Arthur stared across the campfire at Merlin, who was determinedly avoiding his gaze. Occasionally, he dropped his gaze and gazed into the crackling flames until his eyes tingled with the heat.
He had given Merlin an ultimatum. Tonight, when we make camp. Well, the camp was made, Leon had just volunteered for first watch, and they were all settling in for the night. He had given Merlin an ultimatum, and his word was law, was it not?
He glanced up from the flames at Merlin again, and his heart gave a little unexpected leap in his chest when he saw that Merlin was meeting his gaze now, his beautiful jaw set in determination. Determination as in disobedience or …? Well, he was about to find out apparently, because Merlin was getting to his feet and …
"King Arthur."
What the …? Merlin had come to a stop just a few paces from the campfire, in the middle of their small circle. Arthur realized he was standing straighter than usual and looking at him with an air of actual authority. He had called out his official title in a way that seemed almost a challenge as well as an opening.
Merlin glanced around, as if to make sure he had the knights' full attention, and then turned his own attention back to Arthur. Was he expecting a response? Arthur was at a loss for words.
"Arthur," Merlin continued, his eyes not moving from Arthur's now, his demeanor grave, his voice carrying, "I have been keeping a secret from you, Sire, for your own protection, and Camelot's."
Merlin paused. He seemed to hesitate, then reach a decision.
Arthur felt his jaw drop as Merlin lifted his hand, his eyes suddenly glowing gold, and spoke out in a loud, clear voice, "Hildewæpen fléogan". Their weapons instantaneously flew out of their scabbards, coming to a floating rest above their heads, just out of reach.
The moment seemed to last an eternity. Nobody moved or spoke. The shock that paralyzed them all was almost palpable.
Merlin. A sorcerer. Merlin. Arthur's could feel his mind stuck, unable to grasp this concept, denying the truth of what was apparent before his eyes.
Belatedly, a few hands rose to the places where sword hilts should have been.
"Stígnes." The word was almost gently spoken as Merlin lowered his hand. Arthur's sword slowly descended and drove itself into the ground in front of him.
Merlin seemed to be waiting, patiently. His men were so still that he half-wondered whether Merlin had placed a spell on them as well.
Arthur remembered to close his mouth, and then struggled to his feet, stopping himself just in the nick of time from automatically calling on Merlin for support.
Merlin took a step towards him, then another one.
"Sire!" Leon was holding a branch in his hand. He had taken a step forward and was looking at Arthur in bewilderment, "Sire, what should …"
Arthur raised his hand to stop him. He shook his head. This was between himself and Merlin. He forced himself not to flinch as Merlin closed the distance between them until Arthur could almost touch him if he reached out. He was still unable to think coherently.
Merlin sank to his knees before him.
Another long moment passed, and then Merlin lifted his eyes to meet Arthur's once more. He still seemed to be patiently waiting.
He's awaiting judgment, Arthur realized.
He grasped the hilt of his sword and drew it out of the ground. Merlin's eyes widened as they followed this movement, but he seemed to steel himself not to move. He swallowed and met Arthur's eyes again, unflinchingly.
The feel of a sword in his hand seemed to awaken him; his mind, so stubbornly still before, was suddenly racing everywhere at once. Past, present, future. Merlin, his servant. The day they had met. The knife aimed at him. If he had had magic all this time… the battle in Ealdor, the doorway that had conveniently collapsed on the undead knights… Merlin's doing? Merlin, his friend. Merlin, his lover. The feel of his lips earlier that day. Merlin, the sorcerer? Magic was outlawed in Camelot, punishable by death. Merlin, awaiting his judgment. He felt suddenly cold despite the close by fire.
"Arthur?"
His name, in that deep voice that he loved. That voice, which had lied to him every single day.
"Get up." Arthur's voice was harsh, he could feel the anger rising inside of him. This was betrayal.
Merlin seemed taken aback, unsure.
"Now!"
Merlin rose to his feet.
Arthur pushed back memories of that night… when Merlin had begun to rise to his feet by his bath tub and he had reached out… touched him…
"Why the charade? Why go down on your knees?"
Arthur could see the hurt in Merlin's eyes at his angry voice.
"Sire?"
"You could kill me now, yes?"
Merlin hesitated, unsure how to reply. "I don't want to kill you, Sire."
"But you could? On your knees or not?"
"Well… yes." Merlin admitted, slowly.
"If I lift my sword now, you can more than defend yourself against me."
"I don't want to defend myself against you."
"You are more powerful than me." Arthur regretted that sentence the moment it left his lips. It sounded like a petulant accusation.
"It isn't a contest, Arthur. You have power, power that could easily be abused, yet you use it to do good."
Arthur stared at him. This was the wise, patient side of Merlin, the side he usually pretended didn't exist. This was the Merlin that advised him on matters of ruling his land so sagely sometimes, and then suddenly disappeared into the Merlin that tripped over his own feet and was useless at folding his shirts.
"But you have killed before." It wasn't a question.
"In Camelot's defense. As you have. As your knights have."
"They have sworn an oath of loyalty to me and to Camelot."
"I have not sworn an oath, but that does not make me any less loyal to you or to Camelot."
"And you would let me kill you now? If I sentence you to die for your crime?"
"I… I don't know."
A few moments passed in silence.
"What have you used your magic for?"
"For you, Sire. For Camelot. Well, and for my chores, I suppose."
One of the knights suppressed a guffaw at that.
"For your chores." Arthur repeated. Other visions of Merlin flew through his mind. Merlin, holding a broom. Merlin, scrubbing the floor. Merlin, being cuffed by a nobleman for not fetching something fast enough.
"Why? Why are you a servant?" The question was out before he could think to stop himself.
"Well… I think of myself more as your personal bodyguard, Sire. Except that you don't know I'm your bodyguard."
"My bodyguard."
"Yes." Merlin spoke firmly, now.
Arthur shut his eyes. His ribs were hurting him. "My bodyguard." He cleared his throat.
Realization dawned on him. His eyes flew open.
"I didn't defeat the dragon, did I?"
Merlin actually laughed at that. Dimples and all. "No, Sire."
Arthur was too shocked to be offended. "The griffin?"
"I enchanted the weapon."
"But Lancelot…" Arthur saw the guilt in Merlin's eyes now. "Lancelot knew?"
Merlin took a deep breath. "Yes, Sire, he knew."
"Who else knows?" Arthur demanded.
Merlin just shook his head.
How close had Merlin and Lancelot been? Arthur wondered. He felt a wave of resentment and envy towards Lancelot that had nothing to do with Gwen…
Gaius? Had Gwen known? Did any of his knights know? Gwaine?
He turned to look at Gwaine, who very uncharacteristically lowered his eyes.
Percival, standing next to him, was very visibly shocked, and was staring at Merlin with what appeared to be concern.
"Magic is against the law." He stated.
"It shouldn't be." Merlin answered simply.
Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Sir Brennis jump trying to reach his sword.
"Try that again, and I'll break your wrist again." Percival's audible whisper reached his ears.
"Haven't you seen proof enough of the dangers of magic?" Arthur demanded.
"Yes. I've also seen proof enough of the dangers of swords." Merlin replied calmly. "Bandits and men without honor use their weapons to kill and to steal. You, all of you," he swept his gaze over the knights, "use it to defend and to protect. Why is it so hard to believe that it can be the same with magic? There are those who would abuse it, but others – oh, so many others – who use it for good. To help, to heal…" his eyes trailed down to Arthur's side.
"No good comes from healing magic."
"Oh, that's not true." Arthur could see the pity in Merlin's eyes, but his voice remained firm. "Much good comes from it. You have been healed by magic before. More than once."
"No," he continued, ignoring Arthur's obvious agitation at his previous words, "the reason magic was outlawed in Camelot…"
Merlin stopped now, swallowed, and his eyes seemed to be pleading for forgiveness as he said, "You know the truth of what happened. She spoke the truth; I couldn't let you bear the burden of having killed your own father, but it was the truth."
Moments, maybe minutes, of silence passed, Arthur wasn't sure.
He shook his head. He wanted to sit down again, lean back against the dead, fallen tree. He wanted this to not be true. But it made sense. Too much sense.
"How much does Camelot owe you? How much do I owe you?" he asked, tonelessly.
Merlin shook his head. "No one owes me anything, Sire. That's not why I do this."
"I'll bet we all owe you our lives several times over, don't we?" Gwaine put forth.
Merlin seemed uncomfortable.
"The wyverns? The skeleton army?" Gwaine persisted.
"Yes." Merlin admitted.
"That time I ran away with Sophia..? The gate that dropped when we were escaping that wildren cage?" Arthur asked, slowly, searching his memory.
"Yes."
"The boulders… that blocked me from the mercenaries…?"
"Yes." Merlin seemed to wince at the memory.
Arthur looked at Leon. His anger had faded away sometime between Merlin calling himself his bodyguard and reluctantly admitting to repeatedly saving his life. In fact, he was slightly in awe at the immensity of this sudden discovery of Merlin's magic and wanted nothing more than some time alone, to think.
"Sir Leon, what would you say if I sentenced this man to death?"
"Sire." Leon paused, and then continued, "I would think it a poor repayment for his service to Camelot, but I would think it your right, as King."
"And you are all of this opinion?" Arthur surveyed his knights.
"I am, Sire." Percival said quietly, after a moment.
"He's still Merlin. We know him." Gwaine spoke up.
"Gwen trusted him. I… I trust him. Sire."
"Thank you, Elyan. Well, Merlin, it seems your friends have not abandoned you. Despite the fact that you lied to them. Every day." As you lied to me, the words were unspoken yet felt.
"I watched people executed in Camelot for the crime of being born with magic, as I was." Merlin's voice was hard now, filled with pain. "When would have been a good time to come forward? The day your father appointed me to be your servant? One year after that? Two? That first day, I would have been executed the next dawn. How much sleep would you have lost over that? At which point in time should I have felt that you knew me well enough to trust that I used my magic for good? After how many years tainted by deception? And if I was forced to run from Camelot, how long until Morgana succeeded in killing you? What choice did I have, what choice did you leave me?" Merlin bit his lip. His voice had been so bitter.
Arthur nodded slowly.
"If I decide this now… this changes everything. All these years. I have been unjust, unfair?"
Merlin sighed wearily.
"Sire, you have not been King for long. You were raised by your father. Even then, you stood up to him more than once. You were fed lies. There was no one to show you the truth about magic, or at least no one who dared. Your father let innocents suffer due to his anger at a deal he knowingly made with dark magic…"
"Enough." Arthur turned around abruptly. "Enough." He said again, more softly. "I'm injured. Tired. We should all turn in for the night."
"Sire?" Merlin's eyebrows rose in surprise.
"You didn't kill us last night or the night before that. Would I be correct in assuming you have no intention of killing us all in our sleep tonight?" Arthur asked, dryly.
"I… no. I mean, yes, you would be correct. Sire."
"Well then. I'm tired and I'm going to bed. We can continue to discuss this in the morning."
"Discuss this… in the morning?" Merlin repeated stupidly.
"Yes." Another thought came to him suddenly. Last night. "Last night. What happened?"
The color rose in Merlin's face and he bit his lip again. "Umm. Well, you know. They wanted to… I mean…" Arthur thought he saw Merlin's hands tremble before he clasped them behind his back. Merlin cleared his throat. "I caused the cave in, Sire. They would have chased us. They were… they were bad men. And Morgana could have showed up at any moment…"
"Yes, all right. Get… get some sleep, Merlin." Arthur's voice was strange to his own ears. At first no one moved as he sat down near the fallen tree and busied himself with arranging his cloak and blanket, but then one knight sat down, and then another.
"Merlin, would you..?" Leon gestured at his sword, floating just out of reach above his head.
"Oh, yeah, right, sorry." The swords floated gently down and were plucked out of the air rather gingerly.
Merlin stood and stared around himself in shock as final preparations were made to settle in for the night.
Leon nodded at him and took up first watch.
Gwaine laid his cloak down on the ground next to Merlin's, grinning at him.
Percival gave him a cautious smile and then busied himself with displacing some offending rocks.
Elyan also gave him a nod before pulling his blanket all the way over his head.
Merlin felt a lump rise in his throat.
He looked over at Arthur. Arthur's eyes were closed. His arm was wrapped around his ribs again. He wondered whether Arthur would get any sleep tonight at all, what with the pain and the discovery of his magic. If only… if only he could have a private conversation with Arthur. Maybe tomorrow. He unconsciously put a hand over his aching heart.
"Merlin," Gwaine hissed at him, "come lie down already. I want to be sound asleep before Sir Brennis starts snoring."
Merlin felt the corner of his mouth curl upwards. 'Yeah, all right."
Automatically, he knelt and doused the fire partially so that it would burn low throughout the night. Then he dragged the cooking pot that he had already filled with water close to the fire, so that it would be warm in the morning. Raising his eyes, he saw that Arthur was surveying his actions with interest. Flustered, he wondered whether he should say something, but Arthur immediately closed his eyes again.
"Merlin!" Gwaine hissed.
Merlin stretched himself out on his cloak and stared up at the patches of sky between the branches above his head.
"Now this was an eventful evening. Are you all right?" Gwaine whispered.
"Yeah." Merlin whispered back, and determinedly blinked back tears. "I just... I just can't believe I finally did that. Arthur…" his voice trailed away.
"Don't worry about the princess," Gwaine whispered after a few moments, "he'll come around. He won't stay mad at you for long. Who could?"
Merlin could hear the smile in Gwaine's voice. Then after a few more minutes, he could hear the slow, steady sound of his sleeping breaths.
All around him, in fact, were the sounds of sleep. The knights, the King – they were allowing themselves to sleep near him, near a self-confessed sorcerer. He hadn't been banished, he wasn't running for his life… his friends had accepted him, or at least seemed to be on their way towards acceptance. Of magic. He shook his head to himself in wonder.
Tomorrow he would talk to Arthur alone, he decided. He owed him a more personal apology.
He continued to stare up at the darkness until finally, somehow, sleep claimed him.
