A/N: Welp, here I am in the middle of February. This chapter got on my nerves. I was nearly done with it, and then it wasn't long enough for my liking, so I just kept going, and then Leon decided he was important, and that was where I was last time I updated. Then he couldn't decide where the heck he wanted to go, and when he did, it took forever to end the chapter on any type of a proper note.

Thank you all so much for your notes of encouragement! As always, they mean a lot, and the helpful kick in the butt that PenAndInkPrincess (from AO3) supplied yesterday gave me the motivation to sit the heck down and work it out! :D I always appreciate everything you all say, and you are the reason I get any of the inspiration I do.

Sorry again for my sad delayedness, and hope you all enjoy!

Summary: The soulmate words were seemingly the one form of magic Uther Pendragon could not best. Merlin has never wanted hers; they are sure to be a great deal of trouble on top of being a warlock. After all, soulmarks are a type of magic, and she has eight.

Spoilers for BBC's Merlin, Seasons One-Five

Warnings: Slight Angst, Multiple Canonical/Non-canonical Character Deaths

Chapter 12:

The attack on the camp goes as well as can be expected, although she has to magically make some footprints leading to the camp to get Arthur and the assortment of knights to go the right way. Merlin has been quiet and lost in thought all day, so much that even Arthur notices.

He probably isn't too concerned though, because he presents her the Crystal of Neahtid to guard during the night, and unknowingly gives her the opportunity to attempt to use it. Merlin spends hours staring at the pouch, which is lying near the fire, in front of the log she is perched on to warm her toes.

It probably won't hurt to take a look, she thinks. After all, what could happen?

Famous last words, she reminds herself.

Then again, it's right there. It would be so easy.

What if Arthur or one of the knights wakes up and sees me? Merlin wonders. That could ruin everything.

But it could help me, too! It could show me so much.

She put her head in her hands. But at what cost?

It could show me what to do. And I need to know what to do.

It's nearly midnight before she works up the courage to slide it out of its pouch, and suddenly, she can't wait a second more. Merlin scrambles for the pouch, not a thought in her head except for the strong need to see the Crystal for herself. She stares at it, waiting for any hint of the famed visions of the future which legend says it holds.

Nothing.

Abruptly, shadows begin to flicker across the surface, refracting in the firelight. Figures dance across it, wreathed in fire and dark mist. Merlin realizes with horror that they seem to be fighting; and that although one side is fighting well, when the other side goes down, they just seem to get right back up.

They must be immortal. An entire army of the undead.

They would be unkillable. She feels slightly sick.

The images change, and show Morgana, lying unmoving and pale as death on a stone floor. Merlin is kneeling over her, tears silently running down her face. The shadows near the edges of the phantasmal versions of the two young women shift and flow and twine over them until the Crystal has turned dark with the unnatural mist.

A mistake, Merlin thinks frantically. This was a horrible, horrible mistake. And somehow, she can't bring herself to put the Crystal down. Her eyes are glued to it, unable to look away.

A single figure slowly appears in the center of the black mist. Short and slight; a simple silhouette of light with her back to the viewer. A woman in baggy, unassuming male clothing. Merlin instantly recognizes herself as the white figure, glowing stark against the curling shadows.

She stands alone, alone in the dark, and her light seems to grow weak; to flicker and begin to die. The shadows are threatening to overwhelm her, and just when the real Merlin begins to be certain that this manifestation of herself will lose the battle, she is joined by two more radiant silhouettes.

One of the figures is petite; the other, broad-shouldered. They clasp hands with her, and as they do, her light flickers again, and this time, grows stronger. Gwen and Arthur, Merlin realizes with a jolt.

One by one, more and more shapes filled with white light step out of the shadows and join hands, until the line is nine long, with Merlin in the very center. She knows somehow that these people, some whom she has met, others who she has not, are her soulmates.

Eight soulmates.

And Merlin, binding them all together.

Their combined light continues to grow and grow until they are so bright that their figures have started to become indistinguishable, and Merlin is forced to look away from the Crystal because of its brilliance.

A sudden headache explodes within her head, and she drops the stone like a burning coal, clasping both hands to her temples. And just like that, the light is gone. She blinks for a few moments, trying to regain her night vision, before gingerly picking the Crystal of Neahtid up from the dirt and replacing it in its pouch, while attempting to avoid making eye contact with the surface.

With the pouch safely tucked away under her bedroll and a constant throb pounding her skull, Merlin decides that looking at it was definitely a major mistake.

It had predicted all the things she did not want to anticipate. Another huge battle, with Merlin's own side on the losing end. The both troubling and devastating death of Morgana, misguided though she may be. The even more troubling prospect of Merlin being present and yet still unable to save her.

And the prediction of her soulmates united with her and standing at her side has a deeper meaning, too.

Merlin can't tell Arthur the secret of her magic unless Uther dies, or she finds all of her soulmates—with the assumption that they will protect her if Arthur will not. This picture in her mind's eye, of the nine glowing figures bound together with light, implies that the arrival of her soulmates will prompt that revelation, even though that would force Arthur into the position of keeping secrets from his own father.

Which he made her swear never to do again.

Merlin groans aloud and rolls over on her bedroll. She isn't sure she can deal with all this, now or at any other point in time.

Stupid destiny. How typical.

The next morning, she delivers the Crystal back to Arthur with a sigh of relief.

"What, are you scared of a rock, Merlin?" He teases lightly, swinging up onto his horse. "Hardly surprising."

She follows on her own horse, patting the mare on the neck gently. "A rock? Don't you mean 'a creepy magic rock that is supposed to be incredibly powerful and dangerous, and which I had to keep company all night at your insistence'?"

Arthur rolls his eyes with a huff of laughter. "Okay, that may be true, but it can only be used by those with magical powers, so it's not as though it's going to come alive or anything. You shouldn't be so worried." He tosses the pouch up and down in one hand lightly.

Merlin grimaces and looks away. "Whatever you say, Sire."

The ride back to Camelot and Alvarr's trial both pass in a blur.

Merlin walks by the Great Hall afterwards on the way from Arthur's chambers to Gaius's, and she hears Uther and Morgana having a conversation, which turns to shouting. She hesitates for a moment, and gives the pair of guards outside the door a half-hearted friendly smile before continuing on her way.

She is only a servant, after all, and trying to help would only make it worse. Merlin hopes fervently that Morgana is okay.

Gaius has made soup, and Merlin is starving, but staring into her wooden bowl, she can't bring herself to eat. The visions from the Crystal of Neahtid keep flashing through her mind.

"Merlin?" Gaius carefully interrupts her thoughts. "Is there something interesting in there?"

"Sorry?" She looks up, her focus snapping back to him.

He heaves a deep sigh. "What's the matter?"

She grimaces. "The Crystal. It harbors a terrible power, Gaius."

"It's locked away now," he reminds her, setting his spoon in his mostly empty bowl. "It can do no harm." Gaius folds his hands on the table, suddenly suspicious. "Unless the damage has already been done."

Merlin looks away, flushing. "I held it. I knew I shouldn't! I knew no good would come of it, but it compelled me to look. I…couldn't resist it. I saw…things." She remembers Morgana's pale face in the vision, and then the fight that Merlin just heard the king's ward having with Uther. "Terrible things."

Her mentor speaks with a hint of disappointment. "Then you have already paid the price."

"But what I saw…" Merlin hesitates. "It has not yet come to pass, and I'm scared. I'm really scared about what the future might hold."

"There is nothing on this Earth that can know all possible futures, even the Crystal," he says comfortingly, but she shakes her head violently.

"What I saw…it was so real."

"It was real, but it was just one reality. The future is as yet unshaped. It is we that shape it. It is you, Merlin. The decisions you make. The actions you take. Remember that," Gaius says, placing a warm hand over her own, where it is clenched into a fist on the table. He smiles. "Now eat your soup before it gets cold."

Merlin eats her soup.

The next day, she is on her way to the training grounds with Arthur when Leon jogs up to them, slightly breathless and in street clothes.

"Sire! Good morning, Merlin." He smiles at her widely.

"Leon!" Arthur greets him jovially. "What do you think you're doing, my friend? You have the day off, if you don't remember. Your first in four years, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is, Sire," the curly-haired knight agrees. "I was wondering, however, if I might take Merlin along with me for today. I've been itching to spend some time with my soulmate, as long as you won't be inconvenienced."

Arthur takes a quick look at Merlin and sighs. "Well, it's that or suffering disappointed glares all week, so I suppose I have to approve. She'll probably sneak off and join you anyway when my back is turned if I say no."

Merlin grins unrepentantly, making no attempt at hiding her excitement. Leon is one of her favorite people in the whole world, and she does not spend enough time with him. "Of course I would, you cabbagehead."

To his credit, Leon makes an attempt to look as horrified as he used to be at Merlin's regular interaction with Arthur. Merlin suppresses a laugh. The knight really is quite a good actor, but the twinkle in his eyes completely gives him away.

Arthur looks back and forth between them and sighs again.

"Your final decision, Sire," Leon prompts, although the crown prince has basically already said yes.

Arthur rolls his eyes. "Yes, fine! Go and make flower crowns or whatever. Merlin, I'm expecting you tomorrow, do you hear?"

"Yeah, course," she replies, already bouncing over to Leon and taking his pre-offered arm excitedly. "Let's go!"

"Have fun!" Arthur calls after them loudly. "Take care of her, Leon! She's a walking disaster!"

"My thanks, Sire," Leon calls back over his shoulder. "But I've a feeling it'll go just fine!"

Merlin shakes her head with exasperation. "So, now that you've helped me escape, where are we going?"

"I had wondered if you might ride out to the Castle de Bouclés with me and meet my parents," Leon admits, strolling along the cobbles at a relaxed pace. "They've always had a great deal of interest in meeting my soulmate."

Merlin's eyes widened, and she resisted the urge to bolt. "Your parents? You mean Lord and Lady de Bouclés, renowned for their Moonlight Balls? I've heard things about the amazing quality of the catering they hire, you know. Second only to the king! You think they'll…want to meet me?"

Leon looked down at her, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. "Of course. Why wouldn't they? They've been excited for years about my soulmate. They won't mind that we don't have a romantic connection, I promise."

"It's not that," Merlin says quietly. "Just…Leon, I'm…well, a servant. And you're a noble. And a knight. And your parents are nobles, and I'd bet your father was a knight. And they just. Probably don't want to meet me."

"And what does that…oh." Leon slows abruptly. "Merlin…"

She looks away steadily, suddenly aware of what a pair they must make, standing in the middle of the market. An accomplished, well-known, well-loved knight in just his trousers, boots, and a red tunic; with a short, slightly awkward female servant in men's clothes and a neckerchief on his arm.

Merlin can feel her neck suddenly going red, the flush creeping up into the tips of her ears.

"Yeah, you've got it now," she says even more quietly, disengaging her arm from his. "I'll just…go back to the training grounds. See you later, okay, Leon?" She attempts to discreetly turn and walk (run) away, but he stops her, one hand on her shoulder.

"Merlin," her fourth soulmate says gently. "Look at me."

She stays turned away stubbornly, but doesn't make any further attempt to pull away.

"Look at me," he says again.

Merlin slowly turns to face him. Her ears are still red, and a spot of color burns high on each cheekbone, but she looks him straight in the eyes.

"You don't honestly think that they're going to care one whit about the fact that you're a servant, do you?" Leon asks, his hazel eyes meeting her blue ones searchingly.

The spots of color intensify. Merlin doesn't answer.

"I don't care that you happen to be a servant, Merlin," the knight says with conviction. "I've never cared. Not for a moment. You are my soulmate, and my friend. That is what matters. And my parents taught me that. They won't care, either."

Merlin lunges forward and hugs him. Leon's hugs, she decides, are the best. Leon is the best platonic soulmate of all time. Just. Leon.

If her eyes are just a little watery when she pulls back, Leon doesn't mention it.

He offers her his arm again. "Shall we?"

"I can't go like this, at least," Merlin says decidedly as she takes it, her voice only a little shaky. "I might have some nicer trousers. And a shirt, maybe. And my new neckerchief."

"If they're nicer, why don't you wear them normally?" Leon asks curiously.

"Because Arthur got them for me to wear to banquets. To substitute for how I don't secretly have stocks of pretty dresses, and so I don't," she replies, as if that makes sense. Leon thinks about it for a moment as they walk. It sort of does.

He escorts her to the palace, and they separate, Merlin to go and change, and Leon to go and get his jacket and cloak, even though he's not wearing chainmail and armor on his day off.

A frantic fifteen minutes of rooting around in her room provides Merlin with a brand-new pair of brown trousers—the ones Arthur had given her for banquets. She decides to forgo the stiff, embroidered red tunic that was supposed to go with it, however, for a long-sleeved, vivid purple shirt which has only been worn once or twice.

Her new neckerchief is rich Camelot red, and contrasts with the purple, which is probably okay, Merlin thinks. Or something. She doesn't know about fashion, anyway.

The ride out to Leon's family's small castle is a pleasant one. The weather is fair, the meadows and forest are green, and the birds are singing.

"My father, Lord Gervaine de Bouclés, is a man with quite a dry sense of humor," Leon tells Merlin with a hint of his own wry amusement. "And before I met you, I did not think that another woman existed who is as quick-witted as my mother, Lady Meliane. You will like them, I think."

"They sound amazing," Merlin confesses. "I hope they…like me too."

"Don't worry so much," he promises. "They will love you. I'm absolutely sure of it."

Merlin worries anyway, but tries to forget about it until they arrive.

Leon's parents live in a small family mansion to the west of Camelot in the woods. The ride takes until the early afternoon, and it's past lunch when the unlikely pair arrive.

Leon must have sent a message on ahead to warn his parents in advance, because as they ride up, Lord Gervaine and Lady Meliane descend the stairs to their relatively small courtyard to greet them as if they have been waiting for this exact moment.

Lord Gervaine is a tall man, with curly salt-and-pepper hair reminiscent of Leon's, apart from the black base. Although no longer in his prime, the former knight is still relatively fit, and has aged very well. His wrinkles are laugh lines, and he has a ready smile.

Lady Meliane, meanwhile, is only an inch or so taller than Merlin, and her pinned-up hair is the exact same rich, layered caramel as Leon's, apart from the few gray streaks. She is slight, for her age, and still curvy. She, too, looks pleased to see them.

They make an attractive couple, dressed finely and carrying themselves with dignity as they step down the stone staircase in perfect time. They look…noble. And kind. And dignified.

Merlin can see how much Leon resembles them.

And in an instant, the horses have trotted up to the base of the stairs, where Leon's parents are waiting. Leon dismounts, and Merlin is about to do the same, until he offers wordlessly to lift her down.

Merlin has been riding horses ever since her arrival in Camelot, wearing trousers, of course, as she is doing now, and it is always her job to be the first on the ground to take the reins of the nobles' mounts. She holds them still while the knights help any ladies dismount, gently grasping their waists and lifting them down.

No one has ever offered to lift Merlin down from her horse (she thinks it's probably the lack of skirts, since it happens to Gwen on a daily basis) and she has no idea what to do. Leon's arms are out and he is facing away from his parents. Merlin is panicking a little bit.

"Just slide forward a bit and I'll do the rest," he says under his breath, noticing her hesitation.

Knowing her luck, she'll probably slip and fall on top of him and knock him over, and be so embarrassed in front of his parents that she can never speak to her soulmate again. Merlin slides forward a little bit.

And suddenly, she's weightless for a moment before delicately touching down on the ground just like every other girl she's ever seen get off a horse. Add some skirts, and no one would ever know the difference.

It only takes about four seconds in all, from the realization of her own incompetence to her feet hitting the ground, and Merlin and Leon turn to face Lord and Lady de Bouclés as if everything had been planned. Merlin is so pleased that she didn't fall on her face that she beams her brightest smile at them.

"Mother, Father," Leon greets them naturally. "This is my soulmate, Miss Merlin of Camelot. Merlin, these are my parents, Lord Gervaine de Bouclés and Lady Meliane de Bouclés."

Merlin opens her mouth to say something, and can't think of anything, and her smile suddenly threatens to drop away like it had never been there.

Leon's mother takes one look at her and laughs. "Oh, honestly, Leon. What have you been telling the poor thing? She looks terrified."

Merlin frowns indignantly without thinking. "I'm not terrified!"

"Of course not, dear," Lady Meliane says understandingly. "You're Merlin, not 'terrified'. And I'm Meliane. And this is Gervaine."

"Why do you always introduce me as Gervaine?" Lord Gervaine rumbles. He looks slightly amused. "No one calls me that. Just Ger, please. I mean it," he directs at Merlin. "Just Ger. Gervaine makes me sound like my father. I'm not that old."

"I only introduce you to people like that because you make such a scene about it, love," Lady Meliane replies, her eyes twinkling. "And I believe you're just a little in denial. You're graying, dear."

Lord Gervai—Lord Ger looks at his wife askance. "And you choose now to tell me, Mel? My pride shan't ever recover."

Merlin looks at Leon pleadingly. "Lord Ger?"

"It's fine," he says just as quietly, smiling. "They like you already."

Merlin gives the couple another look. They are the picture of distinction and grace. And they are trading affectionate (?) barbs like there's no tomorrow. "How do you know?"

"Because," Lord Gervaine breaks away from their debate. "We just do. Don't worry a bit, Merlin. You're family. Pleased to meet you, by the way."

"The…pleasure is all mine," Merlin says hesitantly, her grin suddenly making a comeback.

Lady Meliane beams. "Fantastic. Would you like some tea?"

Slightly encouraged, Merlin nods decisively. "Tea would be great."

The rumors about Lord and Lady de Bouclés' catering are about four hundred percent true. The tea is magnificent.