Chapter 22: Revealed

Arthur laughed.

There was no humour in it. It was a harsh, grating sound that was closer to a bark than a guffaw.

Merlin did not know what to make of it. Here he was, trembling before the Prince of Camelot after revealing his biggest secret, and he was being laughed at!

"Magic," Arthur said after he had finally calmed himself. "You want me to believe that you're a sorcerer?"

"I—yes." There was a strange pressure in Merlin's chest and belatedly, he realised it was his heart, which had started beating so fast that it threatened to jump right out of his ribcage.

Arthur sent him a hard look. "I can't believe you'd rather admit to sorcery than tell me the truth!"

"But—but that is the truth," Merlin replied helplessly. "I have magic!"

"Stop saying that, before anyone hears you, you idiot!" Arthur snapped. "Really, of all the foolish—" He stopped and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose for good measure before he ordered, "Quit lying!"

Merlin was beginning to feel like he was caught in a strange dream. "I'm not lying," he tried again. "I'm a sorcerer and I cured you with magic."

But it was like Arthur was not even listening to him. "You're trying to protect Gaius, aren't you?" he said. "He must have performed some—some procedure or operation without my knowledge. That's the only explanation that I could come up with, anyway. He must have made some horrible mistake, back when he took off my leg, a mistake that caused the episodes, and when he finally found a way to fix it, he did it quietly, so I wouldn't find out it was all his fault!"

"No," Merlin said, shaking his head. "No, it was me. You were still cursed, and so I used my magic, and then—"

"You're not the type to lie to a friend," Arthur cut him off. "You're not the type to deceive anyone. But Gaius is like a father to you, and you would go to some lengths to protect the people you care about, I know that much."

Merlin was rapidly starting to lose his composure. This was going all wrong. Arthur would rather come up with some absurd explanation than believe magic could be at work! "I'm not lying," he tried again and now, he was almost starting to get angry himself. "I really am a sorcerer!"

Arthur slammed a hand on his desk. "Stop it! Stop saying that! Do you want to get yourself killed?"

That was when Merlin's patience ran out. "Will you just bloody listen?" he snapped, harshly enough to have Arthur flinch. "I have magic. I'm a sorcerer. That is the truth. And I've been wanting to tell you for weeks. Months, really, and I—"

"Merlin, stop!" Arthur interrupted him again. Any trace of anger was quickly slipping from his face and his voice now had an edge of desperation to it. "You are not a sorcerer. You are the kindest, most selfless, most forgiving person I've ever met. You are good. Everything about you is good. So very good, frankly, that it's a little ridiculous sometimes, and there is no way—"

"Arthur—"

"There is no way," Arthur went on, voice growing shriller. "No way, in all of the hells, that you, you of all people, could be—could be corrupted, could be tainted—"

"Beflēog ampella!" A flash of gold, and one of the potion bottles on Arthur's desk went flying, jumping right into Merlin's outstretched hand.

Arthur's mouth snapped shut. His eyes grew so wide that it almost looked comical, his gaze caught on Merlin's hand. Arthur's whole body stilled until he seemed frozen in place, transfixed by what he had just witnessed. There was no mistaking his reaction: For the first time, in all the months Merlin had known him, he saw something on Arthur's face that he had only ever caught glimpses of in the past – fear.

And it hurt so much worse than Morris's.

Abruptly, Arthur pushed himself into a standing position. "No," he gasped, eyes never leaving Merlin's hand. "No, no, you're not—no!"

He moved, abandoning the chair, clearly intent on retreating as far away from Merlin as was possible – only that he forgot to take up his crutch.

With a yelp, he fell.

"Arthur!" Merlin exclaimed. He put down the phial and hurried around the desk, intent to help, only to halt when he saw Arthur crawling away from him, frantically pushing himself towards the wall. As soon as his back hit the stone, he went for his boot, where Merlin knew he hid a small knife.

Arthur pulled it out and raised it. "Don't come anywhere near me!" he hissed. "I might be a cripple, but I will defend myself. If you touch me, you're dead!"

"You really think I would hurt you?" Merlin asked hoarsely.

Arthur was pawing blindly at the wall behind him, trying to pull himself up. "That's what sorcerers do! They hurt and they kill!"

"I've been by your side for months. If I wanted to hurt you, I could have done it," Merlin argued, wishing he did not have to keep his distance. He wanted nothing more than to grab Arthur's hand or shoulder, assure him that nothing about him had changed.

Finally, Arthur had found some purchase. Using his whole leg, he pushed himself into a standing position, holding onto the windowsill for balance with one hand while keeping the knife raised before him with the other.

"What is going on?"

Merlin and Arthur both jumped. An alarmed Morris was standing in the archway, clutching a wood basket, eyes flitting between Merlin, Arthur and the knife.

"Stay away, Morris! He's a sorcerer!" Arthur called out in warning, just as Merlin said, "Arthur knows."

Morris let go of the wood basket, the logs spilling on the ground. "Lords," he breathed.

This time, Arthur was not so slow on the uptake. "You knew?" he exclaimed. "You know he's a sorcerer?"

Morris blanched and his whole body jolted, making it look like he was about to run again. Merlin would not have blamed him for it. Arthur looked ready to jump either of them with the knife and he would go straight for the jugular, too.

But Morris did not flee. Instead, he bravely took a step into the room, then another, until he was standing at Merlin's side by the desk. "I knew, yes," he said quietly, eyes fixed on Arthur.

"You knew and you didn't tell me." Arthur pointed the knife at Morris, then back at Merlin. "Are you two working together? What game have you been playing with me? What scheme is behind all this?"

"There is no scheme," Merlin said, trying and failing to clamp down on the desperation in his voice. "I healed you."

"Liar!" hissed Arthur.

"Merlin is speaking the truth, my lord," Morris defended him. "I was there. I did not know he was a sorcerer until then, but I saw it with my own eyes. He used magic and something foul left your body, and from then on, you were better, sire."

Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking like a fish out of water. It would have been comical, had the situation not been so dire. "That's—that's not—" he stammered at last, then let out a growl of frustration. "This doesn't make any sense!"

"Believe me, sire, I felt the same way when I found out," Morris went on. "But Merlin is a good man. He would never harm you. I've been watching him with you for months and he's been nothing but devoted to you."

Arthur shook his head, but it appeared that Morris, at least, seemed to be getting through to him, for he was starting to lower the knife.

"Please, listen to me," Merlin said, latching on to Arthur's hesitation. "You already know the blade that cut your leg was cursed. What you don't know is that the curse lingered in your body. That was what caused your episodes. I used my magic to free you from the curse so you could get better."

"But why?" Arthur asked. "Why would a sorcerer help me?"

Merlin made a helpless gesture with his hands. "Why wouldn't I help you? You were in terrible pain and you're my friend! Of course I wanted to help you!"

"But you're a sorcerer."

"Yes," Merlin said.

Arthur shook his head again. But he no longer looked ready to use the knife, so slowly, very slowly, Merlin approached him. "Come on, let me help you sit down," he said, offering his hand.

Arthur looked at it, but did not take it. Instead, he pushed himself away from the wall and stumbled over to the chair on his own, grabbing the armrest before he could fall. Once he had sat down, he dropped the knife on the desk and buried his face in his hands. His shoulders were shaking.

Morris and Merlin shared a look, but neither of them spoke.

When Arthur had finally found his composure, he moved his hands. His face was dry, but he brushed the palms over the corner of his eyes before he fixed Merlin with a grim look.

"You say you cured me with sorcery?" he asked gruffy.

"Yes, I did." Merlin nodded emphatically. Was Arthur coming around?

"How much sorcery have you been using on me?" Arthur demanded.

"Not much."

"How much?" Arthur repeated more harshly.

"Just the cure for the curse." Merlin winced, then amended, "Well, that, and the—the massages."

"The massages?" Arthur repeated. "Those were sorcery as well?"

"Yes."

Arthur needed a moment to digest that. "So it was a scheme," he eventually concluded, voice turning bitter. "You've been deceiving me from the start. Almost from the minute we've met, you've been using spells and enchantments on me."

Merlin's heart lurched at Arthur's words. "It wasn't a scheme."

"I should've known that this was too good to be true," Arthur went on and now, it almost seemed like he was talking to himself. "Nobody in their right mind would have stuck around as long as you have. But you! You always came back, didn't you? No matter what I said or did, you insisted on being my friend. You were trying to worm yourself into my good graces, weren't you?"

"It wasn't like that," Merlin croaked. Arthur was starting to look repulsed and it was enough to make Merlin feel sick as well.

"This was all a game to you, wasn't it?" Arthur went on, pointing an accusing finger at Merlin. "You pushed me to reclaim my place as heir! You were the one who insisted that I could still be Crown Prince! You were—you were manipulating me!"

"No, I only wanted to help you," Merlin said and found that his eyes were prickling. He had been able to endure Arthur's anger and fear, but this? This was too much. Arthur was twisting their friendship into something foul, and Merlin could hardly bear to hear it.

Arthur sneered. "Was it fun, making me dance like some puppet prince, seeing how far you could push the cripple before he would fail?"

Merlin shook his head, his throat now gone too tight to speak and tears seconds away from spilling over.

"Good, selfless Merlin," Arthur scoffed. "I must admit, you played the role well." He looked away, his hands curled into fists against the desk. "I knew sorcerers were cruel, but this…"

Merlin's lip quivered. He wanted to say something, anything to fix this, but still, he could not find the words.

When Arthur finally spoke again, his voice had grown cold. "If my father finds out that a sorcerer was involved in my recovery, he will think I have been enchanted. There is not even the slightest chance that he will ever make me his heir, in that case, and Camelot will go to Edwyn. I cannot let that happen." He looked up, eyes hard. "So I won't turn you in. But you will leave Camelot, and you will leave it tonight."

Merlin sniffed. Finally, he managed to force some words past his lips: "Arthur, please don't do this."

"You will never come back here," Arthur pushed on. "For all intents and purposes, you are banished from this kingdom. Gaius, I will have to deal with later. And then, of course, there's you!"

He looked at Morris, who jumped, looking beyond frightened.

"Believe me, I would like nothing more than to send you away, too. But I need someone to attend me, someone who knows how to strap on the leg. So you will stay on, until the Mercians have left. After that, you will train up your replacement and then, you will be dismissed from my service. Needless to say, you will never find work at the citadel again."

Morris paled, but meekly bowed his head.

Merlin saw no point in fighting his tears any longer, nor was he ashamed to beg, "Please, don't punish Morris for something I did."

"He protected a sorcerer." Arthur had never sounded so cold. "He's lucky I'm not having him arrested on the spot."

"At least—" Merlin faltered as he had to fight down a sob. "At least let me help you defeat Edwyn before I go."

"You're done controlling my life with your magic," Arthur growled. "Get out of my sight!"

"But you don't understand," Merlin tried again, blinking through his tears. "Edwyn, he's going to kill you—"

"Leave!"

"I swear, I will," Merlin continued, his voice wet. "I swear, I'll leave right after the fight, but please, I could not bear—"

"Get out!" Arthur shouted. His hand darted out as he picked up the abandoned knife.

Merlin recoiled. Trembling, he turned.

"I'm so sorry," he croaked at Morris, who was looking ill, then made for the door.

He fled Arthur's chambers, tears still streaming down his face as he walked through the corridors, uncaring that the servants were giving him looks.

How had it all gone so terribly wrong? Arthur hated him! Merlin had cured him with magic and still, Arthur had banished him from Camelot!

He had always feared Arthur would react badly to finding out his secret. He had always expected fear and anger and disgust.

And yet, nothing had prepared him for this. There had been no reasoning with Arthur. The Prince simply could not wrap his mind around the idea that a sorcerer had only wanted to help.

Merlin found that he could not even blame him for it.

For years, he had been taught magic was evil. He had lost his leg, the life he had known, to magic. Now, he had found out that he had let a sorcerer close, a sorcerer who had been using spells on him without his knowledge or consent. To him, their friendship was nothing more than a lie and his miraculous recovery the cruel game of a scheming villain.

Half-blind with tears, Merlin stumbled into the infirmary, where Gaius was standing by the fire. He had returned from the feast and was still in his best robes.

His expression grew sombre when he saw Merlin's face. "I take it you've heard about the duel?"

Merlin collapsed onto the nearest bench and told him everything. Not only about Arthur and his terrible reaction, but about his visit with Kilgharrah, Morgana's visions and what might happen with Edwyn. All the while, he kept brushing away more tears, until there were none left to be cried.

By the end of Merlin's tale, Gaius had slumped onto the bench as well, looking like his heart might give out.

"You must leave this time," he urged, his voice weak. "You must. I will give you some of the money I have saved and a letter to prove your skills as a physician, so you can earn your keep elsewhere."

"Where will I go?" Merlin sniffed. "We've been through this before. You know I can't return to Ealdor."

"There is a city called Helva. It's located in King Odin's realm. It's one of the few places in Albion where magic is still practised freely. Go there and find work. A druid healer, especially, might be willing to take you in."

"What about Arthur?" Merlin asked. "What if Morgana's vision is true? I can't just leave and have him die at Edwyn's hand."

"He banished you," Gaius replied, shaking his head. "He does not want your help."

"I don't care," Merlin said. "I want him to be safe. He's my friend, no matter what."

Gaius's eyes turned beseeching. "Merlin, you don't even know that what Morgana dreamt will come true. I told you before: Nobody can know the future. Visions are fickle and she's been having them for over a year without any catastrophes afflicting Camelot."

Merlin blinked at him. Then he narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, she's been having them for a year?"

Gaius grimaced and looked away.

Anger came crashing over Merlin like a wave. He ran a sleeve over his nose, catching some remnants of wetness there, then spat, "You knew!"

"I feared," Gaius corrected.

"You knew, and you didn't tell me," Merlin said, voice growing louder. "You lied to me! Again, you lied to me!" He let out a harsh noise born of ire and frustration, then demanded, "Why would you keep this from me? From Morgana?"

"It was for the best," Gaius replied gruffly.

"For the best? How is any of this for the best?" Merlin sprung up from the bench. "I should have never listened to you! All your advice, your insistence on caution and secrecy, it was poison!" Hot bile was churning in his stomach and there was no stopping the harsh words spilling from his lips, "You insisted on the false potions! You insisted that I keep quiet about my magic! Now, Arthur thinks I'm some master manipulator. He will never think kindly of sorcerers. He will never legalise magic in Camelot. I've failed, because of you!"

"That's not fair and you know it," Gaius retorted. "I was only protecting you!"

"No! You purposely kept me in the dark and now, I'm the one who's paying for it!"

Belatedly, Gaius followed Merlin's example and got up from the bench. "My dear boy," he said and his voice was starting to turn brittle. "Don't you understand? You should not be carrying these sorts of burdens. You should not be responsible for the fate of a whole people and single-handedly bringing about a golden age. You are too young for such a great destiny!"

"That's not for you to decide," Merlin replied and something shifted at the words. His anger changed, growing into something else, something just as equally fierce. Suddenly, he was filled with new-found determination. "No. It is my choice! I chose to follow my destiny and now, I choose not to leave Camelot. I will not leave Arthur's side."

"Merlin—"

"I'm not going to let Arthur send me away. That's not what our destiny says. And I'm no longer going to keep secrets, either." Merlin turned and made for the door. "I'm going to talk to Morgana. She deserves to know the truth about her magic, about all of this. And then, together, we will stop Edwyn and save Arthur."

"Don't be foolish!" Gaius called after him, but Merlin was no longer listening to him.

He had a destiny to fulfil.

No matter that Arthur was disgusted with him, no matter that things had started to fall apart. There was still a chance to save Arthur's life. There was still a chance, too, that Arthur might change his mind. Perhaps, all he needed was time and then, he would come to see that Merlin was not evil and that magic could be a force for good!

A half cannot truly hate that which makes it whole. Kilgharrah had said this to him, many months ago.

Merlin would cling to that promise.

On quiet feet, he made his way through the castle, dodging the guards, who were making their rounds and surely would have had something to say about Merlin lurking about the Princess's quarters close to midnight. Finally, he managed to approach Morgana's door undetected. He did not bother knocking, simply unlocked the door with magic and slipped inside.

Morgana was still awake, sitting on her bed in a white night gown, a shawl draped around her shoulders. She looked up when Merlin entered, eyes widening when she saw who it was.

"Merlin! How did you get in here?" She got up from the bed and quickly covered herself with the shawl. "You can't be in here! If anyone catches you in my chambers like this, you're a dead man!"

"I know you have magic," Merlin blurted without preamble.

Morgana flinched. "I—"

"You don't have to pretend with me," Merlin went on. "I've got magic, too. I'm a sorcerer and I've been using my magic to help Arthur."

Morgana stumbled backwards and sank back onto the bed, her eyes fixed on Merlin. "What?" she breathed.

"Your visions are real," Merlin went on. "You're what they call a seer. You dream of the future and there's every reason to believe that what you dreamt about Edwyn and Arthur, it will come true tomorrow."

Morgana was still staring at him when Merlin pulled up the stool from Morgana's dressing table and sat down next to her bed.

"I know this is a lot to take in," he went on. "But we cannot let Edwyn fight Arthur. He will kill him. I'm sure of it. Arthur will be dead, you will have to marry Edwyn, and Camelot will fall apart."

Morgana, understandably enough, was not so quick to follow. "You have magic, too?" she whispered. "Really?"

"All my life," Merlin confirmed, toning down on his impatience. "And I use it for good. I use it to heal. Magic doesn't have to be evil. You're not evil, either, for seeing the future."

"I thought I was going insane," Morgana murmured. "Gwen kept saying I was imagining things, even when I recognised Edwyn riding into the courtyard."

"She didn't know any better," Merlin replied. "But you're not mad, Morgana. You've got magic, just like I do!"

Morgana lifted a trembling hand to card it through her hair, then pressed it against her mouth. The shawl slipped off her shoulders, leaving her exposed. For a moment, it looked like she might cry, her face crumbling.

Merlin was just about to reach out and comfort her when she dropped her hand. She lifted her chin, too, suddenly looking every bit the headstrong princess.

"A seer," she said. "You say what I dream comes true? Always?"

"I'm not sure that's how it works," Merlin admitted. "But there is every reason to believe that it could come true, which is a risk I'm not willing to take."

"No, me neither," Morgana agreed. "It's just—I've been having other visions, too. Contradicting visions."

Merlin leaned forward. "Ones where Arthur lives?"

"I think so," she said. "It's in bits and pieces, but I see him as King. He's wearing Uther's crown. And Gwen, I dream of her, too. She's Arthur's wife, the Queen. I used to think it was the silliest dream, a peasant on the throne, but you know how besotted they are, so perhaps…" She trailed off, smiling faintly before she added, "And there's me, too. I'm by their side, a member of their court. We're all sitting at a round table along with some knights. Sir Leon is one of them. And you're there, too!"

"Me?" Merlin breathed.

"Court physician, if I'm not mistaken," Morgana confirmed, smiling again. "You've got the robes and everything."

Merlin's heart skipped a beat and in spite of it all, he smiled, too. It was too enticing a picture, Arthur and Gwen reining Camelot with Morgana and Merlin by their side. Oh, how he wanted that future to come to pass!

"But how can any of that become true if Arthur is to die tomorrow?" Morgana went on, losing her smile. "Both visions cannot come to pass at the same time!"

"What exactly is it that you see in your visions about Edwyn?" asked Merlin.

"Blood. So much of it." Morgana's eyes grew distant as she tried to recall her dreams. "And a fight. The location, it changes. I've seen the tournament grounds, the throne room, Arthur's chambers, even."

"Where is the duel to take place tomorrow?"

"The courtyard, I think."

"And have you dreamt of the courtyard?"

Morgana bit her lip. "I don't know. The visions aren't always so clear. There might have been one or two, yes."

"What else?" Merlin pushed.

"There are other knights. Sometimes it's Leon or Bors or Owain. Uther is there, of course, watching, and Bayard. And then there's Edwyn, with a sword, smirking or laughing at Arthur. Taunting him, sometimes, or shouting at him. Like I said, there are differences..." Morgana paused, swallowing visibly before she fixed Merlin with a fierce look, voice trembling when she concluded, "But one thing never changes: In the end, Arthur dies. I see it clearly, too. He's on the ground and there is blood everywhere. He's covered in it and he's dead."

Merlin tried to ignore the way his heart sped up at that. "Could he just be unconscious?" he asked, just a little desperately.

"No. I can't tell you how I know, but I know he's not. He's dead."

"So they always fight and he always dies, no matter what?"

"Yes," Morgana confirmed.

Merlin cursed under his breath. "We can't let him fight, then," he decided. "We simply cannot. That's the only way we can ensure the vision won't come true. If he doesn't fight Edwyn, he can't die."

Morgana shook her head. "You heard him. He's every bit as stubborn as his father. You could take away his crutches tonight and he would crawl into the main square to prove himself." She chuckled drily. "I used to think he was such a selfish brute. But I've long come to realise that he's not. He's noble and selfless. Stupidly so. Really, he's nothing like Uther where it counts. He would make a great king." She glanced at Merlin. "Does he know? About your magic?"

Don't tell her, was Merlin's first thought. Surely, if Morgana heard of Arthur's reaction, she might be tempted not to help him, now that she knew for certain that she had magic herself.

Her destined path is shrouded in darkness, Kilgharrah's warning voice echoed in Merlin's mind. She will be Arthur's downfall.

Lying to her would be easy, too. All he had to say was no.

But if there was one thing Merlin had learned tonight, it was that secrets were more dangerous than the truth.

"He just found out today," he confessed, voice turning rough. "He—he didn't take it well."

Morgana's eyes grew wide. "What happened?"

"Told me I was banished," Merlin croaked and quickly rubbed at his eyes as they started stinging again. "Ordered me to leave Camelot and never to return."

Morgana pursed her lips as she thought that over. For a moment, she looked angry, even. But then she asked, "He didn't call the guards? Didn't attack you?"

Merlin shook his head. "No, nothing like that. He was shocked and angry, and he didn't find out under the best of circumstances. I've been lying to him for a long time and that hurt him, I think, more than anything else. But he didn't call the guards and he won't tell Uther, either. He said as much."

"Then you can trust that he won't," Morgana replied, sounding entirely convinced of the fact. "He will soon regret his attempt to send you away, too. And I don't believe he's capable of harming you, either." Merlin was surprised to see her break into another smile. "You're very dear to him, you know? He's never had a friend like you and he considers you a younger brother of sorts."

Merlin stared at her. "He said that?"

"Not in so many words, no. But he's been looking into how he could reward you. Or rather, into giving something back to you. Something you wouldn't refuse. He asked me what I thought about him gifting you his mother's sigil."

Merlin frowned in confusion. "Her sigil?"

"It would grant you a fair amount of protection, should you ever find yourself in trouble," Morgana explained. "It would mark you as someone close to the royal family. If Arthur were to die, you would be taken care of, assured a position in the royal court, and so forth."

Merlin was not so far removed from all things courtly for him not to realise the worth of such a gift. In fact, the very thought that Arthur had considered such a step left him so touched that he almost wanted to cry again. Surely, if Arthur cared for him this much, he could not hate Merlin forever, could he?

But Morgana's words had also reminded him of the issue at hand.

"Arthur is not going to die, not any time soon," he vowed, reluctantly brushing aside what Morgana had told, balm for his bruised soul though it was. "We're going to make sure of it."

Morgana's face grew serious. "Yes, we are. And I already have a plan."