CHAPTER 4

By his own preference, Arthur's birthday comes and goes unacknowledged. The only ones to mark the occasion are Merlin - who doesn't say anything, but has somehow persuaded Cook to overload Arthur's breakfast plate with all of his favourite foods - and Gaius.

"I was there when you were born, Arthur." The elderly physician hands him a dusty bottle of wine with a wry smile. "As was this vintage. Happy 25th birthday, my boy."

Arthur wonders for about the thousandth time whether Gaius knows about Merlin's magic. If he does, Arthur decides, there's no way he knows Merlin has revealed it to Arthur. Even Gaius can't be that good a liar.

Merlin's research pays off and Arthur is able to force his will in council, given he is not technically changing or breaking any laws. The council are unhappy, but even the most conservative among them are quickly distracted by the approach of Yule. They need a good celebration this year, Arthur thinks to himself, and makes sure that the decorations are up around the palace as early as possible.

Arthur had wanted to ride out to inform the Druids personally about the change of their status in Camelot, but the weather prevents him. When he voices his frustrations to Merlin, the servant looks shifty.

"What?" Arthur is exasperated. For all that Merlin said he would be honest about his magic, he isn't always the most forthcoming. "You can turn into a carrier pigeon or something?"

Merlin snorts. "No. Well, I don't think so anyway. I've never tried."

"What then?"

"I can um... contact Iseldir. A Druid leader," Merlin clarifies at Arthur's questioning glare. "I've done it before."

"How?" Arthur demands with crossed arms. "You know where they're camped?"

"I can talk to them. In my- in my mind."

Arthur wonders if the stress of hiding his secret has finally driven Merlin insane. He enquires, suspiciously, "Is this something everyone with magic can do?"

Merlin shrugs. "Does it matter? The point is I can do it. Er, if you want," he tacks on as an afterthought.

"And why should they believe you? You're just the King's servant."

"Well, to the Druids I'm er... kind of a big deal." Merlin tugs self-consciously at his neckerchief. "They have these prophecies..."

Arthur listens, unimpressed, as Merlin relates to him the prophecy of Emrys and The Once and Future King.

"Someone has been filling your head with fairytales," he concludes when Merlin has finished. "There's no way you're the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth."

Merlin's eyes flash with hurt. "You remember your quest to The Perilous Lands?"

"The one you interrupted?"

"It wasn't about you, Arthur." Merlin's tone is heated. "When I got locked in that room I met the Fisher King."

Arthur scoffs. "The Fisher King has been dead for centuries.."

But Merlin continues stubbornly and tells him about the vial of water the Fisher King had gifted him, and how the Lady of the Lake appeared within it to help save Camelot from Morgana.

Arthur frowns as he tries to piece together everything Merlin has told him. "The Lady of the Lake... That was the friend you spoke about before? The one who told you about the magical sword?"

"She owed me a favour."

Arthur knows there must be more to that story, but he is sick of teasing out every detail of Merlin's magical escapades - it's worse than pulling teeth!

"I still don't believe in this prophecy nonsense," Arthur says frankly. "But if you can contact the Druids, and you think they will take you seriously, then do so. Tell them they will be safe in Camelot from now on."

Merlin nods his assent stiffly and marches from the room, evidently irked at Arthur's blatant dismissal of their joint destiny.

On the fourth day of Yule, Guinevere comes to see Arthur.

"He's asking for you."

Arthur doesn't need clarification as to who she is referring to.

"He has been ever since your birthday. He wants you to visit."

"He's... talking then?"

Guinevere smiles, perhaps assuming Arthur hadn't visited before because of Uther's nearly non-verbal state. "Yes. He talks about you often, and your mother."

He has no right, Arthur thinks viciously, but out loud says only, "I will go to him tomorrow."

The instant he sees his father, his anger starts to fade. Whoever Uther was before, whatever he has done - now he is just an old, sick man. And his eyes light up once he sees Arthur is there.

"My son..." the ill King rasps. "We should- we should fetch your mother..."

Arthur dutifully takes the seat at Uther's bedside. "She's not here, father. Let's you and I talk instead."

The new year passes and reports start coming through that Druid tribes have set up camp in the Darkling Woods. Merlin must have been successful, although Arthur still doesn't hold any stock in the Druid prophecies. To consider that his manservant might be the all-powerful Emrys is frightening enough, let alone the crushing responsibility that would come of being this so-called Once and Future King. He has more than enough to be getting on with as it is, he certainly doesn't need the burden of such a heavy destiny weighing him down.

Arthur's visits to his father grow more frequent. Their conversations rarely make sense, but they at least serve to ease the older King's mind. Too many days, however, Uther will only stare blankly at his wall, entirely unresponsive save for an occasional twist of anguish upon his face. It is during one of these visits that Merlin comes to Arthur.

"Iseldir wants to speak to you," the servant murmurs low so that Uther can't hear. Arthur doubts Uther would care regardless. "He wishes to thank you in person."

Arthur nods, but says nothing. His father has been silent for the entire hour that Arthur has sat with him.

"How is he?"

Arthur does not dignify that with a response. Merlin shuffles awkwardly, not sure whether to stay or leave. Eventually he settles on stay.

"I'm sorry. I know it must be hard."

"You don't know."

"Excuse me?"

Louder, Arthur says, "You don't know. You have no idea what it's like, Merlin."

"Well, not exactly but-"

"Have you ever lost a father?"

There is a long silence and Arthur feels vindictively thrilled. Until-

"Yes."

The quiet proclamation jerks Arthur out of his self-pitying stupor and he twists in his chair to get Merlin to explain himself - but the servant has fled, Uther's chamber door slamming shut behind him.

He finds Merlin that evening when he retires to his bedchamber, frantically polishing Arthur's chainmail with a rag. He doesn't just look nervous now; he looks terrified. His face glistens with tears he must have shed while he was waiting for Arthur to arrive.

"I thought you'd never met your father."

"I hadn't met him. Not until recently."

"And?" Arthur pushes, because for Merlin to be so upset there must be something more.

"I... I will tell you." Merlin swallows, hard. "But please try to understand... I never wanted to hurt anyone."

The idea of Merlin hurting anyone would have been ludicrous a few months ago. So would the idea of him being a sorcerer.

"Tell me."

So Merlin tells him. He starts with his father's identity and Arthur's stomach drops as he remembers the day Balinor died.

No man is worth your tears.

"Merlin I'm sorr-"

"Don't." Merlin is shaking violently, the rag in his hand shaking like one of Camelot's flags caught in a fierce wind. "Arthur it- it was me who released the dragon in the first place."

Arthur feels as if he has just been punched. All the air is forced out of his lungs and it takes everything he has just to remember how to breathe.

"You have to understand," Merlin is babbling, desperate, "I made the Dragon a promise in return for his help. I didn't want anyone to get hurt, but if I didn't agree to his condition then-"

"Shut. Up." Arthur's command, usually laced with sarcasm or good-humour, now rings with furious authority. He looks at the cowering man before him, tries to associate the familiar image of his goofy manservant with the carnage and destruction that almost ripped his Kingdom apart. "Get out."

"But Arthur, I can explain-"

"GET OUT!" Arthur bellows and Merlin all but runs from the room, dropping the filthy rag as he goes.

Arthur folds in half. His head is shoved between his knees, his hands clutching the back of his head so tightly that he can feel his fingernails break skin. He forces breaths - in... out... in... out... - and considers calling the guards. If performing magic weren't already enough to have Merlin arrested, this certainly is. But Arthur's mind is filled with memories of the dragon's attack, people burning to death in the beast's flame just like sorcerers executed on his father's pyres. Does he have it in him to subject Merlin to the same fate?