The knights looked scared. Well, not scared exactly, knights of Camelot never really looked scared. But certainly concerned: anxious. There was an air of expectation in the council chambers, and they were looking at their King as one might look to a saviour who has come to reassure them that everything was going to be okay.

Arthur looked back at them, wishing he could be that definite. He offered them a grim smile, staring round at all their faces, holding each gaze briefly as he went around the table, knowing each by name and by character.

Merlin was sitting at the far side of the round table, his eyes firmly closed, one hand holding onto the table's edge as if to anchor him. They'd had a talk before coming in, Arthur dragging him into an ante-chamber and leaving the knights waiting. It had been brief, with only a few pointed questions (things the King should have asked ages ago, but had been avoiding), before entering the council chambers and guiding Merlin silently to a chair. The answers he'd received, while not unexpected, were still rather vexing, and it was taking quite an effort to face his knights with a neutral expression. But then, stuffing down his emotions and just getting on with things, was one of Arthur's many talents.

He nodded. "Knights," he began, in the deep voice he reserved for only his most crucial speeches. "We have come a difficult road these last few days. And every one of you has proved yourself beyond doubt an exemplary servant of Camelot. But our greatest challenge still lies ahead.

"I know that you are all aware of what Morgana has done, and the knowledge of what is emerging from beneath the citadel is now widespread. This is a foe unlike any we have encountered before. It is a terrible beast, which by all accounts, was fought and defeated by our forefathers long ago. It is being unleashed on a world that Morgana believes is unprepared, and unable to defeat it. But she is wrong. We can destroy this enemy."

A slight murmur of support went around the table.

Arthur changed tack. "I have not been your King for long," he said. "Since my father was cruelly taken from us all." He looked down. "Uther was a great man," he went on, with just a hint of emotion creeping into his voice. "He was a powerful king, a good father. Not a moment goes by that I do not miss him: his council, his support, his wisdom." He paused, as sorrow sought to overwhelm him. But he controlled it firmly, and continued with speed. "But as with all men, my father had a flaw. In one area he allowed his hatred and fear to control his decisions: and that area was magic." Arthur paused again, as another murmur went around the knights. A couple of them glanced at each other.

"My father rejected magic," he went on. "Because of an incident that happened over 20 years ago. It was personal, and the result was the death of hundreds of innocent people." He looked up and around the knights firmly. "I understand why he did it, but I also now believe he was wrong."

More of them glanced around, some with expressions of amazement.

"I loved my father dearly," Arthur said. "But in many ways, it was his views on magic that were his downfall. If the Lady Morgana had not felt herself ostracised from the court because of her magical abilities, if she'd been able to learn and better her skills in the open, instead of hiding them in the shadows and seeking teachers in the dark, it is possible, in fact quite likely, that this day would never have come.

"But we cannot re-write the past, nor hope to correct the mistakes of others. We must merely seek to not repeat them ourselves."

He sighed deeply.

"Today," he said. "It is magic that will be our salvation." He allowed that to sink in. Then he smiled slightly, and pushing back his chair, he moved out from the table, and slowly began to walk around it behind them. "I have been extremely lucky, as it turns out," he went on. "Through the years, there have been a great many magical threats that I have faced, that we have all faced, and we have defeated them all. There has been not a magical beast nor a mythical creature myself and my knights could not best." His smile widened, and he clapped a hand on Lancelot's shoulder as he passed him. "Griffins," he said. Then he pointed at Leon on the other side of the table. "Dragons." Then at Gwaine. "Wyvern." Gwaine grinned back broadly. Arthur continued to walk. "We have faced evil sorcerers, wraiths, witches, armies of the dead, and Camelot has never fallen. We have never let it fall. But as it turns out, we've had a little help."

He stopped, and glanced around them all, gauging their reaction. Some of his knights were looking shocked at what he was saying. A few were smiling, one or two with uncertainty. A couple had a dark look on their faces, and these Arthur fixed on, gazing into their eyes as if to reassure them. One held his gaze, his face softening slightly under his king's scrutiny. The other dropped his eyes almost immediately.

Nodding to himself, satisfied that they were with him up to this point, Arthur continued to walk. He'd made it nearly one revolution, and turned to go back, re-tracing his steps.

"There is one here in Camelot who has been practising magic since the day he arrived." He heard another intake of breath from some of the knights. "Not for evil," Arthur went on quickly. "But to protect us, to protect me. And this person did it under risk of being executed every day. The fear must have been immense, but they continued, no matter what the cost. And it's a good thing they did, because if it hadn't been for this person, we wouldn't have defeated the dragon or the griffin or the armies of the dead. In fact, we probably wouldn't be here now, and we certainly wouldn't be able to defeat the threat that faces us today."

Arthur stopped again, directly opposite from where he'd started. He put his arms on the back of Merlin's chair, leaning on it casually as though it was a bar and he was ordering a drink.

"I think you can open your eyes now," he said gently.

It was a statement that might have implied to some of the knights that it was time for them to see the truth for themselves, and certainly, his phrase had that double meaning. For when Merlin did as he was asked, it was as though a veil had been drawn away from the knights' eyes at the revelation of his glowing ones.

There were more gasps, several of the knights got to their feet, chairs scraping away backwards, some with angry and shocked cries.

Arthur ignored them all, standing up and away from Merlin's chair, as the warlock sat there wishing quite ardently that the ground would open up and swallow him whole. His cheeks were burning with the attention he was getting. But he knew it was necessary, and he held his ground trying not to fidget.

Arthur meanwhile, was walking around the table again, under the gaze of the knights. He knew Merlin was in no danger from them. After all, he'd seen what had happened to Alvarr the previous evening. And he was pretty certain that even if Merlin hadn't been willing to defend himself against the knights of Camelot, Gwaine and Lancelot would leap in to do it for him should the need arise.

But as he had suspected, after a few moments of uproar, the room began to quiet again, and by the time he had re-taken his position at the head of the table, looking firm and regal, all voices had died away. Arthur didn't sit.

He looked around.

"Merlin has served me with loyalty and devotion – and with magic these past years," he stated firmly. "It is true I did not know of his abilities, and when I found out, my reaction was probably similar to yours…. maybe more so. But I now know what he has done for us, done for me. And I am more grateful than I can ever say for his courage and his bravery."

Merlin's cheeked flushed a darker shade of red, and he fought the small smile of pride that threatened to grace his lips.

Arthur continued: "Two nights ago he took into himself a magical power with the specific intention of stopping the demon that my sister has unleashed upon us. This power was so strong that it has cost him dear, and taken his sight." He looked around. "Though maybe today it would be some comfort that he is unable to see the expressions that I am seeing now on some of your faces."

Arthur wasn't beyond guilting them. It was the fastest way, sometimes, to bring people round to a fact they did not wish to face. And true enough, many of those who had had anger in their eyes, appeared to soften, and look away.

"But sire," one spoke.

"Yes Sir Anthony," Arthur allowed.

"With respect," he said. "Your father was not wrong. Every magic user that we have come across in these last 20 years has been intent on Camelot's destruction. Merlin may have appeared loyal to you, but what if he has other intentions?" The knight glanced nervously in Merlin's direction, clearly expecting him to strike him dead on the spot. But Merlin's expression didn't change, and he didn't move.

Arthur looked at his knight. "We have fought many enemies these last years," he agreed. "We have fought many kings who have been intent on Camelot's destruction. But we would never think that this fact makes all kings evil."

"Yes, but sorcery corrupts your soul," another knight, Sir Gerraint broke in. "I was brought up to believe this sire. It is an evil power that blackens even the purest of hearts."

"What rot!" Gwaine scoffed loudly. "Tell me, do you still check under your bed for monsters at night as well?"

Anger flooded Sir Gerraint's face, and it appeared he would have stood to challenge Gwaine's tone (having never liked the knight anyway), when Arthur broke in.

"Gwaine, that's enough!" he said, then turned back to Gerraint. "I must admit I am a novice in the ways of magic," he said, honestly. "But I would imagine, as in all things, having some sort of magical power or ability, would probably lend itself to a belief that you were different. Perhaps worthy of special treatment." He smiled. "I seem to remember that as I was growing up I thought myself very worthy of special treatment. I also seem to remember that I was particularly harsh on anyone who did not show me the respect I believed that I deserved. I can't imagine I was very pleasant to be around." There were a few smiles around the table from those who remembered just how unpleasant Arthur had been as a cocky teenager striding round court, baiting and jeering at those weaker than him.

"But I'm not sure if you've really seen Merlin in the five years since he's been here?" Arthur asked Gerraint, his voice hardening slightly. "Maybe you haven't noticed him because he was a servant, or because he was always on his knees scrubbing my floors, or running around hidden behind piles of laundry or armour." He fixed Gerraint with a look. "These are not the actions of a man who believes himself special."

There was a short uncomfortable silence.

The Elyan spoke. "Merlin?" he asked, and smiled. "What's it like – to have magic?"

Merlin smiled as well, grateful for his question, for his silent support. "It's – um," he began in a quiet voice. "Scary," he admitted, nodding slightly. "Being here, knowing how people feel about people like me. But even where I came from, where magic wasn't forbidden, people didn't trust it. And I've had it my entire life." he blinked. "So I guess, I don't really know what it's like – to not have magic."

"Do you mean us harm, on your honour?" Sir Anthony demanded of him directly, earning himself a scowl from Gwaine.

But Merlin was unperturbed, and simply shook his head. "I'll take any oath you want," he stated. "I am not a knight, but on my life, I mean only to protect you, and to protect Arthur most of all. It's why I'm here. It's why I've always been here."

"Look," Arthur said commandingly. "I'm sure you've all got questions, and they will be answered. But for right now, we have something more pressing to worry ourselves about, like facing the demon when it emerges from its hellish pit. What we have to decide here is what exactly is going to happen." He sat down again. "Knights," he said. "This is a new age. There is a new king on the throne of Camelot. And believe me, he's a king who really, really doesn't want to rule just until this evening."

It was a sweltering day, one of those days that you long for all winter, then regret when it arrives in summer. The knights sweated silently in their chain mail ovens. The remaining nobles in the citadel swore quietly in their expensive leathers, the poorer residents tugged at their thick linens. All were tense, stomachs churning, mouths dry from the heat and the stress.

After they'd laid their plans, Merlin had returned to his chambers to find an anxious Gaius waiting for him. He'd told him as much as he could, and they'd sat together for a long time in silence, Gaius simply placing his hands over Merlin's on top of the table.

Merlin was afraid. There was no way of getting around it. Great power, or no great power, he was young and life should have been stretching out before him full of possibilities and hope. And here he was, about to risk everything for a kingdom that barely accepted him. Death was looming too close, like a man with bad breath in a bar.

Gaius was afraid for him, and if Merlin had the use of his eyes, he might have been concerned for his guardian, whose face was pale as he watched Merlin silently struggle to accept his fate.

And so the two of them sat, drawing strength from each other, from their bond, from their love. Fate approached with heavy footsteps, but for now they had each other, and nothing else to do but wait.

On the battlements, Arthur stood with his arms wrapped around Guinevere, his chin resting lightly on the side of her head. They were looking out over the land, seeing the heat hazily rising away into the clearest of clear blue skies. It should have been glorious, a lazy afternoon together, with no one to reproach them for their impropriety. But that was because Arthur's father was dead, and anyone else who might have complained was too distracted by the impending doom.

Arthur was clinging to her, not wanting to ever let her go. Guinevere was his life now, her, the kingdom, the role he had assumed. This was his world, and he hated that it was threatened, hated that so much violence had already occurred under his short reign, and that so much was still ahead.

He could see faintly, Morgana's troops in the distance, a black smudge on the horizon. It made his stomach clench to see it. Even if a miracle happened this day and they did indeed defeat the demon, they would still have this to contend with. His sister would still be out there, waiting.

Sighing, he noted the position of the sun in the sky, and kissed his love low on her cheek. She shut her eyes and leaned into him, and the weight was comforting, her presence, her trust.

"I'm going to have to go," he murmured quietly.

She nodded, opening her eyes as a single tear trickled its way through the dust on her cheek.

"Win for me," she muttered back.

"Guinevere," he whispered, but then she turned and kissed him. And in that instant, it was as though they had stepped out of the world and were together elsewhere, where no harm was even thought of to hurt them. There was only that kiss, only their two souls joined together trying desperately to cling to this moment forever.

And then it was over.

She pulled away from him and stared deeply into his eyes, giving everything to him, everything for him.

"I'm not going to die," he said firmly.

Her eyes hardened. "No you're not, Arthur Pendragon. You're the King, you're the rightful man to rule this land, and no one can take that from you!" She put her hands on either side of his face. "And I love you, Arthur. King or no King. I believe in you."

He reached up and took her hands gently from his face, holding them in his, and then bringing them to his lips for a soft kiss.

"I will come back to you," he asserted.

She nodded, tears threatening again, but he turned away quickly, not wanting to see them fall, and hurried away along the wall under the gaze of his knights.

The shadows lengthened. All was prepared.

TBC