So I've been writing these chapters in conjunction with finishing my rewatch and today I finished and I am hurting. But it's also inspiration, so here I am, chugging out another update! Least I can do after leaving this story hanging for who knows how long?

PS: Don't be stupid like me and listen to Never Let Me Go by FATM while looking at DOTD Pt. 2 gifsets. I am literally pure PAIN.

Thankfully, Merlin was able to carry the unconscious Arthur from the battlefield with Hermione in tow. They had briefly looked over Mordred's sword, and Hermione winced at the sight of a shard missing from its blade. No doubt that piece of metal had embedded itself in Arthur's ribs—what they needed now was Gaius' expertise. Hermione took the sword with her, just in case Gaius would like to examine it.

She had also explained to Merlin in a quick manner how she had fought with Morgana and failed to kill the sorceress. No doubt she would have escaped, and when she realized Arthur was not dead, she would go after him herself. They could not risk keeping him where she would find him, not with such severe injury.

"We'll hide him in the forest," Merlin decided, just barely holding himself together but desperately trying to do so for both their sakes. "You must go and tell Gaius to find us as soon as possible. He can look over Arthur's wound and tell me how to heal him."

Hermione nodded her head obediently, glad to have some kind of plan in place. Focusing on what they needed to do was better than thinking about how injured Arthur was, what peril his life may be in thanks to Mordred. Regret had begun to lap hotly at Hermione's insides as she made her way back to camp, moving as fast as she could. She should have killed Morgana when she had the chance. The priestess had been the one to put the sword in Mordred's hand, had been the one that lead him right to Arthur, and Hermione had let her get away with it. Honor and morality meant nothing when her husband was dying.

She swallowed back the feelings of regret to find Gaius in the medic tent, which was overflowing with needy soldiers now that the battle was over. She had stolen a Camelot knight cloak so as to blend in. She rushed to Gaius's side as he bandaged a man's leg, and he did a double take when she whispered to him from his side.

"Hermione!" He gave a big sigh of relief. "I was beginning to fear the worst—"

"Your fears are correct, though not about me," she told him hurriedly, already a lump forming in her throat again. "It's Arthur—Mordred stabbed him in the battle, and he's gravely injured."

Gaius was speechless for a moment before he was able to ask, "Where is he now?"

"Merlin is taking him to the forest in case Morgana comes looking for him," Hermione said, heart beating hard and fast in her chest. "You must come meet us as soon as possible to look at his wound. I have the sword Mordred used on him, it's missing a fragment." She pulled the sword from her belt and gave it to him. "I can't stay, if Leon or anyone else sees me they'll want me to come back to Camelot with them, and I have to help Merlin keep Arthur safe. We'll be waiting for you."

His eyebrow was raised high, but he accepted this hastily, nodding and looking around. "I will come as soon as I can. But you must go, now."

Hermione nodded, starting to turn away, hesitating, and then she quickly ducked out of the tent. She kept herself hooded as she slipped past the tents, returning to her and Arthur's tent to grab her drawstring bag. Her wand was long gone, lost in the fight, but she had little concern for that now. Merlin had shown her that anything she could do with her wand, she could do without. But her bag had vital supplies inside, including the Essence of Dittany she had used on her own Splinching wound. Perhaps it could be of use for Arthur's injury, once the sword fragment had been removed from his chest.

Peeking out of the flaps, she saw that no one was near and slipped out just as quickly as she had come in. She was lucky to find an unattended horse and journeyed away from camp under cover of nightfall, towards the forest where Arthur and Merlin awaited.

Merlin sat crouched with his back to Arthur, hands clasped together with thumbs resting on his lips as he came to terms with all that had happened that day. Though he and Hermione had done everything possible to stop Morgana, they had ultimately failed. They hadn't been fast enough in stopping Mordred, though neither of them could have expected that he would be the one to kill Arthur once and for all. But Morgana had given him the honour, and he had come close to succeeding. Arthur was wounded and growing weaker by the hour... though Merlin was at a loss for what to do, he was certain by now about one thing: the truth must come out.

Suddenly, there was a stirring from behind Merlin, and he gave a jolt as a voice weakly called out, "Merlin..."

In an instant he rose and hurried to Arthur's side, relieved to see the king awake.

"How are you feeling?" he pressed anxiously, and Arthur tried to sit up. Immediately the pain in his wound was reignited, and with a cry and visible wince, he fell back again. His hand shot out to grab at Merlin's shoulder, to steady himself, and the warlock gripped at his wrist and arm in response.

"Lie back, lie back," he insisted quickly, concern filling his eyes.

"Where have you been?" Arthur grunted out, frowning at the sight of his manservant. What happened to his journey for 'vital supplies'?

Merlin hesitated. "It doesn't matter now." Arthur groaned again.

"Ah—my side, my side." Merlin glanced at the wound, anxiety flooding him all over again. Blood was starting to leak out again.

"You're bleeding," he acknowledged, gaze darting to Arthur's face to see his reaction. The king was doing his best to grin and bear it, and was mostly succeeding. Merlin could never understand how a person could be so strong, but Arthur always was.

"That's all right, I thought I was dying," Arthur attempted lightness, though his pants for air made it anything but humorous.

"I'm sorry," Merlin mumbled emotionally, bowing his head. "I thought I'd defied the prophecy. I thought I was in time."

Arthur looked at him.

"What are you talking about?"

Merlin shook his head, tears welling up again as he recalled the battle. "I defeated the saxons. The dragon. And yet... I failed to stop Mordred."

Arthur was confused, but seeing Merlin was clearly upset, lightly patted his shoulder. Reassuringly, he added, "The person who defeated them was the sorcerer."

Merlin was silent for a long moment as terror seized him and made him shake, made tears force themselves with a stinging heat from his eyes. He was beyond scared for what he was about to do—the secret he had spent so many years going to the greatest lengths to hide was now to come out. But he couldn't bear to hide himself from Arthur any longer.

Unable to meet Arthur's eyes, in a half-choked sob, Merlin insisted, "It was me." He began to cry freely then, gripping Arthur's wrist as tight as he could for fear of losing his closeness.

Arthur could not make sense of Merlin's emotions. As always, he tried to brush them off, saying jokingly, "Don't be ridiculous, Merlin." Merlin said nothing else, only cried, and Arthur's face contorted in bewilderment and displeasure. "This is stupid, why would you say that?"

He gazed at Merlin with wild eyes, completely thrown by the manservant's behaviour. Merlin, meanwhile, tried to calm himself down to spit it out.

"I'm a..." He paused, swallowing back a fresh sob. "I'm a sorcerer. I have magic." He slowly lifted his eyes to meet Arthur's, afraid of what he would see in them. Arthur was frozen with the same expression, suspended in confusion and disbelief.

"And I use it for you, Arthur," Merlin quickly emphasized, sniffing. "Only for you."

Arthur was speechless. He somehow managed to break out of his reverie, and setting his jaw defiantly, he said, "Merlin, you are not a sorcerer. I would know!"

Merlin only shook his head and let more tears fall, willing Arthur to see the truth that had been staring him in the eyes for all these years.

"Look, here," he told Arthur shakily, glancing towards the fire. Extending his palm towards the fire, he willed his emotions to find restraint and focused on the magic. "Upastige draca..."

Shining orange embers rose from the flames to create the form of a dragon, which flapped its wings at Merlin's bidding. For a moment, calm found him, and Merlin felt at peace. That was, until he ended the trick and faced Arthur. The blonde stared at him as if he had never seen him before in his life—as if Merlin were someone else entirely, someone that terrified him to his core. He struggled then, shifting his body away from Merlin's as best he could in his debilitated state. The hand that had once rested on the man's shoulder was pulled far away, fingers clenching up.

Merlin's brows twitched, his lips parting. But before he could say anything, Arthur ordered in a warbled tone, "Leave me."

"Arthur!" Merlin argued, reaching out again to touch him. Arthur jolted away, breaking Merlin's heart with the look of pure disgust he sent the warlock.

"No, just... you heard!"

Fresh tears filled Merlin's eyes and he pulled back, holding his hands away from him still as if they were now covered in filth. He felt dirty and disgusting after the way Arthur had looked at him, had reacted to finding out he had magic. He had always expected the possibility of rejection, but had never once imagined it hurting as much as this.

There was a rustling that startled them both, and someone made themselves known to them. It was Hermione, who was confused by whatever she had stumbled upon.

"What's going on?" she asked, eyes flicking between the two men. Merlin swallowed roughly and got up, going as far from Arthur as he could without totally leaving camp. Hermione had heard argumentative tones as she'd neared, but had no clue what had transpired between the two to make Merlin so upset.

"Merlin," she began, walking over, but Arthur's hand shot out and grabbed her ankle.

"Don't," he told her breathlessly. Hermione lowered herself to Arthur's level, baffled by his behaviour.

"Arthur, what happened?" she said quietly, glancing at Merlin, who sat with his back to them and seemed to be shaking. Arthur was now teeming with anger, and he seethed his response.

"He's a sorcerer," he said lowly, an acidity lacing the words. "He's been lying to me, all this time, all these years!" Hermione did not know what to say, and Arthur could not understand her silence until, suddenly, he could. And when it came to him, his face was drained of all color and his jaw went suddenly slack.

"You knew," he accused, staring at her in disbelief. She let her gaze fall to the ground, conflict wedging itself as a crease between her brow.

"I can't believe this," Arthur said with incredulity, though his eyes began to glow again, and not with gladness. He tried to sit up further, and Hermione winced at the obvious agony it caused.

"Arthur, please, you're injured, don't work yourself up right now..." She reached out, but he flinched.

"Don't," he shuddered with his anger, pressing his wound with his hand. "You've been covering up for him this entire time."

"Arthur, please, you must understand," she pleaded, eyes shining with tears.

"You and him with your secrecy and lies!" he spewed through shallow breaths, ignoring his injury. "You've kept his secret of sorcery, you told him about our child before you told me... what other secrets have you two kept from me? Tell me!"

Hermione was frightened by his tone and piercing gaze. "Nothing, Arthur, I swear!" She began to cry, and Merlin glanced back then. "I'm sorry, Arthur, I'm sorry. It wasn't my secret to tell! It wasn't my place..."

"It wasn't your place as my wife, as QUEEN, to tell me of a sorcerer living in my own home?" Arthur scoffed, though gritting his teeth as the movement set off another bout of pain. "I suppose that would be exactly what you'd want, though, isn't it? Your agenda to make me accept magic and undo the laws of my father is more important to you than anything else." He regarded her with disdain. "You two must have had a good laugh over how oblivious, how foolish I have been when he was right under my nose this whole time..."

"Arthur, that's not true!" Hermione's voice was emotional but firm on this, and he stopped himself. "You're upset, and I understand. But think of what you are saying—what you are accusing me, what you are accusing your friend of. Arthur, you know that Merlin and I are the last people in the kingdom, in all the kingdoms, that would do anything with intent to hurt you. I am sorry I lied, but I promise you, it was not because of some underhanded agenda!"

"He is not my friend," Arthur refuted flatly. But then he shuddered, pressing his hand into the wound at his side. Merlin sucked in a quiet yet deep breath, feeling his heart shatter in his chest.

"Arthur..."

"I am tired," he said stiffly, and he did look it, the anger draining from him to reveal just how much life had already drained from him too. His skin was pallid and his eyes dull.

Hermione swallowed back the lump in her throat, nodding wordlessly. Arthur turned his face away from her and shut his eyes, and she got settled in beside him, though felt every inch of him clenching up as if to keep far away from her. Both she and Merlin fell asleep with tear streaks on their cheeks and a sadness weighing heavy on their hearts.

Merlin had difficulty sleeping, and so rose before the king and queen to stoke the fire and go looking for more wood to build it up. Only moments after he disappeared in the trees, Hermione roused, and was distinctly aware of Arthur looking at her. The previous evening's argument came rushing back to her and she was nervous to meet his eyes. Fortunately, when she did, he was no longer regarding her with the same disgust as before.

"I'm sorry," he murmured to her, and she was surprised. But she swallowed this down and shook her head, sitting up slightly to look down at him as he reclined.

"I'm sorry, too," she told him, reaching up to caress his cheek while gazing sadly upon him. In the daylight the reality of his weakened state was even clearer, and she worried for him. His skin appeared more grey than it had been before, his breathing slower. Before she could say much else about last night's conversation, or his wounded state, Arthur continued.

"I was hurt and angry, and I accused you of things I should have not," he added, swallowing as the pain began to ebb back into existence in his side. "You are not to blame here, I realize that now. You were just trying to protect a friend. You have a large heart, and it's something I love about you."

She started to smile, glad to see that he was coming to the light. But his next words drove a dagger into her stomach for Merlin's sake as he said with contempt, "Merlin saw that, and took advantage of you. He took advantage of both of us. He is the one who kept his secret for these many years, even before you arrived here, when he had every chance to tell me the truth. He is the one who made me trust him, who made me believe in his loyalty to me... when all along he had another agenda entirely."

Hermione frowned at Arthur's characterization of Merlin. None of this was correct—it made Merlin sound like some kind of complex villain when it was all so much simpler than that. His lie had only to do with fear; fear of rejection and fear of losing everything he held dear... which included Arthur. Perhaps he did all that he did in the hopes that Arthur would come to change his views of magic and make Camelot a more fair and accepting place. But his motives had never been malevolent... and frankly, Hermione understood what it was like to feel so caught up in a lie that you could never actually tell the truth. After all, when she had been forced to reveal her own magic to him, Arthur had ended their engagement, and she had nearly lost him forever.

"Arthur—"

Before she could begin to refute his claims and try to help him understand things from Merlin's perspective, he feigned being asleep once more as Merlin crunched his way back over to them.

"How is he?" he asked, seeing Hermione was awake. She glanced at Arthur, biting her lip.

"Not getting any better," she said, leaving out the rest. "I hope Gaius will be here soon. We can't even start to do anything without his examination first."

Merlin built up the fire again, and Hermione reluctantly left Arthur's side to go near. Lowering her voice and looking upon him with sympathy, she asked, "How are you?"

He did not even glance up as he placed more wood on the fire, reigniting the embers that had begun to die out.

"Well, Arthur no longer trusts me or sees me as a friend," he began a little too lightly, but she could sense the thickness in his throat. "In fact, he won't even look at me, he's so disgusted with who I am."

"No," she murmured insistently, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. He froze, stiffening and she squeezed gently so that he would relax. "As someone who has been through this before... it's not you, or your magic. It's knowing that he was lied to by someone he cares about after already being betrayed so many times by others he once held dear. You just need to give him time to get past that, and he'll come to realize that everything you've done was for the right reasons—for him."

Merlin's nostrils flared from the effort it took for him to suppress his emotions. "But that's just it—I don't know how much time he even has left. What if before he can come to terms with who I am, he..." Merlin cut himself off then, too scared to even say it. Hermione's gaze lowered dejectedly, the reality of the situation hitting her all over again.

"He won't," she said now with a firmness, forcing herself to look up again. Merlin was envious of the strength she displayed in that moment. "We won't let that happen. Just give him some space as he grapples with this. And don't be too hard on yourself either. You are no Morgana, and Arthur knows that, even if his response says otherwise."

Merlin gave her a meaningful look, when a nearby noise made both of their heads snap in one direction. Someone approached, through the leaves Hermione could see pieces of them, until they stepped completely through.

Gaius.

She gave an audible sigh of relief, and Merlin jumped up from his seat to approach him.

"Any change?" Gaius inquired, gaze roaming to Arthur who lay several feet away.

"No." Merlin bowed his head, sorrow in his eyes.

"Let me see," Gaius said, stepping past him to go to Arthur. He placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder reassuringly as he passed, and she offered a forced smile in response. Merlin's eyes honed in on the herbs in Gaius's hands, or rather, the lack thereof.

"Is that all you got?"

Gaius glanced back in surprise. "The hills are crawling with Saxons."

"There's no Yarrow, no Lady's Mantle," Merlin pushed, his anxiety breaking past the surface once more as he trailed after Gaius.

"I got Comfrey," Gaius told him, already lowering himself to Arthur's level.

"You should've got Sticklewort," Merlin argued lowly. "There must've been Sticklewort."

"Merlin, why don't you water the horses?" Gaius turned a sympathetic gaze on his apprentice. "And make sure they're fed, we can't hide here for much longer."

Merlin was reluctant, but Gaius nodded his head in insistence so he turned around and trudged off. Hermione poked at the fire just as Merlin passed her in silence, seemingly going to the horses. She frowned lightly, and craned her neck to peek back at Gaius and Arthur. The king had finally opened his eyes, and they were in quiet discussion now.

Grabbing at Gaius's robe with alarm, he admitted, "He's a sorcerer."

Gaius said nothing as Hermione did, staring at him in the exact same way she had. Arthur slumped back and rolled his eyes.

"You knew, too," he scoffed, chewing on his lower lip. "Seems I'm the only one who was in the dark."

"Hardly," Gaius informed him, though he was sympathetic to Arthur's hurt. "Arthur... he's your friend."

"I want him gone," Arthur turned his head away, defiant. Gaius sighed, though focused on examining Arthur's wound.

"There is no need to fear him."

Arthur turned his head back then, that he had not softened in the least. "Have him take word back to Camelot—he can go with Hermione. My people need to know I'm alive, and she should be in the safety of the citadel."

Gaius shook his head. "You cannot send Merlin. As for Hermione, you and I both know she will never willingly leave your side. I will go—to ensure they know you're all right, and to cover for the queen. The last thing we want is for the Council to take any pre-mature action."

Despite the sound reasoning, Arthur was still entirely obstinate. Bemused, he replied, "I need a physician right now, not a sorcerer."

"He can do far more than me, far more than you can ever imagine." Arthur's brows tugged into a frown of confusion, and Gaius gazed upon him quite solemnly. "Arthur, he doesn't just have magic... there are those who say he's the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the earth."

Arthur stared in wild disbelief. "Merlin?"

Gaius pursed his lips. "If you are to stand any chance of survival, you'll need Merlin, and your wife, to help you, not me."

Arthur's eyes followed after the physician as he walked away, and no longer did he seem quite so passionately furious, but rather curious and conflicted.

As Gaius passed by Hermione, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Come, my dear. We must speak in private." She abandoned her tending of the fire, which had been a pretense to listen in on Gaius's conversation with Arthur. They walked into the trees together, to Merlin, who fed a horse from his palm and gently petted its muzzle. Merlin heard them approaching and turned, the calm spell broken.

"Gaius?" he inquired eagerly.

"He has a fragment of sword embedded in his chest," he explained, and Hermione recalled the sword which had been missing a chunk of its metal.

"Then we'll use magic to draw it out," Merlin offered, and glanced at Hermione with a nod. In full agreement, she added, "Once we get it out, we might even be able to use the Essence of Dittany on the open wound, as I did on my leg. It won't fully heal such a deep wound, but at least it will no longer be a fatal injury."

But she was less than hopeful upon seeing that there was no positive change in Gaius's expression, and in fact, he bowed his head despondently.

"No... the blade that struck Arthur is no ordinary blade." He lifted his eyes to look between the two. "I fear it was forged in a dragon's breath. Its fatal power will not be easily denied."

Hermione's head flicked wildly between the two men as she looked at them with wide eyes. "Not your dragon," she asked Merlin, shocked.

The sorcerer solemnly shook his head. "Aithusa."

Gaius continued. "The blade's point is traveling inexorably towards his heart. Not even you could hope to thwart such magic. It would take a power as ancient as the dragons themselves."

Hermione appeared horrified at this, and Merlin, sensing her distress and grappling with his own, argued. "No. There must be something that we can do, Gaius."

The older man did not seem all that thrilled by his own conclusion either. Shaking his head softly, he told them, "Only the Sidhe possess such magic. In the midst of the Lake Of Avalon, there is an ancient isle. That is the source of their power. You must take him there."

"He won't allow that," Merlin pursed his lips.

"He will," Gaius affirmed. "I spoke to him."

Hermione chewed on her thumbnail where she stood, head swirling with thoughts. She trusted Gaius's knowledge in that neither she nor Merlin could do anything themselves to heal Arthur. Any of the healing magic she knew could only help the external wound, and to a certain limit at that. A fragment of magical blade was another beast to conquer entirely. The Sidhe were still believed to exist in her time, though very few magic folk had ever been lucky enough to encounter them, which made some dubious.

From what little information she had learned about the immortal creatures, they were incredibly powerful, able to conjure magic even the most skilled witch or wizard could only dream of performing. But they were also supposedly very cunning, and at times even self-serving to the point of cruelty. Hermione worried that it would not be so easy convincing them to help without anything in return, but she had to trust that Merlin could make it happen. He was the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth—surely that had some sway amongst other magical beings.

Morgana stood on the top of a green hill, the wind blowing through her dusty, tangled hair and fluttering the torn pieces of her gown. With tears in her eyes, she gazed upon the pile of rocks which served as a grave marker for Mordred. Her dear Mordred—dead because her brother was not as easily put down as she had hoped.

"The battle is not over, Mordred," she promised the mound with emotion swelling in her throat. "We will have our revenge."

She would not rest until she had claimed the life of not just her brother, but those of Emrys and Clara—of Merlin and Hermione.

Tentative, Merlin walked up to Arthur as Hermione and Gaius spoke amongst themselves. Nervous to meet his king's eyes but somehow managing to find the strength, he informed Arthur, "We need to leave at first light."

Arthur set his jaw. "I'll decide."

Merlin shook his head to the side once, firmly. "I can't let you die."

Arthur's brows twitched at this, and for a second he seemed unsure. Merlin stared, waiting, and Arthur's stubbornness found its footing again.

"It doesn't change anything." He turned his head away, signaling the end of the encounter, and shut his eyes. Merlin dropped his eyes, shoulders sinking inward just slightly. A voice spoke from behind him.

It was Gaius. "Let him sleep. It's late." Merlin looked again at Arthur, almost longingly, before walking over to Gaius. The physician continued. "You cannot travel tonight." Merlin's focus had already begun to drift, and he turned away from Gaius, staring into the dense and twisty forest with a lost look to his eyes. Gaius regarded him with sympathy.

"You were right to tell him."

Merlin said nothing to this. He knew the Gaius was right. He could not have gone any longer hiding himself, not when Arthur's life was in peril. But that didn't make it feel any less awful that everything they had once had was now at stake. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to regain Arthur's trust again. Even with the best of intentions, all Merlin had done was betray Arthur just as everyone else in his life had. And for all he knew, this could be the final straw for Arthur, and he would no longer find forgiveness in his heart for Merlin as he had managed to do for Hermione. He had been born, and lived, to serve Arthur—what was he to do if Arthur banished him from his side forever?

Hermione found purchase on the ground beside Arthur, anxiety filling her bones over his current condition and the fact that she did not have the means to heal him herself. Whilst she was sitting staring into nothing, completely locked away in her head, Arthur roused and took her in through half-lidded eyes. He could see that she was beside herself with worry, and though he knew it wasn't exactly his own fault he'd been fatally stabbed, he still felt guilt.

One of his greatest fears since falling in love with Hermione had been the idea of hurting her beyond repair. Though they had been through their ups and downs, had hurt each other many times, things had still worked themselves out. Somehow, they had only come out the other side stronger. But now... he could not guarantee that he would not die from this wound. He had seen men die from far less, and frankly, it was only his undying devotion to her that made him resist the tug towards a darkness he could never wake from. But this strength could only carry him for so long. If he died, he knew it would devastate her. And the thought of leaving her alone with such heartbreak scared him more than the thought of dying did.

He reached out, nudging her arm gently. She was startled, and turned her face to look down at him with immediate concern in her eyes.

"Are you all right?" she murmured, shifting a little to look at him better. "Do you need some water?"

He shook his head just slightly. "No, no, I don't need anything." He seemed to hesitate, then added, "Well, actually... there is one thing."

She was eager to do anything that might ease his suffering, and nodded quickly. "Of course, anything."

He cracked a smile then, but it was bittersweet. "Stop worrying. Please."

She cursed herself for being so obvious. It was bad enough he had to deal with his injury—seeing her stressed like this likely didn't help. Hermione tried to physically ease up, returning his smile with one that was underwhelming but present nonetheless.

"Okay," she agreed softly, though privately thinking to herself she would simply have to be more discreet about her anxious musings in the future. She bent over to gently kiss his forehead.

"I'm not going anywhere—not if I can help it," Arthur told her as firmly as his state allowed. Her smile returned.

"I know... you're stubborn," she teased lightly.

"No more stubborn than you," he said with a quickness she wasn't expecting, which made her laugh a little. The sound almost made his pain completely subside for a moment. Her chin tilted towards the fire, and there Gaius and Merlin sat together, looking over the stew made from supplies Gaius had brought.

"There's something you need to know," she suddenly said, losing all humor from her demeanor. Arthur was perplexed by the sudden change.

"What?"

Hermione faced him again, a sliver of orange light highlighting the very edge of her face. "It was more than just me knowing Merlin's secret, Arthur." She paused momentarily, nervous again. "We're... connected in our destinies."

Arthur said nothing, and she fidgeted before finding the strength to further explain.

"Back on the Isle of the Blessed, when I encountered the Cailleach, she told me of my destiny. According to the Druids, both Merlin and I had an important part to play in the future of Camelot, of Albion itself."

Arthur stared at her in a slightly unnerving way, and she sensed with some discomfort that talking about Merlin was still not going to be that easy for him. But she strongly believed that if she shared more of the story with him, gave him a better idea of the weight on Merlin's shoulders, that maybe he would understand why it had taken so long to come out with the truth. It was much more than just fear of rejection over his true identity—it was the fear of failing an entire destiny.

Meanwhile, cogs turned in Arthur's head as the strange bond Merlin and Hermione had had for so many years started to make a little more sense. Although, Arthur had never been all that hung up on the concept of 'destiny'. Certainly, he had been destined to become king, thanks to his lineage. But destiny that was woven through the fabric of the world, guiding a person's every move and deciding their future for them... he wasn't too keen on the idea. He believed that a man made his own destiny—that he made his own choices and took his own actions to secure the future he wanted for himself. Aside from the inevitability of ending up on the throne, everything else in his life had been a direct outcome of his own choices.

Not able to help himself, Arthur argued his side. "We make our own destinies." Hermione gave a small, bittersweet smile at this.

"We make our own choices—but we all have some kind of role to fulfill in this life. I truly understand that now."

Arthur's brows twitched at her slight rebuttal. It was hard to deny her point. Whether due to blood lineage or not, Arthur could not imagine what else he might have been in this life other than as a prince, a king. Even at his lowest points, when he was full of doubt about his capabilities and disbelieved that he deserved to even be in the position he was... he always overcame. Training or not, he was a king—one who would bring peace to his kingdom, even if it meant going against everything his father had taught him to believe.

Hermione was glad to see Arthur musing over her words rather than instantly refuting them, and felt encouraged to continue speaking.

"Before Camelot, my destiny was to support Harry and help save countless innocent lives from dark magic. And I did that. Now... I'm still going to help the innocent and oppressed, but I'm also here to help you make Camelot one of the greatest kingdoms history will have ever known, by your side as queen."

"I presume you mean by restoring magic and the Old Religion to the kingdom?" Arthur scoffed, turning his face a little.

"If that was truly my one and only goal, Merlin's only goal, don't you think we could have accomplished that by now?" Hermione arched a brow. "From what Merlin has told me, your life has been put in harm's way on more than one occasion over the years. And while I've been here, twice Morgana has attempted to take the throne for herself, going so far as to try to kill me and our children. If our one goal was for magic and the Old Religion to reign in the kingdom, all we had to do was let your enemies win."

Arthur's jaw went a little slack. Again, he could not argue.

Softer now, she added, "Merlin has used his magic to save your life every single time it was in danger. He's risked his own neck countless times because he so genuinely and deeply believes that his role in this life is to serve you and help you bring peace and prosperity for all in this kingdom. Maybe that's hard to see now because he did it all while lying to you. But I have to hope that eventually, you'll be able to look past the one thing he did wrong and see all that he's done right."

Silence ensued and Hermione could tell she had dumped quite a lot into Arthur's lap at once. So, she simply leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips, rising from where she sat.

"Try and get some rest," she told him with patience and love in her features, going over to the fire to leave him to his own thoughts. He watched after her, seeing as she sat beside Merlin at the fire, and part of him wished he might sit beside them too, like old times. But he was injured, and Merlin was a wizard, and he did not know how to make things go back to the way they were. Not yet, anyhow.