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

Author's Note:Short, but momentous chapter here, folks (and, I hope, sweet). Arthur is now faced with the necessity of pulling Excalibur from the Stone, and Merlin can't do anything to help. This part went through so many iterations and so many revisions, that I literally have at least a quarter of my composition notebook dedicated to just this chapter :sweat drop:. I'm going with this version for now because it is the one that is closest to my original vision for the chapter (along with trying to get my P.O.V's back on track) :). I have plans to publish a second chapter that immediately follows this one either sometime this weekend or next, so hang tight—it hopefully won't be long! Please enjoy :)

Reviewers: All 306 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 10)

Despite the ancient power vibrating throughout the clearing and the way his powers battled the foreign intrusion, Merlin's forehead burned where Arthur's lips contacted his skin.

The warlock barely processed that yes, Arthur was kissing him, before his king pulled back and tipped his head forward, bringing their brows together once more.

"…You really can't help me?" Arthur checked, voice a murmur.

Merlin's lips trembled.

"Gods…I wish I could. The wards won't let me through."

Of course, that would not stop him from attempting to follow Arthur.

"Merlin…?" the king's hand settled along his jaw, Arthur's thumb brushing against the jut of Merlin's cheekbone as his brow knitted in concern.

Merlin realized then that his best friend's image had gone blurry, and that cool liquid seeped down his cheeks. His lips tasted salt.

Pursing his own, Arthur brought his other palm up to brace the right side of Merlin's jaw, so that he now cradled the warlock's face between his hands.

"What's wrong?" he murmured.

Merlin snorted out a thick laugh, wiping at his watering eyes with his wrist.

"You should go," he whispered, pushing at Arthur's chest.

Arthur frowned, clearly debating the merits of leaving Merlin alone like this.

"Go on," Merlin insisted, pressing firmly against his friend's broad chest.

Arthur's hands tilted his face up, the king's blue eyes peering intently into the warlock's own.

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

Never mind the steadily building ache behind his temples as his magic fought the wards that had, by now, latched onto Arthur's signature.

The scowl Merlin received in response told the warlock that Arthur did not quite believe him.

(One of the hazards of being best friends for six years.)

His smile turned a bit more rueful. Gently, he pressed his palms flat against Arthur's chest…and pushed, trying to put some distance between them.

"I'll be fine," he insisted, trying to ignore the pounding of his head.

At last, Arthur sighed and nodded, untangling his fingers from the midnight strands that had curled around them.

Only Merlin saw the moment he stopped acting the part of the king and became one.

Until now, Arthur had seemed to consider himself a boy playing dress up in his father's clothes (no matter how Merlin tried to convince him otherwise). But now…he consciously chose to step into the role of Camelot's Once and Future King, and Merlin could not be prouder of him.

It was nothing monumental: Arthur drew in a deep breath, squared his shoulders…and stepped back, his hands smoothing down Merlin's shoulders and along his arms, leaving a trail of heat in their wake which caused Merlin to shiver. Briefly, their fingers tangled together before Arthur released him.

Now only their gazes remained locked, and Merlin lifted his chin, ignoring the tears that continued to leak down his cheeks.

Arthur echoed his stance, tilting his chin up as he defiantly met Merlin's eyes.

The warlock smirked.

You never have been a coward, Arthur. Perhaps today you will finally see what I have all along.

"I have faith in you, Arthur," softly stated.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. "…I know you do," he murmured.

The king's eyes suddenly snapped open.

"And I hope to God I don't disappoint you now."

A crooked smile lit up Merlin's face.

"You never have, Arthur."

IOIOIOIOIOI

Merlin's chest ached as he watched Arthur go, turning away from the warlock to head over to Excalibur. He found his inability to intervene far harder to cope with than he had ever imagined:

I've never not been able to do something to help Arthur. I've always, always been able to step in when needed. But now—

-Now, his temples pulsed—unpleasant and hot—as he tried to cope with the Old Magic invading his senses and attempting to eject him from the clearing, uncaring of his desire to follow Arthur.

A hot lance of pain pierced his temple as he tried to press one final handspan closer to Arthur and he gasped, stopping there, finding himself unable to go any farther.

Gritting his teeth, Merlin dug in his heels and forced out, "You've got this, Arthur."

Arthur gave no indication that he heard him, eyes focused and his jaw hard as he neared Excalibur.

"…You're destined to be Albion's greatest king."

Upon arrival at the Stone, Arthur set his feet shoulder-width apart, balancing on the balls of his toes and his arms loose at his sides. He eyed Excalibur with steely determination.

"…Nothing, not even this Stone, can stand in your way."

As a dizzying surge of pain poured down the link with his magic, Merlin clenched his teeth and shoved it back, trying to focus on Arthur.

"You've got this, Arthur. You must have faith…"

Arthur blew at the blond hair plastered to his forehead and blew out a determined breath. His hand reached out, strong and sure, to grasp Excalibur's leather pommel.

"…I do."

Gold exploded throughout the clearing.

IOIOIOIOIOI

It took Merlin a moment to blink the bright afterimages of light out of his eyes. His hearing returned first, bringing with it the sounds of rushing wind and shuffling feet.

Then his sense of touch returned, and with it an awareness of a warm hand gently grasping his elbow.

Immediately, Merlin tensed, detecting multiple presences ringing Excalibur's glade that he had not with the Old Magic consuming every shred of his attention and power.

"My Lord…?"

It was a familiar voice, murmured close beside his ear, and Merlin snapped his head up, eyes wide.

"…Bors," he breathed, shoulders relaxing as he locked gazes with his tutor of three years in magical weaponry.

The knight inclined his head, a crooked smirk lighting up his face, "I am glad to see you well, my Lord."

"Likewise," Merlin murmured, a brilliant smile lighting up his own. "Is everyone-?"

Sir Bors's smirk grew, "See for yourself." He nodded to the forest surrounding them.

Merlin jerked his head up, his eyes landing on Kay who gave him a faint smile. Several townspeople he knew tipped their head in acknowledgement to him as the warlock's gaze traveled across them to land on Percival who gave him a small wave, his right arm held in a sling.

It landed on Leon last, whose unwavering attention had fastened onto Arthur in the center of the clearing:

"Long live the King!" their Head Knight bellowed.

Arthur literally jumped, fumbling Excalibur-now free of Bruta's Stone-and nearly dropped it as he jerked his own head up at the unexpected cry.

Merlin saw the moment Arthur registered who he was seeing, for his beloved friend's eyes immediately widened and locked onto Merlin's, incredibly blue and overly bright.

The warlock smirked, gently patting Bors on his arm in a wordless request to let him go. Bors did so, sweeping into a bow as he echoed Leon's shout, "Long live the King!"

Knights and townspeople alike took up the call as Merlin slowly made his way over to Arthur:

"Long live the King!"

"Long live the King!"

Impossibly blue eyes remained fixed on Merlin as the warlock wove through the crowd, the look in their depths more than a little overwhelmed.

We did this, they seemed to say. We actually did this.

Merlin's heart pounded too fast and too loudly in his ears. Despite all attempts he made to keep his own glance reassuring, it fell just short of the mark. He found that he had to repeatedly swallow against a dry throat. By the time he had reached Arthur, his own legs had gone wobbly and the smile he wore had just about broken apart.

When his legs finally gave out, he collapsed to his knees in front of his dearest friend and bowed his head.

"…Hail, Once and Future King," he murmured.

TBC