A/N: Now for some Arthur. You all know you wanted some of that. There'll be more Merlin soon, promise!

**EDITED**

The ride back to Camelot was nowhere near as companionable as the ride out. They had been a relatively cheerful bunch then, as cheerful as those riding out to slay a dragon that was terrorizing innocent villagers could reasonably be, talking and joking and laughing together as they always did on such journeys. The Knights of the Round Table were brothers, a family, as they had been since they were first established in an abandoned castle when Arthur had broken generations of tradition by knighting a band of low born men whom he knew to be worthy of the honor.

But it had been Merlin who had sat at Arthur's right hand at the round table. Even when Arthur had exchanged the long council table in Camelot for a round one and Merlin had been relegated to standing behind him as his servant once more, none of them had forgotten that it was he who had been awarded the place of honor meant for the king's most trusted advisor. And now the Knights of the Round Table were returning home without him.

The first day of the journey was passed mostly in somber silence, each man too caught up in his own thoughts to voice any of them out loud. Arthur was thankful for the lack of idle chatter at first, but by the time twilight had fallen and they had bedded down for the night, he would have given anything for someone to distract him. There was just too much for him to think about, to brood on, and he was slowly sinking deeper and deeper into one of his black moods.

Usually when he got like this, it was Merlin who would brave the dangers of talking him out of it again, often dragging him kicking and screaming back into a reluctant sort of optimism with words of wisdom and confidence. Knowing all that, and knowing that it wouldn't happen this time around, only made everything ten times worse.

He could only wait until they reached Camelot where he could wrap his arms around his Guinevere, bury his face in her hair, and hope that she would know him better than he did himself; she had a way of talking him through his own thoughts, of leading him by the hand to the decision which he hadn't realized that he had already made, which he had come to rely on over the years. It was one of the many reasons that he had fallen in love with her.

Anywhere would be better than here, really, Arthur thought. Gwaine was stony and mute, glowering at Arthur whenever he happened to look in his direction. It wasn't that Arthur didn't think that he deserved it, because he did, but it certainly made things a tad uncomfortable, especially when Percival kept trying to get Gwaine's attention to ask why he was looking at Arthur as if he was the devil incarnate. Leon was distracted and pensive in a way he rarely ever was, his usual alertness having given way to a state of deep thought which apparently took all of his concentration. Arthur wasn't sure that he could remember the last time the man had blinked.

It was Elyan, though, who finally broached the taboo subject around noon on the second day of travelling when they had stopped to rest and water the horses.

"So you're really just going to let him go like that?" he asked. He immediately had the attention of everyone in the small clearing. No one needed any clarification as to whom he was referring to.

"He is perfectly within his rights to go wherever he pleases," Arthur said stiffly, turning to check his horse over for imagined injuries so that he didn't have to turn around and face his men, the rest of whom weren't even trying to pretend that they weren't listening.

"But he's your manservant—"

"And he had every right to leave his position. He was my servant, not my slave," Arthur barked. "And as a member of the royal household of a foreign kingdom with whom we are not on the best of terms, to detain him could be seen as an act of war."

Truth be told, it had not even occurred to him to try to stop Merlin from going to Carthis. And, in light of all that he knew now, he doubted he would have been able to keep him anywhere he did not want to be anyway.

Elyan didn't respond immediately.

"And if he wasn't?" he asked.

"If he wasn't what?" Arthur repeated, being deliberately obtuse because he thought he knew where this line of questioning was going and he did not want it to go there.

"If he wasn't a member of a royal household," Elyan clarified. "If Carthis had nothing to do with any of this, if you simply knew everything that you do now. Would he still have been free to leave? Or is his newfound royal heritage the only reason he isn't in chains?"

Arthur was taken aback by the bluntness of the inquiry, so bold that it almost sounded like an accusation. Elyan had always been one of the more reticent of his knights, usually content to leave the confrontations to Gwaine and his more belligerent personality. That he would be the one to take a stand in Merlin's favor threw Arthur off balance.

And of course, it was a question to which he did not have an answer. It had been plaguing him all day, the thought of what he might have done had the circumstances been only slightly different. He wasn't at all sure that would not have been the case, that he wouldn't have clapped Merlin in irons. Or worse, considering the way he had reacted.

"He is no threat to the kingdom," he said, sidestepping the question. He had run out of injuries to examine his horse for and so settled for adjusting the straps on his pack even though they were perfectly aligned.

"You're sure of that?" Leon asked, sounding anxious rather than dubious, as if he wanted to believe that but needed the permission of his sovereign, the reassurance that he was allowed to think that way about a sorcerer.

"He had damn well better be, after everything Merlin's done for him," Gwaine said under his breath, more to himself than to the group at large, but it sent a spike of jealousy through Arthur strong enough to make him stop feigning disinterest and turn around to face him.

"And what would you know of what he's done, Sir Gwaine?" Arthur demanded, knowing that provoking the volatile knight was a bad idea but too keyed up to care at the moment; he was so angry, so agitated, that he would gladly take any outlet for his frustration, even one that was likely to get both of them injured in the process.

"I know enough," Gwaine said through gritted teeth.

His hands were clenching into fists at his sides like he wanted nothing more than to throw a punch at Arthur but was only just holding himself back because, despite what most people seemed to think, he did have at least a modicum of respect for Arthur's position. Part of Arthur wanted him to let go of that control, to give him an excuse, something to fight.

Gwaine barked out a humorless laugh. "More than enough to know that you never deserved Merlin's loyalty."

That stung, especially because Arthur was becoming more and more inclined to believe it was true.

"I don't need loyalty from liars and traitors," he spat.

"Merlin is no traitor," Gwaine said fiercely, stepping forward into Arthur's space. "I may not know much of what he's done over the years, but I know that much."

"You don't know anything," Arthur shot back.

"I'm his friend," Gwaine insisted. "And I know him."

"I was his friend long before you were, Gwaine," Arthur snarled, barely restraining himself from lashing out physically.

"Were you?" Gwaine asked, his eyes wide and accusatory. "Are you sure that Merlin knew that? When was the last time you told him that, hm? That you were his friend? Because you damn well didn't act like one. You treated him like dirt."

"Gwaine, you know that's not true," Percival tried to interject, but Gwaine took no notice of him, all of the anger he had built up over the last two days finally boiling over.

"All those years of service, did they mean nothing to you at all? Merlin dedicated his life to you, and you repaid him with a hand at his throat."

Arthur reeled back at those words, feeling as though he had just taken a heavy blow to the stomach though Gwaine had never raised a hand against him. All of his own rage was doused in an icy wave of shame and horror. Gwaine was right. Arthur had no right to be upset that Merlin had not trusted him with this when he had never given Merlin a reason to believe that he could.

Had he ever told Merlin how much he had meant to him, how much Arthur had come to rely on his advice and his support? Had he ever told Merlin that he was the only person that Arthur had felt he could truly trust, the only one whose loyalty to him had never been brought into question?

Merlin's secrecy, his fear, was Arthur's fault. Arthur's intolerance, his single-minded hatred of magic and all those who practiced it, had convinced Merlin that he would never be able to look past it, that he shouldn't even be given the chance. It was Arthur's fault, and yet he had lashed out at Merlin for it, his fear and his prejudice and his anger overwhelming his sense, eclipsing the fact that he did know Merlin, no matter how many secrets he had been keeping.

"Arthur, is…is that true?" Leon asked. The knights were all staring at him as if they had never seen him before, horrified and disbelieving.

Arthur swallowed hard, unable to meet any of their eyes. His hands were shaking and he felt like he might be sick again.

"It's…it's not my proudest moment," he croaked. "It was an overreaction. And I would take it back if I could."

Gwaine had backed off, still looking livid but the anger was mixed with confusion at Arthur's sudden uncharacteristic retreat and a sort of grudging placation at his obvious remorse for his actions.

"Well you can't," he said, his words not as harsh as they could have been.

"I know that."

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling exhausted and weighed down. He just wanted to crawl into his big comfy bed with his lovely wife and sleep until all of this went away and he could wake up to find that it had been a dream, just a nightmare.

"Come on. We need to go if we're to reach the city by nightfall."

He mounted his horse without looking at his knights. They hesitated uncomfortably, passing glances among themselves. He couldn't tell what they were thinking, but then again, he wasn't at all sure that he wanted to know. If their thoughts were anything like his own, then they would they not be in his favor. Eventually they all mounted their horses one by one and fell in line behind Arthur as he turned his steed in the direction of Camelot.

This ride was even more uncomfortable than the previous day's, the silence stretched taut over the things that had been said and the things that hadn't been. Arthur kept his head down and his eyes on the ground.

By the time they reached the gates of the city, the light was beginning to fade from the sky, the sun setting in the west illuminating the turrets from behind and throwing long shadows across the courtyard.

Gwen was waiting for them on the front steps of the castle, having been alerted by the guards as to their arrival. Her relieved smile faltered as they drew near enough for her to see their tense, unhappy expressions and to count their number. Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand, looking devastated as she drew the wrong, though admittedly the most logical, conclusion as to what had happened.

"They're alive, Guinevere," Arthur reassured her as he swung himself out of the saddle. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

"Where are they?" she asked. "Where is Merlin? Why isn't he with you? And Mordred?"

"They're gone," he said simply.

He swept past her to the top of the stairs, leaving his horse and his things for one of the stable hands to deal with. He did not want to get into this conversation out in the open; he didn't think he would be able to make it through with the last shreds of his dignity intact, not with the realizations he had come to over the course of the day.

He heard Gwen's murmured inquiry to her brother and the other knights, but they just shook their heads, knowing that it was not their place to tell her all that had happened. Finally she was forced to admit defeat and follow Arthur into the castle, keeping pace with him until they reached their chambers.

He leaned against the door as soon as he had closed it, propping his forehead against it and taking a moment to steel himself for what he had to say. He didn't know how to say it. This would be even more difficult than telling the knights, because Gwen had been Merlin's friend even before Arthur himself had, long before any of the others. It would hit her hard, surely, the knowledge that Merlin had been lying to her for so long.

"What happened, Arthur?" she asked, placing a small but firm hand on his arm and pulling him around to face her. Her brown eyes were bright and full of worry. He could get lost in those eyes, but the concern in them was just too much for him to bear.

Arthur pulled her into his arms, holding her slight figure tight against his chest and burying his nose in her soft curls, inhaling the incongruous scents of the lavender oil from her bath and his polishing oil from when she got anxious and needed something to do with her hands. It was such a distinct smell, all Guinevere. It rushed over him in a wave, soothing him in a way nothing else could. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him just as tightly, although the slight flutter of her hands at the small of his back belayed her growing anxiety.

"Arthur, what's going on?" she asked again, disentangling herself gently and taking his face in her hands. "You're scaring me."

"I'm scaring myself," he admitted, spurred into complete honesty by the promise of unconditional love and acceptance. They had already been through so much together, he and Guinevere. She had loved him through all of that, and she would love him through this too. "I thought that I was better than my father, that I would never be like him, but I just…I was so…I-I couldn't—"

"Arthur, stop it, please just—" Gwen said, the worry in her eyes edging on true fear now as he stumbled over his words in a way he never did. "Arthur, you need to slow down. Start from the beginning and tell me everything."

Arthur leaned down to press his forehead to hers, letting out a shaky breath and trying to hold himself together for just a few minutes more. He needed to tell her, she deserved to know, but he wasn't sure he could make it through the events of the last few days without falling apart completely.

"What happened with the dragon? Just start with that," she prompted.

He lifted his head and nodded.

"There was no dragon," he said.

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"But those villagers," she said. "They said that their town was—"

"They lied," he cut across her. "There was no dragon at all. Well, there was a dragon, but he didn't have anything to do with it. Or rather, he had nothing to do with them, but he still—" He stopped himself before he could go on rambling things that Gwen wouldn't understand and forced himself back to the beginning. "They were sent to draw us out."

"It was an ambush?" Gwen asked in alarm.

"No. It was nothing like that," he said. "There was only one person waiting for us. And he said that he just wanted to speak to Merlin."

"Merlin?" She looked just as confused as they all had been by the idea of someone going to all that trouble just to get in touch with Merlin of all people.

Arthur nodded.

"Who was he?" she asked. "What did he want with him? And why would he go to such extreme lengths? Faking a dragon attack, I mean, really."

"This is where it gets a bit complicated," Arthur sighed. "And completely unbelievable. Although, thinking back on it now, it's not nearly as hard to believe as it was when I first heard it. But then, everything is clearer in hindsight."

"Complicated how?" she pressed, looking as though she was getting a bit annoyed at how hard it was proving to be to drag this story out of him.

He would just have to say it, there was nothing else for it.

"The man was a mage from the kingdom of Carthis. And he had tracked Merlin down in order to tell him that his father, the Dragonlord Balinor, had been their estranged prince."

Gwen's delicately shaped eyebrows shot up as she stared at him.

"Merlin's father was a prince?" she repeated blankly. "A prince of Carthis, you mean?"

"Exactly. And as such, Merlin's father was not only a Dragonlord, but a sorcerer of royal descent. Merlin told me himself that he inherited all of these qualities from his father."

"All of—" she started, but she stopped, drawing the connections herself. He watched her closely, seeing the wheels turn and the conclusions form behind her eyes. "He was…? You mean to say that…that Merlin is a sorcerer?" she asked, her tone hard to read.

Arthur had to squeeze his eyes shut; just hearing the words said aloud brought about another rush of emotion, but it was all too tangled and disjointed for him to make sense of it.

"Yes," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "He has been since long before he set foot in Camelot. And he has been a Dragonlord in his own right since Balinor was killed nearly nine years ago."

Gwen remained silent for a few moments, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, and Arthur did not move to interrupt. She needed time to process the revelation, as he had. As Arthur was still struggling to do, honestly. He just held her, encircling her small waist with his arms and relishing in the feel of her soft form against his own. She rested her hands on his chest, one hand over his heart so that she could feel its rhythm against her palm.

"So that's where Merlin is, then? That is why he didn't return with you? He's gone to Carthis?" she asked eventually. Seeing his stunned expression—he had not expected her to make that connection so quickly—she smiled slightly and explained.

"You told me a few weeks ago that their Queen had died without an heir and with no close kin to speak of. If Merlin has royal blood, and this mage made such an effort to seek him out now of all times, I can only assume that it was because he was the only remaining person with a blood claim to the throne."

Arthur marveled for a brief moment at how far his wife had come since she had been crowned queen, how well she had come to understand the laws and the politics of a royal court. She was not only beautiful and kind, but quick witted and perceptive as well. She was a great queen, and he would be lost without her.

"Yes, he has," Arthur said.

He wanted to go on, wanted to tell the rest of the story, or maybe to rant and rave and let out all the conflicting feelings he had swirling around in the maelstrom that was his mind, but he couldn't seem to get any more words out. But Gwen was looking at him in that sharp, discerning way of hers that meant she was analyzing his feelings more accurately than he ever could himself, so he just waited for her to speak, to explain him to himself.

"You said earlier that you were scaring yourself," she said gently, which was not what he had expected her to say. "You mentioned something about your father."

He swallowed thickly through a sudden constriction in his throat, feeling the hot prickling behind his eyes that signaled the advent of tears.

"I thought that I was better than him," he repeated. "I thought I was, but I'm not. I swore to myself years ago that I would never hurt someone that I cared about in anger, no matter what they had done. But then I was just so…so angry, and…and hurt and I just…"

Gwen placed a hand on the side of his face, lifting his head so that he would look her in the eye again; he had not realized that he had dropped it in fear of what he might see in her gaze. But there was nothing but love and compassion and understanding and all the things he could not feel for himself at the moment. That was the only thing that gave him the strength to confess this.

"I took him by the throat. I nearly strangled him, Gwen. I…I never thought I was capable of something like that. H-he didn't even try to fight me. He would have just let me...he would have let me kill him, he…I nearly—"

His breath was growing harsh, the tears fighting for release. Gwen pulled him down and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her fiercely. He buried his face in her shoulder and tried to stop trembling, but it was no good. All the stress of the last few days crashed down on him and he shook apart in his wife's arms. She let him cry, holding him tighter when sobs wracked his body.

He didn't know how long they stayed that way, but it had to have been a while. It was fully dark out by the time Arthur's tears subsided and his sobs receded into sniffles that sounded pitiful even to his own ears. Gwen was murmuring nonsense into his ear and stroking the back of his head, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that never failed to soothe him.

He pulled back and wiped at his wet face, but the leather of his gloves wasn't a very absorbent material. Gwen produced a handkerchief from somewhere in her dress and handed it to him with a soft smile.

"It was perfectly understandable for you to be angry, Arthur," she said.

"There is no excuse for what I did, Guinevere," Arthur insisted. "It was reprehensible."

"Yes," she conceded with a sigh, "but everyone is allowed to make mistakes once in a while. It was not a good thing that you did, but the fact that you feel this way about it, that you know that it was wrong and you regret doing it, makes a great deal of difference."

"I don't even think that I'm angry at him anymore, not really," Arthur admitted, only just realizing that fact himself. "I had a bit of a shouting match with Gwaine on the way back to Camelot, and he said some things that made me realize that Merlin had no reason to trust me with this. With the way I have always viewed magic as solely evil, and the way I told him so repeatedly, of course he would never think it safe to tell me. And with the way I reacted, I only proved him right."

"He lived his whole life in a place that told him that what he is is a crime. I imagine that true trust would have been a difficult thing for him to come by," Gwen pointed out. She hesitated then, biting her lip again before asking delicately, "So you aren't bothered by the fact that he's a sorcerer?"

"I spent a good long while thinking back over his time in Camelot," Arthur said slowly, "and from what I can tell, from all the things I can think of that Merlin could possibly have had a hand in, he has done little but help us. His actions speak of nothing but loyalty and dedication. I simply cannot justify thinking of him as wicked and corrupt the way my father always taught me that all sorcerers would be."

"Merlin is one of the kindest and most compassionate people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing," Gwen said. "If he has magic, then I can't picture him using it with anything but the best of intentions."

"I know that, I just…took a while to come to that conclusion," Arthur sighed. "And by then the damage was already done."

"What else happened, Arthur?" she asked, stroking his cheek. "Surely, you didn't leave it like that."

Arthur unclasped his cloak and tossed it aside and Gwen helped him out of chainmail heavy enough to make sink him through the floor. Then Arthur took her by the hand and led her to the bed, feeling drained and exhausted. He leaned up against the headboard and Gwen draped her arm over his waist, her head fitting perfectly in the space under his chin.

He explained the rest of the events in fits and starts, beginning with the way he had all but destroyed a poor defenseless tree and ending with her brother's defense of Merlin and Gwaine's righteous anger on his friend's behalf. Gwen was rather taken aback by the conversation he had overhead between Merlin and the dragon, but not by the fact that Merlin saw it as his duty to protect him.

"He has always gone out of his way to keep you safe, Arthur," she pointed out. "He drank poison for you just a few short months after he'd gotten here."

"And he offered to do so again a few months later," Arthur admitted. "And he was dead set on sacrificing himself in my place to heal the damage done to the Veil between the worlds."

"Merlin has done more to protect you than any of your knights ever have. The fact that he was using magic doesn't change that in the least. If anything, it makes his dedication to you even more admirable, that he would risk his life every day just by staying in this kingdom, breaking the law to keep you safe and sound."

"I just wish that I knew why," Arthur said. "He was saving my life long before he actually liked me. We could hardly stand each other when we met, and yet he pulled me out of the way of a dagger just days after I had him thrown in the dungeons and then tried to take his head off with a mace. The dragon said something about destiny, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. It was all very vague and cryptic."

"Well, there is still someone else you could ask, you know," Gwen said.

Arthur frowned at her, confused.

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think Merlin could have lived this long in Camelot if he didn't have Gaius keeping him in line and covering his tracks?"

"Of course!" Arthur exclaimed. "Why didn't I think of that before?"

"That's what you have me for," Gwen laughed, leaning up to kiss him. "To point out all the simple things that you're too busy looking at the big picture to see for yourself."

"I love you, Guinevere," Arthur said softly. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Her teasing smile melted into something easy and heartfelt.

"I love you too, Arthur," she said. "Now get some sleep. Speaking with Gaius can wait until the morning."

With his Guinevere soft and warm in his arms and the weight of guilt and shame lifted a bit from his shoulders, Arthur thought that maybe, just maybe, things could still turn out alright. He could still fix this. Somehow.