A/N: Y'all wanted your long chapters back. Here's one.

**EDITED**

"You propose that we do what?"

Merlin sat at the head of the long table, the members of his council ranged along the sides. Mordred, Sir Gerund, and the High Priest Kane were there as well, and a few other higher-ups in the fighting force whose input would be appreciated. Currently, most of them were gaping at him in unflattering disbelief. It was Lord Melbourne who had spoken so incredulously, and Merlin turned to him.

"Morgana has made her intentions clear," Merlin said. "She intends to make another bid for the throne of Camelot, and I would not see it done. I wish to go to King Arthur's aid."

"My Lord, surely we should focus on maintaining our own borders," Lord Kendell said. "If she has made insinuations against this kingdom, as you claim, then we should not spread ourselves thin in such a way."

"We will not neglect our own defense," Merlin assured him. "But neither are we her primary target. Her focus will be on Camelot, and Camelot has no line of defense against magical attack, not like we have."

"I fail to see why this should involve us at all," another councilor spoke loftily. "Whatever misfortunes befall Camelot is hardly any of our concern. Camelot has been no friend to us."

"Perhaps not in the past, but that may very well change in the future," Merlin said. "I have spoken with King Arthur, and he—"

"You would treat with a Pendragon?" Lord Melbourne demanded, sounding horrified at the very prospect. "He is the reason that magic is vilified throughout the land!"

"That was Uther's doing. And Arthur is not his father," Merlin insisted. He was getting very tired of saying this; how long would it be before people stopped foisting Uther's crimes onto his son?

"And yet he continues to persecute practitioners of the Old Religion!"

"Not any longer," Merlin said, his heart swelling with joy and pride, still hardly able to comprehend the enormity of what Arthur was doing back in Camelot, the legendary change that he was effecting there.

It boggled his mind to think that his dream, the dream that he had nearly given up as impossible, was coming true. Arthur had accepted him fully, he had forgiven him for everything, and he was making the kingdom safe for him. For him, Arthur had said so. He was doing this for Merlin, and for all those like him. So that he would never have to fear for his life again.

"Arthur is his own man, ten times the man Uther ever was. He has recognized his father's mistakes, and his own, and he is working to rectify them."

"He is legalizing magic?" Lady Penbrook asked, her eyebrows rising in surprise.

"As we speak."

There were murmurs around the table, some of disbelief and skepticism and others of astonishment and delight.

Merlin continued, pressing his advantage.

"Arthur is willing to extend a hand of friendship to Carthis. He would like to open negotiations for a binding peace treaty between our two kingdoms, and safe trade routes as well. But we cannot treat with a kingdom that has been ransacked and overthrown. Camelot is in desperate need of our assistance in this matter, and I would give it."

"What sort of aid do you propose, sire?" Lady Penbrook asked readily.

"Morgana herself is a formidable opponent, but we don't know how large a force she has behind her," Merlin said, voicing his biggest worry at present.

Morgana by herself would prove a challenge for even a dozen average sorcerers, but Morgana with an army at her back would be a much more pressing concern. She was more likely to have a band of mercenaries hoping for coin, disgruntled sorcerers looking to get payback at the world, and people too frightened to not follow her. Even if her force was large, it wouldn't be unified and it certainly wouldn't be loyal enough to fight to the death.

"I would send three battalions of mages," Merlin said. "One to create and hold a warded perimeter around the citadel and two for deployment throughout the secular army primarily as a defensive line for those without magic. And then one battalion of secular knights to supplement the existing fighting force in Camelot."

"What do you know of the terrain there?" another Lady asked, leaning forward to address him from halfway down the table. "Is the layout of the citadel conducive to a fire fight, or is it too close quarters for open battle between magic users?"

"The castle there is sma—"

"You can't possibly be serious?"

Everyone stopped speaking abruptly and turned to look at Lord Tennison, who had stood up from his seat and was glaring around at them all.

"Have you something to say, Lord Tennison?" Merlin asked through gritted teeth, knowing that he was going to regret opening this door.

While Lord Ellison had been surprisingly docile as of late, ever since Merlin had appeal to him on the basis of their kinship, his father had remained as vitriolic in his opposition of Merlin as ever. If anything, he had gotten worse, apparently trying to make up for his son's concession by being twice as antagonistic.

"Surely we aren't going to allow an untried serving boy to lead us into battle?" Tennison asked the council with a spiteful laugh.

That finally did it. He had been trying Merlin's patience for a long time already and this comment, this slur against his competence now of all times, caused the previously fraying rope that was Merlin's control to snap entirely.

"How many battles have you faced, Lord Tennison?" he asked, his voice dangerously subdued.

"I beg your pardon?" Tennison asked, sounding affronted by the question.

Merlin pushed himself to his feet, noticing that the councilors on either side of him leaned back as far as they could in their chairs as if to get out of the line of fire. He really must have looked menacing to have elicited such a reaction, but he did not care. In fact, he was glad for it. If there was ever a time to assert his dominance, this was it, and he was all too happy to put Tennison in his place at long last.

"How many battles have you faced?" he repeated. "What great deeds do you have to your name that give you the right to look down your nose at me?"

Tennison's already ruddy face flushed a darker red as he swelled indignantly, but Merlin did not allow him time to retort, all of the resentment that came from being patronized and belittled for so long finally coming to a head and spilling out at this man, this dreadful man, who had worked so hard over the last two months to make his life a living hell.

He stalked forward until he stood directly before Lord Tennison, bearing down on him and using his greater height to his advantage.

"I have survived more battles in the last eleven years than this entire kingdom has seen in over a century," he said coldly. "I have fought trolls and griffins and questing beasts and sidhe. I have destroyed two immortal armies singlehandedly. I killed the High Priestess Nimueh with a single blow. I defeated the immortal spirit of Cornelius Sigan and held audience with the Fischer King himself.

"I alone among mortal men have survived the touch of the Dorocha. I have wielded the Cup of Life and held the power of Life and Death in my hands. I have seen the land of Avalon and glimpsed the future in the Crystal Cave. I have faced Morgana in battle and walked away the victor.

"Tell me, Lord Tennison, do you still think me untried?"

Not once did he raise his voice, but the room around him was deathly silent. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. Lord Tennison had paled considerably, his eyes widening progressively with every extraordinary feat that Merlin described. Merlin waited for him to say something in return, to ridicule him or to find something in all of that he could disparage, but the Lord was, for once, at a loss.

Merlin stayed as he was, challenging the Lord to speak out against him now, and Tennison's face grew progressively darker again, a flush suffusing his cheeks and his gaze quickly becoming mutinous; apparently Lord Tennison did not take kindly to being humiliated.

But Merlin did not care; he had spent long enough holding his tongue. He was a king and he would be treated as such. He had been through too much in his relatively short life to be treated as a novice.

Dismissing Tennison from his thoughts as the man had initially dismissed him, Merlin turned to face his council, sure to meet the eyes of each and every man in the room before he spoke again with an authority that he had never expected to feel so deeply in his bones but which seemed so right here, with the magic of his ancestors seeping into him from the very stones beneath his feet.

"I may not have been a knight," he said in a voice that was both ordinary and commanding, "but I have faced more trials than any man I know and come out the other side unscathed. I may have been a servant, but that does not mean that I am not battle-hardened. I am as much a warrior as any of you. And you would do well to remember it."

"What would you have us do, my Lord?" Sir Frederick asked, stepping forward from the edge of the room with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"You will fight for me, Sir Frederick?" Merlin asked.

"I will follow you anywhere, sire," he responded immediately, an expression of fierce devotion on his face.

"As will I," Sir Gerund said, moving to stand by Sir Frederick's side.

As one, the rest of the knights and mages present moved forward, standing at attention. Merlin nodded to each of them in turn, his heart pounding in his chest. These were his men, he realized. These men and women were loyal to him and him alone and they were willing to give their lives for him. They would rely on his leadership in the battle to come, their lives would be in his hands. And he would not let them down.

"Kane," he said and the High Priest stepped forward. "Is it possible for the Perimeter to be made impassable?"

Merlin sat up straighter in his saddle as the cry went up, the red-clad guards racing along the battlements in a near-panic at the sight of his blue and gold banner. Gerund and Mordred held steady at his back, all three of them keeping their gazes forward as they waited for the gates to be opened for them.

There was no doubt that they would open, even if Carthis was not on the best of terms with Camelot; a delegation from a foreign kingdom, even an unfriendly one, which contained royalty was to be treated with the utmost respect until an openly aggressive gesture was made. When the King of Carthis showed up at the gates of Camelot and requested an audience, it would be granted.

It felt a bit silly to be riding in for an audience with Arthur when he had just spoken to the man a few hours ago, but some things had to be done in the proper fashion. Merlin had returned to Carthis in the same way that he had left and had spoken to his council, ensuring that he would have their support in this endeavor. And now that he had convinced them that his plan was sound and that they would benefit from taking this risk, here he was again.

Another transportation spell—this one considerably more powerful, as it was used to convey three people and their horses, but still well within his means with the aid of the crystal pendant that he still wore around his neck, revitalized on a regular basis to make sure that he was never without a means of travel—had carried them in the blink of an eye a distance which would have taken them two days at least to travel by mundane methods.

The gates swung outward to admit them despite the openly distrustful glowers that the guards were sending their way. Merlin ignored them and led his party into the city proper with all the dignity afforded him by his station, his mages following in his wake and keeping a watchful eye on the crowds that were beginning to gather as the news of their arrival spread like wildfire.

It took a long time for the first inquisitive murmur to pass through the throng of people as he passed; Merlin had expected it to happen sooner, but he realized that by now he was probably nigh on unrecognizable as the cheeky, ungainly former manservant of the king.

But someone finally made the connection, and she whispered it to her companion, who gasped it in the ear of the man next to her, who exclaimed it aloud, and soon the entire crowd was scrabbling to get closer, to get a better look and make absolutely sure that they weren't mistaken in what they thought they were seeing.

Merlin, Mordred, and Sir Gerund ignored the masses, keeping their gazes determinedly forward as they neared the courtyard. There were a number of knights waiting for them on the stairs to the castle, each and every one of them with his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice.

Not that a sword would do much good against magic users as powerful as the three of them, but the knights of Camelot had never seemed to grasp that concept, always happy to ride out against sorcerers with nothing to counter their magic. It was not the brightest method, but Merlin wasn't about to complain right now.

He dismounted his horse and handed his reins wordlessly to a flabbergasted stable boy with whom he had played dice in the tavern once a few months before. He kept his head high as he came face to face with an older knight, one of Uther's most loyal and one of the ones who had never warmed up to him as Arthur's servant; his lack of propriety and his open familiarity with the prince had seemed to be a personal affront to the man. This revelation seemed to be even more offensive.

"I come in peace. I seek an audience with the King," Merlin said.

The man's mouth tightened, as did his grip on his sword, but he did not dare move against a foreign dignitary, no matter who he was, who he had been, or that his very existence was against the laws of the land. Merlin waited unworriedly for the man to get over his qualms and do his duty; he was in no danger from these men, not with the immunity the laws of Camelot gave to him as the member of a royal court. And even if any of them did see fit to attack him, he was more than capable of handling the situation.

"This way," the knight gritted out, abandoning his sword only reluctantly.

He swept off up the stairs without any of the customary gestures of respect, no nod or bow or honorific, but Merlin decided that he was lucky enough to not have been attacked on sight and followed him without protest. Not that he exactly needed the escort to find the throne room seeing as he had managed to find it every day for the last eleven years without any problem, but again, some things had to be done properly. And this, announcing himself to be what he was after so long masquerading as something else entirely, was definitely one such thing.

The knights kept a close eye on him, never turning away entirely even though they were walking in front of him, and Gerund and Mordred were both regarded with equal distrust. Mordred especially, as he had been one of their own for a time, a knight of Camelot. That he was now wearing the blue of Carthis was not lost on anyone, nor were the repercussions of that fact.

The thought that there had been two sorcerers hiding in their midst, two magic users whom they had failed to ferret out, was a frightening concept for those who had grown up seeing those with magic as figures of nightmare. Merlin understood that, he had expected it, and so their suspicion did not faze him. The eyes, however, that burned into his back as he climbed the stairs into the castle did.

These were people whom he had known for many years. He had lived among them, had greeted them every morning as he went about his duties and inquired after their children. He knew almost all of them by name, and many of them he would count as friends. But there was alarm on their faces now, bewilderment and horror as they realized what it was that they were seeing and exactly what it implied about the man whom they had come to like so much since his irreverent introduction to their crown prince.

He was not whom he had said he was, and he never had been. He was the epitome of all that they had been taught to fear, the manipulative sorcerer stealing into their kingdom to destabilize it from within. He wished that he could talk to them all personally, reassure them that he was still the same man that he had been then. Well, maybe not quite. He had to admit that, had he been in their place, he probably would not have known himself either.

The door to the throne room was surrounded by a bevy of guards when they reached it, far more than were routine for a visiting dignitary, no matter what his rank. Merlin was not sure if he should be insulted or flattered by just how much of a danger he was obviously thought to be.

Not all of the guards appeared to be hostile towards him, a few of them nodding respectfully and with only a touch of nervousness, but the majority of them treated him as a serious threat, most likely restraining themselves from apprehending him only on the direct orders of their king.

The doors were pulled open despite the guards' unwillingness to allow the sorcerers anywhere near their sovereign and Merlin and his companions were ushered into the throne room with nearly a dozen watchful guards surrounding them on all sides.

Arthur was sat on his throne, resplendent in his chainmail and bright cape and with his formal crown, the one that Merlin had spent so many nights polishing, settled neatly on his brow. Merlin, too, had worn his royal finery and his most ostentatious cloak with the enormous crest emblazoned across the back. He had even donned the ornate crown that had been bestowed upon him at his coronation rather than the more modest circlet of gold which he was more comfortable wearing on an everyday basis.

The two of them had planned this out beforehand, the entrance and the address and the analogous clothing. They wished to present a united front, even before the partnership was made evident. They were equals now, and that would be clear from the first glance.

Various members of the council were spread around the edges of the room, their faces ranging from downright antagonistic to openly curious, with one much older man even looking vaguely excited at the prospect of this meeting. There were more knights as well, a good number of them, the majority of them higher ranking officers.

All the members of the Round Table, the ones with whom Merlin had held council earlier in the day, were there, doing their best to keep their expressions blank so as not to give away the fact that they already knew what was going on. Gwen too was keeping her expression carefully composed, sitting primly at Arthur's side with her hands folded tightly in her lap. Gaius stood in the back where he usually did, his head down so that his long white hair hid his face.

Merlin strode forward with all the confidence that he could muster, feeling lighter than he had done in weeks because Arthur already knew. He knew everything and he didn't care. He knew everything and he didn't hate Merlin. He knew everything and he was thankful for it. They were okay, they were better than okay. As much as Merlin was loath to admit it, the dragon had been right. Their bond had been broken, but it had grown to be all the stronger for it.

So Merlin detached himself from the formation of knights and guards to stand on his own before the throne of his best friend, his true king, and he bowed his head slightly, just the right sort of courteous acknowledgement for one king to another. Arthur rose to his feet and returned the gesture respectfully.

"Thank you, my Lord, for granting me this audience," Merlin said clearly, the title more sincerely used than it had usually been when he had actually been Merlin's Lord but still with that light undercurrent of impudence that had always characterized his capitulation to Arthur's authority.

The irreverence was less out of place now, when Arthur no longer held any real power over him, when his obedience was not a requirement but a courtesy. The tone was subtle enough that most would not notice it, but the slightest raise of one eyebrow told him that Arthur had, and that he was vaguely pleased by it.

"It has been a long time since a member of your court has entered these halls," Arthur responded with the slightest quirk to his lips that had Merlin biting his own tongue to keep from laughing. A long time indeed; he had been there a few hours ago, and every day for eleven years before that. But then again, he had not technically been a member of the court of Carthis at that point in time. He had hardly even heard of the kingdom then, so he guessed that Arthur had a point in that.

He and Arthur shared a quick look of amusement, one of those silent communications that the two of them had always been so adept at. Merlin was nearly overcome with relief that they still understood each other so well, that that had not changed in his absence.

"I wish that it could be under better auspices," Merlin said, noting that the words were truer than he had intended them to be. "But I am sure that you have determined that this is not a social call."

"What brings you here, King Merlin?" Arthur asked somberly, though he knew the answer.

Hearing that, hearing King Merlin, come out of Arthur's mouth stunned Merlin for a moment. It was just so odd, and it was even odder how not odd it felt to be referred to as such. There was something very right about it, something comfortable and familiar in a way that didn't quite make sense. It drove home just how different he himself now was. Only two months had passed, but Merlin had changed a great deal. He was no longer a lowly serving boy, hiding in the shadows and playing with magic tricks.

He was royalty and he felt it all the way in the depths of his being. He was a warrior confident enough in his skills to lead men into battle. He was a king, the last in an ancient line of powerful sovereigns, and he was no longer afraid to wield that authority. He was Arthur's equal, and he finally felt like it.

He pulled back his shoulders, standing tall and with his head held high, meeting Arthur's gaze with a confidence that he had never expected to possess.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but word has reached my ear that your kingdom is in danger," Merlin said. "Morgana has set her sights on your throne yet again. I fear that an attack is imminent."

A murmur of alarm went up throughout those gathered in the room as soon as Morgana's name was mentioned. The guards closed in on Gerund and Mordred, as if they were the ones threatening the safety of Camelot, but, restrained by propriety as they were, they could do little more than look menacing until given further provocation.

Gerund and Mordred did not react, perfectly unconcerned about the row of snarling opponents waiting to be given a reason to run them through. Merlin too sensed eyes on his back, the presence of the guards uncomfortably close behind him, but he did nothing.

"How imminent?" Arthur demanded.

"I cannot be sure. But my guess is that she will move quickly while she still believes that she has the element of surprise on her side."

"Sire, I beg your forgiveness, but is this not…I mean to say, if my eyes do not deceive me…" an ageing council stammered uncertainly, stepping forward from his place against the wall to point a slightly trembling finger in Merlin's direction. "Is this not the young man who was in your employ for so long?"

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and smirked.

"Well, I did tell you that he left his post because he discovered that he had more pressing responsibilities to attend to in another kingdom," he said, completely unrepentant.

The fact that the excuse Arthur had given his councilors was perfectly true but still vague enough to exonerate him from any accusations of deceit in the matter entertained Merlin to no end, but he clamped down on the smile that was trying to force its way onto his face; now was not the time for it, even if he was near to giddy with the knowledge that Arthur had been protecting his reputation since the moment he left, keeping Merlin's secret even when he did not have to.

"But Carthis is a kingdom of sorcerers!" another Lord exclaimed.

"Actually," Merlin put in, "there are a great number of secular people living within my borders. But you are right in that the ruling class is composed primarily of those who possess a magical disposition."

"Sire, you do understand what this means?"

"Do not insult my intelligence by assuming that I don't, Lord Farnham," Arthur said sharply.

Farnham had been giving Arthur trouble, Merlin could tell from the clenching of his jaw alone. It was not surprising; Lord Farnham had been one of Uther's favorites, and one of the most doggedly determined to see magic eradicated. It made little sense to Merlin that someone as old as he, someone who had grown up and lived a good long while in a society in which magic had been accepted and appreciated, could become so entrenched in his belief of its wickedness. Magic had only been viewed in such a way for thirty years or so, less than half of Lord Farnham's life. Did the man not remember his youth?

Apparently he didn't, because his eyes were blazing with loathing when he looked at Merlin, the enchanter who had dared to invade his court.

"That boy is a sorcerer!" he hissed, jabbing a finger in Merlin's direction.

Merlin took a deep breath to rein in the quick burst of his temper; if one more person referred to him as a boy, he was going to hex someone. He was near to thirty years old, he was certainly no child, and he did not appreciate being treated as such. Maybe he should grow a beard, something to prove that he was not nearly as young as he apparently looked.

But that was not the only insult to his person that Lord Farnham wished to impart.

"How do we know that he is not in league with Morgana and only proposing an alliance to give her an in? How can we ever believe that he would willingly fight against one of his own?" he said with an accusatory viciousness that had him spitting.

"Morgana is not one of us," Merlin said sharply, indignation flaring within him at the comparison.

He was not like her, he would never be like her. The rustling of cloaks and clink of chainmail just over his shoulder told him that Gerund and Mordred were as upset by the suggestion of their complicity as he was.

"With her hatred and her violence, she disgraces us all. The dark spells that she employs are as illegal in my kingdom as they are in yours. She is a blight upon the name of all magic and she will find no sympathy among my people, you can rest assured of that."

"How can you expect us to believe a word that you say?" the second Lord to have spoken asked. "You have already proven yourself to be deceitful in all that you do. We have no reason to trust that your warnings are in any way genuine."

"My deceit was to preserve my life," Merlin said coldly. "If I had been genuine, then I would have been killed."

"Then perhaps you should have known better than to darken Camelot's door in the first place."

"Camelot is my home," Merlin said, knowing in his heart of hearts that there was nothing truer. "Carthis may be the kingdom of my forefathers, but Camelot will always be my home. I have protected her for years and I will not stop that simply because I no longer live within her borders."

"Camelot is no home for filthy sorcerers like you!" roared the older knight who had led Merlin and his party from the courtyard.

Abruptly, he drew his sword, the ring of the steel echoing around the chamber as it slid from its sheath. The knight charged at Merlin with a cry of rage. The other knights of Camelot armed themselves as well, though they did not follow their fellow's charge, instead casting uncertain looks at Arthur as if inquiring as to whether they should stop him or help him.

erund immediately drew his sword and moved to meet the knight before he could reach his target, but Merlin did not wish for the situation to escalate any further than it already had. Before any weapons could make contact, one spell from Merlin saw the knight encased in a dome shield. He ran headfirst into the barrier, bouncing back to hit the other side of it.

Gasps sounded throughout the room at the sudden appearance of the thing, at the sight of magic being performed in the heart of Camelot. The knight gawped at the golden cage that had suddenly sprung up to enclose him, spinning around on the spot in horror. He dropped his sword and began to bang his fists against it, his mouth open in what was obviously a shout, but no sound reached those watching.

Everyone in the room was frozen still, staring openly and too shocked to respond as the knight gave up his pounding in favor of leaning his entire weight against the barrier, pushing and shoving and hoping that he could break through by brute force alone. Uncertain murmurs arose among the council members when they realized that Merlin was making no move to do anything else, that he had restrained the man without doing him any harm even though his life had been directly threatened.

"Let him go, Merlin," Arthur ordered with no small amount of amusement in his tone. "I think he's learned his lesson."

Merlin shrugged and waved his hand. The dome disappeared and the knight, formerly supported by it, went sprawling across the floor in a very undignified heap. He scrambled to his feet, snatching up his sword from the ground. He lunged for Merlin with a snarl, but he found that he was met not with his target but with the sword of his king.

Arthur disarmed the knight with one swift move and held the tip of his sword to the man's throat, all traces of amusement gone from his face.

"You have attacked a king, Sir Bruin," he said slowly and clearly, "and a guest in my court. That in itself is a hanging offense. However, if I know Merlin—and I am quite sure that I do—then he will not wish for you to be punished for this."

He sent a sidelong glance at Merlin, looking for confirmation, and Merlin gave it with a nod; he had wanted to make a point, not get anyone hanged. He did not need to cause any harm in order to defeat someone, though he would hardly have needed to move a muscle in order to strike the knight down. He was, in fact, capable of restraint and mercy, sorcerer or no.

Arthur turned back to the knight, whose face had paled considerably now as the enormity of his offense sunk in. Arthur let him sweat for a moment more before he removed his sword from Sir Bruin's throat, sheathing it with a flourish. He looked around the room, making certain to meet each person's eye before he spoke again.

"This man is the only reason that Camelot still stands," he said with a gesture at Merlin.

"And just what do you mean by that?" a councilor asked.

"I mean exactly what I say, Lord Travin. It has come to my attention in recent months just how many times Merlin has been personally responsible for the safekeeping of my kingdom. The water-born plague several years ago that killed dozens of people in the lower town: Merlin determined its origins and how to cure it. The living gargoyles which nearly destroyed the castle: Merlin overpowered the eternal soul of Cornelius Sigan and stopped their attack. The immortal army—both immortal armies—to have laid siege to the citadel: Merlin destroyed them nearly singlehandedly. It was only through Merlin's efforts that we were able to take the citadel from Morgana the last two times.

"Each and every one of you owes his life to Merlin. As does every man, woman, and child in this kingdom. And I will not allow you to repay that debt with violence and disrespect."

In the silence that followed, Gwaine stepped forward to stand at Merlin's shoulder, bowing respectfully to him before turning to face the rest of the room resolutely. As soon as he had, the rest of the Knights of the Round Table followed, falling in on either side of Merlin in an obvious show of solidarity. The others watched mutely as the number of people standing in support of Merlin grew, Gaius joining the group next, and Gerund and Mordred moving to flank them all.

The final straw came when Guinevere moved to insinuate herself at Merlin's side, nudging her brother out of the way so that she could take Merlin's hand in her own. The sight of their king, their queen, their physician, and their best knights clustered around the sorcerer with blatant trust shining through on all of their faces was the only thing that could have convinced them.

One by one, ever so slowly, the other knights of Camelot came forward to stand cautiously with their own; they had to trust in the judgment of their comrades, or else they could trust no one at all. Soon the councilors began to join them, nodding their tentative acceptance. There were a few hold outs, the antagonistic Sir Bruin and the glowering Lord Farnham at the forefront of the small group, but they were faced with the staunch support of their sovereigns and the majority of their peers and so wisely held their tongues.

Finally, Arthur turned to face Merlin and held out his hand. Merlin mirrored him and they grasped each other's forearms tightly. There was something in the moment, something weighty and uplifting at the same time, some sense of significance, as if everything had been leading up to this moment. This, the two of them standing side by side, fighting together as equals, had been destined from the beginning of time. It was a long, suspended moment in which everything clicked into place.

"I would offer you my support in this endeavor, King Arthur," Merlin said solemnly.

"Your people will aid me?" Arthur asked.

"Carthis will stand with us both."

"Then I will be glad of your help. And I will be more than honored to fight alongside you, King Merlin."

Arthur's eyes glistened with the light of sincerity, of true esteem. Merlin tightened his grip on Arthur's forearm.

"Then let us fight."