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

Author's Note: So, apparently, my muse has taken hold again ::sweat-drop::. This is a short chapter, but it gets us back on track with the singular P.O.V.'s (at least for the moment). It also sets up the (multiple) directions Morgana's character can take. I'm dallying back and forth between two options, but you will know for sure which path she'll take in the next chapter. Now if I can only get my thoughts down on paper…Please enjoy this (short) chapter!

Reviewers: All 327 of you, thank you!

Rating: T/M

Summary: Three years have passed since Merlin's partial reveal of his magic. On the eve of their assault on Helios and Morgana's forces, Emrys must finally reveal himself in full. Quite without his knowing, it alters the entire course of Camelot's future—as well as his own, with the Once and Future King…[Ambiguous Relationship (Merlin/Arthur)]

"Speech"

Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)

.:A Man's Measure:.

By Sentimental Star

VIII: The King's Grace (Part 19)

It took Arthur a moment to see one Merlin instead of two, and two fists clenched against the stone floor instead of four, but the double-vision did finally subside, as did the roiling nausea of his stomach.

Once it had, Arthur shoved himself up with trembling arms—first to his knees and then to his feet. Then he dragged himself over to Guinevere as the woman stirred, uncurling from the heap she had landed in.

Blinking slowly, she sat up, a livid red bruise—a match to the one Merlin's face still carried four days after confronting Agravaine—covering her cheek.

Arthur rested his hand firmly against her back to support her as she straightened up, watching with carefully controlled fury as she gingerly assessed the state of her health.

He chose not to contemplate the fact that this was the first he had touched her since Ealdor, choosing instead to shift his focus to Isolde. Helios was fortunate to already be dead. Merlin had been far more merciful than Arthur would have been.

"How is she?" he rasped; half of his focus preoccupied by the licks of blue flame pouring off Merlin as their beloved friend faced Morgana.

Tristan heaved a breath, looking up from monitoring Isolde's pulse after he examined the wound: "Still with us," the man's voice had taken on a gravelly quality. "The wound's deep and it's bleeding, but she's still with us."

The older knight had not gone unscathed, either. Half his face bore scuff marks and scratches from where he had not quite managed to avoid some of the debris the ceiling's collapse had kicked up.

But they had all made it.

Arthur heaved a breath of his own, helping Guinevere to her feet as she attempted to stumble over to check on Isolde.

Once she collapsed beside the couple, Arthur left her there, staggering over to where Merlin stood between the four of them and Morgana, despite the shield surrounding them.

Pressing his hand against the transparent barrier, the king pushed…and found it unyielding beneath his palm.

His heart skipped a beat, jumping into his throat, and tension seeped back into his shoulders as he began to understand precisely what Merlin intended the shield to do.

"Merlin," he rasped, shoving both hands and forehead against the barrier between them, sick with the knowledge that he could do nothing. "You can't do this," ground out harshly, "you can't. Not like this…not without me-!"

His voice cracked on the last word and Merlin stiffened, clearly hearing him.

"Arthur, when will you learn…" the warlock murmured at last, lifting his head and turning to face him, eyes swirling gold, but his crooked smirk heartbreakingly familiar and warm, "the world has much greater concerns than the King of Camelot. But this…I was born to do this, Arthur. To serve you…and protect you. It's what I've always done, which I think you know."

"Merlin, please…" Arthur's voice cracked twice, his palms flattening themselves against the barrier, as if by the sheer force of his desperation alone he could make it disappear. "I'll make it an order if I have to-!"

Another, even more crooked smirk, and an equally dear snort, "Arthur…when have I ever followed your orders?"

His eyes wet, Arthur opened his mouth to snap a hot retort…when a wicked burst of Morgana's magic exploded against Merlin's side, sending the warlock reeling.

"NO!" Arthur threw himself against the shield, receiving a large bruise on his forehead to complement the one on his chin and ears that rang twice as loudly for all his efforts. "Merlin! Merlin!"

His clear panic had Gwen half-lurching to her feet as she attempted to rise and aid Merlin, who had landed—all 6'3" of him—sprawled across the floor mere feet from her, still outside the barrier.

But she had suffered a concussion as well, possibly worse than Arthur's, and her legs gave out beneath her, forcing her to sit.

Arthur managed to half-stagger, half-collapse against the barrier beside his best friend, shoving his shoulder into it with every ounce of energy he possessed, knowing it was futile, but wild with desperation, "Merlin…! Merlin…!"

Then, blessedly, a groan, and Merlin slowly sat up, cradling his doubtlessly spinning head.

As his eyes opened, they fixed on Arthur, and the king shoved himself against the shield, willing the tremor out of his voice, "Drop the barrier," he commanded tightly, "Merlin, please—"

Merlin shook his head, groaning softly and screwing his eyes shut as his body apparently decided to inform him of the idiocy of that idea.

"I can't," he forced out quietly, "Isolde—and Tristan…Gwen—"

"Then drop it around me," Arthur demanded, clenching his fists against the transparent surface as he glared at his beloved friend, "I know you can-!"

Merlin opened one eye to scowl at him, the heel of his palm shoved against the other, "That's even more idiotic that your first suggestion, you arse."

"Merlin-!"

"How quaint," Morgana's disgusted voice muttered, causing Merlin and Arthur to snap their heads up as she neared them, hands and eyes crackling with power. To their surprise, she let it go out, perhaps equally grateful for the momentary halt. As horrible as Merlin looked, Morgana appeared just as bad, the tells of her battle with Merlin lining her face for all to see, "I never could understand why you cared so much for a big-eared boy from the country."

Arthur looked straight at her, echoing Merlin's every move as the warlock used the sturdy barrier at his back to help him stand: "That is a lie," he stated softly. "You know exactly how much I feel for Merlin…because you felt the same way about Gwen."

As Merlin leaned back against the shield, attempting to catch his breath, Morgana's face turned stormy, "Until she betrayed me!"

Arthur opened his mouth to retort, but Merlin beat him to it, effectively returning Morgana's focus squarely to him, "Only because you betrayed her first."

Uttering a mental curse, Arthur waited with bated breath to see how Morgana would respond.

She shot Merlin a contemptuous look, one Arthur recognized from candelabra-lit dances when he watched her handle over-eager suitors, "Well you would know all about betrayal, wouldn't you, Merlin?"

Arthur's stomach dropped as Merlin winced and stepped away from the shield, removing the hand he had placed against it at some point during their argument.

He glanced at his best friend, alarm and worry twisting his intestine.

"Merlin…?" he murmured.

Merlin returned the look, guilt and sorrow and any one of half a dozen other emotions tightening his face.

"What is she talking about?" Arthur tried not to let the fright seep into his voice.

Unable to articulate a response, Merlin glanced away, impatiently swiping at…were those tears?

Shit. What the bloody hell happened?

"Haven't told him yet, have you?" the taunt and its accompanying sneer jerked Arthur's attention back to Morgana. "What you've done to him…what you did to me…"

Arthur clenched his teeth, quickly losing patience with this conversation. Mostly because of the pain and dark things and ghosts Morgana's words seemed to bring to the forefront of Merlin's expression.

He realized, quite abruptly, that he did not care about anything Merlin might or might not be hiding. If they caused his beloved friend that much grief—

"Be quiet, Morgana," he gritted out between his teeth, pressing his hands and forehead even harder against the shield where Merlin's shoulder blade rested, its magic buzzing against his skin.

"Why?" Morgana snorted. "Don't you want to know all the secrets he's hidden? All the lies he's told you?"

Merlin was shaking, drawing into himself as he had in the aftermath of their confrontation with Agravaine, and Arthur heard again the cry that had unintentionally revealed to him the darkest part of Merlin's soul: "I am not that much of a monster…!"

Arthur's head shot up to glare at her, "I said…shut up, Morgana! It is not your place to tell me this! If, in fact, he has lied to me, then there is a perfectly acceptable reason why. Which he has the right to explain! And if you are hoping to turn me against him by revealing his magic—magic, by the way, he has used since we stormed the Citadel—then I can happily say I've known he has magic for three years!"

Startled, Morgana fell back, the fire ball she had begun to conjure sputtering out in her hands, "W-What?" she stammered.

Arthur saw Merlin glance sharply at her and a swift glance down at Guinevere's wide eyes revealed his sister's former maidservant had received the same flash of insight as the two of them: this Morgana was more their Morgana that she had been since this entire confrontation began.

Arthur rushed to capitalize on it: "Morgana…Merlin told me he had magic over three years ago. I never said anything to you because…well…Father was still alive for one."

A lump formed in Arthur's throat as he recalled those years, wondering—not for the first time—why he had chosen to say nothing of this to Morgana. He knew what her sympathies had lain, but…

Well, Merlin was never going to be anything he would willingly compromise, not matter how much he had honestly trusted her.

As if he had sensed the thought (he probably had), Merlin raised his head and tilted up his chin—dear and defiant and always, always the bravest man Arthur had ever met.

The lump swelled, his throat aching with how much he meant his next words: "I chose him long ago," Arthur whispered, keeping their gazes locked together as he willed them to impress themselves on the other man's soul. "Surely you knew that, Morgana."

Merlin abruptly broke their gaze, his eyes dropping to the ground as a soft red hue flashed across his cheeks.

Arthur's heart gave a desperate stutter, no matter how hysterically his mind insisted now wasn't the time for this—

Morgana snorted, "You disgust me. Softness and kindness and compassion never made for a strong king."

Her moment of vulnerability had come and gone. Arthur glared at her.

"Once upon a time," he remarked softly, "you told me that they did. Where has that sister gone, Morgana?"

Morgana shrieked, an incoherent sound of fury and grief and rage, hurling a lance of lightning directly at the barrier—and the people behind it.

Merlin stepped straight into it.

Arthur slammed against the shield, "Merlin!"

TBC