There are no arguments from the Council, all of whom are relieved to learn that Arthur will be taking on the full responsibilities of the throne. The events of the morning have left them shaken, Uther's sudden mania bringing back memories of the Purge, and they all hope that Arthur's rule will prove more stable.

Halfway through discussions Sir Leon appears, now safely released from the dungeons. He finds an excuse to move to Arthur's side, and whispers covertly in his ear,

"Merlin is alright. A physician from the Lower Town is with him now."

Once the Coronation date has been set, and Uther is safely returned to his room to rest, Arthur makes a beeline for his chambers.

Gwen greets him at the door. The smile that tugs at her lips instantly sets the king (and how strange, to think he is now the king and not just regent) at ease.

"Don't laugh," she warns as she leads him through to the antechamber. He is puzzled for only a moment and then he sees Merlin and understands. The physician from the lower town has perhaps been a little too enthusiastic in her ministrations; Merlin's head is entirely covered in bandaging, all tied together with a neat knot beneath his chin. He looks utterly ridiculous.

"He's a little confused," Gwen explains as they draw closer. "The physician gave him stitches but she said the side effects of the concussion might take a while to wear off. We shouldn't let him sleep for more than half an hour at a time."

Merlin's eyes are unfocused and he tilts to one side even when propped up in bed. He hasn't yet clocked Arthur's entrance, busy fiddling with the intricate pattern of the coverlet.

"Whose room is this?"

"You're in Arthur's antechamber," Gwen answers patiently for what Arthur suspects is not the first time. She pulls the cover gently from Merlin's grip and brings it up to cover him again. "You had a bad bang on the head."

"Oh." Merlin spots Arthur and blinks in surprise. "When did you get here?"

"A pleasure to see you too," Arthur drawls with a smirk. "Hungry?"

Merlin pulls a face. "No thank you." Then he leans back, closes his eyes, and promptly falls asleep. Arthur is somewhat affronted.

Gwen shakes her head with a smile. "It's not you. He tried to eat something earlier, but he couldn't keep it down. I only just managed to convince him to take a potion for the pain."

Arthur sobers immediately. "Was he in a lot of pain?"

"The physician said he's lucky to have survived. A head wound that severe..." Gwen inhales sharply, the thought left unfinished. "I think maybe his magic kept him alive somehow."

Gwen has only known of Merlin's magic for a few weeks and Arthur has noticed the tense set to her shoulders whenever he casts a spell in front of her. The king remembers his own attitude when Merlin had first revealed his powers, the long process of unlearning all he had been taught to fear. Perhaps, in a strange twist of fate, this terrible incident has served to speed up Gwen's journey to acceptance.

"I really thought he was going to die." She watches Merlin's chest rise and fall. "He was going to burn to death and there was absolutely nothing I could do. I just keep thinking how scared I felt and how Merlin must have felt like that every single day of his life."

"I know." Too often Arthur's dreams are filled with young children burning on his father's pyres, one particular boy amongst them with pale skin, dark hair and blue eyes. "But he's safe now. And nothing like this will ever happen again."

They sit and talk quietly a little while longer, Arthur telling Gwen of his father's abdication and the imminent coronation. He insists she leave and get some rest after that, for the maidservant has been up all night and day by this point and looks dead on her feet.

He stays in the antechamber and has a servant bring food. As he eats he glances over tax reports and missives from the neighbouring kingdom, breaking off every half an hour to shake Merlin awake and check he's still responding as he should.

Each time Merlin wakes with a sleepy scowl, usually accompanied by a grumbled complaint and enthusiastic use of his favourite insults "prat", "clotpole" and "dollophead", any combination of which never fails to make Arthur smile.

A few hours later Gaius arrives, finally roused from the sedative Uther had the palace guards force upon him. The old physician barely glances at Arthur, going directly to Merlin's side with an expression of utmost worry.

"How is he?"

"He's fine," Arthur reassures him hastily, setting aside his papers and getting to his feet. "The pyre was never lit, so there were no burns or issues with smoke. His head has been stitched and I've been waking him up every half an hour to check his concussion hasn't gotten worse. He's a little confused still, but well enough, all things considered."

Gaius nods shakily. He looks almost as bad as he had after his ordeal at the hands of the Witchfinder. "I feared I might be too late."

"Sit with him a while." Arthur guides Gaius gently towards a chair. "I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."

Gaius accepts the seat gratefully. "The guard outside mentioned a coronation?"

"My father has abdicated the throne," Arthur confirms. "He is no longer fit to rule. I'm not sure he ever was."

Gaius sighs heavily. "He was not always this way. What happened to your mother... it nearly destroyed him. I hoped one day he might see sense, return to himself... but to admit to his mistakes would have meant admitting to all the horror he had spread, the pain he had caused. I don't think he could ever face up to that." Gaius reaches a weathered hand out and pats Arthur's gently. "I am so very proud of the man you have become, Arthur."

"Gaius?" Their conversation has awoken Merlin, who peers blearily at his mentor. "You look awful."

Gaius chuckles softly. "I believe we're all a bit worse for wear today. How about I get rid of some of those bandages for you? Elara has always been rather overzealous in her treatments..."

Merlin bolts upright at the mention of the other physician, suddenly panicked. "Is Elara here? Tell her I don't want any of her potions, Gaius. They taste even worse than yours!"

Gaius laughs and Arthur takes the opportunity to pick up his papers and retreat to the adjoining room. He leaves the door ajar, Merlin and Gauis's quiet conversation serving as a pleasant backdrop to his work.

Arthur's bedroom becomes a thoroughfare for visitors. Gaius and Gwen come several times a day and the knights make frequent appearances too. In the aftermath of all that's happened, everyone is keen to see for themselves that Merlin is on his way to recovery.

Although Merlin's memory improves, he has no recollection of the days leading up to his injury. Gaius informs Arthur that this isn't uncommon with such severe head injuries, and the king is secretly glad that Merlin cannot remember the attack or the pyre for himself. He does his best to brush over the details when he recounts what happened, but judging from the knowing look on Merlin's face, he has not quite succeeded.

His coronation takes place as fast as possible and with minimum fuss. Arthur is regretful that Merlin cannot be there, but wants matters formalised quickly, fearful of Uther changing his mind at the last moment. When the crown is finally placed upon the new king's head, he fancies that everyone breathes a silent sigh of relief.

"How did it go?"

"You should be asleep," Arthur chastises, even though he left the coronation feast early in hopes that Merlin would still be up. "Do I have to tell Gaius on you?"

"Go ahead. He's already furious with me for using magic to polish your armour." Merlin is perched in a chair at Arthur's dining table. The final bandages have been removed, but he still looks wan and exhausted. "So go on then. How was it?"

"Rather boring." Arthur removes his cloak and takes the other seat at the table. "I've gotten used to having your inane chatter to entertain me at such events. I had to listen to Lord Kendrick all night."

Merlin grimaces in sympathy. "More discussions on the grain tax?"

"Hm. He doesn't care much for revelry."

"Maybe he needs to spend some time in the tavern with Gwaine."

Arthur snorts at the mental image. "Maybe."

They sit and talk, Arthur recounting the events of the day and Merlin nodding along eagerly.

"Oh and I passed a law," Arthur tacks on as if in an afterthought. "Well, an amendment."

Merlin's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "That was quick!"

"Not quick enough," Arthur responds grimly. "No one shall be burnt in Camelot whilst I am king."

It takes Merlin's still healing mind a few moments to understand. When he does, his eyes widen. "You mean... the pyre..?"

"Shall be no more," Arthur promises solemnly. "I hope it will prove the first step towards more meaningful change."

"And what about Uther?" Merlin asks, attuned as ever to Arthur's thoughts. "He won't be happy. Not if you really mean to change things."

"I cannot worry about his approval any more. He has had his chance to rule - now I must do what I believe is right."

Merlin gets to his feet. For a moment Arthur thinks to stop him - the warlock is still recovering, his balance unsteady - but then Merlin drops carefully to his knees and bows his head.

"Long live the king."

Arthur has heard that phrase many times today. Now, staring at the back of Merlin's head, still ridged with half-healed stitches, the full impact finally sinks in. His people have placed their trust in him. Merlin has placed his trust in him.

"I won't let you down," Arthur whispers softly to his friend, and for the first time he really, truly believes it.