Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to BBC Merlin.
Author's Note: So it begins—finally. This first chapter went through at least 10 different drafts…before I finally settled on beginning it just the way I had planned in the first place ::face palm::. Just a head's up, this will be my longest AMM installment to date. As I said in Dragonlord's Son, this story is the heart of my entire series; it is the entire reason why I began writing my AMM series in the first place. Nearly five years ago (and several times since) I saw this episode—BBC Merlin's The Sword in the Stone—and went, "Huh. This would have made a fantastic magic reveal. Why didn't they do that?" (Of course, in successive viewings, it turned more into almost yelling it…) So, I conceived this series in attempt to lead up to that shatter point (a point wherein a possible future is altered). Granted, at that time, it was the first magic reveal, but five years on and well…let's just say my muse ran away from me ::sweat drop::. Just so you know, Merlin and Arthur's relationship undergoes a huge evolution in this story. I plan to keep it pretty ambiguous—that's one of my favorite types of relationships, after all!—but by the end, I am hoping everyone can see just how much my Merlin and Arthur love each other. Please enjoy!
Reviewers:All 279 of you, thank you!
Rating: T/M
Summary: Three years have passed since Merlin's partial reveal of his magic. On the eve of their assault on Heilos and Morgana's forces, Emrys must finally reveal himself in full. Quite without his knowing, it alters the entire course of Camelot's future—as well as his own, with the Once and Future King…[Friendshipfic. Bromance.]
"Speech"
Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)
.:A Man's Measure:.
By Sentimental Star
VIII: The King's Grace (Part 1)
Three years had passed since Merlin first revealed his powers to Arthur. Two (now three) major invasions and a mind-numbing array of magical incidents later, and they still had not managed to just sit down and talk about everything Merlin had done.
In Arthur's defense, it was never going to be any kind of easy, learning the true extent of Merlin's powers. Why should it be? Nothing about Merlin had ever been "simple" and Arthur supposed that was why he had been so inexplicably drawn to his beloved friend in the first place, despite the often-contentious nature of their early acquaintance.
When they had first agreed to this mutual silence it had been to protect Merlin from the then-still-alive Uther. After his father had passed, Arthur grew aware of precisely how much Merlin had done—for Camelot, for Arthur.
To the young king's credit, once he knew how to look and what for…it became painfully obvious that the only reason Arthur still lived and Camelot still stood was because of Merlin: snakes exiting a shield, a whirlwind rising on a day when there was no wind, undead mercenaries exploding where they stood, a suddenly heavy sword slipping easily from a formidable opponent's grasp during single combat…
Those weren't even half of what he had "fathomed out," much less half of what Arthur felt quite sure Merlin (and his powers) were responsible for preventing.
Gods, it wasn't like they hadn't tried to discuss this: over the past year and a half both of them—at various points—had tried to broach the subject, only to be thwarted—by duty, by danger, by inconvenient timing…
Even as recently as several days ago, during Beltane, they had attempted to have this conversation, only to be interrupted by Morgana's invasion—and by then, they had slightly more pressing matters to handle:
(Four Days Ago, Feast of Beltane)
"Where do we stand?" Gaius's question sliced through the muffled din of men's screams and clashing swords outside the barred doors of the king's chambers as he helped Merlin bind Arthur's cracked ribs, startling the four men with him.
Percival frowned grimly at the oak door, likely contemplating how flimsy a barrier it would be against Morgana's Southron forces, "The citadel is overrun. We cannot hold out much longer."
Arthur hissed at the white-hot flash of pain that shot through his awareness as Merlin finished binding his ribcage. "I should be out there!"
"You should do no such thing!" his beloved manservant retorted hotly, yanking perhaps a bit more harshly at the bindings than the situation warranted (at least in Arthur's mind). "As it is, you already run the risk of puncturing a lung and I can't-!"
He bit off the rest of his retort quite forcefully, but Arthur could finish it well enough on his own, -Can't use magic.
"Merlin…" Arthur touched his best friend's chin, redirecting fierce, red-tinged blue eyes back to his own, but could not think of anything to say other than that, not in the presence of Gwaine and Percival.
Gaius cleared his throat, effectively diverting all attention from the byplay between Merlin and Arthur. "How long until they reach us?"
Percival shook his head, eyeing Arthur worriedly, "Minutes only."
Merlin frowned, tying off the final bandage and leaving Gaius to check that they were secure, joining the knights at the door before Arthur could object. He just barely overheard his friend's murmur, "They'll kill Arthur if they find him."
He hissed as Gaius prodded at his ribs, the old physician scowling when Arthur all but keeled to one side. The king just barely caught the tail end of Percival's response, "—We must get him to safety while we still can."
There was a clatter of metal against flagstone and the door suddenly shuddered, metal hinges shrieking as someone outside tried to forcefully wrench it from the threshold.
Merlin, Percival, and Gwaine lurched back, the shaggy-haired knight exhaling sharply through his nose, "We need to get him out of here. That door won't hold for long."
Arthur snarled, fighting against Gaius's hold and half-mad with pain, "If you think I'll abandon my people-!"
Then Merlin was suddenly there, all warm hands and dark midnight eyes as he hefted Arthur to his feet, "Barricade the doors," he shot over his shoulder, yanking the king into his arms. "Give us as much time as you can."
Then Merlin was half-dragging, half-carrying Arthur towards the servants' entrance, Gaius on his heels.
(End Flashback)
IOIOIOIOIOI
They had been forced to leave behind Gwaine and Gaius in the castle, Elyan and Percival in the forest; he had no idea how Leon, Bors, or any of the other knights fared, never mind his subjects…
Now they were on the run…from Agravaine.
The uncle who—despite Merlin's misgivings—Arthur had held out hope might be the one relative whose motives he did not have to question.
He pressed his eyes shut against their burning, following blindly on Merlin's heels as his manservant led their company deeper into the cave tunnels surrounding Ealdor.
Arthur had been such a fool to doubt Merlin's word that Agravaine had come to Camelot with less-than-altruistic intentions. He had been so newly instated as king, so desperate for someone experienced to advise him on how to run a kingdom, that he had trusted blindly to Agravaine's supposed love for his sister—Arthur's mother.
He should have known better. After all, when had Merlin ever been wrong about something like this?
Quite aside from his beloved friend's typically keen intuition, Arthur should have sensed something amiss long before Agravaine accompanied Morgana through Camelot's gates.
(Supporting Guinevere's banishment? Attacking Gaius? These weren't things a loving relative did…)
Despite Merlin's reassurance in the forest, Arthur felt sure that if he had been more cautious when welcoming Agravaine to his court, more trusting of the evidence his eyes had seen, if he had just listened to Merlin, as he had known in his heart that he should…then perhaps Camelot would not have fallen so easily.
(It really hadn't, but only Merlin seemed to think so.)
Now his knights were scattered—worse, captured or dead; Ealdor was burning…and anyone he had ever cared about in any way was in danger: Gaius, Guinevere, Leon and the other Knights of the Round Table, Hunith—
-Merlin, who jerked to a halt so abruptly that Arthur nearly crashed into his back.
"Merlin-" Arthur began, exasperated.
"Shh," Merlin hushed him, waving the king quiet with his free hand.
Arthur frowned, feeling Guinevere, Tristan, and Isolde come to a halt behind him.
"What is it?" he murmured, steeping close enough to Merlin that his shoulder brushed against his best friend's.
Merlin squeezed his eyes shut.
Behind them, further down the corridor, Arthur heard pebbles shift and boots scrape along stone.
Merlin hissed, his eyes flashing open and bleeding gold as they shot to Arthur's, "Agravaine. He's found us."
The flickering torchlight concealed Merlin's irises from the three companions who followed them, but Arthur—after three years and a partial magic reveal—knew exactly what the warlock had accomplished in those precious few seconds prior to this conversation. He cursed, "…I thought you said we lost them!"
Merlin's lips pressed into a thin line, "I thought we had."
"It won't take long for them to catch us, you know," Tristan's voice snapped them out of their staring match. When Arthur and Merlin turned, it was to find the smuggler had leaned both himself and Isolde up against the rock wall of tunnel, arms tight around his lover.
Guinevere stood beside the female smuggler on the side opposite to Tristan, murmuring soothingly to the woman, who had squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her arms protectively around her lower torso, as she checked Merlin's makeshift bandage.
"I'll go back."
Arthur snapped his eyes up, his gaze locking on Merlin's at that pronouncement, "What?" he demanded.
Merlin looked far less surprised than Tristan, whose eyebrows jumped to his hairline at the faint rasp that leaked into Arthur's voice, despite the king's best attempt to suppress it.
In response, his beloved manservant squared his shoulders and set his jaw, "You heard me. We don't have time to argue, Arthur!"
It was true. Already the king could hear the clatter of chain mail and thud of rushing footsteps along one of the adjoining corridors.
Of course, that did not stop Arthur from trying to argue, anyway: "You can't," he snarled, lunging forward grab Merlin by his jerkin as his best friend turned in preparation to run. "It's too dangerous!"
"Arthur…" Merlin shook his head, reaching out to try and gently pry Arthur's fingers from the leather of the jerkin. "I know these tunnels and Agravaine doesn't. Tristan's right—you need to keep going."
Arthur growled and attempted to dodge his best friend's hands, locking his fingers in the jerkin's worn ties—and, consequently, the delicate lump of metal beneath those ties.
"Not without you," the refusal came out less growl and more desperate. His fingers tightened around the hidden merlin pendant against his manservant's heart.
Merlin released a soft sigh, reaching up in attempt to pry them off again, "Arthur—"
At that moment, the very distinct scrape of a sword against stone only one corridor over caused all five of them to jump.
Isolde lurched up from the wall. Guinevere gasped, attempting to steady her. And Tristan whirled around to face the threshold of the tunnel, face set in a desperate snarl.
Arthur used the silver chain of Merlin's necklace to yank his manservant forward and press his forehead bruisingly tight against the younger man's collarbone. He felt Merlin release a whuff of air and only just manage to keep ahold of the torch, "Don't…Don't do anything stupid," he breathed desperately into the crook of his beloved friend's neck.
Merlin's free palm slid across the nape of Arthur's neck, warm against his skin when he rested it there. It squeezed once, twice, and Arthur pulled back, rubbing his thumb along the miniature links of silver one last time before his hand fell to the side.
Merlin smirked weakly at him, "Who? Me? When have I ever?"
It was clearly a tease meant to reassure Arthur, but the king was not sure the pain in his eyes allowed it. Without a word, he took the torch from Merlin's hand and glanced away, the muscles of his jaw locked so tightly against the words that wanted to burst out that his teeth ached.
Briefly, he felt Merlin press his fingers against Arthur's before he heard his manservant's boots patter away.
He turned his head then and watched, his stare burning into his best friend's back long after the other man had left his sight.
Tristan's shoulder jostled Arthur's a moment later as he shoved past him, supporting Isolde, "Let's go" he muttered gruffly, "We don't want to waste the opportunity he's given us."
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, still able to hear Merlin's footsteps faintly as they rushed down the corridor opposite them.
A warm, work-roughened palm touched his arm, "Arthur?" Guinevere murmured tenderly.
Arthur's blue eyes snapped open to lock on her own brown ones. "I can't leave him, Gwen," he ground out harshly, "I can't. I'm going after him."
"Arthur—" Guinevere's objection went unheard as he brushed her off and stepped away.
Tristan stared at him, where he and Isolde had paused upon hearing their argument, "He knows these tunnels—he said so himself. He'll find his way. We have to go-!"
Arthur shoved away the hand the smuggler reached towards him, "I don't care. I'm going back."
"You ass—" Tristan bit out, but Arthur ignored him, pushing the torch into Guinevere's hand.
He only barely heard the smuggler's snort of disbelief as he rushed back down the tunnel, "For a servant?"
And, even fainter, Guinevere's response, "Not only for a servant…For Merlin."
TBC