like a cancer in the soul Chapter 2, a merlin fanfic

Arthur kept his promise to listen to everything Merlin had to say, hardly breathing let alone speaking as he heard tales of beasts, curses, love spells, magical shields, evil sorcerers, Sidhe, and so many secrets he thought his head would burst with the onslaught of information he'd never been privy to. He sat in a chair next to the warm hearth, listening as Merlin told him one crazy story after another. Arthur's gaze was settled on the crackling flames, but his mind was far away, trying to navigate through his memories of those events while filling in the missing pieces from Merlin's perspective. The realization that most of his accomplishments were actually his servant's stung his pride, but all of that was overwhelmed by sorrow and regret that Merlin had had to go through all of it with little or no help. And he did all of it to protect a prince who he'd believed would've had him killed for who he was. Arthur felt sick thinking about what would've happened if he'd caught Merlin back then. He liked to think he would've done the right thing and kept his friend's secret, but he's not blind to how obedient he was to his father. Merlin could have very well ended up on the pyre, all because his loyalty extended far beyond that which was proper for a servant.

For the most part, Arthur listened as the stories grew more preposterous and intriguing. But some things were simply too shocking to let pass.

-XXX-

i. Nimueh

"Do you remember the Questing Beast?" Merlin asked, his tone suddenly much more subdued as he avoided Arthur's gaze at all costs. This was the first time tonight that he sounded afraid to bring up one of his secret escapades, and Arthur dreaded what that could mean. Surely Merlin wasn't about to admit to some sort of betrayal, right? So far, all his stories had been of Merlin saving the day in some manner. They weren't always the most graceful rescues (and he would definitely need to have a talk with both Merlin and Lancelot about never forging anything ever again) but nothing Merlin had told him yet led Arthur to believe that his friend had ever intended Camelot harm. So why did he sound so nervous bringing up the Questing Beast?

Arthur nodded slowly. "Of course. I could hardly forget it. I nearly died. It's a miracle Gaius was able to find a cure," he noted, pressing a hand to his shoulder subconsciously as he recalled the pain of his injury.

Merlin swallowed, fidgeting in his chair. "About that…um…Gaius didn't actually save you. There truly is no cure for the bite of a Questing Beast," he admitted.

Arthur started, sitting up in his own chair, which was a few feet from Merlin's in front of the fire. "What? Then how…?" He trailed off, scouring his memories. If there was no cure for the bite, then he shouldn't be alive.

Merlin inhaled an unsteady breath. "The bite was fatal, Arthur. You were going to die, and there was no medical solution that would have saved you."

Arthur's blood ran cold as certain implications began to settle in. "Merlin…what did you do?"

Merlin's gaze became distant, his tone somber. "The Old Religion requires balance. For a life to be saved, another must be sacrificed."

Arthur's stomach rolled, and he gripped the armrests until the wood creaked beneath his fingers. His wide eyes were zeroed in on his servant. "Tell me you didn't," he choked out, unable to bear the thought that was more or less confirmed as Merlin met his gaze evenly, though the wetness gathering at the bottom of his lids gave away the warlock's emotions.

Arthur thought back to the night Merlin had come into his chambers, talking absolute nonsense, or so he'd thought at the time. In hindsight, it was only too obvious that his friend had come to say goodbye. He'd known something was going on with his servant that night, but he'd just been so relieved to be alive that he'd let it slide as regular Merlin babble. Such a fool he'd been!

"I had to save you, Arthur." Merlin smiled sadly. "What is the life of a servant compared to that of a prince?"

Arthur shot out of his seat, looming over Merlin and fisting his blond locks to the point of pain. "Everything!" He shouted, his voice cracking with shock and despair, not caring if the guards could hear him. He began to pace in front of the hearth, unable to look at Merlin for fear of throttling the man. He'd never felt such fury in his life.

Merlin simply watched him, clearly surprised by his king's outburst. Arthur didn't know whether to weep or scream at his manservant's total obliviousness to his own worth. Did he really have no idea how much he meant to Arthur? How broken Arthur would be if he died? The mere idea was unfathomable.

Arthur slowed his steps, reigning in his anger to the best of his ability, then unceremoniously dropped into a crouch directly in front of Merlin. His servant froze at the impropriety of the action, leaning back from the seriousness in Arthur's stern gaze.

"Merlin, please, listen to me," he began, putting every ounce of sincerity into his words as possible. "I know I can be an arse, and I've treated you much less than you deserve—" Merlin opened his mouth no doubt to argue, but Arthur grabbed one of his hands and squeezed it, effectively silencing him—"…and I will forever strive to right that wrong. Not only in light of all you've done for me, but because of who you are. You are my dearest friend, Merlin, and I need you to understand how important you are to me. I never want to hear you say something like that again. You have never been just a servant, and I'll be damned if I let you toss your life away so carelessly for me," he declared firmly. A lone tear had finally made its way down Merlin's cheek during his speech, and he reached up briefly to wipe it away. "I can't lose you. Not ever."

Merlin bit his lip unsurely, but reluctantly nodded his understanding. "I couldn't lose you, either," he whispered honestly, ducking his head. "That's why I tried to…" trade my life for yours, he didn't say.

Arthur closed his eyes, steadying his breathing as he banished all images of a life without Merlin from his brain. They made him feel ill. That world lacked color and joy, and he wanted no part of it. He stood just long enough to settle himself back in his chair, letting go of Merlin's hand as he did so. After a few more moments, he was finally able to speak without his voice shaking.

"So, you tried to be an idiot, but it obviously failed, seeing as you're here, alive and well, so…" He raised an eyebrow, ignoring Merlin's indignant spluttering at his name-calling.

Merlin shook his head, a terrible darkness overtaking his expression which Arthur had never seen grace his servant's friendly features. "I traveled to the Isle of the Blessed and offered my life to Nimueh in exchange for yours, but I wasn't the one who got sick. My mother showed up in Camelot, near to death." His fists clenched, and Arthur could've sworn the temperature dropped in the room, despite the roaring of the flames next to them.

"She's not…" Arthur couldn't even finish the thought. He'd never forgive himself if something had happened to Hunith.

"She's alive. In perfect health, as far as I know," Merlin reassured him, but he was still tense with anger. "I went back to Nimueh to demand she take me instead, as I'd intended, but Gaius had apparently gone to the Isle ahead of me and given up his own life so I wouldn't have to." He closed his eyes briefly, his teeth grinding together. Shadows danced along the walls, enveloping the room in near total darkness, the fire growing dim as if it were being viewed through a haze of fog. Arthur tried not to outwardly react, not wanting Merlin to think he was afraid, but he couldn't help the discomfort that prickled at his skin. Being aware of and accepting Merlin's magic didn't mean he was suddenly at ease around it. Especially magic like this—Merlin didn't even seem to realize what he was doing. The magic was apparently such a part of him that it manipulated his surroundings without any conscious effort or verbal spell-casting. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

Arthur kept his attention resolutely on Merlin, determined to ignore what was happening around them.

"I was furious," Merlin murmured, glaring at his folded hands. "I brought down lightning from the skies and destroyed Nimueh where she stood. She became the sacrifice, though that hadn't really been my intention at the time. Gaius was revived, and you and my mother were fine, so I just…moved on. Pretended it never happened." He shrugged away the memory, as if he hadn't just casually admitted to striking down a sorceress with lightning.

Arthur's mouth opened and closed like a fish a few times before he was able to form a response. "I thought…you said she was a High Priestess," he recalled haltingly, thinking of the Afanc and the poisoned cup and the undead knight.

Merlin grimaced. "I guess 'Greatest Sorcerer To Walk The Earth' trumps High Priestess," he remarked wryly. He glanced up, finally noticing the darkening chambers, and waved a hand through the air absentmindedly. Immediately, light returned to chase the shadows back to their rightful place, and the crackling of the air faded.

Arthur stared at him unabashedly, struggling to reconcile the bumbling, goofy manservant with the all-powerful warlock. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. All these years, he'd looked upon Merlin with a sort of indulgent fondness. He'd always seen the man's value, even before he had been mature enough to acknowledge it—his loyalty, bravery, and wise counsel had been essential to Arthur for years—but he'd never pictured Merlin as someone with any kind of real power. He had been the clumsy buffoon who needed protecting, utterly useless in a fight. He was skinny and gangly and couldn't wield a sword to save his life. He was lovable, idiotic Merlin. No more, no less.

Except as it turns out, Merlin was never the one who needed protecting. If all this time it had been Merlin saving Arthur, and Merlin saving Camelot, then what good was Arthur? He was the king! He was supposed to be Camelot's ultimate defender, not a damsel in constant need of rescuing!

Arthur sat, and he observed Merlin as he continued right into the next heroic tale, and he wondered.

-XXX-

ii. Sigan

When Merlin brought up the topic of Cornelius Sigan, Arthur wasn't even surprised that his servant was able to defeat the powerful sorcerer. What did surprise him was learning of the conversation between Sigan and Merlin before the spirit's demise.

"Wait, let me get this straight. Sigan offered you power and recognition and freedom, and you turned him down?" Arthur summarized, both eyebrows disappearing above his blond fringe.

Merlin frowned, obviously confused by his bewilderment. "Erm…yes? Sigan was evil," he pointed out matter-of-factly.

Arthur blinked. "And none of that appealed to you," he stated, though his tone was questioning.

Merlin bit his lip, almost sheepish. "Well, I mean…The idea of not having to clean your dirty laundry every day was pretty tempting," he joked, and Arthur rolled his eyes at the cheeky response. Merlin's smile slowly dropped away, his gaze turning earnest. "I only ever wanted you to know and accept the real me, Arthur," he claimed softly. "The rest of it never mattered. Not to me."

Arthur's heart broke a bit as he remembered how horribly he'd treated Merlin those few days, and he thanked all the gods that Merlin never gave up on him. Now, it was Arthur's turn to not give up on Merlin. He was determined to be worthy of such boundless loyalty.

-XXX-

iii. Kilgharrah

"Arthur, please talk to me," Merlin begged, crumpled in a messy heap in front of Arthur's chair, his hands curled into tight fists in his lap. Tears streamed down his face—a common occurrence for the warlock tonight, it seemed—and he looked so distraught that Arthur nearly forgot why he was angry in the first place.

But then echoes of his people screaming, of his people dying, leapt to the forefront of his mind, and he couldn't scrounge up an ounce of sympathy. He couldn't speak without shouting and raging, so he remained silent, refusing to meet his servant's pleading gaze.

Hundreds of his people had died the night the Great Dragon had taken its revenge upon Camelot, and all of it…was because of Merlin.

Looks like the warlock wasn't as much the hero as Arthur had thus far pictured him to be. Releasing the dragon…was inexcusable. Unforgivable. It was everything Arthur had feared as soon as the words 'I have magic' fell from Merlin's lips.

Merlin, heedless of the rage radiating from the king in waves, pressed on desperately. "You don't understand, Arthur! I had to! I made him a promise, and it's not the kind of promise I could break! I didn't—" He choked back a sob, burying his face in his hands for a few minutes. His shoulders shook as the tears seeped through his fingers and landed on his breeches, darkening the fabric. Arthur let him cry, let him feel every bit of the guilt he deserved. When he finally managed to get enough control to speak again, he looked up with red, swollen eyes. "I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt," he whispered brokenly. "If I could go back and change it, I would. I-I'm sorry," he cried, sniffling harshly. He reached out a shaking hand, clutching Arthur's sleeve at the wrist, like he was lost at sea and needed an anchor.

Arthur allowed the touch, but his expression remained blank. "Sorry won't bring my people back," he muttered emotionlessly.

Merlin gulped, his eyes shining with tears. "He helped me save Camelot so many times. We'd all be long dead if it weren't for his advice. At first, I thought he was just trying to help because…" He paused, then shook his head and started again. "It doesn't matter. I was wrong. Eventually he made me promise to free him and I needed his help to save Camelot, so I agreed. It is not a vow that is broken lightly. I couldn't…I shouldn't have…" He gasped for breath, letting go of Arthur to press the heels of his hands to his eyes. His crying resumed another few minutes, filling the tense silence.

Arthur fought back the natural urge to comfort his friend, instead glancing over at him with a calculating gaze. "I didn't kill the dragon, did I?" He guessed, his voice flat.

It took a while before the warlock was able to collect himself. Merlin dropped his hands, head falling back as he looked toward the ceiling, though his gaze seemed far more distant than the confines of the room. When he spoke, it sounded like he'd swallowed glass, but his crying had finally subsided. Probably more due to a lack of tears than a lack of emotion.

"The dragon isn't dead. I sent him away and commanded him not to return on pain of death," he confessed.

Arthur's jaw ticked, and he finally looked down at his servant. "Only a Dragonlord can command a dragon," he stated, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Merlin's expression morphed into one of such despair that Arthur's solid walls cracked.

"The powers of a Dragonlord are passed from father to son upon the father's death," he explained, his words almost too quiet to hear.

Arthur's mind spun wildly, and he inhaled sharply at the only logical conclusion. "Balinor…"

"...was my father. Yes. I didn't know it until right before we left. Gaius told me. I wouldn't have been able to stop the dragon before…before," he finished shortly, meeting Arthur's gaze grimly.

Arthur could never figure out why Merlin had been so upset over Balinor's death. He should've known. After all, he'd reacted much the same when his own father died in his arms. It was a terrible experience to have in common, but it took the edge off of Arthur's ire. It was a reminder that Merlin was human, just like Arthur was, and that he made mistakes, just like Arthur did.

Arthur couldn't forgive Merlin, not yet at least, but maybe he could try to understand. That was simply all he had to offer for the moment.

"Tell me what else you've done," he ordered calmly, gesturing for Merlin to get back in his chair. His servant looked at him with so much hope that it physically hurt and dipped his head in acquiescence, beginning on the next story before he even finished rising off the floor.

-XXX-

iv. Agravaine

Arthur felt strangely detached as he listened to Merlin explain what had really happened to Agravaine in those caves. He had simply always assumed Morgause had killed him. He should probably feel something upon hearing the truth—that Merlin had cracked his skull against the stone walls—but in all honesty he felt nothing at all. He wasn't sure if he was still reeling from the years' worth of information he had received or if Agravaine's place in his heart had been completely overshadowed by his betrayal, but either way, Arthur listened in silence.

Merlin was obviously terrified of his king's reaction, since he practically had to stammer through the entire explanation, but this wasn't an instance in which he needed to fear Arthur's judgment. If Merlin hadn't killed Agravaine, Arthur surely would have.

The king leaned forward until he could place a comforting hand on Merlin's knee, shocking the servant into snapping his mouth shut. Arthur hadn't so much as looked at him since hearing about the dragon, and that had been hours ago. Arthur was slightly surprised at the action himself, but he still pinned Merlin with a steadfast gaze, adamant that Merlin hear his next words.

"Do not let Agravaine's death weigh on your conscience. He was a traitor, and doesn't deserve a second thought," Arthur declared firmly.

"But he was your family," Merlin argued weakly, his gaze flickering down to where Arthur's hand rested. His own hand twitched, like he was barely restraining himself from reaching out to return the gesture.

Arthur leaned back and withdrew his touch, shaking his head. "He never cared about me. I was blind not to see it. I should've listened to you from the very beginning," he admitted shamelessly. Merlin ducked his head, playing with the laces of his tunic to avoid making eye contact. Something in Arthur softened at the humility Merlin displayed even when he had every right to shout 'I told you so!' from the top of his lungs. "Merlin," the king called gently, and the servant's gaze shot up upon hearing his name. "I've failed to take you at your word more times than I can count, and each of those times has cost me dearly. I will endeavor to listen in future, and I hope you will hold me to that promise."

Merlin seemed hesitant to accept his vow, and Arthur ached at the trust he'd so carelessly tossed away in his ignorance. It was a precious thing Merlin had offered him time and time again, and Arthur had repeatedly dismissed his friend because of reasons that simply did not matter. Station meant little to the king, as evidenced by his Round Table Knights, and blood relation never meant automatic trustworthiness, as proven by Agravaine's treachery. But Merlin…Merlin had been by his side through his lightest and darkest moments, through battle and sickness and betrayal and love and loss. There was no one more loyal than his warlock, and it was well past time he recognized that fact.

Merlin's lips slowly quirked up into a teasing smile. "Is this you finally admitting you were wrong?"

Arthur huffed out a relieved laugh, standing up so he could ruffle his friend's dark curls. "Don't get used to it, Merlin," he retorted lightly.

Merlin's dimples made an appearance for the first time in hours. "Wouldn't dream of it, Sire."

-XXX-

v. Morgana

"There's something you should know about Morgana."

Arthur startled at hearing his sister's name, turning from where he had been gazing out the window at the light blue tinge of the early morning sky. It was nearing dawn. Merlin had been catching him up on everything he'd missed over the years, and unfortunately that took quite a bit of time. He wouldn't be getting any rest before the trial, that was for sure. Perhaps Gaius had a tonic that could kickstart his brain so he didn't fall asleep on his throne. That was most certainly not an image he needed to project to his subjects.

"Morgana?" Arthur repeated, wary of bringing her into the conversation. It still hurt to think about her, even years after she'd left.

Merlin nodded, coming to stand next to him. He was wringing his hands together, which he only did when he was extremely nervous. "She…She was born with her magic. Like me," he revealed, biting his lip while he looked up at Arthur through his lashes.

Arthur could've sworn his heart stopped, and he struggled to remember how to breathe. It was eerily similar to how he felt when Merlin told him of his magic; he rubbed at his chest to soothe the phantom pain.

"That's not…I would've known," he protested, voice barely above a whisper.

"Her magic didn't present itself until she was older, I think," Merlin elaborated with a sympathetic grimace. "Remember her dreams? They were visions. She's a Seer."

Arthur leaned back against the windowsill, pressing his palms to his forehead as if to stave off a migraine. He could recall all too well the many occasions that Morgana had woken up screaming, or had come to him with some frantic warning about some unknown threat. He'd never given any credence to her dreams, whether it had been denial or simple disbelief. If he'd listened to her back then, would she still have betrayed them all? What if she'd just needed someone to confide in, and he'd let her down in every way imaginable?

"You're telling me…my sister was born with magic?" He looked to Merlin, pleading wordlessly for him to deny it.

Merlin gave a single, sharp nod, his own regrets swimming in the depths of those sapphire eyes. "She didn't know what was happening at first," he continued quietly. "She was just so scared. I wanted to tell her about my magic, so she knew she wasn't alone, but I…" He lowered his gaze to the floor in shame. "I was so afraid, Arthur. She was Uther's ward. I couldn't know for sure that she wouldn't turn me in. I think she knew, though, that I was keeping secrets from her. I blame myself for her turning to Morgause," he said regretfully. He shrugged helplessly. "Maybe if I'd just told her about my magic, she wouldn't have felt so alone."

Arthur was shaking his head even before the warlock had finished speaking, thinking of such a scenario in his head, one where Morgana knew of Merlin's magic. He'd grown up with Morgana. She was his sister, and he loved her dearly, even still, but her temper could rival Uther's.

"It would've only taken one bad argument for her to reveal your secret to Uther, even if it was just a mistake made in a fit of rage. You were right not to tell her," he argued tiredly, rubbing a hand over his face. He marveled at how Merlin had managed to juggle so much on his shoulders all these years. He'd only known about everything for a few hours and already he felt ready to collapse under the strain.

"I guess we'll never know now," Merlin remarked bitterly.

Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder to capture his servant's attention. Merlin looked up at him, his eyes reflecting what little light came in through the window.

"I think all of us are partly to blame for Morgana's betrayal, but ultimately it was Morgana's decision to go off with Morgause. Don't forget that," Arthur implored, giving Merlin a gentle shake before dropping his hand.

Merlin chewed his lip, deep in thought. "You think she'll ever come back?" He asked softly, allowing just a sliver of hope to enter his voice.

Arthur sighed, slumping into his desk chair. Exhaustion lingered in his every muscle, and he wished desperately that he could hold off the sunrise for a while yet.

"I don't know. I suppose we'll just have to see what the future brings."

-XXX-

vi. Emrys

Orange hues were bleeding into the clouds, painting the sky a myriad of colors, and Arthur knew it wouldn't be long before he was expected to start getting ready for the trial. He scrubbed at his face, trying to wake himself up. His hands fell to the desk when Merlin plopped down into the seat across from him, a determined set to his expression. Arthur raised a questioning eyebrow.

"There's one more thing you need to know," Merlin informed him, his gaze just a little too intense for Arthur's comfort.

"Okay…" He drawled uneasily, waiting for further explanation. Whatever it was couldn't be worse than releasing the dragon, surely.

Merlin raised his chin, donning that aura of power that seemed to come so naturally to him all of a sudden. Or perhaps it had always been there, and Arthur had simply been oblivious to it. It reminded Arthur sharply that he may be the king, but he was no longer the one with the most power in the room (and never actually had been.) He shifted in his chair, feeling a ridiculous urge to put on his crown so he felt more on level with Merlin. His servant, for gods' sakes. He shuddered to think of what his father would say about this entire situation.

Merlin tapped his left index finger against the desktop, searching for the best way to put forth what he meant to discuss. "You asked me earlier, why I came to Camelot, but I never told you why I stayed," he started, and Arthur blinked in surprise, having forgotten about his question in the midst of all the other revelations. Merlin stopped tapping. "When I first came to Camelot and met the dragon, he told me of a prophecy."

Arthur frowned. "A prophecy." He didn't mean for the words to be so full of doubt, but he'd never put much stock in such things. His father had always correlated prophecy to magic, and that was that.

Merlin nodded. "It speaks of the Once and Future King, destined to unite all of Albion and bring peace and magic back to the land," he explained, his voice tinged with nervousness as his gaze flickered over Arthur's face for signs of his reaction. Mostly Arthur just felt confused, but there was a niggling worry at the back of his mind that he refused to acknowledge just yet.

Merlin sucked in a breath, then continued, "The prophecy also mentions an all-powerful sorcerer named Emrys, who is destined to protect and guide the King on his journey to unite the land. It is said that Emrys and the Once and Future King are two sides of the same coin, their fates forever intertwined." The warlock sounded old and wise, and his words rang with a power that was well beyond Arthur's understanding.

The prophecy itself, however, was becoming all too clear. Arthur pressed his palms flat against the desk, willing his heartbeat to calm so he could think properly.

"The dragon told you this."

"Yes."

Arthur carefully presented a mask of indifference. "And I assume you believe I am this Once and Future King he spoke of."

Merlin gave him that familiar look, the one that said I believe in you more than anyone, and I know you will be a great king. "I know you are."

"So that makes you…"

"Emrys," Merlin finished, actually blushing as he said the name. "The Druids think so, anyway. I still have my doubts sometimes," he confessed.

Arthur shoved down the wave of hurt that threatened to drown him. "So…all of this—" He waved in a vague gesture—"is because of some prophecy? You've stayed by my side all these years out of duty? Because you believe I'll legalize magic?" His mask slipped away piece by piece, and his words swirled with devastation that he couldn't possibly hope to hide.

Merlin's eyes went comically wide, and he nearly leapt across the desk to get to Arthur's side before kneeling beside him. "No! Gods, no, Arthur!" He objected emphatically, gripping his king's forearm. "I mean, yes," he allowed, rolling his eyes hastily, "my first few weeks here, I stayed because I'd finally found a purpose for my magic. But come on, Arthur! You were a right prat back then! You really think I would've stuck around with Uther breathing down my neck, all the while being forced to clean your smelly socks, because of some bloody prophecy? I stayed because the more I got to know you, the more I saw what a great king you'd be some day. Not because of destiny, but because you truly care about your people, and you keep fighting even when a battle seems lost, and because you inspire hope in everyone around you, especially in dark times. I stay because you're a stubborn, infuriating dollophead, and you're my best friend, whether you admit it or not. I stay because I care about you more than anyone else, and I believe in the world that you will build." By the end of his rant, Merlin was panting, and he was nearly squeezing the life out of Arthur's arm, but Arthur didn't mind one bit. He stood abruptly, dragging Merlin up with him before embracing the warlock in a tight hug. Merlin was too shocked to move at first, but eventually Arthur felt his friend's arms wrap around his back and squeeze him in return.

They stood there hugging longer than was proper, but neither one had the heart to move away. It had been a long, draining night. They had both been pushed well past their emotional limit, and it showed in the shadows beneath their eyes and the slump to their shoulders. Seven years of secrets had been laid bare for inspection and judgment, and at the end of it all, Arthur simply wanted to hold his warlock and remind himself that Merlin was still here, by his side, just like always.

And that made everything worth it.

-XXX-

"My socks do not smell."

"Oh, shut up, you clotpole! You're ruining the moment!"