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Chapter Text

It took two months after appointing Merlin Court Sorcerer for Arthur to show him the Gem. When Arthur had silently led Merlin down to where the crown jewels were kept, Merlin had quietly joked that he’d already put protection spells on the crown (years ago, though Arthur didn’t know that part), so why were they coming down here? Truthfully, the King leading him silently deep down under the castle alone was a bit frightening- yes, Arthur accepted his magic, but that was after several long months of silence and doubt and waiting . Still, Merlin followed, trusting Arthur wholeheartedly.

When they reached the vault, Arthur walked past the crowns, past the jewel encrusted scepter, and straight to the stone wall at the far back of the chamber. Merlin had raised a brow, but kept his quips to himself. Arthur gave him a serious look, and opened a hidden compartment in the stone- it must have been placed there by magic, because there was no seam left in the stone when the compartment closed. From inside, Arthur pulled out a gem about the size of his fist, glowing a blue so brilliant it was unnatural. He held it out for Merlin to take, and he could feel the power radiating off of it before his hand closed around it. His whole body felt warm, flecks of gold spilling into his eyes, his magic pulling to the surface fast enough to make his breath catch.

“So we were right.” Arthur’s voice pulled him back, and he looked up to find him watching him curiously. “It’s magic.”

“Very.” Merlin had mumbled, looking down at the gem in his hands. There were runes engraved in a seemingly random pattern, so fine and intricate that no human hand could have possibly carved them. It had to have been from the Old Religion. “Where did you get this?” As he holds it, his magic slowly gets pulled closer and closer to the surface.

“A sorcerer that father-” Arthur cut himself off, averting his eyes. They both knew what he meant. “No one has been able to figure out what it is, or what it does. But it- feels powerful, and the few sorcerers that have been shown it seem drawn to it, but refuse to discuss it.” He looked at Merlin with a look that wasn’t quite expectant, but it didn’t need to be- Merlin always knows what Arthur wants, and always gives it to him.

“I’ve never heard of it before or seen it, but it’s- whoever made this was powerful . It’s… I can’t be certain, but it seems to be-” He almost dropped it, then. His magic was so close to the surface, and now it felt… heavy, and hot. “It seems to be able to magnify one’s power.” He held it out for Arthur to take, his eyes glowing bright and his skin hot to the touch. “That’s dangerous, in the wrong hands. It could be used to magnify the power and range of a spell.”

“Like across the castle?” Arthur had asked. They had shared a look, then, Arthur cradling the Gem while Merlin cradled his magic.

“Like all of Camelot.”

—

In the first year after the lift of the ban on magic and becoming Court Sorcerer, Merlin’s life took a sharp 180.

His destiny was far from finished. Not all magic users were satisfied with the legalization of magic- in their eyes, not enough was done to avenge those who died mercilessly at the hands of Uther, and since the man himself wasn’t around to blame- well, Arthur was a close second. Merlin was fending off assassination attempts what felt like twice as often as before. It was out of habit that he didn’t tell Arthur, and the times he did mention it, Arthur seemed to think he was exaggerating. So his hobby of thwarting assassination attempts on the king was kept to himself. 

Then, there was an increase in attacks on magic users. They should have expected it, really. A large portion of the kingdom did not agree with Arthur’s decision to decriminalize magic. They said it was rushed, dangerous, or that Arthur was enchanted. The ‘enchanted’ rumor was the hardest for Merlin, as many in the castle saw him being given a position in court on the same day as magic being decriminalized as evidence of Merlin having enchanted the king. During that first month, Merlin became especially skilled in glamor charms. Some injuries cannot be magicked away, and Merlin didn’t want the guards, knights, and townspeople who had taken to beating him in order to break the perceived enchantment to be persecuted- that would only further validate those who believed he had Arthur under his thumb, and may lead them to more extreme measures. Slowly but surely, the attacks died down from multiple a day to a few a month, a great improvement in Merlin’s eyes.

The worst part of the change, to Merlin, was the way his and Arthur’s friendship changed drastically. With his new position, Merlin no longer had time to be Arthur’s manservant, and because of this he wasn’t by his side all day as he’d gotten used to. This wasn’t Merlin’s decision- if he had his way, he would have kept both jobs. But he was told, not asked, to give up the position, and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful- after all, he was being allowed to practice his magic openly by Arthur’s side, and isn’t that what he’d worked so hard for?

Council meetings were… an adjustment. Merlin had attended many over the years, but always from his position on the wall behind Arthur. Now, having a seat at the table, he found it hard to get the respect he’d earned. Without Arthur, he likely would have given up a week in. After each council session, he and Merlin went back to his room for wine and a chat, catching each other up on their day and Arthur guiding Merlin on how to act in meetings. Slowly, Merlin’s confidence grew. Their meetings became less frequent, and more business centered. It hurt having to make an appointment to meet with his friend, just to see how he’s doing. After stopping another would-be assassin in the night, he just wanted to look at the prat and make sure he didn’t manage to get himself killed… and see his friend, to make sure he’s alright. Merlin wasn’t the only one taking on new duties, after all. 

And though he was no longer being attacked daily, Merlin wasn’t left alone- or rather, he was. Arthur’s workload increased with new laws, negotiations, treaties: magic was influencing every corner of the kingdom, and it was Arthur’s job to address it. The knights followed their king- more patrols were needed in the early days; groups were sent on trips to neighboring kingdoms to invite them back to Camelot for discussions pertaining to magic; outlying villages called for the knights more and more to settle magic-based disputes. By the second month, Arthur nearly doubled the amount of knights in his control. The knights who joined shortly after the ban was lifted went through less trials than normal. Some… less than chivalrous men were able to slip through the cracks this way, and it somehow seemed they all sought out Merlin. They were quick to remind him how he would receive no protection from the knights, as he should be able to protect himself. A shove, punch, or kick would catch him by surprise at least weekly, a reminder to stay on his guard. 

As he was no longer by the knights’ sides with Arthur each day, he was forced to watch as his friends drifted, their meetings dwindling more and more until Merlin hardly knew who was in the city anymore. He’d watch from his window as Arthur returned from a hunt, Leon, Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, and Lancelot in tow, and close his curtains, keeping his hurt inside. It festered, fueled by his loneliness, the glares of the servants he used to work with, and the distrust of the townspeople who once looked to him for help. His mind bombarded him with messages each day, reminding him that he didn’t deserve the power he’d been given, Arthur was glad to be rid of him, he hurt more than he helped. These messages slowly wormed their way into his heart until he knew for certain the truth: his friends did not trust him, he would not be protected or helped when he needed, he was only useful for his magic. 

He rarely slept, he hardly ate, he barely spoke. His days narrowed to his duties: he brewed potions for Gaius, guided Gwen on her new position as physician’s assistant, helped them with magical remedies when possible, attended council meetings, settled magical disputes, aided in sentencing for crimes involving magic, helped the servants that still chose to associate with him, studied and practiced his magic, stopped attacks on Arthur but not himself. It was the life he’d worked so hard for, where he could practice magic freely, and his people were no longer afraid of execution simply for existing.

So why did each day feel worse than the last?

—

It was only a matter of time that a full scale magical attack was launched on Camelot, and it comes nearly a year to the day that the ban was lifted. In some ways, Merlin is almost grateful- finally, he can be of use. Now, standing on top of the watchtower with Arthur, he feels anything but.

Arthur’s back is straight, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he gazes out over the approaching army, if it can be called that. The creatures look to be clouds of thick smog, vaguely lit from within, shrieking as they make their way towards the castle. They’ve been destroying the kingdom village by village, leaving nothing but carnage and rubble behind, but no one has been able to lay eyes on them until now. Without looking away from the threat, Arthur asks Merlin, “What are they?”

“I can’t be sure, Sire.” Neither know when ‘Sire’ stopped being an insult. “But from what I can tell, they’re made of magic.” His heart stings as he remembers the man at the edge of the forest, unaware of the approaching threat, providing them with an answer on how they attack. “They seem to be feeding off of life forces- they surround a person, stealing their life-force, and in doing so are able to duplicate themselves.”

“So what you’re saying-”

“For each person they kill, another creature is created.”

There’s silence between them. There are thousands of these creatures. So many villages attacked, so many monsters created… So many dead.

“Surely, there must be a spell that can defeat them?” Arthur still doesn’t look at Merlin, eyes now scanning the lower town, watching as his people flee to the castle.

“Not one that can defeat them all at once. And to fight one at a time… I wouldn’t have time to stop them all.” Merlin’s hands twitch, trying to think of something to do, some way to fix this -

“Talk to Geoffrey, or Gaius, or anyone. Find something.” Arthur turns to go back inside, but stops to look at Merlin, his eyes hard. “Don’t let me down.”

Merlin watches him go, then looks back out over the city. He has to fix this- this is the only thing he’s good for. He knows a spell- well, it’s less of a spell, and more of an innate knowledge of how to destroy one of these creatures, but only one at a time. The creatures feed off of life-forces, but Merlin’s life-force is magic itself. If he pushes a thread of magic into the creature, it will latch onto it, sensing the life attached, and Merlin can then sever the connection, killing the creature like snipping a bud from a vine while leaving Merlin’s magic unaffected enough to replace the lost magic quickly. But there isn’t time to repeat the process for each of the creatures- he wouldn’t even be able to make a dent in the army approaching.

He hears the knights below shouting orders, thinks he can hear Gwaine ushering people into the castle. The stone walls won’t save them, but it will buy them time and peace. He feels the wind on his skin, blowing the army closer and closer. He smells the smoke as torches are handed out to those willing and able to fight- why fire, he isn’t sure, but the irony isn’t lost on him. He looks out and sees the enemy approaching, knowing they’re running out of time. His eyes catch the top of Arthur’s head, the sunlight shining off his hair like a halo, and he can taste sweat and strawberries and forests-

He knows what he has to do.

—

Getting into the vaults is concerningly easy, though he supposes the guards are more easily distracted than usual. The compartment for the Gem is hidden seamlessly in the wall, but the power radiating from it shows Merlin where to lay his hand to open it. He removes his neckerchief to carefully pick it up, not wanting to risk setting it off early. He has one shot at this, and he can’t fail.

No one stops him as he slips through the crowd of guards, knights, and citizens rushing to the castle, heading the opposite way. Stepping out of the gates into the field surrounding the castle, it’s odd to see what is so often a battlefield empty, but he can see the creatures in the distance gaining speed, and for once, he’s grateful to be alone. He has no armor, no sword, but he doesn’t need them. He is his own weapon.

Merlin’s heart pounds in his chest as he glances back at the castle. He thinks he can see a flash of gold among a sea of red capes, and his lips tug up. Compared to all the battles they’ve been in, all the evil and vengeful enemies they’ve fought, it feels rather mundane for his final stand to be alone, fighting a nameless enemy. But he’s never been one to question destiny.

Jaw and resolve set, he steps further into the field and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the fabric covered Gem. The neckerchief falls to the ground as he cradles the Gem, his skin warming instantly. He studies it one last time, then closes both hands around it, fully encompassing it, urging it to accept his magic and deliver it by his will. In response, it’s like a gate opens in the Gem, and he gasps as his magic slowly enters the Gem- not all of it, but enough to prove it’s ready to work.

He looks up at the creatures quickly rushing towards him, finally able to study them. They don’t walk, as they don’t have legs- or a form, really. They truly resemble a cloud of smog and dust, hovering and moving as if pushed by a strong wind. Lightning crackles through them, and they shriek from deep inside. Merlin’s spine goes cold as he realizes each scream is unique- the cries not of the creature, but of its victim.

Merlin’s eye’s slip shut as he focuses all of his magic on the task at hand. He starts with the closest one- a single thread of magic slipping from the Gem, rushing into the creature. As he expected, it latches on, sucking up his magic like sap from a tree. He severs the connection easily, and watches as the creature disappears, seemingly carried away in the wind. Spurred forward by his success, Merlin lets more magic slip out, roots spreading to each and every creature. It stretches further and further, fueled by the Gem, and horrifyingly Merlin realizes the creatures have spread to every corner of Albion. If he doesn’t do this now, everything Arthur has worked so hard to create will be gone. He cannot let that happen. He pushes his magic forward faster, and one by one, each creature is invaded by his magic, and all at once, they latch on.

Merlin doesn’t hear himself scream, doesn’t see his eyes glow brighter than the high noon sun, doesn’t feel his feet leave the ground, or the Gem hover in front of him, golden light beaming from it like a fallen star. He hovers, arms outstretched, fists clenched as he holds onto the invisible threads of magic being pulled by thousands of creatures at once. It hurts, Goddess it hurts, but he holds on, waiting, waiting, waiting-

There. Right at their peak, where the creatures try to take him, Merlin pulls back. He yanks the threads with all he has, his screams echoing off the castle walls. He feels the threads snap, this magic breaking with them. The Gem shatters, and one by one, the creatures vanish in a puff of smoke.

Merlin’s arms drop, his eyes go dull, his feet touch the ground. He doesn’t notice any of it- he doesn’t notice much besides the empty, hollow feeling taking over him. It’s like his soul has been scooped out of him, leaving him a shell of a being, barely there at all. Strong arms catch him, and when did he start falling? All he can see is a familiar, golden glow, and he lets out a breath as he smiles.

He doesn’t inhale.

Chapter Text

This year has aged Arthur as much as ten would have.

Legalizing magic had been a long, migraine inducing two-year-long process, yet somehow the year that followed was worse. Arthur was busier than ever rewriting new laws, dealing with the Lords who disagreed with the new laws, settling disputes about the new laws- he hardly had time to breathe most days. The new knights he had to employ to keep up with the growing need were dim witted at best, and he often caught himself turning over his right shoulder to make a comment about how “even you could do better than that Mer lin” , only to find empty space.

Right. Merlin wasn’t his servant anymore. It stung, to release him from his service so he could take up the part of Court Sorcerer, but it was what was best for the kingdom, and more importantly, it was what was best for Merlin. He’d worked so hard for so many years, unacknowledged and unappreciated. He deserved a position that reflected that sacrifice. Still, he can’t pretend the loss doesn’t hurt.

The first weeks after the lifting of the ban, he’d watched Merlin struggle like a fawn in spring. The robes he wore looked foreign on him, despite being custom tailored; he still walked and stood like he was trying to slip into the background; he still paused before he spoke about magic. It was a mix of endearing and pitiful, and Arthur took it upon himself to bring Merlin back to his room each night for casual lessons- how to introduce himself, how to speak to the Lords without causing an incident, how to hold himself with the confidence Arthur knew he had but wouldn’t show. Time went on, and Merlin didn’t need these lessons anymore, and neither had time for evening meetings with no purpose. Things will calm soon, Arthur would tell himself every night he craved Merlin's company. We’ll see each other soon.

But ‘soon’ never came. Peace talks, legal adjustments, trial after trial after trial, and Arthur was busier than ever. The few times he’s able to sneak away from the castle for a hunt with the round table, Merlin is nowhere to be found. It makes him bitter, sometimes. Arthur did all of this work for Merlin and his people, and now he doesn’t have time for him anymore? What could he possibly be doing that kept him so busy?

The knights undoubtedly noticed Merlin’s absence as well. Gwaine blamed him, loudly , for the fact that Merlin was never around- no amount of laps around the training field would shut him up. Leon never voiced his worries, but Arthur saw his eyes drifting every time he entered a room, looking for a mop of black hair hiding around a corner. Percival and Elyan had taken to asking after Merlin through some of the newer knights who somehow managed to see him more often- Arthur was jealous, at first, thinking Merlin had replaced them. But that wasn’t like Merlin, and the minimal information the knights knew proved that. And Lancelot… Well, Lancelot was taking it harder than most. He lurked around the tower where Merlin’s new rooms were, asked anyone who passed if they'd seen him, hung around the physician chambers enough Gaius banned him unless he was injured. Merlin had carved a space into their group, and the emptiness he left behind couldn’t be ignored.

And yet, there wasn’t time to fix it. Every time Arthur got fed up and decided to hunt Merlin down himself, some new crisis appeared, or Merlin vanished. He started to resent Merlin in a way- he was the cause of his pain by not being there, yet he was half to blame for him not being there. In the night, when no one but the moon could witness it, Arthur punched his pillow and wished that he’d never learned of Merlin’s magic, that way nothing would have had to change.

When the creatures attack, it's the first he’s seen Merlin in a month. He doesn’t have time to worry over the bags under Merlin’s eyes, or the slight shake of his hands, or the far off look he gives him. Instead he orders Merlin to find a spell to fix this, because he needs his help, he can’t do this alone. Don’t let me down , but what he really meant was don’t let me fail.

He’s ushering a mother and her children into the South Tower when he hears someone shouting for him. “Sire!” The knight is young, barely more than a squire, really. But his eyes are wild and he’s panting as he barrels towards Arthur. “Sire! It’s Sir Merlin, he’s approaching the creatures-”

That’s all Arthur needs to hear. That idiot . He nods to the knight, making note to reward him later, after all of this is over. As he turns a corner, he ends up on a small bridge a few stories up, overlooking the front gate. He stops in his tracks as he spots a spot of red making its way towards the approaching army of soul eating creatures. Unarmed, unprotected, not a brain cell in sight. Cursing, Arthur takes off running, sprinting through the castle and shoving aside anyone dumb enough to get in his way.

Gwaine looks like he’s going to try and stop him, obviously concerned over his mental state, but all Arthur has to do is say “Merlin”, and suddenly Gwaine is running at his heels. They pick up each knight as they make their way to Merlin, and all six of them hear Merlin start to scream as they leave the castle. 

Arthur has never run faster in his life.

They burst through the gate, skidding to a halt at the sight before them. Merlin is… he’s floating , there’s no other word for it. His feet hang inches above the ground, his arms outstretched and so taut you can count the muscles under his skin. The glow from his eyes radiates from him, and Arthur has to shield his eyes from the glow from the Gem-

The Gem. Gods, Merlin is using the Gem. He remembers Merlin’s face the first time he held it, the way that he seemed unable to hold it for more than a minute before it pained him. Magnify the power and range of a spell. That’s what he said the Gem did, didn’t he? In the months since that day, Arthur has learned much about Merlin’s powers, and how unusual they are. And one thing he knows is that Merlin’s power is already so much greater than an ordinary sorcerer. How much magic must be pouring out of him right now? Merlin screams again, a heartbreaking cry of pure pain and struggle. Arthur finds he can’t move towards him, a force holding him back out of harm's way. He pushes against it- damn it all Merlin is hurt .

The force vanishes fast enough for Arthur to stumble. He hears the Gem shatter, the light fading with it. The creatures start to vanish- one by one like smoke in the breeze. Merlin’s eyes dull back to blue, and his feet hit the ground, swaying. Arthur takes off running, getting his arms under Merlin just before he can hit the ground.

“Merlin? Merlin!” He lowers him gently, a hand under his head. “Merlin, you idiot, come on!”

Merlin’s eyes are open, staring up above him in an almost blissed out state. Slowly, his eyes drift over to Arthur, and damn it all, the bastard smiles. With his hand on Merlin’s chest, Arthur can feel his shaky exhale… and then nothing. He’s not breathing, he’s not breathing, he’snotbreathing he’snotbreathing - 

“He’s not breathing!” He finally shouts to his knights. Gwaine swears, Lancelot kneels down on Arthur’s other side, and Leon takes control.

“Lay his head down, tilt it back, and breathe into his mouth. You need to breathe for him, Arthur.” Gods bless Leon, ever the voice of reason. Arthur does as he’s told, and he can’t help the twist in his gut as he notices Merlin’s eyes are still open, dull and unseeing. His hands shake as he tilts back Merlin’s chin and forces his blue lips open, slotting his own lips there and taking deep breaths for the both of them. Lancelot’s hand is on Merlin’s chest, watching for any sign that it’s working, but it isn’t. It isn’t working, Merlin isn’t breathing, his heart isn’t beating, he’s dying-

“EMRYS!” Arthur hears pounding footsteps, and the voice of a young knight, a Druid, Mordred he thinks his name is. It takes him a moment to connect ‘Emrys’ to ‘Merlin’, still not used to the idea. He keeps breathing for them both as he feels Mordred drop to his knees next to him, then there’s a huff. “That’s not what he needs.” Then Arthur, King of Camelot, is shoved aside by this boy. He watches him in shock, and out of the corner of his eye spots Percival, and remembers a conversation they had shortly after Merlin’s magic was revealed to them all. He had told Arthur about what he’d heard growing up, about a powerful warlock named Emrys, and how some viewed him as a sort of god. It hits him that many of his new knights likely aren’t serving him, they’re serving Merlin. It’s a crisis he doesn’t have time for right now, so he files it away.

He watches closely, Lancelot’s hand on his arm as if to hold him back, or keep himself from reaching out, as Mordred lays his hands flat on Merlin’s chest, his head tipped back and eyes closed. Everyone is tense, the world gone silent as if the Earth itself is watching. Then, Mordred gasps, and his eyes fly open, burning a brilliant gold. Pure magic flows from his hands, pouring into Merlin’s chest. For several minutes, nothing happens. Light continues to sink into Merlin’s still chest but nothing happens, he’s still dying-

Just when Arthur’s eyes start to burn and his hope starts to die, there’s the sound of dozens of running feet coming from the forest.

An entire community of Druids comes running, called by Mordred’s power, and the knights still hovering around Merlin scramble back to give them room, tugging Arthur with them. The Druids follow Mordred’s example silently, laying hands on Merlin and pouring their magic into him. Those who can’t reach him do the same to those who can, passing their magic down the line to give to their savior. Even through his panic, Arthur can’t help but marvel at the beauty of it.

They all hold their breath and each other. If they lose Merlin, they’ll all lose a part of themselves. And Arthur doesn’t care that the tears are flowing down his face, because Merlin’s head has tipped to the side and he’s looking right at Arthur, his empty eyes reminding him that this is his fault- if he hadn’t pushed Merlin so hard, if he hadn’t put so much pressure on him, if he hadn’t shown him that damned Gem-

After several agonizing minutes, there’s a loud gasp, and Merlin’s back arches, rapid shallow breaths forcing their way in and out of his lungs. His face turns up to the sky, gold shining through his slitted eyes like sunbeams and Arthur gasps too. The Druids don’t stop, pouring every last drop of their magic into Merlin as his breath slowly comes back to him, his eyes slipping shut and his body relaxing. If he knew better, Arthur would say he was asleep, napping peacefully in the afternoon sun.

But he does know better.

Trying to look at least somewhat dignified, Arthur pulls himself off the ground, intending to find Emelin, the leader of the local Druid community. Before he can take a step, a flash of red catches his eye. He kneels down, fingers brushing Merlin’s neckerchief slowly, like it may break. He picks it up, and with some difficulty, ties it around his wrist like a token.

Emelin finds him first, and she raises as she spots him, allowing someone else to take her place by Merlin. “Your Majesty.” She dips her head briefly before fixing him with a stare, half curiosity, half accusation. “I’m curious as to what managed to drain Emrys of all of his magic.”

“Drain his magic?” Arthur’s heart drops. “What does- is that why Mordred-” He stops himself- a king does not stutter, he always knows what to say. He takes a deep breath, clenches and unclenches his fists, pushing down his frustration. “Why would using his magic cause this?”

“Magic is not instantaneous, nor unlimited.” Emelin says patiently, and begins to slowly walk a short distance away from Merlin, Arthur reluctantly following. “Us Druids and sorcerers receive our magic from the Earth. Some can hold more than others at a time, but all of us will run out as we do not create our own magic. We are given our magic from the Earth- Emrys gives his magic to the Earth.” She stops, turning to face Arthur fully, her gaze intense enough to make him want to squirm. “Emrys is the only one who creates his own magic. Magic comes from within him. We can survive without it- Emrys cannot. It is similar to how the body produces blood. When you lose it, it will come back. But if you lose too much…” She gestures back to where Merlin lies, grief radiating from her.

“But- he’s okay now, yes? Your people have given him your magic.” And thank the Gods they did.

“He is stable.” Emelin’s lips press together. “But he needs to regenerate his own magic. Ours does not hold long term, so he will need someone close who can provide him near constant magic while he gains his strength to be able to create his own.” Arthur can tell she’s thinking, debating how to have constant access to Merlin.

“Your people will be well taken care of here.” He says gently. “There are several chambers near Merlin’s available for you, servants at your call, the finest foods and wines- anything you need or desire, I will personally see to it.” Anything for Merlin.

Emelin watches him, looking for something that she doesn’t find, and smiles slowly. “Thank you, Arthur Pendragon. We accept- it is an honor to be able to serve Emrys so intimately.” They hear another Druid call her name, and she begins to step away. “I must get back, but we will speak again soon.” Then, she turns back to him, her smile one of a caring mother, and Arthur can’t help the warmth in his chest. “You’ve done well, Sire. You truly have grown into the king of legends.”

She walks away, and as Arthur watches her return to his near- dead friend, he can’t help but think: you’re wrong. I’ve failed him, and Camelot is nothing without Merlin.

Chapter Text

The hardest part of getting Merlin back up to his room was the knights fighting over who got to carry him there. Before Gwaine and Arthur could start throwing punches instead of insults, Leon swatted them both on the back of the head and gently took Merlin in his arms, making his way towards the castle without waiting for protest or approval, the knights scrambling after him moments later. People stepped aside to let the group through- Arthur at the head, Leon with Merlin behind him, Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan surrounding them, forming a protective circle. Heads were bowed in respect, not only for Arthur, but for Merlin as well. No one could have missed the news that he was the one to save them all. 

The Druids were taken to the three chambers in the same hall as Merlin’s, and three more in the next hall over were reserved for them in case they needed more room. There seems to be at least two Druids in Merlin’s room at any given time. The first day, he needed constant magic transfers just to keep him breathing. Arthur wanted to be in the room, but his distress was beginning to affect the Druids, so Leon gently guided him to his own chambers two halls over. 

“What do we do?” Arthur had looked to Leon, a vulnerability in his eyes that only he and Merlin have seen. “I felt him- Leon, I felt him die.” He was gently forced into a chair, Leon pulling another in front of Arthur so their knees touched.

“We let the Druids do their work. They know best here- I know you like having control, and you haven’t lost it completely. But…” Leon paused. “They’re keeping him alive. We need to trust them to take care of him.”

Arthur had let out a harsh breath, running a hand through his hair harshly enough for Leon to give him a pointed look, though it was weakened by concern. “Why would he- why didn’t he come to us? Doesn’t he know we would have helped him? Doesn’t he…” Doesn’t he trust me?

“Why does Merlin do anything?” Leon let out a breath that was meant to be a chuckle. “To protect you, probably. If he knew what was going to happen… He wouldn’t want you to see it. He wouldn’t want you to stop him.”

“...He knew.” In that moment, Arthur finally understood. “He knew what would happen. He knew he was going to-” He stood quickly, kicking his chair back so hard it tipped over, and began to pace. “He knew . And he still went out there. I never should have shown him that damned Gem. I should have watched him closer. I shouldn’t have…” ‘ Don’t let me down.’ “It’s my fault, Leon. I shouldn’t have pushed him so hard. I should have protected him. I should have-” His spiral was cut short by Leon grabbing him and pulling him close, pushing Arthur’s head into his shoulder and holding him close. Arthur stood tense, but didn’t pull away.

“It’s not your fault, Arthur. You couldn’t have known. Merlin did what he believed was right, and you couldn’t have stopped him once he made up his mind. It’s not your fault.”

Arthur let Leon’s words wash over him, his body slowly relaxing against him. One thought would not leave him alone, and his eyes burned. 

“He didn’t say goodbye. He knew , and he didn’t say goodbye.”

Leon didn’t respond to that, just ran a hand through Arthur’s hair. Neither acknowledged the tears soaking Leon’s neck, or the choked off sobs occasionally filling the room. Leon just held him through it until Arthur wore himself out. He helped him out of his armor, and guided him to bed, pulling the covers over him. Arthur’s eyes fell shut, but he still heard Leon pull a chair to his bedside, still felt the gentle hand brush his hair out of his face.

“Rest, Arthur. You need it.”

—

Now, two days later, Arthur has calmed enough to be able to sit by Merlin’s bedside, dabbing his forehead with a cool rag to fight the slight fever he’s developing. Guais says it’s to be expected with how hard his body is fighting just to stay alive, but Arthur still doesn’t like it. He looks away from the Druid he’s been chatting with to look Merlin over, and is surprised to see his eyes half open for the first time since he… For a moment, Arthur’s heart surges, remembering those same half-open eyes glazed over with death, but they shine with life now. He can’t help but lay a gentle hand on Merlin’s cheek, feeling him weakly lean into it.

“Rest, Merlin. You need it.”

—

“Sorcerer!”

“Devil!”

“Enchanter!”

Merlin struggles as he’s led to the field just outside the gates by four guards, but it’s useless. He’s shoved roughly to the ground, a guard at each limb before he can even think to stand. They start tying ropes to his wrists and ankles, and he twists his head, locking eyes with his friends who are in their full knight’s gear.

“Gwaine! Elyan! Help me!”

The look in their eyes is cold as all five of the knights say in unison: “You will receive no help from us, sorcerer.”

The ropes are tied off, and he finally follows them with his eyes, seeing that each is tied to a separate horse.

He’s to be drawn and quartered.

He struggles harder now, the shouts of the crowd growing louder and louder in his ears. Arthur steps over him, handing over the heated brands to each guard. Merlin looks up at him, a sob building in his chest.

“Arthur. Please, don’t do this!”

Arthur looks down at him, and the look of sheer disappointment on his face is like a knife to Merlin’s heart. “You let me down.”

A nod from Arthur, and the horses take off in different directions. Merlin’s limbs stretch, he’s being pulled apart, he’s screaming but no sound comes out. His magic responds to his panic, lashing out and attempting to sever the ropes. It’s too late, his arms start to tear, he’s going to die, he’s dying, he’s-

A flash of golden light, and Merlin sucks in a breath. He’s disoriented, vision so blurred he can only make out vague shapes. Is he dead? Is he alive? If he’s alive, he won’t be for long. It’s like Percival is sitting on his chest, not allowing him to take in any air. He beats at his chest, trying to find what’s stopping his lungs from expanding. Strong hands grab his own, pulling them away from his chest. His magic tries to lash out and protect him, but all he can manage is a brief spark before he’s gasping again, yanking on the hands in his because he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t-

Suddenly, he’s being pulled upright, his face resting on a strong chest. His airway opens enough for him to take in a breath of sweet air, and he weakly beats his fist on the arms holding him, trying to communicate in some way: ‘ help me’.

“I know.” He feels the vibrations under his cheek as someone speaks, and he’s relieved to understand them. “I know, it’s okay Merls, you’ll be okay.” Lancelot, his mind supplies. Lancelot has him. A sob slips out and he tries his damndest to bring his arms up around his friend, needing the contact, because he’s dying and he doesn’t want to be alone.

Lancelot shifts him so he’s sitting on his lap, head tucked in the divet between Lancelot’s shoulder and neck, a hand gently rubbing his back. Despite the comforting hold, Lancelot sounds panicked as he calls for someone. A person-like-shape rushes to the bed, and his shirt is being lifted, a hand on his chest, and nonono , it’s too much, the pressure is too much. He tries to pull away, and when that doesn’t work, his magic tries to push them away instead. His eyes flash, but nothing more comes from his efforts besides a choked noise. 

“Don’t use your magic, Merlin.” Lancelot’s voice shakes. “Stop. You’re making it worse.” He then says something to the fuzzy person, but Merlin doesn’t bother listening, instead clawing at his throat as if tearing it open will let the air in. Lancelot once again pulls his hands away from him, lips touching Merlin’s ear as he whispers reassurances to him, telling him he’ll be okay, help is coming.

The next person rushes into the room, and this one feels familiar, somehow. He can’t see, his vision is turning black, but he jerks when another hand is on his chest. He can’t do this, he’s going to die if they keep touching his chest. He hears the name Mordred, and then Lancelot is saying something about magic and his back, and then hands are on his shoulder-blades, up under his shirt, and before he can think power surges into him, and he gasps, sucking in breath after breath until the darkness fades. Panting, he melts into Lancelot, trusting him to take care of him. He’s adjusted again, this time half lying, leaning back against Lancelot’s chest. He closes his eyes, and just before sleep claims him, a soft hand brushes back his hair.

“You are safe, Emrys. You are safe.”

—

When he next wakes, it’s in different arms. Rougher, tighter, wider. He’s lying on his side, pressed against Gwaine, an arm draped across his chest and his head tucked into his shoulder. A calloused hand runs up and down his arm, silently comforting them both. He shifts slightly, just to let Gwaine know he’s awake. He’s just barely able to open his eyes to see Gwaine watching him closely, then smile widely. His eyes have deep bags, his beard is untidy, and his hair is unkempt. Merlin feels a stab of guilt, knowing that Gwaine must have been here taking care of him for gods know how long. Gwaine doesn’t seem to care, though, and he squeezes Merlin gently.

“Hey there. How’re you feeling?”

Merlin couldn’t answer if he wanted to. His eyes slip shut again, and he tips his nose down into Gwaine’s neck, feeling him chuckle in response.

“Get some sleep. I’ve got you.”

—

“No no, he doesn’t like that there. Yes, I know it doesn’t make sense to keep papers on the floor next to the desk, but he has some weird system and will not be happy if it is disturbed.”

Merlin listens to Elyan’s voice coming from the chair next to him, a bit confused. Firstly, because even though he’s feeling a bit better now, a bit more awake, he’s still not sure what’s going on. Secondly, because he’s fairly certain he’s never mentioned to anyone how he keeps his desk organized (or more accurately, unorganized) or why. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes, instead focusing on the warm hand holding his own, a thumb tracing slow circles on his wrist, and listens to the voice of his friend directing the servants cleaning his room, wondering how he knows Merlin so well.

—

“I understand that this is a magical problem. However, he is still ill and therefore we, the physicians , need to tend to him.”

“Guenivere!” Gaius’s voice is a mix of shock, disapproval, and a touch of amusement. 

“Gaius!” Gwen shoots back in the same tone, and Merlin smiles slightly, his lips cracking and making him wince. Silence falls at the noice, and he pries his eyes open to see Gwen hovering over him, Gaius behind her with three other people he doesn’t recognize. When she turns to them, Merlin can’t see her face, but he can hear the triumphant smile on it when she says “See! He simply needed some good old fashioned tender loving care.”

Gaius sputters out apologies as Gwen sits on the bed next to Merlin, her smile and tone softening and she washes his brow with a cool cloth. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

Merlin blinks up at her. He’s not sure that he knows, honestly. His head hurts, his chest aches, he’s feverish, and exhaustion is threatening to pull him under again. But more than that, he feels… empty, somehow. Hollow. Gwen seems to understand that he isn’t up for answering, and instead focuses on coaxing him into taking a sip of water. The task seems to take the last of the little energy he had, and his head falls back on the pillow. As his eyes slip shut, he feels Gaius’s hand cup his cheek, tenderly stroking his hair.

“Sleep well, my boy.”

—

“...and the dragon, with its magnificent wings and glowing eyes, took to the sky. Sir Wymond, having spared the life of the beast, was welcomed home a hero. For it takes true bravery to face a beast, and see a life worth saving.”

Merlin blinks his eyes open, happy to find it less difficult than before. Percival is sitting on the floor next to his bed, facing away from him to lean against it. A book is resting in his lap, and he flips through it, looking for a new story. His voice is calm and soft. Merlin is curious as to why he’s here, reading to him as he sleeps, instead of doing something interesting. He won’t complain, though. Instead, he smiles at the back of Percival’s head, and listens to the next tale.

—

Merlin gasps awake, though thankfully this time he can still breathe. The nightmare was confusing- pyres turning to smoke creatures, unraveling him like a ragdoll. But that didn’t make it any less terrifying. His eyes scan the room wildly, looking for something to anchor onto, something to confirm that he’s safe. He feels a weight on the bed next to him, and when he looks, he finds Leon kneeling there, concern etched on his face. 

“Eyas.” Merlin visibly relaxes a little at the nickname, and though he’d deny it if asked, Merlin reaches for him. Leon pulls Merlin close, laying back against the headboard so he can curl up next to him. He finally has enough strength to move a little, and he uses it to reach up and grab onto Leon, getting a hand on the back of his neck in response. 

“Bad dream?” Merlin nods, and Leon doesn’t say anything for a long time, just letting Merlin calm himself, likely knowing he isn’t in any state to talk about it. Just when Merlin considers going back to sleep, Leon speaks. “You know we love you, yes?” That makes Merlin look up at him in confusion. He does know that. He does. He does . (So why is he having to convince himself that he does?) Leon must see the doubt, because his eyes squint with hurt. He leans down and kisses Merlin’s hair, likely to hide the emotion. “I’ll save the lecture for when you’re well. For now, just sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

Safe with Leon, Merlin sleeps.

—

“‘thur?” Merlin hasn’t even opened his eyes yet, but it’s like he can feel Arthur next to him, watching him closely. It takes a few tries to convince his eyes to open, but when they finally do, he finds Arthur’s face inches from his own. They both blush, and Arthur pulls away, clearing his throat.

“I, um. Wasn’t sure if you were actually awake.” He glances away, then back to Merlin. “Are you up to drinking something?”

Merlin nods, his own flush fading. His throat is so dry, he’s not sure he could speak much like this. Instead of a glass of water as expected, Arthur comes back holding a lightly steaming bowl, scented strongly with herbs. He sits at the edge of the bed carefully after helping Merlin sit up, and holds the bowl to Merlin’s lips. “Drink. Emelin says it should help. With what, I’m not sure. But I’ve learned to do as she says without question.”

“Emelin?” That is… a lot to take in, honestly. Still, Merlin sips, and it does help- his throat isn’t nearly as sore, he feels more awake, and the ache deep in his bones is dulled slightly. By the time Arthur pulls the now-half-full bowl away, he’s cracking his neck, lightly stretching his shoulders. “How long was I out?”

“A bit over a fortnight.” Arthur’s voice is tight.

Merlin blinks. He was asleep for two weeks? Internally, he groans. He’s going to have so much work to do. But first- “Did it work?”

“Did it work?” Arthur echoes, looking shocked. “By ‘it’, do you mean using the Gem to destroy the creatures, killing yourself in the process?” Merlin nods, and Arthur gets that look on his face that means he’s genuinely considering strangling him. “Yes, Merlin. Yes, it worked. All. Of. It.”

Huh. So he did die, then. He flexes his fingers, blinks a few times, and takes a deep breath. Well, he certainly isn’t dead anymore. Time to get back to work. He sits up (and no, he does not groan, he simply makes a noise as he exhales), and is about to try and swing his legs over the bed, when he’s pushed back down.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Arthur leans over him, a bit menacingly.

“Work?” It wasn’t meant to be a question. “You said I’ve been out two weeks-” He pauses to clear his throat, the sting coming back and his breath getting a bit short. Odd. “I have much to catch up on.”

“No you don’t. You don’t have anything to catch up on. You're not doing any work, you’re going to stay right there until I say so.” 

Merlin looks up at him, shocked. “Are you sacking me?”

“I should.” Arthur crosses his arms over his chest, but must see the heartbreak on Merlin’s face, because he sighs. “No, idiot. But you died , not a moon ago. You will not be returning to work anytime soon. Especially anything requiring magic.”

Merlin’s heart drops. Forced bedrest he can deal with- he has plenty of practice of sneaking out of bed. But Arthur is banning him from using his magic? Why? Did he mess up that badly? “But- you said it worked? That they’re gone?”

“Yes.” Arthur blinks. “Yes, you killed them.”

“Then why can’t I use my magic, Sire? What did I do wrong?”

Arthur’s face goes pale, and Merlin vaguely wonders if he should call Gaius. Then Arthur unclenches his jaw. “Listen to me, Merlin.” His voice is dangerously low, holding back anger. At what, Merlin isn’t sure. “You can’t use your magic because you drained all of yours in your little stunt. All of it. You haven’t fully recovered yet, you’re still rebuilding your magic. If you drain it again…” He exhales hard. “You can’t use it until you’re fully recovered. Okay? And if you ever imply that I would ban you from using magic, I will fetch Gwen and tell her to smack some sense into you. She will not hold back, as you well know.”

Merlin is quiet, processing this. He had expected to die while taking down the creatures, but he thought it was because they would take his life-force. Though, he supposes since his life-force is magic, he wasn’t wrong about that. He gently prods at his magic, realizing that yes, it doesn’t feel as strong as before. He didn’t realize it was possible to drain his magic like that. But something doesn’t add up.

“If I truly drained my magic, then how… how am I alive?”

“You have Sir Mordred to thank for that.” Arthur nudges him to scoot over, and sits next to him in bed. “He gave you his magic, and called for the rest of the Druids. They’ve been taking turns giving you their magic. Three different communities have come so far, and I hear rumors that more are on their way. It’s almost like you’re their god or something.” The last part is said teasingly, and earns Arthur a bump from his shoulder. Still, something is bothering him.

“Are they okay? I mean- I know our magic works differently, but they didn’t need to do that, it must have been exhausting, why would they-” Arthur shuts him up by slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Because they care for you, Merlin. They wanted to help. They’re just fine, they’ve been taking turns. I actually had to break up a fight between a few Druids over who could give you their magic next.” The last bit is said quietly, like he’s worried they could be overheard, but with amusement. He removes his hand slowly, like he suspects Merlin may say something he deems stupid again.

“This is… a lot.” Merlin exhales, and his inhale is a bit shorter. Arthur notices instantly, and he calls out to someone that Merlin doesn’t recognize. A young Druid girl approaches, one that his mind says he should know, and he watches her bite her lip and wring her hands.

“May I give you some of my magic, Emrys?” Her voice is small, anxious, and Merlin sits up a bit, worried.

“I- yes, thank you, that is very kind.” He watches her cautiously, wondering if this is simply Emrys Anxiety, as he’s started to refer to it, or something more.

The girl seems to relax slightly at his praise, but still averts her eyes, blushing. Arthur leans over to whisper in his ear. “Apparently at some point, while Lancelot was here, you pulled away from her in a panic.”

Oh. Oh Goddess, why did it have to be this girl, basically a child? He reaches out, gently tilting her chin up, glad that mind-speak doesn’t use any of his magic.

I’m very sorry for that. I was… in a dream, in a way. I am honored to be in your care. Thank you.

The girl watches him, letting his words sink into her mind, before smiling at him, climbing onto the bed. He only has a moment to wonder why such a young girl has been chosen to provide him with magic- surely, she can’t have enough to have excess to give? Then her hand is on his chest, and her eyes glow, and Goddess , the power pushed into him makes him gasp, his eyes fluttering shut. By the time she finishes, Merlin’s chest feels the clearest it’s been since he woke, and a comfortable fatigue has washed over him.

You’re incredibly powerful. He smiles at her. You could teach me a thing or two. He bites back a laugh at her wide eyes.

Thank you, Emrys. Even her mindspeak sounds excited. She smiles back at him, climbing off the bed. Please let me know if you need more. She taps her temple with a small grin, and Merlin grins back. As she turns to leave, Merlin calls to her.

What is your name?

Hertha, my Lord.

With a small bow of the head to Merlin, then Arthur as an afterthought, Hertha leaves the room. Once she’s gone Merlin goes boneless, accidently sinking into Arthur. He tries to pull away, but Arthur just pulls him back to him.

“Get comfortable. You need to sleep after getting that much magic.” Merlin wonders how he knows that, how often he’s come to check on him.

“Y’don’t have to stay.” Merlin yawns, but relents, laying next to Arthur. The company warms him, makes him feel safe and cared for, but he doesn’t think he’s earned it.

“I know.” Arthur says quietly, pulling the blankets up over them both. “I want to.”

Merlin is sure he imagines the lips on his temple as he falls asleep.

—

A week later, Merlin sits on his bed, reading a book Emelin found for him about herbs and their magical properties. He still hasn’t been able to use magic, and hasn’t except for a few accidents after nightmares. It makes him restless, wanting nothing more than to get up and cast spell after spell, run through the forest and let it sing to him, let it dance under his bare feet. Instead, he’s stuck in bed, and very vocal in his complaints about it.

He looks up as the door opens, expecting a Druid. He only needs magic transfers once or twice a day- it’s more of a precaution at this point, and he thinks he can go without it, but he doesn’t want to offend the Druids who traveled so far just to help him heal. He automatically starts to sit up more, to give the Druids easier access to him, but when he looks up he finds his friends file in instead.

Silently, they surround him on the bed. Lancelot and Gwaine sit side by side on the foot of his bed; Percival sits on the floor next to the middle of the bed, Elyan pulling up a chair across from him; Leon sets a chair next to Percival for himself, Arthur’s chair next to Elyan. Not a word is said, and Merlin closes his book slowly, giving them a cautious look.

“Is everything alright?” There’s a few beats of silence, enough for Merlin to start to fidget. Leon sighs, taking the book from him and setting it on the table next to his bed.

“No, I don’t think so.” Leon’s voice is quiet, but firm. Merlin has the distinct feeling of being scolded. “We need to talk about what happened.”

“Oh.” Merlin tilts his head at him, confused. “I thought we already did that? I mean, Arthur-” he jerks his head towards him, “already explained. It worked, the creatures are gone. I’ve actually been trying to think up names for them, since I couldn’t find a record of them anywhere. I doubt they’ll return, but in case they do, they should be-” Arthur’s hand on his arm is enough to cut off his thought stream.

“No, Merlin. That’s not what Leon meant.” Merlin watches him, waiting. If they aren’t wanting information on the creatures, then why are they here?

“Then- what can I do for you, Sire?” A year ago, sarcasm would be dripping from the words, making the knights hide chuckles behind coughs. Now, it’s sincere, making Gwaine wince.

“Stop that.” Arthur unsuccessfully holds back a grimace. “That’s the issue. You haven’t been yourself in months. Something happened, didn’t it?” 

“What do you mean I haven’t been-” 

Lancelot cuts him off. “You’ve been distant, we’ve barely seen you in months, you’re not taking care of yourself- that much is obvious just by looking at you. You treat Arthur differently, you’re jumpy… Something happened, and we want to know what.”

“I- yeah? I got a job.” He laughs a little, but it’s forced. “I got busy, we all did. I’m not sure what-”

“Do you know you talk in your sleep?” The quiet, grave tone in Gwaine’s voice shocks all of them. “Someone has been hurting you. Multiple people.” Merlin knows he can’t deny that, so he turns his face away, but all that manages to do is make him look at Elyan.

“Merlin?” The hurt in his voice is reflected in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“...It’s not so bad anymore.” He shrugs, taking great interest in the blankets in his lap, unable to look any of them in the eye. “I could handle it. It wasn’t their fault, they were afraid and needed someone to blame for it.”

“Who?” Arthur’s voice is murderous. “I want names.”

Merlin laughs. “You can’t arrest half of the castle, Sire. Not to mention the lower town.” He isn’t sure why he’s shocked at the rage in his friends’ eyes, so he sighs. “Look. They’ve stopped, alright? They know now, that I haven’t enchanted you, and that I’m not planning on taking over Camelot. It was… a lot, at the time. But retaliating would only make it worse. For me, for you, and for other magic users. So I hid it. I’m sorry you found out, but I assure you, I’m alright.”

“You’re not.” Lancelot swallows hard. “That explains why you’ve been jumpy, but not why you’ve pulled away from us.”

“ I’m not the one that pulled away, Lance.” Hurt slips into his voice for the first time, and he clears his throat to bury it. “I get it, I’m not around anymore, now that I’m not Arthur’s servant…” There’s more to it, and Leon knows it, because he nudges him, pushing him to continue, so he sighs. Might as well get this over with. “I get it, okay? You don’t have to- I appreciate that we’re still friends, it means… more than you can possibly know. But I was just a servant. I was convenient because I was there . And now that I’m not…” He shrugs. “I get it.”

The silence is heavy enough to make him freeze, stuck in this interrogation no matter how much he wants to leave. Then, he’s cuffed over the head. “Hey!” He shoots Leon a weak glare. “The hell was that for?”

“Because you’re being an idiot.” Arthur cuts in, ignoring Leon calling his name in a warning tone. “You were never ‘just a servant’, how dare you? Has everything we’ve been through meant nothing? The trust I give you, the vulnerability? How could you think-”

“Then why have you been ignoring me?” Merlin shoots back, and this, this is familiar. This anger, this hopelessness that lashes out because Arthur is just as infuriating as always. “I’m trying , okay? I’m trying to prove myself, I’m trying to be useful, but it isn’t easy when no one seems to trust me. All I’m good for now is my magic, and that’s fine, that’s the price I have to pay and I accept it, but can you please, please just listen for once in your goddamned life! I don’t want to let you down, I’m doing all that I can. You think I’m not taking care of myself? I don’t have time , and what’s the use anyway? I don’t deserve it. You think I’ve been distant? Maybe I am. But how can you blame me? You’re never there. And I know I can’t complain, I know my place. I know that I’m not to be given help, or offered protection. I understand. But selfish as it is, it hurts. There are times when I want my old life back because this hurts so much, watching the lot of you day after day and knowing I can’t have that anymore! ” His eyes burn, but he can’t stop. The dam has burst and he can’t hold it back. “At least before, I had support. I fought and I lied and it was hard but I had you to come back to every day, and it was worth it. Now, there’s nothing. There’s nothing for me anymore… I lived my whole life in the shadows, and now the light burns. I can’t take it, but there’s nothing I can do. So please, please stop this. I know I’m not good enough, I know I deserve this, and just when I’m able to start accepting this, you lot come in and hold me and act like everything is okay when it’s not! It’s not, it never will be, so just- just leave me alone. If I’m to live like this, then let me go.”

He finally lets out a deep breath, eyes shutting despite the fact that he’s still looking down. He waits, expecting to hear shuffling as they stand, to feel the cold air as he’s left alone. Instead, a weight lands on the bed next to him and he’s roughly pulled against someone. Not just someone- he’d recognize Arthur’s warmth anywhere. A face is pressed to his hair, the chest he’s pressed against hitches, and Merlin realizes that Arthur is crying . In all the years they’ve known each other, Merlin can count on one hand the amount of times he’s seen Arthur so much as tear up. Now, he’s holding back sobs.

“You damn idiot. You-” Arthur’s voice shakes, and a tear lands in Merlin’s hair. “You’re not useless. You’re not- you don’t let me down. You’ve never let me down. I’m so, so sorry I’ve made you feel this way. You’re not…” He seems to not know what to say, but then the bed shifts from his other side, and a hand is laid on his back.

“Merlin. Eyas… You’re not useless. And you don’t need to be useful to be valuable , okay? I’m not sure how these ideas got in your head, if they’re your own words or someone else’s. But you’re wrong. You aren’t alone, Merlin. Okay? You have us. Always, you have us. You’re worth so much more than you realize. And I promise, we’re going to do a better job of showing you that. But you need to tell us these things. Preferably without waiting a year to do so. If you want things to change, we will change them.” Arthur nods quickly at this, his grip not loosening once. Leon rubs his back. “We want you to be happy. And we want you with us. We want…”

Gwaine cuts in, and his voice is thick. “We want our Merlin back.”

That does it for Merlin. He breaks, pressing into Arthur as hard as he can, a sob breaking loose from his chest. The bed shifts again, and more hands are placed on him, and the love they push into him is better than any magic could be. He’s never shushed, just allowed to let out all the pain and loneliness and grief for his old life. Reassurances are whispered to him, reminding him that he’s loved and valued, that he can always ask for help, that he will always have protection. He’s grateful that he doesn’t need to explain why didn’t ask for help with the creatures, the knights connecting the dots quickly. His sobs turn to quiet tears, then to exhausted, hitching breaths. He’s set down on the bed, but never let go. Arthur never leaves his side- Merlin distantly is aware of the role shift between them, of Arthur’s arms protectively around him, keeping him safe from harm.

For the first time since he collapsed, he’s able to start to heal.

—

Things change after that.

Merlin takes another month for his magic to fully recover. When he’s declared healed by Emelin and Gauis, a feast is planned for the dozens of Druids still residing in the castle, a thanksgiving for all of those who came to his aid for these past two months. Merlin thanks each of them individually, and though the fawning makes him uncomfortable, it’s important for them to know how grateful he is, and to see him as one of them. When he sees Hertha, he smiles, pulling her aside to sit on the floor with her, preferring to be on her level. She is only 12, after all.

“Hertha. I want to thank you for caring for me while I was hurt. You helped save my life, you know. I wouldn't be here without you.” As expected, Hertha blushes at the praise, but Merlins is surprised when she grins, and quickly launches at him to embrace him. He laughs, holding her back. Thank you , he says in her mind.

She pulls back, that same grin on her face. It is an honor, Emrys.

Then, he brings up what he really wanted to talk to her about. He and Arthur had had a long conversation about this, seeking out Gaius, the Round Table, and Emelin for advice- they received enthusiastic approval from all. 

“I would like to discuss something with you, if you’re interested?” Merlin smiles at Hertha’s excited nod as she leans towards him. “I am going to be starting a school here at the castle, to teach magic to those who want to learn, or simply strengthen their skills. I was wondering if you would like to attend.”

Surprisingly, Hertha hesitates. “I am honored, Emrys. But… I cannot leave my people. They need me.” Merlin’s eyes soften at that. He understands that feeling of duty.

“You wouldn’t need to. You can come anytime- classes will be three days a week, but consistent attendance is not required. You may come and go as you please.”

Hertha’s enthusiasm returns. “Yes! I mean, yes, thank you, Emrys. I would love to attend.” She bows her head slightly in respect, then looks back at him. “I will have to ask my mother first.”

“She already knows.” Merlin wasn’t surprised to learn that Emelin is Hertha’s mother- they share a fire in their hearts. “She will let you know when classes start. She’ll even help me some days.” Then he leans towards her, dropping his voice conspiratorially. “And, if you are up for it, I may need an assistant occasionally.” He laughs as her eyes widen, and her excited acceptance. He leads her back to her people, bowing his head at them before he makes his way back to his seat at Arthur’s side. It’s another change, one he didn’t ask for but is grateful for. As Arthur toasts the Druids, Merlin sends a message to them all.

Thank you, my saviors.

—

“I told you we could bring George to do those things.” Arthur says as Merlin readies the horses, earning a scowl.

“I am not putting up with George for five days. He’s gone from criticizing my every move to damn near worshiping me, it’s exhausting.”

“Now you know how I feel.” Arthur laughs as he mounts his horse. This is better. Hunts haven’t been the same without Merlin- they haven’t gone on one in months, the appeal lost. Now, he’s actually looking forward to it, and he knows the knights are too. 

They leave mid morning, and take a leisurely pace. This is technically a hunt, but Arthur was sure to order enough provisions to not truly need to catch much game, instead being able to focus on spending time with his men. He glances over at Merlin, who is chatting with Elyan, pointing out different plants and what they can be used for. He hasn’t seen Merlin this carefree, this happy, in months, and he feels a twinge of guilt. It took Merlin literally dying for them to realize how badly he was suffering. Thankfully, a few days after Merlin’s confession, they all sat down again to talk about everything that’s been happening- the threats, the attacks, how he’s felt this whole time, and what made him fall so far from them. They reassured him that yes, they care for him and no, he isn’t only here for his magic. They also made him promise to come to them next time he started to feel this way- after all, they can’t help him if they don’t know something is wrong.

They make camp in the late afternoon near a small river, taking a swim before dinner. Arthur thinks it’s cheating for Merlin to send a wave of water over him with his magic, but he’s out-voted on that one. (No, he does not pout, he just frowns very king-like.) They share the tasks needed to make dinner, and enjoy their stew around the fire. Arthur is sitting against a tree a bit away from the group, enjoying watching his men, when he feels Merlin sit next to him, pressed shoulder to shoulder.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Arthur smiles at him. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes.” He sounds so grateful, and Arthur is reminded of how often Merlin complained about hunts before- his honesty is strange, but nice. “It’s nice to be back out in nature.” He wiggles his bare feet, covered in dirt. Leon had scolded him for it, but Merlin just shrugged, saying he enjoyed the magic under his feet. None of them understood that, and therefore couldn’t argue.

“We’ll need to do this more often then.” Arthur unclips his sword from his waist and sets it next to them- despite the wards around their camp, he feels vulnerable without Excalibur on him. Merlin watches, then tilts his head, frowning a little, and tugs the sword close.

“Is this… mine?” He runs his hand over the red fabric tied to the hilt. It’s Merlin’s neckerchief- the one he dropped that day four months ago. Arthur had worn it on his wrist the entire time Merlin was recovering. Then, before Merlin could have a chance to notice, he had put it on Excalibur. He isn’t sure why, but he couldn’t bring himself to give it back.

“Not anymore.” Arthur clears his throat. “Seems only fair for me to have a favor from you, considering you have one from me.” He nods towards Merlin’s chest, where he knows under his shirt lies a necklace with Arthut’s mother’s sigil.

Merlin smiles, ear to ridiculously large ear, and leans his head on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Yes, it’s only fair.”

Arthur closes his eyes, leaning his head back on Merlin’s, hooking their little fingers together.

“It’s good to have you back.” He whispers. “Idiot.”

“Clotpole.”

“Dollophead.”

Arthur smiles. He has his Merlin back. All is well.