Chapter Text
"People of Camelot," Arthur called from the balcony. Merlin and Guinevere flanked him. The knights stood around the square, ready to intervene if things went badly.
It had taken a while for Merlin to recover—for his magic to stop causing incidents. At this point, he was fairly certain the entire castle was aware of what was meant to be secret.
It had taken even longer for Arthur to hammer out a deal with the lords so that they would not rebel—join together and leave him without knights and taxes.
Not all of them were satisfied with it—nor him, really—but there was enough division that that wasn't a possibility which he supposed was all he could ask.
"You may or may not know that my birth was the event that heralded the Purge." The old people all nodded in recognition—the younger were split between confusion and realization. "I have recently discovered that there is a reason for that—my father used magic to impregnate my mother."
Gasps abounded. Arthur's grip on the railing tightened. He hadn't wanted to reveal this—it made him far too vulnerable—but he had been outvoted by Guinevere. She always got what she wanted, and in this case, she told him the people would relate to him more if he shared this.
"Prior to that, my father's use of the art he pretended he despised, magic lived in harmony with the mundane. I wish to return to that."
Here, he paused, let the murmurs wash over.
"I understand consternation, fear, even denial. This is why this will be a slow integration, a new beginning for Camelot. First—people who unknowingly host sorcerers, who supply them with materials they need, will no longer be arrested or burned."
Someone had started sobbing. Arthur looked and recognized the daughter of the inn owner who'd been executed under his father's reign.
Guilt threatened to drag him down, but he persevered.
"All those executed in the name of evil sorcery will be allowed grave markers. People should approach Sir Gwaine for this."
Gwaine raised his fist. After he'd gotten over the shock and questioned Merlin thoroughly, he'd been the first to go over to his side.
But not the last.
"I will appreciate the cooperation of the people in Camelot in this matter. Thank you. That is all."
"You think this pittance is enough to make up for years of slaughter, of pain and torture and fear?!" someone cried out—an old woman.
Arthur's hand went to his sword. "I do not," he told her. "But I believe it is a start."
She looked discontented, but settled.
Someone else, however, did not.
"Allinan!" he called, and the railing of the balcony loosened under his grip, and he almost fell over.
"Ic pe hate!" Merlin responded, and he felt himself freeze, unable to let out the groan he wanted to, even as he toppled precariously on the ledge.
Merlin's magic was something they had been planning on introducing slowly.
That possibility had been shot as sure as Gwaine's suggestion for a beer fountain.
"Merlin?!" More than one person exclaimed.
His former manservant was sadly incredibly popular and beloved in his kingdom.
This would be quite a shock to the people.
Arthur was hauled back up to safety by Merlin and Guinevere, and she fussed over him.
There was tumult in the crowd. He raised a hand. "Enough!"
"Guards, arrest him!" he commanded. The man however, spun around and disappeared. "I shall assign a task force to capture and interrogate him."
"And burn him?" someone called.
"No," Arthur told them, and everyone. "A pyre is no longer a means for execution in Camelot."
This had been inspired by Merlin's dragged out confession of nightmares of the pyre.
Arthur himself had started getting nightmares of his friend burning after that.
More people had started sobbing—out of joy, he presumed, since there were large smiles on their faces.
An equal amount of people looked displeased, so he thought it evened out.
"This task force shall be headed by my new court mage," he announced, despite Merlin's sound of protest.
There was really no other recourse.
"Merlin of Ealdor!"
"I hate you," Merlin told him, quite sincerely, once the crowds had been dispersed.
Even Leon laughed, clapped Merlin on the back. "Don't worry, I've headed a task force or two in my time. I'll help you out."
"Thanks, but that doesn't make me hate him any less," Merlin muttered under his breath.
Guinevere kissed his cheek. "I know you hate being a lord, Merlin."
"I don't know how you do it, Gwen," he said earnestly. "Deal with the prat and dozens just like him—"
"Hey!" Arthur said indignantly, and everyone laughed again—this time at him.
Unacceptable.
"It's a trial," Guinevere agreed solemnly, making him shoot her a betrayed look. She squeezed his hand. "But worth it."
Arthur softened, pressing a kiss to her hand. "I'll leave you to discuss the task force," she told them, and left, followed soon by the knights.
Merlin was near the window, looking out at the bustling citadel. It was bursting with news—Arthur had no doubt it would be spread all over Camelot in a matter of days.
"Are you satisfied now?" Arthur asked Merlin. "Your reason to come to Camelot has come to fruitition."
"My reason for—?" Merlin looked bewildered. "What do you mean?"
"Well, that's why you came to Camelot and befriended me, isn't it?" Arthur wasn't able to hide the bitterness in his voice very well. "To free magic?"
"I hoped that would happen eventually," Merlin said slowly, looking exasperated. "But I didn't even know I could or was supposed to do that until I came here."
"Really?" Arthur turned to his servant—court mage now.
"Arthur! Did you really think we became friends because I wanted to manipulate you into serving my purposes?"
"Well, not when you put it like that," he scowled. "But. . . then that means. . . ."
"That I befriended you with no expectation except friendship and loyalty in return?" Merlin asked, rolling his eyes. "Obviously!"
Arthur's heart lightened, the last load on it falling away. "So how did you find out about our destiny?'"
"Well, it's a long story, and you're not allowed to be angry. . ."
"I'm allowed to feel however I like, Merlin. I'm the king."
"And I'm the court mage," he shot back, looking ridiculously happy about the fact.
Arthur couldn't help but grin back. "I still outrank you."
"But I'm a lord now. You have to keep me happy," he reminded him, wiggling his fingers and making lights appear.
Arthur didn't flinch at the magic.
"No, I don't," he scoffed. "You'll be with me no matter what."
Merlin's eyes softened. "Definitely."
"Now. The story."
Merlin made a face. "You might not want me around after you hear it."
"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur slapped his friend's shoulder. "That could never happen."
"Just remember you said that. It all started with the Great Dragon. . . ."