A/N: I'm still not watching series 4, I still don't want spoilers! *beginning to sound paranoid*

Good god, was this ever a pain to write! The longest chapter yet and it's mainly a bunch of guys around a table ... I tried so hard to keep it from becoming a theatre manuscript. Hope you don't find it too annoying or hard to follow. At least the plot is moving ...

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"I know many who are worse off than you,
but you stick to your fuck-ups like they're made out of glue,
little dysfunk you.

Now what you gonna do?"

- The Ark, Little Dysfunk You

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The Counsel of Friends and Old Men

One by one the chairs around the round table became occupied. Arthur had offered Olaf and his family rooms and time to rest, but Olaf insisted on staying, and so did Vivian even though Adric begged her not to. Hector, Bernard and Bors all politely refused to be sent off, claiming they would be of better use here. Gwen arrived and sat down next to Arthur as she always did. Elyan and Percival came to join them, and Wart returned with both Geoffrey and Gaius.

After a guard had been sent to Arthur to verify the order, Lancelot and Gwaine walked through the door. Silence fell for a moment as everyone turned to look at the two men. Gwaine walked over to his chair without even looking at Arthur, but Lancelot made a small bow towards him before he sat down. Elyan looked down at the table, but whether he was trying to not look happy or to not look angry, Arthur couldn't tell. Percival, who had the peculiar trait that by always showing an open and friendly face he made sure no one ever really knew what he was thinking, simply said "good morning" to his friends. Bors on the other hand openly glared. Arthur recalled from practices that Bors had never quite understood, and certainly not appreciated, Gwaine's particular kind of humour, but he had always seemed to get along splendidly with Lancelot. Apparently that, as so many other things, had now been ruined. All the while, Leon was watching Hector, clearly prepared for an outburst. The older man might as well have been made out of stone, but Arthur doubted that he would hold his peace for long. Sir Hector simply had a lifetime's experience of choosing his battles.

Two guards placed themselves at the door. Wart sat down in a corner. When everyone was seated only one chair remained empty – the one on Arthur's right hand side.

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Olaf repeated his story to the gathered party. Vivian stared blankly ahead of her and gave a small shudder when her father explained in detail how three of their knights had died before the remaining ones had advised their royal family to turn and flee. The other faces around the table were also pale.

"And here we are," Olaf finished. All eyes turned toward Arthur.

"Thank you, Olaf. We have known for some time that Morgana was planning something. But as Sir Hector said earlier, this is an unexpected move from her, to just show us her cards like this." Arthur lent back and addressed himself to the whole council: "What is she really planning and how should we respond to it?"

There wasn't supposed to be a formal hierarchy around the round table, but when the two kings present had spoken, eyes still turned to Leon as the man in charge of the Knights of Camelot.

"We suspected they were hiding in the forest, practicing how to conjure up these knights. Now they're letting us now that they have managed to raise an immortal army – again. They're announcing themselves."

"Sounds like Morgana," Gwen said. "She always loved to make an entrance."

She looked down at the table and Arthur thought he saw a familiar grief in her eyes. He remembered her words about losing Morgana. Maybe she still felt it. He felt a thrill of horror at the thought – to never be able to move on or forget, to carry a grief around with you for years that no one else understood or sympathised with – what a horrible prospect.

Elyan was sceptical.

"But why would they destroy the last element of surprise by telling us where they'll be and when?" he asked.

"They are obviously lying to mislead us," Hector said. "They're planning something else or something more than they're saying."

Olaf spoke. Him it was easy to sympathise with. To be forced to stay in someone else's kingdom and watch them handle their conflicts must be frustrating; to try to express your own opinions in the matter would simply be awkward.

"I don't know what it is that has preceded this or what information you have," he said, "but as Sir Leon here mentioned I got the impression that they were simply trying to spread as much fear as possible. When we are frightened we make worse fighters, even when we think we have our fear under control."

"That is true, Your Majesty," Percival said, "but we did already know that they had immortal knights. I don't see how showing them to us is worse than letting us hear about them."

"But they couldn't have been sure how much we knew," Arthur noted. "Now they are."

Lancelot cleared his throat.

"If I may – I think there's more to it. If Morgana and Morgause want to frighten us, why didn't they conjure up this army right outside our gates, instead of on the edge of the woods?"

They all looked at each other. Why indeed? Hector glared at Lancelot as if he had created the problem by mentioning it, but Geoffrey perked up, straightened his back and said:

"They obviously want you to believe that this army, albeit immortal, is still solid, that they need to march like men of flesh and blood instead of being spirited up from smoke."

Arthur felt like some of the smoke was now disappearing from his mind. Of course, because then ...

"But why?" Guinevere said. "Surely a ghost army is more frightening that one of flesh and blood?"

"Yes," said Arthur, "but a real army would give the impression that they have the political support of another kingdom. Now they're just four magicians with a powerful spell."

Hector scoffed.

"If you ask me that's the most frightening prospect of them all."

"Well, no one did ask you," Gwaine muttered. It was barely audible, but enough for Hector's face to turn beet-red. He was just about to respond when Lancelot interrupted:

"But Arthur's right, don't you see? The fact that it's a spell is their weak point, not only politically. They want their knights to seem solid because that gives us a thousand points of attack, but if we know that not only their immortality but their entire existence is based on one single spell, then that means we only need to attack one thing: the spell itself."

"Of course, that's brilliant!" Adric exclaimed at the other end of the table, then bit his lip when everyone turned to look at him.

"And how do you propose to do that?" Hector asked Lancelot.

"The best way we can. By asking Merlin for help."

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Someone was bound to say it, of course. Arthur might not have thought it would be Lancelot – Gwaine was so much angrier, and Gaius had so much less to lose – but it did make sense when he thought about it. Sir Lancelot, the reasonable tactician. Sir Lancelot, defender of the persecuted. Sir Lancelot, the King's favourite. Visitors excepted, there wasn't a person around this table who didn't know that among all the Knights of the Round Table Lancelot had always been the one who could ask for anything, anything at all, and Arthur would give it to him. Of course, he very rarely had asked for anything. But now he was, and even though it was known that he had begun to fall out of grace, it still seemed as if everyone in the room was holding their breath. At the edge of his vision Arthur saw the chair next to him, and he had to struggle to not look down on the seat. The gaping emptiness was pulling his eyes towards it like the see-through spot in the middle of the flame of a candle.

Arthur had seen what everyone else had seen. He realised that, in theory, Merlin might well have been their best weapon against Morgause and Morgana. But even if by some wonder he could be persuaded to help, even if by some wonder – or simply out of desperation – Arthur could make himself trust him, the solution to one problem would be the birth of so many others. And as if he had read Arthur's mind, Sir Hector raised his voice.

"How dare you even suggest it? If we wanted sorcerers to roam free in the court, we should just open the gates for Lady Morgana and let her march in."

Beside him Sir Bernard nodded. Bernard was almost as old as Hector, but lower in rank. He had an older brother somewhere who was a Lord, and he himself had never left the Knights of Camelot. Arthur liked him better than he did Hector. Sir Bernard was one of the knights who had taught him how to fight.

Arthur sighed. "It won't happen, Lancelot."

"Damned right it won't," Gwaine said. He had been quiet and sullen up until now, but the glint in his eye said he was ready to make up for it. "Why would any sorcerer want to help this sorry lot?"

"Why would a sorcerer want to help anyone, indeed?" Hector countered.

"Being a sorcerer does not make you a monster!" Gaius said.

Hector opened his mouth to speak, but was once again interrupted, this time by his own ally.

"Maybe it does not," Bernard said. "But to have so much power, given to you by no one and which no one can take away – that could make any man a monster."

A chill went down Arthur's spine. That wasn't Merlin, was it? He had lied to him, he had hidden things, and he had caused people to die – but to call him a monster? Merlin?

"I don't understand what the fuss is about," Gwaine said. "How can you make laws forbidding people to use the power they have? Where I grew up, using magic was legal. Of course, so was being a childish bastard and backstabbing the people who care about you, but that was generally frowned upon."

The chair screeched against the floor as Sir Bors flew up with his hand on his sword. Arthur saw the wrath in his eyes, he saw the challenge in Gwaine's and he heard the sound of the sword being pulled free. In a split second he realised that it was time to stop mulling things over and take charge. Quickly.

"Sit down! Sir Bors, you will pardon Sir Gwaine, his mouth works faster than his head. Gwaine, if you say one more thing that is not helpful, I will have to ask you to leave the room."

Gwaine leaned back in his chair.

"What, aren't you going to let him kill me? Or have me taken down to the dungeons?"

"Not yet," Arthur growled. "If you want to leave Camelot, feel free, but I think even you would prefer not to be met by Morgana's army on the way out, wouldn't you? Sir Bors, kindly leave your sword by the wall and never bring it to this table again."

Sir Bors looked surprised and got out of his chair a bit awkwardly. Arthur noticed that Olaf was looking discreetly away and he felt embarrassed. What did they all look like to him? It must be like being invited to dine with a family and then not being allowed to leave the table when they began to fight. Arthur knew it looked strange for him to scold Bors as much as Gwaine, but he'd always been annoyed by Bors prickly manner, and even though Gwaine was behaving just as childishly as he was accusing Arthur of being right now it was still Gwaine, and he deserved a second chance. Of course, what both Gwaine and Lancelot was trying to tell him was that there was someone else who also deserved a second chances. Hasn't he had five years of chances?

"Well, let's talk about the situation then," Gwaine said as if he had never been interrupted. "Lancelot thinks Merlin's the only one who can help. I don't know much about magic so I'll take his word for it. But even if it is so, what makes any of you think he would help, now?"

"Merlin would never let Morgana take over Camelot again," Gaius said. "Not if he could stop it."

"Why not?" Gwaine insisted. "What has Camelot done for him? Thrown him in the dungeons and wrecked his back. I certainly wouldn't be feeling very helpful after that."

Lancelot looked about ready to hide his face in his hands.

"Gwaine, you're not helping anyone," he said. "Not Merlin, not us and certainly not yourself."

"No? Maybe I don't think Merlin would be best helped by being made to stay here." Gwaine glared at Arthur. "You promised to let him leave. Are you taking that back to use him as some kind of weapon? Do you think I'll let you?"

Arthur was quickly developing a deeper understanding for Sir Bors.

"He's a sorcerer, Gwaine," he snapped. "I doubt he needs you to protect him."

Gwaine looked taken aback. Then, for a second, he looked like he was about to laugh. Lancelot on the other hand didn't seem to see any joke:

"But maybe weneed him to protect us."

Gaius nodded. Hector shook his head.

"Do I need to remind you that the man we are talking about has been sentenced to exile for the use of sorcery, lying to the crown and killing one of the knights of Camelot?"

"No, Sir Hector, I don't you think you do," Arthur replied. "Gaius, you said Merlin would stop Morgana if he could, and from what we all saw perhaps he can, but what about Morgause? Isn't she a much more powerful sorceress? And what about both of them together, with the help of the druid boy and that little girl too? Even if we did try to defeat magic with magic, wouldn't we need more than one sorcerer on our side?"

He told himself he was asking these questions because it was his duty to consider every alternative that could help Camelot from falling into the hands of the enemy. And it is my duty, my first and foremost duty that I should never, ever forget.

Gaius seemed to hesitate for a while before he answered. Arthur wondered how much Gaius knew about Merlin's power beyond the fact that they existed.

"Not necessarily," Gaius said. "Even the most powerful warlock would have difficulties defending himself on four fronts at once of course, but, as I'm told Morgana has already revealed, Merlin is far more powerful than any ordinary conjurer."

This time it was Hector who stood up.

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I was led to believe that this man had been pardoned from the crime of harbouring a sorcerer, and invited to help today, only because he had harboured the boy out of an old man's misdirected kindness and most definitely not been aware of the extent of the boy's power."

"I'm sorry if you laboured under that misconception," Arthur remarked, "but I don't believe anyone ever told you any such thing."

"On the contrary, My Lord, you yourself told me he was to be pardoned because he was only an old, kind man."

"I'm not so old yet that I cannot spot powerful magic under my own roof," Gaius said.

Arthur felt the situation slipping away from him again.

"Sir Hector, your manner is distracting and unhelpful, I order you to either sit yourself down or leave."

Hector took his seat again, but Arthur could tell that the old man's anger had increased in time with the daylight that was now sufficient to see by. Who knew where they would all be by the time the sun had risen?

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"Why would we even need a sorcerer to save us?" Sir Bors asked. "Are we not men enough to save ourselves?"

Somewhere deep inside, Lancelot felt like he could scream. On the outside however, he remained calm. Why must it be so hard to help your friends? To help all your friends?

"Because we did the last time they attacked Camelot," he said. "Because Merlin is the only one who has ever defeated Morgause and Morgana."

"Pardon?" Arthur said. His eyebrow was raised to make him look sceptical, but Lancelot could tell he had caught his interest. In fact, when he looked around the table, he seemed to have caught everyone's interest – from the more clinically curious King Olaf and his family and the confusion of Elyan and Percival, to Arthur and Bernard who were both hard to read, and Bors and Hector whose contempt was clearly written in their features.

"But," Percival began carefully, "last time, those soldiers just disappeared. For no apparent reason at all. The spell was just broken somehow."

"Yes, because Merlin broke into the room where the Cup of Life was and emptied it."

"Well, if that was the case, surely anyone could have done it," Hector said.

"And gotten past half of an immortal army alive?" Lancelot retorted.

"But how did he do that?"

It was Gwen who asked, and for a second Lancelot made the mistake of looking at her. She wore a pale blue dress and her hair had been hastily pulled together, but she didn't look half as tired as he felt sure he must. He had laid awake waiting for her, half praying that she would come, half praying that she wouldn't. It seemed she had come to her senses again. He wondered what Arthur had said about the two nights she had been away.

He took a breath and snapped back to reality.

"He had a sword that could kill them. I don't know where he'd gotten it from."

Lancelot noticed Gaius' eyebrows shoot up and wondered if he'd said something that was still a secret.

"A sword that can kill those who are already dead?" Olaf asked.

"I suppose," Lancelot said, a bit hesitant now.

"That sword is probably gone by now," Gaius hurried to say. But Elyan's eyes had already lit up.

"So all we would have to do is get our hands on that sword!"

"I heard stories of such weapons when I was a child," Olaf continued. "They were said to have been forged in a dragon's breath."

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At the mention of a dragon, Arthur's heart skipped a beat. He felt like an idiot. Why on earth had he mentioned his suspicions regarding the dragon in front of the prison guards? What had it changed to drag that up now? But I remember the dead bodies on the courtyard, burned to charcoal. I remember the smell, surprisingly, sickeningly sweet in my nostrils. I remember the screams. I remember the feeling of the hairs on my cheek getting singed away when I ducked down behind the battlements to avoid the dragon's fire.

Which was exactly whyno one else needed to know. Merlin had been accused of enough crimes, and now he was going to leave. That was the end of the tale. Still, Arthur should probably give the prison guards houses and some land somewhere in the outer villages and pay them never to come back, just in case. And as another precaution, he was about to change the subject when Lancelot beat him to it.

"Never mind about the sword," the knight said. "That was hardly the only, or the first time that Merlin has saved each one of us around this table. Give him just one chance to show you in person what it is he's been doing without thanks for years!"

And then Lancelot told them the story of when he had first arrived in Camelot. It was a different story than the one Arthur remembered. It had Merlin forging seals of nobility to give a peasant a chance to achieve his dream – annoying, but hardly surprising – it had an unbeatable griffin and a magic spell that covered weapons with blue fire and allowed them to kill creatures of magic. But even if some of the things Lancelot said were new to him, they made Arthur remember the things Lancelot wasn't telling them. Things like fighting Lancelot in the street just for the fun of it; like realising for perhaps the first time how impressed he could be with another man even if he was his own age and lower in rank; like the pain of letting that go. Things like beginning to question the first rule of Camelot and beginning to question his father. And he remembered, suddenly and vividly, when Gaius had told him and his father that the griffin could only be defeated by magic. He remembered how his father had disregarded the information as useless – and how he hadn't. How he had wanted to ask if there wasn't something they could try. If we couldn't use magic as a weapon, on our side. Had he forgotten all about that until this day? Why did the thought feel so strange now, almost alien in his mind, when he clearly remembered that he had once thought that way? Once. Before Morgana.

"That's why I left," Lancelot concluded. "I couldn't reveal Merlin's secret, not when he hadn't meant me to know of it in the first place, and certainly not when he had just saved mine and everybody else's lives. But neither could I take the credit for what was actually his deed."

Gwaine stared at him and then burst out laughing. Lancelot looked confused.

"Only you, Lancelot," Gwaine said, shaking his head. "Only you."

"But what about that shadow-creature we met in the woods," Arthur heard himself saying, "it disappeared after you attacked it. Maybe they can get hurt?"

He heard how silly it sounded the moment he had said it, and hoped that no one but Lancelot, who was giving him an almost pitiful look, realised just how stupid a question that was.

"That was Merlin too, wasn't it?"

Lancelot simply nodded.

How many times had it been Merlin?

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"What other options do we have?"

Arthur threw out the question. It needed to get answered in front of everyone, even if the answer turned out to be "none". Especially if the answer turned out to be "none".

The tension around the table faded down a bit.

"To ride out against them with an army, like they want us to," Leon said. "And ride right into trap, more likely than not."

"To barricade ourselves in the citadel," Bors countered. Hector kept silent, probably by careful calculation even if he had proven that he wasn't always able to control himself.

"Perhaps to send out messengers to the closest villages, to recruit more fighters and warn the civilians," Adric added.

Silence settled again.

"So our best chance is to use magic against magic?"

"You know my view of the matter, sire," Leon said.

"I would hope that your view of the matter is the law's view," Hector said. "To use our enemies to fight our enemies is a dangerous method, bound to miscarry."

Gwaine shook his head in disbelief.

"You've just heard ... ! So just because someone's a sorcerer, they're an enemy, no matter how much good they have done?"

"Yes," Hector replied, not a shred of doubt in his voice.

"No!" said Gaius.

"According to the laws of Camelot, every sorcerer is an enemy of the crown," Hector pressed.

"The laws of ..." Gaius stopped and turned to Arthur. "My Lord, if I could talk with you for just a moment."

Arthur sighed. He felt as if he had been up all night. How long had it really been? Less than an hour?

"Gaius, if this is more of the same ..."

"No. This concerns something that has been kept from you far longer."

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When Arthur rose from the table and followed Gaius, and Geoffrey of Monmouth whom Gaius had asked to be his witness, into the far corner of the room, he was already wondering if this was a good idea. If nothing else, it felt like he was leaving a pack of wolfs behind him to tear each other apart.

"What is it, Gaius?"

Gaius seemed to hesitate.

"I want to tell you something that there's no longer any reason why you shouldn't know. Something I begged your father to tell you years ago."

"You have my attention."

"When your father became king of Camelot, for a long time magic was still legal. Frowned upon, perhaps, but not forbidden. It wasn't until your mother's death that the great purge started. Geoffrey can confirm this."

Geoffrey nodded.

"I'm sure he can," Arthur said. "He's the one who taught me the history of Camelot when I was a little boy. I already know this, Gaius. What's your point?"

"Didn't it ever seem a bit strange to you? That Uther would change his mind so suddenly?"

"Losing someone can make a man harder," Arthur said. The image of his mother had appeared in his head, and when he tried to push it aside he only saw Morgana and Merlin instead.

"Indeed," Gaius said. "And even more so when he blames himself."

Arthur crossed his arms.

"Is this about that tale Morgause tried to make me believe?"

The sun had begun to shine in through the window and it hit the older man's face, painting it red.

"It's not a tale."

Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Gaius ..."

"Your father enlisted powerful magic to give him an heir. I was there when he spoke to Nimueh, I was there when she cast the spell."

"There was a famous sorceress named Nimueh," Geoffrey supplied. His voice sounded like dry paged turning. "She was rumoured to be eternally young, and a priestess of the old religion. Something like that would certainly have been within her power. And it is true that King Uther desired nothing more than an heir."

Arthur looked at Gaius.

"You're saying that he did kill my mother?"

Gaius looked straight into his eyes, leaning his head forward a bit like he always did when he wanted to emphasise the seriousness of something.

"Your father knew enough about the old religion to know that if you create a life, one must be taken. But I don't think he ever for a second believed it would be your mother. He loved her very much. His reaction when it was proves that as well as anything."

Loved her? Arthur remembered that day, the day when Morgause had conjured his mother. They day he had finally heard her speak to him. The confrontation with his father that had followed he recalled like one recalls a nightmare – it was something he hadn't thought of in a long while, but now that he did, his own words rang in his ears:

"You have hunted her kind like animals! How many hundred have you condemned to death to ease your guilt?" Arthur's blood froze in his veins. Again, he seemed to have forgotten so much of these thoughts he had once had. The doubts about the law and the embarrassment of his father's obsession with magic had plagued him long before that day; and though they had been eased by the thought that it was all a part of Morgause's plan they had not gone away immediately. It was only since Morgana had left that he had completely forgotten that he had once thought like that.

"Merlin told me she was lying. He ... he told me not to trust a sorcerer."

Why had he believed in that? It sounded preposterous now. Yes, of course Morgause's intentions had probably been evil, but there was no reason she couldn't have used the truth to get there.

"He didn't know what else to do," Gaius said, softly. It was the first time in days he had addressed Arthur with anything but stern disappointment.

"I deserved to know the truth."

How could the sun be shining so brightly outside? How could it already be so warm and how could the sky be the colour of strawberries and peaches?

"Yes," Gaius said, "you did. But right then, you would have killed your father. You might have become king, and you might have allowed magic back into Camelot, and Merlin would finally have been able to tell you about his magic. But you would never have forgiven yourself. You know that. And Merlin knew that, too."

"If you're trying to make me feel guilty ..." Arthur began.

"I'm trying to tell you that these laws that you all keep mentioning were created for the wrong reasons. Haven't you disobeyed the laws of Camelot several times just for Merlin alone? What will it take for you to see, Arthur Pendragon, that he has done the same for you?"

Arthur swallowed."You speak of honour and nobility – you are nothing but a hypocrite and a liar!" Those had been words about his father – had they become words about him?

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A/N: I LOVE You! ALL of you! I bow down before you and praise you! I also bring you tiny, humble gifts of forgiveness for my lack of updates:

Bonus Material!

This is what my drafts look like (occasionally). If I followed them more literally, this might turn into comedy:

A: But that one we met in the woods, it disappeared after you attacked it. Maybe they can get hurt?
L: *look*
A: *facepalm*

Lance tells the griffin story. "That's why I left, I couldn't reveal Merlin's secret, not when he hadn't meant me to know of it in the first place, and certainly not when he had just saved mine and everybody else's lives. But neither could I take the credit for what was actually his deed."

Gwaine: 0_o?

XD !

Lance: ?