Warning: none
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dealing with the council might have swept the hours from the day quicker than rainfall if Arthur allowed it. After the members were reassured and the city proclaimed safe, he declared a formal apology to the visitors and made it known the physician's quarters were off limits to all citizens and visitors of the castle. A guard around the citadel had been created to ward off curious eyes. With clean up operations underway in the lower town, he dismissed the council to reconvene later in the evening, eager to check on Merlin's condition.
He flirted with the idea of moving Merlin and Aithusa to room high in a tower to hid them from the people, but until the situation was completely controlled, they would have to stay put. The guard around his quarters would have to suffice. Several servants scattered to prepare the rooms in the tower just in case on his orders. His feet felt heavy as he walked through sunlight corridors and let his mind wander.
Merlin's blood-stained clothes, the rubble littering the lower towns, Gaius's bags left abandoned at the arch of the citadel, small reminders of the events of the day chased his feet like shadows.
As he crept closer to the physician's quarters, a large, tight pressure started to squeeze around his throat. His breath quickened and burst out it short gasps as he diverted from the hallway to break into the cool winter air. From the battlements, he looked out at the city and took a deep breath to still his racing heart.
For a moment, his mind was blissfully empty. He gazed out to Camelot, to his city, the icy snow covering the building tops, the forest beyond the walls and simply breathed.
Follow your heart, Arthur.
He heard Gwen whisper in his memory.
A cold breeze ruffled his clothes and sent a chill up his spine. It sounded like wise advice at the time, but he felt painfully aware of how following his heart quickly became a disaster.
He had believed in his heart that Merlin was innocent of magic, believed he would never betray him by practicing it willingly, and he had believed in his heart that his father's law on magic was fair, believed in the danger of magic, the evil it spread and how it corrupted the people around him.
We lost EVERYTHING to Uther's bloodlust.
We.
We as in sorcerers, people of magic.
We as in the dragons and the Dragonlords.
His hand twisted through his golden hair until the skin covering his skull burned.
I SHOWED HIM MERCY! Something that YOUR FATHER NEVER GAVE TO A SINGLE ONE OF OUR KIND!
He knew Aithusa's magic allowed him to see clearly, knew less than twenty-four hours ago he would have cursed to the air that an enchantment wrapped around his mind controlled by the dragon.
But, his eyes were opened.
He could not shut them, could not turn away from the truth.
A seed of it still rested in his mind, wedged in his eyelids and ripped a heavy veil from his eyes. But, the light struck them and left him blind.
And you never listen to me when I answer you or try to tell you something anyway, so why would now be any different?
His memories flashed over moments of him and Merlin, times where Merlin had spoken wisdom only for him to ignore or berate the servant, remind him of his status and foolishly wait for the consequence of his inaction or rash orders to crash down. They rushed to the surface of his mind like running water, and he felt choked.
I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I, I was too afraid. Afraid you would not understand and have me killed…Arthur, you would have burned me. You would have burned me and never looked back. Albion would be lost.
He wanted to deny it, curse at the heavens that he would never burn Merlin. But, was he right?
He tried to imagine his uncle coming to him and declaring Merlin a sorcerer. He tried to imagine himself speaking calmly to Merlin about the accusations to learn the truth, but the vision was clouded. He would look for a way to prove his innocence, hold out for a way to free the accusation as he had with the goblin and the Witch-finder. He tried to imagine how he would react if no excuse was found, but his thoughts vanished into darkness and he could not see behind the void that swallowed them past that point.
You would have burned me.
He gasped and sucked in a deep gulp of air to calm his racing heart and think clearly.
No.
Guilt twisted inside his chest like a snake, and he doubted himself. He wanted to say no, but in his heart, he did not know. He had been forced to turn against Morgana and would have against his Uncle if given the chance. Would this betrayal have been different?
I seek nothing but protection for you and understanding... I am here to serve you... Magic is something I was born with Arthur.
But this time, he was not the one betrayed.
Merlin had only ever protected his life from something he had no control over. Arthur had not even allowed him a chance to speak. He thought he knew best, always thought his words were best.
Sometimes I think I know you, Merlin…and other times.
Well, I know you. You're a great warrior. One day, you will be a great king
That's very kind of you.
But you must learn to listen as well as you fight.
Any other pointers?
No…thats it. Just, don't be a Prat.
It was so long ago, one of his first years of knowing Merlin, but the conversation resonated in his mind.
But, you must learn to listen as well as you fight
But had he ever learned?
Doubt flooded into his mind as he teetered to the cold, stone floor. He realized, had it been anything else, any other problem of the city or question about his personal relationships, each doubt would have an answer. Every worry, every question would be voiced to Merlin who always had something to say, something to help him along, or some words of wisdom. Emptiness echoed through the chill of the wind rustling through his hair and the vision of Merlin tormented on the floor of his chambers flashed before him, a pain he caused in ignorance.
But, despite the dragon's magic and all the pain the vial caused, he could not stop the thought that it might have been worth the pain if Merlin was freed of magic.
The thought twisted in his gut, but the loss took the decision of Merlin's magic completely out of the equation. He wanted to understand all Merlin had done for Camelot and to hear how he fought to keep the city safe. But, now he did not have to bother with a trial for Merlin because the servant no longer possessed magic. Although he would not wish the pain on his friend that the vial caused and wished he could take it back, it was over.
Gone.
Magic was illegal in Camelot, but now it no longer mattered. There was no longer a reason for either of them to fear
Merlin may not have been able to help the magic that flooded through his veins, but now he did not have to. He would be able to live a normal life in Camelot without the fear of death hanging over his shoulders. He could return to being a simple manservant, no longer burdened from the responsibility of protecting his King in whatever part he might have played in his protection, and Arthur's heart felt lighter for it.
He had already resolved to repair their friendship before he discovered Merlin with Aithusa, and perhaps this might be the way to do it. He knew more about his servant than before. Perhaps the breaking of the walls around Merlin would allow Arthur to fully broach his remaining walls and apologize, not only for the vial, but for everything before the vial, for shoving Merlin out of his life and everything in-between, for failing to protect him and for making him feel that he needed to protect Arthur when he was the knight and Merlin the servant, one of his people he was meant to protect. Perhaps, they could return to simpler times, when he was a prince and Merlin was his friend, no titles in the way, no obligations and haphazard plans to protect the other with magic simply because they could.
He could feel a cloud start to return to his mind, but shrugged it off. His breath even and composed, he left the battlements and walked towards Merlin's quarters.
Blood bathed images still danced behind his lids and he focused on Leon coming towards him. He fell into step next to his King, and the two made their way to the physician's quarters in companionable silence. It took less time than he liked to cross the doorless threshold, and Arthur's eyebrows rose in surprise at the sight of Merlin asleep in a makeshift—no—enlarged version of his bed. The dragon curled next to him awkwardly in the small space, limbs entangled as if wrapped in a nest. Gwaine and Percival hustled around the room to help Gaius restore it to order while Gwen rested in a chair by the fire and ground several herbs into a paste.
"Gaius, how is he?"
The room's occupants looked up at him, shock marring their faces. Aithusa opened one lazy eye, much like the first time Arthur caught the Dragonlord and servant together and watched him without blinking. Gwen stood abruptly and moved in front of Merlin's bed. He remembered her actions before, how she shielded Merlin from him when she thought he might harm the man for possessing magic.
Did she accept everything so easily?
"As the one holding his fate, I was hoping you would tell me, Sire. He has the protection of the Queen, but does he have yours?"
The statement struck him, and he shook his head.
"What are you on about?"
Gaius seemed determined as he spoke, eager to push a decision from him. "Merlin is indeed a sorcerer. What do you plan to do with him? That being said, I confess to knowing about his practice of magic from the day he stepped foot in my life, and have deliberately lied to hide him from you. I would very much wish to know your sentence on both of us, Sire."
His mind swirled at the confession. Anger stirred in his gut, but the damage was done. Wasn't it?
"He is not a sorcerer anymore, Gaius. There is nothing to condemn."
The man's brows rose into his hairline. He was about to speak when Gwen's angry voice cut his reply.
"Arthur, you can't possibly mean that." She sounded exasperated, but that was all her voice sounded like lately.
"Of course I do. I am not about to condemn Merlin for something he no longer possesses. The vial cut his ties with magic forever. You cannot possibly wish to see him burn, Gwen? This is Merlin!"
"Arthur, he needs it back."
It took him a while to realize what she was saying. All the eyes of the knights fixed on him. Leon shifted uncomfortably beside him, but he knew Gwaine and Percival believed the words of the Queen from their body language.
"Magic is illegal Gwenevire." The low growl in his throat surprised him. He tried to reign back his disgust, but then, how do you stop years of fear and hatred of magic in one day?
"Not having it is killing him, Arthur! He—, he doesn't even know where he is!"
Gaius stepped towards him.
"I am not sure what effect it will have on his body, Sire. At this point, we will not know until he awakes, although his disorientation is alarming. Aithusa seems to be helping him as best as it can."
"Arthur, he thinks we were some kind of imitations, fake. He doesn't even think we are real. Without his magic, he just isn't there! You've seen it yourself! "
Her eyes pleaded, begged. He could not pull away from them even as Gaius started to speak.
"Perhaps…if you knew all he has done, you would not be so quick to pass judgment, Sire?"
But that snapped his attention to the old man, and he looked dead in the center of his eyes.
"And do not be so quick to question the Laws of Camelot. I told him after he drank the vial that I would listen to him. I never planned to condemn him. Merlin may have had magic, may have been some crazy, stupid expectation to sorcery's evil, but that does not mean magic is any less dangerous."
Before he could respond, Gwen cut across the room.
"Arthur, a word, outside. Now!"
She rushed out of the room and, after a glance at Merlin sleeping peacefully, he bounded out of the room behind her. Leon walked tentatively to Merlin and eyed the dragon in awe.
"So, it is true. He is a Dragonlord."
As he spoke the words, Aithusa raised his head in pride. He gave the knight a small nod.
"All those falling branches and close encounters, our luck, suddenly makes sense doesn't it."
Gwaine snorted. "You can say that again! You should hear some of the things this little man had been up to in his spare time."
"Then, tell us."
They looked startled at Percival's command, but the knight looked to Gwaine in rapt attention. A smile graced Gwaine's face as he thought over everything Merlin told him before the nightmare began. They could hear the shouts of the royal couple sweep into the room, but Gwaine ignored them. He started to recount different tales and stories Merlin told him in their short talk together.
Gaius could hear the affection coloring Gwaine's voice as he spoke and busied himself with a mixture of herbs he hoped would abate any pain and disorientation Merlin felt from the loss of his magic. Once finished, he started to mix a simple tonic, one he often gave to Merlin if his ward started to look too weary or show the first signs of a cold, especially during the winter months. Despite the ease of the knights, Gaius found his attention constantly crept back to the couple in the hallway. Their voices echoed on the stone.
"—to me Gwen! How am I supposed to just ignore that?"
"Because it's not about you, Arthur! You may be the King, but this is not about you!"
"How is it not? He was MY MANSERVANT, GWEN!"
"He IS your manservant! But he is MY FRIEND, and Arthur, WE TORTURED HIM!"
"If my father was king, he would be dead!"
"You are not your Father, Arthur! You will never be your Father, and I thank God every day that is the case!"
"But to practice Magic Gwenevire? To—"
"He was born with it, Arthur! He didn't need to practice anything! Gaius told us he only started once he arrived in Camelot because he needed to learn to control it, because it was instinctual, so he could hide!"
"And you trust his words so easily?"
"Of course I trust him! And his counsel has never once lead me astray."
"He was harboring a sorcerer!"
"He was protecting Merlin FROM YOU, from all of us. He shouldn't have to do that, Arthur. We promised each other we would work towards a land of peace together, one where people no longer have to be afraid. "
"What are you saying?"
"You know what I'm saying. When he recovers—and we will find a way to help him. There must be a way, there always is—you cannot just brush off his word anymore."
"Gwen, we are not restoring his magic. It's over. I will not suffer through another betrayal like that. I cannot ask my people to accept someone like that. What would the council say?"
"Merlin is not Morgana! You think you and your father were the only ones hurt by her betrayal? That doesn't mean Merlin is the same as her! And you accepted me, a servant girl, as your queen. You accepted knights without noble blood. Why will you not even consider helping Merlin with his magic?"
"This is nothing to do with Morgana, and you know it. Magic is evil Gwenevire! Are you forgetting all the suffering we have been dealt at its hands?"
"Life is not that simple! You know that! You can't just view the world through some black and white filter when you get angry because that is what you were told when you grew up. You are not a child anymore. Your father was wrong about so ma—"
Gaius turned his attention back to his ward and hobbled over to Aithusa and Merlin. Elyan caught his arm to keep him from moving forward, but he shoved the man away roughly to reach the bed and sank into the side of the mattress. He rested for a moment, looked at his ward and cataloged every line of pain in his face as he slept. With gentle motions, he massaged a thin cream above Merlin's eyes to help the swelling subside. Satisfied, he took a towel and cleaned a fresh line of blood that dripped down Merlin's face.
He watched Merlin's steady breaths and let out his own shuddering sigh. He could make it out of Camelot if he needed to. With Aithusa, they could all make it out, but he hoped it would not come to that.
He glanced at the dragon who watched him and held out a hand. Aithusa nuzzled into his palm, yawned and stretched out on the bed before snuggling back against Merlin. He watched the two of them until they both drifted into slumber before he moved to lower his creaking muscles to a chair by the fire, weary from traveling. Although it was still mid-day, he drifted off into a fitful sleep with the chatter of the knights echoing in the room behind him.
Arthur stormed away from his wife, wired to get away before he said or did something he would regret.
Sickness flooded through his veins.
How could Gwen actually think of finding a way to restore magic to Merlin?
He knew forcing the vial on Merlin was wrong.
He knew he should never have entered the vaults.
Once again, magic had caused disorder and chaos, harmed his friend in a new way, brought pain and suffering to his family. Although he felt responsible, he also knew he was not completely to blame. In some ways, the enchanted vial forced him to give the potion to Merlin. If not enchanted, he did not believe he would have forced Merlin to drink the potion, not when he begged him so passionately. He had to believe he would never force him.
His feet carried him down below the castle, under cold stone and wet dirt. Condensation clung to the walls of the catacombs lined with ornate tomes and riches. He stopped before the resting place of his father, the resting place of his king. He stood there, muscles ridged, and let his breath came out in short bursts as he leaned forward to place a hand on the cold, stone box.
His anger at Gwen, at Merlin, faded away with no one to fight in the gloom of the caves but himself, even the sting of betrayal left. He felt hollow, alone with no one but the dead.
But, he needed to be alone.
He needed to think.
He closed his eyes.
The golden glow of the sun shone down from its highest peak in the sky as Arthur, no older than eight, worked to pull the string of the bow back enough to send the arrow flying to the target. He could feel the gaze of his father behind him as he silently watched from the shadows. He was shrouded in darkness, but Arthur could pick him out of a room void of all light.
His arms shook from the weight of the string. When the arrow release it flew straight and true to strike the center of the bulls-eye. He resisted the urge to turn and watch his father, to search for a smile, although rare. Overcome with his desire, he turned and saw his father motion towards the knight behind him to summon him.
At his father's side, he avoided asking about the arrow. He knew better than to ask for praise.
"Come, Arthur. I have something very important to teach you today."
"Yes, Father."
He replied and fell into step next to his King. His father's hand draped affectionately across his shoulder. He swelled with pride at the contact as they traveled through the citadel to the main courtyard. It was bustling with energy. The stone floor disappeared into a mass of hair and clothing. A large pyre stood in the center of the crowd. He could make out faces, young and old, among the wood. With childlike confusion, he turned to his father. As if sensing the query, his father faced him with a serious expression.
"Arthur, do you remember what happens to sorcerers?"
A proud smile fluttered across his face.
"They burn!"
When his father smiled, a light burst inside his chest. Yes, Father, I remembered, he thought.
"And why do they burn, Arthur?"
"Because magic is bad. It makes people sick, and they cannot get better. It kills things."
His father's hands gripped his shoulder. In a rare moment, he lowered to look at his son on eye level.
"How does it make them sick, Arthur?"
Unlike his other lessons, he knew this one. He knew it so many ways because this was his father's favorite. No matter how well he excelled in his studies, his father never seemed to notice. But this one, he loved.
"They start to hurt everyone. They turn against me and you. They try to hurt Camelot and be king."
"Yes. Yes, but a King must take care of his people, Arthur. He must take care of all of his people, including people infected with magic, including sorcerers."
It was the first time his father called sorcerers his people, so he nodded his head, confused.
"How can the King take care of his people infected with magic?"
Arthur thought for a moment, before answering.
"He burns them?"
His eyes widened in shock as the King placed a tender kiss on his forehead. A large grin spread across his face at the obvious display of affection.
"That's my boy."
He trailed after his father to the center of the citadel and stood proudly beside him as he spoke long to the crowd about sorcery and the city. His mind wondered, but towards the end, he registered a torch being lit. He watched the faces in the pyre. A young boy his age stared back at him with tear-filled eyes. He startled from his gaze when his father's hand fluttered across his shoulder.
"One day, he will also protect you from this treachery. I pass this torch as a reminder that sorcerer will never again reign in Camelot."
His eyes widened as his father held the flame for him to grasp. He took it, ever obedient and did his best not to stumble as his father pushed him towards the pyre. The boy's piercing gaze came closer with every step until his father leaned forward to whisper in his ear.
"Light the fire, Arthur. "
His eyes fluttered wide as he took in the people, the tearful expression of the boy, an older man, several women, looking up at him with torn and dirt-stained faces. Fear slammed into his gut when he found one he recognized, one of his maids, an old woman who had taken care of him for as long as he could remember. He remembered the sweet treats she would bring up to his chambers at night to tell him tales of Camelot and magic.
He caught her gaze. Her mouth moved as if speaking to him, but he could not hear her over the yell of the crowd around him. The flame quivered in his hands, but he felt a pressure on his upper forearm, edging him closer, edging his arm to the pyre.
"Make me proud."
His father squeezed his shoulder, almost painfully, and used a calloused hand to guild his arm to toss the torch so the straw flared up in a heated blaze. With his father's hand on his shoulder, he drew back to observe the fire. He watched as it licked up the legs of the sorcerers and tried to hide his face in his father's leg. He felt his father's hand dig into his shoulder painfully, and he did his best not to cry out. He looked back at the fire, focused on a building behind the blaze and tried to ignore the pain flaring from his shoulder and heart. He tried to ignore the screaming, tried to ignore the tears trailing down his face, tried to ignore the pain even if he did not yet understand death fully. When the scream of the people died down, his father led him inside, out of sight. Fear flashed through him as he realized his father would notice his tears, but there was nothing he could do now. But instead of his usual punishment, his father released the grip on his shoulder and slouched to face him directly. He gasped as the nails left his flesh.
"Arthur."
He looked up at his father, tears falling freely from his face now that he caught him crying.
"Remember, what you did is also for the people. Those sorcerers have now been cleansed, and the people are safe. You saved their lives, Arthur. You are already on your way to becoming a noble knight and a good King."
He nodded, but could not find the energy to speak.
"You will learn. The second time, I do not want to see tears, Arthur. A king cannot rule with his emotions. The second time, you must show your father that you can be king. "
He opened his eyes and broke out of the memory. It was one of the stronger ones from his childhood and one of the few with his father.
He could recall countless other times, moments his father time and time again worked to teach him the evils of magic. And for each evil his father warned him, he could match a point in his life, match a memory with a warning, a curse, an enchantment, something to cause suffering.
He remembered loving his father, the good and the bad. He remembered every single one of his teachings on magic and how proud he became when Arthur listed them. But, he also remembered how much he grew to hate them over the last few years of his father's life.
There was a lot of his father's reign that he did not agree with, a lot he did not condone. So much changed when he became regent and even more when he became King. He did his best to rule for the people, and with all the changes he made, knew his father had either not know how or not truly cared for them as he did.
He undermined his father before, rescuing the druid boy, seeking Dragoon's help with his father, and other trivial quests. He proclaimed magic as evil to Gwen, his Knights, to Merlin, but then that was the law, his father's law, and a law he believed kept them safe against Morgana. He supported it because it was a law of Camelot.
Yet, he had almost lifted the ban. When he sought help for his father, he swore to the sorcerer's terms easily, if only to save the life of his father.
His thoughts felt muddled, but he thought of Will, the sorcerer who had saved his life in Elandor. He thought of the druids who had saved the life of Leon, the druid camp who had suffered at his hands greatly, the sword in the stone which could only have been placed with magic, how his heart soared with pride as he was able to pull the sword straight from the stone and the confidence it gave him as he crowned Gwen his Queen.
He turned to rest his weight against the tome.
He thought back to when he first met Merlin, how he treated him differently from others, as a man not as a prince, as an equal not as a better, not as a Lord. His courage always astounded Arthur: how he would follow him into every trial and battle, never ceasing, never failing, Merlin, his friend, his comrade.
And magic had once again hurt him, but then what of Merlin's magic?
Merlin is not just a sorcerer. He is a warlock, a creature of magic. Unique.
He was once again struck by how much he did not know about magic. Calling Merlin a warlock made him sound strange, inhuman almost, but he did not understand what it meant. It could mean that the way he was able to use magic made him unique, like how he supposedly used it for Camelot. It could mean anything.
One of his greatest fears among many was to be hated by every single one of you because of his powers, to fail in his destiny, and we both carried it close
And that was another question that needed an answer, another door that had been locked to him. What kind of destiny could Merlin have? He was not a king. He was not in any position of power. He did not hold sway over people like Arthur did. He did not have to protect people like the knights.
But, he was a dragonlord.
He recalled the power Balinor was rumored to have, the sway over dragons. Was that the destiny he spoke of?
He would have to return to Gaius, ask him more about Merlin's condition to learn more about his magic and that aggravated him. He still did not approve of the use of magic, did want to see it returned to Camelot, and did not want any of his friends to use it. And as if to make him angrier, it occurred to him, that if Merlin still had his magic, if it returned, he would not burn or banish him.
You—you're really not going to kill me? I'm not…I'm not going to burn?
No.
Never.
He could hardly stand when Merlin went missing when his uncle still stood at his side. Not having his friend had been almost unbearable. And now, the past month, how he shoved Merlin away, he knew they both had suffered for it. Perhaps, the city suffered with them. Without Merlin's advice, he sometimes felt like he scrambled to finish papers and decrees like they lacked a final polish. The months apart made him realize how much he took counsel in his friend and how much he truly relied on him for advice.
He isn't just a servant, Arthur. This is Merlin! He might as well be your advisor as well as your servant! You need each other.
He supposed it fit that he reflected on Merlin, finally really reflected on his place in his life and the role he played when he reflected on his death.
Could he allow it, help even, if they tried to return Merlin's magic?
Magic is a part of me, Arthur.
Could he allow that?
You? Wh-What are you? Where is Gaius? You! Wh-what have you done to him! Where am I?
Seeing Merlin so disoriented frightened him. Merlin might never recover, forced to spend the rest of his life half out of his mind. He thought of his father, everything he had been willing to do to save him and turned it over and over in his mind.
Not having it is killing him, Arthur! He—, he doesn't even know where he is
He had been willing to use magic for his father, but he feared traveling down that path again. The first time it killed his father, and he dreaded the thought of losing Merlin, in the same way, passing away in madness.
He growled to the empty air, angrier with himself as the answer came to him. If there was no other option, if it was the only way to help Merlin, he would accept the assistance of magic immediately. It had saved Leon, perhaps it would save Merlin. And if Merlin had used it to save his life somehow, perhaps it could still be used for good even if the thought churned in his stomach like tar.
Hypocrite.
He did not accept magic, but he accepted Merlin. He was willing to twist the law into an exception for his friend. And that, he knew, was something a King should never do, something he named as one of the first steps to a corruption of power.
But I am the King. It is my law.
He started to leave the dark confines of the catacombs, not sparing a glance for his father as if he might look back and see his own reflection watching him from the tomb. He did so much for his people, so much for his knights and those around him. If the worst thing he did was pardon Merlin, then it would be okay.
He was in pain now, but Merlin would recover and learn to live without his magic. It would be a change, but perhaps a change for the better. Secrets could be told, walls could be broken and it would be different this time. Merlin would no longer be kept in the shadows, not when Arthur had the power to change it. There were lands to the south, icy marshlands in the winter, but good farming in the summer. The lord there had no children and, if he gifted Merlin the land, he could be ascended to a position of power in the court. Arthur would be free to protect him however he wished. No one could question his friend's new position if he was a Lord, and he could easily gift the land to Merlin as a reward for all the times he saved his life. The cause was there, just as it had been with his knights. And just because he gifted Merlin the land, did not mean he would have to manage it. They could appoint a steward, someone to manage his lands for him as he could not imagine Merlin effectively taking care of the property and serfs in his charge. Then, Merlin would be free to stay in Camelot, free to continue to serve him.
One of his knights called to him as he emerged from the darkness.
"My Lord, the council has been searching for you."
He nodded.
"Thank you. Let's not keep them waiting then."
He bounded up the steps to the council. He had been brief, clipt before in the meeting, anxious to return to Merlin. But his knights, wife, and Gaius were looking after him now, and as much as he avoided the thought, so was the dragon.
He would have to find a way to make that okay too.
Being a dragonlord did not seem to be a direct act of magic, more like a position or title of nobility. If the dragon could be seen to fit into the same category as a horse, falcon even, perhaps he might bend the council to that too. After all, if Merlin was willing, Camelot would gain a great asset in the war against Morgana with is power. The dragon clearly cared for Merlin, that he knew. He understood its intentions to protect and care. It showed restraint in rescuing Merlin from the vial so had proved it was not a complete monster. Perhaps, Camelot's crest would become more tangible soon.
It was too early, too unplanned, and too rough.
So he waited, dropped hints that the dragon had been contained, not killed. Although this unnerved some of the council members, they let it go, likely as they had let his father's capture of the great dragon pass. It occurred to him that this was not the only questionable ruling they might have let pass and he wondered how much they allowed to slip through reason to stay in his good graces or in the good graces of his father.
It had been late when he emerged from the catacombs.
It was late when he finished the council.
He arranged for other members of his court to see to the castle's visitors and to keep his next few days free to see to Merlin, make arrangements for the change that would take place upon his servant's recovery. Tired and weary, he kicked off his shoes in his chambers, tossed his clothes to the floor and fell back onto the soft mattress. Thoughts of his friend screaming, blood covered in pain danced in front of his eyes.
You caused that.
You made him bleed,
Gave him agony instead of an apology.
He let himself wallow in the guilt, and it kept him from jumping from the bed to visit his friend who needed to rest in the late hours of the night.
I seek nothing but protection for you and understanding…. I am here to serve you.
He could only hope that was still true. But then, how could it not be? He forced himself to remember the devotion in Merlin's eyes, the trust his servant had in him.
I'm happy to be your servant, Arthur, until the day I die.
And he hoped, he prayed, that it would be enough.
The day came too quickly, and Arthur roused from a fitful sleep. George came with breakfast which he ignored in favor of tossing on clothes before he stepped out of the room, eager to head to the physician's quarters. He wanted, no needed, to speak with Merlin to assure him of his safety and health, needed to do whatever it took to make sure he never suffered that kind of pain again.
Leon nodded to him across the hall before falling into step next to him. He glanced at him curiously before he realized he had directly ordered everyone to stay away from Gaius's chambers. Ever loyal, the knight likely thought this applied to him as well.
"Leon, you are free to visit Merlin whenever you wish."
He looked at him, startled, and nodded.
"Thank you, Sire."
They could hear the echoes of shouting as the doorway came into view. He stepped into the room as a roar from Merlin and Aithusa echoed off the walls into silence. The Dragon's wings covered Merlin from view.
"What's going on? Gaius, I thought you assured us that thing wasn't a threat?"
He said it almost lightly. He no longer believed Aithusa would hurt Merlin but was not entirely sure it would not hurt one of his knights if the dragon viewed them as a threat to him. He saw Merlin's eyes snap up from underneath the wings of Aithusa and stumbled back from the pure hatred swimming underneath his blue eyes, almost purple in color from the sheen of blood covering them. A crack split through his chest that blurred his vision as Merlin roared in a clear, cold voice.
"YOU ARE NOT THE ONCE AND FUTURE KING."
Merlin could feel crackling fire flowing underneath his skin. It rushed through his veins and filled the void in his chest with exploding flames. Arthur's form looked distorted in his vision, a broken scarecrow dressed in fine clothing with a crown on top his head.
No light, no beauty. The glimmer of their destiny, the hope for Albion was gone.
Arthur's mouth fell open, confused, while Gaius closed his eyes in dawning understanding.
Merlin looked at the King, really looked, and he saw him. He saw a man and a king, cleared from the influence of their shared destiny. With the glow of their connection to each other absent, he no longer felt drawn to Arthur from the beauty his life force.
He saw a man who should have stood by his side at the coming of the age of peace, a man who might have opened his eyes a little wider to create the land of Albion prophesied about for years if his grief of his father had not overtaken his judgment, a man who looked into the face of the truth so many times, the unicorn, Morgana, Agravaine, even Dragoon and saw only what he wanted to see, only the lies and deception, never the truth.
He saw a king who rose many people around him to power, to help better protect the kingdom and left Merlin behind to struggle and suffer in silence, a king who denied the reign of magic for too long, and now destroyed everything Merlin worked for, everything that made his life happy or sad or created suffering and trials. Every aspect of his existence vanished in the mind of a King who could not, and would never see the truth.
Arthur hesitated, unsure if he should approach his servant with the dragon looming over his form, almost menacingly. Once and future King? It sounded familiar, but he could not place the phrase. Instead of asking, he tried to deflect the anger covering his servant's face.
"I can see you're feeling better" He spoke sarcastically, taking in the blood that started to drip from his eyes. He took a step forward to try to…help?...he was not sure, but Merlin flinched back into Aithusa violently.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME! You keep your reign of so-called peace while your people still suffer in silence. You're a bigot and hypocrite, your Majesty. You said you would create a land for people to stand as equals, to live in harmony. You don't even know what it means to treat someone as your equal. You don't even LOOK AT ME! IS THIS HOW YOU SHOW COMPASSION? You're blind! But this time not even I can remove the veil clouding your eyes for you have seen fit to veil my own in darkness."
In his tirade of words, Arthur could see other moments where Merlin spouted wisdom in times of trouble, but now, his words sounded more like judgment. His head swam trying to understand Merlin's words and in the end, it baffled and frustrated him. He could not tell if his friend should be taken seriously or if his words should be passed off as the ravings of a crazed man. He could still make out the mark of pain in how Merlin held himself and wondered if Merlin spoke the truth or if he was delirious with pain.
Through his anger, Merlin could feel something start to twist inside his veins from the heart of the fire. It started to squirm and twist inside his chest with each strain of acid he spite from his mouth to strike Arthur's heart. He could feel it grow, start to scratch against the underside of his ribs and scrape up through his throat. As Merlin spoke his voice transformed with an ethereal quality as if several voices growled and snarled into one guttural roar.
"Mark my words, Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, if this is not undone, Camelot will fall to ruin and madness. If you fail to right the wrongs you have done, the course of destiny will be altered forever. For, I am Magic, and Magic is me. Without it, Albion will be lost and all will fall into darkness."
And then his words transformed into a scream. He slammed back into the pillows beneath him, and Arthur watched in horrid fascination as his muscles distorted and twisted under the weight of the beast. He moved too frantic and Aithusa's head snapped up to call Gaius towards them. Gaius rushed forward and called the knights for aide. When the dragon moved to the side, Percival, Gwaine, Leon, and Arthur all worked together to keep Merlin from hurting himself as he twisted under their grip.
It lasted longer than Arthur could stand, but Merlin started to still beneath them. He wished his friend slipped into unconsciousness, no longer aware of the pain, but his heavy breathing and deep slow shaking breaths told him otherwise. He felt the need to speak, say something to appease the anger Merlin voiced, but the words still swirled in his head, and he could not understand them. He knew there was something more that he was missing, some bigger picture that would explain the destiny or Albion that Merlin spoke of, but for now, he was still in the dark.
If he was supposed to be part of some kind of greater destiny, why had no one ever told him?
His confusion overcame his anger and for once he let it. Because Merlin was twisting in pain. Merlin was bleeding, lying tortured. It knocked the anger out of him, and his voice was soft as he muttered to his friend's battered form.
"You are right, in some things. I did not treat you as I should. I should have listened to you, allowed you to speak."
Merlin's breath caught in his throat at his words.
"I understand your dragon, Aithusa, now or at least somewhat. I know how you gained the Dragonlord position and power from your Father, from Balinor. I may not understand everything, but I will listen to you now. I gave you my word that I would and, to that, I stand."
"What good is the word of a hollow king?"
His breath was no more than a wheeze, but it struck a chord of anger inside Arthur as much as he hated the familiar reaction. Merlin did little more than twitch under his touch, too exhausted to do much else as he laid limp on the bed but too aware to fall to sleep.
"Your opinion on my word doesn't make a difference. You must give an account of your actions on magic if you expect to stay in Camelot." He managed to chase the bite from his voice, but damn, he could have worded that better. It sounded too much like a threat.
"I have nothing to say to you. You are not my king."
Before he could answer, Gauis's voice cut across the room.
"Merlin, that is Arthur, King Arthur. Just as I am Gaius, and that is the Queen."
Arthur scanned Merlin's face and remembered the confusion Merlin showed when he first woke up.
"It doesn't matter. You are not my King. You are not my King."
The words cut his heart further, and he fumbled over his words even though they started to sound weak to his ears. He needed to keep talking, somehow make things better even if he had no idea how.
"I am the King, Merlin. You cannot deny my claim to the throne just because your magic is gone."
His friend did not answer. Silence filled the room and with the unanswered question still hanging in the air of Merlin's sentence, he felt the need to answer, to calm and hopefully to give him comfort.
"Your use of magic, whether you chose to study it or not, had some part in this too. You still chose to practice it. That vial was evil, and I would never force that on you again. But it freed you from magic. And now, with magic gone, I can in good faith grant you pardon for all the times you have used magic in the past and withou—"
"You're a monster, Arthur." He spoke in a soft, quiet whisper. Arthur choked back his words, gasping for breath as if stabbed.
"Merlin!" Gaius abolished. Aithusa growled beside him, but Merlin ignored them both to focus on the hollow king before him. He whispered out a soft tirade of his grievances as they settled heavy in his chest and bounced off empty space as the squirming feeling in his chest subsided to emptiness.
"You were so afraid of my magic that you took it away from me before you even allowed me to speak. You have never listened to me, not once, not since your father first abolished you for listening to the word of a servant over a knight so many years ago when we first met and you have stuck with his word ever since just as you hold onto his every last teaching of magic. You may not be as ruthless or as brutal as he was to his people but you… are truly… your Father's son, Arthur. You would not listen to my plea to burn rather than suffer this fate, and I have stood by your side for years, for years. What hope can I have for the rest of your people that you could ever be fair to them? Oh, so many people have tried to tell me, to warn me over the years but I was just as blind as you. So many people have died for you, for the future we thought you would create. So many, so many people, Arthur. So many people…"
With each word tears started to stream down his face, washing the blood that had pooled at the bottom of his eyelids. Arthur's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he said nothing. He stared down his friend, overwhelmed. His mind reeled, and he wondered if he ever knew the man. He could still see the lines of pain in his eyes, the blood that dropped from them that started to pool down his neck. When Merlin's body started to shake, he placed a tentative hand on his servant's shoulder. Merlin jerked as if to move away, but did not have the energy. Aithusa allowed Arthur to draw near to his friend, so he lowered himself to his level, to speak from the floor as Merlin often did without his king scoffing down on him.
"I want to understand." He choked in a strangled whisper, because that much was true, one of the only things he could promise him without it being some form of a lie. He needed everything to be okay in the end.
"Why can't you all just leave me alone?" He moaned, turning half of his face into the pillow. "You can't hurt me with Aithusa here. And if you somehow manage to get past him and hurt us, do you think the great dragon will not know of our deaths? He will return for us and when he does there will be no one to force him to show mercy. Whatever it is you want, give it up. Arthur….Arthur will stop you, whatever you are planning. He…he promised to listen. He promised. He is going to stop you. He is going to help, so don't try. I know him…I know him…and he….you're not him…he promised me…he promised…Just get away from me. Just get away, please."
"Merlin…you know who they are," Gaius spoke carefully to him.
"No, I don't! They have to be fake! ARTHUR WOULD NEVER DO THAT TO ME. Get away from me! You're not him! I don't believe anymore. I can't. Curse the triple goddess! I just, I can't. I CAN'T. What do you mean by coming here? What more can you hope to accomplish? Have you come for my life now too? I may no longer have my magic, but I am still a Dragonlord even if I no longer have the magic to command them. Do you think I need it? They will keep me safe from whatever further devilry you may conjure. They remain always loyal to me. If you kill me, there will be no one to stop my kin from burning this entire forsaken city to the ground and curse your people for eternity."
"Merlin…" He finds himself grasping for something, anything to rectify the situation. Reality crashes into him, and he can see his friend slipping away. He can see darkness reflected in his eyes and wonders how long it has been there.
Merlin is still clearly confused. Arthur notices moments of clarity in his eyes, but most of the time it appears to switch between real life and fantasy. He recalls Gaius's words of his friend's magic, the disorientation he must be feeling and wonders how much of the hatred is for him and how much is for the hollow with his face. But, in the moments of clarity, Merlin's anger seems strongest and that hurts. Although his guilt floods his veins he tried to shove it aside because he knows guilt will not help their friendship.
A weathered hand gripped his shoulder and started to push him from Merlin.
"Now is not the time for this, Sire. He needs rest. He needs care."
Arthur allowed himself to be shoved to the side. He watched as Gaius started to apply a cream to Merlin's eyes. He could hear him muttering assurances, listing small mundane facts about Merlin, how he liked his tea, his favorite part of picking herbs, things he always complained about in the marketplace when Gaius took him along to help barter and shop, birthday presents and funny tales. He noticed all his knights and Gwen listening with rapt attention and wondered if any of them had ever bothered to really get to know Merlin. For, out of all the small things Gaius listed, he knew none of them. When Gaius finished applying the paste, they heard him mutter something to the dragon who edged forward and blew a golden mist over Merlin's eyes before Gaius wrapped them in soft cloth. He watched the tension ease from Merlin's shoulders as the magic chased the worst of the pain from his servant. Gaius tried to coax Merlin to lay down, but he gripped his mentor's hands tightly. He shuddered as he did so, yet he leaned into his chest despite his anxiety.
They started to talk quietly, too quietly to make out the words. He felt Leon grip his shoulder, and looked up to see a new fire in his eyes.
"Sire…My lord. I believe we should a meeting of the knights once more."
It was only moring but he already felt the heavy weight of the day upon his shoulders. He examined the hesitant but determined face of his knight.
"And why, Sir Leon, should we do that?"
"Because Merlin needs our help." Gwaine said as he took a step towards Arthur who watched Percival mimic his actions.
"He has been enchanted. Something changed certain aspects of him."
Arthur froze, hearing his own words from several nights ago echoed back at him.
"And you do not need a trial to measure the depth of his loyalty." Leon parroted at his side.
Gwen stepped towards him now, and he found himself surrounded by his Knights and Queen, each imploring him.
"You told me you would not allow anyone else you love to suffer."
At that his gaze flickered back to Merlin, still caught in the loose embrace of his mentor as they talked quietly. He could make out the ghost of a smile on their faces and longed to hear their words.
I cannot allow anyone else I love to suffer
But after everything, could he actually say he loved Merlin?
His chest clenched painfully, and he knew.
Yes.
Yes, he did.
Even if he did not know what to say to Merlin, he was still a man of action. Words had always been Merlin's specialty, but Arthur was good with action.
"Assemble at the roundtable immediately. Someone will need to track down, Elyan. Gwen, as soon as he is able, I should like Gaius to meet us there. But only if he is able to leave Merlin's side without compromising his health."
Each of them nodded and started to file out of the room. He was left standing alone with his Queen, her attention focused on Merlin. A smile dusted his face as he heard a soft chuckle from Gaius at something Merlin must have said, and he watched as he took something from his neck and hung it around his ward's neck—a rabbit foot?
He turned from the room and started the journey through the long corridors to the council room. He knew how to fight battles. He learned to wield a sword almost before he could walk. His strategies in battle never failed, and he always knew when to strike in battle to overcome his opponent. He knew how to fight.
It was time he learned how to listen too.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. This chapter is heavily Arthur centric, which might be a bit different. I do not write Arthur as much so it went through too many rewrites at this point, but I am pleased with the end result(finally).
Special thanks to BooksAreMedicine for the idea to include a reference to Valient!