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Arthur had heard the stories.
When the prince was just a little boy, he’d spent more time than he’d care to admit in Gaius’ work area. The first time Arthur had entered his chambers with curiosity, Gaius had been cautious. Arthur was, after all, the king’s son. Gaius watched his words, except to tell Arthur not to disturb the things on the shelves or the table. Eventually, Arthur grew on him.
Over the years, Arthur visited the physician often, and each time Gaius would tell him a story from the days before the purge. The majority of these stories were nostalgic retellings of days long past, but sometimes Gaius' voice would go quiet and he would tell Arthur the secret stories, the ones he called legends. Arthur would never admit it, but he looked forward to the legends the most. It was the legend of the druid Emrys that stuck out to him most. The man, Gaius had told him, was no mere sorcerer, but magic made living. It was said that he waited to bring magic back to the land, along with the Once and Future king of Albion. Then there was the tale of Emrys and the Lady of the Lake. The two were lovers, one the most powerful warlock Albion had known, and the other, a beautiful sorceress who was saved by Emrys but bound to the lake for all of time.
Arthur knew that these stories more than bordered on treason, but didn’t dare tell his father. Not only would Uther have put a stop to Gaius’ storytelling, he'd have ordered the physician punished, maybe even exiled. Then he would have sent out knights to search for Emrys and the Once and Future King, and someone would have ended up paying the price had they come back empty handed. No, Arthur didn’t want any of that to happen, so he kept his mouth shut.
Even having spent years of his life being told that magic was evil, Arthur still couldn’t quell his curiosity, couldn’t help but wonder if the people in the legends were real. One day he stumbled upon a lake in the forest. There were whispers of an ancient power dancing in the air, so potent that Arthur knew it could only be the lake from the stories. Despite his caution at something so obviously magical, Arthur visited the lake often. Once he grew up, his responsibilities as prince took over, pushing the stories from his mind, and leaving less time for such self-indulgences. But he still managed to find the time once a year to sneak away and sit on the lake’s banks in silence, pondering whether the legends were true.
Now, as Arthur watched the scene unfolding before him, he realized he finally had his answer, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.
Freya walked calmly along the surface of the water, her violet dress gently caressed by the breeze moving over the lake. Merlin stood at the edge, watching with both sorrow and joy. It took only a moment for her to close the gap between them, and she hesitated before reaching out her hand. Grasping it gently, Merlin walked forward into the water, and Freya allowed herself to sink from the surface until they were at eye level. Merlin looked at her through tears of relief and wonder.
“Freya,” he choked out.
“Merlin,” she whispered tenderly.
They embraced tightly for a long moment, revelling in the feel of each other’s warmth and closeness. Eventually, with reluctance, they separated. Freya smiled and ruffled Merlin’s hair. His eyes danced with delight as he grinned back at her.
“You’re alive, but how?” Merlin asked.
“When you brought me to this lake, the gods heard the plea of your magic. You saved me.”
“I saved you,” he repeated, almost unwilling to believe it. “But I brought you here because I thought it would remind you of your home.”
She smiled softly. “You were right. It did."
"I’ve missed you, I-” he began, the words catching in his throat. Tears tracked down his face and he wiped them away. “Come with me to Camelot.”
“I cannot.”
“But there’s no need to be afraid. I’ll protect you.”
She leaned in tenderly, allowing her head to gently rest against his, and placed her hands on either side of Merlin's head. Her fingers curved between the strands of his hair.
“I’m not afraid,” she said with certainty but also with sadness.
“Then why-”
She pulled away and took his hands into her own, regarding him warmly.
“You are very dear to me, Merlin, but you must understand, the price for my life was my duty. I must guard Avalon, and I am bound eternally to its shores.”
Merlin’s face wore a conflicted expression. He’d been so happy to see Freya again that he hadn’t considered the implications. Now he was fighting off guilt that came with the bittersweet knowledge that she was anchored to the lake forever, and he was responsible.
“I’m so sorry,” he said sadly. "I didn't know this would happen."
She ran her hand down his face. “Don’t be. As I said, you saved my life, and if being bound here is the price I must pay to see you again, I will gladly pay it.”
Merlin’s expression softened and he placed his hand on top of Freya’s, looking very lost.
“Please don’t despair. I am not gone, simply...relocated. Look for me in the water and I will answer your call.”
He nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. Neither said anything for a good minute, standing silently as they held each other’s hands, but eventually they parted. This time it wasn't goodbye, it was the promise of a future.
Still trying to fend off the giant lump in his throat after watching such a tender and private moment, Arthur headed back to the castle. Normally he wasn't fond of the amount of time it took to trudge through the forest, but now he was grateful for it; it gave him time to mull over what to say to the alleged sorcerer, and to think about what all this meant. Before he realised it, the city walls were coming into view. Knowing Merlin would still be at the lake, Arthur headed out to the training grounds to burn off his frustration.
It was midday when Arthur barged into his chambers without warning.
“Merlin, you must stop seeing her,” he demanded.
Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin and the boot he was polishing went clattering to the floor.
“Are you trying to make me die of shock?” he asked with annoyance. “I thought you were in meetings all morning."
“Stop avoiding the topic, Merlin. You can’t see her anymore.”
Merlin felt his heart nearly stop. Arthur couldn’t know. He couldn’t. And yet Arthur closed the door as though afraid someone would overhear. He swallowed, fighting down his racing pulse and trying not to let his nervousness show.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Merlin insisted, feigning ignorance.
Arthur wasn't buying it. “I’m not stupid. I saw you at the lake this morning. She’s the Lady of the Lake, isn’t she?”
Merlin had to consciously remember to close his jaw, and tried to shake himself out of his daze. “H-how do you know that?” he stuttered.
“Gaius,” Arthur admitted.
“Gaius told you?”
Merlin stared at the prince with terror, wondering how Gaius could betray him like this.
“Not like that,” Arthur said dismissively. “When I was a boy, he told me stories about the Lady of the Lake and her lover Emrys.”
Oh no, this was not good. Merlin stepped backward toward the bed, putting space between himself and the prince.
“What are you going to do to me?” he asked cautiously.
Arthur rolled his eyes and raised his hand. Merlin positioned himself ready to duck and run, and then Arthur cuffed him round the head like he usually did.
“You idiot!” Arthur exclaimed. “Haven't you heard what I said? She’s in love with Emrys! She’s just going to break your heart.”
Merlin rubbed the back of his head while cautiously raising an eyebrow. “Uh, what?”
“I heard her. She said you saved her by bringing her to the lake, that the gods heard the plea of your magic. Merlin, do I need to tell you how reckless that is? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Have you not seen enough executions?”
Now he was incredibly confused. He forced himself to meet Arthur's gaze. “I’m not following.”
“You learned magic to impress her!” Arthur nearly bellowed.
Merlin glanced warily at the door. “I did?”
“I don’t know Merlin, why don’t you tell me what was going through your mind? Oh wait, I know. A pretty sorceress, why not learn magic to win her heart? Sound familiar?”
Merlin chewed on his lip nervously, half in disbelief that Arthur could construe things so magnificently and half in terror that he was going to be burning at dawn.
“I can see that you’re trying to think of a way to get out of this. Don’t. I saw the entire thing. You’re not going to convince me otherwise.”
"So you weren't in meetings this morning," he said, hoping to distract Arthur with humour.
It didn't work. Arthur's features hardened into those of suspicion and stubbornness. Although he was said to look like his late mother, this was one of those rare times when Arthur reminded Merlin of Uther, and that was frightening. By the way the prince was pacing, he knew Arthur had picked up something else, made another observation, and he dreaded to hear it. Everything had already spiralled so completely out of control. Merlin tried to speak, to guide the conversation in a different direction, but Arthur cut him off.
“Wait a second. Does that mean you made the Lady of the Lake?”
Merlin defaulted back to deflection.
“I…err…what?”
“She said that, Merlin. She said you were the reason she was bound to that lake.”
“Are you sure?”
Arthur didn't respond. Instead he folded his arms.
“Right,” Merlin said noncommittally.
Arthur glowered. “That’s just- I mean, what am I even meant to do with you?”
“You could, er, not hand me over to your father?” Merlin said nervously.
He slowly circled away from Arthur, positioning himself closer to the door, but the prince caught onto this and immediately placed himself between his servant and his only escape route.
“Merlin, you will stop with this magic nonsense. Forget about it. Never use it again. You will not see the Lady of the Lake any more. Is that clear?”
Truthfully he'd played this moment in his head a thousand times, and while he hadn't imagined the conversation happening in this particular way, he certainly had considered Arthur demanding him to stop. He looked up with some sliver of hope that perhaps Arthur wasn't requesting this of him, but he found no such thing. Indignance flared up within him.
"You're serious, aren't you?" he snapped.
"What- of course I'm serious. Do you want to be tied to a pyre?"
It was comforting to know that Arthur was trying, in his own way, to help Merlin. The indignance lost its fire, replaced with a desperation to make Arthur understand.
“Just listen to me, Arthur," he insisted. "Please."
“Is that clear, Merlin?”
“You don’t understand!”
“No, Merlin, you don’t understand! You can stop with the magic because you don't need to impress her anymore. She loves Emrys. Is it really worth putting your head on the line for not only a sorceress, but one who loves another? She's clearly using you."
A myriad of conflicting emotions warred within Merlin at that statement. “Arthur, just let me explain," he tried again.
There was obvious conflict in Arthur's gaze but he was too headstrong to admit it. Despite being amused at Arthur's ability to get things so wrong, Merlin forced himself not to grin. Arthur still saw the mirth in his eyes.
"I don’t see how this is at all funny, Merlin. My father will execute you for using magic, no matter your reason. I don’t think you understand that.
"And you wouldn't?" he asked cautiously.
Arthur sidestepped the question. "Magic will corrupt you. I’m giving you an order.”
“You can’t forbid me from using magic, Arthur,” Merlin snapped.
“Watch me,” he challenged.
That was that then. Whatever his fate, Merlin was resigned to it, but he wouldn't abide by an order from Arthur, not when the prince had no idea what he was asking.
“My magic is as much a part of me as breathing. I can no more refrain from using it than I can from taking a breath. Turn me in, Arthur, if that’s what you feel you must do. You have your duty and I have mine,” he said bitterly, and left the room with a slam of the door.
Arthur sat with his head in his hands that night, the feeling of dread coursing through him as he pondered all Merlin had said. He'd been so confident he'd known what was going on but how much did he really understand about the situation? Merlin had asked him to listen, and he hadn't. He’d been stubborn, choosing to chastise Merlin based on the assumption he was right, neglecting to acknowledge that Gaius hadn’t told him the stories in years. It was fast becoming obvious that Arthur had forgotten or missed some very important things, and that Merlin held the answers. What he wanted to do was track Merlin down and force him to explain. Instead he sat in his day clothes as the candle burned out, hanging onto Merlin’s words, desperate to know what his servant was actually going to say.
“My magic is as much a part of me as breathing," Merlin’s ghost whispered.
Arthur sighed. He could hardly call breathing evil, but he also questioned the truth of the statement when magic was learned. Except it wasn't learned, not always, not if Gaius' stories were to be believed.
“Emrys was a warlock, Arthur. Do you know what a warlock is?” Gaius had asked years ago.
Warlocks had instinctive use of magic; they were born with it, and therefore it was a part of them, like breathing. Was Merlin a warlock then? That thought was far too uncomfortable for Arthur and instead he forced himself to focus on another piece of the puzzle: the mirth in Merlin's eyes when Arthur had said the sorceress loved Emrys.
Your lady loves another man. Why are you amused? What do you know that I don’t?
Merlin’s words hung in the air. “You have your duty and I have mine.”
What duty?
The words haunted him; they haunted him all night and into the wee hours of the morning, until he heard the crack of his door.
“Rise and sh- Arthur?”
The prince looked ghastly, sitting slouched in a chair near the table, his eyes surrounded by dark circles and his skin pale.
“Arthur, didn’t you sleep?”
The prince blinked out of his daze for a minute before turning to face his manservant. “You,” he said pointedly.
Merlin straightened. “I wasn’t sure if…”
He glanced away, working up the courage to say the full sentence. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me here today, sire.”
Arthur glanced at the warlock before bursting into laughter. Confused and offended, Merlin crossed his arms and scowled.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s you,” Arthur said. “It’s always been you, hasn’t it?”
“What?”
Arthur pulled himself sluggishly out of his chair, standing as upright as possible. “That’s what you were trying to explain. You’re him. You’re Emrys. You’re the one who loves the Lady of the Lake, and the one who waits to help the Once and Future king.”
Merlin took a step backward with alarm. “Arthur? You’re scaring me.”
But Arthur didn’t acknowledge the statement.
“My servant,” he continued, “is the sorcerer from the legends I’ve been thinking about all these years. But then how is that possible? You look the same age as me. How the hell have you managed to stay so young?”
“What are you talking about?” Merlin asked with even more confusion. If he wasn’t so terrified he might’ve wondered if Arthur had gone mad, but keeping his head was more of a priority at the moment. Arthur hadn't seemed to want to execute him the evening prior but given his current demeanour, Merlin trusted nothing to chance.
“Is Hunith really your mother? Are you even from Ealdor?” Arthur pressed.
“Of course she is! You’ve been to Ealdor with me, Arthur, what do you think? Where are you getting this from anyway?”
The prince didn’t answer. Instead he led Merlin back to the chair and pushed him into a sitting position. “Sit, Merlin.”
Merlin could feel the panic rising inside and tried to swallow it back.
“Arthur, what’s wrong with you?” he asked. “You’re not going to kill me, are you? Because you should know I’ve been keeping you alive for the last-”
“Shut up,” Arthur said, looking thoughtful. “You’re a warlock.”
That was certainly surprising. Arthur knew what a warlock was? Merlin nodded cautiously.
“Your magic is instinctive. That’s why you have to use it. That's why it's like breathing."
“I, how do you kn-“
“I said shut up.”
Merlin sighed and stayed quiet.
“You saved the Lady of the Lake. You’re Emrys. Emrys was the most powerful warlock in all of Albion.”
Merlin gulped, not liking the direction of the conversation. “I…er…yes? Arthur, where’s this going?”
Arthur glared.
“Right, shut up,” Merlin repeated.
“And your duty is to protect the Once and Future King.”
Both relief and worry hit Merlin at this, and he immediately stood with desperation. “Yes, Arthur, but…”
"Sit down, Merlin. I’m not done yet. Now, given your absolute uselessness with anything sword related and the fact that you are apparently very competent at magic, I can assume that you are protecting this Once and Future King with your magic.”
Merlin opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, noting Arthur's increasingly agitated demeanour. Instead he nodded, hoping that once Arthur finished this rant he apparently needed, he would allow Merlin to clarify a few things.
“Given that you’re protecting this man, I’m presuming he must be in Camelot,” Arthur continued.
Merlin nodded again. Arthur paused a moment, pacing as though to consider the responses. Finally he stopped directly in front of Merlin, regarding him with an unreadable expression.
“So, essentially, you, who could demolish my kingdom without a thought, are here protecting the man who will, some day in the future, usurp my father’s throne? Is that about right, Merlin?”
He looked up at Arthur with a pleading expression.
“Do you realise how many different kinds of treason that is?” Arthur nearly yelled, the grin disappearing to reveal his true reaction. “How can I possibly trust you?”
Merlin sank down just a little further in his seat. “You don’t understand,” he muttered with irritation.
“Merlin, you have betrayed me. If it were just magic, I might forgive that. But plotting to overthrow my father with this Once and Future King? What am I meant to think?”
“Arthur!” Merlin shouted, interrupting Arthur’s tirade. “You’re missing a few details, sire.”
“Like what? What could I possibly be missing, Merlin?”
“You’re the Once and Future King, you prat!” Merlin exclaimed, standing up in anger. He pointed a finger at Arthur. “I’ve been protecting you! But if you still think that’s ten kinds of treason, sire…”
Arthur's confidence faltered and his face paled. "That's not possible," he argued.
"No? That's what I've been trying to tell you."
Arthur ran a hand through his hair with frustration.
"The legend, it says..." He paused. "It says the warlock Emrys waits for the Once and Future King so that he may bring magic back to the land."
Merlin tilted his head with confusion. "The legend? Do you mean the prophecy? And Arthur it's not like that, really-"
But it was all too much for the prince. Wiping away the cold sweat that had broken out on his forehead, Arthur paled even further and promptly fainted.
“He’s waking up, Merlin. You had better be quick.”
Arthur could hear Gaius puttering about and felt the small disturbance in the air as Merlin attempted to make a run for the door. He groggily propped himself up on his elbow and pointed to the warlock.
“Not so fast, Merlin. I want words with you.”
“Arthur!” Merlin squeaked.
Gaius rolled his eyes. “You suffered a rather harsh blow to the head, sire. You should rest.”
“Rest? I just learned that my servant is the bloody warlock Emrys that you told me about as a boy, and that I’m apparently the Once and Future King. You told me these were legends. If that were true then how can Merlin be Emrys? How can I be the Once and Future King?”
The physician sucked in a breath before making the decision to answer. “I am sorry to have deceived you, sire, but they are druid prophecies, not legends. To tell you otherwise would have made you suspicious.”
Pushing himself cautiously to a sitting position, Arthur tried with difficulty to ignore the spinning room and the nausea. Finally he turned his gaze toward Merlin, but the warlock wasn’t intimidated.
“I’m not answering any questions until you answer one of mine - what are you going to do to me?"
Arthur wasn’t sure of that answer himself. “I, well…”
“You said if it was just magic, you’d forgive me, sire,” Merlin said. “And I have been protecting you.”
“And for keeping important secrets from me, Merlin? Should I forgive you for that?”
Merlin looked away with guilt, unable to refute the truth in those words.
“Should I forgive you for using me to try and bring magic back?”
The reaction was immediate. “No! Arthur, that’s not- I wasn’t...”
But Arthur had some difficulty believing that, and the sting of betrayal was still fresh. “I was your friend,” he said quietly, unable to stop the emotion from leaking into his voice.
The warlock looked up worriedly. “You still are.”
The prince wasn't convinced and it must've showed on his face, as Merlin sighed with resignation.
“I didn’t use you, Arthur. This destiny just happened. I didn't even know about it until I came to Camelot. Did I hope magic would come back? Yes. But only because I didn’t want to live in fear anymore. I wanted to stop lying to you."
“I told you everything, Merlin. I trusted you.”
“Your father hates magic,” Merlin said.
The quiet, restrained demeanour was so unlike his servant, and Arthur hated seeing him that way.
“I couldn’t make you choose between him and me. I wasn’t even sure it would be a choice.”
Arthur couldn't deny how much that hurt. "That you have so little faith in me is wounding."
"It's about more than just faith, Arthur. I have faith in you and the kind of king you'll become. If I didn't, I wouldn't have stayed. But you don't know what it's like to live each day with the fear of being burnt on the pyre, to know your friendships would wither to nothing if only they knew you could wield magic."
Arthur’s gaze softened at that admission. "You don't really believe that, do you?"
"I have to. It keeps me alive, and right now I'd like to know if I am going to stay alive."
Merlin looked so dejected that Arthur felt his temper quickly losing its fire. He let out a resolved breath, having made a decision.
"Of course it’s a choice, Merlin. As you know, I've been questioning our laws on magic for some time. Having magic doesn’t erase your loyalty to me or your loyalty to Camelot, but you’ve lied to me for years and that makes it very difficult to trust you.”
“I am sorry,” Merlin said sincerely, beginning to look very regretful. “You’re right, I should have trusted you, but gods, Arthur, one whiff of this to your father and he’d have- I’d be- Do you know how many sorcerers I’ve seen burned in that courtyard?”
His haunted expression burned into Arthur, and he hated to think his own manservant, the one who rode into every battle with him, shared every happiness and sadness, who stuck with him through his victories and his losses, had to feel this way every day. If only he’d known...
“Sire, I must confess I have a part in this," Gaius said quietly. “Merlin has become like a son to me, and in my worry I have discouraged him from revealing his magic to you. If you will blame him for his actions, I fear you should also blame me.”
Arthur glanced toward the physician, his mind racing. How many times had Merlin wanted to say something but Gaius discouraged him? The man had seen the absolute worst of the Purge, and that would stroke anyone's fear and paranoia.
"The Purge took much from you, Gaius, didn't it?"
Gaius said nothing but the grief was visible in his eyes. He shared a worried glance with Merlin. Both waited for a verdict. It hurt to think they would expect him to sentence a friend to death so easily.
"I will need to learn more about this, Merlin, about what you can do and what you have done, but I will not condemn you, not for saving my life, and not for doing it with magic. I meant it when I said you were a loyal friend."
The hope returning to Merlin's face was a reward in itself and immediately Arthur knew he had made the right decision.
“Really?” Merlin asked. “You’re not angry?”
“Oh I'm plenty angry. Don’t get me wrong, Merlin, you still lied to me, and even though I now have some understanding of why, it doesn’t absolve you of that fact.”
He paused a moment in thought, and Merlin fidgeted as though expecting the worst.
“I'll have to assign you a punishment. I think a week in the stocks will be penance, and washing all of the knights’ socks and underclothes for a month,” Arthur said with some mirth.
Arthur knew Merlin was used to the stocks. He also knew that Merlin would happily take mucking out the stables over washing the knights laundry, and that was exactly why he'd assigned it. Also, it was a light enough punishment that his father wouldn't ask questions, and that was the more important part.
“A whole month!” Merlin exclaimed, nearly gagging at the thought. He sent Arthur a mock-murderous glare.
The prince wondered if he should be worried now that he knew his servant could take him apart with a glance. And didn't that bring back a fond memory of their first conversation. A sorcerer walks into Camelot and challenges the prince. He shook his head with disbelief and amusement.
“You’re not frightening, you know," Merlin said with a frown.
He raised an eyebrow. "Neither are you. I don’t care if you can turn me into a pretty princess. You’re still going in the stocks.”
Merlin grinned slyly at that. “That’s not a bad idea, sire. So many possibilities too. How would you look? Would Uther try to marry you off?”
Arthur blanched at the thought. Could Merlin do that? He decided he didn't want to find out, and put an stop to it immediately before his servant got any ideas. “Merlin, you try it and I will-”
“And…?” Merlin asked cheekily. He glanced down at his hands idly before looking back at Arthur. “You’ll find another good warlock to change you back?”
“Merlin!” Gaius exclaimed with a frown. “What is the matter with you? You should count yourself lucky you still have a head!”
“I’m not afraid of you," Arthur said, though truthfully he was, a little.
Merlin noticed the slight tremble and let out a soft sigh. “I don’t even know the spell for that, Arthur. Honestly.”
“Really?” Arthur asked with glee. “Gaius, I thought Emrys was meant to be all powerful?”
Gaius raised an eyebrow with exasperation. “I fear Merlin’s ego is large enough, sire, without being revered as the most powerful warlock in Albion. Besides, he has much to learn.”
Merlin's face dropped, and Arthur took it as confirmation that the physician was right.
“Not quite the Emrys from prophecy yet,” Merlin said. “Just like you’re not quite the Once and Future King.”
Arthur was silent for a moment before nodding in understanding. “So,” he said. “When can I meet her, the Lady of the Lake?”
Merlin smirked. “Depends, sire.”
“On what?”
“On whether I still have to wash the knights’ laundry.”
Arthur suddenly pitched forward, stumbling toward the warlock in a playful attempt to harm him and Merlin took off down the steps, taking advantage of Arthur’s concussed state. Arthur ran after him, catching up and putting the raven haired boy in a headlock before running his knuckles through Merlin’s hair with purpose.
“Mercy!” Merlin said.
“That’ll teach you to lie to me, idiot," Arthur countered.
The two collapsed on the steps, leaning against the stone as their chests heaved with laughter. Arthur mused that he finally had his answers, even if it meant discovering he was a figure of prophecy, and Merlin too. One thing was for sure, they had a lot of talking to do, and things were going to change. But Arthur couldn't help but think maybe it was for the better.