Arthur paced around his room, running his fingers through his hair until it looked like he had a blonde hedgehog on his head. He was nervous, he couldn't deny that. Merlin had gone to fetch the knights and had left him alone to wait. And the wait before the battle is always the worst part. Not that this was going to be a battle, of course. But those were really the only terms Arthur knew how to think in, so he just went with whatever analogy he was most familiar with. Hopefully the knights would take this in stride. They had accepted Merlin, right? They would accept him no problem. Right? Of course. Yes, of course they would.
The door opened and in strode Gwaine, looking curious and only slightly tipsy. He stopped to watch Arthur pace for a moment, looking like he might speak up, then he just shrugged and flopped down on Arthur's bed. The prince turned to glare half-heartedly at him but he didn't have the focus to really reprimand his knight for his lack of decorum. He went back to pacing. Elyan came in next, smiling at Arthur and tactfully ignoring how wound up he was. He took a seat in the only chair in the room, looking rather smug that he had gotten to it first. Percival showed up and nodded to each of them in turn, then stood solemnly by the wall with his hands clasped in front of him. Leon came in and clapped Arthur on the shoulder, grinning at him in an encouraging sort of way—which actually did make Arthur feel a bit less nervous; Leon had always been like an older brother to him—and leaned on the table beside Elyan. Lancelot came in last with Merlin at his side. He nodded to Arthur and sat, in a much more dignified manner, on the edge of Arthur's bed beside Gwaine. Merlin perched on the ledge of the window and turned to Arthur expectantly. All the knights followed suit and Arthur suddenly felt like he was standing in a very hot spotlight.
"Er…hello," he began oh so eloquently. Merlin snorted and Arthur shot him a dark look before scrambling for something more intelligent to say. "Thank you all for coming" was all he managed to come up with.
"No problem, princess, what's on your mind?" Gwaine called out. The tension broke as all the knights snickered at Arthur's nickname. The man in question rolled his eyes.
"I'll just get straight to the point, then, shall I? All of you—well, most of you—were witness to something two days ago. Merlin," he gestured to him, "saved my life with an incredible feat of magic." Merlin blushed all the way up to his hairline, looking taken aback and completely uncomfortable with the praise. Gwaine jumped to his feet and began clapping exaggeratedly. With a laugh, the other knights joined in until they were all applauding Merlin, who was just staring around at them, although he did look just the slightest bit pleased with all the attention. "Yes, yes, well done, Merlin, but that's not the point," Arthur said, waving a hand dismissively. "In doing so, he flooded my body with magic. And apparently…it stuck."
"It…stuck?" Leon asked confusedly. Arthur looked to Merlin nervously and he just nodded back, smiling. They had decided showing would be easier than telling. Shifting, Arthur held out his hand and did as Merlin had instructed the day before. He reached for the magic and pulled it forth until it ran along his skin. Then he took a deep breath and whispered, "Forbærnan." The little flame sprang to life in his palm and he knew the rush of magic had manifested itself in the flash of gold across his irises. There was dead silence for a few seconds as they all watched the flame with astonishment. Then Gwaine began clapping again, very slowly and almost sardonically.
"Well, isn't this just irony at its finest?" he asked loudly. "Princess has magic. I think the world must be ending. Anyone want to join me in spending our last day in the tavern?" Gwaine's knack for tension-breaking was uncanny. Then everyone was laughing again. Arthur extinguished the flame and laughed with them; he knew better than anyone just how ironic the situation really was. Plus, the rush of relief was making him a little giddy; no one was angry, no one was threatening him, no one was rushing to his father or calling the guards. Not that he had honestly expected any of that to happen. The paranoia of the guilty—in this case, the guilty of having magic in a kingdom set against it—had taken hold of him and was only now beginning to dissipate. Merlin had been right; this was a brilliant feeling.
"So this is why you can't test the new recruits right away?" Lancelot asked over the din. "You're worried you won't be able to control your new magic in a swordfight? Well you need to get a hold on it quickly, then. I am about this close to challenging some of these little—"
"Ooh, you know they're bad when even Lancelot gets testy," Elyan put in, poking fun at his gentleness and even keel.
"So you don't really have a head injury," Leon stated, looking to Arthur for confirmation. "You just needed an excuse to squirrel yourself away and work on controlling your magic?"
"It's mostly linked to his emotions at this point," Merlin explained. "Just like it is for anyone just coming into their powers. He needs a few days to get a handle on things before he has to try and put up with you lot in public. Otherwise he might blow up the castle." They all laughed again.
"Who would've ever guessed it," Gwaine said for what seemed like the thirtieth time in the last few days as he collapsed backward onto Arthur's bed again. "Merlin's little surprise was unexpected enough, but no one could ever have predicted Arthur becoming a sorcerer."
"Warlock," both Arthur and Merlin corrected. They both looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. The knights all looked between them and groaned.
"They'll be inseparable now," Leon lamented.
"Haven't they always been?" Percival pointed out.
"Yeah, but now they'll have a whole new language to bicker in. Ooh, Merlin!" Gwaine said excitedly, sitting up and bouncing like a child on his birthday. "Can you teach me swear words in the Old Language?"
"No, Gwaine, I refuse to give you another language to disgrace with your filthy tongue," Merlin said, throwing a pillow at Gwaine, who caught it sent it right back. It hit Merlin in the face and sent the others roaring back into hilarity. Merlin picked up the pillow and pelted it at Elyan, who deflected it toward Percival, who tossed it to Leon, who finally threw it at Arthur. On instinct, Arthur's magic stopped the pillow in midair and they all marveled at it, their chuckles slowly dying away.
"That is really very strange," Percival said eventually. They all nodded along. Leave it to Percival to sum up the entire situation in as few words as possible. Arthur snatched the pillow from the air and tossed it back on his bed, narrowly avoided Gwaine's head.
"So what are you going to do about it?" Leon finally asked him.
"I don't really know," Arthur admitted. "Keep it a secret, I guess. It's still illegal to have and practice magic. I don't know what else I can do about it."
"I'll be training him," Merlin said. "Working with him and getting him used to using it. Or not using it, as the case may be. Restraining his magic is going to be the hard part. I should know; it was my magic first."
"Hold on. You managed to give him enough of your magic to make him a warlock in his own right and yet you still have enough left over to be a strong one yourself?" Gwaine asked, eyes widening as he finally comprehended what exactly that meant. "Blimey, mate, how powerful are you?" Merlin shifted in his seat.
"Er…pretty powerful, yeah…" he mumbled, examining his fingers in his lap, but he didn't elaborate further. Arthur made a mental note to pressure him into talking about it later. Obviously there was more to be said on that front, but he didn't want to say it for some reason. Maybe he should ask Gaius.
"Well, we'll be around to cover for you, Arthur, if need be," Lancelot offered, obviously trying to draw the attention away from the painfully modest Merlin and back to Arthur. "We've still got your back, magic or no."
"Thank you, all of you," Arthur said sincerely, looking around at them all. He felt a sudden wave of affection for everyone in the room. They were his friends, his true friends. Before Merlin came to Camelot, Arthur hadn't had any friends. At least, not any real ones. He had had lackeys and flunkies, people who would do anything he told them to in the hopes of getting in good with him and his father. His power and his money made him very popular, but no one had actually known him or liked him very much. And he had been fine with that; after all, kings didn't have friends, they had subjects, so why should a prince be any different? Then Merlin came stumbling into his life, calling him a prat and an arse and poking holes in his overinflated ego without mercy. He was the first to actually look at Arthur and see that his title didn't make him perfect, and that there was more to him than his title afforded. And once he had Merlin, the others all followed. Lancelot, then Gwaine, Elyan, Percival. Merlin had even brought Arthur closer to Leon, who he had been the closest thing he had to a friend, though he wouldn't have admitted it at the time. Merlin just brought out the best in everyone. And there he was sitting by the window, beaming around at the group of knights. Arthur knew Merlin didn't realize how incredibly important he was to this little group; he was the catalyst who had brought them all together and the glue that held them there. Arthur caught his eye and held it for a moment, hoping to convey that he, too, was included in Arthur's gratitude, more so than perhaps anyone else.
"We're your friends, Arthur," Leon said, seeming to read his mind as he so often did. "There's no one else I'd rather commit treason for." Arthur laughed and Leon smiled at him. "You and Merlin's secrets are safe with us," he assured him. One by one Arthur pulled each man to his feet and gave him a one-armed hug, clapping him on the shoulder as he pulled away. He wanted each knight to know just how much this meant to him. They all filtered out, heading for the tavern with Gwaine, still joking about the apocalypse being imminent, leading the way. Finally it was just Arthur and Merlin left.
"See? That went well, just like I said it would," Merlin said.
"Don't get used to it, Merlin," Arthur scoffed. "You're rarely right."
"I'm right more often than you would ever admit," he pointed out, and Arthur knew he was right. Again. He was saved from having to admit it when the door creaked open, although he almost would've preferred having to worm his way out of that admission.
"Arthur?" Morgana said as she entered the room without knocking. Arthur was simply glad they hadn't been practicing; that would've been disastrous, he was sure. Small mercies, he supposed. "Are you sure you should be on your feet?"
"I'm fine, Morgana," he insisted. Merlin rolled his eyes and began shunting him back toward the bed.
"She's right, Arthur, you need to be resting," he said, winking at Arthur's confused face. Then Arthur remembered that he was supposed to be injured. "I let the knights visit, but that's really enough excitement for one day. Sit." Arthur allowed himself to be pushed onto the bed, not having to fake his annoyance. Morgana came forward, her face full of a concern that, now he was alerted to her treachery, was obviously feigned. He wondered how he had never seen through it before.
"Are you still in pain?" she asked, putting a hand on his cheek. He shuddered at the feeling of her twisted magic washing over him, and she took that as evidence of physical discomfort instead of magical. "Here," she said, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a bracelet. "It's a healing bracelet. It's not magical, don't worry about it, but the metals used in making it are said to siphon away pain and help the body heal more quickly." She slipped the bracelet onto Arthur's wrist, then stood back up. She smiled down at him. "Feel better, Arthur." Then she left, bumping rudely into Merlin's shoulder as she passed him. Even though she was no longer touching him, Arthur could still feel her magic licking at his own. He immediately divested himself of the bracelet and threw it to Merlin, who caught it on reflex. Merlin's face darkened as he, too, felt the dark magic that imbued the bracelet.
"She's getting bolder. I'll have to take this to Gaius and see what sort of enchantment she put on it," he muttered, turning the thing over in his hands. Arthur noticed that Merlin didn't seem nearly as perturbed by Morgana's foul magic as he himself was, even though he claimed to be able to feel it much more acutely.
"Why does her magic affect me more than you?" Arthur asked, still trying to suppress tremors of disgust at the memory of her magic. "I can hardly stand to be in contact with it." Merlin looked up and shrugged.
"Not sure. Maybe I'm just more used to it," he said. "It might have something to do with the amount of magic we have. You may have enough to be able to sense her magic, but not enough to overcome it if the need arose. I have more magic than even you do, so maybe my magic just isn't as intimidated by hers as yours is." This thought brought Arthur's mind back to Gwaine's comment from earlier. He decided on the direct approach; it had always served him well in the past, hadn't it?
"Why are you so reluctant to talk about how powerful you are?" he asked. Merlin flinched a little. Obviously, he had been hoping to put this conversation off. He sighed, put Morgana's "healing" bracelet down on the table, and ran his fingers through his hair much like Arthur had been doing that morning.
"Maybe because it still doesn't feel real to me," he said quietly. "I have trouble believing it myself when people tell me stuff like that. And…it's just another way that I'm different. I'm an oddity, a freak, even among my own kind."
"How so? Just because you're more powerful than most people are?" Arthur asked. Merlin sighed and sat down on the side of Arthur's bed, pulling himself up to sit cross-legged facing Arthur.
"Remember all those times when you would doubt yourself and I would tell you that it was your destiny to be a great king?" he asked. Arthur nodded, thinking back on those times when Merlin would suddenly go from blundering idiot to unaccountably wise and subtly powerful. He had always wondered where Merlin got that quiet surety, his absolute faith in Arthur's abilities. He knew he had never had that much faith in himself. "I wasn't just trying to make you feel better. All that talk of destiny is absolutely true."
"What do you mean?"
"Hundreds of years ago, the druid prophets spoke of the Once and Future King," he said, "the king who would unite the land of Albion in peace and bring magic back to the land. He would helped, guided and protected by Emrys. This Emrys was prophesized to be the most powerful warlock ever to exist. And apparently, that's me. I am Emrys. And you are the Once and Future King, destined to bring magic back to the kingdom and peace to all lands." Arthur gaped at him. He wanted to laugh it off, wanted to make light of it, but Merlin's words resonated somewhere inside him. They rang with an undeniable truth and he found himself believing in their shared destiny wholeheartedly.
"So you're supposed to be the most powerful warlock there is?" he asked, awed.
"Is, has ever been, will ever be," Merlin said softly, sounding sad for some reason. He was fiddling with the hem of his pant leg, watching his fingers intently.
"And that bothers you," Arthur said, a bit confused as to his friend's distress.
"Of course it bothers me!" Merlin burst out, looking up at him. "The druids knew me on sight as Emrys before I had any idea who I was. Before I knew that my life had been planned out for me, that I had no choice in what I was to do with my life. They bow before me, Arthur. The leaders of the druid peoples give their sovereignty to me, as if I'm royalty. Ever since I got to Camelot, all I've ever heard is destiny, destiny, destiny. It's a weight of responsibility that I never wanted, never asked for. Sometimes I feel like it's crushing me, like I can't breathe because of all that I have to do. I've had the entire kingdom resting on my shoulders and mine alone for years, made worse by the fact that I had to do it all from the shadows. I had to listen to you condemn magic and know that I was just that much farther away from completing the task I had been set because every time you were attacked by magic I knew that was one more reason for you not to bring it back. So many times I've had to make decisions that I abhorred because of my stupid destiny, so many things I've had to do because I was the only one who could, the only one strong enough. So, yes, Arthur, it does bother me. It bothers me because I'm only one person and yet I have the lives of everyone in this kingdom in my hands every day. I'm told that I hold the responsibility for bringing about a better tomorrow and the potential to destroy it completely, and some days I feel like it's not even worth trying anymore. And I have so much power. It scares me, Arthur, it really does. Sometimes it's beyond my control. And all the people I've killed…it was just so easy. Killing and destruction is the simplest thing by far, just a flick of the wrist. I can kill ten men in the blink of an eye. What does that make me? Why should I have that much power when I don't even want it? For this destiny? Sometimes I don't even know if it's possible anymore."
There were tears in Merlin's eyes and his hands were shaking so hard that he had to grip the blanket beneath him. Arthur wondered just how long he had been waiting for an opportunity to say these things. He suspected he had never voiced any of this before. He was oddly touched that he could be the one Merlin opened up to in this way. His heart ached for the boy, for the weight of his destiny. He felt now the burden of his own, but it wasn't very different than the one he had always known. He had been groomed all his life to be king, to be accountable for the lives of his people and the safety of his kingdom. He had oftentimes felt overwhelmed by the gravity of the responsibility he held, but Merlin had always been there to lighten the burden with humor and words of wisdom and confidence. Arthur had always striven to be a good king when the time came, and this just seemed to be confirmation that he would be. But Merlin. He had been a farm boy who had grown up being told not to use his magic. Then he gets to Camelot and is told he has to protect and guide someone who would kill him as soon as look at him if his secret were known, that he has to convince the son of Uther Pendragon that magic can be a force for good. It would seem an impossible task, no doubt. No wonder Merlin was so anguished.
"Well, you're already halfway there," he said. Merlin looked confused. "To your destiny. You've finally convinced me, albeit in a rather unconventional manner. And I promise you that when I am king, magic will be free in Camelot once more." Merlin's face broke out into a watery smile and his eyes shined with a joy of which Arthur had never quite seen the like.
"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that." Arthur smiled back at him, feeling more at peace with himself than he ever had before. He knew with every fiber of his being that he had made the right decision. Magic would be free again. He would see to it.