A/N: I honestly can't remember if I was supposed to post this today or yesterday. So. If it's late, then I apologize. If not, then I still need to work on my time management skills and know what day it is. But hey, I remember the godforsaken line break. Go me.
**EDITED**
Merlin stayed in Camelot until well past dusk, sitting in on Arthur's war council. His attendance made things very tense in the beginning, some of the council members reluctant to discuss their tactics with a perceived enemy in the room, but his active participation—and his restraint from actually performing any more magic in their presence—thawed most of the ice after a while.
Arthur's attitude helped a great deal as well. Not once did he look askance at Merlin when he made a suggestion that involved the use of magic, and he did not hesitate to take up the proposal if he thought it would be in the best interests of the defense of his people. He treated Merlin with as much respect and consideration as he had any other ally that he had ever worked with, no more and no less, and the council was soothed and reassured by the familiarity of that.
It probably helped that Merlin did not look as he had just a short two months ago, nor did he act as he had. He did not shuffle his feet or bow his head, he did not blend back into the shadows, he did not divert attention elsewhere, and he did not trip over his own feet or smile like an idiot. Instead he exuded an aura of competency, standing tall and meeting their eyes steadily and without the slightest hint of self-consciousness.
By the time the candles had begun to burn low in their holders, it was decided that there could be no more planning that night. They still did not know when Morgana's attack would come, and there was little more to be done until they had more concrete information to work with. Merlin rubbed at his eyes, which were gritty and tired from long hours of poring over maps by candlelight, and scanned the room for his companions.
Sir Gerund was speaking with some of the more open-minded knights of Camelot, who looked only mildly uncomfortable with the knowledge of what he was rather than afraid, most likely explaining in more detail what the other mages would be doing when they arrived to help defend the citadel; it would be less of a distraction to them while they were fighting if they had some idea of what was coming.
Mordred was not with him though, and Merlin frowned. He hoped Mordred had not transported back to Carthis on his own; Merlin had been hoping to delegate a rather important task to him. Almost immediately, as though summoned by the thought, the young knight appeared at his side.
"Are you ready for us to return to Carthis?" he asked.
"Actually, Mordred, you are to remain here," Merlin said.
"What?" Mordred asked in surprise. "Why?"
"I am putting you in charge of organizing the magical defense," Merlin told him firmly; he had been thinking of this all day and he had no doubts in his mind that it was the best course of action.
Mordred, judging by the dumbfounded expression on his face, did not agree.
"But, Merlin…I don't have hardly any experience in matters such as these," he argued. "Surely there are better candidates, someone older and more—"
"Mordred," Merlin stopped him. "You may be young, but you are a skilled swordsman and an incredibly powerful warlock. And more important than that, you know this castle. And you know Morgana. There is no one better suited."
Mordred swallowed hard, not looking at all convinced, and his eyes flickered over Merlin's shoulder. Merlin followed his gaze to find Arthur, speaking quietly with Sir Leon, and he understood Mordred's reluctance.
The vision from the Vates played out behind his eyes, Mordred in black armour and Arthur falling to his knees before him, but it was soon replaced with the memory of Mordred's horrified expression, his tearful pleas and desperate protestations upon learning of his fate, and Merlin's misgivings faded away immediately.
Mordred was his man through and through. He had no reason, no reason at all, to betray them, not with Arthur's stance on magic having changed so completely. And besides, even if Mordred had wanted to turn against them, it would prove rather difficult for him now; after his obvious loyalty to Merlin in Carthis, Morgana would want nothing to do with him anymore. Their fated union looked to be highly unlikely now, and if that portion of the prophecy was so thoroughly negated, then perhaps the rest of it could be avoided as well.
Merlin turned back to Mordred, who was biting his lip, and gripped his shoulder tightly.
"I trust you, Mordred," he said.
The young knight looked up at him with bright, worried eyes. He was doubting himself, going through every possible scenario in his head and looking for ways that he could prove a danger to Arthur. It saddened Merlin to see it, the fear and the self-loathing, and to know that he had put it there. Knowledge of one's own fate was a heavy burden to bear, but this self-awareness would be what saved Mordred from himself in the end.
Merlin gave Mordred a little shake to pull him from his thoughts, to make sure that he was listening properly. "I trust you," he repeated firmly.
Mordred swallowed audibly and nodded, slowly at first and then more quickly, as if he were steeling himself.
"Thank you, Merlin," he whispered, saying Merlin's given name with as much respect and reverence as he once had Emrys. It seemed to mean so much more now, bringing a warm sort of feeling in Merlin's chest and an incredible fondness for the boy before him who had become such a great friend to him. "I will not disappoint you."
"I know you won't," Merlin said with a smile.
"Merlin!" The two of them turned to see Arthur striding toward them. "You seem to have appropriated one of my knights," he said haughtily, fingering the Ambrosius blue cape on Mordred's shoulders where there once had been Pendragon red.
"Er, yes, well…" Merlin stammered, realizing at once that Arthur had given Mordred permission to visit Carthis and had fully expected for him to return. "He, er, he was going to come back, but then…um…"
It's alright, Merlin, Mordred thought, broadcasting it into his mind. He's going to find out during the battle anyway.
Then you should tell him yourself, Merlin thought back. He deserves to hear it from you.
Mordred took a deep breath and stepped forward, anxious but determined nonetheless to be honest.
"Actually, Arthur, sire," he said, then stopped to clear his throat. He raised his chin resolutely. "I have been dubbed a mage of Carthis."
Arthur simply looked at him for a moment, his brow furrowing. Then he nodded slowly.
"Yes, I guess that makes sense," he said.
Merlin and Mordred exchanged glances; they had expected a bit more of a reaction than that. He had been furious upon finding out that Merlin had been a sorcerer, although he had come around with time, but he apparently wasn't all that fussed about Mordred. Merlin wasn't sure whether to be relieved or annoyed.
"It…it does?" Mordred asked uncertainly.
"Well, you are a Druid," Arthur pointed out, as if they didn't already know that. "It was never that far out of the range of possibilities."
He had a fair point with that. The Druids were a primarily magical people, steeped in spiritualism and the esoteric, and there were far more Druids with magic than there were without. Arthur looked a little sheepish now, as if he was embarrassed that it had never occurred to him before that Mordred might have magic. Merlin thought that there had probably been some willful blindness there, a refusal to even consider such a thing. But now that it had been pointed out, it must have seemed very obvious.
"So you don't…mind? You're not angry?" Mordred pressed, already sounding infinitely relieved.
"I can no more be angry at you than I can at Merlin," Arthur said with a shake of his head. "With the laws being the way that they were, I could not possibly fault you for protecting your own life. This is just another reason for the laws to be changed. I can no longer condone the senseless persecution of good people. You served me well, Mordred, and I will be sad to see you go, but I acknowledge that your skills are perhaps more suited to Merlin's command than they would be to mine," he admitted.
"It would be a privilege to serve either of you," Mordred proclaimed, looking between them eagerly and appearing torn, apparently unable to choose one of them over the other.
Merlin rolled his eyes at his enthusiasm, smiling in spite of himself.
"It's not like it makes that much of a difference, really," he said. "In serving me, he will be serving you."
"What do you mean by that?" Arthur asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I will always be your servant, Arthur," Merlin said. Till the day I die. He had told Arthur that once before, and he meant it to this day. Even with a crown on his own head and an entire kingdom at his command, Merlin would always think of Arthur as his king, the Once and Future King. He would follow him to the mouth of hell and back; in fact, he was fairly certain that he already had. And he would do it again without a second's hesitation.
Arthur's face softened into a small, impossibly fond smile that Merlin could not help but return.
"You don't need to be my servant anymore, Merlin," he said. "Even if you follow me, you will do so as my friend."
"I have never wanted anything more."
The moment was broken by the approach of Sir Gerund, who gave a slight bow to Arthur before turning to his own king.
"The hour grows late, sire," he said. "It may be best that we return to Carthis for the evening. It is possible that the Priests will need your help in setting up the Barrier."
"You're right, of course," Merlin said.
He was rather looking forward to seeing his idea come to fruition. Kane had confirmed that the Perimeter could indeed be made solid if enough magic was put into it, but he was not entirely sure that they had that much magic at their disposal, even with all the Priests combined. Maintaining the dome's impermeability would be a simple matter once it was put into place, the magic recycling itself through grounding crystals and only needing a relatively small influx to replace the wisps of magic that regularly escaped into the atmosphere, but Merlin might prove to be the only one with power enough to provide that first flood of magic necessary for making the thing into an actual solid barricade.
"Sir Mordred will be staying here to coordinate the joint effort," he said.
"A good choice for it, my Lord," Gerund said with a proud smile that made Mordred blush slightly, not used to such outpourings of esteem. "Shall we go?"
"We shall. Oh, wait! I nearly forgot!" he said abruptly, fishing around in his pocket for the charm that had been given to him by his cousin.
He had been more than a little surprised when Lord Ellison had called him back after the war meeting when he had proposed coming to Camelot's aid—and, incidentally, when he had thoroughly humiliated the man's father, but Ellison hadn't seemed nearly as upset by that as Tennison had—and pressed into his hand two of the little talismans, saying that they were communication charms that his father had been developing with the Lower Priests for weeks. They were functional now, and he had thought that Merlin might be able to make use of them.
The gesture had touched Merlin more than he would be willing to say, and he had thanked him profusely for them, knowing that they would indeed come in handy.
"Here," he said, handing Arthur the charm.
Arthur took it with a raised eyebrow, examining the small metal disk embossed with a number of runes that he did not understand and the leather straps attached to either side of it, made to be fastened together. Then he gave Merlin a rather sarcastically pleased face.
"Oh wow, Merlin, a bracelet. It's just what I've always wanted," he exclaimed. He rolled his eyes. "As if you weren't already enough of a girl."
Merlin was too caught up in a rush of happiness at the lighthearted teasing that he had never expected to hear again to even be annoyed by the insult. Instead he laughed, slightly out of place but free and unrestrained all the same.
"It's not purely for decorative purposes, Arthur," he chortled. "They're communication charms."
"They're what?" Arthur asked, baffled by the unfamiliar term.
"They will allow you to contact me immediately, even if I'm a kingdom away," Merlin said.
"How so?" Arthur asked skeptically, giving the little thing in his hand a dubious look.
"Here, look," Merlin said as he shook back his sleeve to show that he had an identical bracelet already around his wrist. "I have one too, just the same. They're connected. If I hold it tightly, like this—" Merlin wrapped his hand around his wrist so that the metal was pressed directly against his skin. "—and I think of you—" The charm in Arthur's hand began to emit a faint white light and Arthur nearly dropped it in surprise as the metal grew hot against his fingers. "—then that happens. Now you try, go on."
Arthur was holding the thing away from him in two fingers, though his nervousness decreased when it stopped glowing. At Merlin's urging, he tentatively clasped the talisman in his fist and closed his eyes, obviously thinking hard. Merlin had to fight back a whoop of triumph as he felt his own charm heat up against his wrist.
Arthur opened one eye to see if it was working and Merlin held up his arm to show him that it was, beaming. The slow grin that crossed Arthur's face, the look of almost childish wonder, made Merlin's chest hurt in the best way possible.
"See? We can use this to send signals to each other. This way you can alert me when the fight is about to begin," Merlin explained. "When you first get word of Morgana's approach, use this and hold the connection for at least three seconds and I will come to your aid with the troops that I promised. Anything less than that three seconds, and I'll assume that you're in immediate danger and come straightaway, with backup or without it."
He would fight an entire army alone if he had to, if that's what it would take to keep Arthur safe. He did not say that out loud, but Arthur seemed to hear it anyway. He nodded his understanding and allowed Merlin to fasten the bracelet around his wrist, spinning it around so that the charm would rest on the underside where the skin was most sensitive.
"Don't forget," Merlin said.
"I'm not going to forget, Merlin. How stupid do you think I am?" Arthur asked indignantly.
"Well…" Merlin said, drawing the word out teasingly.
Arthur punched him in the arm, but the smile on his face belayed any actual affront. They both seemed to realize at once that Merlin was going to have to leave now, that he was going back to Carthis, and their joviality deflated a bit to leave a slightly awkward silence in its wake.
"Well…" Merlin repeated, sadly this time rather than playfully. "I guess I'd better go."
"Yes. You have things to attend to, I'm sure," Arthur said gruffly.
Merlin did indeed have plenty of things to attend to, so much that he hardly knew where to start.
He had a sudden, nearly overwhelming urge to just pass it all off to Arthur. Arthur was used to being king, he was good at that, he knew what he was supposed to be doing. While he had improved in leaps and bounds since his coronation, Merlin still felt like he was blundering around in the dark sometimes. What he wouldn't have given in that moment just to be a servant again, for his most pressing concern to be whether or not he had remembered to polish Arthur's armour for the next tournament.
But the feeling passed quickly. Carthis was his kingdom, his responsibility, and he would do his best by it. He had Gerund and his council for advice, and he had the support of his friends back, which made all the difference in the world. If they believed in him, then he would damn well believe in himself.
"That I do," he said.
He offered his hand to Arthur, but Arthur bypassed the handshake and pulled him in for a hug instead, as if, now that he had finally admitted openly to liking Merlin, he had broken the dam and couldn't stop showing his affection.
"I'll be back in a day or two," Merlin laughed, though he hugged Arthur back just as tightly.
"I know. Take care, Merlin," Arthur said, pulling back to squeeze Merlin's shoulder.
Merlin nodded to him, and to Mordred, and then gestured to Sir Gerund. Gerund placed a hand on Merlin's arm and Merlin reached for the pendant around his neck, taking one last long look around the council chamber of Camelot before he muttered the words of the transportation spell that would take them back to Carthis.
Merlin was woken up the following morning by Raime bumping him in the shoulder with his hip, his hands busy with a plate of breakfast. Merlin startled upright, confused for a moment at the unusual view until he realized that he must have fallen asleep at his desk. He had only intended to go over a few things before going to bed, thinking that it would just take a couple of minutes, but the candles on either end of the desk had melted down a good bit at his last remembrance.
He scratched sheepishly at the back of his head as Raime gave him a scolding look, nudging the papers out of the way so that he could set down his platter.
"You need to take care of yourself, Merlin," Raime said.
"I have more important things to be doing right now," Merlin tried to say, but it came out as a loud, slightly garbled yawn. "This is going to be the first battle I've conducted, and we're going into it practically blind. I need to know the plan inside and out if I expect all of my men to come out of this battle alive."
He had never eaten any supper the night before, he realized as the delicious smells wafted up at him from the enormous pile of food before him. He dug in eagerly, not caring about maintaining a regal bearing when it was just his manservant present.
Raime chuckled a bit as he went about tidying up the chambers and setting out a change of clothes for him.
"The fighters know the risks," he pointed out. "They knew them when they signed up. Falling in battle is an occupational hazard. You can't possibly expect every single man to survive."
Merlin set back down the sausage he had been about to eat, suddenly feeling a bit queasy.
"I know," he said. "But that doesn't mean I can't hope for it."
This was the part of being king that he had dreaded most, and the part that he had seen Arthur struggle with for years. Neither of them had ever wanted anyone else to die for them. But it was a hallmark of kingship that the most dangerous tasks be delegated to others, that king and kingdom be protected at all costs.
It was incredibly humbling to know that there were men out there, men that he knew, men that he had trained with, who would be willing to give their lives to keep him safe and to defend their kingdom. Merlin would have died for Arthur in a heartbeat, but it was so much different being on the other end of it.
It turned Merlin's stomach to know that, in just a few short days, several of his men were likely to be dead because he had volunteered them for this. Battles on the scale that they were expecting always resulted in casualties, and it had been Merlin's idea to involve Carthis in the struggle. He could have just gone himself, he could have protected Camelot as he had always done, without the aid of a horde of men at his back. But he had made that decision and he couldn't go back on it now.
No longer hungry, Merlin pushed the plate away and moved to change out of yesterday's clothes and into the fresh outfit that Raime had laid out for him.
"You won't be much good to your men if you forget to eat and don't get any sleep," Raime said chidingly.
"I know, I know," Merlin groused, his words muffled through the tunic he was pulling over his head.
"You claimed that you didn't need a manservant, but it's pretty clear that you need someone to look after you," Raime continued as Merlin sat down to pull on his boots.
"Yes, yes, Mother, I get it," Merlin sighed. "Eat and sleep and all that good stuff."
But Raime was ignoring his mutterings completely, picking up a bag from beside the door.
"That's why I'm coming with you," he said brightly.
"Wait, what?" Merlin yelped, nearly toppling over when he tried to leap to his feet while he was still lacing his boots.
"I'm coming with you," Raime repeated.
Merlin righted himself and leveled his manservant with as stern a look as he could manage while still half-dressed and with his boots untied.
"No, you most certainly are not," he said.
"Yes, I am."
"No, absolutely not."
"What if you need something? I'm your manservant, I should be at your side," Raime insisted.
"Following me into battle isn't exactly in your job description," Merlin countered.
"You followed Arthur into battle all the time," Raime said, and Merlin winced at just how true that was, how hypocritical it sounded for him to deny Raime. But there had been extenuating circumstances in his case.
"It is my destiny to keep Arthur safe, my sacred duty," Merlin said. "A battle is no place for you, Raime. You are no fighter."
"Neither were you!"
"Perhaps not, but that doesn't change the fact that I am the most powerful warlock to ever exist," Merlin said, near to tearing his hair out in exasperation.
The conditions were different, so different. He had never wanted to use his legendary power as an excuse or a justification, but he could not allow Raime to put himself in danger this way, not for his sake.
"No matter how bad things got, I could always fall back on raw power and be secure in the knowledge that no one could match me. You don't have that same security. Please, Raime, stay here."
"Why should I?" he demanded with that sort of bold, impetuous air that was only found in young men eager to prove themselves, his chin raised defiantly and his jaw set. He held the bag—which he had packed for himself, Merlin realized, and not for his master—closer to his chest protectively, as if thinking that Merlin was going to snatch it out of his hands. "I want to fight for you as much as everyone else does. Why shouldn't I?"
"Raime, I'm begging you. For my sake, if not for your own. I have already lost far too many friends. I don't want to lose you too."
Merlin's voice wavered a bit as the faces of all those whom he had lost swam in his mind: Lancelot, Will, his father, Freya. So many of Camelot's best knights, so many citizens who had had no part in the fighting. Merlin had known them all, had been friends with most. There had already been too many casualties in this war, too many innocent lives lost.
He didn't think that he could stand to see another friend fall, even one whom he had only known for a couple of months. Despite the class difference and the recentness of their acquaintance, Raime had indeed become his friend, and Merlin would protect him to the death as he would any of the other people he cared about.
This must have showed on his face and in his voice, because Raime's resolute expression faltered and his bravado deflated visibly. The tight grip he had had on the bag in his hands loosened gradually until the bag fell to the floor with a light thump, but he made no move to retrieve it. Instead, he simply fetched Merlin's jacket for him and held it out.
Merlin allowed Raime to help him into it and took the crown that was handed to him mutely. Raime looked so defeated that Merlin almost felt bad for not allowing him to fight, but he could not bring himself to regret the order to remain behind where it was safe. He stood awkwardly as Raime shuffled around the room, straightening things up and collecting his clothes to be laundered.
He was still in the same spot, his boots still unlaced, when Raime turned to leave, but his manservant stopped in the doorway and looked back at him.
"You're a good king, Merlin," he said softly. "And an even better man. And I would die for you as readily as any of your fighters."
"I would never ask you to," Merlin said.
A small smile appeared on Raime's face.
"And that's exactly why we would."
Merlin shook his head in wonder. "I have never done anything to inspire such loyalty," he said.
"You're you, Merlin," Raime said with a chuckle. "You inspire loyalty in every little thing you do."
Merlin shook his head again, not understanding Raime's devotion but touched beyond words by it. Raime made as if to leave again, but he did not make it past the door before he stopped once more, hesitating before turning back.
"Merlin, just…I know that Arthur is going to be your priority," he said, "but…make sure that you come back too."
"I will," Merlin promised him solemnly.
He had no intention of dying in this battle, not now, not when everything was finally coming together. He would not allow Morgana to take from him everything that he had gained. He had Arthur's trust and his esteem, he had a beautiful kingdom at his command, he had the loyalty of his men and the love of his people. He had the freedom to be who he was without fear of reprisal.
He was so close to seeing his and Arthur's destiny realized. He would not allow Morgana to stand in the way of that. With Arthur at his side, there was no doubt in his mind that victory would be theirs. Raime bowed to him, a truly deferential bow that made Merlin flush in a way that he hadn't for weeks now, and left without another word, leaving Merlin alone.