The stares as the small party walked across the square were nothing short of spellbound. Many were openmouthed; a few standing in front of market stalls dropped baskets of fruit in surprise. And then, slowly, but building like wildfire, came the applause. Merlin winced against the volume but smiled nonetheless as they lined the cobblestone road, their arms waving as they shouted and cheered. The sound was tumultuous, joyful.
The king lives, they shouted.
Long live the king.
Long live King Arthur.
The crowd stretched all the way to the palace square, and their cries grew to an unbelievable pitch as Guinevere emerged from the palace doors. She seemed for a moment as if she was trying to remain stately, standing poised at the top of the steps in a ruby-red gown.
A second passed, two, and then she was flying down the stairs, her arms outstretched. Tears ran down her face and her smile was the broadest Merlin had ever seen.
"I knew you were coming back," she whispered, hugging Arthur fiercely.
"I told you I would," he murmured back, and he swept her off of her feet, carrying her back towards the castle.
The doors shut and the cheering began to slowly die away outside.
"I suppose you'll need this again," Gwen said, holding out Arthur's signet ring before embracing him a second time. Just as suddenly, she turned and hugged Merlin tightly. "Thank you," she whispered.
"I don't—"
"She knows, Merlin," Gaius shrugged, looking relatively unabashed.
"What? How?" Arthur seemed taken aback, and Gwen smiled.
"She's smarter than you give her credit for, sire. She figured it out after Camlann."
"So how are we going to go about this?" The queen asked matter-of-factly, looking regal once more as she sat in her throne.
"I'm sorry?"
"Repealing Uther's ban on magic. It seemed best to wait until you returned."
Morgana opened her eyes to find blackness.
She sat up slowly, warily, one hand held out in front of her face. As she lowered it she found a shape on her midsection, cool against her fingertips. It made a purring noise, and she recognized the sound as Aithusa. She let the dragon sleep, raising her hands once again to feel for her face. For a moment trepidation paralyzed her but she plunged forwards, her fingers splayed.
"No," she whispered, and began to sob in dry, broken wails.
The skin was taut, almost sticky in its ridged smoothness. The base of her nose felt flared, and she found the nostrils stretched and flattened upwards against her face. The lips, too, were pulled into a permanent sneer. Her eyelids were thick, shielding sightless eyes which unbeknownst to her had taken on a milky, opaque sheen. Even her hair had been burned away in the front, and what was left took the form of frizzed tufts on the back of her head.
Aithusa had woken to her mistress's distress and felt a deep sense of guilt that she had been unable to properly heal the sorceress. She had done her best… and left the once-beautiful woman terribly scarred.
Tentatively, she nosed at Morgana's hands, meaning to comfort her, but as her head touched the woman's fingers, Morgana jerked back with a cry.
"Aithutha," she lisped, her eyes wide. "Do it again!"
Bewildered, the dragon stretched out towards the sorceress, who took her head in both hands.
When the dragon's scales had brushed her hands the first time, a flash of light had flooded her brain. The second time, she could make out images. They hurt her head; the detail was too great, too focused, but she had seen trees and the sky and a wretched creature that could only be herself. She was seeing through the dragon's eyes. The moment her fingers left the scales, the vision dissolved.
"I can theeee," Morgana breathed, almost singing, her eyes screwed shut as she laughed.
Between Arthur, Merlin, and the small council they'd assembled to discuss Uther's ban, the queen was the most eager to set about allowing magic in Camelot. She said it was because she had realized just how big a part Merlin had played in keeping her husband alive as long as he had, but Merlin had begun to wonder if it wasn't the memory of her father's execution which drove her. She was tireless. She read every proposal and amended them, and stayed up late most nights writing some of her own.
For Merlin, the weeks since returning to Camelot were like a dream. After imagining a magical Camelot for years, the notion that it was finally happening seemed unreal. He kept expecting to wake up in his chambers, probably to Arthur yelling about something, and everything would be back to normal. He would go on hiding his magic from Arthur. He wasn't a dragon, or half-dragon, or whatever Kilgharrah had turned him into, and Morgana was still alive and angry. It didn't occur to him that she might have survived his attack. While Gwen was up writing proposals, he was awake and riddled with guilt. He often distracted himself by exploring the extent of his new powers.
His magic was even more powerful than it was before. He'd gone out into the woods one sleepless night to discover that he could uproot an entire tree with ease, only to grow a new one in its place with barely a thought. Shifting was becoming easier, too. Merlin found that he could choose how to transform—willing wings to appear from his shoulder blades, or a tail (not that he found much use in the latter). He could also conjure up scales, which he began to practice regularly. It got to the point where he was fast enough to protect himself from daggers or even arrows, often using his newly-scaled arm as a gauntlet.
On the day that Arthur finally repealed Uther's ban, he appeared on the balcony with Gwen on his left and Merlin on his right. It seemed all of Camelot had heard that the king was making an announcement and had found a spot on the cobblestone, standing elbow to elbow with their faces upturned. It was a sea of people and Merlin felt a thrill of fear in his chest.
"After much deliberation, I and a counsel of my most trusted advisors…" he paused, glancing at Merlin and Gwen each before taking a breath. "It has been decided that the laws banning sorcery and the Old Religion are hereby abolished."
There was the sound of scattered gasps, but a majority of the crowd—which had been chattering and jostling each other when the king first stepped out—had fallen still and silent.
"To that end, I, Arthur Pendragon, do install Merlin, son of Balinor, as Camelot's first Court Sorcerer and Magical Advisor to the King."