Summary

The council's audience with Arthur and Emrys takes a surprising turn, leading to intense reactions and personal reflections.

Chapter 46 Emrys Emergent

Surrounded by his inner circle in the crowded council chambers, Arthur watched Merlin's aged form shuffle from behind Gwen's chair. While most councilors had witnessed Merlin's introduction to the court yesterday, today promised something different – a sensitive revelation to a broader audience of lords. Arthur had initially opposed this disclosure, and he still dreaded it. As he called Emrys forward, his throat tightened with trepidation.

Leaning onto his staff – so different from his usual vibrancy, Merlin paid each man a discerning glance, studying them with that spark of familiar courage in now old eyes. Arthur knew Merlin's stooped gait belied his hidden strength, like an ancient oak's deep roots. And yet, even he couldn't fathom the true extent of Merlin's power, a realization that both awed and unnerved him.

"I've long awaited this day – to stand before you as my true self," Merlin's cracked voice rang out, a flash of gold suddenly highlighting his irises. "A protector of Camelot, servant to king and queen, emissary of the druids."

Sir John, standing alongside Leon, shifted his stance, intrigue in his expression. "What do you mean, my lord Emrys? Your 'true self'?"

As Merlin weaved through the crowded room, his staff clicking at a steady pace, the air around him seemed to shimmer. Ethereal whispers, barely audible, danced at the edge of Arthur's hearing, making him question if they were real or imagined. Flashes of golden light flickered in the corners of his vision, gone when he tried to focus on them. Men backed away from Merlin. Murmurs bubbled up in the chamber, fear clouding some expressions, wonderment on the faces of others.

"Despite King Arthur's proclamations," Merlin continued, "his bold assurances, and even the deeds I have made known, some of you still deem me a threat." He stopped in a space where Arthur could see him clearly, an enigmatic look in his eyes. Caution and curiosity vied inside Arthur, leaving him unsure of what Merlin might do next.

Merlin glanced around, smiling as if he held a great secret. "But I've lived among you for many years," he said, his voice sounding more familiar and gaining strength.

The air grew charged, a dense energy spreading throughout the hall, raising the hair on Arthur's arms and prickling his skin. Clothing rustled, metals clinked, and candle flames flickered as a breeze touched every corner of the chamber. Arthur's jaw slackened as mutters rose, amazement and unease rippling through the crowd as Merlin began to change before their eyes.

A jolt of panic shot through Arthur. Good Lord, what on earth…?

His stooped posture straightened to full height, long white hair receding and darkening to raven-black as they watched in awe. Mottled and wrinkled skin smoothed into the visage of youth; black moustache and beard disappearing to reveal the familiar face of the man they'd known for years. Transformed, Merlin stood before them, as if he were some benevolent, crimson god emerged from legend, his rust-red tunic brightening to a splendid, ethereal hue. He cracked his iron staff against the stone floor, silencing the room.

"I am Emrys."

Breathless, Arthur could not tear his eyes away from the magnificent figure before him. Merlin, his humble friend and servant, was Emrys, a sorcerer of immense supremacy. The sheer power radiating from him was palpable, an invisible force that seemed to push against Arthur's very being. This was magic beyond anything he had ever encountered, and in that moment, he found himself unable to reconcile Merlin's conflicting identities. Just who was this doddering old wizard with more power than Arthur had imagined and the vibrant young man who had stood by his side through countless trials?

"I will continue to fight against any force intent to harm my friends, my kingdom, or any of you," Merlin declared, his voice resonating with authority, the air seeming to settle around him.

"What is this? Impossible! The serving boy?"

Shocked voices punctuated the air in the chamber, but they seemed distant, unreal – the world around Arthur turning muffled. A faint crease formed between his brows as Merlin returned to his position, chin lifted in defiance. Meeting Gwen's eyes, the full implications of this revelation dawned on Arthur, and he wondered if keeping Merlin's secret had been the wiser choice after all?

Doubt crept in. The reasons that had seemed so clear before now felt nebulous and uncertain. Suddenly, Arthur felt a rush of blood to his head, his vision narrowing as if he were peering through a long tunnel. His fingers gripped the arms of his chair, knuckles whitening. He blinked hard, struggling to maintain his composure. The world rushed back into focus, and the cacophony of angry voices crashed into him, each protest a striking blow of shock and outrage.

"This cannot be! Merlin, a sorcerer...?"

"Hiding among us all this time!"

"You lied to us! This is an utter betrayal!"

"You've made fools of us!"

"We won't stand for this trickery!"

As the accusations flew, Arthur felt a strange surge of relief. Their anger centered on the deception, not the raw power Merlin had just displayed. Yet, he quickly realized this indignation was just as dangerous, jeopardizing the unity of his court and kingdom.

Amidst the chaos, Leon stepped forward, his demeanor calm in the surrounding uproar. "My lords," he appealed, though his voice barely audible, "while this revelation is indeed startling, I urge you to remember: it is our king of whom you speak."

Bishop Joseph's voice sliced through the din, his nostrils flaring. "That doesn't negate the fact that they deceived us." He fixed Arthur with a hard glare, addressing him directly. "You must have known Merlin was this – Emrys, and yet you pretended ignorance."

Arthur steeled himself, recognizing that while the full impact of Merlin's power escaped them, their sense of betrayal was an inevitable hurdle. He had always anticipated this moment, yet the shock of Merlin's duality challenged some preconceptions and still reverberated through him.

"Yes," he acknowledged, his voice steady and commanding, silencing the room. "A short time, I assure you. That decision was not made lightly, nor could it be rushed." He paused, meeting the eyes of his councilors while inwardly questioning if any amount of time could have prepared them for this moment. "As your king, I bear the burden of difficult choices. Choices that may not always be popular, but are necessary for the good of Camelot."

Arthur rose, moving to stand beside Merlin, though he neither looked at him nor offered a gesture of solidarity. "I chose to keep this secret not out of deceit, but out of caution and respect for the magnitude of this revelation. I needed time to understand, to plan, to ensure that when this truth came to light, it would be in a manner that would benefit our kingdom, not fracture it." Even as he spoke, a voice in his mind whispered that perhaps the secret should have remained just that – a secret.

His gaze swept the room, his tone firm nonetheless. "I understand your confusion and anger. I too grappled with this truth. But I stand before you now, not just as your king, but as a man who has seen firsthand the loyalty and dedication of Merlin – of Emrys. His power has been used time and again to protect Camelot, often at great personal risk."

Stepping a few paces away from Merlin, Arthur continued, his voice resolute. "I do not ask for your acceptance. I ask only that you consider the possibilities this revelation brings, and remember the good Merlin has done for our kingdom. The strength his abilities could lend us. The healing it could bring to long-festering wounds." As the words came forth, a nagging worry persisted that this revelation could also create greater rifts than it healed.

He straightened, every inch the king, masking his own doubts. "I have chosen to share this truth with you because I believe in the wisdom and loyalty of this council," he said, accepting full responsibility despite his initial opposition. "I trust that you will see, as I have, the potential for a stronger, more united Camelot."

Returning to his seat, Arthur sat straight and rigid, his gaze sweeping across the faces of his council. "Reflect on what you've learned today. Consider it carefully. That is all. Dismissed."

As the murmuring council members drifted out, with Leon lingering behind, Arthur noted the spectrum of reactions – from tentative acceptance to barely concealed hostility. The ripples of this revelation would spread far beyond these chamber walls, touching every corner of his realm. A chilling realization gripped him: this held the potential to fracture his kingdom's unity. For the first time, the threat of civil unrest felt tangible. Were his knights prepared to maintain order if the situation escalated?

Fighting to maintain his composure, Arthur became acutely aware of the concerned stares of his friends as they closed in around him. He exhaled slowly and leaned back in his chair, leadership's burden bearing down on him. His confidence in guiding Camelot through this crisis faltered, threatening to overwhelm him as duty and doubt clashed within his mind.

Merlin moved closer than any of the others and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "You did the right thing, Arthur. I know this wasn't what you wanted."

Arthur looked up at him, nodded solemnly while carefully masking the confusion within. He thought he'd wrestled down his feelings about Merlin. Now he wasn't so sure he'd beaten those demons after what he had just witnessed. "It was necessary," he said simply, before steering the conversation away from himself. "But how are you, Merlin? That was... quite a revelation."

Merlin smiled, his expression a combination of humility, relief and apprehension. "It's... strange. After all these years of hiding, to finally be seen for who I truly am, it's both liberating and terrifying."

Arthur nodded, grasping the significance of Merlin's admission while inwardly grappling with his own doubts about the man. Did Merlin even know the extent of his own power? he wondered.

Galahad spoke up, his face alight with hope. "The old ways and the new, finally united in the courts of Camelot. It's a dream many of us thought we'd never see."

"Unity is always a noble goal, Galahad, but it's also fragile," Merlin reminded them soberly, crossing his arms. "Arthur, given the reactions of some lords, we should probably prepare for consequences, maybe even from those you've long considered allies."

Arthur's eyes met Merlin's briefly, a flicker of approval crossing his features before his gaze shifted away. Despite his conflicting emotions concerning his friend right now, he couldn't deny the astuteness of Merlin's observation.

Geoffrey stepped forward, his voice somber, measured. "Rumors and speculation will spread like wildfire. We should act quickly; shape the narrative before others do it for us."

Arthur nodded. "Indeed. We must control how this information spreads, ensuring it comes directly from the crown, not through rumor or hearsay," he replied. "Merlin's revelation changes how the crown itself may be perceived. People may question who truly holds power in Camelot. Can the crown be trusted if it's been harboring a sorcerer all along?"

He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "So how can we assure the people that Merlin's power won't overshadow or manipulate me, or Gwen? What safeguards can we put in place to maintain the balance of power? These are some of the real challenges we face." He paused, meeting the eyes of each of them. "The bold step we've taken today is only the beginning. Our task now is to prove that this revelation strengthens Camelot rather than undermines it."

Arthur turned to Geoffrey, his tone shifting from contemplative to decisive. "Work with the scribes to draft a clear, concise message assuring the people that the crown and the court wizard will coexist under my leadership."

He then addressed Percival. "You know what to do to prepare the garrisons and outlying fortresses," he said, recalling their recent use of the network of towers, riders, and dovecotes to distribute his letter throughout the kingdom. Arthur's mind raced, considering the dual threats of Escetir and potential civil unrest. "Speed is of the essence," he added, his tone betraying a hint of urgency. "And Percival, ensure they understand the... precarious nature of our current situation."

As his friends stood in somber reflection, Arthur rose slowly, his posture straight and determined, a striking difference to the exhaustion seeping into his bones. "We've set Camelot on a new course today," he declared. "The path we've chosen will reveal the true mettle of our people. Whether it leads to ruin or to unity remains to be seen."

"We stand with you, Arthur," Percival boldly stated.

"Whatever comes," said Ranulf, "we face it together."

Leon nodded firmly. "You can rely on my support, Arthur—always."

Merlin and Galahad gave him thankful, wide grins.

Arthur nodded, his voice steady despite his subdued inner conflict. "Thank you, gentlemen. Your loyalty is appreciated. Now, if you'll excuse me."

He turned away, knowing it abrupt, but signaling the end of his council with them – his mind already racing to his next engagements. The most immediate was with Tristan, likely seeking relief from his duties as exchequer to be with Isolde in Cornwall. Then the war councilors following that, eager to continue strategizing about the potential conflict with Escetir. Arthur sighed inwardly. Now, with Merlin's revelation, the specter of civil unrest loomed as well, adding another layer of complexity to their plans. Other commitments stretched before him, each meeting a test of his resolve and leadership.

His closest friends departed the council chambers, the sound of boots and the clink of chain mail fading behind him. Merlin hesitated a moment, but Arthur found himself still unable to meet his gaze. His eyes instead fell on Gwen, seated in her chair, studying him. Grateful for the distraction, he crossed to her, gently pulling her to her feet as Merlin quietly left.

"Arthur," she said softly, her eyes searching his face, "you've done well today. Remember that."

He managed a weak smile, touched by her unwavering support. Lifting her hand to his lips, he placed a tender kiss upon it. "I hope to see you later, my queen, perhaps for dinner if our schedules permit," he murmured, his voice strained with a semblance of calm, knowing Gwen's responsibilities consumed much of her day as well. He walked her to the door, no more words between them, their hands lingering together for a moment before she slipped away.

Having a few minutes before his audience with Tristan, Arthur used the time to collect his troubling thoughts. He returned to his seat. As he slowly lowered his head to rest in his hand, his carefully maintained façade at last crumbled, the day's events crashing down upon him like a relentless tide. The air seemed to thicken, the silence of the empty chamber amplifying his inner turmoil, unnerving him even more. Here, alone, he could finally acknowledge the bone-deep exhaustion that plagued him.

Arthur knew a new chapter in their history had begun, but this wasn't the tale of triumph he'd once envisioned. Instead, it felt etched in the somber ink of uncertainty, one that bled into every aspect of his life.

Gwen's puzzling condition, the fate of the magically wounded, and the sorcerers' petition for autonomy only added to the litany of concerns already swirling in his mind, each issue demanding his attention. From the kingdom's external threats to its internal strife, Arthur could scarcely find time to address the maelstrom of responsibilities, let alone manage them.

He drew a deep breath, willing his frayed nerves to steady. His father's words echoed in his mind: "A king must never show weakness." Yet here he was, feeling more vulnerable than ever. The stubborn determination that had always driven him now felt like a feeble flame against an encroaching darkness.

His fists clenched as he closed his eyes, a quiet desperation clawing at his chest. Was he truly fit to wear this crown if his mind could become so fractured, his thoughts so disjointed? Every decision he made lately seemed to hold Camelot's fate in the balance, and he found himself second-guessing each one. How could he know if he was doing the right thing when his focus was so discordant? As the fate of lives, of an entire kingdom, bore down upon him, the crown felt more like a noose than a mark of authority, constricting rather than empowering him.

The certainty Arthur once felt now eluded him, sending his thoughts into a downward spiral. His father had ruled with an iron fist and unwavering conviction. But Arthur... Arthur felt doubt eroding his confidence. The weight of the crown, once a symbol of his destiny and pride, was now crushing his spirit, feeding a fear that gnawed at his very core. And as he approached his 28th birthday the end of next month, a sobering thought struck him: how much longer could he endure this pressure? Would the burden of rule overwhelm him as it had so many kings before? Turning him into a fool or, perhaps worse, a monster?

A gentle touch on his arm startled Arthur from his despairing reflections. Gwen stood beside him, concern etched upon her expression.

"Arthur," she said softly, "you don't have to bear this alone."

Arthur's cheeks burned, a flush creeping up his neck to the tips of his ears. He could almost feel the heat radiating from his face as he struggled to compose himself. But as he met Gwen's understanding gaze, the tension in his shoulders began to unravel. A weary sigh escaped his lips, his posture softening in relief.

"I know. It's just... Merlin…Everything…." He scrubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not always certain I'm making the right decisions. Sometimes, Gwen..." He paused, struggling to voice the fear that underlay all others. How could he confess insecurities that he could barely admit to himself? "I wonder if I'm truly the king Camelot needs me to be."

Without hesitation, Gwen pulled him into her arms, and Arthur surrendered to her embrace. A fine tremor ran through his body, his muscles quivering beneath her touch as he buried his head in her shoulder, inhaling her calming lavender scent. Gwen held him closer, tighter, her fingers gently combing through his hair in a soothing rhythm as tension gradually ebbed from his frame.

"Arthur," she said softly, but firmly, "you are exactly the king Camelot needs. Your doubts, your careful considerations – these make you a better ruler than any iron-fisted certainty ever could. Your father's way isn't the only way to lead. Don't let his ghost cloud your judgment or shake your resolve. You're forging your own path, and it's a brighter one."

Her words were balm to his troubled soul. In that moment, Arthur leaned into Gwen's strength and wisdom. How often had she been his anchor in tumultuous times, her unwavering faith in him a beacon guiding him through the darkest of doubts? And oh, if he could remain in her arms forever, drawing on her comfort, he would. But duty called without relent or compassion, and with a steadying breath, Arthur pulled back, straightening his posture.

"As for Merlin," she challenged, eyeing him with a slightly reproving gaze, "do you believe everything you said of him today?"

He nodded thoughtfully, her pointed inquiry prompting deeper reflection. Of course he did; his true feelings of loyalty and love for Merlin should never have come into question with him, and he vowed they never would again. Arthur chewed his lip, considering. He knew where Gwen was leading with her probing, and he began to wonder if his doubts were merely a product of his fatigue.

With another heavy sigh, his mind couldn't resist wandering to their planned escape in a few days' time. The promise of a short respite from the castle and its responsibilities brought a flicker of relief within him. Arthur savored the prospect of a few precious hours alone with Gwen, as man and woman, not king and queen. He would consult with George and Sefa about the final details, ensuring their private retreat remained discreet.

Arthur mustered a smile as he gazed down at Gwen, a spark of anticipation glimmering through his weariness. "I'll speak to Merlin soon," he replied, regaining his focus. "I don't want him to think my faith in him has wavered. We've come too far for that."

Gwen's eyes softened with understanding. "You've been working tirelessly since the Southron war, Arthur. It's no wonder you're weary," she said gently. "Perhaps you could allow yourself a later start to your days? Even kings need rest, and the kingdom won't fall if you sleep past dawn."

Arthur's expression warmed, a genuine smile touching his eyes. "Your counsel is as wise as it is kind, my love," he murmured, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. "I'll try. For you, and for Camelot."

As they approached the door, Arthur's hand instinctively moved to Excalibur's hilt. His fingers curled around the familiar grip, drawing not just strength, but a sense of purpose from the mystical blade. A welcoming reminder, the sword seemed to embody all that he stood for – the weight of tradition, the responsibility of power, and the promise of a united Camelot.

Before Gwen departed, Arthur squeezed her hand, his resolve renewed despite it all, because he would face the crucibles as he always had – with strength, courage, and the wisdom of those who stood beside him.