Disclaimer: IDOM

AN: As promised, here is the next chapter! :D To those who have read my Prophesized series and/or Only Friend: have any of you ever heard me say multiple times that I'd never ever write another Arthur speech again? Yeah, I lied. ;D

I hope you enjoy!


The Friend He Was For Me

In the past, the first sighting of Camelot's beautiful towers and walls used to bring nothing but dread to Mithian. When she was young, her family rarely went to Camelot, but that was enough for her to remember disliking Uther and his son and scowling every time she heard the great city's name. As she grew older and as she returned to Camelot years later to discover that Arthur had grown up and was genuinely a likeable man and a good king, she began to overcome past grievances and see the city for what it was.

Mithian loved Camelot.

She loved how the castle bustled and how the weather was never too cold for people to venture from their homes. She loved the smells of the Lower Town and the way the people moved throughout the streets. She loved the forests and their changing leaves, which were so different from the cold, indifferent, eternally jade pine forests of Nemeth, surrounding the castle. The essence, the colors—though much dulled by winter—the birdsong, even the wind…

It was impossible to compare Camelot and Nemeth, which had temperatures so frigid that it seemed to suck the life out of everyone and everything.

Camelot, on the other hand, was alive.

But, even more than that, what she had begun to love more than anything about Camelot were the friends she had within its walls.

During their betrothal, the princess and Arthur had quickly become close. Despite how it had ended, their respect for each other grew, and the friendship that budded during that time was something she held close to her heart. Arthur's knights—the commoners who he had honored after Morgana's first overthrow of Camelot—were wonderful, and they each had their own qualities, from Gwaine's silliness to Percival's quiet wit, that made her adore each and every one of them.

And the last time she visited, she finally met the blacksmith's daughter, the woman Arthur loved and would risk so much for, and even though Mithian had no hard feelings, she had been a little apprehensive. Of course, she had no reason to be. Guinevere had been nothing but kind to her since the day she came to Camelot with a disguised Morgana.

However, it wasn't until later that she and Guinevere truly bonded over one exchanged look of exasperation and fond amusement when Arthur and Merlin, who had been bickering the entire journey back to Camelot from the tomb, began teasing each other again after Gwen embraced each one of them in her relief that they had made it home safely.

After that, they talked and laughed as though they had been companions for years.

And then there was Merlin. Sweet, understanding, courageous, clumsy Merlin, who defeated physician benches and armies of magical creatures alike...

"Mithian?" Ronan asked, looking around back at her. "Are you alright?"

Snapping out of her musing, Mithian murmured, "Hm?"

"He's trying to say that you've been abnormally quiet today," Rodor explained. "Is something troubling you?"

From her peripheral vision, she saw Percival stiffen.

The knight had stayed in Nemeth until they were prepared to depart for Camelot and had filled them in on the general details of the law that the King was overriding and on what would take place in Camelot (it mostly involved tedious meetings and speeches and a series of feasts celebrating the first meeting of Druidic and non-magical leaders since the Purge as well as Yule, for those who wished to remain in Camelot after the discussions), and he was silent as he looked at her curiously… and almost defensively.

Mithian, knowing how hard it must have been for him and the other knights who personally traveled to the other kingdoms and tell this story in the fear that the news might not be well-received, gave the knight a reassuring smile.

"Of course not, Father," she answered. "I'm just enjoying the view."

It was no secret to her father or brothers how passionate she was about nature and outdoor activities. Growing up, the princess hadn't exactly been the most frilly and formal girl, and instead of embroidering all day or attending lessons in silly things like dining etiquette with the other daughters of Nemeth's court members, she slipped away to go riding, frog-hunting, crossbow andlongbow training, fishing, swimming, or racing and tree-climbing with her brothers and the other boys. Many a night, Rodor would catch her wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, sleeping on her balcony, where she often snuck out to stargaze.

It was a good excuse, but it was only half-true, so of course, Ronan caught the lie.

"Are you sure about that?" Ronan teased. "Your eyes were misted over, and you looked as though you were in the land of dreams."

"And we wouldn't want you falling of your horse because you were daydreaming, now would we?" Quinn added.

Mithian scowled. "You know I'm a better rider than the lot of you put together."

They laughed, but they didn't deny it.

"Look!" Mithian suddenly breathed as the castle's towers became visible over the crest. From their height, she could see the colors of Caerleon entering the city, followed closely by the banners of King Olaf and the Lord Godwyn.

"It's good to see that some of them are willing to give him a chance," Percival said from beside her, a bitter smile spreading across his face. "But I still wonder how many of them denied their vows and broke our treaties. A lot of them were founded on a mutual hatred of magic."

The royals from Nemeth were silent, and Percival, obviously eager to get back to his king to see how things were going, dug his heels into his horse, which snorted at him before doing as it was asked.

"Not as many people are as averse to magic as you might believe," Mithian said when they followed the knight.

"Aye," Rodor added. "Some of us remember what it was like before the Purge and before those with magic began to abuse their gifts and dabble in Dark magic."

After Percival nodded thoughtfully, but non-committedly, Mithian admitted quietly to him, "I never was touched by Uther's paranoia and hatred, Percival… not even after Morgana's attack on our kingdom."

"Really?" Percival asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"I found some Druidic books in the library when I was stuck inside one winter as a little girl, and—"

"I remember catching you at it!" Ronan remembered.

"It was nothing magical, per se," Mithian explained, ignoring the interruption. "Uther would have had those under lock and key in a heartbeat, if that was the case. No, the Druids wrote some of the most wonderful bestiaries and studies about various plants… whose origins we don't acknowledge and whose knowledge we hypocritically use for our own benefits. Despite the lack of magic in the books I read, they taught me from a young age that—if the Druids were good enough to try so hard to discover various uses of herbs that could save lives… their magic couldn't possibly be wholly evil."

Shame darkened Percival's face, and he whispered, "I regret that I was never like you, Princess. I wish I had come to that conclusion—" a smirk worked onto his face "—without Merlin forcing our eyes open, that is."

"No," Mithian denied, looking up at the approaching walls. "He… and Arthur have forced everyone's eyes open. They have proven something to us all."

Ronan nodded in agreement and added, "And that is why we're here."

~…~

Arthur, Merlin, Guinevere, Gaius, and the knights who returned from their respective missions to other allies' homes were greeting Elena and her father when they entered the courtyard. She briefly scanned over Arthur and his queen and then followed their proud gazes over to where Merlin was speaking with Lord Godwin.

Paired with his ever-present neckerchief of scarlet, he wore a sapphire blue cloak that spilled over his shoulders, and even from this distance, Mithian could tell that what he wore underneath the cloak was of a much finer make than anything she had seen him in previously. However, despite the smartness of his attire and its purpose to make him appear confident, it was obvious to her that he was hiding discomfort and shyness behind his disarming smile, and it made amusement rise in her to see that, despite the new finery of his clothes, his hair was unruly as ever.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one to notice how ill at ease he looked. "Damn," Percival said sympathetically. "I can't imagine how he must be feeling right now."

After they dismounted, servants and stable-hands came directly to their sides, taking their horses and unlatching their belongings to take them to their pre-assigned guest chambers.

With a nod, Percival excused himself and vaulted up the stairs to his fellow knights, who grinned at him and clapped his shoulder. Gwaine and Leon peeked over Percival's head to give them welcoming smiles, which Mithian returned.

She and her family mounted the stairs less vigorously than Percival had, and upon nearing the Camelotian royals and their warlock, she heard old Godwyn saying, "Sir Elyan tells us that you were born with magic, Merlin Emrys."

"Just Merlin, my Lord," Merlin corrected courteously as fingers played about the edge of his velvet cloak. For some reason, he shot Arthur a glare before continuing, "And yes, Elyan did not lie."

"Uther Pendragon would have never believed such a thing was possible. It's inconceivable," Godwyn commented, making Arthur's nostrils flare and Merlin stiffen. "Is it a rare occurrence, being born with magic?" he asked with genuine interest. "Elyan thought it wrong to speak about it without your consent."

A fond smile twitched at his lips at the mention of Elyan's thoughtfulness, but with a flash of something akin to anxiousness in his eyes, the smile faded, and he responded simply, "Yes, it is rare."

"…Fascinating."

When Merlin couldn't contain a flinch and when Arthur placed his hand on the warlock's shoulder in reassurance, Elena nudged her father from behind, and the lord, catching the hint, said cheerfully, "I should take up no more of your time. I look forward to hearing more from you both at the feast tonight, Sire and Merlin." Bowing his head to Guinevere, he added, "My Lady."

"Thank you, Sire," Elena curtsied. "And Merlin, I am grateful to you for your sacrifice and loyalty to our king."

When the pair departed, following the servant who would direct them to their chambers, Mithian heard Merlin, after taking a few seconds to recover from his shock at Elena's expression of gratitude, whisper edgily to Arthur, "I still can't believe you made me do this."

Rolling his eyes, the King teased, "Is all this recognition tiring the poor warlock?"

"Yes," Merlin hissed. "They're goggling at me like I'm some exotic creature. At least Annis made a joke out of it by admitting that I wasn't a complete fool."

Arthur smirked. "That's debatable. I still can't believe you promised to show her some magic."

"Arthur," Gwen warned, nodding her head to Mithian, who had hung back with her family members where they were waiting politely to be acknowledged by their King so that it did not appear as though she was eavesdropping.

Sighing, Arthur said encouragingly, "We knew it wasn't going to be easy. They'll all come 'round, and all of this—it'll be worth it in the end."

After the King looked up at them and replaced his concerned frown with a genuine, welcoming smile, Mithian and her family took that as their cue to approach.

Merlin's cobalt blue eyes froze on Mithian, and for a single heartbeat, their eyes were locked before he tore his gaze away.

"King Rodor, Princes Quinn and Ronan, and Princess Mithian, you are most welcome," Arthur said.

Arthur grasped the forearm of each man in turn, and her father said in a friendly tone, "Long time, no see, Pendragon."

"Likewise," Arthur said, taking Mithian's hand to kiss her chilled knuckles.

Mithian snorted dryly, and Rodor asked, "Are we the last ones to arrive?"

"We have one last guest who will be coming later, but otherwise, I believe so," Arthur said with a grin directed at Merlin, who immediately exhaled subtly in relief.

Observant as ever, her father stated in amusement, "Someone looks relieved."

Biting his lip, Merlin floundered for words to apologize for his rudeness, but Rodor just chuckled and offered a hand. After shaking, her father said, "No need to apologize, Merlin. I expect this is overwhelming for you."

Merlin blinked and muttered, "You have no idea." Grinning weakly and relaxing considerably at the normality of the conversation and lack of suspicion or fascination in her father's eyes, he joked, "It's surreal, really. I'm half-expecting to wake up and find myself in the dungeons."

"Merlin…" Gwen and Gaius said simultaneously in pained tones.

Ignoring the queen and physician, Merlin continued with a sheepish grin and with a gesture around him, "In all my life, I really never expected anything like this."

Smiling, Rodor said, "Neither did we, but I'm glad you are getting the praise and recognition you deserve. But… more than that—after what I heard from Sir Percival, I don't doubt that there will be interesting times ahead for the future of this land, and I have every faith that you and Arthur are the right men to face them."

Touched, Merlin croaked, "Thank you, Sire."

"I do believe I should be thanking you personally." His eyes danced. "No ordinary earthquake, was it?"

Merlin flushed and grinned brightly. "No, it wasn't."

Rodor laughed, waved his sons forward, and said, "My Lady, Merlin, I don't believe you have met my sons. This is Quinn, my eldest, and Ronan, my second-born. They were in Northumbria when Nemeth was under attack by Odin and Morgana."

Her brothers, with curiosity shining in their eyes, greeted both Queen and warlock properly.

After they had their turn, Mithian embraced Gwen, and finally, she faced Merlin and said, "Hello, Merlin."

"Mithian," he breathed with a small smile. "It's good to see you."

"Let me just say: I'm so happy for you, Merlin," Mithian began. "Secrets might be meant to protect those we love—" as expected, his awkwardness began to disappear when he recognized the words he had spoken a few months ago "—but I think in your case, it might be easier to protect those you love now that they know your secret."

Eyes dancing with mirth, Merlin said in a mock-whisper, "Maybe so, but even after all the trouble I went through to keep the prat alive when he didn't know of my magic, I don't doubt he'll manage to find a way to make things difficult now that he does know about it."

As Gaius, Gwen, and the knights in earshot chortled, Mithian scanned his face, taking in every last angle of his face and every change in his eyes—eyes that could shift from blue to gold and back again without a single thought…

"You haven't changed a bit, have you?" Mithian asked with an intense look in her eyes that contradicted her teasing tone.

Because standing before her wasn't the man Lord Godwyn saw—the savior of Camelot, the hero who turned the tide of the battle, the sorcerer who proved to a Pendragon that magic was a force for good and who changed said Pendragon's entire mentality by revealing who he was and saving his life—saving his kingdom—in the same moment…

No, this was Merlin. All of him. He might be a powerful warlock who could command a dragon and inspire loyalty in hundreds of magic-users, but he was still Arthur's gangly, goofy, and wise servant, whose morality and compassion, whose wisdom and sense of humor, and whose loyalty and friendship had immediately had her admiration.

She saw how much the question affected him. Deep in those pools of enchanting, kaleidoscopic blue, she saw the pain of his past, the hopefulness of his future, and the uncertainty of his present, in which he was obviously torn between joy and uneasiness at the prospect of being recognized for his gifts so openly and freely.

"I am who I am," Merlin responded with a hint of a grin. "I am who I was, and I am who I will always be. What other answer is there…when I am magic and magic is me? Nothing has changed… but others' perception of me."

Her heart panged, and after struggling for words for a moment, she finally said, "You always surprise me, Merlin."

The smirk playing about the edges of his lips grew, but before he could respond to her, his eyes caught sight of something over her shoulder and widened to the size of saucers.

Curiously, she followed his gaze to see a single woman was standing in the courtyard. She was wrapped in a shawl of modest wool to ward off the bitter wind, which made her dusty, gray-streaked brunette tresses escape her pale green headscarf and whip about her round, warm face. She made no move to tame the rebellious locks. Instead, she stared up at the group with tears streaking down her high set of cheekbones, her blue eyes dancing with a deep happiness, the like of which Mithian had never seen before.

"Mother…" Merlin whispered. Rounding on Arthur, he gaped and stammered with joy and amazement, "You—but—how did—?"

The King just smirked smugly, and Gwen, who had a similar smile on her face, took her husband's hand and leaned against his arm.

Without taking his eyes off of the woman waiting, Merlin realized he wasn't going to get an answer from either of his friends and demanded, "Did you know about this, Gaius?"

"For as intelligent as you are, Merlin, you sure can be daft," the elderly physician teased, causing quite a few of the scarlet-cloaked men to choke on laughter.

Rolling his eyes at them all, he took an eager step forward, caught himself, and apologized quickly, "I'm sorry, Sires, Princess, but if you'll excuse me—"

Rodor clapped Merlin on the shoulder and said, "We look forward to the feast tonight. I'm sure we will talk more there."

Her father and brothers turned to go, but Mithian, damning propriety, lagged behind to hug Arthur, who she knew was lucky and grateful to be alive and with them today, and whisper, "I'm so glad to see you well, Arthur."

After releasing the King, she turned to catch Merlin before he ran off.

The warlock stiffened in surprise, but soon, his body released its tension and melded softly into her embrace.

"Thank you, Mithian," he said into her hair.

"What for?"

"For being one of the few who understand."

With that, he pulled away, smiled, and flew down the stairs to his mother, who embraced him with such a passion that it almost brought tears to the princess' eyes.

When she turned back to her family, she noticed Quinn and her father chatting with the maid who'd direct them to their rooms, but Ronan was waiting for her, watching her, his arms crossed and a strange look on his face as he bit his tongue.

Despite herself, Mithian blushed, and before he said anything, she snapped, "Shut up."

~…~

"You look lovely, Mith," Ronan said, leaning against the doorframe as she struggled with a heel.

The princess was dressed in a deep forest-green silk gown that hugged her curves and that had what the ladies in her court called 'a sweetheart neckline.' The skirt of the dress flared mildly and modestly at the waist, but despite the fact that the dress was nothing entirely unique and special, what had caught Mithian's attention—the reason she purchased the dress at all—was the unique duality of dark green lace and silk that made up the sleeves.

"I'd still prefer to be in boots and leggings," Mithian grumbled. Holding up her heel and shaking it, she said, "Do you know how horrible these things are?"

Ronan shrugged. "I still don't see why you don't wear your boots. The gown's long enough to cover them."

"D'you realize how many important people are here? And how important this moment is? That we're coming together with the Druid leaders after nearly three decades of misunderstanding and terror? I should be the proper princess tonight."

"I don't think anyone cares if you wear boots or not. You usually do, anyway, because you don't care if they care or not. Anyway, do you want to break an ankle with those things?"

Mithian pursed her lips and sighed. "I saw the musicians, Ronan, and when you combine a few drinks with overwrought, stressed nobles who aren't the ones hosting such a massive feast and with a Pendragon who wants nothing more than to relax tensions and keep the peace, d'you know what happens?"

Her brother stared at her before breaking out into guffaws that made tears build up in his eyes. "Are you saying that—?"

"As far as anyone knows," Mithian said over him sternly, "I hurt my ankle riding, and my inability to walk well in heels with just help with the ruse."

"Weren't you the one who was just bragging about her riding abilities?"

"Ronan!"

Chuckling, her brother held up his hands. "Fine, if you really are willing to sacrifice your pride so that you don't have to dance… I'll play along."

"Thank you," Mithian said exasperatedly.

"You know I don't think it'll ever cease amusing me that, for as athletic and graceful as you are, you cannot dance."

Grumbling under her breath about impossible brothers, she finally wrestled on her shoes and wobbled to her feet. "Let's go, Ronan. Quinn and Father must be waiting for us."

"Is that your rush?" Ronan asked, quirking a brow. "Or is that you're just anxious to see Merlin again?"

"Of course I am," Mithian scoffed, missing the hint in his words and closing the chamber door behind her as they walked into the corridor. "He and Arthur will probably have interesting things to say about—"

"There's more to it than that. You like him."

"He was there for me when I was lost and alone with no one but Morgana for company, and now he's surrounded by people who'll be a little hostile towards him for his powers or so reverent that he'll feel he's not Merlin anymore. Arthur, Gwen, Gauis, the knights… they can keep him grounded, but they are family to him. Family is biased, Ronan. And can you imagine how it must be… to sit there and pretend like you're alright with the fact that a secret you've had to keep since birth is being evaluated from all sides and with the fact that the innate fear that kept you alive all your life—and that kept your secret safe—is still in your heart? Because I can't imagine that. I don't know how he's even tolerating it right now…because I don't think I would be able to."

Taking a deep breath, Mithian finished, "He's a good friend, Ronan, so yes, you are right. I do like him, and I want to be the friend for him that he was—and is—for me… because I don't see these next weeks being easy for him."

Ronan regarded her for a moment, an unreadable gleam in his eye, before he shrugged and said with a mysterious little smile that grated on her nerves, "Alright, Mith. I see."

As they were nearing the council chambers in which they would be dining that night, guests and residential nobles of Camelot alike began to surround them, and everywhere she turned, the Princess of Nemeth heard Merlin's name.

"The Druids call him Emrys…"

"…insane… all of this. He's a serving boy… why would…?"

"…saved my boy's life during the battle…"

"Uther would be turning in his grave…"

"…before the Purge…"

"The witch Morgana…"

"…is dead because of him…"

"…how can you be sure he won't turn like she did?"

"He stopped her, didn't he? The King was dying when…"

"…the King trusts him…"

"He's dangerous…the power he has is inhuman…"

"Remember when the Witchfinder…?"

Mithian gritted her teeth against the fragments of opinions surrounding her, and after slipping into the chambers, she was grateful to see that her father and Quinn were already seated next to Queen Annis, and as she slipped into her own seat, she looked towards the table at the front of the room, where Arthur sat with Guinevere on his left and Merlin on his right. Along the table, Mithian also saw several of Arthur's most loyal and true Knights of the Round Table, as well as Gaius and Merlin's mother.

Sitting on Merlin's other side, however, were two men she did not recognize, one with curly gray hair and the other bald.

"That is Iseldir," Rodor said when she asked. "He's the chieftain of the Druids, and the other sitting next to him is Alator of the Catha. They were an integral part of Camelot's victory at the battle of Camlann."

It took a few minutes for everyone to settle in, and when the hall had silenced, King Arthur stood.

"I want to thank each and every one of you for coming," he began. "It means more than you know to see so many of Camelot's greatest allies and most cherished friends here to give us—to give this new and somewhat mind-baffling and world-altering—" muffled laughter echoed through the hall "—idea and mentality a chance.

"It takes a lot to overcome the prejudice that was born of decades of fire, axes, and fear, and it takes even more… to acknowledge that we were wrong and to see things through a different perspective. It took me nearly losing my life, my kingdom… to see.

"When my father began the Purge nearly three decades ago and banished the sorceress Nimueh from court, it was public opinion that he did it to rid the world of dark magic. In theory, it is a noble goal, but in reality? My father's Purge was no romantic and heroic endeavor to free our land of evil. At first, it might have been just that, but when that goal was fueled by grief, revenge, and then paranoia, it became nothing more and nothing less than genocide.

"And because of the mentality of my father – and of my own self during the first years of my reign – it is easy to see why there has been such a large mistrust of magic in our lives, and why it was so easy to deny there ever being such a thing as 'good' magic when our wrongs and misunderstandings turned them against us and when we, in turn, further hardened our hearts against them.

"It is a vicious cycle that must be broken or else we will destroy ourselves. Nothing can prove that fact more than the events that occurred at the battle of Camlann, where magic and sword clashed for what had seemed to be the final time. At Camlann, the future of Albion, our very livelihoods, was hanging by a thread. It could have fallen to destruction when we lost to Morgana, or it could have survived when we won, and it is only thanks to the loyalty of my manser—"

Cutting himself off, Arthur faltered and looked completely unbalanced, but after a moment, he regained his thoughts, chuckled, and said, "Well, that's awkward. Merlin, stand up, if you will."

Merlin, looking up at his master with a mixture of amusement, exasperation, and discomfort, hesitated for a moment as whispers sounded around him before following orders.

"Even before this battle, even before I was King, I had seen enough to know that the Druids were a peaceful people and that their magic and ways were not as evil as my father suggested," Arthur said. "However, it wasn't until Merlin, commanding the Great Dragon and leading an army of Druids and Catha under the guise of the old man Emrys, altered the course of the battle that I opened my eyes and saw.

"Magic is not something to be feared or hated. It is only as good or bad as the one who wields it, and I thank Merlin, Iseldir, Alator, and all those sorcerers who braved the enemy's army and Camelot's hatred to fight with us and defeat Morgana and Mordred."

There were loud cheers from everyone, no matter how stuffy or suspicious,at this point, and Arthur had to stop talking until the noise died away.

When there was silence again, Arthur continued, "And I thank Merlin for saving my life during the battle…and I am grateful for every other time he sacrificed and risked his own life for me, my knights, my queen, our people, and Camelot in the past.

"While we might not have known it, magic has been fighting at our sides for a decade, and having come to see what exactly Merlin had done with his gifts during my father's reign and my own, I know what it is I fight against now.

"I fight against injustice and against the abuse of magic. Now that I know the truth about Merlin and about magic's part in our world and its part in preventing our lands' destruction—" a smirk grew on his face "—and after realizing that both my father and I could be considered hypocrites for harboring a sorcerer and for depending on his help unwittingly, I henceforth lift the ban on magic with the promise that any magic practitioner will be judged as his non-magical fellow would be, and I reinstate the position of Court Sorcerer in my court and hand the position to Merlin, my most trusted and loyal friend, my brother, to help me overcome any magical problems our kingdom may face."

There was a mixture of polite and enthusiastic applause from the gathered guests, and Mithian saw Merlin's eyes close for the briefest second before they flew open to meet Arthur's.

The King held out his hand to the warlock, and after Merlin met it half way, Arthur pulled him into a brief embrace.

After releasing his friend, Arthur announced, "Over the next few weeks, I hope to finalize our plans about lifting the ban on magic, and I hope to hear your opinions about what the new laws should and should not contain and how it affects your kingdoms in turn.

"In the meantime, however, we can put aside all concerns and politics. Before we feast in celebration of our victory, I would like to pay my respects to the brave fighters, soldiers, knights, sorcerers, and Druids who fell during the battle. They died heroes, and may their souls find peace. Merlin? Will you do the honors?"

The warlock took a deep breath, and raising his arm, his eyes flashed gold.

Gasps resounded throughout the room, and several flinched away.

Mithian, however, felt her mouth drop open.

The flames from the candles edging the room flew and danced to conglomerate into a single ball of fire above their heads; then, swirling, twirling, contorting, the flames morphed into the fiery image of a dragon—the dragon of the Pendragon crest.

Mithian was the first to stand and bow her head in remembrance, and others followed her lead.

Merlin's eyes gleamed in the firelight, and he said in a quiet voice that was imbued with sympathy and passion, "Their sacrifice will never be forgotten."

~…~

As expected, most of the nobles loosened up after filling their bellies with food and drink, and even though this also loosened their tongues and in many cases made them rather rude, from what she could see, Merlin was courteous and kind to them all and answered any questions that they had for him. There were others, however, that seemed most genuine when talking to him—Annis and her father being two such people in particular.

Later in the night, Mithian had actually overheard him telling Arthur that he was surprised that not a single one of them had lashed out at him yet, which was a statement that made his mother, who she had learned was named Hunith, smack his arm.

But, as expected, the longer anyone talked to Merlin – whose humor and kindness was enough to batter the defenses of even the strongest skeptics – the more they began to smile and the more she saw people relaxing in his presence; and the longer they drank, the less they cared about Merlin at all.

And, as expected, the dancing and drunken shenanigans were inevitable.

Even Gwen and Arthur, after some coaxing from Leon and Gwaine, were pulled out onto the dance floor, and as Mithian surveyed the room of mingling nobles of different kingdoms and heard more laughter than she did music, it seemed, she could not deny that Arthur was a clever strategist both on and off the battlefield.

"I'm going to have to drag your brother away from Sir Gwaine sometime soon," her father said beside her.

Mithian stretched her neck to see over the heads of the dancing folk and smirked when she saw Ronan and Gwaine's arms wrapped over each other's shoulders, teetering drunkenly, and singing rowdy tavern songs in very off-key voices.

"Not being particularly good influences on each other, are they?" Mithian commented amusedly.

Rodor harrumphed a laugh, but he made no move to get up. Instead he looked at her, started in mock-surprise, and teased, "Why are you still sitting here with an old man like me? Several dashing young men came and asked you to dance."

With surprising speed and grace, he leapt to his feet and pulled her up with him. Before she could protest, he spun her in a twirl, chuckled when she stumbled in her surprise, and said encouragingly, "Go on, Mithian. You don't have to wait up for me. Quinn was looking for an early night, and most of the others are retiring. Annis is departing herself."

The princess watched Annis' path as she said her 'good nights' to Arthur, Guinevere, who was exchanging a mildly concerned look with her husband. Noticing that Merlin was not standing with them, Mithian frowned, and her gaze skimmed over the faces in the crowded room.

He was sitting alone, out of the King and Queen's line of vision, and even though his features were half-concealed by shadows, there was no mistaking the glimmering amusement in his eyes as he watched the dancers and drunken knights.

Stooping down to kiss her father, she whispered, "Sleep well, then, Father."

Already, Quinn had caught their father's eye and was making his way over to them, and Rodor repeated her words and added jokingly, "Try to keep Ronan out of trouble, eh, Mithian?"

"No promises."

Once her father, who had quite a bit to drink during the night himself and who looked ready to collapse into bed, was safely in her brother's capable care, Mithian brushed her hair off her shoulder and made her way to Merlin.

He noticed her approaching instantly and quirked a brow. His cloak was resting beside him, and she couldn't help but take a moment to admire those shoulders…and the curve of his collarbone…

"Princess? Why aren't you dancing?"

Mithian eyed the goblet that he clenched in his hand and took a seat beside him. "I twisted my ankle a few days ago," she lied.

A mischievous smile twitched at his lips, and after downing the last of his drink, he said observantly and clearly, his words completely unhindered by alcohol, "You aren't limping."

"And you're hiding in the back of the room," she retorted.

His grin only widened. "Trying to avoid dancing, Princess? I saw you turn away several fine knights and lords."

Without answering, Mithian shot back, "What's your excuse, magic boy?"

Merlin's black eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under his hair. "What did you just call me?" he laughed.

Hiding a blush, she said without hesitation, "You heard me."

Crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back, he said, "Mithian, I trip over every other crack in the castle. Of course I can't possibly dance, and I'm trying to avoid Gwen because she'll insist I join them. She means well, but she thinks that me being alone… isn't a good thing. Worse than me trampling her toes and tearing her dress, apparently."

Softly, she said, "She was looking for you, just now, you know. Arthur, too."

Wincing and swallowing thickly, Merlin looked away, and he whispered, "They—they don't want me to feel alone anymore."

"Because you're not alone anymore."

"And that's exactly it… I'm used to being alone. I'm used to hiding in the shadows… I have all my life. It is a strange feeling to have the world know, and all this? It is too much." He laughed weakly and gestured to the hall. "And for me? A peasant from Ealdor?"

"Your modesty does you credit, Merlin, but there's no one I know who deserves this moment more than you do." Mithian felt her stomach somersault as his face reddened, and she teased, "And yet here you are, sitting in the corner."

Merlin's cobalt-grey eyes flashed to her and then flickered to his knees, and Mithian studied him for a moment and saw the signs of stress and exhaustion about his eyes. "I can understand that after what you've been through, some solitude might do you good… but I also think that you should remember that this is your moment. Embrace it."

To her interest and joy, a sliver of glimmering gold coursed through his eyes—it was absolutely gorgeous, she realized—and tiny beads of light began to weave through his restless fingers as he considered her statement.

But… what was most gorgeous about what was happening before her was that he was being himself—completely himself—and was acting on impulse, without thinking about the consequences. It was an impulse that she could imagine he had suppressed for most of his life.

He threaded the light through his fingers, and after he sighed and looked up to her again, he suddenly realized what he was doing.

It pained her to see him cease using his magic so abruptly when he caught her watching, and it only drove the knife home when his eyes widened momentarily.

"It's—I never got to play with it like this before," Merlin muttered in embarrassment. "It feels right. And good, to just…let it free like this."

"It is beautiful," she said appreciatively, "what you can do."

His eyes darkened, and his gaze flickered to the rest of the guests. "It is frightening."

"Merlin," she said sternly, somehow knowing exactly what he was thinking. She saw the haunting ghosts of the dead in his eyes. "Whatever power you possess, whatever you had to do at Camlann… to kill her, to win… you did it for the greater good, and anyone who has met you knows that you are kind and good and that you'd never use your magic for anything other than just that: good.

"You might be Emrys, Merlin Emrys," she said. He didn't look surprised that she knew the name and its significance. After all, it wasn't hard to have learned the origin of the name during the feast with all the gossip that was flying around, and she did get to chat with Hunith, who was as lovely as she thought she'd be, and Iseldir, who had, along with the knights, taken the duty of squashing nasty rumors about Merlin to heart. "But the man you are—" she poked his chest above his heart. "That's Merlin, and he's who controls the power of Emrys. You and he, he and you—though it's not even divided into 'he' and 'you' when both Merlin and Emrys are one in the same.

"And isn't that a large purpose of this whole gathering? It means more to Arthur and Gwen that everyone is getting to know you for who you are and that you are adjusting to everyone knowing about your magic. It means more than the laws themselves. Because we know that no amount of debate and disagreement will change the fact that magic is going to be free again. This—they're doing this for you, and by simply being yourself, all the rest… will fall in place."

If at all possible, his eyes, locked with hers, seemed to grow even bluer as he stared at her for a long moment.

Cocking his head, he said so softly she could hardly hear him, "You're different from the others."

"I'm sorry?"

A sunny, impish grin broke through the clouds of darkness hovering about him, and he leapt to his feet, taking her hand and energetically pulling her up with him.

"C'mon," he said.

"Where are we going?" Mithian asked, not resisting when he began to lead her.

"Dancing."

Digging her heels in immediately, Mithian rounded on him. "Oh, no. We are not."

When he just continued to grin expectantly, she shook her head. "No, Merlin. As a general rule, I don't dance."

"You just came—alone," Merlin began in a tone of mock-disbelief, "and sat next to a powerful warlock who can call down a dragon to rain hell on everyone, talked him out of his moping, and you're afraid of—"

"I'm not afraid, and didn't I just tell you—?"

"You just told me that I should be having fun and not thinking about the past and worrying about what other people think of me when I have good friends who care for me—all of me—and when there's a hopeful and brilliant future awaiting me."

The blue eyes shone with mirth as she stared at him. "And besides, if you think about it, it's better that we keep the damage we might cause between ourselves… instead of inflicting it on innocent bystanders."

That made Mithian laugh, and after looking up at his lopsided grin, sharp cheekbones, and eager eyes, she felt her heart pitter-patter. "If anything does get damaged, I'm blaming you."

Smirking, Merlin took her hand again, and before long, they were laughing hysterically and stumbling over each other's feet as they attempted to find the tempo of the music.

It didn't escape her notice that Arthur and Gwen watched the princess and warlock openly and without shame.

Gwen looked like she was holding back tears of happiness and amusement, and her eyes glowed with gratitude to Mithian for dragging Merlin out of hiding.

Arthur, on the other hand, had quirked an eyebrow upon seeing them hand in hand, and had no qualm laughing and teasing Merlin relentlessly. All of those who had not yet retired for the evening—most of whom were Arthur's knights—also began to watch more than talk, and for every tease that Arthur and Gwaine had for Merlin, Ronan had one prepared for Mithian.

Despite her initial embarrassment, Mithian realized that she couldn't remember the last time she had had that much fun, and it wasn't until she lay in bed that she realized that nothing had ever felt more right than apologizing incessantly when she trod on Merlin's toes… and hearing the knights', king's, and queen's laughter around her. But more than that: she couldn't get the sound of his laughter—mixing and melding with her own—out of her head.


AN: Next chapter, I promise not only growing tension between Merlin and Mithian but also some banter/bromance between Merlin and Arthur, so stick around! ;D

Oz out.