Ya'll! One of you amazing anonymous reviewers just alerted me to the fact that I skipped a chunk of story between chapter 34 and 35! I must have copied something wrong. So here's the updated version. Thank you SO much to the person who messaged me explaining the error. I apologize for the confusion. Hopefully things will make more sense now.

Enjoy!

~Rain

Previously...

Nodding numbly, Arthur turned and exited Gaius's chambers.

Merlin watched him go with wary eyes.

"Now," Iseldir looked at the remaining three occupants. "What happened?"

Gaius's explanation was brief. Merlin had seen Morgana in a dream, a wall had been destroyed, they all needed to talk. Merlin remained silent the entire explanation, which was uncharacteristic of Merlin before, but was more Merlin's style since he'd woken up. It took too much energy to say things more than once, and Gaius was fairly certain Merlin was running on borrowed energy right now. He should have been asleep. There was a sleeping draught and plethora of pain draughts in him right now, although they might be wearing off soon.

Explanation completed, Gaius got up to get Merlin another pain draught, leaving Gwen and Iseldir with the skittish Merlin, waiting for Arthur to return from his chambers. Nobody had moved. Iseldir had remained on the outskirts of the ruined room, Gwen was somewhere a little farther in, and Merlin was up against the far wall near the window.

Merlin's eyes kept darting towards the place Arthur had been. His breathing was shallow, his movements twitchy.

Arthur's heart was pounding faster than it ever had before as he walked through the halls. The last time he'd been this nervous was when he'd been carrying Merlin to Gaius's quarters, and that had been a different kind of panic. Then it had been a race against time. Now it was paranoia.

Arthur's eyes had pretty much returned to normal, he was almost certain. Only little flickers of gold remained, and Arthur could feel the flare-ups as heat behind his eyelids.

But it was the middle of the night, and the halls were dim, and the knights believed he was injured, and if they saw his eyes flash gold…

He took a deep breath. And he was carrying a document that legalized magic in his fist. If someone caught him, the results would be disastrous. He could hear the news in his mind: "The king has been possessed!" "Manservant found to be still alive and harbored by the physician!" "King under the influence of the Druids!"

It would be chaos, and Arthur only felt worse when he thought about what it must have been like for Merlin to live in the castle walls with his own magic. No wonder he always seemed so distracted. The walls loomed with silent threat, every corner hiding a potential witness. He must have dealt with this anxiety every day for years; most of his life, even, living so close to the Camelot border. And Arthur had confirmed it all almost two months ago.

But not now. Now, Arthur had already decided, he was going to make things right. He was going to show Merlin the legalization document, work hard and then harder to bring it to fruition, to assure that such a mistake was never made again.

If only he could get to Gaius's chambers faster.

He turned another corner. Still clear. He was almost there.

"Sire?"

Arthur's heart dropped. Behind him, footsteps sped up. Arthur felt his eyes flash, and he closed them quickly.

"Are you alright?" the voice came again. Arthur had yet to turn around.

"Yes," he said, "just retrieving something from my chambers."

He took a deep breath, and the heat behind his eyes died down. Merlin must have had incredible self-control; everything seemed to set the magic swirling about. Plastering on a friendly smile, Arthur turned towards the knight.

"Ah, Owain," he said, relief flooding him. "It's you."

Owain gave him a peculiar look. Glancing down the hallway, he dropped his voice. "How's the kid?" he whispered. "Are you going to see him?"

Arthur nodded. Owain's eyes softened.

"Don't tell anyone you saw me," Arthur said, though he needn't have said it.

"Of course." Owain's relief mirrored Arthur's. Merlin was still alive; Owain's actions hadn't killed him yet.

"He's doing much better," Arthur whispered. "But I do need to go now."

Owain took a step back. "Have a good night, sire."

Arthur gave him a curt nod, and the guard turned to go. "Oh," Arthur said suddenly, "Sir Owain."

"Yes, sire?"

"I'm… sorry. I am so sorry. For everything that I made you do. And everything you had to see."

Owain stiffened. His eyes were hollow. "Thank you, sire."

"I mean it. You shouldn't blame yourself for the decisions I made."

The guard's smile was forced, and he didn't say another word as he walked away. Arthur watched his retreating back for another moment before going on his way, as well.

Merlin was eventually moved to the main chambers of Gaius's quarters in anticipation of Arthur's return. A glass of water sat on the table in front of him, untouched.

"I'm sorry," he'd whispered when Iseldir had helped him get settled at the table. His cheeks were flushed with a mixture of shame and embarrassment. There was a blanket on his shoulders, one of the thin ones that Gaius reserved for people with fever-chills. He didn't look cold, but he was clutching the blanket around his shoulders with a tight grip, his fingers and shoulders shaking.

Not that anybody knew which factor was causing Merlin to tremble, and not that anybody would ask, anyway. They didn't even know what he was apologizing for- for needing help to sit down? For destroying the wall? For accusing them of using him? His eyes were a strange mix of fear and anger, his movements stiff with both disuse and a lack of cooperation. Nobody had told him where Arthur was going, and Merlin was looking at all of them with hackles raised around barely-concealed contempt.

Iseldir thought it was a good thing that Merlin looked vaguely pissed off- it was much better than looking as terrified as he had before, and worlds better than that glassy-eyed stare he so often wore. He could work with anger. He could work with frustration. There was a passion behind those emotions that Iseldir hoped would carry Merlin through the following weeks, months, and years of healing. Nothing killed men faster than hopelessness, and Iseldir was afraid that was a slope on which Merlin would slip.

The warlock shifted in his seat a little, glaring at the cup of water. "Where is she now?" he murmured, deadpan. It was obvious he was avoiding the topic of Arthur's sudden, mysterious departure. He leveled his eyes on Iseldir, raising his voice. "Morgana. I know you know."

Iseldir matched Merlin's stare. "Her armies have been delayed by the rain."

"That wasn't the question."

Iseldir could feel the hairs on his arms stand up as Merlin's magic filled the room. The balance between emotion and power was delicate, and Merlin had great restraint- but this wasn't one of those times. Iseldir knew that if Merlin snapped, there was no telling what supernatural force would emerge. One castle wall was the least of their worries.

At least he was asking questions.

"We're not sure where Morgana is," Iseldir continued. "Our Scryer can only see her on occasion, when she lets her cloaking charm slip."

"She's close," Merlin ground out.

"We do not know that," Iseldir cut in. "We only know her armies are a few days'-"

"No, I know that." He was fidgeting with the blanket. He whipped his head towards the door. "You might not know, but I do. And where in God's name is Arthur?"

Iseldir ignored the question. "You are no Scryer, Emrys."

"I'm damn well aware." He narrowed his eyes. "But I saw her."

A silence fell in the room, the implication of that statement clear: Merlin had gained some sort of supernatural understanding of the situation, and nobody could quite explain why.

Yet he could not remember the collar spell. Interesting. Perhaps it was his mind's last effort to preserve him. Perhaps it was the nature of the spell. Either way, nobody knew what to say next.

If Morgana was closer than they suspected- if Merlin was right, and as the prophesied Greatest Sorcerer to Walk the Earth, that seemed likely- then their timeline was even shorter than they had initially thought. Merlin had only taken his first wobbling steps towards healing, and their only advantage at the moment was that Morgana was unaware that Merlin still breathed.

The silence in the room was oppressive. Merlin glanced from Gwen to Iseldir, then settled his gaze on the door that Arthur had left through.

The moment his vision rested on the entrance, there was a knock on the door.

Unbeknownst to them, Arthur was shaking just as much as Merlin was as he approached Gaius's chambers with the bundle of papers in his hands.

Unlike Merlin, however, he could pinpoint exactly why his hands wouldn't stop trembling.

This was it.

Standing outside the door, Arthur was struck with the implications of his actions. The moment he knocked on that door, he would shatter the foundation on which he was raised- on which the entirety of the kingdom was raised.

Oddly enough, he didn't feel like he had cold feet, per se. It was more a weight in his chest. He could only hope that by opening the door, the weight would be lifted, and not crush him instead.

There was no turning back.

Arthur was afraid, but he didn't want to go back anyway, even if there was an option. This wasn't just a proclamation- it was an apology. It was a reparation. He had been fighting on the wrong side of a war and now he needed to fix that mistake.

He couldn't take back what he had done, but he could make sure it never happened again.

He knocked on the door.

Iseldir felt Merlin's magic pull taught like a bowstring at the sound of the knock. He had a brief thought- that perhaps Emrys was at his battle-magic prime in this moment, on edge and ready to react between one heartbeat and the next- but then the moment was gone, because Merlin was physically exhausted and in no shape to even move unaided, and even if his magic was its own supernatural force, it was also contained within a broken vessel. It could shatter him.

Gwen fetched the door. It was Arthur, looking as pale as a sheet and shaking fit to fly apart. Still, he was here, and there was a stack of papers clutched in his fist.

"Here," Arthur said breathlessly. His eyes darted to Merlin for a fraction of a second before they fell to his own feet. He was only too aware of Merlin's gaze on him.

He stretched out a trembling hand, and Gwen accepted the bundle of papers gingerly.

Merlin, for his part, was acting strangely calm about the whole situation, despite the fact that he had no idea what was going on, and Arthur was in the room, and there was a mysterious exchange of papers going on at the front, and everybody looked nervous, and- well, basically everything looked incredibly incriminating at the moment. Yet Merlin was sitting very still at the table, looking vaguely pissed off, with his magic pulled around him.

Iseldir thought the calmness was a facade—that Merlin's magic was the thing betraying his emotions, that Merlin's body was the shield between himself and the events around him. Still, a small part of Iseldir had the eerie feeling that Merlin knew everything that was going on- maybe not the specifics, but the motivations, the movements- there was so much magic in the air, all active, poised, full of potential, and it must have been doing something.

Perhaps a single misstep would set him off, and the whole of the kingdom would collapse, Iseldir thought. The Druid's concern was far from this situation, despite his physical presence. These were the moments when destiny stepped in, when Iseldir could do nothing but watch as things unfolded and do his best to participate in it all. He was similar to Merlin in this sense. In this moment, with this much magic saturating the air, he felt outside of his body, somehow. It was almost intoxicating.

Before him, Gwen had opened the sheaf of papers, her fingers shaking. She turned to Gaius, then with his nod, to Merlin.

"Merlin," she said quietly. Merlin's eyes had fallen from Arthur to the papers, and at her voice, they only fell on her for the briefest of moments before returning to them again. "Before you jump to conclusions-" she continued, shaking the papers. "This is good news."

Although Iseldir had thought it impossible, Merlin's magic wound tighter. Surely, everybody in the room could feel it at this point, although they might not know what it was they were feeling. Iseldir could see the hairs on Gaius's arms standing up, at the very least.

"Um-" Gwen glanced at Arthur, obviously torn. "Do you want to-?"

"Oh, for Heavens' sake, just tell the boy," Gaius interrupted. "Can't you see he's nervous enough?"

The physician was looking at Arthur, who suddenly brought himself out of the trembling stupor he was in and began to speak.

"I've-" he cleared his throat. "I've decided to legalize magic," he said quietly.

There was a beat. Merlin's eyes widened. His breathing had picked up, and Arthur looked unsure if he should continue. Merlin swallowed, and his expression neutralized again. His face looked a little gray.

Arthur glanced at Gwen, but kept speaking. "Those are the documents detailing the decree and its details. There are a couple of papers I need to finish, some that I need to write in order to repeal the ban before I can put the legalization through, but- that's most of it." He paused, bit the inside of his cheek. "If- If you want to look through them-I mean, if you would like to-" He looked at the floor. "I can't make what I did to you okay. But I can make sure that it will not happen again."

Gwen laid the papers on the table in front of Merlin, who was staring dutifully at moment the papers touched the table, he risked a small glance at them and then at Arthur, as if he was afraid one of them would leap up and bite him.

When that didn't happen, he leaned forward and took the documents gently in his fingers. Everybody in the room was holding their breath. Merlin's magic had not calmed.

He flipped through the papers slowly, squinting at some of the smudged writing, reading every word. It was a lifetime ago, but he had, at one point, read many legal documents- knew the tricks, the loopholes, the fine print. He'd written Arthur's speeches, once upon a time, and had proofread his decrees.

Nobody dared to move as Merlin looked over everything. Gaius shifted once, wondering whether Merlin was in sound enough mind to fully understand what he was reading, but then decided that his only option was to trust that he was. Merlin's eyes were moving expertly over the pages, his mouth set in a slight frown, and perhaps this wasn't as climactic as Iseldir had imagined this moment- but then, things generally weren't as he expected, as far as prophecies were involved.

Some of the biggest events in magical history felt small when they happened. A lot of Scryers' prophetic dreams went unwritten down- the destiny of Emrys himself was scrawled in a rush the first time it was seen, years and decades before anybody realized its significance. It was only fitting that this moment was quiet and tense and surrounded by magic-filled air.

With each turn of paper, Merlin's magic roiled more violently. It was like a herd of horses, chomping at their bits and stamping the ground, and Merlin's face looked more tight at the effort it took to keep it all in check. His fingers were shaking, and he dropped the papers on the table as if they'd burned him. His hands went to grip the edge of the table as he breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling in the silence.

Nobody else was breathing.

When he finally looked up, his eyes were shiny and a little dazed, his teeth worrying his already-split lip.

"I… would like to be alone," he said quietly. His voice was shaking. He fingered the papers' edges. Gaius moved to help him up, but he pulled back. "No, no-" he leaned into the table. "I don't want anybody to touch me, can you- can all of you just- leave?" His cheeks flushed. "Just... give me a moment. Please."

Gwen opened her mouth, but Merlin cut her off. "I just want to be alone. Just for a minute- can't you leave me alone for a minute? Just —" he drummed his fingers against the table, then winced when he was reminded that they were still healing. "Dammit- just- I don't want to be carried away somewhere. I just want to think-I just want to-" his voice dropped as if he was talking to himself. The wince had reopened the gash on his face, and a thin line blood leaked down his cheek. "I can't even bloody walk to my own damn room-" He reached up and touched the blood on his face, staining the bandages on his fingers bright crimson. He looked at them, then at Iseldir. His magic was writhing.

There was a sudden shift in his eyes. Fear and desperation. They focused. "Please get out," he said gasped. Now even Gwen could feel the shift in the air. The tension had hit its limit. Merlin was holding it back expertly, like he had since he was young, but Iseldir didn't want to test the limits of Emrys's self-control. "I'm not angry,' Merlin said quickly, his eyes still level with Iseldir's. "I just- need- you- to- go."

Everybody had already begun to move towards the door. The pots on Gaius's shelves were trembling.

"We'll be right outside," Gaius said breathlessly.

"Yes, fine," Merlin bit out, breaking eye contact in order to lean more heavily into the table. He left tiny bloody fingerprints on the wood. He was breathing hard.

Iseldir was the last to join the group huddled in the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Inside, they heard an anguished groan, the sound of ripping fabric and shattered glass, and then nothing.

In the deafening silence that followed, they heard soft crying.

This was not how it was supposed to happen.

Merlin's fingers wouldn't stop shaking. Nothing ever stopped shaking. Even his vision shook, all the time, always blurry- he'd needed to squint to see the words on the pages and now they were blurred on the table in front of him, from tears or magic or both, and dammit he just wanted everything to stop, just for a second- he wanted to-

He felt sick. His throat was raw. Had he made any noise? He couldn't hear anything. There was only the roar of the power that barely seemed to be his anymore. The world was narrowed to the words on the pages in front of him. He hoped everybody had gone. He was already pathetic and helpless and weak, he didn't want them to see what happened when he couldn't even control whatever amount of magic he had left.

Was this an apology? Was this what an apology looked like? Official documents? Decrees and repeals and clauses? Was this what a bribe looked like? Was it a little of both? Was this what he wanted?

He'd imagined this moment so many times.

And this is what destiny handed to him? This- moment. This situation where everybody was looking at him, and his fingers ached, and he couldn't stand or walk away or breathe-

He'd never wanted to be Emrys. Never asked, never offered, and now-

Did he matter now? What was next? All that he was designed to do was laying on the table in front of him, and it was real, and there were people outside who maybe cared for him or maybe cared for his magic, and he hoped it was him but he didn't know anything, not really. He didn't know what to feel anymore, his emotions were raw all the time, and his skin itched all the time, and his magic was either too strong or not there at all, and Morgana was somewhere close by and he was supposed to save everybody but he couldn't even escape a damned dungeon.

And destiny had known all of this before, had handed it to him with a pretty title of "Prophecy."

He blinked.

And now that prophecy was over, wasn't it?

The moment that this decree went through, it was over, all of it. He didn't have to protect Arthur anymore, he didn't have to hide, he wasn't tied to Camelot morally or fatefully. His job would be finished. And then-

Was he free? From everything?

If magic was legalized and Arthur no longer needed to be protected from Morgana or any renegade sorcerers bent on revenge, then maybe, just maybe… Merlin would learn how to be just Merlin.

Just Merlin, who happens to have magic.

The thought terrified him. He would drop Emrys, servant, warlock, sorcerer, physician's apprentice, and Druid. He could drop destiny and prophecies. His roles would be done, and he would be able to just live like everybody else did. He could leave Camelot and everything in it behind him; he could go back to Ealdor and help his mom with the farm; he could get up and go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, for as long as he wanted, and nobody would need to know who he was or what he had done or what had been done to him.

The whole situation was frightening. Overwhelming. Too big and far way for him to wrap his mind around.

And yet it all sounded so… nice.

What would it be like? To be just-Merlin-who-happened-to-have-magic?

He was still crying. His magic was a great monster looming over his shoulder, breathing down the back of his neck, slithering around his arms and wrists. It leaked from the stinging wound on his face. He felt nauseous with the weight of it, had felt more nauseous with every passing moment that he'd shoved it behind them. But now-

There were tears falling onto the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and he realized that his magic had lashed out and broken—something. There was glass on the floor. Had everybody left? Had they seen it? Were they afraid of him and the monster on his back? Could they hear it roaring?

Merlin had never been afraid of his magic- but then it had never been his, exactly. It had been something leant to him by destiny, something in his instincts, something that was around him as well as inside of him- but if he was just Merlin- if his destiny was over-

He'd been afraid in the dungeon. He'd been afraid of the guards. He'd been afraid of the walls and the chair and whenever something moved to hurt him.

He was afraid of looking at himself now, at his bones under his skin and the bandages. He closed his eyes when Gaius changed them, couldn't entirely remember where all of it had come from. He could just remember the fear and the pain that lingered in the air with his bruised magic, which was still breathing down the back of his neck as the papers stared up at him.

What was he supposed to say? Everybody expected him to say something, but he didn't have any words.

He pressed his forehead against the table, ignoring the protest of his ribs and spine and hips.

"Don't make me say it," he whispered into his lap. He didn't know who he was talking to. His magic, maybe, or his conscience, or the people outside the door. "Don't make me look them in the eye and say thank-you."

Nobody answered him. The room was empty and quiet. Merlin was alone.

Outside, Gwen was chewing on her lip and Arthur was clenching his jaw and Iseldir was standing by the door in case someone tried to enter. Merlin knew all of this. He knew things and he couldn't understand how he knew them, except that he could occasionally feel Arthur like some kind of phantom limb, and maybe that was why he knew that Arthur was now pacing, and Gaius was somewhere to Arthur's right in the narrow hallway and—

It was a sensory overload, all of the time, and somewhere in the mess of oh a bird just landed on the roof of the stables and Arthur just punched a wall and there's a rat below the floorboards, Merlin's magic knew where Morgana was, and that she was closer than her armies made her seem. But every passing moment since he'd woken up, Merlin could sense more than he ever could before, and he still didn't know how to process any of it. He didn't know how to find that bit of information about Morgana's location, didn't know how to sift through everything.

He'd tried- he'd sat very still and retreated back into his own head, had climbed through the mess of his own mind and thoughts, but it was a maze that was hard to climb out of, and it felt raw- like probing the space a tooth had been with his tongue over and over until it bled and ached. And it frightened him, and he was tired, and he was having horrible dreams, and Gaius said he needed to heal, that he needed to sleep-

There was always work to do.

"Emrys?"

Merlin's magic reacted before Merlin did, sending the hairs on Iseldir's arms on-end. Iseldir felt his heart break a little as he took in the scene in front of him.

There was broken glass littered across the floor, mixed with the medicines that had once been in the vials. Some of the curtains had been ripped outward. The herbs that had been hanging above them were now on the ground, crushed amongst the glass.

And Merlin was in the middle of it all, very small and looking smaller, slumped against the table, tremors running up and down his spine. He was crying softly, his fingers still holding the edge in front of him. His dark hair was hanging over his face, and the blanket did nothing to hide the knobs of his spine and shoulder blades, pressed further from his skin by the slumped way he was holding himself.

Iseldir felt like he was intruding on a private moment. The most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth was breaking down, and he was so small and frail and young.

At the sound of Iseldir's voice, Merlin's crying stopped. He took a second to breathe before dragging his face up to look at Iseldir. His hand went to wipe his tears, but only served to smear his cheek with old and new blood.

His lips moved to form words, but nothing came out.

Iseldir took a few long strides before kneeling beside him. He couldn't make out what Merlin was saying, so he rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I am sorry," he said, "that this was put on your shoulders."

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. He bit down on his lip, then tried to speak again.

"I can't do this," he finally managed, but before Iseldir could say But you must, Merlin continued, "I don't know what to say to them."

Iseldir, at that moment, realized this was about the legalization, not the imminent battle with Morgana.

"You do not need to say a word," Iseldir said.

Merlin just shrugged before leaning his forehead against the table again, signalling the end of the conversation. Iseldir took the hint, exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

In the hallway, Arthur was pacing as Gaius and Gwen watched. At Iseldir's entrance, everybody's attention shifted.

"I believe Emrys needs time to process everything," Iseldir said. "This is his destiny coming to fruition, after all."

"Should we go in?" Gwen asked, glancing at the door. Her hand had gone to rub at the collar of her dress.

"I think we need to give him some time alone."

Arthur went back to pacing, running his fingers through his hair. Gaius closed his eyes, leaning against the wall for support. Gwen nodded and said, "Of course," although the thought of leaving her friend alone after so long in the dungeons made her stomach roll. She hadn't left his side for days, and being without him made her nervous. She'd neglected her duties as queen to keep him safe, had neglected her own sleep and health, just as she was sure Merlin would have done for her.

A scrap of memory flashed through her mind; of kissing Arthur's cheek before closing the door behind him, of watching his horse disappear into the forest. There had been a time when being without Arthur had caused the same anxiety, when the thought of him going into battle had kept her awake. There had been a time when she would have fought by his side, when she had fought by his side.

Would she fight for him now? More importantly, would Merlin? The answer to the second was yes; but the first?

She supposed she would.

The world had tilted, and she glanced at the king she had once, and maybe still, loved. She couldn't forgive him for the things he'd done until Merlin could, but she could stand behind the man he was trying to be.

She would fight for the Arthur of today. She would be there with a sword when Morgana came; she'd stand beside Merlin and Gaius and the Knights and yes, even Arthur, who would without a doubt be fighting all kinds of demons, both literal and metaphorical.

The prophecies had called him the Once and Future King, and Gwen now understood the title: He had once been the king she loved, before all of this, and would again be, eventually, if things went correctly.

But right now things seem far less grand, and destiny seemed like an inelegant, messy thing that Merlin had spent years trying to tame on his own.

Gwen was glad that now, at least, they were all carrying it together. She just wished she could have helped sooner, or could help more.

But for now, all she could do was sit in the hallway and wait for Merlin to let her in.