Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to BBC Merlin.
Author's Note: The roulette of multiple drafts of single chapters and scenes begins again ::face palm::. I may end up tweaking this chapter yet again at a later date, but for the moment, I am pretty happy with the way it turned out. We'll see if it stays that way ::sweat drop::. I will probably not be updating as frequently as I did this spring and summer; I am a teacher, and whatever anyone tells you, virtual learning is far more work, in some ways, than in-person learning. We'll hang in there, though. Please enjoy this little break from the "daily grind"!
Reviewers: All 284 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…[Ambiguous Relationship (Merlin/Arthur)]
"Speech"
Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)
.:A Man's Measure:.
By Sentimental Star
VIII: The King's Grace (Part 3)
"Arthur…" Agravaine stammered, stumbling backwards to put space between himself and the infuriated king. "I…he's…"
"Yes, Uncle?" Arthur asked tightly, adjusting his stance so he settled more firmly between the man in front of him and the man behind him. "He's what?"
"He's a sorcerer!" Agravaine burst out furiously, although it was clear he was scrambling to provide an explanation for the brutality he had employed against Merlin.
A pity Arthur had already seen him with Morgana.
"As a man who aligned himself with a High Priestess," Arthur observed tightly, whirling to his left to deliver a ferocious, two-handed side strike, "I am not sure you are in a position to object, Uncle."
"A sorceress killed your mother!" Agravaine snarled angrily, blocking the strike with his own sword and staggering sideways from the unexpected force.
Arthur's blade easily knocked Agravaine's aside. "And yet you still allied yourself with Morgana. I am not sure I find your reasoning sound, Uncle."
Pressing his advantage while he still had his uncle on the defensive, Arthur slashed first to the right and then to the left, forcing the older man to hastily retreat as he tried to block both blows.
"She's your sister," Agravaine brought out desperately, swinging wildly at Arthur. "Your father treated her abominably!"
Arthur effortlessly side-stepped the intended blow, causing his uncle to stumble forward as he lost his balance. Having learned early on from Merlin that physical attacks could sometimes prove just as effective as using a sword, the king lashed out at Agravaine's side with a booted foot.
It caught the older man unawares in his side, forcing him to stagger back against the rock wall behind him, which had been Arthur's intention all along.
"You think I don't know that?" the king demanded, bring his sword up to level a strike at Agravaine's neck. "I've known it all along, even before I knew she was my sister!"
Despite having wrapped one arm around his most-likely-bruised ribs, his uncle still managed to keep hold of his sword, flashing it up in an overhand block that locked powerfully with Arthur's own.
"He was disloyal to Ygraine," the older man forced out around gritted teeth. "He as good as murdered her when he made a pact with Nimueh!"
Arthur—who had been pivoting to follow up his previous strike with an elbow to Agravaine's gut—now froze, drawing himself back sharply.
"What?" he breathed in horror.
But Merlin said…Merlin told me-!
Agravaine took advantage of Arthur's distraction.
Galvanized into action, the older lord knocked the king's sword arm wide, in that same motion grabbing it to lever himself up off the rocky wall and swinging Arthur into it.
Crying out as his own, still-tender side collided with sharp stone, Arthur crumpled against the wall, tenaciously clinging to his sword's hilt.
"So heartbreaking, really," Agravaine mocked would-be sadly as he gained a second wind, "Nimueh warned him there might be a price to pay. The Old Religion demands balance, of course. But well…needs must. What is a wife, after all…compared to a future king?"
"Stop," Arthur whispered, horrified, squeezing his eyes shut. His grip on the sword's pommel wavered.
Agravaine saw his chance and exploited it ruthlessly: "You honestly thought your father was unaware of the price?" the older man laughed harshly, cracking his blade against Arthur's gauntlet and causing the king to cry out, his grip on the sword loosening, "I assure you, nephew…your father was quite aware of the consequences."
"You're lying," stated desperately, as Arthur attempted to strengthen his sweaty grasp on the hilt. "You have to be. Father would never-!"
Merlin would never…not about as something as important as this…!
"Oh, am I?" Agravaine's eyes glittered maliciously as he managed to knock Arthur's sword out of his hand and send it skittering across the tunnel floor. "You have no proof, do you? So you'll forgive me, nephew, if I eliminate a magical abomination."
Whether he meant Arthur or Merlin, the king never did find out, and it did not matter in the long run.
Almost as soon as Agravaine raised his sword to strike Arthur dead, blue-tinged gold fire hurtled into Agravaine's side, slamming him into the wall.
Just as the light began to fade from his uncle's eyes, Arthur felt a slender hand wrap firmly around his bicep and heft him to his feet.
"Funnily enough, Uncle," Arthur remarked tightly, as Merlin steadied him, his words the last Agravaine would ever hear, "I am nothing like my father."
IOIOIOIOIOI
Arthur turned away, rather than watch his uncle die. When the man breathed his last, the young king released a shuddering sigh, bending down to gently shut his lifeless eyes.
As he stood back up, hissing at the slight pull on his bruised side, one of Merlin's arms wrapped around his lower back, his shoulder coming up beneath Arthur's, despite his best friend being a hand's span taller than he.
A hand lifted to gently brush back his hair, and Arthur winced as Merlin carefully removed the sweat-matted strands that had stuck to the cut he had acquired in his fight with the Southron.
"Are you…will you be all right?" Merlin murmured at last.
Arthur heard the fading hoarseness to his voice and flicked his eyes over the bruised countenance that watched him, colored with concern.
"Oughtn't I be asking you that?" Arthur retorted.
Merlin winced as his gloved thumb settled against the younger man's split lip. "I'm fine," he mumbled.
"Don't lie to me!" Arthur snapped, far more harshly than he had intended.
Merlin drew back, eyes wide. "Arthur…?" asked cautiously.
The king snarled, yanking his hand away and roughly shrugging off his manservant's arm, "What the hell were you thinking?"
Merlin's breathing hitched. "I was thinking I needed to protect you-!"
Arthur lashed out, "He nearly killed you! You killed him…!"
"And he quite happily would have killed you!" Merlin hissed. "I did warn him, Arthur, don't think for a moment I did not! I am not that much of a monster!"
"I never said you were a monster-!"
"You as good as implied it!" Merlin snapped, shoving at Arthur's chest as the king went to grab him, noting the agitation with which his manservant moved.
It was not a good idea, when the younger man's entire back had to be one big bruise.
Sure enough, Merlin grimaced and aborted the motion, nearly toppling over, undoubtedly the worse off of the two.
Arthur caught him and his beloved manservant glanced up, a furious retort on his lips.
When he realized a faint sheen of tears lined his best friend's cheeks, Arthur's stomach dropped, his frustration and anger quite effectively doused.
"…Sorry," he whispered, burying his apology in the dark strands of hair against his lips.
Merlin wavered one single instant, before finally slumping in Arthur's arms.
Arthur slid them down the wall at his back, ignoring the ache in his own body, and settled Merlin between his legs, arms locked behind his beloved friend's back and in no hurry to release him anytime soon.
Merlin curled up against him and Arthur tilted his head back to rest against the stone behind them, shutting his eyes as he let the final ringing echoes of their fight with Agravaine fade into nonexistence.
As silence engulfed them, the king gradually became aware that Merlin was shivering in his arms, his best friend's body trembling as the adrenaline from the fight gradually began to wear off and the ache of his injuries began to set in.
Leaning down, he tucked a few black strands behind Merlin's ear and murmured, pressing the words against his friend's jaw, "Can you heal yourself?"
Merlin snorted softly, slipping out of Arthur's arms to sit back on his heels, even as his fingers remained locked in the king's chain mail, "There's not much that needs healing."
Arthur shot him a sharp look, "My uncle practically throttled you, Merlin! He threw you into a wall-! You surely must have a concussion at the very least…!"
Merlin rolled his eyes and ignored the wince his action elicited, releasing one hand to tap a finger against the armor he wore and the quilted fabric up against his neck, "Gambeson and chain mail, remember?"
Arthur must not have looked convinced, because Merlin half-smirked at him, "…And I may have laid down a spell of healing before I attacked Agravaine."
At the mention of his now-deceased uncle, Arthur tensed, remembering the stream of almost-blue fire that had so easily ended the man's life.
If he had ever once imagined Merlin might be that powerful—
(A Few Days Ago, Siege of Camelot)
"…I can't believe I let you talk me into this. Why did I let you talk me into this?"
Arthur's ire was cut rather short by the sweat beading his brow and the stark paleness of his skin. He tried not to clamp down on his injured ribs…but also couldn't not, bent double in a way that boded ill for the rest of their journey to the borders if more drastic steps were not taken to alleviate the injury.
Merlin had sat him down on a flat boulder just on the outskirts of the woods hemming in Camelot, Percival and Elyan gone to scout the surrounding forest, as the four of them sought a moment's respite from their pursuers...mostly for Arthur, who had begun to lag further and further behind as they fled from the postern gate.
None of the four mentioned that they knew the king's injury was not the only reason Arthur could hardly bear to run: in the foreground, Camelot burned, glowing a harsh orange against the night sky as it was ravaged by Morgana's and Heilos's forces.
Merlin's face hazed into focus between Arthur and the unwavering image of his beloved city burning, dirty with soot and streaked by tears they both knew he'd shed as they fled their home. Arthur could not be arsed to care that his own countenance probably looked much the same.
"…Because you didn't have a choice?" Merlin's clipped retort was made ragged by smoke and stress. His eyes were the same color as the flames consuming Camelot, if not a bit more gold.
…And just as Arthur realized what that meant, he inhaled sharply, ribs contracting painfully with the action, as Merlin tugged the bandages around them more forcibly into place. "Merlin…!" he snarled.
Merlin merely glared, his eyes bleeding gold, as he raised his head.
Before Arthur could light into him, Percival and Elyan raced out into their clearing from two different directions:
"Hoofbeats…!" the darker-skinned knight panted.
At the same time, Percival rapped out, "They're coming after us. Morgana knows Arthur is alive!"
Merlin grabbed Arthur's arm and hauled him to his feet, despite the king's vociferous protests, "I can walk…! I am perfectly fine…! Merlin-!"
"Shut up, Arthur!" Merlin snarled, dragging him off the rock and out of the clearing. "If you can't shut up for one second, so help me I'll-!"
Because Percival and Elyan were with them and, indeed, because Percival had grabbed him from the other side, despite his rapidly reknitting ribs (and maybe because of those, too), Arthur bit back a snide remark about what he would do if Merlin so much as thought of using his magic on him again—
(End Flashback)
-Merlin who, at that moment, read the emotions on his face before Arthur had the chance to wipe them off (not that he'd ever exactly succeeded in hiding such things from the man) and withdrew his hands from where they had been clenched in Arthur's chain mail, hugging them beneath his arms.
"You already knew about my powers," remarked lowly and not-quite-an-accusation.
"Not that you had the ability to fry a man where he stands, Merlin! Not that you can command your daggers to do your every bid and whim! Not that you could—" Arthur's breathing hitched, as he was abruptly reminded of why Merlin had hidden all of this, Uther's magic ban aside.
Gods, how can I ever ask him to forgive me after this?
He should have realized anger would be the furthest thing from Merlin's heart:
"Would you turn me away, then, my Liege?" the rawness of Merlin's voice snapped Arthur out of his stupor and produced a low curse as he took note of the sheer heartbreak and betrayal that adorned his beloved friend's face.
"Gods, you idiot, no!" horrified, Arthur grabbed the collar of Merlin's gambeson and yanked him forward, crushing his best friend in his arms. "I would never-!"
Strangled laughter burst out of Merlin as Arthur bundled him close, and he clung white-knuckled to the older man's chest.
"You idiot," Arthur murmured again, fervent, and heartfelt. "How could you ever believe I would hate you?"
…When you are what makes me whole.
IOIOIOIOIOI
It took Arthur a long time to release Merlin. As ever, though, the press of duty eventually became too insistent to ignore.
"W-We should go," Arthur's whisper emerged muffled from Merlin's neck. If the skin there felt damp—and if Arthur's own neck had been disinclined to remain dry—neither king nor warlock mentioned it. "The others are waiting."
Merlin nodded reluctantly, shifting back to extricate himself from Arthur's arms.
"I'll get your sword—" he began to rise.
Arthur was not quite ready to let him go, yet.
Gripping Merlin's arms, he temporarily halted the warlock's momentum, keeping his best friend hovering above him.
"You are going to tell me everything when we get a moment's chance," the statement wavered as he stared up into the beloved blue eyes peering down at him.
Merlin's entire face lit up with a beautiful smile. "Arthur…" his best friend laughed, voice just on the solid side of tremulous, "Gods…all I've ever wanted is for you to know!"
TBC