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

Author's Note:OMG, this chapter…I have had this chapter in my head for SO long. Multiple iterations are scattered throughout my composition notebooks, and I pretty much powered through writing this in two days since I was so eager to get it written and published! I hope I did it justice ::sweat drop::. I had a very particular vision for this chapter (and for the way it needed to portray Merlin and Arthur), and I hope the monumental changes and decisions they make here come through. Please enjoy it and Happy Holidays!

Reviewers: All 312 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 11)

Arthur sucked in a sharp breath when Merlin fell to his knees in front of him. In his hand, Excalibur wavered, its hilt made slippery by the white-knuckled grasp Arthur had on it.

"No," he choked out as the sword clattered to the ground, all but unnoticed. "No, Merlin, you don't—"

The words caught in his throat as he crashed to his own knees in front of the warlock, sweeping his beloved friend into a full-on embrace.

Crushing Merlin's brow to the hollow of his throat, he whispered fiercely in his ear, "Never kneel to me." His hold tightened impossibly, and he buried his face in the nape of the younger man's neck, "Not you. Not after all you've done for me."

"But I should," Merlin's protest was muffled, his breath warm and damp against Arthur's skin. "You are the rightful king."

Arthur shook his head, increasing his grip on the short hair at the base of Merlin's neck.

"Only because you taught me how," he whispered.

He pulled back, stroking a few loose curls into place as he sat on his heels.

"Thank you," he continued softly, running his thumb over Merlin's damp cheek, "for your faith has become mine."

His best friend released a strangled laugh, bowing his head and intertwining their fingers against his cheek.

"It's no more or less than you have given me," Merlin murmured.

Arthur's protest was silenced by a low whistle from one of the knights, causing both king and warlock to blush as they were abruptly reminded of their audience.

Snapping his head up, Arthur readied a glare for the interloper.

Bors merely shrugged, smirking as he, Kay, Percival, and Leon joined them.

"You know it is what Gwaine would have done," he offered up instead.

Arthur kept his glare as he helped Merlin up, his best friend leaning down to snag Excalibur's hilt as they stood.

"Yes, and you have been spending far too much time with him," he grumbled.

"Perhaps," Bors conceded with a tilt of his head and widening smirk as Arthur neglected to release Merlin's hand.

Kay rolled his eyes and lightly slapped the other man upside his head, a faint blush on his cheeks. But he, as well as Percival and Leon, wore varying looks of amusement as they, too, observed Arthur's actions.

The king took note that Merlin's own blush had deepened, but charitably chose to ignore it and did not call the knights out on their lack of decorum.

There was more at stake than their friends' rampant speculation. They were still a kingdom under siege, and something needed to be done about it.

He and Merlin could sort their new dynamic out later, without an audience present to witness it.

"Where have you set up camp?" the inquiry was pointed, and although the knights noticed the clear diversion (Leon rolled his eyes, shaking his head, and Percival bit back a quiet laugh), they knew enough not to push it.

Leon sobered, and some nudging convinced the other knights to settle down, too, "Not far from here. We have pitched as many tents as we have on hand in the woods surrounding the garrison you set up this spring. Rumors have started circulating about a dragon sighting among the townspeople. Every man able to bear arms has been given a weapon from the garrison's stockpile. We had just begun to investigate when we stumbled across you and Merlin in this clearing."

Arthur kept his face carefully blank as Leon recounted what had brought them here. Merlin was not quite so successful, ducking his head to conceal a small smile.

The king released a faint sigh and gave his best friend's hand a light jostle, hold tightening imperceptibly as he acknowledged the fruition of Merlin's belief that they would find their people.

"How many are armed?" Arthur's query came as he drifted towards the edge of the clearing, gently pulling Merlin along.

The warlock rolled his eyes but adjusted his grip on Arthur and Excalibur both as they joined the knights in the semi-circle they had formed.

Arthur kept him firmly by his side, ignoring Leon's knowing smile at their entwined hands and the slight heat of his cheeks. By now their Head Knight was well-versed in disregarding the peculiarities of master and manservant's relationship.

"500 men and youths, Sire," he offered quietly.

"What are the number counts for the camp population?" Merlin's own question earned multiple startled blinks from Arthur and their knights.

Although Merlin was both an Advisor and a member of the Round Table, he usually conveyed his thoughts and opinions to Arthur in private. Arthur had relied on him so long for advice and support that he sometimes forgot his best friend now had the ability to express them in public.

Frankly, it was about time.

To his credit, Leon took it in his stride, "450 women…a number of whom have expressed a desire to fight, Sire."

Arthur inclined his head in acknowledgement of their request.

"300 children," Leon continued, "150 of whom are of age to be squires or pages. 175 graybeards and hoary heads, some of whom insist they are fit to fight, regardless of their advanced years…It is a fair number, Merlin. His Majesty's contingency plans held up, despite Morgana's onslaught."

That was a little under two-thirds of Camelot's total population.

It meant that the majority of his people had survived Morgana's invasion. Indeed, even escaped it.

I didn't fail them after all…

"…And more join us each day," Leon added, jolting Arthur back to the present.

He blinked rapidly, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Merlin leaned hard into his side.

"You see," his beloved friend murmured, all but beaming, even if it was tempered by the knowledge that one-third of their people—Gaius, Gwaine, and Elyan among them—remained in Morgana's and Helios's clutches.

Unable to speak, Arthur nodded, drawing up and into himself as he attempted to strengthen his composure.

A nudge from Merlin's nose against his chin startled him, but before he had a chance to process it, Merlin had stepped away and towards Leon, continuing his line of inquiry, "What is the state of our provisions?"

Percival cleared his throat, causing both Merlin and Arthur to glance at him, "Enough to last another two weeks. Three or more, if we supplement our stores by foraging and hunting. There is a stream nearby—apparently uncharted—and it is clean, fed by a freshwater spring, so we have no shortage of water."

He adjusted his sling with a barely perceptible wince before continuing, unaware of the way Merlin's eyes darkened (as Arthur was) when he saw the reaction, "Herb stores are low, but a few of the midwives and the two apothecaries with us have been working to bring them up by gathering what they can from the woods. I am sure they will be relieved to see you, Merlin. There is a shortage of knowledgeable healers."

Arthur winced, fully aware that many who might have been healers were driven away by his father during the Purge. It was a troubling lack that he had begun discussing quite extensively with Gaius (and, to some degree, Merlin) before Agravaine came to court.

"That will hopefully be fixed soon," he murmured, the first tendrils of a half-formed plan curling in wisps at the back of his mind.

He earned himself a startled blink from Merlin, who turned to stare at him, brow furrowed by confusion, but he ignored it, not yet ready to share his thoughts with the present company until he solidified them. "Present company" included Merlin, who would have a rather large role to play if Arthur had his way.

"How many wounded?" he asked instead.

An exchange of glances among his knights. Arthur steeled himself, for such a look often meant bad news.

"…115 at last count, Sire," Bors spoke up quietly. "That does not include the dozen or so townsfolk who have come down with ague, due to too many nights spent sleeping outside without adequate protection. We do not have enough tents, and although we have begun to set up lean-tos and moved the injured into the garrison itself…we may have several fatalities before the moon wanes."

Arthur closed his eyes in sad comprehension. They had set up the garrison to accommodate their knights and any refugees, not the entire lower town. That would need to be remedied if they ever got the chance.

"It also does not account for the wounded and casualties we believe may be within Camelot itself," Leon added softly.

Arthur sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes flew open, feeling Merlin's grip tense on his hand, "…What?" he breathed.

"Apparently…" Kay's voice wavered slightly, alluding to the horror he felt, "Morgana has not taken dissent kindly. We've heard stories…" Kay swallowed harshly, "from those who have managed to escape. They aren't…pleasant."

Arthur stiffened. Beside him, Merlin shuddered.

"What stories?" he asked quietly, certain he probably did not want to know.

Kay shook his head, drawing back and unable to articulate a response.

"...She's set up a fighting ring," Percival offered softly, when it became clear Kay could not go on. "Some of our best fighters must brawl to earn their bread, for her own amusement. I would imagine Gwaine—if he is alive—has found himself in the thick of it. And that is not even the worst of what we have heard."

Arthur's stomach flipped, as his mind veered in directions he would rather it did not go, "…Has anyone heard or…or seen anything of him, Elyan, or…or Gaius?"

Beside him, Merlin's breathing sped up. He gripped his best friend's hand back tightly.

All four knights shook their heads.

"We have heard nothing, Arthur," Leon remarked softly.

Arthur blew out an unsteady breath and squeezed his eyes shut. Merlin touched his shoulder.

"…Arthur?" he murmured.

"Right," Arthur squared his shoulders. His eyes flickered open as he set his jaw and gazed down at Merlin, "We have some planning to do."

Merlin blinked back at him, slightly stunned. Around them, their knights drew themselves up, hope slowly lighting their faces.

He shot Merlin a roguish grin that did nothing to temper the steel in his eyes, before fixing each of his knights with a fiery look, "Who is ready to ride into the mouth of hell with me?"

"I am," Leon stated immediately, stepping forward.

"I am," Percival stated softly, shifting to stand shoulder to shoulder with Leon.

"…You know I am, Arthur," Kay gripped his shoulder, glancing pointedly at Bors.

…Who rolled his eyes, stepping forward to stand at Merlin's unoccupied shoulder, "You know why I am," he stated, casting a soft smirk at Merlin.

Merlin had eyes only for Arthur, who felt his own prick at the unadulterated pride that had begun to shine clearly from their depths.

"…I think you know the answer to that, Arthur," he whispered, pressing Excalibur's hilt into Arthur's open palm.

The king's fingers curled firmly around it (and, consequently, Merlin's fingers), before he lifted it up and shoved it into his now-empty-scabbard with a resounding ring.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Once he had assured their knights (and the scouting party with them) that they would join them shortly, the others headed back to the garrison.

Leon paused before following them, "Will you be all right, Sire? The dragon—if, indeed, there is one—is still out there…and there is only the two of you."

As Merlin did his best to bite back a laugh, Arthur raised an eyebrow at their Head Knight, the corner of his own lips twitching, "I will be with Merlin, Leon. How can I be any safer?"

Leon considered this, glancing at Merlin who had abruptly turned bright red. At last, he laughed, bowing his head in concession to Arthur, "True…"

While his best friend struggled to rein in his blush, Arthur smirked, "We'll be along this evening, Leon, if not earlier. I promise. We have Guinevere and two other fighters with us—we must meet up with them first."

A shift in their Head Knight's posture indicated his surprise (and a touch of relief), "Guinevere, Sire?"

Arthur pressed his lips together, mirth subsiding, "It is a long story, Leon, and one I would rather not share right now."

Merlin's hand curled around his upper arm. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut but nodded to his best friend in acknowledgement of the comfort, before turning back to Leon.

The older man eyed them thoughtfully, tilting his head as he considered their interaction. But at last, he bowed in acknowledgement, "As you say, Sire. Please do not linger too long: I think I speak for everyone when I say we would rather have you with us—we feared Morgana might have captured you and began to lay the foundations of a siege before the rumors of a dragon started up."

Arthur felt his eyes burn and his throat tighten as he read the weeks' worth of stress Leon had endured on his face. With little thought on the matter, he stepped forward and used his free arm to hug his Head Knight tightly, feeling the taller man start against him.

"…Thank you, Leon," he murmured against their friend's shoulder.

As he and Leon drew back, Merlin ducked in after him, hugging the older knight just as tightly as Arthur had before the man had a chance to recover.

"We're fine, Leon," Merlin assured him, and Arthur watched as a subtle flare of gold in the warlock's eyes caused a particularly nasty-looking set of bruises along the opposite side of Leon's face to yellow, then brown, and finally disappear altogether, all within a matter of seconds.

With his face turned away from Merlin, Leon never noticed. Indeed, it was doubtful he even would have: "We feared for you, as well, Merlin," the older man murmured against the warlock's jerkin. "We knew if Arthur had been captured, you most likely would have been right there with him or trying to get him out. We hoped for the latter."

As Arthur joined them, Merlin squeezed Leon one last time before stepping backwards to stand next to him.

"It ended up being the latter," his best friend offered softly, casting a faint smirk at Arthur who rolled his eyes but dipped his head in recognition of Merlin's heroics that night.

Their Head Knight chuckled thickly, "Then I reiterate my sentiment from earlier, Sire."

While Merlin quietly turned red again, Arthur laughed and clapped Leon on the shoulder, "We will join you soon, Leon. Keep Bors in line, will you?"

"Only Merlin and Kay have managed that," Leon groused, but a smile tugged at his lips as he bowed to them. "I shall try my best, my Lords."

With that, their Head Knight straightened up and walked away to join the others waiting in the forest, leaving Merlin and Arthur to blink after him.

A moment later, Merlin eked out, "Did he just call me 'my Lord?'"

Arthur snorted out a laugh, mentally bringing his total number of allies on the list he had begun to compile for his half-formed plan to four, "Yes, yes I think he did."

While Merlin tried to fathom that out, Arthur took a deep breath and turned to the younger man, gently tugging his best friend around to face him.

"Merlin…" he prompted, when it became apparent his manservant was having trouble reconciling Leon's reaction with a logical explanation.

Merlin blinked, and refocused his gaze, raising an eyebrow in inquiry as he took note of the blush suffusing Arthur's face, "What is it, Arthur?"

Arthur inhaled another deep breath, determinedly meeting his beloved friend's as he proposed something he knew would change Camelot's future for years to come, "How amenable would Kilgharrah be to acting as a transport for the others…a-and Gwen?"

He saw the moment Merlin registered what he was asking of him: to quit hiding, to reveal all to everyone and damn the consequences.

Merlin gaped at him, unable to fully comprehend that Arthur wanted to do this now, "W-Wait, transport as in ride-?"

Arthur rolled his eyes fondly (if impatiently), still blushing, and tightened his sweaty grip on the the other man's hand, "Of course. What else would it mean, Merlin?"

Tension hung thick between them. Slowly dawning realization began to appear the beloved blue eyes as Merlin stared at him.

Just as Arthur began to regret even floating the idea, his best friend emitted a strangled, incredulous laugh and surged forward, nearly bowling the king over with the strength of his embrace.

Arthur released a startled oof of air and stepped back, trying to stabilize them both as he wrapped his arms firmly around Merlin's waist.

Merlin laughed again, pressing their foreheads so closely together that they ended up breathing each other's air.

Finally, his beloved friend grinned—bright and uncontained—pure joy lighting up his face as he peered into Arthur's eyes.

"…I think we can persuade him," the warlock murmured.

TBC