Thank you to everyone who is following this story, favourited and posted reviews. Special thanks to Caldera32 who is a wonderful beta.

Anyway, this kicks off where chapter 8 finished - I hope you enjoy. Feedback is very welcome, as always.

Chapter 9 Building Bridges

"You are that purpose, Arthur. You are The Once and Future King. I am Emrys, and I was born to serve you."

Merlin's words echoed in the king's head. These were titles of power, of men who were revered.

"Emrys?" was all the monarch could manage.

"It's what the druids call me. I am supposed to be the most powerful magic-user that has ever lived or will ever live," the warlock wrestled with the sheets and looked embarrassed then composed himself, becoming earnest. "A prophecy exists that speaks of a shared destiny. Emrys and The Once and Future King are to unite the nations and form Albion - where there will be peace and magic will be returned to the land.

Merlin held the royal's gaze, his blue eyes sure and commanding.

"It's a lot to take in," Arthur said as he flopped into a chair and pushed his fingers through his blond hair.

Merlin gave a nod.

"I don't understand; you're a powerful sorcerer and yet you're a servant, I throw goblets and fruit at you. How can you be happy with that?" The monarch rushed, incredulous, getting up and pacing about.

"Well, there aren't many employment options for the damned, are there?" Merlin huffed, "Besides, it was your father that made me your servant - and no, I don't like it when you throw things at me!"

The king spun on his heels, gesturing with both arms and addressing the occupant of the bed. "Then why put up with it? Why, if you're so high and mighty, don't you retaliate?"

"Magic isn't about revenge or domination."

"That's what my father thought."

"Well your father was a..." Merlin stopped himself and swallowed, trying to find the right words. "Uther loved you, Arthur. He tried to be a good king but he was blinded by grief. He wanted something to blame, he wanted vengeance for what happened to your mother but retribution did not make him happy. It did not take away the pain." The warlock looked very sad and very old. "Do you really think the fighting would stop if you rid the world of magic? That man would cease to destroy, would no longer seek to conquer? That he would not find another way?"

Merlin paused, letting his words sink in. Meeting no opposition, he continued. "Magic is like any of nature's elements; it can be wild and destructive or beautiful and nurturing. The ability to harness magic is a gift, a responsibility, and like any form of power it has the potential to corrupt but it doesn't have to - that lies in the heart of the user. You could choose to be a tyrant and yet you strive for equality and peace; that makes you a fair and just king. True power can unite and bring about change. It can break this cycle of prejudice and abuse – you could do that Arthur. You would do anything for Camelot and your people love and respect you for it. Bring an end to the battles and bloodshed; create a new age where we work together and not apart. We're just people, let us all be judged on how we act, not how we were born."

"You speak with passion, Merlin, but if you are so strong why have you never sought to make these changes? You could have had Camelot for yourself."

"It is my role to support and protect - you are the king; it is your destiny to rule. All I want, all I ever wanted, is to be free."

These were sobering words. Arthur had always known Merlin's loyalty but now he knew what his friend was capable of, what sacrifices he'd made, and what losses he'd suffered. "How can you have such faith after all I have done?"

"Because I know you. I believe in you." Merlin swallowed, "What would I become if I could not forgive, if I no longer had faith there is good in the world?"

Arthur was humbled, never had he met anyone with such control or restraint. The warlock had not finished.

"I will tell you everything if you want, but there is so much and I can't do it right now - I'm tired," he visibly sagged. "It's not the successes but the times I failed that you will remember, that's what will shape your perceptions," he looked battle-weary and exhausted. Sharp clavicles and the contour of his ribs were clearly visible; he'd lost weight over the last week and Arthur's shirt hung off his shoulders – like a child wearing his father's clothing. "There are things I've done that I'm not proud of, you won't like them. I've made mistakes. It all went wrong sometimes, no matter how hard I tried, there were consequences and it didn't go to plan."

"I think I can empathise with that," The royal said with a sad smile. I was too proud to speak to my friend and look how that turned out?

In truth, the monarch had been going over the fragmented conversation he'd had with his servant all week. He'd compared it to the information and explanations Merlin had given for his scars all those months ago. The servant had evidently been protecting Camelot in his own unique way for quite some time. That's not all, Merlin had obviously known about Morgana and her magic before anyone else. He had been instrumental in defeating her so Arthur had realised Merlin must have been powerful, just not how powerful. Emrys – he'd heard the name before, but never understood. When the witch thought she had won, she had taunted him saying that not even Emrys could save him, but she had been wrong – Merlin had been there all along.

Arthur sat down, placed his hands at the back of his skull and closed his eyes briefly. His head was swimming. He'd always been taught sorcerers were evil, bent on destruction, motivated by greed - all they wanted was to rule and oppress. But that was wrong; they were just people, subject to the same temptations and drives as anyone else. How could the most powerful magic-user to ever walk the earth be Merlin? But how could it not? Who else could have the compassion, the humility and wisdom to carry such a responsibility and not be consumed by it? The royal had always known there was more to his friend. It was like the clouds had finally lifted to reveal the majestic mountain that had always been there.

"I will make it right, Merlin. It will be difficult and take time, but you won't have to hide forever."

Merlin closed his eyes and let the relief wash over him. Could this really be the acceptance he'd always wanted? Tears cascaded down his cheeks and he let out a broken laugh that caught in his throat and turned into a coughing fit. Just as he thought he might choke and keel over from a lack of air, a firm hand slapped him on the back. The warlock recovered somewhat and drank greedily from the cup his king offered.

"Went the wrong way," he gasped.

"I only just got you back; I don't want to lose you again."

The warlock looked up mischievously, "Sounds like you missed me."

"A bit," the monarch shrugged, "George is extremely efficient but he is so boring," Arthur rolled his eyes.

"After all that's happened I thought you would have liked boring."

The royal shook his head, "Never."

Both smiled and the tension that was so evident at the beginning of their discussion had melted away. Merlin suddenly became serious; he had waited so long for Arthur to accept him. What if he changes his mind?

"Arthur, don't make any promises until you know it all."

"Morgana?"

The servant's eyes were wide and questioning.

"I know something went on between both of you and that you knew about her magic – I think you feel responsible for what happened to her." His servant just stared open-mouthed; Arthur used the silence to his advantage and continued with his analysis. "I know she tried to kill you, but you were strong enough to stop her and on several occasions your actions prevented her taking Camelot."

Merlin was astounded but then he recovered, "I should have helped her, maybe if she'd known I'd had magic..."

"We all should have helped her – it's not your fault."

The warlock looked distraught. He launched into an explanation, words tumbling out at break-neck speed, not pausing for breath. "But I poisoned her, to stop the sleeping sickness, she'd made a pact with Morgause, it was the only way to break the spell..."

The king had hold of the warlock's shoulders shaking them gently to get his attention, "NOT YOUR FAULT. She made her choice, and you shouldn't have had to make decisions like that on your own."

Merlin just nodded, but did not look up.

Arthur did not know what to say, not only to his friend but to his people. How could he just turn over twenty years of a mindset that had been instilled not only in himself but in all of Camelot's citizens? A deep-seated prejudice and fear that ran through to the core. Now he knew the truth, how could he let it continue? He was a man of principle, he believed in equality; had he not made knights of commoners because of what they showed in their hearts not their breeding? Had he not chosen a wife for love and not status? And had he not always known the advice and counsel of his servant was worth more than that of any dignitary?

"Gaius once told me that he was not the only one who tried to protect me." Arthur looked directly at his friend, "He said, contained within this great kingdom is a rich variety of people with a range of different beliefs." The royal sighed. "He was talking about you, wasn't he?" The servant's expression told the king all he needed know.

"He also said that one day I would understand how much they had done for me. I do understand, Merlin, and nothing you have done can be any worse than any of my mistakes."

"I thought kings didn't make mistakes?"

Arthur held his servant's gaze; there were plenty of responses he could give to that remark, but he wanted his friend to know he was serious. It was never easy to admit poor judgement; it went against everything he knew as a king and he could count on one hand the number of times he'd actually apologised to anyone, least of all the man in front of him. The royal swallowed his pride. "I was wrong," he pushed his tongue over his teeth and let out a sigh, "about a lot of things. Magic is not evil - neither are all those who practice it."

Arthur was solemn, Merlin was pure of heart but not all sorcerers had good intentions. He could not prevent men from carrying arms just in case someone ran amok, so how could he justify the indiscriminate oppression of magic? What could be done? It had to be regulated somehow. He made a decision, "The law will change, it will just take time and you will have to be patient."

The warlock's mouth fell open. For a moment he looked like he had been carved in stone, sparks literally flew as the fire in the hearth surged and the goblet vibrated violently. Merlin lunged and flung his arms around a stunned king; the royal in return gave two solid pats to the servant's back and enjoyed the contact and warmth of his brother before breaking the hold.

"Don't tire yourself out too much, there's a backlog of polishing to get through."

"I thought George took care of it?"

"Well, I kept back some of the good stuff just in case."

"Thanks."

The royal just shook his head in response and watched his elated friend, joy radiating from him like heat from a flame.

Merlin's fingers ghosted over his arm. He paused, examining the fabric of his shirt, and looked up quizzically, "Is this yours?"

Arthur flushed and rubbed the back of his neck, "Oh that old thing, I was going to throw it away so..." he shrugged his shoulders,"I thought you might make use of it."

"That's very kind of you," the warlock nodded and tried to school his features into a neutral expression - he knew all about Arthur's special shirt.

The royal was desperate to change the subject and tried to think of something to say, however, there was no need as Merlin became distracted and tilted his head to the side as if listening to something. His brow scrunched up in concentration, then a wide grin broke out, illuminating his features and making his eyes sparkle.

"You called for the druids?" He gushed.

"What? Well, you were… I..." Arthur began. "Wait... how?" He looked totally perplexed.

"Kilgharrah just told me."

"Killy what?"

"He's a friend."

The king scanned the room, and upon seeing nothing, "He's not dead, is he?"

The warlock let out a bark of a laugh, "No." he took a moment to compose himself, "He is of magic; I hear him in my mind."

"Oh, and that's not weird at all...wait... in your head?" The royal paled, "You can't read my thoughts, can you?"

All levity left him. "Uh, no," shaking his head vehemently, "definitely not." He flopped back onto the pillows.

"Good." Arthur gave Merlin an exacting glance.

It was quiet again, Merlin's jubilation seemed to have exhausted him and his head started to droop. The royal felt the conversation had gone well. Perhaps I'm getting better at this talking business? He knew there was more and he wanted to know it all, but Merlin was too fatigued and he wasn't going to push him this time, he could and would wait.

Arthur felt happier than he'd done in a long while. There was a lot to digest and process, but he could not stop a smile forming on his lips. A coil of excitement formed in his chest, coupled with trepidation - it was the feeling he got when he embarked on any quest. He wondered if he was making the right decision, but his instincts told him he was and he listened to them for once. There would be a lot of opposition, it would be difficult and dangerous as always, and he would need the help and support of his best friend – but he wouldn't have it any other way.

The pale man had stilled; his eyes had fluttered closed and his breathing was even. He seemed so content Arthur did not want to disturb him. He stood up gently, covered the slumbering figure with an extra blanket, and made his way out the room. Before closing the door quietly he looked over to the man he had almost lost, the man he would give his life for and the person he respected most in the world (although he would never tell him the last bit out loud).

"Sleep well, Merlin, we have a busy day tomorrow."

When Merlin opened his eyes it was dark. He realised he must have fallen asleep and was about to apologise to Arthur, but it was not the king that sat by his side. A wrinkled hand had hold of his and the familiar smell of herbs told him who his companion was.

"Gaius!"

The physician's ward flung his arms around his surrogate father and enveloped him in a bear-hug. Overwrought with emotions that needed to escape, he sobbed. Gaius held him tight and rubbed his back, there may have been a few tears that dropped from his own weary eyes. After some indeterminate time, Merlin broke free.

"It's good to have you back, my boy – I thought I'd lost you."

"What happened?"

"You don't remember?" The physician seemed surprised.

"Yes, mainly... it's a bit muddled – the potion, why did it affect me like that?"

The old man leant back and slapped his knee, then rubbed his face, "I don't know for certain, most likely a combination of factors. The person who made it may not have been as skilled as we first thought, and there's the dosage - I believe you drank it all," he raised an eyebrow, "and, of course, there's how the preparation was stored. It appears the king, in his infinite wisdom, kept it on his person at all times..."

"What? It was incubated in Arthur's pocket for three months soaking up the warmth from his buttock?" The warlock inserted.

Gaius paused, lips pursed, "Indeed, that would have altered it considerably." The physician shook his head; he still could not believe the royal's stupidity or what Arthur had done. Controlling his emotions in front of the king had been very difficult, made possible only by the practice and skill he'd been forced to acquire during Uther's reign.

The physician looked at his surrogate son in wonder, "Then there's you, Merlin, your unique abilities".

"My magic left, Gaius. It abandoned me." The warlock looked distraught, "Growing up, there were times I did not want it… but to be without it… when it started to drain away..." He looked up, shaking his head.

Gaius leaned forward, "Your magic leaving is probably what saved you."

"I don't understand."

"The potion was attacking both you and your magic. Sometimes, to win the war, the battle must be lost. Perhaps your magic retreated and regrouped only to return when the conditions were more favourable - when the poison had left your system." The old man shrugged but then became stern. "Merlin, you did not give yourself a chance. I understand from the king that you had not slept or eaten the day before - in addition to all that, you'd taken some pain remedy which could have reacted with it." The old man folded his arms and glared at his ward.

"Well how was I supposed to know he was going to drug me?"

"That's not the point, Merlin. You run yourself into the ground and try to look after everyone but yourself. Sometimes the only thing holding you up is your magic. Anyone else given that potion would have died immediately." He sighed, "It's not good enough, you can't defend a kingdom if you neglect your own health - if you hadn't been so utterly exhausted things may not have gotten as bad."

The warlock was suitably chastised. He shifted uncomfortably and bit his lip. He was quiet and Gaius wondered if the reprimand had gone too far, but it seemed his ward had been thinking about something else.

"I was with them... Freya, Lancelot, Will, and my father," he swallowed and wiped his eyes."They told me I had a choice, that I could come back – what does it all mean, Gaius?"

"I don't know," he said gravely. "one never knows with you, you are a mystery able to defy death itself – but I am glad to have you back and I'm not the only one."

"Arthur knows."

"It was the right time."

"What do you think will happen?"

The old man shrugged but wore a smile, "Even with my limited skill I feel it, a change in the fabric of magic – surely you do too?"

The warlock nodded, "My magic is all over the place. I thought it was because I'd just got it back and it needed to settle but you're right, it feels like it will happen now. Arthur and I, Emrys and The Once and Future King will unite Albion."

The two embraced again and the laughter and tears flowed.

A few miles outside the border of Camelot a small procession of druids and knights ground to a halt. It had not been an easy quest, Gwaine and Leon had begun to lose hope of ever finding the secretive people - they been searching for a week. When they did discover the druids, the company was apprehensive and even a little hostile. Several of the men had asked what they had done to Emrys and what the king's intentions were. The knights did not know what they were talking about; Gwaine had said the sovereign only sought their help, but some of the elders had been dismissive and accused the royal of being a hypocrite - only seeking their advice because he wanted something. Why should they risk their lives for someone they did not know? However, when the knight explained Arthur's motives and who it was that needed their help everything changed and they hastened to travel. Gwaine did not know why there was such an abrupt turn to help Merlin, a servant, (although he had some suspicions) but to be honest he didn't care; he only wanted someone to heal his friend. Why had they stopped? His stomach rolled and he hoped they were not too late. He did not want to think what he would do if they were.

"What is it, Iseldir, is something wrong?" Sir Leon urged.

"Nothing, Sir Knight, on the contrary - the man you wanted us to aid is no longer in need of our services." The druid leader smiled.

"Merlin's alright?" Gwaine questioned, a broad grin breaking over previously sombre features.

"Oh yes, I believe he will recover without our help. However, if it's all the same, I would like to continue on and meet with your king."

"How do you know this?" The rugged knight countered.

"We feel the change in the earth and elements, the pull of prophecies that have been foretold for centuries finally coming together," the druid leader said enigmatically.

The knights exchanged looks, Gwaine just shrugged his shoulders and mouthed "best not to ask". The knight wasn't going to spend time working out riddles; they'd said Merlin was getting better and that was good enough for him. They could worry about the other stuff when they got back. He pulled on the reins of his horse, urging her to move faster and get them to Camelot. They were a small party but it would still take days to reach the castle and they were in hostile territory until they crossed the border.

In a cave nearby, an ancient dragon roared. "Your destiny not only will happen, it has already begun, young warlock. Albion will rejoice in your achievements. But be warned, it will not be easy. There will be losses; many challenges and obstacles will hinder your path. You are the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth but even your success may have a price. Mordred and Morgana still have their role to play. Your destinies are intertwined and you may fight it, but cannot escape it."

Merlin awoke with a start, having heard Kilgharrah's words thrum through his head. He was barely conscious but he'd heard his kin's message.

"We are creatures of the Old Religion, Merlin, and as always my loyalty and guidance is yours. For now sleep and recover for you will need all your strength in the coming times."

The warlock fell back to slumber almost instantly, the dragon's counsel having embedded itself in his brain. The information gave way to dreams of Albion – the beautiful place he would build alongside his brother – forever united, Emrys and the king of Camelot.

Epilogue to follow...

I hoped you enjoyed that, I certainly had a good time writing it. Let me know what you think.

One more chapter to go. The epilogue is set a little way in the future and should tie up all the lose ends. It also covers what happens when Arthur discovers Merlin's connection to dragons - lets just say the king does not eat humble pie forever...