Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to BBC Merlin.

Author's Note:A pretty monumental chapter here, folks, because of…well, you'll see ;). We are now getting into the thick of the chapters I have been chafing at the bit to get to, and I hope I do not disappoint! I love this chapter, and I hope you do, too. We have Merlin and Arthur moving towards their shared/chosen destiny, even if Merlin needs to give Arthur a bit of a push to get him going. They haven't quite gotten to the point of Arthur pulling out Excalibur, they sure are (please excuse my language) damn close. I hope you enjoy this ninth chapter of The King's Grace!

Reviewers: All 303 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 Helios 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 9)

Arthur kept scowling long after they entered the woods, alternating his glare between Merlin's hand still gripping his and Merlin himself, as the warlock led the way through the forest.

Damned if his best friend weren't the most stubborn man on earth.

And he still hasn't let go of me…!

Truthfully, Arthur was not quite sure what to make of it. They had rarely let each other stray more than an arm's length apart since…since confronting Agravaine if Arthur were being honest.

He did not like admitting how badly it had unnerved him when he realized Merlin was missing this morning. Even now, remembering how brutally his uncle had attacked his beloved friend made Arthur's stomach swoop sickeningly.

If I can't even protect those I love the most…how on earth am I worthy of protecting an entire kingdom?

Their gait had slowed considerably since leaving their campsite and its clearing behind them. Now Merlin paused, letting their arms go lax between them as Arthur came up even with him.

Arthur tried not to squirm under his beloved friend's thoughtful gaze, feeling as though Merlin could see right through him and read the doubts Arthur was too much of a coward to lay bare. Doubts that had only been exacerbated by Tristan's sudden deference in the clearing.

Of course he can. When hasn't he?

Merlin sighed, and Arthur glanced away, cheeks blossoming red with embarrassment.

"I wish you would stop thinking badly of yourself, Arthur," Merlin murmured, squeezing his fingers before releasing them.

Arthur missed his warmth almost immediately.

"You're one to talk," he shot back, trying to conceal his nerves and remembering all too well their argument that had taken place in the cave tunnels.

"I am not that much of a monster…!"

It made Arthur nauseous to know that Merlin would ever believe—even for a moment—that Arthur thought of him as a monster.

He felt even more nauseated when he realized that, at one point in his life, he would have.

"This isn't about me," Merlin's soft insistence interrupted his spiraling thoughts.

Arthur watched him swallow and for the first time, now that they were truly alone, noticed what he had not much earlier this morning when Tristan had confronted them: Merlin was uncomfortable, and unfortunately (or fortunately), Arthur knew his beloved friend well enough to guess why.

"Merlin—" he began, reaching instinctively for his best friend and vaguely wondering when that had become as easy as breathing.

Merlin pressed his hand over Arthur's mouth, instead.

"We can talk about me…and what I've done…later, Arthur. Now isn't the time to—"

Arthur sighed, his breath fanning against Merlin's palm, and met the other's gaze with a eyes full of frustration.

"When is 'later,' Merlin? We have the time now, and it's just us, so why—"

Merlin shook his head, shifting to curl his fingers under Arthur's chin and thumbing the older young man's nose, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence.

"We don't have time, Arthur. We're running out of time. We need to find Excalibur. It's the only way to save Camelot."

Excalibur again. How could he explain to Merlin that every time he even thought of handling such a weapon his stomach churned, and his thoughts rebelled?

How am I even worthy of such a thing?

Arthur swallowed, blinking rapidly.

"Merlin…" he began beseechingly, "are you sure-?"

Merlin offered him a tiny smile, fingers falling to catch Arthur's own, "When have I ever not been, Arthur?"

When had he, indeed?

"But—"

Merlin tugged on his fingers and they started walking again at a rapid clip.

"Bruta faced challenges, too, Arthur," Merlin reminded him. "Remember?"

That tiny smile still pulled at the corners of his lips. Arthur wasn't going to say how charming it looked on him.

"I do," he admitted, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. "But this is different—"

Merlin shook his head. "It isn't. Not really."

Arthur snorted, rather desperately, "And how do you figure that, Merlin?"

Merlin easily ignored his tone, and Arthur mentally groaned.

There were disadvantages to being best friends for six years.

"Camelot is still divided," Merlin murmured, gently pulling him along, "as it was when Bruta first divided the land. Not just between the various kingdoms, but between magic users and those without, too."

"And you believe I can reverse this? Merlin-!"

I…I can't. Not if I am unable to even reconcile with my own sister…!

"Arthur," Merlin shook his head, turning around to face him and walking backwards as he tugged him forwards. "Will you at least let me finish?"

Arthur's shoulders slumped, but he nodded.

Merlin huffed a little, "Good," and righted himself.

They walked for a few minutes in silence as Merlin gathered his thoughts and Arthur swallowed, adjusting his sweaty grip on Merlin's hand. That small bit of contact was one of the only things he had to ground himself right now.

When Merlin spoke again, his voice was quiet, "I did not know this until Kilgharrah told me, but…on his deathbed Bruta asked to be taken deep into the forest, to the very shores of Avalon itself. Once there, even though he was dying, he spoke to its Guardian, and asked her to erect a stone in the very place he and the elders of each tribe had drawn up the boundary lines. He hoped that one day…one of his descendants would reunite the land."

Arthur's stomach roiled.

"And you think I'm the one who will do that? Honestly—Merlin—"

He received a sharp glare.

"Will you let me finish?" Merlin demanded.

Arthur bit back the increasingly hysterical denials building on his tongue, pinned by the severe look in his best friend's eyes.

He's just as anxious as I am, Arthur realized, feeling a tremor wrack Merlin's hand.

That did not make him feel any better.

Merlin held the glare for a full minute, making sure Arthur had finished and would do as he was told. Then he began again:

"The Guardian laughed at him. She said no man could be as great as he. But Bruta remained firm, insisted the stone be placed and provisions made for the one who would follow him."

Ducking a low hanging branch, Arthur listened, quietly reminding the part of himself chafing under Merlin's tone that his best friend deserved at least that much, after he had ignored his advice for the better part of four months while under Agravaine's sway.

After everything he has done for me…it's the least I can do.

Merlin continued, oblivious to Arthur's thoughts, "The Guardian loved Bruta, as only a guardian of the earth can, so she agreed. She promised to pass on his tale—and the tale of his Stone—to her children, after making them promise to do the same. But she warned Bruta that she—and her children—would only accept a true member of his line as King over all of Albion. She told him whichever child of hers became Guardian at the same time as this Once and Future King would devise a test the king must pass in order to prove his lineage. Apparently…" and Merlin swallowed this time, "apparently…that means today, and the task Avalon's current Guardian chose…is to pull Excalibur from the Stone."

Arthur's gut plummeted. Before he could give voice to a frantic objection, however, they broke into a clearing in the middle of the woods and Arthur rapidly blinked his watering eyes, dazzled by the brightness of the light pouring down on their shoulders.

Although Arthur possessed no magic to speak of (though, if Agravaine were to be believed, it was what he was born of and therefore coursed through his very blood), even he could sense the sheer power rolling off the Sword in the Stone in concentric circles as it rippled out to touch the toes of their boots.

Merlin stepped back to stand beside him, their interwoven hands resting between them.

Arthur did not dare look at him, afraid of seeing the soft expression he knew would be on his beloved friend's face.

"What the hell are you playing at?" he whispered, unable to tear his gaze from the sword thrust into the moss-covered stone, morning's last wisps of fog curling around its edges.

Merlin unlaced their fingers and grasped his face, cradling Arthur's head as he forced him to meet his gaze.

As Arthur had expected, Merlin's face was unbearably tender.

"I'm going to make you see that Tristan was wrong; you aren't just anyone. You are special…and you are going to prove it by drawing out that sword."

Dismayed, Arthur stared back at Merlin, "Merlin, it's impossible! That sword is stuck fast in solid stone!"

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

Arthur swallowed, "Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Merlin demanded, his grip tightening on Arthur's hair.

Arthur's eyes darted between Excalibur and the fierce blue gaze boring into him, "Merlin…"

Merlin's arms abruptly curled around his neck, causing Arthur's breath to catch in his throat as the warlock brought their foreheads together.

"You have to believe, Arthur," Merlin whispered, his breath pattering against the older young man's cheek.

Arthur swallowed with an audible click, deciding that even the incredible pull of Excalibur in Bruta's Stone paled in comparison to this man who, against all odds, believed in a broken king and the destiny they shared.

Merlin's startled squeak, as Arthur's arms slid around his waist and pulled him into a full-bodied hug, got smothered against Arthur's chest as the king buried his face in his warlock's neck.

"All right," breathed against the warm skin there, "all right, Merlin. You win. I'll pull the damn sword from the stone." He pulled back only far enough to gaze at Merlin (noting, incongruously, as he did so that his boots put him at equal height with his beloved friend), "Will you help me?"

IOIOIOIOIOI

It was asked so shyly. Arthur might have cringed if Merlin had not already seen him at his worse.

But then Merlin's hands were on his, gently but firmly pulling them off his waist, and lowering them to rest between the two of them.

Arthur's breathing hitched, "Merlin…?"

Merlin shook his head, his grip on Arthur's hands tightening.

"I can't," the warlock admitted ruefully. "There are wards of intent on the Stone."

Arthur's brow furrowed, "What are…intent wards?"

Merlin released a soft exhale through his nose and momentarily squeezed Arthur's fingers, "Old magic. They make it so that only those who are meant to access a certain object or a certain location can get to them."

Unease and a slowly burgeoning panic crept up Arthur's spine.

"What does that mean?" he asked quietly.

Merlin inhaled deeply…and stepped back, abruptly releasing Arthur's hands.

Arthur's eyes shot to his best friend's in a near-panic, a knot clenching in his lower back.

"Merlin, what are you doing?" breathed anxiously. He dared not chase after him.

His beloved friend smiled tightly, blue eyes shining far too bright:

"Starting our destiny."

Arthur's eyes went wide, "What?"

Merlin hugged his arms to his body, although whether it was to stave off the early morning chill or to prevent himself from reaching for his king again, Arthur did not know.

"Arthur," Merlin started, "you are the true king of Camelot. I'm…I'm just your warlock. I…my intent is not as pure as yours."

Did he honestly just say that?

Arthur stared at his beloved friend in disbelief, recalling—sharply—that Merlin had done nothing but protect Arthur and Arthur's Camelot, and asked for nothing in return but to be Arthur's friend.

Did he really just fucking say that?

"Merlin-!" sputtered, and this time Arthur did step forward, intending to reach for his best friend. "That's not-!"

Merlin shook his head again, slipping out of Arthur's grasp and clenching his arms around his stomach.

"I really can't," he insisted softly. "I'm not the king. I'm not…I'm not looking to protect Camelot…"

He trailed off, but his eyes begged Arthur to understand:

..I'm looking to protect you.

It stopped Arthur short, forcing him to draw in a sharp breath.

…Because it was true, wasn't it? Merlin had always sought to protect Arthur, sometimes even above all else, including Camelot. (Their relatively recent clash with Queen Annis came to mind.)

But does he really mean-?

"—You are the only one capable of pulling Excalibur out of Bruta's Stone, Arthur," Merlin murmured, stepping closer as Arthur's crippling self-doubt began to make itself known in the crumpling of his expression. "You are the one who wants to protect Camelot, her people and her land. You are the king who refused to abandon his people, even when in certain peril. I just…"

A crooked smile lit up Merlin's face as his best friend stepped even closer, "…I just wanted to get you away from Morgana and her forces."

Their chests nearly touched. Arthur exhaled unsteadily, hands twitching uncertainly at his sides as an entirely different set of thoughts and priorities began to make themselves known.

Merlin's fingers brushed his cheek, and Arthur jerked his head up to stare at him.

Merlin tilted his head, that beloved, crooked smile still on his lips: "Hey…" murmured.

Soft blue eyes met his. Fingers stroked back his hair. Even if Arthur had wanted to talk, he could not have said a word.

"Do you trust me, Arthur?"

Startled, Arthur blinked, entirely wrong-footed, and leveled his beloved friend with a look of complete disbelief.

That wasn't the question he had expected.

"Of course," he murmured, emphatically.

Merlin blinked, then brightened, smiling fully, "Then trust me when I say I believe in you. I will always believe in you. You will become the greatest king Albion has ever known. I can see it. All you have to do," and here Merlin took a deep breath, his hand falling to grip Arthur's shoulder, "all you have to do…is prove it to yourself."

IOIOIOIOIOI

Silence filled the clearing, Excalibur flashing in the first rays of morning light, but Arthur's vocal cords refused to work. An annoying burn had built up behind his eyes and now crept up to leak out of their corners. The knot in the center of his back had moved to the center of his chest, and an ache had settled beneath his ribs.

One day soon he would stop underestimating Merlin and the effect his beloved friend's words had on him.

Today would not be that day.

It was always you, wasn't it? It was always, always you. Gods…is there any part of my life you have not touched?

Arthur knew the answer to that question, too, and the feeling that had roared and reared and thrashed to be let out over the course of the past three years finally found an outlet: through the hands that gripped Merlin's shoulders, the gentle pull that brought the warlock close…and the warm lips he pressed to his beloved friend's forehead.

I may be Camelot's king…but you are my Lady Hawk, my saving grace, and I will never be able to do any of this without you.

TBC