Another's Favor by ebhg

Rating: T

Pairings: Merthian/Arwen

Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.

Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.

A/N: Thanks for reviewing! Ilovethestorys, I chuckled to myself when I read your review- the moment you felt was a bit OOC for Merlin was a moment that I plucked and tweaked from the episode The Disir! When Arthur asks Merlin how he knew The Disir's location was sacred, Merlin said, "Everything here... is so full of life. Every tree, every leaf... ..every insect. It's as if the world is vibrating. As if everything is much more than itself." Arthur incredulously replied, "You feel all that?" and Merlin then asked, "You don't?

Other than Gwen's asking Merlin, rather than a knight, to protect Arthur, it was one of the only parts of that episode that I liked. A moment that should have been a major DUH! Merlin has magic! moment for Arthur. But I just despised how that conversation ended. ;)

Just a warning, there is a bit of whump in this chapter, but it is fleeting, and again, was tweaked from the show.


Truth Unveiled

The screams and shouts of the villagers echoed through the air as Merlin and Arthur ran towards the commotion. A shattered grain cart near the village entrance was burning, the smoldering wreckage strewn all across the village's main road. Arthur was grim-faced, determined to keep the damage to the village and its people to a minimum. His eyes reflexively scanned the perimeter, searching for weaknesses or strengths that could be used for either their detriment or their benefit.

Merlin's heart pounded as he followed Arthur, the both of them weaving through the fleeing women and children. The men of the village seemed reluctant to leave their hard-built homes and food stores. Several of them armed themselves with pitchforks and other harvesting tools, searching the darkness around them for the as-yet unseen threat.

"Get to the woods! Protect your families!" Arthur shouted as the thatched rooftops of the stone-walled huts in the village burst into flame all around them. "You will still have homes, I promise you! ON ME!" Arthur commanded as the last of the villagers disappeared into the surrounding woods. The king noted with satisfaction that his knights were there, swords in hand, before he even finished the words. More roofs set on fire, though the sorcerers casting the spells were staying just out of sight.

"You need not damage any more homes; these are innocent people you are hurting. It is me that you are here for. SHOW YOURSELVES!" Arthur screamed in anger. All around them, a rough-looking group of men moved silently from the shadows, eerily lit by the flickering flames of the now-engulfed roofs.

Merlin looked warily around at the rapidly encroaching band of sorcerers. Nearly all of them looked furious, the fires of rage lit within them; their desire for vengeance clear on their faces. Another rooftop catching fire behind them caused the king and his knights to duck reflexively, though the sorcerers kept coming. Arthur hurriedly took in the three-to-one odds and did the only thing he could in such a situation.

"FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!" he yelled, which each of the knights returned with equal fervor, all five of them charging forward with a battle cry on their lips.

Merlin watched in alarm as Arthur and the knights were stopped in their charge and knocked to the ground by magic. Arthur was quickly back on his feet, engaging the leader of the band with his sword. Gwaine was next, rushing towards the next closest sorcerer. The others had lost some of their courage after seeing how quickly Arthur and Gwaine had rebounded, but they rallied at their leader's encouraging shout and began to press forward once more. Little more than a few seconds had passed when Merlin suddenly recalled Will's angry words.

"If you used your magic, then no one else would have to die."

Gritting his teeth in determination, Merlin made his decision at the same moment the ring of attackers closed around them. The warlock growled under his breath as he recognised the man fighting Arthur as the man who had once tried to twist Mordred into his own weapon with the Crystal of Neahtid.

Alvarr retreated a few paces in the face of Arthur's superior swordsmanship, then thrust a hand out to blast the king off of his feet again. The spell never reached Arthur, for at that moment, Merlin stepped in front of his king and joined the fight with a great sweep of his right arm. Alvarr was pushed backwards into his companions so forcefully that eight of them were caught in a tangled heap nearly fifteen feet away. Another sweep, this time with Merlin's left arm, felled another five. With widened eyes, Alvarr struggled to his feet and turned to Merlin, who braced his feet and held both arms in front of him warningly.

Merlin could feel the eyes of his friends on him as he stood his ground, the groans of the felled attackers echoing in the stunned silence. Leon's mouth fell open in astonishment as he stood tall behind his king. Percival froze in place where he stood with a hand poised to haul Elyan to his feet. Gwaine and Arthur traded a look, awed at the warlock's seemingly effortless feat of throwing thirteen men.

Arthur was somewhat ashamed of himself for the hurt that had tried to spark to life in his heart when Merlin had so obviously and undeniably used magic. And powerful magic at that. The king concluded that his suspicions were quite accurate; the former manservant was definitely more than a dabbler.

As he watched Merlin's fierce, protective stance and saw the furious and begrudging respect from the other sorcerers as they slowly stood, Arthur's initial reaction melted away. He recalled his hours of contemplation and his conclusions from earlier and a great feeling of relief swelled within him. Fighting down his elation, Arthur took up a ready stance slightly behind and to the side of Merlin, eager to assist if need be.

"You're a traitor," Alvarr spat in Merlin's direction, holding his own hand at the ready as he began to slowly walk towards the warlock.

"I am nothing of the sort," Merlin denied, his voice strong, and not a little angry. "You have attacked innocent people this night, for what? Some petty revenge on a dead man? You are destroying this village for no purpose!" Merlin looked pointedly at the burning rooftops, his eyes flaring gold. The flames were instantly smothered without a word uttered from Merlin. Murmurs swept across the group of sorcerers.

"You would support a Pendragon with such power at your disposal?" Alvarr asked disgustedly.

"If you could give up this thirst for revenge and power, you would see that Arthur is nothing like Uther. You are doing magic users a great disservice by proving Uther's claims that sorcerers are dangerous and that magic corrupts," Merlin argued, his voice deepening in sorrow as he witnessed once again the destruction that vengeance wreaked upon good people.

"You know nothing of what I've been through," Alvarr growled, his voice trembling in fury. "And you would judge me, when I have been hunted and persecuted my whole life."

"You think I don't know your fear? That I know nothing of being persecuted or hunted or feared? You are mistaken."

"Empty words from a man who fights without fear beside a magic-hating king," Alvarr growled.

"My father had magic; he hid from Uther's persecutions, unknowingly leaving me fatherless. He was hunted and persecuted until he was killed by Uther's hatred, but none of that was Arthur's fault."

"You are foolish to believe otherwise. He is just the same as his father," Alvarr spat, jabbing a finger in Arthur's direction. Merlin kept his ground, hands still raised, trying to keep his voice level.

"No, he's not," Merlin insisted. "Do you think he would have a warlock for an advisor if he was?" Merlin didn't think it was prudent to admit that Arthur hadn't known that he had appointed a warlock to be his advisor. But Merlin had seen enough of Arthur's reaction as they had talked at the fire to know that Arthur was not angry about the warlock's magic. His silence, perhaps, but not his magic.

"You're nothing to me but a traitor," Alvarr repeated coldly, lifting his hand a little higher. Merlin kept his right hand raised in Alvarr's direction, though he moved his left when he noticed a few of the other men beginning to stir anxiously.

For a moment, no one seemed eager to move; Arthur and the knights realizing that they were outmatched by the magic-wielding attackers, and those same attackers hesitant to test Merlin's capabilities further. One man to Merlin's right drew the warlock's attention when he slid a short knife from his belt and flung it at Arthur. Merlin stopped it with a flash of his eyes, sending the knife back to the thrower faster than it had originally been thrown. A few of the attackers turned and abandoned Alvarr when they saw their comrade fall, his own knife in his chest a split second after it had left his hand.

Alvarr sneered at the fleeing men. He was unwilling to face Morgana's disappointment and rage if they should fail in this task. Concentrating for a moment, the rogue sorcerer conjured a sizeable fireball, throwing it at Merlin with a satisfied smirk. Alvarr's face paled, however, when Merlin reached out and absorbed the fiery orb in one hand.

"Stop this," Merlin said warningly, his face hardening.

Alvarr growled and conjured another fireball, sending this one at Arthur instead. Merlin's eyes flared gold as he flung a hand out, saying "Onsæceþ!"

The fireball froze against an invisible wall of energy, crackling and flaring until it rebounded with explosive force towards Alvarr. The last thought the former druid had was that he had seriously underestimated the power and control that the younger man possessed.

Chaos broke out as soon as Alvarr's body hit the ground. Most of the remaining rogues rushed forward, intending to overwhelm Merlin with sheer numbers. The warlock did not hesitate, throwing both hands forward and blasting all the rushing attackers off their feet. Merlin turned quickly to Arthur, opening his mouth to tell them to take cover, but Arthur's expression was suddenly panicked; the king raised his arm towards Merlin just as Gwaine cried out.

"MERLIN!"

Whirling around, Merlin was suddenly shocked by the piercing, agonizing pain that ripped through his right side. Gasping in shock, Merlin clutched at his lower ribs and realized that he had been shot with a crossbow bolt. Instinctively reaching a hand out in the direction of the bolt, Merlin just managed to freeze a second arrow and send it back at the shooter, dropping the man to writhe on the ground.

After a moment, Merlin's arm fell in sudden exhaustion. There was a tense silence as the warlock turned once more to look apologetically at Arthur. Merlin's head was spinning with dizzy pain, and he dimly recognised that he was going into shock. The warlock quickly looked over each of his friends' alarmed faces before he wavered and fell to his knees. He was dimly aware that Gwaine was rushing past him, sword at the ready and a cry of outrage on his lips.

Merlin swayed on his knees, trying to press ineffectually at the bolt lodged between his ribs before sitting heavily with his legs tucked beneath him. Just as he felt himself falling into unconsciousness, Merlin felt a pair of arms wrap around him. He was jolted back into awareness as the person sat on the ground and pulled him gently back into their chest. The warlock panted in shallow breaths as the bolt was jostled while the wound was inspected.

"Ahh!" he cried out as someone moved to pull the arrow out. "Don't, don't, don't," he murmured. He could feel the sweat beading on his clammy skin; Merlin was sure that if he could see himself, his face would be as pale as a ghost's.

"Merlin! We have to remove it, we need to treat you," a strained voice said over him. Merlin blinked blearily and realized that it was Arthur holding the warlock against him. Merlin slowly shook his head, grimacing as the motion pulled at his wound.

"Sire, I fear that only magic will save him," Leon said quietly, though Merlin had no memory of the loyal knight coming so close to him. Yet there he was, standing beside Arthur on Merlin's right side. Turning his head to the left, Merlin wondered for a second time how Percival and Elyan had gotten there.

"Heal yourself," Arthur commanded firmly, distracting Merlin from his mindless wanderings. Arthur's face belied the turmoil that he would not allow to taint his voice.

"Doesn' work tha' way," Merlin said, his voice raspy and weak as his words slurred slightly.

"Why not?!" Arthur argued. "What's the use of all this magic if you can't even heal yourself?! You just defeated more than a dozen men with barely a twitch of your finger and you can't heal a little arrow wound?!"

"Little?!" Merlin protested weakly.

"Please, Merlin. It's practically a flesh wound," Arthur teased, trying to lighten the situation. Merlin's eyes brightened as the king's taunt piqued his irritation.

"I'd like t' see you try i' on f'r size, then. See how you like i'," Merlin slurred back. Gwaine was suddenly there, leaning over the injured warlock.

"The bowman's dead, as are the men Merlin threw back. The leader is, well..."

"Dead?" Arthur asked dryly. They had all seen the size of the fireball that Merlin had thrown at the man.

"Well, that wasn't the word I was going for," Gwaine chuckled, stopping at the guilty look on Merlin's face.

"You did what you had to," Arthur reassured Merlin, clasping him on the shoulder in support. Merlin smiled back in thanks, then gasped as Arthur used his distraction to rip the arrow out and press a hand over the copiously bleeding wound.

"Do something, now," the king urged, alarmed at the ashen look of his advisor's face.

"I can' heal myself any more th'n Gaius can trea' himself," Merlin explained breathlessly, bringing Arthur back to his original question.

"Then what can you do?" Arthur asked frustratedly.

"Ar-thur, I'm sorry," Merlin said, grimacing.

"Don't say that, you're not going to die," Arthur said in frustration.

"No, I know I'm no'. Mithian would kill me," Merlin joked, his voice strengthening as he took a slow, measured breath and wincing as he chuckled. "It's jus' tha' you might no' be very pleased with who I'm abou' t' summon, bu' I promise... t' explain later."

"Summon?! Merlin you're not making any sense, though why I'm surprised, I don't know," Arthur scoffed.

Leon, Gwaine, Percival and Elyan gathered closer to lend a helping hand when the warlock tried ineffectively to sit up. It seemed to Merlin that they all felt the need to touch him, as though they were trying to decide if he were real. The dragonlord felt a little absurd, calling to Kilgharrah while propped up by his friends, but he was bleeding out too quickly to object. After a few quick, panting breaths to get his pain under control, Merlin let his head fall back.

"O drakon!" he called out, pausing to pant as a wave of pain wracked his body. "E mala soi... ftengometh... tesd'hup anankes! Erkheo..."

Merlin sagged backwards into Arthur once more, his energy spent.

"We should keep him warm," Leon said sensibly. Arthur nodded and the knights formed a human stretcher, lifting their warlock friend off of the king and carrying him to a place by the fire. Arthur followed and sat beside his advisor. Merlin's hand pressed weakly against his still bleeding wound as his eyes began to droop alarmingly. Arthur took Merlin's increasingly limp hand and held it tightly against the wound before taking a deep breath and searching his mind for something to try and keep Merlin awake.

"What can we do for you? What exactly was that supposed to do?" the king asked anxiously. Merlin shook his head, too tired to explain what he had done.

"I need... open space," Merlin muttered quietly, pressing his hand harder into his rapidly soaking side. Arthur looked to each of his men in turn, though the only thing they could offer was a shrug of their shoulders and a confused look.

"What do you-" Arthur began, though he was cut off when a dark shadow fell over the moon in the sky and an eerily familiar sound reverberated across the quiet night.

"What is that?" Elyan asked, looking upwards in alarm.

"Dragon!" Arthur exclaimed, jumping to his feet and scanning the sky anxiously even as Merlin groaned and called out in protest.

"He... is a... friend," Merlin panted, grasping at Arthur's ankle, trying hard not to lose consciousness.

"A friend?!" Leon said in startled alarm.

"Strange company you keep, Merlin," Gwaine commented dryly, his eyes locked onto the enormous beast presently circling overhead.

Before Merlin could utter a retort, Kilgharrah landed roughly in the field that bordered the village center, coming as close as he could to the central fire ring.

"What have you done to yourself now, young warlock?!" the dragon scolded. "Did I not tell you to be cautious?"

"Kilgharrah, please," Merlin groaned, pressing a hand ever tighter over the still bleeding wound.

"What is it you want me to do?" the dragon asked.

"Do you really need t' ask?!" Merlin replied exasperatedly. Kilgharrah merely raised his brow ridge and tucked his wings in tighter in response. Merlin sighed, dropping his head back in exhaustion as he clutched at his aching side and panted again.

"Damn dragon, nothin' 's ever simple with you, is it?" Merlin gasped. Arthur traded bewildered looks with his men. Merlin speaking with the dragon as though they were brothers was even more bizarre than realizing that Merlin was an incredibly powerful warlock.

"I need your help, old friend. Can you please heal me?" Merlin said somberly, finally lifting his head to meet the dragon's gaze. Kilgharrah bowed his head in submission and turned to address Arthur.

"You need to bring him closer to me," Kilgharrah ordered.

"You're supposed to be dead," Arthur said boldly, looking momentarily down at the pale warlock at his feet in his annoyance.

"Arthur, now really isn' the time," Merlin gasped, trying once again to get to his feet, and falling back with a groan when he couldn't.

"You're such an idiot sometimes, Merlin," Arthur muttered, looking significantly at the knights, all of them nodding and resuming their places to lift Merlin gently into the cradle of their arms. Slowly, warily, Arthur led the way towards the dragon, pausing about ten feet away from the great beast.

"How can we be certain that you won't harm him?" Arthur asked suspiciously. Kilgharrah narrowed his eyes at the king, though Arthur raised his chin defiantly and stared back. He was the king; he would not be cowed by a beast, powerfully magical though it may be.

"He called me here, did he not? I cannot disobey him, let alone harm him, for he is the last dragonlord. Within him, lies the potential future of my great race, and if you do not want him to die, I suggest you bring him closer," Kilgharrah said in irritation. Arthur hesitated for a second longer, then nodded begrudingly, looking down again at the now barely-conscious warlock.

"You will explain this later, Merlin."

Leon, Gwaine, Percival and Elyan knelt down in unison, gently laying Merlin at the dragon's feet before slowly backing away. Merlin had finally, mercifully lost consciousness and thus did not see the look on Arthur's face when The Great Dragon breathed his healing magic over the warlock. Nor did he see the astonishment on his friends' faces when the golden light enveloped Merlin in a soft glow, instantly smoothing the agony on his brow and warming the grey pallor of his face to a healthier hue.

Kilgharrah stepped back as the magic visibly undulated over the dragonlord, settling himself down into a comfortable position. Merlin had been severely wounded; Kilgharrah knew that the warlock had come close to death's door, yet as always, seemed to avoid crossing that threshold by a matter of minutes.

"That's it?" Gwaine asked in astonishment. "Why isn't he awake?"

Arthur nodded his agreement with the knight's questions, glad that Gwaine had asked the cantankerous dragon first.

"Do not assume that magic fixes everything in the blink of an eye," Kilgharrah reprimanded. Gwaine looked disbelievingly at the dragon.

"What did you do then?" Arthur asked.

"I gave him a spell to assist his body to heal using his own magic."

"He said that he could not heal himself," Arthur argued.

"That is true. It is never a good idea to try healing oneself, whether with medicine or with magic. Merlin would have been a fool to try and heal such an injury on his own."

"How long will it take to work?" Percival asked, looking at Merlin's rapidly healing wound.

"It depends on his own strength. The more powerful the warlock, the faster the spell will work, for even though I cast the magic, it is Merlin's own power that does the healing."

"Merlin seems very powerful," Arthur ventured, testing the dragon's willingness to reveal what Merlin had hidden for so very long.

"You cannot even begin to imagine the power the warlock wields, King Arthur. Neither can Merlin, for that matter," Kilgharrah said, only confusing the king further.

"Then he should be healed very quickly..." Percival said, watching in awe as the light surrounding Merlin intensified for just a few seconds before sinking into his skin.

"Very quickly indeed," Kilgharrah confirmed. "He will need rest, however, which is something Merlin is not likely to do."

Everyone nodded their agreement, knowing exactly how stubborn the energetic warlock could be when ordered to rest, especially when Merlin felt his friends were in need of his help. Arthur raised his eyebrow, a calculating look on his face.

"Could you keep him asleep?" the king asked, thinking of the way Gaius drugged Merlin to make him rest after they rescued King Rodor. Arthur raised an eyebrow questioningly at the still-silent dragon. Kilgharrah scoffed.

"Of course I could."

"Do it, then," Arthur demanded.

"You haven't the power to give me such commands, King Arthur," Kilgharrah said grumpily, looking pointedly at Merlin.

"No, I haven't," Arthur agreed, awed once again that Merlin could wield such power. Kilgharrah looked at Arthur for a long moment, as though searching for something within the young king.

"But I will do so, because I feel you are right," the dragon allowed, breathing once more upon the warlock and settling down for the rest of the night beside his kin.


King Arthur sat wearily beside the new fire ring that Percival had made to keep them warm as they watched over Merlin. The others had gone into the woods in search of the villagers' sanctuary in order to escort them home. Arthur held himself stiffly; he could feel the dragon's steely gaze upon him. While the beast hadn't spoken since he had agreed to keep Merlin asleep, the dragon had kept his narrowed eyes on the king. It was rather unnerving; Arthur wasn't sure how Merlin could be so friendly and even flippant with the creature. But then again, Merlin was Merlin. He was friendly with just about everything, Arthur reasoned.

With the villagers finally settled back in their homes, the knights came one by one to join Arthur at the fire. When all five of them were seated around the circle, Leon voiced what they had all been thinking.

"Did any of you know about Merlin having magic?"

"I thought as much," Gwaine offered. "Didn't really have any proof till he took on a whole band of sorcerers on his own without blinking an eye. That's Merlin for you, huh?"

Arthur grunted his agreement, but gathered his thoughts for a few moments before he answered.

"I didn't know until this afternoon, though I think I suspected something for a long time. I just didn't want to acknowledge it. But Merlin had one of his funny feelings about a quarter of a mile before we found the Dryad. Then his little speech about feeling the energy of the place; no normal man could do that. It was all I could think about for the rest of the day."

"What about the law?" Gwaine asked, though Arthur thought that the knight was asking more for Merlin's sake than for any respect he may have had for Camelot's laws.

"I was just discussing that very topic with Merlin before we were attacked. He told me he thought that magic could be a force for good, so long as it was used for the right purposes."

"That sounds like something Merlin would say," Gwaine reasoned, his eyes narrowing as he looked shrewdly at his king. "Do you agree?"

"I do, now, to a point. But I certainly don't know what the right purpose for magic is," Arthur conceded.

"Who is to say what that purpose is?" Elyan asked sensibly.

"My thoughts exactly. I told Merlin that I didn't feel qualified to perform such a task. Then he went on to tell me a story so fantastic, it seemed more like one of Gaius' stories that Merlin is always spouting off."

"What was this story?" Percival asked.

"He told me of The Once and Future King who was destined to return magic and unite Albion. And of the warlock foretold to assist, protect and advise him."

"Warlock?" Leon asked.

"Emrys," Gwaine whispered in awe.

"How did you know that?" Arthur asked in confusion.

"The druids have a story that they've been telling for many generations. I've heard the tale told by at least three different clan leaders."

"You've spent time with the druids?" Leon asked, surprised.

"I've been all across the five kingdoms," Gwaine replied. "Sometimes a city is just too loud. The forest can be very welcoming. That and the druids have a lovely elderberry wine..."

"What did these druid clan leaders say about this Emrys?" Arthur asked curiously, interrupting what was sure to be a lengthy soliloquy on wine.

"That they were waiting for him; they practically revere him. Emrys is supposed to be the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth. Past, present and future," Gwaine finished, looking pointedly at Arthur. The king's breath caught in his throat. Merlin certainly hadn't said that much, though it explained the dragon's comment about the unbelievable power Merlin wielded.

"Where is this Emrys, then? And who is the Once and Future King?" Elyan asked.

"If Merlin is to be believed, I am the Once and Future King," Arthur said.

"And Emrys?" Leon asked, though everyone turned to look at Merlin at his question.

"Merlin..." Arthur confirmed. The dragon inclined his head, as though in acknowledgement, but he said nothing.

"What exactly is a warlock?" Leon asked. Everyone looked to Gwaine.

"From what I gather, it's someone who can do magic as a child, like they were born with the ability to instinctually use magic," the knight explained.

"Born with it?" Elyan asked. Percival nodded his agreement and confirmed Gwaine's explanation.

"There was a young boy in my village when I was a lad; he was taken to be raised by the druids when he was little more than a foundling. He started to show signs of magic when he was only about six summers old."

Arthur felt stunned. Not only was he dealing with the revelation that Merlin was a warlock, he now had to come to terms with the fact that Merlin was far more powerful than any king could ever imagine themselves to be.

"What of magic, then? We have seen its evils many times before," Leon said cautiously.

"Morgana is a prime example of that," Elyan agreed.

"Morgana, I fear, is not the best example of what magic can be," Arthur admitted quietly. "I've come to realize over the last two days that Morgana is bitter and hateful because of the wrongs that she perceives to have been committed against her. As I told Merlin earlier, a cornered boar will always charge. Magic itself did not make her into what she is. Morgana did that on her own just as readily as Odin let his hatred towards me guide his actions with Nemeth. Unfortunately, it has become rather difficult to separate Morgana's darkness from her magic."

Once again, everyone turned to look at Merlin, knowing that he was the least hateful and most humble man they knew.

"If ever there was an argument for the good in magic, it's laying right over there," Gwaine said, jerking his thumb in Merlin's direction. Everyone slowly nodded, sitting in silence for a few minutes.

"Do you suppose Mithian knows?" Leon asked curiously, bringing everyone's attention back.

"She must," Arthur answered. "I cannot see Merlin marrying someone with such a secret between them."

"Then why did he keep that secret from us?" Gwaine asked. "We're his closest friends."

"I don't know," Arthur admitted, shaking his head and turning to look at the unconscious warlock once more. "I can only think that he was too afraid to reveal the truth; afraid of our reactions. If that is the case, then we've failed him indeed."


When Merlin woke, the sky was bright and he could see the sun was nearly at its apex. He blinked a few times, trying to wake from his heavy slumber. Merlin almost lost his battle with exhaustion when the memory of the night before flooded him with a jolt of realization.

Arthur knew about Merlin's magic and he hadn't been angry. In fact, he had commanded Merlin to use it.

A sudden flash of what else had happened the previous night had him grasping at his side and sitting up in astonishment. Merlin realized belatedly that he was still in the field beside the village center. There was a bustling commotion about the village as the thatched roofs that had burned were repaired or replaced. Percival and Gwaine were on ladders helping the villagers, their chainmail discarded as they worked on the thatching. Elyan and Leon were organizing the long bundles of dried straw to pass up to the others. Looking around him curiously, Merlin was surprised to see Arthur sitting not far away, watching him as he shifted around.

"Arthur..." Merlin uttered, his voice dry and scratchy from disuse.

"Why did you never tell me?" Arthur asked as he handed his friend a cup of water.

"What?" Merlin asked, taken aback by the lack of anger in Arthur's tone. Though Merlin was ashamed to hear the hurt subtly lacing the king's voice.

"You know of what I speak," Arthur replied quietly.

"Well, at first, it was because you would have chopped my head off."

"I wouldn't have done that within the first year of knowing you, Merlin," Arthur countered, the hurt more clearly evident in his voice. "Why wait so long?"

"After we became friends, I couldn't ask you to defy your father for me. You knowing that I had magic was almost as dangerous for you as it was for me to have it. I could not take that risk, not when I was fated to protect you."

"Then it wasn't just one of Gaius' bedtime stories you told me last night?" Arthur asked, a humorless smile on his lips. Merlin shook his head sadly, wishing that he had been able to explain more before the attack.

"No, Arthur. You are the Once and Future King, and I am Emrys, the warlock born to protect you and help you in creating Albion."

"My father has been dead for more than four years," Arthur said, avoiding Merlin's gaze and staring into the fire. "Before we left on this journey, you professed that I was as good as your brother. Why then did you not tell me the most important thing about yourself?"

Merlin took a deep breath, understanding Arthur's distress and wanting to ensure that he said this right.

"I suppose I was scared. Maybe even a bit cynical in my belief in this destiny we share. I've done many things over the years, some I'm proud of and others I'm ashamed of. But I've done it all in the belief that I was doing the right thing at the time. After your father died, you swore to me that you would never trust magic. That it had killed both your parents. I couldn't see any way to tell you at that point, because I was the old man who tried to heal your father."

Arthur's eyes widened and his brows lifted as he processed that.

"You were the old sorcerer?!" Arthur asked, his eyes flashing indignantly.

"Yes," Merlin answered, looking into Arthur's eyes. "Your father's death was not my fault."

"I know that!" Arthur said, narrowing his eyes at the warlock sitting beside him.

"Then what's your problem with Dragoon?" Merlin asked in confusion.

"You kicked me! Like a horse! You said, 'Heeyah!' and kicked me!"

"Well I was eighty years old at the time," Merlin rationalized. Arthur just scowled.

"How did you do it?"

"The same way Morgana became Hilda. With an aging spell."

"Then you were also the one to take the blame for the love enchantment my father wanted to execute Guinevere for?"

"Yes," Merlin confirmed.

"I led you to the pyre for that," Arthur said in a choked voice. "You were nearly burned."

"I'm still here, though. It all worked out."

"I pulled my sword on you, ready to kill you after the healing spell failed to save my father. And I ask you why you did not tell me," Arthur said, his voice full of self-deprecating censure. His eyes welled with tears as he thought of how close he had come to personally killing his best friend. Merlin was similarly affected.

"You understand my silence?" Merlin whispered. "I've been doing my best to soften your stance on magic since the day I failed to save your father and turned you completely against magic."

"In a way I do, but had you not thought that perhaps you were the best argument for magic of all, Merlin? I've risked my life for you many times, ever since I watched you drink poison in my stead. You say that I'm just as well your brother. What you don't seem to understand is that you're just as well as mine. I'd like to believe that I could have listened to you and acted rationally, but I suppose we'll never know."

"I am sorry, Arthur."

"It is done," Arthur answered, then raised his eyebrow wryly, trying to shake the seriousness of the conversation, necessary though it had been. "Your dragon is rather tetchy, did you know? He took off this morning without even a word after staring at me all night."

"I've been dealing with him for the better part of the last decade. I know exactly how tetchy Kilgharrah can be," Merlin chuckled.

"You'll have to tell me about this supposedly slain dragon some other time," Arthur said pointedly, rising to his feet and holding out an arm to help Merlin stand. The warlock looked at Arthur's hand and then into his eyes for a second before he accepted the offer. After the king pulled Merlin to his feet, he kept a hold of the thin man's arm, making an unspoken pact with him. Merlin did not need words to understand Arthur's meaning.

Brothers we were, brothers we will always be.


After Merlin was on his feet and obviously well-mended, Arthur wasted no time in calling a Round Table Council. Gwaine, Leon, Elyan and Percival sought space for them to discuss their next course of action in the least damaged hut in the village. Meanwhile Merlin and Arthur spoke with the village elders about the difficulties that Alvarr's band had caused in the last month, and what to do about the attacker's bodies. In the end, it was decided that a funeral pyre would be built.

Merlin himself took responsibility for the task as none of the villagers had any interest in showing respect for those that had terrorized them for more than a week before trying to burn down their village. While Arthur continued the discussion with the elders, Merlin returned to the field where the bodies lay and began the task of preparing them. The job was made simple with magic, but Merlin felt the weight of guilt settle upon his shoulders as he laid out each of the men he had killed.

"Bærnedon þás walum, níedfarum hira restan, " Merlin whispered, holding a hand out and watching silently as the flames consumed the pyres.

"What did that mean?"

Merlin turned in surprise, not realizing that Arthur had followed him.

"Burn these bodies, take them to their rest."

"Sounded almost like a prayer," Arthur commented curiously. "Couldn't you have just said, burn them?"

"It's the least I could do after killing them."

"They were attacking us, you especially Merlin. You have nothing to feel guilty for."

"I know it was justified, and that they would have killed us without regret. But I hope I will always feel some regret at the loss of life. You've seen how easy it was for me. More than ten men with a sweep of my hand. The day I lose the ability to regret that power is the day I become a monster."

"I don't think you could ever be a monster. An idiot, yes. Maybe even a dollop-head," Arthur replied.

"Not while I've got you to keep me humble," Merlin said with a small grin, appreciating what Arthur was doing.

"That's what I'm here for," Arthur confirmed. "Now come with me, some of the village elders are understandably concerned about a certain friend of yours who came to call last night," The king explained, slinging an arm over his advisor's shoulder and directing him back towards the village.


While none of the villagers had actually witnessed Merlin's call, or the dragon's healing of his dragonlord, Kilgharrah had been rather difficult to miss once they returned. Thus Merlin found himself assuring the elders numerous times that the dragon would not do them any harm.

"That dragon is a menace! Camelot was nearly burnt to the ground when that dragon got loose! I took my family and settled here to escape the beast and you brought it straight to us!"

"I promise you, he will not harm you, or your village, or your livestock," Merlin repeated for the third time.

"How can we be sure?"

"Because," Merlin conceded, realizing that only the truth would do. "I am a dragonlord, and I have commanded him not to harm anyone ever again."

"Then why was he here?!"

"I called him to me so that he could heal me," Merlin answered, gesturing to the rather obvious hole in his tunic and the blood still staining the fabric.

The villagers seemed to accept Merlin's assurances after that, but none of them seemed too comfortable with the thought of Kilgharrah roaming free. When Arthur and Merlin finally pulled away, Merlin let out a sigh of frustration.

"What do you expect, Merlin? He's a great scaly beast who tried to incinerate Camelot. He's not going to be everyone's best friend."

Merlin was just about to reply when they entered the hut where the knights were waiting. The knights' conversation suddenly came to a halt and Merlin looked at each of them nervously.

"Hello," he said simply, unable to say anything more.

"That's all?" Gwaine asked, chuckling. "No, 'Yes I am an incredibly powerful warlock and I could kill you with a blink of my eyes, so what's for breakfast?'"

Merlin settled for rolling his eyes instead, looking at each man in turn with a tentative smile.

"We hold no grudge," Leon answered for all of them, lifting a weight from Merlin's shoulders that he hadn't fully realized was there.

"Thank you," Merlin whispered. He had been prepared for anger and shouting and perhaps even an arrest when he finally revealed his magic. Merlin didn't quite know how to deal with such easy acceptance.

"Mordred is still in Morgana's hands," Arthur began, bringing their attention back to their quest.

"Both Kilgharrah and the dryad warned me that Morgana has taken Mordred to The Dark Tower," Merlin offered, though he felt strange referring to his magic, if only indirectly.

"The Dark Tower?" Arthur asked, alarmed. Merlin nodded his head in confirmation.

"What is that, exactly?" Merlin asked. "I asked Kilgharrah, but as you can probably imagine, he wasn't very clear."

"It's a place that all Knights of Camelot are taught to dread, with good reason. Few have ever returned from their journeys there, and those that do are often mad," Arthur said gravely.

"And Mordred is there?" Leon asked. "For what purpose?"

"I'm not sure what she meant, but Lowri-" Merlin began.

"Lowri?" Gwaine interrupted, confused.

"The dryad," Merlin explained as though it was obvious.

"And she gave you her name? You certainly have a way with the ladies," Gwaine chuckled as he wagged his eyebrows suggestively. Merlin rolled his eyes and pulled up his sleeve to show Mithian's favor still tied around his wrist.

"As astounding as Merlin's love life is, we have pressing matters to discuss," Arthur interrupted, settling the knights instantly.

"What else did the dryad tell you?" Arthur asked Merlin.

"That Mordred would not be the same if he survived; Lowri suspected that Morgana was collecting mandrakes recently to place Mordred under the Tiene Diaga."

"What's that?" Arthur asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm not sure. I've never heard of it," Merlin admitted. "Except from Lowri, and all she said was that it was a dark ritual and that only the most powerful of healing waters could hope to break it."

"So Gaius' books haven't told you everything?" Arthur asked, though Merlin merely rolled his eyes.

"I've not read all of them yet," Merlin replied cheekily. "The dryad only said that it was a dark ritual used by the high priestesses."

Arthur chuckled humorlessly, his ire clearly visible in his expression.

"Then we ride within the hour."

"Where to?" Merlin asked, though he knew exactly what Arthur had in mind.

"First, we'll track these attackers back to their camp and see if there's any information for us there. Then, we find where Morgana has taken Mordred. If that is The Dark Tower, so be it. We will rescue our brother."

Gwaine laughed sardonically. "And hopefully not die trying."


Thanks for reading! Something to keep in mind... I hate character death. ;)