Chapter 11 - Arthur

For a man who had been doing a relatively good job of managing his emotions since returning from the dead, it only took a few moments of reading Merlin's lovingly written manuscript to reduce the former king to tears.

Guinevere. His precious Guinevere. She had been so strong in the wake of his passing. Even without Merlin, though he was eternally grateful to the sorcerer, Arthur knew with certainty that Guinevere would have been the best ruler to ever grace Camelot's throne.

Merlin's manuscript was long, but Arthur devoured it quickly. He was ecstatic to learn that his queen had lived for so long, and so very proud of all she had accomplished. Her treaties with neighboring kingdoms and the new laws to manage magic had turned Camelot into the perfect kingdom. He felt a little chagrined at not accomplishing some of those things himself, but then, he hadn't always listened to Guinevere and Merlin as seriously as he ought to have. Merlin especially. Reading of how the sorcerer had helped shape his queen's reign, though Merlin was excessively humble about his hand in events, Arthur felt as though he had been blind for an eternity, and had only now understood the events of his life.

The odd noise of the hotel key in the funny door lock alerted Arthur to Merlin's return, and he collected himself, closing the window that the manuscript had been open in and taking a deep breath.

Merlin reentered the room warily, glancing at Arthur as though concerned the former king might have dissolved into an emotional puddle in his absence.

"I'm fine, Merlin," Arthur said in reply, taking another breath to ensure he was not going to cry again.

"I didn't say anything," Merlin responded, closing the door and taking a seat on one of the twin beds in the room. "Did you finish the whole thing?"

Arthur nodded, closing the laptop and setting it on the desk next to the television. "Thank you, Merlin. I can't repay you for such a gift."

"You don't have to," Merlin assured him, reclining onto the bed. "It's the least I can do. It's harder for you, I know that."

Arthur wasn't sure that was true, but decided not to press the point. "What do you think you'll find at the Crystal Cave?" He asked, changing the subject. Somehow, reading about how magic had helped his kingdom during Guinevere's reign had helped him grow even more comfortable with the idea. Perhaps his fears had been more founded in his own father's prejudices than he had realized.

Merlin eyed his best friend skeptically. Arthur had always been one to fear sorcery, though not to the same degree as his father. Regardless, he had never seemed to be interested in it. "Well, it's a place of magic, Arthur. I'm hoping to find guidance. There has to be a reason you've returned in 2014 and not back during the reign of the Tudors or back when the United Kingdom still had a monarchy that did more than pose for postage stamps." Merlin was exaggerating, but it was true that the monarchy of the UK in 2014 was mostly a figurehead position. The actual government wasn't really impacted by the monarchy, the way it had been years before.

Thanks to his time on Wikipedia, Arthur actually understood what Merlin meant, and he nodded in interest. "I'm curious as well," he admitted. "My return is not random, I am sure." Pausing, he glanced at Merlin curiously before asking his next question. "What have you found at the Crystal Cave before?"

"Over the years," Merlin replied slowly, "mostly peace." He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I have stayed there many times when I wanted to believe I was not truly alone in the universe."

Arthur didn't have a response to that. "How does the Cave help?" He asked tentatively.

"It's like..." Merlin trailed off, not sure how to answer. "Being in a place so strong in magic makes my predecessors feel closer." A memory stirred, reminding him of the time he had gone to the Cave before Arthur's untimely death. "I once saw my father there."

"When was that?" Arthur asked, startled at the mention of the deceased Dragon Lord.

"Before the battle," Merlin replied, knowing he did not have to specify which battle he meant. "Morgana had enchanted a creature to steal my magic, and I was helpless before the one fight I knew you would need me most for. I had to leave Camelot and find the Cave in order to have any hope of restoring my powers. Gwaine came with me part of the way before joining you. Telling you I could not accompany you was...difficult." That was an understatement. Arthur calling him a coward had been incredibly painful, but Merlin did not see the benefit of telling Arthur that now.

Arthur's eyes widened in understanding, and he winced as he remembered that conversation. "I'm so sorry, Merlin. I had no idea what -"

"I know, Arthur. Don't worry about it." Merlin replied, waving off the apology.

"No, don't interrupt me," Arthur said, irritated. "If I want to apologize for being rude to you, I'm allowed to do so. Not knowing you were the most powerful warlock in existence does not excuse my having called you a coward. I knew you better than that."

Merlin merely nodded in acknowledgement, not wishing to cast blame upon his best friend for former misunderstandings. "When I went to the Cave," he continued, "I was forced to do battle with Morgana without magic, and she trapped me, determined to ensure I could not save you. Even once my father's spirit had guided me to both a return of my magic and a way of escape, she still succeeded. I may have helped win the battle, but I could not save you from the end to which she had sentenced you."

Arthur digested that, then winced as his memory lingered over Mordred stabbing him through. That had been a relationship he had not dealt with wisely. The memory of Merlin as an old man standing on a cliff top, casting enchantments over the battlefield, was hazed somewhat by the fact that he had been dying at the time. Waking up in the forest to Merlin revealing his true nature was another memory he disliked, mostly because of his regrettable reaction.

Merlin watched his friend think, his expression curious as he wondered what Arthur was dwelling on that he apparently disliked so much.

"I can't remember if I apologized for this," Arthur began, holding up a finger when Merlin started to object. "Merlin, let me finish. When you first told me you were Emrys, that you were not only a sorcerer but the warlock, I reacted poorly." He paused, then amended his statement. "No, I reacted hatefully. I cannot believe that after all we had been through together that I was capable of treating you in that way, and for that I am truly sorry."

The pause between the two men as Merlin attempted to digest the apology was louder than any spoken words. Merlin took a deep breath before responding. "I never blamed you, Arthur," he managed to reply softly.

Arthur gave him a skeptical look. "Really, Merlin? You never blamed me for any of the times I was awful to you, yelled at you, called you useless? Even after I knew your true nature, you didn't blame me for rejecting you?"

Merlin gave him a small smile and shook his head. "Arthur, even when I wanted to hit you with a cauldron, I never blamed you. It was never my destiny to be recognized and valued by you. It was my destiny to protect you, and with the one glaring exception of your death, I was good at it. I was upset at your reaction to my revelation, but I was not surprised. You have to understand that all I ever wanted was to help you. The fact that I could not save you after Mordred stabbed you has been my greatest regret for my entire life."

Arthur took a deep breath before replying. "I don't understand you, Merlin." He admitted.

A smile twitched at the corners of Merlin's mouth. "I think I was always somewhat of a mystery to you," he teased.

"That's true," Arthur acknowledged. "Really, Merlin, how could you be the most powerful warlock in existence, yet still manage to be the clumsiest man to ever walk the earth?"

There was a pause, then Merlin began to laugh loudly. It was the most he had truly laughed in many years, and the outburst of humor felt amazing. As soon as he could compose himself, he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes and managed to gasp out, "How could you be the most famous king in existence, yet still manage to be the biggest clotpole to ever walk the earth?"

Arthur gaped at him, then dissolved into laughter in unison with his best friend. The merriment made every memory of pain and sorrow the two had been dwelling on fade into the background. This bond of friendship between the king and his sorcerer would ultimately be their triumph against any adversity they might encounter.