Fear is Sharp

When she met the young girl that morning, what Gwen found was someone whose hurt and grief was raw and exposed for all to see. She saw it in those hollow eyes and the circles underneath, her low shoulders and unkempt hair which stood up in wild rebel curls as she hushed her children out of the room.

It was shocking to say the least, but more shocking was the realization that, despite having a friendly relationship with the chief cook, Gwen had never actually met his daughter, not personally and now, here she was, ready to be on the other end of bridge she had visited before.

"I came to offer my condolences." Gwen explained, trying to meet Gisela's eyes, but managing it only for so long as the silence stretched over them. "Your father was a very good man."

"He was a good father, a good grandfather too." She answered with a voice broken and mended. "Did you pick a new head of the kitchen already?"

"I don't make these decisions." The girl scoffed. "But I suppose Audrey will take over now, she was already in charge when your father fell ill."

Gisela nodded in response, brushing dark curls behind her ear. "She deserves it. Tell her not to worry, I'm packing already. She can have the quarters by the end of the day."

"You don't need to leave right now."

"Yes I do."

Gwen chewed on her bottom lip, looking around the quarters. The chief cook lived in the castle as all high staff, and as a high staff, he had a place that, while not nearly as fancy as a prince's, was far fancier than anything Gwen had known as home. Two beds, tables, chairs, there was even some silverware lying around, which should be a testament to how much value was put on good food except that, just like her father's forge, this also belonged to the king and as such, would be given to someone else.

"Just so you know, your position in the kitchens is guaranteed, and you can take some days off, you don't need to worry."

Gisela stared at her sharply. "The castle is packed to the brim, and you're telling me to take a day off."

"You don't need to worry." Gwen repeated, surprised to be answered with a soft bitter chuckle. "You'll be taken care of, I assure you."

Gisela mumbled the words back, disbelief touching her gaze. "It must be great to have that kind of power."

"I don't understand."

"The prince, I wonder how often you have to sleep with him to be able to do that."

Gwen inhaled sharply, the change from the gossip becoming a blunt accusation hitting her like a smack to the head, dissolving her words into blabbering. "That is not… We don't… Nothing like that has ever happened between me and the prince."

"Sure."

"I'm telling you the truth!"

"Right." Gisela rebutted, skeptical. "You don't need to hide you know, I won't judge you. We do what we have to, besides the sorcerers are coming to kills us all anyway, so what does it matter?"

"I'm not hiding anything." But the girl didn't believe her, Gwen could see it in her face and that, it seemed, was enough to snap something inside her, something that made her spun on her heels and push the door open. She didn't want to be there anymore. "Like said, you'll be taken care of."

When she had put enough distance between her and the woman, Gwen stopped in the deserted hallway. Alone, she stood there, staring at the pot lying on the ground. It was a simple vessel, holding torches avaiable to walk the castle at night. Gritting her teeth, she felt the split release of her anger right before sending the whole thing clattering with a kick. The sound was loud, it reverberated all over her like a snapping beast, snapping at her with each piece of wood that rolled over the ground.

Panting, the young woman allowed the act to settle, blowing any satisfaction way with a sharp gutting shame.

"M'lady! What happened?" The servant girl appeared, her young face holding a healthy blush from her work. "Oh…"

"I'm not a lady." Gwen mumbled weakly as she watched the girl begin to pick up the pot and the torches. Luckily, there was no oil inside yet. Resigned, she ran to help up, putting everything together as more footsteps came along.

"He said he will give a speech before our departure, something for the people." Lord Hector was saying.

"Our king is wise, my lord." Sammus, the chief steward declared, keeping pace with the man. "Commoners scare easily, as you know."

"I'm well aware of that of course, a strong hand is always needed to tame mindless sheep. Hopefully, one day our prince will learn that."

They passed by just as Gwen straightened the pot and the spare torches, their shadows covering the women in coldness, eyes moving over them without a second glance. Them, in instants they were gone and Gwen could breathe easily, thanking the girl for her assistance.

"It was no problem." She said lingering, eyes following where the chief steward had disappeared to. Gwen sighed.

"There is no reason to be afraid, you know?"

Kayla darted her eyes towards her and back down again. "I've heard stories, m'lady. Ever since I was a child, about sorcerers lying with demons to be… to be what they are. I heard they take you to torture and sent to hell."

"Those are just stories…" Gwen said, uncertain.

"I heard they kidnap babies, and… and women… they…"

"Just stories, Kayla, besides, Camelot has plenty of men to protect us. Besides, I know for a fact that there is nothing dangerous in Camelot, you can believe me on that, all right?" She thought briefly about Gisela's assumptions. "I've got first hand information." Kayla blushed, and yet finally, she seemed to believe her. "Is there anything else, Kayla?"

"Huh, no, I mean, yes, m'lady, Sammus told us to change the chandelier before the feast tonight and…"

"Just pull it down and put it back up, if he asks, tell him you changed it."

"Of… of course."

Gwen winked, and Kayla went a way, relief unburdening her steps at least for now. Alone again, Gwen allowed her mask to fall.

Now that war was certain the streets had become packed with soldiers and fighting men, banners and sigils from all over the Five Kingdoms could be seen if you looked outside. In the castle itself her days seemed to become shorter as well. At times like this the chief steward's incompetence became even more obvious – he was very fond of giving out orders so he could seen in charge - resulting in her giving orders behind his back and not caring that he took all the credit. She was sure it would blow up at some point, but for now… She carried on arranging chambers and servants to see to every retinue that crossed the gates, making sure they were all welcome and, for a while, she had almost forgotten how everyone came to regard her.

Crisis ended up falling on her lap each and every day. She had to make sure Lord Trent had warm chambers for he hated the cold, while King Banna couldn't have milk or cheese in his meals. King Alined seemed to have a complaint in the tip of his tongue every morning and it was all she could do not to pull at her hair when he ranted one day about his creaking windows. The greatest and latest crisis so far though was watching Fall getting sick. He had been a gentle man, kind an friendly to all, and still god had taken him to the other world and Gwen, amidst everything, had seen to his burial and now, to his family.

It was the right thing to do. She assured herself as her feet took away to the Physician's tower for a moment of reprieve. Her feelings didn't change her duty, they never had, and never would or, at least, she tried to keep them from interfering, caging every bit of rage and bitterness deep inside her until they were as tamed and broken as a house dog.

It was, perhaps, just another symptom of recent days. Lord Hector could speak of people being sheep, but Gwen knew better. Fear was natural and people would always be afraid, tales of magic or not. No, the difference was in their king. When the cold had struck, Arthur had taken the reins of the kingdom and Camelot stood powerful and bright. There was warmth to be had, and hope for tomorrow. Now, it was as if the castle had shrunk and it wasn't because of its packed hallways. No, it was something else, a tension that covered its walls in permanent shadows, squeezing its people in guts of stone.

Luckily, a few places still resisted inside the castle. In some places the sun resisted.

"Ouch!"

"Shush."

"That hurt."

"Well, I guess you better avoid getting into this state again, then." She said, trying to be gentler this time as she slowly cleaned up the wound, but from the corner of her eye she caught his smile.

"I'll try to remember that next time I get in a fight involving magic." He perked up. "Maybe I should go after the Handbreaker."

"Lancelot."

"You know it would be insteresting and I would be safe. You know he only attacks those who lay with goats." Gwen snorted, the laughter bubbling from her chest as Lancelot went on. She still had no idea how those tales begun, apaprently some knights had come back from patrol claiming a sorcerer had attacked them, each one with horrible injures on their sword hands. Somehow though, no sorcerer was ever found and, amisdt the chaos, the tale gained a silly touch.

"Well, I heard the Handbreaker only goes after the impures, it doesn't matter if goats are involved."

"Impures?"

"Yes, the impures" She wondered how stupid the sounded, as she turned and wiggled her eyebrows at Lancelot. He guffawed, chest trembling as he laughed, up untill his shoulder sparked with pain. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry, it happens, I'm glad actually."

"You shouldn't be glad to feel pain."

"I should if it means enjoying the gift of your jokes, my lady." Lancelot still smiled, and Gwen couldn't stop a rueful sigh.

"You silly men are all too eager for your scars."

"Many are, many are too eager to have enemies." She gulped, her mood sinking as she was once again reminded about the person responsible for such a wound. Still, Lancelot had been lucky as far as she understood. When Arthur and his knights found the cave of the Disir they had been separated and when they found Arthur again he had been on the ground, covered in blood and his sword pointing at Morgana. As they had sworn to do, each one of them dashed towards the woman with no hesitation.

"I think she was weak." Lancelot had told her one night after his return, eating some food she had brought him for supper. She remembered being anxious with Arthur's distance, to a point when she finally caved and questioned Lancelot about what had happened. "She seemed so weak, just standing there. Percival was roaring at her, and I thought he was going to do it, you know? I've seen him carrying barrels of mead on his shoulders without help, I knew he could cut her in half if he reached her but he didn't, she raised her hand and threw him against the wall. Then we were at her as well, and, you know what happened. I almost caught her too, but it was as if she got fast somehow, and in the blink of an eye she was whispering and…"

His voice had drifted off and Gwen didn't need to hear the rest.

They were all alive after facing Morgana's magic, but none of them were unimpaired. Percival was still seeing Gaius every day after hitting his head and being knocked out, Gwaine had three cracked ribs and her brother twisted his ankle and broke two fingers on his left hand. Lancelot though, the brave man had almost lost his arm she was told. It was like his shoulder had been pierced by hot iron, burning skin and muscle and leaving behind scorched flesh. Merlin had done his best out there and Gaius as well, but Lancelot still couldn't quiet move his arm right. When he thought she wasn't looking he would tried to grab a cup or raise his arm above his head only to wince in pain or be struck by tremors as his body refused to obey.

Still, for her he would smile and somehow she was allowed to forget the rest of her day. Looking on, she verified that the wound was clean enough and begun to dress it up, just as Gaius had taught her, deft hands idly seeking the dagger to cut the bandages.

"That is fancy."

Surprised, she looked down. She had taken Morgana's dagger by mistake, the gold glistening in her hands. "It's a gift." She said, since it wasn't really a lie. "I'm done."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Lancelot felt his shoulder for bit, eyeing the dagger as it disappeared inside her dress pocket. "I hear you'll be marching with the army, is that true?"

"Gaius needs volunteers to help with the wounded."

"So it is truth." She shrugged; there was no way she would stay behind while her friends were away. "I wish you would stay safe."

"Lucky me, your wishes do not rule me, right?"

"No." He recognized, coking his head to the side. "It's the other way around actually."

There was something heavy in the way he said those words, heavy and loaded with unspoken intent, that made her throat feel dry. "In that case, make sure I don't see you hurt out there. I don't want to patch you up for new wounds."

"I'll consider that a command, my lady."

Gwen shook her head, she had gotten so tired of being called such, but with Lacenlot, the outline affection made the title seem almost sweet. "You do that, Sir"

"I'm not a Sir anymore."

"You're the truest knight there ever was."

"I-I don't think that is true, only a king can make a knight and if the king unmade me…"

"Lancelot." He stopped, looking up uncertainly. "It was unfair and it was stupid."

"Gwen."

"It was." She wouldn't hesitate to speak ill of the king now, not when she was talking to him. "A title does not rule what is in your heart, or at least, I don't believe that. Do you?"

Lancelot stared up at her for a long moment, his eyes were shining under the dim morning and, finally, his face broke into a grin.

"Has anyone told you of how wise you are, my lady?"

"Not today"

At that moment she feels almost like a reflection, doing nothing but copy his smile, his comfort pulling her along in a strange amalgam of two different people. When she made to pull away, finishing the work on his shoulder, her hands lingered, running from the bandages to the soft skin where his hand met her hold in a comforting grip. There was so much that could be said about Lancelot, but that grip said a lot about the person he was: steady, strong and gentle; someone who deserved the world, someone who deserved far better than her.

Seeking a distraction, she glanced out of the window, to the sun steadily climbing up the sky until the door banged open, startling them both.

"Gwen!? Gwen?"

Immediately, she jerked away from the touch, turning around as soon as she saw Merlin entering the quarters. His face was flushed as he stopped short, eyeing both of them with a strange look that, oddly enough, made guilt squirm inside her.

"Merlin?"

"Lancelot, how are you doing? How is the shoulder?" As a physician's apprentice Gwen almost expected Merlin to correct her work, but beyond a glimpse, he made no comment. "I wanted to check on you."

"I'm good, Gwen has been of great help." She turned away, feeling the heat on her cheeks. "How is Percival?"

"He is doing fine, up and eating more than Gaius and I." Merlin informed them. "He'll probably be ready to march with the army."

"Should he be doing that?" Gwen questioned, worried.

"Gaius says that there is nothing he could do short of lying to him, but I don't think Percival would listen."

"His whole family was killed when Morgause marched Cenred's army into Camelot." Lancelot reminded them. "He has his reasons for going, we all do."

Again, Gwen looked away. She wanted to scold him for saying such things, because she knew his intentions were to march as well. Knight or no knight, Lancelot had made an oath, and he would fulfill it. It was the sort of man he was, after all.

"We all do, you're right about that. King Olaf is marching straight from the north through Bayard's lands, so with King Tegan arriving this morning there is no one else to wait for."

His words made then quiet, as Gwen was well aware of the scores of men that were now lined outside Camelot's walls, so many banners, so much steel, it overloaded her senses in a way she wasn't even aware was possible; just the amount of food been eaten by day made her sleepless at night. "And how is Arthur?"

Merlin sighed. "That is what I'm worried about; he goes to every council meeting, talks a little, trains. He is different, I don't know how. I mean, he was different before, but after Agravaine…"

His voice trailed off and Gwen shuddered, remembering Uther's wrath at that discovery.

"Was Arthur angry?"

Merlin seemed surprised at her question, but there was no pause before he answered her. "No, no I don't think so. I think he is just heartbroken."

"Heartbroken."

"Yes" the boy looked down, his blues eyes were strangely forlorn. "First Morgana and then Agravaine. I think he is hurt, not only that, but I think he is afraid to trust people."

"Arthur would never stop trusting people." Gwen proclaimed, speaking on as Lancelot and Merlin turned their confused gazes her way. She understood Arthur well enough to know that. "Like you said, Merlin, Arthur trusted Morgana and Agravaine. I don't think he is afraid to trust you or anyone else, I think he is scared of being wrong. You know Arthur, he was never sure of himself." She saw the way they were both staring and looked away. "That is what I believe."

A thick silence fell over the group and slowly she saw Merlin widening his eyes. "He doesn't believe he can rule."

Lancelot seemed wary. "That is not good and it's even worse now."

"We have to bring his confidence back."

"How can we do that?" Gwen questioned.

Merlin paused and then, slowly, he begun to smile. "I think I might have an idea."

Gaius had disliked the idea right away. He had paced, and grunted and finally told Merlin in no uncertain terms. "This is a bad idea, Merlin! It is too close to magic!"

"Is it?" He had argued. "I mean, it might just be a legend, an old story! I'll come up with something."

"You will come up something?"

"Yes" Gaius' eyebrow had done that thing where it called him an idiot. "You know that we need Arthur and he lost his confidence. I don't know what else to do." Merlin had continues, desperately. "Also, he is going to need a weapon to fight them."

In the end, his mentor relented.

Now here they were and Merlin found the silence disturbing.

"You're awfully quiet."

They had been trudging through the forest for a long time now, the silence only broken occasionally when he heard Arthur tripping over the uneven path, forcing his glare to burn more and more at the back of his head. Of course, that wasn't surprising and Merlin was actually happy that he got Arthur to follow him to begin with.

"Unlike you, Merlin, I don't have to keep my mouth working constantly."

"Ah, there he is."

"Shut up."

Merlin hid a smile as he moved ahead, ducking under a low branch to follow the trail of wet grounds and mud. "I'm actually surprised you agreed to come." He prodded carefully. "It only took bothering you for an hour."

"I'm actually beginning to regret ever listening to you."

"You never listen to me."

"I assure you, I won't, ever again."

The banter felt good, something of old days, something normal that made him grin like a fool as he guided the prince, who tripped again, screamed his frustration at the ground, and kept following. Merlin himself had to be careful, since breaking an ankle at this point would be stupid. He used a series of spells to make the path more difficult and although he broke most before bringing Arthur here, he might have forgotten a few. "I thought you were a hunter!" He cheerfully added, jumping off a barrier of vines.

"I'm a hunter!" Arthur replied, his eyes darkening for a brief moment. "I just, can't remember this trail for the life of me, where the hell are we going?"

"I told you, it's a surprise!"

"I've had enough surprises for a lifetime, Merlin."

At that the servant stopped. Hearing exactly how deep Arthur's bitterness run in that brief instant where their loneliness allowed him to be himself was a little offputting. It was an old dance where the real Arthur would show his face, full of kindness and careful thought, one that was rare these days. Carefully, he looked back at the prince as he considered his next words.

"What?" Arthur asked, annoyed.

"You know I'm here for you right? You can talk to me."

Arthur stopped. His eyes closed for an instant, his expression turning into a grimaced as if he was in pain, but when he opened his eyes again, they were steel and determined.

"No I can't, Merlin."

"Arthur…" He walked past him, and Merlin felt his voice rising, desperately trying to stop him. "You were betrayed, Arthur!" The shout did it, it stopped the prince dead on his tracks. "It wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it?" Arthur said, his back still turned. "I misjudged everyone, Merlin. Morgana, my uncle, my…" He paused." My father even… My own council turned to him behind my back." Arthur looked over his shoulder, piercing Merlin with a steel gaze. "I was supposed to know what to do, and yet I can't… I can't figure it out."

"You are a great ruler, Arthur."

He scoffed. "I'm good with a sword…"

"You kept this kingdom going through winter with almost no resources, remember?"

"And now we're at war."

"A necessary war!" Merlin choked as the words came out of his mouth, the banter from before, the thrill of his plan, forgotten as he realized what he had said. In an instant the horror crystalized behind his eyes, taking him into a future where warring with his own kind was suddenly justified. He wanted to take it back. He wanted to reach out and pluck the words out of the world to keep them stored deep into the corners of his heart, but he knew no spell or trick for it, instead there was only Arthur's grimace in front of him and a forest where bare branches were reaching out like claws.

"Do you really think so?"

Merlin lowered his voice, Kilghara's warning about Mordred and Morgana ringing inside his head. "Morgana tried to kill everyone already; I know that every sorcerer with a grudge against Camelot will be with her. I'm afraid they won't be merciful to your people."

Those were the words he said to himself every night. Words Gaius had repeated to him once or twice and that assured him of his purpose if he was stand by Arthur's side and protect him. He reminded himself of the woman who put the court to sleep and threw a dagger at Arthur. He remembered Edwin and Cornelius Sigan, Nimueh and Morgause.

"The Disir did something to me when I was with them." Arthur's suddenly said, his words breaking Merlin's thoughts and perking his interest. So far the prince had refused to speak of the Disir. "They put me somewhere called the Edge. It was some realm of their Goddess filled with tears, I don't really understand it but it was some sort of place between the world of the living and the dead." Merlin gasped. "When I was there, I saw something, visions. It almost felt like I was remembering."

"What… What was it?" He prompted when Arthur threatened to stop.

"I saw Camelot burning." Said the prince. "I saw the knights dying, everyone was dying. And my uncle was there with Morgana."

"That is why you suspected him."

"Yes." Arthur's eyes were almost pleading now but his tone was sad. Merlin knew he disaprooved what his father had done. "If he really was a traitor, Merlin, was the whole thing real? If he is dead now, does it mean Camelot is safe? What do you think?"

What could he think? Merlin had heard so much about the future and destiny. He knew he couldn't escape his, and he knew he couldn't change things as much as he wished he could. He also knew that, sometimes, certain detinies needed to be protected.

"I think that we can't escape our destiny." Arthur's shoulders lowered, but Merlin kept going. "And I think that your destiny is to make this kingdom into something great, Arthur."

"Now I'm feeling confident."

"For once in your life, just...listen… would you?" Arthur blinked at him a few times, and Merlin smirked "I think that you can't know if saw something that would happen and thinking about it won't do you any good. I also think that it's your destiny to be the greatest king this kingdom has ever seen. I believe that with all my heart. I know you can't see it now, but I do and I'm going to help you get there and I'm going to prove it to you."

For a long instant, Arthur was still, hope flashing in his gaze. "How?"

"Well, you'll have to follow me." Merlin managed a grin, putting speed on his feet. "Have you ever heard about the Tale of the Sword?"

"What?"

"It's a story that Gaius told me about Bruta, you know who Bruta is, don't you?"

He could feel Arthur's frown at his back, but his eyes were ahead of him, recognizing the path ahead, they were close. "Every child in Camelot knows who Bruta is."

"Yes, well, many years ago, before the birth of the five kingdoms, this land was in an endless cycle of bloodshed and war, but Bruta was determined to end all that. He gathered together the elders of each tribe and drew up plans for the lands to be divided. Each would respect the others' boundaries, and drew it over the land as they saw fit. That is how Bruta became Camelot's first king, ancestor to all that followed, including you, Arthur."

"I know that."

"I bet you don't know that there is another part of the story."

"Oh, do tell" Arthur said, skeptical.

"When Bruta was on his deathbed, he asked to be taken deep into the forest. There, with the last of his strength, he thrust his sword into a rock. If his lineage was ever questioned, this would form a test. Only a true king of Camelot could pull the weapon free."

Behind him, Merlin can hear the moment he stops, but he keeps going. He knows Arthur, he knows he will follow and, sure enough, his curiosity eventually wins.

"Why haven't I ever heard this story?"

"Well, history isn't really your strong point, is it?" Arthur remains silent. "What are you thinking?"

"I think you're trying to fool me."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"More like an idiot."

"What's that then?"

He watches on with a smile, delighted by the prince's stunned silence as his eyes finally find the sight ahead of them. There, amidst the woods, was a stone and, stuck in it, was a sword, gold and steel shining under the sun in a glimmer that could almost be magical. Around the blade though, there were the Knights of the Round Table and Gwen. Sir Leon was the only one in full knight regalia. Percival had bandages wrapped around his head, while Elyan and Gwaine wore normal clothing – only enough to keep the cold at bay. Lancelot rested his right arm on a sling while Gwen kept rubbing her hands together. Those who stood with him once and swore their loyalty were now here again for another decisive moment. When he turns to Arthur again, he half expects to see him annoyed, but instead, Arthur staggered in place, eyes wide.

"Arthur?" Merlin called, snapping his fingers in front of him." Are you there?"

"What?"

"Where did you go?" He smiled, but Arthur just shook his head, looking at the sword now with something almost like fear. The moment he saw it, Merlin almost hesitated, but he had gone too far to turn back now. "Go on"

"What?"

"I'm proving to you that you will be a great king."

Arthur frowned, his lips moving, his whisper so low Merlin almost couldn't hear it. "That sword is stuck fast in solid stone."

"And you're going to pull it out."

"Impossible."

"Arthur, you're the true king of Camelot."

"My father is king of Camelot, and he conquered it." He looked around. "Do you want me to look like a fool?"

"No, I want you to understand that you're worthy of the throne, that you alone can save Camelot and its people. You're destined to be Albion's greatest king."

Arthur was clearly uncomfortable now, hesitating before taking the first step. Although he wasn't there, Merlin can almost feel Gaius' eyes at his back, his mouth pursed in that disapproving look that told him this was a bad idea. When the prince finally reached the sword, he looked over the others.

"Did he tell you that silly story too?"

"What story, sire?" Elyan questioned.

"This Tale of the Sword?" He asked, narrowing his eyes as Merlin felt sweat gathering at his brow.

Sir Leon frowned "No, I've never heard of that."

"Oh, I did!" Gwaine suddenly exclaimed. "You hear it everywhere, sire."

"I remember hearing it as a child" Lancelot added, and Merlin sighed, turning to Arthur.

"See? It's famous, now stop cowering."

"I don't cower, Merlin" Arthur finally wrapped his hands around the handle, grimacing as he pulled it, again and again, until he was trembling from the effort.

"You can do this Arthur. Nothing, not even this stone can stand in your way." The sword refused to move, and now everyone was holding their breaths. "Come one Arthur, have faith."

"Faith?"

"Faith, we have faith in you, why don't you?"

Merlin saw him stopping, running his gaze across the others to each of the men he made a knight and to Gwen whose smile was small and encouraging. This time he didn't pull it immediately. Instead, Merlin saw him closing his eyes, taking deep breaths. He wondered what he was thinking about at that moment, while he basked in the perfection of it. Seeing the opportunity, he allowed his magic free, flying forth to break the connection between rock and steel. Finally, the blade was released, coming off the stone in heating sparks, its blade glimmering like a living flame as a wide eyed Arthur raised to the skies.

In that moment, the clouds that covered the skies parted, and the sun broke through, sparking hope inside his heart. For the world he was still a prince, but Merlin, in his own thoughts, wished him a long life.

Long live the king.

Walking back to Camelot later felt much easier.

They did so with easy conversation and feather like steps, the men who were wounded were now joking around and chuckling. Ahead of him, even Arthur seemed happy.

"That was truly amazing." Gwen was saying.

"I know, not that it makes any sense." Arthur sad, sending Merlin a look. "I still think it was all rubbish."

"How else can you explain you pulling the sword from the stone, sire?" Gwaine asked.

"Can you, Gwaine?"

"Well, I've seen lots of strange things out in the world, sire, this is just another one." The man claimed and when Arthur's back was turned, he wink at Merlin, who laughed and moved ahead of Arthur.

"You know, there is actually another part of that story."

"Oh, really?"

"Let him tell the story." Gwen said, prompting Arthur to nod.

"When the sword was thrust into the stone, the ancient king foretold that one day it would be freed again at a time when Camelot needed it most." Merlin said, his voice loud enough for all of them to hear it. "The man who freed it would unite the land of Albion and rule over the greatest kingdom the world has ever known. That man is you, Arthur."

He looked on expectantly, but all Arthur did was furrow his brow. "You're making this up."

"Why would I do that?" Merlin said, only to him now. "Your head's already as big as your waist. I believe it, though. And I believe in you. I always have."

Up ahead, the skies had darkened slightly as the day moved along, and Camelot revealed itself before their eyes. Their small party crossed the camps of men in stride, bows and calls of 'sire' following their path as the soldiers took notice of their prince, whose face lost whatever color it had gained a moment ago. Merlin became puzzled at that, but now they were way too exposed for him to talk openly, instead he walked up the roads, confused by the lack of people.

"Where did everyone go?"

"My father was going to address the people today." Arthur reminded him.

Sure enough, as they came upon the plaza they saw it packed with people, many spilling out of the threshold in an attempt to see the king. Under the portal, Merlin couldn't help but move his gaze upwards, where Agravaine's corpse hanged from a noose. When his treason was discovered, Uther hadn't seeing fit to give the man a proper burial; instead he tried to make him an example. Now, Agravaine Du Bois was left to rot above the gates, hands and feet cut off and a sign stuck to his chest. The word 'traitor' carved in the piece of wood.

Without looking, Merlin knew none of his companions looked at it, instead focusing on the thundering voice that spoke above the crowd.

"… Our days have been harsh and cold, and now enemies are gathering beyond these same walls!" The king spoke, dressed from head to toe and crimson cloth and dark leather, it was as if Uther had never fallen sick. His crown was a golden circle over his head and his eyes stared down with pride and defiance as if the threat stood right before his eyes. "The evil of sorcery is strong, it is vile and cunning! It is the same evil that once roamed this land, that once drowned this kingdom in chaos and bloodshed, but fear not! Once, with the help of the people, that same evil was banished from the land! Now, once more they come to us for a fight, to destroy homes and families! I know so, for my own family has been tarnished by these demons!" The crowd seemed to freeze as one being, confirmation of the king's relations to Morgana coming the Uther's own mouth. "But we will prevail! Right now, all five kingdoms have agreed to join arms against this foe! Our armies have gathered! Our arms are strong! Our steel is sharp! Tomorrow we will march into Essetir and purge these lands once and for all! As your king that is my word that evil shall never touch you again!"

Around Merlin, the people cheered. Days of fear and uncertainty flowing out in thunderous screams.