused magic. Blaise, much to his credit, told him that it was the only way but Arthur was adamant."

"He's a supercilious, idiotic, stubborn, cabbage-headed arse." The white-hot frustration with Arthur was nearly as painful as the pounding in his head.

"Yes, he is." At least Gaius didn't disagree with him.

He needed to take a couple of breaths, just to push past his anger and think clearly enough to fix it all. "Can I see him?"

Shaking his head, glancing toward the men standing by the door, Gaius murmured, "He's heavily guarded as are you. I doubt you would get within ten feet of him."

"I can't…," he started to argue, knowing that in his current state it would be difficult to avoid getting caught if he tried to get to Arthur, when Gwen came sweeping into the room. Surprised, Merlin said, "Gwen, err, Your Majesty."

She looked as stricken as Merlin felt, her face drawn, bruised colour under her eyes, her hair messy, her dress, usually fitted perfectly and riddled with pearls and embroidery, was a sombre, unadorned grey. Nevertheless, she turned toward the guards, and every inch a queen, said, "Leave us."

Waiting until the men bowed and slunk out of the door, closing it behind them, she turned back to them both. Deliberate, decisive, she walked over to where Merlin sat.

"Emrys, my husband has expressly forbidden magic to be used on him. But I am not my husband. I assume Gaius told you about his injuries." It was obvious she was anguished. Even as she tried to put on a brave front, her fingers were busy, knotting and unknotting stray threads on one sleeve. Merlin didn't think she was even aware of it. "Can you cure him?"

He wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. But he wouldn't lie to Gwen. Until he saw Arthur with his own eyes, he couldn't be sure that he could save him. "My lady, I don't know. I can only try."

Seeming to understand his caution, she said, "If he wants to rage later, I will take the blame. But cure him and I will be forever in your debt."

This would make things much easier. He could even bring magic books if necessary. "Can you get me into his rooms?"

"I can get you anything you need."


It was worse than he thought. He'd been a physician's assistant long enough to know the smells, the beginnings of rotting flesh, the acrid odor of dried blood and infection-borne sweat. Merlin's body still protesting the movement, although Gaius's remedy for his headache was working well enough, he hobbled over to Arthur.

But what he saw was just as worrisome. Arthur's face was sunken in, his cheeks flushed and haggard, hair matted with blood and illness. If Gwen's eyes had been bruised, the skin under Arthur's was almost purple.

When Merlin leaned over and gently touched Arthur's forehead, he could feel him burning up. The infection was running strong. If Arthur wasn't cured soon, he would die.

He was muttering, too, nonsense words, and once or twice Merlin thought he heard his name rasped out but that didn't seem possible. It must have been the fever muddying Arthur's senses.

The physician, Blaise, had looked up when Merlin came in but relaxed when Gwen followed close behind him. Now, Merlin needed to know what potions had been used. He didn't want his magic to counteract anything that might be beneficial. "What have you given him for the fever?"

Blaise's voice was deep and steady. "Vinegar to clean the wound and yarrow, fox's clote, self-heal, wine for the infection. The fever has been steadily rising no matter what I do. Cool cloths, chamomile with honey, laurel, arnica, willowbark tea. Poppy for the pain." He nodded to Gaius, spreading his hands wide in hopelessness. "I've run out of things to try."

Nodding, Merlin knew that the physician had done his best. Those were all things Gaius would have used, too. No wonder Blaise was willing to let Merlin in. It would seem that magic was the last resort after all.

"And the monster's poison?" He didn't want to ask, hoped that it would be the least of his worries.

"Southernwood was effective." That was a relief at least but as Blaise looked down at a fevered Arthur, he said, "His illness is not a matter of poison but of wounds gone septic."

"Thank you for trying." As Blaise stepped back, Merlin reached out, drew his hand across Arthur's brow, feeling the heat rising sharp. There was little time left. He looked up again, over to Gwen who stood there, hand to mouth as if trying to keep her sobs from spilling out.

He didn't want to hurt her but he didn't want her to interfere, either. The cure might come easily enough but then again, sometimes what he needed to do could seem cruel; to the uninformed, it might seem as though he were brutalising the body to drive out the illness. "My lady, this may hurt him. Sometimes when wounds heal, they pull against the nerves. He may cry out, gasp or seem to be in pain. You must be prepared for this."

But Gwen was strong, stronger than most. She'd seen enough of healing over the years to know the costs. "Just cure him, Emrys." She straightened, nodded down to Arthur. "Whatever it takes."

He gestured her back and Blaise, too. He didn't need the distraction. As Gwen sat down, face stricken, he could see the physician trying to comfort her, but she just shook her head and watched from a distance.

Turning back to Arthur, he lifted the bed clothes, parted the bandages to look at the wounds. What he saw was horrific. Merlin had been unconscious, hadn't seen what the monstrous dog had done, but it would seem that Arthur's guts were torn to shreds. It was a wonder he'd lived long enough to return to Camelot.

What repairs Gaius and Blaise had done were not enough, would never be enough. The rips into his skin, sewn carefully in an attempt to save Arthur, were puffy red, seeping yellow pus. The smell, too, was one of nearing death, of rotting flesh.

He had to work fast or else it would be too late.

With that, Merlin pulled Arthur's hand into his own. The heat of his illness wound its way up Merlin's arm, settled into his chest, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe for the terror of it. If he couldn't, if he wasn't able to cure Arthur, he'd lose him all over again, and this time, it would be forever.

It couldn't come to that, it wouldn't. He'd die first.

Pushing the fear aside, he forgot about time and dread and loss. Instead, magic began to gather, in his gut, in his mind, in his heart, sun-gold, rich with meaning and powerful. His voice lowered, he let go of it, pouring it into his king. "Ic þé þurhhæle þínu lícsár."

Arthur started to shake, to pull against Merlin's grip but he held on, chanting, ""Ic þé þurhhæle þínu lícsár. Innoþwund, lácne." Over and over, and with it, Arthur began to moan as if in pain. "Feberádl gecælee."

As his hand cooled, the wounds began to knit together, stitches merging into flesh. Babbling nonsense, begging him to stop, that it hurt, Arthur gave a great heave up, his body arching as he thrashed about. Groaning louder, voice higher and higher in pain as Merlin chanted magic into Arthur's skin. Behind him, Gwen was sobbing, but no one tried to stop him. No one could have. For Merlin was sending all the power he had into Arthur, and it was working, slowly, but working.

As Arthur slid back into moaning and then into a normal kind of silence, breathing in and out, a healing sleep, his skin cleared, the yellow pus disappearing and sweat drying. On his belly were scars that would always remain, a reminder of what he'd gone through, but at least he would be able to fight another day.

As Merlin started to check Arthur's vital signs, Gaius, next to him, whispered, "He'll live thanks to you, Merlin."

"Gaius, don't." Looking up, scowling, Merlin muttered back, "He can't ever know who I really am."

Under his hand, Arthur was restless but as Merlin smoothed his fingertips over one scarred shoulder, he settled back into sleep.

But Gaius wouldn't let it go. "What if you are wrong? What if the Sidhe were lying about it?"

"I can't take that chance." Merlin shook his head, looked down at the frown on Arthur's face, and lightly stroked it flat. It would seem his king was still in pain a bit, even if he was healed. Blaise would have to watch out for secondary infections and for tears in the scars in his gut.

As he finished up, started to pull the bedclothes over Arthur's stomach, Merlin said, "The Sidhe were very clear. He'll die if I tell him the truth. I have to be Emrys now, no matter how much I wish it were different. I couldn't… if he died because of me… Gaius, I can't."

Shaking his head, giving a resigned sigh, Gaius said, "My boy, if only Arthur knew how much you've done for him over the years."

As he gestured Blaise and Gwen over, Merlin said, "It will be enough that he lives."

Blaise, it would seem, was eager to look at Merlin's work. Gwen held Arthur's hand while Blaise pulled the bedclothes down once more and started to gently, very gently, prod at the scars.

"My lady, I've done all I could. The fever is gone and I believe the wounds are healed well enough. As I'm sure Master Blaise will tell you, Arthur, I mean His Majesty, will need to take it easy for a while, but I expect him to be ignoring doctor's orders soon enough."

"Emrys, we are in your debt." She glanced at him, then turned toward Arthur, holding his hand against her breast. For a moment, she said nothing, just looked down at him. Then seeming to gather herself, Gwen looked up again at Merlin. "If it is within my power, ask anything of me and it shall be yours."

It didn't matter. What he really wanted, she could never give him.

Instead Merlin said, "Try and get him to change his mind about the laws on magic. You have seen Morgana's hatred, but remember Merlin's love and devotion, too. Magic can be used for good, if given half the chance. Please, my lady, let magic be allowed back in Camelot."

She gave him a small, sad smile. "I'll try, Emrys. For your sake and for what you've done today, I'll try."

Chapter 18

Gwen must have been very persuasive.

While magic was still against the laws of Camelot, the next day, the bounty posters for Merlin disappeared. And when he stood on the hill overlooking the lower town, ready for a magical demonstration, the knights just paused there by the gate, watching. No running after him, no swords waving, no shouting at him to stop, nothing about arrest or magic was evil or anything like that. After a moment, they all turned away, began to disperse and go about their business of training on the green.

It was as if he were tolerated at long last, if not accepted wholeheartedly.

Later in the day, after his second appearance — and the water jumping from bucket to bucket was a big success with the children, he looked up to find Arthur watching him from the battlements.

He looked well enough, although still pale. The frown on Arthur's face wasn't that of hatred but confusion, almost as if he was looking for something he'd thought he'd lost and finding something else entirely. And he didn't turn away when Merlin looked back, just kept staring down at him as if trying to fathom him out. He wasn't raging either, a good thing considering the past few weeks, but when Merlin gave him a slight smile, Arthur jerked back, blinking, and then walked away, out of sight.

When he left, to Merlin's eyes, all the colour seemed to leach out of Camelot.

But something was going on inside that straw-for-brains head of Arthur's, perhaps even something good.

For a change.


Meeting Gaius for dinner, the first one they'd had together in days, was a welcome break. Merlin had been careful to make sure no one saw him climb the stairs to Gaius's chambers as always, but with the tensions in the castle easing a bit, it almost felt as if he needn't have worried. So, too, sitting at the little table, he felt calmer, less concerned about arrests and a furious Arthur than he had been in some time. Gaius, too, seemed untroubled.

Neither of them mentioned the looming deadline of Samhain.

It still raged at the back of Merlin's mind, much as the bruises pulled on him or sudden tinges of pain flaring up when he moved too fast from his encounter with the Cwn Annwn, but he was running out of ideas. He was about ready to beg Arthur, do almost anything to get the clotpole to change his mind, and most of the time, he was on the edge of desperation.

But for now, just for a little while, he wanted to put it all aside and just enjoy Gaius's company.

Of course, Gaius had to wait until Merlin had stuffed his mouth full of bread and chicken before saying, "Arthur wants to meet with you tomorrow. A parley of sorts." It took a while for the coughing to stop and Gaius was looking far too innocent for it to have been an accident. "Eating that fast will give you hiccups."

Merlin took a gulp of water, cleared his throat, glared a bit at the old man, then said, "What do you think he wants?"

"He's been asking a lot of questions about magic and transformations and the Sidhe and especially who you are, where you are from, and what your motives might be." He leaned back, frowning, turning inward for a moment. "I'm not sure but he seems to be brooding quite a bit about something."

"That is better than trying to take my head off."

"It's a miracle you still have your head on considering how reckless you are." Raising his eyebrows as if daring him to disagree, when Merlin didn't say anything, Gaius just shook his head. They both knew Gaius was right about Merlin's sometimes rash decisions. "He also asked about what it was like before the Purge, about sorcerers and magical limits and how other kingdoms deal with magic."

That sounded very encouraging. Merlin might have even called it hopeful. "Do you think he might change his mind? That healing him might have been the key?"

"You'll have to ask him." Looking serious, Gaius reached over, patted Merlin's hand. "Just be careful."

"Aren't I always?"


Arthur was waiting for him in the council chamber. Merlin had walked right past the guards and they hadn't stopped him, didn't acknowledge him at all, just opened the door and closed it behind him. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not but at least they hadn't tried to kill him this time.

Inside, Arthur was alone, seated at the head of the table, two goblets next to him.

It was to be a private audience, then.

"Emrys, be welcome." Gesturing for Merlin to sit next to him and then shoving one goblet in his direction, Arthur waited until Merlin had settled into the seat and taken a small sip before saying, "You are a mystery, a sorcerer who came out of nowhere. That story about you being from Willowdale doesn't hold up. No one there has ever heard of you." Turning toward him, looking at Merlin with an unblinking stare, he said, "Do all sorcerers lie?"

With Arthur so close, it took everything in Merlin not to beg for forgiveness, not to babble out all the things he'd never got to say, to confess who and what he was. To touch Arthur's arm and fall against his neck and weep.

But instead, pushing the goblet aside, putting both hands flat on the table, he said, "I was afraid that solders would come and destroy my village if anyone knew where I was from. But I've not lied about why I'm here, nor about my loyalties to you and to Camelot." When Arthur scowled at that, Merlin raised his chin, daring him to object. "I've had to hide who I was and what I was for my entire life. If that is a lie, then yes, sorcerers lie."

For the longest time, Arthur just stared at him, silent but as focused as Merlin had ever seen him. Fingers rigid against his mouth, cupping his face as he sat there, thinking hard and long. Merlin had seen it a thousand times when Arthur was trying to make sense of things. Not a hunter looking for prey, probing for weaknesses, but a king trying to find truth in a tangle of lies.

But whatever he found, he did not say. Instead, letting his hand fall away, he gave a single nod. "Merlin would have told me the same thing."

Hearing his name was like a jolt of lightning, a sharp warning that there was still much to lose. "Merlin was a wise man."

"Merlin was an idiot." For a brief second, Arthur looked as if he were going to smile, a lightness showing in his eyes, but it leached away and what remained was only a sad kind of longing. "Clumsy, foolish, always throwing himself into danger no matter what I said, a reckless dollop-head who frustrated me no end. I was supposed to be the one protecting him and all along he…."

As Arthur stumbled into silence, Merlin couldn't help it. Arthur had to know how much he meant to him. "You were his whole world. He'd have done anything for you, no matter what the cost to himself."

It didn't seem to comfort Arthur. "He believed in me and now he's gone."

"A choice he was willing to make."

Merlin wanted to put meaning behind it, to let Arthur know that it was always Merlin's gift to him, to sacrifice everything for him. But Arthur just shook his head and lapsed back into brooding. Leaning back, fingertips against his mouth again, his eyes stormy with emotion, Arthur let the silence linger.

Then, his back hard against the chair, mouth white with tension, he said, "You have magic. Can you bring Merlin back?"

Startled, he almost choked. That Arthur would want Merlin to bring him back when he was sitting right there was ironic. But of course, Arthur didn't know that.

"No. Once someone has passed through the veil, there is no return."

Arthur watched him as he said, "Lancelot came back."

Remembering the time when he'd thought Lancelot had returned, there had been so much joy at first, then that had turned into sorrow, and finally into hard duty when Merlin had to betray him. Lancelot had been himself again for a brief moment of thanks by the lake, and then he was gone forever and Merlin alone, alone in all of it.

He gave a little shudder. "That was a shade. Just a body that looked like Lancelot and even then under Morgana's control and it was dark magic. Is that what you want?"

"No." Arthur looked startled, as if he hadn't known until then that the Lance who had betrayed them all was of Morgana's making. "Did Merlin ever use dark magic? To transform things?"

"Use of dark magic, no. It corrupts the spirit." Merlin didn't answer the second part. It was getting too close to dangerous ground. But Arthur must have noticed.

"But he could transform things with magic, himself perhaps or others." Arthur was staring at him so intently that it was worrisome.

"Sire, I…," Merlin tried not to panic. If he didn't know better, he would have said that Arthur knew about him, knew about Emrys. It was impossible and yet the questions were so close to the truth that Merlin couldn't breathe for it. Carefully, on a knife's edge, he said, "He only ever transformed himself. In order to save his friends or else if there was a danger that others might find out his secret. But it was light magic, not dark."

"Which times?" Arthur's gaze was boring into him, a hunter's intensity. When Merlin didn't answer right away, he said, "Merlin has nothing to fear from me now and I want to know."

Swallowing hard, Merlin said, "A few times as Dragoon. The first time to save the queen, then trying to save your father before it all went to hell." Arthur looked poleaxed but then scowling, he gestured for Merlin to continue. "Spying on Morgana when necessary. Once as the Dolma when the queen was enchanted."

"The Dolma? She was a batty old fool. And Dragoon made me carry him and he kicked me, too." Eyes narrowing, he seemed at first incredulous and then offended with the idea of such ridiculous disguises. If things weren't so dire, Merlin would have laughed about it.

"Well, Merlin did say it was payback for all the muck work you made him do. Cleaning the stables is for stable boys and he knew it and you knew it and you made him do it anyway. But the kicking was harmless enough."

"If he were here, he'd be in the stocks for that." Arthur shook his head, eyes softening a moment in memory. "I always did say he was a girl."

Merlin wanted to lighten the mood, steer Arthur away from the talk of transformation before it was too late. He sent Arthur a soft smile. "And a daffodil and a girl's petticoat among others. You have quite a vocabulary."

"As did he. His insults were nonsensical." Giving a little huff of amusement, Arthur said, "They made me laugh although I couldn't tell him that."

Merlin began to relax. "He knew, Sire. He went out of his way to think up ridiculous ones just to make you smile."

But Arthur's amusement faded and he looked down at his hands a moment, before gazing back up at Merlin. A mulish look on his face as if reluctant to admit something and yet determined to do it, he said, "I tried, though. To bring him back."

"Sire?" Merlin was confused by the change in Arthur's demeanour.

With that, Arthur stood, pushed away the chair and walked over to the window, looking at the stained glass hues on the floor. For a long moment, he just stared at it, following the lines of colour, as the silence grew and grew. Finally, he walked back to his seat, stood there on one side of it, his thumb rough against the wood carving. He didn't look at Merlin.

"When I woke and found Merlin had traded his life for mine, I was furious. That he would sacrifice himself for me seemed unbearable. And every day after that, my anger grew. At him, at myself, at magic." He looked upset, almost sick with the idea of what he'd done. "I began to explore ways of bringing him back somehow but I had no magic and I couldn't bring myself to ask Gaius."

Merlin was appalled. To try and use necromancy was the worst kind of dark magic. If Arthur had got caught up in it, it could have ruined everything.

"Gaius would have told you that it was of the dark and not to try."

"I wouldn't have listened." Arthur took a deep breath and let it out. He seemed determined to tell Merlin what he had done. "I took the Horn of Cathbhadh to the Standing Stones but Merlin wouldn't see me, not even when I begged. If my father's ghost could appear, why not Merlin? But he wouldn't show himself and… I," Rubbing his hand across his forehead, looking at Merlin at last, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes haunted, he said, "I thought he hated me for it, for letting him die. I blamed magic for everything, and I was growing as bitter as my father had once done."

Wanting to console him, knowing that it would not be welcome, still, he tried to ease Arthur's pain.

"Merlin would have come if he could have. I am sure of it." Leaning forward, but still too far away for comfort with Arthur so far out of reach, he said, "He loved you, more than his own life. He sacrificed everything for you, to protect you. And if he were here, he'd tell you that he'd do it again. For you."

"I believe he would." With that, Arthur changed again, turned first hopeful and then determined, a focused look, searching out the truth no matter what.

"You talked of transformation."

"Sire?" Taken aback, Merlin began to shake. He thought he'd diverted Arthur enough but it would seem he was not to be led astray, instead following his instincts into disaster.

Moving closer, one hand on the back of Merlin's chair, the other on the table, towering over Merlin, boxing him in, Arthur said, "And yet you never mention the possibility that Merlin isn't dead, that he's transformed for whatever reason. To protect someone. He's done it before."

He could feel the blood draining from his face. Turning cold as ice, heart no longer beating, his mind babbling at him to do something and he couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Arthur knew, he knew and if Merlin didn't fix it, he'd die again. Arthur floating away on a boat filled with fire and ice and magic forever gone from the world but it wasn't what filled him with dread. It was the emptiness of a life without Arthur. Oh, Triple Goddess, help him.

He could hear gasping in the distance, and it was only when he took a breath, fire in his lungs from lack of air, that he recognised the sounds as his.

Taking another deep breath, trying to look as if he were just being a long-suffering man dealing with someone who was a little misguided, he said slowly, carefully, "Merlin is dead, Sire. He is not coming back."

When Arthur looked mutinous, Merlin reached over, patted at his hand, hoping to sound like Gaius treating a patient.

"Please do not think such things. For your own sake, you must accept that he is gone."

Quick as a snake, Arthur grabbed his hand, turned it over and stared down at Merlin's wrist. The skin, covered in symbols stark against pale flesh, most of it hidden under the embroidered sleeve, was a sharp counterpoint to Arthur's sun-browned hand.

Merlin just let him trace the symbols with one rough finger, Arthur pushing up the fabric to see the whole of the design. Merlin's heart was racing fast, hoping that what he'd said had been enough, that Arthur would turn aside from this incessant need to find Emrys's truth and instead live.

Glancing up, Arthur stared unblinking at him and there was a long searching moment, as intense as a pyre's heat or a sword-thrust into the heart, of destiny and coins and love, of one heart calling to another as the world held its breath and then he let Merlin's hand go.

Drawing his own shaky breath, looking as if he'd seen the terror in Merlin's eyes and realised the reason for it, Arthur nodded.

"I know he's gone but I was hoping for a guardian angel for him, too." He said softly, "He was always mine."

Merlin couldn't breathe again, this time in relief. Swallowing against the grief, he said, "I'm sorry, my lord, more than I can say."

Still holding onto Merlin's chair, his other hand scrubbing through his hair, Arthur turned away, gazing instead at the stained glass glowing in the sunlight. "Do you know you have Merlin's eyes?"

Struggling against a lump in his throat, he stammered out, "I… it's… I'm his cousin after all. It runs in the family."

Nodding, Arthur was still not looking at him, still just standing there, apparently deep in thought. "And you look like a bit like that dragonlord, Balinor."

"Again a cousin. Balinor was Merlin's father."

He'd never told Arthur about his father, never mentioned him after that horrible day when he'd unleashed the dragon. So he wasn't surprised when Arthur did turn back to him, frowning at the news. "That would explain a great deal."

When Merlin said nothing else, Arthur nodded. He was solemn and discontent; the sharp lines around his mouth and narrowed eyes were evidence enough, but he'd always been able to read Arthur. He was struggling with something but resigned, too, and Arthur's unhappiness was always Merlin's. "I am grateful for all you have done."

Putting whatever grief they were both going through aside, Merlin knew he had to push. Samhain was tomorrow and he couldn't let it end like this. "Sire, will it be enough to allow magic back into Camelot?"

"Come, they are waiting for us." Arthur didn't say anything else, just gestured for Merlin to follow him.

"Who?" Much as he trusted Arthur, Merlin didn't necessarily trust the king he'd returned to from Avalon. "You promised that this was a truce. Will you go back on your word again?"

Shaking his head, Arthur said, "Have no fear. I'm done with unkept promises."


The Great Hall was filled with people, nobles, knights – he could see Percival towering over some of the others, Leon beside him, and some of the townsfolk whose lives Merlin had saved. Gwen was seated on one of the thrones and she sent Merlin a little smile, then turned solemn again as she watched them both.

Walking in, Merlin trailing behind him, he had expected Arthur to sit, in judgment as king. But instead standing in front of his throne, he pulled Merlin beside him so that they were shoulder to shoulder, equals in this one moment.

The gesture was not unobserved. A sharp rise in noise, a hundred voices talking at once and neighbours putting their heads together, all wondering what that could mean. But then a moment later, Arthur gestured for silence. And there was sudden quiet.

"A man should keep his word. A king even more so."

In the hall, there was a shocked intake of collective breath. Kings did not say such things, certainly not in public. But Arthur was no ordinary king; he was Merlin's, honourable and just, always trying to do the right thing, and while there were slips and him being a prat at times, Merlin wouldn't have had it any other way.

Arthur waited, looking from one face to another, letting the moment grow. But close beside him, Merlin could see he was nervous, too, his fingers curling a little, although to everyone else he would seem confident, absolutely certain of what he was saying.

"Merlin was a gadfly and ridiculous at times and the best friend a man could ever have. He sacrificed everything for me and asked nothing in return, not money, not lands, not a title. But as he lay dying, exchanging his life for mine, he begged for one thing. Not for himself but for those like him."

At that, Arthur turned toward him, his eyes searching Merlin's, his face full of regret. Standing there, it was as if they were alone, cocooned from the world, both of them gazing deeply into each other's heart and finding solace there. And if Arthur's voice wavered just a little, it was no one's business but theirs.

"In my grief, I ignored my promise to him, and when Emrys tried to remind me of it, I turned on him, tried to drive him from the land. It was dishonourable to do so, and for that I am truly sorry."

Now it was Merlin's turn to be shocked but he could feel the moment rising, hope building in his chest, his heart thundering, all his focus on Arthur.

Arthur gave a short nod, as much of a bow as a king could give, then turned back to those in the Great Hall. The silence was absolute as they all stood there, waiting, waiting.

"A king's word is his bond, and for that reason and many others besides, I hereby declare that the laws on magic to be null and void."

Merlin stood there, numb. Arthur's death avoided, and magic accepted into Camelot, it was too much for him to comprehend; he was feeling joy and utter grief and such exhaustion that he thought he might melt from it, go to sleep for a thousand years or else dance in wild abandon until Arthur smiled at him again. It was enough, it was over, and destiny fulfilled at last.

Sunlight began to stream through the stained glass windows, turning the floor in front of him into a riot of colour, and his beloved king surrounded by it, as golden and beautiful as a summer's day.

Legs feeling like gelatine melting in the sun, Merlin must have trembled a bit, looked as if he were going to faint because in the next moment, Arthur's hand was gripping his arm, holding him up. As Arthur smiled and nodded to the throng, he whispered, so softly that only Merlin could hear him, "Don't faint now, you idiot. Wait until later. In private, you can have as much of a wobble as you like, but not here, not now."

Luckily, the noise of the crowd was almost too much, echoing off the walls, a hundred or more arguing amongst themselves as to what would happen next.

As Merlin nodded, straightening up, Arthur dropped his hand. Then stepping forward, he gestured for silence once more.

It took a while. Some among the crowds were joyous as though they, too, had secrets that would soon be revealed, while others just looked aghast at the idea of magic loose in the world again.

When it was quiet, Arthur pulled Merlin next to him, said, "Emrys has shown us that magic can be as beautiful as a butterfly or as powerful as healing a dying man." Several were nodding, especially those who had been helped by Merlin. Others just stood there, waiting to see what other pronouncements would turn the world upside down again.

"We had already known the evil it can bring, but with understanding comes acceptance. And I hope Emrys will accept a seat at the Round Table as my advisor in magical matters."

Now Merlin really did want to slide down to the floor and lie there a while; it wasn't just his legs wobbling but every part of him. He'd dreamed of this so many times and thought that it was forever beyond his reach.

But with Arthur looking at him, expectant and stern and almost fond, Merlin couldn't embarrass him like that in front of his people. "Arthur… Majesty, I don't know what to say." He bowed his head a moment, then gave Arthur a little smile. "Thank you."

Arthur stared at him a moment longer, then nodded and turned back to the throng. Raising his hands wide, he said, "Tomorrow is Samhain. A time of trials and reflection. It is also a time of new beginnings. Let it be the beginning of a new era of peace and prosperity."

As the bells rang out, and Arthur smiled at him again, Merlin knew. It would be all right after all.

And so it was.