Set after S5 E10.

"The accusation of poisoning the king and everything connected to those events contributed to a significant deterioration in Merlin's mental state. At the same time, his relationship with Arthur reached a point where hiding the truth was no longer possible. It can be assumed that the decision to reveal the magic - which finally occured after the Battle of Camlan - was a direct result of a macabre misunderstanding that had happened a few weeks earlier."

Elanor Wright

"The shadow of the great king."

ONE MORE STEP

"Do you need anything else, sire?" asked Merlin, looking at me without even a trace of a smile. The warm glow that once only occasionally vanished from his eyes now appeared only sporadically, but this was definitely not one of those moments.

"Actually, no," I replied. I leaned back against the cushions and glanced at the jug of wine on the table. Blast it! It's now or never. There won't be a better opportunity for this conversation. If only I don't mess everything up before I even begin. Merlin was already watching me closely, as if waiting for something. He could sense my tension flawlessly, which in this situation was decidedly inconvenient for me.

"Worried about Gwen?" he asked, and I realised I was fiddling with the royal signet ring. Oh, hell! I couldn't have made my agitation more obvious.

Gwen had gone to Arthen for a few days, where Sir Leon's sister had opened a home for the terminally ill who had nowhere else to go. We supported Eleanor's work with Gwen as much as we could. We planned to establish such homes in several other places to help the needy throughout the kingdom.

"I've provided her with the best possible protection," I replied. A shadow of concern was, of course, lurking somewhere, as always when she was away, but we couldn't lock ourselves in the citadel and neglect the affairs of our subjects. Especially, or perhaps precisely, when Morgana resorted to the vilest tricks to intimidate us.

Gaius also went, at the request of the local physician, who wanted to consult with him on several matters. I wasn't too pleased about that. I would have preferred the physician from Arthen to visit Gaius, but I eventually concluded that since Gaius didn't mind, suggesting that he might be too weak for such a journey would be tactless. I knew that Leon would ensure that Gwen and Gaius were safe under his care.

"So what's eating you?"

I pointed to the jug of wine. Irrational anxiety had firmly settled in my stomach, growing at an alarming rate, and waves of it reached my throat. The look in Merlin's eyes, so openly concerned, didn't help. The die was about to be cast, and there would be no turning back. It couldn't be. Matters had recently gone too far, slipped unnoticed from the fragile control I tried to maintain over this man. He must understand that ensuring the safety of me and the kingdom was not his role, and I didn't want him to be kidnapped, hurt, or killed trying to do it. The fact that Morgana had trapped him and somehow ineffectively tried to kill him, which I learned from Gwen, had confirmed what we had long suspected.

"It's nothing. Just a lot on my mind. Pour yourself some," I said in a tone that, I hoped, didn't suggest any special intentions. Merlin slowly shook his head, and I cursed inwardly. Damn you, Merlin! I can't vouch for myself if I hear again that I treat my dogs better. None of my dogs ever had the honour of shaking their heads with almost tangible reluctance at the offer of wine in the royal chambers. I was curious about the excuse. Picking herbs was out, as a storm was brewing.

"Really... thank you, sire, but I would like to go to bed," he said. I didn't expect that. He hardly ever asked so openly for permission to go to was evident that something was hurting him; I could see it in his posture, and a painful cramp flitted across his face with more violent movements. However, if I had asked at the wrong moment, I would have received some evasive answer, so for now, I pretended not to notice anything.

I shifted on the bed and patted the space next to me. I had no intention of giving up, come hell or high water. The strategy was seemingly simple; to put up a resolute resistance to all excuses. You want to lie down? Please go ahead. You can even hang on the ceiling if you like, but you're staying and talking to me.

A look of embarrassment painted itself on Merlin's face, something I might have understood if, for several years, he hadn't regularly dumped his skeleton on me in the early hours of the morning, screeching at best, "Rise and shine!" and doing a few other things, naming which as inappropriate might constitute a prime example of the understatement of the century. And if we hadn't slept next to each other countless times.

"Arthur, I'm prepared to face all manner of horrors in this world," he said "but if you think I'm sharing this bed with you."

It seemed that he was teasing, that he was referring to some specific situation, but I couldn't recall it. It was hard to tell if he was trying to tease or he was annoyed, so when so when I answered, I tried to consider both possibilities.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. It's like we haven't been lying next to each other a hundred times. I need you here for a while yet, and you look like a girl about to faint, so you'd really better lie down. Anyway... as you wish, but don't you dare accuse me of being an insensitive asshole."

"You're an insensitive asshole," he replied without conviction. "And you aren't nice for no reason."

So, he was trying to tease me. I smiled slightly, and the tension eased a bit. We were circling around familiar ground, albeit with some effort.

"Well, you see, for certain reasons, it's important to me that your uselessness doesn't reach a critical level today," I said with a light smile.

"Uselessness levels, you say?" he asked, pretending to be engrossed in organizing the scrolls on the table.

"Of course. I even wrote them down once. They should be somewhere around here," I replied.

"Are you preparing some scholarly treatise on the uselessness of service?"

I was delighted by this sudden glimpse of humor, even though I knew there was no genuine mirth in it.

"You guessed," I retorted with a laugh.

"I never imagined you had such aspirations. Honestly, not long ago, I wouldn't have bet that you could write anything more than your own name," he said.

"You know I could hang you for saying that?"

"I know", he mumbled. "What's really stopping you?"

He bent down to pick up a parchment scroll he dropped, and a pained grimace crossed his face. When the hell did he injure himself? He hadn't been "tavern-crawling" lately. I had ordered the knights to discreetly keep an eye on him and once they caught him outside the castle at night, allegedly collecting herbs, precisely when a dangerous witch decided to pay us a visit. Coincidence? There was a good chance it wasn't. He was probably trying to track her on his own.

"Stop asking silly questions and come here," I urged him.

"I'm not going to faint, and since I'm still here, I might as well tidy up," he replied.

"You can't do two things at once. You're not capable of it," I said.

"I can. I have many talents."

"Ah, yes. I must admit you're very good at hiding them."

The realisation that there must be a lot of truth in this gave my words an unexpectedly bitter edge.

I stood up to pour myself some wine, more out of impatience than actual need. Merlin walked away from the table, indecisively wandering around the chamber. He poked the fireplace, looked out the window, fiddled with the curtains, and picked at some threads on his neckerchief. I struggled to resist the urge to throw something at him, though it might not be a mistake to do so. I wanted to arrange a casual, natural conversation, ant to be for him a friend, not a king. However, I was starting to realise that with his current disposition, I might have to speak from a king's position. At least, initially.

"Merlin," I said sharply, tightening my fingers on my cup. He twitched and immediately turned to me. The words were not so much trapped in my throat, but for a moment I forgot speech existed at all. He was deathly pale and his eyes were filled with a frightening mixture of burning pain, sadness, bitterness, resignation and that characteristic discreet tendernment. It was this that stood out. Clear and pure, it floated to the surface of an ocean of incomprehensible anguish, it seemed to dominate everything else. His voice, when he spoke, was a perfect reflection of his gaze; so gentle, warm and tearfully sad.

"Arthur, I... I'm grateful to you for handling it this way. You don't even know how grateful I am."

With slightly trembling hands he took the cup from my hand. His cool fingers touched mine. I looked at him mesmerized, completely incapable of any reaction. He was swallowing tears, but his posture exuded a natural, subtle dignity that not many nobles could boast.

"I swore an oath to serve you until death, and whatever you think now, I want you to know that I always have. Everything I have done, I have done for you. Only for you. I have consciously never betrayed you. I would rather die than betray you."

At the last words his voice faltered. The understanding lurking under my skin struck me with the violence of lightning. There was indeed a thunder outside. I felt as if someone had simultaneously slapped me and stuck a dagger between my ribs. One of the candles in the candelabra standing on the table went out. Merlin blinked. A few tears ran down his face. That sobered me. I reached out to him, as if the wine in the cup he was about to raise to his lips really was poisoned. I grabbed him firmly by the shoulder. He was trembling under my hand, breathing fast.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for all those years in which... I had something to live for."

The dagger turned with great force. I held my breath and clenched my jaws. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. The only man in the world whose loyalty I didn't doubt even for a blink of an eye, was convinced that I intended to kill him quietly. For some reason he doubted me. Despite the stifling pain, I had to do something, to stop this ridiculous nightmare somehow. When I opened my mouth, words overtook thoughts.

"Have you hit your head one too many times and completely damaged that pathetic excuse for a brain you're supposed to have? How dare you!? After everything we've been through together! It might as well be better if you had betrayed me! Though, actually, that's exactly what you've done!"

Too loud, too brutal, wrong. I breathed deeply, trying to control the anger oozing from the dagger wound. If I had allowed it to carry me further, I would inevitably have done irreparable damage, eventually strangling the frail but still vivid hope that there was still something to save. I desperately clung to hope, even though anger came much easier and drowned out the pain.

Another thunderclap shook the castle. I grabbed my cup and took a few sips of wine. You have your poison, you idiot! Merlin's shoulder slipped out of my hand. He slumped to his knees. He was no longer pale. His skin had practically lost its colour.

"Arthur," he mouthed. "I... Everything is so unclear... Forgive me. I'm begging you, forgive me."

When Merlin dared to publicly insult me during our first meeting, I wanted nothing more than to reduce him to that state, to force him to beg for forgiveness on his knees. I demanded he be sentenced to a whipping, but it ended in the stocks solely because the twisted relationship between my father and Gaius was at a point where Gaius could count on royal favours, and he eagerly took advantage of it. Well, as they say, be careful what you wish for, as after many years, the fulfilment may unexpectedly smack you right in the face and knock out your teeth.

I grasped his chin with my hand, forcing him to look at me. His eyes were moist, but he wasn't crying. He was terrified, almost on the brink of losing his senses. Fear, like a giant spider, settled on my back, bit into my neck, and with its repugnant limbs tightly wrapped around my chest. I couldn't help but begin to fear, seeing this shockingly brave man so cruelly broken. It struck me with full force that we were not in this situation without reason, that Morgana has been trying to reach the heart of Camelot for a long time, and gradually tear it to shreds.

Everything is so unclear, I repeated in my mind. Merlin had hit the nail on the head, as usual. But he smashed his finger. I was a fool to think that I could protect him from it. He remained my servant because I thought it was relatively safe for him; close to the most important events, but not under their direct influence. I couldn't have been more wrong. His official status did not change who he truly was, and consequently, it didn't keep the dangers away from him. Morgana knew us well and aimed exactly where she should. She taunted us, intimidated, provoked, but in reality, she banked on one strike, a precisely aimed blow meant to push us over the edge, but despite her sick genius, she was unable to do it. Someone always stood in her way, finding within themselves an incomprehensible strength to battle the greatest enemies, doubt, and despair, to timely restrain the madness she fostered.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "Calm down. Stand up."

I stretched out my hands to him, but he rose without help. There was something bad, hellishly bad about it, an unnatural, desperate strength. He stared at me, still with the same terror. I wanted him to stop, to suffer no more. I took hold of his wrists and, with the calm confidence of a man in complete control, which I had learned with great difficulty over the years, I said:

"I'm not going to let you go, until I find out what's happening with you. You kept giving me the impression that it's not my business and I tried not to push it, I just waited for you to wise up, but it got to the point. You've been cheeky enough to call yourself my friend and prove that you actually are, when I've shouted in your face that I don't want that, so be aware of the consequences. It works both ways, Merlin."

He gasped violently. He couldn't calm his breathing and I began to fear that he was about to really faint. After a long moment, however, he spoke, in a choked voice:

"It's hard to recognise anything anymore. Who is using magic, who is under the influence of magic, what is Morgana's manipulation, what is a deadly trap. It's hard to figure out who suspects whom of what, who is a traitor, and if they are traitors of their own free will. Even one's own actions can't be certain."

The wind outside the window wailed furiously. It was a grotesquely perfect background for his words, as if some gods with a twisted sense of humour were amusing themselves at our expense.

"I have noticed that for some time now the knights have been watching me. I bump into them everywhere, Percival practically follows me. Yesterday someone took my bag. I remembered where I had left it. I must have searched the whole castle to finally find it where it was before. And when I was cleaning here... - he stopped and took a shuddering breath - I came across a parchment with a list, written by your hand, of people who had done something terrible. My name was there too. At the very beginning."

I felt hot. The pieces of the macabre puzzle fell into place with a deafening clatter. Indeed, I made a mental note of all the instances where Merlin had directly warned me, or acted as if he sensed something. Gwen and I analysed this. Completely without thinking, I put the note down on the table, where it disappeared into the piles of documents. Merlin, of course, had free access to them, and I didn't feel the slightest need to worry about what he had access to.

"You sent Gaius and Gwen on a journey," he continued. "I became more and more anxious, but I relied on you completely. I hoped that whatever it was... would clear up somehow. But when you insisted I stay, when I saw the jug of wine I hadn't brought myself, I was devastated. I was afraid that I had done something... unconsciously. I thought you had to, that you had no other choice."

He suppressed a sob. I let go of his arms, took a step forward and put my arms around him. If he hadn't been trembling, it would have been no different from embracing a stone statue. He tried very hard not to lean against me, not to let me hold him. Idiot. It was because of him that I realised that accepting the support of a friend in a moment of weakness had nothing to do with an insult to your honour, but was the most sensible thing you could do. But Merlin, of course, was a bloody physician, dying of a disease he had successfully treated in others. His fierce stubbornness, salvational in critical situations, and in daily life alternately irritating and amusing, over the years had decidedly taken on an unhealthy, debilitating character. It had to be overcome, chipped away at, somehow breaking through these growing at a frightening pace, damned walls, pulling out a few bricks and trying to persuade Merlin to at least show himself in the breach. Gone were the days when I could extricate him from there with a well-aimed, often seemingly rough word and eloquent look. Gone were the days when I was capable of that. I felt completely helpless, but the sharp, clear like a well-polished blade, thought that I was losing him, albeit in a completely different way than I had always feared, compelled me to take immediate action.

"We will not succumb to this terror, Merlin," I said with a conviction that surprised myself. "We are stronger than Morgana. Together. She wants us to feel insecure with each other, to stop believing in the good in us. She tries to convince us that everything we have built will sooner or later collapse, that there are no foundations, even though we laid them with our own hands."

Something in Merlin's attitude had changed. He breathed more freely, and no longer seemed to be trying to push me away by sheer force of will. I knew he was listening, so I continued.

"She wants to prove to us that no one is trustworthy, that anyone can betray as she has, but all she has achieved is to point me to the most dedicated, loyal people I believe in with all my heart, for without them I wouldn't be here and Camelot would have fallen long ago. The cruel trials she keeps subjecting us to reveal... the true diamonds. My crown would be nothing without them. And I will fight for them, like a kingdom, if I must. I am not a fool. Not any more. I am aware of what we face and what it can do to us. I understand how you felt, I understand why, and I will not let you lose yourself in this madness, my friend. I promise."

Merlin rested his head on my shoulder. The strange strength was leaving him, he was calming down visibly. A wave of unspeakable relief flooded me. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had mastered something powerful, as if I had at least stopped the storm raging outside the window. I strengthened my grip a little, forgetting about that injury of unknown origin in the chest area, but he did nothing to indicate that it caused him pain. I felt something inside him slowly crack, like ice on a frozen river, under the influence of the first spring rays of the sun. I knew it wouldn't happen right away, but soon, that I was closer to deciphering him than ever before.

I don't know how long we stood like that, sharing this unique closeness of people who had travelled the road to hell and back together many times. The storm had lost its original momentum. We could only hear the sound of rain.

"But it was... It was something, wasn't it?" said Merlin finally, spoke up, stepping back carefully. He was still deathly pale. I wondered if he would manage to stay on his feet. He leaned against the table. "This list... My bag…"

"Do you know what happened to your bag? Lady Eleanor's dog gnawed a hole in it. The little shaggy one she carries everywhere with her. Eleanor felt guilty and insisted on fixing it, even though Gwen and I told her not to worry because you'd get a new one."

"What?" He looked so surprised that I felt like laughing.

That's what you heard. You just had to ask if anyone had seen it, instead of running around the whole castle like an idiot."

Merlin sighed heavily, lowered his gaze.

"You're right," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I really didn't know what to think. After you were poisoned... You didn't hear Gwen say that I could easily do practically anything. I know she was influenced by Morgana, but it stuck in my head and... It's hard to explain."

"It doesn't matter. Don't think about it anymore. It can't be ruled out that you were under the influence of a spell meant to drive you mad."

Merlin looked at me in astonishment. I found another cup, poured the wine and handed it to him.

"People think we're drinking, so let there be at least some truth in that," I said. He raised one eyebrow, in a perfect imitation of Gaius.

"People think that in the absence of the Queen you get drunk with your servant? Isn't that an image disaster?"

"Hiring you was already an image disaster. It won't get any worse," I replied.

We sat down on the bed. We were silent for a while, drinking wine. We both needed a moment to cool down before raising another issue.

"Regarding the list…" I took up. "Contrary to your belief, I'm neither blind nor stupid. Nor is Gwen. I forbid you from tracking down sorcerers, traitors and other dangerous people on your own."

"I suspect it's saved your royal ass a few times," he muttered with resignation.

"So you don't deny it?"

He shook his head. I applauded myself in spirit.

"Is it true that Morgana drew you into a trap and tried to kill you when she realised you knew about Gwen and were trying to prevent it?"

He straightened abruptly and squirmed in pain.

"Have you spied on a witch recently? Have you been injured in the process?"

He didn't have to answer. His expression told me everything.

"I don't know what you got into that your empty head, but you won't be doing it again. And that isn't something I intend to discuss."

"I'm not going to either," he replied with some hardness in his voice. "The fact that I will protect you with my life is not up for discussion at all."

I fixed my gaze on him, the most commanding one I could manage. He didn't look away, didn't even blink.

"Merlin, I'm not joking. This is an order. It's getting more dangerous than ever before. I want you, even when you going for ingredients for Gaius, to take someone with you who can wield a sword. No wandering around alone. If you think something is suspicious, you inform me immediately."

"And you believe me and investigate thoroughly? As in the case of Agravaine?" he said it without reproach, without gruffness, more with sadness. I would rather he had stabbed me with something sharp.

"As in the case of Gwen," I replied. He sipped his wine and looked at me with slightly squinted eyes.

"Maybe you are not such an ass anymore," he said. At that moment someone's singing came from outside the window. Someone had evidently left the tavern and was in a state where the downpour didn't bother him.

"Hey, hey, let's wake the dragon!" he wailed. I was willing to bet it was Gwaine. "Hey, let's take it to the tavern! Let it drink a barrel of honey! Then it'll stand on fire!"

Unexpectedly Merlin began to laugh, in a violent, uncontrollable manner. He didn't pour wine on himself just because his cup was empty. It had been a long time since I had seen him laugh so much. He leaned back, pressed his hand to his chest, tears flowed from his eyes - perhaps the ones that should have flowed earlier. I poked him with my elbow.

"Hey! What's so funny about that!" I called out.

"CCan you imagine a drunken dragon?" he cried out when he managed to control himself a little.

"You're laughing as you have heard it for the first time," I said. He raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Because I heard it for the first time."

"You spend half your life in a tavern and you heard it for the first time?"

His eyes widened in horror. I patted him on the shoulder and poured us some wine.

"Gwaine had knocked himself on the head the other day when I asked if he had seen you at the tavern. You can't even think of a good lie. You should have done better since you tried to fool your king."

He grimaced, and I figured that wasn't all the pieces of the puzzle yet. Merlin was still a riddle. More complicated the more I learned about him.

"Believe me, I would rather not deceive you," he replied quietly.

"I never doubted your loyalty, Merlin."

He smiled, a genuine, sincere smile, encompassing his eyes. I realised how long it had been since I had seen it. We drank another round, after which Merlin forgot that sharing a bed with me ranked among the greatest horrors of this world, and when I lay down, he brazenly stretched out beside me. We talked for a long time, exchanging increasingly strange observations on various subjects. At one point I told him about the ball of light that led me out of the cave when I was looking for the antidote to the poison for him. For some reason, this story moved him greatly. He thought deeply, finally propped himself up on his elbow and looked at me with that special, absurdly serious expression of his.

"How did you know it was good, that you could trust it?" He asked.

"Well... I didn't. It could have been another trap, but I felt it wasn't. You would understand if you saw," I replied.

"You looked with your heart," he said. In response I whacked him on the head.

He moved to the edge of the bed and almost fell off. I started teasing him that he was so drunk that he couldn't even keep himself upright lying down, but exhaustion finally got the better of him, and he closed his eyes before he could come up with a retort. After a moment, he mumbled something about returning to his chambers and the wood that he need to brought. Fearing that he might try to do this, I placed my hand on his shoulder. The rain was drumming against the windows, the last of the candles on the table burned out, and the thought that Merlin was ready to accept death at my hand if I had only wished it, was pounding in my head. The feeling that there was something extraordinary about him had never been so strong; it was bubbling within me, pinching, demanding something. I fell into a dream in which we ran with Guinevere after a ball of blue light, trying to catch it. It was close, almost within my reach, but as it usually is in dreams, my legs were rooted to the ground.

"You got it!" Gwen cried joyfully. "One more step! Just one more step!"

I like the story, if you can say that about your own story. Merlin from season five seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown and it's easy to imagine that happened.