Chapter Text
one year later
Camelot stood bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, its golden spires shining against a sky streaked with the colours of dusk. The city was quieter now, though not silent—the sounds of life carried on, of merchants closing their stalls, of knights finishing their training, of people lingering in the streets, their conversations filled with words that, even a year ago, would have been unthinkable.
Magic.
It was no longer spoken in fearful whispers. No longer met with the sharp edge of a sword.
Change had been slow, met with resistance, with uncertainty. But it had come.
Arthur stood on the balcony of his chambers, arms resting against the stone railing as he overlooked his kingdom. He had spent his whole life believing magic was the enemy. That it had taken his father from him. That it had taken Morgana, too.
And yet here he was, in a world where magic walked beside him, in a world where he had let himself trust it.
“I can hear you thinking, you know.”
Arthur huffed a laugh as he turned to see Merlin stepping onto the balcony, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“You’re not that magical, Merlin,” Arthur shot back, though his voice lacked its usual bite.
Merlin scoffed, stepping up beside him. “I am literally the embodiment of magic you know. And besides, you’re predictable.”
Arthur rolled his eyes, but the silence that followed was comfortable, familiar.
Until Arthur exhaled sharply, tilting his head to glance at Merlin. “So. Magic.”
Merlin blinked, then let out a short laugh. “Yes, Arthur. Magic.”
Arthur pursed his lips. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
“Not even a little.”
Arthur groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “I spent so long fighting against it. Even when I started to change, even when I started to see that it wasn’t all evil, I still—I still never thought—” He exhaled sharply. “I never thought it would be you.”
Merlin’s smirk faded.
“I trusted you,” Arthur continued, shaking his head. “Even when you were an idiot. Especially when you were an idiot. You were always by my side. And I—” His throat felt tight, the words harder to say than they should have been. “I still don’t know what to do with that, even now.”
Merlin was quiet for a long moment before he spoke. “You do what you’ve always done, Arthur.”
Arthur gave him a sideways look.
“You move forward,” Merlin said simply. “That’s what makes you a great king.”
Arthur let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. “You sound suspiciously like Gaius when you say things like that.”
“Well, I do spend a lot of time with him.” Merlin shrugged. “Though I like to think I have a bit more charm.”
Arthur snorted, but then his smile softened. “Merlin.”
Merlin tilted his head.
Arthur swallowed. “Thank you.”
Merlin blinked, stunned.
Arthur looked down at his hands. “For saving my life. For trusting me, even when I didn’t deserve it. For—for staying.”
Merlin’s throat bobbed. Then, with a small, genuine smile, he clapped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Anytime, you royal prat.”
Arthur huffed. “Gods, I regret this conversation already.”
They laughed, and as the sun dipped lower, Arthur knew, without a doubt, that this was the way it was meant to be. It was purely instinctive when he pulled Merlin close into his side and kissed him deeply, the setting sun as his witness.
The flustered joy on Merlin’s face made it all feel worth it.
The moon hung low over Camelot, its pale silver crescent casting soft shadows across the courtyard. The city was quieter now, its usual bustle having softened into a calm evening lull. The sound of distant chatter and laughter from the knights’ quarters echoed faintly through the stone walls as they made their way to their rooms.
For Merlin, sleep felt impossible. He had lived through battles, betrayals, and victories, but this—this was different. So much had changed in so little time. The kingdom was adjusting to the new, complicated balance of magic within Camelot. Morgana was slowly finding her way back, and the truth about magic was no longer whispered in fear but embraced cautiously, if with a few lingering doubts.
And then, there was Ilyna.
She was his younger sister, but she had always been more than that. She had always been the one to keep her head high, no matter how hard life tried to knock her down. The one who had fought for her place in this world, even when Merlin himself had been too afraid to fight for her.
It wasn’t just the battles they’d fought, but the years apart that had driven a wedge between them. The things Merlin had missed. The times he should have been there for her when he was too busy cowering away from his own power.
Tonight, he needed to talk to her. For so long, he had stayed silent, assuming that the past was too much to fix. But now, as he walked toward the courtyard, his heart was full of things he couldn’t keep inside any longer.
She was there, as he expected—leaning against the stone wall, looking up at the stars, her posture loose yet alert. The cold moonlight carved sharp edges into her face—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, dark eyes shadowed with things she never spoke of. The freckled girl he had once known was still there, buried beneath hardened muscle and scars, but she no longer carried the softness of childhood.
His little sister had always been fierce, but there had been laughter once, too. He remembered chasing her through the fields when they were small, the way she used to shriek when he caught her and spun her around. He remembered the stubborn set of her chin when she scraped her knees, refusing to cry, refusing to be ‘weak.’
Her hair had grown longer than her usual cropped style, wilder, the dark locks almost brushing her shoulders and streaked with white at the front—a mark he didn’t remember, something new, something earned through her brush with death. She was taller, leaner, the sharp angles of survival replacing the rounded edges of youth. The grey binder across her chest was tight, practical, revealing the strength in her remaining arm, the slight tension in her stance. She stood like someone waiting for a fight, someone who had learned to expect the worst.
It hurt, in a way he didn’t have words for.
She wasn’t waiting for him, but the moment Merlin stepped into her line of sight, her eyes flickered to him, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips.
“Can’t sleep either?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence.
Ilyna’s smile widened, but there was something else in her eyes—a depth of weariness, like she had carried the weight of the world for far too long. “Guess not.”
Merlin hesitated, uncertain how to begin. The words were there, but they felt heavy, as though they’d been locked inside him for far too long. He had never been the best with his emotions, but tonight... tonight, he couldn’t just brush it off.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said slowly, his voice tentative. “About everything.”
Ilyna quirked an eyebrow, her expression light but inquisitive. “Everything? That’s a broad topic.”
Merlin smiled, feeling a small warmth in his chest at her ease, but it didn’t stop the knot in his stomach from tightening. “Yeah... I suppose it is. But more specifically, about what you’ve done. About how you’ve helped me. And how, well...” He trailed off, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “How I don’t think I’ve ever really thanked you properly.”
Ilyna gave a soft laugh, her tone teasing but gentle. “Merlin, you’re my brother. You don’t have to thank me. Not for helping you.”
Merlin swallowed, his voice softening, full of guilt. “But I do. I should have been there for you when you needed me. I was so caught up in my own fears, I didn’t even notice you struggling. You—” His throat tightened as he fought to say the words. “I should’ve protected you. I should’ve fought for you, Ilyna.”
She looked at him for a long moment, her gaze searching his face, and Merlin could see the storm of emotions playing behind her gold flecked eyes. Her expression softened, but only slightly. “You don’t need to apologize, Merlin.” Her voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something fragile beneath her words. “You didn’t choose this. None of us did.”
Merlin swallowed hard, feeling that same overwhelming ache in his chest. He’d always been the older brother, the one who was supposed to protect her, guide her. But where had he been when she needed him most? He had failed her when she needed him to see her, to understand what she was going through.
“I didn’t mean for you to feel abandoned,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I was so lost, so afraid of everything that I... I didn’t even think about you. You’re my sister, Ilyna. And I let you fall through the cracks.”
Ilyna exhaled slowly, her gaze softening. “You’re here now , Merlin,” she said quietly, stepping a little closer, the distance between them shrinking in a way that felt almost like a quiet apology from her. “You’re here now.”
Her words should have been comforting, but instead, they only intensified the guilt in Merlin’s chest. His role as her protector had been taken from him—by their circumstances, by his own fears—and now, he saw her standing tall as a knight of Camelot. Stronger than he’d ever imagined, and yet... alone, still, in ways that only she would understand. Isolated by the magic that ran in their family’s veins.
“I’m so proud of you,” Merlin said, his voice breaking through the quiet space between them. His eyes locked on hers, hoping they conveyed his pride and admiration. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d be standing here, fighting for Camelot. For what’s right. You’ve done so much. And yet you’ve never asked for anything. You’ve carried the weight of my fears, of my failures to be Emrys the way our people needed me to be. You’ve done more for the magical peoples of this kingdom than I ever could, and this kingdom owes its thanks to your strength for its current peaceful state.”
Ilyna’s gaze softened, her usual stoicism faltering just for a moment, and Merlin could see the cracks in her armor—her strength wasn’t invulnerable. It was something she had forged from pain, from loss, from years of believing that she would never be enough.
“I had to,” she said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of everything she had endured. “I had to prove myself, Merlin. I had to find my place in this world. In Camelot, with you. After everything that happened... I thought if I didn’t fight, if I didn’t make something of myself, I’d just fade away.”
“You haven’t faded,” Merlin said fiercely. “You’re everything Camelot needs, Ilyna. Everything we need to repair.”
Ilyna’s gaze softened, and there was a tenderness in her eyes that made Merlin’s heart ache with both pride and regret. She had become a knight, not because she had to, but because she had always been one. And now, seeing her stand there—strong, determined, and full of quiet grace—he realized just how much she had carried, and just how much he had missed in the years they had been apart.
“I don’t need anyone to make me feel whole anymore,” Ilyna said, a faint but steady smile on her lips. “I’ve learned to rely on myself.”
Merlin met her gaze, feeling the weight of his words. “I just hope... I just hope I can be the brother you deserve.”
Ilyna reached out then, laying a hand on his arm, her touch gentle but firm as she pulled him tightly to her chest. “You already are, Merlin. You already are.”
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Merlin believed it.
—------------
The council chamber was alive with conversation, voices mingling as scrolls were unrolled, laws debated, words rewritten.
At the head of it all sat Morgana, her dark hair pinned back in elegant braids, her fingers tapping absently against the table as she listened.
Ilyna stood beside her, shifting through the old laws with a sharp-eyed focus, her fingers glowing faintly as she used magic to summon another scroll to her hand.
“These laws are ancient,” Ilyna murmured, brows furrowed. “Most of them don’t even make sense anymore.”
Morgana smirked. “Most of them didn’t make sense to begin with.”
Ilyna snorted, handing her another parchment. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Morgana leaned back in her chair, tilting her head. “Let’s just say it’s satisfying to finally be fixing things instead of breaking them.”
Ilyna smiled at that, small but warm, and Morgana found herself smiling back.
Change had not been easy.
The people still looked at her warily. But Gwen had welcomed her with open arms, and Arthur—Arthur was no longer the boy who had once turned his back on her. He had promoted her to Royal advisor and Court Sorceress, giving her the perfect position to start making huge changes within Camelot. By extension, Ilyna was her advisor on wild magic, and Merlin even made an occasional appearance in court when the matters concerned magical creatures specifically. The knights joked with her, including her in their round tables. Hunith had even come to personally thank her for her help with Merlin’s shackles, pulling her closely into her chest in the kind of motherly warmth Morgana had been missing for most of her life. Even Aithusa had bonded with her. And the dragonet was notoriously a bit of an ass.
Morgana had her family back.
And that was more than enough.
—--
Ilyna had found her purpose in Camelot not long after the official repeal of the ban.
The Great Hall of Camelot was quieter than usual, the heavy oak doors closed, and the fire crackling in the hearth casting a warm, golden glow across the room. A sense of anticipation hummed in the air, palpable to anyone who stood within its walls.
The knights of Camelot had gathered, seated around the Round Table, their faces a mixture of excitement, curiosity, and pride. They were there not for the usual council or strategy meeting, but for something else entirely—something that none of them had ever seen before.
Arthur stood at the far end of the hall, his cloak flowing behind him as he looked across the room at Ilyna, standing tall and resolute before him. Her eyes met his, unwavering, as if she had always belonged here. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what was about to come.
Ilyna had been through so much. Her journey had been anything but simple. She had fought, bled, and sacrificed for herself, for her family, and for the truth. She had overcome battles of body and spirit that would have broken lesser people. And though she had lost an arm—fighting for what was becoming Camelot’s future—she had gained something even greater: a place by Arthur’s side, where she and Merlin could be safe.
But her journey had not been without doubt. Despite her strength, there had always been the fear that, as a woman, she would never truly be accepted as one of Camelot’s knights. She had been raised in the shadow of laws and traditions that forbade it. And though Uther’s legacy had loomed over her for most of her life, the present was different. The present was Arthur .
Arthur knew the weight of the moment. His father’s laws had been unyielding, unsparing, even cruel at times. But now, as King, he had the power to change Camelot’s path. His kingdom could be one that accepted the warriors who had proven themselves, regardless of gender, regardless of magic. He had seen the strength in Ilyna’s eyes, the courage in her heart, and he knew she was as much a knight as any man in that room.
Taking a deep breath, Arthur stepped forward, his eyes never leaving his sister. He motioned to the knights, his voice carrying through the room. “Today, we do not honor just any knight. Today, we honor a warrior who has given everything for Camelot, a sister who has fought by my side, and a woman who defies all the odds.”
He turned back to Ilyna, who stood before him, her missing arm tucked against her side, her gaze focused, her presence unwavering. The scarred stump where her arm had once been was a mark of the battles she had fought and the strength she had forged in the fire of her capture. Her other arm, however, was strong—just as her magic was.
The moment was heavy, powerful. The knights around the table rose to their feet, murmuring to each other, watching the king and his sister closely. Arthur could see the uncertainty in their eyes, the hesitant glances at each other.
But there was no hesitation in his heart.
“Ilyna,” Arthur said, his voice low but steady. “You are not just my sister in all but blood, you are a knight of Camelot in every way that is right. You have proven yourself time and time again, and it is my honor to recognize that today.”
A silence hung over the room as Arthur drew his sword, its polished steel catching the light of the flames. He walked to Ilyna, stopping just before her, feeling the weight of history pressing down on him, and feeling - not for the first time since accepting this wonderful girl into his world - a deep sense of pride in his decision.
With a steady hand, Arthur placed the tip of his sword on her shoulder, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I hereby dub thee Sir Ilyna of Camelot, protector of this realm, defender of all that is just. May your courage inspire all those who follow you.”
The words echoed through the hall, the knights around the table nodding solemnly, their expressions a mixture of awe and respect. Some of them still had doubts, but Arthur knew, in this moment, he was shaping a new future for Camelot—a future where strength, honor, and courage were not bound by gender or magic, but by the heart.
Arthur then turned to the Round Table, his voice proud. “Ilyna is not only a knight; she is a warrior who deserves to sit among us, among those who have sworn their loyalty to this kingdom. I ask that you join me in inviting her to take a seat at this table—not as a sister, but as a knight.”
Ilyna stood taller, her gaze unwavering, and though she did not speak, the respect in her eyes was clear. She had earned her place here—not just through her battle skills, but through her strength of character, her wisdom, and her ability to lead.
The knights, once hesitant, now nodded, some of them even applauding. Gwaine’s hearty laugh rang out first, followed by Percival’s booming cheer, and Elyan’s quiet but firm approval. Their acceptance, their recognition, was the final piece of validation that Ilyna had longed for. No longer was she the outsider; she was one of them.
Arthur turned back to Ilyna, his hand still on her shoulder. “Welcome to the Round Table, Sir Ilyna.”
Ilyna's eyes, usually so guarded, softened with emotion as she looked at her brother in law. She had fought so long, so hard, for this moment—against the odds, against the old laws that had told her she couldn’t be who she was. And now, standing before Arthur, she felt the weight of it all: the years of struggle, of pain, of sacrifice. But she also felt something else—something stronger than all of that. She felt acceptance, pride, and the warm certainty that, at last, her place in this world was here.
“Thank you, Arthur,” Ilyna said, her voice steady but thick with emotion. “For believing in me.”
Arthur smiled, his pride in her evident. “You’ve earned it.”
The hall erupted into cheers, and for the first time in Camelot’s history, a woman had earned her place not just as a knight, but as a leader—one who would fight beside the king and the Round Table. And Arthur knew, with absolute certainty, that she was exactly where she was meant to be.
-
The sun had barely risen over Camelot, casting its first golden rays across the stone walls of the castle. The usual bustle of the early morning was already in full swing—servants hurried through the corridors, knights gathered in the courtyard for their morning drills, and the hum of activity filled the air.
But in Arthur's chambers, all was quiet. The king stood at the window, staring out across the courtyard, his brow furrowed in thought. He had much on his mind—too much, perhaps. The kingdom was growing stronger every day, but there were always more challenges to face. Camelot needed more than just strong knights and skilled warriors; it needed a training program that would shape the next generation of protectors, not just in strength, but in honour, discipline, and magic.
Arthur had already made the bold move of acknowledging magic and allowing it to find its place in the kingdom. The times had changed, and so had the kingdom. Uther’s rigid laws and outdated beliefs had no place in the Camelot of today.
His thoughts drifted to Ilyna. She had proven herself in ways few others had. Not only had she fought for Camelot, but she had also stood by Merlin and, by extension, by Arthur, through all the dangers they had faced. She was no longer just his sister-in-law—she was an equal, a trusted advisor, and a warrior whose strength and intelligence were undeniable. But Arthur knew she had more to offer.
She was not just a knight—she was a leader, and now, he needed to ask something of her that would test her in new ways.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, turning as the wizard entered his chambers, turning the ring on his slim finger gently. “I’ve been thinking about Ilyna.”
Merlin’s expression softened at the mention of his sister, and he nodded, sensing the weight behind Arthur’s words and stepping closer to physically provide support. “What about her?”
Arthur paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on the courtyard below. “She’s proven herself time and time again, but I think it’s time for her to take on more responsibility. We need someone to lead a new generation of knights—those who possess magic, who will wield both sword and spell. Someone who understands not just the sword and shield, but the magic that comes with protecting Camelot.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow, curiosity and understanding mixing in his gaze. “You’re considering her for the position.”
Arthur turned to him, his face set with a quiet determination. “Yes. I think she’s ready. She has the experience, the wisdom, and the heart to lead these new knights. I can’t think of anyone better suited to this role.”
Merlin looked thoughtful for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “Ilyna would be honoured. She’s worked tirelessly for this kingdom, and I know she will pour herself into this role just as she has with everything else. But it’s a big responsibility. Are you certain she’s the one you want?”
Arthur’s gaze softened as he looked out at the knights training below. He could see Ilyna among them, guiding them with quiet authority, her presence commanding but warm. She had earned her place, not just as a knight, but as a leader.
“I know it won’t be easy,” Arthur said, his voice quiet but firm. “But I trust her. I trust her judgment. And I know she will help shape the future of Camelot’s knights—those who wield both magic and sword. She’s already proven that she can lead, and now, it’s time for her to do it on a larger scale.”
Merlin smiled softly, a touch of pride in his expression. “You’ve come a long way, Arthur. I think this is the right choice.”
Arthur nodded, his decision made. “I need to speak with her.”
The following morning, Ilyna stood in the training yard, her steel-grey armour gleaming under the sun. The knights were lined up in perfect formation, ready for their drills. But Ilyna wasn’t leading them today. Her eyes scanned the new recruits—a group of young men and women who possessed magic, and who had come to Camelot with the hopes of becoming knights.
They had come to her, seeking guidance, and she had given it. They had trained in combat, both physical and magical. Their abilities were varied, but under Ilyna’s watchful eye, they were learning to balance both sides of their power. It was no small task—magic was a force that could easily overwhelm, and fighting with magic required discipline.
Arthur appeared at the edge of the courtyard, his cloak flowing behind him as he approached. His expression was serious, his eyes focused on her.
"Ilyna," Arthur said, his voice carrying across the yard. "Can you spare a moment?"
Ilyna straightened, sensing the weight of his words. The recruits gave way as Arthur and Ilyna walked toward the centre of the courtyard, their attention now fixed on them.
"Of course, Your Majesty," she said, her voice respectful but curious.
Arthur met her gaze with a mix of admiration and determination. “I’ve been watching your work with these young knights,” he began. “You’ve shown a natural ability to lead, to teach, and to guide them. And I believe Camelot’s future is tied to knights who wield both sword and magic. But to make sure this future is realised, we need someone who can not only teach them how to fight, but how to wield their magic responsibly—someone who can teach them both physical and magical combat with wisdom.”
Ilyna listened intently, her gaze steady, waiting for him to continue.
“I want you to lead this new generation of magical knights,” Arthur said, his voice clear and unwavering. “You will train them in both combat and magic. I believe you are the one meant to do it.”
Ilyna’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t prepared herself for the weight of such an offer. Her heart raced, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure what to say. She had always known she would fight for Camelot, but this was different. This was a responsibility beyond anything she had ever imagined.
“Arthur…” she began, her voice catching slightly. “I’m honoured. But I—”
Arthur smiled gently, his gaze unwavering. “I know it won’t be easy, but you’ve proven yourself time and again. You know what it takes to balance both magic and combat. You are the one who can shape these knights into the protectors Camelot needs.”
Ilyna stood in stunned silence for a moment, processing his words. The weight of responsibility pressed down on her, but beneath it, she felt a swell of pride and gratitude. Arthur believed in her. Merlin believed in her. And now, she was about to lead this new generation of knights who would carry Camelot forward.
“I’ll do it,” she said finally, her voice firm with conviction. “I’ll train them. I’ll make them worthy of the Camelot you’ve built. I swear it.”
Arthur’s smile widened. “I knew I could count on you.”
As Arthur turned to address the gathered knights, Ilyna felt a quiet sense of pride settle over her. This was more than just a title. It was a responsibility to the kingdom she loved, to the legacy of Camelot, and to the ideals of honour and justice that Arthur had fought so hard to uphold.
She was ready for this. Ready to lead. Ready to make Camelot her home.
-
Outside, in the training grounds, knights clashed swords, their movements fluid and practiced.
But in the far corner, something bravely new was taking shape.
Aithusa lay curled in the sun, watching as a group of young recruits sparred—not with swords, but with magic.
Ilyna had taken on her new role with intense pride, knowing how important it would be to teach them how to integrate magic into combat, how to use it as a tool, as an extension of their skill rather than a force to be feared. She had cornered Arthur about having better magical defences for Camelot within a week, and he had easily conceded.
Morgana, leaning back against Aithusa’s warm flank, watched as she demonstrated a simple spell, sending a gust of wind to knock her opponent off balance before sidestepping his blade, hitting him on the ass with the flat of her own blade and sending him stumbling forwards. Once he’s down, she gently sets a boot on his chest to pin him, clearly winding him up judging by the bright smile on her sun-tanned face.
And the young knight she sparred with - if Morgana remembered right, his name was Mordred - grinned as she offered him a hand back up.
Not in fear. Not in anger.
But in excitement.
Morgana exhaled.
For so long, she had fought against Camelot.
Now, at last, she was fighting for it.
And maybe—just maybe—this time, they would win.