Title: For the Love of Magic (Viva La Vida)
Author: Kiki1770
Rating: T for Violence
Words: 9,945 words
Edited by: FireFlyFanatic3x
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or the song Viva La Vida, those rights go to BBC and Coldplay
Summary: Reincarnation — Modern AU! For centuries magic has been hidden and suppressed. Born again in the twenty–first century, Arthur is destined once more to bring magic back to the world. But first, he needs to find his other half, the warlock of legend: Merlin Emrys. Through his music, Arthur searches for Merlin and relives their final moments. Song Fic! Reveal–Fic! Bamf!Merlin M/A Slash.
The Round Table—the small bar sat in the outskirts of New York City, in a dark alley with sloping streets and crooked buildings. The bar was a popular hodgepodge among magical and non–magical people alike. Of course, you had to be magical yourself to know who had magic and who didn't. But this didn't apply to Arthur Pendragon; he was born with the ability to see the auras of sorcerers. The brighter the aura, the stronger the magician, and this particular bar was glowing brighter than football stadium lit alight during the heat of the NFL's.
Arthur had a good feeling about this place. He paused outside; the name of the bar was ironic and nostalgic all at once. He mentally crossed his fingers, and sauntered into the bar, clad in his black Gucci hoodie and navy blue Express jeans. Even with such common clothing, common for him at least, his demeanor rung of opulence and regality. It was severely misplaced in a bar like The Round Table, but Arthur merely adjusted the guitar strapped to his back and drank in the curious stares. The flux between the golden auras and the aura–less were pretty even. Good, he needed audiences of all kinds.
"What can I get you, sir?" The old bartender politely asked him. Arthur had to stifle a snicker. In all his years, he never thought he'd live to see the day that Gaius would enter a bar, let alone run one. Arthur let his hood fall, revealing the golden crown of blonde hair, fair skin, and strong blue eyes.
"None of that—Gaius," He said, pretending to read the man's name tag. "It's Arthur. Just Arthur. And I'll have a beer," Gaius raised an eyebrow but said nothing about the familiarity that Arthur spoke with.
"Well then, 'just Arthur' tell me what brings a boy like you to this lazy corner of New York? You don't seem to be local. Judging by your accent, I'd guess you're Welsh."
Arthur had to smile at the ex–physician's perceptiveness. "I was born in the heart of London, but I grew up in Wales. As for why I'm here…I hear there's an open stage tonight." He grinned.
"You're telling me you've traveled across the Atlantic to my humble bar for your music?"
"That and I hear this place is a hotspot for magicians. You wouldn't have anything to do with that would you, world–renowned Magical Scholar and Healer, nicknamed 'Gaius the Physician,' would you Gaius?" Arthur teased innocently. The wine glass Gaius had been polishing slipped out of the man's startled hands and rolled over the edge of the counter. Arthur caught it—his reflexes were instinctual and honed from the long arduous training from his previous life and neatly placed it back on the counter.
"Y—you know?"
"I do."
"That's impossible. You don't even have a tracker on you and I can see that you have as much magic in you as a brick." Gaius replied incredulously. He eyed Arthur suspiciously. "Who are you really?"
Arthur sighed. "If you must know, I'm Arthur Pendragon," He really didn't want to get into this subject till after his gig, but it was an unavoidable truth he had to face, especially if he wanted to gain Gaius' trust. He gauged the ex–physician's reaction; waiting for the moment he would get kicked out.
"You are Uther Pendragon's son. What would the son of a man, who despises all things magic, be doing in a magical bar?" Gaius narrowed his eyes darkly. The controlled expression on Arthur's face slipped. He'd had this conversation many times in the last four years and with many magical scholars like Gaius himself, but they were all strangers. This was Gaius the man who had been his surrogate father in his past life.
"I'm not my father, Gaius. Don't assume I share his views," Arthur replied bitterly, feeling vulnerable under Gaius's unnerving eyes. Then he blushed when he realized how much he'd told virtually a stranger—from Gaius' point of view anyway. Thankfully Gaius hadn't been shaken by Arthur's response.
"That doesn't explain what you're doing in my bar, Arthur Pendragon. Your family has been suppressing magic and twisting it for their selfish means for generations. And your father was the man that put trackers in us all like a pack of wild animals. If word got out that Uther Pendragon's son was in my bar, it could start a riot. Now tell me Arthur, are you planning on hurting or exposing anyone in this bar?"
Arthur cringed; he couldn't deny his family history any more than he could deny he was Uther Pendragon's son. More than five–hundred years ago, the Pendragon family established an organization whose sole purpose was to protect the non–magical from those with magic. As the generations of Pendragon's ruled this organization, the system went corrupt. It wasn't about protecting the non–magical anymore. It was about suppressing magic, hiding it from the non–magical, and forcing sorcerers into submission.
The organization was known as 'The Order'; The Order of Magical Nullification. It was a ghost organization that operated under the black money of corrupt political heads. The most powerful sorcerers, seers, and healers "worked" for the Order. Governments from all over the world requested the Order's help for covert magical assassinations, secret weapons of war, and to predict their enemy's future. Centuries of running The Order in the dark allowed the Pendragon's privy to some of the darkest secrets in human history. Secrets that were dark enough to blackmail entire nations.
Originally, The Order of Magical Nullification had been exclusive to Britain, but as The Order grew in power, it rose above the British Government and became the most powerful black organization in the world. Only those who were victims of The Order or were in debt to it were aware of its existence. And Arthur Pendragon was the heir to this international superpower.
The magical community had always bared a deep–rooted grudge against the Pendragons. However, it wasn't until Uther's reign that the once peaceful sorcerers began to revolt and attack The Order. They hated his father enough to break their tradition of peace because Uther Pendragon was the man to successfully enslave all of magic kind. He created a tracker, a microscopic chip so tiny only a healer working for Uther could take it out. He called it "Operation Great Purge." Now all magical activities could be tracked. Sorcerers couldn't use their magic for even the most mundane of uses without being heavily taxed.
When Arthur went silent, lost in thought, Gaius sighed and pulled up a stool next to him. They sat in silence, which Arthur was grateful for. To his relief, Gaius hadn't kicked him out of the bar yet. He was giving Arthur, Arthur Pendragon, a chance. If Arthur hadn't been so lost in his inner turmoil, he might have hugged the old man.
"What are you really here for Arthur?" He asked more softly this time. Arthur stared into Gaius's familiar oak colored eyes as though they held the key to the answer Arthur himself couldn't understand.
"I…I'm looking for Emrys…" Arthur embarrassedly whispered. Gaius gave him "The Eyebrow" and burst out laughing when he saw that Arthur was being serious. Arthur blushed furiously and waited for the man to finish.
"Surely you're joking. Emrys? The Emrys, here in my bar?" Gaius chuckled mirthfully. "Emrys has been lost to time for over a millennia, Arthur. Trust me, many sorcerers, myself included, have all searched for him. But you must know the legends. Emrys will rise when his king, the Once and Future King, rises from the depths of Avalon." Gaius gave him a sympathetic pat on the back as though he had just told a child that Santa wasn't real.
"You're wrong Gaius. The Once and Future King didn't die by the lake of Avalon like they say in the legends. The King, his knights, and Emrys were brutally slaughtered by Morgan le Fay in his own throne room," Arthur muttered bitterly. He clenched his fists and tried to swallow the bile that rose in his throat. His head began to spin from the memories and he became sorely tempted to steal another sip from his beer.
Gaius shook his head at him. "Even if that variation of the Legend were true, it wouldn't make sense, Arthur. Emrys was the most powerful warlock to ever exist. According to the texts, Morgan le Fay was certainly strong but she was nowhere near as powerful as Emrys,"
Arthur shut his eyes tightly and willed his heart to stop pounding so hard. The century–old guilt began eating Arthur away. "Yeah…if he wasn't so busy protecting his prat of a king…he'd probably have survived." Arthur whispered so quietly that Gaius nearly missed it.
"Gaius, last I checked, your shift didn't end for another hour," An achingly familiar voice interrupted their conversation. Arthur snapped out of his revere and for a moment he was blinded by the bright golden aura. The shimmering veil glowed like the rays of warm sunshine through the broken storm clouds, it was fiery and brilliant. Arthur couldn't compare a sight more beautiful than the pure golden light embracing the man before him. He blinked until the aura faded away. His breath caught in his throat. Arthur would recognize that raven–haired, pale–skinned, beautiful cobalt–blue–eyed man anywhere.
"Yes, you're right. I was just talking to this man here. Arthur this is—"
"Merlin…" Arthur breathed. Merlin's eyes twitched and he smiled at Arthur with his unforgettable grin, so full of life; just how Arthur remembered it. "Do you know who I am Merlin?" Arthur asked softly. Merlin and Gaius exchanged confused looks.
"No, sorry, should I?" He asked, tilting his head, innocent and clueless as Arthur remembered him. For a moment, he felt crushed. Merlin didn't remember him. But then Arthur recalled the purpose that had brought him here. The flame of an old love flickered in Arthur's chest, not fully ignited, but breathing nonetheless. Arthur grinned; he knew this bar would be the one!
"Are you alright, Arthur?" Gaius placed a hand on his shoulder. Arthur jumped out of his seat and grabbed Merlin's pale slender wrist, startling the young warlock. He felt a thrum of hot sparks as he clutched Merlin's soft skin.
"Listen to me sing." He commanded without thinking. Merlin stared at him, completely bewildered, and gently pulled his arm away.
"Excuse me?"
"I mean, I want you to watch me perform tonight," Arthur corrected himself while Merlin gawked at him like he was crazy. But he couldn't care less; he finally found Merlin, his Merlin, and he was not about to lose this precious opportunity. Arthur never broke contact with him; he stared long and hard into his beautiful eyes until Merlin agreed with a hesitant nod.
"Great. Gaius, I'm ready to go on."
"Y—yes of course," Gaius muttered, still taken aback from Arthur's sudden outburst. He cleared his throat awkwardly and pointed to the back of the bar. "If you go through those doors, you'll see Lancelot on sound. Percival will give you a breakdown on the schedule and Leon's on lighting," Gaius muttered.
Arthur nodded his head in thanks and stared at Merlin one last time before going in the direction Gaius gestured. He briefly pondered the irony that all his knights and Merlin and Gaius ended up working in the same bar—back in Camelot that lot, minus Gaius, had spent so much time in the tavern, it became a running joke that if they weren't knights they'd probably end up working there.
"Well, that was weird." He heard Merlin whisper to Gaius. Arthur shook his head; how the hell had that idiot managed to lie to him for years was beyond him. But like it was Arthur's fate to born the son of a man who persecuted magic, it was Merlin's fate to live in hiding; destiny was already repeating itself. Gaius thought he could hide it, but Arthur could clearly see that Merlin was not being tracked. Chances were that his magic was so powerful that it burned away the invasive tracker.
Arthur was so absorbed in his own thoughts he didn't realize where he was walking till he walked into a tall Hibernian waiter.
"Woah, mate what's the rush?"
"Sorry ma—Gwaine?" Arthur asked incredulously, his jaw dropped. Gwaine was working in a bar. And he wasn't drunk. Arthur shook his head and began laughing, oh this was so priceless. He'd have to tease the man when he remembered.
"Do I know you?" Gwaine asked, baffled by Arthur's reaction.
Arthur grinned knowingly. "You're reputation precedes you mate,"
Gwaine beamed brightly, "I don't know who you are, but I get the feeling we'd get along swimmingly." he pounded Arthur's fist, wished him luck, and went back to scrubbing the empty tables. Arthur wished that Gwaine had worked that hard when he was knights. He was glad to stumble upon Gwaine first. The man had unintentionally relieved Arthur's nerves.
He found Leon, Lancelot, and Percival easy enough. Not much change in those three—Percival was silent as ever, Lancelot was still noble, and Leon dedicated. They gave him a quick run–through of the program schedule and helped him position his mike on stage. They grinned at Arthur and gave him the thumbs up.
Arthur took a deep breath and nervously scanned the room for his warlock. Merlin sat beside Gaius on the bar, a worried look on his face. Gaius must have told him who Arthur was. He frowned as his frazzled nerves started to chew his courage away. What if Merlin didn't remember? What if his Knights didn't remember?
But then Merlin smiled, it was a small and tentative smile, but it was all Arthur needed. He cleared his throat and began strumming the chords. He took a deep breath, and then he sang.
….
…..
…
…..
I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own
Golden sunlight filtered into the grand throne room, illuminating the gold and scarlet tapestries, and bouncing off the great round table in the center. All but one seat was filled, a painful reminder of that woman's betrayal. Arthur had forgiven Gwen after their confrontation in Ealdor, but the love they once shared could never be repaired. Instead, that last empty seat was reserved for a special, annoyingly cheerful, never on time, clumsy manservant, who was as usual—late!
The large smoky colored doors opened unceremoniously with a loud thud, and Merlin stumbled, tripped, and skidded into the throne room. He grinned sheepishly at the king, his cheeks and ears tingling red. Arthur snickered. Merlin's clumsiness, among many other things, never failed to amuse him.
"Glad you could join us, Merlin," Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin just smiled innocently and took his seat. Arthur saw that he wasn't the only one amused—Gwaine was cackling and Leon actually smirked. Merlin's innocence, his bright smile, and refreshing sense of wit lifted their spirits and were to the knights a calming balm on a festering wound—a wound created by Arthur's half–sister and sorceress, Morgana Pendragon.
Although it had been more than three months since Morgana's siege in Camelot, the wounds she left were quite fresh. She'd managed to drive him out of his own kingdom with the help of a warlord, Halig, and Arthur's Uncle, Lord Agravaine. It had taken the aid of the survivors and few a smugglers to reclaim Camelot, but by then, Morgana's damage had been done.
The last three months had been a time of healing and rebuilding Camelot. So much had been lost, and so much had been destroyed. With Gaius still recovering in the infirmary, Merlin had stepped in as physician and saved countless injured knights, soldiers, and peasants alike.
Despite his manservant's new duties, he never failed to be there for Arthur, to offer his advice, to blow some steam at, or to listen to the King's insecurities. Whether Merlin realized it or not, he had healed Arthur's broken heart and had healed his Kingdom along with it.
Merlin scooted into his seat, and his eyes—those pools of azure blue, stormy and clear, intelligent and contradictory all at once—soothed away Arthur's fragile nerves. There were times where Arthur felt Merlin was an open book, and there were times where he felt like he was meeting his best friend for the first time all over again. So while the knight's laughed about Merlin's story—something about tripping over stables boys and a run in with the scary cook Audrey—Arthur watched him much closer. It was his subtle mannerisms, the gesturing of his hands, and twitching of his lips into mirthful smiles, but it was Merlin's way of making sure Arthur never succumbed to his loneliness.
It began with Uther. Uther was a strict, conventional man. Servants were servants, and the noble were noble. As a child, Arthur was forbidden from fraternizing with servants unless he was giving them a command. The servants also knew their place and made no attempt to get close to the prince. So he acted like a prat, begging for attention in any way he could get, begging for someone to see him and not his bloody crown. It was useless; he could never befriend a servant, and he cared too much about the people around him to fit in with other noblemen. But Merlin broke that tradition.
Then it was Morgana. Watching the evil that was magic consume his half–sister and twist her until she was no longer the loving, caring Morgana he grew up with, destroyed his heart. With the absence of his mother, Morgana had been that missing love and acceptance in his life—despite all their sibling rivalries. So when his sister betrayed him, he clung to his Uncle Agravaine like a lifeline, desperately wanting to believe he wasn't alone, that he still had a family. But Agravaine was no better.
When Guinevere, the woman he gave his heart to and hoped to one day have a family of his own with, betrayed him with one of his most trusted knights, Arthur's faith had shattered into pieces. Like fragments of broken mirror, he saw the obfuscated reflection of a solitary Prince—betrayed by his father, betrayed by his sister, betrayed by his lover, he never felt so alone.
His loneliness manifested in his arrogant, indifferent attitude. Arthur learned to detach his heart from his mind. He became impulsive. He made mistakes. He was no longer one with his people. Worst of all, he'd lost himself.
In his confusion, Arthur had shut down his voice of reason:"Listen to Merlin, he's never been wrong. Listen to Guinevere, she will never lead you astray. Believe in Gaius, he raised you like his own." And Arthur had ignored it. He nearly lost everything he held dear, he nearly lost the faith of his people.
But then Merlin happened. He was just…there. Merlin never once abandoned Arthur. In fact, he challenged him, berated him, and his intentions were always in Arthur's best interests. Hell, Merlin's risked his life for him far more times than Arthur cared to remember. Merlin had humbled Arthur and although it took eight years of his bumbling manservant relentlessly calling him a "Prat" to learn it, he finally realized, he can be one with his people.
If it hadn't been for Merlin's unwavering faith in him, and a certain sword that he affectionately named Excalibur, Arthur wouldn't be sitting on the throne. If it hadn't been for Merlin, would he have ever truly recovered? Arthur tried not to dwell on it because now—surrounded by his most loyal knights and closest of friends—he couldn't help but feel hopeful for the future of Camelot.
He didn't realize at the time how easily his happiness would be shattered.
I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing
"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"
When Arthur first met Merlin, he'd been gangly, thin, and awkward. He was still gangly and thin (though Arthur acknowledged the boy had filled out some, Gaius' doing no doubt) but he was no longer awkward. Though Arthur loathed admitting it, Merlin was, at times, wise. The same wisdom that had guided him when he was sulking his uncle's betrayal and Morgana's siege over Camelot.
Arthur had awoken that morning with a warm hand gently shaking him awake.
"What?" He said with a jolt, his mind still muddled with sleep. He blinked away the sleepiness; his manservant's elf–like features came to view. Merlin was smiling that knowing bright smile at Arthur, the same one he woke to every morning like it were just an ordinary day, like they weren't sleeping in the middle of the forest of Essetir.
"There's something I need to show you," Merlin whispered quietly and pulled Arthur to his feet. Arthur, who wasn't completely awake yet, hadn't noticed how Merlin's fingers wove through his own as they trudged deeper into the forest. By the time his mind caught up with him, he wasn't thinking about how they were holding hands, but of how warm Merlin's hands were—of how comfortably their hands fit together.
He'd been silent at first, unable to take his eyes off of Merlin's slender neck, he marveled at the grace his manservant moved with. And he realized that Merlin had this certain…beauty about him. Arthur's stomach dropped at the thought and before he knew it, he'd become so flustered he blurted out:
"This'd better be good because this really isn't the time for one of your ridiculous games," Arthur felt his face redden. Why did he do that? Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? But Merlin only smirked playfully, his sly cobalt eyes sneaking a peeks at Arthur.
"I was thinking about last night, how you were saying you'd given up all hope and how you were a poor leader, a shoddy king,"
"Shoddy?" Arthur blurted indignantly. Is that what Merlin thought of him? The cheeky bastard grinned.
"Alright, shabby, and it reminded of a tale Gaius told me." Arthur rolled his eyes in exasperation, that idiot really had no clue about the time and place for propriety.
"Merlin I'm really not interested in your favorite bedtime story," he snorted half–heartedly. Merlin immediately halted and turned to look at Arthur with pained eyes; the kicked puppy dog expression that the king loathed. Arthur promptly snapped his mouth shut.
"For once in your life…just listen, Arthur," Merlin breathed his name softly, smiling in amusement. And so he did.
Arthur listened to Merlin's story, the story of old King Bruta—Arthur's great ancestor and the first king of Camelot—of how that man divided the lands into the Five Kingdoms and brought peace to Albion. It was a story every child in Camelot knew, but then Merlin told him part of the story he'd never heard before—of how when King Bruta was on his deathbed, he journeyed deep into the forest and with the last of his strength, thrust a great sword into a rock. With his dying breath, Bruta told his people, should his lineage ever be questioned, only the true king of Camelot could pull the sword free.
Arthur was, of course, entirely skeptical of the whole story and planted his feet firmly. Merlin nearly tripped.
"Are you making this up?" he asked humorlessly and mimicked Gaius's scrutinizing face. Merlin clicked his tongue in dismissal.
"Of course not."
"Alright if this true, then where is this rock?"
"Oh it was lost many years ago in the purge—"
"But…" Arthur prompted.
"But I've managed to find it." And that was the last straw, Arthur snapped.
"I've never heard so much rubbish in my entire life!"
Merlin paused to glare. "Are you calling Gaius a liar?"
"No I'm calling you an idiot," He scoffed at the absurdity of it all. A sword thrust into a stone by a dying king, Merlin managing to find it, and above all: holding hands with his manservant in the middle of a godforsaken forest! If Arthur hadn't been so consumed by Tristan's words, he might have smacked Merlin upside the head.
"What's that then?" Merlin smiled knowingly. He dropped Arthur's hand (Arthur would deny opposing the motion) and pointed to the end of the clearing.
There it was. A beautiful golden pommel with a crest of a dragon, a hilt with bands of golden twine interlacing in perfect symmetry, and a blade that was…that was indescribable. The sword was thrust into a rock in a large empty ravine; it was situated perfectly so that the break in the trees allowed the sword to drink in the sunlight. Arthur felt chills running down his spine and without knowing it; he'd unconsciously walked toward the sword, as if he'd been drawn to it.
The 'crack' of breaking twigs snapped Arthur out of his trance; years of predatory instinct had Arthur protectively hovering in front of Merlin. He realized that Merlin and he were standing in very visible position, while their enemy had the advantage of the hills. As more crackling footsteps followed, Arthur tensed and reached for his sword. When the perpetrator made himself visible…Arthur froze.
It was Leon and Percival, and they were surrounded by the escapees of Camelot. His people spilled down the sides of the sloping ravine and stood expectantly before the king. Arthur spun around to an all too amused looking Merlin.
"What the hell are you playing at?" he hissed.
"I'm proving that you are their leader and their king." Merlin said confidently.
Arthur's heart began to beat painfully in his chest. He could almost feel the weight of the gazes boring into his back. "That sword is stuck fast in solid stone." He whispered frantically.
"And you're going to pull out." Merlin replied without missing a beat.
Now Arthur was really panicking. "Merlin, it's impossible."
"Arthur, you are the true king of Camelot." Merlin replied resolutely, leaving no room for arguments. Arthur swallowed silently, and his eyes were drawn to the beautiful weapon. His people had surrounded the stone, waiting expectantly, pouring their hope onto Arthur.
"Do you want me to look like a fool?" He asked Merlin, as the silence became overwhelming. But this was Merlin he was talking to, and Merlin always had an answer.
"No. I'm going to make you see that Tristan's wrong, you aren't just anyone. You're special. You and you alone can draw out that sword." Merlin's words struck deeply in Arthur's heart and tugged at his conscience. With a heavy sigh, he thrust his old sword deep into the earth and took cautious steps to the magnificent one in the stone.
"You better be right about this." He whispered, but the words were lost to the wind. With every step he took, Arthur felt both liberated and crushed by the ancient aura in the air. He was drawn to the enchanting pull of the sword, like it was calling out to him, like it was…destiny.
But it was stuck in a bloody rock! By all logic, it should be impossible to pull free, but he very well couldn't crush his peoples' hope now, could he? And there it was again, Arthur's desire to impress—impress his father, impress his people, impress his knights. He had to do this, for Camelot. He wrapped two hands around the leathery hilt, closed his eyes, and heaved with all his strength.
Nothing happened.
"You have to believe, Arthur…" Merlin whispered. And Arthur pulled as hard as he could, gasping for air as he exerted his full strength. But the sword was stuck. No, this couldn't happen now. Not with half of Camelot watching him. He couldn't fail them now.
"You are destined to be Albion's greatest King." He released the sword as his mind fled to Merlin, clinging desperately for an answer. "Not anyone, not even this stone can stand in your way." Merlin whispered.
A new thought struck Arthur: this was Merlin. Merlin was watching him. Merlin believed in him. If not for his people, he had to do this for his best friend! Arthur took a step back and this time, more confidently, he wrapped one hand around the hilt. But something felt off. Something still didn't feel right.
"Have faith…" The words trickled into Arthur's mind and with an explosion of recognition, he found the missing something. Faith, the virtue Arthur held closest to his heart. Right now, his people were putting their faith in Arthur; they believed that he could pull this sword. But what good was their faith if Arthur didn't believe in himself?
Suddenly feeling much lighter, he took a calm breath and pulled the sword out of the stone with ease. With the sharp sound of metal grating against rock, the sword was released from the stone and raised in Arthur's hands for all to see.
Mine, Arthur's mind whispered as his heart and soul seemed to connect with the sword. Excalibur, the beautiful blade sang, and then the magnitude of holding this sword hit Arthur. He, Arthur Pendragon, had freed the sword in the stone!
"Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King." The cheers erupted from the crowd and the adulation that Camelot's people held for Arthur flooded the ravine like a gushing fall and embraced the newly christened King.
Tears pricked Arthur's eyes; he searched the crowd for the stormy blue eyes of the man that made all this possible. Merlin stood among the crowd, screaming and cheering with pride, an impossibly wide grin on his face. Arthur couldn't help the tears that rolled down his cheek.
"Long live the King!" Merlin's shout was the loudest of them all.
One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand
It was Merlin all along, it had always been Merlin. He was Arthur's pillar of faith. Having his faith made Arthur feel like he could take on the world. But it wasn't until he was faced with a powerful foe like Morgana that he realized that he not only needed Merlin's faith, but he needed Merlin himself.
He and the Knights had been discussing the state of Camelot when a cold breeze drifted into the council chambers. Merlin was the first to become aware of this unnatural breeze, and Arthur had foolishly shaken it off as another one of Merlin's 'feelings.' That was when the dark clouds began gathering inside the throne room. A flash of lightning, and a blinding gust later, Morgana stood in the middle of the throne room with all her pale vindictive glory.
The Knights pulled Arthur to his feet and stood protectively over the king. The murky smoke around Morgana cleared to reveal the witch's dark red lips stretched in a smug smirk and her pale green eyes filled with excitement. Her madness was evident as she flashed her pearly whites at her half–brother; Arthur felt his heart sink and for the first time, he felt truly helpless against Morgana.
There was no spell, only a wicked grin and the familiar sight of eyes flashing gold for the great Round Table to split in half and cover the knights in sawdust. No words were exchanged as Morgana continued her assault. She sent a levitating half of the Round Table barreling against the Camelot Knights.
The force hit them like a small army but somehow Arthur hadn't taken the full blow. He blearily blinked his eyes, and the familiar figures of Sir Leon and Sir Percival hung protectively over him. The shattered pieces of what remained of the great table were scattered all around them.
"Are you alright, Sire?" Leon coughed breathlessly, his eyes drooping from the pain. Leon stumbled and Percival caught the shaky knight before he hit the ground.
All that from one attack? Arthur cursed under his breath. He drew his sword out and faced his deranged sister.
"Morgana." He contorted darkly, his usual greeting for his half–sister. Arthur took a quick second to scan his men. Leon and Percival were the closest to him, Elyan was holding his own, and Gwaine had protected Merlin—much to Arthur's relief. His thoughts were interrupted by slightly hysterical giggles.
"Pathetic, Arthur Pendragon. You actually believe you can take me down with a mortal sword? I AM a High Priestess of the Old Religion. You are nothing but a damned lucky fool." She hissed maliciously. She stalked forward in a slow, menacing pace, her heels clicking in the eerie silence. She reminded Arthur of a predator seizing her prey.
Morgana couldn't fool Arthur; he knew her deliberately slow gait was because she hadn't recovered from the wound when Guinevere struck her. It was Arthur's turn to smirk. From his peripheral vision, he could see Merlin shooting him warning glances, prompting Arthur not do anything stupid; not that Merlin was one to talk.
"I thought you had learned after your previous failure, Morgana. Camelot will never fall to the likes of you. My men are strong. We can and will take you out." Arthur said magnanimously. After all, they had foiled every one of Morgana's plots thus far; there was no way she could win now. Morgana scoffed as if she knew something he didn't.
"How dense you are, my brother. If it wasn't for your precious Emrys, I would have taken the throne years ago. Now hand that traitor warlock over to me and perhaps I'll spare your life. My kingdom will need servants after all," Morgana smiled sweetly.
"I know of no 'warlock' by the name Emrys," Arthur shook his head in disbelief. If he thought Merlin's stories were unbelievable, Morgana's were plain ridiculous by comparison. How could she imply that there was a warlock in Camelot?
"Do not lie to me, brother. If it wasn't for Emrys, I would have killed you ages ago." She snapped. "That man keeps thwarting all my plans. He is a traitor to his own kind for protecting you, you cold–blooded murder!"
"I am not the murderer Morgana, you are. You chose evil when you turned to sorcery." Arthur snapped back at her and slowly edging forward to meet her; both Pendragon siblings began circling, like knights engaged in a duel to the death. Morgana froze coldly at his last statement.
"I didn't choose Magic…it chose me! Hleap on bæc." Morgana's eyes flashed gold and Arthur was flung backwards. To his surprise, swift arms caught him midflight and he fell to the much softer landing of his savior's body. Arthur coughed breathlessly. The attack hurt more than he cared to admit; he should have been dead. Instead, he found that he'd just flattened his manservant. Arthur rolled his eyes and held a hand out for Merlin.
"Give me EMRYS!" Morgana screamed, her magic flowing freely and uncontrollably. Gwaine and Elyan immediately rushed to Arthur and Merlin's protection. Leon and Percival cried out in rage and charged at Morgana. She whispered another spell and two swords freed themselves from the mantelpiece above the fire and parried against Leon and Percival. Gwaine tried to run to their aid but Merlin held him back.
"Wait! You mustn't rush into the fight. Morgana's temper is out of control and her magic along with it. She could obliterate you with just an outburst!" Merlin exclaimed.
"Then what do you propose we do?" Gwaine cried in anguish and pulled himself free of Merlin, unable to bear watching his friends weaken under Morgana's spell.
"We need a plan. Morgana is distracted; she can't use a spell like that without controlling the swords at all times." Merlin said desperately. Arthur's eyes flickered between Merlin and Morgana, but he never had the chance to make the decision. Leon cried out in agony; Arthur, Gwaine, and Merlin watched in horror as the enchanted sword impaled Leon through the chest and crucified him into the walls.
Then, Arthur couldn't hear anything, or even sense the fight around him; his eyes were stuck to the river of blood that flowed from Leon's body and pooled together in a grotesquely beautiful pattern that turned Arthur's stomach inside out.
Morgana's cry of fury shattered Arthur's temporary trance. She unleashed wild, uncontrollable magic. It flew out in sparks of sizzling green, the direction was random and unaimed; the witch had no goal in mind but to kill.
Merlin was the quickest to react; he threw himself at both Arthur and Gwaine. The three of them collapsed in a heap and the magic sailed harmlessly above them. Percival wasn't so lucky. The gentle giant was sent flying into the walls, his head smacked against the stone with a loud crack. Percival's eyes rolled back, and his body stilled.
"No!" Arthur and Gwaine simultaneously shouted. They rushed to Percival's side as Morgana cackled madly, too absorbed in her own victory.
"Fools! They really thought they had a chance against me." She muttered, her pale–green eyes glinting darkly with a sick satisfaction.
Arthur checked for a pulse. There was none. His eyes met briefly flickered to Merlin. His manservant was collapsed against Elyan, his shocked expression only confirming Arthur's doubts. Leon and Percival were dead.
I hear druidic bells a ringing
Camelot Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword, and shield
My Knights in a foreign field
"Morgana!" Arthur shouted, charging blindly and ignoring his manservant's protests. His knights knew they stood no chance against Morgana, especially when it came to the foreign field of magic, and yet they tried to protect him. He would not let them be slain in vain.
Morgana smiled as if she had been waiting for this moment. She wordlessly raised her hand. The magic gathered in her palm and formed a round sphere of flames. Her eyes flashed again and the magic was released.
Arthur skittered to a stop and defensively raised his arms to protect his face. He waited for the impact; he waited for the flaming hot inferno to burn his body and scorch his face. It never came…
Arthur blinked, drops of moisture fell on his hand, at first like a soft drizzle, but then the water came down like a raging storm. Arthur gazed at the ceiling. It was full of black clouds, crackling with soft sparks of lightning.
"It's him…" Morgana whispered, enchanted by the demented ceiling. "Emrys is here!" Her crazed anticipating eyes raved the throne room for the sorcerer. There was only Arthur, the brutish knight, her old maidservant's brother, and the pesky manservant left. No Emrys. But he was here, she could feel his power. Morgana narrowed her gaze on Arthur and flashed her smug pearly whites.
Arthur felt sick. Morgana was speaking the truth all along. There was a sorcerer in his castle, in the very heart of Camelot—a sorcerer powerful enough to bring a storm crackling with lightning inside the castle. The storm subsided almost as quickly as it came, but the remaining survivors in the room were already soaked.
"Where is he? Come out Emrys. Come out, come out, wherever you are! Don't you want to see me kill your king Emrys?"She giggled like a child searching for a mischievous pet.
The room went deadly silent as they waited for the warlock to make himself apparent. It wasn't until Merlin was already standing in front of Arthur that he realized his manservant had moved at all. Arthur hissed at Merlin to not be an idiot and to stand back. Merlin's voice cut him off.
"This has gone on long enough Morgana. I always hoped there was some good left in you…but it appears I was mistaken. I cannot allow you to live any longer." Merlin's voice was cold and monotone as he addressed the witch. Arthur couldn't believe his eyes. This was Merlin, his cowardly, spineless, and terrified of magic, manservant speaking to Morgana as if he had the confidence to take her down. Arthur couldn't understand what Merlin was playing at; he really hoped this wasn't another one of his manservant's ridiculous self–sacrificing plots to save Arthur.
"Merlin you id—"
"You?" Morgana laughed, "You're nothing but a blindly devoted servant and a meddlesome one at that. You think you can kill me because you foiled some of my plans, Merlin?"
"No…I know I can kill you because I made you what you are today Morgana. You are a disgrace to those with magic."
"Me?" Her eyes flared dangerously. "How dare you say I'm a disgrace? What do you know about magic, Merlin?" She hissed. Merlin smiled sorrowfully, his beautiful eyes were the stormiest shade of blue Arthur had ever seen. When they met Arthur's for a split second, there was an apology in his eyes.
"Everything…Oferswing!" Merlin's eyes flashed gold and Morgana was blown back and flung haphazardly across the king's throne. Arthur felt like he had his legs kicked out from under him. He fell to his knees, his eyes never moving from Merlin. Merlin had…magic. Merlin. Had. Magic. It was all too much. Arthur froze.
"You…you have magic," Morgana gasped disbelievingly, her mind still spinning from disorientation. Merlin's expression remained stoic and although it was masked well, there was something cold and haunted in his eyes.
"I was born with it."
"You're a warlock. You're Emrys…all this time…it was you?" Morgana pieced the mystery together. The same revelation dawned upon Arthur. All the mysteriously luck, beasts that he'd slain while he was unconscious, the falling branches, the magical diseases suddenly being cured, beasts—that couldn't be killed with steel—miraculously slain at Arthur's hand, bandits tripping and dropping their weapons, fatal wounds that were suddenly healed…it was Merlin all long. It took a while to realize Merlin, his Merlin, had been watching him.
"I am and you should know Morgana, that I will do anything to protect Arthur. I am his mirror, his shadow, his sword and his shield. I will protect him with my life."
For some reason I can't explain
Once you go there was never
Never an honest word
And that was when I ruled the world
Arthur hardly blinked as the magical battle between Merlin, Emrys, whatever the hell his name was, and Morgana began around him. He somehow managed to find his way back to Gwaine and Elyan's side while Merlin and Morgana shouted spells in the bone–chilling language of the Old Religion. Elyan stood in front of them, deflecting any debris flung in their direction. Gwaine was just as stunned as Arthur.
Merlin had lied. In the eight years that Arthur knew him, the horrible liar who wore his emotions on his sleeve, he'd been betraying Arthur all along. Arthur felt his fists clench tightly. He trusted Merlin. He trusted him to be the one person that never lied to him. But no…Arthur was an easy trusting fool that let himself get stabbed in the back with betrayal over and over again.
His father, his half–sister, his Uncle Agravaine, Nimueh, Morgause, and even Guinevere and Lancelot, had all lied or betrayed Arthur in one way or another. Merlin was the one constant through it all…and yet he held a secret far deadlier than the rest. He was a powerful warlock hiding right under Arthur's nose. All these people, he'd trusted with his life. He believed they'd been honest with him. He closed as eyes as a memory came back to him.
"Camelot was built on love and trust, that is why we will never be defeated," He had so naively told Merlin and Morgana when they returned from the Castle of Fyrien. They must have been laughing behind his back all this time. He felt like such a fool. His blind trust in others would always be his downfall.
Arthur watched Merlin fight Morgana with his full power, while he fell apart like a shattered mirror. Merlin was powerful, so powerful that it made Arthur tremble. It was hard to believe that that man was his best friend, or that Arthur might have felt something more, something he had yet to admit to himself, for Merlin.
It was the wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn't believe what I'd become
Morgana screeched in frustration when Merlin matched her attacks evenly, without breaking a sweat. Her magic reacted to her blind fury and sent out an undulating wave of uncontrolled magic, ringing like the shrill cry of an alarm. The windows shattered and the chandelier snapped from its suspension. And it broke.
Arthur watched in horror as the massive piece fell on Elyan, his unsuspecting knight released a blood–curdling scream when the iron bars skewered his armored body and pinned him like a rabbit in a fallen trap. His mind barely registered Elyan's death when he nearly had the breath knocked out of him as something hard rammed into him.
Huff…Huff…huff…the shallow breathing registered in Arthur's mind when that annoying ringing sensation finally wore off. His eyes slowly and almost reluctantly forced themselves open. They were met with pools of faded blue and pain.
"A—are you alright, Arthur?" Merlin whispered.
Drip, drop, drip, drop, Arthur watched with grotesque fascination as the dark maroon of Merlin's blood drip down the sides of his face, and flowed down his arms like rivulets of tears. Arthur subliminally recognized that he'd once more been saved by Merlin, but the sight he couldn't look away from, was the sight of the long shards of glass piercing Merlin's back; the remnants of the shattered windows.
"Merlin…what have you done?" Arthur whispered in disbelief. Merlin tried to smile but chocked and coughed blood at his feet. Arthur immediately reached out to steady him. And suddenly his mind felt so overwhelmed, brimming with despair, betrayal, and confusion. The past few moments ceased to exist in Arthur's mind and all he could see was Merlin. "Why…why would you do so much…for me?"
"Because it's my destiny to keep you alive, you prat," He chuckled humorlessly, but his eyes tightened from the incredible amount of pain he was in. "You are the Once and Future King, Arthur. It is your destiny to unite the five kingdoms and return magic to the lands, as it is my destiny to forever protect you from the shadows."
Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh who would ever want to be king?
Destiny? Unite the Five Kingdoms? Free magic? Arthur's eye bulged and his heart thudded painfully in his chest. It was ridiculous. It was insane. It was downright impossible. But when Merlin had spoken with such conviction, it was hard not to consider the possibility. Then a much more painful though struck Arthur.
Was that it then? Merlin saved him all along so that he could free magic? Arthur felt his knuckles tighten painfully, realizing that as usual, he been nothing but a puppet on a string. Merlin had used him, just as his father had, just as Morgana had, and just as Agravine had. If this is what it meant to be a king, to not trust anyone, to never get to close to another, to constantly let himself be manipulated by fate…who would ever want to be king?
Uniting the Five Kingdoms was a feat that no king before him had ever attempted. And how could Arthur free magic when those with magic either wanted his head on a silver platter or wanted to manipulate him for their own means? How could he simply ignore twenty–years of bloodshed and raise the ban on magic?
Another part of Arthur wondered about Merlin. Their friendship had been real enough, and so were Arthur's feelings. A small part of him whispered that he could have been enchanted by Merlin, but if it was an enchantment, why did Arthur's heart ache so badly? Just the thought of their friendship having ever been a lie caused Arthur's breaths to catch in his throat.
I hear druidic bells a ringing
Camelot Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword, and shield
My Knights in a foreign field
Merlin must have noticed the turmoil in Arthur's mind. He shakily hooked his fingers under Arthur's chin and forced the King to look his manservant in the eye. Arthur almost—almost—flinched.
"Please believe me Arthur, I've only ever used my magic to protect you," Merlin pleaded almost helplessly. The nostalgic words jolted Arthur's memories and he saw that the Merlin before him right now, was the same Merlin he'd met all those years ago. He was not just the magisterial sorcerer that just left Morgana unconscious, but his faithful, blindly–trusting, naive, best friend who Arthur cared for.
"B—but magic is evil…"
"I know you don't believe that Arthur…there was a time that you questioned that belief…of course, I destroyed that when I told you that Morgause didn't really show you your mother."
"So…I really was born of magic,"
"Yeah, I guess you are. If it makes you feel better, I am too. I'm a creature of the Old Religion," Merlin snorted and then groaned in pain. Arthur wanted to laugh, loudly and hysterically. Here Merlin was, practically bleeding at his feet, and he still had the gall to joke around with him. It was just so Merlin. Yeah, he was a powerful warlock, but under it all, he was still the clumsy, idiotic, clotpole who Arthur…loved. He had a strong desire to reach out and stroke Merlin's ridiculously sharp cheekbones but…
"You're hurt," Arthur gasped as if he just remembered. He ran his fingers through Merlin's hair and examined the blood the trickling down Merlin's face and out of his mouth. Merlin grabbed his hand.
"Leave it Arthur, Morgana won't stay unconscious forever. We hav—have to get out of here…Gwaine?" Merlin called and searched for his friend, but then his eyes widened in shock. A cold chill drifted in the air and the throne room suddenly felt darker than before.
"You underestimate me, Emrys…" The dreadful whisper sent shivers down their backs. Morgana stood tall in her battered black dress and bloodied hair and face. Gwaine, who'd collapsed at Elyan's side in shock, sprang into action and charged at Morgana blindly; he was mercilessly thrown aside.
Morgana's eyes grew gold once more as she clenched her fist and pulled it back aggressively. Merlin gasped and flew back to the center of the throne room, away from Arthur to Morgana's feet.
"Merlin!" Gwaine cried and struggled to his feet. Morgana spat out another spell ("Weoric untoworpenlic!") and the ropes from the tapestries came undone and slithered around Gwaine's neck; Morgana clenched her fist and the ropes tightened. Gwaine cried out in pain as the ropes cut off his air supply. Arthur growled ferociously and drew his sword.
"You didn't think that was enough to kill me, did you, Emrys?" She hissed, clearly paying no mind to Arthur as Merlin struggled to breathe at her feet.
"Leave him alone Morgana! It's me that you want," Arthur shouted bearing Excalibur close to his chest. Morgana ignored her half–brother and drew a sword from Gwaine's dead body. She raised the sword execution style. Horror consumed Arthur's mind as he realized what she was about to do.
"No!" He charged. Morgana screeched and raised the sword above her head.
She cried. He screamed. And steel met flesh.
For some reason I can't explain
I know Emrys won't call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world
Whether Morgana's sword pierced Arthur's gut, or his Excalibur stabbed her heart, first was unclear. Morgana silently collapsed. Her last breath left her while her cold dead eyes remained on Arthur until the light completely faded out. Arthur felt no remorse.
"Arthur…Arthur no," Merlin whimpered and crawled towards the King. Arthur clung to Merlin's hand tightly as the pain blossomed across his torso and deep through his body. The wound was fatal…Arthur knew that his time had come.
"You prat, I was dying, you should have just left me," Merlin cried weakly from beside him, followed by a gag as he choked on his own blood. Arthur painstakingly turned his head to Merlin. He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry at the moment.
"What kind of king would I be, if I couldn't save my own manservant?" He whispered. Then the tears began to roll down from Arthur's cheeks. "…We're not gonna make it this time are we?" Merlin shook his head.
"Our time is done Arthur…we haven't failed destiny," Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. Arthur studied Merlin's face, the last face he would ever see, for that Arthur couldn't be happier. Merlin looked …fulfilled. He looked as though he had finally been released from the longest battle of his life and offered the blissful rest of eternal sleep. Merlin finally looked at peace with himself.
"You…you are the greatest friend I ever had," Arthur coughed as it became harder and harder to speak. "I—I should have believed you, should have trusted you from the…the beginning, Merlin."
"That doesn't matter anymore Arthur. You forgave me for lying…that's all that counts," Merlin shifted so that the two were lying shoulder to shoulder. Merlin's hand slipped into Arthur's and he clutched it tight.
They closed their eyes and saw white. Merlin and Arthur's memories collided and swirled together and played across their minds. Every moment, from the day Merlin had entered Camelot with his goofy grin and innocent eyes and called Arthur out for being a "prat" and an "ass" to the moments where Merlin saved Arthur's life and Arthur saved his. They remembered every quest, every bickering fight, every tease, every insult, every lingering touch, every hidden feeling, and every memory they shared together. They'd done it all together as the Once and Future King of Albion and Emrys the Greatest Warlock to ever exist.
"Thank you…Merlin,"
"You're welcome Sire,"
The memories faded and the two rested silently, waiting to be released from their burdens.
I hear druidic bells a ringing
Camelot Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword, and shield
My Knights in a foreign field
For the last twenty years of his life, Arthur lived as the son of Uther Pendragon, the executioner of magic, and was feared by those with the gift. He knew that he was expected to follow his father's footsteps, and yet as a child, he'd been plagued with dreams of castles, knights, princesses, dragons, and magic. His dream world had been his sanctuary. His escape.
But when Arthur turned twenty–one, the age he'd been when he first met Merlin, his memories came back to him. His dreams turned out to be glimpses of the past. They became the catalyst for the plan that Arthur formulated over the years to shake up the world and bring his father's organization down. But first, he needed to find the other half of his coin, his best friend, his protector, his everything: Merlin.
For some reason I can't explain
I know Emrys won't call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world
Arthur had no doubts this time. He would change the world with Merlin at his side. There was no reason for the government to hide magic from the normal people anymore. There was no reason for magic to be persecuted, feared, and separated from the rest of society. This time, he'd fulfill his destiny for sure.
This time, Arthur would find Merlin, and they would start from scratch. No more lies in their relationship, no more division of class. They would be just Arthur and Merlin, friends and protectors of the world, and maybe something more. Arthur wondered if Merlin would be proud of his plan…
In their past life, Merlin had given Arthur everything, now it was time for Arthur to repay that favor.
…..
…..
…..
…..
A cacophony of cheers erupted around the bar and broke Arthur from his music–induced trance. He half–berated himself for doing that, again. This song…this song was just special to him. It would no doubt provoke Merlin's memories as it had Arthur's when his half–sister, Morgan in this life, had shoved it in his face some three years ago.
He took a graceful, confident bow that sent his audience into a mad cheer and walked off the stage, sauntering over to raven–haired man in question. Merlin's expression was blank and betrayed nothing. But Arthur knew Merlin better than anyone now. He'd felt something for sure, Arthur smugly thought to himself.
"So idiot, did that ring any bells?" Arthur teased in their usual bantering manner. Merlin just rolled his eyes at him.
"Amazing. You just couldn't have been reborn without the prattishness, huh?" So Merlin did remember. Arthur didn't bother hiding the wide smile the stretched across his face. His other half of the coin finally recognized him. Finally, after four years of searching the globe, he found him. Arthur wove his fingers through Merlin's and felt his heart skip a beat when Merlin squeezed in response.
"Nah, you'd get bored Merlin."
"Still stealing my lines, are we, Sire?" Merlin admonished. Arthur scrunched his face in disgust.
"None of that Merlin. I'm Arthur and you're Merlin. Just Arthur and Merlin. We'll bring magic back as equals this time. What do you say?"
"I say…took you long enough you prat," Merlin whispered and pulled Arthur into a deep, passionate kiss. Arthur chuckled against Merlin's soft lips and kissed his ex–manservant shamelessly, ignoring the whistling in the bar.
Arthur's arms wove around Merlin's skinny frame and pulled him close till he could feel the heat of Merlin's body through his clothes. Merlin's fingers wove themselves through Arthur's hair, gentle and desperate at the same time. Merlin could barely contain his delighted smile against Arthur's sweet swollen lips and Arthur couldn't help but return the enthusiasm. He can't recall how many times he'd dreamed of this moment—how many times he'd just wanted to sweep Merlin into his arms and snog him shameless for all of Camelot to see. And now they could. Merlin pulled away and rested his brow against Arthur's.
"I can't believe you made me wait two lifetimes for that!" Merlin laughed. Arthur rolled his eyes and ran his thumb over Merlin's pinkish lips and down the side of his face.
"I love you too, you idiot," Arthur whispered softly and cupped Merlin's endearingly sharp cheeks. Merlin practically glowed with joy and responded with another sweet, lingering kiss to Arthur.
"Ahem…you can't forget about us," Gwaine interrupted their reunion. Arthur reluctantly pulled away but smiled at his old friends. Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Lancelot, Elyan, and even Gaius surrounded the pair, grinning from cheek to cheek. Arthur had his Knights, he had his surrogate father, and most of all, he finally had his Merlin.
He felt chills run down his back as the moment of their reunion had finally come together and his chest filled with the sense of euphoria. He could do this. With Merlin at his side, he could change the world.
"FOR THE LOVE OF MAGIC!"
~FINISH~
Edited 3/29/2018
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Kiki1770