I can't thank you enough for all the support this story has received. To everyone who has posted reviews, followed and favourited I really appreciate it and love to hear your comments. Even though this was all mapped out and written before hand, some of the reviews and comments have influenced my editing and I have tweaked and added bits in response.

A huge thank you to Veilwuarrah and Caldera32 for reading through the first draft and giving me the confidence to continue. Caldera is an awesome beta and I couldn't have done this without her patience, skill and tutelage.

Here it is the final chapter, I hope you find it a satisfying end to the story. Please let me know what you think.

Epilogue: Stand up and be Counted

Merlin paced back and forth, bile bubbled at the back of his throat but somehow he kept it at bay. He wiped his hands on the front of his trousers for the umpteenth time but they were still clammy. The warlock was trapped by his own volition and it was too late to do anything about it now. He'd promised Arthur he would go through with this, and he was a man of his word.

Marching over to the window, Merlin was determined to calm his nerves with some fresh air. It was a mistake. Outside were hordes of people, queuing to get into the citadel. A wave of dizziness hit and he flung himself against the wall. Bending over, he grabbed at his knees but it did not help; the slender man gave in and let himself slide gracelessly down the wall, coming to rest on the floor. Having curled himself into a ball, the warlock thought back to all that had happened over the years and what had led him to this point.

Three years ago Arthur found out about his magic. In the moments before he confessed Merlin suspected the king had finally worked it out for himself, although he had never revealed if that was the case – it was just too painful. That was the day the king thought he'd killed his best friend. Thankfully, Arthur had been wrong, and the warlock dodged death's sickle yet again. It had taken over a week for Merlin to wake up and two more to recover. The event had prompted the men to talk; they'd discussed much, argued, shouted, and smashed things. Then they made up - as all best friends and brothers do. Their bond had been broken but re-forged, and was now stronger than ever before.

Merlin had not told the king everything, not every minute detail - he wasn't hiding, it's just that some of the things that happened in the beginning did not seem important anymore. Besides, blessed with his new knowledge, the monarch had guessed a lot - leaving the sorcerer only to confirm what the royal already suspected (Dragoon, for example). Some truths could not go untold; they spoke of Balinor and Arthur understood - he too had experienced the pain of losing a father, both in absence and in death. This time around the royal did not begrudge his friend's tears; he told the warlock the man had been kind, noble, and worthy of respect. Unfortunately, things deteriorated when the subject turned to the dragon. Merlin shuddered when he recalled their heated argument.

"How could you let it go, Merlin?" The king stormed, incredulous, "It destroyed half the city!" He slapped his gloves against the table, causing the warlock to flinch.

Having only woken up the previous day the invalid was still confined to bed, and conducting an argument whilst horizontal put the warlock at a distinct disadvantage. "He'd been caged for twenty years..." Merlin protested, but the royal interrupted the plea.

"Because it was dangerous!" Arthur spat, "It burnt women and children; they were innocent." He turned and marched over to the window, his back to the room, shoulders braced.

"Do you think I don't know that – you think I don't care?" The dragonlord yelled, unable to see the king's face. Merlin had never forgiven himself for his kin's crime. For years he had been haunted by the images of people being incinerated by the vengeful beast while he stood by, powerless to prevent it.

Arthur turned menacingly. "Well why didn't you do something? Aren't you supposed to be all-powerful?" The royal threw back, anger and spite spilling into his words and cutting his friend.

"I tried!"

"Not hard enough." Arthur's hands were on his hips and he was breathing hard. Despite promising himself he would try to understand, to listen, he could not get past the fact Merlin had let the dragon go; had let people die when he had the ability to stop it.

The king had said what Merlin always felt to be true; he should have prevented it somehow. The sentiment stabbed at his heart, his defences weakened and shaken, "My magic was useless against him."

"Then how the hell did I kill it?" Fumed the royal, voice hoarse with rage.

Silence.

The dragonlord looked up, meeting the hard and questioning glare of his king. "You didn't," he said flatly.

There was a long pause, then Arthur spoke slowly, each word painfully enunciated, "Tell me it was destroyed."

Merlin shook his head.

"What?" Arthur's response was positively icy. "It's out there right now?" He waved in the direction of the window, "Ready to attack at any moment?"

"No," Merlin folded his arms around his chest as if trying to protect himself from the angry onslaught. "I told Kilgharrah to leave, I forbade him from hurting anyone or attacking Camelot again." The young sorcerer bit his lip and did not even bother to look at the other man. "My father had to die, Arthur, only then did I inherit his gift and become a dragonlord".

Quiet.

Arthur was temporarily halted. It wasn't Merlin's fault? Then the he recalled the name - Kilgharrah. His servant had laughed, had shown fondness, when he spoke that name. The king's coiled temper rose like a serpent, and then it struck, "You called it a friend!" He pointed his finger, "You still speak to it now, after all it has done?"

Merlin tried to placate the furious king, "He asked for mercy, he was sorry for his behaviour - it was reactive – an act of vengeance born of anger," the younger man reasoned, but his temper began to fray as well. Had he not tried to understand Uther's motives despite what the tyrant had done? Hadn't he pardoned Arthur? The hand of forgiveness was slapped away from him and his kin, they were evidently not worthy of clemency. He tried to calm himself, "We have all done things we regret when angry..."

Arthur erupted, preventing the dark-haired man from getting any further. "You cannot compare what I did," he jabbed at his chest with an index finger, "with what it did!" The royal was so worked-up he trembled, "How many times do I have to say I'm sorry, Merlin?"

The sorcerer's hold on his emotions wasn't any better than his king's, "Actually, you haven't - and neither did your father!" Flecks of gold appeared around his irises and a bookshelf rattled ominously.

The royal was puce. His jaw clenched, his shoulders drew back, and his fingers curled. It took all his control not to throw something, instead he spun on his heels, stormed towards the exit and nearly took the door off its hinges when he slammed the solid wood behind him.

Merlin sat, shaking as he listened to the monarch's retreating footsteps pounding down the corridor. He saw his dream go up in smoke and wondered if he would soon be joining it on the pyre. He cursed the truth potion; granted, his mouth had often gotten him into trouble - but this was ridiculous! He seemed unable to control his tongue or tell white lies. Had the poison caused permanent brain damage? He used to be so good at shielding his feelings and now difficult truths poured from his lips like oil onto flames, feeding the fire of Arthur's fury. There was a part of him that thought this outcome was inevitable; it had been too good to be true, that his friend had accepted him too readily. How could I have been such a fool? The fact his destiny had been in his grasp only to fall from his fingers and shatter was pain beyond endurance. Then the sensible part of the warlock's brain took over; he'd worked too hard and lost too much not to try and make things better. He had to explain to Arthur, to calm him down and make him see sense.

Unfortunately Merlin's mind was willing but his body was not. He threw himself out of bed, ready to pursue the angry king only to fail at the first hurdle. Having been left immobile for over a week, his legs protested at being forced to work and his head was not ready to be upright. Consequently, he crashed to the floor having only taken a few paces. That's where Arthur found him when he returned later.

The royal had been livid, he knew why Merlin had kept his secret and he thought he understood. Despite his good intentions, he could not stop himself from wallowing in the hurt caused by his friend's lack of trust. Initially those feelings had been drowned out by the guilt he'd felt for poisoning his servant. However, it was now clear that Merlin would recover and with the immediate danger gone those emotions had risen to the surface unbidden, needing only the knowledge of the dragon to give them life. Once he'd cooled down, Arthur felt ashamed. There had been few who could make him feel that way - that he could be wrong - but Merlin was one of them. The king had told his friend he would not be judged, yet that is exactly what he had done.

The monarch made his way back to Merlin's room, ready to make amends. He opened the door and was greeted by the warlock's motionless body sprawled on cold stone. He froze, the original guilt and fear immobilising him for a second like a punch in the gut, then sprinted to his fallen friend and hoisted him back onto the bed, calling for the physician immediately in a panicked frenzy.

Gaius checked his ward and declared him well, but exhausted. He proceeded to lecture the royal for upsetting his patient when the man was in such a delicate condition. Not stopping there, the physician also gave his ward a tongue-lashing for over-exerting himself. Gaius then swept from the room, leaving the two scolded men to fend for themselves. After an awkward silence the two were united by the wrath of the physician; Merlin apologised and miraculously, after a pause, so did Arthur (in his own way).

Things got much better after that. It took a couple more days for Merlin to explain the full nature of his relationship with Kilgharrah, the deals and bargains he'd been forced to make and the birth of Aithusa. There was little he could say about the young dragon, she was lost, a fact that did not go down too well with the king. Arthur did his best to listen and understand, although it remained a struggle at times.

Merlin slowly improved, regaining his strength; his magic settled, bending to his will once more. In those early days the warlock refrained from using his gift in front of his friend if he could. It felt strange and they'd also agreed to keep his secret from the rest of the castle until Arthur could work out what to do. On the surface things appeared to be back to normal, the king's servant was recovering, the royal's mood had stabilised, and finally the queen returned to Camelot.

Arthur discovered just how strong a woman Guinevere was in those next few nights, for she held him together when he was on the verge of falling apart. She was the voice of reason, the healing balm, and the love that pulled him through. The king told his wife all he had done and discovered. In return, she embraced him and whispered words that mended his soul.

Merlin was apprehensive before meeting Gwen, now that she knew. He was prepared to explain everything again, to make her understand, but it was not necessary. When the queen was reunited with her old friend all that was really needed was a hug.

That had happened years ago.

Merlin was still leaning against the wall, he did not feel like getting up just yet. His pulse had become more even but he liked the security of being low to the ground. Soon there would be a knock on the door and they would ask him to make his way into the grand hall where Arthur would be waiting. Today the king intended to make him the official court sorcerer of Camelot. The ceremony would take place in front of an audience made up of his friends and family plus as many of the citizens that could squeeze through the doors. His mother and the knights would be there, of course, but one face would be missing from the crowd.

Gaius had died last spring. His loss had sent the warlock into a spiralling depression. It was the first time Merlin could openly grieve, and perhaps that had made it harder. The physician had become sick in the winter and never really got over it. He forbade the warlock from using his magic to save him. Gaius was old, he was ready, and it was his time. He did not want to prolong his life and in the end it would have been cruel to do so, for it would have only have lengthened his suffering. Merlin knew this, knew it was for the best, but when Gaius died it pained him just as much as those who had been taken early. The irony burned; he had been free to use his gift but couldn't. His friends were there to help him this time and in the weeks and months that followed he did heal and was thankful for their company and support.

Arthur had postponed his appointment as court sorcerer by six months to give the warlock time to mourn and for that Merlin would be forever grateful. He wiped his face and tried to remind himself that he should be glad, this was a happy occasion and his surrogate father had at least witnessed the growth of Camelot - the treaty with the druids and the end to the ban on magic (which had happened the previous autumn).

Gaius had been there at the start, when the first druid representative to meet the royal on friendly terms had walked into the great hall. Iseldir had bowed down in front of the king, declaring his loyalty and service. Arthur had been impressed and humbled by the display – it had turned out to be the first positive building block in negotiations between the druid communities and Camelot. Merlin had not the heart to tell the royal that the platitudes had been for Emrys, although the physician and his ward had laughed about it afterwards.

It was not easy in the beginning, vengeful sorcerers still tried to attack the city and magic-users were still shunned and hunted. When either party was brought before the king for a trial, it was their actions that were punished; the use of magic was incidental. Eventually, attitudes started to change and magic began to seep back into Camelot, drop by golden drop. For some, the pain of the past was too great for forgiveness, but for most the seed of change was welcomed - Camelot was thriving and successful. Merlin had hoped that reconciliation with Morgana may have been possible now that magic had returned, but in his heart he knew she was too bitter and full of hate. She had disappeared; sometimes he thought he could sense her, but the feeling was as insubstantial as a wisp of smoke and he could never keep it long enough to know if it was real. She would not destroy what they had built, he told himself, for he would watch and be ready should she return.

It was a golden time; the royals presided over a fair and just kingdom. They were happy, but yet to be blessed with a child. He saw the shadow of that disappointment flick across Gwen's face from time to time and Merlin would have helped them if they'd asked, but he was glad they didn't. Perhaps because they all knew the price for such a gift would be too high. They were young and there was time to let nature take its choice.

The day the ban on magic was lifted there had been a great celebration but, to his shame, Merlin could recall very little about it – only that he'd been in high spirits and Gwaine had been instrumental in his loss of memory. The knight refused to tell him what had happened and just taunted his friend by saying he would reveal all on the warlock's wedding day. Gwaine had made it his mission to find his friend a wife, saying he deserved some joy in his life. Despite all those who had been presented, none had turned his head in quite the same way as Freya. He wondered if anyone else ever could or if he would want them too. It did not make him sad, for he was kept busy with his role as defender and official adviser to the king, not to mention absorbing some of Gaius' duties. Besides, he was young and there was still time.

Thinking the king was safe he had taken himself off, travelled throughout the five kingdoms and learnt more about his magic; honed his skills and knowledge. He felt more ready to protect his friend than ever before but, as if fate had wanted to play a cruel trick, he had returned to find Mordred at court. When he had seen the young druid it had taken all his power not to react defensively. Merlin was immediately suspicious and cool towards the young knight. Arthur had taken him to task on his attitude, saying the young man had proven his worth and earned the right to serve the king. Merlin had pleaded with his friend to see reason and eventually told the royal of the prophecy concerning Arthur's death at Mordred's hand. The king had been livid that such information had been kept from him but Merlin was vehement that no man should know too much about the circumstances of his own demise.

They had fought, but in the end Arthur had used the warlock's own argument against him: 'people should be judged for what they have done, not what they might do'. Merlin had been forced to concede. The royal said he was not afraid to die; he would not cower in front of destiny. He had been a target all his life and he was not going to change because of it. It was true, of course, and Merlin would have to accept it. After all they'd been through and achieved, the presence of Mordred put fear in his heart. It pained him to see the potential means of his king's destruction so close. The druid was likeable and Merlin did his best, but he could never fully warm to the man, there was too much at stake not to watch and wait.

Merlin was startled out of his musing when he heard the door open. He stared expectantly as light flooded into the room followed by Gwen. The queen looked quizzical, her gaze scanning for the occupant. Her face morphed into concern when she found him and she slipped through the opening, making her way across the room to the seated warlock.

"Merlin?"

He looked up, giving a small smile in greeting. "Is it time?"

"Almost. What are you doing down there?" She crouched next to him. "It will be alright, you'll be fine," she said lightly.

He nodded in response.

The queen took in her friend's demeanor and lightly touched his shoulder. "You miss him, don't you?" Merlin's head dropped to the side and rested against the queen. "He was very proud of you," she said, taking her free hand and entwining it with his. After a few moments spent in silence Gwen turned, putting her stern face on and addressing the most powerful warlock ever to live like a small child, "Come along, Merlin, there are a lot of people out there waiting to see you become the official court sorcerer." She pulled the tall, slender man into standing so he dwarfed her petite frame. Undeterred she took him by the shoulders and smoothed the creases in his shirt. "You and Arthur have faced much worse, remember Jarin? We could never have defeated him without your skills – Camelot saw who you really were and what you could do that day and we are all indebted to you."

Merlin shuddered; ironically, Jarin had been the man who had set everything in motion. He had been the mastermind behind the attack on the castle which led to the discovery of the truth potion. The man had bided his time before retaliating and the resulting battle had been difficult - Merlin still bore the scars. His back and knee gave a twinge at the memory. Jarin had wanted to destroy Camelot and yet his actions had inadvertently led to her unification with other kingdoms - no, Arthur would have come around anyway; poisoning his best friend was just a catalyst…

"Merlin?"

The voice tore him from his thoughts and he looked up at the concerned face of his queen.

"All you have to do his walk out there and swear allegiance to the king and Camelot – Arthur will do the rest. Just don't trip."

Finally she got the smile she'd been waiting for.

"I will try not to slip, trip, or fall flat on my face." The warlock chuckled nervously.

"Oh, I almost forgot, we wanted you to have this." Gwen swiftly moved toward the bed and picked up a bundle she had placed there, unnoticed, when she entered the room.

Merlin shook it out to reveal a majestic deep blue cloak. It was similar to a knight's, save for the colour and addition of a hood, the gold dragon motif was embroidered on the expensive cloth and there were ornate metal clasps at the collar.

"Gwen, it's... it's..." he pulled her into a hug, "Thank you." He said, totally overwhelmed.

The queen helped the warlock into his new clothing; she was a deft hand and within seconds was adjusting the fabric so it fell correctly over his shoulders. She looked up and gave a dimpled laugh, "Perfect. You scrub up well."

"Gwen, I don't know what to say." Despite gaining status as the king's advisor, Merlin was still a novice when it came to receiving praise or gifts.

"It was all Arthur's idea, he was most insistent; picked it out and everything." She gushed enthusiastically, then paused and became thoughtful, "He said he always knew there would be an occasion when you could wear something like this!" She shrugged and raised her eyebrows.

Merlin just looked perplexed, then shrugged too, "Who knew he would have such good taste after all these years." He broke into a wide grin that radiated confidence. "Thank you, for everything."

"You're welcome, and thank you." She grasped both his hands then gave them a gentle tug, pulling him down to her level so she could peck his cheek. "Now, they will call you in a moment." With that she released him and hurried out the door, pausing briefly to look over her shoulder and mouth, "Good luck."

Merlin stood alone, but was far being on his own. He felt warm and safe in his cloak; it gave him comfort and made him feel like the powerful warlock he was – ready and willing to tackle anything. He'd been named after a bird and now he could truly soar - finally he was free. It was what he'd always wanted; Arthur had accepted him as a whole, including magic. He was in the place that he loved and would protect it tooth and nail, only now he could do it without boundaries or prejudice, together and at the side of his friend.

Then they were calling his name and he found himself striding towards his brother and destiny; he had never been more content or fulfilled in his life.

The End.

So all finished. I wanted to write a reveal story that was a bit different; by changing the dynamics and making Arthur the one who betrays. The guilt he feels for hurting his friend makes Merlin's magic seem insignificant in comparison but then I thought he'd have to fall off the compassion wagon at some point, hence the dragon discussion. For all his faults, Arthur came good in the end.

I loved writing this and I hope you enjoyed it - I have an inkling to write some BAMF Merlin now, but who knows. Once again a big thank you for all your support. Please let me know what you think.

On Thursday I'm off to see Colin Morgan live on stage in Mojo - I just hope there are no train delays or hold ups.