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Chapter Text

"Ah, Merlin," Arthur said, looking up from his desk. "I expect you have my speech ready for tomorrow?"

Merlin nodded and approached the desk. He bowed his head as he put the scroll down then kept it bowed before moving back and standing in front of him.

Arthur, immediately, was suspicious.

"Merlin? Is something the matter?"

Merlin didn't answer, just keeping his head down.

"Merlin?" Arthur stood up, moving from his desk.

When he stopped in front of him, Merlin finally raised his head.

His eyes were puffy, face a mess of tears, lips wobbling and cheeks red.

"What happened?" Arthur demanded, dread settling in his insides. "Did something happen to Gwen?"

Merlin minutely shook his head.

"Gaius?"

He shook his head again.

"Gwaine? Lancelot? Any of the knights?"

Another shake.

Arthur paused for a second, thinking. "Your mother?"

Merlin closed his eyes and shook his head once more.

Suddenly, a sob escaped and Merlin bit down hard on his bottom lip, stifling the others.

Arthur was now really concerned. He had rarely seen Merlin act this way before.

"Merlin. What happened?" he ordered, using the authoritative voice he used in the throne room as king.

Merlin opened his eyes. He stared at Arthur, his face scrunching into an even more devastated look.

Arthur waited.

He knew Merlin. He knew that the man could ramble endlessly, talking Arthur's ear and sanity off. So him struggling to get the words out must mean that it was important. And most likely, not good.

Merlin's bottom lip trembled and something passed in his eyes. For a moment, Arthur thought he was going to say "Nothing" then turn and walk out the door while hiding his sobs.

But then Merlin spoke, and the words were far far worse.

"I'm a sorcerer."

His voice was small and incredibly shaky. Arthur could barely hear it.

"I have magic." He shook as he said it. "I was born with it."

He looked at Arthur in the eyes and they were glowing gold.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, almost mouthing the words.

Arthur stopped.

He moved back from Merlin. The back of his legs bumped against the desk. He swayed and leaned against it for support.

"I use it for you, Arthur," Merlin continued, his eyes turning blue again. "Only for you. Only to protect you. To save your life."

It was like he had been submerged in water. Everything felt numb. Everything felt distant.

There was blood rushing loudly in his ears and Arthur wondered if Merlin was joking. But then he saw the face streaked with a hundred tears, devastation and fear written all over it, and he knew he was telling the truth.

Arthur felt dizzy.

Merlin? Magic? The thought was unbelievable but at the same time, the truest thing in the world. Everything fell into place now. Every little oddity in his life was now falling in place like a perfect puzzle, cleanly and tidily shining in his head.

Then, the whole puzzle crashed down, rumbling and falling like an avalanche, taking its memories of companionship and trust with it. The dam broke and the metaphorical water around him drained, leaving only anger at the man he had thought to be his friend.

"Leave," Arthur croaked. He was surprised he could even say a word.

A breath sounded in front of him followed by light footsteps.

"Camelot."

The footsteps stopped.

"Leave Camelot." Merlin stared at him with confusion. "Leave Camelot. Never come back. Or else you will be killed."

Realisation dawned and Merlin's face scrunched into despair again. "I can't," he said helplessly. "That would mean leaving your side, I won't."

Arthur closed his eyes and cast his face up to the ceiling, breathing in and out slowly. "You have magic?"

Only a second of hesitation passed before Merlin uttered a quiet, "Yes."

"You know its punishment?"

"Yes."

"You've lived in Camelot for ten years?"

"Yes."

"And you joined the court. Became my— my manservant?" At that, Arthur looked back down, opening his eyes and directing it at his servant.

"Yes," Merlin replied again quietly. "I've never used it to hurt you though. I've only used it to save your life. Multiple times. I don't want the throne or any place in the high court. I never wanted that. I just— I just want your friendship."

Arthur's emotionless front wavered. "You had my friendship."

At the use of past tense, Merlin's face fell further.

"Leave."

"I can't."

"Get out."

"I can't."

"Merlin," Arthur warned.

"Arthur." Merlin told him, "I can't."

Arthur breathed through his nose, then out through his mouth. "Merlin of Ealdor, you are hereby banished from Camelot—"

"I told you, I can't leave—"

"—if you don't leave before sundown—"

"—I won't leave, that's not going to happen—"

"—or if you return to Camelot—"

"—I have to stay with you, it's not just about myself—"

"—you will be burnt at the pyre immediately—"

"—it is our destiny, and I have to protect y—"

"MERLIN, FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, WILL YOU JUST LISTEN TO ME!" Arthur charged forward and pushed him harshly, making him bump hard against the floor and slump to the ground.

He looked up at Arthur with fear in his eyes, and even more tears pooling in them, but all Arthur could feel was rage.

"You have betrayed me," he yelled. "You betrayed Camelot! You betrayed everyone!"

He felt manic with hurt and anger.

"You fooled everyone and succeeded for ten years. Ten years!"

He lashed out and kicked the door instead of Merlin.

"I thought of you as a friend. Trusted you more than I have anyone else in my life!"

His vision blurred with tears and Arthur hurried to rub his eyes to get rid of them.

"It is only those years that are holding me back from killing you right this instant. I'm risking everything, everything my father built, everything my kingdom stands on, all the laws, all the people, just for you."

He swiped at his eyes again.

"So take it. Take the chance and go. Leave. Stay in Ealdor, I won't send anyone after you. Don't come back."

Merlin was shaking now, his eyes shining before they released more tears.

"I can't," he said again. His voice was quiet, but fearful determination was infused in every word. "I can't leave you."

Anger boiled and raged, rearing inside him again. His face twisted into a furious expression and he kicked, his foot smashing down on the wood of the door above him and throwing it open.

Merlin flinched. Arthur grabbed his wrist and pulled him up roughly, not waiting for him to gain his footing before storming through the hallways.

Merlin, wisely, kept his mouth shut, albeit some whimpers and soft noises of stifled sobs came out.

He dragged him through the hallways, ignoring the guards, knights, nobles, and other servants.

They bumped into Gwaine along the way, but Arthur ignored him, barging on.

"What's going on?" he heard Gwaine call. "Where are you taking Merlin?"

He didn't reply, continuing to drag the stumbling man down a flight of stairs.

Merlin tripped, but Arthur didn't falter, wrenching him up again and not paying any attention to his pained gasp.

"Arthur, you're hurting him," Gwaine said, running to follow them. "Let him go, he can walk to wherever it is you're going by himself."

Arthur continued, ignoring him, dragging Merlin on.

Blood was rushing in his ears again. He wasn't even paying full attention to where he was going. He let his legs carry on, trusting them to lead him to his destination.

Finally, they arrived at the dungeons. The guards stationed at the entrance stood up upon seeing him.

"My lord?"

"Stay there and don't move!" he barked, going on until he stopped at the most isolated area of the dungeons. He opened one up, swinging the door wide open. He yanked Merlin forward then let go.

Merlin toppled to the ground in front of the cell. He cast his eyes up at him while minutely trembling.

"You have two choices," Arthur hissed. "Only the two. Leave and never come back, or get inside the cell and die."

Gwaine put a hand on his shoulder. "Arthur, this is unnecessary. Whatever he did or said isn't bad enough to warrant this."

"You stay out of this, Gwaine!" He jerked his hand off. He must have sounded really angry because Gwaine didn't say anything more. "Choose," he snapped at Merlin.

Merlin was crying. Softly, silently, heartbroken and scared. He was a mess and was subconsciously rubbing his wrist where Arthur had clutched in an iron grip, dragging him out here.

He had to choose the sensible option. Though he didn't always show, Merlin was clever. After all, he had hidden one of the worst secrets ever for ten years.

He would leave. He had to. Arthur didn't know how he would do it, standing on a balcony above him, decreeing the word then watching his friend scream as he was burnt to death.

No. He couldn't. Even if his closest friend did betray him in the worst way.

Merlin slowly stood. He glanced briefly at Gwaine but turned his gaze back at him.

The two met eyes, blue on blue. As they had done many times before, walking into danger, walking into battle, walking into situations where there was a very real possibility that both of them could die, and they did that together.

But this time, Merlin turned away and took two steps forward, right into the dungeon, alone.

Arthur yelled out in boiling frustration as he slammed the door closed. It rattled and bounced back open with the force, and Arthur slammed it back closed again.

He peered through the bars, his glare meeting Merlin's guilty and saddened gaze. "I'm sorry," the man said. "Between the choice of either leaving you alone willingly or dying, I will always choose the latter."

Damn him. Arthur wanted to scream.

"I told you before."

Arthur turned away from his wounded look.

"I'm happy to be your servant till the day I die."

He couldn't take hearing any more.

Arthur turned and left. He hadn't locked the door. He wasn't going to. He didn't need to. Part of him hoped, but he knew it wouldn't happen.

Merlin would stay in the cell and wouldn't try to escape despite the unlocked door.

Chapter Text

Merlin collapsed to the ground.

His back pressed against the wall as he hugged himself. He stared blankly at the grime-covered dungeon floor in front of him.

"What was that about?" Gwaine asked.

Merlin didn't reply.

"What happened?" Gwaine opened the unlocked cell and stepped in. "Why is Arthur bent on murdering you?"

"He's not going to murder me. He's going to kill me."

"Same thing?"

"I'm going to be punished, not run through by a sword." Merlin stifled a sob when he said, "But burnt at the pyre."

Gwaine was silent. He did not speak or move for the next few minutes as he did the math.

"You have magic," he finally whispered.

Merlin nodded, feeling too exhausted to talk.

"Is that why you think you're going to be burnt at the pyre?"

Merlin leaned his head against the wall. He was exhausted now. Ever since they won the battle at Camlann, and Mordred turned over to their side, Merlin had run out of excuses to not tell Arthur. He had been mentally preparing for weeks to tell him.

Well… not so much as mentally preparing as trying to absorb as many moments of their friendship before everything fell apart.

And everything had fallen apart. Right now. He lost Arthur's trust and now he was in the cell, awaiting the death decreed by his own friend. Why hadn't he just taken the choice to leave?

Oh. That's right. Because after all these years of protecting him, he couldn't bear to leave his side and watch him from afar. He couldn't bear to let go of everything he had built and become used to. He couldn't bear to live without ever seeing his friend.

Arthur was safe now. He didn't die at the battle of Camlann like the prophecies said and so the dream of a united Albion was automatically coming to fruition. All that was left was the part where magic returned to the land. And that would never happen if Merlin didn't make a move.

They would forever be dancing one step forward and three steps back, waiting for Arthur to make up his mind. He would never make up his mind, not unless Merlin did something.

So he did. He told Gaius a week before that he was going to do it. He was finally going to tell Arthur. Gaius was surprised, and after asking a lot of questions (various versions of "Are you sure?"), he agreed.

Today was a perfect day. There was good sunshine out, cook Audrey made Arthur's favorite breakfast and his favorite dessert for lunch, he won all of the few spars he was challenged to with the knights, he had a comfortable bath and Merlin had just finished his last deadline for the week—his speech. There really couldn't have been a more perfect time.

Looking back now, Merlin wondered if the reaction was to be blamed on him ruining the too-perfect day or if he was going to react like this either way.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Merlin violently flinched. His heart thudded hard and fast in his chest, until he realized it was just Gwaine.

Gwaine, who was looking down at him with concern. "Did you hear anything I said, mate?"

Gwaine knew. Gwaine knew he had magic. He had confessed to two people today. That was one more than he had planned. Gwaine knew. Gwaine was going to hate him too.

"Merlin, friend, breathe. Just take a breath."

Merlin gasped. He reached out to grasp at something to support himself, but Gwaine's hand firmly latched onto it.

Merlin stopped and stared at it.

Gwaine knew. He knew he had magic. Yet he chose to take his hand and comfort him rather than leave him here to panic until his death at the pyre.

He thought he had run out of tears by now, but he was wrong.

"You're still not breathing properly."

Merlin took a slow, purposeful breath. Then he took another and another and started a continuous calm chain.

"Good." Gwaine nodded his approval at the breathing. "I take it that you're not going to tell me what happened?"

Merlin shook his head, rubbing the tears from his eyes.

"Right."

"Gwaine," Merlin finally used his voice. "Leave me."

Gwaine frowned.

"Please, I— I need to be alone."

The knight hesitated. It warmed Merlin slightly, but the face of fury Arthur had on before burned him harshly.

"I'll come back," Gwaine promised. Then he stepped out of the cell.

Sparing one more pitiful glance for him, Gwaine left.

----------------------------------------------------------

As soon as Gwaine left the cells, he all but ran.

He didn’t know where exactly he was running to, but he had to tell someone, didn’t he? Someone who could help him make sense of all this mess and get Arthur to cool down. Someone who would already know of Merlin’s magic and was close enough to be trusted—

Of course.

Gwaine took a turn in the direction of the court physician’s chambers. Gaius would have to know. He was practically Merlin’s father as well as his mentor.

When he discovered that Gaius was mentoring Merlin when he came to Camelot, he never thought it would be in magic.

He still couldn’t believe it. Merlin. Magic. The two were as different and unmergable as water and oil. But with magic, he supposed anything was possible.

His head was still spinning with the discovery that his closest friend practiced something so evil and corrupt, he was actually a little angry at that, to be honest, but… One look at his face that was filled with such fear, sadness and exhaustion beyond any knight coming back from a border patrol, the anger immediately faded. Instead, fierce protectiveness filled him.

The anger would undoubtedly come back sometime. Along with hurt. But that wasn’t to be dwelled on yet. It wasn’t the time.

Merlin believed that he was going to be killed by Arthur, and having seen the immense anger in the king’s face, Gwaine did not doubt that it was quite an open possibility. Arthur and Merlin had a friendship far beyond anyone else that Gwaine used to think that Merlin could commit murder in front of his eyes and Arthur would look the other way.

But magic? Magic was a whole different thing.

It was only the times Merlin had saved his life and extended his friendship when no one else did that kept him from giving up and running to the nearest tavern instead.

“Gaius!” Gwaine burst into the old physician’s chambers.

The old man jumped in surprise, nearly spilling the liquid in the vial he was holding. “Gwaine! Learn to knock, will you?”

“No time. Arthur just dragged Merlin all the way to the dungeons and threw him in.”

Gaius froze. Years and years of serving as a court physician and having to think quickly in the moment fell apart to fear.

He collapsed on a chair. “I didn’t think it would be this bad,” he muttered.

“So you knew?” Gwaine shut the door behind him as he approached the old man. “You knew Merlin practiced magic?”

Gaius winced but lifted his head to meet his gaze. “Yes. I knew.”

Gwaine was never good at controlling his anger. He swore and kicked a nearby stool, ignoring the pain in his toe, and watching as it went skidding and crashed into the wall. “Why? Why would he do that?”

“Do what?” Gaius’ voice had a hint of warning in it.

“Practice magic. No wonder he wasn’t so worried about riding into danger with us without armor.”

Gaius stood up and held Gwaine’s gaze firmly. “Merlin,” he said sternly, “had no choice. He is a warlock. He was born with magic. They are rare, but they exist. And they spend their whole lives in fear of being executed for something they had no choice in. Just as Merlin did.” Gaius put a hand on the table to use it for support. “Just as he is.”

His heart was pounding so loudly, that Gwaine could hear its thuds beating in his ear. “People can be born with magic?” he asked softly.

Gaius nodded.

It was his turn to collapse on a chair now. “I didn’t know.”

“What is Merlin doing now?”

Gwaine shot up in worry again. “He’s in the dungeons. He— he might be safe for now.”

“I believe you’re right.” Gaius lowered his head. “This is my fault. I shouldn't have encouraged him so soon. I should have kept him safe.”

Gwaine said nothing. He didn’t know what to say.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to. Gaius was a resilient man. He knew his priorities. “That’s for later. Right now, we must help Merlin as best as we can. How angry did you say Arthur was?”

Gwaine squirmed internally as he recalled the deadly furious face and harsh, lethal tone. “Very. Never seen him that angry before.”

Gaius sighed. “I have. He gets very reckless when he is that angry. Merlin used to be one of the only few people who could get through to him.”

“Now that Merlin’s the cause for it… who else can?”

They only had to think for a moment. The answer was plain and clear.

“Gwen,” they said in unison.

Gaius’ face shifted to determination. “I will find her. Undoubtedly she will react much more kindly at the revelation, but the task still requires some…” Gaius paused, eyeing Gwaine up and down. “Dexterity.”

Gwaine raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. “What can I do in the meantime?”

“You must find Lancelot and Mordred. They already know of Merlin’s magic, they can help, Lancelot more so. Warn the other knights to stay clear of Arthur and be more lenient with him.”

Gwaine nodded and was about to leave when Gaius called his name. “Gwaine?”

He turned to face him.

Gaius had a look on him. A look he had seen many times when the old man and Merlin were saying their goodbyes before riding out on a mission. It was a look of worry. Except this one was ten times worse.

“Merlin is my friend,” he assured. “With or without magic, it doesn’t change that. He hasn’t hurt me or Arthur or anyone else. Besides, he’s Merlin.” Gwaine grinned. “How evil can he be?”

Gaius didn’t answer, something else passing over his eyes, but he nodded in satisfaction. “Hurry.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

All the knights were in the armory, gearing up for a training session. He burst into the room, out of breath and eyes wild.

Everyone looked up, surprise forming on their faces.

Gwaine caught the eyes of the inner circle and gave a short nod and a jerk of his head.

Leon, Percival, Elyan, Lancelot and Mordred followed him out. They stood a little ways away from the door and Gwaine whispered, "Merlin's in the dungeons."

The shock was immediate on their faces. "Merlin?" Elyan stressed. "Our Merlin?"

"Yes, our Merlin."

"Arthur—"

"Arthur's in over his head. He's…" Gwaine's lips twitched downward. "I've never seen him this mad before. I think we should give him some space today. Let the other knights know."

"Right." Leon straightened up. "I'll talk to Arthur in the meanwh—"

"You'll do no such thing," Gwaine cut him off. "Leon, you haven't seen him. He's in a mood that only Merlin can get through to him. Now since he's angry at Merlin…"

"What about the queen?" Mordred asked. "Surely she can reason with him."

"That's what Gaius is off to do. Right now, we need to keep our heads down and make sure our king doesn't do anything rash in his anger. Don't let him make any official decisions."

"What did Merlin do for Arthur to behave this way?" Percival asked.

Gwaine hesitated. These were knights of the inner circle of the Round Table. The people who had faced an immortal army and were the first to be declared part of the Round Table—par Mordred, though the king was incredibly fond of the boy. These were brother-in-arms like no one else in the kingdom, yet…

How would they react? If they discovered that the servant they were most fond of, enough to be considered among their rank, had magic?

No, it was not Gwaine's secret to tell. He couldn't take the risk.

"I don't know," Gwaine lied. "But he dragged him from his chambers to the dungeons himself. There will be rumors flying about, do your best to dampen them."

"Our first priority is the king," Leon said. "And he's in a precarious emotional state, it is our duty to look after him."

"Don't let him hear that though," Elyan warned teasingly.

Before they left, Gwaine subtly tapped Lancelot and Mordred's elbows before slinking in the direction of the most isolated part of the grounds.

He waited under a tree, thinking about how to break the news, when he heard the two approach.

"Why did you single us out to meet here?" Mordred asked as he approached.

Gwaine opened his mouth but Lancelot butted in first, "Isn't it obvious?" He was looking at Gwaine in the eyes. "You know about Merlin's gifts."

Gifts. He had never considered magic that way.

Mordred's eyes widened. "How did you find out?"

Gwaine didn't know how to even begin answering that.

"Arthur," Lancelot spoke once more. He only needed that one word to know.

Gwaine slowly nodded.

Lancelot ran a hand through his hair and Mordred stared at the ground in disbelief. "He told him," he thought out loud. "He actually told him."

"No wonder he's angry." Lance sighed. "Damn."

"Gaius said that you two were… more equipped to handle these sorts of situations."

Lancelot squatted down, two index fingers joined together in front of his lips in dubiosity. "For once, I'm stupified."

"I'm not sure what to do either," Mordred admitted. "Though I suppose I should be happy that Emrys finally decided to begin the new age, I cannot find myself to celebrate."

Gwaine looked at him questioningly. "What?"

"Uh. It's a long story."

Gwaine sighed disappointedly. "What are we to do?"

Lancelot clasped his hands together, looking off in the distance. "Merlin never told me he had magic," he said. "I found it out myself. I know that he accidentally used it in front of Gaius which was how Gaius knew. And Mordred is a druid."

Gwaine raised his eyebrows and took a step back in surprise.

Mordred looked sheepish.

"His people have known about Merlin under the name of Emrys for a long time," Lancelot went on. "Merlin never told anyone directly that he had magic. This is the first time, as far as I am aware. And it has backfired devastatingly." Lancelot looked up at them and stood. "We're knights and our duty will always be to our king. Arthur and Merlin are entwined like an ivy on a tree. You've seen how close they are, they can't survive long without each other."

"What are you saying?" Mordred questioned.

"I'm saying that we need to help. This is Merlin and Arthur's fight, but we all play a part in it. As knights, and as friends. The others can look after Arthur well, but one of us will need to talk to him later."

"The pleasure's all yours." Gwaine gestured to him.

"Thanks." Lancelot gave him a deadpan look. "If I'm going after Arthur, then you two need to look after Merlin."

"Break him out?"

"No!" Mordred and Lancelot said at the same time.

Gwaine held his palms up in surrender. "Okay. Whatever you say."

"You cannot smuggle Merlin out, Arthur will fall apart without him, even more so right now."

"Besides," Mordred said. "You know Merlin. He won't leave."

"Yeah." Gwaine recalled the words he had said. Between the choice of leaving you willingly or dying, I will always choose the latter. "He's loyal to a fault. Hell, the door of the cell is unlocked and Arthur even barked orders at the guards to ignore any movement Merlin does, and still Merlin chooses to stay in there."

"Arthur wants him to run," Mordred said slowly. "He doesn't want to sentence Merlin to death, which means— which means he's not all lost."

"And it's up to us that he stays not lost." Lancelot nodded at the two.

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Arthur had seen the evils of sorcery too many a times. He had seen his sister be corrupted by it and transform into someone unrecognizable. He had seen many sorcerers come and go who had hurt him or a loved one.

Magic rarely delivered good in his life. But… it did deliver some good. Very little though.

Arthur massaged his temple, glaring at the papers on his desk. The speech Merlin had dropped off was smoldering in the fire he had stoked despite it being spring.

Arthur racked his brain, sifting through memory after memory.

He remembered the Dolma and how she had helped break Gwen out of her enchantment. He remembered Dragoon—though that had backfired immensely. There was the Disir and Anhora, keeper of the unicorns, though they were more on the neutral side of the magic. And the druids… they were peaceful magic people weren't they?

The druids… they had magic. Even the young children practiced it. No— they were born with it. Like… like Merlin said he was. If people could be born with magic, did that mean they were evil from the beginning?

Arthur frowned. No. That still wouldn't explain the druids' peacekeeping ways. He had never heard of a druid committing violent acts. Except for that boy who had possessed Elyan, though, in all fairness, he had killed him and his people unjustly. Oh, and Kara. Kara was a druid and she was evil, unashamedly evil. But even she had been driven to it, preaching about the unfairness of having her people killed. Arthur could not fault her for that.

But she was only one druid he had met. The rest weren't though. The group who had the Cup of Life, the group who had come to take the druid boy who was hidden in Morgana's chambers years ago, the druid boy himself. He remembered how Merlin was the one who had saved the boy first. It was obvious why he did that now, he sympathized with people like him. He couldn't help but save him. And Arthur had helped him. He had helped the druid boy sneak out the of citadel and reunite with his people.

The memory was distant and blurry, but he could still remember the little boy, barely ten summers old, with that blue cloak and bright blue eyes, staring at him with gratefulness as he stood in front of his people, reunited. He had given him his name when Arthur had asked. He said—

Arthur froze.

Mordred. He said Mordred.

Arthur's world fell apart a second time.

He sat, frozen in time, the room spinning in his vision and breaths getting shorter and shorter until he was gasping.

Two sorcerers. He had two sorcerers under his nose for years and he hadn't even realized it. Two sorcerers who were two people he had trusted the most. Two people to whom he had revealed many of his secrets. Two people he would never suspect of anything inherently evil.

They were sorcerers.

Who else had been hiding magic without him realizing it? Morgana was one, and the number increased to three.

Gaius? It wouldn't be a surprise, would it? After all, he was Merlin's mentor and closest thing to a father. Hell, he might have been teaching him himself!

Arthur banged his fist on the table, making papers fly everywhere and the wood almost cracking.

The pain from the punch slowly drew and Arthur welcomed it.

He got up and grabbed his sword, making his way down to the training field. The sword hadn't been sharpened yet, but he didn't bother going to the armory for another one. He made his way straight to a straw training dummy.

A squire who was studying it noticed his thunderous approach and with a squeak darted away. Arthur ignored him.

He brought his sword up and slashed at it.

He let his anger take control of his body and pushed back his mind. He hacked and swished and attacked the dummy with the craziness and strength of an animal until it was an unidentifiable pile of straw.

He finally stopped, ignoring his aching muscles, and breathing heavily. He let the sword clatter to the ground and turned away.

He didn't even realize where he was going until he finally stopped in front of Mordred's chambers.

After a brief furious debate on whether he should knock or not, he decided to just open the door and barge in when Mordred suddenly opened the door himself.

He jumped in surprise when he saw Arthur standing right in front of him and his eyes betrayed fear.

"My lord?" he asked, but his voice cracked.

So Mordred knew Merlin was in the dungeons. Who—

Right. Gwaine had been there. He dimly wondered if Gwaine was a sorcerer, but decided that he wouldn't be losing as many gambling games as he was if he did practice magic.

"You are a druid," Arthur growled in a low voice.

A flash of surprise mixed with desperation crossed his face, but he solemnly nodded. "I am."

"You use magic," Arthur growled again.

"I do." Mordred's voice went as quiet as Merlin's had. This only made Arthur angrier.

He pushed Mordred back in and shut the door.

He either put too much strength, or Mordred was too stunned, but the druid toppled to the floor at the push.

He bowed his head as he slowly rose.

"Kara," Arthur spat. "That's how you knew her."

Mordred nodded. "She was the only person left from my childhood."

"You were the druid boy who I helped escape years ago."

"Yes. You, Morgana and Merlin."

"And Merlin? Did you know about him?"

Mordred's fists tightened on his sides in an attempt to calm himself. "Yes. I promised him I would keep his secret."

"So you're both working together." Arthur let out a frustrated curse and ran a hand through his hair. "My loyal manservant and my loyal knight. Both sorcerers. Both conspiring, conniving—"

"No!" Mordred looked up, alarm highlighting his face. "Never! I would never harm you, and neither would Merlin."

"And how do you expect me to believe two sorcerers who have been lying to me for years?!" Arthur yelled, taking a step forward.

Mordred took a step back. His eyes were wide, frightened, alarmed, but he didn't cower like most people would under a king's anger. He stood, meeting his eyes and preparing his next words.

"Arthur," he said softly. "I had the chance to kill you. Multiple times. Especially at Camlann. But I didn't. I turned and protected you. As I have all those times before. From our very first meeting till now. I have never felt anything but loyalty to you. Arthur, you took me in."

His eyes were wet, glistening with unspilled tears, but he went on, "I lost everyone. I never knew my mother, my father was executed, the woman I loved went obsessed over the goal of revenge, I had no one."

The first tear dropped.

"But you helped me. You helped me and kept me from meeting the same fate as my father. I heard him, you know. I heard the blade meet his flesh then slide down and cut off his head as it detached from his body. I heard my father call out my name once more before the blade went down. I heard him die."

The boy rubbed his eyes and nose.

"I kept dreaming over and over again about that moment and how it was going to be me until you came. You came and got me out with Merlin. You let me go back to my people and live and experience the rest of my childhood."

Mordred shook his head, covering his mouth with a hand and closing his eyes, swallowing a sob before he spoke again. "Even if magic was corrupted, it wouldn't stop me from being grateful to you. My king, I would never betray you," he whispered before giving in and falling to the floor, shaking with silent sobs.

Arthur stood in front of him, stunned. His head was spinning again. He felt dizzy. He felt raw. He felt exhausted.

Arthur looked at the shaking mess in front of him. The boy who had gone through so much tragedy and still managed to stay true and loyal. The boy whom he hadn't even known he had left such an effect on. It all made sense now. The look of awe and wonder he almost always saw on Mordred's face every time he talked to him. Beneath it, he finally recognized the look of thankfulness that was always present.

"Please," Mordred said, keeping his head down, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks. "Please d— don't be like— like Morgana. She had good— goodness in her heart, please don't— please don't let your goodness go away too."

Arthur's chest twinged in pain.

This was a boy. A knight, but still a boy who had lost everything.

"I would— would never b— betray you. I wouldn't. I—"

"Mordred," Arthur cut him off. He put his hands on his shoulders, guiding him up. "I believe you," he said quietly.

Mordred snapped his head up. "You do?"

Arthur nodded grimly. "I do. I know the druids are a peaceful people. I have done many wrongs against them, it would be terribly wrong to have one at my knees begging for mercy. You've served me and saved me many times with honor. I can't just forget that."

"A knight's bond," Mordred whispered.

Arthur nodded, letting a small smile show. "A knight's bond."

Slowly, Mordred smiled too.

Arthur sighed. "Don't get me wrong, I'm still plenty mad at you, but… I understand more now. And… most of my anger is focused on someone else." At the thought of the person in question, a scowl slipped on his face.

"Emrys is more loyal to you than anyone, my lord," Mordred said carefully, sobs no longer shaking his voice. "His loyalty to you overpowers even mine."

Which is part of the reason why I'm so angry at him, Arthur didn't say.

"Emrys?" he asked. "I've heard that name before."

Mordred pressed his lips together tightly. "Perhaps… perhaps you should talk to him and hear him out as you have with me first."

Arthur shook his head, his anger crashing into him again at full force. "You don't get it, Mordred." His eyes blazed with fury. "You, I can forgive easily. But him?"

"Why not?"

"Because he was supposed to be my friend," Arthur snapped. "Magic, it— he— he didn't—" Arthur let out a growl of frustration. He couldn't put it into words. How could he?

Merlin was the person he trusted the most. The person he had shared secrets with he had never shared with anyone, not even Guinevere. The person who he could count on, time and time again. The person he could trust despite everyone around him acting suspicious.

The person whom he felt comfortable calling a friend for the first time with certainty.

"I think," the young knight said quietly, "that you two should talk."

Arthur didn't reply to that. "I need to know one thing," he said instead. "Magic. Is it evil?"

Of course, Mordred would be biased as he himself had magic, but still, he needed someone to answer.

"It is neither good nor bad," Mordred replied. "Like a sword, it is the wielder who decides how to use it."

After that, Arthur left him to go back to his own chambers. From the way Mordred was fully dressed, Arthur suspected he had been on his way to see Merlin before Arthur had interrupted.

His talk with Mordred at least helped him calm down. Well, not so much as calm down as expel his energy. That, coupled with his emotions soaring unpredictably the whole day and the training dummy he had butchered, he was left feeling exhausted.

Still, he couldn't stop pondering; sifting through memories, analysing pieces of information he thought to be true and fitting it with these new revelations.

He wasn't going to visit Merlin tonight, that was for sure.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Gwaine was already there when Mordred arrived at Merlin’s cell. The door was shut, but unlocked, just as the knight had said before.

Mordred gently swung open the door and entered the cell.

Merlin looked up briefly before letting his gaze drop to the floor again.

In that brief look, Mordred could see the misery that had swallowed the man whole. It almost made him flinch.

Gwaine was sitting beside Merlin, looking at him with worry.

Mordred squatted down in front of him and Gwaine’s eyes met his, sharing that worry with him.

“Merlin?” Mordred tried. “Emrys?”

No response.

Mordred turned to Gwaine questioningly.

“He’s refusing to talk,” Gwaine explained. “He hasn’t said a single word since I came here.”

Mordred’s lips pressed together in concern. “Has he eaten?”

Gwaine shook his head. His eyes widening, he replied, almost shamefully, “I forgot.”

“No matter,” Mordred said quickly. “I set some aside at lunch.” He brought out his satchel and drew a bread roll from it. “Merlin,” he said gently. “You must eat.”

Mordred held back a grimace when Merlin did nothing but stare at the bread. He took his hand and pressed the bread to him.

Flashing back to the moment he had done the same thing at their first meeting in Ismere, he felt a sense of déjà vu.

Merlin must have felt it too, because he looked up at Mordred and gave him a small smile. A stark contrast to the glare that had the potential to burn the snow around them in Ismere.

Mordred returned the smile widely.

But as soon as the smile had appeared, it disappeared and Merlin was now staring at the bread in his hand.

It saddened Mordred to see Emrys this way. Emrys truly was lost without his king. Thinking about the way he had seen Arthur fumble with his emotions earlier, he realized that the king was also lost without his Emrys.

“I met Arthur before coming here,” he said.

Gwaine turned to look at him, but Merlin kept staring blankly.

“Well, he met me. He knows now that I’m a druid and a sorcerer.”

He waited for Merlin to comment, but the silence stretched on.

“What happened?” Gwaine prompted. “It must have gone well if you’re still alive and well.”

Mordred recognized what he was doing. He was trying to make Merlin see that Arthur wasn’t going to kill him and could come to terms with his magic.

“He took it better than I expected,” Mordred replied. “He was angry, of course, he just learned that two people were sorcerers this whole time. But he took it well when I explained my loyalties to him. I— I also told him that you were loyal too and that you would never betray him,” Mordred added hesitantly.

Still no reaction.

Mordred bit his lip nervously.

“Emrys,” he tried. “I— you—” He took a breath. “You did what was necessary. You were right to tell him. You had to tell him eventually and today was the day. Today’s special, Emrys. It’s the beginning of a new age.”

He didn’t expect Merlin to respond, but he had expected some reaction. Emrys had reassured him so many times that the time that they dreamed of would be here soon and they wouldn’t have to live in fear anymore. He had said it with such certitude and surety, Mordred thought… well, he thought he would be at least a little happy.

Despite the situation, Mordred sure was.

He could already feel the change. The beginning.

Surely Emrys must be feeling it too?

Or perhaps… well…

Emrys wasn’t really Emrys though, was he? To him, he would always be Emrys first. But to Emrys himself… He had always insisted that he was Merlin before anything.

And Merlin cared about Arthur above all.

And Arthur was upset.

But Arthur would come around. He would eventually. Mordred knew it.

“You and Arthur will come to terms, it isn’t just destiny’s celebration today. It’s the two of you. Today marks the day when you no longer have to hide from your closest friend. Arthur will accept you, and your friendship will become far greater. I know it.”

Mordred looked at him hopefully.

Merlin lifted his head, glancing at him briefly before dropping it again.

With it, dropped Mordred’s shoulders. His face fell.

Gwaine put a hand on his back. “I’ve tried too, mate. It’s not your fault.”

Mordred sighed heavily.

It pained him to see Merlin this way. It just didn’t fit. Merlin was bright, cheery, talkative, laughing, caring and with so much cheek. Emrys was fierce, powerful, protective, gentle and kind. They were both with caring natures and smarts. They weren’t…

This.

Knees drawn up, eyes red-rimmed, sunken and hollow, exhaustion on every line and feature, a certain heaviness that seemed to visibly force him down.

Mordred owed his life to Merlin— Emrys— both of them— one of them. Whatever it was. He owed his life. Not just in a survival sense, but everything that came with it. A home, friends, people who liked him and cared about him.

Before, he was always on the run ever since the death of his father. Always in danger, home was never permanent.

But this was. It was here to stay.

And he owed Merlin that.

If Merlin hadn’t helped him break Kara out of prison, if he hadn’t tried his best to cover for them, if he hadn’t revealed the prophecy he had been given to him while they were on the run…

Well. Mordred might have actually fulfilled the prophecy.

But despite Merlin’s best attempts, he and Kara got caught and they were thrown into prison and Kara was executed.

Merlin had been there when Kara was being hanged. He was inside the cell with Mordred, keeping a comforting hand on his back as the proceeding went on outside. He had managed to distract the guard and lure him away so Mordred didn’t have to hide the spontaneous flare of magic that dropped the cell door from its hinges.

And then he was there to provide him with comfort, with a hug, with words of reassurance that Kara had tried to murder the king three times even when given the chance, that she had chosen her path.

Mordred knew that Kara was stepping a little out of line with how she was jumping at murder at every chance.

But still, it hurt. She was the only piece of his childhood. And she was gone.

But Merlin wasn’t. Merlin was still there. Had promised to be there. Mordred had felt like a little boy again, wrapped in that hug.

Now… now he wanted to give that hug back. Though he wasn’t sure how to go about it.

Gwaine and Mordred stayed with Merlin for a little while more until Gwaine spoke up, “We should let him sleep.”

Mordred nodded, casting another wistful glance at Merlin before being helped up by Gwaine and leaving, letting the cell door stay open.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Arthur lay in bed. He had asked a passing servant to spread the word that the king had cancelled all meetings for today and tomorrow too. Just in case.

His head was abuzz without thoughts, just a blank picture distorted by the buzzing noise he couldn't get rid of.

He wasn't trying to sleep. He was trying to think. Pacing had gotten him nowhere, and neither had sitting, so he finally resolved to lying down instead.

Merlin. Magic.

Magic. Merlin.

Bandits, love spells, shocking recoveries, narrow scrapes.

Somehow, Arthur had turned over every potential moment where Merlin could have used magic and they all only yielded one conclusion:

Anytime Merlin used magic, he had used it to help Arthur.

Arthur tried to think it any other way, tried to gauge out moments where Merlin could potentially have used it for his own benefit, or to cause harm to Arthur and his closest people, but no. Each time, Merlin's magic was to drop a branch to save Arthur, to push a man off his saddle to save Arthur, to animate some snakes to save Arthur, to cause a rockfall to save Arthur, to concoct an unbelievable cure to save Arthur—

Every. Single. Time.

Arthur thought Merlin had been playing the long game, bending the great and stupidly oblivious king of Camelot to his will so he could get whatever he wanted, but that theory just didn't fit.

More than that, it just didn't make sense.

But why did his blood still boil with anger so much? Why did the thought of the man in the cell make him want to curl his hands around a neck and squeeze?

The door opened and Arthur resisted the urge to throw a dagger at the newcomer.

"I thought I had made it clear that the king was not to be disturbed?" he snapped.

"Not even by his queen?" a gentle voice asked.

Arthur shot up, his features and voice softening. "Guinevere," he breathed. "Sorry, I thought you were someone else."

She smiled.

Arthur watched as she floated through the room, her dress gliding. A small smile twitched his lips. She was getting good at regal poses. She was quite a fast learner.

Guinevere sat at the foot of his bed, looking down at him sadly.

Arthur understood. "You knew he had it too," he breathed, sagging at the head of the bed.

"No," Guinevere replied. "I found out this afternoon. From Gaius."

Arthur felt a wave of relief. If Guinevere hadn't known, then at least he wasn't as big of a fool as he thought.

"He's worried, you know?"

"Who?"

"Gaius," she answered simply. "I don't think I've ever seen the man cry, but he looked quite close to it as he explained."

"So Gaius knew."

"I don't think you're getting the right message."

Annoyance flared up inside Arthur. "What message is there?" he snapped again. "Merlin had been practicing magic for ages—since he was born, really—and he didn't even—"

Arthur stopped, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

Guinevere put a hand on his leg. "I was sent here to help you," she said. "To make you see sense and make sure you didn't make any rash decisions. You've got a lot of people worried, not just Gaius and me. There's Gwaine, the knights, not to mention all the people who saw you drag your manservant all the way to the dungeons. No doubt the news will spread. Though I did my best to quell them down by having a meeting with the steward and Leon and a couple of the lords and ladies."

She sounded unhappy enough to make Arthur feel a twinge of guilt. Yes, he had acted rather harshly, hadn't he? "Thank you for that," he said earnestly.

"I came here to talk you down," Gwen continued, "but it seems… that you're a greater man than people expected."

Arthur tilted his head, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Gwen smiled. "You're a great king, Arthur, and an even greater man. I see that you're confused whereas another person in your position would be angry."

"I am angry."

"Undoubtedly. So am I," she admitted. "But you're thinking with your head and heart. You're trying to understand more than anything. That's what makes you a good person. To be willing to consider all points of view before making a judgment."

Arthur warmed at her praise.

There were not many people who could make him flush at compliments with genuine warmth. He was a prince, he was complimented all the time.

But people like Gwen didn't just dish out compliments because he was the prince. They only gave it where it was deserved. Just as they gave a tongue-lashing when it was deserved. It was why compliments from them meant so much more than anyone else's.

Merlin had been the first person who made his emotions feel genuine. He was the first person, par his father, who Arthur had the urge to actively make him proud.

And now…

Now he was lost.

"One thing, Arthur," Gwen interrupted his thoughts. "I think you just need some time to think. No doubt Merlin's reveal has turned both our worlds upside down. I think of Merlin first as a friend, and that's what is making it easy for me. I've also had Gaius to answer my questions so I know he's not like— like Morgana."

Arthur shared a wince with her.

"You need people to help you, even with this. Don't hesitate to ask."

Arthur stared blankly at the bedcovers. "Who do I ask?" he said quietly.

"I'm sure Gaius has a lot to say on the matter. Lancelot and Mordred both know. I'm always here if you need to talk. But you know who you should really talk to?"

Dread filled his stomach as he realized the answer.

He didn't voice the answer, but Gwen said it anyway, "Merlin."

Another flare of anger struck inside him.

Something must have shown on his face because Gwen added, "I know you're mad, take your time. But I do believe that it will prove fruitful."

She patted his knee and got up, moving to the door.

"Guinevere," Arthur called out.

She turned, her soft brown eyes meeting his blues.

He couldn't help a fond smile creeping onto his face. "Thank you."

She smiled and curtsied before leaving.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Gwen left Arthur’s room and made a beeline to the dungeons.

Her footsteps were measured and light, padding softly down the hallways, not much of a difference to her servant days. She has always had light footsteps. It was the posture that ached.

Straight-backed, tight and regal. A total opposite to the tearing emotions inside her chest.

Merlin had magic.

Gwen’s footsteps faltered.

Merlin had magic.

Gwen took a long shaky breath before continuing to make her way down the hallway.

When she arrived at the dungeons, she gave the guards a short nod. They let her pass without any questions. She hadn’t visited the dungeons in a long time since she had turned queen. Arthur had handled it all.

The last time she was in the dungeons, it was when Lancelot had been possessed and bent to Morgana’s will, enchanting her too to stop her from becoming queen. She stopped by the cell she had been thrown in and remembered the desperation and guilt she had experienced all too well.

But then Merlin had come, a savior, claiming that they both had been enchanted and managed to fix everything.

She hadn’t questioned it at the time, how he had known that the bracelet she was wearing and the necklace hidden under Lancelot’s tunic was enchanted.

Looking back… she supposed she should have known that it was magic.

With a start, she realized she had known. She knew something was up with Merlin, that there was more to him than the clumsy fool people thought him to be. There were some odd quirks Gwen had witnessed, the tiniest flashes of gold, the strange things she caught him doing, the impossible things that seemed to occur around him.

The biggest hint was the sorcerer at the battle at Camlann. The old man who stood atop a cliff and rained down fiery blazes, unleashed fierce lightning, commanded dragons, and killed several men with one wave of an arm.

All at the same time, Merlin was missing.

But then he had appeared again when Arthur had been injured by Morgana’s magic and had looked after him until Gaius managed to heal the gash on his abdomen. It had taken days and days until Arthur had arrived at Camelot, Gaius had been sent first, claiming that he had come to give the message that the king had only acquired a non-fatal deep cut and that Merlin would be bringing him here.

It was suspicious, how Merlin had suddenly appeared when previously he had been gathering herbs for Gaius.

It took little to fit the pieces together, but she avoided it. She knew, but she never acknowledged it. Preferring to keep it locked up.

Well, there was no keeping it locked up now.

Gwen shook her head to clear her thoughts a little and made her way to Merlin’s cell.

Merlin was sitting there with Lancelot beside him, coaxing him to eat.

At her footsteps, the knight looked up and his eyes lit up with relief. “My Lady,” Lancelot greeted.

“Lancelot,” Gwen gave a tight smile. She frowned at the cell. “Where’s the key?” she asked.

“There isn’t one. Arthur didn’t lock it.”

“You mean the cell has been open this entire time?”

Lancelot nodded.

“And Merlin hasn’t…?”

Lancelot shook his head.

Gwen exhaled and opened the door, the hinges creaking slightly. She stepped in and, minding her skirts, sat down in front of her friend. The friend who had lied to all of them. The friend who had saved all of their lives at least once.

The friend who had magic.

It was still hard to believe, looking at Merlin, that he possessed magic. It was hard to believe that those astonishingly blue eyes could turn gold.

“Merlin?” she said gently.

Merlin didn’t respond.

“He hasn’t said a word since Arthur dragged him here,” Lancelot said. “Gwaine and Mordred tried keeping him company and brought some food, but he hasn’t taken even a single bite.”

Gwen noticed the bread still in Merlin’s hand. It was slightly covered in the grime that coated the dungeon cell, signaling that he had been holding it for quite a long time.

“Water?” Gwen asked without hope.

“Not even that, my Lady.”

“Merlin, you must drink at least,” Gwen urged, concern filling up the emptiness from the reveal.

He certainly looked terrible. Red-rimmed eyes, dried tear tracks on his cheeks, and a disturbingly hollow look on his face as he stared blankly at a spot on the floor. He had his arms wrapped around his knees, the bread roll held loosely in one hand.

Gwen glanced away and spotted a waterskin near Lancelot. She grabbed it and shuffled forward to her friend, never minding her dress scraping against the dirty stone floor. She gently cupped Merlin’s chin, then tilted it up slightly to allow him to drink water from the skin.

As the water trickled out, Merlin’s eyes shuttered and he brought a hand up to support the skin himself as he drank.

His eyes flicked to Gwen and he stopped drinking, handing the skin back to her. “Thanks,” he said hoarsely.

Gwen smiled. At least now they knew that he was silent by choice, and not because he was too broken by Arthur’s reaction.

Speaking of…

“How are you?” she asked.

Merlin shrugged, letting his gaze travel back down to the spot on the floor.

Gwen pressed her lips together. “I know it’s hard for you—”

“Don’t,” Merlin cut her off. “Just don’t.”

Gwen felt a flare of annoyance but squashed it down. “We’re worried,” she tried. “About you and Arthur.”

Merlin didn’t reply.

“I know you’re upset, Merlin, but there’s no need to push everyone away.”

He kept quiet.

“We only want to help.”

No response.

Gwen turned to Lancelot for help, only for him to shake his head. “I’ve tried,” he said mournfully. “Multiple times. Said the same things you said. He’s just…” He trailed off.

Gwen tilted her head sadly at Merlin. Her best friend. The friend who had saved her life multiple times. The friend who had looked after her when she was sick, had stood up for her against false accusations, in and out of court, had forced his way into taking responsibility of the abusive nobles who were assigned to her and the younger servants, had never failed to make her smile, had pushed through perils to rescue her, had always looked out for her.

It pained her to see him so hollowed out and empty.

She understood Arthur’s feelings on the matter, of course, he had every right to feel the way he was feeling.

But she wished she could understand what Merlin was feeling right now. To have lived in fear his whole life and now finally, condemning himself with a single admission, terrified of losing not just his life, but his friends.

“Magic or no,” she said quietly, putting a hand on his knee. “You’re still my best friend.”

She waited, but Merlin didn’t even lift his head.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Arthur sat on the floor, staring out the window at the night sky.

He hadn't sat on the floor in a long time. Well, this floor. He had sat and slept on countless forest floors, but he hadn't squatted down with his butt on the marble ever since he was a child. He was a prince, a future king. Princes should never disgrace themselves that way.

But he had tried pacing, he had tried standing, he had tried sitting and lying down, none of it worked. He needed something new.

Merlin liked squatting on the floor. He remembered the countless domestic evenings when Merlin had settled himself in front of the hearth, sewing, mending, polishing, sharpening a sword, whatever chore Arthur needed him to get done. Arthur himself was at his desk, poring over papers, or reading a report, or writing one, or revising whatever a lord wanted him to take a second look at. A lot of the time he took that moment to look over the speeches Merlin had written for him since he could ask any questions or queries right there and then.

Those were peaceful evenings. Sometimes, they broke open a bottle of wine and had a glass each as they worked. He liked those moments. He cherished those moments.

He wondered if he could ever live them again.

Arthur rubbed his face tiredly. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor in hopes that he would be able to understand Merlin’s perspective better, as Gwen had told him to.

He could just imagine Merlin’s face as he stared laughingly at Arthur now, a sarcastic comment about the king of Camelot sitting on the floor like a servant on the tip of his tongue.

He missed his friend.

No, that didn’t make sense. Merlin was right here. Under him, in the dungeons, probably hugging his knees like he did when he was upset.

Subconsciously, Arthur shifted to hug his knees too.

He needed to understand, that Gwen was right. He didn’t want to act or order someone’s execution or banishment. He just wanted to understand.

But understand what?

That Merlin had magic? He understood that plenty.

Arthur groaned and rubbed his face again.

Okay. It was time for the facts. Just the facts.

Merlin had magic. That was a fact. He was born with it. That was another fact.

Although… he could be lying to earn his sympathies—

No. No doubts. He was looking for facts, not doubts. Besides, Mordred had proven that it was possible for people to be born with magic and Gaius had told Gwen and she believed it too. He wouldn’t doubt Gwen’s judgement. Especially not about Merlin.

Okay, so another fact was Merlin helped Arthur with his magic. More than that, he had saved him with his magic. Multiple times. What had he said before?

I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you. Only to protect you. To save your life.

He had no reason to doubt those words, he had seen it himself. The odd branch, fighters unexpectedly freezing, miracle cures and unexpected rockfalls. He had brushed it off at first, but he should have known that no one could be that lucky.

Magic was not evil, that was… another fact. He hoped it was a fact. What Mordred had said did make sense—about magic being a tool to wield and the people who wielded it were the ones who were evil and used it in an evil way.

Arthur was inexperienced. He didn’t know much about magic and had only largely met evil magic-users, but for now, he chose to believe that was true. That magic was only a tool like a sword. Which meant that Merlin wasn’t evil.

So if Merlin wasn’t evil… how much of magic’s goodness was he missing?

Arthur shook his head at the thought.

All his life, he was taught that magic corrupted, it was pure evil, it brought nothing but grief and he had lost his mother to it.

His mother…

Arthur put a hand on his head, feeling the beginnings of a headache. He was surprised he hadn’t had one already.

So what Morgause had shown him was the truth. His father was a hypocrite and his mother had died because of him, not because of magic.

And Merlin…

God, Merlin.

Why would he even—

Right. Of course.

Arthur groaned.

His stupid, stupid loyalty to him forced him to lose his chance at his own survival for Arthur’s happiness. Arthur would have regretted killing his father, whether magic was evil or not. And Merlin had stopped him.

If he had any doubts about Merlin being a manipulator and playing the long game, it was all cleared now.

God, how stupid could his servant be?

That familiar thought brought accompanied fondness, making Arthur’s heart twinge, but as soon as it came, it was gone.

His stupid, loyal servant had magic.

And Arthur didn’t know what to do about it.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and rested his head against the desk, bumping against it once, the pain helping him to keep grounded.

He just wanted to understand.

Why would Merlin— No. He was born with it. That wasn’t the issue. Merlin having magic wasn’t the issue. Not anymore. Not after the talk with Mordred and Gwen.

So if Merlin having magic wasn’t the thing that was making Arthur mad, then what was it?

He massaged his temple, trying to think, but the answer finally appeared to him when he again flashed back to the look of fear Merlin had given him when he admitted his secret.

Merlin had been scared. Rightfully. He was scared, not of losing his life, Arthur knew that he wasn’t afraid of death the way most people were. His eyes didn’t hold that fear someone did when they were brought to trial, knowing that the only sentence they would be given was death.

His eyes held the fear of someone admitting to a betrayal. A betrayal of trust. A betrayal of friendship. His eyes had held fear, but they also held guilt.

And suddenly it made sense, the small presence of guilt in Merlin’s look, the shakiness of his voice when he admitted the secret, not because of the sentence it would bring, but the anger, his refusal to leave his side even when given the chance to escape. Even now, Arthur knew that Merlin was still in the cell despite it being unlocked.

Merlin knew that Arthur wouldn’t be angry because he had magic.

And now Arthur knew too.

He wasn’t angry that Merlin had magic.

He was angry because he had hidden it and lied about it.

He was angry because his friend, his first true friend despite his rank being of the lowest of the low—a bastard servant—his loyal to a fault friend who Arthur felt comfortable being himself with for the first time… hadn’t trusted him.

Arthur had given all his trust to Merlin like he had no other.

And Merlin had only given a grain back.

Arthur was angry because his friendship with Merlin hadn’t been real.

Arthur was angry because that was the only emotion he had been encouraged to show.

But deep down, Arthur wasn’t really angry, he was sad. He was hurt. He was in pain.

The first sob tore through the air and many more followed.

------------------------------------------------------------

He took Gwen’s advice and made his way to Gaius’ chambers the next morning after breakfast. When he opened the door, he found two more people with the physician.

“Gwaine, Lancelot,” Arthur greeted.

The three stood up to bow, as per custom. “Where’s Mordred?” he asked. Surely, since Mordred knew about Merlin’s magic, he would be with them?

“He has gone to assist Sir Leon, sire,” Lancelot replied.

“With what?”

“With the rumors that are already starting to spread about you and Merlin,” Gwaine cut Lancelot off, folding his arms and fixing Arthur with a half-glare. “You know, from when you dragged him to the dungeons personally?”

Arthur winced. “I know,” he said quietly. “I regret that. Merlin did not deserve it.”

The three of them looked taken aback at the declaration.

“Sire?” Gaius asked.

Arthur sighed. “I need to understand something, Gaius.” His voice had a pleading note in it. He moved closer to the trio and pulled up a chair around the table. “Why did he go on for so long without telling me?”

“I thought it would be obvious, sire.”

Arthur sighed. “I understand that back when I was a prince… it… it would have been dangerous but— but he—” Arthur shook his head. “He could have trusted me.”

Gaius’ tense posture dropped. “Arthur,” he said gently. “I cannot speak for Merlin, but if he were to get caught and you were found harboring him, do you really believe your father would have spared you?”

“Yes!” At Gaius’ raised eyebrow, Arthur paused. “Maybe?” he tried.

“Uther was a good king,” Gaius said gently. “But even you are aware of how he lost all sense when magic was involved.”

Arthur exhaled in frustration and rubbed his face tiredly. “What about after?” he asked. “What about when I became king?”

Gaius shook his head. “Again. I cannot speak for Merlin, but do you remember how your father died?”

“Yes, he was killed by… by magic.”

Gaius shook his head again. “No, Arthur. The sorcerer really did try to heal your father. Only, your father was wearing an enchanted necklace that reversed whatever magic would do to him. If harmful magic were to touch him, he would heal, and if healing magic were to touch him…”

“He would get worse,” Arthur finished the sentence. “Why didn’t he tell me?” he snarled.

“It was on my insistence that Merlin did not tell you, sire,” Gaius said placatingly. “You were in grief and filled with anger. You do not believe anyone of a low station in your anger.”

“I—”

“Remember when Merlin tried to warn you about Agravaine? You threatened to exile him if he ever spoke of it again.”

Arthur stared blankly at the table. That was true. God, no wonder Merlin had been so afraid to come to him. But still. “Still,” he said. “I had a right to know.”

He looked up, a tired but angry glare on his face. “I had a right to make my own choices.”

Gaius grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“But for a long time, that was why Merlin didn’t tell you, Arthur,” Lancelot jumped in. “He was… afraid.”

Arthur turned to face him. “You knew too.”

Lancelot nodded. “Since I first arrived in Camelot. I caught him enchanting my weapons to kill the griffin.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

Lancelot gave a small smile. “Merlin was the one who killed the griffin. Not I. But because of his magic, the credit went to me.”

“Merlin’s done a lot for Camelot,” Gwaine said in a measured tone. “A lot for you.”

Arthur didn’t answer. He looked to Gaius.

Gaius caught his eye. “He’s your friend, Arthur. That will not change. Don’t let this tear your friendship apart. Believe me when I say he loathed keeping secrets from you, but it was necessary.”

He gave a minuscule nod.

He had talked to Gaius. He had talked to Lancelot too (and sort of Gwaine). He had talked to Gwen and Mordred. Now there was only one person left.

He stood up and left the room without a word, his footsteps echoing through the hallways as he walked.

He needed to understand. And that would only happen in one way.

Arthur took a deep breath and entered the dungeons.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Merlin didn’t bother looking up when the door to his cell creaked open again.

But then he heard his voice, “Merlin.”

And he started shaking again.

Merlin curled into himself further, pressing himself desperately into the corner. His eyes were squeezed shut and he refused to look at him.

“Merlin, it’s okay. It’s just me.”

Just him. He was the problem though.

Merlin didn’t voice those thoughts, he buried his nails into his skin, hugging himself and trembling in the corner.

“Merlin.”

Merlin refused to look.

“I’m not going to order your execution if that’s what you’re worried about. I promise. I don’t think I ever can.” There was concern in his voice.

Concern.

Arthur was concerned about him. To be truthful, Merlin was concerned about himself.

He didn’t think spending a day and a night in the cell would have reduced him to this, after all, he had spent loads of time in the cell without a fuss. Nothing had happened then.

But then again, in those times, Arthur hadn’t known who Merlin truly was. To him, Merlin had just acted out of line and simply needed a bit of time to cool down. The dungeons weren’t particularly personal to either of them. It had stopped once Arthur was king. The only time he had stayed here overnight was when Gwen was enchanted.

“Merlin, are you okay?” Now the concern was entirely visible and open to everyone. “Do you need Gaius? Are you injured anywhere?”

Merlin didn’t even bother acknowledging the words. He pressed himself further against the cell walls, away from Arthur.

“Merlin?”

A hand touched his shoulder and Merlin snapped.

“Don’t touch me!” Merlin screamed.

The hand immediately snapped back.

“Don’t touch me,” Merlin repeated. And that was all that came out of his mouth.

He had lost… so much.

He had lost so many people. Will, Freya, his father, Daegal, Finna, Alator.

He had nearly lost Gaius, his mother, Gwen, Lancelot, Gwaine, Arthur himself, and everyone he cared about. Multiple times he had nearly lost them.

He had lost his innocence to murder, lost his own scarless body, lost his happiness, all of it being chipped away piece by piece. All towards the cause of destiny.

Fucking destiny.

Stupid destiny.

He had lost so much and so many all for the name of building a kingdom of peace and magic and—

He didn’t even know anymore. Arthur forgave him, and then what? He would go back to living as a servant? Washing socks, cleaning rooms, dressing his master, but this time with magic?

Would he go back to saving his king from magical threats, keeping the ones he loved safe, helping in matters of magic in the kingdom? But this time in safety? Knowing that he didn’t have to live in fear anymore?

Before, that was enough for him to keep going, fighting in the name of a good cause and a good man, hurting himself over and over again to keep one man alive who was destined to bring about a utopia for everyone.

Now? Now Merlin had seen the burnt carcasses of his people being chopped up and thrown away so disintegration would be easier. He had seen rotting corpses of people like him suddenly unearthed when some soil was accidentally dug up because sorcerers weren’t allowed marked graves. He had seen the blood of children accompanied by their cries as they were drowned or were watching their parents, caregivers and family die.

He had seen the way the axe buried itself into Edwin’s skull as it smashed against the wall, spraying blood everywhere. He had smelt the burning of Nimueh’s flesh as he willed the lightning down on her. He had heard the last gasps of Agravaine as his magic threw him against the wall, cracking his head. He had seen, heard, and watched hundreds die by

his hand—his magic.

He had felt as the people he had cared about stopped moving and breathing in his arms, the life they had once possessed fading from their eyes, their gasps and breaths as they hurried to tell him their last words to him, the way they all felt cold long before they became it.

He had lost. Everything.

All in the name of destiny. Of the man crouching in front of him, eyeing him with worry and a spark of fear.

Arthur had been angry and dragged Merlin all the way here because of it.

Now, it was Merlin’s turn to be angry. And rightfully so.

“Leave,” he hissed, glaring at Arthur like he had never done before.

Arthur flinched. “Merlin, what—”

“GET OUT!” Merlin screamed again, then snapped his head away before his magic could react to his anger and lash out at Arthur.

Arthur stayed frozen for a moment, Merlin couldn’t see what expression he had on his face, but by the sound of his footsteps when he finally left the cell, he could tell that he was angry once more.

But Merlin didn’t care. Merlin didn’t feel like himself anymore.

For the first time since he heard the dragon’s call, now that he had revealed his magic, he had let himself feel the grief of the things and people he had lost. He let grief slip into the cracks on his body and grasp his heart.

Merlin used to think that grief was sad.

Now, he knew, grief meant anger.

And Merlin was very angry.

Chapter Text

Arthur stormed out of the dungeons and kept walking.

He spotted Gwen, Gaius, Gwaine, Lancelot and Mordred outside, waiting for him and Merlin to leave the cell together, but once it was clear that it was only Arthur there, their faces settled into something more serious.

“What did you do?” Gwaine growled, stepping in front of Arthur’s path. Lancelot grabbed his arm, but Gwaine jerked it off.

“What did I do?” Arthur barked a bitter laugh. “I did nothing. I went there to talk,” he spat.

“Well, how did it go?” Gwen asked, her voice gentle and filled with concern.

For once, it did nothing to ease Arthur’s anger. “How do you think?” he snapped. “The idiot didn’t even hear me out. He didn’t even speak for himself. Hells, he yelled at me to get out.”

Anger reared up inside him, threatening to strike at someone.

Gwaine was looking to be a promising target, but he changed courses and punched a nearby wall, hurting his fist, but welcoming the pain.

“Arthur,” Gwen tried again. “What really happened? From the start, please.”

Arthur didn’t respond, trying to breathe through the anger.

“Fine,” Gwen said cuttingly. “Then tell me why you’re angry.” Her past words of him being a great man for trying to understand rather than storm in anger echoed in his head. Well, he was trying to understand. Except Merlin never made things easy, did he?

Arthur swiveled around to face them. “I entered the cell,” he began, his voice tight with barely restrained fury. “I had full intentions of hearing him out and listening to what he had to say.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Gwen said immediately. “Tell us what happened.”

Arthur shut his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. “I stepped in and called his name. I called his name and…” and he had started shaking. Trembling. Merlin was trembling. Merlin never trembled. Not when facing the Afanc, not when facing a dragon, not when facing an immortal army, not when riding out to danger with him.

But this time… this time he was.

“And?” Gwen prompted.

Arthur took another breath, a shaky one this time. “And he started trembling. I tried to reassure him, thinking he thought it was the guards to take him away or something, but he kept on shaking and burying himself in the corner.”

Flashes of sympathy crossed everyone’s faces and Arthur himself felt a pang of guilt. At the thought of seeing Merlin that way… scared and shaking and close to tears… Arthur’s anger started to fade.

“I told him that I had no intention of executing him. That I didn’t know if I ever could pass that sentence, but he still didn’t answer. I put a hand on his shoulder, hoping to help, and he— he jerked me away. Yelled at me not to touch him.”

More flashes of sympathy.

“Then he started crying. I tried calling his name but it was like he couldn’t hear me. There were no injuries, he looked alright to me.” He glanced uncertainly at Gaius who was pressing his lips together in a tight line. “But then he screamed. He screamed at me to get out. He sounded— he sounded like—” Arthur dropped his head, staring blankly at the floor, anger all gone and body numb. “He sounded full of anger and hate.”

Arthur rubbed his eyes. “What have I done?” he whispered to himself.

This was his fault. What right did he have to drag his friend, his friend who had given away his life multiple times to save Arthur’s, all the way to the dungeons, humiliating him in front of everyone in the process?

No wonder Merlin was angry with him. If he was in Merlin’s place, he would be too.

He didn’t realize Guinevere had neared him until he felt her take his hands in her own.

He raised his head to meet her kind gaze.

“I’m sorry I was angry,” he said quietly, remembering her words about him being a great man for being able to hold in his anger.

“I don’t think you were ever angry, Arthur,” she replied just as quietly. “I think you’re hurt and scared more than anything. And worried. We all are.”

Arthur gave a small nod. He closed his eyes, willing to keep the tears in, the tears that sprung up at having his emotions addressed and brought out so tenderly. He was still king. He still had an audience other than his wife.

He dropped his hands from Gwen’s and faced the others. Gwaine was no longer glaring at him, instead, a look of apprehension and worry was set on his face. On everyone’s faces.

“Something’s wrong with Merlin,” he said.

“I agree,” Lancelot, ever the knight in shining armor, jumped in to spare him the trouble of talking more about emotions. “It is not like Merlin to act this way. Not unless…” he side-eyed Mordred who turned pink. “Not unless something was threatening to harm someone. He needs someone to help him.”

“I can go,” Gaius volunteered. “I haven’t been down to see him yet and I have looked after him longer than anyone here.”

That was true, Arthur mused. If all else failed, perhaps he could send for Hunith to come and talk to her son. Surely Merlin would listen to his mother at least?

Arthur’s stomach churned at the heavy doubt that pressed the statement.

“What do the rest of us do?” Mordred asked.

They all turned to Arthur. He sighed. “We all have our duties to attend to in the meanwhile,” he said. “Camelot isn’t going to run on its own.”

“No, it’s Merlin who’s mostly doing the running.” Gwaine kept his voice low, but loud enough for Arthur to hear.

Arthur pretended he didn’t.

Gaius walked off in the direction of the cells and the rest scattered off to their duties.

---------------------------------------------------

Merlin heard the cell door open again. He was getting tired of the noise.

After Arthur left, he realized he was sobbing and hurried to stifle it.

He was angry and tired. At everything, at Arthur. He had given away his whole life and now the new age was coming and he didn't know what to do. What was going to happen to him now? He had given up so much for his purpose, that he didn't think there was anything left to him now. He was hollow. He was empty. He wasn’t even Merlin anymore.

He didn't want to see anyone. He wanted to be left alone.

"Merlin?"

Please just leave him alone.

"Merlin, it's me. Gaius."

Please.

"Merlin?"

"Gaius," Merlin croaked. "Please go."

"Merlin, what's—"

"Please." Merlin sobbed. "Please."

He didn't want to yell at anyone anymore. He just wanted to be left alone.

Gaius, thankfully, got up and left. He kept the door open and Merlin waited until his footsteps faded to flash his eyes gold and shut the door of the cell.

His magic bubbled, yearning to spread out, sensing the coming of the new age as Mordred had said.

But Merlin leashed it, tethered firmly inside. He locked it up and continued sobbing.

-----------------------------------------------------

"Merlin didn't listen to me either," Gaius sighed, standing behind Arthur, fingers laced together in front of him.

Arthur didn't respond. What was he supposed to say?

He stared out the window, watching the people in the citadel go about their day. Peasants carrying wheelbarrows full of things, guards marching and making their rounds, children running and teasing each other, servants dodging people, getting things done. Everything was so normal today. Arthur hated it.

"I need to go and make my rounds, sire."

"You're dismissed," Arthur managed to say.

He waited until the door clicked shut behind him before collapsing into the armchair nearby.

This was his fault, wasn’t it?

He had been betrayed and used and manipulated so, so many times. From a servant like Cedric to his own uncle and sister. Because he was so unlikeable that people only got close to him to use him. Even Gwen had betrayed him with Lancelot once. So did Elyan, even if he was possessed and didn’t intentionally mean to. He was thankful that nothing had happened with Leon and Gwaine, though the latter seemed very close to nowadays since Merlin was put into the cell—

No. Since he put Merlin in the cell. He hadn’t even called the guards, he had done it himself. Shown his closest friend just how much he hated him when it wasn’t even hate in the first place—just anger.

Merlin had been the one who was with him through each betrayal and was the one to help him and support him. He was really the only person Arthur had fully trusted. Yet, despite that trust, what had he done to Merlin so far except insult him and burden him and remain ignorant? He had threatened him multiple times too when Merlin had made suggestions he didn’t like—suggestions that had proved to be actually useful.

Some king he was, driving out everyone he loved from his life and cursed to remain alone.

He needed to set this right. He needed to set everything right. He needed to.

He didn’t want to believe that Merlin truly hated him. That thought just didn’t sit right, it didn’t feel right. Merlin was the one person—

And he had—

All because of—

Arthur clutched his hair and let out a shaky exhale.

Magic. All because of magic. He had it told to him, once by Dragoon, once by Dolma and now by Mordred that magic wasn’t evil. That it just was. So if that really was true then… then what of his father? Was he really the madman so many sorcerers who had been brought to court claimed him to be?

He needed answers. He needed to set this right. He needed— he needed—

Arthur covered his face and pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to keep the tears back.

--------------------------------------------------------

Gwen pushed open the door to the physician’s chambers, only to see that Gwaine, Lancelot and Mordred were already sitting around a table with Gaius.

Immediately, the three stood up, Gwaine taking his time with sluggish movements.

“Your Majesty,” Mordred greeted.

Gwen smiled. “Please,” she said, hating how quiet her voice sounded. “We’re all just friends here. Friends worried for another friend.”

Lancelot nodded and sat down, the others following him.

Gwen sighed and dropped onto another chair. “Did you talk to him, Gaius?” she asked.

“Yes, before I made my morning rounds.”

“Let me guess,” Gwaine said grimly, his gaze planted on the table. “He didn’t listen.”

“He begged me to leave him alone,” Gaius answered morosely.

Gwen grimaced. “What are we going to do?” she asked.

No one answered. Each of them looked up only to see blank faces and hear an empty silence.

-------------------------------------------------------

Arthur approached Merlin’s cell.

Merlin, not expecting him to come so soon, jerked awake from where he had been half-dozing. Arthur’s face was expressionless, just like when he had admitted his secret that morning.

Had he gone too far and now Arthur really was going to execute him?

But Merlin was too numb. Limbs and body heavy as well as his thoughts. He flicked his eyes to Arthur as the king stood a little ways away from him. Before they could make eye contact, Merlin let his gaze fall back to the wall in front of him.

Merlin recalled the many times both of them had spent in companionable silence, each other’s presence providing comfort and soothing. Now, it was just stiff.

Both had been angry. Both had been hurt. Both were exhausted. Both were numb.

He admitted that screaming at the king to get out of his own cells was a bit far, but at the time, he wasn’t screaming at the king. He was screaming at his friend. At the person who he had sacrificed so much for. And that was justifiable.

Arthur might hold the title of king, but to Merlin, he had been his friend first. He was his king because he was his friend.

Merlin might have started out in the name of destiny, but he had stayed in the name of friendship.

All the loss, all the mistakes, all the bloodshed and murder in the shadows, that was all accredited to destiny. To the man on the other side of the bars. He had lost so much, too much. He could never go back. He was broken. Used, manipulated by fate itself. Shattered. Scattered and hollow. Alone.

After Camlann, Merlin felt trapped. Constricted and choked. So he finally decided to drop the hat made of lead that he had been wearing since the day he was born. He revealed his secret to Arthur. He admitted to having magic.

Arthur broke the silence, startling Merlin from his thoughts, “I realize that your anger is justified right now.”

Merlin was surprised at the admission, though he didn’t show.

“I humiliated you. Not just by dragging you all the way here in front of everyone, but other times too. Calling you names when you did not deserve them, giving you an unbelievable amount of chores because it amused me to see you annoyed, and playing pranks on you with the knights because I thought it was funny. I humiliated you when you saved my life. Threw you in the dungeons myself when you finally decided to give me your trust.”

Merlin couldn’t help the scoff that slipped out of his mouth. It was a heartfelt admission, but it was so widely off-course to what had been rolling in his brain.

Arthur turned to him in surprise, and a little bit of hurt.

“I’m not angry because you humiliate me, believe it or not,” Merlin said, his first calm words since the reveal. “Although you did just add it to the list. I’m angry because… because of you.”

Arthur suppressed a flinch, but Merlin could see it anyway. He fumbled around, trying to gather the words. Exhaustion and weariness weighed down his head, keeping him from thinking straight let alone forming sentences.

“Then help me understand,” Arthur said, mistaking Merlin’s silence as more anger. “Help me understand so we can make this right.”

This whole time, Merlin thought that he was going to be the one to plead. Never did he expect Arthur to plead to him.

He searched Arthur’s face. There was no anger now. Just hurt. Rightful hurt.

Merlin sighed.

“The first thing I came across when I entered Camelot,” he said, “was an execution. An execution of a sorcerer to be specific.”

Arthur cringed.

“It was Mary Collins’ son. I heard Uther talk about this war against magic and a celebration that was going to be held for successfully killing off my kind.”

The sympathy on Arthur’s face was enough for Merlin to turn away. But he didn’t, wanting to see his reaction for the next sentence.

“The second thing in relation to magic that happened was a dragon.”

Sure enough, Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing into his fringe. “A dragon?” he spluttered.

Merlin couldn’t help the small smile. “Yeah. A dragon.” Then that smile turned into a vengeful smirk, he still wasn’t over the bitter anger. “The same dragon that you thought you killed.”

“Which I thought I—” Arthur stopped himself.

Merlin looked at him, daring him to be angry again, but Arthur didn’t. He leveled a look back at Merlin, expressionless and blank, but with a slight narrowing of his eyes that meant that he was going to have words with him later.

“The dragon called me and told me that I had a destiny. A destiny to protect the future king of Camelot, for this king, would unite the land of Albion and bring magic back to it.”

If Arthur disagreed with the statement, he didn’t show.

Merlin felt his bitterness cool a little. So Arthur could be a good listener when he wanted to. He nodded in approval and continued, “I didn’t believe him at first. I had met you twice and both times you were a prat.”

Arthur nodded. “I did try to take your head off with a mace.”

Merlin smirked again. “And I stopped you. With magic.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “You cheated!”

Merlin shrugged. There was no denying that. “Yeah.”

Arthur gaped at him before shaking his head, a small smile forming on his lips, remembering their first meeting.

Merlin remembered it too. He remembered it well. Arthur had been every bit the rude, arrogant, pompous prat as Merlin had thought him to be.

But… he had improved since then. That arrogance turned into humbleness. The rudeness turned into affection and sincere pride for his people. The prat he had met at the market turned into a great king.

Merlin told everyone he met that he believed Arthur to be a good king. A great king. Not just because of destiny, but because of the change he had seen in him.

“So… destiny?” Arthur urged.

Merlin sighed again. “Destiny took everything away from me.”

“What do you mean?”

Merlin caught Arthur’s eyes. His face fell into something else. Something a little more true to the hurt inside his heart than the bitterness that had been covering it. Here it was, he was going to tell Arthur another secret. The secret within a secret. The secret of how much he had been carried away by a simple promise from a narcissistic dragon.

“I was so stupid.” With the admission of those words, came another spout of tears and sobs, bubbling out like water from a clamped pot on a stove. “Arthur, I was so, so stupid.”

Between the blurry vision, he caught Arthur’s alarmed and stricken face. “Merlin, what happened?”

“I— I did— I did so much—” Another sob interrupted and Merlin clamped his mouth, trying to control them.

“Merlin, calm yourself. It’s okay.”

“But it’s not!” Merlin yelled, out of desperation than anger like last time. “I ruined everything. I ruined myself.”

He dissolved into another round of crying, tired, but not able to stop.

Arthur squirmed and opened the cell, stepping inside. “Merlin, I won’t be able to understand or help you if you don’t tell me exactly what’s upsetting you.”

Merlin shook his head.

“Merlin, please.”

"I've done so much," Merlin hiccuped. "I've done so much bad. Unforgivable things. I had no choice, I had to choose between the lesser two evils, but it— I—" If only he knew. If only he knew just how much Merlin had destroyed.

Merlin rubbed his nose with his sleeve, sobs subsiding. "I was meant to protect you," he said. "In the prophecies, I'm known as Emrys and I'm meant to be the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth and my purpose is to protect the Once and Future King."

"What?"

Merlin laughed wetly. "I've hidden more than you know, Arthur."

A flash of hurt crossed the king's face and Merlin felt a twinge of guilt along with it.

Merlin wiped his nose and eyes with his sleeve again. Then he turned to face Arthur. "I'm sorry," he said with as much earnestness as he could muster. "I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry I hid my whole self from you. I'm sorry I never told you. And I'm sorry for all the horrible things I did behind your back."

Arthur looked puzzled. "I thought magic wasn't evil?"

Merlin shook his head. "Not magic. I've— I've done other things behind your back with magic. I— Arthur, I killed for you. I betrayed people for you. I've done much more than lie. I've lost myself."

"Merlin, I would never ask you to do that."

"I did that for destiny!" Merlin screamed, hysteria rising once again. "Fucking destiny. I used to think I was a freak. A monster. Just for having magic. Then the dragon told me that I had a purpose for the magic and it was to serve you. I sacrificed my body and loved ones for that purpose. I was so naïve."

"Merlin, what are you saying?"

Merlin took a deep breath. It was time. Time to lay out all his sins and let his king judge him and decide. Arthur may have accepted his magic now, but that didn't mean he would accept this.

But Merlin didn't care anymore. He could live or die, it wouldn't matter. He gave up his whole self for this cause and now he had nothing more of himself to lose except for his beating heart. He had already revealed himself to be a traitor, what did it matter if he admitted to being a killer too?

"I killed Edwin Muirden," he began, and already Arthur's eyes were growing wide. "I killed Sofia and Alfric. I killed Nimueh. I poisoned Morgana. I released the Great Dragon. I killed Morgause. I killed— I killed Uther." Merlin shut his eyes. "It was an accident. I was Dragoon and there was an enchanted necklace and— and I—" Merlin stifled an anguished sob into his hand. "I killed Agra— Agravaine. I tried to let Mordred die. I've killed bandits, mercenaries, enemy soldiers, creatures and beasts. I've done so much, Arthur. You have every right to execute me. I deserve to die."

Arthur didn't speak and Merlin was too afraid to open his eyes.

Eventually, his hysteric sobs sobered. Silence stretched out for so long that Merlin thought that Arthur had left. When he opened his eyes though, he was right there, sitting beside him, staring at him with an indiscernible look.

"Arthur?" Merlin whispered tentatively.

"That doesn't sound like you, Merlin," Arthur said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Merlin offered stiffly.

"No. That doesn't sound like you. I—" Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Help me understand, Merlin. Please. I may be king, but I still don't have the guts to watch you burn and scream."

Merlin flinched. "I don't know what to say."

"The truth," Arthur said. "Tell me the truth. The whole story. Not just— whatever that was. Tell me the whole truth."

Merlin hesitated. "From the beginning?"

Arthur nodded. "The very beginning. You said you were born with magic?"

"Yeah, I… I could move objects before I could talk. Gave my mother a hell of a time."

"Tell me. Tell me everything."

Merlin bit his lip. "Arthur, are you su—"

"Merlin?" Arthur exhaled shakily. "I am so lost right now. All I want to do is understand. I thought I knew you."

Merlin flinched again. "I'm still the same person."

"Then tell me about the whole you. As king, even I can't make judgements without hearing the whole story. If I did, I would be a tyrant. And you taught me not to be that."

"It will… take a while."

Arthur gestured around the cell. "We have time."

Arthur was waiting expectantly and patiently. A little distance away from him than before, but he was still here. He hadn't left. He wanted to listen. He wanted to understand.

…Really, Merlin couldn't have asked for more. This was exactly what he wanted. Forget destiny, he still wanted to remain by Arthur's side. This was his chance. The chance to show Arthur who he really was and close that invisible distance and make their friendship whole, like Mordred had said earlier.

Merlin was lost and hurt and bitter and broken, yes. But he still had his friends. He still had Lancelot and Gaius and Mordred. And Gwaine and Gwen and… and Arthur too.

They said that they would remain with Merlin and stay with their friendship. Destiny hadn't managed to take them away, so he supposed he better hurry up before it realized just how much Merlin still had left and take that away too.

Merlin took a deep breath, and another to calm himself. Then, he began.

"The first time I saved your life was at the feast where Helen of Mora was singing…"

------------------------------------------------

It was evening by the time Merlin had finished recounting everything. He spoke quickly and condensed weeks' worth of events into a few sentences to get past everything quickly.

By the end of it, Merlin's voice was hoarse and Arthur's voice was gone from surprise.

Merlin kept clearing his throat, so Arthur got up and walked to the front of the dungeons and ordered the guards to bring some water. They gave their waterskin and Arthur brought it back and watched as Merlin drank.

They sat in thoughtful silence. He didn't know what Merlin was thinking, but by the downturn of his lips, it was clear he was scared.

But the misery and bitterness Arthur had seen before had vanished. His shoulders that were drooping no longer seemed weighed down with the weight of the world—which was what had been driving his friend slowly into darkness. Just like Morgana. Not magic, but fear. For both of them. Morgana's fear of Uther and his laws and Merlin's fear of losing Arthur and everyone he had cared about.

Arthur knew that Merlin hadn't told him everything—unintentional on his part for sure. It just wasn't possible to condense ten years' worth of secrets into a day.

But it was clear that Merlin hadn't spoken the full truth like this to someone since… forever, really. Not even Gaius and Lancelot, knowing Merlin, probably didn't want to "unnecessarily" involve them. This was probably the first time he must have had the chance to truly have someone listen to him. Already, Arthur could see the small features of the old Merlin, the Merlin he had met in the market, now. The minuscule quirk to his lips, the way his eyes were just a little wider, displaying his leftover innocence, the ease in his posture, not so tight anymore.

"I could have helped," Arthur finally said. "So many times where you were faced with those impossible situations, me knowing would have made everything so much easier."

Merlin sighed. "I know," he said with resignation. "I'm sorry."

"I had the right to choose. I have the right to make my own choices. You made my choices for me behind my back." A little bit of bitterness slipped into his words, but there wasn't any anger. Arthur had accepted it by now. Control just wasn't something Arthur could ever keep. Control had always been shaky under his hands as king, with Agravaine, with Merlin making his choices for him to protect him from the truth. The only difference between them was that Merlin had good intentions, and Agravaine didn't.

That still didn't change anything.

Merlin was quiet for a moment. "I see that now," he acknowledged. "It was wrong, but I had to choose which one was the lesser of the two evils in so many cases. There's nothing I can do to make it up now except apologize. I’m sorry."

The pure veracity in his voice was enough to make Arthur smile. "Not many people have the guts to admit their mistake and apologize for it by themselves.”

Merlin smiled back. “I’m not most people.”

Arthur hummed. “No, you aren’t, you’re better. I should never have reacted the way I did. It was cruel, just plain cruel, to have done that to my own friend.”

Merlin shrugged. “I’m just a servant, and it isn’t the first time anyway.”

Arthur shook his head vigorously. “You know full well that we haven’t been just servant and king for years now. It was wrong for me to throw you away like scum many times before just because I didn’t like something you said or did. That’s not how reasonable people talk. If it had been anyone else, there would have been a trial.”

“But I’m not anyone else,” Merlin pointed out, determined to keep Arthur from blaming himself. “I’m someone who you had trusted, and you just found out that I’ve been lying to you for years.”

Arthur opened his mouth to shoot an argument again but stopped. He burst into laughter instead. “Just a while ago we were blaming each other, and now we’re arguing to blame ourselves.”

Merlin’s eyebrows rose and he joined in with the laughter softly too.

Arthur smiled, one of the fond ones he rarely ever shared, though he felt it in his heart multiple times. He clasped Merlin’s shoulder, nodding at him.

Merlin nodded back, still smiling. That goofy one he had when they both first met which was full of cheek.

Arthur sighed and pulled him into a hug, earning a surprised squawk from him.

Merlin froze for a second before hugging him back. It didn’t last long, Arthur was never the one for physical affection, but he knew that Merlin appreciated it with how his shoulders suddenly dropped.

“Does this mean we’re alright?” Merlin asked.

“As long as there are no more secrets between us,” Arthur said. “And you don’t shout at me again.”

Merlin grinned, though it looked smug when he said, “No promises. You are a prat sometimes.”

Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes. Then a thought entered his brain.

“This whole time we’ve been arguing about your magic,” he began, “but I haven’t actually seen it for myself.”

Merlin went rigid. “Are you sure you want to see it?” he asked, his words quiet and cautious.

No, Arthur did not want to see it. He still wanted this all to be a bad dream. He still wanted to wake up to an annoyingly cheery voice and a servant who was just that—a servant, not a sorcerer committing treason by hiding for ten years.

However much Arthur wished, he knew it wasn’t a dream. It was real.

Arthur needed to know. To see for himself. He had to.

So he nodded.

Merlin eyed him solicitously. Then he held out his hands, cupping them. Though the movement was not at all sudden, Arthur still almost flinched.

“Gewyrcan lif,” Merlin whispered and his eyes flashed gold.

Arthur tensed and was about to reach out for his sword when he stopped himself. He closed his eyes, reminding himself, magic isn’t evil, it’s a tool, Merlin isn’t evil, he’s my friend.

The sight of Merlin's familiar friendly blues turning a bright alien gold nauseated him, but he controlled himself.

When he finally opened his eyes, Merlin was staring at him, his whole back taut and sadness at seeing Arthur's reaction shimmering in his eyes.

Arthur looked away and directed his gaze to Merlin's cupped palms.

The sorcerer opened his hands to show a bright blue butterfly with its wings edged with black and intricate, thin lines criss-crossing them. It slowly fluttered its wings.

Arthur gawked, staring at the butterfly in wonder.

Of all the spells he had seen—magic throwing people across the air with hard force, creating large fires and devestation, crushing down buildings, animating objects to attack and kill, transforming people into creatures—he had never seen it do something as harmless and innocent as creating a butterfly.

He half-expected the butterfly to morph into something ugly or burst into flames, taking him with it too, but all it did was take off from Merlin's hands, tepidly fluttering in the air.

He watched as it flew across the cell, a clear, clean creature gently floating across the dark, grimy cell. And the action was so unequivocally Merlin that fondness and amusement filled his chest.

He watched it for a while until Merlin stretched out his arm and pointed his finger. The butterfly flew down and landed on it, its antennae moving petitely.

Arthur met Merlin's eyes again.

The man was still watching him with apprehension and fear. Arthur decided he hated that look on his friend.

Because that was exactly what he was: a friend.

He reached out fearlessly and tousled Merlin’s hair before getting up and opening the cell door.

Merlin remained on the ground, not unsure, but testing and watching Arthur to see what he would do, the butterfly still on his finger.

Arthur held out a hand.

Merlin looked at it and then at him.

“You are someone very valuable to me, Merlin,” Arthur said solemnly. “I could never bear to lose you. I want to solve this. Together.”

Those words must have brought more comfort than he thought because Merlin’s hand was shaky when he clutched Arthur’s arm. “Me too,” he whispered.

As Arthur lifted him up, the butterfly took off and flickered out of the cell.

Arthur had seen so much destruction and death caused by magic.

And yet, here it was, the shy creature; a living being given life by magic.

A new life. A new day. A new beginning.

Chapter Text

A month passed and Arthur invited Merlin to his chambers every evening to learn more about his hidden life in Camelot in more detail. Multiple surprise revelations left Arthur with a headache too many times, but the invisible distance between them started to close.

Soon, with Gaius, Lancelot and Mordred’s help, Arthur, Gwen and Gwaine understood more and more about magic and what it really was. A couple of days after the reveal, Merlin confessed to Elyan, Leon and Percival too in front of Arthur and everyone else who had already known in the privacy of the king’s chambers.

Their reactions were… interesting.

“WHAT?” Elyan yelled.

Arthur winced, remembering Elyan’s past experience with magic, torture and possession.

“You know what,” Percival said thoughtfully. “Things make so much more sense now. I never knew Camelot’s trees could be so fragile.”

Merlin chuckled nervously.

Leon addressed Arthur, “Are you alright with this, sire?”

Arthur nodded. “Magic or no, Merlin can be trusted.” It would take a little more for the trust to fully heal again, but they were getting there. Slowly, but surely.

Leon nodded and smiled at Merlin. “Thank you for saving our lives.”

Lancelot asked the question they were all thinking. “You’re not surprised, Leon?”

“Oh, I am. But I was saved by magic before and had my doubts ever since. And…” He glanced hesitantly at Arthur.

“You can speak freely, Sir Leon.”

Leon shifted and then admitted, “I have been doing some of my own research on magic ever since I was healed by the druids. I did not know Merlin had magic, but as Percival said, things make more sense now.”

Arthur was amused.

Gwen took Elyan away to calm her spluttering brother and explain everything to him. A day later, he clasped a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and thanked him for saving his life too.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Merlin had written most of his speeches, but this was one speech he couldn’t write. It had to come from Arthur.

He went through the words over and over, waking up at random moments at night to write down a specifically good piece, then revising and editing it constantly. It wasn’t like other speeches, other speeches didn’t have the purpose of convincing a nation of people who had been fearing magic for thirty years to just stop and accept it. It was painstaking and slow work.

Finally, he presented it to Merlin for proofreading. Arthur was no scholar, and he also wanted to get everything right.

By the time Merlin reached the end of the scroll, he was wiping away tears. “Thank you.”

“I take it it’s good then?”

Merlin laughed. “Just a few bits here and there that can be phrased better, but yes. It’s good.”

And hell if that, coupled with the smile on his friend’s face, didn’t warm his heart, he didn’t know what would.

---------------------------------------------------------

"In all the years of my life, I have seen many things in relation to sorcery. Most of which, unfortunately, has been associated with evil. Many of you have had similar experiences. Many of you have lost someone to the evils of sorcery. As I have too. My sister. My father. And a great many friends.

But today… today I have something to say. Something that will change every single life that presides in Camelot. So, let the next words be recorded in every record, every book, every future song, poem and story, let it be recorded in all your memories:
I, Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, humbly and honestly apologize to all magic users that lived and have died unjustly.”

The crowd started murmuring.

“I ask for forgiveness from those who have been hunted, tortured, persecuted and humiliated simply for the act of practicing or having magic.”

The murmurs got louder.

“I give my very sincerest apologies to the spirits of the dead innocents who were killed because of having or being accused of sorcery, especially those who have died at my hand and word.”

The murmurs turned into exclamations.

“From this day on,” Arthur had to shout to be heard. “By my decree spoken with a sound and free mind, magic will no longer be banned in Camelot. Magic users will— will no longer be—" Arthur couldn't go on. The people were shouting and screaming now. His voice wasn't high enough.

“I will go down to help quieten the crowd, my lord,” Leon said, already shooting off with a swift bow.

The people were still exclaiming and shouting, not having noticed that the king had disappeared for a few moments. He glanced at Gwen beside him and she smiled, squeezing his hand. Arthur clutched it, seeking comfort, before turning to the crowd again.

The knights and guards were yelling over the people to calm them. A couple of them pulled out swords to make their point, though Arthur knew he wouldn’t let anyone get hurt.

A few minutes later, the crowd finally was hushed. A new eagerness from the people could be felt in the atmosphere.

Arthur looked down at the crowd, a sense of pride and affection blooming in his heart at his kingdom.

"Hear me, my people!" His voice boomed across the air again like a loud trumpet. "Hear me, and trust my word when I say that you are not in the way of any harm. Nor am I.

“My father decreed magic to be evil to the core, but I have come to the realisation and knowledge that it is not. Magic is simply a tool. Like a sword is for a knight and a hammer is for a blacksmith, magic is simply a tool used by sorcerers. In my many quests and missions, I have met many sorcerers. But most of them had only one message: that they are innocent and are doing no crime. Their hatred is born of fear, just as my sister, the Lady Morgana's anger was born of years in hiding and fear of our father's laws. This is only the beginning. As the time comes, you will witness what magic really is. As the times comes, you will make your own decision about how you feel about magic and those who wield it.

“But know this, my dear people, your king has the full support of those who will use magic for good. And thus, magic users will no longer be executed simply for the crime of having or using magic. For some people, they have no choice and are born with it. For those who do use magic to hurt or harm others or the kingdom, the punishment of death by a burning pyre still stands.

“My people, this is the beginning of a new era. My father was the one to build Camelot into a prosperous kingdom, I hold nothing but respect for him and only hope to live up to his teachings. However, as my duty as the current king of Camelot, it is my responsibility to the kingdom and its people to lead them as best I can. And I believe accepting magic is for the good of the kingdom.

“My people, fear not! For your king has your best interests at heart. Any questions and doubts will be cleared in the next months as more precise and revised laws regarding magic and sorcery will be decreed. Camelot will be a safer place for all its citizens.

Peace, my people."

Arthur stepped away from the balcony and a clamor broke out among the crowd again. Merlin was behind him, his hands were clasped in front of him, but they were shaking.

"You look like you need a break, Merlin," Arthur teased.

Merlin was trembling, his whole body shaking either in nervousness or fear or both, he didn't know.

Merlin smiled. Though it seemed unsure, it was genuine. "Likewise."

Arthur smiled back before proceeding to the inner chamber. Council members and lords and ladies stood, clapping politely though whispers still shot across the room.

There were many "well said, my lord" and other forms of praise, but Arthur gave a blank smile to them as he walked out of the room. He nodded and smiled at the members and staff of the castle as he walked through the hallways, accompanied by his knights.

When he reached the door of his chambers, he turned to face his knights. Merlin had scurried off elsewhere, probably to wind down from the excitement.

"You spoke well, sire," Leon was the first to speak.

"That was a good improvisation too," Elyan acknowledged.

"You had a powerful voice," even Gwaine complimented.

Arthur nodded at them. "Thank you, men. That will be all."

Arthur entered his chambers. He shut the door behind him and immediately let out a big sigh of relief.

Walking over to a table, he undid the upper layers of his royal clothing, then collapsed onto a chair.

Guinevere entered a few moments later and sat beside him. Arthur rubbed his forehead. “What if this never works?” he asked in a hushed voice. “What if I’m making a mistake?”

Gwen took his hand. “It will. You’re not.”

“You speak with such confidence.”

Gwen rubbed her thumb lightly over the back of his hand. “I am.”

“How?” He looked up.

Gwen’s eyes were twinkling with pride. “Because this was a decision made not alone. Me, Merlin, Gaius and the knights were all involved in it. Arthur, now that you know the truth, do you want to sentence Merlin as per Uther’s laws?”

“No, but—”

“You very well know that you can’t just exempt one person from the law. Do you want to keep executing sorcerers for the crime of doing nothing but simply existing?”

Arthur sighed. “No. But Camelot has lived in fear and hatred of magic for three decades.”

Gwen squeezed his hand. “It has, but that still doesn’t mean that things should remain the same. Not when they’re unfair.” She kissed the back of his hand. “I know that you’re a great king, I saw how well you addressed the crowd today. You love them, and they love you. If anyone can change thirty years of hatred, it’s you. I know it, Arthur.”

“I can’t do this alone.”

“No, you have me.” Gwen flashed that sweet smile of hers. “And you also have Merlin. You should have seen him, how he was beaming so hard that he seemed to glow. He’s proud of you, Arthur. We all are.”

Arthur kissed her hand in return.

“Get some rest to wind down,” she said as she stood up. “I need to take care of some things.”

“Thank you, Guinevere.”

Gwen smiled before she left.

---------------------------------------------------------

Arthur thought that Merlin would have sent another servant in his stead, but was pleasantly surprised when the man himself slipped through the door with dinner.

“Merlin,” he said, looking up from the law draft papers in front of him. “Sit with me.”

Alarmed by the request, Merlin stood paralysed in front of the dinner table.

Arthur rolled his eyes as he made his way to the table. “Oh, don’t look so startled, Merlin. You’re going to be my equal anyway in a couple months. Or, well, near-equal.”

Merlin squirmed uncomfortably. “What?”

Arthur grinned. “Now that the ban’s lifted—or about to be—we have to move on to the next step.” He sat down and gestured at Merlin to sit again before picking up a drumstick. “I need someone to help me understand magic and make decisions concerning magic. Someone who knows magic well and what it does.” He handed Merlin a drumstick, suppressing a laugh at how the servant gaped at the chicken Arthur thrust in his hand. “I’m thinking of appointing a Court Sorcerer.”

Merlin dropped the chicken.

Arthur stared at the drumstick on the floor. “What a way to waste food,” he sighed.

“What?” Merlin squeaked.

“I’m not picking that up, Merlin.”

Merlin shook his head. “No, I meant— what?”

Arthur bit his chicken leg, deeply enjoying the reaction in front of him. “We’ll have to get you a new wardrobe, new chambers too perhaps. Of course, we first need to figure out the responsibilities of someone in the position. I dare say, Geoffery might still have something in the library. Then after that, we can—”

“Arthur, stop.” Merlin put his head in his hands. “Stop.”

Concern rose inside him. Arthur put down his food. “You okay?”

“Why are you doing this?” His breathing had gotten a little rapid and choppy.

Maybe he should have broken the news a little less abruptly. “I want to make you my Court Sorcerer, Merlin.”

“Why?” Merlin half-shouted. “I– I’ve done so much bad, Arthur. You’ve heard me. I told you about everything I’ve done, I’m a monster. A villain. A freak. I don’t— I don’t deserve this.”

Arthur considered his friend. “You really think that?”

Slowly, Merlin nodded.

Though it was Merlin who thought that, Arthur felt a knife strike between his ribs. How had he gone on for so long without noticing how badly Merlin was doing right under his nose? Never mind the sorcery, what about the degradation?

Arthur had missed so much. “We’re going to figure this out, Merlin,” Arthur told him. “Let’s concentrate on the ban first, we’ll talk about this later. Okay?”

Merlin rubbed his eyes and took a shaky breath, nodding. “Okay.” He got up, grabbed a pitcher of wine and poured Arthur a glass. “You did good today,” he said with a smile.

Arthur returned it. “I’m glad, Merlin. But I’m afraid that’s just the beginning.”