AN: So I just realized that FFnet published the raw upload of my epilogue chapter instead of the edited and polished version - I am SO sorry for not catching that! It was mostly just formatting differences, so no need to go back and reread. But I apologize for the ugliness of it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Bonus Chapter

Set after chapter 15, during the night in the cave after the confrontation with the Deilen.

Merlin mumbled in his sleep, occasionally letting out a gasp or a groan, but he didn't wake. Lancelot felt helpless sitting there. He was supposed to be tending to Merlin in addition to keeping watch, but he'd found painfully little he could do.

A few feet away, Arthur was much noisier than Merlin. He sighed and huffed, and on one occasion even snorted.

He did not, however, snore.

Lancelot pitied him. He couldn't really empathize; he had known of Merlin's magic nearly as long as he'd known Merlin, so there had been no moment of disbelief for him, no need to rethink his perception of who his friend was.

But Arthur? Arthur had known Merlin for years. The two were…well, they were like two sides of a coin. Lancelot couldn't imagine the shock.

He wasn't surprised when Arthur sat up and joined him at Merlin's side.

"Are you all right?" Lancelot asked hesitantly. Part of him didn't want to pose the question, because he wasn't sure what he could do if it led Arthur into a tirade against Merlin. But Arthur just sighed wearily and ignored the question.

"He's really Emrys?" he said instead.

"Yes, Arthur. He really is."

Arthur tilted his head back against the cave wall, staring into the darkness above them.

"I keep trying to convince myself it's all one really big misunderstanding. That people just think he's Emrys, but he's not really. And you and Merlin and the druids and these priests are all just confused, and he's really just my idiot manservant."

"I'm sorry," Lancelot said softly, and Arthur looked at him in surprise.

"For lying?"

"No. I don't regret keeping his secret. But I'm sorry that your world isn't what you thought it was."

Arthur snorted. "It hasn't been anyway. Everything has been upside down since I met that druid woman. At least now I know. I guess that's better than all the wondering."

"She was right," Lancelot said hesitantly, unsure if he wanted to open this can of worms. "Everything she said about him being your friend and being loyal to you. It's true."

"I know." Arthur rubbed his hand over his face. "I don't know exactly how I know. Maybe it's some magic destiny thing, or maybe it's just because I know Merlin so well. Or maybe…" he trailed off, and Lancelot saw his eyes turn dark for a moment. But all he said was, "But somehow, I know."

"You do know him well," Lancelot confirmed. "Hold onto that." Arthur gave him an inquisitive look. "It's going to take some time for the dust to settle, Arthur. This is a big thing to wrap your head around, and I suspect it's going to shake you for a while. So hold onto the things you know. And I believe you should count Merlin's loyalty among those things."

"You have a lot of faith in him."

"I do."

Arthur stared into the darkness for a minute. "I remember what you said Lancelot. All of it. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I want you to know that I haven't forgotten." He reached out and rested his hand on Merlin's head, frowning at the heat before he pulled away. "What did he mean earlier? About the darkness?"

Lancelot sighed, annoyed. "It was another false prophecy. It said that darkness would overcome him and his power would devour him. I keep telling him to just ignore what that stupid book says, but…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "I think he tends to grasp whatever answers he can find, even if they're obviously not right."

The corners of Arthur's mouth tightened, but otherwise he showed no reaction to Lancelot's words.

"You should get some rest," he said. "You hardly slept last night. I'll take care of him." Lancelot hesitated for a moment, and Arthur gave him a sad smile. "I give you my word, Lancelot. I'll take care of him."

"Sorry, sire," Lancelot replied, bowing his head to Arthur. "Habits are hard to change, and I've protected him for a long time."

Arthur's smile turned bitter. "From me," he muttered, but Lancelot didn't think Arthur meant him to hear.

Merlin had never been so exhausted in his entire life. He wasn't sure what felt more worn out, his body or his mind. He wanted nothing more than to just curl up in a ball and sleep forever.

But his sleep was fitful. His body buzzed in an unfamiliar way, and he had too much bouncing around in his head. And he wasn't even sure how much of it was real.

He'd spent so many years fearing the moment Arthur would discover his secret; now it had finally happened, and he barely even remembered it.

He remembered waking up and seeing the knights sprint from the cave, and seeing the frustration on Leon's face as he was left behind. He didn't know how long Leon paced before the knight looked over at him apologetically.

"Go," Merlin told him. He wasn't sure what was happening, but Leon's concern was all he needed to know that Arthur was in danger. "I'll be fine."

Leon gave him a grateful look laced with guilt before he ran out.

As soon as he disappeared from sight, Merlin took a deep breath and struggled to his feet. If Arthur was in danger, then his place was there with him, protecting him. Not hiding in a cave. Everything seemed fuzzy and unreal, his limbs still tingling with effects of the temple's magic, but he forced himself to focus. He just needed to manage until he was sure Arthur was safe, and then he could lie down and sleep again. His legs felt weak as he stood, and he had to pause for a minute or two until the world stopped spinning. He walked tentatively to the mouth of the cave, then froze.

There was magic out there. That same wild magic he felt from Arven and from the sorceress – the same wild magic that hummed in his own blood now – but amplified many times over. And now he felt it calling to the foreign magic inside him, resonating with it as they thrummed together. He shuddered at the sensation, but he turned towards the source, not bothering to listen or look for Arthur and the knights; the hum of the magic made his destination clear. He stumbled several times, and by the time he found them, he was struggling to stay upright.

The sight of a sword at Arthur's neck gave him a second wind.

He might be sick, but that didn't mean he couldn't perform magic. Yes, he might end up having to do it from the ground if he couldn't stand, but he didn't need to be standing to do what needed to be done.

But his memories were hazy. What had he done?

He'd told the man to lower his sword. He recalled that. He could have forced him, but Merlin knew he only had one spell in him, and then there was a good chance he'd collapse. Possibly even pass out. So he needed to pick his moment carefully.

The man had called him Emrys. In front of Arthur.

Arthur knew.

That part, Merlin remembered clearly.

Apart from that, Merlin remembered bits and pieces, but not what order they'd all happened in. He was pretty sure the sorcerer had talked some – prattled, to use Arthur's word. Merlin had threatened him.

And then…then the world had begun to spin again, and he'd known he was out of time; that if he didn't wrap things up quickly, he might not have the power to protect Arthur if it came down to a fight. So he'd threatened to kill them all, and then he'd given them an out.

And they'd run. They'd run, and he had let them. Even the man who held a sword to the king's throat. He should have killed him. Should he have killed all of them? He'd been so weak. So tired. All he'd wanted was for Arthur to be safe. Once he'd accomplished that, everything else seemed to blur and fade.

And then…had Arthur helped him? That seemed unlikely, but he remembered his arm over Arthur's shoulder, the king helping him climb back down to the cave. And now he could hear Arthur's voice, mixed with Lancelot's, although he didn't know what they were saying.

What had he done?

Maybe he could figure it out later, when his blood was less buzzy.

He was so, so tired.

Leon rose not long before dawn. He could barely make out Arthur's shape against the cave wall in the light of the dying fire. Rising, he used his good arm to add the last of the wood and fan it back to life before sitting down next to the king.

"How are you?" Arthur asked. He sounded distracted and weary, and his gaze didn't leave Merlin. The flickering firelight did nothing to diminish the tormented look in his eyes.

"I'll heal. It's not my sword hand, at least. How are you?"

"I honestly have no idea." Arthur's voice was flat, although Leon couldn't tell if it was from fatigue, shock, or simple overload. "It's a lot to take in."

"It is," Leon agreed. The whole thing felt surreal to him, so he couldn't imagine how Arthur felt. "You know, I thought I had considered everyone in the castle. Ever since the druid told us of Emrys, I've looked at each servant, each guard, each lord, each lady. Every single time someone walked by, I'd wonder, 'Is it you?' And I'd really consider it. But I never once considered Merlin. Not even in passing."

"Nor did I."

Leon stared at the boy in front of him. He'd known Merlin well, or so he'd thought. And looking at him now, he looked like the same Merlin, only weaker and shivering. How could this skinny boy have scared away a host of sorcerers?

"What are you going to do with him?" Assuming he lives, he added to himself.

"What can I do with him?" Arthur asked helplessly. "He's Merlin. And he's just a kid, isn't he? I mean, he's brave and he has these moments of wisdom, and…I don't mean he's immature exactly. But I forget sometimes how young he is. He hasn't even come of age yet."

"He's only a few years younger than you, sire," Leon pointed out wryly, but Arthur shook his head.

"I know. But I've been training to be king my entire life. I had to grow up. Besides, do you remember what I was like when I was his age, even if it was only a few years ago?"

Leon snickered. "I'm sorry to say, I think we all do. Fortunately, Merlin is better than that." He said the words without thought, not realizing how much he believed them until he spoke them.

"Yeah. I thought so too." Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. "Do you think magic is evil, Leon?"

It took Leon a minute or two to gather his thoughts. "I honestly don't know, my lord. I always thought it must be, until we met the druid. And heaven knows most magic I've seen has been used for evil. But I've thought about it some since then, and I'm not sure. It makes sense that those who mean no harm with their magic would keep it out of sight of a knight of Camelot. I feel like I don't know nearly enough to know for sure. But…" he trailed off, eyeing Arthur uncertainly.

"But what?" Arthur prompted.

"He was so ill yesterday, Arthur. He had to have been acting on instinct. He didn't have the energy or the mental coherence for that to have been some kind of strategy or manipulation. And his instinct was to protect you."

Arthur gave him a pained smile. "So it was." They sat in a thoughtful silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. "I keep trying to figure out why I'm not angry. Logically, I know I should be, but every time I try to talk myself into being angry, I end up just feeling sorry for him instead." He paused, and Leon heard a trace of fear in his voice when he asked, "Do you think I need to be worried that he might have enchanted me?"

Leon laughed.

"I take that as a no," Arthur said, his relief evident.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. The thought just…well, it seemed funny at first glance," Leon apologized. "The idea that he'd enchant you to feel sorry for him. But truthfully, I think you'd be foolish not to at least acknowledge enchantment as a possibility, however unlikely the possibility may be."

Arthur nodded, then paused for a few seconds. "What would you do? If you were in my shoes?"

Leon stared at the shivering boy, reaching out instinctively to pull the blankets tighter around his chin. "I can't make that decision for you, sire."

"Would you ever be able to trust him?"

Yesterday, Leon would have said that he would never be able to look at Emrys without caution, regardless of who he turned out to be. He'd seen too much of the evils of magic.

But Leon's duty – and love – was for Arthur and the people of Camelot. And in his heart, he believed Merlin's priorities were the same.

And yet…Merlin had lied. And had power. There was an unexpected side to him that Leon did not know or understand.

"I think so, sire. Maybe not immediately, but with a little bit of time to get to know him better. To understand his power. I think I could trust Merlin again." He paused then, debating the wisdom in his next words. "Permission to speak freely, Arthur?" He rarely addressed the king by name, but he was about to speak as a friend, not a subject.

"Please do."

"Whatever you decide to do, just remember…" Leon hesitated, then decided to be blunt. "…remember your father is dead. He can't harm Merlin. He can't dictate your decisions. Camelot is Arthur's kingdom. Not Uther's. You're free to choose the path your conscience demands."

Arthur stared at him in shock, then to Leon's surprise, he laughed. "So I am, Sir Leon. So I am."