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After Uther’s funeral, Arthur walked tall, shoulders pushed back and head held high. He looked directly ahead of him, sparing no one a glance as he made his way to his private chambers. Merlin followed behind him dutifully, and for once in all his time as Arthur’s manservant, he kept quiet. They reached the heavy wooden door, and Arthur opened it with calmness anomalous to the situation, leaving it open behind him as a silent invitation for Merlin to also enter.
While Merlin shut the door, Arthur took two measured steps forward and attempted a third before collapsing on the cold, stone floor. He fell on his knees, the toes of his boots bending forward to adapt to this new position, and his hands fell forward with their palms flat on the ground. Merlin rushed forward and kneeled next to him as Arthur’s chest heaved and his breath came out in shuddering gasps.
Merlin saw the teardrops hit the floor before he pulled Arthur into a kneeling position. Arthur looked directly into Merlin’s eyes, shook his head back and forth almost imperceptibly, and then began to cry in earnest. Merlin pulled Arthur to him, holding the new king’s face to his chest with his right hand and rubbing his back with the left.
Arthur sobbed for twenty minutes until he could do nothing but rock gently as wave after wave of grief crashed over him. Once Arthur was pliant, Merlin brought him over to his bed, undressed him, and lay him down to sleep. Like a mother, Merlin pushed the hair from Arthur’s forehead and covered him with a blanket as Arthur stared blankly at the canopy above his bed.
But when Merlin turned to leave, Arthur’s hand shot out to grab his manservant’s forearm, and he looked at Merlin with pleading eyes. With not a word said, Merlin pulled a chair up to Arthur’s bed and sat down. He held one of Arthur’s hands in both of his, and his thumb drew comforting circles on the back of it. Merlin would sit by Arthur’s bedside for months before Arthur was able to fall asleep on his own again.
As he had since Arthur’s ascension to the throne, Merlin stood behind the king as he went about his business. He watched as Arthur replaced the lords in what was formerly Cenred’s kingdom when they refused to pledge allegiance to Camelot. He watched as Arthur rewrote the Knight’s Code to allow those of less-than-noble birth to be knighted if they were dedicated and loyal. He watched as Arthur forged alliances, and he watched as Arthur conquered those who would not assent to an accord.
Merlin stood by for over a year with his lips sealed, until Camelot found itself host to a group unusual visitors. They arrived in early January, after trekking though the snow-buried countryside from the far end of Cenred’s former kingdom. They came to beg an audience with the king, who, after hearing of how far they had travelled, accepted immediately.
Standing in his usual spot behind the throne was Merlin. Assorted knights, servants, advisors, and peasants were scattered about the rest of the room. The group of travelers was varied; children were clutched close by mothers in the back, while fathers and sons stood at the front of the assemblage. One man, older than the rest, with crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, liver spots on the backs of his hands, and a trimmed white beard, stepped forward. “Your highness,” he addressed, and genuflected as far down as his arthritic joints would allow him.
Arthur bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I understand you’ve travelled very far to see me. Please, what is it that you came here for?”
“Sire, we have come to ask you to consider lifting the ban on magic in the kingdom.” A ripple of audible shock, and in some cases, fear, made its way through the crowd of common folk in the back of the hall, but the man continued, unfazed. “We have lived our entire lives in Cenred’s kingdom, and there, have been able to freely practice magic. Now that his lands have been transferred to your hands, we are subjected to your rule, and are being told to stop using magic or to face death. For those chosen by magic, this is akin to being told to stop breathing.”
The man looked into the king’s eyes, and Merlin knew that this moment had the potential to alter the future of the kingdom. “Magic itself is not inherently evil; it is the bearer who decides what is done with the magic, who can do evil things. The druids are a peaceful people. Those in the group before you are a peaceful people. Most those who practice magic, mean no harm. I implore to be reasonable, sire.”
Arthur was silent. After considering all that the man had said, he announced, “I will have to think on this. You will be found accommodations until I make a decision, but until then, I have to ask you to not practice magic within Camelot.” With that, the king left, and went to his chambers; Merlin followed behind him, with his magic humming in excitement. Destiny, it seemed, was flowing through his veins.
Arthur sat at his desk and thought, and for once Merlin didn’t keep his opinion to himself. And so a month of Arthur’s life passed, accompanied by Merlin’s gentle prodding and countless discussions between Arthur and his advisors, all of whom he ignored in favor of Merlin’s counsel, although he didn’t tell Merlin that. Finally, he summoned the group of sorcerers to inform them of his decision.
Merlin stood behind the throne as Arthur, King of Camelot, lifted the ban on magic that his father had put in place. He had never been prouder.
In late spring, Arthur sat in his chambers, eating cherries and reading a book on the important role magic had played for past sovereigns of Camelot; Merlin was making the bed behind him. Arthur placed a cherry pit into a small bowl on the table and, turning to watch Merlin fluff a pillow, said, “I should get a court magician.”
“Really, sire?” Merlin replied mildly.
“I’ve been reading up on it, and I think it would be in my best interests to get one. They’d have to be brave and know the workings of the court. And they’d have to be good company, because I am not having a dull sorcerer around to advise me. And wise. And willing to risk their life for me, obviously.” He sighed. “This is going to be more difficult than I imagined. Where do I find someone like that?” Merlin raised his eyebrows, but said nothing; Arthur shrugged and went back to reading.
Before leaving a few minutes later, empty cherry bowl in hand, Merlin stopped at the door and turned. “Arthur,” he said, “There’s been talk amongst some of the staff lately about a seer in the kingdom. She’s supposed to be very good. Carlotta in the kitchen swears that this seer predicted her sister’s house fire months before it happened.”
“And you were thinking that this seer might be good enough to be my court magician?” Arthur asked, looking up from his book, suddenly excited.
“Well, uh… yes? And the seer is in a village just a few hours’ ride east of Ealdor, so…” Merlin trailed off.
Arthur nodded, and he understood. Merlin didn’t care if the seer couldn’t predict snow in winter; he just wanted to see his mother. “How long has it been?”
Merlin smiled, relieved. “I haven’t been home since the time we went there with Gwen and—” He was reluctant to say Morgana’s name and reopen old wounds, since it had been her treachery that severely weakened Uther and led to his death.
“Merlin, that was years ago!” Arthur exclaimed. Merlin only inclined his head. “Alright,” Arthur promised, grinning. “I’ll ask some of the knights to go with me to size up this seer.”
Merlin had fallen asleep on his horse only an hour after he and the knights had left Camelot. Arthur chuckled, but decided to let him sleep. Arthur himself wanted to be sleeping, rather than riding out before dawn. It was still dark an hour after they’d left, and Arthur watched the stars and the moon as he rode, unrestrictedly happy and at peace for the first time since his father’s death. On the horizon he could see the colors of sunrise begin to streak across the sky.
It was an uneventful ride that took all day, and Arthur, Merlin, Gwaine, and Leon arrived in Ealdor in time for supper. The two knights and their king tied up the horses outside of Hunith’s house as Merlin embraced his weepy mother. Hunith pulled away from her son to invite the men in for a vegetable-based dinner.
Pushing his empty, wooden trencher forward, Arthur told Hunith of his plans. “Gwaine, Leon, and I will be leaving in the morning for the village of Corwen to search out the seer; we should be back in a week. Merlin will stay here with you.” He then excused himself, and he and the knights went to sleep on the floor on the opposite side of the small house.
Hunith and Merlin cleaned off the dishes, and went outside to talk. They walked to the edge of town, near the river, and Merlin entertained his mother by making fish jump out of the water. “Why is Arthur seeking out a seer when he has you? Does he not think you’re good enough?” Hunith questioned. Merlin knew she’d been wanting to ask him since dinner, but didn’t want to say anything Arthur himself.
Merlin looked away in shame. “No, it’s because I haven’t told him about me yet.”
“Merlin, why?” Hunith asked, in shock.
“Because it would devastate him.” Merlin was suddenly close to tears.
His mother was at a loss for words. “Well, I’m just glad that you’re home.” Hunith hugged her son tightly, and Merlin let her, glad that she didn’t pour salt in so obvious a wound.
When Merlin woke the next morning, Leon and Gwaine were packing the horses, and Hunith was forcing them to take bread and water along for the ride, despite their protestations. Arthur was leaning against the wall in front of where Merlin slept, and was eating some sort of porridge out of a bowl. “Yours is on the table,” he informed Merlin when he sat up.
Merlin grumbled and got up and fetched his breakfast, grateful that his share hadn’t been eaten by Gwaine. Merlin and Arthur ate the bland food in silence until Leon came in to tell Arthur that they were ready to leave whenever he was. “Just give me a minute in here,” he told his most trusted knight.
“Well, you better get going,” Merlin said as he took his and Arthur’s empty bowls and put them on the table.
“Yeah, I’d better,” Arthur said, but neither man moved.
“I never thanked you for taking me out here.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you, Merlin. You’ve been a great servant—don’t laugh, I mean it—and you’ve been an even greater friend. I don’t say that enough, but I mean it.”
“Arthur!” Gwaine called from outside. “Are you coming, or did you go back to sleep?”
Merlin could hear Leon hushing the other knight, as Arthur yelled back, “I’m coming, I’m coming,” and made his way outside. Leon and Gwaine were already on their horses. “You two go on, I’ll catch up.”
They took off, and Hunith waved them goodbye before going in the house.
Merlin helped the king onto his horse, and asked him, “You should go to the seer; I mean you came all this way. And if nothing else, it might be good for a laugh.”
“I don’t think I’ll have enough time to; I’ll be too busy pulling Gwaine out of taverns and brothels and making sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”
Merlin smiled. “Goodbye, Arthur.”
“Goodbye, Merlin.”
It had been two days since Arthur had left, and Merlin was bored. He had grown so used to life in the castle, where there was always something to do, that rural life was too freeing. He had so many choices that he was overwhelmed. Should he clean the house, make his mother dinner, play with the local children?
Arthur was sitting on a stool in a tavern while Leon flirted with the barmaid and Gwaine downed another tankard of mead. He sighed, and finished his last mouthful of ale. He threw some coins on the counter and left the building. The town outside was fairly large for a town so far into the country, and there was an assortment of ways for a person to entertain themself. But Arthur could find nothing to do.
Merlin had set up a makeshift puppet theatre in front of one of the neighbors’ house, complete with a red curtain made of two of his neckerchiefs. He had offered to entertain the local children as their parents went about their daily chores, and he had a small gathering of youngster sitting in front of the theatre.
Three puppets were currently on stage. One, an old man, was standing off to the side, and two were sitting down. The old man told the other puppets that the prince who had killed a unicorn must atone for his sin by proving what was in his heart. The children were a wonderful audience, gasping and laughing in precisely the right places. One little girl even cried as the prince drank the poison and sacrificed himself for his servant.
Behind the theatre, Merlin was laying on his back, looking at the clouds as the puppets moved about the stage of their own accord.
The next day Arthur decided that he was going to find this seer. He asked around and was directed to one of the more rundown houses in the dirtier part of town. Arthur knocked on the door, but received no reply.
Just as he turned to leave, the door was opened, but a portly man wearing a bloodstained apron. “You Arthur?” he asked roughly.
He was taken aback. Since coming to Corwen, Arthur had made sure to tell no one who he was. “Yes, who’s asking?”
“She said you can go in now,” the butcher said, and walked down the street back to his shop.
“Beatrice is about to have the baby,” Hunith announced as she rushed into the house. Merlin was sitting at the table, tracing the lines in the wood with a finger, as the house cleaned itself around him.
“I’m off to help. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” Ealdor was a small town, with no real midwife of its own; even if they had one, no one there could pay for the services. Hunith was out within a minute. Merlin sighed and stood. He was so bored, having done everything in Ealdor that he was capable of doing.
He went outside to the apple sapling beyond the vegetable patch and sat down on the dirt to face it. He closed his eyes, feeling his magic rush around beneath his skin like molten gold, and when he opened them, the tree was years older and offered him fresh, red apples
“Arthur Pendragon,” the seer greeted in a raspy voice. The one room of the house was dark, though it was midday, but the crone seemed not to notice with her clouded, white pupils.
“Yes,” he said, warily.
“You’ve come to ask me something, I presume.”
“Yes, I-I suppose.” He hadn’t really thought about what he would ask, but standing in the cramped house in front of the wrinkled woman, he could only think of one question. “Will I be a good a king?”
“Ah, young king, what a question. Though I would expect nothing less from you.” She closed her eyes and said something in a long dead language, and when she reopened her eyes, the irises were no longer dark brown, but gold. “Arthur Pendragon. The Once and Future King. You will marry a beautiful woman, and have loyal knights lay down their lives for you. The small folk will love you as they never loved your father, and magic will dance through your kingdom to the heartbeat of your loyal sorcerer.”
“Well that sounds—”
She cut him off. “But two you love and trust will betray you, and you will be killed by one you once saved.” She paused before continuing. “But there is one who never leave you, never harm you. Your sorcerer. You and he will unite all of Albion, and the two of you will look out upon the kingdom you create, and it will be good. And you and he will both die. Your bodies will be sent to Avalon, but your souls will continue on, as protectors of Albion for eternity. It is your destiny. You are but two sides of the same coin.”
It was too much for Arthur to take in. “What? Well, who is it?”
“You know who, young king...”
The witch spoke but thrice more. A minute later, Arthur was running out of the house and through the town; people dove out of his way and yelled as he passed. Gwaine and Leon ran out of the tavern to see what the commotion was about, and they too called out to him, but he ignored them. He found his horse and jumped on it, urging it to run faster than he ever had before.
Merlin bit into the apple, and juice ran down his chin. It was just after midday, and he had nothing to do, so he reclined against the apple tree he had just grown, closed his eyes, and napped.
“Courage… and Magic,” the seer had said.
Merlin dreamed of dragons. Under their closed lids his eyes turned gold.
“Pendragon… and Emrys.”
Merlin woke hours later, and the sun beat down on him through the leaves of the tree. He pushed himself off the ground and walked inside. Hunith wasn’t back.
“Arthur… and Merlin.”
Merlin stretched in his mother’s kitchen, getting ready to cook himself an early dinner when the front door burst open. He jumped violently, his heart pounding in his chest. He whirled around. “What do you—Arthur? What are you—”
“Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur was shaking with a rage that Merlin couldn’t explain.
“I went to the seer. She told me a nice little story about my life,” he spat. “And she told me something about you.”
Merlin took in a mouthful of air and his eyes widened. The air around the two of them was alive with destiny.
But Arthur either couldn’t feel it or ignored it, as he said, “She said I’d find a sorcerer, my own court magician. That’s what I came here for, wasn’t it?” He laughed bitterly. “She told me his name. Magic, she called him. Or was it Emrys?”
“Arthur…” Merlin said, trying to stop him.
“No, that’s right. It was Merlin.”
Silence hung in the air, and Merlin began to cry. “You have no idea what it was like, Arthur.”
“Oh, don’t I? Well go ahead, great magician, tell me.”
Merlin was finding it hard to speak, but he had to tell Arthur. He had to tell him that he never meant for it to get this far. “My first day in Camelot, your father killed a sorcerer. That was one hell of a welcome for me, who’d had magic before he had words. And I then met you, and you were such a prat; you weren’t an ally. You were just another person I had to hide myself, my true self from. I saved your life from that dagger, and your father made me your manservant. I was terrified. What if I slipped up?
“But I didn’t. And we became friends. Those first few months were hard; I found out that you and I shared a future whether we liked it or not. I had to keep you alive if I wanted Albion to become a safe place for magic, and I don’t think you know how hard it is to keep you alive. I drank poison for you; I killed fairies for you. And then you got bitten by the Questing Beast.
“I went to a witch, and offered up my life in place of yours. She agreed, and I saved you again. But she didn’t take me, she tried to take my mother. And then Gaius tried to sacrifice himself, and it was a huge mess. But it turned out okay. I saved everyone, and killed the witch to keep you breathing.
“And then the Witchfinder tried to kill me, and there was the Dragonlord business— that’s right, I never told you. Balinor was my father; I’m the last Dragonlord. And one time you died, you really died, but some dead warlock brought you back for me. Then there was all of that with Morgana being evil and trying to take over the throne.”
Merlin laughed, frantic with frustration. “The whole time I was learning magic in secret from a book under my bed. And you treated me awfully, like I was an idiot, like I didn’t matter. And you loved Gwen, and you were leaving me behind. You acted like you didn’t want me anymore, like you didn’t need me. But you do need me… Or, at least, I need you.” Merlin fell back against the wall, and slid down it, linking his arms around his knees and weeping.
“Merlin!” Arthur ran forward, and embraced Merlin, his sorcerer. “I’m so sorry.”
Merlin’s voice was muffled as he said, “I wanted tell you, but I was so scared.”
“No, no. Shh, Merlin. It’s my fault; I’m sorry.”
“I wanted to, but I’d lied for so long.”
“Merlin, what’s past is past. It was my fault, it was. I shouldn’t have been such an arse to you. You should never have been too afraid to tell me the truth.”
The sorcerer looked up at his king, and the king looked down at his sorcerer. Their skin prickled where they touched, and they knew, in that instant, that it was the beginning of the golden age of Camelot.
King Arthur Pendragon ruled over Albion for thirty more years as the greatest king that ever live and ever shall live, with Merlin at his side. Merlin rose to power as the greatest sorcerer that ever lived and ever shall live, with Arthur at his side.
When the queen ran away with the trusted knight, and left Arthur heirless and shattered, Merlin was there to pick up the pieces. When Merlin had to kill Morgana and stop her perversion of magic once and for all, Arthur was there to pick up the pieces. And when Arthur was brought down at Camlann by Mordred, Merlin was there to carry Arthur’s body to Avalon. No one was there to pick up the pieces, and eventually Merlin’s body joined Arthur’s in Avalon.
But their story continued on. The story of Courage and Magic. Pendragon and Emrys. Arthur and Merlin.