It was just after midnight when the council members finally stopped their chattering and let Arthur confront his grief for the first time. The great hall had been cleared of guests, dinner, and furnishings. His father's body lay on a lonely bier in the center of the room, a crown upon his head and a sword in his folded hands. From here, in the torchlight, Uther looked at peace. The servants had done well, given the circumstances, though the decay of death was already at work; there was nothing of his father's living presence in the sunken cheeks and eyes. Arthur clenched his jaw and let out a shaky breath. "I wasn't ready for this. Not yet, despite everything. . ."

"Arthur?"

He started and looked back, finding a familiar figure emerging from the shadows of the stairway. "Merlin." The sorcerer looked terrible still, though better than earlier, after Morgause's attack. The trails of blood under his nose and eyes were gone, though the whites of his eyes were still bright red, making a stark contrast for the blue irises. His hands were bandaged, too, as though they had been burned, and dark shadows lay under his eyes. Arthur opened his mouth to speak again, but could find no words.

They regarded each other for a quiet moment before Merlin smirked. "You look terrible."

Arthur chuckled in spite of himself, "Says the man who was bleeding from the eyes not so long ago." His smile faded as he looked back into the great hall. "You know you upset the council when you proclaimed me King. You weren't supposed to do that."

"I didn't. Destiny did," Merlin's eyes shone with that wise confidence that Arthur had missed for so long.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"No, it doesn't," Merlin said simply.

"You never have made any sense. I suppose you never will." He looked away again as a dozen conflicting emotions welled up within, feelings he did not know how to deal with. Everyone had always told him to shut up and be a man, and that no one was worth his tears. Advice he had passed on to all his men- even Merlin. But now his father was dead. A tyrant was dead. He did not know if he was supposed to weep for his own loss, celebrate the beginning of his own reign as King, shout for joy at his friend's safe return, or bolt in terror at the thought of the awesome responsibility that was about to fall on his head. . .

He settled for wrapping Merlin in a fierce hug, noting that he had caught his servant off guard for once as the sorcerer started in surprise before returning the gesture. He held there just long enough to find his mental balance then broke and turned away. "Don't ever do that to me again," he said roughly.

"What? Don't save your life again?" Arthur could practically hear the smile on Merlin's face.

"I thought you were dead. For over a month there was no word, and all we knew was what Leon told us- that Pynell put an arrow in your back, set his dogs on you, and you disappeared. Then not a word from you, Merlin. Not a single word." Arthur stopped before his voice could break.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. Where I went- in the Crystal Cave. . . Time doesn't flow there the way it does here. To me, it felt like a few days had passed and even then, I wasn't really aware of the world. If I had known, I would have sent word. Believe me. I never meant to cause you hurt."

Arthur nodded and let it go at that. Whatever Merlin had gone through, wherever he had been all those weeks, now was not the time to speak of it. "My father is dead."

"Yes."

"He was a tyrant," Arthur said.

"Yes."

Arthur fixed his gaze on his father's face. "He taught me so many things," he breathed, "But he failed me in so many ways."

"I think. . . " Merlin trailed off as he searched for the right words, "I think all our fathers fail us in some way. Sometimes they redeem themselves and sometimes. . . they don't. But right now- what this is for, Arthur, is not for your father. It's for you. Tonight, find what peace you can with his memory. Tomorrow you will be crowned King, and your people will need you."

Arthur nodded and glanced over his shoulder. "And you'll stay here all night?"

"Yes," Merlin smiled again.

"Why?"

An expression of immeasurable loss crossed the sorcerer's face. Arthur imagined it was mirrored on his own. "Because I know what it is to lose a father," Merlin replied.

"He would have had you executed," he said after a long pause. Merlin nodded. "You must have hated him."

It was Merlin who finally looked away. "When I first came to Camelot, yes. But as time passed, I learned more about him, and magic. And you. Eventually that hatred turned to pity. Uther was so blinded by grief and his desire for revenge that he closed himself off to so many good things in the world. Even you, at the end."

'A sorcerer pitying a King,' Arthur mused, 'And I don't even think the sorcerer was in the wrong for seeing things that way.' He rested a hand on the doorway and steeled himself to face the long night ahead. "You'll still be here in the morning?"

"I will. I promise."

Arthur took a long breath, stepped forward, then paused and looked back at his servant- his friend. "Thank you, Merlin. For everything."