Woot! Another - albeit slightly shorter (a mere 2k words, oh well) - chapter in one day! I was a bit... meh... with the last chapter, mostly because I spent days on it and just really struggled to get it out. This one, however, practically wrote itself in a couple of hours, and I'm much happier with it. Odd how that happens... anyway, here you go. I'm sorry it's shorter, but I need to be in Merlin's head for the next bit, and I prefer to keep the perpspectives clearly defined by chapter breaks. I may attempt the next bit tomorrow, but I might not be able to get anything else posted until next weekend again. I'll try to post mid-week if at all possible, though. As always, thanks for the lovely reviews and the wonderful support - nothing is more motivating!

I don't own Merlin. Which depresses me greatly. *sigh*

Arthur Pendragon was a mighty warrior. He'd fought in countless battles, defeated numerous enemies, faced mythical beasts, and inspired fear in the bravest of men. Above all, Arthur Pendragon was a king. And he felt uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.

Kings, after all, weren't supposed to feel humbled.

And yet, as he observed the dark-haired man riding a few feet ahead of him, he realised that humbled was how he felt. It was rather alarming, if he was being honest with himself. And if he was going to be completely truthful – which he supposed he should be, if only to himself – then he should probably admit that he was starting to feel an unwavering faith in his friend.

Truly, it was staggering. Kings were not meant to have all these feelings for lesser mortals. Uther had drilled in to him one simple fact; nothing and no-one was more important than a king. It didn't matter what a person did, or what they sacrificed, the fact remained that if it was in aid of a king (or a prince, as he'd been at the time), then it was perfectly fine. A life – any life – was nothing when compared to preserving the Pendragon line.

Arthur hadn't really agreed with his father, but he'd nodded and repeated Uther's views as and when it was required. But it wasn't until now that he fully appreciated just how wrong his father was. His friend – his stupid, brave, idiotic fool of a friend – was quite possibly the noblest, and most worthy person he had ever known, princes and kings notwithstanding

And the king was humbled by it. By the sacrifices his servant had made, by the incredible selflessness that had spurned his actions over the years, and by the loyalty that damn near radiated from every inch of his friend's gangly frame.

The king was humbled because he could not begin to understand what he had done to inspire such faith and devotion. Oh, his friend had mumbled something about destiny and duty, but for the first time ever – when it came to Merlin, anyway – Arthur was not fooled. He'd seen the strength of the genuine affection that burned in the servant's eyes even more brightly than the gold light that signified his friend's magical abilities.

He was humbled, and he needed to understand.

"Why did you stay with me?" he asked abruptly, causing the warlock to look back over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised in a remarkably Gaius-like way.

"I'm not sure I..."

"At the start," the king clarified. "Why did you stay? It was plainly obvious that we didn't get along, and with Camelot's laws on sorcery, surely it would have been better for you to leave? Come to think of it, why the hell did you even come to Camelot? What was Hunith thinking?"

Normally, Arthur would have felt a little embarrassed at the way he'd sounded so protective of his servant's well-being, but Merlin's face showed none of teasing mockery that it might have done in the past. If anything, his features softened, which only caused Arthur to feel even more humbled, if that was even possible.

What was it about this man that caused him to think and feel as much, if not more, than even Guinevere could?

"Destinies are troublesome things," said his impish friend, smiling wryly.

"That bloody dragon isn't the only one who's cryptic," he muttered to himself, glaring at his servant, who was currently choking on a laugh. "That's not the first time you've said that ridiculous phrase. Explain yourself."

Humour quickly left his friend's face, and was replaced with an expression that Arthur couldn't put his finger on.

"It really is all about the destiny, my lord. Or at least, it started that way. I've told you it was my duty to protect you, but I haven't told you why. I think – I hope – you're ready to hear it now."

Merlin said it as a statement of fact, but the king heard a nervous question behind the words, and he responded to it with a nod.

"You're the other half of my soul, Arthur," the warlock said simply.

Arthur's immediate reaction was to reprimand his friend for being such a girl, but something in his friend's eyes held him back. He felt a shiver travel down his spine, and knew with absolute certainty that his friend was about to say something that was incredibly important.

"Centuries ago, the druids foretold of a mighty warrior who would join with the most powerful sorcerer ever to grace the earth. These men – such opposites of each other – would combine their strengths and form an unbreakable bond that would rival even the closest of brothers. These men – these two halves of one soul – would be powerful enough to shatter even the deepest of prejudices, and destroy the fear and the hatred that existed between all people, magical or otherwise."

Merlin never broke eye contact as he spoke, and Arthur was utterly transfixed. He friend's voice was deeper than usual, and was layered with wisdom beyond anything in the king's experience. It was the voice that Arthur recognised as Merlin's true voice; the one when his friend wasn't being foolish, bumbling Merlin, but wise and truthful Merlin. The king was suddenly revisited by the memory of his friend using that very same voice, not so very long ago.

"How did you know this place was sacred?"

"It's obvious."

"Pretend it isn't."

"Everything here... is so full of life. Every tree; every leaf, every insect. It's as if the world is vibrating; as if everything is much more than itself."

"You feel all that?"

"Don't you?"

At the time, the king had been curiously moved, enough to curb his natural instinct to tease his sensitive friend. He was powerfully reminded of that conversation right now, and was again moved by the words of his friend. They seemed to come from the very depths of him, and Arthur knew that the servant was speaking from his very heart and soul. He raised his eyes and met the fathomless blue of his friend's, noting the curious tilt of the man's head that always seemed to accompany something that would knock the king off balance.

There was more.

Even as Arthur thought the words, the warlock's eyes flared momentarily with some indefinable light. Not the glow of gold, which the king realised he was getting rather used to, but something else. Something more.*

"You're the most powerful sorcerer to ever grace the earth, I presume," he said awkwardly, since his friend was clearly waiting for him to say something. The warlock's lips quirked into a half smile as he nodded.

"And you're the mighty warrior," said his friend, watching him closely.

He wants something from me, the king realised. He could practically feel his friend poking and prodding his mind, ludicrous as that seemed. Something occurred to him then, and he didn't know if he'd thought of it himself, or if his friend had somehow managed to plant the idea in his head. Either way, the words that spilled from his lips made him feel as if he was stood on a precipice; there was no looking back any more, they could only go forward. Towards a truth that he knew would shape his future, no matter how much life he had left in him.

"You said they call me the Once and Future King," he whispered, trying to speak with a suddenly dry mouth. "What do they call you?"

And there was that light again, only this time Arthur thought he understood what it was that glowed fiercely in his friend's eyes. Triumph. Absolution. Peace. Truth.

"I am Emrys."

"Emrys," he breathed, feeling strangely calm. "Why do I get the feeling that I already knew this?"

"That would be the destiny, my lord."

An answer that should have annoyed him, the blonde thought, but somehow... didn't.

"There's another description that is widely associated with us," said his friend quietly, who was suddenly right beside him, leaning over to halt the king's horse gently. "I used to scoff at it at first, not really understanding what it meant. Kilgharrah was the first to mention it, though I believe his words may have been influenced by the druid prophesies."

There was a slight pause, and Arthur could see his friend gathering his thoughts.

"He said that we were two sides of the same coin."

Arthur was still struggling to comprehend why he felt such a nagging familiarity with the name Emrys, and he blinked stupidly at the man next to him.

"What?"

"When I said you were the other half of my soul, I meant it. We're the same, Arthur. You may be a king, and I may be a commoner, but we're the same for all that. Two halves of one soul, two sides of one coin; however you describe it, it all boils down to one thing. You were born to unite Albion, and I was born to help you do it. We were linked before we even came into being. You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for your great destiny, and I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. We're the same."

The words were possibly the strangest he had ever heard in his life, but some part of him immediately recognised them as being utterly true. He laughed giddily, feeling a weight lift from his heart, and was floored once again by the complex man before him, who was a riddle of opposites that somehow still managed to make sense.

His friend was idiotically wise, and powerfully humble. He was a strange combination of elderly knowledge mixed with childish innocence, blindly embracing a fate that would scare the hell out of even the bravest of knights.

As his servant clucked his tongue and gently kicked his horse into a trot, Arthur urged his own horse forward and contemplated the enigma that was his friend. He was again confronted with another startling contradiction to his earlier opinions; Merlin looked, for lack of a better word, graceful. Merlin and graceful were two words that Arthur would never have put in the same sentence before today, and yet strangely he knew that it was exactly the right word after all.

He had to stifle another wry chuckle at his thoughts as he pictured the many times his servant had displayed his inherent propensity towards clumsiness. Only Merlin could be the most powerful sorcerer in the world, yet still manage to fall over nothing more than fresh air. Idiot.

The idiot in question suddenly came to a halt, holding his palm up in warning.

"Saxons?" the blonde whispered, spotting the smoke in the distance that had obviously alerted his friend. Merlin didn't reply immediately, and the tell-tale little jerk of his head told Arthur that his servant was doing something magical.

"They're long gone," the servant muttered.

"How do you know?" the king asked curiously. He honestly couldn't see how his friend could possibly ascertain the amount of time that had elapsed since the Saxons had departed.

"I can... see the path ahead," was the reply, and though Arthur could only see the back of his head, he knew that his friend was amused.

See the path ahead? How in all that was sane was that even possible? And why was Merlin so damned amused? Idiot.

Though, now that he thought about it, he should probably think of a new insult for his friend. Remorse attacked him anew, and he squirmed with it. Guilt was another thing that a king wasn't supposed to feel.

"So you're not an idiot then," he said, his words not coming out quite the way he'd intended. "That was another lie." He winced. Damn. That hadn't come out right, either. Where was the teasing tone that he had used so often in the past?

He saw his friend flinch a little, but when he turned to look back at him, the king was relieved to see the wonderful, blinding grin that was just so... Merlin... light up the face before him.

"No," his friend said cheekily. "It's just another part of my charm."

Arthur shook his head. That it is, Merlin, that it is.

A/N *Something more. A small nod to the awesomeness that is CaptainOzone, whose beautiful stories - particularly Something More - inspired me enough to climb out of my lazy bubble and start writing again.