Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Part Three

Chapter Twenty Six

"We didn't even really stop for lunch. I'm hungry."

Arthur laughed to himself. "You can always find something to complain about, can't you, Merlin? First you were cold, now you're hungry."

"Well, I don't have one of those fancy capes to keep me warm, do I?" Merlin griped. "And maybe I'm more bothered by skipping a meal because I'm not as fat as you."

Arthur tried to contain his smirk at his friend's grumbling. The last time they'd all gone out together, Merlin had kept to himself, still quiet and a little withdrawn. Hearing his idle complaints now reminded Arthur of how he'd felt after Gaius had reset a dislocated shoulder after a tournament the year before; there was still pain, but it felt right again.

"Do you want a cape? If it'll get you to whine less, I can get you some kind of cape."

"I want dinner."

The knights snickered behind them, and Arthur saw the scowl on Merlin's face grow. His friend might make fun of him for being grumpy before breakfast, but Merlin was insufferable when he was hungry.

"Fine," Arthur caved. "Let's start looking for a good place to break for some food. But then we push on. I want to make it back to Camelot before nightfall."

Fortunately, Merlin wasn't the only one who was hungry when they stopped. Everyone focused enough on their food that they went several minutes without speaking.

Had they been making their usual noise, the bandits might have discovered them instead of the other way around.

As it was, Arthur was the first to hear them. Loud voices, just a short distance down the road from where they had stopped. A man yelling, followed by the clash of metal.

Arthur shared a quick look with his knights, then grabbed his sword and made his way as quickly and stealthily as he could towards the sound.

Six bandits surrounded a wagon, and a woman huddled against it, clutching a terrified toddler in her arms. A man, most likely her husband, lay sprawled on the ground, a sword lying just out of reach. A bandit stood over him, the tip of his own blade resting against the man's chest.

Six men? This didn't even warrant a battle.

"Stop," Arthur commanded, stepping out of the trees. "Stand down, by order of the king."

The bandit standing over the man glanced at him and gave a derisive laugh, then froze when he saw the other knights step out as well.

"We are evenly numbered, and I assure you our skills exceed yours. This does not have to end in bloodshed. Stand down."

Arthur could see the man debating with himself, and rolled his eyes when he saw the determined look settle over his face.

A fight it would be, then.

He charged at Arthur, and his men took his cue, turning their weapons on the knights. Arthur disarmed his man with his second parry, and it didn't take the knights long to incapacitate the others.

"Let's tie them up and then we can take them back to Camelot for trial." Arthur couldn't help feeling annoyed. He wanted to get home, and they would travel slower lugging this many prisoners.

"Arthur!"

He froze, recognizing the terror in Merlin's voice, but he had no idea where the threat was coming from. Then he felt fire tear through his left arm. He cried out, both in surprise and pain, his sword faltering as he stumbled. Looking down, he saw the crossbow bolt sticking out of his upper arm and he swore.

"Where is he?" Elyan asked urgently, looking around for the bowman.

Their only answer was a thud from within the trees.

"Tie them up!" Arthur ordered again, and he ran towards the sound, trying to ignore his arm and hoping Merlin had caused the thud and not been the source of it.

"Merlin?" he called, gripping his sword tighter. At least the injury was in his left arm. He could still hold a sword just fine.

"Here," he heard his friend call out from a few yards away. Arthur stepped through the trees, then froze at the sight.

His first relieved thought was that Merlin appeared uninjured.

His second, more unnerving thought was that Merlin looked dangerous.

A man lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious. Arthur spotted a crossbow a few feet away, where he assumed it had fallen when Merlin attacked. Merlin stood over the bandit, hand held out. He was calm; his hand wasn't shaking, his face wasn't flushed.

But his eyes were hard, and Arthur could see the fury there. And when Merlin glanced at Arthur, his eyes landed on the bolt still sticking out of his arm, and the fury flared even brighter.

"Merlin," Arthur said hesitantly. "It's all right. He's unconscious. We'll tie him up with the others and take him back to Camelot."

Merlin didn't lower his hand. "He nearly killed you, Arthur." Arthur heard the frightened tremor under the rage in his voice. He looked at Arthur's arm again, and Arthur saw a shudder go through his body.

"But he didn't, and this isn't a life-threatening wound. We'll get these men taken care of, and then you can take a look at it and wrap it up nicely for me. We'll take him back to Camelot, and he'll be tried for his crimes. And honestly, since he tried to kill the king, he will probably be executed. But not by you."

Merlin nodded and clenched his raised hand into a fist. Then he lowered it slowly and stared at the man for a moment longer before turning and disappearing into the trees.

Arthur debated, but decided to stay and tie the man up rather than follow. Merlin clearly needed a few minutes to himself.

"Thank you." Merlin spoke so quietly Arthur barely heard him.

"For what?" he asked, wincing as Merlin bandaged the wound on his arm.

"For stopping me. There was a moment where I thought I was too late and the bolt was going to hit you square in the back. I barely managed to redirect it in time. Well, mostly in time," he amended, nodding at Arthur's arm. "I was scared, and then I was angry." He paused as he finished, then sat back on his heels. "Not the best combination, I guess. I struggle, sometimes. To know…" he trailed off, and Arthur remembered Merlin's first words to him when he'd woken from his fever, spoken in that small voice.

Should I have killed them, Arthur?

"To know where the line is," Arthur finished. "To distinguish justice from vengeance. To know when mercy is wise and when it is foolish."

Merlin sat down next to him on the log and nodded. "Before I came to Camelot, I never dreamed I would hold someone's life in my hands. But now…now I have these moments where I choose whether someone lives or dies. If I choose wrong in one direction, I risk your life. I risk failing you. But if I choose wrong in the other direction, I risk becoming a monster. And I think I've chosen wrong in both directions in the past."

"It's a heavy weight," Arthur acknowledged. "If I choose wrong one way, I risk becoming a tyrant, someone who serves himself instead of his people. If I choose wrong in the other direction, I risk appearing weak and therefore not being able to lead my people effectively."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, Arthur watching Merlin out of the corner of his eye as his friend stared thoughtfully into space.

"How do you do it?" Merlin asked finally. "How do you know?"

"I don't," Arthur admitted. "And sometimes I choose wrong too."

Merlin flinched. "And then what? What do you do when you've chosen wrong?"

Arthur let out a slow breath. It was a painful question to think about. "You make whatever amends you can. And you try to do better next time. That's all you can do."

Merlin chuckled, but it wasn't a happy sound. "I'm not a king, Arthur. I don't know how to do this."

"No," Arthur acknowledged, "you're not a king. You're Emrys. And for what it's worth, neither did I. Neither do I. But I'm learning, and you'll learn too. You've helped me, you know. More than once. Talking me through it, offering me your perspective." He studied Merlin for a moment.

"What?"

"It's strange. I just…never thought I'd have someone who understood what the weight of those decisions felt like. I'm sorry you carry it, Merlin. I wouldn't wish it upon you."

Merlin eyed him shrewdly, and not for the first time in their friendship, Arthur was certain Merlin saw more than he had intended to reveal.

"Does it make it easier?" Merlin asked. "For someone else to feel the weight of those decisions too?"

Arthur turned away, trying to push aside the guilt that came with the truth. "Yes. It does."

Merlin surprised him with a small smile. "Then I'm glad my struggle serves a purpose. Besides, I'm your servant. It's my job to help carry your burdens."

He couldn't help but laugh. "That's more literal than metaphorical for most servants, Merlin."

Merlin shrugged. "I'm not most servants."

"No," Arthur agreed, the laughter fading. "You're certainly not."

Merlin stayed quiet as they rode back to Camelot, and once they arrived, he hardly spoke at all as he prepared a bath for Arthur, giving one-word answers to most of Arthur's attempts to make conversation.

"All right, out with it," Arthur said finally.

"What?" Merlin didn't look up from where he stood, hand extended over the tub as his used his magic to fill it.

"What's bothering you? Still thinking about the thing with the bandits?"

Merlin's mouth tightened, and it took him several seconds to answer. "There was a moment when I wanted to kill that man today."

"But you didn't." Arthur reminded him.

"I might have. If you hadn't stopped me." Merlin glanced at him uncertainly, then sighed. "What if my magic is corrupting me?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I thought we'd been over this. Your magic doesn't corrupt you."

"Except it might," Merlin insisted. "We don't know that. Arthur…doesn't it ever bother you? That we still don't really know what I am?"

"No," Arthur answered immediately. "Kilgharrah said you're human."

"But I'm also a creature of magic. And I still don't understand how those two things are supposed to coexist."

"Kilgharrah said—"

"I know what Kilgharrah said!" Merlin interrupted. "That I'm human and I don't have to be alone. But he also said I'm the only one of my kind and much is written about me, and I…" Merlin used the hand that wasn't filling the tub to wipe fiercely at his gold eyes. "I know we made that list, and I'm thankful for that, but that doesn't mean it all makes sense now. I know I'm the only one of my kind, but in what way? Is it just because I'm so powerful? Or is there something more to it? And damn it, Arthur – when I asked if my magic was destined to corrupt me, Kilgharrah didn't answer!"

Arthur sighed. "Merlin, your magic is not corrupting you."

"You don't know that!" Merlin insisted again, a note of desperation in his voice.

Arthur thought for a minute, trying to figure out how to articulate his point. "Look, do you feel different from other people? Do you feel like you're something else?"

Merlin shook his head, his voice coming out as a whisper. "No."

"Then let's just accept that," Arthur urged. "Why go looking for reasons to feel different?"

Merlin didn't answer right away. He just frowned down at the tub, his eyes glazing over as he disappeared into his own thoughts. Arthur let him, his own mind wandering back to the bandits. He'd have to set aside time for a trial now, in a week that was already overly full. He began mentally shifting things around, trying to find a schedule that would work without making him miserable.

"You said we'd figure it out together."

Merlin's flat statement broke through Arthur's fog, and it took him a moment to even figure out what the man was talking about. Then it clicked, and he found himself at a loss for a response.

Damn it.

Merlin was right. He'd made a promise. And then they'd made that list and talked to the dragon and Arthur…well, he thought that was enough. It was enough for him, at least. But honestly, if he'd been told the same things Merlin had been told, wouldn't he want answers too? Could he really fault him for not being satisfied with Kilgharrah's vague assurances?

Or maybe that was a lie. Maybe he hadn't thought it was enough. Maybe he'd let it drop because he knew where they might find answers, and he could imagine nowhere else in the world he'd rather not be.

"You're right," he admitted. "I made you a promise. I shouldn't have tried to dismiss what you said just now."

Merlin met his gaze and nodded an acknowledgment, his face softening, and Arthur knew he was forgiven. Then Merlin's eyes sparked with hope as Arthur reluctantly added, "I have an idea."

He had, after all, made a promise.

AN: I want to take a moment to acknowledge VikingSong's influence on this story, especially the second half. Their thoughtful reviews, both on this story and my other stories, triggered some questions while I was writing (and rewriting) CoM, especially thinking about Merlin's moral development in the latter part of the show. It prompted me to wonder how Merlin's morality might have looked different if he and Arthur had fulfilled their destiny together (as I believe it should have been) instead of Merlin working alone. So a big thank you to them for their wonderful reviews and insight - this fic would have ended up looking very different without you! I'm also currently reading their WIP "The Prophecy" and really enjoying it, so check it out if you haven't already!