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Chapter Text

“We shall have made such a blaze that men will remember us on the other side of the dark.” 
–Rosemary Sutcliff, “The Sword and the Circle: King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table”

“Please,” Merlin begged the magical creature that stood tall in front of him, blocking the sunlight out of his face.

Merlin was on the verge of losing it all; Arthur was lying by the lake, his last breaths leaving him, and he had no idea what to do. If his magic isn’t enough to save his king, then what is?

“The matters of life and death shall not be meddled with, even by the greatest of sorcerers,” Kilgharrah glanced behind Merlin then back at him.

“He cannot die.” He gritted his teeth, rapidly blinking to hold back his tears, but eventually failing miserably as the droplets rolled down his already wet cheeks. “There’s no point in me living if he dies.”

“Your future holds greater things than you could ever imagine, young warlock,” argued the dragon, ignoring what Merlin said about Arthur.

“I don’t want it!” Merlin shouted, his heart heavy in his chest. “I don’t want a future without Arthur in it.” He didn’t even want to think about it.

He will save Arthur.

“If you don’t do it willingly, I will command you,” said Merlin fiercely.

The dragon gave a defeated sigh, knowing it was no use arguing with his lord. “I may have the power you need to save Arthur, but you must give me your word.” Kilgharrah looked at him cautiously.

“Anything,” Merlin immediately answered, unable to contain his desperation anymore. “I will ask no more favours; you will spend your last days in peace.”

The dragon cackled at Merlin’s words, throwing his head back. “You know that your favours were never of trouble, Merlin. It is not like I ever had the ability to disobey you.” He briefly bowed his head before his expression went serious again.

“Then what is it that you want?” Merlin asked, half puzzled, half irritated. Every second that passed meant that Arthur was a breath closer to death.

“Whatever your decision will be, you must promise me that you will accept the consequences.”

“Whatever it takes, just please, let me save him.” Merlin assured him, however, not giving too much thought to the creature’s words. This was the only way to save Arthur, and he wasn’t going to let this chance slip away from his hands.

The dragon took a deep breath, before he forcefully exhaled it in Merlin’s direction. The young man struggled to keep his feet on the ground from how strong it was. As soon as Kilgharrah was done, he felt stronger, lighter, more capable. His insides buzzed with adrenaline as he looked up at the magical creature, flashing him a look of gratitude. 

“Thank you.” Merlin nodded at him.

“Farewell, young warlock.” The dragon said as he spread his wings, and weakly took off, flying away.

Although he and Kilgharrah weren’t always on good terms, Merlin appreciated the times he helped him in; especially this one. He ran back to Arthur, who was now unconscious, which sparked fear inside Merlin. That fear did not last for long though, because as soon as he reached him, Merlin rested his hand on Arthur’s forehead and started performing the spell. He saw a brief flash of golden light through his fingers before it died down again, ending the spell with it. Merlin slowly took his hand off of Arthur and watched him closely, waiting for the blue eyes he had spent years studying every shade of to open, for his chest to rise and fall in a breath of life. He waited for a silly joke from him, a dumb nickname, an insult, anything. He just wanted his friend back.

And it happened.

Arthur’s eyes fluttered open,  a confused expression written across his face before he saw Merlin.

“Merlin,” he called, sitting up. 

How he had loved how his name sounded coming from Arthur , Merlin thought to himself, relief spreading through him like an elixir reviving him back to life. It was as if his heart had died by the lake with Arthur, and the only magic it needed to beat to life was to hear Arthur’s voice again. 

Colour was starting to come back to his face, and his nose was still scrunched up. Merlin knew that Arthur always did that whenever he was confused, disgusted, or terribly angry at him. But right now, he couldn’t decide which one of them it was. It didn’t matter though, as long as he was alive.

Merlin couldn’t help but laugh in joy, tears falling down his cheeks again. “Are you alright? Do you feel anything?” He offered to help Arthur up to his feet, but he shocked Merlin by rejecting his hand of help.

“I’m fine,” he muttered. His eyes looked down at himself, his hand examining where his death wound had been.

“Arthur, are you—” Merlin approached him again, wanting to make sure that he was alright, but Arthur’s hand came up, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t,” he warned in a deep tone. “Stay where you are.”

Merlin stood in his place; apprehension written all over his features. Maybe he needed time to process what happened , he thought. One does not simply die and come back like nothing happened. So, maybe Arthur just needed a little time. 

“You did this?” He pointed at the blood that stained his chainmail from his previous injury.

“Yes, I used my magic to save you, Arthur.” Merlin said as a matter of factly, vividly recalling last night.

“Your magic,” Arthur repeated as if the word was new to him then looked up at Merlin, an unreadable expression on his face.

He slowly approached Merlin, drawing his dragon-forged sword as he spoke. “Are you sure, Merlin ,” he drawled in a voice foreign to the sorcerer’s ears, pointing the blade at him, and Merlin felt like he had just lost all the sense in the world the longer Arthur talked, “— that this is the only thing you’ve done?”

Merlin’s eyes glanced down at the sword that was now dangerously close to his chest, barely centimetres away from his frantically beating heart. “Arthur, you already know—”

“It’s Sire , to you, by the way. And don’t you dare lie to me, Merlin.” Arthur gritted his teeth, the point of the sword now touching his chest.

Merlin’s mind went blank; he didn’t know what was happening. After having lived with Arthur for almost half of his life, witnessing him in every light life put him through, Merlin could confidently say that his faith in Arthur could shake mountains, but yet here he was, threatening Merlin’s life right after he got his back. Because of Merlin. He wanted to speak up for himself, he wanted to shout at Arthur, what is wrong with you? What changed your mind? But he couldn’t. All that came out was merely a whisper.

“I thought– I thought you didn’t want me to change…” Arthur let out a cold laugh at what Merlin said, crushing his heart into a million pieces, each of them a sharp shard wounding his insides. 

“I almost forgot about the nonsense you used to say all the time, Merlin.”

“Nonsense?” he breathed; feeling his insides twist with pain.

“Now is not the time for your stupidity.” Arthur said in a bored tone.

That was Merlin’s last straw.

“You know what? Maybe I am stupid.  I was stupid enough to think that death changed you.” He looked at Arthur with a mixture of disgust and pain in his eyes. “I was stupid enough to think you were any different from your father,” he said in a threateningly calm tone. The words hurt to say, but Merlin knew better than showing that they tore him in every part that had believed in the good in Arthur. 

“Is that really what you thought?” Arthur raised his eyebrows, gripping his sword tighter in his hand and stepping closer to Merlin, closing the distance between them. 

“Yes,” replied Merlin daringly. He stood still, showing no signs of weakness in any way. Until the two were only separated by the length of Excalibur.

“I think there is something you need to learn, Merlin,” he dug the point of the blade into Merlin’s skin and slowly dragged it to the side, closer to his heart, causing it to create a cut right above it. 

“When you speak to your king , you show some respect!” he snapped, shoving Merlin to the ground and pulling away the sword. “And don’t ever think yourself worthy of mentioning father.” 

Under any other circumstances, Merlin would have wasted no time in stopping his assailant within the span of a blink of an eye– before they even thought about laying a finger on him. But the man who stood in front of him was no usual opponent. Merlin stared down at the blood that trickled down his skin; tears following. His skin stung where the blade had been, but he was nearly oblivious to it, too consumed in thinking. This is not right , he said to himself. It couldn’t be. That is not Arthur.

Arthur carelessly wiped the tip of his sword clean, looking at it in disgust as if Merlin’s blood was filth before he fixed his gaze back on the young warlock, who sat on his knees, mind spinning in spirals. It wasn’t his wound that hurt, it was everything that was happening. He had longed to hear Arthur’s voice again, to engulf him in a bone-crushing hug and tell him how he would never want to lose him again. But now, as Arthur stood in front of his very own eyes, Merlin couldn’t recognise him. There was something wrong in the way he sounded, the way he moved, the way his bright blue eyes were now overshadowed by a deeper colour.

That is not his Arthur.

“You do know that sorcery is a crime, right?” Arthur casually asked, resting his sword next to him.

“Why, are you going to have me executed?” Merlin asked bitterly.

“So, you’re not that stupid after all.” Arthur smirked. “However,” he looked up at the sky, like he was searching for something. “I could spare your life if you do as I ask.”

Merlin’s eyes looked away, not wanting to look at him. The fresh cut on his chest continued to sting, but he didn’t care. Something deeper than that cut hurt more. He gave no response. 

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes, sire’.”

“When I was by the lake,” Arthur ignored Merlin’s silence and continued. “I heard you shout in an unknown language. What were you doing?”

“Why does it matter to you?” Merlin spat.

“It’s your life we’re talking about, Merlin. Not mine. So, whether you like it or not, you will answer me, or die a horrible death.” Arthur was bent down, staring him right in the eyes as he spoke. Merlin looked into them, and all he could see was a pair of nightshades ready to poison him. “Your call.” He patted Merlin’s shoulder rather roughly and turned his back to him, walking away.

Merlin still couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Why was Arthur acting like this? He had made it very clear to Merlin that he was prouder than ever of who he was and of everything he had done for him and Camelot. Or was he just saying that because he was dying? The thought made Merlin’s stomach churn. 

“I don’t have all day, Merlin.” Arthur snapped.

“I was calling for a dragon.” Merlin finally admitted, his eyes fixed on the grass.

“The Great Dragon?!” Arthur angrily asked. “You’re a Dragonlord and a sorcerer,” he said, as if he had disappointed him in the worst way possible.

His tone nibbled at Merlin’s temper and he looked up at Arthur challengingly as he spoke, “the last Dragonlord.”

“But, Balinor, he—”

“Is my father.” Merlin cut him off, finishing his words for him.

“You…” he watched as all the anger in the world gathered in Arthur’s eyes like dark clouds before a violent storm. 

“You had the power to kill that creature and you didn’t! You watched your king get hurt and did nothing!” Each word that left Arthur’s lips felt like a dagger that was thrown at him, because he was wrong. He did everything he could. 

“I sent him away! And he never came back as I ordered.” Merlin shot back. He had always hated fighting with Arthur, and this was no usual banter of theirs. This was something way worse.

This was Merlin’s world ending, and it was his own doing.

“But you didn’t kill it.” Arthur frowned in disapproval.

“I can’t.” Merlin shook his head. “It is my duty to protect his kind.”

“Here comes the nonsense again.” Arthur rolled his head back in disinterest.

“He has helped me so many times, Arthur. He helped me bring you back.” Merlin tried to convince him; clinging onto his last hope of making him see sense.

Arthur stood silent for a few minutes, his eyes lingering on his feet. He looked like he was in deep thought, which ignited a spark of hope in Merlin. When he looked back up, he had an air of conviction about him. “Then I suppose I should thank him in person.”

“What?” Merlin asked, yet again surprised.

“You said it yourself. You sent him away, he never did us any harm since then, and he helped you save my life. I owe him just as much as I owe you,” he genuinely said, turning the spark of hope into a flame, the fuel being Arthur’s words.

So, he was right. This was all a misunderstanding, and Arthur just needed some time to wrap his mind around everything that happened. Merlin didn’t care about the wound in his chest, he didn’t care about what Arthur said to him. He just knew that his king could never deliberately hurt him.

“There might be a little trouble, though.” Merlin said, finally getting up to his feet and ignoring the continuous burning in his skin.

“What is it?”

“I told him that I will not disturb him again.” Merlin nervously rubbed the back of his head.

“Oh, come on, Merlin. I’m sure you can do something about that.” Arthur squeezed his shoulder, encouraging him. “Go ahead, summon him.”

Merlin couldn’t help but feel a little relieved at the change of mood in Arthur. A Pendragon thanking the Great Dragon in person for saving their life was worth the call, right? He even stepped back to allow Merlin some comfort space. 

Merlin took a deep breath before he screamed the words at the top of his lungs and waited for the creature to arrive. A few seconds later, he saw him floating in the air before he landed right in front of the young sorcerer while Arthur stood a few steps behind, watching closely.

“I see you have achieved your goal, young warlock.” His eyes glanced at Arthur then back at Merlin.

“Yes.” He grinned.

“What is it that you wanted?” asked Kilgharrah.

“Arthur wanted to thank you in person when I told him that you helped me bring him back,”  said Merlin proudly. 

“I’m sure he does.” Kilgharrah laughed, confusing Merlin.

“What are you—” Merlin paused, his confusion turning into a horrible realisation as he felt cold metal against the back of his neck, causing him to shudder. He didn’t dare turn around. He couldn’t. His nerves, his blood, his bones, even his heart had frozen in pure terror.

He felt Arthur’s hot breath against his ear as he whispered over his shoulder. “Kill it, Dragonlord .”

The words came out like drops of lethal venom, threatening to end Merlin’s heart within moments. He cautiously turned around, his hands trembling at his sides. “What?” he whispered.

“There’s a reason why Father had it imprisoned, Merlin,” Arthur said nonchalantly, now fuelling Merlin’s rising anger. 

There it was. The last hope he was clinging to, gone, crumpled like a useless piece of a paper scroll in Arthur’s hand. The darkness and malice he saw earlier in his eyes were clearer than ever. And he was back to referring to the dragon as ‘it’ again. Arthur lied to him, fooled him, and he was stupid enough to believe him. His head was spinning from how many emotions were washing over him as he stood facing Arthur. Anger, pain, betrayal, every vile emotion he had never imagined could be associated with Arthur. 

“I won’t kill him,” Merlin finally said.

Arthur laughed a full-hearted laugh, “you would lay down your life for a monster?!”

“The way I see it, the only monster here is you,” Merlin coldly stated. “This is— it can’t be real.” He shook his head.

“It’s your life against his. The choice is yours,” Arthur spat, completely unfazed by Merlin’s previous insult to him as he turned around and walked in the opposite direction, tucking his sword away.

Merlin turned back to the old dragon, not knowing what to do or say.

“Do as your king said, Merlin,” Kilgharrah said.

“No,” Merlin snapped. “He doesn’t get to hurt me like that after I saved him—” he paused, taking a breath. “—this is not the Arthur I knew.” He clamped his jaw shut, a tear sliding down his cheek. He immediately wiped it away, refusing to shed any tears over that— that stranger.

“Whether you like it or not, young warlock, it is Arthur Pendragon,” the dragon confirmed.

“No, it can’t be,” Merlin argued back, still not believing that Arthur would willingly do what he did.

“I’m a thousand years old.” Kilgharrah weakly smiled at him. “I have lived long enough to witness excellence and failure, and you, Emrys, you’re the greatest of the great.”

“I am supposed to protect you, not—” he stopped, trying to voice his words. “Not kill you.”

“I am already dying, young man. You will just put me to rest,” he warmly said.

“I can’t— I can’t do it.” Merlin furiously shook his head. 

“You can do anything you set your mind to, Merlin.” He pushed, but Merlin couldn’t see himself doing it.

“Remember the promise you made.” Kilgharrah warned, looking down closely at him.

Merlin stood silent; his fists curled on either side of him. He hated everything that was happening. He hated the situation he was left in. He was supposed to choose between his life and the life of a creature he has sworn to protect? And by Arthur? It didn’t make sense. Nothing did anymore. Ever since he and Kilgharrah’s paths crossed together, he has been walking around carrying the weight of his destiny on his shoulders. A destiny that has never felt heavier than right now.

Merlin had long learnt that his gifts were given to him for a purpose, and later he had found out that this purpose was to protect Arthur at all costs. Since then, his uses of magic were always for Arthur; he had barely used it for his own benefit. Never would he have imagined that there would come a day, and he would use it against Arthur. Merlin wouldn’t have dared hurt him, but  Arthur wasn’t doing exactly the same right now. 

“You said that I’d have to accept the consequences of my decision, but I didn’t promise not to fight them,” Merlin sternly said. He watched as the creature’s expression turned to a pitiful one, but he ignored it.

“I command you to leave,” he quietly said.

“I’m forever indebted to you, Emrys.” The dragon briefly bowed his head, acknowledging Merlin’s mercy on him before spreading his wings and flying away from Merlin for the last time.

Merlin then turned back and his eyes landed on Arthur who was fixing the saddle on his horse until he noticed the sudden wind, signalling Kilgharrah’s departure. His eyes burned at Merlin’s from afar as he neared him. He stormed his way towards Merlin, his neck veins showing from how angry he seemed.

“Out of all the stupid things you have done, Merlin,” Arthur started, pointing at the sky. “This was by far, the stupidest of them all.”  He smirked, crossing his arms over his armour-covered chest.

“And what you’re doing is smart?” Merlin grimaced.

“I’m doing the right thing. The one thing I couldn’t do earlier,” he said, referring to when Merlin told him about his magic last night.

“And killing me is the right thing to do...?” Merlin breathed, dreading the words that he was going to hear.

“By the looks of it, yes,” Arthur confirmed, triggering the last ounce of patience Merlin had.

“I saved your life!” Merlin shouted in anger.

“And I would have rather died than be saved by a sorcerer ,” replied Arthur dryly. 

Merlin scoffed, trying not to bitterly laugh at what Arthur said.

At this point, he was done trying to find excuses for what Arthur was doing. He was done trying not to fight for what was left of his dignity. He did not deserve any of what has happened to him so far, and he had a right to stand up for himself, even if that meant fighting Arthur with the same weapon he was using.

“Are you really that oblivious?” 

Arthur furrowed his brows. “To what exactly?” 

Merlin looked down and shook his head. He doesn’t know . He doesn’t know that all the times he had miraculously survived something, it had been magic. He doesn’t know that his own father, the man who killed thousands of Merlin's people, turned to magic when he was at his weakest. He doesn’t know that Morgause wasn’t lying that day, and Merlin was just trying to protect him like he always did. He doesn’t know that Merlin could have rejoiced in the death of the man who annihilated sorcerers in Camelot, but he still chose to spare Arthur instead.

“To the fact that your whole existence depends on magic, Arthur,” Merlin held his chin high as he spoke.

“What are you saying?” Arthur seethed, taking a couple of steps in Merlin’s direction.

“Guess daddy’s little secret is no longer a secret, now,” he mocked, watching Arthur’s blood boil.

“Choose your words carefully, Merlin ,” Arthur warned, his tone low.

“Or what?” he challenged.

“Or I’ll kill you.” He raised his eyebrows, reminding him once again that he would easily do it.

“But you haven’t heard me out yet,” Merlin casually replied.

“Why should I?” 

“Because you deserve to know the truth.”

“Really.” Arthur narrowed his eyes impatiently, hinting that he was far from interested in any word Merlin had just said. “And what ‘truth’, have you, saint Merlin, chose to bless me with?” 

“That day, when Morgause let you see your mother, she wasn’t lying.” Merlin blurted out. 

“Liar,” Arthur retorted, his jaw clenched. “My father would never do that,” he said, immediately catching onto what Merlin was trying to remind him of.

“But he did, and you cannot deny it.” Merlin’s eyes glanced at his hand that was gripping the hilt of his sword, before he looked back up at the fuming Arthur in front of him.

“ Everything you are today, everything you have achieved in your life is all because of magic, Arthur Pendragon. You cannot escape who you are,” he finally said, stepping back but still holding a straight face. 

Now that Uther was dead, and Arthur would not try to kill him for doing this to him, it was almost the perfect chance to break to him that he was indeed born out of magic. Almost.

Merlin watched as Arthur drew his sword, holding it with ease as his eyes darted to Merlin. “You are a dead man,” he spoke, his tone filled with untamed rage.

“You don’t want to do this.” Merlin shook his head.

“I have never wanted anything more.” Arthur swung his sword in the air, signalling that he was about to strike. 

Merlin’s hands twitched by his sides; a tingling sensation starting to build up in them.

“You don’t stand a chance,” Merlin warned once again, feeling his energy rise with every stride Arthur took towards him.

“It seems to me that you have forgotten that I’ve been trained to kill, since birth, Merlin,” Arthur proudly remarked, waving his sword once again before he raised his arm above his head and aimed at Merlin.

“And you forgot that I can take you apart with less than one blow,” replied Merlin before he pushed his hand into the air, bright flares of orange peeking through his fingers and causing Arthur to stop in his tracks and fall to the ground unconscious, his sword following suit. His body lay limp, his eyes closed, shielding his rage and hatred filled eyes that stared into Merlin’s seconds before he knocked him out.

Merlin wasted no time and dragged his body across the field of green to where their horses were. The spell he casted was enough to knock Arthur out for a few hours, long enough for them to reach Camelot while he was still unconscious. He heaved Arthur up onto his horse and hopped onto his own, heading back to the kingdom. Throughout the ride, Merlin couldn’t help but replay all what had happened in the past two days in his mind. Morgana’s death, Mordred’s death, Arthur’s death , and then… this . He still couldn’t believe that Arthur, his Arthur , would do this to him. Did he really hate him this much? Was he really showing Merlin empathy just because he was the one who needed it when he knew he was leaving this life?

Merlin pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind and didn’t let them cloud his already distorted mind, because the person who laid on the horse behind him wasn’t Arthur; that was just a vessel, and Merlin was almost sure that Arthur’s phantom was trapped somewhere in there screaming for help. Hours later, as Merlin had assumed, they arrived at Camelot. Arthur was taken to his chambers and well taken care of, while Merlin rushed to meet the only person who could help him the most right now. He busted the doors to his chambers open and saw the old man jump at the sudden sound.

“Merlin!” he sighed in relief, joy dancing in his eyes.

“Gaius,” Merlin breathed, a grin forming on his lips at the sight of his mentor.

Gaius engulfed him in a hug and rubbed is hand up and down his back, showing how relieved he was to see him again.

“What happened to you?” He pulled away, his eyes observing his appearance.

“Long story.” Merlin sighed.

Gaius gestured for him to sit down so that he could examine him, while Merlin told him everything.

“You did the right thing, Merlin.” Gaius assured, after Merlin was done.

“I’m not really sure about that,” Merlin bitterly joked. His eyes stared at Gaius’s hands while he cleaned his wound. “You should have seen him, Gaius.”

He covered the injured spot on Merlin’s chest with a piece of gauze before looking back intently at him, his brows knit together in deep thought while Merlin continued. “The person who did this is not Arthur. I know it.” He shook his head. “Arthur would never hurt me.”

“But he did, Merlin,” Gaius responded, sadness latched onto his voice. “And you, out of all people, know that Arthur’s sword is no mortal blade, this will take time to heal.”

“I don’t care,” Merlin replied, his gaze fixed on his feet. “Nothing about what I told you makes sense, Gaius,” he insisted.

“Perhaps, it is a downside to the spell you used to revive him,” Gaius stated.

“That’s the only logical explanation at this point.” Merlin pursed his lips in thought.

“I assume what Arthur is experiencing is temporary, and he should be back to his senses when he wakes up,” he concluded. “How long has he been out?”

“Hours,” Merlin said. “I knocked him out just in time.” Before he could have killed me , he mentally added.

“I’m sorry, Merlin.” Gaius patted his knee.

Heavy silence fell between them before Merlin was startled by the doors opening, revealing two of Arthur’s guards.

“The King wants to see you,” one of them announced.

—

Merlin abandons him right before they leave  for Camlann.

 Him waking up in the middle of the night to go to war.

Him fighting Morgana’s men on his own.

Him being helped by a mysterious sorcerer in the middle of the battle.

Him being stabbed by Mordred.

Him dying..

His body jerked awake, his hands frantically feeling over where he was hurt, finding nothing. He glanced around him, and found that he was no longer by the lake. He was in his own bed, covered in his usual clothes. No one was in sight. He was all alone. His mind went back to the memories that forced him out of his sleep. 

Bright purple light flashed before him along with the booming sound of thunder that accompanied it, echoing in his ears. The image of the unknown helper could not leave his mind. He remembers the man’s skinny figure, he remembers seeing his long hair swaying with the wind as he stood in the far distance. Arthur could not remember his face, but something about that man’s appearance felt familiar. It was like he had seen him before, but he couldn’t remember when or where. 

He sat upright in his bed and recalled everything that happened before he woke up here.

Merlin.

—

Merlin and Gaius made their way to Arthur’s chambers together. The guards opened the doors for them, and Merlin stepped in first. He found Arthur resting in his bed, shooting both Gaius and Merlin a soft smile. His face was no longer covered in dirt, and he was no longer weighed down by his armour. He was wearing a white tunic that hugged his masculine form, fitting him perfectly.

“Come in, Gaius.” Arthur gestured for him to follow Merlin into the room.

“It’s good to have you back, sire,” Gaius greeted respectfully, before he shot Merlin a ‘I told you so’ look.

Gaius approached Arthur to check up on him once again, and after he was done, Merlin heard Arthur mumble a ‘thank you’ to the physician. 

“If you will excuse me, now, sire.” Gaius nodded, squeezing Merlin’s shoulder in assurance on his way out.

Merlin stood a few feet away from Arthur’s bed with a sceptical look on his face. He was completely taken aback by the once again sudden change in Arthur’s behaviour. Is he pretending again? Merlin couldn’t help but wonder, but his thoughts were interrupted too soon.

“I understand if you don’t want to come any closer,” Arthur said, looking down at his hands.

Merlin gulped, dreading the whole conversation he was about to have with him. He stepped a bit closer, allowing himself a better look at Arthur’s features. He looked tired but well. His hair was a pale gold crown over his head in the candle lit chambers.

“I don’t know what took over me, I shouldn’t have attacked you like that, I—I’m so sorry, Merlin.” Arthur looked up at him, and Merlin’s heart shattered at the sight.

His eyes were brimmed with red, tears pooling in them. His cheeks were flushed, signalling that he was trying not to cry. Merlin’s hands slightly shook behind his back, scared, hurt, confused. He wants to believe him. He desperately wants to, but the last time he did that, things didn’t go quite well.

“Merlin, say something,” said Arthur after Merlin had been a little too quiet. “You don’t believe me, do you?” A tear streamed down his cheek.

“I want to believe you, Arthur. More than anything.” Merlin fought back his own tears as he spoke.

There was only one way to find out.

“Do you remember what I did to prove to you that I’m a—”

“Yes,” he replied immediately, a smile breaking through his pained expression. “I remember. It was one of the many beautiful things you had done with your magic.” Merlin watched as a saddened look washed over his face. “I just didn’t realise it back then.”

“What else—”

Arthur held up one hand, stopping Merlin. “I just want you to know that,” he took a deep breath. “I am not my father, Merlin. I know that this is quite hard to believe at the moment, but I can assure you, that you never have to live in fear again.”

“What you did, letting the dragon go, in honour of your father.” Arthur continued. “That was brave, Merlin.”

And that was it. That was all it took for Merlin to crumble like a leaf by Arthur’s side onto the bed. His lips were parted in a silly grin, tears filling his eyes. He felt like he had been standing on the edge of a cliff, and hearing Arthur’s words now was a pair of hands miraculously pulling him back and bringing him back home to safety

“I’m so sorry I put you through all of that,” he apologised once more.

Merlin shook his head, not caring about anything else other than the fact that Arthur was back. “I thought I’d lost you.” He sniffed.

“Thought you could get rid of me that easily, Merlin?” His face matched Merlin’s with a full smile.

“You? The Royal Prat of Camelot? I think not.” Merlin shook his head in refusal, earning a laugh from Arthur. The sound was a familiar melody played after years of deadly silence to Merlin’s ears. 

Arthur’s laughter died down, leaving him with a soft look that gazed back at Merlin. This was everything, Arthur safe and back as himself again. He didn’t want to remember what happened today, he didn’t want to use his magic against Arthur again, he just wanted peace. Merlin broke their eye contact, looking down at his red tunic.

“I, uh, I will leave you to rest.” Merlin shortly nodded, standing up.

Arthur startled him by grabbing his hand. “Thank you, Merlin.” He shot up a smile at him.

Merlin placed his hand over Arthur’s and softly patted it, smiling back at him. His grip then loosened around Merlin’s hand, allowing him to leave. He reached out to open the door, glancing once more at Arthur who stared back at him with the same warm look.

Merlin stepped out of the room, and hell broke loose.

Chapter Text

“Guards, seize him!” Arthur’s voice blared in his ears.

In a split second, before he even had the time to process what was happening, Merlin’s arms were harshly grabbed, and he was forced away from the king’s chambers. 

He was too shocked to fight the guards off and storm back into his room to understand what was happening. Too hurt . Everything went back to the start. No logic, no explanation, no telling what was true and what was not. It wasn’t until he was shoved down to the cold floor of the dungeon that he was pulled out of his trance.

—

Arthur had everything planned out. He knew that everyone around him would try to stop him from having Merlin executed, especially his knights, and that’s why he sent after Sir Leon. A knock came on the door before it opened, and Leon walked in. He held a soft grin to his face at the sight of Arthur, which meant that the news of Merlin being captured had not reached him yet. And it won’t, if his plan worked. It was infuriating how everyone seemed to be bewitched by the false pretence Merlin had been putting on for the years he has lived here. 

He failed to understand what was so special about a traitor. A liar. 

“Sire.” He briefly bowed his head. “It’s good to see you well.” 

“Likewise, Sir Leon.” Arthur shook his hand.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“Yes.” Arthur nodded, pretending to look in deep thought. “After the events of yesterday, I fear that some of Morgana’s men are still out there plotting for revenge, that is if they’re not already on their way here as we speak.” 

“That is likely, sire.” Sir Leon agreed. “What would you like us to do?” 

“I cannot trust anyone with this,” Arthur stressed. “I need you to ride tonight with Sir Percival. Gather as many men as you need and rid Camelot of them.” 

“But wouldn’t it be better to ride by day? I mean, after Sir Gwaine…” he paused, looking uneasily at him.

“What about him?” asked Arthur, trying his best to look concerned.

“We lost Sir Gwaine last night, sire.” His eyes drifted to his feet in sorrow.

“That’s a shame.” Arthur briefly looked away. “But the quicker we are, the better, Sir Leon.” Arthur lied once again, pleased that the knight believed him, although he thought he caught a glimpse of disagreement in his eyes.

“Yes, sire.” He nodded.

“Alright, off you go.” Arthur forced a small smile. 

Sir Leon’s expression matched his as he walked towards the door, stopping to say one more thing before he left. “Send my greetings to Merlin, in case I don’t see him before leaving.” 

“Of course.” Arthur smiled and once the door was shut, his lips turned into a slight smirk. 

Minutes later, the king headed out of his chambers to pay Merlin a little visit in his cell. On his way, he spotted Guinevere walking towards him. She must have been on her way to see him, because this was the first time he saw her today. 

“Arthur!” She gasped in relief, instantly wrapping her arms around him.

“Guinevere,” he replied with much less emotion, casually hugging her back. 

“We thought we’d lost you.” She sadly looked at him. 

“Yet here I am.” He shrugged, forcing a smile.

“Where’s Merlin? I need to tell him what the maids are saying about him.” She covered her mouth, trying to stop herself from laughing.

“What are they saying?” Arthur asked, rather concerned.

“They’re saying that you ordered your men to seize him.” This time she didn’t stop herself and laughed.

Arthur did not even smile at the news. Instead, he started thinking of a way to play along. 

“Right.” Arthur fake-laughed. “Let’s sit in my chambers for a while, yeah?” He grabbed her arm and urged her to walk with him.

“Didn’t you just walk out of there?” She asked, sounding confused.

“I was looking for you.” He smiled.

She smiled back and stayed silent all the way back to his room, until they got in there, she stifled another laugh. 

“It can’t be true.” She shook her head, her eyes shining with tears of laughter. “Can it?” 

Arthur’s expression stayed solid, showing no emotion. His hand was hovering over the key that was resting in his pocket behind his back. Guinevere’s smile faded, and changed into a worried look.

“Arthur?” She peered at him. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” 

“It’s true. What you’ve heard,” he said, stepping back so that her hand fell from where it was on his chest.

“What?” She whispered. “You must be joking.” She slowly shook her head in disbelief.

“Do I look like I am?” he coldly asked. 

Why was it so hard for people to grasp that Merlin deserved to be punished? Did they really think that low of him as king? Did they think that he would break the rules his father spent a lifetime keeping for a servant? 

“Where is he?” she urgently asked, her brown eyes wide. 

“That is none of your business,” he snapped back at her.

“He saved your life!” Guinevere shrieked, her face twisted with a look of betrayal that Arthur could only describe as pathetic.

“He is a sorcerer,” he argued.

“Whom you couldn’t last a day without.” She emphasised, her eyes brimming with tears now. She didn’t seem like she was fazed by the information Arthur had just given her, proving his doubts about her already knowing to be true. 

Guinevere indeed wasn’t shocked. For his poor attempts to hide it, to her, Merlin had always been an open book. It wasn’t difficult for her to put two and two together, especially when the dangers around Arthur kept increasing, and almost every time he walked out of them untouched. She loved Merlin like a dear friend, and there was a time when he was even a little bit more, filling the void of Elyan’s absence. She wasn’t going to lose another brother. 

She furiously turned around and made her way to the door but Arthur was quick to reach it before her, blocking her way.

“I’m not going to watch you destroy your life with your own hands.” She tried to fight her way past him, but in a swift move, he pinned her hands behind her back and pushed her further into the room, kicking the door open afterwards. He slid out of it and slammed it back shut, before she could chase after him and locked the door.

“Arthur!” He heard her scream. “Open the door!” 

“Don’t you dare do him harm, Arthur!” She kept on shouting, banging her hands against the wood. “God damn you, Arthur Pendragon, should you taint your hands with innocent blood!” 

Arthur ignored her continuous screams and directed his gaze to the guards who were standing by the door. “Leave, and if you say a word, your heads are the price.” He watched as the two men bowed and quietly scurried away like terrified rats.

Arthur strode his way to where the old dungeons were, his mind racing with thoughts. Arthur has known about the old dungeons since he was a child. His father had them built to torture sorcerers to death, as a price for what they have done. He wished that his father could be with him now, and tell him that he was proud of him for the decision he made. His stomach twisted at the memory of his father’s death. Uther died because of the one thing he had always fought, and Arthur couldn’t shake the guilt he felt for ever trying to use magic to save him. If he ever finds the sorcerer who—

Arthur stopped in his tracks, the image of an old man with long white hair and a beard that extended almost to his stomach burned in the back of his head. His mind went back to the man he saw his figure during the battle, and his heart banged in his chest like cannons going off. The resemblance between the two was not hard to notice. It was like the face just matched the thin bent figure. Slowly, Arthur began to recognise the man, his features becoming clearer by the second. Wrinkled skin, yellow crooked teeth, a hoarse ageing voice, and an all too familiar pair of blue eyes that he could identify like the back of his hand. 

I defeated the Saxons. It was me.

His words rang in Arthur’s ears. If he was the one who showed up at Camlann, then…

Merlin used his magic and killed Uther right in front of his eyes.

—

Merlin was cooped up against one of the walls, out of breath. His whole body ached as he sat there. He has been trying to get out of his lock-up, but for some reason, every time he tried, his magic reflected back at him, sending him flying against the back wall. He tried once, twice, until he lost count, and the last time he tried, he couldn’t conjure up his power because of how weak his body was. He wanted to get out of here more than anything else. If he wanted to figure out what happened to Arthur, then getting out was the first step. Which he couldn’t do.

As if on cue, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, and the familiar stomp made him recognise who has come to visit him. 

“Not so strong now, huh?” Arthur mocked, crouching down to take a closer look at him. 

Merlin looked away, unable to see the look on Arthur’s face. It was as if his worst nightmare turned itself into the person in front of him. He no longer even wanted to refer to him as Arthur. 

He just wished to understand what happened . Was he wrong for wanting to save him? Was it too selfish of him that he didn’t want to live without him? Was he too blinded by his faith in Arthur that he couldn’t see it coming? Now that he was locked up and drained of his powers, it all made sense. Arthur has shown him his true colours, and proved Merlin wrong every time he tried to see the good in him.

But he saw him cry, he held his hand and thanked him, he asked Merlin to hold him by the lake. He remembered when he revealed his magic to Arthur, and the things he had told Merlin afterwards. He was proud of him for letting Kilgharrah go. All of that… wasn’t real?

“Tell me, Merlin,” he scooted closer to the bars that separated them. “How does it feel? Knowing that you walked yourself right to your death?”  He sounded like he had been waiting for this moment his entire life, which struck through Merlin’s heart like a hot iron spearhead. 

He managed to get to his feet and approached Arthur, so much rage building inside him. Arthur followed, easily standing up, unlike Merlin who struggled to keep his composure. He gripped the cold metal rods with his hands for support. 

“Why are you doing this?” Merlin whispered the one question he has wanted to ask for a long time now.

“Oh, we will get to that, eventually.” Arthur smirked. “One tear was all it took.” He chuckled, his ice-cold eyes regarding Merlin as if he were a piece of filth. 

“God, you’re so naïve.” Merlin almost winced at the meaning behind his words, that he was mocking his love for him, but he gave no reaction. He wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of knowing that Arthur’s words were getting to him.

“Me.” Merlin bitterly chuckled. “I hope you are well aware of the fact that this,” Merlin gestured at the space around him, “can’t keep me away from you forever, sire,” he noted, although he wasn’t really sure if that was true; if he was actually capable of fighting for himself as easily as he did earlier today. 

“Of course!” Arthur exclaimed, taking out a key with one hand from his pocket. 

“I hate to break it to you, Merlin, but this is no ordinary cell.” He glanced at him with venomous pride in his eyes. “But judging from the way you look, I think you have already figured that out.” 

“What do you mean?” Merlin frowned, taking a few steps back. 

Arthur unlocked the door to the small space Merlin was kept in and walked closer to him. 

“My father,” he started, clenching his fists around Merlin’s shirt. “Had these dungeons designed specially, for the likes of you. Every time you try to escape, you end up weaker. Your magic can’t help you now, sorcerer,” he spoke menacingly low, sending chills down Merlin’s spine. 

“Why are you doing this?” Merlin repeated his question, shaking his head. He yanked Arthur’s hands away from him, or more likely, Arthur let him, as he felt like all the air was knocked out of his chest.

“It’s not just why I’m doing this. It’s how I did not do this earlier. How I was so stupid to not notice the similarity.” He scoffed, and Merlin had no idea what he was talking about.

“You said that you were the one who turned up at Camlann, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” Merlin confidently answered.

“I saw you. I saw the sorcerer who struck the ground with his staff and sent people to their deaths in a second.” He was looking down somewhere beneath them.

“I also saw the sorcerer who killed my father in front of me with magic.” Arthur sneered, his eyes piercing through Merlin’s now.

“You can’t be serious.” He must have misheard him. He knew how it all looked that day and he hated it. The spell was supposed to work.

“Isn’t this the truth? Isn’t this what you wanted?” he sarcastically asked.

But it wasn’t. He did not willingly kill Uther. He was sure that the spell would heal him, but he didn’t know what happened. And that was certainly not what Merlin meant by the truth. 

He knew that whatever he said, Arthur would not believe him. If he had believed him at all, they wouldn’t have been here now.

“You asked for him to be saved by magic, and I did everything I could,” replied Merlin.

“Everything as in everything you could do to kill him and get away with it.” 

“Let me rephrase that, my lord.” Merlin tried to sound as patient as he could.

“Out of all people, I was the person who suffered most because of your father’s cruel nature. I was forced to live in fear everyday! I had to second-guess everything I did so I don’t end up on the pyre like every other sorcerer he killed!” Merlin had subconsciously started to shout.

“And yet I couldn’t afford watching you lose him. I knew how much his presence mattered to you.” He pointed at Arthur who just stood with his arms crossed over his chest as if he were standing behind a brick wall that Merlin’s words rebounded off of.

“You also knew that he would have had you executed the moment he knew you had magic. It was your perfect chance, Merlin.” 

It was Merlin’s turn to laugh this time. “You just don’t get it, do you?” He dared to take a couple of steps closer to Arthur. Close enough to see the thin blue ring of his eyes around his black, inhumanely dilated pupils. “If I wanted Uther dead, he would have long been dead way before that, but I chose not to.” 

In a split second, Arthur roughly wrapped his hand around Merlin’s neck, making it harder for him to breathe.

“Don’t you dare speak his name with your filthy tongue,” he threatened, while Merlin struggled to take his hand off his throat. Arthur held his gaze for a few seconds, his grip tightening around Merlin before he finally withdrew it.

Merlin coughed and gasped for air, his hands rubbing at his now throbbing neck. He was weak, physically weak, and if Arthur’s words are true, he isn’t getting out of here any time soon. 

“Father might have made your life a living hell, and I’m here now to make sure your death is twice as worse.” 

“It’s funny how you keep saying that you’ll kill me, and yet here you are,” he managed to say, regaining his balance. Merlin eyed him up and down. “Can’t even bring yourself to do it.” 

“Don’t you worry about that.” Arthur cooee, pulling out something from behind his back. 

Merlin’s eyes widened at the sight of it, his ears and cheeks heating up in panic. His heart thumped so loudly in his chest that he could hear it in his ears. That couldn’t be real. 

He did not just see Arthur pull out a whip that has been hiding behind his back this whole time.

“You wouldn’t dare,”” Merlin whispered, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

“Stop me.” He opened his arms in a welcoming manner while maliciously eyeing him, “I would very much like to see you try.” 

“Arthur, listen to me.” Merlin tried to reason with him again. He secretly tried to cast a spell, but the sooner it started, the sooner it faded away. It was like trying to light a fire with damp wood.

He hated how weak he was feeling. He hated the fury that burned inside him, begging to break out. 

“I’ve listened enough,” he snapped, extending the leather whip with his other hand and testing its strength. “You had a choice,” he said, slamming the threatening lash against the floor, causing Merlin to jump. 

He stepped back, but his feet were met with the solid wall, his whole body following. 

“And you chose to die a horrible death, Merlin.” 

“So, you’re going to flog me to death,” he concluded, his voice full of disgust and utter doubt. Whatever this Arthur was doing, he possibly couldn’t be considering killing Merlin with his own hands, right?

“Flog you, yes. But to death? No.” He shook his head, looking uninterested in the idea. “It would kill all the fun.” He clicked his tongue. 

“You’re going to wish you never stepped food in this castle first.” Arthur was standing so close to him that he could feel the heat of his body radiating off of him.

“You know, for someone who’s about to torture someone else, you talk too much.” 

“And you haven’t learned your lesson yet.” Arthur spat as he tripped Merlin with one leg, sending him down on his knees.

Pain spread through his bones like fire scorching everything in its way. He looked up at Arthur who was fixing his grip over his weapon. 

“I’m going to make you a deal, Merlin.” He announced.

He stayed silent, not showing a single hint of interest in what he was going to say.

“The longer you keep quiet, the sooner it will be over. But if I hear a single word from you, or even a cry, you won’t like what you get in return.” 

Merlin glared up at him, so much anger and hurt stirring inside him. He tried to use his magic again, but he only felt a faint buzz in his hands and it went away as quickly as smoke disappeared into thin air. He knew he didn’t stand a chance if he tried to fight Arthur. Besides, it would only make things worse for him. But he still gave his all and tried. He slowly rose to his feet and stared back at Arthur. There was not much room for him to chase Merlin in there if he tried to run; he didn’t even have enough energy, but he could dodge a few hits, right?

Arthur spared no time and his hand came flying down, the hard black leather connecting with Merlin’s skin. He jumped at the sound, stepping to the side. The whip missed its right spot which was his shoulder and ended up barely touching his arm.

Up until this moment, it was hard for him to wrap his mind around what was happening. A voice deep down kept telling him that it wasn’t real, Arthur would never do that to him. But with every second that passed, that voice faded into a mere whisper and what lasted was the harsh reality he saw with his own eyes and felt slicing through his skin. 

“Hold still.” Arthur warned, before he repeated the action.

Merlin couldn’t help but recoil again. It was a normal reflex, but Arthur did not seem to understand that.

“I said hold still! ” He shouted.

Merlin ignored him and proceeded to get away. He had turned his back to Arthur and he regretted it the second he did. Sharp pain made its way to his back, causing him to double over. He had barely caught his breath when he felt another hit against his back, this time sending him straight to the ground.

“Thought you could run away?!” Arthur yelled as Merlin turned around, giving his back to the wall, saving it from more damage. He rolled up his sleeve and knelt down to be on eye-level with Merlin. 

Arthur’s eyes went to Merlin’s chest, and his blood ran cold. He was still wearing his tunic, but the thin fabric did him no favour. It was as if he wasn’t wearing anything, and Merlin could already feel the coldness in his back from where the whip had ripped it. 

“I told you to hold still, but you didn’t listen.” He drew his lips in a thin line. His hand went up to Merlin’s chest but Merlin caught it halfway. His short moment of victory didn’t last because Arthur twisted his hand back and yanked it away. 

He tore his shirt, revealing the blood-stained gauze that was carefully placed by Gaius. Merlin pushed himself back away from his grip, until his back hit the furthest wall. His eyes teared up at the stinging pain he felt in his back. He could feel the dampness of blood sticking his shirt to his skin as he sat there. 

“Stop fighting .” Arthur scowled as he dragged Merlin by his feet back to him. He accidentally let out a whimper at the friction of his wounded skin against the rough floor.

Arthur removed the piece of white cloth, revealing the long gash he himself caused. His eyes shone with horrifying joy as they flickered between Merlin’s face and his bare chest before he stood up.

“Arthur, don’t,” Merlin whispered from where he lay on the ground. His arms were hovering over his still freshly hurt skin, protecting it from what might happen.

But Arthur didn’t listen. “ Move .” 

“I don’t—“

“Move or I’ll make you.” He fastened his hand around the flogger, readying himself.

Merlin shakily uncovered his chest, his heart in his throat. He screwed his eyes shut and braced himself for the agonising pain that he was about to endure. He chewed on the insides of his cheeks to prevent himself from making any sounds, but he failed.

An unearthly scream escaped his throat when the leather glided against his chest twice . He rolled to his side in pain, tears wetting his cheeks. His hands went up to the newly created slits in his chest, his fingers shaking furiously as he pulled them back only to find them covered in blood. 

“Don’t even think that you didn’t deserve that.” Arthur hissed. “I hope you have learned your lesson by now, Merlin.” 

Merlin stayed silent, too pained to move an inch.

“I’ll see you at the pyre, by the first strike of light. That is if you make it until dawn,” he carelessly stated, seconds before Merlin heard the iron door being slammed and locked after him. 

He drew in short shaky breaths, looking down at his bleeding body as it heaved up and down while he breathed. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes when he tried to move from where he laid on his side, hating how vulnerable he must be looking. Out of all the scenarios that would cross his mind every time he thought about telling Arthur everything, none of what just happened had ever occurred to him. 

His heart rate picked up when his ears caught the sound of footsteps nearing him again. But the louder it got, the less anxious he felt. He knew those light limpy footsteps all too well. He quickly wiped his tears away, but regretted it when his eyes fell on his blood-stained hands. Now he was almost fully covered in dry blood. 

“Good lord!” The old man gasped, rushing to Merlin. “Are you alright?” 

Merlin managed to heave himself up to a half-sitting position through hisses and whimpers of pain, clinging  onto the metal door for support. He worried if Arthur decided to come back any second for god-knows-why, and saw Gaius down here, it would not end well.

“Gaius,” he choked. “You can’t be here, if—”

“He didn’t see me.” Gaius assured, tapping Merlin’s hand that was gripping the bars. 

“I am so sorry I couldn’t get to you earlier, my boy,” the old man’s voice was heavy with regret. Merlin shook his head in response, communicating that it would have been of no use. It wouldn’t have done him any good to see Arthur hurting Gaius as well. 

“As soon as I heard about what Arthur did, I knew I had to look into it,” he quietly said.

“What did you find?” Merlin asked, his breathing getting lighter and his eyes growing heavier by the second. 

“You were right,” he started. “Arthur is not aware of what he is doing. He might have his memories, but none of his doings is actually him.”

“Obviously.” Merlin half-heartedly smiled, referring to his state.

Gaius sadly looked at him, following what he meant before he spoke again. “According to what I read in the book, there’s only one way that can bring back Arthur.”

“What is it, Gaius?” Merlin asked, eager to put an end to these awful events.

“He has to remember something that is very dear to his heart. Something that only the real Arthur would hold onto.” Gaius explained, and Merlin’s heart sank, because he tried that before, and even though Arthur remembered, he still couldn’t bring him back.

“But he already has all his memories,” Merlin replied hopelessly.

“These memories are tainted now,” Gaius explained. “He only acknowledges one aspect of it. You have to make him see his way out of this darkness.” 

Merlin’s head fell against the metal bars in thought. “I think I can—I can do this.” He sucked in a deep breath, his eyes screwing shut at the pain he felt as a result. “I guess.” 

“Hang in there, boy.” Gaius comforted, stretching his hand through a gap between the bars and softly rubbed his hair. The simple gesture brought short lived warmth to his torn insides, before the pain took over again. 

“You’re stronger than any other sorcerer. These walls cannot contain your great powers, Merlin. These will merely slow you down.” He reassuringly smiled.

“Doesn’t feel much like that, but thank you, Gaius.” Merlin weakly smiled at him. 

“Here, drink this.” Gaius rested one hand under his chin, and helped him drink from a small vial. “It should, hopefully, help with the pain and temporarily stop the bleeding.” The liquid was bittersweet on Merlin’s tongue, but he was grateful for the gesture. 

He closed his eyes, silently thanking Gaius. He received another pat on the head in return, letting him know that the physician understood Merlin even without the need to speak. 

“I know you’ve got this,” he said lastly, before Merlin heard him leaving. 

He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or scared. On one hand, he knew how he could bring Arthur back, but he didn’t know if he could do it. Maybe Gaius was right, maybe when he gets out of this place he will be able to use his magic. The potion Gaius gave still hadn’t worked, and he didn’t know if he could survive through the night without blacking out. He knew he needed to sleep, but he was afraid that if he fell asleep, he wouldn’t be able to wake up at the right time. His teeth shuddered as waves of pain shot through his body, swallowing his senses with them as if his body were burning amidst the flames of Hell.

His eyelids started closing on their own, and he struggled to keep them open, until he eventually gave in to the sleep that forced itself onto him.

One thought swam in the depths of his consciousness being the last thing he was thinking about, and the first thing he must do at the crack of dawn. 

He has to save Arthur once again, and this time not from any threatening danger.

He has to save him from himself.

Merlin was startled awake by the sounds of metal clinking as the guards opened the door to his cell. His stomach turned at the realisation that it was time. The faint sunlight shone through the small window, reminding Merlin that it is sunrise. It was time for his execution; the last chance for him to save Arthur and himself.

They forced him up to his feet, and he felt his skin crack where his wounds had barely dried as a not-too long-lasting effect of Gaius’s potion. They didn’t care that his tunic was ripped open with dry blood staining it. They didn’t care that he was barely able to let his own feet carry him. In spite of the agonising pain he felt, he  could still feel the presence of the gift that rested inside him, giving him hope.

He was dragged by the guards who had both of his wrists cuffed all the way up to where he was supposed to meet his death. An overwhelming feeling washed over him at the sight of the pyre all set up, waiting for him. His eyes immediately went up to Arthur, who stood unfazed. His ruthless glare burned through Merlin the longer he looked. He looked at the men instead.

“I wish to speak to the king.” Merlin addressed the guards as they tied him to the stake.

One of them glanced at him in disgust. “The king said no wishes are to be granted for a sorcerer, let alone a traitor like you.” He must have been one of Uther’s men as well. 

Merlin’s nostrils flared in anger. He knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. He gathered up his strength and tried to stop the guards, but his attempt was in vain. His strength was still flickering inside him like a dying flame. Merlin feared that he was following suit, flickering between life and death as well.

It would be a bittersweet irony, he thought, to die at the hands of the king that had once asked him not to waste his tears on him if he were ever to die, but had asked Merlin to hold him while life seeped out of him like colour washing out from a red rose.

It all felt like it was happening in slow motion as they pushed Merlin down to his knees while a man held up the torch and was about to light it. People were gathered to witness his execution; some happily, a few horrified, and most just… watched. Merlin could see no sign of anyone he knew, not Leon, not Gwen, and deep down he trembled with fear for them. Best thing he could do was hope Arthur had not harmed them. If he did this to Merlin, he could do anything else just as bad to his friends. Just because they were . 

He winced as they tightened the rope around his hands, and Gaius’s words rang in Merlin’s head like a wakeup call. 

You’re stronger than any other sorcerer. These walls cannot contain your great powers, Merlin.

“As King of Camelot, I find you guilty of using sorcery and committing treason!” Arthur’s voice roared, his eyes never leaving Merlin’s.

Merlin closed his eyes and tried once again, focusing on his anger, on his desparation to talk to Arthur. When he opened them, his glower sent the torch flying out of the man’s hand, and the guards who were holding him knocked out of his way. Merlin’s eyes landed on Gaius who stood behind Arthur to his right. 

The guy grabbed another torch and tried to light it, but Merlin was quick to shove him away. He saw Gaius whispering something to Arthur, before he rolled his eyes and disappeared inside.

Seconds later, he was descending the stairs and on his way to Merlin. He stepped onto the pyre, nevertheless grabbing a torch of his own.

“Let’s hear more of your nonsense before I light this up.” Arthur sighed, motioning to the pile of wood with the already lit torch in his hand. “I’m only doing this because I know I won’t get it over with until you say what you want. Consider it your dying wish answered.”

Merlin swallowed hard, trying to ignore what Arthuf said, telling himself the one thing that has gotten him this far. That is not Arthur . Then, he chose his next words carefully, remembering all the things he thought could be of importance to Arthur, just as much as they were to him. Even if it felt like he was flogging his own heart in the process.

“In all the times we have fought together, side by side, I always put your life before mine.” Merlin started, looking up at Arthur through his wide eyes.

“But sometimes it worked the other way around.” He slightly smiled as the memories flooded his mind, but Arthur’s expression stayed the same. A disgusted, bored one.

“Remember the labyrinth of Gedref? When only one of us had to survive? And you didn’t let it be me, Arthur. You were willing to die for me.”

Arthur scoffed, but didn’t say a thing. His eyes searched Merlin’s, like he was fighting something, and Merlin knew then that he was on the right path.

“The poisoned Chalice? You disobeyed your father, risked your life, and accepted the consequences, all to save my life.” Merlin continued, giving Arthur no chance to think.

“The time you decided to face the Dragon till death, and told me that no man is worth my tears?” Merlin tilted his head to the side, looking for any changes in Arthur. “And I said that you definitely aren’t? I was wrong.” He shook his head, a tear rolling down his cheek. 

“When you died,” his hands writhed behind his back, the rough rope digging into the sensitive skin as he fought the urge to cry. “I couldn’t bear the thought of living in a world where you weren’t in it. I couldn’t let you slip away after what we have been through; after you knew about me. ”

Merlin watched him closely as his grip tightened around the wooden torch. His jaw was clenched tight, and Merlin could see the muscles twitching. Arthur’s eyes were glossy with tears, a mixture of anger, hurt, and sadness vividly clear. He could see the battle Arthur was fighting within himself. He could see his  true self fighting to reach the surface and break free. Merlin carried on, answering the screams for help that Arthur’s lost soul gave out.

“The last thing you told me before you—before you died, about myself,” he struggled to repeat the words as they were too painful for him to say out loud after everything that had happened. “You said that I should never change, Arthur, and that you—”

“I want you to always be you.” Arthur whispered; the tears that were pooling in his eyes finally falling as he said the words.

Merlin stared in anticipation, waiting for any other changes to tell him that, yes, you did it. You brought him back . Arthur stared at the wooden rod in his hand with a puzzled expression on his face, before he looked down at Merlin.

“Merlin?” Arthur whispered, horror starting to show in his eyes. He tossed the torch away from his hand as if it were burning him, and looked around him, trying to understand what was happening.

His eyes were as wide as Merlin had ever seen them as he took a look at the state he was in. Merlin could tell by the looks of it, that Arthur was having a hard time realising what he was doing. His hands had started shaking by his sides, his lips were parted with shock, disbelief, and Merlin could tell that he was barely breathing. 

“Arthur,” Merlin weakly called. “It’s okay.” He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips, even though it was far from okay. His eyes kept abruptly falling shut, and Merlin tried his best to fight and keep them open. 

Arthur didn’t listen and bent down beside him, untying his hands. Merlin nodded at Gaius who was quick to catch onto what he was thinking, and in seconds, he was joined them. Arthur was silent, but Merlin could see the tears that kept sliding down his face as he struggled to untie the ropes. Merlin’s breathing was becoming heavier by the second, and he was having a hard time keeping his back straight instead of leaning forward. 

Gaius held Arthur, who did not resist, and escorted him inside, and away from the eyes of the people that stood in silence, probably having no idea what had just happened. And that was the last thing he saw before everything faded into a sea of black.

What felt like years later, Merlin’s eyes fluttered open. He was lying in his bed back in Gaius’s chambers. His upper body was wrapped in white gauze, splotches of crimson red seeping through the fabric that hugged his chest. He had his wrists wrapped in soft cotton cloths from the damage the tight ropes and metal cuffs did to his hands. He wasn’t in much pain as earlier, and his lips immediately pulled into a smile at the work Gaius did. 

The door slowly opened, and relief washed over the old man’s face when he saw Merlin awake.

“Glad to see that you’re awake.” He smiled, resting a hand on Merlin’s forehead. “How are you feeling?” 

He felt the need to stay alone just for the moment. He felt like he couldn’t be around Arthur without thinking of what they went through today, and that wasn’t fair, because Merlin knew all too well that all what Arthur did was not true. It wasn’t him. It was his dark phantom; one that Merlin never wishes to encounter again, nor for Arthur to experience something like that again. 

“I’m alright.” He blinked.

On second thought, Merlin believed that now Arthur was back, he would have a harder time learning about what happened and what he did. Nevertheless, Merlin promised himself that he would be by his side through it all.

“How is Arthur?” he asked as Gaius tapped his face with a cold cloth.

“He’s doing okay.” Gaius avoided his gaze as he answered.

Merlin stared at him knowingly, waiting for him to actually say the truth.

“Fine,” Gaius sighed in defeat. “He’s twice as bad as you are.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Merlin rolled his eyes. “I’m alright.” He tried to reassure him, but the series of coughs that followed did not prove his point.

“Your fever is worse than ever, Merlin. Your skin is drenched in sweat yet you can’t seem to stop shaking.” Gaius dropped the cloth he was using into a bowl of water next to Merlin’s head.

Merlin hadn’t really noticed it until his eyes went down to his pale hands that rested on either side of him, and they were indeed trembling. He curled them to stop the unwanted shakiness and shot Gaius a smile. “See? It will go away on its own. You should be ashamed of yourself for seeking comfort from your patient, court physician .” 

Gaius softly laughed and shook his head. He looked at Merlin deeply, before he asked again. “Are you sure you’re alright?” And Merlin nodded.

Gaius raised his right eyebrow at him in a questioning manner.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just—I don’t know if I would be able to see him now, after all what happened.”

“I understand.” He nodded. “And I know that he wants to see you just as much, but give each other some time. I gave him a sleeping draught and he should be awake shortly.”

Merlin nodded back, the image of Arthur sleeping peacefully forming in his head. “Seriously, how is he?” 

Gaius gave him a tired look but eventually spoke. “He had locked himself in his chambers for days and refuses to talk to or see anyone.”

“Days?” Merlin gaped. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Three days,” answered Gaius. “You were in too much pain, I had to keep you asleep for a little longer.” He explained, looking at Merlin apologetically. Merlin wasn’t angry, on the contrary, he was thankful for the break from reality Gaius gave him. 

“Thank you.” Merlin smiled at the old man, not knowing for what his thanks was now. For everything, perhaps, he thought to himself. 

Merlin’s eyes widened suddenly. “Gwen,” he said. “And Sir Leon, are they alright? Has anything happened?” 

Gaius pursed his lips in thought as if pondering over whether to tell Merlin or not. 

“Gaius, I will find out any way.” 

“Gwen was locked up in Arthur’s chambers.” The words were nails hammered into Merlin’s skin. The image of Gwen on her own in Arthur’s chambers made him lock his jaw. 

“And Leon?” 

“He only appeared last night,” said Gaius. “Thankfully,” he added. “Arthur had sent him away to chase off Morgana’s men who planned for revenge.” 

Merlin closed his eyes, half in reliefs and half in newly formed post-stress. He was glad that it was finally over, this nightmare, but the longer he thought about it, the more he realised it was going to take a little too much time to go away.

“I only miraculously could get him to drink the sleeping draught. He wouldn’t let me in. Servants came in and out with trays of untouched food, and that’s it.” Merlin watched as Gaius drained the cloth of excess water and placed it again on his forehead. The cold stung against his fever hot skin.

“I wouldn’t let anyone either, I think, if I were in his place,” said Merlin quietly, his eyes glued to his bandaged body.

“Don’t tire yourself out thinking about what happened, Merlin,” said Gaius tenderly. “The only thing you should be doing is resting.” 

Merlin shot him a defeated smile, knowing that he was right. He had only just woken up after all. So, for the next days, Merlin did just that. He spent the whole time in his bed with Gaius checking up on him every now and then. He regularly checked his wounds, and assured Merlin that they were healing progressively. He could now sit up on his own, and he no longer needed his wrists wrapped. Now that his magic had returned, he was healing a little faster. His hands were still bruised, but they didn’t hurt as much as they did at first.

Later one night, after Gaius changed the bandaging on Merlin’s whip wounds, checked his temperature for the hundredth time, and after Merlin convinced him that he would apply the cold soaking wet cloth to his face if his temperature didn’t go down, he finally went to sleep.

As for Merlin, sleep wasn’t much of an appealing choice after he Gaius had told him that he no longer needed sleep potions. His mind kept going back to Arthur. Has he woken up yet? What happened when he did? If he has woken up, why isn’t he here already? It has been a week, but Merlin’s heart hammered in his chest at the thought of seeing him alone, even though it was the one thing he wanted the most.

His eyes darted to the door when it opened, and his heart nearly jumped out of its place. 

“You’re not Gaius.” Merlin almost slapped himself on the face for saying that, because yes, that’s not Gaius , and Arthur’s eyes looked away awkwardly at his remark before he spoke up.

“Can I come in?” he hesitantly asked as he stood by the door.

“Of— of course.” Merlin breathed, thinking that he misheard the king of Camelot asking for permission to enter his manservant’s room.

Merlin’s bed wasn’t that big, so when Arthur sat on ‘the edge’, he was pretty much sitting next to him.

“It is good to see you,” Arthur tried, but he wasn’t really seeing much of Merlin on the floor. 

He just smiled a small smile in return, even though Arthur couldn’t see it. 

“I don’t know what to say,” said Arthur, his eyes skimming over the floor as if he was discovering it for the first time.

“There’s nothing really—”

“No, Merlin,” he argued, his tone calm and void of any anger. It was just him. “Don’t try to tell me that there’s nothing to be said, or that ‘it’s okay’. Because it’s not,” he said, referring to the first thing Merlin had said the moment Arthur came back to his senses.

Merlin stayed silent, not knowing how to respond.

“I remember everything I did,” he admitted and Merlin’s stomach dropped. 

He didn’t want him to remember what he did. It wouldn’t do him any good.

“Arthur—”

“I tried to kill you, Merlin. More than once.” He gaped at him.

Merlin lowered his gaze and finally said the thing that has been holding him together since the start out loud, “It wasn’t you.”

“Which makes it even scarier for me, Merlin! I could have killed you.” He lowered his head to meet Merlin’s eyes.

“And you didn’t,” replied Merlin softly.

“Do you know what it felt like? For me to suddenly find myself standing over you on the pyre with a lit torch in my hand?” Arthur’s voice was full of true fear as he spoke, his neck veins showing.

He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t cold, he wasn’t lecturing Merlin. He was just honest; vulnerable even.

“You wouldn’t have done it.” Merlin pushed.

“How can you be so sure?!” he asked, clearly too surprised at how calm Merlin was being.

Merlin gathered himself together and drew his shaky hand towards Arthur’s chest, right where he felt his heart beating under his touch. 

Arthur watched him intently as he rested his hand there for a few seconds, before he retreated it, answering Arthur’s question.

“This. I knew the good in your heart would not fail me.”

“Oh, Merlin…” Arthur whispered, looking at Merlin. He followed his gaze and lowered his head when he found that Arthur was looking at his throat, probably where the bruises of his hand were showing.

“I will never forgive myself. ” His shoulders slumped, hurt filling his eyes when Merlin looked down to hide them.

“You have to,” Merlin uttered. “For I have forgiven you, Arthur Pendragon.” 

Arthur stared back at him in astonishment, his lips parted in speechlessness. Merlin could see his eyes glistening with tears, but they never fell.

“No,” Arthur shook his head. “I don’t deserve it, your forgiveness. Not when I haven’t forgiven myself yet, not when I have not repaid my debt.” 

An idea occurred to Merlin. “I could help you forget, if that would put your mind at ease.” He offered, seeing no purpose in Arthur remembering a horrible experience of a past that would only haunt him.

“What? No!” Arthur gave him an incredulous look. “No,” he repeated, a little calmer. “If you remember, I remember. We both went through this. It would be unjust of me to ask you to spare me and watch you suffer on your own.” 

He shifted in his position, facing Merlin. “Tell me,” he said. “Tell me how I can ever repay you.”

“Forgive yourself, Arthur,” said Merlin gently. “Dwelling on what happened will only make us both suffer, and I don’t want that for you, nor for myself. We have been through enough.” All the while Arthur’s eyes were watching Merlin’s bandaged body, his blue eyes a sea of melancholy and remorse at unrest.

“I’m so sorry,” Arthur whispered, his eyes not leaving Merlin’s injured body. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Merlin,

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, meeting Merlin’s eyes this time. 

“Arthur, it wasn’t your fault.” Upon hearing it again, tears spilled from Arthur’s eyes like a dam that had broken loose. Merlin felt uneasy at seeing him anguished by the weight of the sins he committed unknowingly. He probably hadn’t seen him like that ever since Uther’s death. Arthur wasn’t heartless, but he wasn’t entirely sentimental as well. So, to see him in this light was to hate the fact that Merlin couldn’t reach out to his heart and mend it of its self-inflicted wounds. 

“You’re not supposed to be this forgiving,” said Arthur, visibly pained. “Look at you, Merlin. Look at what I did.” One of his hands went up to Merlin’s neck, fingers softly tracing the purplish-red marks on it. The young man slightly flinched at the touch and Arthur immediately withdrew his hand, guilt tearing at his insides like a hungry beast.

“It is my duty to fulfil my destiny,” said Merlin softly. “And I’m saying it again, I was born to serve you, Arthur. There is nothing that I would ever change about that, nothing else that I want from this world.”

“But I want something else,” Arthur said, finally unfolding the result of restless nights, days of thorough thinking, and memories that had taunted him at times and at others served as a touch of warmth. “I want you, Merlin.”

Merlin’s face twisted into an expression between a smile and a frown. Upon seeing that, the young king continued. “Not just as my manservant.”

“I don’t understand,” Merlin said, clearly perplexed.

Arthur inhaled, all the scenarios and speeches he had prepared for this moment disappearing from his mind as fast as smoke. He wasn’t sure if Merlin would accept what he was about to say, but he knew he very much owed him for every breath that entered and left his lungs. He owed him for every beat his wounded heart now made, for every time he walked out of Death’s hands unharmed while Merlin suffered instead of him. He owed him for the years they spent together as friends before prince and manservant. 

He owed him for every scar that Merlin took for him and from him . 

Arthur slowly rose from Merlin’s bedside, confusing the young sorcerer even more. 

“Arthur, what are you doing?” Merlin’s eyes followed his king’s motion, watching as he went down to his knees. He sat there, holding Merlin’s gaze earnestly. “Arthur, don’t be ridiculous, get up.” 

But Arthur was beyond hearing him now.

“For years, you have shown me what it is to be a loyal friend, a very strong-headed manservant—” at that Merlin grinned, “—and a powerful sorcerer. Everything I know now that you have done for me and for Camelot, for it all, I thank you, Merlin.”

“Arth—”

“But thanks alone are not enough.” Merlin’s eyes were starting to blur with tears as he took in the scene in front of him. The King of Camelot, his head bowed, his knees bent, and his pride stripped. It felt wrong , but to  Arthur, it was but a fraction of what he could do to regain Merlin.

“I wish I could offer you my life, but this you already have. That is why I am offering you a lifetime with me. I cannot promise you that it is a long one.” Arthur’s lips twitched. “But I am offering you everything I have; a lifetime of peace, for there is no one else but you, Merlin, who could bring it upon this land. I, Arthur Pendragon, am asking you, Merlin, to be my Court Sorcerer.”

Merlin drew in a sharp breath, unable to vocalise the whirlwind of emotions that was stirring his insides like a wild ocean. 

“You have shown me what magic could do by being the magic that you are. I want everyone to know it, too. Allow me to show my people how fortunate their king is to have had a lionheart at his side for over ten years. Give me the chance to right my wrongs, Merlin, to shed light on every sorcerer that has been living in the dark under my father’s rule. Your people shall be my people.”

All the while, the king’s voice did not once falter. His blue eyes were as true as the words that left his heart, for Merlin knew that this wasn’t Arthur just speaking his mind. This was the Once and Future King, this was who Merlin had lived and breathed and ached to see. 

This was his Arthur.  

“That is to be your task, should you choose to accept it, of course.” he quietly said, his lips forming a soft smile.

Merlin, as if he had been dipped in the River Styx at birth and made invulnerable to all wounds, removed the covers and left his bed to join Arthur, mirroring his position. He gave him no time to stop him from getting up while he was still very much vulnerable, nor to argue with him. Right now, he was only determined to answer his king. And he knew his answer, he had known it since the dawn of his existence in Camelot. It didn’t matter how many horrible things he had faced, or they had faced together. What mattered was that they both survived every time. He wasn’t going to let the past, no matter how tainted it had become, change his mind. So, the young warlock ignored the pain in his knees and his newly healing wounds and took his turn to speak his heart’s truth. 

“I would choose to be with you in this life and beyond. If the seas dry out, if the stars burn out, I would still choose to serve you, Arthur. For as long as my feet tread this earth.” 

Arthur’s smile grew wider, and his eyes held so much gratitude in them. So much honour that Merlin had to look down to avoid the intensity of it. 

“I know I have said it a million times now, but I don’t think it will ever be enough soon.” He gave a soft laugh. “But thank you, Merlin. I will honour your choice.”

“I have no doubt about that.” Merlin smiled at him. “You must promise me one thing though.” 

“Anything,” Arthur said almost immediately.

“You must promise me that you’re not doing this out of guilt, Arthur. I can’t accept it if you are.” Merlin shook his head, knowing for a fact that he could not simply accept such a life-changing position out of Arthur’s guilt and not his sheer will.

Arthur stammered, clearly having not expected Merlin to mention this. His shoulders curved a little, “I would be lying if I told you that none of it is, but I can promise you that I fully, truly, wholeheartedly want this, Merlin. I want a future where you are no longer living in my shadow.”

Even though he was moved by Arthur’s words, and his overly generous offer, Merlin couldn’t help but crack a joke to relieve the intense emotions he was feeling. “Living in your shadow? What do you mean living in your shadow? Even in my worst days I would still outshine you, my gracious lord.” 

Merlin watched as Arthur tried to hold back his laughter, but soon enough he lost it and burst out laughing, doubling over in the process. “Of course you would,” he said after his laughter had died down, still grinning. “Here, let me help you up.” 

Arthur stood up, offering Merlin a hand that he did not turn down. He rose slowly, leaning almost all of his weight onto Arthur as he got to his feet. He helped him lie back in bed and sat beside him once again. Merlin was still tired, different spots of his skin feeling like they would rip open if he breathed in too deeply. Silence fell between the two young men which the king shortly broke.

“There’s something I want to ask you,” Arthur said suddenly.

Merlin’s stomach churned at his tone, dreading what the question would be about. He was secretly wishing they wouldn’t talk about it. Merlin softly moved his head, encouraging him to ask.

“What you said about me,” his eyes were fixed on Merlin’s hand that was next to his leg as he spoke. “About my birth, is it true?” He sounded as if he already knew it was true, but he was trying until this very moment to deny it. 

Merlin placed his hand on top of his knee and whispered, “I’m sorry you had to find that way.”

Arthur shook his head, the words heavy on his tongue. “No, thank you for telling me.”

“I’m sorry for the false beliefs your father planted in your head about magic,” said Merlin sadly.

“I’m the one who should be apologising for what he put you through, but I swear, you won’t—”

“I know you well enough to know that you’re nothing like him.” Merlin cut him off, refuting anything else he might have said earlier. “You’re the greatest king this kingdom has ever had and ever will.” 

“I’m glad you’re here, Merlin.” He half-smiled, looking intently at him.

Merlin smiled back at him, hoping his eyes carried the solace and relief and gratitude he felt to be in Arthur’s presence, both of them alive and well.

“So, Merlin,” Arthur fondly called, a playful grin finding its way to his pink lips. “Turns out you could take me apart with less than one blow.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows, a sheepish grin covering his features. “Yes, my lord .”

They both broke into a fit of laughter, their laughs adding life to one another, and together the sounds mingled like two vines on a tree— young and evergreen and full of life. 

The way it should have always been and always should be. 

The End