Work Text:
A Different Kind of Armor
The sun was beginning to slide toward the western horizon. The brisk autumn breeze stirred the fallen leaves, which, despite being covered in a light dusting of snow, still crunched beneath the horses’ hooves. The small hunting party emerged from the woods onto the road leading to Camelot.
Arthur rode in the lead, with the visiting Prince Erik from the frigid northern lands just behind him, and Merlin bringing up the rear. His horse loaded down with the two deer, four rabbits, and several grouse.
“I’m really looking forward to the feast tonight,” Prince Erik grinned, “It was a successful hunt, I’d say.”
Merlin really liked Erik. He was a bit taller than both Merlin and Arthur, but built more like Merlin—slender, lean-muscled, and quick on his feet. He had reddish-blonde hair that reached just above his shoulders, sharp features, and ice blue eyes that reminded Merlin of the lake back in Ealdor in winter.
He and Erik immediately got on. The prince was so unlike Arthur. He was actually interested in what Merlin had to say and what he knew about herbs and nature. He also, quietly, asked questions about magic, which Merlin answered as honestly as he could without exposing his own secret.
“Very successful,” Arthur said with a slight nod, “Though it would have been more successful if my servant had not scared the game off with his ridiculous laughing.”
Merlin smirked, “Sorry, Sire…”
“You’re not sorry, Mer—lin.”
“I’m afraid I must take part of the blame,” Erik said, “I was telling Merlin a rather amusing story from my first hunt. Perhaps I will tell you at the banquet this evening.”
“I shall look forward to that,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “It has not escaped my notice that you and my idiot servant seem to get on well…a bit too well if you ask me.”
“Please, Arthur, Merlin is far more than a servant. Anyone with two eyes can see that you two are close,” Erik smiled knowingly. “But yes, I have truly enjoyed meeting him. His humor and courage alone…he is a wonderful companion, and I envy you, Arthur. If I thought there was even a remote chance, I would steal him away from you. I could use someone like Merlin in my kingdom. Loyal, clever, brave…he would make an excellent companion.”
Arthur’s chest tightened, and a large knot formed in his throat. He swallowed it down, shaking his head. “Merlin is free to go any time he chooses. I only keep him around because a half-decent servant is hard to find. You’d be doing me a favor, actually. He’s constantly in the tavern, never takes off that ridiculous scarf, he is always tripping over something, and I won’t even bother to mention all the times he vanishes for days with no explanation.”
Merlin’s head jerked around, eyes darkening as he looked at Arthur with a mixture of surprise and hurt. His hand tightened on the reins, pulling the horse too hard to the left. It bucked, nearly unseating him.
Arthur turned to look over his shoulder. “Merlin, have you completely forgotten how to ride a horse?”
“No, of course not,” Merlin said, not bothering to hide the pain in his voice.
“You know, maybe you should go with Erik. A change of scenery would do you good. Give me a break from you. That is, until he grows tired of you too, and sends you back.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Merlin said flatly. “Sire, if you don’t mind, I would like to ride on ahead. Seeing as I am so useless to you here.”
“Go on then,” Arthur motioned toward home, “Take the animals to the kitchen so the cooks can prepare them for the feast.” Arthur watched Merlin nudge his horse toward Camelot.
He and Erik rode in silence for a while, then the younger prince glanced over at him thoughtfully.
“You know, Merlin would rather die than leave your side, Arthur,” Erik said, his tone hard. He was clearly displeased with what Arthur had just done to Merlin. Letting out a slow breath, he continued. “My people serve me well, but there’s not a single one that would give their life for me.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Arthur shook his head, “Your people love you.”
“Maybe, but not in the way Merlin cares for you. And you can’t see that you hurt him just now…deeply.”
“Merlin is fine. I always treat him like that. He knows I don’t really mean it.”
“Not from my perspective. I don’t think you truly understand how deep his devotion to you runs. How much he longs to know he matters to you.”
“He knows,” Arthur shrugged, “It’s just banter…harmless teasing. That’s all.”
“You didn’t see the pain in his eyes just now. I did.”
“I don’t know how you do things up north, but here, servants are not friends. Nor can they ever be,” Arthur said sharply.
“Forgive me. Sometimes I forget myself and speak out of turn.”
“No harm done,” Arthur said even as his emotions were in turmoil.
“Be careful, Arthur,” Erik said, “One day, you might wake up to find the one person you desperately need in your life is gone, and there will be no getting him back. You are so desperate to protect yourself from being hurt that you are hurting Merlin deeply.”
Arthur met Erik’s unwavering gaze and nodded. “Thank you for your advice. You’re right. But what you don’t understand is if my father were to learn just how much I value Merlin, how much he means to me, he would be removed from my service and sent away so fast. I can’t allow that. My father believes emotional bonds create weakness.”
“The king is wrong. Strength comes from those who stand by your side at the most difficult times. Who has always been there for you? Who never lets you down? Who is the first person you turn to in trying situations?”
Arthur didn’t even need to think about his answer. While his first instinct was to say Guinevere, he knew it was wrong. Merlin…always Merlin.
Erik waited patiently, watching Arthur’s carefully woven wall of protection slowly coming apart, brick by brick. His eyes were shining with tears as he glanced up at the gray sky and blinked quickly, trying to ward them off.
“It’s Merlin…” Arthur said softly, his voice breaking on the last syllable
Erik smiled, “Then you should let him know. What you said to him just now...it cut him deeply. You didn’t see the look in his eyes, I did. Stop hurting him just to protect yourself. He doesn’t deserve to be the target of your words. He cares for you as you care for him.”
“He doesn’t,” Arthur shook his head. “It’s loyalty, nothing more.”
“You really don’t see it, do you?” Erik asked.
“Apparently not.”
“Then I feel sorry for you,” Erik shook his head, “The way I see it, Merlin is the only thing keeping you from turning into your father. Unless, of course, that is who you truly want to become. If that is the case, then I believe you should let Merlin go. Camelot doesn’t need another Uther Pendragon. That’s not what Merlin needs either. And it certainly isn’t what he has worked so hard toward all this time. Release him from your service, and I will take him with me back to my kingdom.”
“Merlin isn’t going anywhere,” Arthur said more harshly than he’d intended, bringing a satisfied smirk to Erik’s face.
“You cannot hold onto someone with insults and harsh words, Arthur.” Erik gave him a curt nod, then nudged his horse into a run toward Camelot.
Arthur ran a hand through his hair, pinching the bridge of his nose. The thought of Erik taking Merlin away turned him inside out. Jealousy flared hot and ugly. He huffed a laugh, realizing that in no time at all, Prince Erik had seen right through the facade he had thought was impenetrable.
“Merlin, you’re not going anywhere. Not if I can help it.” Arthur gripped the reins tighter, then kicked his horse into a gallop. Merlin was his and would always be his. Erik was right; he needed to let Merlin know how he really feels before he loses him forever.
As he rode toward Camelot, he replayed the things he’d said to Merlin. His chest ached as he realized how shameful and cruel his comments had been.
“Gods, I’m sorry, Merlin,” he said softly, then urged his horse to run faster.
Merlin stormed into Gaius’ chambers, startling the old physician. He charged up the steps to his room, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. Gaius stared after him, the eyebrow of judgment raised high. He got up off the bench he had been sitting on for far too long, bones creaking as he stood. Climbing the steps, he knocked then opened the door to find his ward sprawled diagonally across his bed, on his stomach, long arms shoved beneath his pillow.
“Merlin, what’s wrong?” he asked as he sat down on the edge of the straw mattress.
“Nothing…” Merlin muttered into his pillow.
“It’s Arthur, I assume…”
Merlin turned his head slightly, his dark blue-gray eyes filled with unshed tears. “I can’t do this anymore, Gaius. I cannot be Arthur’s servant. He sees me as nothing more than a useless idiot, no matter what I do for him.”
“I understand…”
“No—no you don’t...Gaius, no one does, and no one ever will. I am so tired of being treated like a fool. Being forced to pretend that I am nothing. Arthur has no idea who I am, and he never will.”
Gaius frowned, “Merlin, you know the prince...he’s a complicated person. His father never allowed him to have any real friendships. Until you came along, he had no one he could truly trust.”
“He still doesn’t trust me, Gaius!” Merlin said, bolting upright. “Prince Erik told Arthur that he would take me off his hands in a heartbeat, and he didn’t even hesitate. He said I was free to go at any time and that he only keeps me around because a half-decent servant is hard to find. He actually said that maybe I should go with Erik, that a change of scenery would do me good. Do you have any idea how much that hurts?”
“I’m quite sure he didn’t mean it, Merlin.”
“Oh, he meant it,” Merlin huffed, “He doesn’t care about me.”
“That’s not true, Merlin, and you know it.”
“Well, he has a funny way of showing it.”
“Perhaps you should go talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”
“I can’t, Gaius. I’m tired,” Merlin choked back a sob. You know...Prince Erik offered me the chance to go with him when he returns to his kingdom. Maybe that is what I should do.”
“Merlin, you cannot leave Camelot...your destiny… Not to mention, what I would do without you, my boy,” Gaius said as he reached out to pat Merlin’s thigh. “And Arthur would be absolutely lost without his best friend and servant.”
“He said I was useless, Gaius.”
“No one ever said the path to destiny is an easy one, Merlin. But you and Arthur must make the journey together.
“My destiny is to be miserable and alone. Treated like horse dung on Arthur’s boots. I’m fighting a losing battle. How many times must I sacrifice myself for someone who will never see me as anything more than a servant? Who, if he knew who I truly was, would chop off my head without a second thought.”
“I wish I had all the answers, my boy, but you must know that Arthur does care for you.”
Merlin pressed his hands to his face and shook his head. “I have to prepare for the feast,” he let out a slow breath, “Arthur will be expecting me to serve him.”
“Don’t do anything rash, Merlin. Talk to him.”
“I’ve got to go,” Merlin said, then got up and left the room.
Arthur sat at the high table, Merlin behind him, standing like a silent sentinel. His usual smile, quick wit, and teasing manner were noticeably missing. The prince glanced back at him several times, but Merlin did not meet his gaze. He just stood with his hands clasped behind him, looking out over the room. Arthur could feel the weight of Merlin’s indifference, and he didn’t like it.
It did not escape Prince Erik’s notice either. While he felt at least partially responsible for the rift between the prince and his servant, he was not sorry. Arthur needed to be called out for the way he treated Merlin. It was obvious to anyone that the prince cared deeply for his servant, but the defensive insults, belittling, and sometimes cruel comments were unacceptable. Arthur was better than that, and Merlin deserved better.
“Arthur, if you will please excuse me for the evening,” Prince Erik said, getting up from his chair, “I have something I must attend to.”
“Certainly,” Arthur smiled, getting to his feet, clasping the prince’s arm, “I apologize for being distracted this evening. I hope you enjoyed the food.”
“It was wonderful. I shall look forward to another hunt before I return to the northern lands.”
“Most definitely,” Arthur smiled, then Erik embraced him.
“I am truly sorry that I have caused conflict between you and Merlin. It was not my intention.”
“He’ll come around,” the prince said, glancing over at his servant and friend, who was currently in deep conversation with Gwaine. “It wasn’t your fault. You were right to say something. I have been too hard on Merlin. I can see that now. I just don’t know how to fix it.”
“Stop being a Clotpole,” Erik chuckled.
Arthur rolled his eyes, “Only Merlin gets to call me that.”
“It is a delightful word. I’m sure you are aware how unusual it is for peasants to be able to read. Have you ever asked him how it is that he can not only devour a book, but also write so beautifully? He showed me some of his poetry. Merlin is quite gifted,” Erik smiled, and Arthur lowered his gaze for a moment.
“I was not aware…” he said softly, regret in his voice.
Erik nodded, “Exactly...my friend. Open your eyes and see him for who he truly is. You will be surprised how quickly that heals any rifts between you two.”
“How did you get to be so wise?”
“Not wise, Arthur...just observant. You would do well not to lose him. Men like Merlin…they are not easily replaced. His loyalty, his friendship...you need to be careful. Because, while he gives of them freely, they are not free.”
“Thank you, Erik,” Arthur nodded.
“You’re very welcome. I shall bid you good night then. Until the morning.”
“Good night, sleep well.” Arthur watched Erik leave the room, then turned his attention back to Merlin. “Here goes nothing,” he said softly, then approached.
“Merlin,” he said under his breath. No response. Merlin stood as he had all evening, hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed somewhere else entirely. “Merlin, please...”
Merlin didn’t look at him. “What?”
The single word caught Arthur off guard. He frowned. “Must you stand like that? You look miserable.”
“I’m working,” Merlin said, shrugging slightly, “Making myself useful.”
Arthur shifted on his feet, irritation prickling. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
Merlin let out a quiet breath. “I’ve been right here.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No,” Merlin said, “I suppose it isn’t.”
Arthur stared at him, thrown by his tone—no bite, no humor, just…nothing. “Don’t do that,” he said.
“Do what?”
“That...” Arthur gestured vaguely. “Whatever this is. You’re being—strange...cold.”
Merlin huffed, a faint, humorless laugh. “I’ll try to be more entertaining, shall I?”
“That’s not what I—Merlin!” Arthur stopped, dragging a hand through his hair. This was going poorly. Very poorly.
“I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” he muttered, “I owe you an apology.”
Merlin’s gaze flicked to him then, quick and sharp. “Which part?”
Arthur hesitated. “All of it.”
Merlin held his eyes for a moment, searching, then looked away again. “Right.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened. “You know you’re not useless.”
“Funny,” Merlin said quietly, “Could’ve sworn I heard otherwise.”
“I was—” Arthur exhaled sharply. “I was joking.”
Merlin’s mouth twitched, but there was no amusement in it. “Yes. Hilarious.”
Arthur leaned back, frustrated. “You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”
Merlin looked at him then, properly this time, something tired and raw in his expression. “No, Arthur,” he said softly. “You did that just fine on your own.”
The words hit harder than Arthur expected. He swallowed. “I just meant—you don’t have to take everything so seriously.”
Merlin went still.
For a moment, Arthur thought he might say something else—something honest—but instead Merlin just nodded once.
“Of course,” he said.
Arthur frowned. “Merlin—”
“May I be excused, Sire?” Merlin cut in. “I have other duties I must complete.”
“Merlin—fine,” Arthur said, realizing he was failing miserably. He watched him disappear into the crowd, something heavy settling in his chest. He’d tried. And somehow, all he had managed to do was push Merlin further away.
What if Merlin were to leave Camelot with Erik? The thought of losing him…no, absolutely not. Merlin wasn’t going anywhere.
He had to fix this. Somehow.
“Merlin, my friend, you look like hell,” Gwaine said as he approached the scarred wooden table that Merlin was currently hunched over, lovingly embracing a too-large tankard of mead. “Need a shoulder to cry on…an understanding ear to listen? Or just some fun?”
Merlin glanced up from his beloved tankard, “Fraid I won’t be much fun t’night, Gwaine. I’m mad…very mad…angry. Damn, I need more mead,” he said, looking around longingly.
“Coming right up, mate, then you’ll tell me what the Princess has done now.” Gwaine waved to the barkeep, held up two fingers, then rolled his thumb in the air and patted his chest, which was a signal only Evoric and Gwaine understood, apparently. Because the man nodded and grinned.
Taking a seat across from his best friend, Gwaine reached over and gripped Merlin’s wrist. “Come on, cheer up. Tell me what Arthur did to make you angry, and I’ll consider running him through for you, just for fun.”
“I don’t want that…” Merlin dropped his head and frowned, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I hate destiny...who d’cided it? Why me? Why do I have to suffer for him? ‘snot right...fair...not...whatever...damn…”
Gwaine nodded, his sympathetic drunkard brain easily translating sloshed Merlin. “You’re right. It’s not fair. Destiny never is.”
Merlin shook his head. Evoric brought them each a tankard of mead and plates of food. Merlin reached for a mushroom and downed it. His stomach didn’t like it, but he grabbed a piece of meat next. He hadn’t eaten anything at the feast. He usually stole bits from Arthur’s plate, but he’d been too angry.
“What did Arthur do that made you so upset?”
“He was annoyed that I got on well with Prince Erik. He said mean stuff…meaner than usual…I mean. He’s always that way…but this time it was bad…very bad.”
“I’m sorry. You know deep down he didn’t really mean it, Merlin. He does care about you.”
“No, he doesn’t…told me I should go…leave with Erik and give hima break. Ass. I hate his stupid guts…clotpole.”
Gwaine raised an eyebrow at that. He couldn’t imagine Arthur ever letting Merlin leave. Much less, handing him over to another prince. It didn’t make any sense.
“So let me get this straight. You and this Prince Erik were getting on swimmingly, and Arthur grew annoyed and started insulting you mercilessly in front of said prince?”
“Yep,” Merlin nodded, then kissed the rim of his tankard, taking another drink.
“So it seems to me Arthur was jealous and decided to run you down to make himself feel better,” Gwaine huffed angrily. “I am half tempted to run him through anyway on principle.”
“I’m not useless…not stupid, he makes me feel that way.”
“No, you’re not.”
Footsteps approached them on the hardwood floor. “Mind if I join you, boys?” Prince Erik smiled, placing a hand on Merlin’s shoulder.
“It’s the nice prince…not the prat,” Merlin muttered, and Erik sat down next to him. I’d buy you a drink, but I spent everything I have. No more money.”
“I can handle my own bar tab, Merlin. How about another round?”
“I won’t say no,” Merlin grinned crookedly.
“Who’s your friend?” he asked, gesturing toward Gwaine.
“I’m Gwaine, you must be Erik the Courageous from the Northern Lands. Beautiful country, I have traveled there often. You have very welcoming and stunning women.”
“That we do,” Erik smiled, then turned his attention back to Merlin, “So, why are you drowning your sorrows in mead instead of talking to Arthur?”
“’Cause he’s a Clotpole...a dollop-headed one...I hate him.”
“Therein lies the problem, does it not?” Erik smiled gently, “You don’t hate him, and that creates the dilemma.”
Merlin shook his head, “He can’t...won’t give me any r‘spect...doesn’t care ‘bout me at all.”
“Arthur is not one to show his true feelings,” Gwaine nodded, “But Merlin, I have seen how he is with you. In moments of danger, he always pushes you behind him for protection. His actions speak for themselves. He does care. As much as I would like to punch him some days, he is a good man. You told me that, remember?”
“I ‘member...you hate nobles...maybe you were right.”
“I’m a noble,” Erik said in mock offense.
“No...you’re a nice one,” Merlin corrected, then shoved another piece of meat into his mouth. “Gwaine...Gwaine...you don’t need to get in trouble fer me...d-don’t runnn Arthur through...please.”
“What’s going on, Merlin? You can tell us,” Erik said, “We are your friends.”
“Can’t tell anyone...secret...too many secrets,” Merlin dropped his forehead to the table.
“We cannot help you if you don’t tell us what’s eating at you,” Gwaine frowned.
“Don’t you see? No’bdy can help me. I’m cur—cursed.
Evoric brought them each another mead and one for Erik as well. Gwaine met Erik’s worried gaze and nodded. They had to get Merlin to open up to them somehow. Arthur needed to make amends with the boy and stop treating him like a fool. Anyone with two eyes could see how devoted Merlin was to his prince and future king. He loved him. Would die for him without a second thought.
“Merlin, I’m sorry I brought all this on. I thought talking to Arthur would help, but it seems I have only made things worse for you. I am deeply sorry for overstepping my bounds.”
“S’not yer fault—t’s mine. I put up with his pratiness too long. Th’ot he would be better.” Merlin drained his tankard and started on the next one. “Erik, I can go with you...north...’rthur doesn’t need me. Useless…”
“You’re not useless,” Gwaine said firmly. “You are the bravest, strongest, most loyal person I have ever met, and you’re my best friend. I’d like to kick Arthur’s arse for making you feel this way.”
“Gwaine is right, Merlin. I have seen it for myself. Arthur is not like his father, and that is all because of you, I believe. He needs you to keep him on the right path. Without you, he will become Uther.”
“But why me? Why does it always have to be me?” Merlin asked, voice slurring and cracking on the words.
“I don’t know,” Gwaine shook his head, “But Erik is right. Arthur needs you to show him what it means to be a king. How to relate to his people. How to build Camelot into a strong and respected kingdom. He can do it, but not without you.”
Merlin wobbled slightly, his eyes closing for a moment. “I j’st wanna be free…” he choked, a single tear escaping from beneath his eyelashes. “Don’t wanna hide anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Erik asked.
“Merlin…” Gwaine said softly, a flash of worry in his eyes.
“Nature calls…” Merlin said, then got up, stumbling toward the door at the back of the tavern.
“You'd better go with him,” Erik said to Gwaine.
“On it,” the knight got up and followed Merlin. Gwaine caught up with him just outside, grabbing his arm before he could stumble down the alley. “Oi—steady,” he said, bracing him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Don’ need help,” Merlin mumbled, trying to pull away, “M’fine.”
“You’re about as fine as a three-legged horse,” Gwaine shot back, tightening his grip. “Come on.”
Merlin huffed but didn’t fight him as much this time, leaning heavily into his side as they moved further from the noise of the tavern. The cold night air hit his face, but it didn’t seem to sober him in the slightest.
“I’m tired, Gwaine,” Merlin muttered. “So tired…”
Gwaine’s expression softened. “Yeah, I can see that.”
They stopped near the back wall, half-shadowed, the sounds of laughter and music muffled behind them.
For a moment, Merlin just stood there, breathing unevenly.
Then it started.
“I do everything,” he said suddenly.
Gwaine blinked, “What?”
“I do ever’thing,” Merlin repeated, louder this time, words slurring but forceful. “I clean his boots, I polish his armor, I make sure he doesn’t forget the things he needs, I—” he waved a hand vaguely, nearly losing his balance. “I save his life—over and over and over again, and he doesn’t even—”
Gwaine’s grip tightened.
“Merlin…”
“He doesn’t see me!” Merlin snapped, voice cracking. “Not really. Just…just the idiot servant. The one he can shout at, throw stuff at…blame for everything.”
“That’s not true,” Gwaine said quickly, but there was less certainty in it now.
“Yeah, it is!” Merlin shot back. “You didn’t hear him today—you weren’t there.”
“I’ve heard enough over the years,” Gwaine said quietly. “Arthur can be an ass, but he cares about you.”
Merlin shook his head violently.
“You don’t understand!” Merlin choked back a frustrated sob, “You don’t know how hard it is to have to pretend to be a fool…weak…to let him make fun of me when with the snap of my fingers I could bring this whole kingdom to the ground. He turned to look at Gwaine, his blue eyes tinged with gold.
Gwaine startled, then stilled. No, it can’t be…Merlin…his Merlin couldn’t possibly be saying…but there was no denying what he saw. Merlin’s eyes were gold for a split second.
Merlin’s chest rose and fell unevenly. His eyes were unfocused, but something sharper flickered underneath the haze of drink.
“I’m powerful,” he said before he could stop himself, “More powerful than any man in this kingdom. I’m magic, Gwaine. I am the most powerful Warlock to ever walk the earth, and I use it for him. All for him. And he doesn’t even know. I do it all from the shadows…like a ghost…save him over and over again.s
Silence.
Gwaine’s stomach dropped as panic set in. Holy hell, Merlin has magic. The words registered in his head. All he could think of was to keep Merlin safe. Don’t let anyone hurt him. But then no one could hurt him...just how powerful was he?
Merlin didn’t seem to notice his reaction. He just kept talking.
“You know...I could burn this whole place down if I wanted to,” he went on, in an almost dreamlike state. “Could level Camelot…turn it all to ash…but I don’t.” His voice broke. “I don’t. I save it. I save him…always me...”
Gwaine went completely still. He’d always known there was something about Merlin...something special. He had even suspected magic, but never fully believed it. Now there was no doubt. Merlin was a sorcerer. A sorcerer risking his life every single day of his life to protect Arthur.
“Merlin…” he said slowly, “You really need to stop talking right now...”
“I’m not supposed to exist,” Merlin whispered, continuing to ignore him. If they knew—if he knew—” He let out a shaky, broken laugh. “He’d kill me. Wouldn’t even hesitate. Off with my head! Burn me on the pyre!” Merlin shouted at the top of his lungs.
Gwaine pressed a hand over Merlin’s mouth to silence him; his heart was pounding now. “Merlin,” he said again, firmer this time, gripping his shoulders, turning him around. “Look at me.”
Merlin looked down.
“I said, look at me. You need to stop talking, mate.”
Slowly, Merlin’s gaze lifted.
Too late. The moment it hit him—what he’d said—his face went completely white. Fear hit like a flash flood, fast and overwhelming. “I—” he stumbled back a step. “I didn’t—Gwaine, I didn’t—”
Gwaine held on tighter. “Merlin,” he said, low and steady despite the fear rising in his chest, “You know you can trust me, right?”
Merlin’s breathing turned ragged. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he choked out a harsh whisper. “I shouldn’t have said any of that.” He tried to pull away, to turn and run, but Gwaine held him firm.
“Hey—hey, look at me,” Gwaine insisted. “You’re alright. You’re safe.”
Merlin shook his head frantically, glancing around. “No—no, you don’t understand—if anyone heard—if anyone tells…” Merlin broke away, but he didn’t get far.
An arm reached out from the shadows and grabbed him.
Merlin froze instantly as he was pulled back against a solid body. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
He knew.
“Merlin, I think we need to have a talk,” Arthur said, his voice even, but cold. He had heard everything.
Merlin closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He then turned around to face Arthur, Erik by his side. He fully expected to see rage in Arthur’s eyes, but there was only a deep hurt and something else he didn’t dare even begin to define. The magic-hating Prince of Camelot looked hurt and terrified...but he wasn’t angry. Merlin felt his knees give out as pain and fear enveloped him fully. He had just revealed his deepest secret to the one person who was never supposed to know.
“A’thur...don’t wanna die…” Merlin choked as he collapsed.
“Merlin,” Arthur caught him in his arms, scooped him up, and carried him. He made his way through the lower town to Guinevere’s house. She opened the door when Gwaine knocked, and Arthur pushed through, desperate to get Merlin somewhere away from anyone who might have heard what he’d blurted out for all to hear.
“Arthur,” Gwen gasped, “What’s wrong? Is Merlin okay?”
“Guinevere, go to the castle. Tell Morgana you need to stay with her for a few days at least. I need to keep Merlin here.”
“Gwen didn’t even question his order. She packed a bag. “Take all the time that you need, Sire,” she said with a slight bow, then slipped out the door.
“Are you sure this is wise?” Erik asked.
Arthur ran a hand through his hair, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know, but it is the safest place I could think of to bring him. If my father gets wind of this...I don’t have to tell you what will happen.”
Gwaine moved from where he was leaning against the wall, staring down at his unconscious friend. “Arthur, what are you going to do to him?” he asked in a warning tone, getting between the prince and Merlin. “I won’t allow you to hurt him, you know that.”
“Back off, Gwaine. I’m not going to hurt him!” Arthur shouted, then quickly lowered his voice, “I swear to you, I am not going to hurt Merlin. How can you even think I could harm him?”
“You already hurt him...every damn day when you treat him like shit on your boots,” Gwaine hissed. “You can’t see all he has done for you and all he has sacrificed.”
“This is not helping the situation,” Erik said, “Gwaine, calm yourself. I will not allow anything to happen to Merlin. Even if I have to take him home with me to keep him safe.”
Gwaine backed off reluctantly, fingers itching to draw his sword. He’d always trusted Arthur because Merlin trusted him. He had to trust him now not to betray their friend. It would destroy Merlin.
Arthur spun around, glaring at the younger prince. “Merlin is not going anywhere. Is that clear?”
Merlin leapt from the bed and ran for the door. Arthur reached him first, grabbing his shoulders. Merlin let out a cry and staggered sideways. His stomach twisted, and everything came up, covering his tunic and the floor. Arthur held him up as he choked, his body trembling in the prince’s arms.
“Merlin, stop fighting me! Gods, you’re a mess. Gwaine, see if you can find something else for him to wear. “Back to the bed with you. That’s an order.”
“Arthur… no… don’—don’t…” Merlin’s voice broke as Arthur tried to guide him back to the bed. “Yr’gonna—” he swallowed hard, shaking his head, “—you’ll chop m’head off…”
“I’ve got you. You’re safe, I promise. I am not going to chop off your head. Believe it or not, I am rather fond of your head and would like to keep it in place.”
“You will,” Merlin insisted weakly, trying to pull away. “Y’ hate me now…you have to…”
“I could never hate you, Merlin. Never.”
Merlin let out a shaky, disbelieving breath. “You say that now… but—mm—” he squeezed his eyes shut, pressing a hand to his stomach, “—your father… you won’t… won’t have a choice…”
“I will always have a choice.”
“U’her hates magic…” Merlin whispered, voice dropping, thick and uneven. “He’ll—he’ll find out and I’ll—” his breath hitched, “—I’ll burn…”
“Merlin, I swear upon all that is good—on my mother’s soul, on my own soul—no harm will come to you. I just need you to be honest with me now. Tell me the truth.”
Merlin shook his head hard, too fast. “I am—I am honest… I told you…” He blinked slowly, struggling to focus. “I wouldn’—wouldn’t hurt anyone… I save—” he gestured weakly, nearly losing balance, “—I save you… all th’time… stupidly…”
Arthur exhaled sharply. “It was you…”
Merlin huffed a faint, crooked breath. “Yeah… brilliant, innit…” His head lolled slightly. “An’ I’d do it again… always… always you…”
“You’re a sorcerer. Putting your life at risk to protect Camelot and me?”
“Warlock…” Merlin mumbled suddenly, frowning.
Arthur blinked. “What?”
“Not sorcerer…” Merlin muttered, words slipping together. “Sorcerers learn… books… spells… I—” he tapped his chest clumsily, “—I was born…like this…”
“You were born with it?” Arthur couldn’t even bring himself to say the word magic. It was too absurd to think that he’d been unknowingly harboring a sorcerer—warlock for years.
Merlin nodded once, slow and heavy. “Yeah…”
Arthur studied him. “It would be ridiculous for me to hate you for something you were born with, wouldn’t it?”
Merlin let out a weak, humorless huff. “Still magic…” he murmured. “Still everything you hate…”
Arthur moved closer, reaching for his tunic. “Off with this—it’s soaked and filthy.”
Merlin’s hands snapped down, clutching the fabric tight. “No—no, don’t—” His breathing picked up. “Don’ want you t’see… please…”
“Merlin—”
“Just—don’t,” Merlin said, softer now, voice cracking. “Please…”
Arthur ignored him and pulled the tunic over his head before Merlin had the chance to resist again. The sight that greeted him made his stomach revolt. His friend’s entire torso, front and back, was littered with scars. Too many scars.
Merlin flinched hard, shoulders curling inward as if bracing for a blow. “I told you,” he choked, turning his face away. “Didn’t want you t’see…”
When Arthur touched one of the scars, Merlin sucked in a sharp breath.
“Don’t…” he whispered, “S’not…doesn’ matter…”
“Yes, it does matter.”
“It doesn’t,” Merlin insisted, though weaker now, words blurring. “Was just—just…”
Arthur recognized a familiar mark on Merlin’s lower back…a serket sting. Fatal. Unsurvivable. Yet here was Merlin bearing the scar. “When were you stung by a serket, Merlin?” he asked shakily.
Merlin swallowed. “The days I was missing…” he mumbled. “Told you I was dying…you—” his voice faltered, “—you didn’t believe me…”
Arthur’s voice broke. “Gods, Merlin…I’m so sorry.”
“Don’—don’t…” Merlin muttered, shaking his head. “I’m fine…see? Still here…” A faint, crooked smile flickered and died.
Arthur’s fingers brushed another scar. This one is clearly a burn. Round in shape and very deep. It was all he could do not to react badly as he looked at it intently. “This one? What happened?”
Merlin nodded, blinking slowly. “Nimueh…” he mumbled, “Fireballs…terrible aim…” A weak, uneven breath of something like laughter escaped him. “First one missed…second one…yeah…”
“When was this?”
“Questing Beast…” Merlin said, eyes half-lidded. “You know…the ugly thing…fangs...bad breath. Killed that too…you’re welcome…”
“You told me one of my knights did.”
Merlin gave a sluggish shrug. “Hello? Merlin…born liar…” he mumbled.
“You should have told me.”
Merlin’s expression shifted then—something sharper breaking through the haze. His eyes darkened to the color of a January tempest.
“Would it have mattered?” he snapped, voice suddenly clearer, raw. “You didn’t listen...never listened...” his breath hitched, words tripping over each other, “—you shouted—you threw things—you—” He cut off, chest heaving.
Arthur moved, reaching out. Merlin visibly flinched, fear in his eyes. The prince lowered his hand. “You fear me…” he said softly.
“Just don’t...leave me alone, please,” Merlin shook his head, crawling into the corner, as far from Arthur as he could get without going through the wall. His eyes darted around the room, refusing to look at Arthur.
“Fine,” Arthur said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He stood and headed for the door. He needed air. Motioning to Gwaine and Erik, he pointed to Merlin. “Keep an eye on him. If he escapes, you will both be mucking out my horses.” He then opened the door and walked out.
Prince Erik crouched next to the bed. “Say the word, I’ll call my men, and we will get you out of Camelot.”
Merlin shook his head slowly. “I can’t leave...have’ta protect the prat. Even if he doesn’t want me to...even if he hates me.”
“I admire you,” Gwaine smiled, placing a hand on Merlin’s knee.
“D’you think he’ll ever forgive me?”
“Just give him some time. He will come around.” Gwaine helped Merlin put on the clean tunic, then sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m here, and I am not going anywhere.”
“I—I’m a mess...I smell,” Merlin said, scrunching up his nose. “Why’r you helping me?”
“You’re my only real friend. Nobody else will put up with me?”
“True…” Merlin gave Gwaine a crooked, soft smile then stared at him intently, “You d’nt seem sur—surprised...’bout my magic.”
Gwaine shrugged, “I guess because a part of me already suspected. I figured you would tell me when you were ready, but not like this.”
“S’rry…” Merlin frowned, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyelids. “Need more mead.”
“I think you’ve had more than enough,” Prince Erik chuckled.
“You’re mean,” Merlin’s frown turned to a pout.
“I care about you. I’d like to think we are friends.”
“Yes…”
“Why don’t you lie down and get some sleep?” Gwaine said, and Merlin nodded, lying back on the pillows. Gwaine covered him with a blanket.
Arthur stood outside, listening to the muffled voices from within. Gwaine. Erik. Merlin.
Merlin.
His chest tightened.
There was a chance that anyone who had heard Merlin’s ramblings would dismiss them as drunken nonsense. People said all sorts of things deep in their cups. Wild things. Impossible things. Gods, he hoped that was true. Because if anyone believed even a word of it…
Arthur dragged a hand through his hair. His thoughts spiraling. Magic…Merlin had magic. Not just magic—great power. The kind that could level Camelot, if he chose. The kind Uther would destroy without hesitation.
And Merlin had hidden it. All this time. From him. Arthur let out a sharp breath, something bitter rising in his throat.
How had he not seen it? All the times Merlin had been there—always there—pulling him from danger, knowing things he shouldn’t know, surviving things no man should survive…
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut.
Then there were the scars. Gods…the scars. Each one, a story of sacrifice and pain. And Arthur—blind, arrogant fool that he was—had dismissed it all. Laughed it off. Called Merlin useless to his face. Treated him horribly.
A hollow, humorless sound broke from his chest. “Brilliant, Arthur,” he muttered. He would be king one day, and he couldn’t even figure out what to do with the fact that his best friend and servant is a sorcerer.
The image hit him again—Merlin flinching. Not from pain. From him. Something in Arthur’s chest twisted, sharp and unbearable.
Before he could stop himself, he spun around, driving his fist into the wooden post behind him. The crack echoed in the quiet of the lower town at night. Pain shot up his arm, hot and immediate—he welcomed it. Let it ground him. Let it cut through the storm in his head. It wasn’t enough. Not compared to what Merlin had endured.
Arthur pressed his forehead against the post, breathing raggedly. Chest heaving, eyes shining with unshed tears.
Merlin lied to him. Over and over again since the day they met. He looked his friend and prince in the eyes and lied. A shaky sound erupted from within, somewhere between a laugh and something far more fragile. How could he be angry at Merlin when he had saved his life and his kingdom so many times? He’s suffered so much. Lost people he cared about...loved.
What was he supposed to do? Arthur’s jaw tightened, flexing his hand as blood dripped from the gash on his knuckle.
Deep down, he already knew the answer. There were only two paths before him. Turn Merlin over to his father and watch him burn. Or stand against his father and do whatever he had to do to protect him.
There wasn’t a choice at all. Not really. The thought of losing Merlin—watching the light go out in his friend’s eyes...unbearable...unimaginable.
No. Absolutely not. Arthur pushed off the post, straightening, his expression hardening with quiet resolve. If it came down to it…he would choose Merlin.
Over Camelot. Over the throne. Over his own father.
The realization was almost too much. Arthur shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere, Merlin,” he said under his breath as he turned to go back inside the house. Prince Erik greeted him at the door.
“Are you all right?” he asked Arthur, your hand is bleeding; you split your knuckle.
“I’m fine.”
Gwaine handed him a clean, wet cloth to wipe away the blood and dirt, then he wrapped Arthur’s hand with a bandage. “Feel better?” he asked knowingly.
“No…” Arthur said roughly, then glanced over to the bed where Merlin slept. “I can’t let him die, Gwaine. I can’t lose him.”
“Then don’t. Maybe no one else heard him.”
“We need to find out. At first light, go up to the castle and ask Gwen and Morgana to watch and listen. Tell them to alert me immediately if anything magic-related comes to my father’s attention.”
Gwaine nodded, “Anything else?”
“Go to Gaius and get some of his hangover remedy. Merlin is going to need it when he wakes up. And grab some of his clothing, put it in his leather bag in case we have to get him out of Camelot in a hurry.
“Arthur,” Erik said, stepping forward, “I can guarantee Merlin’s safety. Let him return to the Northern Lands with me. At least until this blows over and we know he’s not in danger.”
“Maybe Erik is right, Arthur,” Gwaine said, “I can go with him. Keep him safe. When you send word that it’s all clear, we will return.”
“If Merlin leaves, my father will declare him guilty and send knights to hunt him down. There won’t be a safe place for him to hide. You know that.” Arthur looked at the two men who both obviously cared about Merlin, but he trusted no one but himself when it came to protecting his friend. “I will not let him down...not again.”
“I will go to Gaius now,” Gwaine headed for the door. “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” he said, then he was gone. Erik stepped outside to keep watch and give Arthur time alone with Merlin.
“That’s what happened t’my father…” Merlin mumbled, voice thick with sleep and drink.
Arthur turned sharply. “Your father? You told me you never knew him.”
Merlin blinked up at him slowly, eyes struggling to focus. “Didn’t…at least not then…” he muttered. “Met him, but he died...”
“Explain.”
Merlin dragged a hand over his face, wincing slightly. “Balinor…” he said, voice shaky and weak. “He was… my father…”
Arthur went still. The memory hit him at once—the Dragonlord. The man who had agreed to help them stop the dragon and died before they even reached Camelot. The man who died in Merlin’s arms. The man he cried over. “Merlin,” he said quietly,
Merlin huffed a weak breath, something bitter in it. “You told me that no man was worth my tears…” He swallowed hard, “I barely knew my father, but I was proud of him...loved him. It’s my fault he died.”
“No—It was not your fault,” Arthur shook his head.
Merlin looked him in the eyes, “It is ‘cause it was me...I released the dragon. If I hadn’t, my father wouldn’t be dead. Innocent people wouldn’t be dead.”
“Merlin!”
“I should die.”
Arthur sat on the bed pressing his hands to his mouth. He turned his head, staring at Merlin. “Why did you do it?”
“Because Kilgharrah is the last of his kind...he helped me save Camelot from Sigan. Made me promise to release him one day.”
“You stopped Sigan,” Arthur huffed, running a hand through his hair.
“Yet another time you didn’t listen to me. Didn’t believe me,” Merlin said.
“I never gave you any reason to trust me, did I? You should hate me.”
Merlin’s gaze snapped back to him, sharper for a moment. “I trust you,” he frowned. “Hate you?” A hollow, breathy laugh. “I wish…I wish I could hate you…” His voice trailed off. Then he looked at Arthur, “Would make things so much easier if I did.”
“You should,” Arthur said, low and rough. “After everything I’ve put you through.”
“No…” Merlin murmured. “No.” He tapped his chest weakly. “Destiny or not, I chose you.” His mouth twitched. “Still would…” His expression shifted again, something heavier settling in. “Just…tired,” he admitted quietly. “Tired of being…nothing…” His voice thinned.
“I don’t know what to say, Merlin.”
Merlin let out a slow, uneven breath. “I’ve done everything for you, Arthur…” he said, more clearly now, the words cutting through the haze. “Everything…” His eyes pooled with tears. “An’ I’ve lost…so much…too much, Arthur.”
Arthur didn’t interrupt.
“My father…” Merlin swallowed hard. “Freya…” His voice broke on her name. “Nearly lost my mother too…” He shook his head, breath hitching. “I can’t—can’t keep…” He stopped, pressing his lips together. “I’ve sacrificed enough,” he finished, barely above a whisper. “I’m done…”
Silence stretched between them.
Arthur’s jaw tightened. There was one question relentlessly eating at him. He needed to know the answer. “Merlin, if you’re so powerful, why not just kill my father? You’d be free. You had plenty of opportunity.”
Merlin’s head jerked up, horror cutting straight through the fog. “What? No—” he shook his head hard, immediately regretting it, hand flying to his temple. “Gods—no… I could never…” he said, his voice fierce, despite the slur. “Arthur, if I wanted him dead, I wouldn’t have saved his life multiple times.”
“Why?” Arthur pressed. “Why protect someone who would have you killed for something you were born with?”
Merlin stared at him, pain in his eyes. “Because he’s your father,” he said softly.
Arthur went very still. “Gods, Merlin…” he breathed. “What am I going to do with you?”
Merlin huffed faintly, eyes slipping half-shut again. “If Uther finds out…” he mumbled, words blurring again, “You won’a have t’worry…I’ll burn...no more useless Merlin.”
“You’re not useless. You never were. I am so sorry that I made you feel that way. I never meant to.”
“I’m not an idiot either…” Merlin said.
“I know you aren’t.”
“Y—you’re still a prat...a royal one.”
Arthur couldn’t hold back a smile at Merlin’s only familiar insult. “You’ll never change…”
“Nope, you’d get bored.”
“You’re right, I would.”
“I wanted to tell you, Arthur.”
“Would you have ever...if I hadn’t found out this way?”
“I don’t know. I had to protect myself.”
“I know.”
“So what’s it gonna be? The pyre or my head rolling across the courtyard?”
“I’m not letting you die, Merlin,” Arthur said with absolute conviction. “I will not let you down again.”
Merlin blinked at him slowly. “Why…?” he asked, genuinely confused. “I’m just… your servant…”
Arthur shook his head. “No. You’ve never been just my servant.”
Merlin studied him, trying to read his face through the haze.
“I’m just asking you to believe in me again,” Arthur said quietly. “Please.”
Merlin’s lips parted slightly. For a moment, he just looked at him. “I do believe in you...never stopped,” he whispered. The words were soft, but they landed hard. Merlin swallowed, eyes glassy. “Not once…” he added, voice trembling. “No matter what…” A shaky breath. His gaze dropped. “I just…just wanted you t’see me…that’s all.”
Arthur’s throat tightened. “I want to, Merlin. Gods, I want to see you. I do,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m really trying to get past the lies...years of lies. And I feel like an ass because I know now, the pain, the sacrifice, all the times you saved my backside, and my kingdom, but you kept this from me since the beginning. How am I supposed just to let that go?”
“I don’a ‘spect you to,” Merlin gave a faint, tired shake of his head. “Not yet…” he murmured. “But… maybe…one day we’ll be okay ‘gain.”
Arthur drew in a breath, steadying himself.
“When I am king,” he said, voice quiet but certain, “I will free magic. I will free you,” Arthur continued. “I swear it.”
For a moment, Merlin just stared at him—really stared this time, searching.
“That’s all…” he whispered, voice breaking, tears in his eyes. “A—all I ever wanted…”
It was still early morning when the door flew open and slammed shut as Gwaine returned. He went to the narrow window to look out, watching guards coming up the road through the lower town. “We got trouble, boys.”
Arthur woke from his light sleep and joined Gwaine at the window. “What’s going on?”
“Bad news, at least two people reported to Uther that Merlin was heard threatening the kingdom and that he has magic.”
“Damn,” Arthur swore.
“What is it?” Erik asked as he walked into the house from the back door.
“Guards are searching the lower town for Merlin,” Gwaine said, “We have to get him out of here.” He handed the leather bag to Arthur. “Here’s his clothes, and I found his magic book hidden beneath the floorboards. Thought it would be safer with you than leaving it for Uther to find when he has his chambers searched.”
“Merlin, get up, we need to move,” Arthur said, then walked around the screen to find the bed empty. Merlin was gone. “Dammit, Merlin…you idiot,” he growled, then headed for the door.
“Where did he go?” Erik asked.
“He’s throwing himself to the wolves, isn’t he?” Gwaine said.
Arthur grabbed his sword belt from the hook next to the door. “We have to stop him. Come on.”
Merlin walked as if in a trance. He climbed the steps, walked past the griffin statue, and headed toward the throne room. Everyone stopped in their tracks watching as he moved through the corridors like a ghost. He was tired of fighting, tired of hiding…just tired—no more lies.
When he reached the doors to the throne room, he raised an arm, hand open, fingers splayed wide. A blast of golden light hit the double doors, throwing them open with force. He may be accepting his fate, but the hell if he was going quietly.
Merlin entered the throne room, moving slowly, head held high, showing no fear. He had used magic to clean himself up and replace his soiled clothing.
It was Uther who looked startled and fearful. “What’s the meaning of this?” he roared.
“Heard you were looking for me. Here I am,” Merlin smirked.
“Seize him!” Uther shouted. The guards started to obey, but before they could, Leon, Elyan, Lancelot, and Percival stepped forward and moved to stand with the man who had protected and saved them countless times. It wasn’t long after that that Arthur, Gwaine, and Prince Erik rushed in.
Arthur smiled as he saw his knights protecting Merlin. He nodded to each of them, then took his place next to his best friend, shoulder to shoulder, sword drawn. Gwaine stood next to Lancelot. Prince Erik stood on the other side of Merlin.
Uther’s face was now red with fury. “Arthur, I want Merlin arrested now. He has deceived us for years. I want him dealt with.”
Arthur and Merlin looked at each other intently, a slow grin emerging as they did so. Arthur nodded.
“Merlin is under my protection. No one is to lay a hand on him. He is my best friend. Actually, no…Merlin is my everything. My protector, my advisor, my guide, my conscience, my destiny, and my heart. I am done pretending otherwise. I can’t be without him.”
Merlin’s knees nearly gave out with Arthur’s confession. He stared at him like he had grown three heads. The knights cheered, and Uther sat down hard on his throne only to rise and charge forward, drawing his sword as he rushed toward Merlin, his face twisted in rage. Arthur calmly stepped in between them, and Uther slapped him hard across the face, nearly knocking him off his feet, but Arthur stood his ground.
“You are enchanted! He’s controlling you with magic,” Uther shouted, aiming his sword at Merlin’s throat.
“Father, lower your sword. Do not force me to choose between you and Merlin because you won’t like the outcome,” Arthur said, his own sword leveled on him. “Merlin is not to be harmed.”
“I will not allow this thing to corrupt my son and only heir!”
“The corruption in Camelot is not Merlin, it is you,” Arthur said with absolute conviction. I have lived my life in your shadow. Forced to hate something I never truly understood until now. Merlin is not evil. His magic is beautiful and he has used it for nothing but good all these years. Either accept him and lift the ban on magic, or give up the throne, and I will do it myself.”
“You threaten me?” Uther shouted, “My own son threatening to take my throne. This is not you, Arthur...it’s him. He’s poison. He’s going to destroy the kingdom we have worked so hard to build.”
“My Lord,” Merlin said then mock bowed to the king with a slight smirk on his face. “If I wanted Camelot destroyed, I could have done so with just a snap of my fingers,” Merlin said, holding up his fingers to demonstrate. Uther’s eyes went wide when Merlin snapped them, and nothing happened. Merlin took a step forward, head high, with an air of confidence Arthur had never seen in him before. “You have no idea who I really am, do you?”
Uther glared at him, then slowly shook his head. “I made you Arthur’s servant, and you betrayed him.”
“You’re wrong,” Merlin said with conviction, “I never betrayed him. I wanted him to know...to see who I really am, but because of your ridiculous hatred for magic and your laws, I had to keep my secret from him. I didn’t want to put him in a position where he would be forced to choose.”
“You became a sorcerer while in his service!” Uther roared, “Knowing full well it would get you killed.”
Merlin laughed then, tilting his head back fully, he let out a breath. “Uther...and yes, I will call you that because honestly, I am far more powerful than you are, and I’m through bowing to you. My name is Merlin, but that is only a fraction of the story. My father, oh, by the way, you knew him, his name was Balinor. You know what he was...What I am since he died. And to the Druids, I am known as Emrys. You see, I was born with magic...I am magic incarnate.”
Uther’s eyes widened at the name. He clearly knew and understood the weight of it. He shook his head and slowly dropped to his knees. “Forgive me, Great Emrys, I did not know,” he said, voice strained. “I have heard the legends and the prophecies of the Once and Future King. I believed that perhaps it was me; I can see now that I was mistaken. It is Arthur and you.”
“You know the truth now,” Merlin gave a slight nod, “You have a choice, a new path. Stand with us and watch Camelot flourish, or fight us and lose everything.”
“I understand,” Uther lowered his head in reverence. No one noticed his hand tightening around his sword. Suddenly, he lunged forward, grabbing Merlin by the throat before driving the blade into his chest. He laughed maniacally,y letting his limp body fall to the floor. He heard Arthur’s cry and laughed harder.
“Not so powerful now, are you, Emrys?” he chuckled, yanking the sword from his chest.
Arthur caught Merlin as he fell to the floor, blood pooling on the stone. “Merlin, no... no, please...you can’t leave me, I need you!” he choked back a desperate sob, holding him, cradling his head against his chest. “Gwaine, get Gaius now!”
Gwaine was already in motion. Tearing down the corridor toward the physician’s chambers.
“Arthur...there’s nothing Gaius can do.” Merlin grabbed Arthur’s wrist and shook his head, his face twisted in pain. “I love you, Arthur...always have,” he choked, blood coming from his mouth. He laughed roughly, “Your next servant...don’t get a boot-licker.”
“Merlin, dammit, don’t you dare leave me. You cannot die. I need you. I love you.”
“No! Merlin!” Morgana’s scream came from the doorway behind them. She and Gwen ran to their side. “Merlin, I’m here,” she cried, “I can save you.”
“No, Morgana, he’ll kill you too,” Merlin whispered shakily.
“What’s he talking about?” Arthur asked, looking back and forth between them.
“Not important right now, Arthur,” Morgana shook her head. Placing her hand over Merlin’s wound. She closed her eyes and let go of her magic. Slowly, his blood moved back where it belonged, and the wound closed. When it was done, she collapsed, completely spent, and Merlin held her. “I did it,” she laughed breathlessly against his shoulder.
“Yes, you did,” he grinned, tightening his hold on her, “Thank you, Morgana.”
“Morgana…” Uther said.
Turning to meet his stunned gaze, she smiled, “Oh, I have magic. I’ve been hiding it too.”
Arthur jumped to his feet and rushed his father, sword aimed at his heart and rage in his eyes. “I warned you…” He drove the sword forward, but it struck an invisible barrier. Arthur looked back to see Merlin’s hand extended and his eyes glowing gold.
“No, Arthur...please,” he said softly, “Not like this. He’s still your father. Give him a chance for redemption.”
“I don’t think it’s possible,” Arthur growled, but he sheathed his sword. He pointed toward Merlin. “You don’t deserve it, but he has saved you again. Don’t waste this chance. Try to hurt him or Morgana, and I will finish you.”
Uther looked at Merlin intently, realizing just how close he had come to death. Arthur would have killed him if not for the boy’s magic and his heart. “Why did you stop him?” he choked out the words like it was actually painful.
“There has been enough bloodshed over something that should never have been. Magic is a part of nature, that’s what you could never understand because you were so blinded by hatred.” Merlin stepped up, getting right in Uther’s reach. “And the irony of it all is the reason you hate magic so much is the death of Arthur’s mother...a death you caused. You never told Arthur the truth, but he knows. Morgause gave him a gift, allowing him to speak to Ygraine. Your hatred was for yourself, knowing your desperation for an heir cost you her life. Your own guilt is what drove your persecution and slaughter of innocent magic users.”
Arthur stepped up next to Merlin. “You told me Morgause lied.”
“No, your mother was really there. I’m sorry, Arthur. I needed to protect you. If I had let you kill your father, you would have never been the same after.”
“You should have let me make that choice.”
“I know,” Merlin nodded, reaching out a hand to caress Arthur’s cheek. “There’s so much I have done that I regret. But the one thing I do not regret is being your servant and your friend. Arthur, if you can forgive me, after you know everything...I want to be with you.”
Arthur pulled him into his embrace, cupping the back of his head. “There’s nothing to forgive. We both made decisions we thought were right at the time. We both hurt innocent people. We can spend the rest of our days trying to make amends for all of it by bringing this kingdom out of the darkness. There will be no more persecution of magic users. I swear. You will be free.” He looked intently at his father, “You agree, Father?”
Uther looked at the two of them, smoky eyes still hard and cold. “You’re asking me to betray the values I built this kingdom on…”
“Yes!” Arthur said sharply. Uther flinched. “They were wrong. You were wrong. It has to end, Father.”
“I did what I thought was best for Camelot and for you.”
“No,” Merlin said, lifting his head defiantly, “You did what you thought was best for you.”
“They are right,” Morgana spoke up for the first time since coming to Merlin’s rescue. She walked up, slipping her arm through his.
Uther looked genuinely hurt, “Morgana, you are siding with them…against me? After everything I have done for you…honoring Gorlois’s wishes to keep you safe?”
“I know you’re my father,” Morgana said bluntly. “Yet you let me believe I was merely your ward,” she said, her voice rising an octave.
“You know…” Uther asked, nearly choking on the words.
“Yes.”
“I tried to protect you,” he said, shaking his head slowly.
“Protect me?” Morgana laughed bitterly, “You don’t care about me. Everything you do is to protect your legacy,” Morgana said with tears shining in her jade-green eyes. “I will never forgive you for what you have done to me, Father.”
Merlin slipped his arm around her waist, offering support. Morgana inhaled sharply, then let the breath out slowly. She then nodded reassuringly to him before stepping forward on her own to face down the man who had forced her to live in fear ever since her magic emerged.
“You have no idea how close I came to going down a very dark path. If not for Merlin, I would have given in to Morgause’s manipulations and turned against all of you. I would have become the very thing you despise. So, you, Uther, are nothing to me. Arthur will be king, you will only be remembered for the pain, fear,r and death you brought to the innocent people of Camelot. May it haunt you in Hell.” Morgana shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I hate you…I hate you with all that I am. Relinquish the crown to Arthur. For the first time in your life, do the honorable thing.”
“This ends now, Uther,” Merlin said, stepping forward, eyes shimmering gold.
The king was seething, his hand gripping his sword hilt. “I will never surrender my throne—never give up my kingdom. I would rather die!” he shouted.
“So be it,” Arthur nodded, taking his place next to Merlin and Morgana. “I cannot and will not allow Camelot to fall, and it will, if you remain as king.”
Uther shook his head. Then, turning, he stormed out of the throne room. Arthur took off after him, Merlin right with his prince. Morgana and Gwaine were close behind. Prince Erik and the knights are bringing up the rear. Uther charged through the Citadel and out into the lower town, his sword held high in the air as he shouted to the people of Camelot, and they slowly emerged from their homes and businesses in the market.
“People of Camelot!” Uther roared, “My son and his bastard sorcerer are threatening to take my throne. I need you to stand with me and fight to protect Camelot. Magic must not be allowed to thrive in this kingdom ever again. I have always done what was best for my people. I am asking all of you to stand with me against my son, who has been corrupted by Merlin. Fight with me for your homes and your lives!” Uther’s face was red, his eyes wild as he shouted from the depths of his soul.
Arthur jumped up on a low stone wall. Merlin climbed up next to him. “People of Camelot,” Arthur said with a nod and a soft smile, “You all know me. I have bled and nearly died for this kingdom…many times, according to the man standing up here next to me. Merlin has sacrificed so much for me and for all of you. Merlin taught me that magic is not evil. It’s the men and women who wield it with evil in their hearts. He is not evil. He not only saved my life countless times, but he also kept me from becoming my father. From making the same mistakes he has made.”
“Merlin is a sorcerer!” Uther roared. “Do not believe anything my son is saying; he is enchanted. Merlin will destroy Camelot.”
Merlin let out a chuckle, showing no fear. He looked around at the faces of people he had walked among for years. People whose lives he had either saved or helped save. Children, he had helped Gaius bring into the world. This was his home as much as it was Arthur’s in so many ways. He would fight to the death for it.
“You all know me,” Merlin said with a slight nod. “I first came to Camelot on a Wednesday, walked right into the middle of the beheading of a sorcerer and a celebration of the persecution of every person like me.” He grinned, running a hand through his hair, “You would have thought that would have made me turn right around and run back home to my mother,” he huffed a laugh, and the people laughed with him, albeit hesitantly. “Yes,” he said plainly, “I am Merlin, some of you might know me as Emrys. Uther has one thing wrong,g though. I am a Warlo.k, I was born with magic; I did not learn it. It is a part of me. As natural as breathing. I chose to use my gifts to protect the man I knew was destined to be the greatest king Camelot has ever known, and I still believe that with all my heart and soul.
“I will not allow you to keep deceiving my people!” Uther growled, raising his sword. “I will kill you, sorcerer. Arthur will be free of your spell.”
“You would know all about deception, wouldn’t you, Father?” Morgana said loud enough for everyone to hear. The people gasped, whispering among themselves as she climbed up onto the wall next to her brother. “Uther Pendragon has done nothing but deceive. All my life, he allowed me to believe I was just his ward. But I know now that I am his daughter. He committed adultery against your beautiful Queen Ygraine, who tragically died in childbirth. A birth and a death that happened because he used magic to conceive an heir…or rather a son. Not an illegitimate daughter with no title,” Morgana’s voice was steady despite the tears sliding down her cheeks.
“Morgana…” Uther said, shaking his head slowly, but she ignored him.
“My father is trying to make you fear Merlin. But it is I you should fear. I nearly destroyed Camelot not long ago. It was Merlin who convinced me there was a better way. He helped me back into the light, saving me from a dark path I was heading down. I would have become what Uther feared and hated. Those of you who, like me, have kept your magic a secret at great cost. Tell me, would you rather continue to live in fear? Or do you want freedom? Uther will never change. He betrayed us all.”
“It’s all lies,” Uther said, his conviction wavering. The people were listening to Arthur, Merlin, and Morgana. They believed their words. “I am your king, and I will never relinquish my throne. You will have to kill me. Can you kill your own father, Arthur?” he asked. “Camelot’s allies will not stand for this. They also want magic to remain banned.”
“Actually,” Prince Erik said as he stepped forward, “I am going to recommend to my father that the ban be lifted. Magic users will no longer be persecuted in our kingdom. My decision comes from a place of love, as my little sister Ella is only eight years old and, like Merlin, she was born with magic. We were forced to keep her contained inside the castle, not allowing her to leave it out of fear. She is the reason I came to Camelot in search of a mysterious sorcerer who was also born with magic.” Erik looked at Merlin regretfully, “Forgive me for not being completely honest with you, Merlin.”
Merlin looked at Erik searchingly, and a flicker of hurt quickly faded. He then gave a slight nod of understanding. “Nothing to forgive,” Merlin said, “We will do anything to protect the ones we love…anything.” He then looked into Arthur’s eyes, giving him a soft smile which Arthur returned, placing his hand on Merlin’s shoulder.
Erik smiled and turned back to the crowd. “I came here because I need someone who can help Ella learn to control and wield her magic safely. I believe Merlin and Morgana can help her. If they are willing, considering my own deception, which was not intentional, just necessary. I would die for my little sister.”
“We will help her,” Merlin nodded reassuringly, then looked at Morgana, who got down from the wall and embraced Erik.
“Absolutely,” she beamed up at him.
“This is ridiculous,” Uther hissed.
“No,” Arthur said, his tone hard, “This is people doing what is right. That is the kind of kingdom I want to see thrive and grow. Camelot will no longer persecute innocent magic users for something they were born with. The ban is hereby lifted.”
“You cannot do that, you are not king!” Uther raged.
“Actually, I am, because you are hereby relieved of the crown for crimes you have committed against Camelot and her people,” Arthur said with absolute authority, “I am now the King of Camelot.”
Geoffrey nodded in confirmation from the edge of the crowd.
Uther’s face turned bright red. He rushed the wall, sword aimed at his son’s heart. “Damn you! Damn you both to Hell,” Uther seethed. He didn’t get far before Merlin’s hand came up, eyes flashing gold. Uther stopped cold, terror in his eyes. Gasps rippled through the onlookers. Uther grinned, certain they were about to witness his death by magic—an act that would ignite a war Arthur would never be able to contain. But instead, Merlin lifted his chin high, lowering his hands slightly, the glow in his eyes burning steady. Uther looked confused for a moment by the gesture, but then Merlin smiled.
“That’s right, Uther...I no longer have to hide. No longer have to live in fear of losing my head or being burned on the pyre. Arthur is my king…he is the Once and Future King. You are not.”
“Leon, arrest my father. Put him in his chambers and make certain he is given food and water, but he is not to leave his chambers until I decide what his punishment will be.”
Leon nodded, then he and the knights surrounded Uther.
“I will get my revenge!” Uther screamed, “I will make you pay.”
“Good luck with that,” Gwaine said with a grin and a mock salute.
Arthur and Merlin jumped down from the wall. His people bowed and cheered loudly as their new king embraced his friend. “Merlin, I won’t ask for your forgiveness because I don’t deserve it. I will humbly beg you to please never hide anything from me again. I want us to be on equal ground from now on. Please…”
Merlin nodded, drawing back from Arthur’s rare hug. “Yes, I will tell you everything once we are alone. Once it is all out in the open, I swear on my life I will never keep secrets from you again, Sire.”
“No, Merlin…it’s Arthur…always. Never anything else,” Arthur said, cupping Merlin’s cheek. “We stand as equals now. In all things.”
“That means…” Merlin said softly…unsure of the full implications of equals.
Arthur laughed softly, shaking his head. “You beautiful idiot,” he murmured before leaning forward, slowly pressing his lips to Merlin’s in a tender, searching kiss. Merlin deepened it, his hands rising to frame Arthur’s face before he stepped back for air.
“Oh,” he said, stunned, a slow grin spreading across his face, “I think I can work with that.”
“Good,” Arthur chuckled, putting his arm around Merlin, dragging him closer. They walked into the castle together. As they climbed the steps, the prince reached for Merlin, stopping him. “There’s something I need to say, before we go any further.”
“What?” Merlin asked, shaking his head.
“I need to apologize for the way I treated you. Not just on the hunting trip but each and every day since the day we met. I treated you horribly, Merlin, and you did not deserve it. I do not expect forgiveness, just know that I am deeply sorry and I will try to do better.”
Merlin stared at him for a moment, tears shining in his eyes, then huffed a laugh, “Arthur, I’m the one who should be begging for forgiveness. I lied to you since the day we met. Deceived you. I betrayed you.”
“True,” Arthur nodded, “But you did so out of fear of losing your life if your secret were exposed, and you risked everything protecting me all these years. I only hope that some part of you knows that I could never hurt you, Merlin. I don’t know what I would have done, but I know I could never watch you die. I love you too much,” Arthur said, then reached out to cup the back of Merlin’s head. “Maybe we can just work on forgiving each other. Finding a middle ground.”
Merlin smiled slightly, a spark of something dangerous in his eyes as he leaned forward. “About here, maybe…I’d say this is the middle ground.”
“Yes, I’d say so,” Arthur grinned, then pulled Merlin closer, kissing him.
“Mmm, yes,” Merlin said, “I can work with this.”
“Me too,” Arthur chuckled, then kissed him again, backing him up against the wall.