Creature of Magic (Compiled), a merlin fanfic

AN: I've gotten a number of messages from people stating they're unable to access certain chapters of Creature of Magic. Either the "Next" link isn't there and the chapter doesn't appear in the dropdown, or the links are there but lead to a dead page. Other readers are able to read and review without issue. I have no idea what the problem is, but I have no power to fix site issues, so this is my awkward, work-around solution: the entire story in one (extremely) long chapter.

I feel silly doing this, but I also hate that there are people who have followed this story faithfully for 20+ chapters only to find themselves unable to continue, and this is the only idea I've had to provide access. As I update CoM, I will also update this, but be aware that that since I'll be replacing the chapter instead of posting a new one, you will not get notifications if you subscribe to this instance of the story.

This story is also posted on AO3 under the same title and username, but please note that chapters 20 and 21 are combined over there, so after 20, the chapter numbering will be off by one.

Again, I am really sorry for this ridiculousness.

AN: A couple of notes about the setting - this is AU after series 3. Lancelot is still alive, but Uther has died and Arthur is king. The end of S3 and beginning of S4 made me really want to see more of Lancelot as a supportive friend for Merlin. (Side note: there will be no love triangle drama with Lancelot and Gwen). I see Merlin as 19 or 20ish in this story, and Arthur as 24ish.

On with the story…enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Part One

Chapter One

For a brief moment, Arthur feared he was the reason for the scream.

He let his arrow fly, confident it would meet its mark. And then, just as it pierced the stag, a panicked cry rang through the forest. The confusion only lasted a moment before he realized the sound had come from somewhere behind him.

A quick glance at his nearest knights told him Leon and Lancelot had heard it as well. He didn't bother issuing an actual order; he wanted them to maintain the element of surprise. Abandoning the hunt, he turned and rode towards the noise, his knights following.

In less than a minute, they found the source. A young woman and a child stood in the road, surrounded by ten bandits. The woman had the child in front of her, clinging to him tightly, her druid's cloak covering him as well as her.

"Come on now, missy," the apparent ringleader said. "Give us what you've got, or we'll take the lad instead."

Ten bandits. Arthur had five knights with him.

He liked those odds.

With a couple of quick hand gestures, he sent Lancelot, Leon, and Elyan around to approach from the other side.

"I don't have any money," the woman pleaded. "Please, we carry nothing of value!"

"Well, I dare say the lad will fetch a pretty enough price to the right buyer," the man said with a toothy grin. "Won't you, boy?"

Bandits who dabbled in slaving, apparently. Arthur took the rage he felt rising up and channeled it into the attack.

It took very little to stop the bandits; they had only rudimentary sword skills, and the knights made quick work of them. In a matter of minutes, four bandits lay dead on the ground, the other six having fled.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked, turning to the woman and child.

"Y-yes, my lord," the woman said uncertainly. "Thank you." Her eyes were wide with understandable fear. For a druid, the king of Camelot might not be any less of a threat than the bandits.

He stepped towards her, about to assure her that he meant her no harm, when suddenly a look of terror seized the boy. Then everything seemed to happen at once.

"No!" the child shouted, throwing a hand out in front of him. Hie eyes flashed gold, and although Arthur couldn't see it, he could feel the magic around him. He saw an arrow pass by his head, aimed for the woman's chest, and then he saw the arrow pause and reverse course. Arthur spun in time to see it sink into the throat of a bandit holding a crossbow.

The boy had magic. Arthur felt the chill in his bones he always experienced when he saw magic practiced, but he also saw the fear in the child's eyes. He knew the boy had only meant to protect the woman.

And then he saw one of the bandits – one he had previously believed to be dead – shift. The man must have been faking the severity of his injuries, because he moved nimbly, leaping to his feet and swinging his sword in the same motion.

Without thinking, Arthur leapt in and blocked the blow before it reached the child, then buried his sword into the man's stomach.

When he fell again, there was no doubt as to his fate.

All of it together had taken only seconds.

"You saved him." The woman stared at Arthur in wonder. "You risked your life to protect someone with magic."

Arthur wasn't sure how to respond. He hadn't really thought about what he was doing. It had been instinctual, not intentional.

"I did," he agreed dazedly, then tried to clear to his head. "It is my duty to ensure the people of Camelot are safe from criminals such as these."

The woman smiled at him and took a step closer, gently moving the boy to the side so she could approach the king. "Even people with magic?"

All signs of fear were gone from the woman. She studied Arthur thoughtfully. Up close, she was not as young as he had first thought, and the knowledge in her eyes unsettled him.

"What say you, Arthur Pendragon?" she asked gently. "Do people with magic deserve to live?"

Arthur stared at her speechless. Fighting the bandits made sense. He was comfortable with that. But somehow he had stumbled from that into this conversation, and he had no idea how to handle it.

Did people with magic deserve to live?

He had never considered the question in quite those words before. He'd always envisioned a sorcerer as an adult who had been seduced by the lure of corrupt power. But a child protecting his sister or mother? Arthur couldn't see how he would deserve death. And if he didn't automatically deserve death, were there others who didn't deserve death either?

The woman smiled at him with both kindness and sympathy. "I will not demand an answer from you today. I see you have much to think about. Instead, perhaps, I can offer you a favor. In exchange for saving his life."

"A favor?" Arthur repeated, his mind still tangled in her question. "Why would a druid grant a favor to a Pendragon?"

"Because," the woman said, "you are our hope. We have heard how Emrys serves you, and meeting you, I can feel the mark of his power. Now, seeing you risk your life for my son's, I know for myself it is true."

"Your hope?" Arthur asked dumbly. "Who's Emrys? What power?" He had apparently been reduced to just echoing whatever the woman said in the form of a question. The whole conversation was taking on a decidedly dream-like feel, where none of the pieces connected to each other and nothing made sense.

The woman looked surprised. "You do not know of Emrys?" She considered this for a moment. "That can be your favor, if you wish it. I will tell you about him."

Arthur didn't have anything else to ask of the druid, and he was curious, so he nodded. "All right. Yes, tell me about Emrys."

The woman looked delighted at the prospect of sharing the knowledge with him, her voice warm with reverence as she spoke. "Emrys is a creature of magic, the only one of his kind. He is the most powerful sorcerer ever to live. Born with his powers, he did not choose magic, but was chosen by destiny to be magic, not merely have magic. He is your most loyal subject, most faithful friend, and strongest ally. It is his destiny to help you, King Arthur, become the king you are meant to be, as your friend and equal."

It was these impossible words that snapped Arthur out of his dreamlike stupor. Suddenly he was very aware that he was awake. This was real. And something inside him told him these words were important.

"That's not possible," he argued. "Sorcery is punishable by death in Camelot. Why would the most powerful sorcerer in the world be my ally?"

"That is a question you can ask him, when the time comes," she said with a smile. "You will be friends someday, if you are not already."

"What do you mean when you say you feel the mark of his power?"

She considered this for a moment before answering. "It's hard to explain. I can just…sense his power on you. On all of you. He knows you. He has used magic on you. I dare say he isn't far."

"He has used magic on me?" Arthur exclaimed in horror, and the woman looked worried.

"Only for your good, I'm sure, my lord!"

Arthur took a deep breath. "How do you know all this?"

"From the prophecies," the woman said, as though it should be obvious. "The coming of Emrys has been spoken of for a thousand years. And now that the prophecies are coming to pass, I…" she trailed off, thinking. "I can sense it," she said finally. "We all can. I can feel the way magic has shifted within the world. I can feel the hum of the Old Religion. Emrys has risen. He is by your side. He has protected you, again and again. He protects you now." Her eyes glazed over for a moment, and then sharpened again.

"Your time is coming, King Arthur. You sit on the cusp of your destiny." The woman reached out and, to Arthur's shock, laid a gentle hand on his face. "So you must decide, my lord – do people with magic deserve to live?"

The woman smiled at him, almost sympathetically. Then she lowered her hand and stepped back, reaching for the child again. In an instant, both of them disappeared, leaving nothing but a slight whirlwind of leaves where they had previously stood.

Arthur stared at the spot for a long moment before finally looking up. Some of the knights were staring at the place where the druids had disappeared, and others stared at him. Percival and Elyan looked stunned, Leon looked disturbed, and Lancelot looked terrified.

"You have a magical babysitter," Gwaine busted out, breaking the silence with his laughter. "Oh, this is amazing."

"That happened, right?" Arthur asked, ignoring Gwaine and looking to Leon. "I didn't imagine that whole thing?"

Leon nodded dazedly. "It happened, sire," he confirmed.

Arthur stared another moment longer, then turned back to where they had left the horses.

"It's getting late," he said. "We should get back."

They were silent for most of the ride back to Camelot. Gwaine cracked a couple more jokes, but once he realized no one else seemed to find the idea of a powerful sorcerer using magic on them to be all that amusing, he finally gave up.

Arthur's head swam. He didn't know where he should start to try to sort through everything the woman had said. He did know that the one thing standing out in his mind probably wasn't the most important piece of it. But he couldn't stop thinking about it.

Three times, she'd called Emrys his friend. And she'd called him his equal.

Arthur didn't have friends who were his equals.

He had friends, of a sort – Merlin and his knights, to start with. They were nearly like brothers; he trusted them completely. But no matter how much he trusted and valued them, they were not equals. He was their king. He supposed he could be friends with a fellow king, if he ever spent enough time with one to develop a friendship, and that would be a friendship between equals. But as it currently stood, every friendship Arthur had was imbalanced in terms of power.

He wondered what it would be like to be friends with someone who did not bow to him.

Of course, the thought was absurd. Sorcery was evil. And illegal. And performing magic on the king and his knights was definitely illegal. There might have been elements of truth in the druid's story, but surely the story as a whole couldn't be true.

And it was all the more poisonous because part of Arthur really wanted to believe it was true.

Chapter Two

"Where have you been? You've been gone for ages!"

Merlin gave the king a sideways look. "I've been in Ealdor, and I've been gone for four days, just like we discussed. What are you doing awake so early? And dressed?"

He was slightly annoyed. He was actually early to work for once, and Arthur was already awake and ready for the day. For some reason, that made him feel somewhat robbed of his accomplishment. Add Arthur's unfair complaint to that, and he felt a little bit annoyed with the royal prat.

"Well, you certainly chose a fine time to take a trip," Arthur said irritably.

"Did something happen?" Merlin felt a twinge of concern through his annoyance. Looking more closely, there were bags under Arthur's eyes and an unfamiliar wildness in his expression.

"Did something happen," Arthur repeated with a snort. "I don't suppose you've ever heard the name 'Emrys'?"

Merlin froze. "Emrys? I don't believe I've met anyone by that name."

"I didn't think so," Arthur said with a sigh. "All right, let's go."

"Go where? You haven't even had breakfast yet!"

"To meet with the round table." Arthur laughed a little bit, grabbing a muffin off of his plate as he walked past. "We went on a hunting trip together while you were gone, and something happened that needs sorting. I'll fill you in on the way."

The tale took surprisingly little time to tell, considering how big it felt. Merlin grew more and more pale as Arthur spoke, but that didn't particularly surprise the king. Merlin had always been jumpy when it came to magic.

"That's quite a story," Merlin said when Arthur fell silent. "You believe it?"

"You think I shouldn't?" Arthur asked curiously.

"I don't know." Merlin looked like he was going to say more, but then stopped. Before Arthur could press him, Gwaine joined them.

"Merlin! Welcome back!" he clapped the younger man on the shoulder as they entered the room. "Has Arthur told you all about his magical nanny?"

To Arthur's surprise, Merlin scowled at Gwaine instead of joining in on the joke. Merlin never hesitated to team up with the knight against Arthur, but apparently Merlin couldn't find anything funny about the current situation, even at Arthur's expense.

Arthur took his normal seat at the round table. He'd had the table brought from the castle of the ancient kings (no mean feat, given it was solid stone) and set up in a room that they simply referred to as "the table room." Arthur still used the council chambers when he needed to meet with the council or with all of the knights. But for more sensitive issues, Arthur met with just his inner circle, whom he trusted implicitly. The Knights of the Round Table. The knights had spread out around it, but even so, it always looked a little bit sparse since Gwen, Gaius, and Merlin didn't sit with them as they had that first night.

"All right," Arthur said without preamble, hardly waiting to take his seat before he started talking. "Have we figured anything out?"

"The townspeople don't seem familiar with the name," Gwaine reported. "I hit four different taverns, and not a single soul batted an eyelash."

"I tried to subtly bring it up with some of the other knights, but no one knew what I was talking about," Leon said apologetically. "The name doesn't even seem familiar to anyone."

"Lancelot? Did you have any luck?" Arthur asked, watching the knight closely. Apart from Arthur, he had seemed the most upset at the druid's revelation.

"I spoke with Geoffrey of Monmouth and we went through the genealogies of all of Camelot's noble families going back five generations. There is no mention of an Emrys anywhere." Lancelot still appeared troubled, but Arthur was relieved to see that he no longer seemed as distressed as he had before.

Arthur drummed his fingers on the table. "What next?" he wondered aloud.

"We could put out a notice." The idea came from Percival, although he looked hesitant to propose it. "Say that you're looking for someone named Emrys, and offer a reward for information."

Leon looked thoughtful. "Even with a reward, his friends wouldn't be likely to come forward if they fear he'd be in trouble. Our best hope would be that he has an enemy who would reveal him."

"You could say that you're searching for him to offer him a reward for services rendered to the king," Lancelot suggested quietly. "But you can't say that unless you mean it."

Arthur huffed. "Services rendered to the king," he muttered. "Who knows what the man has done?" He turned to Gwaine, "Let's just do this by word of mouth. Can you start planting seeds that I'm looking for someone named Emrys, and there might be a reward involved if the information proves valuable? Nothing official, just…"

"Just gossip," Gwaine said with a grin. "Yeah, I can do that. People are probably already starting to talk just based off the questions we've been asking, but I can nudge things along. Does that mean you'll be buying a few rounds for the fine folks of Camelot?"

Arthur sighed. "A few, Gwaine, just to loosen tongues. We can't empty the royal coffers on ale." He sat for a moment longer, trying to come up with something else he could order people to do, but ultimately he had to admit that right now, they were playing a waiting game until they had more information.

"We'd better get to training," he said, standing. "Keep your ears open, and let me know immediately if you learn anything."

As they reached the door, he turned to Merlin to give him his chores for the day, but before he had the chance, he heard Lancelot's voice calling out.

"Merlin! Do you have a minute?" Arthur saw the knight grab his servant's arm, and the two of them disappeared down a side corridor.

"Are you all right?" Lancelot asked the question so quietly that Merlin could hardly hear him.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he whispered back. "I'm still in shock, I think. I literally just found out as we were walking into the room."

"What do you need from me?"

"I don't know. I had no idea what I'm going to do."

"Merlin!" Arthur appeared at the end of the corridor, looking annoyed.

"Coming!" he called back. "Come by this afternoon," he muttered to Lancelot as he walked away. "We'll talk."

"So Arthur doesn't have any inkling of who it might be?" Gaius asked later that day, and Lancelot shook his head.

"It doesn't seem so. The biggest clue the druid gave about Emrys's identity is that he's loyal and a faithful friend, and that she could sense his magic on all of us, so he had to be close."

"How many people are close enough for that?" Merlin worried. "I'm the only one around all of you that much."

"Not necessarily," Gaius said thoughtfully. "There are plenty of servants and craftspeople that come into contact with Arthur and the knights regularly, even if they're less conspicuous than you. The royal blacksmith, for example, could have enchanted the knights' armor. Or Silas, who helps Arthur with training the knights. You're not the only one who moves in and out of their lives. And the knights all interact with each other at training, so any of them could be a possibility as well."

Lancelot watched Merlin with concern. "What are you going to do?"

Merlin sighed. "I don't know. But it sounds like I at least have a little bit of time to figure it out." His eyes fell to the large book on the table in front of him. "In the meantime, Arthur is going to have me do research until my eyes fall out.

Gaius reached over and picked up the book curiously. "Cadwaladr's Bestiary," he read. "What on earth does he have you doing with this?"

"Apparently the druid said that Emrys is a 'creature of magic,' so Arthur has me going through any book I can find about magical creatures to see if there's a record of powerful sorcerers." Merlin let out a short laugh. "Who knows? Maybe I'll find something."

Gaius gave him a skeptical look, handing the book back. "I doubt you're in a bestiary, Merlin."

A knock sounded at the door, and Leon popped his head in, looking taken aback when he saw Lancelot there. "We've been looking for you!" he said in surprise. "Arthur asked me to gather the knights and Merlin – someone has requested an audience with the king. They say they have information about Emrys."

Chapter Three

The man had magic. Merlin could feel it the moment he walked into the room, not because it was immensely powerful – in fact, it was relatively weak – but because it was barely restrained. Merlin couldn't tell if it was because the man was incapable of controlling it, or because the he held it loosely. Regardless, he felt his own magic rise up instinctually within him, sensing a possible attack.

"My name is Arven, my lord. I have heard that you seek a sorcerer named Emrys?" The man knelt in front of Arthur, the image of submission.

Arthur sidestepped the question. "What do you know of the one called Emrys?" he asked instead.

"I know he is a sorcerer," Arven said. "And a powerful one, at that. They say that he lives here in Camelot, and that he is close to the king. That he protects him." The man dared a look up at Arthur. "I am surprised, my lord, to hear that you are seeking him, for I would have thought that you of all people would know him if what they say is true. Do you truly not know who he is?"

Arven's expression showed surprise, but Merlin didn't see surprise in his eyes. He felt sure this was a performance, but what would the purpose be in such a show?

"What else do you know?" Arthur asked, ignoring the question.

"There are two prophecies, my lord," Arven said. "One says that Emrys is a faithful friend to you. Another says that Emrys serves only himself, and will abandon you in your hour of need. My lord, if you do find him, you must be wary."

Merlin froze, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible. But he couldn't help the blood he felt rushing to his face in rage.

Serves only himself?

Abandons Arthur in his hour of need?

Lancelot caught Merlin's eye from across the room, and Merlin could see a similar flare of indignation in his friend's face. That, at least, reassured him. Lancelot knew it was nonsense at any rate.

But Arthur didn't, and Merlin knew that Arthur would be only too quick to believe the worst of someone with magic. A sorcerer who was an ally? That was a foreign concept to Arthur. A sorcerer who serves himself would be a comfortable and familiar idea, and Merlin knew which one Arthur would gravitate to.

"Anything else?" the king asked, and Arven shook his head.

"No, sire. That is all I know."

Arthur nodded. "You will be compensated for what you have provided. I thank you for your help."

The man stood and bowed before leaving. As he walked past, Merlin could see the traces of a smirk in his mouth and a satisfied gleam in his eye.

Merlin ducked out of the room before Arthur could call him over, deliberately avoiding eye contact, and made his way back to Gaius's chambers as quickly as he could.

"Gaius," he said, out of breath once he reached his destination. "We have a problem."

He was just finishing recounting the man's claims to his guardian when a knock sounded at the door and Lancelot poked his head in. Gaius gestured him in distractedly.

"I don't know who he is or what he wants, but he's deliberately trying to turn Arthur against Emrys," Merlin finished. "Why would someone with magic want to do that? I thought Emrys was supposed to be some kind of symbol of hope to them!"

"To the druids, maybe," Gaius said, looking troubled, "but that doesn't necessarily extend to everyone who has magic."

"Is it possible he's telling the truth about there being two prophecies?" Lancelot asked.

"No," Merlin said immediately. "Kilgharrah would have told me." He considered this for a moment, then frowned. "Well, maybe not," he amended. "He has his own agenda. It's possible he would keep something like this from me, if it served his purposes. And I guess," he added, his stomach sinking, "I guess it's possible I would abandon Arthur, if something forced me to. If my mother took ill or I was injured and couldn't get to him."

"But even then, I don't think anyone would say you serve only yourself," Gaius pointed out. "For that alone, I'm inclined to say the claim of a second prophecy is a lie."

"But why?"

"Because," Lancelot said grimly, "it drives a divide between Arthur and Emrys. If Arthur accepts Emrys, he is even better protected than he was already. If he pushes Emrys away, it leaves Arthur vulnerable."

Merlin's stomach sank, and Gaius sighed.

"I fear you're right," the physician said wearily. "Whoever this man is, I don't believe he means Arthur well."

"We've gone from knowing very little to knowing nothing," Arthur stormed, taking his sword belt off and slamming it onto the table. A morning of training had done nothing to burn through his frustration. "We thought we knew he was a friend. That at least gave me some general idea to work off of. Now all we know is that he's in Camelot and apparently close to me, and he may or may not be my enemy."

"From what I've heard, no one has said anything about him being your enemy or wishing ill on you," Merlin pointed out as he helped Arthur out of his armor. He sounded unconcerned about the whole thing, much to Arthur's annoyance. "He is, at best, a friend. At worst, he abandons you. Which I admit is bad, but it's not the same thing as acting against you. It doesn't sound like you actually have any reason to fear him."

"Other than the fact he's a sorcerer," Arthur said irritably. "And magic corrupts.

Merlin shrugged. "Maybe. But prophecies are a druid thing, and that Arven fellow didn't look much like a druid to me. I don't trust him."

"The druids have magic," Arthur argued. "I think I'm more inclined to trust someone who doesn't. If I were to believe the druid, it might make me more sympathetic to magic, which benefits them. Arven has nothing to gain or lose based on my feelings about magic, so he is inherently a more objective source."

"It doesn't matter how objective he is if he doesn't know what he's talking about," Merlin insisted, and Arthur's scowl deepened.

"Like I said. We've gone from knowing very little to knowing nothing."

Merlin darted around the crowds milling through the marketplace. He was trying to get deliveries done for Gaius before Arthur finished training. The mood Arthur had been in that morning, Merlin wasn't eager to deal with him if his lunch came late.

Truthfully, Arthur had been in a mood for the past two weeks. Ever since the visit from Arven, really.

Merlin ducked out of the tavern – the only time he had ever set foot in the place during the daytime, having just delivered a remedy to the owner – and set out on a shortcut back to the castle. He was so focused on hurrying that he almost missed it. Then, just as he was about to walk away from the market toward the castle, he felt…something.

He paused, shifting his focus from his destination to his surroundings. There was a hum nearby, a thrumming…

Magic. Like Arven's, it felt loose and wild, but much more powerful. Looking around, Merlin finally found the source: a woman, her face hidden by the hood of a cloak despite the warmth of the day. She walked towards Merlin, away from the gate leading to the castle. As they neared each other, she glanced up briefly and Merlin caught a quick look at her face. She had dark eyes and a few stray wisps of blond hair hanging around her face. She looked back down immediately, passing Merlin as though he were invisible.

He took his time returning to the castle, his earlier rush forgotten. It might have been nothing. There were plenty of people with magic in Camelot. There was nothing shocking about one of them being in the vicinity of the castle. But her magic had felt so similar to Arven's...

His anxiety increased as he walked. The hum of magic should have grown weaker as he put distance between himself and the woman, but instead, Merlin felt that same hum growing stronger. By the time he reached the gate, the hum had turned into a buzz that made his skin tingle. He studied the gate as he walked through, ignoring the sideways looks from the guards. The magic was weaker once he was on the other side.

He couldn't study it any closer without drawing attention to himself, but the gate to the castle was enchanted. He was sure of it.

"How can we know nothing?" Arthur yelled in frustration, pacing the length of the table room. "After weeks of inquiries, how is it that only one person has stepped forward with any information?"

Merlin stood as close to the wall as he could, trying to make himself invisible while the knights eyed each other uneasily.

"It appears, sire, that whoever Emrys is, he has guarded the secret of his identity well," Leon said tentatively. "The people cannot reveal what they do not know, and it is possible that no one knows who Emrys is."

"Someone knows," Arthur snapped. "Both the druid and Arven said that the sorcerer is close to me. We're not talking about a farmer in an outlying village. Someone here in the castle knows something."

No seemed eager to fill the awkward silence that followed Arthur's words. Finally, Lancelot took a deep breath and leaned forward, speaking calmly.

"Arthur, we have no reason to believe Emrys is a threat, and pursuing him is not doing anyone any good, least of all yourself." He said the last few words with enormous gentleness. "Sire, would it not be better to let this be for a while?"

"Let it be?" Arthur repeated incredulously. "Just sit back, knowing there's a sorcerer in our midst?"

"He's not likely to step forward right now anyway," Gwaine pointed out, earning him a sharp look from Arthur.

"Why not?"

"He's supposedly close to you. If that's true, then he's seen how you're behaving." Arthur stared at Gwaine in disbelief, but Gwaine pressed on. "You're short-tempered and you assume the worst of everyone. And to be honest, you're getting a little bit paranoid. This morning in training you said you thought there was something magical going on because 'you slept too well' last night."

Merlin swallowed. He had put a slight sleep enchantment on Arthur the night before. He knew the king hadn't been sleeping well and thought he needed some true rest. He hadn't expected Arthur to suspect magic for something that small.

"All I'm saying," Gwaine concluded, "is that you're probably not exactly motivating him to reveal himself."

Arthur stared at him for a long moment, and Merlin felt dread as he saw the shrewd look rising in his eyes.

"Do you know who it is?" he asked suspiciously, making Gwaine blink in surprise.

"I have no idea," he said candidly. "I'm not trying to protect him or hide him. I'm just trying to use some common sense."

Merlin fought the urge to look at Lancelot. Gods help them both if the king started questioning the knights.

Chapter Four

Merlin woke to the warning bells ringing. He didn't immediately panic; as often as not, the bells rang because someone had escaped the dungeons, which typically wasn't anything that overly concerned him. But as he tried to clear the cobwebs of sleep, he couldn't think of anyone being held in the dungeons at the moment; certainly not anyone of enough importance to warrant the alarm bells.

He stumbled to the window, but all appeared normal outside. No shouts, no screaming, no fires burning.

Sighing, he grabbed his coat.

It didn't take long to ascertain that no one knew what was happening. Guards and knights moved through the halls of Camelot in search of something or someone, but as far as Merlin could tell, they were chasing shadows. He kept to the edges as he made his way to Arthur's chambers, watching and trying to put the pieces together. Every once in a while someone would yell, "Over there! I saw something!" and a group would race by, but Merlin never saw or heard them actually apprehend anyone.

"Merlin!"

He turned to see Gwaine rushing towards him, his sword in his hand. "Have you seen Arthur?"

"No, I'm headed to his chambers now." Merlin glanced over Gwaine's shoulder in that direction. "What's going on?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Gwaine admitted. "Something happened at the gate. A guard patrolling the roof saw a flash of light and sent someone to check. They found the gate open and the guards all dead, with no sign of injury."

The enchantment on the gate. Merlin cursed under his breath.

"So now there's someone somewhere in the citadel, but we don't know who and we don't know where," he surmised.

"That about sums it up," Gwaine agreed. Suddenly his eyes sharpened as he focused on something behind Merlin. "I saw something." He raised his sword, creeping towards it. "I'll take care of this. Go find Arthur."

Merlin was able to reach Arthur's chambers quickly; the halls were strangely deserted compared to when he first left Gaius's quarters. Several times, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, slipping down side corridors and around corners. Each time, he felt strangely compelled to follow after it, and he had to shake himself more than once and remind himself of his mission. He had to find the king.

"Arthur?" he called as he barged into his room, not expecting an answer. This was the obvious first place to check, but Merlin knew Arthur wouldn't stay hiding in his room if there was an emergency in Camelot. Still, Merlin took a quick look around, just on the off chance that Arthur had been attacked in his chambers. Movement outside caught his eye, and he peered out the window, then froze.

The courtyard held several guards and knights. Each one knelt, arms at his sides, back straight. In many cases, their swords lay near them on the ground. As Merlin watched, two more knights stepped cautiously out of the castle, swords drawn. Then, seeing the scene before them, they rushed down the steps, only to fall to their knees as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Even in the dark, Merlin recognized Gwaine's hair.

He raced back into the hallway, not bothering to close the door to Arthur's chambers behind him. The way Gwaine and the other knight moved as they knelt had been so unnatural; it was magic. It had to be.

Merlin rushed down to the kitchens, taking the servants' exit out the back of the castle, and he felt it as soon as he stepped out the door. That hum of loose magic, just like Arven and the woman in the marketplace. He crept carefully, the hum of magic growing stronger as he rounded to the front of the castle.

He felt the moment the magic hit him to drive him to his knees, but he stumbled rather than fell. The enchantment was well constructed, but the power sustaining it was far weaker than his own. He only needed to nudge it with his own magic to disregard it.

Peering around the side of the castle, he saw what he feared: a sea of red capes with Arthur at the front. Lancelot and Leon both knelt near him, and Merlin spotted Percival and Elyan in the crowd as well. All of the knights of the round table. So he would have to deal with this alone.

Although perhaps that was a good thing. Merlin had freedom to do much more alone than he could with the knights around.

He took a deep breath and thought. He had planted some protective wards on the walls of the citadel over the past few days since discovering the mysterious charm on the gate. They were meant to repel an army, but this didn't seem to be a military attack, so it was unsurprising that they hadn't helped. Still, that meant he had several points of strong magic already set up. Surely he could do something with that?

Arthur might struggle to wake up in the morning, but waking to Camelot's warning bells was an entirely different matter.

He dressed as quickly as he could, fumbling into his armor by himself, and then rushed into the hallway.

"Sire," he heard Leon call, and he turned to see the knight rushing towards him.

"Report," he ordered, but Leon just shrugged helplessly.

"I haven't heard anything yet, sire. Just the bells." Leon froze, looking past Arthur. "Did you see that?"

Arthur turned around, following Leon's gaze. He opened his mouth to say no, but then he spotted it. A shadow slipping down one of the side corridors. He knew, with a certainty he couldn't explain, that this was the threat.

He glanced at Leon, and saw that he intuitively understood it as well. The two of them crept after the shape, turning down the corridor just to see it disappear around another bend.

The man was slippery, moving quickly and silently, but never quite quickly enough to completely escape them. They tracked him through hallways and downstairs, Arthur's frustration mounting that they couldn't ever seem to catch up with him. He couldn't even get a clear look at him.

They finally found themselves in the entry hall of the castle just in time to see the man disappear through the front doors. Arthur swore; if they didn't catch him in the courtyard, the man might very well get away.

But when he rushed out into the night, he found only knights and guards in the courtyard.

"Did you see him?" he demanded, grabbing one of the guards by the arm, but the man just shook his head, bewildered.

"See who?"

Arthur released him and hurried down the steps, looking around desperately as he made his way to the center of the courtyard.

And then he dropped his sword.

There were few feelings Arthur hated more than that of his sword leaving his hand against his will. Before now, he had only ever felt it in the midst of a fight, and that was bad enough. But now…his hand had just opened, without thought or intention, and the sword clattered to the ground. And before he could do more than look down in confusion, his entire body followed. He had no control over it. One moment he was standing, the next, he was on his knees.

He was king. He was not accustomed to being on his knees.

He could move his head, but only by a few inches, so he couldn't see what was happening in the courtyard behind him. But a chorus of clangs and grunts and surprised cries told him he wasn't the only one hit by the sorcery.

In some ways, he wasn't surprised to find himself under attack by magic. Ever since the encounter with the druid weeks before, part of him had been waiting for a moment like this. Magic always led to violence and conflict. Didn't it naturally follow that if he had a sorcerer nearby, violence and conflict must also be close?

But this…he hadn't expected this helplessness. This complete inability to fight back. If he was going to die, he wanted to die with a sword in his hand, defending himself. Defending Camelot. Not kneeling unarmed, waiting for an invisible enemy to come deliver the death blow.

He strained to get a better look at his men behind him, then gave up and studied the courtyard in front of him instead. There was no sign of movement, but with magic this powerful at work, surely the sorcerer couldn't be far.

"Show yourself!" he commanded to the darkness, his voice echoing through the courtyard. "Only a coward attacks from the shadows."

"Only a coward attacks innocent children because he fears what they might someday become." The voice came from his right, and it took a moment before the woman finally stepped into his line of sight, the moonlight reflecting off of her light hair and the sword in her hand. "Only a coward attacks those with power simply because they wield it, and not because they mean harm. The entire Pendragon legacy, king, is one of cowardice."

She stopped a few feet away from him, a calculating look in her eyes as she gazed at him. "Your father burned my sister, and you stood on that balcony and watched. Did you not care that your father murdered a twelve year old girl? Or were you simply too weak to defy him?"

Arthur's stomach turned, first because the woman's story was probable; Uther had executed anyone with magic, regardless of age. Arthur had indeed stood on the balcony beside his father and watched children die. Second, his stomach turned because he did not specifically remember a young girl. There had been too many executions over the years, and he had always tried to put them out of his mind as quickly as he could after. His father had assured him that nothing good came of dwelling on it. He would never forget their screams or their fear, but now he wished he had committed their faces to his memory as well.

"I was loyal to my father as king," he answered, choosing his words carefully. He wanted to be honest with her, but he must be diplomatic and clever to try to defuse the situation, if such a thing were even possible. "But though I honor his memory, I am not him. He made decisions that I believe were wrong. Executing innocent children is one of those decisions. I cannot undo what has been done, but I am sorry for what happened to her."

The woman smiled in response, a cruel smile that reminded him of Morgana. "I don't care about your apologies, Arthur Pendragon. You will pay for the crimes of your family. But that is not why I am here – spilling your blood is merely a perk. Tell me, your majesty," she asked, her smile turning from cruel to mocking, "have you found Emrys?"

Arthur tried to understand the gleam in her eyes as she asked the question. "Why do you want him? What role does he play in this?"

"Emrys is the very power of magic itself, King Arthur. If he is with us, no one can stand against us." She looked past him and called, "Search the castle. I want every living body in the citadel in this courtyard."

Arthur couldn't turn to see who she gave the command to, but he heard footsteps retreating as her accomplices left to carry out her orders.

"Don't worry, your majesty," the woman said, turning her attention back to Arthur. "If Emrys is here, we'll find him. You will know his face before you die."

Chapter Five

Lancelot watched as the sorceress's three companions ushered a few more people into the courtyard. They appeared to be servants, although he didn't think he knew any of them personally. Each time they led someone out, the woman would study them for a moment, then shake her head before forcing them to their knees with the rest.

His breath caught when he saw a familiar flash of white hair; Gaius stumbled as they led him to the woman, and Lancelot felt a rush of fear. Gaius may not be Emrys, but Lancelot knew he had a bit of magic of his own. And if this woman could sense the power of Emrys on people like the druid had, then she might sense Gaius's magic and sense Merlin's presence and misinterpret what she found.

And if she did, there was nothing Lancelot could do about it. Struggle as he may, the magic held tight. His knees were sore from the hard ground and his back ached from holding the same posture for so long, but no amount of struggling made any difference against the enchantment.

The woman did gaze at Gaius for longer than she had the others, but in the end she shook her head, and Lancelot felt a pang of rage when Gaius flinched in pain as he hit his knees.

But the good news was that Gaius was alone. Wherever they had found him – presumably his quarters – they had not found Merlin. Which meant Merlin was still out there somewhere, hopefully figuring out a way to get them out of this.

Lancelot watched as the sorceress spoke with her companions, then approached Arthur again. Lancelot was only a few feet from the king, allowing him a clear view of the satisfied smile on the woman's face.

"The castle is empty, king," she said. "Do you know what that means?"

Arthur didn't answer, but the woman didn't seem to expect him to.

"It means that Emrys is not here." She gazed up at the castle, looking serene and content now. "I did not understand how a sorcerer could serve a Pendragon. And I certainly could never understand how a sorcerer of the power and importance of Emrys could serve a Pendragon. But if he has abandoned you, then the time of the prophecy has come, and there is yet hope that he will ally himself with his own." Her voice turned soft, reverent. "Magic will rise again in Camelot." She directed her eyes back down to Arthur, and for the first time that night, she lifted her sword, the point resting against Arthur's throat. "You will not live to see it, I'm afraid. A land of magic is no place for a Pendragon or his knights."

Lancelot's eyes widened in alarm and he tried to look around the courtyard. Where was Merlin? But the night was perfectly still; there was no sign of his wily friend sneaking through the shadows.

He turned his gaze back to Arthur. For a moment, the king stared hard at the hand holding the sword, then he lifted his gaze and met the woman's eye. He sat motionless with the blade at his throat, not even swallowing, but his eyes blazed. "Kill me if you must, but let the others go. Your vengeance is against me. There is no need for harm to come to the knights or any other person you've drawn out here tonight."

The woman chuckled. "Your knights are famously loyal to you, king. The new age of Camelot will begin with a clean slate. But since you sought mercy for them, perhaps I'll consider killing you first instead of making you watch them die." The woman pressed slightly with the sword, and blood began to drip down Arthur's neck.

Damn it, Merlin! Where was he? There was no way he would willingly stand back while Arthur's blood was spilled.

And yet, Lancelot had to believe that he was nearby, even if he couldn't see him. And as helpless as Lancelot felt, he realized there was something he could do.

He could buy Merlin just a little more time.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He wasn't sure who looked more surprised at his words – the woman or the king. The sorceress pulled back just slightly, and Lancelot could see the smudge of blood on the tip of the sword where it had cut Arthur.

"Who are you?" The woman asked, stepping away from Arthur and closer to him.

"Sir Lancelot," he said, "Knight of Camelot." He felt the small thrill of pride that always came when he said those words.

"Aren't you brave," the woman said, looking down at him in amusement. "Even when you can do nothing, you still try to protect your king. Tell me, Sir Lancelot, Knight of Camelot – why shouldn't I kill him?"

"Because you will face the fury of hell if you do," he answered honestly, and the woman laughed.

"Fury from whom? Look around you, sir knight – the power of Camelot is literally on its knees!"

Lancelot smiled. "Fury from Emrys."

The woman scoffed. "Emrys has fled."

"I don't know much about prophecies, and I know even less about magic. But the man you call Emrys? I know him as well as I know myself. And believe me, he has not abandoned us. He has not abandoned Arthur." Saying the words aloud filled him with hope, and he felt his smile widen into a grin.

"And yet he is not here," the woman pointed out dryly. "What other conclusion can we draw?"

Lancelot shook his head. "It is not in him to flee. His is both courageous and loyal. He will protect Arthur until his dying breath."

His eyes unwillingly flickered to Arthur to see the king gaping at him, and the brief distraction caused him to miss the change in the woman. When he looked back, her mild amusement had turned to determination.

"We will find Emrys," she said, stepping back to Arthur, "but the time has come for the Pendragon king to pay the price for his crimes."

Lancelot could do nothing but watch in horror as she swung her blade. It flew through the air toward the king's throat, and then…

And then, about a foot away from Arthur, the blade flew back, as though the sword had hit a solid wall. The woman's eyes flew open in shock, her hand losing its grip on the weapon as it rebounded backwards. The sword flew through the courtyard, landing with a clatter several feet behind her.

Merlin had done something. Thank the gods.

One of her companions ran forward to collect the sword and bring it to her, but the woman did not immediately turn her attention back to Arthur. Instead, she reached out a tentative hand and then abruptly stopped. Her fingers danced in front of her, and Lancelot did not for the life of him know what she was doing.

Then she whispered a few words and her eyes flashed gold, and something like sparks shot from her fingertips. They did not fly like a weapon; instead, they drifted, almost like smoke. And as Lancelot watched, the sparks seemed to hit a barrier, forming a glittery wall between the woman and themselves. The wall went several feet above her head and spanned at least twenty feet wide before it faded away.

"Incredible," she whispered, and Lancelot was surprised to hear awe in her voice. She turned to her companions. "It's a solid shield," she said, pressing her hand against it. "It doesn't just repel magic. I can't even reach through it."

One of them, a tall and angular man, stepped forward cautiously, eyeing the crowd. "Then he's here?" he asked, tightening his grip on his own sword.

The woman shook her head, still focused on the wall. "I don't know. It feels…" she frowned for a moment, focusing. "It feels stable. I'm not sure he's holding it. I think…" she trailed off again, taking a step back and looking at the edges of the wall. "I think it's anchored," she said finally. "I think it's anchored on objects."

The man stared at the woman incredulously. "You're saying he not only created an impermeable shield of this size, he then anchored that shield to objects and just walked away?"

The woman nodded slowly, studying the wall as she walked along it. "Yes," she said in a dazed voice. "That's what I'm saying."

Lancelot felt an unexpected surge of pride in Merlin. He was always impressed when Merlin did magic, no matter how simple. After all, he had nothing to compare it to. But these people knew magic, and hearing the awe in their voices made him realize just how powerful Merlin really was.

The woman reached the end of the wall, studying it critically, and made to step around it, stumbling when she tried to put her foot down. Then her eyes grew wide and she reached out a hand again, pressing against what Lancelot could only assume was another invisible shield. She stepped back, looking up at the sky and around the courtyard. Holding her hands open at her sides, she spoke another incantation, sending sparks not just in front of her as she had before, but throughout the courtyard and beyond. And as the sparks settled on the shields, it became evident what Merlin had done.

Lancelot laughed. He couldn't help it.

The warlock hadn't simply set up shields between the woman and his friends. He had essentially placed the woman and her companions in a pathway that led straight out of the courtyard. Beyond that, Lancelot could see the tops of more shields elsewhere in the citadel.

Not just a path out of the courtyard, then – unless he was mistaken, it was a path out of Camelot.

To his surprise, the woman laughed too, a laugh that seemed to be full of wonder.

"I've never seen such a thing," she said. "To have built and anchored one shield of that size was impressive, but this…"

Her companions did not seem to share her awe. They tightened their grips on their weapons, looking around nervously.

"He's giving you the chance to walk away," Lancelot called out to them. "You should take it."

The woman chuckled again, then finally tore her gaze away so that she could make eye contact with Lancelot through the glittering wall. "Perhaps we should, sir knight," she agreed. "Perhaps we should." With one last dazed survey of the passageway, she turned and waved the others over to her. "Until next time, king," she called over her shoulder as she led them away. But she seemed too delighted by the magic around her to sound sufficiently threatening.

Moments after they disappeared from the courtyard, the enchantment released and Lancelot fell forward, his back protesting the sudden lurch after having been frozen in place for so long.

Around him, people began sitting down or standing up, thankful to no longer be kneeling, but all eyes drifted back again and again to the sparkling walls.

They were quite beautiful, really.

Beauty in the courtyard, no one had died, and Camelot was not overthrown. All around, Lancelot felt there was plenty to smile about.

And then he saw the king watching him.

Chapter Six

The better part of the next day was spent on dealing with the situation from the night before, so it was nearly evening before Arthur was finally able to gather the round table to discuss the situation.

Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. He could have gathered them earlier. He was procrastinating because wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to say to them.

Emrys had saved Camelot last night. Arthur had seen the truth of druid's words for himself.

But then again, Emrys was the reason they had been attacked in the first place. His very presence in Camelot put them all in the danger.

But Lancelot, a trusted knight of the round table, had vouched for him.

But Emrys had chosen to act from the shadows instead of acting out in the open, which was suspicious. Arthur still had no idea who he was or what larger game he may be playing.

And apart from all of it, Emrys was a sorcerer, which inherently made him a threat. And he was a sorcerer who had driven Lancelot to keep secrets and lie to him.

Lancelot. How long had his knight been protecting the sorcerer?

The dull ache in his head slowly evolved into a steady pounding as the argument bounced back and forth in his mind.

Emrys as savior. Emrys as enemy. And Lancelot as…well, he wasn't quite sure what. Someone who kept secrets, at the very least.

By late afternoon, he was out of excuses to avoid the conversation. The round table needed to know whatever Lancelot had been keeping from them. Once they knew who Emrys was, they could decide how to move forward from there.

When Arthur entered the table room, Merlin close on his heels, the knights were already seated. Arthur strode to the front of the room toward his usual chair, but he didn't sit. The round table was a place of equality, and this particular conversation could not be among equals. He would have to use his authority to get what he needed. Queasiness accompanied this knowledge, because even that thought went against the principles of the round table. But what choice did he have?

The king stood for a moment with his arms folded, thinking, before he lifted his gaze to Lancelot.

"You know who Emrys is," he accused him quietly.

The knight closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to brace himself, then opened them again. 'Yes, sire. I do."

"You said you knew him as well as you know yourself. I take that to mean that you've known his identity the entire time we've been looking?"

Lancelot nodded. "Years ago, when I first came to Camelot, I fought the griffin. As I rode out to meet it, I heard a voice from the darkness, and then I saw light settle around my spear. I felt magic go into it. I looked around, and I saw the sorcerer responsible for conjuring the spell – the spell that allowed me to kill the griffin. Before I left Camelot, I gave that man my word that I would protect his secret. It seemed the least I could do for the one who saved my life and all of Camelot. Including yourself, sire."

Arthur took a moment to let this sink in. "So you've known about a sorcerer in Camelot all along? And you never told me?" Lancelot was one of the most honest people he had ever met. The idea that he could keep a secret of this size for so long was staggering.

"I had given him my word, my lord. When I made that promise, I was leaving Camelot. Keeping his secret seemed a simple matter. I admit, returning to Camelot and becoming a knight made it less simple, but ultimately, I did promise. That has not changed."

Arthur shook his head in disbelief. "So you've just sat there for the past month, watching us search under every stone in Camelot for the smallest piece of information, knowing exactly what we needed all along? And you've never said a word?" He had noticed from the beginning that Lancelot seemed the most upset of the knights about the search for Emrys, but it had never occurred to him that it might be because he was protecting the man.

Lancelot lowered his eyes guiltily, and Arthur gave a huff of exasperation.

"Fine," he said. "What's done is done. But you will tell us now."

Lancelot's head shot back up in surprise. "But sire…"

"Camelot was attacked last night," Arthur interrupted, his voice rising in frustration, "because our enemies seek Emrys. I understand you gave your word, but the safety of the kingdom is at stake. The time for secrets is past. You will tell me, Lancelot. That's an order."

Merlin's voice came from the back of the room. "Arthur, I—"

"No, Merlin," Lancelot cut him off gently, his eyes not leaving Arthur's. "Stay out of this. Arthur, I understand your desire to know, but Emrys saved your life last night. He protected all of us. How would knowing his identity have changed anything in that attack?"

"He saved us this time!" Arthur exploded, his temper erupting as all of his fears came to the surface. "But who's to say what will happen next time? The woman said that if they had Emrys on their side, no one could stand against them. He's a sorcerer, Lancelot! He's in Camelot, and he has used magic on us! He has used magic on the king! He is just as much a threat to the kingdom as those who attacked us. And you've been harboring him, which makes you guilty of treason! How can I trust you when you keep secrets like this from me?"

"Sire, how can any man trust me if I do not uphold my word?"

"I am not any man! I am your king, and you are my knight! And your secrets make it clear that your loyalties do not lie with me!"

"Arthur!"

Arthur froze, looking in shock at Merlin. It wasn't unusual for his servant to interrupt or argue with him, but Merlin did not ordinarily raise his voice against him.

Merlin took a slow step forward, and Arthur was taken aback by the anger he saw in his face.

"What is wrong with you?" Merlin asked in astonishment. "Lancelot has been always been loyal to you, and you're accusing him of treason? And why are you determined to see Emrys as a threat, when there has been nothing to even hint that's true? He saved you last night, and according to the druid, he has saved you in the past!"

"But Arven said—"

"Arven said that he might abandon you, which is far different from becoming your enemy! Do you want him to abandon you, Arthur?" Arthur began to feel uncomfortable under the weight of Merlin's stare. His servant's final sentence came as a dumbfounded whisper. "Why are you trying to turn your friends into enemies?"

Arthur felt a brief temptation to scold Merlin for speaking to him in such a manner, but it seemed like a petty reply in response to what he had just said.

"He is a sorcerer. If he is not corrupted by magic yet, he will be eventually. And by law, he should be executed for his crimes," he said instead, coming back to the facts of the situation. "If the druid is to be believed, he has power beyond what any of us can imagine. Yet you still believe I should treat him as a friend?"

Merlin took a moment before he answered. "I believe he keeps you alive, Arthur," he said finally. "As far as I'm concerned, that means his life has value."

His words struck something in Arthur, and his temper cooled. Even in anger, his servant's loyalty was impossible to miss.

There was a long moment of silence before Leon spoke up.

"He's right, sire. I can't ignore the fact that Emrys has saved your life and the kingdom, and for that, we owe him a debt. And he is too powerful for us to act blindly here. He does not appear to be our enemy now. We should not risk turning him into one."

Arthur looked around the room, and he could tell that Merlin's speech had been effective. He wouldn't get anywhere with them today.

"Fine," he snapped, and headed for the door. He knew storming out wasn't exactly kingly, but who would lecture him on it?

Truthfully, he thought Merlin might lecture him on it.

His servant didn't say a word about it as he served dinner though. In fact, Merlin didn't speak at all. Arthur watched as he set the dishes out and then started cleaning up the room, never once looking at Arthur.

"You're angry with me," Arthur said as he sat down to eat. Merlin didn't answer, but he threw a shirt into the basket of dirty clothes with unnecessary violence.

"Merlin."

Merlin finally spared him a brief look, glaring at him for only a moment before returning to his task. Arthur sighed in exasperation.

"I know you're upset, but I'm trying to do what I think is best for Camelot."

"By acting like an ass?"

Well, at least he'd gotten Merlin to speak.

"I know Lancelot is your friend, but he's also my knight. I am his king. I need for him to obey orders."

Merlin picked up the basket of dirty laundry and headed toward the door, turning to face him when he reached it.

"Will there be anything else, sire?"

Arthur debated. He did have something he needed to ask Merlin, although he would have preferred to ask him when things were friendlier between them. At the moment, Merlin seemed to want nothing more than to get away from him.

But the question needed to be asked, and the sooner he did it, the sooner it would be over with.

"You spoke in Emrys's defense today." Merlin went very still, watching Arthur warily. "Lancelot knows his identity. Do you know his identity as well?"

"Lancelot has never told me who he is," Merlin said flatly, "but I don't need to know his identity to defend him for protecting you."

Something about the words felt off, but Arthur didn't see a lie in Merlin's eyes.

Merlin glanced towards the door. Arthur didn't like leaving things this way between them, but he sensed that Merlin needed some time to calm down. They could talk more that night.

"All right. That will be all."

Merlin bowed, then hurried out the door.

The bow bothered him far more than being called an ass. Merlin rarely bowed when he left the room anymore – although granted, that was partly because half the time Arthur was throwing things at him as he ran out the door. Whether Merlin intended it or not, it sent a clear message: he might still honor Arthur as his king, but he was not happy with his friend.

Arthur didn't get a chance to talk to him that night though. When it came time to prepare for bed, another servant came to turn down the bed and help him dress.

"Merlin is indisposed tonight, my lord," the man explained, "and I agreed to attend to you in his place."

Sighing with irritation, he waved the man aside. "I will manage by myself tonight. You are dismissed."

Like hell, he was indisposed. Merlin was avoiding him.

He waited a few minutes after the man left, then headed for Gaius's chambers. He was halfway there when he spotted Lancelot. The knight glanced around nervously, and Arthur slipped behind a statue where he hoped he would be hidden by the shadows. He watched as Lancelot ducked down a corridor.

Perhaps the knight was meeting with Emrys…

Arthur debated. He realized suddenly that Merlin probably wasn't home anyway; if he was skipping out on work when he was upset, he was most likely at the tavern. And given the events of the day, odds were good that Lancelot was meeting with the sorcerer. Decision made, Arthur took off after the knight.

He tailed Lancelot all the way up to a door to the roof. He knew this spot. It was isolated, out of sight of the guards patrolling, and a good place to be alone to think at night.

Or to have a clandestine meeting.

He caught the door before it swung closed and peered through. To his surprise, he didn't see Emrys. Instead, he saw Merlin sitting on the roof, staring out into the distance with a bottle in his hand.

"I wondered if I might find you up here. I thought you might like a drink," Lancelot said lightly, holding up his own bottle, "but it seems you beat me to it."

Arthur knew both Lancelot and Merlin were upset with him, and they would undoubtedly spend the night airing their grievances to each other. He didn't need to eavesdrop on that conversation. Despite his accusation against Lancelot earlier, he knew neither man would ever be a threat to him. And honestly, he couldn't bear the idea of sitting and listening to two of his closest friends speak poorly of him.

Arthur gently closed the door and returned to his chambers.

Chapter Seven

Lancelot studied the young man for a moment before speaking. It was strange seeing Merlin with a bottle in his hand. He'd certainly seen Merlin drink before – they'd shared a hangover or two in the time they'd been friends. It didn't take much to make Merlin a happy drunk, extra friendly with everyone and somewhat prone to singing off-key. But sitting on the roof alone with a bottle? That wasn't Merlin.

"I wondered if I might find you up here." Merlin's back tensed when he heard Lancelot's voice. "I thought you might like a drink, but it seems you beat me to it." He took a couple of steps towards him. "Mind if I join you?"

Merlin nodded wordlessly at the spot next to him and Lancelot sat down.

Merlin had chosen a seat with a great view. They could see out over the courtyard, still lit up with the sparks settled on the shields.

"It's beautiful," Lancelot said. "Honestly, it looks like a work of art. And that sorceress certainly seemed impressed."

A small smile tugged at one side of Merlin's mouth. "It's the most complex magic I've ever successfully done. It was dangerous – I had to send bursts of magic through the courtyard to make the shields, and I had to do it without hurting anyone. I wouldn't have been able to get the final one in place if you hadn't pulled her away from Arthur for a moment." He paused for a moment and the smile faded. "It will break my heart to take it down."

"Is that why you've left it up?"

"Yes. It's not really practical to leave it – it makes it almost impossible to get into the castle from the gate. But no one is complaining yet, so I haven't felt too bad about it. I'll take it down tomorrow."

"It's a shame."

Merlin just took a long drink from the bottle in response. His eyes were still clear and he only had a slight slur, so he apparently hadn't had much to drink yet, to Lancelot's relief.

"I'm not sure it was the right move," Merlin admitted after a minute. "It took too long. Why didn't I just kill them? I've killed before. It would have been faster and simpler, and far less risky. What if the shields hadn't worked? Not to mention the fact that there are four people who want Arthur dead still wandering around out there. They could come back."

"They could," Lancelot agreed. "But it may be for the best that the first time Arthur saw Emrys's magic, it wasn't an act of violence. Besides, I don't think 'faster and simpler' are ever good reasons to opt for killing over other choices."

Merlin frowned. "The delay nearly cost Arthur his life. Every time I see that cut on his neck…" Merlin shuddered. "If you hadn't been there—"

"But I was there, and everything turned out fine."

"Yeah. It turned out fine." Merlin's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "I saved Arthur's life yet again. And he finally saw it – for the first time, he saw my magic save the day. Saw proof that magic can be used for good. And how did he respond? By declaring that I'm as much of a threat to Camelot as they were."

"Merlin—"

"I heard what you said to her about me," Merlin cut him off, changing the subject abruptly. "That was quite a speech."

"Another two minutes and I would have taken back every word," Lancelot said dryly, relieved to see Merlin crack a smile at the joke. "Thank you, by the way. For what you said to Arthur earlier. You didn't have to speak up, but I appreciate that you did."

Merlin shook his head. "I should have said more. It's not right for you to take the blame on this. I should have told him the truth."

"No," Lancelot disagreed. "Not today, you shouldn't have. Your temper and Arthur's were both running too hot. Arthur wouldn't have responded well."

"Maybe I don't give a damn how Arthur responds," Merlin muttered, taking another sizeable swig.

"Is that why you're drinking alone on the roof? Because of how much you don't care?"

Merlin chuckled, toasting the bottle toward Lancelot in concession of the point.

"What you said," Lancelot began cautiously. "About Emrys's life having value because he keeps Arthur alive?" He waited until Merlin glanced at him in acknowledgment. "Did you mean that? Do you really believe your life only has value because you protect Arthur?"

Merlin didn't answer right away. When he did, he spoke to the bottle. "Do you remember that book I was looking at, doing research for Arthur? Cadwaladr's Bestiary?"

Lancelot vaguely remember Gaius saying something about it, so he nodded.

"It's a well-known book. Somewhat famous, really. One particularly famous part of it, as it turns out, is its definition of monsters. It has a list of criteria. The first one being that a monster is a creature of magic."

"Merlin, if you're about to tell me that you're a monster, that's ridiculous." But Lancelot could tell by the look on Merlin's face that his friend was entirely serious.

"I meet every single requirement, Lancelot. I was created by magic. I have magical powers I can use to harm others. I can kill without weapons. There's a limited number of me in existence. The list goes on. I am quite literally a monster."

"According to one man. Who says he gets to decide?" The very concept of Merlin as a monster was so absurd that Lancelot was a bit at a loss of how to refute it. "Besides, there are plenty of ways to kill without weapons. That's a ridiculous piece of criteria."

"For two hundred years, people in general seem to have agreed with him."

Lancelot sighed. "Cadwaladr clearly didn't see you coming. And anyone who agrees with his definition obviously doesn't know you. Because you're not a monster."

"Arthur would probably agree with him. He believes magic inevitably corrupts anyone who has it."

"Arthur doesn't know you have it," Lancelot pointed out, but Merlin just shrugged.

"Maybe he's right. I've always assumed that people with magic could be good, just because I have magic. But what if he's right and I'm wrong about that? I've killed people and felt no remorse. I would kill again to protect him. Maybe magic is slowing corrupting me, and in a few years I'll just be a creature of rage and vengeance. Like Morgana, only infinitely worse because I am infinitely more powerful." Merlin's speech was growing more slurred, his eyes starting to turn glassy.

"Merlin, you have two things that Morgana does not have," Lancelot reassured him. "You must remember that."

Merlin looked at him curiously, although he wobbled somewhat when he turned his head.

"You have a purpose for your magic. Something to keep you focused and grounded. Because no matter what nonsense Arven might have said, you do not use your magic to serve yourself. And second, you have a destiny. Prophecies have already foretold the great things you will do."

Merlin didn't look convinced, but Lancelot thought he saw a slight spark of hope in his eyes.

"You are Emrys," he told his friend, and he couldn't keep himself from smiling at the words. "That is the name that destiny chose for you long ago. As Emrys, you have a path that you are destined to walk. But you are also Merlin. That's the name that your mother – a lovely and human lady," he said, nudging Merlin and finally getting a smile in return, "that's the name that she gave you. And as Merlin, you choose your own path. So tell me, my friend – which one are you?"

Lancelot was afraid for a moment that he had gone too philosophical, that Merlin wouldn't be able to keep up in his drunken state. But Merlin's eyes cleared, and for a moment he seemed completely sober.

"I am both," he said. "I have a destiny. And I choose to accept it." He took a deep breath and shook his head, taking another swig. "I worry sometimes that destiny picked the wrong person. I have no idea what I'm doing, Lancelot."

"Except destiny didn't pick you, did it? You weren't merely chosen, Merlin. You were created for this."

Merlin sighed, and for a few minutes the two sat in thoughtful silence.

"I have to tell Arthur, don't I? I've put you in a terrible position. I have to fix it."

Lancelot smiled pityingly at him. "You do have to tell him, but not for my sake. Tell him when you are ready. In the meantime, I gave you my word that I would keep your secret, and I will."

Merlin considered for a moment before nodding. "I'm not ready," he admitted. "Not after what he said today. But if it looks like he's going to go anything other than yell – if he starts threatening to punish you somehow – I'll have to find a way to be ready. I will not allow you to pay the price for my secret." He scowled suddenly and took another drink, only to glare at the bottle when he discovered it was empty. "I can't believe the things he said about me. Ungrateful prat."

"It wasn't his finest moment," Lancelot agreed reluctantly, "but Arthur is used to being in control. Having something this far outside of his control is difficult for him. He's scared, Merlin."

"So am I," Merlin muttered.

"Try to understand his side," Lancelot urged him gently. Merlin considered this for a moment.

"I could turn him into a toad."

Lancelot laughed until he saw that Merlin looked thoughtful.

"Merlin! You cannot turn the king into a toad!"

"I would turn him back," Merlin protested petulantly. Then he muttered under his breath, "I bet Gwaine would let me turn him into a toad."

"One of many reasons you should never, under any circumstances, drink with Gwaine," Lancelot said with complete seriousness. "Okay, I think that's the signal that we're done for tonight. Let's get you home."

Chapter Eight

Merlin looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot, and he flinched at every noise as he helped Arthur dress.

It was strange – Merlin spent so much time at the tavern, and yet Arthur was sure this was the first time he had ever seen him hungover. Under normal circumstances, he would have teased him for it, but wasn't sure how angry Merlin still was with him.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked instead, getting a grunt in response, and Arthur hid a smile. There was something incongruous about seeing Merlin hungover, and he just couldn't help himself from being amused. And yes, maybe a part of him was gratified to see Merlin suffer some as a result of his time with Lancelot the night before. "Gaius has a great remedy, you know. I've begged him for mercy more than once after a celebration. It won't fix it, but it will take the edge off."

Merlin gave him a long look, as though waiting to see if Arthur was going to lecture him. "I've already had it," he admitted grudgingly. "It did help. Just not enough."

Arthur had to laugh at that. "Exactly how much did you have to drink last night?"

Merlin winced as he helped Arthur into his shirt. "Quieter, please. And more than I've ever had in my life. I will never drink that much again. And I don't want to hear anything out of you – as I recall, you stayed in bed until lunch the day after Yule last year."

"Answering my questions, and you're picking at me," Arthur observed, pleased. "Does this mean you're officially done giving me the silent treatment?"

Merlin didn't answer immediately as he straightened the shirt, and Arthur looked over to see Merlin staring at his neck, a startling look of fury in his eyes. For a moment he thought Merlin was considering throttling him – a disconcerting idea – and then he realized that Merlin's gaze was fixed on the cut from the sorceress's sword. Arthur felt touched by his servant's anger at the superficial wound. He opened his mouth to reassure him, but before he could say anything, the fury faded to weariness, and Merlin sighed and moved to the table to begin laying out breakfast.

"I just want you and Camelot to be safe, Arthur. I'm not going to apologize for being angry at you when I think your stubbornness is getting in the way of that."

"Fair enough," Arthur acknowledged. "You're a true friend, Merlin. Even if you're a complete idiot, which you must be to yell at the king in front of his knights." He raised an eyebrow at Merlin, but his servant looked unabashed. "I'm grateful for your honesty, though. And believe it or not, I am trying to keep Camelot safe."

"I believe you."

Arthur ate in silence for a couple of minutes, trying to parse through the situation. "I wish he would just tell me who he is," he said finally. "He supposedly thinks I'm worth protecting, but he doesn't trust me enough to tell me who he is. That's strange, isn't it?"

"Not really," Merlin shrugged. "The laws against magic are just one part of Camelot. You're a good king in general. It doesn't surprise me that he can see that, even if magic is illegal."

Arthur looked at him in surprise. "In general?" he repeated. "That's a bit more qualified than what you usually say." Merlin looked down guiltily. "Do you think I'm wrong about magic?"

Merlin's face tightened, and he seemed genuinely conflicted when he answered. "Some days I think you might have a point. That it might be inherently worth fearing. That is might corrupt good people. But most of the time…most of the time, I believe magic is just a tool. Whether it's evil or good depends on how it's used."

Arthur stared at him for a moment. "That's unexpected," he murmured, almost to himself. "Merlin, you've always seemed like you distrusted magic. I never would have taken you for a defender of it."

Merlin chose his words carefully. "I've always thought there might be good to it. But to say so in Camelot – and to the king, no less – seemed unwise. Even now, I'm not sure it's a good idea, given everything you said yesterday."

"What?" Arthur stared at him in shock. "I didn't know you ever held back an opinion just because it was unwise. I didn't know you were even capable of it!"

Merlin just shrugged. "Now you know."

Arthur turned his attention back to his breakfast, rattled by that revelation. "Any other opinions you're keeping from me?"

"I thought the crown you wore as a prince looked ridiculous," Merlin offered, and Arthur shot a glare at him. That wasn't the kind of opinion he meant, and Merlin knew it.

Arthur poked at his food for a bit, then stood up from the table and paced to the window. The shields were gone this morning, and surprisingly, he felt a little bit of disappointment mingled in with his relief. He didn't like such a blatant display of magic, but it had provided a unexpected sense of security.

"As much as it pains me to admit it, you're typically a good judge of character, Merlin. Do you trust Emrys? Do you honestly believe he has Camelot's best intentions at heart?"

"Yes," Merlin answered after an almost imperceptible pause. "I'd trust him with my life."

"Even though you don't know who he is, and you're not sure about magic?" That was hard for Arthur to comprehend.

"Like I said, I know he protects you. That's enough for me."

Arthur sighed and turned away from the window. "I wish it were enough for me. If I just knew who he was, maybe…if Lancelot would just tell me." His hands tightened into fists in frustration.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked tentatively. "May I make a request?"

He blinked. "All right." Merlin might complain frequently, but it was unusual for him to explicitly ask for anything. And even stranger that he would ask permission first.

"Will you try to at least consider the possibility that Emrys doesn't mean you harm?"

"I am," Arthur protested, but Merlin shook his head.

"You look for reasons not to trust him. You assume the worst every chance you have. Will you just try to give him the benefit of the doubt?"

Arthur frowned. He had to admit, Merlin had a point. And Gwaine had made a good point too – Emrys wasn't likely to come forward if he thought Arthur was determined to see him as an enemy. Perhaps it was time for a new approach.

"All right," he conceded, nodding to Merlin. "I will try. But I want to ask something of you in return."

Merlin's face turned wary. "What is that?"

"I want you to talk to Lancelot. I know the two of you are friends – I want you to try to convince him to tell me who Emrys is. Or to tell you."

"I'm not repeating something Lancelot tells me in confidence," Merlin said immediately, prompting Arthur to role his eyes.

"Why do all of my friends have so much integrity?" he grumbled, and he felt a bit of satisfaction when he saw Merlin smile. At least they were back to normal. "Fine. But will you talk to him and try to persuade him to tell me?" He could order Merlin to do it, but he was reluctant to go that route. He was sure that if he were coerced, Merlin's efforts would be halfhearted at best.

Merlin stared at him for a moment, and then for some reason he chuckled under his breath. "Fine. I'll talk to him," he agreed.

After Merlin left – hopefully to talk to Lancelot – Arthur walked back to the window and rested his head against it, closing his eyes as he tried to think.

Part of him regretted the promise he'd just made to Merlin. He didn't want to give Emrys the benefit of the doubt. If he was being honest with himself, his skepticism wasn't about protecting Camelot from a sorcerer. It was about protecting himself.

Something about the idea of this man who would be both his friend and his equal struck a chord of hope in him, and that hope felt dangerous. He'd done his best to keep it at arm's length, to avoid thinking about it. There were too many ways it could go wrong.

He might simply never find Emrys, and spend his life chasing an empty and silly dream. Or worse, he could find Emrys and misplace his trust in him, only to have the sorcerer turn on him and on Camelot. What kind of fool would he be to trust someone with magic, which he knew to be evil, simply because he had moments of loneliness? No, not loneliness exactly…more like a longing. Like there was some undefinable gap in his life, and the druid's words just felt right – like the gap should be filled by a friend who was an equal, and this Emrys might be the one to fill it.

And of course, there was also the issue of sorcery and the law. Magic was punishable by death. What happened if Arthur made friends with a sorcerer? And what did that mean about all of the people who had been executed for sorcery over the past twenty-five years?

Sighing, he pushed himself away from the window and sat down at his desk. The promise was made. The best thing to do now was not to dwell on it. Not to acknowledge that stubborn stirring of hope. Instead, he turned his attention to the single piece of paper sitting in front of him. He had drawn the sketch the night before, clumsily and without skill, but he thought it might be passable for his purposes.

When the sorceress had held the sword to his throat in the courtyard, he'd seen the tattoo on the back of her hand. A bramble, adorned with leaves and thorns. It might be nothing, but it was the only lead he had on the identity of Camelot's attackers. Picking up the paper, he headed to the archive.

"Arthur!" Geoffrey said with evident surprise, scrambling to his feet to bow. Arthur had never been one to spend time in the archive; on the very rare occasion that he had need of a book, he sent a servant to fetch it. But he wasn't sure what he was looking for this time, and he didn't really want to share his idea with anyone until he knew it had merit.

"Good morning, Geoffrey. I'm hoping you might be able to help me find something." He handed Geoffrey the crude sketch. "I'm trying to find out if this tattoo has any significance."

Geoffrey frowned at the paper, thinking. "I don't recognize it. But you said it's a tattoo?" He walked to one of the shelves, trailing his fingers across the spines of the books until he found the one he was looking for. "Here. This book discusses tattoos in general, and how they're used in different parts of the Five Kingdoms. And this one…" he hesitated for a moment before handing Arthur the second book. "This one describes the different ritualistic markings from the Old Religion." Geoffrey eyed him nervously, as though even mentioning the Old Religion might raise Arthur's ire.

"Thank you," Arthur said, taking both books. "I'll return these once I'm done."

"I'm happy to do the research for you, sire," Geoffrey offered, and for a moment Arthur was tempted. Poring through books wasn't really his thing. But he wanted to do this one himself.

"Thank you for the offer, but I can manage."

Books in hand, he returned to his chambers.

AN: I want to give a shout-out to a couple of authors whose work I've been binging recently. NotNecessarilyInThatOrder and Charis77's stories have great storytelling and pacing, and they do a great job with Arthur and Merlin's friendship. Check them out if you haven't already! (Also, if you have particular stories you love, feel free to PM those to me, especially if they're heavy on the bromance and light on romance!)

Chapter Nine

"What?" Lancelot stared at Merlin in bemusement, and off to the side, Gaius failed to stifle his laughter.

"Arthur wants me to try to persuade you to tell him the truth about who Emrys is," Merlin repeated. The words felt a little bit surreal coming out of his mouth.

Lancelot's laughter joined Gaius's. "Well?" he asked. "Are you going to try?"

"My boy," Gaius chuckled, "I will never understand how you manage to get yourself into these situations."

Merlin shook his head. "Neither will I."

"Why would he ask that after the way you argued with him yesterday?" Lancelot asked inquisitively.

"I agreed to do it in exchange for him agreeing to give Emrys the benefit of the doubt." Merlin sighed. "Right now, I'm just trying to get him to calm down and be more openminded. He had worked himself up into such a rage and convinced himself Emrys was his enemy. I think I convinced him to at least consider the alternative. He'll be angry enough at me for lying to him when he finds out – I'd rather he not already be angry and thinking the worst before the conversation starts." He shook his head, trying to clear it. What a strange day.

"If he asks," he added dryly, "tell him I tried really hard to drag it out of you."

The knock at the door jolted Arthur. He had been so focused on the book in front of him that he'd lost track of his surroundings.

"Come," he called, and Lancelot stepped inside. He hesitated when he saw Arthur at the desk.

"I was hoping I could speak with you, sire, but I can come back later if you're busy."

Arthur pushed the book back and stood. "About Emrys?" he asked hopefully, and Lancelot smiled.

"Yes. About Emrys."

Arthur felt a brief surge of optimism until he noted the apologetic look in Lancelot's eyes.

"Please, sit," he said, taking a chair and motioning Lancelot to another. "You're still not going to tell me." It wasn't a question.

"Not his identity," Lancelot admitted. "Although Merlin did spend the better part of the morning discussing it with me. But I thought maybe…even though I can't tell you his identity, I can tell you a little bit about him. If you'd like to know."

Once Lancelot proposed it, Arthur was surprised he hadn't thought of it himself. More information would certainly be helpful in figuring out how to respond to the existence of the mysterious figure. And besides, maybe Lancelot would let something slip that would help Arthur figure out who he was.

"Is he truly my friend?" he asked the knight.

Lancelot laughed, which seemed like a strange reaction. "Yes, Arthur. He is your friend. He is unwaveringly loyal to you."

"Why?" The idea was absurd. "I'm the king of a land where sorcery is punishable by death."

"Because he believes in you," Lancelot said simply. "He believes you're a good man and a good king, even if your attitude towards magic is misguided. He…" Lancelot hesitated for a moment, and Arthur could see the struggle on his face as he considered his next words. "He trusts you more than he trusts himself sometimes, I think."

Arthur hadn't expected that. "What on earth does that mean?"

Lancelot spoke carefully. "He is still young, and he wields an enormous amount of power. His intentions are pure, but he is still learning how to grow into his role."

So Emrys was young. For some reason, Arthur hadn't expected that. Maybe because he'd been described as Arthur's protector, he had assumed the sorcerer would be older.

"Emrys has carried the weight of the prophecies for several years, Arthur. He has known for a while that he is destined to help and protect you, and he has embraced that destiny wholeheartedly. But it's a lot to take on." Lancelot paused for a moment, studying Arthur. "You knew from the time you were born that you were destined to be king. You are perhaps the only one who can understand to some degree what the weight of such a destiny feels like. And to know that the price for your failures would always be high as a result of your power."

Yes, he knew what that weight felt like. To have his path already laid out before him. To know that every step he took would make him weaker or stronger as a king. To know that his people relied on him.

Did Emrys feel the weight of Arthur relying on him? That was a disconcerting thought to consider.

Lancelot hesitated, waiting for Arthur to respond. When Arthur remained silent, he continued. "But your father was a king, Arthur. You had someone to teach you how to be a king. What to do, what not to do, what traps you might fall into. Emrys is, as the druid said, the only one of his kind. He has no one to teach him how to help or protect you. He has no one who has gone before him who can guide him on how to wield his powers wisely. He's figuring it out himself. And Arthur…" Lancelot took a nervous breath. "He would be the first to say he has made some mistakes. And he has great power, so some of his mistakes have come with a high price. But his intentions were always true. Always."

That got Arthur's attention.

"What kinds of mistakes?" he asked, alarmed.

"It's not my place to say. Well, it's not my place to say any of this really," Lancelot added guiltily. "But sometimes with really hard decisions, he struggles to know when to show mercy, or to know whether or not to protect someone who might not deserve it. He struggles sometimes to balance his power with his humanity."

Arthur felt the alarm fade, sympathy taking its place. Those were hard decisions. Gods, he knew those were hard decisions.

"One more thing," Lancelot said. He swallowed, and a look of determination came over his face. "Emrys is the only one of his kind, and Arthur…that means he's alone. He might have my friendship, but that's not the same as having someone else who is like you. He's alone, and he's trying to understand what he even is. Can you try to imagine that? I've tried. And I can't, not really."

Arthur didn't know what to make of that. He knew too well how power could make someone feel lonely and isolated, but as Lancelot said, he'd had his father, and there were certainly other kings in the world, past and present. He felt like he knew a taste of what Lancelot described, but it wasn't the same.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" He studied the knight sitting in the chair across from him. "You said it wasn't your place to share any of it, but you are. Why?"

A haunted look came over Lancelot's face, even as he tried to smile at Arthur. "Because there will come a time when you know his identity, Arthur. And I pray to the gods that when that day comes, you will show compassion for him."

"Is that a book?"

Arthur scowled at the incredulity in Merlin's voice. "Yes, Merlin. It's a book. Is that so surprising?"

"Yes, it is." Merlin reached out and snatched the book off the desk before Arthur could stop him, flipping it over to see the cover. "Sacred Markings of the Old Religion. What in the world?"

Arthur grabbed the book back. "I was looking into something."

"About the Old Religion?"

Arthur could understand why Merlin was looking at him like he'd lost his mind. It was true, he didn't spend a lot of time reading. And he certainly didn't spend a lot of time reading about the Old Religion. Still, Merlin didn't need to look quite that shocked.

"Yes, about the Old Religion," Arthur snapped, finding the right page in the book again. "And I was going to talk to you about it, but if you're going to be a pain in the ass, I'll just send you to muck out the stables instead."

Merlin held his hands up innocently. "I will be the picture of the submissive servant," he promised, making Arthur snort. "Now what is it?"

Arthur flipped the book around and pointed to a picture. "Does this look familiar to you?"

Merlin bent down, frowning at the page, and shook his head. "I've never seen it before. 'The sacred markings of the Deilen'? Who are they?"

Arthur shook his head. "I'm not sure. But the sorceress in the courtyard had this tattooed on her hand."

Merlin's eyes widened. "Are you sure?" he asked, bending down to look at the book again.

"I'm certain. It was exactly like that."

Arthur could see his own excitement reflected in Merlin, which just fueled the thrill of the discovery. "Whoever that woman was, she has something to do with the Deilen. If we can figure out who they are, maybe we can figure out where they are."

"And what they want," Merlin added absently, still staring at the picture. "You know Arthur, sometimes you're almost intelligent."

He ducked, but Arthur's hand still found the back of his head.

Chapter Ten

"I think I might have found something."

Merlin's head popped up from where he had been dozing over his own book, and he rushed to Gaius's side. They had spent the past two days trying to see what they could find on the Deilen, and this was the first lead either of them had run across.

"What does it say?" he asked, peering over Gaius's shoulder.

"In the days of the Old Religion, the Deilen were an extreme sect." Gaius's eyes skimmed over the passage, pulling out the highlights. "Their priests were highly experimental and known for pushing the limits of magic. It seems even other sorcerers looked upon them with caution." He scanned the book for another moment more, then shook his head. "It doesn't say anything else. Nothing about their continued existence or where to find them."

"It's a start, at least." Merlin grabbed his jacket and headed to door. "I'll see if Geoffrey has ever heard of them."

"And what will you say if he wants to know why you're asking?" Gaius called after him, and Merlin turned around and grinned.

"What I always say. That you wanted to know, and I'm just asking on your behalf."

Gaius's eyes widened at that. "And what am I supposed to say if he asks me?"

Merlin shrugged. "You'll think of something. Consider it payback for all the times you've told Arthur I'm at the tavern."

"Experimental sorcerers," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "Great."

"There's more," Merlin said, nearly vibrating with excitement as he held up another book. "I know what they want."

"You do?" Arthur reached for the book, but Merlin pulled it back out of reach, flipping it open and searching for the right page.

"This book is all about false prophecies," he said, the words coming so quickly that Arthur struggled to keep up. "There are all of these prophets over the past few hundred years that were exposed as being frauds. And since they're frauds, their prophecies aren't considered sacred, and so the druids aren't nearly as secretive about them. So there's this whole book. And…" he found the page and plunked the book down on the desk, pointing to a specific entry.

He waited a moment while Arthur started to read, and then lost patience. "There's a false prophecy about Emrys," be blurted. "It says that Emrys will abandon the Once and Future King and join with the Deilen, and the Deilen will rule Camelot."

Arthur frowned. "Once and Future King," he muttered to himself. "I've heard that before. I think…I think I've been called that before."

Merlin shrugged, still focused on the book. "Given what the druid said about Emrys helping you, it makes sense that it would be you. But that's not important. What's important is that now we know what the Deilen are after!"

"They think if they can find Emrys and get him to side with them, then they'll have the power to take over Camelot." Arthur sighed. "It makes sense, especially with what she said about no one being able to stand against them if Emrys joined them. Not to mention their desire to kill me."

"And," Merlin said with a wide grin, "we know something else important."

Arthur looked at him questioningly. "We do?"

"The seer who gave this prophecy – Carys of Afon – was exposed as a charlatan. Her prophecies were all deemed to be lies. Arthur, if this prophecy isn't real, that means Emrys isn't going to abandon you. What the druid said was right. Arven was wrong." Merlin looked almost giddy with excitement.

The two of them hadn't discussed Emrys again since their argument the week before. Arthur was trying to give the issue some space as he figured out the best way to proceed. And truthfully, he wasn't really interested in getting into another fight with Merlin.

He'd thought they had a tacit agreement not to bring it up again. Apparently he'd been wrong.

"It doesn't necessarily mean the druid is right," he pointed out halfheartedly, but Merlin just scoffed.

"It means you don't have much reason to doubt her," he pointed out. "Or to doubt that Emrys is in fact a friend."

"So we know who they are and what they want," Arthur summarized, changing the subject back to the Deilen. "We just don't know where they are or how to defeat them."

"I saved the best for last, actually," Merlin said. "Well, what you'll think is the best. I think the bit about the false prophecy is the best part."

"Merlin. Get to the point."

To Arthur's surprise, Merlin held out a scroll instead of a book. Arthur took it and opened it across the desk.

"What am I looking at?"

"A map of ancient temples of the Old Religion." Merlin tapped his finger against it. "And this right here is an old Deilen temple."

Arthur looked up at his servant. "Are you serious?"

"Completely. Geoffrey thought I was nuts for wanting it, by the way. And it's ancient temples, so that temple is almost definitely a ruin and might be a complete dead end," he pointed out. "But it's not entirely impossible that it might hold some kind of clue."

Arthur laughed and sat back in his chair, letting the scroll roll back up. "Merlin, sometimes you amaze me. I mean, usually you're a complete idiot, but then you pull off something like this."

"I'm good at researching things," Merlin protested. "I've been helping Gaius with research since I first came to Camelot."

Arthur looked at him in surprise. "I didn't know that."

Merlin shrugged. "You never asked. But I'm pretty good at finding things. You're welcome, by the way."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You know, Merlin, not every servant gets to help their king with important research like this. Perhaps you should be thanking me for the opportunity."

He failed to hide his snicker as Merlin scowled at him.

That night, Merlin flipped open the book of prophecies, once again reading the false prophecy about Emrys.

It had been discredited, he reminded himself. Despite his enthusiasm with Arthur earlier, he had his own nagging doubts he couldn't quite get rid of. Even though the book was supposedly just false prophecies, he wouldn't silence the voice in the back of his head that kept whispering, 'But what if…"

No. Carys of Afon was a fraud. Merlin would never abandon Arthur. He would never join the sorcerers who had threatened Arthur. He served Arthur, not himself.

Finding out that there was a false prophecy only confirmed what Merlin already knew: that those claims were lies.

But on the next page was another prophecy. This one was brief and did not mention the Deilen, and Merlin had not shown it to Arthur or Gaius. But he had read it himself a dozen times.

And darkness will overcome the creature Emrys
His power will devour him
And his mercy will be the king's downfall

It's a book of false prophecies. Merlin repeated again. They were lies.

A knock sounded, and Merlin almost hid the book out of habit before he remembered there was nothing forbidden about this particular tome. "Come in," he called, and Lancelot poked his head in.

"Do you have a moment?"

"Of course." Merlin gathered some of the books next to him so that his friend could have a place to sit down. "Sorry about the mess. It's just research. Lots of it."

"Productive research, apparently," Lancelot said, raising his eyebrows. "Arthur just briefed us on the quest. He mentioned in passing that you seem to have cleared Emrys from suspicion. Well, at least as far as Arven's claims are concerned."

Merlin grinned and tapped the open book in front of him. "A whole book of false prophecies. I admit, I think I was more relieved than Arthur was."

Lancelot glanced over his shoulder briefly to take a closer look at the book. "Is this the prophecy?" he asked, reaching for it.

"No," Merlin said hurriedly, flipping it back to the previous page, but Lancelot snaked his hand in and caught the page, turning it back.

"'And darkness will overcome…'" he began, then frowned and switched to reading it silently. Merlin could see the worry in his face as his eyes moved over the page. "Merlin…"

"It's a false prophecy," Merlin jumped in. "Nothing to worry about."

Lancelot studied him for a moment. "You know that, right? This prophecy is a lie. It will never happen."

Merlin forced a smile. "Of course I know that."

Do people with magic deserve to live?

Arthur sighed and flipped his pillow over, thudding it with his hand to try to get comfortable. He had woken in the dark hours of the morning, his mind racing.

The past weeks since his encounter with the druid had been hectic and bizarre. He'd had the visit from Arven, the attack of the sorceress, the discovery of Lancelot's secret...there had been a lot to think about. And in the chaos of it all, he almost forgotten how this whole thing had started.

He had saved the druid child after he performed magic.

Merlin was right – he had jumped to the worst possible assumptions of Emrys at every opportunity. Everything he had ever believed about sorcery compelled him to. But now, alone in his room, he remembered that little boy's face.

He had made the right decision in saving his life. He felt surprisingly certain of that decision. The boy did not deserve to die.

And if the boy did not deserve to die, how could Arthur argue that all sorcerers deserve to die?

And if not all sorcerers deserved to die, then maybe…maybe Lancelot and Merlin were right and Emrys deserved the benefit of the doubt.

He ran through the conversation he'd had with Lancelot, something he'd been trying to avoid doing since the discussion had taken place. The knight's words disturbed him more than he'd like to admit. It wasn't just that Lancelot's description made Emrys sound like a real person instead of a vague, menacing idea. It was that so many of Lancelot's descriptions sounded familiar. How many times had Arthur felt pangs of self-pity and self-doubt for the same reasons Lancelot listed?

The druid had said that Emrys would be his equal. Lancelot's words made him believe that might be true.

A rattling at his door pulled him from his thoughts, and a moment later, Merlin's annoyingly bouncy footsteps carried through the room.

"Rise and shine," his servant called, pulling the curtains open and turning to shake Arthur like he did most mornings. His normal cheeriness was muted today and his face was pale; apparently Merlin hadn't slept much better than Arthur. "No sleeping in today, sire. We do have a quest—" he broke off, raising his eyebrows. "Have you been awake all night?"

"Thankfully, no," Arthur said, reluctantly pushing himself upright. "Just the last couple of hours. Is everything ready to go?"

"All packed and ready," Merlin confirmed. "You know, you're a lot more coherent and a lot less grumpy when you've been up for a couple of hours. You're using real sentences and everything."

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur said tiredly, dragging himself to the breakfast table.

"Shutting up, sire."

Chapter Eleven

"We need to be cautious when we get there," Merlin warned the knights as they rode towards the temple of the Deilen. "Gaius said abandoned temples are often cursed, and depending on what happened when they were abandoned, they may even be boobytrapped. At the very least, he said it would most likely be teeming with magic, so we need to be very careful about touching anything."

"Great," Arthur said darkly. "As if magic wasn't already overcomplicating my life, now we have to add curses and boobytraps."

"I think I'd be in favor of having Emrys with us on this one," Gwaine whispered behind Merlin, and Merlin heard Percival stifle a laugh. Unfortunately, Arthur heard too, and he turned around to glare at the knight. "Sorry," Gwaine added quickly and insincerely.

Arthur sighed. "Lancelot," he asked grudgingly, "did you by any chance speak with Emrys before we left?"

Lancelot tensed, and Merlin saw the caution in his eyes. It was impossible to predict Arthur's mood once Emrys entered the conversation.

"Briefly," Lancelot hedged. "Why do you ask?"

"Did he say anything about the temple? Anything that would help us?"

For the thousandth time, Merlin felt guilty about the position he'd put his friend in. He could see Lancelot struggling to answer, undoubtedly trying to decide whether to lie or tell the truth.

"Not specifically," he said carefully. "Just to be careful. And that he wouldn't be far if we needed help."

Arthur looked over his shoulder in alarm. "He's following us?"

Lancelot shrugged. "I don't know exactly. I just know that when we run into danger, he usually manages to be around to protect you. Especially situations involving magic, where he knows us knights might not be able to provide the kind of protection you need."

Merlin was pretty skilled at reading Arthur's expression, but he couldn't decipher what was going on in Arthur's mind in response to that. He didn't look angry at least, which Merlin supposed was a good thing.

It was late afternoon when Merlin felt something change in the air. A hum seemed to radiate from the ground, and the light seemed just a little bit brighter. Merlin's nerves over the quest slipped away, replaced by a calm stillness. And all around him, everything seemed to radiate life.

"We're close," he said, the words slipping out before he thought them through.

"We are?" Arthur frowned, looking around. "How can you tell? It looks exactly the same as the rest of the forest."

"Just based on the map," Merlin explained hurriedly. "It might be close."

Arthur gave him a sideways look, but before he could question it further, a shape appeared through the trees.

The others paused, gazing at it reluctantly, but Merlin nudged his horse to move quicker as a chill overtook him.

It was a ruin. The stone walls were crumbling, and through the holes in the walls he could see that much of the roof had fallen in.

But Gaius was wrong. It wasn't cursed. It was sacred. He was sure of it.

Merlin dismounted and hurried to the temple, feeling an irresistible pull to the magic inside. He reached a hole in the wall that was large enough to climb through and leaned forward, peering in.

"Merlin," Arthur called sharply from where the knights were watching, still on horseback. "Going in alone?" Merlin stepped back, scolding himself for behaving suspiciously. "There's a fine line between courage and idiocy. Weren't you the one just telling us Gaius said to be careful?" The king swung down from his horse and joined Merlin at the wall, approaching it with considerably less enthusiasm.

For a moment, Merlin considered trying to cover his tracks by saying the temple was likely harmless since it was falling apart, but he stopped himself. A sharp jolt of clarity cut through the fog of the magic, and he realized the temple could still be dangerous. He couldn't endanger the knights by encouraging them to be careless.

"Feels a little creepy, doesn't it?" Arthur asked, looking over Merlin's shoulder into the building. He stepped around his servant and reluctantly climbed over the wall, and Merlin scrambled after him.

The thrum of the magic had been unignorable outside, but within the walls of the temple, it nearly overwhelmed him. Merlin felt almost lightheaded breathing it in.

The room itself wasn't much. An altar stood in the middle, and some broken glass indicated the windows had once been decorated with stained glass. Arthur wandered cautiously through the room as the knights entered, taking it all in.

Merlin turned to the wall on the right. Unlike the rest of the temple, it was almost entirely intact, and just as the magic had drawn him into the building, the wall pulled him closer. As he stepped nearer, he realized the wall was unusually smooth, not like the rough stone of the castle in Camelot. And on the smooth stone, so faint he had to struggle to see them, were markings.

"Merlin?" he heard Arthur call curiously. "What is it?" Moments later, the king joined him, studying the wall. "Is that a map?" he asked, gently running a finger along one of the lines. "I think this might be the Forest of Ascetir. And this over here might be the Darkling Woods. But what do these symbols mean?"

Merlin only half heard him. Above the map were more markings, and for a moment Merlin thought they were runes. Then he recognized a couple of the shapes. The alphabet matched the old tongue he had seen in a number of the books he'd read when helping Gaius research, especially the books about magic. He wasn't fluent in it, but he could usually fumble his way through well enough.

The very first word was one he had never seen written in the old tongue before, but it only took him a heartbeat to sound it out in his head.

Emrys.

His breath catching, he stepped closer, staring hard as he tried to translate the writing.

Emrys will rise alongside the Once and Future King
Born of the magic of water, which runs through his blood
Born of the magic of earth, which stands in his bones
Born of the magic of air, which flows through his breath
Born of the magic of fire, which burns through his will
The magic of the world lives in him and through him, and in and through no other

Merlin's vision went fuzzy. He sucked in a breath and it cleared just a little, although his heart still raced.

What did it mean? Was it even true, or was this like the false prophecy? Could he trust anything that came from the Deilen?

It felt true. Something deep inside him told him that while the prophecy may have been a lie, this – this was the truth.

He lifted a trembling hand to the bottom line, grazing it with his fingertips. As his hand touched the rock, a sharp jolt was the only warning he received. Then, before he could pull back, he felt a wave of magic crash into him, throwing him back across the room.

He noticed vaguely that he landed on his back on the stone floor, and that would probably hurt later. But in the moment, all he felt was the magic. It burned its way from his fingertips up into his arm, and to his horror he felt it spread throughout his body.

No, he panicked, driving it back. This magic felt wrong, angry and tainted and ugly, a dark thing that didn't belong in him. But it pushed through, fighting its way into his veins, and he felt it trying to attach itself to his own magic.

No. My magic is mine!

Shuddering with resolve, he fought it. He had given up so much in his life, but this – this would not be taken from him. He was vaguely aware of Arthur talking to him, of someone shouting – himself? The knights? – but it faded into the background as he focused on the fight.

No.

I am Emrys. And you can't have my magic.

"Merlin!" Arthur stumbled back, startled, as the man beside him went flying, and he flinched at the sharp noise Merlin made as he landed. Racing to his side, Arthur saw with horrified wonder that the stone ground underneath him had cracked with his landing.

He half expected Merlin to be unconscious, but his eyes were open wide and filled with fear.

"Merlin?" he asked, crouching down next to him. "Are you all right?"

Merlin didn't answer. He lifted a hand in front of his face, staring at it as though it didn't belong to him.

Then he spoke, in a trembling, croaking voice that didn't sound like Merlin at all. "No. No! Make it stop." He shook his hand as though trying to get something off of it. "Make it stop!" It came out as a plea the second time, and Arthur grabbed his hand.

"It's all right," he promised, with no idea whether he was telling the truth. "There's nothing there, Merlin. You're perfectly fine."

"Arthur." Leon's warning voice came from behind him, and Arthur turned to see the knights circling around himself and Merlin, swords drawn. He suddenly realized what they had all already noticed: a swirling in the air that was undeniably magic. Even as he felt it, the ground beneath him began to shake.

"Sire!" Leon dove, shoving Arthur out of the way just as a piece of wall tumbled down, landing right where Arthur had been kneeling. Leon cried out in pain as the wall made impact.

"Get Merlin!" Percival yelled to Arthur, rushing to Leon's side. Arthur grabbed his servant and threw him unceremoniously over his shoulder before sprinting to the exit, the knights running with him.

Once they reached the horses, he turned to see Percival rushing out, helping support Leon who hobbled along beside him. Arthur felt a rush of relief that the knight was okay, although the way he held his arm was concerning.

Turning his attention to the other injured member of the party, he gently laid Merlin down on the ground. His servant was awake but disoriented, looking around in confusion.

"Merlin? Can you hear me? Can you hear me?"

Merlin turned his head to look at him and his eyes focused. "Of course I can hear you," he grumbled, although his voice shook. "I'm fine. I think." Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself upright, wincing at the effort. "Whatever it was, it's over now." He looked over at the ruin and drew back in surprise. "What happened?"

All that remained of the temple was a pile of stone, shrouded in a mist of dust. A distant rumble of thunder made the view even more ominous. Arthur glanced up at the sky, noting with concern the storm clouds that were gathering.

"I guess Gaius was right about the boobytraps," he said darkly, directing his attention back to the destroyed temple. "And of course you would be the idiot to set it off."

"But how?" Gwaine asked with a frown. "All he did was touch the wall. You touched the wall and it didn't do anything."

It was a good point. Arthur had used his hand to trace the map, and Merlin had barely brushed the wall with his fingers.

"It must have been that specific part of the wall," Percival suggested.

"That would be a strange boobytrap," Arthur pointed out. "What would be the purpose in that?"

Percival shrugged. "What other explanation could there be?"

Arthur looked down at Merlin, still seated on the ground. His servant was studying his hand as though it might somehow contain the answers.

"Merlin," Arthur asked, "are you well enough to treat Leon?"

Merlin's head jerked up, and he seemed to notice for the first time that someone besides himself was hurt.

"Yes, of course." He winced as he climbed to his feet. "Let me grab my bag."

"Try to move quickly," Arthur said. "Then we'll make for the Forest of Ascetir. There was a location near there marked on the map. Perhaps we'll find more clues there. Regardless, I'd like to be well away from this place before nightfall."

"Me too," Merlin muttered under his breath.

AN: I don't intend to always beat up Leon…it just happens. Sorry, Leon.

Chapter Twelve

When the rain caught up with them, it came as a deluge. One moment they were riding along, casting nervous glances at the sky, and the next they were drenched, the rain pelting hard enough to hurt. Arthur considered stopping and taking refuge until it passed, but the only shelter he could see was the trees, and the soaked ground below their thin branches told him that their cover wouldn't offer much. They were better off riding a bit farther and trying to find a drier option.

The knights pulled up their hoods and bowed their heads against the rain. After a couple of minutes, Arthur looked over and realized that Merlin didn't have a hood, and hadn't even bothered to close his jacket. He seemed completely unaware that they were caught in a downpour.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much that could be used as a substitute to keep the rain off. Arthur considered pulling his bedroll out, but it would be too large to use easily, and honestly, he didn't want to sleep on a soaked bed. Sighing, he pulled his cape off and pulled up next to Merlin.

"Here!" he yelled over the storm, shoving the pile of red cloth toward him. As king, it was his duty to take care of his people. If someone in their party had to ride without a covering, it would be him.

Merlin stared at him blankly for a moment, as though he didn't understand why Arthur was handing it to him. After a moment, he reached out and took it, fumbling longer than he should to get it fastened around his neck. Arthur tried to get a closer look at him, but it was hard to see anything in the rain, especially now that his face was hidden in the shadows of the hood.

After a few minutes, Arthur spotted a shape ahead; he couldn't be sure, but it looked like a ridge. Relieved to see a promising option for shelter, he resisted the temptation to risk injury by urging his horse along faster.

The reality turned out to be even better than he hoped: not only was there a ridge, but as they rode up, Arthur immediately spotted a cave. He heard Gwaine let out a whoop behind him, and they all hastily climbed down from their horses, rushing inside.

Well, almost all of them. There were only five red capes in front of Arthur where there should have been six, and he turned around to see that Merlin was still on his horse.

"What are you doing?" he yelled, but he wasn't close enough for Merlin to hear him through the storm. He headed back towards him, but before he had taken more than a couple of steps, Merlin's body went slack and he tumbled off the side of the horse.

Arthur raced through the rain, and for the second time that day, crouched beside his servant. Merlin's eyes were open, but unfocused. Whatever was wrong, Arthur decided, they'd have to sort it out in the cave. He grabbed Merlin's bags from the saddle and bent down and lifted him. As soon as he touched him, he could feel the heat radiating from Merlin's body, even through the layers of wet clothes.

"What happened?" Gwaine demanded as Arthur rushed inside. Lancelot grabbed the bags from Arthur, pulling out Merlin's bedroll, and Arthur carefully set Merlin down.

"A fever, I'm guessing. He's burning up." Arthur reached out to touch Merlin's forehead, wincing at the heat.

"I'll try to find some wood for a fire." Percival pulled his cape back on and hurried back out in the rain, Elyan on his heels.

"How could he get this sick this fast?" Gwaine asked, staring down at his friend. Merlin's face was flushed, his eyes glazed over.

"It might be a curse."

Arthur look up sharply at Leon, who was sitting on the other side of the cave, clutching his arm as he watched Merlin.

"He was hit with magic back there," Leon continued grimly. "Who knows what it did to him?"

The idea sat like a physical rock in Arthur's stomach. It made sense. Emrys protected him, at least in theory, but that didn't mean he protected Arthur's friends.

If Arthur ever met Emrys, they would have a discussion about that.

But then another idea occurred to Arthur. "That might be," he admitted, "but he's seemed a bit off all day. Haven't you noticed?"

"He's been quiet," Gwaine agreed. "I didn't think he seemed sick though. I thought he just had something on his mind."

"Merlin?" Lancelot called softly. "Can you hear me?"

Merlin blinked, then slowly turned his head toward the sound of his friend's voice.

"How are you feeling?"

"Not so…" Merlin began shakily, but he couldn't seem to finish. "I think…" he tried again, "I might be sick?"

"Looks that way," Lancelot confirmed, resting his hand on Merlin's head.

Merlin struggled for a moment before speaking again. "My bag. Willow bark…there's a bottle. Tea for fevers."

Arthur pawed through the bag until he found the bottle, and Gwaine grabbed the pot and ran to the entrance of the cave, placing it outside where it could collect some water.

"All right, Merlin. We'll get some tea ready for you. You just rest," Arthur ordered. "I want you well enough to make breakfast tomorrow."

Merlin's lips moved, although Arthur wasn't sure he could properly call it a smile.

"You might need some more herbs," he added vaguely as his eyes closed. "I'll go gather some tomorrow. Just don't tell Arthur I'm at the tavern."

Lancelot and Arthur shared a worried look.

A few minutes later, Percival and Elyan came back with armloads of wood.

"It's the driest I could find," Elyan apologized, "but it's still soaked."

"We'll make it work," Arthur said, digging through Merlin's bag for the flint.

He tried to light it. He must have tried twenty times before sitting back on his heels and running his hand through his hair in frustration. The wood was completely soaked, but they needed a fire. Merlin needed a fire.

Then, inexplicably, the wood roared to life.

"I guess a stray spark must have gotten down in there and caught," Gwaine said as he hung the pot of the water over the blazing fire, although he didn't sound convinced.

"Must have," Arthur agreed with a wary look at the fire. It was the only explanation.

Lancelot jumped when the flames caught, then glanced down worriedly at Merlin. He saw the tail end of the glow fading from his eyes and did a quick inventory of the group. Fortunately, everyone was staring at the fire, and - for the first time since Arthur had carried his servant in - no one was paying attention to Merlin.

Lancelot leaned down close to his friend and whispered, "Careful, Merlin. You can't do that." He kept his voice so quiet that he wasn't sure Merlin could even hear him; but then again, Merlin was so out of it that Lancelot wasn't sure he'd have heard him anyway.

He wished Merlin had said which jar contained a sedative, if any. After all these years of secrets, he couldn't imagine Merlin's devastation if Arthur found out because he carelessly did magic in a fit of illness.

"All right, everyone," Arthur said once he and Lancelot had gotten some of the tea into Merlin. "Get some sleep. I'll stay up with him and take first watch."

"No," Lancelot said quickly, and Arthur raised his eyebrows. "I'm not tired," he added. "Honestly, I couldn't sleep right now anyway. I'll take first watch." Who knew what Merlin would do in this fevered state?

Arthur sighed. "Fine. Wake me in a few hours and I'll take over."

"Of course."

He would wake Arthur once he was sure Merlin was fully asleep. As long as his friend was awake or restless, Lancelot couldn't risk leaving him alone with anyone else.

It didn't burn anymore. Not like it did, at least.

In the beginning, Merlin felt like the magic from the blast was searing him from the inside out as he fought against it. Then it quickly faded as his own magic triumphed, leaving behind an almost pleasant warmth. He could still feel the excess magic swishing around inside his body, as though he had drunk too much water too quickly, and he could feel his own magic defending itself, purging the remnants of the tainted magic from his body. But it didn't feel scary. It was a campfire, boiling away the excess, instead of an inferno destroying everything around it. As Merlin tended Leon's injuries, he truly thought he was fine. Or quickly on his way to being fine, at least.

And then at some point after that, he realized he didn't really feel it anymore. Actually, he didn't really feel anything. He was on a horse, but he didn't know where they were. And Arthur rode beside him, yelling at him as he shoved something his direction.

His cape. Why would Arthur give him his cape?

And that's when Merlin realized it was raining.

It's also when he realized that something was very wrong.

He would wait until they stopped, he decided. Then he would tell Arthur there was something not quite right with him. He wasn't sure what he would tell him though; he couldn't very well say the magic from the temple had attacked his own magic. If he just told him the magic from the temple made him ill, would it raise suspicion? And even if it didn't, would it feed Arthur's belief that magic was inherently evil?

Or did any of this have anything to do with magic or the temple in the first place? He hadn't felt well that morning, after all. He'd woken feeling tired and achy.

Merlin tried to think it through, but he could only get a couple of thoughts in before his mind went blank each time.

And then he didn't think about anything at all.

Chapter Thirteen

"It's less than a day's ride back to Camelot. If we leave now, we'd have him to Gaius before dinner."

"But he's too sick to ride," Gwaine protested, and Arthur huffed.

"What if he rode with someone?"

"The effort of traveling could still make him worse. Especially if we have another storm – and those clouds outside don't look promising."

Gwaine was right. Arthur knew he was. But that didn't make the truth any less irritating.

Merlin hadn't gotten worse overnight, but he hadn't gotten any better either. They poured more tea down his throat every time he woke up, for all the good it did, but he slept most of the time and his body didn't cool. And in the moments he was awake, he seemed confused.

"We're out of willow bark," Lancelot spoke up from where he crouched next to Merlin, holding the empty jar in his hand. "If we're going to wait it out another day and see if he improves, we'll need more."

"I'll go," Elyan volunteered immediately, and he headed out of the cave. Arthur didn't try to stop him, which, he supposed, was a decision in and of itself. They couldn't very well leave if Elyan was wandering around in the forest.

"We'll wait it out for a day," he agreed reluctantly. "But if he shows signs of worsening, we're sending someone to fetch Gaius and bring him here."

Decision made, Arthur sat down next to Merlin, his back against the cave wall. "Get some sleep, Lancelot. We'll take care of him."

Lancelot studied his friend's sleeping face for a moment, the bags on his own face visible, then nodded. "Wake me if he comes to," he requested as he laid down.

Arthur didn't answer because he didn't want to lie. He understood Lancelot's concern – Arthur had slept poorly the night before for the same reason – but the knight needed rest.

A few minutes later, Merlin stirred.

Arthur reached out for the cup as soon as he heard him, then drew his hand back as he remembered they had no tea left.

"All right there, Merlin?" he asked, and Merlin's eyes wandered until they found him. "I thought I told you I wanted you well enough to fix breakfast this morning. You never can follow orders, can you?"

If Merlin heard him, he gave no indication. Instead, he stared at Arthur, blinking uncertainly.

"Don't worry," Arthur reassured him. "You'll be fine. You just need some rest."

"Not worried," Merlin mumbled drowsily. "I'm winning."

Arthur raised his eyebrows and tried to hide a smile. "Are you now?"

"Mmhmm."

Merlin was quiet for a moment, and Arthur thought he'd fallen back asleep until he spoke again.

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"You know I'll always protect you, right?"

He tried to smother the laugh that wanted to escape, because it was clear that Merlin was entirely sincere, if somewhat confused. "I'm sure you will, Merlin."

Merlin frowned. "You believe me, don't you?" he asked, and strangely, Merlin looked genuinely worried. Almost frightened. "I promise I will."

His laughter faded in the face of Merlin's earnestness. "That's very kind of you," he said gently, "but you can't protect anyone if you can't sit up. So get some rest."

Merlin didn't seem to hear him. "It's my job to keep you safe," he insisted, his voice feeble but determined. "He lied. We're like a coin."

Arthur frowned as Merlin's words turned into nonsense, a haunted look coming over his face as he watched Arthur.

"Your job is to get well, Merlin. Focus on that for the moment." It wasn't the first time that Merlin had mentioned protecting him – he'd brought it up many times in the past, actually. But Arthur would never understand how Merlin had gotten it into his head that a servant's responsibilities somehow included keeping him safe, especially since Merlin had no notable skill with a sword.

Suddenly, a shout from outside pierced the cave, waking Lancelot and driving all of the knights to their feet. Then it came again, and Arthur recognized a very familiar voice yelling shrilly at the top of his lungs.

"Run!" Elyan's panic was evident. "Arthur, run!"

The cave echoed with the sound of five swords being drawn at once. As the knights raced towards the entrance to the cave, Arthur turned around and found Leon. The knight held a sword, but his other arm was still bound in a sling.

"Stay here with Merlin," Arthur ordered him. He would have liked to have left Merlin – and Leon, for that matter – with more protection that one injured knight, but the others were already gone, and Arthur certainly wasn't going to stay back.

He ran after the other knights, following the sound of Elyan's cries until they abruptly cut short.

"It was coming from over there." Gwaine turned to the right and scrambled up the ridge, and the others followed him. Arthur fervently hoped that Gwaine was right.

A few moments later, they emerged from the trees onto a large flat rock.

And there on the ground, backed up against a boulder, was Elyan. Arthur saw the despair in his eyes as the knight spotted the king, and when Arthur looked around, a sense of dread warned him of what he would find: the sorceress.

But he was surprised. Yes, the sorceress stood several yards away from Elyan, side by side with an older man, but they weren't alone. The ridge above them was filled with people. They looked down on Arthur with anger and triumph and hatred. Only a few held swords, but if they had magic, the absence of swords meant nothing. He automatically scanned the throng, trying to get a closer look at their hands. Not many were visible, but all of the ones he saw bore the same tattoo of the bramble and thorns.

Arthur didn't know if he and his men had stumbled upon them, or if they had been tracking and pursuing him; regardless, they were now in the midst of dozens of Deilen priests.

"So you are King Arthur." The older man took a step toward him, sword in hand. "How very considerate of you to leave Camelot and come visit us. It's much easier to deal with five knights in the middle of the woods than to deal with an entire town."

Five knights – so they hadn't been tracking them. If they had, they would have known there were six knights, plus a servant. At the very least, that hopefully meant no one was seeking out Leon and Merlin.

Arthur turned his attention to the man. His hair was graying, but looking closer, Arthur saw that his face looked younger than he'd first thought. Older than himself, but maybe only by ten years or so.

But then again, the man's eyes were old. Haunted and bitter. And as a smile bent across his face, Arthur knew the man truly hated him. Arthur was certain this man, more so than the sorceress, was his real enemy.

"Who are you?"

"What is the point of introductions?" the man asked, amused. "You must realize I intend to kill you."

Arthur felt a flare of anger. A knight, or any man with honor, would not refuse to give his name. "It is a matter of courtesy," he said shortly. "If I am to die, I'd like to know by whose hand." His own hand tightened on his sword, but he knew the familiar weapon would do him little good if these people were all sorcerers, as he suspected.

The man chuckled. "Very well. I am Maelor, high priest of the Deilen. I am the one tasked by destiny to ensure the return of magic to Camelot."

"The prophecies of Carys of Afon," Arthur remembered, thinking back to what Merlin had told him.

"Yes," Maelor said, surprised. "The holy Carys foretold of this time, when Emrys would abandon the Once and Future King and join the Deilen to restore magic to the kingdom."

"Carys was a fake. The true prophecy says that Emrys will always be loyal to me." Arthur said it with all of the conviction he wished he felt, and he prayed it was true.

In that moment, he could finally admit that he wanted it to be true.

Maelor's face twisted with rage at Arthur's words, and he stretched out his hand. "Wáce ierlic!"

The ground fell from Arthur's feet, and he felt his back slam against the boulder before he landed beside Elyan. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other knights fall as well. He scrambled, about to rise to his feet, when Maelor took two steps toward him. Arthur considered, then decided it might be better to stay on the ground for the moment. If Maelor came closer, Arthur may be able to attack, but distance worked to the sorcerer's advantage. There was no point in risking further anger when the man was so far away.

"Carys was a Deilen priestess, a Seer who bestowed sacred prophecies," Maelor hissed, the gold fading from his eyes. "How dare you belittle the words she spoke?" Suddenly the priest looked up, startled, his eyes glowing as a shape blurred in front of his face. It took Arthur a moment to realize it was the bolt from a crossbow, arrested mid-flight.

"Interesting." He flicked the bolt and it fell to the ground, and then he stretched out a hand, eyes blazing again. "Âwinnan!"

A grunt sounded to Arthur's right, and Leon stumbled into sight, a crossbow in his hands and his legs clearly moving him forward against his will. It was strange to see him with a crossbow instead of a sword, but with his injured arm, he must have thought he wouldn't be able to fight well.

Of course, Arthur had no idea how he'd managed the bow with the injured arm either. And what was the knight playing at? Why was he here at all?

Because if Leon was here, that meant Merlin was alone in the cave, ill and unprotected.

"You were supposed to stay—" Arthur cut himself off. He'd almost given Merlin away. "—to stay back," he finished awkwardly. "What are you doing here?"

Leon looked at him apologetically. "You were gone too long," he explained simply, stumbling over to them as the power of Maelor's magic forced him to join the knights.

Arthur took a deep breath, controlling his temper. Leon was fond of Merlin, as were all the knights, but Arthur should have known he'd leave the servant in a heartbeat if he thought the king was in danger.

"I'm afraid no mere knight can save you, your majesty," Maelor said, sounding more entertained than angry. "This day has been foretold for many years. When the Once and Future King falls, Emrys's loyalties will no longer be divided, and he will join his own people. Without the king and his knights, the people of Camelot will accept the reign and protection of the Deilen with open arms." He closed the distance to Arthur, raising his sword to his throat. "Today marks the beginning of a new age in Camelot. The Age of Magic."

His words echoed what the sorceress had said in the courtyard. And just like in the courtyard, Arthur felt completely powerless to stop what was coming. He would die with a sword in his hand, fighting until his last breath, but he had no delusions that they could overpower a horde of sorcerers. Not on their own.

Lancelot said Emrys wouldn't be far if they needed help, and they definitely needed help. Arthur glanced at the knight out of the corner of his eye, hoping for reassurance.

But he was not prepared for the look on Lancelot's face. In the courtyard, he had looked hopeful, confident. His faith in Emrys had been evident. But there was no sign of that hope on Lancelot's face now. He looked determined and brave; it was the face of a knight ready for a battle.

It was not the face of someone expecting a miracle.

Chapter Fourteen

Arthur stared at Lancelot in confusion, trying to make sense of the expression on his face. Did Lancelot not believe that Emrys would come? Arthur hadn't exactly been friendly or receptive to the idea of his existence. Maybe Merlin was right. Maybe he had pushed Emrys from someone who had been his friend to someone who chose to be his enemy.

And yet, Arthur couldn't stop that seed of hope.

He felt foolish even thinking it. They were trapped. There was a sword to his throat. There was no hope. But the druid's words came back to him. Emrys has risen. He is by your side. He has protected you, again and again. He protects you now.

Somehow, Maelor must have read the look on Arthur's face. Or, more disturbingly, perhaps he read Arthur's mind. Either way, he chuckled.

"Emrys is not here, your majesty. I already checked. The only magic I sense nearby is our own." He looked pleased at that. "It seems someone in your party must have disturbed one of our temples. Although I cannot tell who," he mused, troubled. "Perhaps he has already died, and I only sense the magic remaining in his body?"

Already died? The words took Arthur's breath away. Merlin was in that cave alone, and he was going to…

No. No, he wouldn't. Somehow Arthur and his knights would find a way out of this, and then they would take Merlin and get him to Gaius. And Gaius would figure it out, like he always did. Sometimes it was last minute, but Gaius always came through.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Arthur bluffed, hoping the priest wouldn't send someone to try to sniff out the source of the magic. "What temple?"

Maelor raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't be here if you hadn't found a temple."

It only took Arthur a moment to understand. "It was a trap," he realized, closing his eyes briefly against the knowledge. "The map led us here. And it was a trap."

"Nothing so elaborate as that," Maelor said wryly. "The temple maps merely mark the sacred places, and we tend to stay near the sacred places where the magic of the Old Religion can strengthen us. It is hardly our fault that you violated a holy temple and then followed the map to a place where you, a Pendragon, an enemy of magic, had no place being. Your arrogance trapped you, your majesty, not I. But I will happily allow destiny to wield me as the weapon that will bring you to your end."

Arthur tightened his grip. So this was it. His sword against magic. If he could take Maelor by surprise, he might be able to kill him before the sorcerer realized what was happening. With any luck, the others would scatter without their leader. If not, they'd fight and hope for the best. He tensed, readying himself to attack.

And then a calm voice cut across the clearing. But it was not the voice of the savior Arthur had hoped for.

"You should lower your sword."

Arthur's head snapped to the right at the sound and his eyes widened with horror.

Merlin stood just this side of the trees. His face was flushed and his eyes wild, but Arthur couldn't tell for sure whether it was from the fever or from fury.

Why was his idiot servant so determined to protect him? And why hadn't he at least brought a sword with him, even if wouldn't help?

Possibly, Arthur realized, because he was too weak to carry one at the moment.

It hit Arthur that Merlin was going to die with the rest of them.

Maelor's eyes turned gold, and Arthur waited. Waited for Merlin to go flying through the air or to fall to the ground, or for…well, anything. But nothing happened, apart from Merlin blinking and looking slightly puzzled for a moment. Instead, the gold faded from Maelor's eyes and the rage fell from his expression. Then, inexplicably, he took a half-step step back and lowered his sword slightly, leaving a foot of space between the blade and Arthur's neck.

"You…" Maelor whispered, eyes wide. "You're here. You came. But how…?" Arthur couldn't name the look on his face. It almost seemed like awe, but looking back at Merlin, that made no sense. Merlin was, if anything, less impressive than usual at the moment, his body shivering and his skin pale except for where it burned red.

"Put the sword down," Merlin ordered, taking a step closer.

"Do you know who he is?" Maelor demanded, gesturing toward Arthur with the blade. "Do you know what he's done?"

Merlin laughed tiredly, looking genuinely amused. "Yes, I know who he is."

"He has spent his life persecuting magic! How many innocent people have died at his hands? How many times has his arrogance triumphed over justice?"

Merlin sighed. "I will never understand," he pondered, sounding weary and oddly philosophical, "why, when I find myself in these situations, people seem to feel the need to start lecturing me about Arthur's history and character. Do you honestly think you're going to tell me something I don't already know?"

Arthur stared at him in confusion. These situations? How often did Merlin find himself in situations like this?

"If you know what he has done, then you know what must be done next." Maelor raised his sword again, returning his gaze to Arthur's face.

"I will only tell you once more," Merlin warned. "Lower your sword."

Slowly, a knowing smile crept across Maelor's face as he stared hard at the king, although Arthur didn't know what the sorcerer saw that prompted such a look. "He doesn't know, does he?" the sorcerer said slowly. "For all your loyalty and everything you do for him, he has no idea who you truly are. What you truly are." He pressed his sword closer, and Arthur could feel the cold of the metal against his skin.

In the back of his mind, Arthur felt the inevitable flurry of alarm that came with feeling a blade at his throat, but the bulk of his focus was on Maelor's words. There was an idea pushing for entrance into his thoughts, had been pushing since Maelor's eyes turned gold and Merlin didn't fall, and Arthur couldn't quite bring himself to open the door for it. But whether he acknowledged the idea or not, something akin to panic flooded his body in response to it.

"If you want me to lower the sword, Emrys," Maelor suggested lightly, "why don't you simply use your magic to lower it for me? Surely your legendary power is enough for such a simple task."

And there it was.

Emrys.

Maelor was mistaken. Merlin was not Emrys. Merlin did not have magic.

But even as Arthur tried to reason with himself, the pieces started falling into place.

Merlin's response was calm. Flat, even. "If you force me to use magic today, I give you my word, my magic will be the last thing you ever see." His tone was strangely devoid of menace, yet Arthur still felt himself shudder in response.

Maelor's eyes widened with a flicker of fear. He took a step back, finally lowering the sword to his side.

"Do you think your king will spare you just because you saved his life? He will execute you tomorrow, Emrys. Your friendship will be forgotten, and he will watch you burn in the flames of the pyre as he has watched so many others."

No. Arthur didn't know what he was going to do, but not that. He didn't think he would have done that to Emrys, regardless of who he turned out to be, but he certainly wasn't going to do it to Merlin.

And Merlin knew that. Arthur expected him to argue with Maelor, to declare that Arthur would never do such a thing.

Instead, Merlin said, "Arthur will choose whatever path he believes to be right and just. If he believes he will serve justice by executing me, then so be it."

Maelor stared in shock. "What's wrong with you?" he asked incredulously. "You would choose to die willingly at the hands of a tyrant?"

"He's not a tyrant. He is an honorable king. If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that whatever decisions Arthur makes, he makes for the good of the people of Camelot."

Maelor scoffed and rubbed his temple as though he had a headache. Strangely enough, Arthur found himself siding with the priest. What was wrong with Merlin? He thought Arthur might have him executed? And he would just give himself up to death?

Maybe it was the fever. Arthur hoped it was the fever.

"Emrys, destiny has a greater plan for you than martyrdom. You can make the world safe for your kin again. You can be with people like yourself." There was frustration in Maelor's voice, but Arthur could also hear pleading in it. "Don't you think you owe your allegiance to your own kind?"

Merlin's reply was swift and sharp. "There is no one like me. And you are no more my kin than the fish in the sea or the rock on which I stand." For a moment, Merlin became a stranger as he spoke. There was something foreign in his eyes, something pained and haunted that Arthur couldn't quite name. "I have no 'kind,' and I owe my allegiance to no one. It is mine to give freely to whomever I choose, and I have chosen. I am loyal to King Arthur."

Arthur felt something tug inside of him. The bluntness of the statement, the simplicity of it, and the undeniable sincerity. I am loyal to King Arthur. It reminded him of something Merlin had said weeks before: I believe he keeps you alive, Arthur. As far as I'm concerned, that means his life has value. Those words took on a different meaning now that Arthur knew Merlin was speaking about himself, and he felt his stomach lurch unpleasantly at the realization.

"Your loyalty has blinded you to the need around you," Maelor insisted, the sword in his hand twitching. "If the king were dead, you would see the truth. You are needed if magic is to return to Camelot."

Merlin took another step closer. "You will not raise a hand against the king."

Maelor paused. Though not an explicit threat, Merlin's meaning was clear.

"Look around you, Emrys." Maelor gestured to the crowd behind him, and Arthur blinked in surprise. He had almost forgotten they had an audience. Despite the number of people, they had not made a single sound. In fact, they were eerie in their stillness and silence. Some of the Deilen looked hungry and angry while others stared at Merlin with something bordering on reverence, but not one of them moved. They hardly seemed to breathe as they watched the show unfolding before them.

"Do you honestly believe you're capable of defeating forty priests of the Deilen?" Pride came over Maelor's face. "Surely you have heard of our power."

Some of the fevered wildness faded from Merlin's eyes, replaced with a hard lucidity, and his lips twisted into a smile that chilled Arthur. When he spoke, his voice was soft and cold.

"Oh, you have no idea what I'm capable of."

He stepped towards Maelor again, and this time Maelor stepped back. Merlin continued until he was standing just feet in front of Arthur.

His breath came more quickly now, and Arthur noticed with concern that Merlin wobbled slightly as he took another step, violent shivers racking his body.

Merlin must have noticed it as well, because he glared at Maelor and declared, "Enough." He turned away from the high priest to face the crowd watching him. "This is done. Leave. All of you." His voice was tired, but firm.

Maelor stared at Merlin in confusion for a moment before letting out a half laugh. "What?"

Merlin sighed heavily. "Leave," he repeated, drawing the word out slowly as though he thought perhaps Maelor genuinely hadn't understood him.

The sorcerer continued to stare at him blankly. The priests on the ridge exchanged uncertain looks and Arthur heard a few low murmurs, but no one moved.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Fine," he muttered under his breath before raising his voice again. "I don't want to kill you all, but I will if I have to. So I am going to start counting. When I reach ten, everyone still on this ridge dies. There will be no second chances. One. Two. Three."

For a moment, most of the faces filled with surprise or confusion. Once Merlin hit four, with the background noise of a loud crash of thunder, the reality of Merlin's threat seemed to sink in.

Unexpectedly, it was the sorceress from the courtyard who moved first. She smiled at Merlin, then lowered her head in a bow.

She bowed.

To Merlin.

And then she turned and fled for the trees, and the dam seemed to burst as the entire contingent of Deilen priests bolted for the woods after her. Arthur noted with a detached disbelief that most of them looked genuinely frightened.

Maelor didn't move until seven. By then, only a few of his companions were still visible, their backs merely blurs of color as they ran from Merlin. The high priest's face contorted with frustration, but he must have realized he could not face Merlin alone, and with one last spiteful glare at Arthur, he turned and fled as well.

"Nine. Ten."

Maelor's back was still visible, and Arthur could see the indecision in Merlin's eyes. He started to raise his hand, then stopped. A moment later, Maelor disappeared from view.

Merlin stayed where he was, staring at the spot where Maelor had vanished. He had a tortured look on his face that Arthur didn't understand; his eyes were vague and distant, and his breath came fast and shallow.

Behind him, Arthur heard someone sheath their sword, and then Lancelot stepped around him and approached Merlin, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Lancelot knew. The knowledge struck Arthur anew, although he was still too stunned to associate any emotions with the thought. Lancelot knew Merlin was Emrys.

"Merlin." Lancelot spoke his name softly, but Merlin didn't even seem to realize he was there. "Merlin," Lancelot repeated, and this time, Merlin shoved the knight's hand off of his shoulder in response.

"Forty sorcerers. Forty priests of the Old Religion. And they all just ran from me," Merlin muttered with a bitter laugh. "They were terrified. Of me. And I didn't so much as conjure a butterfly." He turned and pushed past Lancelot, adding in a low voice that Arthur could nonetheless hear, "Still think I'm not a monster?"

He stumbled as he reached the trees, but caught himself against a trunk. Then he took a deep, shuddering breath and disappeared into the forest, leaving Arthur and the knights behind.

Chapter Fifteen

Lancelot stared after Merlin for a few seconds, his expression mirroring Arthur's own shock, and then he rushed after him.

Arthur hesitated only for a moment before following. He had no idea what was happening, but there were three thoughts vying for attention in his mind: Merlin was upset, Merlin was ill, and Merlin was Emrys. And since all of those thoughts involved Merlin, going after his servant seemed like the logical move.

He heard them before he found them, the sounds of Merlin's gasping breaths and choked words drowning out the low and soothing tones of Lancelot's voice.

"I shouldn't have…you saw them. Oh gods. And Arthur saw. Arthur saw!" Merlin's eyes were glazed in an unseeing panic, and Arthur could see the lucidity of the past several minutes starting to fade as the fever took hold again.

The fever from the temple's magic.

The fever Maelor said would kill him.

"Merlin, just breathe," Lancelot ordered gently, his hands on his friend's shoulders. "It's all right. Just take a breath."

"I let them…" Merlin broke off and made a pained, inhuman sound that made Arthur flinch. "My mercy will be his downfall, Lancelot!"

"It was a false prophecy," Lancelot insisted. "You know that mercy is not a weakness. Especially not for someone as powerful as you are."

Merlin let out a strangled sob. "But the darkness…." He dropped to the ground so quickly that Arthur wasn't sure whether he sat intentionally or fell. "I am the only one of my kind," Merlin whispered. "I am alone, and the darkness…and now…now…" Merlin trailed off, his breathing too ragged to continue speaking.

"Stop," Lancelot ordered, crouching before him. "Merlin, listen to me. Who is Emrys?"

Merlin looked at Lancelot in confusion.

"Do you remember? Can you tell me? Who is Emrys, Merlin?"

It took several seconds, but Merlin finally replied. "Emrys is the name destiny gave to me years ago. It represents the path that was chosen for me." He spoke haltingly, but Arthur noted with relief that at least he was speaking in complete sentences.

"That's right," Lancelot encouraged. "And who is Merlin?"

Merlin's breath grew steadier and the words came more confidently this time, flowing in a rhythm like a poem he had memorized. "Merlin is the name my mother gave to me when I was born. It represents the path I choose for myself."

"And who are you?"

"I am both." He closed his eyes for a moment, some of the tension releasing from his body. He opened them and said again, "I am both."

"That's right," Lancelot repeated with a warm smile. "Now tell me, what is the purpose of your power?"

For a moment Merlin's focus sharpened again, staring at the man in front of him. "To serve and protect the Once and Future King."

Lancelot's smile grew into a grin. "There he is," he said, lightly slapping Merlin's cheek with affection. But despite the playfulness of his actions, his words were still cautious and careful. "See? You're all right. But I need you to do one more thing for me."

Merlin gave him a questioning look.

"I need for you to let go of the storm."

Merlin looked up at the sky, and Arthur followed his gaze. Dark clouds swirled above them, glowing with ominous flashes of lightning. He looked back to Merlin, who frowned.

"Sorry," his servant muttered, looking slightly confused. "I didn't mean to."

And just like that, the clouds paled and the lightning stopped, although the storm did not disperse.

Lancelot placed his hand against Merlin's cheek again, and this time his face tightened in concern. "You shouldn't be out of bed, my friend." He stood, reaching down to help Merlin up. But even though Merlin took the outstretched hand, his legs caved under him as he tried to stand. He landed hard on the ground and looked around, disoriented.

And then the skies opened up.

Lancelot tried again to help Merlin to his feet, and Arthur rushed over to them. The knight looked at him in alarm when he reached toward them, but accepted the assistance when Arthur pulled Merlin's arm around his shoulders.

Emrys's arm.

They ushered Merlin back to the cave, the rain drenching them within seconds, and somewhere in the back of his mind Arthur realized the other knights were following them. Had they been there the whole time?

The cave stayed quiet for several minutes, despite the flurry of activity. Gwaine and Leon fought with the wet wood, trying to get the fire going again, while Percival set the pan out to collect water and Elyan prepared the willow bark he had found earlier. Arthur and Lancelot wrestled Merlin's wet tunic off and wrapped him tightly in blankets.

Merlin's eyes moved blankly around the cave, but now that his panic had faded, he seemed completely unaware of his surroundings, and the heat of his skin was nearly painful to the touch. He may have remained upright and coherent with Maelor, but it seemed he was paying a price for it now.

Eventually, the fire was built, the tea administered, and Merlin slept. And then there was nothing else for Arthur to do but sit in the quiet. He leaned against the cave wall next to Lancelot, both of them at Merlin's side.

"You knew all along it was him," he said finally, breaking the silence but keeping his voice as low as he could.

Lancelot just nodded.

"My most loyal subject, my most faithful friend, and my strongest ally." Arthur recited the words from the druid. "I should have known, shouldn't I?" He let out a short laugh. "We ran around chasing our tails trying to find him, and if I had just thought about it for five seconds…I should have known."

Of course it was Merlin.

Lancelot insisted on taking first watch again that night, and Arthur wondered if it was because he didn't trust Arthur alone with Merlin. The knight hadn't asked what Arthur intended to do now he knew Merlin was a criminal, but Arthur knew Lancelot must be wondering.

Arthur was wondering too.

He lay awake after everyone else's snores filled the cave, replaying the scene from the woods. Merlin saying he was loyal to Arthur. Merlin threatening the entire cohort of priests. The sorceress bowing. The priests running from the power Merlin wielded.

Merlin falling to the ground in front of Lancelot.

All at once, his conversation with Lancelot from days ago came pouring back to him.

Frustrated, Arthur rolled from his side to his back, watching the firelight dance on the cave's ceiling. That conversation had haunted him before, but it was nothing compared to the way it crashed over him now.

The man Lancelot had described…powerful, but young and unsure, struggling with the weight of his destiny. It should have been hard to reconcile him with the goofy servant Arthur knew, but to Arthur's surprise, it wasn't difficult at all. He'd always felt there was some piece of Merlin that he hadn't quite fathomed out. Now he knew.

And the loneliness. Lancelot had described it, but the knight's explanation was nothing compared to hearing the anguish in Merlin's own words.

I am the only one of my kind. I am alone.

Arthur blinked against the wetness in his eyes, grateful for the darkness of the cave. He suddenly remembered the boy helping him into his armor for the first time, his impatience as Merlin struggled to get everything in place. He had been so…well, so young. Had he known then what he was destined for? And then he remembered Merlin, drinking that damned poison for him. They hardly even knew each other then, and Merlin had risked his life for Arthur.

How many times had Merlin the clumsy servant saved his life that Arthur knew about? And how many times had Emrys the guardian protected him in secret?

Arthur sighed heavily. He wanted to be angry. At the secrets, the lies, the crimes.

But he just couldn't find anger. All he could find was sorrow. Sorrow at the thought of Merlin's loneliness and fear. Sorrow at the thought that while Arthur was throwing goblets at him, Merlin was carrying this weight by himself. Arthur mocked him, and Merlin saved him.

And now, would he ever even have the chance to try to make it right? Or would Merlin die in this cave?

There will come a time when you know his identity, Arthur. And I pray to the gods that when that day comes, you will show compassion for him.

Arthur snorted into the darkness. Apparently, Lancelot had nothing to worry about there. Tomorrow, they would send for Gaius. Merlin would survive. And then…well, then Arthur would figure something out.

Gods help him.

-End of Part One-

AN: I've had panic attacks for many, many years, but I found it surprisingly difficult to try to convey the experience from an outsider's perspective. Especially since I've never had someone else successfully talk me down from one before. But I figure it there's anyone that could reach Merlin in that moment, it would be Lancelot, and I figure if there's anything that would ground him, it would be focusing on his purpose. I'll say that Merlin's attack was probably a little more logical and linear than mine have ever been (and more quickly resolved), but I feel like (maybe?) they probably look less chaotic from the outside than they seem from inside one's own head...

Part Two

Chapter Sixteen

Elyan and Leon set out for Camelot shortly after sunrise to fetch Gaius. It seemed that Merlin's fever might have come down some during the night, to Arthur's surprise and immense relief, but he was still disoriented and weak.

The sun came out in full force that morning, so they built a fire outside and moved Merlin there, hoping that the combination of the sun and fire would be better for him than the damp cave. The other knights sat a short distance away, playing dice, although Arthur suspected Gwaine and Percival were probably more focused on pumping Lancelot for information than they were on the game. He could hear surprised exclamations periodically interrupt their hushed whispers.

Arthur sat next to his servant, sharpening his sword and darting frequent glances at the still figure. Merlin still looked flushed, although Arthur supposed lying in the sun could be part of it. He didn't seem to be shivering anymore, at least.

Assuming he survived – which he would – what was Arthur going to do with him?

Legally, he should execute him, but Arthur shuddered and dismissed that thought immediately, as he had every time it came to mind. Merlin wasn't evil. Arthur was certain of that. And he had used his magic for Arthur's good. Merlin's timely intervention the day before, for example, although it didn't take too much brainstorming for Arthur to come up with a dozen other incidents he was certain Merlin had a hand in. Executing him might be what the law demanded, but it was not justice.

He could banish him, but he recoiled against that idea as well. What would he do without Merlin? Without his obnoxious irreverence that always managed to pull Arthur back down to earth? Without that quiet wisdom that reassured him in moments of darkness? And perhaps it didn't seem like much, but Arthur knew that without Merlin, he would laugh far less. Before Merlin, most of the laughter in Arthur's life came at the expense of others. A life without Merlin sounded miserably bleak.

And of course, there was apparently the matter of the protection Merlin had been providing, which was still strange to think about.

What were his other options? Imprisonment? Whipping? The stocks?

Imprisonment had the same issues as banishment. Whipping… he would not subject his friend to that. That would not be justice either. And the stocks would simply be silly for a crime like sorcery. It would be a mockery of a punishment.

And that left Arthur with…well, nothing. Just doing nothing. Continuing on as before, but with this surreal knowledge that his friend had magic.

That his friend was Emrys.

Or, looked at differently, that Emrys was his friend. Just as the druid had said.

It turned everything upside down, thinking of Emrys as Merlin. Thinking of his goofy servant as the friend who would be his equal.

It felt surreal. But strangely enough, it didn't feel crazy.

And if all this wasn't crazy – if Arthur was going to let Merlin stay in Camelot with no legal punishment, if he believed the man could have magic and not be corrupted by it – then Merlin had just complicated Arthur's life in ways he couldn't even begin to think about. Because there couldn't be one law for Merlin and another law for all the rest.

Merlin woke near lunchtime without a sound. Arthur glanced at him as he'd been doing all morning, then did a doubletake when he realized Merlin's eyes were open, watching Arthur with an expression Arthur couldn't decipher. His gaze was focused, no longer vague or confused.

"You're awake," Arthur said, exhaling with relief. He placed a hand against Merlin's clammy head. "Welcome back. You're a little warm still, but not burning up like you were. How do you feel?"

"It happened, didn't it?" Merlin asked tiredly, ignoring the question. "With the Deilen. It wasn't just a dream?"

Arthur let his hand drop, and his smile fell with it. "Yes, Merlin. It happened."

Merlin held his stare, and Arthur could see the fear in his eyes. He thought maybe Merlin was about to apologize for all of the lies, or possibly beg Arthur to understand. Arthur really wasn't sure he was ready for either of those conversations. But Merlin surprised him.

"Should I have killed them, Arthur?"

"What?" Arthur asked, taken aback and entirely unprepared for the question.

"They wanted to kill you. They've tried twice," Merlin continued in a small voice. "What if they come back?"

Arthur shook his head, quickly trying to gather his thoughts. "No, Merlin. To kill them when they were willing to surrender and leave…it would have been murder. It would have been a massacre."

Merlin turned his gaze away from Arthur, and Arthur felt a combination of pity and pain at the uncertainty he saw there. "But if I choose to let them live, and then they come back and kill you later…" he trailed off. "It will be my fault now if you die at their hands."

"Mercy is not a weakness," Arthur insisted, echoing Lancelot's words from the day before. "Even in battle."

"That might be truer for others than for me."

Arthur frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"'His mercy will be the king's downfall,'" Merlin recited.

"Who told you that?"

Merlin suddenly looked uncomfortable. "It was in the book of prophecies."

Arthur raised his eyebrows "The book of false prophecies that you told me contained the words of liars and charlatans? The book that said you would abandon me?"

"It was a different prophecy," Merlin mumbled.

"But the same book?" Arthur waited until Merlin nodded, and then he sighed. "First of all, Merlin, you're the one who told me those prophecies were lies. But even if it weren't a lie, you still did the right thing. You can't wield the kind of power you apparently have and not show mercy. It would make you—" he cut off, and something dark filled Merlin's eyes.

"A monster," he finished. "Did Lancelot tell you?"

"Did Lancelot tell me what?"

"That I'm a monster." Merlin's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "According to the criteria in Cadwaladr's Bestiary, I am literally a monster."

Arthur snorted. "That's ridiculous," he scoffed, and his stomach turned when Merlin looked genuinely surprised by his reaction.

Merlin had expected him to agree, he realized with a chill. Maybe not say it aloud, but the look on his face clearly said he'd expected Arthur to view him as a monster.

"It's true," Merlin insisted. "There's a list of criteria—"

"Who cares about a list of criteria?" Arthur interrupted dismissively, not sure if he was more irritated by the claim or by the fact that Merlin believed Arthur would agree with it.

Or maybe he was irritated with himself, because he couldn't ignore a little voice in the back of his head suggesting that he might be reacting to this conversation very differently if Merlin didn't look like a sick puppy just back from the brink of death.

"I've seen plenty of monsters, and you don't qualify," he added, trying to shove those troubling thoughts aside.

"I'm a creature of magic." Merlin studied Arthur's face as he said the words. "Not just someone who has magic. I am magic. You can't imagine how powerful I am. And you saw what happened. They fled from me. They had powerful magic of their own, and they were terrified. Of me."

"And I'm grateful," Arthur blurted. "You saved my life. You saved all our lives."

"You're grateful for my power?" he echoed skeptically. "That I'm a sorcerer? That I'm capable of more than you could ever imagine?"

"I won't deny it's strange," Arthur admitted. "But…yes. Maybe. I think." He looked away. "I don't know, Merlin."

"You said Emrys was as much a threat to Camelot as the Deilen," Merlin reminded him with haunted eyes. "You said if he is not corrupted by magic yet, he will be eventually."

"I know what I said, but that was before I knew you were Emrys," Arthur snapped, running a hand through his hair.

"It's as simple as that? Knowing I'm Emrys changes your mind about all of it?"

Arthur struggled to put his thoughts into words. "There's nothing simple about it. This is the most bizarre thing I've ever had to process. But I just cannot believe that you are a threat to Camelot. A threat to me. And I absolutely know that you are not corrupted by magic."

"How?" Merlin whispered. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I know you."

Merlin turned his gaze to the sky, and Arthur could read the doubt and guilt in his eyes.

"I admit, there's apparently a lot I don't know," he conceded to Merlin's unspoken argument. "But that doesn't mean I don't know you. I know who you are, Merlin. Magic or no magic."

"I've killed people to protect you. I don't like doing it, but I don't regret it. And I would do it again. No doubt I will do it again, sooner or later."

"As have all my knights," Arthur pointed out, "not to mention myself. The fact that you're haunted by it, that you don't want to do it, tells me magic hasn't corrupted you."

"But how do you know it won't?" Arthur could hear the genuine fear in the question as Merlin's words sped up. "Even if I'm not corrupted now, what if what you said is true, and magic does inevitably corrupt eventually? That much power, used for evil…"

"I have power too," Arthur pointed out. "And when I use it carelessly or heartlessly, you always tell me. You help keep me focused on what's important. I can do the same for you."

Merlin stared at him in astonishment. "You want me close enough that you'd be able to do that? Even though I'm a sorcerer?"

Arthur sighed. Now they were getting into specifics of what life would look like once they were back in Camelot, and he hadn't worked those out in his mind yet. He hadn't really worked anything out in his mind yet, apart from his certainty that there would be no execution.

"We'll figure it out," he said. "We have time. Right now, you should get some more rest."

Merlin nodded, but he watched Arthur closely.

"What?"

Merlin closed his eyes. "Nothing."

"Come on. Tell me."

His eyes opened again, and he asked hesitantly, "Are you afraid of me?"

It was a fair question, in theory. But at the moment, Merlin looked like a scared child waking up from a nightmare, cocooned in blankets with his eyes wide in fear. The thought of being afraid of him was almost funny.

But Arthur could see Merlin was terrified of the answer to the question, and there was nothing funny about that.

He could destroy him with a single word, Arthur realized.

"Of course not. I trust you." And as he said the words, he realized how true they were. He had no idea what the future would hold, but he knew he trusted Merlin. He might be an idiot, but he was a loyal idiot.

Merlin stared at him, and Arthur knew he was trying to gauge whether he was lying. He forced himself to hold Merlin's gaze. Finally, Merlin gave him a small nod. But Arthur saw the doubt that remained in his eyes when they closed.

They could deal with that doubt. Arthur returned to sharpening his sword as Merlin fell back into sleep, a smile playing on his lips. He was sure of one thing following that conversation: Merlin was going to live. And for now, that was the only thing that mattered.

AN: There was supposed to be another chapter before this one in which Arthur angsted and debated and processed, talking the whole thing out with Lancelot and Leon (and also a bit inside Merlin's fever-brain as he tried to remember what happened). I made a last-minute decision and cut it because I felt like everything covered there was eventually covered elsewhere in the next few chapters. That being said, if you're someone who enjoys giving constructive feedback, I'd love to hear thoughts on whether Arthur's reactions/behavior make sense over the next few chapters or if it feels like...well, like I skipped something. (I mean, let's be honest, I always love reviews in general, but this is one of those places where some concrete feedback in a specific area would be really helpful as a writer!)

As always, thanks for reading!

Chapter Seventeen

"Look who it is," Gwaine said with a grin, and Merlin looked up to see two figures on horseback on the road up ahead. His head was still foggy, and it took him longer than it should have to recognize Elyan and Gaius approaching them. Gaius's face was drawn tight with worry, and he vaguely realized that the summons had probably terrified his guardian. Merlin would have to be pretty sick to be unable to travel and for Arthur to send for a physician instead of just waiting it out for a few days.

Of course, thinking about it now, it was strange that they all stayed with him. It would have made more sense for everyone to go back with Elyan and Leon and just have one or two people stay with Merlin, instead of the other way around.

Maybe Arthur wasn't willing to let Merlin out of his sight now that he knew the truth? Maybe he felt he needed the knights nearby, just in case Merlin was dangerous?

"Merlin seems a bit better today, so we thought we'd meet you halfway. This way we can all be back in Camelot tonight." Arthur took a quick glance around. "This is as good of a place as any to take a break. We can eat something and Gaius can check him."

Merlin stumbled dismounting, and Percival reached out a hand to steady him. "Got it?" he asked, and Merlin nodded.

They kept doing things like that. Being nice. All of them. He wasn't sure how he expected them to treat him, but he expected…something. Nervousness, at the very least, if not outright fear. Instead, they all seemed worried about him.

Gaius had Merlin sit on the ground a short distance from the rest of the group, far enough that they wouldn't be heard if they kept their voices low. He leaned against a large rock, too tired to stay upright on his own after the past few hours on a horse.

"How are you feeling?" his guardian asked, checking his forehead. "It seems the fever has broken, at least. And you must be stronger, since you can ride."

"Did Elyan tell you what happened?" Merlin asked, unsure whether to hope he had or hope he hadn't.

Gaius frowned. "He's been oddly evasive, actually. He said you had a fever, and that you were disoriented and weak. But he didn't say much else."

Of course – Elyan didn't know that Gaius already knew about his magic, and Arthur wouldn't want word of that to spread.

"I wasn't feeling great the morning we left, but I don't really know if it was illness. I might have just been tired. And then when we found the temple…" he paused, knowing how Gaius would feel about his recklessness. "There were words carved on the wall in the old tongue, and I touched them."

Sure enough, Gaius gave him a withering glare. "What did I tell you about being careful with the magic of the temple? I warned you it might be cursed. Why would you touch anything?"

"Arthur touched it first!" Merlin protested, knowing the excuse would get him nowhere.

"You should know better than Arthur when it comes to questions of magic," Gaius scolded. "What happened when you touched it?"

"Yes, Merlin, what did happen when you touched it?"

Merlin looked up to see Arthur walking over to them.

"Don't mind me," the king said. "I'm just curious to hear your version of events. Especially since according to that Deilen priest, you should be dead."

Gaius's eyes widened slightly. "Sire, perhaps it would be best if I treat Merlin first, and he can fill you in on those details later?"

"Gaius," Merlin broke in with a sigh. "He knows."

His guardian seemed confused at first, then shocked as he read the truth on Merlin's face. He turned in alarm to Arthur, and Merlin noticed that he leaned forward a little bit, as though to move between Merlin and the king.

"It's fine," Arthur broke in. "Well, not fine exactly. I don't know what it is. But right now I mostly just want to know that Merlin is okay and understand what happened."

The physician looked dumbfounded. "Give an old man a moment to process this," he said slowly, sitting down on the rock behind Merlin without taking his eyes off Arthur. "Sire – will you give me your word that I do not need to fear for his safety?"

Arthur didn't even hesitate. "You have my word."

Merlin was too tired for strong emotions, but Arthur's response did cause a kind of pleasant warmth in his chest. He hadn't really been worried that Arthur might kill him, not after their conversation the previous day. But it was good to hear Arthur say it so directly.

Gaius nodded shakily, then turned his attention back to Merlin, although he kept darting quick looks at the king. "All right, Merlin. Tell me what happened."

"I touched the wall. I had to. The whole temple felt…I don't even know how to describe it. Sacred and powerful. It was like that wall was calling to me, almost like I was in a trance or something. And when I touched it, I think it recognized that I had magic, somehow. I think that's why it responded to me and not to Arthur. I could feel the magic from it moving inside of me. I could feel it attacking my magic." He scowled at the memory. "My magic was stronger – I could tell that pretty quickly. But it's taking a long time to fight it all off and get it all out of me. There's much less of it now though. I only feel bits of it, like a splinter."

"A curse that attacks someone's magic," Gaius murmured. "That's powerful indeed."

"I honestly don't know whether I was getting sick anyway, or if it was all the temple," he concluded. "But I feel better than I did. The other magic…it's not totally gone, and it's uncomfortable, but I don't think it's dangerous. Not anymore."

"Hmm." Gaius frowned. "If you were already getting sick, an attack of magic like that might have pushed it along. Your body wouldn't be able to fight against the magic and against illness at the same time. For now, I think we can just treat this as a normal illness, as long as you feel like the magical side is under control and healing on its own, but I want to keep an eye on it for anything unusual. Who knows what manner of magic that temple might have contained? Despite how it may have felt, I think it's safe to say that it was indeed cursed, not sacred."

"I thought it felt creepy," Arthur offered.

"It would be powerful magic indeed for it have fooled someone with Merlin's magical instincts. I'm curious though," Gaius said, glancing back and forth between them, "how all of this resulted in Arthur finding out about your magic?"

Merlin glanced at Arthur. "I don't remember much," he admitted.

"That's okay," Arthur said darkly. "I remember it well enough for both of us. I doubt I'll ever be able to forget it."

Merlin cringed at that. "I'm sorry," he muttered, but Arthur waved him off.

"That's a conversation for another time." He turned his attention to Gaius. "We got caught in a rainstorm after we left the temple…"

Merlin tried to listen as Arthur described the events. He really, really wanted to know what happened. But despite his best efforts, he fell asleep to the sound of Arthur's story.

Arthur was not entirely surprised when the physician pulled up beside him on the trek back to Camelot.

"What all did he not tell me?" Gaius asked without preamble, and Arthur couldn't help but laugh.

"So he's in the habit of keeping secrets from you too?" he said before he could stop himself. Gaius looked alarmed, then bemused as he realized that Arthur was joking.

Arthur was a little surprised about that himself.

"You're taking this well," Gaius observed skeptically.

"It's shocking, but at the same time, not nearly as shocking as it should be." Arthur frowned, trying to find the words. "I never would have guessed it, but it makes sense. It makes perfect sense. And honestly, there's almost an element of…relief? Part of me always knew there was something about Merlin I wasn't seeing, and something about the world around me I wasn't seeing. And now that I see it…" he trailed off, shrugging. "There are pieces of this that worry me, and I have no idea what I'm going to do about all of it. But it feels strangely right."

Gaius chuckled in astonishment. "Of all of the reactions I imagined, I never pictured this."

"What did you imagine?"

"Anger mostly, to be honest," Gaius admitted. "It would be an understandable response."

"I might still get angry." It was a thought that had occurred to Arthur a few times now. "Once it sinks in, I mean. But it's hard to be angry when he's this pathetic." He glanced over his shoulder at Merlin. Arthur had proposed stopping for the day after Merlin fell asleep during their break, but Merlin had insisted he wanted to sleep in his own bed that night. He was well enough to stay on his horse so far, but he was pale and mostly seemed to stare distractedly at the ground right in front of him. Lancelot was riding next to him and had promised to let Arthur and Gaius know if it looked like he needed to stop.

"How bad has he been?" Gaius asked, the worry evident in his voice.

"Honestly?" Arthur shook his head. "It was scary. He seemed completely detached from reality at times. He ordered me at one point not to tell myself that he was at the tavern." He eyed Gaius questioningly, and the old man looked guilty. "He never goes to the tavern, does he, Gaius?"

"Only when Gwaine drags him," Gaius admitted apologetically. "I'm sorry, sire. You know, keeping you alive requires much more effort from him than you would think. And I couldn't very well tell you he was off doing magic to protect you."

"No," Arthur acknowledged. "I suppose you couldn't. Anyway, he's doing somewhat better now, it seems. Regarding the fever, at least." Arthur stared at the physician thoughtfully. "Gaius?"

"Yes, sire?"

"How has he been doing? In general, I mean, with this whole destiny thing?"

It was Gaius's turn to struggle for words. "Sometimes better than others, sire. He takes his responsibility to you very seriously. And usually that means he stays too busy to think about it much, I think. Although sometimes I think he stays that busy on purpose because he doesn't want to think about it too much."

Arthur nodded, stowing that away to think on later.

"Can I ask you something that isn't about Merlin?"

"Certainly, sire," Gaius answered, looking curious but wary.

"Do you still practice sorcery?"

Gaius went very still, and it took him several seconds to answer. Arthur could make a guess at what thoughts were going through his mind, but Gaius gave nothing away until he replied. "As a rule, no. But there has been a time or two of dire need when I felt I had no other choice."

Arthur nodded, unsurprised. "Are you powerful, like Merlin?"

Gaius laughed loudly at that, then composed himself when he saw he'd caught the others' attention. He waited until they were distracted again before answering. "No one is powerful like Merlin, sire. But I'm afraid even compared to your average sorcerer, I am rather weak. I was only moderately talented at best, and I am sorely out of practice."

"Who teaches Merlin then?" Arthur asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

"I do my best, but I admit, it is difficult when the pupil's talent so greatly exceeds the teacher's."

"I'm sure."

Arthur did not rule as his father had ruled. He knew that. He'd learned much from Uther, both good and bad; yes, he emulated him in any ways, but he'd also made deliberate choices that he knew went against his father's beliefs. He could walk the road already marked for him, or he could choose to deviate.

But Merlin?

Merlin was alone in the woods. No path to follow. No path to reject. No one who had gone before him who could guide him.

Whatever he chose to do with his power, he had to figure it out alone.

And Arthur thought that sounded terrifying.

AN: Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter! It sounds like I probably made the right decision in cutting the previous chapter, although some people expressed interest in reading it even though it wasn't essential. I'm thinking I'll add it as a bonus chapter at the end of the story. I appreciate everyone who provided their thoughts!

Chapter Eighteen

A knock at his door startled Arthur out his pacing, and he opened it to find Gwen standing outside, a tray of food in her hands.

"I heard Merlin is sick, so I volunteered to bring your dinner."

Arthur opened the door wider for her to enter. "Thank you. It's…good to see you." That was a bit of an understatement. The moment he saw her face, he realized she was exactly the person he needed to talk to.

But could he? Could he reveal Merlin's secret to another person without his permission? And Merlin couldn't exactly give his permission. His fever had risen again by the time they'd arrived in Camelot, and each time Arthur had stopped by to check on him, he'd been asleep. Gaius said he'd been dazed and groggy for the few minutes he'd been awake, although he believed that they were dealing only with a natural illness now, from which Merlin would make a full recovery.

"Are you all right?" Gwen asked, looking at him with concern as she set out the dishes.

"Of course," Arthur said, forcing a smile as he sat down. "Please, sit with me."

She took a seat next to him, and he nudged his plate between them, nodding to it. She picked a grape off of it, but she held it in her hand and stared at him instead of eating.

"What's wrong, Arthur?"

Arthur sighed. "I want to tell you, but it would mean revealing someone else's secret. And I don't think I can. Not in good conscience. Even though…I mean, I'm king. And it's not a just personal secret. It's something that affects the kingdom. Something that affects me in my role as king. But does that mean I have a right to repeat it? And yet, I wish I could have your counsel on it." He made a general noise of frustration that made Gwen raise her eyebrows and fail to hide a laugh.

"Can you tell me any of it without revealing the details or betraying trust?"

Arthur thought for a moment. "I discovered…" Which direction did he want to approach this from? He could tell her he had found who Emrys was, and he wasn't sure what to do with that information. Or he could say he'd discovered Merlin had a secret. But he couldn't bring up both Emrys and Merlin without giving it away.

"I discovered that Merlin has been keeping something from me," he said finally. Because the heart of the issue was Merlin, not Emrys. "Something big. And not just keeping it from me, but directly lying to me. For a long time."

Gwen furrowed her brow. "Merlin? Are you sure?"

"Very," Arthur said darkly.

She thought for a minute, and then her face relaxed, her eyes widening with understanding.

"Why don't you seem all that surprised?" Arthur asked suspiciously.

"It's just – well, now that I think about it, I have known Merlin to keep secrets now and then. Like when he hid the druid boy – he didn't tell you about that, did he?"

Arthur frowned. "I thought Morgana hid the druid boy?"

"She did, but Merlin was the one who saved him from the guards and brought him to Morgana's room in the first place. And there was the time he asked for my father's sword. I never did find out what that was all about. Or why he stole that statue of a dog from the courtyard. And there was the thing with Gaius and the goblin."

"What did Merlin have to do with that?" Arthur asked in confusion, and Gwen bit her lip.

"Merlin and I were the ones who cast it out of Gaius."

"With magic?" Arthur demanded, dumbfounded. Had Gwen known all along?

"No, of course not!" Gwen exclaimed in alarm. "No, we just had to kind of kill him. And revive him. But obviously Merlin had to break out of the dungeons to do that…so, yes, I guess I can see Merlin keeping some secrets. Did he have a good reason for keeping this one?"

Arthur smiled sourly. "I wish I could say no. But the truth is, I don't know how I would have responded if he'd told me. Probably not well."

"Did he do something bad?"

Arthur thought on that for a moment. "I guess that's the question I have to figure out."

Gwen reached out and placed her hand on his. "Arthur, whatever it is, one thing I'm sure of is that he had good intentions. He'd do anything for you."

Arthur sat back in his chair and sighed. "He would, wouldn't he?" He hesitated. "Guinevere?"

"Yes?"

Arthur struggled to articulate his next thoughts. "He has…suffered for it. The secret. Both for the secret itself, and for the keeping of it. And I think I might be at least partially to blame for that."

Gwen smiled softly at him. "Arthur, you can't blame yourself for something you didn't know. If Merlin kept it a secret, that was his choice," she reassured him, squeezing his hand.

"But I should have seen it. In hindsight…as much time as we spend together, as much as I thought I knew him. I should have seen it."

Gwen frowned. "Should I have figured it out?"

Arthur snorted in response. "I don't know, but I think I'm glad you didn't. I'd feel even worse if you'd figured it out and I didn't. But then again," he added ruefully, "maybe it would have helped him if you knew. I don't know." He rubbed his forehead, cursing the headache he felt returning.

"What's truly bothering you, Arthur? The fact that Merlin lied to you, or the fact that Merlin was hurting and you didn't know?"

Arthur just shook his head and shrugged vaguely. Gwen looked at him for a moment, her eyes soft with sympathy. Then she stood and went to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. He rested his head against her stomach, closing his eyes. It was as intimate an embrace as they'd ever shared, and yet there was no desire in it. Just comfort.

"Merlin is as much a brother to you as a servant. Don't deny it," she scolded when Arthur scoffed. "I know he is. You'll work your way through whatever lies he told. And regardless of what the past held, I know he'll have you by his side going forward."

Gwen's tone left no room for doubt or argument.

Several days passed in a blur of sleep and potions and tonics and more sleep. Sometimes Merlin woke by himself and sometimes he woke to Gaius sitting with him. On a couple of rarer occasions, he awoke to Arthur sitting in the chair beside his bed, staring vacantly into space.

He pretended to stay asleep on those occasions.

On the fourth day after he returned to Camelot, he woke starving, the first real appetite he'd had since before they'd left for the temple. He also felt more awake and alert than he had in days, so he decided to venture out to the main chambers in search of some food.

Wrapping a blanket tightly around himself, he shuffled out the door, surprised by how quickly the fatigue caught up with him.

But not nearly as surprised as he was to see Arthur standing in front of the fireplace, feeding it one piece of paper at a time.

"Arthur?" The name popped out before he could stop it, and he immediately regretted it. He should have just slipped back into his bedroom in the hopes that he hadn't been seen. At some point they were going to have to discuss the whole Emrys situation, but Merlin felt no shame in putting it off as long as he was able. He had no idea where he currently stood with the king now that Arthur had had a few days to think things over, but it was better to wonder than it would be to face the inevitable slew of emotions he was destined to see when Arthur confronted him – probably some combination of anger, hurt, betrayal, and disappointment. Maybe some disgust thrown in for good measure.

But when Arthur turned around, he just raised his eyebrows at him, one side of his mouth quirking up. "Finally decided to get up, did you?"

"I got hungry," Merlin said with a shrug, taking a seat at the table before his weak legs could betray him.

"You look terrible," Arthur added amiably, but Merlin couldn't find room in all of his nervousness to be offended, or even pretend to be.

"What are you burning?" he asked, nodding at the papers in Arthur's hand.

"This?" Arthur gave the papers a bitter smile. "Just getting rid of something we don't need anymore." His eyes drifted over the top page, then he tossed that one in the fire as well.

"Are those…are those pages from a book?"

"Just a few of them. Cadwaladr's chapter on the definition of monsters."

Merlin felt all of the blood drain from his face. "Gaius is going to kill you."

"Gaius rather agreed with me, actually."

"Then Geoffrey is going to kill you."

Arthur skimmed the remaining pages and threw them all into the fire before coming to sit across from Merlin. "I am the king. Geoffrey will not challenge me. Besides, I didn't burn the whole book. I just improved it a bit. We know that section was inaccurate, so there's no point keeping it around."

Merlin stared at the fireplace, watching the flames catch the edges of the pages he'd read a hundred times, quickly turning them black before they dissolved into ash.

"Burning it doesn't change anything, Arthur. What's the point?"

"It changes the fact that it's in my library," Arthur said firmly. "And it keeps you from reading that nonsense again. I also took that book of prophecies, by the way. I'm not getting rid of it since it's not technically wrong – the book says the prophecies are false. But I'm keeping it far away from you for now, since your idiot brain apparently doesn't understand the definition of 'false.'"

Merlin stared at him in bafflement. He'd pictured a hundred different versions of his next conversation with Arthur. None of them looked anything like this.

"Why are you doing this?"

Arthur studied Merlin carefully as he spoke, and Merlin tried not to squirm under the weight of his gaze. "You're supposedly a creature of magic. And I admit, Merlin, I have no idea what that means. I won't pretend to understand what you are. But I do know who you are. I know your character, and I know you're my friend. As for the rest of it…well, we'll figure out together."

Merlin's breath caught. Was Arthur serious?

"Why?"

"Because that's how we tackle every problem, isn't it? Has been for years." He shrugged in an unconvincing attempt to look casual. "Why change now?"

Chapter Nineteen

"Ah! Merlin. You're here."

Merlin hesitated next to the door. "You wanted to see me, sire?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Come in and close the door. Why are you hovering over there?" Once upon a time, not that long ago, Merlin bounced around Arthur's room as though he owned the place. Granted, with the exception of sleep, Merlin probably spent as much time in the room as Arthur did.

Merlin closed the door and took a few steps towards Arthur before stopping at the archways.

"Sit." Arthur used a quill to point to the chair set up on the other side of his desk. "First question – I haven't heard an update from Gaius today. When will you be ready to return to work?"

Merlin eased himself into the chair, watching Arthur carefully. Arthur wondered how long it would take for the nerves and jumpiness to fade and for the obnoxiously familiar Merlin to reappear.

"You still want me to be your servant?" Merlin asked uncertainly, and Arthur rolled his eyes again.

"If I decide to fire you, Merlin, I'll be sure to tell you. Otherwise it's safe to assume you still have your job."

"I could probably start tomorrow with the lighter things. Maybe another week before I can muck stalls or anything like that."

"Excellent. Try to be on time for once, will you?"

Arthur was gratified to see a small smile, although he would have preferred a snarky retort.

"Second question. Well, not so much a question as a project." He smoothed out the sheet in front of him. "I told you we were going to sort through this together, and we are."

Merlin's eyes widened with curiosity. "What did you have in mind?"

"We're going to figure out what you know and what you don't know. It will be two birds with one stone – it'll be a chance for you to tell me everything, and it will also be a chance for us to parse through and figure out the truth from the lies." Arthur hesitated suddenly as a new thought occurred to him. "You will tell me everything, won't you?"

Merlin thought before answering, and Arthur was surprised by the relief he felt at that. It meant he'd get a real answer, not just an automatic reply of whatever Merlin thought he wanted to hear.

"Yes," he said finally. "I'll tell you everything." Arthur could see the uncertain fear in his eyes even as he said the words.

"Thank you." Arthur paused. He wanted to put Merlin at ease, but he didn't know what the younger man needed to hear. "Merlin…you're my subject and my friend. I don't want you to have to hide. Especially since our destinies are apparently so intertwined."

Arthur's words came out awkward and stilted, but Merlin's answering smile looked genuine, even if it was small.

"So here's my plan. We make three lists. Things that you know about our destiny and about you that we know are true. Things we know are false – like being a monster," he said with a stern glare. "And things we're not sure about. That should at least give us a starting point. What do you think?"

Merlin nodded, and Arthur felt like he could take a full breath for the first time in days when he saw the hope in Merlin's eyes.

"I guess I'd better tell you about the first time I met Kilgharrah," Merlin started slowly, and already Arthur had questions. Who was Kilgharrah? Why had he never heard of him before? Did he know about Merlin's magic? If so, had he found out by accident, or had Merlin trusted him enough to tell him?

A knock at the door cut them off before Merlin could explain any more.

"Come," Arthur called, and Sir Leon stepped into the room. The knight's eyebrows raised slightly at the sight of Merlin, but whatever thoughts he had about seeing the sorcerer in the king's chambers, he kept them to himself.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sire," he said, "but it appears there's some confusion over the new troops going to the northern garrison. Would it be possible for us to review the orders together before they set out this afternoon?"

"Of course," Arthur agreed, trying to push back his frustration and impatience at the fact that he would have to wait before gaining any answers. "Merlin, we'll have to start this project tomorrow, unfortunately."

"Of course. Tomorrow then, my lord," he said, and he stood and bowed before leaving the room. Leon nodded at him as he walked past, his smile friendly, if a bit stiff.

"'My lord?'" the knight echoed, looking questioningly after Merlin, then back at Arthur.

Arthur sighed. He couldn't even remember the last time Merlin had used that title. "Let me see the orders," he instructed, reaching out his hand. "What's the problem?"

"What in the name of the gods are you doing here this time of night, skulking in the dark?"

Arthur looked up with a start to see Gwaine's shape silhouetted in the doorway. "What are you doing here?"

"Just got back from the tavern and realized I left my cloak in here earlier," Gwaine said, lifting it from the seat of his chair. "But I asked you first."

Arthur didn't reply right away, and when he did speak, he ignored the question.

"Do you remember the first time we ever sat at that table?" he asked, nodding at the table in question.

"Of course," Gwaine said with an easy smile. "That's the night you somehow convinced me to become a knight."

"Sir Gwaine, Knight of Camelot." Arthur chuckled. "Strange how charging into a hopeless battle was an easy decision for you, but accepting the honor that came with it made you hesitate."

"The name has a ring to it, I'll admit." Gwaine joined Arthur against the wall and followed his gaze. The table had an almost mystical look in the moonlight coming in from the window. It was rather reminiscent of that first night in the castle of the ancient kings.

"Merlin was the only one who didn't stand up and say something motivational about joining me in battle."

"Because there was never a question with Merlin," Gwaine laughed. "You already knew he would follow you into hell itself."

"It's true. He has always been at my side when I've needed him. Every time." He wandered over to the table, running his fingers along the edge of it until he reached his seat. "Have you ever noticed? Leon always sits to my left, and the rest of you sit over there. But…there's always a gap here. Have you ever noticed that?"

"No, I can't say that I have."

"How come no one sits there?"

Gwaine shrugged. "I don't think it was intentional. It's just a big table with too few chairs. There are going to be gaps."

Arthur nodded. Gwaine was probably right. It was just a coincidence there was space next to his chair, not fate or destiny or a sign from the universe.

Gods, Arthur wished for a sign from the universe. Something to tell him that he was on the right path.

"You're thinking maybe that should be Merlin's spot in the future," Gwaine said. It wasn't a question.

Arthur snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."

The truth was, the thought had occurred to him weeks ago, when Emrys was just a faceless idea. It was one of those idle fantasies that slipped in when he didn't have his guard up. Arthur had thought that if he were real, and if he did turn out to be a friend, then maybe one day he would sit next to him at the round table. Now that he knew Emrys was Merlin, that fantasy suddenly didn't seem so absurd.

But then again, he and Merlin were barely capable of a conversation at the moment, so Arthur was probably getting a little bit ahead of himself thinking about seats at the round table.

When he looked up, Gwaine just smirked at him knowingly, and Arthur sighed. "What do you think?"

"Honestly, Arthur? I think Merlin will always be at your right hand whether you put a chair there for him or not."

Arthur laughed. After a moment though, his expression turned serious.

"What do you really think of his magic, Gwaine?"

"Truthfully?" A grin broke across the knight's face. "I think it's brilliant."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Brilliant?"

"Arthur, if you told me that I could pick any man in the five kingdoms to endow with near-infinite power for the sole purpose of helping and protecting you, I would pick Merlin. Every time. No questions asked."

"Huh." Arthur stared at the empty spot at the table with a small smile on his face. He wouldn't say it, but he knew Gwaine had a point.

"Are you going to do it?"

He looked up at the knight. "Do what?"

"Give him a seat at the round table," Gwaine said pointedly.

"It's something to think about," Arthur answered, noncommittal. "One item on a long, long list of things for me to think about."

He half expected Gwaine to make a case on Merlin's behalf or tease him about not hurting himself trying to think. Instead, he just clasped Arthur's shoulder for a moment, giving it an affectionate shake before letting go.

"Get some sleep, Arthur. Your thinking can wait until morning."

Chapter Twenty

Merlin's first morning back at work, he hardly spoke. He roused Arthur from sleep with far more gentleness than usual, and he didn't ramble at all while he helped him dress. As Arthur ate breakfast, he watched the man patter around the room with a quietness Arthur hadn't even known he was capable of.

It sowed the seed for a disturbing thought.

"Was it all an act?" Arthur's voice sounded abnormally loud in the otherwise-silent room.

"Sire?" Merlin asked, startled and confused.

"The babbling and the idiocy and the clumsiness. Is that something you did on purpose to make yourself seem less…you know. Magicky?" Arthur almost wished he could take the question back as soon as it was out. What if the man he had known was a lie?

But the scowl he received in response was all Merlin.

"First of all, I don't babble. There is a point to the things I say. And I'm not an idiot." He gained momentum and volume as he spoke, and Arthur tried to hide a smile as his friend finally started to reemerge. "In fact, if you'll think back to all of the times you called me an idiot, you'd probably realize that I was almost always right in those situations, and you could have avoided all sorts of trouble if you had just listened to me in the first place."

"And the clumsiness?"

Arthur only received another dirty look in response before Merlin redirected his attention back to the room.

"Honestly, Arthur," he grumbled, "Who stood in for me while I was gone? This place is a mess."

"No one." Arthur stared intently at his plate as he ate, somewhat embarrassed by the admission. "I mean, someone brought me my meals and all that. But I didn't want someone else going through my things."

Merlin huffed. "Lucky me."

But when Arthur dared another glance at him, he could swear Merlin looked pleased.

He took a few more bites, then pushed his plate away and took a deep breath. They were going to have to do this eventually. Now was as good a time as any.

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Were you ever going to tell me?" To his relief, he managed to sound more curious than accusatory. He wasn't trying to pick a fight, but there were certain things he needed to know.

Merlin paused, standing up and leaning back against a bed post, timidity taking the place of snark.

"I think so," he said quietly, facing Arthur but keeping his eyes down, his hands tucked behind his back. "When the time was right. I wanted to. I'd wanted to for a long time." He shuffled a foot nervously. "Are you angry I didn't?"

Arthur shook his head. "I honestly don't know," he admitted. "I don't know what to make of it. I feel like I should be angry. You lied to me, Merlin. You lied a lot."

"I know," Merlin acknowledged, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Why didn't you trust me?"

A loud knock interrupted them, and Arthur was half tempted to yell at the person to go away. But before he could, Merlin made a beeline to the door, clearly welcoming the interruption. He opened it to find Gwen standing there with a determined but slightly dazed look on her face.

"Merlin," she said with a forced smile. "You're here too. That's…good. I think. I need to talk to both of you."

"Come in?" The words came out as a question as Merlin opened the door wider and ushered her into the room. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I just…" Gwen trailed off, then turned to face the king. She took a deep breath and stood up straight as though bracing herself. "Arthur," she demanded, her voice unusually stern despite her obvious nervousness. "When I told you that Merlin and I cast out the goblin, why did you immediately ask if we did it with magic?"

"No reason," he said haltingly, scrambling for a good excuse. "Just…I thought casting out goblins probably required magic."

"And that didn't even make you hesitate?" she demanded. "You just immediately thought, 'Well, I guess Gwen or Merlin have magic?' And I'm pretty sure you didn't think it was me. And you said you'd found out Merlin was keeping a big secret…"

Merlin whipped around with an accusing look, and Arthur cringed guiltily. "I didn't tell her!" he insisted immediately, and Merlin rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"You might as well have!"

"Oh gods," Gwen whispered, sitting down abruptly. "It's true. You have magic?"

Arthur looked away under the weight of Merlin's withering gaze. "It's not my fault she's smart enough to put the pieces together!"

"Because you handed her all the pieces, Arthur!" Merlin's face was turning red, although Arthur wasn't sure whether it was due to fury or embarrassment. "You've known for one week, and you already let it slip to someone!" Merlin turned away, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath.

Arthur fumbled for a minute, trying to find solid ground from which to defend himself. "It's Gwen!" he exclaimed finally. "I didn't intend her to know, but does it really matter?"

"This is why I didn't tell you while Uther was still alive," Merlin snapped. "You do realize I'd be bound for the pyre right now?"

The words stung, but Arthur found himself at a loss for a retort.

"Not to be rude, but can we by any chance make this conversation about me for a minute?" Gwen demanded, and Arthur was horrified to see tears in her eyes. "Merlin, how could you? After all the evils we've seen of magic? After…after Morgana!" She choked on the last word, and Merlin's eyes closed in pain at the shared memory.

"I was born with it," he said quietly. "I had magic long before I ever knew Morgana, much less before she…changed."

This brought Gwen up short. "Born with it?"

"I've always had it, Gwen. The Merlin you've always known, he's had magic from the beginning."

She sat in silence for a moment, then turned to look at Arthur, who just shrugged helplessly.

She shook her head as though to clear her thoughts. "How could you lie to me about this? For years? I thought we were friends!"

"We are!" Merlin insisted, taking the seat next to her. "Gwen, I couldn't tell anyone! Because…well, because!" He gestured angrily to Arthur, as though that encompassed his entire point.

Which, unfortunately, it kind of did.

"Besides, knowing would have made you an accomplice. If I'd ever gotten caught, you would have been at risk too. And, since Arthur didn't know, I would have been asking you to keep a secret from him, which wouldn't have been fair to either of you."

Gwen wiped the angry tears from her eyes, still glaring at him. "Friends trust each other, Merlin," she said harshly. "And magic or not, I would have gladly taken any risk if it would have allowed me to help you."

"I know," Merlin said softly, taking her hand in his and wiping away a new tear as it fell. "You're a great friend, Gwen."

She sniffled, and Arthur could see her ire fading. Gwen's soft heart couldn't hold a grudge long.

"You will not lie to me again," she said sternly. "Do you understand me?"

"I understand." He gave her that goofy and charming grin that only Merlin could pull off. "Am I forgiven then?"

She considered for a moment, then glanced at Arthur and sighed. "Under one condition."

"Name it."

She gave him a watery smile. "You have to forgive Arthur. He was understandably upset when we spoke, and he actually went to great lengths in the conversation not to reveal your secret. And yes, he risked talking about it a bit, but he only risked it with someone he knew loved you."

Merlin just glared in response.

"That's the deal," she insisted. "My forgiveness for your forgiveness."

He turned the glare to Arthur, then sighed. "You're lucky I love her so much," he grumbled before giving Gwen a small smile. She leaned over in response and kissed him on the cheek.

Frankly, Arthur could do with a little less handholding and kissing and declarations of love between the two of them, but he figured it would be wise to hold his tongue for the moment.

"So you forgive me for lying," Merlin said hesitantly. "What about the magic?"

She sighed, looking away. Then something seemed to occur to her, and she turned back to Merlin with realization in her eyes. "It was you, wasn't it? You were the one who healed my father?"

Merlin shrugged one shoulder, smiling shyly.

"That's what I thought." She squeezed his hand once, then stood, pulling Merlin up with her and wrapping him in a tight hug for several seconds.

"You and I are going to have many, many long conversations about all of this until I understand," she warned him, and Arthur saw the smile on Merlin's face as he rested his cheek against the top of her head.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Yes, you will," she confirmed, pulling away. She sighed and fussed for a moment, straightening Merlin's neckerchief like a doting mother before saying, "I should get back to work."

"You'd better," Merlin agreed. "I don't know if you've heard, but the king is very demanding of his servants. Just about works them into the ground, really."

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur said halfheartedly as Gwen hugged him again.

Once the door closed behind her, Merlin turned to Arthur. And regardless of what he might have promised Gwen, his blue eyes were full of fury.

AN: This chapter and the previous chapter were initially supposed to be one, but it grew into kind of a monster. I chopped it in two in the only place I could, but this chapter is still ridiculously long compared to other chapters in this story. Just a heads up. :)

Chapter Twenty One

"One week, Arthur!"

"You promised Gwen you'd forgive me!" Arthur protested. He was grateful for the promise Gwen had coerced from Merlin, because otherwise he really wasn't sure what his defense would be. He'd taken the most personal piece of information he had about Merlin, the secret his servant had guarded with his life since he'd been born, and he had shared it – albeit it inadvertently – with one of Merlin's closest friends. If there was one person in Camelot who Merlin wanted to tell personally about his magic after Arthur, it was probably Gwen.

In other words, he'd screwed up. And he knew it.

"I believe before she came, we were talking about why I lied and kept this a secret instead of trusting you?" Merlin raised his eyebrows at him, the challenge clear on his face, and Arthur sighed.

"I've lost the high ground on this, haven't I?"

"Damn right, you have."

"Can we call it even?" Arthur proposed thoughtlessly. "You lied and kept secrets, and I accidentally told Gwen?"

Merlin gave him a shrewd look, and Arthur realized belatedly what he'd done.

"That sounds fair," his servant agreed cautiously. "We'll call it even."

"Wait. That's hardly even," Arthur argued, trying to backtrack. "You lied to me for years, and all I did was tell Gwen! Someone you undoubtedly would have told anyway. And I was well within my rights to tell her, since I was seeking counsel for an issue that affects the kingdom! And besides, I didn't even really tell her!"

"Too late," Merlin insisted, the hint of a smile on his face. "You said it was even."

"It's not even at all!"

Merlin just shrugged, the smile growing into a smug grin that made him look so much like himself that Arthur had to fight a smile of his own.

He debated before deciding to drop it. His slip-up with Gwen did make it obvious why Merlin had guarded his secret so closely. Arthur had had honest intentions in his conversation with her; one equally well-intentioned conversation with his father would have sealed Merlin's fate. It was worse than if he had just told Gwen outright, because at least then his actions would have been deliberate. It was scarier to think what he could do by accident.

He supposed now he could stop trying to convince himself to feel angry, at least. There was still a lot to think through, but he found himself almost grateful he'd more or less trapped himself into forgiving the lies without a fight.

Well…maybe a small fight. Merlin had grinned like his old self, after all.

He eyed him for a moment, then grabbed Merlin into a headlock and dug his knuckles into the younger man's head. Merlin protested with a series of unintelligible grunts intermixed with actual words, trapped in the chair by Arthur's hold. And gods, the normalcy of the whole thing was almost exhilarating after a week of everything feeling upside down.

"Come on, Arthur! Ow! Stop!" Merlin's fingers clawed into Arthur's arm, trying in vain to pry it loose.

He's a sorcerer.

The thought popped into his head without warning.

Arthur froze. He'd done this a dozen times before. Maybe a few dozen times. And he'd never even thought about it, because he was the king and he was stronger and Merlin was Merlin, so how could there be any risk in it?

But there was risk in it. What could Merlin do to him? Throw him across the room? Call down fire? Summon a blade and slice him open?

What exactly had the Deilen been so afraid of?

Arthur let go abruptly, jumping back as though Merlin really had called down fire to burn him.

"Arthur?" Merlin turned to look at him, visibly confused as he rubbed his head.

"Sorry," Arthur said awkwardly, taking a step back. "I mean, I'm not sorry. I just…" he trailed off, completely at a loss of how to continue. Was he sorry? Should he be? Damn it, why did Merlin of all people have to have magic? Ironically, he felt his first real stab of anger about the whole thing just moments after bargaining away his right to be angry.

Understanding dawned on Merlin's face, and then his eyes narrowed.

"Sorry," Arthur muttered again, and he turned to cross the room to his desk. He didn't actually have a task in mind; he just needed some distance.

He'd taken about three steps when he felt a thud against his back that knocked him to the floor.

"What-?" he cried, barely catching himself on his hands and knees with the extra weight on his back. "Did you just tackle me?" he asked in disbelief. "Agh – Merlin!"

The younger man wrapped one scrawny arm around Arthur's neck and the other around his upper arm. It was a bit like being attacked by a monkey. A ferocious monkey that weighed nothing but had a surprising amount of upper body strength. It took him a moment to realize that Merlin was actually trying to put him in a headlock.

"Oh, hell no!" he cried, and with practiced ease he flipped the man over his back and onto the floor. Merlin fought back, but within seconds Arthur had him lying facedown, the king sitting on his back and barely out of breath.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded through his laughter. "Besides treason, I mean?"

Merlin just gave a small shrug, his movement limited by the way he was pinned.

Absurd as it was, Merlin's ploy had worked. Arthur's fear of Merlin's wrath disappeared as abruptly as it had come. But now Arthur understood for the first time that Merlin let him bully him, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. The teasing and the roughhousing were part of who they were, but – like everything else – there was a lie mixed into the reality of that part of their friendship.

Even so, Arthur couldn't keep from laughing again. And he had to admit, he was relieved to see some of the fight quite literally coming back into Merlin.

"You're a pain in the ass," he said, giving Merlin an extra shove into the floor for good measure before moving off of him and shuffling over a few feet to lean against the bed. Merlin grunted, but when he sat up, he just smiled impishly in response.

"Don't think I didn't notice that you're supposedly too weak to muck out stables, but you're apparently not too weak to attack me," Arthur warned. Although as he said it, he noticed that Merlin was a little more winded and pale than he really should be.

"Maybe don't mention this to Gaius?" Merlin made a face. "I don't think he would approve."

"Not a word," Arthur agreed.

They sat like that on the floor for a few minutes, the joking and the humor fading as the silence lingered, until it turned into something heavy and somber.

"You said you weren't afraid of me," Merlin said finally.

Arthur closed his eyes briefly. "I'm not."

"Then why did you let go?"

"I just…had a moment. It hit me out of nowhere that you could fight back with magic, and I wouldn't be able to stop you. And that realization took me by surprise. I'm not afraid of you," he insisted. "I just needed to…reorient myself, I guess."

"I would never use my magic to hurt you, Arthur. I swear it." Merlin's words were hard and certain, and Arthur could see the desperation in his eyes for Arthur to believe him.

"I know that. Honestly, Merlin, I do. I promise, I will not hesitate to beat you up in the future." His heart fell just a little bit when Merlin didn't laugh. Instead, he nodded and looked away, and Arthur felt like he had failed somehow, although he didn't know what he should have said instead.

"So I guess I understand why you didn't tell me while my father was still alive," Arthur said after an awkward silence, picking up the thread of the earlier conversation. Merlin snorted in response. "But why not after that?"

"You mean shortly after you saw what happened to Morgana after she discovered she had magic? Or while you were blaming magic for your father's death? Or after that druid showed up and sent you into a tailspin where you sure Emrys was evil? To say nothing of all of the offhand comments mixed in along the way about the corrupting influence of magic and the need to execute sorcerers." Merlin looked at the floor as he spoke, refusing to meet Arthur's eyes as the bitterness slipped into his words.

"I didn't know any better," Arthur countered quietly. "And I had no way to know any better. You could have helped me."

Merlin swallowed instead of answering, then eventually nodded. "I guess I could have."

"Why didn't you? It's not like you to hold back. I know I wouldn't have been exactly receptive, but that's never stopped you before. Especially on something important to you."

"Maybe because I didn't want to die," Merlin snapped.

But he still didn't look at Arthur as he said it. It was one thing for Merlin to look away during a difficult conversation, but once he went on the attack in an argument, he always met Arthur's eye.

Which meant he was still on the defensive, despite his aggressive tone. And now that Arthur realized how much Merlin had lied to him in the past, he knew better than to assume his servant's words were as straightforward as they might seem.

"You thought I would have you executed?" Arthur pushed.

"Maybe," Merlin muttered unconvincingly.

"You're Emrys. You're telling me you couldn't escape an execution?"

Merlin's mouth tightened and he shrugged.

Oh, there was definitely more to this.

"I don't believe you. You didn't hide it because you were afraid of dying. So why didn't you tell me?" Arthur demanded, using his best I'm-the-king voice.

It didn't strike fear in Merlin like it did most men, but it did finally get him to look up at Arthur, even if it was only for a second.

"I was scared," he admitted reluctantly, his gaze darting back down and settling somewhere near Arthur's feet. "Of how you would look at me. I couldn't bear the thought of it." He cringed. "It sounds pathetic when I say it out loud, doesn't it?"

Now they were getting somewhere, but the ashamed look on Merlin's face made it impossible for Arthur to feel pleased about it.

"How did you think I would look at you?"

"The options were endless. Anger. Hatred. Fear." Merlin's voice dropped suddenly. "Betrayal." He looked at Arthur again and his voice turned thick with sudden emotion. "I've never betrayed you, Arthur. I've done a lot of things, and some of it I'm really proud of and some of it…some of it I would give anything to undo. But whatever I did, my loyalty to you never wavered. Not for a moment. Please believe that."

"I do," Arthur confirmed softly.

Merlin took a ragged breath and pretended to scratch his face, although Arthur was pretty sure he was wiping away a tear.

"You were really that scared of how I would react?"

Merlin gave him a dirty look before saying, "Your opinion matters to me, Arthur." It came out bitterly, almost like an accusation. "Although I'll deny having said that if you ever bring it up again."

It made sense. They may trade insults, but Merlin's opinion mattered to him as well. He would never pander to or flatter Arthur, but when he really needed him, Merlin was there with support and encouragement and loyalty that carried Arthur through the ugliest pits of self-doubt.

Arthur's own expressions of admiration for Merlin had been far rarer.

"I actually have a rather high opinion of you, Merlin," he admitted reluctantly, forcing himself to look him in the eye as he said it. "You're loyal and brave, and in the midst of your usual inane prattle, you have moments of wisdom and cleverness. Truth be told, I have no idea what I'd do without you."

Merlin studied his face with an intensity that made Arthur want to look away.

"Even though I'm a sorcerer?"

Arthur let out a small laugh, more out of exasperation and disbelief at the whole thing than out of amusement. "So it would seem. Although I'll deny having said all that if you ever bring it up again."

The corners of Merlin's mouth turned up and he nodded. "Thank you, Arthur."

"You're still an idiot," Arthur added, and Merlin rolled his eyes.

"You're still a prat."

Arthur smirked, but within a few seconds it faded, the heaviness setting in again.

"What is it?" Merlin asked quietly.

Arthur sighed, trying to find the words. But really, the words he was looking for weren't that complicated. It actually boiled down to something very simple.

"I wish you'd told me."

Merlin looked down guiltily. "I'm sorry."

"I understand why you didn't. I just…gods, I wish you had. I wish I could have heard it from you because you chose to share it with me. Not overheard it in a conversation with someone else when you felt you had no choice."

They'd never get that chance again. Never get a do-over. Merlin had had one opportunity to show he trusted Arthur enough to share the biggest secret of his life. And now, no matter what, Arthur would always know that he hadn't.

Merlin didn't answer. He just stared at the floor, blinking in a way that wasn't quite crying, but was close enough to make Arthur uncomfortable.

"Do you trust me?" It was a silly question to ask, because Merlin's words couldn't overwrite his actions. But words would be better than nothing.

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" Merlin asked, finally looking up at him.

"I don't know," Arthur admitted. Maybe not. But he'd like to hear him say it anyway.

Perhaps Merlin understood that, because his voice was firm as he answered. "I trust you, Arthur. As my king and as my friend, I trust you."

Arthur nodded his acknowledgment, but he'd been right; the words felt weak in light of Merlin's choices. And Arthur wasn't sure he could even blame him. He wasn't sure he deserved his trust.

"I am sorry," Merlin continued. "Not about the magic, but about all the secrets and lies." When Arthur didn't answer right away, he tentatively added, "Do you think you'll be able to forgive me?" To Merlin's credit, he asked the question calmly, not desperately. There was no demand associated with it. Just a need to know.

"We called it even, remember?" Arthur answered, trying to smile.

"But it wasn't even," Merlin acknowledged bluntly.

"No," Arthur agreed. "It wasn't." Some genuine mirth slipped into the smile. "Are you giving me an out from our deal?"

"It's more tempting than I can say to hold you to it. But I'm not going to trap you into forgiveness you're not ready to give." Merlin laughed suddenly and ran a hand over his face. "Gods, Arthur, I'm so tired of being anything but honest with you. I'm not going to ask you to pretend with me. Especially not with something as important as this. What's the point in you pretending or trying to force yourself to forgive me if it's not real? This time…" his mouth tightened in frustration before he pushed the words out. "This time, I want to do it right. I know we're going to have to do some rebuilding, and I don't want it to be built on lies."

"Rebuilding," Arthur echoed softly. "There's no going back. Only forward." He already knew that, but saying it aloud sent a stab of grief through him. "I wish I knew how much of it was real. I have these moments when I feel like I lost my friend, Merlin. Not because you're gone, but because the Merlin I knew never truly existed in the first place."

Merlin flinched, face tight as though he'd been hit in the stomach. But Arthur didn't pull the punch, and Merlin didn't argue.

"And then other times, I feel like you're the one thing I'm still certain of," Arthur continued, struggling to articulate the tangled web of thoughts in his head. "The back and forth is exhausting, but I can't seem to stop. I mean, I know you. I know who you are. And I know that person, the core of who you are, is the same. I know that. But everything – you included – is just different from what I thought it was." He huffed in frustration. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

The whole thing felt maddeningly nonlinear. His emotions directly contradicted each other. His thoughts contradicted each other.

It was all impossible, but it was obviously true. He knew Merlin forward and backward, and yet he was a stranger. He trusted Merlin, but he doubted him.

Merlin stared hard at the floor as he thought. "My loyalty was real," he said finally. "My, uh, personality, I guess, for lack of a better term. That was real. The jokes. The complaining. When you and I just talked about things, that was all real. Some of the realest moments of my life, actually. My belief in you was real. Is real. I really do hate hunting. The violence of it, at least. I kind of like going out for hunts though, because I like being outside and I like spending time with you and the knights. I hate mucking stalls, even though I love being around the horses, but I don't mind polishing armor. It's kind of soothing, actually, and I—" he broke off suddenly, pursing his mouth shut.

"And you what?" Arthur pressed suspiciously.

Merlin chewed his lip before answering. "I do little bits of magic when I polish your armor. I weave protection spells into it. Strengthening the metal, adding deflection charms, things like that." Merlin didn't blink as he waited for Arthur's response.

Merlin wove protection spells into his armor when he polished it.

So this was where Merlin met Emrys. Polishing armor as a faithful servant while weaving spells as a secret protector.

Arthur met Merlin's eyes and gave him a dry smile. "I have moments," he admitted, "when I'm almost annoyed by how much sense all of this makes. It's shocking, but it all just fits so well."

"Your friend was real, Arthur. Our friendship was real. I swear it."

The earnestness in Merlin's voice was so familiar. Merlin was so familiar.

Arthur swallowed and nodded, not trusting himself to speak in response. He hadn't intended to say any of this today – he was supposed to be helping Merlin, not laying more guilt on him. But Arthur didn't want to rebuild on lies either, and that's what he'd be doing if he just pretended none of this had hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. "For what I let slip to Guinevere. I swear, I didn't think she'd put it together based on what I said. I…I did consider telling her, I admit. To get her advice. But I didn't. I wouldn't have."

"I believe you."

Arthur steeled himself. There was one more thing he needed to say. He needed to say it aloud for his own sake, to speak it into truth, and he knew Merlin needed to hear it so that he could stop looking worriedly over his shoulder at the past.

"I understand why you did it. I wish you'd felt you could trust me, but I guess I understand why you didn't. And I forgive you for the lies. For all of it. Personally and legally, I mean."

Merlin snapped his head up so fast his neck let out an audible pop. He stared with wide eyes, disbelief and hope fighting for control of his expression.

Arthur frowned and clarified. "Please don't go doing magic where anyone can see it. I'll have a terrible time explaining why I'm letting my personal manservant commit high treason. But…" he sighed. "What I'm trying to say is, you don't have anything to fear from me, Merlin."

Merlin continued to gape at him, his eyes questioning, and Arthur gave him a curt nod in confirmation. Then Merlin sucked in a raspy breath, and Arthur realized he hadn't been breathing.

"All right there?" he asked, his stomach sinking as he noticed the wetness brimming in Merlin's eyes.

Oh gods. He was going to cry. Or maybe faint like a girl? He looked like he'd stopped breathing again. Or possibly both, because that wetness was definitely turning into actual tears now.

Arthur scowled, his jaw tensing, before he swore under his breath and scooted a few feet across the floor to cover the distance between them.

"This never happened," he muttered gruffly before grabbing Merlin into a quick hug. He and Merlin didn't hug; that's just not how they operated. But damn it, the man looked like he needed a hug, and Arthur was the only one in the room.

It was meant to be a brief hug, the kind where Arthur just smacked him on the back a couple of times and then let go, maybe making a joke to defuse the awkwardness of the whole thing. But the minute his hand touched Merlin, the other man completely fell apart.

Merlin buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking, not making a sound as he tried to contain the emotions. Arthur froze, one arm hovering around him, unsure what to do. Then he swallowed and pushed aside everything his father had ever taught him, and he wrapped both arms firmly around Merlin's shoulders.

Whatever restraint Merlin still had vanished. He gave himself over to weeping, no longer trying to keep quiet. He wrapped his arms around his knees, but he leaned – collapsed, really – against Arthur, getting all manner of tears and snot on his shirt.

Arthur had never seen a grown man cry like this before. He'd rarely seen a grown man cry at all, actually, apart from Merlin. But his tears over the unicorn had been nothing in comparison to this. Even when he'd sobbed over Balinor's body, there'd been some element of restraint to it. He sobbed now with complete abandon.

Arthur had cried like that when he was sixteen, hours after he killed a man for the first time. His father and fellow knights had celebrated with him, toasting his accomplishment over dinner, but once he was alone in his chambers that night, he'd cried into his pillow much like Merlin cried into his chest now. Then the next morning, he had reminded himself he was a prince. He hadn't cried like that since.

After a minute or two passed, Arthur thought about saying, "Don't be such a girl, Merlin. It's not that big of a deal." And then after a couple more minutes, he considered saying, "Okay, that's enough. Pull yourself together."

But he said nothing. He didn't pat him on the back comfortingly or rock him the way his nurse had done when he'd cried as a child. He just kept his arms tightly wrapped around his friend until he was done.

Finally, the sobbing subsided and Merlin pulled away, although his body still trembled.

"Sorry," he muttered, wiping his nose and staring at the floor.

Arthur had no idea what to say in response, so he just nodded, even though he knew Merlin wasn't looking at him.

"Are you going to call me a girl?" Merlin asked. Arthur couldn't tell if he was trying to make a joke or if he was genuinely worried about Arthur's reaction. Either way, Arthur was grateful he hadn't caved to that impulse.

"No. Well, not right now. Next time you cry over a bunny rabbit or something, I probably will."

Merlin didn't quite smile in response, but his expression lightened just a bit, so Arthur called it a win. When Merlin wiped his nose again, Arthur fished out a handkerchief and handed it to him, looking away politely as he blew his nose.

"Why?" he asked finally. It felt like a stupid question, but he asked anyway.

"Why what?"

"Why…that." Arthur gestured vaguely. "Was it just because I said I forgave you?"

Merlin laughed shakily, and suddenly his eyes were filled with hope and disbelief and, above all, awe.

"It was the wording, I guess. You said I had nothing to fear from you, Arthur." Merlin toyed with the handkerchief, the small smile on his face seeming incongruous with his next words. "Do you have any idea what it's like to live in fear of your best friend? Every single day, for years, to wonder if the man you'd die for, the fairest and most honorable man you know, would turn around and kill you, just for being what you were born to be? And even before that, to live in fear for your life, no matter what you do or where you go?" He shook his head in wonder. "The very idea of having nothing to fear from you…" Merlin chuckled. "It will take some getting used to. Even trying to think about it was…is overwhelming."

Something tightened in Arthur's chest. He'd realized, of course, that Merlin feared him. He wasn't an idiot. But hearing him describe it was torturous, especially with the rather daunting compliments he'd casually mixed in.

Although less torturous than every day of his friend's life, apparently.

"That's over and done now, Merlin. You have nothing to fear from me," Arthur repeated, and Merlin's eyes fell closed as he listened to the words.

"Thank you, Arthur."

Suddenly the moment was overwhelming, and Arthur felt almost trapped in it. Thoughts, feelings, lies, questions, forgiveness, hope – there just wasn't enough room for all of it, and Arthur craved a sword in his hand and an enemy in front of him so he could focus on something straightforward that came naturally.

And it was like Merlin somehow knew, because suddenly he grinned and said, "So are we the kind of friends who hug now?"

"Don't be such a girl's petticoat," Arthur scoffed immediately. And all of those things didn't disappear, but they did seem just a little less overwhelming as Arthur grasped that piece of normal Merlin had sent out like a lifeline.

"I'm impressed. You went a full ninety seconds without calling me a girl."

"I didn't call you a girl," Arthur argued. "I called you a girl's petticoat. I see your magic doesn't help your listening skills any more than it helps your cleaning skills. You know," he added, "from down here, it's obvious how much of a mess this place truly is. Get it cleaned up. And once you're done tidying, it's clear the floors could use a wash."

"Yes, sire," Merlin answered, and Arthur noticed with a sharp pang that the title was missing its usual sarcasm. The order had been half-taunt, but Merlin had taken it seriously.

And just like that, normal was gone again.

Arthur stood and helped Merlin to his feet, then they stepped around each other awkwardly as Arthur tried to get to his desk and Merlin moved to the table to clear the breakfast dishes, the unthinking rhythm they'd once shared conspicuously absent. Merlin kept quiet as they both worked, no good-natured grumbling or inane questions, and Arthur didn't ask Merlin's opinion on the documents he was working on. It wasn't a painful silence, though. If anything, it was heavy with the weight of forgiveness and hope and possibility, occasionally punctuated by another sniffle from Merlin. Even so, Arthur missed the casual conversation, the easy banter, the security of knowing someone as well as he knew himself.

But there was no going back. Only rebuilding and moving forward.

Chapter Twenty Two

Merlin

Things we know:

-Merlin is a creature of magic (whatever that means).
-Merlin is destined to be the most powerful sorcerer of all time.
-The druids call Merlin 'Emrys.'
-The druids think Merlin is some kind of symbol of hope.
-Merlin was born with magic.
-Merlin is destined to protect Arthur and help him fulfill his destiny (greatest king Camelot has ever known, unite Albion, restore magic. No pressure there).
-Merlin and Arthur are two sides of a coin.

Things that might be true:

-Prophecy from temple wall: Born of the magic of water, which runs through his blood. Born of the magic of earth, which stands in his bones. Born of the magic of air, which flows through his breath. Born of the magic of fire, which burns through his will. The magic of the world lives in him and through him, and in and through no other.
-Merlin is the only one of his kind.

Things that are not true:

-Merlin is a monster.
-Merlin is destined to abandon Arthur.
-Merlin is destined to be overcome by darkness.
-Merlin's mercy will be Arthur's downfall.

Arthur finished reading the list aloud, tapping his quill against it. In between Merlin's chores and Arthur's duties, Merlin had spent the past several days telling him stories about the parts of his life he'd kept hidden, including what he had learned from Kilgharrah and others about Emrys. There was, surprisingly, relatively little actual information in it all about who and what Emrys – or Merlin – was.

Arthur was quickly realizing that when he'd said they'd figure this out together, he might have underestimated the task. And as the two men had conversation after conversation, he was growing all-too-familiar with the dark look that took over Merlin's eyes when he contemplated his own nature. Arthur wasn't just learning new information about Merlin; he was seeing a side of him he'd never seen before. Inside his ridiculous servant lived a man who was powerful and tortured and afraid.

Arthur had always secretly believed Merlin must not be scared of anything. He had been wrong.

"You should add 'magic inevitably corrupts,'" Merlin said from where he sat on Arthur's bed, folding clean clothes. Sitting on the king's bed to fold clothes was an entirely inappropriate thing for a servant to do, but Merlin had only hesitated for a moment before plopping down and getting to work.

Thank the gods.

Arthur never would have guessed how annoying and uncomfortable it would be for Merlin to be respectful all the time. It was driving him mad. But with each day, more of that shell of formality and nervousness seemed to crack and peel away, and Arthur caught glimpses of the same old Merlin hiding behind it. Today had been an exceptionally good day so far.

"I'll put that under 'things that are not true,' shall I?"

Merlin's mouth tightened. "You should put it under things we don't know. Because as much as we both may want it not to be true, we don't actually know that for sure."

Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but as much as he hated to admit it, Merlin wasn't entirely wrong. Scowling, he wrote it down in the middle section.

"Another thing for us to ask Kilgharrah when I meet him," he muttered under his breath.

"You still want to do that?" Merlin asked skeptically.

"Why wouldn't I?"

Merlin smirked a bit. "Because every time you mention it, you look a little sick. You shouldn't feel bad about being scared, sire. He's sixty feet long. And he breathes fire."

Arthur threw a glove at him – the only thing he had close at hand – but it faltered midair and landed on the ground between them. "I'm not scared," he insisted as Merlin tried to stifle his laughter. As a general rule, he didn't like to admit to being afraid of something unless Merlin admitted fear of it first. And Merlin was annoyingly unfazed about going to see his friend the dragon.

"I want to meet him," he insisted. "Besides, he may be the only one who can give us answers."

Merlin snorted. "Kilgharrah might have a lot of knowledge, but just a warning – he's usually pretty useless when it comes to answers."

Arthur frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means he's great at using a lot of words without actually saying much. Don't get your hopes up."

"I'm sure he can answer a few questions," Arthur persisted, and Merlin shrugged.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Arthur rolled his eyes, then he sat back in his chair and watched Merlin for a moment. "Could you do that with magic?"

"Do what?"

"The clothes."

"Not with the king in the room."

"And without the king?"

"Yes." Merlin hesitated, and for a moment Arthur thought he was going to say more than that. But Merlin just closed his mouth and continued folding.

"I haven't actually seen it yet, you know."

Merlin's hands stilled for a moment and his face grew serious, much more like the moody Merlin that Arthur had seen so much of recently instead of the Merlin who had laughed at him moments ago. "You've seen sorcerers perform magic before, sire" he said, resuming his folding. "You know what it looks like."

"Sure, when it's in the form of an attack. I know what it's like to be thrown or frozen or choked. But I don't usually see nonviolent magic. If I weren't here, what would you do?"

"Exactly what I'm doing now," Merlin answered immediately. "You never know who might walk in."

"Fine. If you didn't have to be afraid, what would you do?" Merlin glanced at him warily. "Come on. I want to see."

Merlin scowled. "Laundry," he muttered. "I finally get to show off, and he wants to see laundry."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Well, what would you want to do?"

"I don't know! Something with lightning or earthquakes or something!"

Lightning or earthquakes?

Lightning or earthquakes?

"Or laundry," Merlin said in a hushed voice, and Arthur realized Merlin's eyes had gone wide with alarm as he took in the look on Arthur's face. "Let's do laundry."

Arthur forced a smile. "Yes, let's start with laundry. We can do…earthquakes…another time."

Merlin nodded, but he eyed Arthur uncertainly. "You really want me to do magic? In front of the king? It is illegal, you know. You're ordering me to break the law."

"Quit stalling, Merlin."

With a sigh, Merlin folded the last shirt and set it down on the bed. He looked across the room at the wardrobe and, after one last nervous look at Arthur, said, "Inbringe cume mec!"

Arthur almost missed the magic itself because he was so distracted by Merlin's eyes. He'd seen that fire in sorcerers' eyes before, always right before something terrible happened. His stomach dropped, and he quickly had to school his features into something more neutral.

Then he noticed the doors of the wardrobe had flown open, the drawers pulled out, and the clothes were neatly tucking themselves into place. Once the clothes settled in, the drawers closed again, and the doors shut after them.

Arthur stared at the wardrobe for several seconds. It was a simple thing. Just putting away laundry. And yet, it required more mental processing than he expected. The abstract idea of Merlin having magic had been surprisingly easy to come to terms with. Seeing it in action was considerably more shocking.

Arthur turned to look back at Merlin. His friend sat up straight on the bed, watching Arthur's reaction unblinkingly. Arthur could see the fear in his eyes and in the tension of his shoulders, but he couldn't help feeling pleased when he noticed the way Merlin lifted his chin defiantly.

"That's good to see," he said, nodding at Merlin, who looked confused in response.

"My magic?"

"The look on your face." Arthur stood up and stretched. He needed to get going or he would be late for training. "You're proud of what you can do. I hadn't seen that before." He shoved Merlin's head playfully as he walked past on his way to the table where his armor was laid out. The action didn't feel entirely natural, but it didn't feel awkward either.

Merlin followed him, a small smile on his face. "Sometimes," he admitted.

"You've asked me whether I'm afraid of you," Arthur said, lifting his arms so Merlin could put his breastplate on. "Are you afraid of you?"

The smile faded. "Sometimes."

"I thought as much." Arthur wasn't sure what he could say to change that, so he settled for clasping Merlin's shoulder reassuringly for a moment before Merlin moved on to the rest of his armor.

"You were afraid of me a minute ago." Merlin glanced briefly at Arthur's face. "I saw it."

Arthur wished he could deny it. "It unnerved me," he admitted quietly. "More than I expected it to. I have some things to unlearn, Merlin. It's not you I fear, though."

"It's magic."

Arthur nodded. "I've seen it do so much evil. Thinking of it as something neutral or good is a big adjustment for me."

"But I am magic," Merlin reminded him with a bitter smile. "So you do fear me."

Arthur hated Merlin's logic, mostly because he couldn't figure out how to argue with it. He scowled, trying to come up with the right answer.

"I don't," he said finally. "I can't justify it. I just know, whatever I fear – it isn't you, Merlin. I guess I just need a little more exposure so that it doesn't shock me as much. I'll get there."

He saw in Merlin's eyes that he didn't believe him, but Arthur spoke the truth. He was not afraid of his friend.

Chapter Twenty Three

When Merlin returned home for dinner that night, he was surprised to find they had a guest.

"You're certainly looking better than the last time I saw you," Lancelot said with a laugh. "Sorry I haven't been by sooner. Gaius wouldn't let you have visitors while you were sick, and I've been out on patrol the last few days."

Honestly, Merlin hadn't even thought about Lancelot since they'd returned; all of his energy had gone into worrying about Arthur. But now he was here, Merlin had never been more relieved to see anyone in his life. Lancelot knew the truth about him, just like Arthur, but Lancelot's knowledge carried none of the weight or pressure that Arthur's did.

"I didn't realize I wasn't allowed visitors." Merlin glanced at Gaius, who nodded in confirmation as he carried the meal from the fire to the table.

"You'd had plenty of excitement. And I thought all things considered, having people around you might make you more anxious, which would slow your recovery."

"How come Arthur was allowed?"

"Because," Gaius said dryly, "he's the king and he overruled me. Lancelot, please help yourself. We have plenty."

"Thank you, Gaius." Lancelot smiled appreciatively. "So how has Arthur been with all of it?"

Merlin frowned. "Really good, actually. Shockingly good. For the most part, at least. He doesn't avoid talking about it. Kind of the opposite – he seems to think I'm a puzzle he has to solve. He asks lots of questions. But he doesn't do as well when he sees me actually doing magic."

"He saw you do magic?" Gaius asked, and Merlin heard the alarm in his voice.

"He insisted," Merlin explained. "But I could tell it frightened him."

The truth was, when Merlin had looked over from the wardrobe, the expression on Arthur's face bore a disturbing resemblance to the expression on his face every time they talked about him meeting the dragon. Speaking of which…

"I'm taking him to meet Kilgharrah tonight, by the way, so I'll probably be home late."

Gaius's eyes bugged and Lancelot started coughing as a piece of food went down the wrong way.

"He's meeting Kilgharrah?" Gaius repeated incredulously.

"I told you, he seems to think I'm a puzzle, and he thinks Kilgharrah will give him more pieces of that puzzle." It came out sounding like a complaint, and maybe it was a little bit. Merlin didn't like feeling like he was a problem to be solved. But there was another part of him – the larger part, honestly – that already felt like he was a problem to be solved. And having Arthur in his corner trying to solve it…well, it made it less scary. Maybe it was silly, but Arthur was the most courageous person Merlin knew, and he felt safer with him on his side.

Of course, before Arthur, another knight of Camelot had made the choice to stand alongside a sorcerer. When Lancelot went to leave after dinner, Merlin followed him to the door.

"Lancelot," he started, and then he wasn't sure how to continue. Everything had shifted so quickly in his life, and that included his friendship with the man in front of him. Not including Gaius, who was more father than anything else, Lancelot alone had acted as his friend and confidante for years. But with nothing left to hide from Arthur, and with the other knights aware of his power…it was the bittersweet ending of an era.

"Everything over the past few years – keeping my secrets, lying for me, talking me down when I needed it. And what you did on that ridge after the Deilen—"

Lancelot interrupted him. "It is an honor to be your friend, Merlin, and it has been an honor to be of service to Emrys." He clasped his friend's shoulders, and Merlin could see in his eyes that he understood something had changed as well. But there was no sadness or resentment there; all he saw was hope. "Helping you is not a task for me to carry alone anymore. I would have continued to do it alone for as long as I lived. But I am glad Arthur knows. I am glad the time is coming for you to take your place at his side." A grin spread across his face. "You know, you are not the only one who has been awaiting the fulfillment of your destiny. Ever since you first told me the prophecy, I have also awaited the time of Albion."

Merlin wasn't used to Arthur showing fear, and he could tell how hard the king was trying to hide it now. But Merlin heard the shaky breath Arthur took after he called Kilgharrah.

"You're sure about this?"

"I'm sure, just like I have been every time you've asked," Arthur snapped. After a moment, he sighed. "I'm sure," he repeated. "You, uh…you're certain he can't harm me?"

"He can't disobey a direct order from me," Merlin confirmed.

Merlin watched as Arthur tried to work through something, his face tight as his eyes scanned the sky. "Why was your voice different?" he finally asked. "When you called the dragon, you didn't sound like yourself."

Merlin frowned. "I don't know, actually. When I inherited the gift of the dragonlord, the tongue of dragons just came naturally to me. I've never really thought about how I speak it."

Before Arthur could ask anything else, the sound of wings filled the clearing, and a moment later, Kilgharrah alighted in front of them.

"Do not harm Arthur," Merlin ordered the moment the dragon landed. "I know you wouldn't," he added before Kilgharrah could get offended, "but I just want to make sure Arthur knows too."

The dragon smiled as his eyes settled on the king. "It has been a long time since I stood face-to-face with a king, and longer still since a king wished to stand face-to-face with me. Greetings, Arthur Pendragon. I mean you no harm, even without the orders of a dragonlord."

Arthur stood tall and proud next to Merlin, and if Merlin had not known him so well, he would never have guessed Arthur was afraid. The king didn't tremble and he spoke evenly; only the paleness of his skin and the stiffness of his shoulders gave him away.

"Thank you. I mean you no harm either, and I am grateful for your willingness to speak with me."

The dragon laughed. "I'm afraid I have no choice on the matter. I cannot refuse the summons of a dragonlord. But I admit, I am curious what would bring the king of Camelot to seek my counsel."

Arthur swallowed. "Well…Merlin, actually," he admitted, his eyes darting to his friend. "And destiny. I want to understand how we're tied together. I want to understand his magic."

The dragon roared with laughter. Merlin saw Arthur's eyes widen, but he stood his ground.

"The world is full of mysteries, young king," Kilgharrah said once he'd contained his mirth. "The answers you seek are veiled from even the wisest minds."

Merlin tried to stifle a smirk. He had warned Arthur.

"There was a prophecy on the wall of an old Deilen temple," Arthur persisted. "Emrys will rise alongside the Once and Future King. Born of the magic of water, which runs through his blood. Born of the magic of earth, which stands in his bones—"

"Born of the magic of air, which flows through his breath," the dragon interrupted. "Born of the magic of fire, which burns through his will. The magic of the world lives in him and through him, and in and through no other."

"You've heard it before?"

"Much is written of the coming of Emrys."

Merlin looked away so he could hide his snicker at the exasperation on Arthur's face.

"Is it true?" Arthur asked pointedly.

"It is."

Merlin's laughter vanished, leaving a heavy weight in its place.

"So I am alone," he said flatly, his fears confirmed. "I am not truly human, and I am the only one of my kind."

"Merlin," the dragon said, a note of reproach in his voice. "You are more than human, but that does not mean you are not human. Your humanity is as much a part of you as your magic. You are correct, though, that you are the only one of your kind. But you must realize, you are only as alone as you choose to be. Do you not have a father who has made you his son by choice, not obligation? Do you not have friends who have proved their love for you?" Kilgharrah lowered his head until he was only feet from Merlin. "Does your king not stand by your side even now?" Kilgharrah smiled again, a smile that even Merlin had to admit was unnerving at such a close proximity.

Merlin could tell the dragon was getting ready to make a dramatic exit, so the last question spilled out of him in a rush.

"Am I destined to become evil?" Kilgharrah paused, looking down at him in surprise. "Some say magic always corrupts in the end, and I am magic. Tell me the truth, Kilgharrah. Am I destined to eventually give in to that darkness?"

Kilgharrah's voice turned cold and sharp. "I have told you your destiny, Merlin. Whether you believe it is up to you."

And, as Merlin expected, the dragon took flight.

Beside him, he could see the tension in Arthur's posture relax as the dragon flew away.

"You weren't kidding about him being cryptic, were you?"

Merlin snorted. "That was unusually straightforward for him. Although I wouldn't have minded a more direct answer at the end there."

Arthur shrugged. "He's right, though. If you think about everything we know about your destiny, the answer is clear. If I'm supposed to do good for the people of Camelot and you're destined to help me, you can't exactly be evil, can you?"

Merlin considered Arthur's words as they started the walk back to Camelot. He understood his point, but lacked Arthur's confidence. What he would've given just to hear Kilgharrah actually say, "No, you're not destined to be evil, and no, magic doesn't always corrupt."

But then again, perhaps it was an insulting question to ask a fellow creature of magic.

He stayed lost in his thoughts for several minutes before Arthur spoke.

"He was right you know. About you only being as alone as you choose to be. And believe it or not, Merlin, I understand that's not as straightforward of a question as it might seem."

Merlin glanced at him skeptically.

"My father believed in ruling alone. He drilled it into me my whole life, that I needed to set myself apart from people. That I alone must make the choices for the kingdom. That I alone must bear the burden of ensuring the prosperity of Camelot. But I believe, with all my heart, that I don't have to bear that burden alone. Gwaine might challenge me, and Leon might offer his thoughts – much more respectfully, mind you – and Lancelot frankly sets an absurdly high bar for nobility and honor that I'm always striving to match. And heaven knows you and Gwen never hesitate to tell me when you think I'm making a mistake," he added with laugh. Then the laugh faded and his face grew serious again. "My father would think I'm weak for leaning on all of you. But I believe I'm a better king because I choose not to do this alone."

Merlin smiled despite himself. "Not that you ever listen to me," he pointed out, making Arthur smile too.

"I listen more often than you think. You have rare flashes of wisdom in the midst of your usual babbling."

They spent the rest of the journey in silence, Merlin thinking through Arthur's words.

His destiny was his own to carry. That seemed clear to him. But he also saw the logic in Arthur's words. Arthur was a better king because he let in the people around him, and it wasn't crazy to think the same principle might apply to himself.

But after so many years working alone from the shadows, he had no idea how to do it.

Chapter Twenty Four

"It seems unfair."

Merlin jumped, startled by the voice at the door to the armory.

"You saved our lives – again, apparently – and you still have to polish Arthur's boots." Gwaine shook his head in disappointment. "Did he even give you a day off?"

Merlin tried to smile at the knight, but it felt stiff and awkward on his face. "He did, actually. But it's kind of nice to do something normal."

Gwaine took a seat next to him and grabbed a rag and a boot. "I think I'm just starting to realize that 'normal' for you is not at all what I thought it was." He raised an eyebrow at his friend. "I mean, I knew boot-polishing was normal, but I guess using magic to fight Camelot's enemies is also normal?"

"A bit," Merlin admitted. "You don't have to do that," he added, nodding to the boot in Gwaine's hand. "You're a knight. Knights don't polish boots."

Gwaine shrugged. "Remember when we first met and Arthur made us polish the boots for the entire army?"

"Because you drank Camelot's entire supply of ale in one night."

"I didn't drink it alone," Gwaine protested with a grin. "I made a lot of friends that night." Merlin snickered, but the knight's face turned serious. "Drinking buddies are different from real friends, though. Real friends are hard to come by. And one of my best friends has been avoiding me for weeks."

Merlin turned more focus onto the boot. He couldn't escape Arthur, but he had done his best to dodge the other knights since the incident on the ridge.

"I've carried that secret my whole life," he said finally. "My mother, Gaius, and Lancelot were the only people who knew. And then in a moment – a moment I barely remember – that number nearly tripled. All of a sudden, there's a whole group of people who know more about me than I ever meant for them to know." He rubbed his temple, getting a streak of oil on his face in the process. "It's hard enough just trying to deal with Arthur knowing. I can't even stand to think about everyone else yet."

"You're worried about what the knights think of you now," Gwaine acknowledged. "But Merlin, we already knew you. Plus, we all knew what the druid had said about the prophecy – most of us were optimistic about Emrys even before we knew it was you."

Merlin eyed him skeptically.

"Honestly, we were!" Gwaine insisted. "We'd been talking for weeks about this Emrys character and whether magic might not actually be all bad. And even before that…" he paused and gave Merlin a sheepish smile. "Well, to be honest, Lancelot had kind of been working behind the scenes for a while. A long while. Challenging our assumptions, subtly suggesting magic could be used for good as well as evil."

A boot clattered to the floor as Merlin's eyes shot to Gwaine in shock. "He what?"

"Not when Arthur was around, mind you," Gwaine clarified hastily, picking the boot up and handing it back. "But when it was only us…let's just say the man knows how to play the long game. Look, I know you have plenty to worry about right now. I just want you to know that this is one thing you don't have to be worried about. I'm not saying things won't be different, or even that everyone will still treat you exactly the same. Things are different. But we don't think any less of you. And I, for one, think it's fantastic."

Merlin allowed himself a small smile. "Thank you."

"Now…" Gwaine eyed Arthur's other pair of boots. "I think those look fine, so what do you say we blow the rest of this off? I told the others I'd do my best to get you to join us for a drink tonight."

Merlin's gut lurched at the idea of a night with a group of men who all knew his secret, but he knew he'd have to face them eventually. Besides, he couldn't say no to the hopeful look on Gwaine's face.

"He came!" Percival cried merrily, lifting his tankard toward Merlin, and the other knights cheered. Merlin's cheeks warmed with both gratitude and embarrassment, even as part of him wished he could go back to his room and hide.

"We weren't sure Gwaine would be able to persuade you," Elyan said, clapping him on the back as Merlin sat down beside him.

"We weren't sure Gwaine would be able to find you, actually." Leon smiled at him good-naturedly. "You've been scarce these days."

Merlin shrugged, hoping he looked less awkward than he felt. "Sorry. I've just been…busy." He cringed at how flat and insincere that sounded, but if anyone noticed, they didn't show it.

Down at the other end of the table, Lancelot caught his eye and winked. "Good to see you," he called down, and Merlin managed a tense smile in response.

The tavern was too loud for any real conversation, and the knights were more than capable of carrying on a rowdy and pointless discussion without his help. He felt grateful they didn't pay any extra attention to him. He was included in the teasing and invited into the conversation, but no one mentioned his magic, and no one stared or avoided eye contact.

Which wasn't to say that nothing changed. Merlin felt their curiosity. He saw the questions in their eyes, even if they didn't ask them. And, he noticed bittersweetly, the nature of their teasing had subtly changed. It wasn't quite as belittling or dismissive. And while part of him felt like the little brother who was finally being treated as an adult, another part of him couldn't help grieving the loss of how things had been before. Yes, he wanted to be seen and respected and have his victories recognized.

But honestly? Part of him had liked being the little brother.

He stayed well into the night, but he was still the first to stand and say he was heading home.

"Already?" Gwaine protested, looking at his half-full tankard. "You didn't even have two full drinks!"

Merlin hesitated before answering, then figured he might as well be honest. "It's best not to lose control in a crowded room a long way from my own chambers," he admitted in a low voice. "If I'm going to drink heavily, I need to go somewhere more private with an easier path home."

"I can attest to that," Lancelot added with a chuckle, and Gwaine's eyes widened.

"Oh, I want stories," he demanded. "What did he do?"

Merlin laughed and waved. "That's my cue. Goodnight, gentlemen."

To his surprise, Percival said his goodbyes as well and followed him out into the night. They made the walk in silence. It was one of the things Merlin liked about Percival; he was okay with quiet.

"You know I don't need protection walking home, don't you? If a thief attacks me, I can take care of myself," Merlin pointed out as they approached the castle, and Percival laughed.

"I don't doubt it. And you're enough of a magnet for trouble that it might even happen," he joked lightly, his tone much softer and friendlier than Arthur's would have been with the same taunt. "But my type of protection might be less likely to alarm anyone who happened to witness it. Besides, I'm tired. I really did want to go home."

"Fair enough," Merlin admitted with a half-smile.

"I'm glad you came tonight. We've missed you."

Merlin shifted awkwardly and shrugged, but Percival didn't seem to expect an answer. Before they turned to part ways in the entrance hall, Percival gave him a long look.

"It's a big world out there, Merlin. I've been lucky enough to see a decent portion of the Five Kingdoms, and even a little bit beyond. Not everywhere is like Camelot, you know."

Merlin looked at him curiously, unsure where Percival was headed.

"There are other places you could have gone that would have been better for you. That would have been safer. But I'm glad you stayed. I think Camelot needs you."

"Thanks," Merlin said softly. "I'm glad I stayed too."

Percival gave him a short nod and clapped him on the back. "Don't be a stranger," he called over his shoulder, then ambled off towards the knights' quarters, and Merlin turned towards Gaius's chambers with a tired smile.

Chapter Twenty Five

"Are you seriously reading again?"

Usually tidying up Arthur's room consisted of picking up dirty clothes and weapons and whatever objects Arthur had thrown at Merlin that day. It didn't typically consist of collecting books scattered from one end of the room to the other.

"Sacred Texts of the Old Religion? A History of Magical Power and Persecution? BASIC PRINCIPLES OF SORCERY?"

"Would you please lower your voice?" Arthur hissed, grabbing the books out of his hands. "The last thing I need is some guard in the hall overhearing and spreading rumors."

"You're learning magic?" Merlin didn't intend to sound horrified, but he couldn't help himself. It wasn't because he thought magic was evil. It was that…well, magic was his thing! Arthur had the king thing and the warrior thing. Couldn't Merlin just have this one?

"Of course I'm not learning magic, you idiot," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "I've been learning about magic, which is entirely different. Apparently my destiny is inescapably tied to a sorcerer. A little bit of research doesn't seem absurd to me."

Appeased, Merlin took the books back and stacked them tidily on Arthur's desk. "I guess that makes sense. What did Geoffrey say when you asked for the books?"

"I had Gaius get them for me under the pretense of doing research for a potential magical threat. And maybe put those in the drawer," he added, glancing at the door nervously. "Not that anyone would search the king's chambers, but you never know who might happen to be in here for some reason. No point in leaving them out where they're easy to spot. And…" he trailed off.

"What?"

Arthur took a deep breath and stood up straight, which instantly made Merlin nervous. He'd found it was a general good rule of thumb that if Arthur was uneasy, he should probably be uneasy too.

"I have an odd request."

"Okay," Merlin prompted, watching him warily.

"I…well, in the future when you're cleaning up or doing chores and I'm the only one around…I'd like for you to start using your magic. At least sometimes." Arthur looked puzzled for a moment, like he couldn't understand the words coming out of his own mouth.

Merlin dropped one of the books.

"What?"

Arthur let out a noisy exhale and glared at the floor. "You're right. Your magic makes me nervous. And I need to get used to it, which means I need to be around you while you're doing magic."

Merlin stared in disbelief. "You want me to use magic? To do my chores?"

"Don't make it into a thing," Arthur grumbled. "Just do it. When I'm around, at least."

Still in a bit of a stunned stupor, Merlin used magic to open the desk drawer and tuck the books away, watching Arthur out of the corner of his eye the entire time. Arthur tried hard to hide it, but the flicker of fear in his eyes was difficult to miss.

"Okay," he said with a relieved exhale once Merlin closed the drawer and his eyes turned back to blue. "If you're done with that, I have something to show you before the meeting of the round table this afternoon."

"It is something you need cleaned?" Merlin griped, and Arthur snickered.

"No, although I'm sure I can find something if you're bored." Merlin glared at him but kept his mouth shut, earning him a grin from Arthur. "Look at that – you are capable of learning! Now come on."

"Where are we going?" Merlin asked, following Arthur through the halls.

"I told you, I have something for you."

"For me?" he repeated. "I thought you had something to show me."

"A little bit of both," Arthur said vaguely. "Well, two things really. Here we go." He pushed open the door to the table room and gestured Merlin inside.

Confused, Merlin looked around the familiar chamber. "I've actually already seen the round table, Arthur," he pointed out. "Many times."

Arthur sighed, but otherwise ignored him. Merlin surveyed the room again. There wasn't much to see. Apart from the round table and the seven chairs, the room was empty. Although something about it did look a little bit off.

The chairs.

Merlin's heart stopped.

He counted again. Definitely seven chairs.

And then he counted in his mind, mentally going around the circle – Arthur, Leon, Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, Lancelot. Was he forgetting anyone? He counted one more time.

"What is this, Arthur?"

Arthur took a deep breath, and to Merlin's surprise, the king looked nervous as he walked up to the new chair. "It's your seat at the round table. If you want it."

"You want to make me a knight?" he asked in confusion. "You have seen me with a sword, right?"

Arthur snorted. "No, Merlin, I'm not going to make you a knight. But this table is where we make the most important decisions for Camelot. And if you're willing, I'd like you here. Not standing off to the side with a water pitcher."

Merlin knew he should feel excited or honored or any number of other emotions, and some of those emotions buzzed in his stomach. But they lurked behind a stone of disappointment he didn't fully understand.

"Why?"

Perhaps he shouldn't ask; he certainly didn't want to talk Arthur out of the idea. But something about the whole thing felt off, and he knew he couldn't accept until he figured it out.

"Because I value your counsel," Arthur said, as though it should be obvious.

"Because I have magic?" The words twisted a little bit in Merlin's stomach as he spoke them, understanding setting in, and he saw Arthur blink in surprise.

"Because you…?" he started, then he looked puzzled, as though he hadn't thought about the question before. "No," he said slowly. "I don't think magic really has anything to do with counsel."

"Then why now? Why…" Merlin swallowed. "Why did you not want my counsel until you knew I had magic?"

Arthur drummed his fingers on the back of the chair as he thought. "First of all," he pointed out, "I've always wanted your counsel. You didn't have a chair before, but you've never shied away from sharing your opinion in here, and I've never stopped you. But before…" Arthur frowned, and Merlin almost felt pity for him as he watched him struggle for words. "Before, there was always a distance there. With you. I trusted you, Merlin, but some part of me understood that I didn't fully know you. I'm not sure I could have put it into words, but I sensed that you were somehow…apart from the rest of us. And now I feel like that curtain between us is gone. Does that make sense?"

"I think so." He was surprised the distinction was so clear for Arthur. He knew that previously he had always felt like he lived separate from everyone else, but he hadn't thought Arthur would sense the change quite so much.

"I don't want Emrys," Arthur said in a low voice, looking at the table. "I want Merlin. The man who went on my quest with me and talked me out of marrying Princess Elena and yelled at me when I accused Lancelot of treason. I just needed to know who Merlin was – including Emrys – before I could make this request."

The stone of disappointment lifted at Arthur's words – I don't want Emrys. I want Merlin – and the floodgates opened for a surge of other emotions. Excitement and uncertainty and pride and hope and elation all tumbled on top of each other, overwhelming him.

"Are you serious, Arthur? Are you sure?"

"I'm certain."

Merlin could hardly process the idea. His pulse raced, but his mind was blank.

"What will people say?" he asked finally. "How would you explain having a servant seated next to you?"

"The knights of the round table will understand, and for now, no one else would know. And that brings me to the second thing." Arthur pulled a packet of papers out of his jacket and placed them on the table.

Merlin circled the table slowly, and Arthur took a step back when he reached the chair. Merlin pulled it out and sat down. The whole thing felt dreamlike.

This was his seat. At the round table.

Merlin had sat at this table before, but back then it was just a table in an abandoned castle. It was different now.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, then reached for the papers. He skimmed the first page and the second, and he had to go back and look at them a second time to understand what he was seeing.

"I've been meeting with Gaius and Leon for the past several weeks," Arthur explained quietly. "They've helped me draft a six-step, two-year plan for legalizing magic, with some limitations and parameters. I'd like your feedback on it. Keep in mind, we'll have to go slow to avoid panic or rumors that I've been enchanted. But starting after next week's council meeting, I will no longer enforce the death penalty for sorcery, and guards will be instructed to only arrest sorcerers if they are also guilty of other crimes. The laws won't technically be changed yet, but it's a start."

Merlin stared speechlessly at the papers.

The plan to legalize magic.

That he was reading while sitting in his chair at the round table.

He looked up at Arthur, not sure how to even articulate a question, but Arthur didn't say anything. He seemed to be waiting for Merlin's reaction.

The noise of approaching footsteps and voices at the end of the hall broke him out of his thoughts.

"The knights are on their way," Arthur said softly. "What do you say, Merlin? You can vanish the chair if you don't want it. Or even if you just don't want it today."

He wanted it. He definitely wanted it.

But what would the others think? They were knights of Camelot. Would they object to a servant sitting at the table? Would they object to a sorcerer?

But then again, when had they ever objected to him joining them? Granted, he hadn't seen much of them since the incident with the Deilen, but they'd been friendly at the tavern, just as they had always been friendly before.

No. Not friendly. They had been friends.

You are only as alone as you choose to be.

"Merlin."

He looked up to find the king staring at him intently.

"Do you want it?" Arthur paused, and Merlin could see the uncertainty in his eyes. Then the uncertainty shifted to resolve. "Say yes." The words were somewhere between an order and a plea.

Merlin took a shaky breath.

"I want it."

Leon was the first in the room. He hesitated only for a moment when he saw Merlin at the round table, and then he busted out laughing. Merlin felt a quick flair of panic and hurt – was the idea of him there really that ridiculous, that they would just straight up laugh at him?

Then Leon shook his head as he sat down and said, "It's about time."

Elyan whooped. Percival patted him on the shoulder so hard Merlin was certain he was going to have bruises.

Gwaine, strangely enough, was the most composed. He just stared soberly at Merlin for a moment as he took his seat, then turned his gaze to Arthur. He didn't say a word, but he nodded to both of them, and Merlin saw a look of pride in his eyes he wasn't sure he had ever seen before, although he wasn't entirely certain whether Gwaine was proud of Merlin or Arthur or both. Then the knight cleared his throat and said roughly, "You know, if we're upping the standards this much, we might need to reevaluate Percival."

The larger knight shoved Gwaine, nearly knocking him out of his seat, and Gwaine cracked up laughing, the moment broken.

Lancelot was the last to arrive. He stopped in the doorway, his eyes widening at the sight of Merlin seated next to Arthur. Then his face split into a grin, and Merlin couldn't stop himself from returning it.

"Look at that! He can still smile," Gwaine joked, and Merlin let himself laugh.

These were his people.

Creature of magic or not, he had people.

-End of Part Two-

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!

Chapter Twenty Seven

The courtyard was unusually peaceful and still when Merlin led the horses out. The sun hadn't quite risen, and although he could hear the stirrings of the day beginning, both in the castle and out, Camelot had not yet truly sprung to life.

"Everything ready?" Arthur asked as he came down the front steps, and Merlin nodded in confirmation.

"I packed enough food for a week," he said. "Any more than that and you'll have to catch something for us to eat. Are you sure you know where we're going?"

"We received reports of a druid camp in the woods near the Great Seas of Meredor not four days ago. It seems worth a try, at least." Merlin watched him uneasily as Arthur swung into the saddle. "What is it, Merlin? Speak your mind."

Merlin hesitated. Selfishly, he didn't want to say what he was about to say. But he knew he had to.

"You don't have to come with me, Arthur. I can find the Great Seas of Meredor by myself." He tried to say the words as though he meant them. As though doing this alone would be perfectly fine. And perhaps he succeeded a bit too well, because Arthur frowned in response.

"Do you not want me to come with you?"

"Of course I do." They were two sides of a coin, after all. Whatever Merlin found out would be important for Arthur as well. And if Merlin learned something difficult…well, it would be easier to deal with that with Arthur by his side. "But I know the king of Camelot visiting the druids…that won't be an easy thing. And I'd understand if you weren't quite ready to take that step yet. So if I need to do this alone, I can."

Arthur studied him for a moment. A visit to the druids had been his suggestion, and he'd done his best to seem fine with the idea. But Merlin knew Arthur too well not to notice the nervousness – fear, even – hiding in his smile every time they'd discussed it.

"Firstly," Arthur said after a moment, "I doubt I'll ever truly feel ready for this. If I stayed behind, it would be out of cowardice, not wisdom or prudence. And secondly…" He smiled briefly at something behind Merlin. "Even if I weren't going, you still wouldn't be alone."

Merlin looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Didn't think you were going without me, did you?" Lancelot asked cheerfully as he rode up, and Merlin couldn't hold back a grin.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Yes, he could go alone if he needed to. Most of his life was proof of that. But in the course of a few seconds, he'd gone from considering doing the journey by himself to realizing he'd have two friends with him. And it was amazing how much lighter the burden felt with that knowledge.

Loneliness had been such a normal part of his life for so long. It was all he had ever known. And sometimes – like right now – he was taken aback by the absence of it.

"All right," he said, turning back to Arthur. "If you're sure you want to come."

"I don't know if 'want' is the right word," Arthur said dryly as he nudged his horse into motion. "But I'm sure."

As they rode out, the peacefulness of the morning gave way to an awkward quietness. Normally they either went out with a larger group, the knights joking easily with each other and carrying the conversation, or Merlin and Arthur went out together. The three of them…that was a new dynamic, and Merlin felt unpleasantly in the middle, riding with the man who had always known his secrets and the man who had only more recently found out.

"So," Arthur said finally, "Lancelot. Tell me an embarrassing story about when my manservant did something stupid with his magic."

"Really, Arthur?" Merlin interjected. "You couldn't ask for a story about when I did something brave and heroic?"

"No, I definitely want a story where you made an idiot out of yourself. You do it so well, after all."

Lancelot chuckled and found a compromise, choosing a story from the year before in which Merlin did indeed make a fool of himself, but also saved Arthur's life. Gwen had grown concerned about how much time Merlin was – according to Arthur – apparently spending in the tavern, and she'd decided he needed to stay away from ale and wine for a while. The more Merlin insisted that he did not have a problem, the more determined Gwen had become to help him. Unfortunately, this had happened at approximately the same time Odin had sent another assassin into Camelot, and Merlin needed to find the man and deal with him. The end result was Merlin sneaking around the castle trying to stalk the assassin, while at the same time avoiding Gwen, who was in turn trying to stalk him.

Merlin pulled back a pace or two so he could watch Arthur's face as he listened. Arthur laughed as Lancelot described Merlin trying to make excuses, including when Gwen found him in the cellars with the barrels of wine (which the assassin had been trying to poison), and when she found Merlin stumbling through the halls (because he'd tripped while pursuing the assassin and hit his head), and he cringed as Lancelot described the assassin's attempt to kill two of his guards, only to be thwarted at the last minute by Merlin with some help from Lancelot himself. But those weren't the parts Merlin was concerned about.

Lancelot's voice grew softer and more solemn as he described the eventual confrontation between Merlin and the assassin. Merlin had found the man on the roof of the castle, a crossbow aimed at Arthur as he walked through the courtyard. He'd acted on instinct, using his magic to fling the crossbow out of the assassin's hands. The man had turned on Merlin with a knife, and Merlin had used his magic to throw him backwards. The assassin's foot had caught as he landed, and he'd tumbled off the roof to his death below. Merlin had intended for him to land on the roof, not to fall, but it didn't change the fact that he was responsible for the man's death.

The laughter faded from Arthur's face, but Merlin didn't see the judgment he feared. Just sober thoughtfulness.

"I remember that. We thought he just tripped and fell. We joked about how someone that clumsy maybe should have chosen a different line of work." He shook his head. "I do wonder, Merlin, how many things I've dismissed as luck over the years that were actually your doing."

Merlin shrugged uncomfortably. "That one was partly luck. He'd gotten away from me – it was only by chance that I checked the roof in time." He shuddered at the memory. That one had been too close. Just a few more seconds…

"I suppose I should say thank you," Arthur said wryly. "Yet again. Tell me – do I have to thank you for every time you saved my life? Or can I just issue a general thank you for all of them?"

"One for each individual time," Merlin answered immediately. "If I can put in the effort to save your royal ass, you can put in the effort to say two words in reply."

Arthur snorted, and next to him, Merlin heard Lancelot snicker under his breath before launching into the next story.

That night, Merlin had trouble falling asleep. He normally slept well on quests and patrols; he was no stranger to sleeping on the ground, and the sounds of nature ordinarily soothed him. But that night, he tossed and turned.

"It doesn't matter how many times you roll over, the ground doesn't get any softer," he heard Arthur say from where he was keeping watch.

"The ground isn't the problem," he grumbled, looking over at Arthur, who was poking mindlessly at the fire with a stick. "I'm just restless." Catching sight of the look on the king's face, he sat up. "Something on your mind?"

Arthur blinked in surprise. "Me? No. I'm just thinking."

"Careful. You don't want to pull something."

Arthur scooped a pinecone off the ground, not even bothering to look at Merlin as he threw it halfheartedly at him. Merlin batted it away and waited for a minute, then shrugged and started to lie back down.

"It's weird," Arthur admitted suddenly. "Thinking about you and Lancelot running around all these years, having adventures by yourselves that the rest of us never knew about. That I never knew about. Especially since those adventures seemed to typically involve me."

Merlin laughed to himself. "I never thought of them as adventures. That makes them sound a lot more fun than they were. They were usually stressful and, to be perfectly honest, a little bit scary."

"Why didn't you tell me about Odin's assassin?"

"I don't remember," he admitted, trying to think back. Why hadn't he told Arthur about that one? "He didn't have magic…I had to keep those things a secret because typically I'm the only one who can stop them. If I told anyone about it, then I ended up with people getting in my way, even if they were trying to help. But that one…" he trailed off, struggling to recall. "Oh! I couldn't tell you because I found out about it when I sneaked out of the castle to speak with Kilgharrah. I couldn't really explain why I was in the forest in the middle of the night to overhear their conversation, and I didn't have any proof. It would have drawn attention to me, and you probably wouldn't have believed me anyway."

Arthur frowned. "I would have believed you," he protested. Merlin just stared at him skeptically in response until he sighed and poked the fire with the stick again. "I should have believed you," he amended. "I guess I never took you as seriously as I should have. I thought that at least in certain areas, you just didn't have the experience to know what you were talking about. That you were too paranoid or too quick to jump to conclusions." He shook his head, then asked, "Why was I so easy to fool?" The question was tentative, and Merlin realized with bemusement that it was a sincere one.

"You weren't easy to fool, Arthur. I was terrified every single day that you were going to figure it out. But truthfully…" Merlin cringed at the words, but forced himself to say them. "I think I was able to fool you because you trusted me."

Arthur nodded, and to Merlin's relief, he looked pensive instead of angry. "I'm sorry you weren't able to trust me in return."

"That was as much about me as you, Arthur. Trusting people just…isn't something I do. Not about magic. Never has been."

"Nor should it have been. My laws would have seen you dead had you trusted the wrong person."

"Uther's laws," Merlin corrected him, but Arthur shook his head.

"I'd love to lay the responsibility for all of this at my father's feet, but they became my laws the day he died. I've failed to make Camelot a safe place for all of its people."

Merlin read the self-reproach in his friend's face and pushed himself up to a full sitting position. "You didn't know enough about magic to know the laws were wrong. And now that you do know, you're doing something about it. No one can expect more from you than that."

Arthur nodded, but the look in his eyes said he was unconvinced.

"Come on, Arthur. I've stayed by your side for years while magic is illegal, and I did that because I knew – I know – you're a good king. Even as someone with magic, I could always see that you're worth serving and protecting." Merlin watched him for a moment, then sighed. "We're not talking about me anymore, are we?"

Arthur gave him a half-smile, and after a long pause, he answered. "I've persecuted the druids. I have personally led more than one raid on their camps. I couldn't tell you how many I've killed myself, to say nothing of the ones killed on my command. And they've always been peaceful, never acted against Camelot. And now…now I'm going to ride into their camp with only you and Lancelot for protection, and ask for their help. I believe they'll want to help you, but…"

"You're nervous," Merlin finished for him.

Arthur shook his head. "Not nervous," he said quietly.

And then Merlin realized, and his heart broke a little bit.

"You're ashamed?"

Arthur stared into the fire. "I can't undo what I've done. All those lives unjustly taken…how do I face them?"

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Merlin wishing he knew what to say to make his friend feel better. "I think you can be honest," he said finally. "You can apologize. And honestly, Arthur, maybe while we're there, you'll even have a chance to talk about how you want the future to be different."

"Do you think they'll listen?"

Merlin shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

Arthur nodded and gave him a forced smile. "I'm glad you'll be there with me."

Merlin smiled genuinely in return. "I always am."

Chapter Twenty Eight

"Are you even listening, Merlin?" Arthur's voice dragged Merlin's attention back to the conversation between the two knights.

"That's exactly what I'm doing. I'm just not listening to you."

"Enjoying the buzz of the bumblebees, are you?" Arthur asked with a snort.

"No. I'm listening for the druids, if you must know."

Arthur looked around, then gave Merlin a skeptical look. "Can you use magic to hear things far away?"

"No," Merlin started, then stopped himself. "I mean, yes, actually. But that's not what I'm doing. I'm listening for them talking in my mind."

"You're listening to them what?" Arthur asked with a blank look.

"The druids can talk silently, just using their minds, and I can hear them," Merlin explained.

Arthur stared for a minute, then shook his head uneasily. "Of course they can," he muttered to himself. "I suppose you can do that too?"

"Only with them." He stopped suddenly, focusing. He'd heard something, just barely. Almost more of a feeling really. But if he really listened…

"Did you have breakfast? I can bring…"

"Best stoke the fire a bit, if you don't mind. It's chilly this…"

"Good morning, my friend…"

"This way," Merlin said, nudging his horse to the right. After a few minutes, he reached out with his mind. "Hello?"

Everything suddenly went quiet, the chatter ceasing. Then a woman's voice tentatively replied.

"Emrys?"

Merlin's mouth tightened. There was always a part of him that wanted to reply by saying 'My name is Merlin,' but he resisted. "It's me. I'd like to come speak with you, if you'll have me."

"Of course," the answer came, and he felt the warmth in it. "It would be an honor."

But Merlin knew he needed to be honest with them. "I have King Arthur with me, along with Sir Lancelot, a knight of Camelot. They are my friends, and I promise they mean you no harm."

He waited through a long silence, and he wondered if the woman was conferring with others or merely thinking. But eventually her reply came.

"It will be an honor to see the king again and meet your friend. If you vouch for them, then they are welcome."

Merlin turned to Arthur, who was staring at him with his eyebrows raised.

"I was just letting them know we're coming," he explained. "I promised them you wouldn't hurt them, and they said you're both welcome as well."

Arthur nodded, but Merlin saw the nervousness in his eyes. "You ready?" he asked, making the king smile.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Merlin blinked, then let out a short laugh. In his concern about Arthur, he'd almost forgotten to be nervous about what he might learn.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

When the druid camp came into view, Arthur wanted nothing more than to turn his horse around and go straight back to Camelot.

How many times had he rode up to a similar scene with a sword in his hand? How many times had he directed troops to surround these people as they went about living their lives, then given a battle cry as they charged, weapons swinging?

"You okay?" Merlin murmured next to him, and Arthur realized he'd pulled to a stop without intending to.

"Just looking," he said.

And he was. He had this strange compulsion to watch, to see the rhythm of these people moving. To see, for the first time, a community of people instead of a hideout of dangerous enemies.

Of course, he wasn't seeing them as they normally were. That was clear. They moved quickly, glancing around nervously, obviously trying to prepare as they awaited the king. He supposed it was possible they were behaving this way because they were anxiously awaiting Emrys, but somehow Arthur didn't think the arrival of Emrys would trigger the jumpiness he saw before him.

"Welcome, Emrys," a voice said to their left as the men dismounted, and Arthur turned to see a familiar woman approaching. "Your Majesty," she added, nodding her head respectfully to him.

Arthur stared, dumbfounded. "It's you," he said, then immediately cursed himself for how stupid he sounded.

"Indeed. It's good to see you again," she replied with a warm smile. "It seems you've found an answer to my question since the last time we met."

Arthur glanced at the man standing beside him. "Merlin helped," he admitted, and the woman laughed.

"I told you Emrys was your friend."

"So you did. I owe you a debt of gratitude. Our meeting helped prepare me for the truth about what he is. Or who he is." Arthur frowned as he fumbled for words, because truthfully, he still didn't know what Merlin was, and he had always known who Merlin was. "Or what he can do, I guess."

The woman watched him thoughtfully, but before she could reply, he gestured to the knight beside him. "You may remember Sir Lancelot. He was one of the knights who came to your defense."

"My lady," Lancelot said with a nod.

"You may call me Arwen. And welcome, all of you." She hesitated, her eyes resting on the sword belted to Arthur's hip. "If you don't mind, I'd like to collect your weapons before you come any closer. I will, of course, return them to you before you leave."

Arthur froze. It was a perfectly reasonable request; he would have asked for the same if the situation were reversed. But walking into a group of potential enemies unarmed?

"It's all right," Merlin murmured from beside him. "They mean you no harm, Arthur."

Arthur swallowed, but he unbelted the sword and handed it to her as Lancelot did the same.

After all, Merlin was there. He would protect him, if necessary.

And in that moment, the thought wasn't even funny.

Arthur wasn't sure what he expected. He supposed since he was so uneasy around the druids, and he knew they were equally uneasy around him, he'd assumed they'd just get to the point as quickly as possible and keep the visit brief.

Instead, the druids welcomed them as guests. Arwen led them to a spot near one of the fires and offered them a late breakfast. Arthur ate a watery but surprisingly flavorful porridge as she chatted, talking about the additional fires they'd laid the night before due to the turning weather and inquiring whether they'd had any trouble on the road. It was all idle small talk and Merlin handled most of their side of the conversation, but Arthur appreciated the casual ease with which she filled the silence.

"So it's true. I heard when I came in that we have the honor of hosting Emrys," a voice said behind them after they had finished eating, and Arthur twisted to see a tall, thin man with a beard standing over them. His gaze moved across the three of them, eyeing Merlin curiously before turning a colder look on Arthur and Lancelot.

"May I introduce Bryn," Arwen said, nodding deferentially to the man. "He is the leader of this camp."

"It's nice to meet you," Merlin greeted him, standing, and Arthur and Lancelot quickly followed his lead. "This is Sir Lancelot, knight of Camelot, and King Arthur of Camelot, the Once and Future King."

The skepticism in the man's face bordered on a sneer, but Arthur forced himself to nod the way Arwen had. "I thank you for your hospitality," he said, relieved to find he did not sound as stiff and awkward as he felt. Then he pushed ahead, figuring he might as well face the hostility head-on. "I know my past actions have done nothing to earn it, and for that I apologize. I promise, I mean no harm to you or your people by coming here."

Bryn looked taken aback, and although his skepticism remained, his hostility seemed to fade to wariness.

"The Once and Future King?" he asked, pointedly ignoring Arthur's words as he turned his attention back to Merlin. "A Pendragon?"

"Indeed," Merlin answered, and he not only sounded confident, but proud, prompting an unexpected warmth in Arthur's chest.

"Hmm." The man stared at Merlin for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "Be welcome," he said stiffly. Then he nodded to Arwen and walked away.

"I'm sorry," she said softly once he was out of earshot. "His sister was part of another camp that was…" she trailed off, but Arthur knew how the story ended.

"That was attacked by my knights," he finished, unable to meet her eyes.

"Yes."

"I have much to answer for," he admitted, and for some reason Arwen looked on him with pity instead of anger.

"Your destiny is a heavy one, King Arthur," she said gently, "but already I can see that you have the strength of character to bear it."

"How did you know?" Merlin questioned. "You knew who Arthur was when you first met him on the road, but Bryn didn't seem to know he's the Once and Future King."

"I am the keeper of the prophecies," Arwen said simply. "Or I will be, at least."

Merlin's eyes grew wide. "What does that mean, exactly?" he asked, and Arthur could hear the note of enthusiasm the younger man tried to contain.

"You know different people show affinity for different kinds of magic?" she inquired, and Merlin nodded just a little too quickly to hide his eagerness. "From the time I was young, I showed a certain sensitivity to the prophecies. I could understand not just what they said on the surface, but the currents underneath them. I could read the world around us and see how it connected to the prophecies. So I was chosen when I was little more than a child to be the keeper for this generation. I have been training most of my life, learning the prophecies that have been passed down for hundreds of years. When the current keeper passes from this world – as he may do soon, for he has lived many years – I will become the new keeper."

Arthur hid a grin at the awe on Merlin's face.

"You know all of the prophecies?" he demanded excitedly.

"All of the ones I've been tasked with keeping," she answered, and she smiled at Merlin. "I have been waiting for you, Emrys. I knew you would come to me for answers when the time was right." Her eyes flickered to Arthur and Lancelot for just a moment. "I did not know that you would bring your friends with you, but I am glad you did. Now come." She stood, brushing the dirt from her clothes. "I will show you all where you will be staying."

Staying? Arthur hadn't really planned on staying. But Arwen showed them to a tent and urged them to stow their things.

"I know we have much to talk about," she said, "but I am afraid I do have a few chores that need tending to. Please, make yourselves at home with our people. I know they are curious about you."

Arthur took a deep breath. He had survived battles and dragons and council meetings and passionate fights with his father. He could handle mingling with druids.

And if he felt a little sick at that thought, it was probably just the result of the porridge.

Chapter Twenty Nine

"Why can't we just wait in here until Arwen has time to talk to us again?" Merlin protested in a hushed voice.

"Because we have a chance to build a relationship here," Lancelot explained patiently, "and we want them to see that Arthur is not someone they need to fear."

"But they stare at me," he argued, making a face in the direction of the door of the tent. "Did you see that? They look at me like I'm supposed to be something special!"

"Stares won't hurt you," Arthur insisted, grabbing Merlin's arm and steering him back out into the camp as Lancelot followed. Merlin glared at them both, but didn't resist.

They resumed their spot next to the fire, and Merlin was right – the druids did stare. All around them, they cast furtive looks their direction, their eyes skimming over Lancelot before lingering on Emrys and the king.

Lancelot had wondered what his role would be in this journey. After all he had been through with Merlin, he wanted to be there for this, and something in his gut had told him he needed to come along. But as they'd set out, he'd worried his presence might be unnecessary. Worse than that, he may be an awkward addition to something Arthur and Merlin needed to do alone.

But now that Arwen had left them to their own devices, Lancelot felt grateful he'd come. Sitting with her had been awkward enough, but sitting in the camp without Arwen was infinitely worse. And Arthur and Merlin were proving to be hopeless.

Arthur had been brought up in the politics and intrigues of court. He knew how to charm, how to make polite conversation, how to make a lord feel important or a lady feel flattered. But the druid camp was not court, and without his usual tricks at his disposal, he seemed lost. It probably didn't help that his title carried minimal weight here. He was technically these people's king, but they did not honor or respect him the way others did. At best they feared him, and at worst they despised him.

And Merlin? Merlin just stared at the fire in front of him, refusing to look up and acknowledge the curious and reverent looks directed at him.

Lancelot decided to ignore his friends for the moment in favor of surveying the activity of the camp. He made eye contact a few times, trying to look friendly to the people who were curious or brave enough to hold his gaze, until finally a bold little girl made their way over to them. The other children watched her with awe in their eyes, and Lancelot smiled at their obvious admiration of her courage.

She walked straight up to Merlin, but at the last minute directed her attention to Lancelot instead, probably because he was still smiling and Merlin looked nauseous.

"Hi," she said, smiling shyly back at him. "I'm Mari. What's your name?"

"My name is Sir Lancelot," he replied, reaching out his hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Mari."

She bit her lip, then took his hand, giggling when he kissed the back of hers like he would a lady's.

"Is it true you're a knight of Camelot?"

Lancelot saw Arthur cringe out of the corner of his eye. They were used to hearing those words spoken with respect and honor, even awe, but it was hard to miss the fear that Mari tried to hide in the question.

"I am," Lancelot answered, his voice gentle.

She stared at him, tiling her head to the side. "You don't look like you want to hurt us," she said dubiously, and the question broke Lancelot's heart. He thanked the gods he had never been sent on one of the druid raids – Arthur had not continued the practice once Uther became too weak to rule.

"No, Mari. I give you my word, I will not hurt you."

"Even though you're a knight of Camelot? Cai says the knights hurt people like us."

Lancelot didn't blink as he met the little girl's gaze. "In the past, the knights thought the druids wanted to hurt other people. We were wrong. We know that now."

Mari considered him for a minute. "Are you sure you're a knight? Cai also said knights wear red capes."

"Indeed," Lancelot replied, smiling again. "My cape is in my tent. Perhaps I'll bring it out later and you can see it, if you like."

Mari nodded. "Red is my favorite color," she declared. "Want to see?"

"Sure," Lancelot agreed, eyeing the little girl curiously.

Mari took his hands and cupped them together, then used her own small hands to shovel dirt into them. With a shy smile, she placed her hands over his and whispered, "Blædnes."

The little girl's eyes burned briefly, and Lancelot sensed Arthur tense at the other end of the log. He darted a quick glance at the king, but Arthur's face held only mild curiosity as he watched. Lancelot was certain that unless someone knew him well, they wouldn't be able to identify the uneasiness in his eyes.

But Lancelot suspected Uther himself couldn't have found a reason to believe this magic was evil. A red flower, more appropriate to spring than autumn, grew and blossomed in his hands, and he couldn't resist grinning with delight at the sight of it. He was literally holding magic in his hands. The grin spread when he caught Arthur smiling as well.

The girl finally glanced at Merlin, whose uneasiness seemed to fade some as he watched her simple show.

"That's very beautiful," he complimented her, and she blushed.

"Thank you," she murmured, looking down and scuffing the ground before looking at him again. "Are you really Emrys?"

Merlin hesitated for just a moment before answering. "I really am."

"Do you want a flower too?"

Lancelot saw something soften in Merlin's eyes, and he could almost feel his friend's relief. This girl didn't want anything from him, other than the chance to show off a little bit and give him a gift. And with a pang of sadness, Lancelot found himself thinking about a little version of Merlin, who undoubtedly could also make flowers grow. But that child had no one other than his mother to show his talents or give gifts.

The girl repeated her trick, making a purple flower grow in Merlin's hands. When she finished, Merlin grinned at her conspiratorially, and then his eyes flashed and the flower turned into a butterfly. Mari gasped with delight as it fluttered its wings lightly, then took to the air from Merlin's hand. Her eyes followed it until it disappeared into the sky.

"Do it again!" she demanded excitedly, and Merlin laughed.

"Grow another flower and we'll see," he encouraged her.

Meri bit her lip again, her eyes darting very briefly to Arthur before looking back to Merlin. She stood on her tiptoes and leaned over, whispering something in his ear.

"Why don't you ask him?" Merlin asked when she finished. "It's okay," he added when she looked at him nervously. "He won't hurt you."

Mari turned toward Arthur, and when she finally spoke, her voice was much more timid than it had been with the other two men.

"Cai says you're the king of Camelot," she said, her gaze focused on the ground as she scuffed her feet again.

"I am." His voice was gentle and steady. If he felt any fear of the girl's magic, he hid it completely. "My name is Arthur."

"Do you want a flower too?" she offered, her voice little more than a whisper.

Arthur smiled at her, and Lancelot could swear he almost looked a little shy himself. "I would be honored."

The girl glanced at Arthur again, this time meeting his eyes for just a moment. Some of her nervousness faded again, and she began scooping dirt into his hands.

Lancelot glanced around as she worked and realized they'd drawn an audience. The other children were still there, edging closer now that Mari had proven it was safe, but a number of adults now watched as well. Lancelot saw the fear in their eyes at the sight of the young girl so near to the king. And doing magic right there in front of him.

"Blædnes," Mari whispered again, and Arthur focused on his hands as orange petals blossomed.

Mari took a step back and watched him with wide eyes, waiting for his reaction. He lifted the flower for a closer look, smiling as he ran his thumb across the petals.

"Thank you," he said, and if he sounded just a little bit stiff, he also sounded warm. "It's lovely."

She beamed proudly, then turned expectantly to Merlin.

"Here," Merlin said, and Arthur held the flower out to him. Merlin considered for a moment, then grinned mischievously. Lancelot saw the flash of alarm in Arthur's eyes just a second before Merlin said, "Fýrgnást!"

The flower transformed from a solid plant into burning fire, and Arthur snatched his hands back, dropping the dirt on the ground.

"Ow!" he cried, and Lancelot tried to hide his snicker as Merlin laughed. In front of Arthur, the fire held the shape for several seconds, a brilliant flower made of flame. Then it dissolved into smoke.

Arthur shook his singed hand, glaring at his friend, and Merlin winked at Mari. She giggled uncertainly, unsure whether Arthur's anger was genuine. After a moment, Arthur shook his head and laughed too.

And just like that, the tension seemed to ease. The faces around them turned from apprehensive to cautiously amused, and suddenly the three men were surrounded by children. A few came up to Arthur, and a few more approached Lancelot, but most of them wanted to show Emrys what they could do or have Emrys do magic of his own.

And Merlin, who maybe didn't know much about politics or diplomacy, knew plenty about magic and showing off, and his nervousness disappeared as he joined the games.

Chapter Thirty

It wasn't until after dinner that night that Arwen finally came for Merlin.

"I know you have many questions for me," she said. "Do you wish to speak alone, or would you like to bring your friends?"

Merlin felt a slight pang of guilt as he answered, "Alone, please." Arthur and Lancelot had both been nothing but supportive, and it felt wrong not to trust them to hear what the druid had to say. But no matter how supportive they may be, this was Merlin's life. And depending on what Arwen said, Merlin knew he might want some time to think it through before picking it apart with either of them.

Arthur looked at him questioningly as they slipped away, but Merlin just gave him a quick smile and then looked away before the king had a chance to ask where they were going. To his surprise, Arwen didn't lead him to a tent, but to the edge of the camp, removed from the people but still in sight of them.

"Tell me, Emrys," she said, her voice soft. "What do you wish to know?"

Merlin blinked at the broad question. In all the years of chasing after Arthur and trying to fulfill this destiny, he'd never been asked something so simple and so big. Could he really just ask anything?

He wanted to ask about the prophecy. He wanted to ask about magic. He wanted to ask about Albion. But somehow, he knew those questions would answer themselves in time.

"What am I?" he asked instead. That was, after all, why he was here. "You told Arthur that I was a creature of magic, that I was magic instead of merely having it. Kilgharrah says I'm human, but there was also something written about me – about Emrys – in a Deilen temple, and he said that was true, but I don't even know if I should believe it, because I don't know what prophecies are false and which ones are true. And there was this book that said I was a monster, and some say magically inherently corrupts those who have it…" he trailed off, realizing he was rambling. "I just want to understand what I am."

Arwen watched him thoughtfully. "What do you want to be, Emrys?" Then she paused. "Do you prefer Emrys or Merlin?"

He laughed. "You're the first person to ever bother asking. I prefer Merlin."

"Why?"

He considered that for a moment. "That's just…more who I am. I'm Emrys too, but that's…that's a heavy name to carry for everyday use. It's like Emrys is more what I do in service to destiny, or part of it at least, but Merlin is more who I am, if that makes sense. It's who I've always been."

"All right. So let me ask you this – what is Merlin?"

Merlin groaned, and Arwen raised an eyebrow. "You and the dragon," he complained. "I had kind of hoped you would be more forthcoming than he is."

Fortunately, Arwen laughed instead of looking offended. "I will answer any question you ask of me," she promised with an impish grin. "I'm just going to make you answer mine first."

Merlin sighed and thought. "Merlin is…just a person, I guess. Gaius's ward and assistant. Friend to…well, lots of people I suppose, like Gwen and the knights. A dragonlord. And a sorcerer, obviously."

"Anything else?"

His lips curled in a small smile, the answer obvious once it occurred to him. "A servant of the king."

"That's not Emrys?" she clarified. "That's Merlin?"

It might have been Emrys, once upon a time. Back when Kilgharrah first spoke to him of destiny, before he'd even heard the name Emrys. But that had been many years ago. It had been a long time since Merlin had served Arthur merely out of some perceived duty to destiny.

"Yes," he said firmly. "That's Merlin."

"All right. And what do you think Emrys is?"

Merlin's mouth tightened. "I don't know. That's why I'm here."

"Do you think you're a creature of magic?"

Merlin sighed, feeling an inexplicable pang of annoyance at Kilgharrah for all the times he'd been cryptic, even though the dragon wasn't even there. Probably because he was trying not to be annoyed at Arwen since she was the only one who might be able to answer his questions.

"Maybe," he answered. "I don't really know what it means to be a creature of magic."

"It means you are born of magic," she said simply. "Not simply that magic was used to bring about your birth, like the king, but that you were at least in part born out of magic. You have a human mother and father, Merlin, and the dragon told you the truth – you are human yourself. Fully, entirely human. But just as Arthur is human, he is also a king and also a warrior, and he is brave and truehearted. In the same way, you have more than just humanity in you as well."

Merlin frowned. "What does that mean?"

"You are the son of the earth and the sea and the sky. You are born of the magic of air and fire and water and earth. Magic is the very fabric of the world, Merlin. You were born of that magic. And you are that magic, the physical incarnation of the magic that has always existed, born into human form."

He leaned forward, resting his forehead on his knees. "You lost me," he groaned, his voice muffled. "What does that mean?"

Arwen chuckled. "What can you do with your magic?"

Merlin looked up again and shrugged. "I have no idea. I mean, I know some things, obviously. But I have no idea where the limits are."

"I'll tell you a secret then. The magic of the world is limitless, and you are magic. With time and practice and faith, I believe you'll find there's very little you can't do. But you must do it in accordance with your humanity; you must never be a creature of magic instead of human. I'm not sure you could be, any more than any other person could decide not to be human. But if you listen to certain lies, you might be persuaded to believe that your power is all that you are. I promise you, it is not."

Merlin looked across the clearing to where Arthur and Lancelot sat, once again surrounded by children. A group of girls seemed to be working together to grow and weave a garland of flowers into Arthur's hair, and Lancelot was laughing at him while Arthur looked entirely bemused.

"Every person is born into this world with power," Arwen said quietly, following his gaze. "Some hold great power and some hold only small amounts of power; some rule a kingdom, some coax the best out of other people, and some coax a flower from the ground. You, Merlin – and Emrys – carry the power of the magic of the world. But it is your choice what you do with it. You mentioned a book that said you were a monster; I admit, there's no doubt you could be, if that's the path you chose. You have the magic to make yourself into a literal monster, horns and fangs and all, or you could choose to reject your humanity and become a metaphorical monster, consumed with power. It is up to you. We all must choose what we will do with the power given us."

Merlin watched Arthur with the children and smiled. One day, this king would unite Albion. One day, he would return magic to the world. And even now, he was sowing those seeds of peace and reconciliation. Not forcing his reign with blood and a sword, but earning the love of people by truly seeing them and getting to know them. This was Arthur's power; to rule justly and mercifully and wisely. And, beyond that, to love his people more than himself.

"He's a good king," Merlin said, "and one day he'll be a great king. I've believed that for a long time. And not just because some prophecy said it."

"Yes," Arwen agreed. "He will be. I told you, I can feel the resonance between the prophecies and the world around me. I saw it in his character, when he protected a druid woman and child on the road, and when he protected a young boy who used magic. I see it in the way he has listened and learned, even since we last met. He is destined to be a great king because he has the character and integrity that makes a great king. The prophecy exists because of who Emrys and the Once and Future King are, and because of the paths they will choose to walk; you do not walk those paths because the prophecy exists."

"But what about things beyond my control? What if…" Merlin swallowed. "What if my magic corrupts me over time?"

She looked at him curiously. "Why would your magic corrupt you?"

Merlin felt embarrassed saying it, but he couldn't walk away from this conversation like he had the one with Kilgharrah, with this question still lingering in the back of his mind.

"Some believe that magic always corrupts. And I have so much of it…even if it only sometimes corrupts, wouldn't it be likely to corrupt me?"

"You are not a being who happens to have magic flowing through you, Merlin. You are magic. Whatever corruption magic is capable of bringing, it is already inherent in you. Do you believe you are evil?"

He shook his head. "No. I have moments when…when I feel evil inside of me. But I don't think I am evil."

"That's not your magic," she said softly. "That's your humanity. We all have the capacity for evil, and we all must fight against it. And it is true that power can make the battle more difficult. Power, not magic, has the potential to corrupt, if you forget who you are. If you forget your purpose. But power is a tool you wield, just as much as it is a force that acts upon you. You must decide how to wield it."

"So I choose my own path?"

She smiled at him. "We all do."

Merlin nodded, still watching the knights. The girls were making something for Lancelot now – from this angle, Merlin couldn't quite tell if it was another garland or something else – and Arthur had turned his attention to two boys who appeared to be telling him a story. They were calling sparks from the fire to make shapes to act out the tale, and Merlin smiled as he recognized one of his own favorite tricks. Then, as he watched, Bryn approached Arthur. The two men exchanged a couple of sentences, and then Bryn hesitantly sat beside him, leaving as much space between them as the log would allow. Even from a distance, Merlin could see the awkwardness and uneasiness as they spoke. But the important thing, he thought with pride, was that they were speaking at all.

"I choose to be a servant of the Once and Future King," he said. "I am magic, and I choose to use that power to help Arthur be the best king he can be, for the good of the people of Albion."

"Then that is what you are, Merlin, and that is what Emrys is. And as one of those people," she added lightly, "I thank you for that choice."

AN: I've mentally referred to this the "What have I done?" chapter while writing, because this was the point where I realized I'd spent an entire story laying the groundwork about Merlin understanding exactly what he is, and now I had to somehow figure out and explain the answer to that question. I was not pleased with myself at that discovery, and much of the rewriting effort I put into this story went into this chapter. Hopefully the result was adequate.

I did spend about two minutes trying to work in the immortality thing before I got fed up with it. Out of all the things I don't like about the ending of the show – and there are a lot – that's near the top of the list. I know it was foreshadowed, but for Merlin, who is driven by his love for people and his sense of purpose, to have to exist for centuries without those people and without a purpose…I can imagine nothing more cruel to do to that character. So no immortality here. Because this is fanfic, and I can do that. :P

Chapter Thirty One

"You've done well, your majesty."

Arthur nodded a greeting at Arwen as she sat down beside him, her hair reflecting the light of the early morning sun.

"I could hardly do worse than I have in the past," he said darkly, then cringed, wishing he hadn't brought up his previous sins. To his relief, Arwen just smiled, and though Arthur could see grief in her eyes, he saw no anger.

"It took courage for you to come here. To face your mistakes instead of denying or hiding from them."

"It's difficult to deny or hide the damage done by Camelot's laws when I see it every day."

Arwen followed his gaze to where Merlin sat talking with a group of druids. It was adults this time, and although the stiffness of Merlin's back told Arthur some of the shyness and awkwardness had returned, his face was open and he seemed to laugh easily as he joked with them.

"Merlin was born to walk a difficult road," Arwen acknowledged, "and there is no doubt that his years in Camelot have contributed to that struggle."

"Why? I mean," Arthur quickly clarified, "I know why it was worse in Camelot. But why was he born to walk a difficult road to start with?"

She spoke slowly, her voice thoughtful. "Accomplishing great things is never easy, and you and he were destined for great things. Besides, he was born with more power than any man has ever known. That is a heavy responsibility. A lesser man would be overwhelmed by that much power. But his commitment to Albion and to you is strong enough to keep that power in check. I believe he would give it up in an instant if he thought it would help him fulfill his destiny."

"Yes, I believe he would," Arthur agreed, but her words filled him with an unexpected sense of regret.

Arwen looked at him shrewdly. "What troubles you, your majesty?"

"Nothing," Arthur said, trying to force a smile, but she raised an eyebrow skeptically, meeting his gaze until he looked away. "There are moments when part of me wishes we didn't have that destiny," he admitted. "Not that I don't want to accomplish those things. I just wish…" he paused for a moment to control the unexpected surge of emotion in his chest. "In the past, there have been times – usually right before a battle or in the midst of a crisis – when I've been nervous or full of doubt, and Merlin has said things to me. Encouraging things, about how one day I'll be a great king and how he believes in me. And I believed him. And now that I know about this whole destiny thing, and more to the point, that he knows about this destiny…"

He trailed off, expecting Arwen to finish the thought for him, but the woman just waited, her gaze patient.

"I wish he believed in me because he believed in me, not because he knows my destiny," he finished finally. "I wish Merlin stayed with me because he looked at me and saw someone worth serving. And even apart from that, I wish I was going to bring back magic because it's the right thing to do. Not just because I'm destined to."

To his surprise, Arwen looked amused at his words. "You believe destiny is a fixed road?"

He blinked in surprise. "Isn't it? You said yourself that Emrys was destined to be my friend and ally."

Arwen looked at him thoughtfully, then nodded to the other side of the camp. "Where do you think Mari is going?" she asked suddenly, looking at the little girl curiously. Arthur followed her gaze.

"Looks like she's headed over to Merlin," he said, glancing at Arwen in confusion. "Bringing him breakfast, by the looks of it."

"And why do you say that?"

Arthur shrugged. "Because that's the direction she's walking, and she's carrying a bowl of food. And she's looking at him. Besides, she's hardly left his side since yesterday."

"All very true," Arwen agreed. "Now that you've said that, does she have to do it? Has she no choice in the matter?"

Arthur stared at Arwen for a moment, then laughed. "No," he admitted. "No, she could do anything she wanted."

"Indeed. Just because someone can read the signs of what will likely be true of the future doesn't mean the future is set. And it certainly doesn't mean you have no choice."

They watched as Mari plopped down at Merlin's feet, then began eating the food in the bowl herself, and both of them laughed.

"Well, I was partly right," Arthur said ruefully.

"There are many prophecies, your majesty. And many of them contradict each other, pointing to different possible futures. Some come from genuine seers and some are simply made up, but all are fluid. Merlin could have chosen to walk away from his destiny; indeed, he would have, had he not judged you worthy. The dragon may have meddled to set him on this path, but no man will follow long in a destiny he doesn't believe in. And you could have chosen to reject Merlin when you found out the truth. Did you accept him only because you felt destiny demanded you must?"

"No," Arthur answered immediately. "Honestly, I didn't even really think all that much about destiny at the time. Well, I thought some about what you said about Merlin – about who he is. But not about what destiny said we would do."

Arwen smiled at him. "As it should be. I told you I have a sensitivity to the prophecies and the world around me. I believe, Arthur Pendragon, that your destiny contains great things. Not because you must do great things, but because I see the direction you are walking. And it gives me hope."

The first part of the ride back to Camelot passed in silence, each of the men lost in their own thoughts. Lancelot was bursting with curiosity to know what Arwen had said to each of them, but he sensed the conversations had been intensely personal. And although he hoped they would share – especially Merlin, since they had gone in pursuit of answers for him – he would not pressure them until they were ready.

Arthur apparently had no such compunctions. About an hour in, he broke the silence by asking, "So, Merlin. What did she say?"

Lancelot gave him an exasperated look, but Arthur just shrugged, although he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

Fortunately, Merlin laughed in response. "A lot of things. That I'm magic incarnate, but fully human. That I'm as corrupted by magic as I'm going to get." The laughter disappeared, and he grew more guarded. "That I'm not a monster, but I could become one, if I let myself."

It took a minute for that to sink in, but before either Lancelot or Arthur could respond, Merlin tensed and looked over his shoulder. "We need to go," he said abruptly. "Quickly. Now."

Lancelot took one look at the alarm on Merlin's face and decided to save his questions. Arthur must have felt the same, because he broke his horse into a run without another word.

Merlin slowed some several minutes later, but insisted they keep a brisker pace than normal for the rest of the day. He shared more about what Arwen had told him, as did Arthur, but he spent the day tense. He looked around frequently, his face tight and anxious.

"We have to stop," Arthur finally insisted. "It's getting too dark to ride, and the horses need rest."

Merlin conceded, although he didn't look happy about it. As soon as they dismounted, he insisted on setting enchantments around the area, and he refused to let them light a fire despite the cool temperature.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked curiously as Merlin muttered strange words, his eyes lighting up again and again.

"Just small things to keep us hidden. But not too much – it'll backfire if the area feels too strongly of magic."

"Hidden from what?" Lancelot asked, and the apprehension on Merlin's face intensified.

"I sensed magic earlier," he explained. "And I think they might have followed us. It feels different from most magic. Wilder, and uncontained. And I've felt it before."

Lancelot felt a chill go through him at the look on Merlin's face.

"Where before?" Arthur asked uneasily.

"The Deilen."

Lancelot shared an alarmed look with the king. "Their magic feels different from other magic? I didn't know that happened."

Merlin's jaw tensed as he stared out into the fading evening. "They're…unusual. According to our research, they're rather experimental with their magic, and I think that's why it feels different."

"Experimental?" Lancelot repeated, and Arthur huffed.

"Sounds like fun, doesn't it?" he muttered. "The only thing better than a sorcerer is an experimental sorcerer."

Merlin gave him a sharp look, and Arthur's eyes widened as he realized what he said.

"I don't mean you!" he insisted. "I…forgot. But obviously I don't mean you."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "You forgot? That I'm a sorcerer?"

Arthur looked away in embarrassment. "For a minute," he muttered, and to Lancelot's relief, Merlin laughed.

"You forgot," he repeated softly, shaking his head in amusement. Then his face grew serious again. "You still don't think highly of sorcerers in general though, do you?"

It took Arthur a few seconds to answer. "I still tend to associate them with enemies," he admitted. "I'm still learning to separate those into two separate ideas. But I'm trying."

Merlin nodded, and apparently decided to let the subject drop. He turned his attention back to Lancelot. "Every time I've been around the Deilen, I've felt that type of magic. It's very distinctive."

"So they have a large number and they're powerful," Lancelot said with a frown.

"Not exactly," Merlin mused slowly. "Some are more powerful than others. I sensed very little power in Arven, for instance."

"Arven?" Arthur asked. "That man who said there were two prophecies?"

"That's the one," Merlin confirmed.

"He was Deilen?"

"Definitely. I could feel the magic the moment I walked in the room."

Arthur threw up his hands in exasperation. "And you didn't tell me he was a sorcerer?"

"How was I supposed to tell you?" Merlin argued. "I had no proof, and I couldn't very well say that I sensed it with my own magic!"

Arthur huffed, but pressed on. "So he wasn't powerful. But obviously that sorceress in the courtyard was."

"Actually, no," Merlin corrected him, and Lancelot and Arthur shared a shocked look.

"She literally brought the entirety of the citadel to its knees," Arthur pointed out incredulously.

"She wasn't weak," Merlin conceded. "She did have a fair amount of power. But she was more skilled than powerful. I think that's where their real strength lies – not in raw power, but in their refining and honing of that power. Precise skills combined with pushing the limits of traditional magic. They don't need raw power to be a powerful enemy."

"Great," Arthur sighed.

"But they still backed down from you," Lancelot pointed out, and Merlin smiled, although he looked troubled.

"I'm more powerful," he confirmed. "But their strength is my weakness. I have plenty of raw power, but I haven't spent much time turning those powers into skills. I could take them in a fight if I had to, but I don't like the idea of being blindsided by them in the middle of the night." He looked around uneasily and pulled his jacket tighter around him. "They're definitely close. I don't think they'll find us through the protections I set up, but I'd suggest we get back to Camelot as quickly as we can tomorrow.

Arthur cursed softly. "I had hoped they would leave us alone after that last run-in."

"Maybe they still will, Lancelot suggested.

"Yeah," Merlin agreed. "Maybe they will."

But Lancelot noticed he didn't relax again until they were back within Camelot's walls the next day.

Chapter Thirty Two

She showed up one day out of nowhere, several weeks after the visit to the druids. She asked for an audience with the king, claiming she brought warning of an attack on Camelot.

"Who is she?" Arthur asked Gwaine as they headed towards the throne room. "Where did she come from?"

"She refused to say. She said she would speak only to you or Emrys."

Merlin exchanged a worried look with Arthur. If she was asking for Emrys, this was undoubtedly related to magic.

"Perhaps you should stay here," Arthur muttered. "If she's a druid, she may recognize you on sight. It wouldn't do for someone to call you out as a sorcerer in the middle of court."

Merlin snorted. "And let you walk into a room with a potential sorcerer and no way to protect yourself?"

"I agree with Merlin."

"You always agree with Merlin," Arthur pointed out, rolling his eyes, and Gwaine just shrugged.

"Merlin is usually right."

Arthur took his throne, and Merlin stood in the crowd next to Gaius as usual. But the minute the doors opened, he stepped closer to Arthur, his magic ready.

He recognized it. That loose, wild magic that hummed around her.

He didn't recognize the dark-haired woman, but he had no doubt she was one of the Deilen.

Merlin caught Arthur's eye and gave him a warning look, and Arthur nodded almost imperceptibly. He caught Gwaine and Leon looking at him as well, and noticed that both of their hands casually moved to rest on their swords. The other members of the round table quickly followed suit.

If their sorcerer said to be cautious, they were cautious.

The woman knelt before Arthur, her eyes on the ground in front of her. "My lord, I come bearing information about a grave danger to yourself and to Camelot. But the issue I bring is of a sensitive nature. Would it not be possible for us to speak more privately?"

Arthur stared at her for a moment, then glanced quickly around the room.

"The round table may stay. Everyone else, please leave us."

"Be careful," Gaius murmured to Merlin before he joined the crowd filing out of the room.

Merlin wasn't a known member of the round table, but no one looked twice at him staying behind. After all, he was just a servant, and everyone knew he rarely left Arthur's side. As the others moved towards the door, Merlin moved closer to the throne. He understood why Arthur had granted the woman's request; if she attacked, Merlin would be far more capable of protecting him if they didn't have an audience.

Once the doors closed, the woman looked up at Arthur.

"Thank you, my lord," she said quietly. "Please believe me when I say I come in peace and I mean you no harm."

Merlin felt the warmth of magic before he heard her murmur the spell, and he raised his hand, prepared to defend against the attack. But though the woman's eyes flashed with sorcery, no attack came. Instead, she grew taller and rounder, and her dark hair turned blond. Even before the transformation was complete, Merlin recognized her.

The sorceress from the initial attack in the courtyard.

"I mean you no harm," she repeated. "Please forgive the deception. I knew I would be recognized if I did not come in disguise."

"Because you took the entire citadel hostage," Gwaine muttered, but he fell silent at a look from Arthur.

"Why are you here?" the king asked.

"My name is Rhian. I am – I was – a priestess of the Deilen, and sister to Maelor, the high priest. I was raised in the ways of the Deilen from the time I was a child. For as long as I can remember, I have awaited the day when Emrys would join us and save us from the persecution against magic." She looked away from Arthur then, searching the room until she found Merlin. "You were meant to abandon him, Emrys. That is what I was always taught."

"I will never abandon him." It wasn't a promise; merely a statement of fact.

Rhian smiled. "I know. The prophecy is wrong. And Maelor was wrong about you too, wasn't he?" she added, turning back to Arthur. "You know the truth, yet Emrys remains by your side, not in a dungeon or on the pyre. And the rumors say that while the laws have not changed, you no longer pursue or execute those with magic."

"Not unless they have committed other crimes," Arthur confirmed, watching the woman curiously. "Why are you here, Rhian?" he repeated.

"I no longer believe in the path of the Deilen," she said, her sorrow evident at that statement. "Now I must choose what path to follow instead. Tell me, King Arthur – did you speak the truth when you said you were sorry for what happened to my sister?"

Merlin saw the darkness in Arthur's eyes as he nodded. "I truly am. I give you my word, I am not my father."

She studied his face for a long moment, then nodded. "I believe you." She sat up straighter, her hesitancy vanishing. "Maelor is preparing an attack. I am not the only one who has left the Deilen since we last met, but he still has nearly three dozen priests who follow him, and he intends to lead the attack himself. He means to lure you out of Camelot and separate you from Emrys. He knows they cannot defeat him, but that is not his goal. He wishes only to distract Emrys long enough to kill you. He still believes once you are dead, Emrys will change his allegiance."

"That's stupid," Gwaine snorted. "If the Deilen harmed Arthur, they're the last people any of us would side with. Including…uh, Emrys."

"My brother's trust in the prophecy is absolute. In his mind, it overrules logic. You must be cautious, your majesty. They are watching you carefully. They are scheming, and they will be ready to act at the first opportunity."

"Why like this?" Merlin interjected. "Your first attack was just four people within the walls of Camelot, and Maelor wasn't even there."

Rhian grinned at him. "We underestimated you initially, and overestimated our own power. And we put too much faith in the prophecy. We thought you'd be easy to persuade, and that would make the king easy to kill. If we failed to persuade you, we thought four of us would be strong enough to overpower you and we'd still be able to kill the king. It wasn't until we saw your shields that we truly had any sense of the magnitude of your power." She shook her head then, her eyes unfocused as she remembered. "They were wondrous. It was the first time I really understood how magic could be used to protect without harming, not just for violence or force."

Merlin looked away, embarrassed, but he couldn't help being pleased by the praise.

"The second time," Rhian continued, "we weren't expecting you, but we thought we were ready in case you should find us. We thought our numbers would be sufficient. But it was one thing to say in theory that we would fight against Emrys, and another thing to actually stand our ground in the face of that kind of power."

Arthur snorted at that, and Merlin glared at him.

"What?" the king asked. "'That kind of power'? You could barely stand upright!"

"I had enough strength to do what needed to be done," Merlin muttered peevishly. Arthur laughed, but Rhian looked away nervously.

"I don't doubt it," she whispered, cutting Arthur's laughter short. "And we were, as a whole, unprepared for that. And truthfully, not all of us wanted to fight the man who was supposed to be our salvation. The king was meant to be our enemy, not Emrys. Maelor would have fought, but he could not do it alone."

"So Maelor is stepping up to handle it himself this time," Arthur murmured. "With the full force of his people with him."

"And they'll be ready. The ones who had doubts have left. The ones who remain with him will not flee again in the face of battle."

Arthur thought on that for a moment, staring into space, then redirected his attention to the woman in front of him. "Thank you for the warning, Rhian. It took courage for you to come here."

She lowered her head. "And will I be permitted to leave, your majesty?"

Merlin could see the indecision on Arthur's face. The woman had launched a large-scale magical attack on Camelot. She was guilty of treason.

"Yes," the king said finally. "I recognize the risk you took in delivering this warning. I will not penalize you for doing so. Leave immediately, and I give you my word that you will not be pursued."

It wasn't a pardon, but it was mercy.

"You know, Merlin," Arthur said once they had returned to his chambers, "you're the reason we have a warning about Maelor's plans."

"I am?" Merlin asked, perplexed.

"You spared Rhian's life that night in the courtyard. Even though she tried to kill me. There were only four of them – I know you easily could have killed them in return. But you showed mercy, and as a result, you sowed the seeds for an unlikely ally. You did well."

Merlin seemed startled by the praise. "Thank you," he murmured, looking both shy and pleased.

Arthur sat down to tackle a speech he'd been putting off, and Merlin picked up Arthur's armor and settled in front of the fireplace with a polishing rag. He appeared deep in thought as he worked, and Arthur would have loved to know what was running through his mind. But instinct told him to let him have his space.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked after several minutes.

"Yes?" he replied, looking up from his desk to find Merlin watching at him.

"You're a good friend," he said quietly. "Thank you."

Arthur blinked in surprise, taken aback.

"That's very kind of you," he said, unsure how else to respond.

Merlin shrugged awkwardly, and for a moment Arthur thought he might say something else. But instead he gave Arthur a brief smile and turned his attention back to the armor.

Arthur stared at him, fighting a smile of his own. Merlin had called him many things over the years – some highly complementary, and some of them decidedly not so. And Arthur was certain he'd told Merlin more than once that he considered him a good and loyal friend. But for Merlin to call him a good friend? He wasn't sure Merlin had ever said that before, at least not in so many words. And to his surprise, it filled him with just as much pride as when the man called him a good king.

"You are as well," he said, cringing as he realized he had waited just a moment too long for his reply to feel entirely natural. But he meant the words wholeheartedly. Merlin just looked up, meeting Arthur's gaze. And whatever he saw there made him smile again.

"You're also not entirely incompetent at speech writing," Arthur added, gesturing to the paper in front of him.

"That makes one of us."

Arthur reached for his goblet to throw at him, then reconsidered. He really did want Merlin's help on the speech. Then he saw the smirk on his friend's face, and he scowled as he realized Merlin knew he had the advantage.

"Come on. You know you enjoy writing my speeches. You get all smug about it when I use them."

Merlin sighed dramatically, but now it was Arthur's turn to smirk. Merlin wasn't fooling anyone.

"Fine."

Merlin's eyes burned gold, and the speech flew off of Arthur's desk and into his outstretched hand.

AN: The second part of this chapter served a purpose in the original version of this story, before I rewrote a good chunk of it. Now it's just good ol' tooth-rotting fluffy bromance, but I left it in anyway. Just because. :)

Chapter Thirty Three

"I think we should go on a hunt, sire," Leon suggested, earning him some sideways glances from others at the round table. "Instead of waiting for Maelor to try to draw you out, I mean. Rhian said he was creating a plan, but she also said he would be looking for opportunities. A hunt would allow us to choose the time and the place for the encounter. If he takes the bait, the attack would occur on our terms. If we wait for his move, he'll have some kind of plan in place to separate you from Merlin."

Merlin had to admit it made sense, despite the temptation of the "Arthur never leaves the citadel again" option.

"I could disguise myself or stay hidden," Merlin thought aloud. "They'd think you were unprotected."

"And then what?" Elyan asked, and Merlin froze.

The answer seemed obvious until it was on his lips.

And then I'll kill them.

What would the knights say to such a callous response?

"I showed them mercy once before," he said instead, his voice quiet. "If they attack again, they do so knowing the consequences."

He could see his answer disturbed them, particularly Percival and Elyan. Leon looked resolute, but his expression didn't entirely mask the fear Merlin saw spark in his eyes.

Merlin's gaze moved to Arthur. At the end of the day, his reaction was the one that mattered the most, but Arthur was unreadable as he stared at the table.

"Merlin is right," he agreed after a long minute. "They know what they're risking. If they attack again, we do what we must."

He said "we," but they all knew he meant Merlin.

Arthur took a couple of steps into Gaius's chambers, wincing as he closed the door behind him.

"Sire?" Gaius asked with concern, standing quickly.

"I'm fine," Arthur waved him off. "Just took a solid hit to the ribs in training today. I was hoping you might have something for the pain?"

"Certainly." Gaius headed to a shelf and shuffled through the bottles, looking for the right one. "You should let me take a look as well."

"Of course," Arthur agreed. "Did Merlin tell you about Rhian?" he asked conversationally, pulling off his tunic and sitting on the patient's cot. He already knew the answer; he had learned Merlin rarely kept secrets from Gaius about these sorts of things. He relied too heavily on his guardian's guidance.

"He did, sire. It sounds like a confrontation is inevitable?"

"Yes," Arthur said, drumming his fingers against the cot restlessly. "And it will be Merlin against all of them. I mean, we'll be there with our swords, but if they all have magic…"

"Merlin will be fine," Gaius reassured him with a knowing smile. "After all, didn't they flee from him before? And from what I understand, there were more of them that time, not to mention Merlin was dead on his feet."

"True. And he's working on finding a counterspell for that thing Rhian used to freeze us, in case they use that again. We need to be able to fight as well, if needed."

"If needed," Gaius agreed, focusing on poking and examining the bruise blossoming on Arthur's side.

Focusing on it a bit too much, perhaps.

"What is it, Gaius? Something's troubling you."

Gaius paused for a moment, and Arthur could see him struggling before he finally sat up and faced the king.

"I'm not sure what you should expect, sire," he admitted. "Merlin has performed magic frequently since the day he arrived in Camelot, but always within the confines of secrecy. He has always had to operate within certain limits or risk exposure. And now, going into this battle with you and the knights, all of whom know about his secret, out of sight of the people of Camelot…"

"You're not sure what he's capable of," Arthur concluded, and Gaius frowned.

"I'm not worried about what he will do, but I am worried about what manner of reaction he might receive. I know none of the knights have treated him poorly since learning of his magic, but Merlin believes they are still wary of him."

"And if he frightens them, he'll turn it around into some of that self-loathing and self-doubt that we've spent months trying to break him of," Arthur realized, rolling his eyes.

"Truthfully, sire," Gaius hedged, "I'm concerned about your reaction as well."

Arthur sat up straighter in surprise. "What?"

"You do much better with abstract discussions of magic than you do with actually seeing it." Gaius sounded almost apologetic. "I know you mean well and you try not to react, and you handle it much better than you used to. But this will be violent magic, not simple tricks for cleaning your chambers. You haven't seen Merlin perform this kind of magic before. And he sees it when you're afraid of him."

"I'm not afraid of him," Arthur insisted, then immediately felt irritated with himself when he heard the petulance in his voice.

It was true though. He wasn't.

"Just be aware," Gaius advised. "There's more at risk in this than your safety from the Deilen."

Arthur was quiet that night. He ignored Merlin's attempts to make conversation and joke with him as he helped him prepare for bed, until eventually Merlin resorted to straight-up insults.

"I'm just saying, it's a good thing nightshirts are made to fit loosely, because otherwise those would be going to tailor to be let out too."

"Hmm," Arthur said, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Take them to the tailor if you need to."

"Okay, enough." Merlin gave him the sternest look he could manage. "I made a fat joke and you didn't even threaten me. What is going on with you?"

Arthur blinked and looked at him as though he had just realized Merlin was there. "Sorry," he apologized absently. "I was just thinking."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

Arthur made a face Merlin recognized. It meant he was trying to figure out something unpleasant. "No. But I think I'm going to anyway."

Merlin looked at him in confusion.

"I want to ask you something. About magic. About when we meet the Deilen."

Merlin went still. He and Arthur could discuss magic pretty comfortably at this point, but Arthur's nervousness was contagious.

"What is it?" he prompted when Arthur didn't continue.

"I'm not sure how to ask this exactly, but…how do you plan to kill them?"

Merlin wasn't expecting that.

"I mean, when we fight, I know what we use," Arthur explained. "We use swords and crossbows and our fists. I have some idea of what to expect from a battle. But this will be different." Arthur paused and looked down at his feet. "Don't judge me too harshly, but I'd like to be prepared for whatever is going to happen."

Merlin cleared his throat nervously and looked away for a moment. When he looked back, he found Arthur staring at him, waiting.

"I won't judge you if you don't judge me." It was supposed to be a joke, but it came out uncertain and nervous. Arthur responded with a single nod. "I don't honestly know," he said, folding his arms as he thought. "I don't usually plan it out in advance. I just react to whatever is happening."

"Have you been in many battles? Not just ones where you're hiding behind trees sneaking spells in, but ones where you're out in the open, actually fighting against another sorcerer?"

Merlin shook his head. "Not many," he admitted, and he saw Arthur's brow furrow in alarm. "I'm not scared," he hurried to say. "I know I'm powerful enough to handle it. But it hasn't happened enough times for there to be a normal, if you know what I mean. You have certain fighting moves you favor – even I can tell that. But I don't necessarily have favorite fighting moves. I just…do what needs to be done."

Arthur nodded, but Merlin could tell he was troubled.

"You're still scared of me," Merlin realized, trying to hide the guilt and disappointment he felt at that thought.

"I'm not," Arthur denied immediately, but Merlin shook his head.

"You don't want to be. But you are."

Arthur sighed and looked away. "I trust you, Merlin. With my life. With the lives of my men."

"But that doesn't stop you from being scared."

Arthur didn't argue, and that was answer enough.

Guilt and frustration welled up in Arthur as he took in the look on Merlin's face. He wanted Merlin's words not to be true. He wanted not to be scared. Logically, he knew he shouldn't be scared. Not of Merlin.

But magic…even after all he had seen in recent months, that fear still lived deep inside him, a weed he couldn't seem to uproot.

"I can defend nearly any threat," he said finally. "I can defend myself and Camelot from physical danger and political danger. I can win a battle or sign a peace treaty. But magic…I have no way to answer that. And it's hard to look at a power I can't fight and not fear the possibilities."

"But you can answer a magical threat," Merlin said immediately, an unexpected smile crossing his face.

"How?" Arthur asked helplessly.

"I am your answer to that, Arthur. You don't win a battle by yourself; you win with an army. And you don't win a fight against magic by yourself. You win with me."

Arthur stared at him, considering his words. "I'm not sure it's that simple, Merlin."

"It is that simple," he answered firmly. His smile disappeared as he turned solemn. "You just have to trust me. Arthur, the purpose of my magic is to help you. To help Camelot. You are my king, and I swear to you, I will always protect you."

I swear to you. Merlin wasn't just using it as a turn of phrase. It was an oath. And to Arthur's surprise, he felt himself moved by it. He didn't think he could get words out through the roughness in his throat, so he settled for meeting Merlin's gaze and nodding his acceptance.

And just like that night in the castle of the ancient kings, Merlin nodded back, a single, resolute movement.

Arthur lay in bed after Merlin left, reflecting on what he had said. The words themselves merited thinking about, but Merlin's reaction was worth its own consideration.

He had called Arthur out on being afraid, and then he hadn't hidden in response. He hadn't taken a step back into wallowing, questioning whether Arthur was right and whether he might be evil. He had answered with pride.

I am your answer to that.

There was something comforting, almost peaceful, about seeing that pride in Merlin. That was how it should be. How he should be. Not questioning if his magic would corrupt him or wallowing in shame and doubt about his abilities.

He was Emrys. His magic was a part of him. And maybe, finally, Merlin was learning not to fear that.

Now Arthur just needed to learn as well.

AN: This chapter is short, but I'm going to make it up to you with a super long chapter next time. :)

Chapter Thirty Four

"Absolutely not."

"I don't know, Merlin. I think Arthur has a point," Gwaine said with a wide grin.

Merlin looked around the table and groaned. Every single one of them looked thrilled with the idea. Lancelot was trying to look sympathetic, but short laughs kept breaking through despite his best efforts.

Arthur looked about as delighted as Merlin had ever seen him, the pompous clotpole.

"They can't know you're Emrys," Leon reasoned. "This whole plan hinges on Arthur appearing unprotected and vulnerable out there. And it would be a practical disguise that would allow you to remain right in the middle of the group where you can best protect Arthur if they catch us off guard."

"I can disguise myself using magic," Merlin argued. "An aging spell or something!"

Arthur shook his head. "You told me aging spells require a lot of energy to maintain, and I want you at full strength if you're going into a fight against thirty-plus sorcerers. A non-magical disguise makes the most sense. Besides, I already promised Gwen she could pick out a dress for you."

"You told Gwen?"

If possible, Arthur's grin grew. "Yes, I did. Once she was able to speak again, she said she had just the thing in mind. Although to be honest, I'm not sure you'll quite fill out the top."

"Do you have any idea how many different things I could turn you into, Arthur? Animals? Furniture? An actual girl?"

"Threatening the king with magic, Merlin?" Arthur shook his head in mock disapproval. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Then you're a stupid ass in addition to a royal one," Merlin grumbled. But he knew the fight was lost.

Arthur secretly hated the plan.

They'd go out for a 'hunt,' Merlin accompanying them disguised as a lady of the court. It wasn't common for ladies to accompany the men on a hunt, but it wasn't unheard of either, so hopefully Maelor wouldn't find it too suspicious. Then they would pretend to get lost, which Arthur thought was the least realistic part of the ploy, given how well he knew those woods, and they would get separated. Arthur would "accidentally" end up in a dead end in a gorge. The hope was that the Deilen were watching closely enough to spot the opportunity and would recognize a prime opening to get him alone and trapped.

And then Merlin would do his thing, and hopefully they'd all be home before dinner.

It wasn't a bad plan, if he did say so himself. It's just that it required him to voluntarily get trapped, penned in by people who wanted to kill him, and whom he was completely unable to fight.

But Merlin could. And he trusted Merlin. He just had to keep reminding himself of that. About once every five or six seconds.

They left shortly after dawn, armed with all the normal gear for a hunt. Normally, using the king for bait would create a heavy and sober atmosphere, but it was important they act normally. They were banking on the Deilen watching them, and they couldn't give away the game.

Fortunately, jokes and laughter came pretty easily despite the circumstances, because it was almost impossible to look at Merlin fuming in his pretty green dress and not see the humor in it.

"You look just lovely this morning, my lady," Gwaine said very seriously as they rode into the woods. They knew they couldn't say anything to acknowledge Merlin's disguise, just in case they were overheard, but there were plenty of other ways to antagonize him. "Here. I picked this for you earlier." Gwaine reached over to hand Merlin a sprig of purple flowers.

Merlin took the flowers with murder in his eyes.

"How does anybody ride in these things?" He muttered, trying to adjust his skirts for the hundredth time and flicking the hair from his wig out of his face.

"Stop it, Merlin," Arthur rebuked him quietly. "You can't give any sign that you don't wear skirts every day."

Arthur was grateful for the levity. He was going to see his first ever sorcerer-versus-sorcerer battle today, and he found quite a bit not to like about that. People trying to kill him, for one. An abundance of violent magic, for another. And Merlin risking his neck with some very uneven numbers, for a third. Gaius promised Merlin wasn't overstating his abilities, but it was still hard to believe his skinny little servant could take on dozens of sorcerers alone.

A couple of hours in, they neared the gorge, and in a stroke of luck, spotted a stag nearby.

"They're here," Merlin murmured. "I can feel them."

Arthur shared a brief look with his knights. He gave them a single nod, and they all took off in pursuit of the animal. It was easy for them to separate from each other in the chase, and simple for Arthur to pretend to lose the trail and wander into the gorge.

In the planning, he hadn't considered the fact he would have a crossbow in his hands. It only made sense since they were hunting, but it meant he wasn't holding his sword.

Just when he thought it wasn't possible to hate this plan any more.

He slowed to a walk, looking around the gorge as though it were unfamiliar and he didn't know it ended. When the end came into sight, he feigned surprise, then wondered what to do next.

Maybe they had misjudged the Deilen. Maybe this opportunity wasn't tempting enough for them. Maybe—

Arthur's musings were abruptly interrupted as he felt his horse drop away from beneath him. For a moment, he felt himself flying through the air, then he landed with a thud, flat on his back with the blue sky above him.

AN: Ah, action sequences. My old nemesis, we meet again.

Chapter Thirty Five

Merlin fell back and veered to the right, watching Arthur disappear through the trees. It didn't sit right, deliberately separating from him when he knew his friend was heading straight into danger. He could feel that wild magic, unpleasantly familiar by this point, and knew the Deilen were nearby. But he also understood the advantages of having the higher ground and the element of surprise. So he shoved his uneasiness aside and began making his way around to the top of the gorge. As he drew near, he abandoned his horse so he could move more freely and stealthily.

It took about three seconds to realize he would not be moving freely or stealthily in those damn skirts, though. It only took him a moment to shed the wig and dress – he didn't want to just destroy it with magic since Gwen had picked it out and he wasn't sure if it was hers – and conjure up some normal clothing. Then he found his way to the edge of the gorge. He breathed a bit easier when he spotted Arthur; his greatest fear had been that Maelor would find Arthur during that brief window when they were separated.

Reassured, Merlin took a step back from the edge, making sure he was well hidden, and slowly reached out with his magic. He'd done his best to keep it contained until now. Arthur had told him Maelor couldn't sense him the last time, and they suspected it was because the magic from the temple had masked his own. He wouldn't have that advantage now. All he could hope was that if he kept it contained, Maelor wouldn't be able to feel it. Or, if he felt it, he would think it weak enough to believe Merlin wasn't nearby.

His eyes widened as soon as he let his magic free. Last time he'd faced the Deilen, he hadn't reached out and tried to get a sense of their magic. Ill as he was, he hadn't done anything beyond basic instinct. That was probably for the best, given the circumstances; he hadn't known enough to be intimated.

Now though…the weight of their power was startling. It wasn't so much the intensity of their individual magic as the strength of their numbers all combined. Pushing away his fear, he probed further, trying to go beyond the power itself to see if he could figure out how many there were and where they were hiding. He'd never done anything quite like this before, but following the trails of magic came instinctively. Unfortunately, there were so many trails crossing each other that he knew pretty quickly he wouldn't be able to pin down numbers.

He was able to identify locations though. They had taken the bait. He could sense them approaching the mouth of the gorge, although a number of them were also climbing to join Merlin at the top, splitting so they could cover both sides.

Merlin could hear his heartbeat. That wasn't normal, was it? To hear your own heartbeat? And he knew it wasn't normal for his hands to shake like this.

It's okay to be nervous. Scared, even. Just stay focused on the fight in front of you. Don't let yourself think about what-ifs.

The memory of Arthur's voice reassured him. Merlin had heard him say those words more than once to some of the younger knights before battle.

Just stay focused, he repeated to himself. He'd saved Arthur from countless magical threats before. True, this one was a bit more thoroughly planned out than his normal fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants methods, and yes, Arthur and the knights would know and would even see him fighting this time. And sure, historically he'd only faced one or maybe two sorcerers at a time instead of thirty. But none of that mattered. At the end of the day, this was just one more time Arthur had gotten in over his head and Merlin had to save him. Just a normal Tuesday, really.

And there they were. Arthur hadn't noticed them yet, still meandering casually down the gorge, but the Deilen began pouring in, blocking his exit. As expected, Maelor stood in the lead.

This was the moment. He had the element of surprise.

And then something happened that had never happened in a fight before.

Merlin froze.

What should he do? He could snap all of their necks. That was an idea he'd been toying with in the back of his mind since the last encounter. It would be fast and painless, and would involve almost no risk for Arthur or the knights. It would be done in an instant.

But now, looking down at them…there had to be at least twenty people in the gorge. Could he do that? Kill twenty-plus people with no warning, never even giving them the chance to surrender or defend themselves?

I admit, Merlin, there's no doubt you could be a monster, if that's the path you chose.

He pushed aside Arwen's words. He had made his decision, back at the meeting of the round table. He had shown them mercy once before. They chose to attack again. They did so knowing the consequences.

His hand shook as he raised it. And even though he'd made his choice, he hesitated.

A cry sounded below him, and with a start, he realized Maelor's hand was also raised, his eyes gold. Merlin's gaze shot to Arthur just in time to see him land hard on his back as his horse sprinted away, the priests quickly dodging the running animal so it could escape the gorge.

The plan disappeared, his thoughts disappeared, and instinct took its place.

"Feall!" he hissed under his breath, and in the gorge below, the priests all tripped and fell to the ground.

Maybe he had lied to Arthur. Maybe he did have specific fighting moves he favored.

Unfortunately, this particular move was honed from countless skirmishes with bandits and mercenaries, not from encounters with armies of sneaky sorcerers. The effect would have been comedic, had it not been so embarrassing. He hadn't accomplished anything other than a brief distraction, and he'd given up the advantage of surprise. He could actually see the exasperation on Arthur's face as the king looked around.

He couldn't worry about Arthur's reactions right now though. Not thinking at all was still better than overthinking and doing nothing, so he pushed forward.

"Ymbseten cnotta!" he whispered, and vines shot from the dirt, winding their way around the priests and securing them to the ground.

At that moment, a yell sounded from the entrance to the gorge, and Merlin looked over to see Percival running in full speed, sword raised, shortly followed by the others. Arthur found his feet as well, grabbing his sword and racing at the priests.

Merlin's stomach turned. This didn't seem right either, six men with swords massacring people who were pinned to the ground, helpless to fight back. Apparently the knights felt the same, because they slowed as they approached, swords still drawn, but hesitant to attack.

But the Deilen had their own magic, and it only took a couple of seconds before some of them began to break free from the vines. Maelor managed to get himself upright, although his feet were still tangled, and immediately turned back to Arthur. Merlin barely had time to get a shield between them before the spell – something that felt sharp and bright when it hit – flew from his hand towards the king.

Merlin felt himself starting to panic. He was botching this.

Suddenly, a flash of pain shot through his body, white hot and wiping his mind blank. He fell to the ground, forcing himself to push the pain aside as he turned around and saw his attacker. No, attackers. Three of them. He'd been so focused on the action in the gorge below that he'd forgotten about the priests who had climbed up alongside him.

A man stood behind him, face smug and hand outstretched, two more men standing on either side. Merlin scrambled to his feet, watching them warily.

Then below him, he heard a familiar cry of pain.

Arthur.

In a moment, Merlin's doubts and nervousness disappeared. It didn't matter whether he had a plan, it didn't matter that he was outnumbered, it didn't matter that he'd wasted the advantage of surprise; when Arthur cried out, Merlin's magic surged, ready to fight.

Without another thought, he threw all three of the priests backwards into nearby trees and rocks, then turned his attention back to the gorge without bothering to check if they were still alive or conscious.

Below, Maelor was bleeding; Arthur had apparently landed a blow. But the priest stood over the king now, and Arthur's sword lay several feet away.

Merlin threw Maelor as well – yes, he definitely had moves he favored, he could see that now – and Maelor hit the side of the gorge and fell, but immediately found his feet again.

Behind him, Merlin sensed someone else approaching, and his fists tightened in frustration. He couldn't do this with his attention split. He knew height had its advantages, but he needed to get closer to Arthur. It was too easy to get distracted otherwise.

He flung a blast of power behind him, hopefully knocking out anyone nearby, then began scrambling down the side of the gorge.

The priests were nearly all free from the vines now, battling four-on-one with the knights. Gwaine was holding his side as he fought, clearly injured. Percival had lost his sword.

Damn it, Merlin! Do something!

There was Arthur's voice in his mind again. Merlin had promised Arthur he could count on him to win a magical battle. Arthur had trusted him.

A priestess noticed his approach and ran at him, and Merlin didn't hesitate this time. Her neck snapped and she fell without a sound.

A sharp pain hit him in the side then, making him stumble, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Maelor walking towards him, hand extended.

Good. If Maelor was coming after him, then he wasn't going after Arthur.

"I have Emrys," Maelor shouted, as though he'd heard Merlin's thoughts. "Kill the king!"

A priest behind him turned and spotted Arthur, but before he could take more than one step, Merlin threw him back. Lightning lit up the gorge as he flew, thunder shaking the ground as he landed.

Merlin paused. Lightning? It had been a clear day when they rode out. Looking up, he saw a blackened sky, heavy with unfallen rain.

He'd called a storm. He hadn't meant to, but as soon as he saw the clouds, he knew this storm was his. He had created it, and he could command it.

He didn't bother with a spell as he called the lightning and sent it at Maelor, and he didn't waste time watching as the lightning ended the high priest's life.

He sent several more bolts along the top of the gorge, where he knew other Deilen were hiding, most likely casting their own spells on the battle below. He wasn't really trying to kill them – shooting blindly with lightning was hardly an effective strategy for that. He just wanted to make a point. But while several sets of eyes glanced up at the lightshow at the top of the gorge, both sides remained focused on the fighting.

Merlin dropped to one knee, pressing his hand against the ground. "Eorfhrernesse!" he hissed, pushing his power into the earth until he felt it tremble beneath him. As the rumbling grew, he kept his eyes on the sides of the gorge, prepared to stop a rockfall if necessary.

But the earthquake shook nothing loose, and Merlin only needed to hold it a few seconds before priests and knights alike pulled to a halt, looking around in alarm. Slowly, their eyes found Merlin, crouched with his hand to the ground, his eyes glowing gold. Every few seconds, another flash of lightning illuminated his form and reflected in his eyes.

He had their attention.

The only exception was Arthur, who stared at Maelor's body, lying several yards from where Arthur still sat on the ground.

Convinced the king was safe, and forcing himself not to wonder what that look on Arthur's face meant, Merlin slowly stood and turned his attention to the priests. But he couldn't help automatically closing the distance to Arthur, placing himself between him and his enemies.

Maelor was dead. Merlin had proved his power. And staring at the priests gathered before him, Merlin found he really, really did not want to kill the rest of them.

He threw a paralyzing spell across them, making sure to cast it wide enough to include the top of the gorge, cringing in apology at the dirty look in Gwaine's eyes when he realized he'd accidentally included the knights. But they were in the midst of the Deilen, and Merlin didn't have time to try to sort through and separate them out from the enchantment.

And then he caught sight of the face of a priest near Gwaine. He was younger than most of the others, barely older than Merlin. And there was no hatred on his face, as Merlin had expected. No battle rage, no coldness.

No. All he saw was despair.

"I was their last hope," he realized, saying the words softly enough that only Arthur could hear. For some - for Maelor - the attack on Arthur was born out of hatred. But Merlin suspected that at least for that one man, it had come from a place of desperation. And although his ever-present protective instincts for Arthur and the knights didn't fade, his heart broke at the thought.

How could he have missed something so obvious?

Merlin flinched at the pained sound Arthur made as he stood. "What's wrong with them?" he asked as he stepped up to Merlin's side.

"Nothing," Merlin answered sharply. "They've lived in fear for a quarter of a century, Arthur. They've seen their friends and family slaughtered. They thought this was their last bid at freedom."

"No, Merlin," Arthur clarified, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Not 'Why were you their last hope,' you idiot. I mean why aren't they moving?"

"Oh. Because I froze them." He glanced at Arthur out of the corner of his eye, still keeping his focus on the threat in front of them. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to go home and take a bath, and then go to bed," Arthur muttered with a sigh. Then he stepped forward and raised his voice to the booming and confident voice of a king who commanded armies and gave speeches to crowds of hundreds.

"Priests of the Deilen," he declared, "I do not wish to see any more death or bloodshed. I speak not only of today, but of the Camelot I hope to build for the future. It is no secret that I do not follow the Old Religion, or that I have considered magic an enemy in the past. However, I have come to realize that some of my understanding of magic has been…skewed." He glanced at Merlin. "Emrys has helped, and helps me still, to learn the truth of powers that are unfamiliar to me. I cannot promise what the future will bring, but I can promise that I desire peace with you. I will give two options to those of you who are willing to surrender. You can choose to repent of your crimes and swear fealty to myself and to Camelot, and you will be allowed to go free. Or, you can choose to leave Camelot, never to return on penalty of death. Will any among you take my offer?"

Merlin reluctantly turned loose of the spell and vanished the vines still entangling a few sets of feet. He stayed ready though, in case anyone took advantage of the opportunity to attack again.

Instead, the young man near Gwaine called out, not to Arthur, but to Merlin.

"You trust him? You truly believe a Pendragon would ever allow us to live in freedom?" he asked skeptically.

"I do," Merlin affirmed. "I have seen the manner of king and the kind of man he is. I believe he will rule justly and fairly to the best of his knowledge and ability. You will notice I'm still alive and free, despite the king knowing about my magic for many months now."

"Only because he forces you to use it in his service," a woman protested bitterly.

A snorting laugh broke out from the back of the crowd. Merlin immediately looked at Gwaine, but Gwaine was staring in amused surprise at Leon.

"Sorry," Leon said, blushing slightly. "It's just…I don't think anyone forces Merlin - sorry, Emrys - to do anything he's not willing to do."

Merlin couldn't resist a smile in response to that. "King Arthur has never compelled me into his service," he confirmed. "I serve him because I choose to."

"No amount of freedom in the future can bring back the dead," another man called out, and Merlin recognized Arven. He sounded just as bitter as the woman, but Merlin also heard weariness and grief in his voice.

"I know," Arthur admitted. "Nor can any number of apologies. I cannot change what my father did, nor can I undo what I have done. All I can do is give you my word that I intend to build a different Camelot from the one my father ruled, and that includes not persecuting the innocent. Including those who have magic and choose not to use it for harm."

There was a long silence, and then the woman who had spoken stepped forward. "I will surrender," she said with a wary glance at Merlin, "but I have no interest in living in a kingdom with a Pendragon on the throne. I will leave Camelot."

Several others echoed her. Arthur's face remained stoic as he nodded in acknowledgment to each one, but Merlin could see the disappointment and relief battling in his eyes.

Finally, the young man stepped forward. Not just by a step or two, like the others, but walking through the crowd until he stood before Merlin and Arthur.

"You're sure of him, Emrys?" he asked again. The despair had faded, although Merlin wouldn't say he saw hope in his eyes. It was more like cautious uncertainty. But Merlin counted it a victory nonetheless. Maybe hope would come with time.

"I'm sure," he confirmed.

The young man nodded and turned his attention to Arthur. He swallowed, then hesitantly knelt and bowed his head.

"I will accept your offer," he said quietly. "I, Alder, son of Brent, swear fealty to you, King Arthur, and to Camelot. I give you my word, I will not willfully act to harm you or your kingdom in any way."

It took Arthur a moment to answer, and when he did, his voice was rough. "I accept your fealty. And in return, I give you my word that I will not willfully act to harm you or others with magic unless they prove themselves criminals by their actions." Then he added in a low voice, "I thank you for your courage, Alder, son of Brent."

Alder nodded once and stood. "I'm taking a risk," he said evenly, looking Arthur in the eye, "choosing to stay in Camelot. But this is my home." He paused then, eyeing Arthur curiously. "And I suppose you're taking a risk with me. You're really going to allow someone who tried to kill you to continue living in your kingdom?"

"It's a risk worth taking, if it will bring peace," Arthur answered firmly, meeting his gaze.

Then he reached out, and after a moment, Alder reached back, clasping Arthur's forearm with a trembling hand.

Merlin looked away, trying to control the tears in his eyes. Arthur may call him a girl later, but he couldn't help it. It was great – amazing, really – that Arthur hadn't killed him when he'd found out about Merlin's magic. And yes, those papers outlining a plan for revoking the ban on magic were wonderful, and the meeting with the druids had been encouraging.

But he knew he would remember this moment for the rest of his life.

This was the moment Camelot began to heal.

AN: No bunnies or sheep were harmed in the creation of this chapter. All fluff was acquired through humane means.

As long as you consider subjecting Merlin to 35 chapters of angst as "humane."

Chapter Thirty Six

"You have sorcerers who've sworn fealty to you now," Leon mused as Merlin treated Arthur's wounds. The group had stopped in a clearing not far from the gorge so Merlin could tend to the injured. Curses from Maylor had left a burn on Arthur's upper arm and a number of gashes across his chest. "Beyond just Merlin, I mean."

"It is strange, isn't it?" Arthur said, but he felt pleased. "I hadn't exactly planned on that."

"But you're okay with it?" Gwaine asked from his spot on the ground, his hand pressed tightly against the bleeding wound on his side. He was lying as still as possible until it was his turn for Merlin's attention.

"I am." Arthur spoke slowly, trying to put his thoughts into words. "Not many are staying, but I think the ones who did will honor their word. If I were to worry about any of them, it would be the ones who agreed to exile. I'd worry about them not actually leaving. But the ones who swore fealty…perhaps it's naïve, but I believe them."

Merlin didn't contribute to the conversation, but Arthur saw a small smile on his face as he worked.

Merlin stayed quiet as he tended to the others – almost everyone had some form of injury, some more severe than others – and he stayed quiet on the ride back. He stayed quiet when Gwen hugged and fussed over him after she was done hugging and fussing over Arthur and Elyan, and he stayed quiet when he brought Arthur's dinner.

"You know, Merlin, I don't think I've ever seen you do quite so much thinking in one day before," Arthur said as his servant filled the bath. His concern grew when Merlin just shrugged instead of shooting an insult back. "You know," he added casually, "as much as it pains me to admit it, you did well today."

Merlin let out a snort. "You did well today, Arthur," he retorted, managing to make the compliment sound more like an argument. "Your speech. That moment with Alder. That was almost a kind of magic in and of itself."

"Is that why you cried?"

"I cried because I have feelings like a normal human being. Seriously though," he added, softer. "You were a great king today, Arthur. I was proud of you. Days like today are why I'm honored to serve and protect you."

Arthur shifted awkwardly, more pleased by the praise than he'd like to admit. "Thank you," he said stiffly. "And thank you for everything you did today. I mean it – you did well."

"Is that why I spent an hour cleaning up everyone's injuries afterward?" Merlin muttered darkly. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm sorry."

"What on earth do you have to be sorry for?" Arthur asked in confusion. "Other than changing out of the dress, because I would have given anything to see you take down the Deilen dressed like a girl."

Merlin didn't even crack a smile. "It was the skirts. I wouldn't have been able to fight in them."

Arthur let out a small laugh. "Fair enough. But seriously, why are you sorry?"

"I panicked. I've never done that before, but there were so many of them, and…I told you I would kill them, and I didn't. I couldn't. I couldn't just take that many lives without even giving them a chance to defend themselves. Arwen said I could become a monster if I chose the wrong path, and killing them all felt like the wrong path. But as a result, you got hurt. The others got hurt. Any one of you could have been killed. All because I froze."

"Merlin," Arthur said, shaking his head. "Just…sit down."

Merlin blinked, confused.

"Sit down," Arthur repeated, nodding to one of the other chairs. "Have some chicken."

His friend looked at him like he was crazy, but he abandoned the bath and sat down and picked up a piece of chicken.

"I know we said you would kill them, but I'm glad you didn't. Yes, normally I would drag someone over the coals for not sticking to a battle plan, but…in this case, I think you made the right decision. I'll take a few cuts and burns in exchange for what we accomplished today. Wouldn't you?"

Merlin stared at the piece of chicken and didn't answer.

"You tried to resolve a conflict with minimum violence and bloodshed. That is nothing to apologize for. And maybe not everything went perfectly smoothly, but it was a pretty sizeable task I asked of you, going up against that many sorcerers. It turned out okay. Better than okay. And I'm proud of how you handled it."

A small smile played on Merlin's lips. "Are you feeling all right? That was like the third or fourth compliment you've given me tonight."

"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur scoffed.

"No, there have definitely been a number of them. Any chance of getting them in writing?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Merlin grinned as he ate his chicken, but the grin faded into something more serious after a couple of bites.

"Did I scare you?" he asked. "When I killed Maelor?"

Arthur winced internally at the uncertainty in Merlin's voice. "No, actually," he stated, setting his own piece of chicken down and waiting for Merlin to meet his eyes. Sure enough, Merlin gave him a skeptical look. "I mean it. I thought I would be scared to see your power like that, at least a little bit, and…well, yes, the lightning was a little bit terrifying, I suppose. And I wouldn't say I enjoyed the earthquake. But Merlin...Maelor was about to kill me. When I saw that lightning hit him, the only things I felt, apart from a little bit of shock, were relief and gratitude. Yes, it was a frightening amount of power, but I knew it was on my side."

Merlin gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile. "Really?"

"Really. I was relieved you were there for us. Relieved your magic was there for us."

"Yes, well," Merlin said after a moment, studiously avoiding eye contact as he examined his piece of chicken. "It always will be, you know."

"Yeah," Arthur said, fighting a smile of his own. "I know."

"Do you usually just sit in here, staring into space? Or are you hiding from someone?"

Arthur looked up to see Lancelot standing in the doorway, watching him curiously.

"Sorry," the knight added. "I was just walking by and happened to see you."

"It's fine," Arthur said. "I'm not hiding. Sometimes I come here to think."

Lancelot stepped into the table room, closing the door behind him. "What are you thinking about?"

"About what Arwen told me the first time we met. Sometimes I almost forget there was a time when I didn't know about Merlin and Emrys. When a magical threat seemed unbeatable, magic seemed inherently evil, and Merlin was just a semi-competent servant."

Lancelot laughed. "Merlin was never just a semi-competent servant."

"I don't mean that's all he was as a person," Arthur amended. "His character always far exceeded that. And he was a friend and a confidante. Even an advisor. But in terms of specific skills, I didn't know what all he was capable of." He shook his head, then stared at Lancelot for a moment. "I've never said thank you, have I?"

Lancelot raised a questioning eyebrow. "For what?"

"For taking care of him all that time. For staying loyal to him, even when I did my best to get you to betray his secret. For arguing with me when I was wrong."

"It was worth it," Lancelot said. "To see him now. To see you now, for that matter. You're a better king with him at your side, Arthur."

"Yes," Arthur agreed with a slight laugh. "I always have been."

Arthur stayed at the round table for a few more minutes after Lancelot left, replaying Arwen's words again.

It is his destiny to help you, King Arthur, become the king you are meant to be, as your friend and equal.

His equal.

Something had been bothering him, and he'd been toying with an idea of how to address it. He made his way back to his chambers, that word still rattling around in his head. Equal. When he got there, Merlin was cleaning the room.

Kind of. More accurately, the room was cleaning itself while Merlin read a spell book and ate some grapes, sprawled on his stomach across the foot of the king's bed.

"Honestly, Merlin," he said, amused despite himself. "You're the laziest toad of a servant I've ever seen. Although if using magic means the room will actually get clean instead of you just cramming things under the bed and behind the wardrobe, it might be worth it."

"You said you wanted me to use magic to do my chores," Merlin pointed out.

"When I'm around. The entire point was for me to get used to magic."

"You're always welcome to clean it yourself if you don't like how I'm doing it," Merlin answered without looking up. "Although I know your royal hands are too delicate for such work."

"I could have you put in the stocks for that kind of insubordination," Arthur warned casually, sitting down at his desk and digging through one of the drawers, trying to find the papers with the plan for legalizing magic.

Merlin snorted. "I'd like to see you try."

Arthur smiled to himself. Perhaps it seemed like a self-contradiction, to have a servant who was an equal. And yet, somehow Merlin was, wasn't he? Yes, Arthur was king, but Merlin was…well, Merlin. He might honor Arthur as king, but he did so on his own terms, and he did so by choice. Not because a power imbalance compelled him.

And yet, Arthur couldn't quite picture Merlin twenty years down the line, still picking up his dirty socks and pouring his bathwater, despite Merlin's claim that he was happy to be Arthur's servant until the day he died.

Finding the papers, Arthur skimmed the six steps in the plan before flipping to the last page, then he picked up his quill and added one more line.

7. Appoint court sorcerer

Just three words as opposed to entire paragraphs, like the other steps. But he had time to figure out what all that would entail.

"What's that?" Merlin asked, making Arthur jump. He hadn't noticed that his friend had put down his book to come nose into Arthur's business.

"A list of chores for you," Arthur said. "A long one."

But Merlin had already seen the words. He sat down across from Arthur and picked up the paper, staring at it for a moment and then redirecting his stare to Arthur.

The king returned the stare with a small smile. "I wish I could do it sooner. I know 'servant' doesn't quite convey everything you do."

"It would be an honor," Merlin said quietly. "Assuming you mean me?" he added, and Arthur snorted in response.

"Of course I mean you, you idiot."

Merlin grinned at that, and then his face turned serious again. "Whatever title you give me, Arthur, and whatever role you give me, I will always be your servant." Merlin looked at the paper again, then handed it back to him. "You could always give me a pay raise in the meantime," he suggested. "And a day off."

Arthur snorted. "So you'd have more money to spend at the tavern, and more time to spend it?"

Merlin glared at him. "I almost never go to the tavern, and you know it! That's just an excuse Gaius used to use!"

"Likely story. Where were you yesterday morning, then?"

"I was picking herbs for Gaius! That is something I actually do once in a while!"

"Were you?" Arthur asked skeptically, enjoying Merlin's irritation. "Or were you having a bit of a lie-in?"

"I actually work hard," Merlin retorted. "But that's right – you're not familiar with that concept, are you? Shall I break it down for you, explain exactly what 'work' is?"

Arthur threw a goblet at his friend's head, laughing and ducking when the goblet stopped mid-air and flew right back at him.

Epilogue

"What are you doing here?" Merlin asked in surprise as he walked into his quarters, trying his best to keep his tone friendly. Or at least not openly hostile.

"King Arthur sent me, sir," the teenager said innocently. "I'm to help you dress today."

Merlin scowled, friendliness forgotten. He supposed this was Arthur's idea of a joke.

"I'm plenty capable of dressing myself. And there's no need to call me 'sir,' Oswin."

"You will be nobility after today. You'll have to get used to people calling you 'sir.' Or will they call you 'lord'?" Oswin pondered, opening Merlin's wardrobe. Merlin used his magic to snap it back closed, making Oswin jump.

He did not like the idea of people going through his things. Besides, his new quarters had a large wardrobe, and even though he told himself he shouldn't be, he couldn't help being just a little bit embarrassed by how empty it was.

"I don't know what they'll call me," Merlin said irritably, stepping around Oswin to reach the wardrobe himself. The younger man moved to the side accommodatingly, and Merlin pulled out the formal outfit the royal tailor had created just for the occasion. "I'd rather they just kept calling me Merlin."

He disappeared behind the dressing screen – another strange thing to get used to – and pulled on the garments, grumbling as he fumbled with the excessive number of buttons.

"May I help, Sir Merlin?" Oswin asked after several seconds of Merlin struggling noisily. "It would be an honor to help you prepare for this occasion."

Merlin took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the screen, trying not to sulk as Oswin managed the rest of the buttons and helped get everything settled into place.

"At least these aren't everyday clothes, right?" he said encouragingly. "You'll be back in your tunic and neckerchief tomorrow." He fussed in silence for a moment, making sure everything was situated perfectly. And then he spoke, his voice quiet and somber.

"My grandmother had magic, you know. She hid it well, so she didn't have to run during the great purge. But my mother told me what it was like. She was a teenager at the time, and she talked about living in fear every day that the guards would come and she would have to see her mother burn on a pyre. I know – we all know – that the king would not have legalized magic if not for you." He stepped back and eyed Merlin appraisingly before apparently deciding his appearance was passable. "She'll be at the celebrations today. My grandmother, I mean. She's quite elderly, but she says she wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I'm glad she lived to see it," Merlin replied quietly. He wasn't sure what else to say. He'd accepted the role of Court Sorcerer, but he hadn't realized that meant agreeing to be some kind of icon to all of the people with magic in Camelot.

"Sir Merlin?" The young man chewed his lip, looking at the sorcerer hesitantly. "Can I ask you a question? It might not be appropriate to ask, but I really want to know."

"What is it, Oswin?" Merlin eyed him warily.

"How do I get the king to like me?"

Merlin had to exercise every bit of self-control he had not to burst into laughter. For the past two weeks since Oswin had taken over Merlin's responsibilities as the king's servant, all Arthur had done was sing his praises. It was "Oswin is never late," and "Oswin brings me a proper royal breakfast," and "Oswin keeps my room absolutely spotless."

Merlin couldn't help hating the kid a little bit. He was just so…efficient. And clean. And earnest. And he bowed every time he came into Arthur's presence, and every time he left. He always called him "sire" or "my lord."

It was awful. And Arthur knew he thought it was awful, which just made Arthur enjoy it even more.

"What makes you think he doesn't like you?" Merlin asked once he was certain he could control his amusement.

Oswin's answer came out rapidly, as though he'd been keeping the words pent up inside. "One of the other servants told me that before you, the king had never kept a servant for longer than two months, and I'm worried he's going to sack me. He always seems cross with me, no matter how hard I try. He got angry with me this morning because I put his sword away where it belongs and he couldn't find it. I don't understand. Why wouldn't he have looked for it on the sword shelf?"

There was a sword shelf? Merlin always left it on the table, knowing that Arthur never wanted it far from him anyway. If he was at his desk, it leaned against the desk. If he was asleep, it sat next to his bed.

"And yesterday I spent twenty minutes trying to wake him, but he wouldn't get out of bed. Then he was angry with me because he was late to the council meeting."

A laugh did escape Merlin then, distracting him from wondering where exactly in Arthur's chambers this "sword shelf" was. "He's just awful in the mornings, isn't he?"

Oswin's eyes grew wide. "I would never speak ill of the king, sir."

Merlin sighed. "There's your problem. Oswin, you are probably going to spend more time with the king than anyone else now. Yes, a lot of the time you're just hovering quietly off to the side, but you'll be with him." Merlin tried to stamp down the weird feeling that squished around in his stomach at that thought. He belonged by Arthur's side.

And he would be by Arthur's side, he reminded himself. It would just be different now.

"Yes, you should probably treat him with the respect due a king, but you have to see him as a person too. He can't be king all the time. Sometimes he needs to just be Arthur. So maybe tone down the formality just a little bit when it's only the two of you." It was the best Merlin could come up with. Hopefully it was good advice and wouldn't get the kid fired.

An interesting thought, he realized, considering an hour ago he would have loved nothing more than for Arthur to sack the boy.

"Is that what you did?" Oswin asked eagerly, and Merlin snorted.

"Not exactly. But I really wouldn't recommend acting like me."

The clothes were stifling and awful, but the cloak…Merlin had to admit he liked the cloak. It was soft and heavy, and quite honestly would make an excellent blanket for his bed. Of course, Arthur would have his head if he used it as such.

It was warm, though. And he was already feeling a bit warm anyway.

"You'll be fine," Hunith assured him, brushing non-existent dirt from his shoulder. "There's only about fifty people in there, and you know all of them."

Merlin took a deep breath and nodded.

Fifty people.

Although the celebrations were taking place kingdom-wide, more to celebrate the official legalization of magic than to celebrate Merlin's specific appointment, the ceremony was supposed to be small. Like a knighting ceremony, Arthur had said.

But then the knights of the round table had asked if they could come, and of course Merlin said yes.

And then some of the other knights wanted to come too, and Merlin was so surprised and pleased by their obvious approval that he said yes to that too.

And then some of the servants he was friends with had shyly asked if they could sneak in the back and watch, and Merlin had insisted that of course they could attend, no sneaking necessary.

And then the council had requested to attend, and then letters from a couple of nobles came asking for permission to attend as well, and Arthur had pointed out that they couldn't very well tell the servants yes and the nobles no.

So it was Merlin's own fault, really.

"All right, I'm going to go in. Just a few more minutes, and then it will be over," his mother promised, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek before she went through the doors. He saw the pride behind the tears in her eyes before she walked away.

Merlin took a deep breath. At least it wasn't a big ceremonial entrance. And the people would be standing, not sitting, so it wouldn't be too terribly formal.

Steeling himself, he nodded to the guards, and they pulled open the doors of the throne room.

As he walked through, the crowd burst into applause, which surprised him so much that he froze for a moment. On the throne, he saw Arthur trying to hide a laugh, no doubt at the stunned look on his face.

Straightening his shoulders, he marched down the aisle until he reached Arthur. Then he lowered his eyes and bowed to the king.

When they'd talked about the ceremony, they'd joked about the bow. Arthur insisted it had to be there for propriety's sake, and Merlin had had a great deal of fun in suggesting that he may or may not actually do it when the time came.

But now, with the sunlight streaming into the room, the cape on his shoulders, and Arthur sitting proudly on his throne with Gwen looking very regal on her new throne beside him…nothing about this really seemed all that funny.

Arthur stood and stepped down so he was standing in front of Merlin. He looked his friend in the eye, and then, almost imperceptibly, Arthur bent his head in return. Just barely, so only Merlin could see. And Merlin did his best to fight it, but he felt the grin pulling at his mouth in response.

"Kneel," the king commanded, and Merlin awkwardly moved to his knees, cursing the cape for making it more complicated than it needed to be.

"Do you, Merlin, son of Balinor, swear your fealty to myself and to the kingdom of Camelot?"

"I pledge my loyalty to you and to Camelot for all the days of my life." The words came out strong and confident, thankfully. He would have been horrified if his nerves made his voice shake.

"Do you swear to use your magic only for the good of the kingdom and never for harm?"

"I do so swear."

"Then I hereby appoint thee Court Sorcerer of Camelot. Arise."

He stood and looked at Arthur. The king's face was impassive, but Merlin could see the pride in his eyes, and it caught him off guard.

To his horror, he felt himself getting a little bit choked up.

Pull it together. You will not cry at your investiture ceremony!

And he did pull it together. He turned around to face the room, which burst into enthusiastic applause again. The noise of the clapping following him out the door.

And then the hard part was over.

The feast and the celebrating went well into the night, full of laughter and jokes and stories, and goblet after goblet of ale – mostly coming from Gwaine, he realized partway through the night.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" he asked finally, eyeing the drink with suspicion.

Gwaine grinned guiltily. "Lancelot might have said something about you turning Arthur into a toad if you got drunk enough."

"You wouldn't dare," a menacing voice said behind him, Arthur's hand clamping down on his shoulder.

Merlin looked as innocent as possible. "Not tonight. There are way too many witnesses."

"So you're saying it could maybe happen on another night?" Gwaine asked hopefully, and Merlin just shrugged noncommittally while Arthur glowered.

Gwaine grinned, then quickly vanished back into the crowd, in pursuit of a girl or a drink – Merlin couldn't quite tell which – and Arthur took his place at Merlin's side.

"How does it feel?" the king asked as the two of them surveyed the party.

"Warm. Very soft, though. I think it'll be nice for when I have to ride a horse in the winter."

"Not the cloak, you idiot. Being Court Sorcerer. How does that feel?"

Merlin thought for a moment. "Scary," he admitted. "But exciting. I think I'm ready for it."

Arthur nodded. "I know you are. You've basically been doing the job since you arrived, you know."

"Thank you," Merlin said softly, keeping his eyes on the party. He wasn't sure he could say this while looking at Arthur. "For making this happen. Not just the job, but…all of it. I couldn't have done it without you, Arthur."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the king smile. "I owe you a debt of gratitude as well. I wouldn't be the king I am – and Camelot would not be the kingdom it is – without your guidance and protection." He turned to face Merlin and held out his goblet. "To Camelot, and to her sorcerer."

Merlin bumped his own goblet against it. "To Camelot, and to her king."

AN: Thank for you sticking with me to the end of this, and a special thank you to all of those who left reviews to encourage me along the way! This is the longest fic I've published, and I feel a little sad and sentimental now that it's done, but I'm also excited to finally move on to other things!

The first chapter of my next story, The Hand of the Enemy, is now up. It will not be as long as this one, thankfully! I also posted a one-shot yesterday called The World is Full of Wonders. If you've enjoyed my writing, please considering checking those out!

(P.S. I haven't forgotten the bonus chapter I promised. That will be posted within the next few days!)