A/N I know it has taken a while to get to this point in my tale but there isn't much plot left. Promise. I have come to the conclusion I can't say things simply and hope for the best. I get images in my head of what is happening and have to record all the tiny insignificant looking details even as I realise it wouldn't really be the same if I didn't. You have all been so very patient with me and absolutely amazing with your responses, I just hope you have enjoyed reading as much as I have enjoyed putting my mentality down on paper (or in this case, screen).

I don't own Camelot or any of its citizens, magical or otherwise.

Chapter 53 The magic that binds us.

Just as he had promised Amaethon, Merlin had been practicing. Sharpening and honing his new ability every chance he could. What he found was fascinating.

There were more colours in life than he had ever seen before. People and animals all had a unique colour signature and pattern though animals ones were simpler and smaller. The beauty of their auras sparkled. It was like seeing a rainbow for the first time.

His friends were surprisingly not the very first to be seen through new eyes. His shift in vision not accompanied by the usual slight sting of his eyes flashing briefly to gold had him curious, and so the second time he had done it in front of Arthur's mirror. Whilst the king toured the lower town with his wife to check progress and reassure his people that the crown did indeed care for their livelihoods as much as their lives.

It had been a shock to see himself do magic with no outward sign. Yet another piece that marked him as otherworldly. And in the mirror his aura had shone the brightest white gold with no extra colour woven through. The same pure shine of power the life force of Albion was hued with. If ever he needed proof that here was no mere man this was it. His hand had unconsciously reached out to touch the image in the cool glass, mesmerised by the reflection. Then George had clattered in to the king's quarters with the basket Merlin had forgotten to retrieve from the castle laundry and the spell was broken.

Still using the sight he had viewed the part time manservant with just a touch of awe, George's aura had been sky blue, the colour of a cloudless summer morning. Clear and bright and hopeful, very different to the dour individual Merlin had always seen. He had shown within it a willingness to serve almost rivalling Merlin's own, and a deep seated longing to be useful. And Merlin had realised, the colours and patterns meant something.

Gwen was a deep crimson red, earthy and steadfast and loyal. Elyan similar but the colour edging towards orange rather than a pink hue more tempestuous. Arthur was blue, Ironic really since the Pendragon banner was red. But it was such a pure royal blue, steady and strong and courageous it suited him down to the ground. Gwaine had been a turquoise as fun and complex as he always tried to be. Perceval deepest burgundy, with hidden depth and wisdom. Leon's held a hint of a purple that spoke of his determination, intelligence and bravery.

But it wasn't just their virtues or their personalities he could read within them. It was almost as if he could read their very life stories from it. As if he could reach out and touch one of the strands making up their twisted rope of a tether, and know everything about what had shaped their very being. It was a frightening ability in a way, he could so very easily abuse such power. But he knew also, that he would never even try to pry. He of all people knew the value of secrets.

There were things though on the surface that were easy to read. Gwaine's noble family, and his almost excessive fondness for mead. Arthur's and Gwen's love for their people, for each other and most especially, for their merry little band. He wondered if Leon knew his family had a deep rooted connection to magic. Or that Elyan had an affinity to any form of metal, that made him not just a blacksmith, but a true artisan. Or that Perceval's stoicism was a reaction to his size. He had an ingrained habit of being slow and gentle in all his movements, physical or otherwise merely to avoid inadvertently hurting people.

True some of those could be read by the body language of those he knew but the perception of them was so much deeper with this sight. These were read as truths not just guesses. They were embossed on the pages of their souls with the same certainty as of knowing the sun will rise in the east and set in the west. And Merlin felt humbled and privileged to be witness to them.

He could also see several good practical applications for this new skill. He could tell when they were ill or injured, (like Arthur's arm. He would have to tell him the good news that there was no break there just a really nasty sprain and bruising that would take a good few weeks to heal properly). Or if the council were telling the truth about their taxes and the state of their own finances. Or even if they had been enchanted.

Merlin had smirked to himself at that last one. The amount of love spells, alone directed at Arthur was rather remarkable. It would be good to be able to tell for sure.

The practice had not drained him in the least, unlike a constantly upheld spell might. And though a little distracting when he came across an unexpected fact about a castle resident, he was curious about how long he could hold it for. So even as the delegation arrived and the breathless servant came running, frantically looking for him. He made the decision to keep going with it. After all he believed, it could help with the proposed treaty.

Arthur had made the decision to greet the druids at the citadel steps as he would any visiting nobility. A clan chief, he reasoned, was a leader. Even as he recognised that the position was not hereditary, and they owned no land. The role carried the same responsibilities towards those people in their care as any duke or lord or even king.

Merlin Finally arrived at his right shoulder and Arthur gave him a mock glare. The kind that may have been real at his tardiness just weeks ago. Merlin saw through it though as his answering grin lit up his face. Arthur would swear blind that there was no smile twitching at his own or his wife's lips as he turned back, just as their guests walked through the courtyard gate.

The delegation of seven walked with a confident step despite the stares they were receiving from the population. Sir Bedivere had returned to the party figuring that two knights escorting them would create a better impression than just Sir Caradoc. And if any trouble were to arrive, the both of them could deal with it more easily.

There was after all no mistaking these people for anyone but druids. Their cloaks dyed in mainly drab earthy colours more easily obtained from the soil and pigments around them. And they held themselves with the calm, peaceful confidence of a people knowing exactly who and what they were and were entirely comfortable within their own skin.

As the members drew up in front of the king he could see the looks of awe directed at his servant and respect for himself. The man in front and the young boy in the back looked vaguely familiar, perhaps they reminded him of someone already in Camelot. It came to him in a flash when the man drew to a halt and greeted him in his accented drawl. He had met this man, several years ago.

In a cave in Cenred's old kingdom just before the immortal army swept through on Morgause and Morgana's orders, decimated the population and broke his fathers's mind.

He very briefly closed his eyes, huffing out a breath in shame at his actions back then, knowing that no amount of stress or worry should have ever resulted in threatening an innocent child.

"Arthur Pendragon. We thank you for this invitation, and the opportunities it may bring to both our peoples." Arthur's eyes snapped back open. The man was gracious and his words held nary a hint of the kings past misdemeanours.

"And we in turn welcome you to Camelot Chief Iseldir. I hope in time this can be seen as the first step upon the road to peace and prosperity for all." The man inclined his head in a show of esteem as Arthur gestured to fist his wife and then his friend. "My wife Guinevere."

"We had heard the king had married for love my lady but we had not heard of your rare beauty." Gwaine at Gwen's side gave a hastily muffled snort. It was a courtly piece of flummery he may have used upon the unsuspecting female population if they indeed had been unsuspecting. Gwen elbowed him hard but discreetly as she stepped forward to be greeted properly with a regal smile.

Here Arthur paused. The council members were waiting to be introduced next as per protocol. However they were in for a shock as he waved his servant forward. There was more than one harsh intake of breath and mewl of protest. Arthur ignored them, there were after all advantages to being king and able to sometimes throw caution to the winds and do as he damn well pleased.

"I believe you already know Merlin?" Iseldir's eyebrow had climbed to his hairline. Arthur had all but shouted his admiration of the dark haired man with the gesture. Merlin came forward with only the slightest hesitation, sizing the lord's reactions up out of the corner of his eye.

"Iseldir it's good to see you again." Hmm if Arthur wished to show Merlin's importance to his nobles with such a demonstration perhaps he should help the man along.

"My Lord Emrys." Whereas he had only inclined his head to Arthur, one equal to another, now he gave proper obeisance to the lord of magic's son and bowed deeply from the waist. Merlin's eyes widened slightly his new sight ending abruptly with his surprise and there were several gasps and subdued chattering broke out amongst the council members and other lords of the court. Merlin turned his head swiftly to find Arthur's reaction thinking he might be surprised at the very least. Only to be confronted with Arthur's smug grin. He knew this would happen the utter prat. Merlin's cheeks heated as he turned back to the chief and muttered that the bowing really wasn't necessary whilst lifting the man up.

The introductions continued in a much more normal vein after that the court and Iseldir's companions being named by turns. When it came to the young man at the back he again reared his head in astonishment. Mordred here? Khilgarrah had told him at the start he would have a hand in Arthur's death, though he had also told him he would unite with Morgana in evil. Could it be that the path they had been travelling had shifted sufficiently to change his destiny? He snapped his sight back and his breath hitched at his aura. An almost completely gold thread, tinged with the tiniest hint of a purple so deep it was almost black, stared at him. He could see Mordred's conflict with his clan members. See his debate at Emry's inexplicable persecution and see his Dragonlord heritage sparkling, deep though it was buried. It shook him. Amaethon knew. This was what Frige and her husband had meant. Morgana and Mordred would still be allies of a sort. Though the connection would be entirely different, and bring so much joy rather than heartache.

He was so preoccupied he failed to notice that George had been assigned to show the guests to their rooms rather than himself, only coming out of his stupor when Arthur shook his arm slightly to gain his attention. At Merlin's enquiring look Arthur gestured for him to accompany the royals back inside noting the guests had gone and he had been holding up the lines of people wishing to leave the courtyard. He moved to walk behind his friends with a red face, trying valiantly to ignore the muttering that followed.

Oh gods Arthur had to be informed and Mordred given the choice of whether to take up such a heritage. Iseldir would need to be consulted too since Mordred was merely a child. A pounding headache started to pulse steadily behind his eyes at the task now set before him though he couldn't help but feel hopeful for the future that now seemed to glow it looked so bright.

…..

Gwaine snorted again as he made off down the corridor to his chambers. It would be all over the citadel by evening that Merlin had been called a lord right in front of the king no less and no-one least of all the king had refuted it. Gwaine shook his head. Just how much bowing and scraping and gossip would his friend now have to endure when he went to the kitchens? Would they even allow him in the door? He chuckled to himself. Merlin had seemed very preoccupied. So much so that he never even realised his days as merely the king's servant with a modicum of talent in magic were now very definitely numbered!

He couldn't have planned this better himself! Humming a mad, rude and exceptionally annoying tavern song as he made his way with a grin and a wildly swinging gait all the way back to his room.