Author's Notes. I would like to thank everyone who took the time to post a review, and those who are favourite/following my story. I have never posted a Merlin fic before, so your support was very much appreciated. As I am not a very fast writer, I've decided to post once a week on Fridays. Hopefully, I can keep to that schedule and will not let my readers down.

I don't own Merlin, and only write for pleasure, and I hope those reading enjoy this story of Merlin and Arthur's future in Camelot.

Chapter Two

Promises Around a Camp-fire

The shores of lake Avalon, in this particular spot, were covered with stunted trees and bushes, so it took Merlin longer than he'd expected to gather wood for the fire. There was every chance the temperature would drop during the night, and it was important that Arthur be kept warm. The fire would need a lot of fuel.

Merlin also had to find something for a meal; his stomach was complaining that it was well past dinner time. With that in mind, he'd appropriated Excalibur, hoping The King wouldn't be too upset that his famous sword should be put to such a mundane use. However, Merlin discovered that a sword wasn't the ideal weapon for hunting rabbits or other small mammals... neither was magic.

By the time he returned to the camp, darkness had fallen and a chill wind blew from the surface of the lake, sighing eerily amongst the reeds and gorse, while overhead, a hunting owl hooted, the sound plaintive in the gathering gloom. He only hoped the bird had more success than he. Placing his burdens on the ground by the remains of the fire, he hurried over to the makeshift pallet.

Arthur was still asleep, yet in a restless slumber he had tossed his cloak away. Gently, Merlin placed a hand on Arthur's brow expecting to find it cold, but instead it was unhealthily warm. Was the dragon's spell failing already?

A sense of dread filled Merlin's soul. Surely Kilgarrah never intended to revive Arthur only for one day. Except, the dragon hadn't been in full possession of his powers. Perhaps neither Kilgarrah nor Emrys could thwart destiny.

Tears slipped helplessly down Merlin's cheek and splashed onto Arthur's face, a face that gleamed palely in the light of a fitful moon, yet the blue eyes opened and immediately focused on Merlin's worried frown.

"What is it?" Arthur's question was sharp. "A Saxon patrol?" His hand groped instinctively for his sword.

"No, Arthur," Placing both hands on Arthur's shoulders, he pushed The King down on the makeshift bed. "No, soldiers. Just us. But it is going to be freezing tonight, and you seem to be running a fever." He hid his concern as he fussily spread the red cloak over Arthur again. "You need to keep warm."

"I am warm! Too warm..."

"Because you have a fever, and I'm the physician, so do as you're told." The fact that Arthur had enough energy to fight with him soothed Merlin's escalating fears.

"Are you treating me as a physician or a sorcerer?" Arthur asked with a smile, taking any sting out of his words.

"To tell the truth, I'm not sure. A little of both, I suppose." He sat back on his heels. "I managed to find some comfrey and sticklewort. I'll make you a tincture, once I get this fire started again. It should reduce the fever."

Arthur grimaced. "Oh, joy! No doubt it will taste as bad as Gaius' usual potions."

"Don't be such a girl!" With his anxieties calming down, Merlin was beginning to enjoy his interaction with The King.

"Hey, you keep pinching my lines!" Arthur moaned.

"Well, I'm in charge for the moment, so just relax and accept it." Merlin sent his friend a stern look, belied by the quirk of his lips. "But joking aside, you might be out of danger, but you are still suffering from the effects of your wound, and you have to take care of yourself. That means doing what I tell you."

Merlin busily built up the fire, and with a little blast of magic, flames were soon burning brightly, while sparks floated like rubies into the sky. Both men basked silently in the fire-glow for a few moments, content in each other's company. "Are your boots dry?" Merlin piped up.

"They're fine," Arthur answered, trusting himself completely to Merlin and feeling a sense of relief in doing so. He also pulled the cloak more tightly around his body, just as he had been instructed. "You don't have to fuss. I'll do exactly what you say until I'm well again. You're right. Camelot needs me; Guinevere needs me, needs us both, in fact. The sooner I'm better, the sooner we can start for home and fixing what's wrong in Camelot, namely those laws on prosecuting sorcerers. I might not have adhered strictly to my father's laws these last years, but they ought to have been repealed. No doubt that won't please some of my father's old-guard, so I'm going to need your help, Merlin."

Arthur's words brought joy to Merlin's soul. At last, magic would be accepted in the land; one part of his destiny accomplished. Yet his happiness was tinged with pathos, especially since Arthur's long speech had left him looking decidedly shaky. Soon he would have to talk about the true state of Arthur's health.

But the royal stomach growled, which had to be a good sign. "Merlin, did you say we had food? I think I could eat something."

"You're not going to like this..."

"Merlin, please not rat stew? I hoped that was just a joke."

"No! No rat. No meat of any kind, actually."

"Not even a rabbit? I admit it's a bit difficult to kill a rabbit with a sword." Arthur pointed to Excalibur; so he had realised Merlin had taken it. "But you blasted a few hundred Saxons with your lightening bolts, surely a couple of rabbits shouldn't be too difficult."

"Those Saxons were threatening to wipe us out! I had to destroy them. Somehow a couple of innocent rabbits don't fall into the same category." Merlin ducked his head, somewhat abashed at this admission.

Those words brought an animated chuckle from Arthur. "You're very soft-hearted as sorcerers go, but please, don't ever change. Besides, I'm beginning to realise I've met a very bad class of sorcerers in the past. You'll have to introduce me to some of your friends."

Clearly, Arthur was taking this whole magic thing very well, but there was a large slice of truth in what he said. "I'd be glad to, but to be honest, I don't know many sorcerers. They were all too busy hiding their gifts from Uther..."

"And from me," Arthur sighed again. "I wanted my kingdom to be fair and honest, a haven for all decent people, noble and commoner alike, and I haven't really succeeded in that. I've misjudged a whole group of my subjects because it was easier to believe what had been drummed into me as a child, that magic was evil and all who practise it were breaking the laws of Camelot. I did my father's bidding, though I didn't always approve. I cannot excuse myself from blame" The King reached out and placed a hand on Merlin's arm. " But, you have my word that I intend to change, to learn what magic really means... and that's not just empty words."

Merlin glanced up from shredding his stock of berries and roots with Excalibur. To be honest, he was finding it very difficult to use the large sword as a paring knife. "I believe you, Arthur, but neither of us imagines that's as straightforward as it sounds. There are some who are still afraid of magic, and some who are uncomfortable with change."

"Then we have to persuade them. Nothing worthwhile is ever simple, but we will find a way." After watching Merlin struggle with the sword for a few minutes, Arthur pushed himself upright and swung his legs towards the fire. "Here, give that to me," he demanded, but not quite in his King of Camelot voice. "You'll cut yourself. I'm assuming we need some water to boil these in, so perhaps you could collect some from the lake, while I attempt some shredding."

Merlin couldn't keep the scepticism from his voice. "Are you sure? Your hands aren't exactly steady either. Ki... I... didn't cure you just to let you bleed to death from slitting your wrists by accident."

Merlin gulped. Here he was lying to Arthur again, and he certainly didn't want to, but needs must. If Arthur wanted him to scry again after supper, he felt sure there would be a great deal of raw emotions flowing. He must learn patience, tackle one problem at a time.

But Arthur was too busy trying to master the art of slicing vegetables to notice Merlin's slip, or the blush that covered his cheeks. "Even half dead," he declared, "I think I can handle a blade better than you, though I understand now why you turned down the lessons I offered. You never needed a conventional weapon..."

"I have my skills. You have yours," Merlin offered.

"True," Arthur acceded with a little tilt of his head. "But somehow I think I'm the lesser man."

"Never say so!" Merlin cried in amazement and a hint of annoyance. "You were born to be a king, a true king. The old woman who gave you the Horn of Cathbhhadh saw that... and she only knew you for a very short time. You have all the attributes of a great leader: You have vision, and a strong sense of purpose; but most of all, you honestly care about the welfare of your people, and you inspire them to be greater than they are. If I'd never left Ealdor, never journeyed to Camelot and met you, perhaps I wouldn't be the sorcerer I am today. We are the two sides of a coin, Arthur. Neither one greater than the other half. We share a destiny. There is no one without the other."

"Then you shall be with me, Merlin. One thing I'm certain of is that I will not reign alone like my father. With you and Guinevere to council me, perhaps I can be that great king you speak of."

Merlin nodded, his affection for his friend overflowing, however he hid his feelings with a quip. It was the normal way the two men communicated. "That will be a difficult task for Gwen and me."

"What?!" Arthur squealed in mock horror. He had been unconsciously rubbing a mushroom between his fingers. Now he threw it at Merlin, with unerring aim.

Merlin plucked the mushroom out of the air seconds before it hit his head. "Anger-management training might come in very useful."

"Wrong, Merlin. I'm not angry at all." Arthur excused himself, loftily. "I'm just wondering if that fungus is actually edible? Here we are discussing the magnificent future of Camelot, so it wouldn't help those plans if we died of food-poisoning before it even started."

"Oh! Right!" Merlin studied the offending plant, and the others which lay on a stone in front of Arthur. "Maybe not," he decided, throwing it over his shoulder. "I must have picked it by mistake, and that one too." He indicated a red-topped toadstool. "But the rest are fine."

Using some green leaves which he'd lifted, Arthur pointed at Merlin. "Merlin, how can you be so wise, yet such an idiot too?"

Merlin smirked. "It's just another part of my charm. And that plant you're holding is comfrey. It's medicinal and not meant to go in the stew. Leave that for me to brew up later." He climbed to his feet and, lifting the ancient bowl, went off to fetch water.

"I've never said that cooking was one of my strong points!" Arthur's laughter followed in his wake, as he remembered times past.

Late into the night, the two men sat huddled together for warmth, the voluminous cloak swept around both their shoulders to keep out the wind, while the fire warmed their faces, hands and feet.

Both were tired, and Arthur was drowsy due to Merlin's potion, but neither wished to go to sleep just yet. Uncharacteristically, The King had shown a good deal of patience by not demanding Merlin to 'see' for him again. Yet Merlin was aware of Arthur's anxiously bitten lip, his furrowed brow. As long as Arthur breathed he would worry about those left behind in Camelot.

While preparing the food, they'd touched on a few serious topics and shared the odd tease. In contrast, they'd both been quiet during the meal, concentrating on what they'd learned in the last couple of days. At last, they spoke in unison.

"Arthur!"

"Merlin!"

There was a second of silence before The King gestured for Merlin to speak.

"Sire..."

"Merlin, you've forgotten again."

"Sorry," Merlin ducked his head, before staring into Arthur's face. "Would you like me to scry for you again?"

Arthur's eyebrows rose. "Is reading minds another one of your talents?"

"Not yours! I've always been mystified by your thought processes."

"And I yours!" Both men still vied to get in the last word, and probably always would. "But joking aside, Merlin, if you're not too tired or upset, I would like to know who amongst my knights is still alive, and it's going to take us an age to walk back to Camelot, even starting at first light." It was typical Arthur to ignore his state of health. He rolled his hand over. "So, if you would? You mentioned Leon, already. I'm happy he is unhurt and helping Guinevere, and you must be relieved Gaius has found his way home, though I suspect he's a very busy physician right now. The kingdom owes him much."

"You do know I might discover information that might upset you, if I am successful at all? This is a new skill for me."

For a few minutes, Arthur remained silent, deliberating. Finally, he gave a sharp nod. "I think not knowing is worse. I watched Edgar Sergeant die. He was a guard in my father's army. I had known him since I was a boy. It was he I was with when Mordred attacked me." Arthur swallowed hard. "You were right about him, Merlin. You never did trust Mordred... though it was probably my refusal to pardon Kara that turned him against me. There was good in him, though I doubt you would agree."

Merlin searched Arthur's sorrowful face. Even now, there was no sign of rancour towards Mordred. "I do agree, and I did like him, but I'd been shown a vision of Mordred stabbing you at Camlann. After that, I couldn't be easy with his presence in Camelot."

"That's understandable, and you couldn't tell me to get rid of him, not without revealing you had magic."

"I should have told you... earlier," Merlin said with regret. "Maybe we could have put a stop to the battle."

"No, Merlin. You couldn't have known how I would have reacted to an earlier confession. I don't even know how I would have reacted." Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "But I am sure I wouldn't have had you executed. Exiled perhaps, though I'd probably have begged you to come back, after a few weeks of enduring the excellent George's ministrations." A wry grin flitted across Arthur's face.

"I should have tried to help Morgana when I first discovered she had magic." Merlin could no longer ignore his guilt. "Perhaps..."

With a shake of his head, Arthur interrupted quickly. "We can't do this, Merlin. Second guess ourselves this way. How far do we have to go back? If I had never been born and my mother had lived, Uther wouldn't have demonised sorcery. A lot of innocent people wouldn't have been consigned to the flames, and there would have been no need for Morgana to run away."

"Arthur, you had no control over your conception, or your birth."

For some seconds Arthur stared pensively into the fire. "We can't undo the past; but, henceforth, we can try to ensure that Albion is just and fair to all the people who dwell within her borders. That is the legacy I want for Camelot. Will you stand with me, Merlin?"

Arthur stretched a hand out to the man by his side, and when Merlin took hold, he pulled him in for a hug. No jokes nor horseplay, no doubts. Not master and servant, just two men who were closer than friends, closer even than the brotherhood of The Knights of The Round Table. They were two halves of a whole, destined to build a kingdom that would live long in the minds of men, and they would do it together.

When they finally parted, both men decided they were too weary, too emotionally spent for further enchantments. Tonight they would sleep and tomorrow they would begin to reshape the future.

Well, if you've liked what you have read or not, please feel free to review. If you do have any constructive criticism, I can take it, but please do it in a gentle way. I'm not too thick skinned. :)