It had been a week since Arthur discovered Merlin's magic. On the eighth day, after endless feuding with the council and his advisors, Arthur lifted the ban on magic.
That morning, Arthur walked purposefully towards the dungeons. His boots clicked against the floors, and the keys on his hip jangled gently. Servants and knights alike stepped aside as he passed, sensing a strange type of power rolling off the blond in waves. They whispered as he walked by, "Have you heard the news?!" "What news?" "The king revoked the ban on magic!"
Arthur didn't stay to hear what they said next. Some people would rejoice at their freedom, and some would curse him for defying his father's laws. It wasn't going to be easy. He kept walking.
The prison-guards stood for him respectfully when he entered.
"Your majesty!" They said, bowing stiffly and shifting on their feet.
"You two have some sudden time off. Enjoy yourselves, men. Don't get too drunk at the tavern." Arthur replied in lieu of a greeting.
They looked at each other nervously but left without protest when he dismissed them. Arthur approached a cell and held out the key so tightly his knuckles went white. The torch in his hand flickered around the room before catching the figure sitting in the corner. The witch... She looked up at him slowly. In the light of the fire, the woman's gray hair shined gold, and her wrinkles seemed darker and bolder. She stood and languidly stepped towards the bars.
"A visit from the king himself. What an honor." Her gentle voice was laced with mirth. Arthur felt wrongfooted at her apparent lack of contempt for him.
"I am sorry for any harsh treatment you have received. That was not my intent." He'd noticed the bruises circling her frail wrists, likely from the iron cuffs used to chain her. She followed his gaze and rubbed at the marks sorely.
"Was it not? You are your father's son. What would he think, seeing you getting friendly with an 'evil sorceress' now?"
"I do not find you evil in the slightest. I heard you used magic to rid your granddaughter of a fever. That doesn't sound like the work of a villain. You had the power to save a child from suffering - despite the risk for yourself - and you saved her. I think you are brave."
"... You surprise me, child. Yet how am I to know this is not all a trick?" She looked up at him with piercing eyes and pursed lips. The king, once a prince she had seen grow up from a distance, held her stare and spoke gently.
"I don't believe magic is evil like Uther did. My father hunted sorcerers mercilessly, then used their every retaliation as evidence for his crusade. He was wrong. I was wrong as well." Just as the flames had illuminated her old age, they now displayed Arthur's sorrow. His face was gaunt and pale, his shoulders tightly held back, and his head bowed forward to press against the prison bars. When the witch stayed silent, he insisted, "I've also heard you were once a great sorceress of Camelot. That you have the ability to always know deceit from truth. Or is that simply a rumor?"
"No, young king. I see your honesty as clearly as I see your sadness. Your worry. What troubles you?"
She seemed to be concerned for him. The paradox he found himself in, the king questioned by the prisoner, was so absurd Arthur felt close to laughter. The witch, Edith, he recalled, hummed in response to his muteness. He huffed out a breathy chuckle and smiled apologetically.
"This morning, I repealed the ban on magic. You are free to leave. This madness has gone on for far too long. I was too cowardly to see that before. I'm truly sorry."
Edith sucked in a sharp breath and backed away from the bars. She looked at Arthur with wide brown eyes, his honesty chiming in her chest, and brought a hand to her mouth. Arthur pressed the key into the lock and clicked it open. The witch stepped towards him cautiously and grinned gladly when the cell door swung open. Arthur moved aside for her, removing her cuffs and watching as she closed the door behind herself. Edith turned to him and tutted at the expression on his face.
"...So you've come to free me. I've always had faith that you would fulfill your destiny... even though some called me mad for believing in the Once and Future King. I can tell you do this out of remorse, my lord. But there is something else you desire, isn't there?"
The familiarity of her words struck Arthur... 'the Once and Future King.' A curiosity of her meaning clawed at his conscience. Instead, Arthur raised his head and admitted his request.
"I want to know when I am being betrayed, as you do. I want to know the truth behind all the lies. Is that possible?"
There it was. Edith smiled understandingly. The pursuit of truth was an admirable quest, but was there more to it? She weighed the risks, with freedom so close, but if she refused would he lock her away again? She wanted to believe him, to accept that the persecution of her peers was finally over... But if she misjudged him, if her magic failed her, then her family would be at risk.
"Anything is possible with magic, sire. You are a child of magic... your gifts hide just below the surface. It would not be difficult. But I worry, am I simply a means to an end? Do you wish to use magic for yourself, only to condemn it if it doesn't act in your favour? As your father did?"
"No! I only wish to protect my people... I have been lied to and manipulated my entire life. It has only led to bloodshed. I can't risk it happening again. Camelot can not withstand any more games or tyranny."
"And if I refuse? Then you will keep me here? Never release me? Kill me?"
Arthur slumped defeatedly, too tired to summon the anger and pride that fueled him for so many years. He shook his head and backed away from Edith, gesturing towards the stairwell back to the castle."...No. I will still let you go. I won't force you. I simply ask. It is your choice."
The king and the old witch stood in a stalemate. Edith considered his request, gazing with such intensity that Arthur felt he might burst into flames. He swayed impatiently as she thought. She had nothing to gain from aiding him, and she was right about his family's reputation...about how Uther had repaid Nimueh's generosity. Perhaps it was a selfish desire, petulant like a child scorned. But Arthur was right... he was easily misguided. If another were to come and use Arthur's trust to harm Camelot, Edith would be right back where she started. Finally, as the king's torch began to flicker and die, the old woman relented.
"Be aware, your majesty, that truth often brings pain as well. Are you certain this is what you want?"
"Yes," Arthur said. Edith's magic ebbed and found the king was honest. 'Truth' it hummed. Edith nodded and raised a glowing hand.
"Very well."
And within seconds, thousands of whispers and memories flooded Arthur's mind. Every lie ever spoken to him smashed apart, and the truth revealed itself. Even as the voices of dozens roared at him - Uther, Morgana, Gwen, Lancelot, Gaius, Gwaine, Leon, George, servants, noblemen, ladies, kings - Merlin's voice rang loudly above the rest.
"I know I'm just a servant, and my word doesn't count for anything. But I wouldn't lie to you."
Merlin never knocked before, and he didn't bother knocking now. He threw open the doors to Arthur's chambers, panting excitedly from his mad dash through the halls. Immediately, his overwhelming joy was replaced with horror.
It looked as though a bull had been let loose in Arthur's quarters. The room was in tatters... torn to pieces. Papers, ink, books, and clothing strewn across the floors. The doors of the cabinets and dressers either swung open crookedly or lay broken into splinters. The changing screen had holes punched into it. Dark wine spilled across the table and dripped quietly onto the floor, and the goblets had dents from being thrown into the stone walls. The chairs were now miscellaneous chunks of wood. The pillows were ripped and spilling. Merlin's jaw dropped, and he stared wide-eyed at the chaos. It took him a moment to see the king was also in the room. Arthur was quietly bent over a document, scribbling furiously. He looked wildly out of place... so calm amid the chaos. One might think he'd simply stumbled into the room if it weren't for the wine stains and debris that clung to his clothes. His still focus in sharp contrast with the evidence of earlier violence. He didn't seem to notice the stunned manservant.
Breathlessly, Merlin whispered, "... Sire?"
The king did not respond. He dipped his pen into a puddle of spilled ink on the desk and kept writing. The hand curled around the quill was bloody and bruised.
"... Arthur…. what happened?!"
Seemingly unbothered, the blond looked up and surveyed the room. He shrugged noncommittally and hummed, "I let off some steam that's all."
"W-what?"
