Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being a king was many things, and easy was not one of them.

Even as a small child not big enough to be allowed to take a wooden training sword in his hands, Arthur understood how hard being a king was. He’d seen his father’s shoulders slump when villages in borderlands had been razed to the ground by an enemy army. He’d heard him sigh unevenly and then hold his breath when his most loyal knights hadn’t returned from another battle. As Arthur grew older, he learned that decisions may save livestock and crops — and may lead to deaths of the innocent, and that a king must make them nonetheless. An indecisive king was worse than a king who made two bad decisions and ten good ones, because trying meant caring.

As Geoffrey of Monmouth placed the crown on his head, Arthur teetered a bit. It was god-damn heavy, and he didn’t mean physical weight only.

Just three days had passed since his father’s death, but Camelot needed a king, so Arthur was not given enough time to grieve and come to terms. He was neither allowed to lock himself in his chambers nor take out his pain and fear and uncertainty on training dummies. His people needed him to be strong and collected, they needed the king’s heir capable of guiding them, not the king’s grieving son.

The ceremony was quiet, the suffocating smell of iron and burning still in the air. Outside the hall, which was cleaned to the state of being pristine for the special occasion, there still were remains of the recent battle all over the city: soot and broken glass, dried blood and destroyed houses. Uther was not the only victim of that attack. Many people, knights and ordinary citizens, had lost their lives to Cenred’s blood thirst and lust for power.

Arthur’s head hurt, and he felt like he had a fever or was drunk or both, but the crowd before him needed the prince — almost the king — to be strong and capable of leading the kingdom, so he straightened his posture and raised his chin.

He looked around, trying to regain some strength and confidence from his people. What he saw, though, were solemn, detached faces. Out of all the people who gathered in the ceremonial hall, there were only three he actually wanted to be there. Morgana in the front row, Merlin and Gaius a bit further.

Instead of people who really did something and fought, the places in the hall were given to the nobles and members of the council who hid during the attack, tried to flee, or simply were not present in the castle. Arthur didn’t resent their wish to save their own lives, even when most of them were knights; he just wanted to see other people in their places. His knights, for instance, old and new — especially new ones, who were knights not by their birthright but by their spirit and their deeds. They were waiting for him outside with the rest of the citizens, as if they hadn’t been an important part of rescuing the city.

Arthur was going to make sure that everybody knew the names of these brave men, and that they eventually got their knighthood. There were a lot of things he was going to do, but at that moment he couldn’t bring himself to think about them.

After all, he was going to tear down his father’s legacy, and even thinking about it only three days after his death hurt and left him devastated.

At least having Gaius, Morgana and Merlin in this hall full of strangers was giving him some comfort.

The ceremony passed as if it was a dream. A tedious and frustrating dream bordering on becoming a nightmare. Vows, congratulations, awkward conversations with people he knew had hidden somewhere in the castle when Cenred and Morgause had broken in and mortally wounded the king. When Arthur, his knights and two sorcerers had been fighting the whole army.

He didn’t even try to pretend that he was glad to see them. Morgana’s suggestion that he dismantled the old council and appointed her and Leon his advisors seemed more and more tempting.

Arthur sighed with relief when it all ended after the evening and the entire night full of loneliness and uncertainty of another ceremony.

Returning to his chambers after a modest breakfast in the kitchens felt like hiding from a storm in a shelter. The fire was dancing in the heath, the smell of lavender Gwen had put in several vases all over the room almost chased away the awful odour of burnt flesh and wood and despair. He had left his chambers a mere prince last morning, and, having returned here after a draining day and even more draining night, felt like one again. Arthur knew it was an illusion, but he wanted to hold on to it for as long as he could.

When the door opened behind him quietly and then closed, Arthur didn’t need to turn to recognise the easy yet careful footsteps. Behind his back Merlin put a plate with something from the kitchens on the table, fed the fire with a lump of wood, gathered the clothes Arthur had thrown around the room before leaving for the ceremony the day before, and then — finally — came closer. He touched Arthur’s shoulder gingerly, as if asking a question.

He should have known the answer by that moment.

They spent the first night after Uther’s death together in Arthur’s bed, on top of the covers, facing each other, but not touching. They gravitated towards the centre of the bed, but not enough to wake up in each other’s arms. In the morning, Arthur opened his eyes first, and the sight of Merlin sleeping on one of his pillows, wearing only a tunic, without his usual jacket and neckerchief, healed his battered, bleeding heart a bit. He watched and watched, letting himself drown in the easy support and loyalty and love. He let his guard down and, clinging to not fully awakened Merlin, wept. The rest of that morning was a blur, Arthur remembered only soothing words whispered into his ear, warm hands on his shoulders and chaste kisses on the forehead.

Merlin hadn’t left his side for long since then.

‘You don’t have to do that,’ Arthur murmured tiredly, turned to face him and closed the gap between them, now standing chest to chest.

‘Do what?’ Merlin took off Arthur’s most decent cape he had used for the ceremony, then folded it and laid on the table.

‘You saved Camelot,’ Arthur said and pointed at his folded cape. ‘You should be hailed as a hero together with the knights. It feels wrong to see you serving me.’

‘Are you going to sack me?’ Merlin’s fingers froze as he reached out to take the crown, this massive, heavy thing Arthur was going to wear for every official occasion from now on.

‘That’s not what I mean. That’s not how I’d put it.’ He tilted his head and took off the crown himself. The ache in his temples retreated, became bearable. ‘I want you to get the recognition you deserve. Not as a servant, but as a sorcerer, a saviour of Camelot.’

Merlin relaxed. For some reason, the idea of losing his position as a servant always scared him, made him anxious.

‘That’s not the first time people don’t notice me, and probably not the last one,’ he tried to joke and started working on the armour fastenings, but Arthur squeezed his hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss. To reassure both Merlin and himself, to get comfort.

‘I’m going to make sure it is the last time your efforts go unnoticed.’

‘I’m not rushing you. I trust you to make sure the moment to reintroduce your people to magic is right. Gods, Arthur, even if you decide not to bring magic back at all, I will gladly stay at your side and serve you.’

There was something sickening in Merlin’s lack of ambition and total absence of the desire to be acknowledged. His magic had been the key component of saving Camelot, and yet he reluctantly accepted any praise and declined any reward.

‘You deserve better than that,’ Arthur said when Merlin coaxed his hand back and started undressing him. Without his armour and chainmail he felt a bit more alive, a bit more human. ‘And I want you to have some faith in me.’

‘I do… it’s not…’ Merlin sighed. ‘Now you misunderstood me. What I’m trying to say is, I’m ready to wait. Right now is not the best time, we both know it. Not after the attack and all the deaths…’ his voice trailed off. Arthur nodded.

Cenred had used magic to kill and burn in an attempt to take over Camelot. The people had seen it, and they had seen Arthur and his knights fight to protect them. What they hadn’t seen, were Merlin and Morgana and their magic that had saved so many lives both in battle alongside his armed knights and outside it, in the infirmary.

‘Nevertheless, one day all the Camelot will know what you did for its people.’

‘One day they will,’ Merlin agreed with a small grateful smile. ‘But until then, you won’t get rid of me. Because that’s what I want. To be here with you. To serve you. To make your burdens easier.’

He put away the armour and the chainmail and slapped Arthur’s hand slightly when he tried to take off his own shirt, doing it for him instead. Arthur loved every moment of it.

‘You should at least go celebrate with Gwaine and Lancelot and the others. I know they invited you.’

‘I have other places to be right now.’

‘Do you?’ Arthur asked with poorly hidden relief. He wanted Merlin to stay with him, just like that first night after Uther’s death, the first night after their victory that hadn’t felt like one.

Merlin took off his jacket and threw it on a nearby chair.

‘Yes, I can think of a few. My king’s side, for instance.’

Merlin pushed him towards the bed, forcing Arthur to lie down and then making himself comfortable on the other side of the bed. He grabbed Arthur’s shoulder, as if trying to prevent him from getting up and leaving. Arthur wasn’t going anywhere from that bed.

Merlin’s even breathing calmed him, but not enough to switch his thoughts to something pleasant. All the recent events crashed on him again, but Arthur was not alone. He turned to his side to face Merlin, pulled him closer and inhaled his herbal smell that followed his lover everywhere.

They both fell asleep eventually, but the sleep was poor for both of them.

Arthur knew he was going to recover, to be fine again. But that required time and moral strength. He could only hope that he had enough of both to manage his duties.

Getting used to being a king took time. He had been taught, of course, how to manage taxes and noble lords, what to say to other kingdoms’ delegations not to cause a diplomatic disaster and what to do with bandits who threaten peasants. But it was still hard to come from theoretical knowledge and watching his father do all that to actually doing it himself.

How nice his life had been when he had only been in charge of the knights of the realm, and sometimes had to kill dangerous beasts! He’d prefer facing a griffin or a hydra from the legends to sitting with his father’s council members in the same room for several hours.

All that time Merlin was there for him, unfaltering and loyal, always by his side. He seemed unperturbed by the necessity to fulfil his servant’s duties even after Arthur had become the king, and never pushed him. Never.

Which was not the case for the rest of the people around him.

‘I think,’ said Lord Niall, one of the oldest members of the council — and one of the most stubborn and old-fashioned. He was sitting not far from Arthur, right after Gaius at a long narrow table. Gaius sighed as soon as his neighbour opened his mouth. ‘I think it’s high time you found yourself a queen, my lord. I understand that you’re young, that you don’t want to hurry. But when your father was your age, he was already married. I believe I don’t need to remind you of all the benefits a successful marriage can bring to a king.’’

One of the most annoying, too.

Arthur desperately wanted to wipe off that smug expression from Niall’s wrinkled face, but he was powerful and popular among older lords. After every other council meeting, Leon had to warn his king against destroying relationships with Niall and his closest allies. They all were still Arthur’s lords, after all.

‘I,’ Arthur said and raised his chin, because he hated the talks about his potential marriage in general, but a special sort of torture was the talks about his potential marriage during an important council meeting, right in between reports on a flood in the northern lands and bandit raids from the territory of Cenred’s kingdom, which had been left without a king and thrown into a civil war over the throne. He couldn’t just stand up and leave, and Lord Niall used it. ‘Am not my father. I will marry when I think the time is right. Now, please, why don’t we go back to discussing...’

‘But when will it be right, my lord?’ another old man, Lord Bran, joined Niall. ‘Right now our kingdom needs any support it can get, and a marriage with a worthy candidate,’ he stressed the last words, ‘can get us additional forces to deal with the flood, with the bandits and… whatever else is on the agenda today.’

‘Poor harvests,’ a younger lord, who had just taken his father’s place in the council and whose name Arthur still couldn’t remember, blurted out.

‘Poor harvests!’ Lord Bran exclaimed, almost elated, which, to Arthur’s mind, was a bit inappropriate, but then he turned serious. ‘We’ll have to do a lot to avoid food shortages. I know that since your coronation you have received many letters from Albion’s lords and kings who’d like to marry off their daughters. You should at least look through them. I'm pretty sure you’ll get interested in one of the ladies — or in one of the dowries their fathers are willing to give.’

The letters were coming, of course, but Arthur sent every last one of them to the blazing flame of the fireplace, because he never intended to accept any of the propositions written in them. He had chosen a person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and no letter, no proposition that promised him gold and armies and new territories could change that. Niall and Bran and the rest of the council lords didn’t need to know about that yet, though.

‘Nobody asked those poor ladies if they even want to be married off.’ Morgana, sitting to Arthur’s right, sighed quietly, saving him from the necessity to make up excuses. She was the only person who made the council meetings bearable, because even when she didn’t support him, she helped him find another solution and never wanted any benefit for herself. She also never mentioned any marriage and hated such digressions almost as fiercely as Arthur did, but she could afford to show her attitude.

‘Lady Morgana, it’s their duty,’ Lord Niall huffed, as he always did when she started talking in his presence. He treated them both — Arthur and Morgana — as silly children who decided to play rulers of a huge kingdom without understanding how to actually do it.

With such treatment from some of his lords, Arthur sometimes felt that he was close to losing heart.

‘The one they never signed for.’ Morgana looked him in the eye. ‘Their fathers marry them off to get power or gold, and don’t think about their daughters’ happiness. Men at least can choose and own land and rule. We can’t. Unless our husbands die and leave us something, of course.’

‘They were born in noble families, where they don’t need to worry about food and clothes. Marriage of convenience is usually seen as a blessing that brings stability,” Niall’s condescending voice seeped with obvious dislike. ‘But you’re being unfair, Lady Morgana. Men of noble origin have a lot of duties as well. I would go as far as to say that they are far more difficult than women’s, my lady.’

Morgana glanced at Arthur and rolled her eyes.

‘I’m sure you would,’ she told Niall, tired. ‘Is obeying your king’s orders one of those arduous duties?’

‘I wouldn’t say ‘arduous’, but, of course, it’s the most important duty, my…’

‘Then why don’t you shut your mouth and listen to the rest of the reports when your king orders you?’

Arthur brought his hands to his mouth to try and hide a smile. The first smile for the whole day.

Niall gasped and started opening and closing his mouth like a fish pulled out of water and left on a pier. Behind Arthur’s back, Lancelot, whose turn was to guard him at the council, coughed in an attempt to be tactful and hide his laugh.

‘Thank you, Lady Morgana. Now, Lord Farrell, I'd like to hear your report, please.’ A young man approximately of Arthur’s age stood up with a parchment in his hands and readily started his report, taking no heed of Niall’s furrows and angry glances.

Nobody was brave enough to speak of marriage again during that council meeting, but Niall and Bran’s facial expressions indicated that next time they would double their efforts.

When the torturous meeting finally ended, the lords left, giving Arthur an opportunity to rest against the back of his chair and close his eyes for a brief moment. Morgana put a hand on his shoulder and patted him affectionately.

‘You are doing all right,’ she said, sneakily whispered a short spell and sent a wave of cool air to him and Lancelot. After she got two grateful moans in return, she chuckled and went out of the hall together with Gaius, leaving Arthur and Lancelot still standing behind his back.

He had recently been knighted, properly, with all the honour he deserved, because the law forbidding him from becoming a knight, was no more. But Leon entrusted the king’s protection only to those he placed confidence in, and those were mainly their new knights, so each council meeting one of them was burdened with a task of standing behind Arthur’s back for several hours, listening to the arguments of the old lords and protecting the king from any possible threat, which in fact in most cases was simple boredom or irritation. That day, it was Lancelot’s turn to suffer.

Sometimes Arthur wondered why he even needed a guard during council meetings. Maybe Leon thought that he needed protection from some of the council members trying to assassinate him for lowering taxes or burdening them with building and maintaining roads; or maybe he thought that some of the council members needed protection from Arthur. The latter seemed more probable, considering Niall and Bran and the rest of the older council members. Excluding Gaius, who would always side with Arthur — well, he would side with Merlin who would side with Arthur, but the outcome would be the same.

Arthur looked at all the parchments the lords had left for him and sighed. Even if he wasn’t going to marry to get provisions and soldiers together with a wife, he had to admit that some help wouldn’t hurt.

‘Your highness,’ Lancelot spoke gently, but still startled him. Arthur pretended he had just tried to sit more comfortably in an iron chair. ‘If I may…’

‘Oh, Lancelot, please, we’ve talked about it,’ Arthur interrupted him and grimaced. ‘When there are no lords, drop all these ‘your highness’es and ‘my lord’s. I need someone to call me by my name, otherwise I’ll simply forget it.’

Out of all his new knights, only Gwaine never slipped and never called him anything other than ‘Arthur’ or ‘princess’ or an occasional ‘royal prat’ after a training when he thought Arthur didn’t hear. Arthur was reluctant to admit it, but such aliases seemed a tad… refreshing. Keeping him on his toes. Lancelot and especially Percival still needed to be reminded from time to time.

‘You always have Merlin to remind you. But all right. Arthur, then,’ Lancelot corrected himself, went round the table and sat in one of the chairs, one that Niall used, and turned from a nameless guard into a friend, compassion on his face. He took off the guard’s helmet and ruffled his hair, sweaty from standing in full armour on a pretty warm day. ‘Such conversations seem to drive you mad.’

Arthur let himself lean on the table surface.

‘Because they do. Sometimes I think that even if I do marry a princess from another kingdom who could bring gold and knights to Camelot, they will say that I should have chosen another princess, from a richer kingdom or with a more generous father.’

‘That truly sounds like Lord Niall and Lord Bran.’ Lancelot laughed and only then looked around to make sure that nobody was listening to them. ‘Why don’t you tell them that your heart already belongs to someone? Maybe that will stop them from tormenting you.’

Arthur drank some water from a goblet Merlin had put on the table in front of him in the beginning of the meeting. His throat, aching from all the talks, felt better immediately.

‘Oh, I doubt that. It will make the situation even worse. They will ask who it is and why I don’t marry them, and when they know, it will be the same as now: they will be trying to persuade me to marry someone rich and powerful. No. I want them to learn about us only when nothing can be changed. They will still whine and complain, but at least I’ll know that if they continue to bug me with potential marriage candidates, I’ll be able to threaten them with a week in the dungeons for offending the king consort.’

It was nice to finally see understanding on an interlocutor’s face for a change. Lancelot nodded and fell silent for a moment.

‘Then… then, why don’t you just ask Merlin to marry you now? He won’t say no, you know that, right?’

Lancelot was a bit flustered from wearing a helmet for a pretty long time, but he didn’t fail to give Arthur a supportive smile. He was one of a few people who knew about him and Merlin and their not-really-existing-yet relationship.

Other people knowing made Arthur uncomfortable, as if they were given a secret weapon against him which they could use any minute, but Merlin trusted Lancelot with it.

‘I can’t. Not when magic is still prohibited. I’m working on how to bring it back all the time I don’t work on…’ he looked at the parchment in his hands, ‘floods and bandits and poor harvests. But I’m still not sure how to prepare people for magic’s return. I don’t want to cause an uprising, which is more than possible considering all the disasters we are now facing.’

‘Kill two birds with one stone, then.’ Lancelot shrugged, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

When Lancelot was being mischievous, it usually promised something interesting. Arthur blinked and leaned in, his interest piqued.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean,’ Lancelot looked at him with a sliver of hesitation, ‘they want a political marriage that will bring benefit to the whole kingdom, that will chase away the outlaws and prevent food shortages. Well, I know one power that will definitely help with all the problems better than any foreign army.’

‘Which is?’

‘Magic,’ he said simply. ‘Magic will certainly deal with poor harvests and the consequences of the floods, and sorcerers are way stronger than mere bandits. Moreover, it’s not a one single act of goodwill, it’s not gold that is hard to replenish. It’s a power that can be used again and again.’’

‘I…’ Arthur looked at him incredulously. What Lancelot was suggesting sounded logical and lucrative and would solve so many problems. It was not so simple, though, but when Arthur opened his mouth to object, he understood that Lancelot hadn’t finished. ‘Go on.’

‘So, magic can solve all the problems, right? But it has been outlawed for so long. The Purge is not the thing that can be forgotten that easily. Magic users probably wouldn’t trust the king of Camelot not to betray them, not to punish them when they return. Unless…’ he trailed off as if wanting Arthur to guess for himself.

‘Unless?’ And Arthur had an idea what it was all about, but he’d rather hear it from Lancelot.

‘Unless the king of Camelot marries a magic user himself. Then people of Camelot will get magic back on their side, and it will help with all the disasters, and sorcerers will get their homes back together with a safety guarantee. But, of course, the king of Camelot cannot marry any sorcerer, because they can betray him as well. It must be someone the king trusts enough not to harm him. Someone who has been with him for many years and served him, for instance.’

Arthur fixed his eyes on an ink spot on the table surface, thinking.

‘Is it too much?’ Lancelot asked, guilt in his voice. ‘It’s just a simple idea, you don’t have to…’

‘No,’ Arthur said. ‘No, Lancelot, it’s brilliant. We will need to work on it a bit. Nobody must think that Merlin — or any other sorcerer — enchanted me to bring magic back to Camelot. But the idea is truly brilliant!’

‘I don’t think they will believe that anyone enchanted you. You underestimate the influence magic had — and still has — on people’s lives. Have a little faith. They will be happy to have it back, especially those who still remember the times when magic was an ordinary thing in Camelot. And even if your father’s most fervent followers don’t support the return of magic in general… I guess they won’t deny its usefulness in such difficult times.’

Arthur stood up and went to the window. People in the courtyard were hurrying and covering their heads from the burning sun, resting in shadows and walking in all the directions. Arthur wanted what’s best for his people, and he wanted for magic to return, and he also oh so desperately wanted to be with Merlin, officially, for everybody to know that they were each other’s. And if those three wishes could be fulfilled that easily…

‘I need a plan.’

‘Of course.’

‘I need to think of all the possible risks, because…’ he fumbled.

Luckily, it was Lancelot of all the people he was talking to.

‘I understand, Arthur. You want to protect him. I wouldn’t share this idea if I thought it was dangerous for any of you, though.’

What he wanted, seemed to be within his grasp, and he wanted to rush and hurry and get it sooner. The plan was still necessary.

‘Thank you, Lancelot,’ Arthur said, thoughts tumultuous in his head. He needed a parchment and a quill. The closest ones were probably in his chambers, so he said his last phrase to Lancelot when he was almost at the door. ‘I think I know what to do.’

Summer nights were great for late work, because they never came too early. Even a month after the summer solstice daylight would last long enough for those who had unfinished work to manage without a candle until late evening. The day’s heat would retreat, allowing the blessed coolness to clear minds, and making it easier to think about something else other than cold water from a nearby well.

It was already late, but the darkness had enveloped the city less than an hour ago. Arthur was sitting at the desk with a quill in his hand, deep in his thoughts. The idea Lancelot had planted in his head rooted and grew and bloomed, as fast and resilient as a weed. Arthur didn’t need much time to start working on that idea. Right after their conversation he, inspired and hopeful, had retreated to his chambers and started pouring his thoughts onto a parchment sheet.

What needed to be done was a convincing declaration that would state all the potential benefits magic could bring to the kingdom, and guarantees for the magic users as well. The parchment sheet — the fourth one — in front of Arthur contained two sections with two lists: one for benefits and one for guarantees. He needed both to prepare the council for the new reality, where sorcerers would not be treated as criminals without having committed any crime. Even though he had managed to make up quite a lot of the points and word them in a quite convincing way (at least he wanted to believe he did), he felt that something was still missing. That it wasn’t good enough to make people believe, to make them welcome the changes he was about to bring in.

Arthur was trying to look at the text he had written from the point of view of those who supported his father’s hatred for magic, when Merlin in his typical Merlin-like manner burst into the king’s chambers.

‘You won’t believe it!’ He exclaimed, hoisting Arthur’s cleaned and thoroughly polished armour onto the table without even looking up at its owner. He was in a good mood, pleasant satisfaction seeped through his voice. Disapprovingly clicking his tongue, Merlin snapped his fingers, and all the candles that Arthur hadn’t bothered to light started blazing. Shaking his head, Merlin fixed his bedsheet and sent a shirt that had fallen out of the wardrobe back with a cleaning spell and headed to Arthur’s chair. ‘Just don’t tell anyone I told you, because it is supposed to be a secret…’

‘Merlin.’

‘I’ve told you about the cook’s daughter already. Well, there is the second part now…’

Merlin was a distraction. A handsome distraction in Arthur’s old red shirt, with a radiant smile and shining eyes, but distraction nonetheless.

What Arthur was trying to do was for him. That declaration was first and foremost for him, and Arthur felt obliged to complete it and finally introduce it to the council.

‘Merlin,’ Arthur warned, trying to keep his eyes on the parchment before him. The draft was ready, but it was a draft, an unfinished version with flaws and weak points that needed to be corrected, and Arthur read the written text again and again, crossed out some words and put in other ones in an attempt to make it perfect.

Beside the two major sections, he wanted also to mention how Merlin and Morgana selflessly defended the kingdom from an invading army; how Merlin healed people and protected the king — both kings he knew, the previous one and the present; how he fought beasts and evil sorcerers and saved Camelot a countless number of times. How magnificent he looked whenever he figured out another spell. But it was an official declaration that was going to be a base for a new law. It needed to be laconic, easy to understand for both parties, and quite persuasive.

Arthur struggled because he wanted — needed — to make it perfect, and for that, he required concentration and silence, not something as distracting as Merlin’s excited chatter and his warm hand that rested on Arthur’s shoulder, a bit too close to his neck to be considered a simply friendly gesture. One of a few Merlin allowed himself without getting Arthur’s explicit permission to do more, which was both touching and frustrating at times.

‘Less than an hour ago I was going to carry your sword back to the armoury when Gwaine…’

‘Merlin,’ Arthur repeated, collected. ‘I’m trying to think.’

‘Oh, sorry, sorry,’ Merlin said, but didn’t remove his hand. He tried to look at the parchment, but most likely couldn’t read a thing because of the endless field of corrections and crossings on it. ‘Do be careful, though. Thinking too hard is bad for your health.’

‘Ha-ha,’ deadpanned Arthur, tapping the quill end against his nose. ‘This joke is getting old, you know.’

‘It’s becoming classic,’ Merlin smirked, but his grin faded a bit as he noticed Arthur’s ink-stained fingers and gloomy expression. ‘Are you writing a speech? Do you need any help?’

‘Not a speech.’ Arthur lifted the parchment and looked at it critically. When Merlin stepped even closer, almost standing behind his back now, Arthur hesitated.

‘I’m not going to push you,’ Merlin said kindly. ‘If you want me to leave or to shut up, I will. But if you need help with what you are writing, I’ll be happy to make sure your spelling and punctuation are in order.’

‘My spelling,’ Arthur said indignantly, ‘is impeccable.’

‘If misspelling seven words in a short speech draft is considered impeccable, I have some worries for the future of the kingdom.’

Merlin, who was, unlike Arthur, an exemplary student, had learned to read and write even before coming to Camelot, but Gaius had refined those skills. Arthur was immensely grateful for Merlin’s help with his speeches, but hoped he would never use the secret of Arthur’s misspelled words and missed commas against him.

He was wrong to trust so easily.

The brief lopsided grin that the exchange had caused faded. Arthur bit his lip, considering whether it was too early to ask for help, when the draft was still a draft, but Merlin was patiently waiting for his decision, a sliver of concern in his gaze. Maybe it would be better to involve an actual magic user when it was just a draft. ‘All right. Sometimes you can be pretty insightful, so... Here, read it and tell me what you think. But please don’t sugar-coat it for me. I need the truth.’

Merlin’s concern grew visibly stronger. Arthur gave him the parchment and turned in his chair to see Merlin’s face. The angle was pretty uncomfortable, but Merlin, before starting to read, let go of Arthur’s shoulder and sat on the edge of the desk, having made sure there were no ink spots or wax drops from the candles. Arthur put his own hand on the table near Merlin’s thigh and gently touched it with his little finger, because he wanted to prolong the contact, because he had missed Merlin who had been absent all day, because he was afraid of a possible bad reaction.

His handwriting was messy, partially because his thoughts were faster than the quill in his fingers, particularly because as a child he’d always hated calligraphy together with all the rest of the lessons that hadn’t included swords or tales about swords. Merlin huffed and then frowned as he tried to decipher the writing. Anxious, Arthur watched Merlin’s expression closely, noticing how it changed as he went through the standard introduction and started the main part. His mouth opened a bit, eyebrows moved towards the bridge of his nose.

The moment he understood what it was all about, he gasped.

‘Arthur…’ he whispered, dumbfounded, but it was not clear whether he was excited and grateful, or shocked and disappointed. Arthur tried to consider everything: not only to allow magic, but also to apologise and to give the magic users of Camelot some guarantees, without mentioning any marriage yet. He didn’t think it could be enough, but hoped it was a good start. Everything needed to start somewhere, even if the start was a messy draft with misspelled words.

‘It’s not the final version, of course,’ he hurried to say. He didn't notice how he had moved closer together with his chair, how a little finger touching Merlin’s leg turned into both palms on his lover’s thigh, how he looked up at him in an attempt to understand the emotion, scared of what he might find. ‘I will rewrite it as many times as it’s needed to make it perfect.’

‘No, it is…’ Merlin lowered the parchment. His eyes glistened wetly. ‘It’s good. Arthur, it’s great. It has everything… well, I mean I could add a thing or two and paraphrase several sentences, but… it’s already great. You are bringing magic back. Thank you. It’s more than I could ever ask of you. Thank you so much.’

‘Are you going to cry?’ Arthur said suspiciously.

‘I’m not going to cry,’ Merlin almost sobbed, using his sleeve to get rid of the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes.

‘I knew my writing was awful, but it’s the first time someone cried reading it,’ Arthur joked, rising to his feet with a light heart. He stood between Merlin’s legs, so unbearably close, then moved the candlestick away to make sure it didn’t fall, and hugged Merlin, who tried to hide his wet face behind the parchment.

‘It’s not that, and you know it,’ he mumbled.

‘I told you I was bringing magic back. You shouldn’t be surprised.’

‘I’m not surprised you decided to do it. I guess I’m surprised you decided to do it now, when even half a year hasn’t passed since Cenred’s attack. I was ready to wait, and now it’s… simply unexpected.’

Merlin finally put his hands away from his face and returned the hug with the same fierce determination he put into everything else he did.

‘You’ve waited long enough,’ Arthur said, feeling how his heart swelled in his chest. ‘I’ve been thinking, you know. There will always be those who will support us and those who will cling to my father’s legacy. It will be the same in a year and in three and in a decade. Well, no. No, it will be getting more and more difficult, because there will be more and more people grown up in this hatred and fear. So why not do it now?’

‘I’m surprised your head hasn't blown because of the amount of thoughts in it,’ Merlin whispered without his usual heat. His fingers were crumpling Arthur’s tunic, scratching slightly the skin underneath it. ‘Thank you.’

‘Stop thanking me. It’s weird.’

‘We’ve already discussed it, haven’t we?’ Merlin gave out a weak laugh.

‘We have. You thanking me hasn’t become less weird, though,’ Arthur kissed his hair that faintly smelled of polishing oil. He took the parchment from Merlin’s hand and glanced at it. His own words that had seemed strange and clumsy just several minutes ago now looked way better. He put the sheet away, proud, but then another thing he needed to discuss with Merlin crashed on him. ‘But also… I should tell you that I’m doing it for many reasons. Because it’s the way to right my father’s wrongs, because you are very dear to me, because magic can greatly benefit the kingdom. But there’s one reason, which is… more selfish than the others.’

‘Nothing about you is selfish,’ Merlin argued, nuzzling his neck. Then he stopped and huffed. ‘Well, I mean, you definitely are a selfish prat.’

‘Why, thank you,’ said Arthur dryly, finding Merlin’s ribs under the shirt and poking just below them — lightly, not enough to cause any pain or discomfort. Merlin cried out and tried to wiggle his way out of the hug, but stopped and relaxed as soon as Arthur gave up.

‘Ouch! You really are a royal selfish prat,’ Merlin grumbled. ‘Although I can’t but admit that when it comes to the way you rule your kingdom, you don’t do anything selfish. You spend all the taxes to make sure your people live in better conditions, and you don’t abuse your power. You spend every moment you can to learn how to become a better king. I love that about you.’

His cheeks must have been burning with bright red, and all the thoughts were gone.

‘And I don’t see how bringing magic back can make you selfish.’

After the compliment that warmed his heart, coming back to reality felt as if someone poured a bucket of ice-cold water over him. For the first time since that conversation with Lancelot, he thought that Merlin might not want to marry him this way, for the whole kingdom to guess that it was a marriage of convenience, not love. What was worse, he might not want to marry him at all.

The relationship they were having was a bit… strange. Unique, in not exactly a good way. After that hunting trip, there were infrequent touches and even less frequent kisses, but then they suddenly could lay in Arthur’s bed after a hard day and sleep without so much as hugging. Merlin was there for him, supported and helped him, but the hug they were sharing at that moment was the second most intimate thing since the hunt. Arthur tried to tame the untimely worry, but he still couldn’t help but wonder if they both wanted the same thing.

It was high time he found it out, then.

‘Well, there’s one thing,’ he said carefully, and stepped away to give Merlin and himself a bit more space. His hand was still resting on Merlin’s waist, though, because he was weak. ‘You see, Lancelot came up with a plan.’

‘A plan,’ Merlin repeated, raising his eyebrow with a striking resemblance to Gaius’s gesture.

‘More of an idea, actually. To combine bringing magic back and… and, ahem, a marriage.’

Merlin went very still under Arthur’s palm. Arthur went very still in return.

‘Marriage,’ Merlin said flatly.

‘Yes,’ Arthur nodded, anxious. ‘He suggested that I lift the ban on magic and, to reassure sorcerers and sorceresses who might decide to return to Camelot that I won’t turn my back on them ever again, have a spouse who is a magic user themself. To have a political marriage the council so desperately wants me to have.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yes.’

‘I see,’ Merlin looked at his boots covered in dust, then stood up, walked to the bed, thoughtful, and then returned to the desk, but stopped right beyond Arthur’s reach. Arthur instantly started missing his warmth. ‘It’s a clever plan, actually.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Yes. To kill both birds with one stone.’

‘That’s exactly how Lancelot described it when he decided to introduce it to me,’ Arthur gave a weak laugh.

In the flickering lights of the candles Merlin seemed dejected, and Arthur, horrified, was ready to say that they would call this all off, that no wedding was necessary, that they would do without it…

‘And that spouse you are going to have… Have you got any idea who it is going to be?’

Arthur blinked, suspicion starting to form in his head.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Will it be decided by the council? Or do you have someone in mind already?’

They stared at each other. Merlin, miserable and lost, Arthur, confounded by his beloved’s conclusions.

‘Of course I have.’ Artur said, indignant. Almost shouted, actually, because Merlin completely missed the point of why he was doing all that. ‘It’s you. I want to marry no one else but you, you cabbagehead. If you’ll have me, that is.’

It took Merlin several long seconds to utter a weak ‘oh.’ He uncrossed his arms and scratched his nose, squirming awkwardly.

‘Merlin. Please don’t tell me you thought I was going to marry someone else,’ the guilty expression on his face told Arthur everything, though. Probably only Merlin could think that Arthur would want anyone else after everything they’ve been through. ‘Do you ever listen to what I say? I told you that I wanted this, wanted us, and that I was not going to keep you as a dark dirty secret.’

‘I know you wouldn’t,’ Merlin said. ‘But you mentioned the council, and I thought… I didn’t have an opportunity to think about all this thoroughly. The first thought that appeared in my head was, “It can’t be me, I’m not suitable to become that spouse.”’

Arthur’s heart clenched. ‘Gods, Merlin. I decided to include this whole marriage thing only because of you. I told you I wanted this, and I told you I was going to court you. You must know that I wouldn’t court you just to have some fun and then leave you and marry someone else.’

‘I know!’ Merlin threw up his hands helplessly.

‘I wouldn’t do that, Merlin.’ Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, to have Merlin right in front of him. ‘Not with what I feel about you. Gods, I haven’t ever told you, have I? Merlin, I will bring you the moon and the stars if you ever ask me to. I will give up on my crown and make you the only king if you ever want me to. I want to dress you in the finest silks and put jewels into your hair — red, certainly red, to let everyone know how I feel. I want to hug and kiss you without being afraid that someone will see, to wake up and look at you every morning, lying in my — our — bed. I love you, you silly oaf, and I want to marry you.’ He breathed in and out, then added, ‘If you’ll have me.’

Merlin opened and closed his mouth, his eyes widened, and he trembled in Arthur’s hands.

‘You silly,’ he finally said, and Arthur fought the urge to ask him hysterically if that was all he got from his speech. But Merlin needed only a moment to go on. ‘You don’t need to ask, gods. I’m already yours, and I always will be, because I love you in every sense possible. I love you so much, it hurts and burns me from the inside. You can’t imagine how much willpower it took me not to be touching you all the time. I just thought… when you said you wanted a political marriage, I thought…’

‘I meant I wanted to make our marriage — your and mine — to look political to the council. Why would I even consider a marriage of convenience to be selfish?’

‘Yeah, I understand it now. I just didn’t think.’

‘Well, nothing new, then.’

They stared at each other and then suddenly started laughing at the same time.

‘I guess we both are a bit silly.’

‘You are sillier. You should have explained better from the start,’ Merlin grumbled, hiding his face in Arthur’s shoulder again.

‘Merlin.’

‘Hm?’

‘I love you. Will you become my… I guess it will be “my king?”’

‘I told you already. I love you. I will.’

With Merlin and all the misunderstandings between them gone, with the work and his own aspiration to right all his father’s wrongs, Arthur felt alive and truly well, for the first time since the attack.

A gentle breeze Merlin magicked extinguished all the candles except the ones on the desk, but the phase of them simply admiring each other in the light of the mutual confessions ended pretty quickly. They both felt that there was unfinished work.

In between tender kisses and loving touches, Arthur brought another chair to the desk where Merlin started rewriting his declaration, slightly changing some wordings and adding several new points. Their fingers and faces were covered in ink smudges, and the candles almost became the stubs. The rest of the night passed, and the first rays of the morning sun lit the chambers when Merlin, struggling to keep his eyes open, put away the quill. It was still a draft, but it was closer to the final version. Arthur, who had laid his head on his folded arms, smiled tiredly but with obvious content.

‘At the next council meeting I’ll let them know that we’re bringing magic back, and about marriage as well. Probably I’ll start with the marriage and then say that magic is the only power that could solve all Camelot’s problems, and then mention that marriage with you is another guarantee for both sides.’

‘You’ll have enough time to think of a nice speech,’ Merlin laughed and tried to stand up but swayed because of exhaustion. ‘Do you think we will be able to finish the text of the law before the next meeting?’

‘We will, but Gaius and Geoffrey’s help will be much appreciated. Maybe we will find something from the times when magic was allowed and use it.’

‘I’ll talk to Gaius then.’

‘Rest first.’ Arthur followed Merlin to the bed. ‘Sleep. The first thing we will do tomorrow — or, well, today already — is talk to them. After we have enough sleep not to fall during the conversation. And eat.’

‘After we sleep and eat,’ Merlin agreed. He took off his jacket and boots and sat on the bed without asking Arthur for permission, and it was nice. It was like they did it every night, and Arthur would love to get used to this. ‘I won’t go back to my room.’

‘Good. I wouldn’t let you anyway.’

The air in the chambers was cool from the night, and Arthur lifted the blanket, inviting.

They laid face to face, like all the times before that.

‘Arthur,’ Merlin whispered, as if he was afraid of waking someone up, or was about to share a dark secret. ‘I need to tell you something before we actually do all this. Maybe it will help with persuading the council.’

‘What is it?’

‘The druids believe I’m Emrys, a great sorcerer that has been prophesied. The greatest, actually. I’m not sure if I’m the right person, but they seem to be quite certain. Maybe you could use it during the meeting. Say that it’s good to have such power loyal to Camelot, its king and people.’

They stared at each other. Merlin smiled self-consciously and guiltily, as if keeping it a secret made him the worst person in Camelot or even the whole world. Arthur gave up, sighed and scooped up Merlin, who gave out a short high-pitched sound, into his arms. They had hugged, and they had laid together in one bed, but when those actions were combined, it felt incredibly intimate and sweet, and it melted Arthur’s insides.

‘And you thought you were not suitable to be my spouse,’ he said. Merlin’s reluctant arms hugged him in return and then squeezed with unexpected power. ‘I will use it during the meeting. Thank you for trusting me and sharing it.’

‘Any time,’ Merlin answered, happiness in his voice. “I can think of something else that would help sway their opinions.’

‘Sleep first. And let me sleep, you dollophead. We have enough time to figure it out.’

Instead of an answer, Merlin breathed in deeply and slowly, the way only sleeping people do. Arthur pulled up the blanket, enveloping them both, and fell asleep as well.

‘So, that is what I’m going to do,’ Arthur said and leaned back on his chair, enjoying the expressions on the faces of all the council members, excluding Morgana and Gaius, who tried and failed to hide their smiles. ‘And I hope to do it with your help.’

‘But, my lord,’ started the young lord that had supported Niall last time. There was panic in his eyes, and his fingers were tugging at his doublet collar. ‘Magic is dangerous. I understand your wish to use it for the benefit of Camelot, but we cannot let sorcerers use magic freely. They will kill and rob! There will be chaos!’

‘Please, lord Aidan, most people don’t need magic to murder each other,’ Morgana huffed.

‘Moreover,’ Gaius added readily, ‘most sorcerers barely have enough power to heal simple wounds, make heavy things a little bit lighter and maybe enchant earth to have slightly better harvests. And those who are more powerful and willing to use it for malicious things, use it anyway, even with the ban. Without it, there will be sorcerers and sorceresses who aspire to protect and create, not to destroy and hurt. They will know that their help is appreciated, and they won’t be afraid to use it for something good.’

Gaius was respected among the council members, both because of his age and his station as a royal physician. The man seemed to calm down a bit, maybe even use some common sense, but several other lords joined him, and the grumble among them gradually rose to a clamour.

‘We can’t allow it!’ Aiden, whose flame of anger and dissatisfaction started blazing anew, shouted louder than his supporters.‘They will want power! They will overthrow you!’

‘Lord Aiden,’ Arthur said calmly, using the name he’d finally learned. Addressing people by their names was a trick his father had used to make them listen — or to make them feel guilty or scared. Together with the expression of cold fury on his face he’d put on whenever he’d needed, it had always worked perfectly. Arthur didn’t want to become like his father, but borrowing some tricks was not an awful strategy. He wasn’t going to throw Aiden into the dungeon for disagreeing with him after all. ‘I’ve just explained everything. To prevent this from happening, I will marry a sorcerer myself, and we will rule together, considering the needs of the magical and non-magical population. There will be no need to overthrow me.’

‘But it’s not right! Your father put so much effort into building the life around this law, into maintaining peace, and you are going to destroy his legacy. Lord Niall, please, tell him!’ Aiden cried, helplessly. The whole council turned their heads to Niall, sitting at his usual position at the table, right after Gaius. Some of the people needed to almost lie onto the table surface with their chests to be able to see him.

But Niall seemed thoughtful. He’d been like that, quiet and in his own head, since the moment Arthur had announced the topic of that day’s council. He hadn’t interrupted Arthur even once, which was very unlike him. Arthur even hoped that maybe Niall would side with him. He had lived during the time of the prosperity of magic, after all. He must have remembered.

While Niall was thinking of what to say, Arthur looked around. He could notice people who were ready to side with him: several young lords, several old ones. There were those who hesitated, who were waiting for Niall to say his word, or were considering all the arguments Arthur and Aiden had given them. They were not the lost cause. Those who’d already opposed Arthur and were unlikely to change their minds… well, he could live with three or four of them, but he’d wanted to gradually remove them from his council. What he couldn’t afford was to let anyone else join them.

The atmosphere in the hall was so tense that every noise and every rustle made people wince. Even the usually nonchalant Gwaine, whose turn it was to suffer as a guard beside Arthur, shifted and started tapping his foot.

‘Sorry,’ he whispered and stopped when Arthur glanced up at him with a tiny portion of amusement. ‘I’m nervous. All this is very important.’

Important it truly was. Gwaine didn’t seem to care much about magic itself, but he cared about Merlin who was magic. Arthur knew that he would not allow the ban to live any longer even without the support of his council, but with their help it would be easier.

‘I’m afraid, lord Aiden,’ Niall finally uttered, ‘that not every legacy is worth keeping.’

‘Lord Niall!’ Aiden squeaked, scandalised. ‘But… the dangers…’

‘They dangers are the same for all people, magic or no magic.’

‘But magic gives power and infects with malicious intents!’

‘My son,’ Niall said and coughed, as if an unpleasant memory squeezed his throat. He tried again. ‘My son was a sorcerer, but he never hurt anyone, he loved every living thing. The man who killed him and half of the village, where my son was helping our people, in an attempt to find a sorcerer and get Uther’s reward… that man was no sorcerer. He was a cruel murderer who killed him and many innocent villagers. The dangers you are talking about are in people’s heads, in their intentions.’

The hall, including Aiden, whose resentment finally abated, went silent.

‘I’m sorry for your loss, lord Niall,’ said Arthur with genuine sympathy. Who would have thought he would really condole with that quarrelsome old man. ‘What I’m trying to do is directed at preventing such atrocities from happening.’

‘I know, your highness, and I respect it. You have my full support.’

Aiden gasped. Bran, sitting to his left, nodded. Morgana turned to Niall with a grateful expression. The smile he gave her in return was a bit strained and weak — probably because he still remembered how she had shit him up during last meeting.

Arthur knew for sure, this gratefulness they both felt towards Niall at that point would wither as soon as he opened his mouth during discussion of any other topic. But having his support meant that many other lords, including even Aiden, would come to terms with the changes that Arthur was about to bring in.

By the end of the meeting more than three fourths of all the members agreed that bringing magic back was a good idea. Gwaine, who was not the best person to be a guard at the royal council meeting, tried to persuade the rest. He was not very successful, unfortunately.

After the meeting, there were several almost sleepless nights of writing and rewriting the declaration that Arthur was going to present to his people, the text of the new law regulating the use of magic and punishing only those who used it to harm other people or their possessions, and the speech Arthur would give for the citizens of Camelot.

Niall joined them despite Arthurs’ weak protests. He stayed late with them to read the texts Arthur and Merlin with Morgana and Gaius’s help came up with. Most times he gave laconic comments, which were pretty useful, as much as Arthur was reluctant to admit. But Niall’s constant presence also meant that sooner rather than later he’d find out who Arthur was going to marry, and Arthur dreaded that moment.

But Merlin and Niall — surprisingly for all of them — found common ground quite easily. Niall knew what it was like to have a child born with magic, and Merlin looked like someone most people supporting sorcerers wanted to adopt. When the moment came and Niall found out about Arthur’s feelings for Merlin (which were very difficult to miss) and their upcoming wedding, he nodded calmly, but caught him after their working session in the corridor.

‘I know you don’t care about my opinion on whom you should marry,’ he started, and Arthur got ready to argue. ‘But I approve of your choice,’ he said, and left Arthur wondering if it was a real Niall, not an impostor, but Merlin, who considered the old man to be a nice person, simply laughed and told Arthur to get some sleep before the important day of the announcement.

The following day started too early for Arthur’s liking, but he woke up at dawn and couldn’t go back to sleep. As soundlessly as he could, he got up after a futile attempt to fall asleep again, headed to his desk and sat silently in his chair that creaked traitorously, but Merlin didn’t wake.

The parchment sheets they had finished the previous night were where he’d left them before going to sleep. Arthur reread them once again, making sure that everything was fine, that he memorised his speech, that there were enough copies of the announcement to send with the heralds to every major settlement in Camelot and to the druid camps. He also planned to notify the rulers of the nearby kingdoms, and all the parchment sheets were already there, waiting their turn to be sent. But it would happen a bit later. Arthur wanted first to wait for his people’s reaction.

When he checked everything for what he promised himself was the last time (even though he most likely would break that promise), Arthur decided it was high time he did something he was planning to do for several weeks already, but couldn’t find the opportunity. He found a clean sheet of parchment and a quill and started to write, paying no heed to the ache in his fingers from all the previous writing.

That was how Merlin found him later, when the pink sky of the dawn turned morning-blue and the rays of the sun, that had risen above the opposite castle wall, warmed the room.

‘Have you got some sleep?’ he mumbled sleepily as soon as he opened his eyes and noticed Arthur at the desk.

‘I have, don’t worry. Just needed to make sure everything was fine.’

Merlin stretched out lazily and got out of the bed to look at Arthur with understanding and gratitude.

‘What are you writing now? I thought we finished everything we planned.’

‘We did. There was one thing I needed to do. I should have done it earlier, in fact.’

‘Intriguing. What is it?’

Arthur rose to his feet with the sheet in his hands and came closer to Merlin to kiss him in the cheek and present the parchment to him. Merlin stared at the sheet, confused. Then he noticed Arthur’s seal at the bottom, and his frown deepened.

‘I’m giving you a title.’

Merlin’s expression turned horrified.

‘What? No!’ He tried to give the parchment back to Arthur, who, expecting him to, already was on the opposite side of the desk.

“And some land. Not much, of course, because I just can’t allow too many people to suffer under your rule, but enough to grant you the title.’

‘Please, no. What have I done to you?’

That was the exact reaction Arthur knew he would get from Merlin. He gave a short laugh.

‘Sorry. It’s necessary.’

‘For what?’

‘You see. I’ve already broken many rules and traditions, and I’m going to break more, and not everyone sees at as something worth forgiving. Maybe following at least one rule, one tradition would mitigate the consequences,’ Arthur said what he’d been rehearsing in his head while composing the document. Merlin bit his lip. ‘Bestowing some land and a title upon a loyal servant is a rare and — to some — an outrageous occurrence, but it’s not unheard of. I’m courting a man, a sorcerer of peasant origin. I don’t care about any of this; you are one of the wisest and most educated people I’ve ever known, but other lords don’t know it. They don’t know you, and they care about all those formalities. Giving you a title is an attempt to get away from the lords’ possible rage.’

Understanding crept into Merlin’s face.

‘I thought the council didn’t mind a magic user as your future spouse.’

‘Some of them don’t, including Niall, but there are those who think the king’s spouse should be more… traditional. If a magic user is necessary, then it should be a woman — better if it’s a woman of a noble origin, which they are sure will reveal themselves as soon as the ban is lifted. I will use Lancelot’s idea, that I cannot marry just any person after such a long period of magic being outlawed. And your idea, that having the most powerful sorcerer as a spouse is like marrying the king of another kingdom, that it makes a better union. But… you know them. They will have to live with what I’ve decided, of course, but I’d still like to have them as allies.’

Merlin sighed heavily, as if having a title and lands was a physical burden on his shoulders.

‘Well, if it will help you deal with them… all right. I accept,’ he said solemnly, but then his expression turned horror-struck again. ‘Are they going to address me as lord Merlin?’

Arthur threw his head back and laughed.

‘Yes, they are,’ he said and then added, because he could, ‘lord Merlin.’

‘Gods,’ Merlin whined. ‘It sounds awful.’

‘It sounds perfect. And I regret to inform you, lord Merlin, but you’ll need to get used to it. The council members and the rest of the lords will call you that each time they see you and each time they need to address you.’

Merlin looked like he was condemned to spend the rest of his days in a dungeon cell with Aiden as the other inmate. Arthur ruffled his hair and planted another kiss on his temple.

“You deserve it. I mean it in a good way.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ he said, not convinced, but at least the sour expression disappeared.

Their further conversation was interrupted by George, who came to bring breakfast and warn that Camelot’s citizens were already gathering in the square.

‘That early?’ Arthur gasped, and the slice of bread he’d taken fell on the tray. ‘Why?’

‘I can’t say for sure, my lord, but I guess that they have their suspicions of what the announcement might be about,’ George said shyly. ‘They have their hopes.’

Arthur nodded, his agitation spiked up. He as well had his hopes and expectations, and he had several hours before he found out if this all lived up to them.

To say that the crowd that had gathered in front of the palace was huge meant to say nothing at all. People were everywhere, and those who couldn’t find a place in the square were huddling in the arched pathways and, as the guards had reported, the crowd outstretched almost to the second gate where it became just a bit sparser.

People had their hopes. Arthur desperately wanted to believe that they were the same hopes he himself had.

He made a step forward to the iron balustrade on the narrow balcony that had always been used by Camelot’s kings to make announcements and watch executions. The whispers and rumble quieted that instant.

Arthur looked around, and his gaze fell upon an old woman in one of the first rows. She was dressed in an expensive dress, and on her chest there was a necklace with a bright blue gem. It was not the necklace that attracted his attention, though, it were her hands that were folded as if in a prayer. It were her colorless lips that were whispering something Arthur couldn’t hear, and the begging in her eyes.

Then Arthur noticed another person with the same feeling expressed on his face, a beggar, judging by his ragged clothes. And then there was another woman, a young one and definitely a peasant. An old couple, so old that Arthur wondered how they managed to stand all that time they’d had to wait. Then another woman and another man, then…

With a gesture, Arthur called a guard that was standing behind him. The man marched to him obediently. ‘Are there any rumours about today’s announcement?’

He blinked.

‘Of course there are,’ the guard huffed, but then coughed awkwardly and schooled his expression. ‘What I meant was, you have been working on something for a pretty long time, my lord. And then people were warned you would make an important announcement. It’s fertile ground for rumours.’

‘And what are they about? What people think I’m going to announce?’

The guard squirmed, looking uncertain. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘some think you want to start a war, some — that you want to raise taxes again, my lord. Which is silly, because you’ve just lowered them. But the majority thinks that you are… that you want to bring magic back, my lord.’

‘Are they afraid of magic coming back?’

‘Afraid? Ha! Hm, well, I mean, some are, but most are excited about it.’

‘Why?’

‘Why they are excited?’ Arthur nodded, and the guard mused, ‘It’s magic, my lord. I was too young when the Purge started, but my mother always told stories of sorcerers who used magic to heal the worst diseases and enchantments that allowed peasants to have greater harvests. We hope we could use that power again, I think.’

Arthur nodded once more and sent the guard, whose expression was difficult to read completely because of the helmet covering his face, back to his position.

His people wanted magic back.

They were not afraid of it. They wanted it back.

That crowd had gathered in front of the castle because the people hoped to hear that magic was back.

That gave Arthur strength. He breathed in and out, feeling the silent support of those with whom he had been working on these documents. And then he started speaking, knowing that his voice was booming across the square and beyond it.

He gave the speech he and Merlin had written together and edited almost a dozen times. The speech he’d rehearsed in his head and out loud more times he’d cared to count. But despite that, his voice wavered as he pronounced the final lines.

‘The use of magic against other people and their possessions will still be considered illegal, but from this day on the general use of magic will not be punished,’ Arthur said and breathed in to clear up any doubts. ‘I now pronounce the ban on magic eliminated.’

There was not even a moment’s silence. The people in the square obviously had been waiting for this, for his last words, to start applauding ad shouting and crying.

And then the old woman with a blue gem necklace threw up her hands and with a sound similar to a chime turned into a giant azure bird, gems in her wings and tail. She flew high into the sky and started circling there, whirls of glittering sparks falling onto the people in the square. Arthur, who expected people to get scared from the unexpected display of magic, stared at the crowd which giggled and stretch their hands up to catch the sparks, as they were children who saw snow for the first time.

And then it seemed like every sorcerer and sorceress in the crowd used their magic to join the celebration. There were colourful flashes and warm sparks, a rain of pure light and tiny stars that landed everywhere, including the castle walls and Arthur’s hair. The guards below didn’t know what to do; they tried to calm down the people that were closer to them, but the mood of jollity was too contagious for anyone to stop. Soon even the guards, that recently had been the symbols of fear for all the magic users, were involved into the dancing and singing and beautiful acts of magic.

And then there was a dragon. Not a real one, but woven out of fire strings. He rose above the roofs and spread his wings, showing off. After a couple of tricks in the air and excited cries from the crowd, he landed soundlessly on the roof of the wall right behind Arthur’s back. In the light of the midday sun, his fire body seemed almost gold, just like the Pendragon symbol.

Arthur searched the scene and found the dragon’s creator pretty fast. He was not on the balcony for the nobles, where he was supposed to be. He was not in Morgana’s chambers, which had a perfect view to the square. He was sitting on the ridge of the roof to Arthur’s right, and it was a miracle (or a bit of magic) he hadn’t fallen down. When he noticed that Arthur had noticed him and connected the dragon with him, he smiled broadly and waved his hand.

Arthur smiled in return, warm and completely smitten, and hurried to leave the balcony to join the crowd’s grand celebration of magic.

The crowd welcomed him readily.

He had an opportunity to meet Merlin much later, well past midnight, when all the festivities seemed to become a bit less lively; when people started to get too tired to walk and dance, but still too excited to go home and sleep.

Arthur had just listened to Leon’s report, which said there were no protests in Camelot and all the towns and villages from which the heralds had returned. It was reassuring and inspiring, and Arthur was strolling along the lower town streets full of colourful lights and merry laughter and music which was born without any instrument.

Leon, who was walking beside Arthur after his report, gazed at the calmed groups of people gathered in houses and outside them.

‘You seem happy,’ Arthur noted.

“Should I not be?’ Leon asked with slight suspicion. Arthur laughed.

‘No, no, I’m glad you are. I guess I just expected you to be a bit more… distrustful. You grew up without magic in your life, and you became a knight when my father was the king,’ Arthur said and grimaced. ‘But I admit, when I say it out loud, it sounds like a silly superstition, especially when the whole Camelot decided to celebrate magic.’

‘You have the right to be wary, my lord,’ Leon answered and looked at a group of children sitting with their mouths open around the purple glittering fire. ‘But I’ve had no quarrel with magic. I understand how it can be used to make people’s lives better. The type of magic I’m especially excited about is healing magic, though, because Gaius’s potions and ointments work well, but sometimes one may want something quicker and more effective.’

‘And less bad-smelling.’

‘And less bad-smelling,’ Leon agreed with a small smile.

His gaze wandered somewhere behind Arthur’s back, and he gave someone there a nod. Arthur turned abruptly and saw Merlin not far from him, coming out of a dark alleyway.

He was wearing a teal blue cloak of a light fabric that seemed to be finer than silk, and a silver circlet without gems on his head.

‘I’ll be going, my lord,’ Leon said, and probably went to join another group of the celebrants or to find the knights in the tavern.

Arthur stopped paying attention to anything else as soon as Merlin came closer. Hesitant, Arthur raised his hand to touch the circlet, but didn’t dare to, because it seems ephemeral, made of moonlight itself.

‘It suits you,’ he uttered.

‘Thank you,’ Merlin grinned, enjoying the reaction. ‘It’s a gift. The cloak is, too. Actually, there are a lot of gifts, and most of them are for you. I put them all into your chambers.’

‘What are they for?’

Merlin looked at him like people look at cute but clumsy children or little puppies.

“For fulfilling the prophecy and bringing magic back, of course. For being a better king. For giving us a future,’ he shrugged, and the cloak on his shoulders glistened. ‘People want to say thank you. It’s natural.’

‘I still can’t believe we did it,’ Arthur admitted, and reached out to feel the fabric of the cloak. It was cool and smooth to the touch and felt a bit like water. He ran his hand over Merlin’s arm and shoulder and stopped before he reached the neck.

‘We did.’

‘What are we going to do next?’ Arthur chuckled. ‘Any ideas? Besides the wedding, of course, because I’m still planning to marry you even though the magic is already here and the sorcerers don’t seem to need any other guarantees.’

‘Next we will live,’ Merlin answered seriously. He took Arthur’s hand and placed a small kiss there. ‘The future seems brighter than ever, my king.’

They walked through the streets full of magic and happiness until dawn painted the sky pink, hand in hand, drank mulled wine and readied themselves for the next day which they waited not with fear, but with hope and anticipation.

The future truly was going to be bright.