"Magic?! Oh, you absolute fool," Arthur thunders, slamming his hand into the table.
Merlin and Gwen both jump. Aithusa startles from her state of half-sleep, looks at Arthur with wide, blue eyes, and dissolves into tears. An impatient sigh escapes the king, and without wasting another second, he scoops Merlin's daughter into his arms.
"You father," Arthur tells her sternly, "is a horribly, unbelievably, terminally idiotic fool."
"Arthur," Gwen reprimands.
Arthur chucks Aithusa beneath her chin, momentarily stilling her quivering bottom lip.
"Coming to Camelot," Arthur grinds out, glancing up at Merlin, "to a place where he could be killed for sorcery, as a bloody sorcerer."
"Language," Merlin and Gwen snap in unison.
"He could have gotten himself killed," Arthur replies, still not looking away from his advisor with a thunderously angry expression. "Really, Merlin, how stupid are you? I knew you had no self-preservation skills, but that is beyond the pale, even for you."
"I was seventeen," Merlin replies, exasperated. "My powers were barely within my control."
Arthur's eyes widen. "What do you mean your powers were barely within your control? First, you must learn magic to do magic. It's always under your control. And second, why would anyone in their right mind who is purportedly struggling with magic come to a place where it is punishable by death?"
"You're taking this… alarmingly well," Merlin tells him slowly.
"I'm out of my mind, you empty-headed buffoon," Arthur yells. Aithusa wails again, but instead of trying to get away from Arthur, tucks herself closer to his chest. Arthur glances down at her, squeezes her gently, and says, "I am not angry with you, Princess Little Dragon."
"Stop yelling at my Papa," Aithusa demands.
"I'm sorry," Arthur tells her, making an effort to even out his breathing. "I just… my gods above, why, Merlin?"
Merlin shrugs and gives him a half-smile. "Because my mum told me to."
Despite his anger, Arthur snorts. Then, he shakes his head, anger falling back into place.
"When did you learn magic?" Arthur asks.
Merlin shakes his head. "I didn't."
"You just told me–"
"My mum told me that when she began having her pains, a thunderstorm broke over Ealdor that lasted well into the night."
"That doesn't–"
"And that when I took my first breath, the fire in the hearth blazed to life from embers. As did every other fire in every other hearth in the village," Merlin tells him. "When she looked at me, my eyes weren't blue. They were gold."
Arthur's breath catches in his chest.
"That isn't possible," Arthur tells him.
"Uh-huh," Aithusa protests, pushing herself away from Arthur. She holds out a hand for him to see, and produces in her little palm a flame. It is no larger or brighter than the burning end of a candle. Yet Arthur watches it closely with a guarded expression.
Merlin watches them both.
"When did your Papa teach you that?" Arthur asks quietly.
Aithusa lets the flame go out and lowers her hand. She looks uncertainly at Merlin, then back at the king.
"He didn't. I could always do it. 'Cuz I'm like him, and so I can."
At Arthur's disbelieving look, Merlin tells him, "I can't teach her to eat properly yet, Arthur. You really think I've taught her magic?"
"Right," Arthur says. He sits heavily in the chair across from his wife and next to Merlin.
"But also…" Merlin says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Aithusa is a longer story."
"You told us Aithusa's story," Gwen says, furrowing her brow.
"Only sort of."
"This is unreal," Arthur huffs, shaking his head. "You've been lying–"
"Yes," Merlin snaps. "But I had to, Arthur. It was a choice between living the lie or dying on the pyre. More than that, if I were found out, or confessed, I would condemn everyone around me as well. Gaius for harboring me, my mother for the same, my friends for consorting to protect me."
"I never arrested conspirators–" Arthur begins.
"People have already died for my secret, Arthur," Merlin says levelly. "I didn't ask them to. I didn't want them to. But they have. A war has been going on. I've lost people. And I've been… alone in this… because my entire life, I have been told that I must be in order to protect those I love."
"That wasn't always the case, though, was it?" Arthur argues. "Didn't you ever, just for a second, believe I might protect you? I've snuck you out of the city before, bailed you out of all kinds of trouble!"
"Of course it occurred to me, Arthur," Merlin replies, softening. "But look at where we are now, with you as king and me as advisor. This is not just a conversation about my past. You are going to have to decide what to do with me. You have someone who committed treason sitting next to you. Someone who has done worse, too. And it may have been in the name of you and your kingdom, but all the same, it was done with magic. Without your knowledge. It's a serious crime. And I never… I never wanted to put you in this position. Not if I could help it."
Arthur deflates some, settling down into his chair. Merlin is right. This mess is somehow the best case scenario. At any other time during their friendship, Arthur would likely have had to choose between allowing his friend to die and subverting the law to protect him.
But now he has to choose between sentencing his friend to death, or changing the law to protect him.
"This is an impossible thing you've put before me, Merlin," Arthur tells him.
"You have done the impossible before," Merlin reminds him.
Arthur simply gives him a nod. The trio is quiet for a while longer before one of them speaks again.
"I have placed my life in your hands before, Arthur," Merlin says evenly, "but never like this. Before, you would have to choose between your father's laws–his rule, his justice–and your friendship with me. And now the burden is on you and you alone."
"It's more complicated than that," Arthur snaps. "I can't just change a twenty-six year old law overnight even if I wanted to. And I can't just throw you to the pyre. It's more than just a question of what I think is right or wrong."
Merlin gives Arthur and Gwen a sad smile. "I understand the decision that faces you both now. And the more I tell you, the more difficult that decision will be to make. But you made me a promise, Arthur. You will hear everything before passing judgment."
"Gods," Arthur groans, slumping. "You make nothing easy, do you, Merlin?"
"No," Merlin says blandly, sliding down in his seat. "Otherwise I've not done my job."
Arthur snorts again, despite himself, which makes both Merlin and Gwen smile.
"You're my manservant," Arthur complains. He pinches the bridge of his nose in an effort to alleviate his growing headache. "You're supposed to make things easier."
"Actually, he's your advisor," Gwen points out, then levels a scrutinizing gaze at Merlin. "But then you've always been that, haven't you?"
Merlin shrugs and smiles with uncharacteristic unease. "Well, if some of my prattle gets through that thick skull of his, it's not my fault, is it?"
"This isn't the time for jokes, Merlin," Arthur reminds him, voice regaining its serious tone.
Merlin gives him a nod.
"I've thought about this…" Merlin begins, then stops himself, shakes his head, and says, "I've thought about this a lot, sire. About telling you, I mean. And I imagined so many different things. But not this way. It's… it's good, I think. It happening like this."
Silence falls in the room again as Merlin's words settle around them. Aithusa snuggles a little closer to Arthur, then gives up after receiving too little attention and wriggles from his lap. Gwen hands the little girl a toy that she must have brought down with her earlier, and Aithusa busies herself on the rug near the fire, playing quietly.
"You said that I'm handling this better than you expected," Arthur says finally. "What did you expect?"
"By this point in the conversation?" Merlin asks, squinting as if trying to imagine it. "It changed depending on the day. But no matter what, I expected more sword-waving by now."
Arthur huffs, then quiets.
"Really?"
Merlin shrugs. "I've been taught to hide myself my whole life, Arthur. And you've been taught to fear what I am your whole life. Is it really so surprising that I would worry about it?"
"I suppose not," Arthur says. "But why stay all this time? If you were so worried."
Merlin's eyes shine. "Because of you, of course. All of you, really. But mainly because of you."
"Because I have some great destiny?"
Merlin sighs and leans forward, placing his forearms on the table. His long fingers interlace, and somehow, Arthur just now notices how well-worn they are. Calloused, scarred, burned, ink-stained.
"Destinies are troublesome things, Arthur," Merlin says. "I had a conversation with Lancelot… gods, two nights ago? Three? The night Aithusa arrived."
"Feels like weeks," Arthur grumbles.
"Yes, it does," Merlin agrees. "But we had a talk. I told him that a king's relationship with his people is like a worshiper's relationship with a god."
Arthur makes a face. "You think my people worship me?"
Merlin smiles and shakes his head. "No. What I meant was that despite the apparent hierarchy, you never really know who's in control of whom. And I think destinies and our relationships with them are much the same. Our destinies can shape us, yes. It made you king. But it is because of who you are that you are a great king. The greatest."
"You really believe that?" Arthur asks.
"Of course, Arthur," Merlin says gently, leaning back again. "I just can't say it too often. Otherwise, your head will get as big as your waist."
"Oi," Arthur snaps, swatting at Merlin.
Merlin laughs. It's a teary, choked thing, but genuine nonetheless. It brings a smile out of his friends at the very least.
"So you came to Camelot," Arthur says, "to gain control of your powers?"
Merlin nods. "Yes. And on my first day in the city, I saw the execution of a man for sorcery. Tom Collins."
"Oh," Gwen says softly. "I remember that."
"I saved you from his mother that very week," Merlin says. "Using magic."
"Magic?" Arthur repeats. "You pushed me out of the way of a knife."
"Yeah, and since when have you seen me move that fast?" Merlin asks. "The chandelier was my handiwork, too."
Arthur groans, burying his face in his hands. "How do you still have your head?"
"By the grace of the gods and the skin of my teeth," Merlin replies, attempting a laugh.
Gwen shakes her head. "You even admitted to sorcery once. To save me."
"You declared," Arthur says, lowering a hand from his face to push an accusatory finger toward Merlin, "that you were a sorcerer in front of the entire court."
"I've been under suspicion of sorcery more than once," Merlin recalls, grimacing.
"Idiot," Arthur hisses.
"Yeah," Merlin says, "maybe. But not a dead idiot… yet."
Arthur deflates. "Merlin–"
"Like I asked before," Merlin says, rushing to interrupt the king, "just wait until I've told you everything to make a judgment."
Arthur sighs. "I will need something to drink."
"Be careful," Merlin says, looking around, "or you'll summon Gwaine."
A smile escapes the tight line of Arthur's lips.
"What else happened your first day here?" Arthur asks mildly.
"Well, I got into a fight with a prat," Merlin recounts fondly. "But I actually went straight from the execution to meet Gaius."
"And you told the first person you met you were a sorcerer," Arthur guesses, shaking his head.
"No," Merlin replies. "I saved his life. Using magic."
Another stuttered breath of air from Arthur hints at a chuckle. Merlin gives him a wry smile.
"I'm guessing you have a lot to tell me," Arthur says.
"Oh," Merlin replies. "You've no idea."
They settle in for a long night.