CHAPTER 14

A week passes, the air heavy with grief in the aftermath of the Dorocha's attacks. Arthur's time is spent organising distribution of food and resources to the poorer families whose loved ones have been taken. It's poor recompense, he knows, but at least it's something.

Once the dead have all been buried, Merlin comes to him with unwelcome news.

"I think Agravaine is working against you."

This time last year Arthur would have demanded evidence or threatened to have Merlin thrown in the dungeons for such unfounded impertinence against a nobleman. Now he just sighs in resignation and beckons Merlin into his chambers. They sit in their usual places at the table.

"What makes you think so?"

"He asked if Gaius had ever heard the name Emrys."

Arthur's heart sinks. "Would anyone but Morgana know the name?"

Merlin shakes his head. "Only the Druids, but why would they talk to Agravaine?"

"Why indeed," Arthur murmurs, and goes to have his uncle arrested. Is every member of his family destined to betray him, in one way or another?


"What is the meaning of this?" Agravaine demands when Arthur comes to see him in the dungeons. "I have been nothing but loyal to you!"

"How do you know the name 'Emrys', Uncle?"

Agravaine's eyes narrow in sudden understanding. "So. You have been working with magic all along, then?"

Arthur crosses his arms and says nothing.

"Hypocrite," Agravaine snarls viciously. "No better than your father. One law for him and one for everyone else."

Arthur keeps his expression carefully impassive. "Do you deny the accusation that you've been colluding with Morgana?"

Agravaine scoffs. "What's the point? There's no such thing as a fair trial in Camelot."


Gwen comes to see him later that evening.

"I heard about Agravaine." She wraps her arms around him, squeezing tight. "I'm so sorry, Arthur."

He returns the embrace absent-mindedly, Agravaine's condemnations ringing in his ears. "Guinevere... Do you think I'm like my father?"

She looks hesitant then, uncertain what he wants to hear. In the end, she settles on the truth.

"No. I think you have some of his better qualities. He was a strong leader, strategic, and I really do believe he loved this Kingdom. But you... there's something else in you Arthur."

"What do you mean?"

She thinks for a moment. "Compassion, I suppose. A more open-minded outlook on things. Uther would never have let a commoner become a knight, or believed the word of a servant over that of a nobleman. You've barely been regent a year and look at all the positive changes you've already made, all in the name of equality for your people."

Changes, Arthur realises, that he never would have implemented without Merlin's influence.

"I can't take credit for those decisions," he confesses to Guinevere. "They were all down to Merlin, really."

She laughs. "Isn't that the role of a good leader? To surround yourself with those who challenge and inspire you? And Merlin..."

"What?"

"He makes you a better man," she says simply. "Don't you remember when he first arrived? You were insufferable."

"I wasn't that bad," he argues, but it's half-hearted. He much prefers the person he is now.

"He brought out the best in you," Gwen goes on. "Drew out those things that make you different from Uther. I always imagined he might take a place on your council one day. As a kind of advisor, like Gaius has been to your father."

An image pops into Arthur's head of him and Merlin as old men, sitting beside one another at a feast and retelling stories from their youth. The thought makes him smile and, all at once, he realises what he must do.


He rises early the next morning and gets dressed quickly. The morning bell has not yet run and it is dark outside, but he feels wide awake as he sneaks into Gaius's rooms.

The man himself snores quietly in deep sleep, and Arthur is careful not to disturb him as he tiptoes up the stairs to Merlin's room.

Merlin's door is in dire need of oiling and creakings unpleasantly as Arthur pushes it open.

"Izzit morning already?" Merlin mumbles, barely stirring. "Jussa few more minutes Gaius..."

"It's not Gaius."

Merlin cracks open a disbelieving eye. "What're you doin' here?"

"Get dressed. We're going on a trip."


The air is crisp and autumn leaves crunch underfoot as they dismount from their horses. They have ridden hard, Arthur ignoring Merlin's many questions about where they are going, and it is nearly noon. The sun sits high above them, half-hidden by grey cloud.

Merlin looks curiously at the crumbling, stone castle - the same castle they took refuge in during Morgana's invasion last year - and follows Arthur inside.

Everything is just as they left it. Soon they come to the room that houses the Round Table. They had a replica of the table made for the palace, larger and more practical for Council meetings, but this table is etched with runes Arthur doesn't understand. For the first time he wonders if they might hold some sort of magical meaning.

"Arthur?" Merlin's voice is hushed; despite the decrepit nature of the space, it inspires a kind of reverence. "What are we doing here?"

Arthur takes a seat at the table and gestures at Merlin to do the same. "Sit with me."

"But why?"

"Will you just do what you're told for once?" Arthur drawls in as prattish a voice as he can muster.

Merlin rolls his eyes, but sits without further protest.

"The last time we sat here," Arthur tells him, "you gave me hope when I had none. And while I knighted others or bestowed them with other such honours, you were left with nothing."

"I didn't need anything," Merlin interjects quickly. "I never wanted-"

Arthur raises a hand and Merlin falls silent. "No, you never wanted anything or needed anything - but there was much which you deserved. Respect, recognition... and freedom."

"The situation in Camelot right now is tenuous," Arthur continues with genuine regret. "As regent I can't replace members of my council and you understand the hoops I must jump through to alter any pre-existing laws. When my father dies..." Arthur baulks at the thought and hates himself for it, well-knowing the pain and death Uther's rule has caused. "When he dies, I can implement more radical change. For now, we must start small."

"Start small?" Merlin's voice comes out a thin tremble and he clears his throat to steady it. "You mean..?"

Arthur lays a hand upon the ancient stone before them, tries his best to connect with the history of all those who have sat here before. "I swear to you here, now, upon the Round Table of the ancient kings, that I shall do all in my power to return magic to Camelot."

A cloud must have moved outside during his speech, for just then a ray of sunlight pierces through a crack in the wall and casts the room into bright gold and dark shadows. Specks of dust float in the light and Arthur is reminded of Merlin's magic - warm and beautiful.

"I'm..." Merlin's voice is choked with emotion. "I'm speechless."

"That's a first," Arthur comments dryly, glad when it elicits a chuckle. "Have you told Gaius about your magic?"

"He knows," Merlin nods. "Although I've never actually told anyone. The Druids and Kilgharrah already knew... and my mother, of course. But Lancelot, Will and Gaius all found out by accident. You're the only one I have ever purposefully shared my secret with."

Arthur feels strangely smug about that, but does his best not to let it show. "I think you should tell more people. Not everyone," he adds at Merlin's incredulous stare. "Just those you trust."

"Maybe. I don't know." Merlin takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Are you sure about this, Arthur?"

It's odd to see Merlin, a man who can slow time and converse with dragons, look at him with such doubt in his eyes. Such fear that the rug is about to be pulled violently from under him.

"I promise, Merlin. You're not alone any more."

And, to prove it, Arthur sits and holds Merlin as the warlock finally breaks down and lets himself grieve for all that he has lost.


Hours later, when Merlin has shed all his tears and they have both talked themselves hoarse with their hopes and plans for the future of the Kingdom, they return to the citadel.

"It feels different," Merlin notices as they trot through the market square. The traders bustle around them, packing up stock and clearing away their stalls for the evening. "Reminds me of when I first arrived here from Ealdor. It felt like anything was possible."

"I know what you mean."

Arthur reaches for the vision that popped into his head yesterday - only this time he and Merlin are not old men. They are both young, much as they are now, and Merlin's eyes shine a bright gold as he tips his head back, laughing along to something the king has said. It is a comforting image, one Arthur feels is almost within his grasp.

Of course, he reminds himself a little ruefully, they must take things one step at a time. With this in mind, he redirects his horse's path.

"Um, where are you going? It's your castle, surely you know that's the wrong way?"

"We're stopping by Guinevere's house!" Arthur calls back over his shoulder. "I believe you have something you need to tell her..."


Author's Note: Thank you ever so much for reading and in particular to all those who have reviewed - it is hugely appreciated.