~ Chapter 4: Older ~

- Arthur -

As Merlin and I started our journey back to Camelot, I reflected on the years that I had known him. For the most part our journey was quiet. The silence was only broken when I asked Merlin a question about his powers. I wanted to confirm all the times he used his magic, no matter how reluctant he was to accept the credit for his action. I felt this burning need to know for sure, to understand.

I was still struggling to come to terms with what he had told me. My father had always preached about the evils of magic, yet proof that magic didn't have to be evil was walking next to me.

I couldn't doubt Merlin's goodness. His bravery and loyalty are unmatched by my bravest and most loyal knights. He'd helped save my kingdom. He'd killed Morgana. He used lightning to help us win the war. It seemed like every victory I had achieved was, in part, thanks to Merlin.

As the sun was setting, I considered something I hadn't considered before. I froze as the details from the fight came back to me. The sorcerer with the white hair and the white beard. The all too familiar sorcerer. The one that planted the poultice in my room when I was caught with Gwen. The one who killed my father.

"Arthur, are you all right?" Merlin asked me, worriedly. I shook my head, trying to clear it. No, there had to be a decent explanation. Merlin would not kill my father. He'd had years to do it. Why would he wait until he was already dying? He wouldn't. There had to be another explanation. "Arthur?" Merlin asked. I got the feeling this wasn't the first time he called my name.

I was unable to respond. Nothing had prepared me for this conversation. How was I supposed to ask my closest friend about the role he played in my father's death? I wasn't sure I was ready to know, but I knew I couldn't wait to find out. If I waited, I would only twist it in my head. I could hear my father's voice clearly in my head. If you don't do it now, Arthur, you might as well not do it. To put it off is to put your own needs ahead of our people and they do not want a selfish leader. My father had been talking about reading through a particularly dull report that even he hadn't wanted to read, but I recognized that it applied to this situation as well.

I finally turned to look at him. "You were the old sorcerer," I said quietly. It wasn't a question. It was a statement. He told me that it was him, I just didn't realize the implications of that statement until now. "You were the sorcerer that almost got Gwen killed. You were the sorcerer that killed my father." I didn't realize until I said it out loud that I was so scared that he really was that person. That somehow he'd deceived me again.

Merlin looked at me with a pained expression. "I am," he said quietly. I felt betrayal wash over me. I was so stupid to think that magic could ever be used for good. My hand went to the hilt of my sword. I watch Merlin's gaze follow my movement. He didn't look scared, he just looked upset. "If I explain to you what happened, will you listen to me? Or are you going to kill me anyway?"

I didn't look at him right away because I needed to be sure of my answer. I needed to figure out if I would believe him if he explained away my father's death. I needed to figure out if it would even make a difference. If he was negligent with his magic, would that make a difference? Would that make it any easier for me to know that he was the one that killed my father?

I didn't know if he was trying to stall me or if he was about to fabricate an excuse, but I knew I needed to hear him out. Regardless of what he was about to say, I needed to hear it.

I sat down on a nearby tree stump and sighed. "We might as well make camp for the night," I told him. "And then yes. I will give you the chance to explain before I pass judgement."

Merlin nodded as he set off to collect firewood. He didn't go far, and I carefully watched his every mood. I didn't know what I was expecting, but it was just like any of the hunting trips we'd gone on. He looked no different than the man that had waken me up every day. I kept waiting for that to change, but he still looked so ordinary.

It dawned on me that he was collecting branches by hand. I was curious why he didn't use magic. Was it instinct? Or was he still trying to hide his magic even though he no longer had reason to?

He came back with several sticks and branches and started making a decent fire. As he reached for a flint to light the fire, I finally spoke. "Just use your magic Merlin."

He looked at me hesitantly. He didn't look away from me as he held his hand out. His eyes flashed gold and the branches burst into flame. He didn't utter a single word.

We stared at the fire for a long time. The silence was peaceful and despite my reservations about Merlin, I felt safe. It was so unexpected, but it was the truth. If I had to be out here with anyone, I was happy it was Merlin.

"I'm ready to listen, Merlin," I told him. "And I mean really listen."

I watched as the flames danced on Merlin's cheeks. He didn't look at me, but he didn't need to. I could see clearly that he was carefully considering his words. "When you and Gwen got caught, Morgana was behind it. It was her plan to have Gwen executed. I couldn't let that happen," he told me.

"But why would Morgana want Gwen executed?" I asked him. "That was when they were still friends."

Merlin shook his head at me. "Morgana was no friend to Camelot. After she went missing, she returned an enemy," he told me. "It was her that took Uther out on a ride so that they would come across you two. It was her that suggested to Uther that Gwen was enchanting you. It was her that planted the first poultice under your pillow so Uther would think Gwen was a sorceress. I couldn't tell you that Morgana was behind it, so I did the only thing I could think of. Or, that Gaius could think of." He was whispering at the end and I could plainly see the guilt in his expression as easily as if he'd spoken it out loud.

The whole time Morgana was with us, her loyalty was feigned. I didn't want to believe it, didn't want to tarnish any more of my memories with her, but I supposed what Merlin said made sense. If she'd been working to hurt me, she knew exactly how to do it. She'd always been particularly skilled at getting to me.

She wanted me dead, wanted Gwen dead. I can see where the real Morgana started to leave me. It wasn't shortly before she'd stormed into the council chambers and uprooted our lives, it was long before that. Perhaps even before she went missing.

"So how did you tie into this?" I asked him.

"I couldn't let Gwen die. Even if she wasn't my friend, it was your destiny to marry her," he told me. "If I couldn't prove Morgana was the sorcerer, I figured I might as well make a sorcerer. I used an aging spell."

"Then why would you let yourself get caught?" I asked him, confused. "Surely you would have just turned back into yourself?"

"My powers weren't as developed," Merlin explained. "And aging spells are tricky in the first place. I couldn't reverse the spell. Gaius had to make a potion to make me young again."

I considered what he had just told me. It all made sense. "Thank you Merlin," I told him. "You have no idea how much it means to me that you saved Gwen."

"She was my friend too," he told me with a shrug. "She didn't deserve it."

"And my father?" I asked him.

Merlin looked at me with a pained expression. "I really tried to save him," he told me. "But your uncle. He gave him a necklace enchanted by Morgana. It reversed the effects of my magic. I healed Uther, but then Morgana's magic kicked in. I'm so sorry Arthur. If I had known, I wouldn't have tried to heal him with the necklace on. I didn't know what it was. I didn't know that it would do that." Merlin was crying.

I got up and sat by his side. I put my arm around his shoulder, fighting tears myself. "Thank you Merlin," I told him quietly. For a long time, I blamed myself for the death of my father. For a long time, I thought it was my fault. Now I realize, it wasn't me who killed my father. And it wasn't Merlin. It was Morgana.

I couldn't hold back my tears anymore. "Thank you," I whispered once more to no one in particular.