Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ellie was climbing the stairs from the kitchen, a tray in her hands. She had been tasked with delivering his meal to Sir Richard, who had fallen ill after a patrol. She didn’t necessarily like doing that, but getting out of the stifling atmosphere of the kitchen was always nice. Audrey, the cook, was a real tyrant. Plus, it was the opportunity to discover something worthy of gossip, which was always exciting.

Speaking of gossip, as she arrived on top or the stairs, she saw Merlin walking at the other end of the corridor, probably going to the King’s room. His shoulders were slumped, and he was dragging his feet, which was unusual for him. He had been behaving weirdly those last few days. Frowning, she decided to follow him. It would lead her away from the knights’ quarters, but it could be well worth it. Besides, she had never liked Merlin. He was nothing but a peasant, having received no education on how to be a proper servant – if he had received an education at all – and by being appointed as the prince’s manservant all those years ago, he had stolen that job from far more deserving people. And he wasn’t even adequately grateful for the honour that had been bestowed upon him. He did his job sloppily, always complained about King Arthur, and disappeared at odd times. She had always wondered why the King kept him, even seemed to enjoy his company. Perhaps she would receive answers.

She stayed a few steps behind him, walking as quietly as she could so as not to be spotted. Merlin stopped in front of King Arthur’s chamber, hesitating before he finally knocked on the door. That was unusual, Merlin was known for simply barging into the King’s chamber unannounced, as if he owned the place. He must have been in big trouble if he took the time to knock.

“Enter!” the King’s voice said, sounding irritated.

Despite herself, Ellie felt her lips lift in a smirk. Merlin really was in trouble, and that would provide good gossip material, she was sure.

As soon as Merlin entered the room and closed the door behind him, Ellie approached. There was no one guarding the chambers, which wasn’t unusual for King Arthur. He didn’t seem very preoccupied by his personal safety. Or his privacy for that matter. She felt bad for spying on her King, but she reassured herself by thinking that it was Merlin she was spying on, really.

“Took your time, Merlin,” Ellie heard the King say. His voice was muffled by the heavy door, but she could still hear the words rather clearly.

“I’m sorry, sire.” Ellie frowned at Merlin’s tone. He sounded like a proper servant, there was no impertinence in his voice, no snarky retorts, no unwarranted familiarity.

The King invited Merlin to sit down and for a while, there was only silence. Ellie glanced at the tray in her hands, biting her lips. She couldn’t stay here for too long. Sir Richard would be furious at being kept waiting, and the longer she stayed here, the bigger the chance of getting caught in this compromising situation.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” the King asked.

There was a coldness in his voice, a distance that was usually absent. It was eerily reminiscent of the way the late King Uther spoke. Belatedly, Ellie realised that it was the same voice King Arthur used in court, when he declared someone guilty of an abominable crime. She wondered what Merlin could possibly have done to be on the receiving end of that tone.

Merlin was silent for a few seconds before he said, his voice barely audible through the closed door, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” There was a cutting edge to the King’s voice, something low and dangerous.

“No, I don’t know, Arthur!” Merlin practically shouted.

There was a loud noise in the room, like a heavy object had fallen on the floor.

“I told you not to call me by my name anymore!” the King seethed, his voice getting increasingly louder with each word.

Ellie almost flinched at the raw anger in that voice. She had never heard King Arthur so furious before. She had seen him angry and frustrated, of course. She was a servant and a lover of gossip, after all. But the King was properly enraged.

“Arthur, please-”

“Shut up, Merlin,” the King yelled. The words were familiar, Ellie had long lost count of how often the King uttered them since Merlin became his manservant, but the fondness that usually laced his words was absent this time. “You lost the right to address me like that when you betrayed me.”

Ellie’s eyes widened. Merlin had betrayed the King? How could that be possible. She didn’t like Merlin, but even she would admit that the young man was fiercely protective of the monarch. He defended the King whenever any servant criticised him. And despite all his complaints, Merlin had seemed to genuinely enjoy Arthur’s company. Why would he betray him then, and how? She surveyed the corridor, making sure she was still alone, before pressing her ear more firmly against the wooden door.

“I didn’t betray you, sire, I swear. I only ever used my magic to protect you and Camelot.” Merlin had magic. He was the one thing that this kingdom hated above everything else. That would explain why he was so odd, Ellie thought. Although she didn’t understand why Merlin denied his treason. The simple fact of using magic in Camelot was treason.

“And how can you expect me to believe you when you lied to me since the day we met?” King Arthur’s voice was low, his words as cold and sharp as the blade of his sword.

Merlin was crying, Ellie was pretty sure of it. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Merlin had always been weird and annoying, but she had always thought him to be an honest man at heart. But he practiced sorcery, which meant his heart was rotten inside. He deserved no pity. That’s what her parents had taught her all her life. Sorcerers will ask for your pity, but you must never give it to them. They were evil and dangerous.

“Arth- Sire, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you. I almost did, so many times. But it was never the right moment, there was always something more important to deal with first, and then you’d tell me that you had been reminded of how evil magic truly was, and I resigned myself to keep my secret for a bit longer. I was scared. I was terrified, Arthur, my Lord… I’m still scared.”

The sorcerers’ tricks really knew no limits, Ellie thought. Her parents had been right, you should never let a sorcerer say even a single word, or they will corrupt your soul. She hoped the King would show no mercy to his traitorous manservant.

“You thought I would execute you?”

“Will you?” Merlin asked, and there was a glimmer of hope in his voice that made him sound oddly innocent.

“I don’t know what I will do.” There was a weariness in the King’s voice that Ellie had rarely heard. She knew the King had been betrayed many times, and this betrayal from someone so close to him had to hurt. However, she wondered why the King didn’t immediately sentence Merlin to death. Moreover, he must have known about this for a few days at least, so why was Merlin still alive? “I’ve had more important things to deal with.”

“More important things- What is more important than to decide what you’ll do with your best friend’s life?” Merlin said indignantly. He had some nerve to call the King out on his lack of decision. And he called himself the King’s best friend. A delusional sorcerer really was a ridiculous thing.

“Maybe you once were my friend, Merlin. You lost the right to call yourself that when you kept lying to me, though. You’re not my friend, not anymore. And you are no longer my manservant either.” The King’s words were followed by a heavy silence, something like grief settling in the room. It was palpable, even from the outside. “Now leave me alone. I need to think. Go to Gaius and stay there, I don’t want to see your face again until I summon you, understood?”

Ellie took that as her cue to leave. She had heard enough anyway, and the last thing she wanted was to be found spying on the King. Even if it was Merlin she was spying on really.

Merlin had been confined in Gaius’ chambers for four days, reading books on anatomy and medicinal herbs just to pass the time. Each time Gaius came back from delivering tonics and draughts, he gave Merlin an apologetic look that made Merlin squirm.

On the evening of the fourth day, Merlin was surprised by Gaius entering the chambers, clearing his throat. He had been staring at the same page for more than an hour, the words blurring before his eyes. He couldn’t focus on anything.

“I’m sure Arthur will come around and forgive you, my boy. He just needs time,” the old physician said, patting Merlin on the shoulder.

Merlin sighed. He once had hoped that Arthur would accept him for what he was, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. The damage done to their relationship seemed irreparable.

Without waiting for an answer, Gaius started preparing a stew for dinner.

It was two days later that Merlin received a summon from the King. He almost ran to Arthur’s chamber, anxious to know what the King had decided to do with him.

Once inside, he was met with Arthur’s cold stare, and dread pooled in his stomach. Arthur’s room had once been a place where he felt safe, where he and Arthur could openly behave as friends, without having to care about maintaining a façade of being a royal and a servant. It was the place he sought shelter in when the judging stares of the other servants or the harsh words of nobles had been too much for him to bear. Now though, the deep red draperies and rich wood furniture seemed cold and unwelcoming.

Serving himself a goblet of wine, Arthur asked, “Tell me Merlin, how does the entire castle seem to know that you have magic and that I haven’t yet sentenced you to death?”

“I don’t know sire. I haven’t told anyone, I promise.” Merlin was close to panic. If everyone knew now, he wouldn’t be safe anywhere within the citadel. Merlin knew that those who supported magic were few in Camelot. He would find no ally within those walls. Arthur had meant to take his time thinking about what to do with Merlin, but now that the news was out, would he rush his execution in order to keep face?

“Given how well the news was received, I’m inclined to believe you. Who else knows of your magic?”

Merlin stayed silent, biting his lower lip. He didn’t know what Arthur would do to anyone who was aware of his secret, and he wasn’t going to send Gaius on the pyre with him.

“Just tell me, Merlin. I promise you nothing will happen to them.”

“Gaius is the only one who knows. Please don’t be angry at him, he promised my mother he would take care of me, and he only discovered my magic because I saved his life when I first arrived in Camelot.”

Arthur hummed. He looked pensive, and had things between them not changed irremediably, Merlin would surely have teased him about hurting his head by thinking too hard. Now he only hoped he hadn’t made a grave mistake by giving this information to Arthur.

“Someone must have overheard us, then. Well then. You’re not confined to Gaius’ chambers anymore, but I’d advise you to stay there anyway. People didn’t exactly take the news well.”

Merlin nodded, waiting for Arthur to continue. He had to take a decision on what to do with Merlin, he couldn’t simply keep things as they were.

“You’ll meet me here each evening, and we’ll talk about everything you did with your magic. If your answers are satisfactory, and prove that magic can be used for good, I’ll lift the ban on magic. In the meantime, I’ll announce a moratorium on executions for sorcery.”

With tears in his eyes, Merlin smiled gratefully at Arthur. Bowing lower than he ever had he said, “Thank you, sire. You can’t imagine what this means to me and all magic users in the kingdom.”

Arthur smiled, although it was still colder and more distant than the grins he and Arthur used to share. “Be careful out there, Merlin.”

Chapter Text

Gwaine had spotted Merlin in the corridor, while he was delivering medicines to Gaius’ patients in the castle. Merlin had smiled, elated to see a friendly face, but the knight walked up to him with a deep scowl and as soon as he was close enough, he punched Merlin in the face. Merlin had fallen backward, groaning as he landed on the granite floor with a loud thud. His whole body already hurt from the fall he had taken down a flight of stairs. Three servants had tripped him while he was carrying a basket down to the laundry room.

“You sneaky bastard!” Gwaine had yelled, “why didn’t you say anything? I trusted you with my deepest secrets and you said nothing!”

The knight was breathing heavily, looking down at Merlin with a clenched jaw. His hands were still balled into fists. Merlin was too stunned to feel the throbbing of his face. When the knight’s burning glare became too much for him, Merlin lowered his eyes. He only got back on his feet when he heard Gwaine walking away.

Merlin found Gwaine later in the tavern. While Gwaine’s reaction had hurt, Merlin understood. Gwaine had opened his heart to Merlin, revealed his deepest fears and insecurities to him, and Merlin hadn’t returned the favour. He only hoped he wasn’t going to lose another friend because of his magic. Well, it was more his tendency to keep secrets than his magic that was at fault, but it was easier to blame it on the magic, in a way.

The Rising Sun was already bustling with patrons despite the early hour. People in various states of drunkenness laughed and yelled as they emptied their tankards. Merlin kept his head down, hoping no one would notice him. The last thing he needed was to be beaten up by an army of drunks. Gwaine was sitting at his usual table, at the far end of the tavern. He always went there when he wanted to drown his problems with alcohol. That afternoon, he wasn’t alone, though. Percival was sitting in front of him, nursing his own tankard of ale. For a moment, Merlin thought of going back to the castle. Maybe it had been a bad idea to come here, and he was probably the last person Gwaine wanted to see at the moment. That stopped being an option when Percival saw him.

The tall knight smiled and waved at him, beckoning him closer. He had expected a worse reaction from him, especially after the way Gwaine reacted. But it made sense. After all, Percival had lived with the druids for a while. He knew that magic could be used for good, and he understood the risks of revealing such a secret.

Gwaine’s eyes widened when they landed on Merlin, and for a moment, the young warlock considered running away. But he had been a coward for too long already, and it had brought him nothing good. It was time to face his mistakes, even if that meant being reacquainted with his friend’s fist. As he approached, Gwaine’s gaze stayed fixed on his face. When he was close enough, Merlin noticed that the knight’s hands were shaking.

He stood up on wobbly legs and extended a hand towards Merlin. And for a while Merlin thought he was going to be slapped or punched again, but instead, Gwaine’s hand softly touched the tender skin below his left eye. Merlin hadn’t yet had the chance to look in a mirror, but he could guess there was a rather large bruise on his cheek.

“Shit, Merls. Did I really do that to you? Fuck I’m so sorry,” Gwaine slurred, his tongue heavy with alcohol.

Merlin shrugged, smiling self-deprecatingly. “I kinda deserved it,” he chuckled. There was no humour in that laugh, though.

Gwaine shook his head vehemently before pulling Merlin in a bone-crushing hug. “No, you didn’t. I was upset, but you didn’t deserve that. I heard the other servants aren’t too kind with you.”

Patting Gwaine on the back, Merlin relished in the sense of familiarity that came with being close to him. He should have expected an explosive reaction from his friend, and he should have known that Gwaine cared too much about him to truly hate him. Still, Merlin needed the hug more than he had realised.

“It’s nothing I’m not used to, don’t worry.”

In the corner of his eye, Merlin caught Percival frowning at that, but he didn’t dwell on it.

Arthur was shuffling papers on his desk, trying - and probably failing - to look relaxed. He couldn’t let Merlin know he was nervous. He was the King, he had to be in control. Moreover, he was still upset with Merlin. His best friend had lied to him for years, as if the trust they shared meant nothing. He understood Merlin’s fear. Of course, he did. But it still hurt to know his friend had been afraid of him. Arthur supposed his reaction only confirmed that Merlin had been right to keep his magic a secret. Still, Arthur thought that all things considered, his reaction was appropriate. Uther wouldn’t have hesitated to execute a sorcerer, but Arthur wasn’t his father. He would give Merlin a chance to show him that magic could be good, that it wasn’t pure evil. In doing so, he was taking a risk. Now that the people knew about Merlin’s magic, the castle and the lower town were loud with whispers about the King’s decision. They wanted to see the sorcerer burnt at the stake. Arthur was seen as weak and indecisive. It could cost him a lot if his legitimacy and his ability to rule and uphold the law was put in question.

As usual, Merlin was running late. Alright, perhaps that wasn’t exactly true. But he would soon be late if he didn’t show up now.

Just as the thought appeared in Arthur’s mind, he heard rapid footsteps approaching his door. He straightened his back and schooled his features into a neutral expression. He was used to do this in the throne room, but doing it in his own chambers, when it was only him and Merlin felt weird and unnatural. He had to consciously remind himself that the Merlin he would be receiving tonight wasn’t his friend anymore. He was nothing more than a stranger that wore a familiar face. Arthur knew nothing about him.

Merlin knocked, only entering the room after Arthur had given him permission to do so. That was another odd change between them. Merlin had never knocked before and while Arthur used to be irritated by this, his servant’s familiarity had become comforting over the years. All of it had vanished now. Arthur hated it.

The dim light of the room, lit only by the fire crackling in the hearth and a few candles, created shadows on Merlin’s face. It was only when the young man sat in front of Arthur that the King noticed the large bruise on his cheek. Merlin also moved slower than usual, trying to hide a wince when he sat. Arthur frowned. It was the first day that Merlin had been allowed out of Gaius’ chambers and he already looked like hell.

“What happened to you?” Arthur asked, trying to mask the concern in his voice.

Merlin didn’t smile. His head was bowed, and his shoulders were hunched. He looked utterly defeated in a way Arthur had never seen before.

“It’s nothing, sire. It doesn’t matter,” Merlin said in a small voice.

Arthur ached to see Merlin like this. He might resent Merlin for his lies, and his trust in the younger man was damaged, but he had never wanted him to be confronted to such cruelty. Despite his magic and his tendency to keep secrets, Arthur was still convinced that Merlin was a good man. Still, there was nothing he could do before he reached a decision on what to do about the magic laws. He couldn’t make an exception for Merlin. He would try to keep an eye on him, though, just to make sure no one attempted to murder him.

Arthur gestured for Merlin to start eating, allowing them a moment of tense silence before he started asking questions.

“Why did you come to Camelot in the first place?”

Merlin set down his spoon, readying himself for the complicated conversation they were starting. Arthur hoped he would manage to finish his plate. He was thin enough as it was.

“My mother sent me to Gaius. She said he could help me control my magic. It was growing harder each day to keep in hidden in Ealdor and she didn’t know what else to do,” Merlin explained, not meeting Arthur’s eyes.

“But magic is legal in Essetir, you could have just moved in a bigger town further from the border with Camelot,” Arthur frowned, not understanding the reasoning. Camelot was the worst place to send a sorcerer, especially one who had trouble controlling his powers.

To Arthur’s surprise, Merlin snorted. It was a harsh sound that held no humour. Something sad and angry settled on Merlin’s face, twisting his features.

“You really have no idea what happens to magic users in Essetir, do you?” Merlin asked sombrely.

Arthur only shook his head, confusion was probably written all over his face. Merlin took a deep breath, clenching his fists to keep his hands from shaking. When he spoke, his voice was strangled, so full of emotions that it felt thick in the quiet room.

“Whenever Cenred heard of a sorcerer in a village, he sent his knights to capture them. Magic is technically legal in Essetir, but in reality, everyone is terrified to use the smallest spell where anyone could see. Cenred keeps magic legal because he wants to use it for his own gain. He enslaves sorcerers. He puts them in cold iron and locks them in cold, dirty cells. Tortures them, breaks them, until they fight for him or do anything he commands. Personally, I think death is preferable to that.”

Arthur was speechless. He had had no idea. When he found out about Merlin’s magic, and Merlin told him he was born with it, Arthur had imagined a little Merlin, openly using his magic to cause mischief in the village. Of course, due to the proximity with Camelot he would still have been taught to be careful, but not to this point. Merlin probably had learned to hide his magic before he could even understand why. He had lived in fear of being enslaved or killed his entire life. In light of this new information, Arthur understood better why Merlin had found it so hard to reveal his magic, even if he truly trusted Arthur. Habits ingrained from such a young age were hard to break, Arthur knew that well enough.

“I wanted to tell you, Arthur, I swear. But I’ve been afraid all my life, it’s hard to reveal such a secret when you were taught to keep it so close to your heart,” Merlin said, confirming Arthur’s thoughts.

Arthur had much to think about. Perhaps that was enough of this conversation for one evening. With a small smile, he refilled Merlin’s goblet, although it had barely been touched, and motioned for Merlin to continue eating.

Chapter Text

There were bruises of various shades of purple, blue and green all over Merlin’s body. It had only been a few days since Arthur had allowed him to move freely in the castle and he had already been pushed down flights of stairs by servants on multiple occasions, kicked and punched by several guards and knights and spit on by many inhabitants of the lower town. Those were people Merlin had delivered medicines to. People he had helped Gaius heal when they had fallen ill. People he had given a hand to when they had too much work on their hands. And now they despised him. The disgust and distrust in their eyes hurt more than any physical injury. At least, Gwaine and Percival were still on friendly terms with him, and whenever they saw him walking around the castle or the town, they came along, knowing no one would dare assault Merlin if they were there. Still, Merlin was exhausted.

Sometimes, Merlin wondered why he even bothered leaving Gaius’s chambers. It wasn’t like there was much for him to do anymore, now that he wasn’t Arthur’s servant. The people who had once been friendly with him now never missed an opportunity to tell him what a monster and a freak he was. But then he remembered how miserable and restless he had been when confined the in the physician’s chambers. He couldn’t hide forever. He would go mad. Besides, he was still Gaius’ apprentice. He couldn’t just laze around all day while his mentor worked.

He was on his way to buy herbs for Gaius when Gwen grabbed his arm. He hadn’t seen her around since news got out that Merlin had magic. The thought that she had been avoiding him was painful. Her slender fingers were tight enough around his arm to leave bruises. Merlin didn’t resist, though, as she dragged him out of the castle and towards her home.

As soon the door of Gwen’s house was slammed shut behind them, she whirled around and slapped him. Years of physical work, as a servant and as a blacksmith ensure that she had strength to rival a knight’s. Merlin stumbled to the side with the force of the slap, only managing to stay on his feet by leaning against the wall.

“What were you thinking? Why did you learn magic? Did you want power? Riches? Did you think it was worth the risk of it corrupting you like it corrupted Morgana?”

There was an edge of desperation in Gwen’s voice. Something broken, shattered. Her anger was born from fear and worry. Merlin supposed it was better than disgust. Still, it hurt.

“I never had to learn magic, Gwen, I was born with it. I never had a choice. Magic is a part of me, it runs in me like blood,” Merlin tried to explain. He tried to keep his face open, tried to put as much honesty in his voice as he could.

The wariness didn’t disappear from Gwen’s face, though, and Merlin’s shoulders slumped. His magic was a curse. He had to keep it a secret to avoid being killed, but keeping secrets cost him his friends’ trust. He should have known better. Should have known that he was destined to a life of loneliness. He should have left Camelot, destiny be damned and found a cave to live in, just like his father had.

“Is that possible? I always thought people had to actively learn magic.” Gwen had calmed down. She didn’t look as friendly as she used to, but at least she wasn’t going to slap Merlin again.

“Most sorcerer have a potential for magic, but have to actively learn how to use it. Warlocks and witches are different; our magic is instinctual. I learned how to control it, so that it didn’t respond to my emotions, but I never needed to learn how to do magic. I’m sorry I lied to you, Gwen, but I was so scared.”

“I’m sorry I slapped you,” Gwen conceded, giving him an apologetic smile.

“I should leave now. I don’t want to cause you trouble if you’re seen with me.”

Merlin was about to leave when the door opened, nearly hitting him in the face. Elyan entered, a hand on his sword, ready to unsheathe it.

“What is he doing here?” the knight asked, his voice containing none of its usual friendliness. “Did you bring him here? He’s a sorcerer Gwen, it’s dangerous!”

The words stung infinitely more than Gwen’s slap had. Merlin physically recoiled, helpless to hide the hurt etched into his face. He wrapped his hands protectively around himself, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible.

“Elyan, please, it’s okay. Merlin was born with his magic, and if it hasn’t corrupted him yet, it probably won’t,” Gwen pleaded.

Merlin was taken aback. Not five minutes ago, Gwen was all anger and wariness, and now she was taking his defence. Merlin’s head was spinning.

“It’s not his magic that’s the problem. I’ve travelled enough to know it’s not pure evil. But he’s lied to everyone since he arrived here, he can’t be trusted. And anyway, I don’t want you to be in trouble because you’re seen in his company, Gwen.”

“But Gwaine and Percival-”

“Gwaine and Percival are knights, their status offers them some protection. And even with that, they’ve been targeted by other knights and guards for supporting Merlin,” Elyan said, and Merlin knew he was right. “Leave now, Merlin, please. I’m sorry, but Gwen is more important than anything else for me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Merlin already had his hand on the doorhandle when Elyan’s hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly.

“Despite all of it, I believe you’re a good man, Merlin. Good luck.”

Merlin only nodded before getting out, making sure no one saw him leave Gwen’s house.

When Merlin pushed the door to his chambers, Arthur was almost surprised to find a relived expression on his former friend’s face. Not for the first time, he wondered how bad things were for the servant, if coming to Arthur’s chambers for their long, gruelling conversations was so much better than whatever happened to him out there. Of course, Arthur knew some of it. He kept an eye on Merlin, and once he saw Gwaine and Percival protect the young man against a group of knights, he asked them to report to him if anything serious happened. He wished he could do more, but his hands were tied. With each day, it was getting harder to keep his distant and aloof façade in place. Merlin looked hollow, sad and exhausted in a way Arthur had never seen him, and it was getting worse. But Arthur couldn’t afford to let his emotions submerge him. This was a delicate matter, after all, and he had to give it careful consideration, without his judgement being clouded by his feelings for Merlin.

Merlin hadn’t taken a single bite of the beef roast that was cooling in his plate. He looked queasy, as if he was one second away from having to run to Arthur’s chamber pot and empty his stomach. Arthur gave him pointed stares but didn’t say anything. If Merlin needed some time to collect his courage before saying whatever he wanted to reveal, Arthur would grant him that. Still, he found that Merlin’s attitude made him nervous too, and he lost his appetite. It was a shame, the beef had been very good.

“There’s something I need to tell you. Well, some things really. And you’re probably going to hate me for it.”

Arthur wanted to take Merlin’s hand in his and give it a reassuring squeeze. He wanted to throw an arm over Merlin’s shoulder and keep him close. He wanted to tell Merlin that he could never hate him. He did none of those things, instead watching Merlin with calculated distance, hoping his mask of indifference was still firmly in place. It was a real challenge, when Merlin looked so small and distraught. His face wore an expression Arthur was very familiar with, for having seen it often on his own face. Guilt. Merlin felt guilty. During the past few days, Merlin had recounted many instances where he had used his magic to save Arthur. He had expressed regret for killing sorcerers and magical creatures, but ultimately, they both knew there had been no other way. If Merlin hadn’t killed them, they would have killed Merlin and then Arthur. Merlin had been sorry and sad and regretful, but not guilty. This had to be bad.

“This is a long story, and you won’t like it. But please, sire, let me get it all out before you say anything. I need to tell you, and I don’t know if- if you interrupt me, I don’t know if I’ll get the courage to finish,” Merlin said, barely above a murmur. His eyes were fixed on the rich wood of the table.

Arthur fought against his instincts to reassure Merlin. He was playing a role, and he had to stay in character, no matter how much it broke his heart to see Merlin like that. “Go ahead then, I’ll do my best not to interrupt.”

Merlin only met Arthur’s eyes to give him a grateful smile before returning his gaze to the table. He took a few deep breaths before starting his story. “The night after we first met, I was trying to sleep, but I kept hearing a voice in my head, calling my name. I tried to ignore it, but it was very insistent and very obviously magical. So, I went to investigate. Deep under the castle, there was a huge cavern. And in that cavern, there was the Great Dragon.”

Arthur almost yelled at that. Merlin had known about that damned creature since the very beginning, and he hadn’t said anything. This reignited Arthur’s anger towards Merlin. During the last few days, he had learned many of the things Merlin had done for him with his magic. It was obvious that Merlin was loyal to him. He had saved Arthur so many times, at a great risk to his own life. Arthur breathed. He had promised not to interrupt, and Merlin needed to get that off his chest. If anything, it should be reassuring that Merlin willingly revealed that information. When listening to Merlin’s stories, Arthur had no way of knowing if Merlin was saying the whole truth or if he was keeping things from him to make himself and magic look better. This might be proof that Merlin was determined to be honest and give Arthur all the information he needed to reach a decision, even if it turned out not to be in Merlin’s favour.

“The dragon, his name is Kilgharrah, by the way. Anyway. Kilgharrah told me you had been prophesised to be this great King who would unite Albion and bring magic back. And I was this great warlock who was destined to protect you and help you achieve your destiny. Of course, I didn’t believe him. All I had seen of you was an entitled prat and a bully. I told Kilgharrah as much, but that stupid overgrown lizard just laughed and said that no one could escape their destiny. He said we were two sides of the same coin. I thought it was just delusional rambling.”

Then, Merlin looked up and smiled softly. So softly it took Arthur’s breath away. He could feel cracks appearing in his carefully neutral mask.

“Then, I learned to know you. I saw you grow into a man I could respect. A man I could be proud to serve. Before I knew it, you were my best friend, and destiny or not, I would do anything to keep you safe. And keeping you safe was a full-time job. Every other day, someone would try to kill you, or they would cast a curse over Camelot, or they’d enchant you. I was way out of my depth. So, I went to Kilgharrah and asked him for advice and information on how to deal with the newest threat. At first, he helped me willingly. But after some time, he started making demands. Until one time, he refused to help me unless I promised to release him.”

Arthur was unable to hold back his gasp. No wonder Merlin had looked so guilty. He had freed the dragon that had wreaked havoc in Camelot. It had caused so much damage, so much destruction. Merlin now had tears in his eyes, but he valiantly fought to stop them from spilling. With a wavering voice, he continued.

“I freed him after the threat was dealt with. I made him promise not to attack Camelot, and I was naïve enough to believe he would simply leave. That’s one of the things I regret the most. Kilgharrah didn’t deserve to be imprisoned in that cave for twenty years, but I shouldn’t have released him without having the means to ensure everyone’s safety. I’m sorry, Arthur, my Lord. You can’t imagine how much I regret what happened.”

Arthur was about to speak when Merlin stopped him with a shake of his head. “There’s still more,” Merlin said, tears now rolling in fat drops down his cheeks. “The night before we went to look for the Dragon Lord, Gaius told me something he had sworn to keep secret. My mother made him promise, and up until that night, he had stayed true to his word. He broke his promise, though. He told me that Balinor was my father. Just before he died, Balinor told me- he told me that the title of Dragon Lord and the powers that went with it was passed down from father to son. He told me that when he died, I would become the last Dragon Lord.”

Merlin was a Dragon Lord. He wasn’t only a sorcerer, or a warlock or whatever. He was a Dragon Lord, and Balinor had been his father. It made sense, suddenly, why Merlin had looked so distraught when Balinor died. He had just found his father, only for the man to die in his arms. Despite the anger that still lingered under the surface, Arthur felt genuinely sorry for his friend. He knew how much it hurt to lose a parent, even one you never really knew.

“So, you killed the dragon, then?” Arthur asked, frowning. This particular event had never made sense to him. Merlin had said that Arthur had mortally injured the dragon before losing consciousness, but Arthur didn’t remember that.  

The guilt was back in Merlin’s eyes, when he said, “No, I didn’t kill him. I almost did, but I’m the last Dragon Lord, and Kilgharrah was the last living dragon. I have the power to command dragons, but I also have a duty to protect them. I ordered him to leave and never attack Camelot ever again. He can’t defy my orders. He’s alive, but he’s not a threat anymore.”

Arthur nodded, too stunned to talk. He was angry at Merlin. He wanted to yell at him and hit him and throw him in a cell. But at the same time, he knew the young man sitting in front of him was still the same good-hearted peasant boy he had known for years. He just had more layers than Arthur had suspected.

“There are more things weighing on my conscience that I need to tell you about, but I don’t think I have to strength to do it now, sire,” Merlin said, the guilt still weighing on his chest.

Arthur was anxious to know about what terrible crime, what horrible deed, Merlin might have committed. But he was exhausted already, and he imagined Merlin felt ten times worse. Whatever it was, it could wait. For now, Arthur had a lot of thinking to do. Before Merlin could leave, though, Arthur grabbed his arm. He hadn’t even thought before acting. It was too late to hesitate now. Merlin was looking at him, hopeful and terrified at the same time.

“I’m sorry for your father, Merlin. Now go get some rest, you look like you need it. I’ll call a servant to bring the dishes back to the kitchen.”

With a grateful smile and a whispered “thank you, sire,” Merlin left the room, leaving Arthur alone with his bustling thoughts.

Chapter Text

The stairs of the servants’ corridors were a lot steeper than those the Lords and Ladies of the court took. They weren’t supposed to look good or be nice to walk on. They were only meant for servants to go from one place to another without being seen. Arthur didn’t ask servants to use the staff corridors. He didn’t think it was disgraceful for a chambermaid to cross path with a Lord while she carried a laundry basket or a lunch tray. But sometimes, it was faster to take the servants’ corridors, so the staff still used them.

A group of servants were climbing up the stairs as Merlin was going down. This time he had delivered a draught to a Lady. She had refused to take it, uncorking the vial, and pouring its content all over Merlin’s shirt, saying he could keep his poison to himself. It was only a matter of time before Gaius came to his senses and took a new apprentice. Merlin was useless to him now. The servants snickered as they saw him, and Merlin made sure to keep close to the wall. As if it would change anything.

The servants had just passed him, and Merlin had let his guard down, thinking, somewhat naively, that they wouldn’t assault him this time. He should have known better. Ellie, a kitchen maid, was among them. She had always disliked Merlin, ever since he started working for Arthur. But now, her dislike had turned to a burning hatred.

Before he could understand what had happened, Merlin was tumbling down the stairs. He only had time to protect his head by raising his arms on instinct. The steep stairs were unforgiving as he slid and rolled down each step. His shoulders and his back, his elbows and his knees, his whole body felt sore when he finally reached the bottom. At least he didn’t break his neck. The snickering servants went on their way, satisfied to have caused adequate harm to Camelot’s filthy sorcerer. Merlin lay there for a few minutes, too weary to get up. In this moment, in pain and alone in a deserted corridor, Merlin felt Lancelot’s absence very intently. The thought of his friend, his warm smile and steadfast support made tears flow down his cheeks. Even though some of his friends still supported him despite knowing about his magic, he missed Lancelot easy acceptance. He missed being able to confide in him and knowing he would find no judgement in his eyes. It was very tempting to just lie here on the cold, hard floor and wallow in his misery. He couldn’t stay there forever, though. When he managed to haul himself back to his feet, he instantly wailed in pain. Both of his knees throbbed, but what truly hurt was his left ankle. He hoped it was only twisted and not broken.

Merlin limped to a service door and reached one of the main corridors. Walking back to Gaius’ chambers would be hell. He had had worse over the years, though. He could take it. The stairs were tricky, but as long as no one pushed him again, he would be fine. He just had to grip the railing.

“Look what we have here,” a voice said from somewhere behind him.

Merlin tensed. This was the last thing he needed. He knew this voice. If Ellie was the most vicious servant, Sir Richard was the most vicious knight. He never missed an opportunity to make his disgust and hatred of Merlin known. He wouldn’t be satisfied with simply pushing Merlin down the stairs. No, he would watch him fall with undisguised delight before sauntering down the steps and teaching Merlin a lesson with his heavy leather boots.

Merlin knew he couldn’t outrun the knight in his state. He was at the mercy of the cruel man. Gwaine and Percival were nowhere to be seen, and no one else would protect Merlin. Perhaps Arthur would. But the King wasn’t there either.

Sir Richard had just taken hold of the back of Merlin’s shirt when an authoritative voice spoke up. Merlin recognised that voice. Of course, he did. He wasn’t sure whether he should be surprised by the First Knight’s intervention or not.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to, Sir Richard?” Leon said, just as firm as he always was.

Sir Richard tightened his hold on Merlin’s shirt and Merlin could hear him grumble something. For a second, Merlin feared the cruel knight would still pull him down, but then, his hand opened and he retreated. Merlin almost fell to his knees in relief.

“I hope you were heading to the physician’s quarters,” Leon said after giving Merlin a quick onceover.

“Yes, that’s where I’m going. Thank you for your help, Sir Leon,” Merlin said, not daring to look the knight in the eye.

To his surprise, Leon didn’t just turn around and leave. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Merlin’s back, supporting some of the warlock’s weight.

“Does this happen often?” Leon asked, genuinely concerned.

Merlin hadn’t expected that from the First Knight. Not that he had expected Leon to join in his abuse, he was way too noble at heart for that. But Merlin had expected quiet disdain and indifference. Leon had always lived in Camelot. He had been brought up on stories of evil sorcerers and warned about the evils of magic since he was a toddler. Merlin hadn’t expected compassion from him.

“Every time I’m walking around on my own,” Merlin replied, seeing no sense in hiding the truth.

“I’ll talk to Arthur. This can’t be allowed to go on.”

“I’m grateful for your concern, Sir Leon, but it’s really not necessary. King Arthur needs more time to decide what to do with me, and I don’t want him to feel pressured. And it’s nothing I can’t take. It’s only a few scrapes and bruises.”

Leon stopped so abruptly that Merlin stumbled and would have fallen down without the knight’s support. He looked at Merlin with an incredulous expression, as if Merlin had spoken in a language the knight didn’t understand.

“You’re being abused every day, Merlin. That’s not normal, and it’s not fair. I may have trouble accepting your magic. I won’t lie to you, I still don’t trust it. But I know you. You’re a good person, magic or not. You’ve been our friend for years. I won’t just sit back and watch as you’re being hurt like this.”

With that, Leon resumed walking, accompanying Merlin to Gaius’ chambers. It was a good thing that the knight kept facing forward, because Merlin’s eyes had become embarrassingly damp from the knight’s declaration.

Arthur was surprised when Sir Leon entered his room after three harsh knocks on the door. The knight’s straight back and serious expression were further indications that Leon wasn’t there for a friendly chat. The clench of Leon’s jaw expressed his anger as clearly as loud shouts would have. But Leon was always in control of his emotions, something that Arthur envied him. He wished he was able to keep a cool head and let nothing appear of his emotions on his face. Uther had tried to teach him this kind of discipline, often stressing how important a quality it was for a King. But Arthur had a short temper and a soft heart. He was able to hide his feelings, but only with great efforts.

“What brings you here?” Arthur asked, trying to exude authority. He hoped his nervousness didn’t show on his face.

Leon frowned disapprovingly. Arthur’s heart clenched painfully in his chest at the thought that he had disappointed his oldest friend. Still, he had no idea what he had done to deserve such an expression from his knight. Whatever it was, it had to be important for Leon to seek an impromptu private audience with him.

“Merlin has been injured and he was assaulted by a knight while he was on his way to the Physician’s chambers. Had I not intervened, he would likely have been severely beaten,” Leon announced. He took a breath, preparing himself to admonish his King.

It was something Leon still struggled to do. He had served under Uther before Arthur became King, and the former sovereign certainly wouldn’t have appreciated one of his knights expressing his discontent with his actions. Arthur wasn’t his father, though. He appreciated his friends’ input, even when they disagreed with him. especially then, even.

“Arthur, I know you’re still angry with Merlin, but this can’t be allowed to continue. Someone will end up killing him, either voluntarily or by accident. He obviously won’t defend himself, with magic or other means. Merlin is still as loyal to you as he’s always been, he deserves better than that.”

And didn’t Arthur know that. Of course, he was aware. Merlin was almost infuriatingly loyal, to the point that it bordered on reckless devotion. But he had magic, and Arthur’s decision on what to do with Merlin depended on what he decided to do about the magic ban. He couldn’t make exceptions; he would lose all credibility.

“You have to do something. If you’re not ready to legalise magic, then send Merlin away. Banish him, or tell him to go back to his village while you decide. If he stays here, without your protection, he’s too vulnerable to abuse. He’s still your friend. And even if you don’t consider him as such anymore, he’s been a loyal friend for many years, this has to count for something, doesn’t it?”

There was an edge of desperation and frustration in Leon’s voice now. He remained as polite and courteous as always, of course. Leon was the epitome of nobility. He was everything a knight should aspire to be.

“I can’t do that, Leon!” Arthur replied, almost yelling. A few days ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to send Merlin back to Ealdor, thinking he would be safe there. Now, all he could think about was Merlin shackled in cold iron, tortured in a cell to be made into an obedient soldier for Cenred’s army.

Of course, Leon didn’t know about what happened to sorcerers in Essetir, and so he didn’t understand Arthur’s reaction.

“You hate him so much that you don’t care about what happens to him? You don’t care that he’s being mistreated? I thought you were a better man than that, sire.”

Arthur sighed. “Merlin told me about the treatment of magic users in Essetir. If he goes back to Ealdor and anybody finds out about his magic, he’ll be in even more danger than here. And if I banish him, he might get captured by slavers.”

Leon didn’t seem too convinced. Not that he didn’t believe Arthur, but he saw fault in the King’s reasoning. And Arthur had to admit he wasn’t thinking very rationally. But the thought of Merlin captured by slavers or tortured by Cenred’s men sent shivers down his spine and bile up his throat. He was angry and hurt, and he certainly hadn’t completely forgiven Merlin yet. But that was a fate he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, let alone a man who had always been kind and loyal. However, Merlin didn’t deserve the treatment he was receiving withing Arthur’s own castle either. He was the Kind, though, and while he wanted to give special protection to Merlin, he couldn’t do that. He wondered why Merlin didn’t just stay in Gaius’ quarters. He would be safe there, at least.

“You must do something, sire. I don’t know what, but you have to find a solution.”

“I know,” Arthur sighed. He wished his life was simpler. Before, whenever he was grappling with an unsolvable problem, he could always turn to Merlin. The young man had a sharp mind and a good heart. He always seemed to know what to do. He couldn’t very much ask Merlin what to do now, though.

Chapter Text

Night had fallen a long time ago, but Arthur’s restless mind refused to slow down. He had been sitting at his desk, staring at the bare wall in front of him for hours. The reports he was supposed to be working on lay discarded on the table. Arthur couldn’t stop thinking about what Leon had said. His First Knight was right; Arthur couldn’t let Merlin be abused like this and do nothing. A voice that sounded suspiciously like his father whispered that the sorcerer deserved nothing less. Sorcerers were vermin, a disease that plagued the land and needed to be eradicated. And for the longest time, Arthur had believed that. As a young prince, he had only witnessed magic used to harm and destroy. But then, he had seen how magic could also heal people and help crops grow. He had never said any of this to his father, of course. The King would have had him flogged for such treasonous words. Arthur still wasn’t convinced that magic should be legal. It was a powerful weapon. Too powerful. But he also didn’t believe that every use of magic should warrant a death sentence.

This still didn’t tell him what he ought to do with Merlin. Even if he got rid of the automatic death penalty for magic, Merlin would still need to be punished. And Arthur would still need to decide what the appropriate sentence for magic use should be, and to what uses of the occult art it should apply. It was all a big mess.

More than that, Arthur’s heart still ached whenever he was reminded that his best friend, the person he loved more than anything or anyone in the world, hadn’t trusted him with such an integral part of himself. He couldn’t help thinking that their friendship had been a lie too. That Merlin had just been playing with him. He refused to listen to the honey-sweet voice that whispered that what he felt for Merlin wasn’t entirely platonic. His heart and his brain were sore enough as it was. He loved Merlin, the exact shape of that love didn’t matter at all right now. All he knew was that the thought of sending Merlin away hurt too much. It was selfish, he knew, but he needed Merlin here in Camelot, by his side.

By the time the moon was high in the sky, Arthur was still sitting in the same position. His whole body was growing numb with fatigue and ached with cramps. He dragged his hands down his face, wishing the tiredness away. His thoughts had become jumbled and sluggish. He was useless in this state. Arthur knew he needed an outside opinion. He needed someone’s advice on what to do about magic and about Merlin. Those were the same issue, after all. His heart knew what it wanted, but his head wasn’t so sure. Tomorrow, he would talk to Gaius. He was the only one who could talk to him about magic.

Gaius’ cluttered room still felt comforting to Arthur, even after all these years. As a child, the physician’s chambers had been a shelter from his father’s expectations, from his anger and his disappointment. Gaius had felt more like a father to Arthur than Uther ever had. Now, with all that had happened with Merlin, Arthur wasn’t sure he was welcome here. He had waited until he saw Merlin leave, an empty basket in his hand, before knocking on Gaius’ door. The old man had opened the door, only mildly surprised to find the King on the other side.

Now, Arthur found himself sitting at Gaius’s table, with a steaming cup of tea before him. The silence between them was heavy, but not exactly uncomfortable. Gaius didn’t have any hatred or resentment in his eyes, but the disapproval Arthur could read in the crease between Gaius’s eyebrows stung like a physical blow. Arthur didn’t know where to begin. In the end, Gaius took pity on him.

“I suppose you came here to talk about Merlin, sire,” he said, sounding old and tired.

Arthur felt a pang of sympathy for the man. Merlin was like a son to him, and to see his protégé suffer like this without being able to do anything must be terrible for him. “Yes and no. I came to ask you about magic. I don’t know anything about it, and whatever decision I reach regarding Merlin will depend on my decision on what to do about the magic laws,” Arthur explained, knowing that Gaius would understand. Arthur was the King; he couldn’t afford to rule with his heart.

Gaius seemed to hesitate. Arthur saw well-hidden fear in his eyes. Sometimes, Arthur hated that he was his father’s son. People were afraid of him, of what he could do to them. All his life, he had wanted his people to love him and yet, there was still fear in the eyes of his most trusted advisors.

“Whatever you tell me, no harm will come to you because of this discussion, Gaius. I promise. You can speak freely and I’ll do my best to listen with an open mind.”

The smile on Gaius’s face radiated with relief, and when Arthur looked into the old man’s eyes, he saw pride in them. It was an expression Arthur had yearned to see in his father’s eyes for so many years. To see it now in Gaius’s gaze humbled him. Gaius was proud of him, and for what? To promise he wouldn’t punish the man for answering Arthur’s questions? Arthur wanted honest answers, he didn’t need his thoughts and intuitions to be confirmed even against reality. He didn’t want to be like his father.

“Magic is not inherently evil, sire. It has the potential to be used for evil, of course, and it can cause great harm. I won’t deny that magic can be dangerous, you’ve had enough proof of that over the years. But magic can also do good. It can assist in healing. It can be used to help crops grow and to fix broken objects. And it can be used for mundane things, like cleaning, heating water, entertainment. There are people, like Merlin, who are born with their gift, although they are rare. Those are witches and warlocks,” Arthur nodded remembering when Merlin had explained that to him when his magic was revealed. “And there are those, like me, who had the potential to use magic, but needed to learn it.”

“Does everyone have the potential to use magic, then?” Arthur asked. He had often wondered, but never dared to ask anyone.

“Most people do, although to some it comes more easily than others. I don’t know if everyone could learn how to use magic, though. My knowledge is limited on this.”

Most people had the potential to be magic users. Just like most people had the potential to learn how to use a sword. To some, like Arthur, it felt natural, like the blade was just an extension of his arm. Others needed more training. Some were good, like his knights, and others had limited skills, like Merlin. Merlin could defend himself, he could parry blows; Arthur had made sure of that, but he’d never win a single match in a tournament. Was it the same for magic users, then? Some, like Merlin, had their gift since birth and were powerful. Others had mastered magic through arduous training and became very skilled. And then, there were the many people who could use magic for benign things.

“Was my father right? Does magic corrupt those who use it?” Arthur felt like he already knew the answer, but he needed to hear the words out loud.

“No, sire. Magic itself doesn’t corrupt people. Some people are greedy or power-hungry, and they use magic for nefarious purposes. Some people are filled with fear and anger, even hatred, and they use their magic to do harm. But magic is only a means, it isn’t the cause of their behaviour.”

Arthur nodded, deep in thoughts. This went against everything he had been taught. The corrupting force of magic was one of the few certainties his father had taught him never to question. The sun rose from the east, fire burned, a sword cut, and magic was evil and corrupted those who used it.

“Did my father believe that magic was evil?” Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question, but he needed to. He knew his father hadn’t been perfect. In many ways, he had been a tyrant, and sometimes even a hypocrite. But could his father really have ordered so many people to be killed if he didn’t believe it was for the good of the kingdom?

Somehow, Arthur found it reassuring that Gaius didn’t reply immediately. At least, the answer wasn’t obvious. To Arthur it seemed like Gaius was reviewing every interaction he had had with the late King, every word they shared, every moment they spent together. Pain and fondness warred on Gaius’s face. A conflict that was decades old. Arthur wondered how he had never noticed before.

“I don’t know, sire. I wish I could give you an answer, but no one except Uther can respond to that question. I think, to some extent, he had believed it. But what truly made him hate magic was your mother’s death. I think it was grief and resentment that made him hate magic.”

At first, Arthur simply kept his eyes on the old, grainy wood of the table. That sounded like something his father would do. For all his talk about how a King should rule with his head, Uther’s heart always had a large part in his decisions. Not when it came to grant mercy or send assistance to his people. Never then. But Uther had listened to his heart when it came to fear and anger. But then, something Gaius just said made all his other thoughts screech to a halt.

“My mother’s death? What did my mother’s death have to do with magic? Merlin said Morgause had lied, he said- he said-” Arthur could breathe anymore. He felt his hands shake with fury and hurt.

Without waiting for Gaius to speak again, Arthur stood up, so abruptly that his chair fell backward with a clatter. He stomped towards the door, his heavy boots hitting the floor with loud thuds. All he could think about, even through the pounding of his blood in his ears, were the same three words, echoing over and over in his head: Merlin had lied.

Going to the forest had always been relaxing for Merlin. Among the trees, he felt like he could breathe better, and his magic felt more alive, as it thrummed under his skin and connected with the natural magic of the earth. That was even more the case now that the castle and the city had become so hostile. Gaius had sent him to gather herbs he needed for his medicines, and Merlin had readily agreed, glad to have an excuse to leave the oppressive confines of the city walls for a bit. However, this was only a temporary escape, and he had to head back to the citadel sooner than he would have liked. At the eastern gate, one of the guards, a tall, burly man, roughly pushed him against the wall and searched him. Before his magic was revealed, Merlin had had the luxury of coming and going in and out of the city without any questions. He used to share friendly greetings and light-hearted jokes with the guards. Now, he was looked at with suspicion. He was a traitor, and intruder, and enemy. The guard seemed almost disappointed to find nothing suspicious on Merlin, and reluctantly let him go.

On his way to the castle, Merlin kept his head bowed, trying not to attract attention on him. The people he had once shared casual conversations with now sneered and glared at him. He walked by Gwen’s house, sending it a forlorn glance. He missed Gwen. He missed her jovial smiles and her kind words. He missed her clever jokes and practical advice. He missed their gossip, the hugs they occasionally shared, and the fascinating conversations they used to have while doing laundry. His days seemed dull without her. Now they only shared furtive glances and brief smiles when they passed by each other in the corridors.

He even missed being Arthur’s servant. Yes, he had complained a lot about his job, but except for a few chores that he really hated, he had enjoyed spending his days at Arthur’s side, especially once they really became friends. He loved waking Arthur up. He loved helping Arthur get dressed, choosing his clothes, and teasing him about needing a new hole on his belt. He loved the fond exasperation in Arthur’s eyes when Merlin invariably stole food from his breakfast plate. He loved their banter and their deep conversations. He loved taking care of Arthur every day. Now, his days seemed empty without his King.

With a sigh, Merlin entered the castle. He knew he really shouldn’t wander through these halls given the situation. But he wasn’t ready to return to Gaius’s chambers yet. He wanted some more time to get lost in his thoughts. And so, instead of taking the most direct path towards the physician’s quarters, Merlin took a detour that led him up and down several flights of stairs and through winding servants’ corridors. He was so deep in his own mind that he didn’t notice the two servants who had started to follow him.

Chapter Text

Ellie was determined to reveal the monster that hid underneath Merlin’s lovable façade. It was only a disguise, meant to lure unsuspecting people only to stab them in the back once he had acquired their trust. Ellie knew that there was nothing but darkness in a sorcerer’s heart, and Merlin was no different. He was holding on to his mask for now, but she just needed to push a bit harder for it to shatter and uncover the ugliness it concealed. Now, she understood better why she had never liked Merlin. Surely, from the moment she had first met him, she had felt his true nature. A few other servants, like Danny and Timothy aided her in her endeavour. They were just as determined to reveal the monster that lurked below Merlin’s human traits. She knew some knights and nobles hated Merlin too, but she didn’t associate with them. Merlin had been a servant, and so, it was up to other servants to get revenge for Merlin’s actions.

She smirked when she saw Merlin strolling down a corridor, alone. He was really too self-confident. Danny was with her. He was tall and strong, more than capable of giving a lesson to the filthy sorcerer who had infiltrated their home. They followed Merlin at a good distance, making sure to go unnoticed. The idiot was carrying a basket filled with herbs and flowers. He was probably going back to the physician’s chambers. He wasn’t clever enough to stay on the most crowded corridors, though, instead opting to follow a different route that took him through almost empty hallways.

And then, Ellie found the perfect opportunity to attack. They had followed Merlin when he entered one of the many hidden corridors only servants used. And right before he went through another door, Ellie gave the signal and Danny pounced on the unsuspecting beast they had been hunting. He pinned him against the hard, uneven stones of the corridor. Merlin yelped and dropped his basket, its content spilling on the floor.

“Did you gather ingredients for your magic poisons, sorcerer?” Ellie asked as she got closer.

Merlin didn’t look scared. He didn’t look angry either. Strangely, he seemed only sad and resigned. “Just let me go, please. Gaius needs the herbs for his medicines.”

Ellie snorted. “As if I’d ever believe a monster like you. You’re trying to poison us all, aren’t you? Being the physician’s apprentice is the perfect cover for your nefarious plans. You’ve been allowed to plot for long enough, though.”

With a nod from Ellie, Danny delivered the first punch. He hit Merlin in the stomach with all his strength, causing the lanky boy to fold in half. That was a mistake, though, because it gave Danny the opportunity to knee him in the face. There was a sickening crunch when the hit broke the sorcerer’s nose. Blood was flowing, staining the floor in a red puddle.

“Why don’t you just leave, or better, die. No one wants you here, you filthy abomination!”

Danny grabbed Merlin by his throat, pinning him on the wall, and delivered a quick succession of punches on Merlin’s face and stomach. And then, he turned to Ellie. “Wanna try to hit him too?” he asked, as if he was inviting her to play a card game.

A vicious smile etched on her lips, Ellie took a few steps forward and with all her strength, she punched Merlin right in the plexus. The breathy whine that left his bloodied lips was pitiful, prompting Ellie to land another punch on Merlin’s jaw. Without Danny’s hand around his throat, Merlin would surely have fallen on the floor by now. He weakly clawed at Danny’s arm, desperately trying to take small gulps or air.

Just a bit more and surely, Merlin would fight back. He would prove what a monster he was. Danny was growing tired of holding Merlin up and threw him on the ground. He landed with a loud thud and a pained groan. Pathetically, he tried to get back on his feet. He only managed to get on all fours before Ellie’s foot pressed on his shoulder. Merlin screamed before dropping back on the floor. He tried to curl in a ball, his arms wrapped around his head.

“Stop, please. I haven’t poisoned anyone, I only help Gaius prepare his remedies, I swear,” Merlin begged.

“All that gets out of a sorcerer’s mouth are lies. You’ve betrayed us all, you son of a whore, but it’s over now. We’ll make you pay.”

Danny kicked Merlin in the back, again and again. The beast was crying now, begging for mercy. But Ellie wasn’t done with him yet. He would reveal his true nature. She kicked his ribs, revelling in the pained moan she extracted from the sorcerer. A harsh kick from Danny got a loud scream out of Merlin.

Too loud.

Someone was coming. She didn’t want to take the risk of it being one of the knights who still supported the traitor. With one last kick, Ellie grabbed Danny’s arm and together they ran until they were out of sight.

The retreating footsteps of the servants left Merlin alone and in pain. He struggled to cling to consciousness, even while his head felt fuzzy and dark spots danced before his eyes. Breathing was hard, probably because of his injured ribs. When he tried to move, a scream tore its way out of his throat. Everything hurt. Merlin could have defended himself with his magic. It had thrummed angrily right under his skin, begging to be let out. Merlin ignored it. He felt like he was one wrong word away from the pyre already. If words got out that he fought with his magic, even in self-defence, he was sure Arthur wouldn’t hesitate to execute him. And even if he didn’t, the people would never forgive him for hurting one of their own. Even those who still refrained from assaulting Merlin wouldn’t have any sympathy for him. He hated being so defenceless. When another attempt to get up only caused pain to flare throughout his body, Merlin gave up. Perhaps someone would find him, and then he would either be rescued or beaten to death. Merlin couldn’t find the strength to care anymore.

The blessed haze of darkness that had enveloped him faded when he heard hurried footsteps approaching him. Suddenly, Merlin realised that he very much didn’t want to die in a forgotten corridor. He desperately tried to scramble away, clawing at the rough stone floor. His whole body was pounding and throbbing and stinging. He choked sob escaped from his split lips, and Merlin’s strength deserted him. He curled into a tight ball, hoping that whoever it was that was coming would take pity on him and just leave him there without adding more pain to his already aching body.

Time was an abstract concept and space felt unreal. Merlin had no idea how much time had passed between the moment he heard the footsteps in the distance and the moment they started running towards him. He had no idea how much distance separated him from the stranger who hurried in his direction. All he knew was that through his pain and weariness, he recognised the voice that called his name.

“Merlin, gods, what happened?” Arthur asked, his voice sounding like it came from far away. But he had to be close, because his hand was resting on Merlin’s arm. “Are you awake? Merlin, Merlin, stay with me. I’m going to take you to Gaius, alright?”

Why did Arthur sound so panicked and desperate? The King surely had better things to do than accompanying a former servant to the physician, didn’t he? Then, Merlin remembered that he needed to go to Gaius anyway. He had to deliver the herbs he had gathered. Why was he on the floor when he needed to bring ingredients to Gaius? And then, Arthur gently scooped him up, almost cradling him to his chest. Despite Arthur’s careful movements, Merlin’s body was jostled when he moved and pain made itself known once again. Ah, yes. That was why he wasn’t on his way to Gaius.

“The herbs,” Merlin breathed weakly. “Gaius, he needs the herbs.”

“It’s alright, I’ll ask Guinevere to bring them, don’t worry,” Arthur reassured him.

Arthur’s shirt was soft, and his skin was warm where Merlin’s forehead rested against his neck. Arthur smelled like leather and lavender. Like safety. Arthur’s arms were strong and sure where they were wrapped around Merlin’s battered body. His King had come to save him. Merlin snuggled up to him, seeking reassurance from this man he loved with his whole heart. Arthur was being so gentle, none of his usual roughness remaining as he carried Merlin like he was something fragile and precious. Merlin’s eyes closed, as he heard Arthur quietly whispering to him that all would be alright.

The stairs leading up to Gaius’s chambers had never felt so endless to Arthur. It seemed to him that it was taking forever to reach the physician’s quarters. Not for the first time, he wondered who thought it was such a brilliant idea to place the physician’s rooms in such an inaccessible place. And that was without considering Gaius’s growing age. Those steep stairs must be hard on the old man’s knees. That was probably why he sent Merlin to do his deliveries and gather herbs for him. Arthur had tried not to think of the young man in his arms, but now that his thoughts had taken this direction, he couldn’t steer them away. Merlin was far too light. Arthur had carried many injured knights over the years, he intimately knew the weight of a man in his arms or over his shoulder. Merlin’s weight was closer to that of a teen than an adult. Arthur was certain that Guinevere would weigh heavier if he had to carry her like this. With his eyes closed, Merlin looked incredibly young and innocent. He exuded a kind of vulnerability that was absent when he was awake. Since the day they met, Arthur had been impressed by Merlin’s courage and his determination. But under his smiles and his sarcasm, he was just a young man.

Arthur was still angry and hurt. He felt betrayed that Merlin had lied to him on something as personal, as intimate as the circumstances of his birth. Arthur had had a right to know the truth. And he was sure Merlin had only lied to protect Arthur from himself, to keep him from doing something he’d come to regret later, but it didn’t change that the breach of trust from Merlin hurt like a dagger piercing his heart. His feelings could wait, though. Right now, Merlin needed a friend. He needed allies, people to protect him and take care of him. The talking and shouting that would surely take place between them could wait until Merlin had healed.

Arthur opened the door to Gaius’s chambers without knocking. Even if he had wanted to announce himself before entering, he probably wouldn’t have managed without aggravating Merlin’s injuries. And Arthur didn’t have the patience for manners at the moment. His heart had lodged itself in his throat and had been pounding erratically ever since he found Merlin, bruised and covered in blood, on the floor.

“Gaius, Merlin needs help!” Arthur alerted as he entered the room.

Immediately, the old physician rushed to Arthur’s side, directing him to put Merlin on the patient bed. Arthur briefly saw worry and sorrow overtake Gaius’s features before he went back to his professional attitude. Arthur admired Gaius’s ability to push his feelings aside for his patients’ sake. He always showed empathy towards his patients but managed to keep a cool head and a sort of professional detachment.

“Give me bandages. Third shelf on the right. And put some water to heat over the fire, too,” Gaius directed, disregarding Arthur’s status and treating him like an assistant. Arthur was grateful to have something to do instead of just watching Gaius work. He promptly did as he was told. “Can you tell me what happened?” Gaius asked when Arthur brought him the bandages.

“No, I found him like this on the floor, in one of the service corridors. His attackers had already left when I arrived.” Arthur felt a surge of anger at this. Someone, or more likely, several people, had assaulted Merlin and then fled, leaving him to bleed on the floor. Had Arthur not heard him scream, he probably wouldn’t have found Merlin.

“Was he unconscious when you found him?” Gaius asked, with clear worry for his nephew’s health in his voice.

“No, he was awake, he fell unconscious shortly after I picked him up. Is it bad?”

“He probably has a concussion. And I need to check for internal bleeding.” Gaius seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before nodding to himself.

“While you’re here, sire, would you mind helping me get him out of him shirt?”

Arthur quickly set to work, following Gaius’s instructions. His mind was in battle mode, focused only on the present and what needed to be done. He was grateful for his training and his experience on the battlefield, as it kept him from panicking. On Merlin’s now naked chest and abdomen, Arthur discovered a myriad of bruises and cuts. Some looked recent while other had already started to fade. Arthur had known Merlin was regularly targeted by people who hated him for his magic, but he hadn’t imagined quite how bad the situation really was.

But what really struck him was the number of scars, old and new, that were etched on Merlin’s skin. The first he noticed was a large, circular one on Merlin’s chest. It looked like a burn mark. Before he realised what he was doing, his fingers were carefully touching the damaged skin there. Arthur frowned. How had Merlin acquired such an injury? And if he had sustained it after his arrival in Camelot, how had he managed to keep it hidden. Such injuries were painful and took time to heal. Had Arthur really been so uncaring towards the boy that he hadn’t noticed the excruciating pain he was in? Arthur knew he used to be thoughtless and inconsiderate back then, but surely, he couldn’t have ignored something like this, could he? And if he did, how could Merlin have forgiven him and offered him his friendship?

As if he was able to read Arthur’s thoughts, Gaius answered his unasked questions. “Merlin was injured by Nimueh, when you were bitten by the Questing Beast. He went to the Ilse of the Blessed and confronted her. During the fight, Nimueh struck him with a fireball, before he killed her.”

Arthur felt his knees buckle under him, only staying upright by leaning against the bed. Merlin had fought a High Priestess. He had faced such a might opponent, had put himself in great danger, all for Arthur’s sake. Merlin had still been so young back then. He had still been a boy. Surely, he had had no way of knowing that he would win that fight. And yet, he had still taken the risk. All for an entitled prince who treated him like dirt most of the time, despite their budding friendship.

And now, Arthur was repaying him by allowing people to abuse him.

Arthur was in a daze as he watched Gaius tend to Merlin’s injuries. His wrinkled hands were sure and steady, working with practiced efficiency. When he was done, he almost pushed Arthur down on a chair by the bed.

“Don’t be too hard on him please, sire. Merlin has done many things he came to regret, but his sole purpose has always been to protect you,” Gaius said in that fatherly tone Arthur had always found so comforting.

Arthur heard the words, but he was too far in his own mind to respond. Gaius had known him for long enough to understand, though, and he left with a pat on Arthur’s shoulder. Without conscious thought, Arthur grabbed Merlin’s slender hand in his own, cradling it as if it was the most precious jewel in the world, and brought it to his lips, pressing a feather-light kiss on the bruised knuckles.

Chapter Text

Arthur spent long hours sitting by Merlin’s bed. He had been so furious at Merlin for lying to him, but now that he had time to calm down, Arthur found that his anger had evaporated. He desperately hoped that the young man wouldn’t suffer any long-term consequences from this assault. They’d still need to talk, but Gaius’s words echoed in Arthur’s mind, and Arthur found that he couldn’t stay angry at Merlin.

He still needed to think about what to do about magic, and how to protect his friend. He couldn’t take Merlin’s defence publicly if he didn’t abolish the ban on magic, and to do that, he still needed more answers. However, he was done pretending to be a neutral judge in this case. Merlin was his friend; that had to count for something. For years, Merlin had been a steadfast presence, constantly by his side. Even in situations where knights were terrified, Merlin refused to leave Arthur. His magic could only partially explain why he hadn’t run away from the danger. Staying by his friend’s side now was the least Arthur could do. If he could, he’d spend even more time there. Sadly, he couldn’t neglect his kingly duties. He was comforted by the knowledge that Merlin was rarely alone. Whenever he and Gaius were absent, Gwaine, Percival or Guinevere were there. Leon visited a few times too. Once, the King found his First Knight reading out loud from one of his favourite books to a sleeping Merlin. He had retreated before Leon noticed his presence, knowing the man would stop if he saw Arthur. Arthur remembered a time when he was maybe eleven or twelve years old; he had fallen badly ill and Leon had read to him from this same book.

The day after Arthur found Merlin on the ground, he was climbing the stairs up to Gaius’s chambers to see how Merlin was doing and hopefully, to ask a few more questions about magic to the physician. He stopped when he heard familiar voices arguing in hushed tones. Arthur didn’t think he had ever heard Guinevere sound so angry before. Frustrated and disappointed, yes, but never furious like she was now.

“He used to be your friend too, no? Doesn’t that count for anything to you? How can you be so quick to abandon him?” Gwen said, visibly struggling to keep her voice down.

“He lied to everyone for years, how can you be so sure that the Merlin we knew wasn’t just a fabrication?”

Gwen said something Arthur couldn’t understand, but she didn’t sound pleased with her brother’s statement. Honestly, Arthur could understand Elyan’s reasoning, even though he didn’t share his opinion. Despite his lies and secrecy, Merlin had a good heart. No one could keep such a consistent façade of selflessness for years. Arthur was convinced that Merlin was a genuinely kind and gentle soul.

“It’s not just that Gwen. You see what they’re doing to him. I don’t want the same happening to you because you’re on his side. And you know they’ll cast you out, they’ll hurt you, too. Sometimes, it’s better to just stay away.”

“I thought you had changed, but you’re still the same, aren’t you? When things get tough you just run away without a single thought about how that might affect others. Do whatever you want, but don’t you dare tell me to abandon my friend ever again.” The disappointment in Guinevere’s voice was like a physical blow. Arthur felt his heart clench even though her words hadn’t been directed at him.

Slowly, he retreated down the stairs. He had already heard too much of what was obviously supposed to be a private conversation. Instead, he went back to his chambers, trying to find a way to protect Merlin without getting too personally involved.

In the end, it was Gwaine who offered Arthur the perfect solution. The knight had burst into Arthur’s chambers unannounced, striding towards the King as if he was heading into battle. Arthur almost took a step back. It took conscious efforts on his part to stand firm in the face of Gwaine’s fierceness. Arthur should have known Gwaine would pay him a visit sooner or later. The man was a loyal knight, and Arthur had no doubt that he could count on him. He had sworn an oath to Arthur, and the King knew he had meant every word. Gwaine’s loyalty was hard to earn, and Arthur strove to do his best to prove himself worthy of this trust. But Gwaine was also extremely protective of Merlin. If he had to choose between serving Arthur and protecting Merlin, Arthur knew Gwaine would choose the latter. In the back of his head, he heard his father’s voice yelling that this was unacceptable; a knight’s loyalty should belong exclusively to his King. But Arthur found it reassuring to know that Merlin had friends he could count on. Merlin deserved this.

And maybe Arthur deserved the punch Gwaine gave him. He had been expecting it, but the strength Gwaine put behind his punch still surprised him. He reeled backward, having to take two steps back to avoid losing balance. With his back now pressed to the sturdy oak table, Arthur couldn’t escape. Gwaine’s fist closed around the collar of his shirt. His face was so close that Arthur felt Gwaine’s harsh breaths on his cheeks. His cheekbone throbbed where he had been punched. At least Gwaine hadn’t punched his nose.

“What are you waiting for? Do you want someone to kill Merlin for you so that you don’t need to take a decision?” Gwaine growled, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest. It was terrifying.

“Gwaine-”

“No, shut up, Arthur!” Gwaine interrupted. He took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes. His hand released Arthur’s shirt, and the King took a gasping breath. He hadn’t realised he had stopped breathing. When Gwaine continued, his voice was calmer but still laced with anger and disappointment. “I swore fealty to you, and I never regretted it before. Over the years, you have shown me on many occasions that you were a good King and a good man. I’m starting to question my place at your side, now. Merlin is my best friend, and I can’t stand to see him suffer like this. I try to protect him, Arthur, but I can’t always be there. I live in constant fear that one day I’ll walk down a corridor only to find his corpse on the floor.” Gwaine was trembling now, struggling to keep his tears at bay.

“I worry for him too, Gwaine. But I can’t grant him special protection. At least not officially. That would be seen as favouritism, I would lose all credibility. Many nobles already question my ability to rule, because I chose to depart from my father’s ways. If they think I’m considering repealing the ban on magic only to protect Merlin, they won’t accept it.”

This seemed to grab Gwaine’s attention. The man’s intense stare was fixed on Arthur. “You’re considering repealing the ban, then?”

Pinned under the weight of Gwaine’s deep brown eyes, Arthur felt like he could barely breathe. His mind felt like a battlefield at the end of a war. “I haven’t reached a decision yet, and I know Merlin has more to tell me, but I know he’s used magic to protect me and defend Camelot on several occasions, and that weighs heavily in the balance. I need to learn more, though, and my father’s purge hasn’t spared many books on the magical arts. Merlin and Gaius are my only reliable sources of knowledge. I need more time to decide, Gwaine. This goes against everything I’ve ever been taught, it isn’t easy. And I can’t grant Merlin special treatment.”

Gwaine nodded. The knight had a short temper and often hid behind a carefree façade, but Arthur knew he was smart. Gwaine’s mind worked fast and efficiently. He was a good strategist, although his plans were often very reckless. Contrary to Leon, Gwaine didn’t care about sophisticated military strategy. He didn’t care about playing on the safe side. Arthur often relied on both of them to help him elaborate battle plans, because when put together, they allowed Arthur to find just the right compromise between classical, orthodox military theory and innovative, daring strategies. Now, Arthur really needed Gwaine to give him one of his brilliant ideas.

“You’re an idiot, Arthur,” Gwaine said with a shake of his head. His tone was warm and fond, though, and Arthur knew Gwaine was talking to him as a friend, once again on the same side of the battlefield. “You have an inner circle of knights who are completely devoted to you and to Merlin. Men who wouldn’t breathe a word of it if you asked them to keep an eye on Merlin,” Gwaine suggested.

Arthur frowned, confused. “But you’re already doing that, aren’t you?”

“We are, but there are too many moments where we’re all occupied by other duties. And it doesn’t help that Elyan stubbornly refuses to get involved, for whatever stupid reason,” Arthur clearly heard the frustration Gwaine felt towards his fellow knight. He wondered if the two had fought about this. Knowing Gwaine, it wouldn’t surprise him. “If we want to keep Merlin safe at all times, we need you to be involved in the plan too. We need a schedule that always allows at least one of us to be free to protect Merlin,” Gwaine explained.

What Gwaine said was true. There were too many times when his knights were all occupied. There was training in the morning, that they were all required to take part in, and then various duties Arthur assigned to them. And Round Table meetings at the end of the regular Council meetings. Arthur needed to come up with a new schedule for the knights. A schedule in which protecting Merlin was just another duty to the list of things each knight had to accomplish each day.

“Gather the knights. We’re having a Round Table meeting in my chambers in an hour.”

Gwaine’s roguish smile when he nodded took some of the tension off Arthur’s shoulders. For the first time since he had found out about Merlin’s magic, he felt like he was doing the right thing.

The pale morning light bathed the room in a grey light as Merlin opened his eyes. His whole body felt sore and his throat was as dry as the earth in the midst of a draught. Each breath made his ribs ache, to the point that Merlin wished he didn’t need air to stay alive. Merlin vaguely wondered how he had arrived in his small room. The last thing he remembered was being kicked by Ellie and Danny in a secluded hallway. After that, his memory became blurry. There were flashes here and there. Arthur’s hand on his shoulder, his strong, gentle arms carrying Merlin. Gaius’s voice that seemed to come from away. Pain. Always pain. Leon’s voice, his words lost to Merlin’s mind. He wondered how long he had been asleep.

He tried to sit up in his bed, although his attempt was quickly aborted when the movement tore a whine from his lips. He fell back on his thin mattress, swallowing a groan. And then, the door opened, revealing Gaius’s concerned face.

“You’re awake!” The old man said, a relieved smile replacing his worried frown. “How are you feeling?”

“How long have I been asleep?” Merlin asked instead of answering his mentor’s question.

“Three days.”

“Three days?” Merlin exclaimed, springing up from his bed only to fold in half with a choked scream at the pain that flared up through his entire body.

Gaius looked properly exasperated now. With surprisingly strong hands, he guided Merlin to lie back on his bed. “Yes, three days, and you haven’t recovered enough to get out of bed yet.”

“But-” Merlin didn’t have time to voice his opposition before Gaius interrupted him with a single raised eyebrow.

“Now wait here while I find a tonic for your pain. If you try to get up again, I’ll have to administer a sleeping draught as well.”

Merlin was foolish and reckless, but he knew when to concede defeat. He resigned himself to a few more days of boredom and inaction. He hated lying around in bed, feeling so useless and weak. He knew Gaius was right, though. He couldn’t even get up without his body protesting. Merlin felt a bit like a petulant child as he let out an exaggerated sigh, but it felt good to voice his discontent in a harmless manner. Gaius’s impressive eyebrow answered him, and Merlin felt more like himself already. Still, he was sure recovery would be long and boring.

Chapter Text

As soon as he heard that Merlin was awake, Arthur ran to the physician’s chambers. He took a few seconds to catch his breath before knocking. He tried to appear calm and dignified, but it was taking all his self-control to stop fidgeting as he waited for Gaius to open the door. The old physician didn’t seem surprised to see Arthur there. The main room of the physician’s quarters seemed even more cluttered than usual. Precariously balanced stacks of books and parchment pages littered every flat surfaces. Empty vials and dried herbs lay forgotten on the table and workbench. Dirty dishes begged to be cleaned. Gaius looked exhausted. He didn’t say a word as he pushed Arthur towards Merlin’s room.

With tentative steps, Arthur reached Merlin’s door. For a second, he considered entering the room unannounced, but quickly thought better. Arthur may have been the King, but Merlin was entitled to some degree of privacy, especially while he was recovering from his injuries. Arthur made sure to knock softly enough on the rickety door, not wanting to scare his friend. From the other side of the door, Merlin granted him entry. His voice was raspy and weak.

Merlin was sitting on his bed, reading an old, heavy book. His face was paler than the wall, making the bruises on his face look even darker in contrast. Now that he wasn’t wearing a neckerchief, Arthur noticed finger-shaped bruises on his neck. Merlin’s wrist was bandaged, and he had a brace around his left ankle. The tentative smile he gave when he saw Arthur made the King’s heart clench painfully in his chest. Arthur closed the door behind him and took a few steps into the room, looking for a place to sit.

Merlin shifted a bit on his bed, making space for Arthur to sit on the mattress. It was undignified for a King to sit on a servant’s bed, but Arthur couldn’t care less. Merlin was trusting him to be this close to him when he was in a vulnerable state, and this meant more to him than all the gold in the vaults.

“You look terrible,” Arthur said as he sat down on the edge of the mattress.

Merlin snorted. “And you sure know how to give compliments,” he said. His smile became more genuine, and his shoulders relaxed a bit, so Arthur counted that as a win.

Arthur couldn’t take his eyes off Merlin’s bruised face, though, and guilt soon overwhelmed him. “I’m sorry I’ve let this happen to you.”

The way Merlin’s eyes widened and his mouth opened in shock and disbelief would have been amusing under other circumstances.

“It’s not your fault, Arthur!” Merlin said, gripping Arthur’s hand. “I know you couldn’t intervene, and I don’t resent you. You have nothing to apologise for.”

If only that were true. Arthur wished he could believe Merlin’s words and absolve himself of his guilt. But he couldn’t. He had let his best friend down. His best friend, who had always stood by his side, showing nothing but unwavering trust and faith in Arthur. And in his time of need, Arthur had abandoned Merlin.

“You’re my best friend, Merlin. I shouldn’t have left you to fend for yourself. You’ve always protected me, even when it put you at risk, and I haven’t done the same for you. I should have been a better friend.”

Merlin’s cold hand was getting slightly warmer as Arthur kept holding it. Merlin’s hands seemed to be perpetually cold. At first it had bothered Arthur. He used to dislike the feel of Merlin’s freezing fingertips on his skin as he helped Arthur into his clothes in the morning. Merlin, who was much more observant and conscientious than Arthur gave him credit for, had quickly noticed this, and he had made a point of rubbing his hands together to get them warmer before he touched Arthur. It didn’t help much, Merlin’s hands were still significantly colder than Arthur’s skin, but Arthur had appreciated the effort. He had grown used to it over the years. As months passed, Merlin’s touch had become familiar, even comforting. Now, Arthur could admit to himself that he loved feeling Merlin’s cold fingers on his skin.

In the few days that Merlin hadn’t served him, Arthur found that he missed him. They had established so many little, mundane rituals together. So many things they did automatically each day. They soothed Arthur, brought him a sense of stability and normalcy, even in troubled times. He missed Merlin’s cheery voice as he woke Arthur up. He missed the almost choreographed way they danced together as Merlin helped Arthur get ready for the day. He missed pretending he was annoyed at Merlin for stealing food from his plate. He missed Merlin’s mindless chatter that wasn’t half as mindless as Arthur had first thought. He missed their banter, their friendly teasing, and their moments of sincerity.

Without thinking, Arthur brought Merlin’s hand to his lips, as he had done a few days ago. Merlin wasn’t unconscious now, though, and a quiet gasp fell from his mouth. This tore Arthur out of his trance, and he dropped Merlin’s hand as if he had been burnt. Merlin’s cheeks were red, and Arthur had the fleeting thought that it fit him quite well.

“Sorry, I should let you rest,” Arthur said. He needed to leave before he did or said another stupid thing.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed. He tried to take hold of Arthur’s hand or wrist, but he missed, and his hand fell limply on his lap.

Arthur wanted nothing more than to hold Merlin in his arms, to kiss his forehead, to smother him with affection. But Merlin was still recovering, and this whole situation was a big enough mess as it was. Now was definitely not the time to act on his confusing feelings for Merlin.

“I’ll see you soon,” Arthur said, hoping to wipe the frown out of Merlin’s face. Instead, Merlin’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and he gave Arthur a weak nod.

With that, Arthur all but fled the room, his own cheeks were probably redder than his cape, and his heart was torn between the elation he always felt when he was close to Merlin and the regret he felt at Merlin’s disappointed expression. The time would come where they could talk about those feelings, but now they had other problems to deal with first.

Recovery wasn’t as boring as Merlin had originally thought. He was rarely left alone. His friends visited him as soon as they had some time. Gwaine was there any time he wasn’t on duty, and Percival accompanied him whenever he could. Sometimes, he would come without Gwaine and he’d talk to Merlin about his years spent with the druids. Given the climate of hatred towards all things related to magic in Camelot, he couldn’t often talk about this period of his life. The only reason he even revealed it was because Arthur asked how he knew so many things about druid customs. As he talked, Percival had a wistful smile on his face. Merlin had taken to lean against his broad chest. With Percival’s huge arms around his shoulders, he felt safe and protected.

“I loved eating with everyone in the camp around the fire at night. Those were my favourite moments of the day. It felt like I had a huge family. I hate having to eat alone most of the time, here. And during feasts, it’s not the same. There are so many rules about how you should behave, who you can and can’t talk to, and how you’re supposed to address people. I much prefer when we go on hunts or quests with Arthur and we all eat together around the fire,” Percival recounted.

He was such a gentle soul, and despite his reserved, quiet attitude, he enjoyed being in others’ company. To think that such a kind man had lost his family in horrible circumstances broke his heart. At least, he had been taken in by the druids. It couldn’t replace what he had lost, but Merlin knew the druids had taken good care of this gentle giant. Merlin made a note to ask Arthur to make Percival’s and Gwaine’s schedules coincide more, at least to give them the evenings together. Everyone else had a family, but Gwaine and Percival were each other’s family. Of course, Merlin knew Gaius wouldn’t mind it if they came to eat in the physician’s quarters instead of staying alone in their room. But Merlin knew his friends well enough to know they wouldn’t take him up on his offer.

“My mum and I always used to eat together. The other villagers didn’t want to be around us. They said we brought bad luck because I’m a bastard. The only ones who sometimes spent meals with us were Will and his mother.” Thinking of Will always made Merlin’s heart ache, but at the same time, he didn’t want to forget all the good memories he had of his childhood friend.

Percival’s arm tightened around Merlin’s shoulder, and Merlin snuggled closer to him, sharing silent comfort for a moment. And then, Gwaine entered the room and cooed as he saw them.

“You started cuddling without me!” Gwaine then said, feigning outrage.

It tore a laugh out of Merlin and Percival, and just like that, the wistful atmosphere that had settled around them vanished. Gwaine had that effect on people, even though he had his own scars, he always brought light in people’s lives. How anyone could reject his company was something Merlin would never understand. Merlin moved to untangle himself from Percival and let the two men cuddle together. The two knights shared a look, and Percival’s arm brought Merlin closer to him. He shifted until he was sitting right on the edge of the mattress. Like this, Gwaine had enough space to sit on Merlin’s other side. It was a tight fit. Merlin’s bed was small, meant for only one person. But they made it work. Soon, Merlin had Gwaine’s and Percival’s arms around him, holding him tight. Gwaine leaned in to kiss Percival’s cheek, and with his free hand, he ruffled Merlin’s hair.

Between the two knights, Merlin felt safer than ever, as if nothing bad could ever happen to him if they were there. It was stupid. Merlin wasn’t some helpless, fragile, little thing after all. He was a powerful warlock, able to make this big, sturdy castle crumble with little more than a wave of his wrist if he wanted to. He’d never use his magic in such a destructive way, of course. Not if he had a choice. But he certainly could defend himself. Except that he hadn’t. He couldn’t. Not here, in Camelot. Not now that not only him, but magic as a whole was on trial. He needed to be harmless. Needed to show Arthur that magic users weren’t evil. He couldn’t hurt anyone, even to protect himself.

“Hey magic man, what’s going on in this head of yours?” Gwaine asked, hiding his concern behind his carefully crafted façade of carefreeness.

Gods, Merlin was lucky to have friends like them. “Nothing, just stupid thoughts,” Merlin said, faking a smile.

He should have known better than to think Gwaine would be fooled. Even Percival could see right through him. “Come on, talk to us,” Gwaine prompted, shedding his mask to reveal the seriousness that lay below. It was rare for Gwaine to show this part of him. He much preferred hiding under the persona of a shallow, easy-going drunk.

“Do you think- Does Arthur believe I’m evil?” It was only one of the many questions that plagued Merlin’s mind, but it was the easiest to voice, somehow.

Gwaine’s sharp gaze landed on Merlin, his brown eyes staring into Merlin’s soul. “Of course not!” Then his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched, looking properly murderous. “Did he say something?”

Merlin frantically shook his head. The last thing he wanted was for Gwaine and Arthur to fight over a misunderstanding. “No!” he exclaimed. “But he has always been taught that sorcerers were evil. And I’ve done things, Gwaine, terrible things,” he trailed off, staring ahead with unfocused eyes.

Before Merlin knew it, Percival wrapped him in a tight, protective hug, as if shielding him from the world with his arms. Gwaine joined the hug, tucking Merlin’s head under his chin. Merlin tried to fight the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes, but he failed to hold back his sobs. He was trembling and weeping in his friends’ embrace. He felt pathetic.

“Arthur wants to protect you. He gathered the knights, and we all put together a plan to keep you safe from now on. The princess might be an obnoxious fool, but he cares about you, Merls.”

Merlin only cried harder at those words. All the anguish he had felt for the past week poured out of him in the form of fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Arthur didn’t hate him. Arthur still cared. It felt so stupid to be so surprised by this. Arthur had apologised for letting harm come to Merlin. He had kissed Merlin’s hand. But still, Merlin couldn’t shake the bone-deep fear that anyone who learned about his magic would despise him. Gwaine and Percival just held him, mending the holes in Merlin’s soul with quiet words and strong, gentle hands.

Chapter Text

Elyan waited until he was sure Merlin was alone. That was a rarer occurrence than one might think. Whenever Gaius left to perform his physician’s duties, Arthur, Gwen or one of the knights came to keep him company. Now was his chance. It was almost dusk, and Gaius hadn’t come back yet, too busy taking care of a complicated birth. Gwen had just left, forcing Elyan to hide in the long shadows that now stretched along the corridors. He felt like a thief, like an intruder. But he needed to talk to Merlin without the judgemental stares of the others on him.

Learning about Merlin’s magic had been a shock, and while he felt guilty for not defending Merlin as the others had, he had learned long ago that sometimes, you had to protect yourself first. Still, Gwen was right; Merlin was his friend. The young man had accompanied them on hunts and on quests. He always made sure they had food to eat and a fire to keep them warm. And in the light of the new information, he had learned about Merlin, he was quite sure the sorcerer had protected them many times. All those fallen branches, all those bandits who suddenly tripped over their own feet or dropped their swords; they hadn’t been lucky coincidences. Merlin had protected them, and now it was time for Elyan to try to repay his debt.

Still, this was nerve-wracking. Elyan had travelled enough to know that magic didn’t make someone evil, but by associating himself with Merlin, he put himself and Gwen at risk. Gwen had already made her choice, though, and if she valued her friendship with Merlin more than her own safety, then Elyan could be brave too, and make the right choice as well. There was also the fact that Merlin’s lies hurt. Elyan wasn’t sure why, but his trust in Merlin had been eroded. He understood why Merlin had kept his magic secret. Even that reckless fool wasn’t stupid enough to reveal it when it would get himself killed. But Elyan had felt like there had been no secret among them, like their tight-knit group was free of lies and secrecy. He had been naïve. Of course, they kept a few secrets from each other. They were brothers, but even between family, not everything was said.

When he entered the physician’s chambers, Elyan found Merlin curled in a chair by the fire, reading a heavy book that rested on his thighs. Fading bruises adorned his pale face in a sickening mosaic. He was sure there were more hidden under Merlin’s clothes. Merlin’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly when he saw Elyan, and the knight felt shame and remorse twisting his guts. Merlin had suffered so much in the last week and a half, and Elyan had selfishly stayed away from him.

“Elyan,” Merlin greeted him with forced cheerfulness. Elyan knew it wasn’t hostility but wariness he read in Merlin’s eyes. And why would he react differently? After all, he had no way of knowing what Elyan’s stance was in this situation. The last time they talked, Elyan had kept his hand on the pommel of his sword, a clear indication that he was prepared to fight Merlin if he proved to be a threat. “Did you need something? I’m afraid I can’t be of much help at the moment, except if all you need is a tonic or balm Gaius already prepared. Otherwise, you’re welcome to stay until he comes back.”

Elyan’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He had offered no support to one of the most gentle and caring men he knew, and despite this, said man still treated him with kindness. He smiled sadly, deciding to take a seat on a chair near the one Merlin sat on. “I wanted to apologise. I’ve been a coward and a bad friend. I’ve let you down when you needed support, all just to protect myself. I understand if you can’t forgive me, or don’t consider me a friend anymore. But I needed you to know that from now on, I’ll try to be a better friend and a better man.”

The apology felt stiff and too formal, even to Elyan’s ears, but he didn’t know how else to handle this. He had never been very good with apologies. Gwen was right; when things got tough, his reaction usually was to leave. To run away. To abandon those he loved. He was a knight now, though, and that meant being brave in the face of adversity. He had no problem fighting bandits and monsters and enemy armies. But somehow, he still fled when it came to personal relationships.

Merlin closed the book he had been reading and with a grunt, he bent down to put in on the floor. His face was tight with pain, but he didn’t complain, didn’t ask for help. It may sound mundane, and it probably was, but to Elyan, it just went to show how courageous Merlin was. Merlin wasn’t a knight. He wasn’t a soldier. He was a servant, a peasant who grew up on a farm. By all accounts, he shouldn’t have to endure pain, and he shouldn’t need to endure it with a straight face. Elyan had seen weathered fighters with less dignity than this man. A man who should be weak, or at least didn’t need to be strong. And yet, he was. Stronger than most men Elyan knew.

“It’s alright, I understand. You only wanted to protect yourself and Gwen, and it’s not like you did anything to hurt me. I’m a warlock, my very existence goes against the law. You’re a knight, you’re under no obligation to defend a criminal.”

Merlin said that so casually, as if it were normal for a friend to simply abandon him in his time of need because of who he was. If their roles were reversed, Elyan knew he would be filled with bitter resentment if a friend left him to fend for himself. He’d feel betrayed and hurt. But Merlin just accepted that Elyan had taken the decision to protect himself instead of protecting Merlin. He was also struck by the way Merlin talked about himself. He called himself a criminal, and while under Camelot’s laws that wasn’t exactly false, it was very wrong. Merlin was labelled a criminal and a monster because of the way he was born. And he seemed to simply accept that, as if it wasn’t an absurdity and a grave injustice.

“Perhaps I didn’t directly hit you, but my inaction allowed it to happen. I was selfish. And perhaps your existence is against the law, but it just shows how unfair those laws are. You’re a good man. One of the best men I’ve had the privilege of knowing. You should be allowed to live free of fear and unburdened by prejudice.”

The smile Merlin sent him was heart-breaking. It was a sad, resigned thing, so far from Merlin’s usual grins. It was the smile of someone who had been hated, feared, and cast out most of his life and had learned to accept it. Merlin had always appeared to be a cheerful lad, all bright smiles and witty quips. Elyan started to suspect it was just a façade to hide all the pain he felt.

“You’re here now. And you weren’t wrong. Associating with me is dangerous, I wouldn’t resent someone to take their distance with me in those conditions.”

“You’re like a brother to me, Merlin. I’ve abandoned my family once, I don’t want to make the same mistake again,” Elyan said.

He got up and gave Merlin’s shoulder a light squeeze. Merlin’s hand came up to rest on Elyan’s, a genuine, albeit small, smile stretched his lips. Elyan was overcome with affection for his friend. Merlin was kind and brave, he deserved people to love him.

“Thank you,” Merlin said, barely above a whisper.

With the same kind of grin he had on his face when he messed with Gwen, Elyan ruffled Merlin’s hair, earning a half-hearted glare from the servant.

“Get some rest, I’ll see you around,” Elyan said, a gentler smile now pulling his lips up.

Just as Elyan was walking to the door, Gaius entered the room. The physician looked old and weary. Worry lines dug deep between his brows and around his lips. With a wince, Merlin got up and helped Gaius put all his stuff away.

“What are you doing up? You’re supposed to rest, my boy,” Gaius gently scolded his ward.

“I’m going stiff, sitting and lying around all day. And you’re tired from working,” Merlin replied, sounding a lot like a petulant teen.

Elyan bit back a chuckle. Merlin often whined and complained on trips with Arthur and the knights, it was nice to see that this side of him hadn’t been crushed by the recent events. As discreetly as he could, Elyan left the physician’s quarters, leaving Gaius and Merlin to enjoy their evening together. He was glad he was able to talk with his friend, and even happier that their relationship hadn’t been irrevocably damaged by his cowardice and his stupidity. With a lighter heart, he climbed down the stairs, looking forward to a quiet evening.

Sleep evaded Arthur, as it often did. Each time he closed his eyes, he was assaulted by images, all more horrifying than the last. Nightmares had plagued him ever since he learned about Merlin’s magic. It started with memories of that terrible day he had led his first raid on a druid camp. He still heard their screams. Still saw the tearful faces of children as they saw their parents die, too scared to even think of running away. He saw his father’s men plunging their swords through unarmed people’s bellies, drawing rivers of blood. The ground, soaked in red. Lifeless bodies left to rot in the forest. He remembered the gasps and pleas of children the knights had dropped down the well, left to drown. And Arthur had done nothing, paralysed by the reality of what was going on before his eyes. What his father had sent them to do. Even when he woke up, the images still flashed before his eyes, and his whole body shook with repressed anger and sadness and guilt.

The dreams that visited him changed. Sometimes, it was memories of the dragon attack. The stench of burnt bodies, the despair in his people’s eyes, the fear in his heart. In those dreams, Merlin wasn’t the loyal friend Arthur knew. He stood on the highest tower, power oozing from him, thick and suffocating, his eyes the colour of liquid gold. In those dreams, Merlin spoke words imbued with ancient power, commanding the dragon to destroy Camelot. When he woke up, Arthur needed a long time to remember that Merlin was still his friend, that he was still stupidly loyal and too kind for his own good. After those dreams, Arthur stared at the canopy above his head, counting the quick, frantic beats of his heart until the sun finally rose.

Lately, Arthur’s nightmares had changed again. Almost every night, he saw Merlin’s lifeless body lying on the cold, hard floor of a deserted corridor. A pool of blood surrounded him, the thick, red liquid spilling from deep cuts on Merlin’s pale skin. In those dreams, Merlin’s face was barely recognisable. All the bones of his face were broken, leaving him disfigured. Bruises turned his skin purple and blue. Merlin’s glassy eyes seemed to stare at Arthur, as if accusing him of letting this happen. Condemning Arthur’s inaction, even in death. Those were the worst dreams because Arthur was well aware that they could still turn true. On the first night, Arthur had bent over the bed and retched all over the floor. He had felt terribly guilty when he had asked the guards to fetch a servant to clean the mess. Nobody wanted to be woken up in the middle of the night to clean someone else’s vomit. After that night, Arthur made sure to keep his chamber pot closer to the bed so that he could throw up in it instead of on the floor.

That had been three night ago, and since then, Arthur had tried everything to fight sleep off. He was certain that if he were subjected to any more of these gruesome dreams, he would permanently lose his mind. His eyes stung, dry and probably bloodshot. There was a dull pounding in his head and an acrid taste on his tongue. His stomach felt tight. Arthur was a wretched mess. He wished he could just go up to the physician’s quarters and sit on the edge of Merlin’s bed. Just to watch him sleep. Just to make sure he was alive and recovering from his injuries. Arthur wished he could just spend all his nights watching over Merlin. And all his days too. He knew he couldn’t, though.

It had taken time to come to terms with the idea of Merlin having magic. It had taken longer to realise that despite that, Merlin was still his dear friend. Arthur was still battling with his heart, with his desire to hold Merlin tight, to kiss his angular cheeks and his plump lips. He knew it was the worst moment to have an epiphany about the true nature of his feelings for Merlin. And at the same time, it was fitting. Now, he could start learning who Merlin really was instead of the idiotic, clumsy, cheerful façade the young man constantly wore. He wondered if all of Merlin was just a lie, if he was a completely different person underneath. Arthur was certain that Merlin’s kindness was real. But what about his clumsiness? What about his cheerful attitude? Arthur hoped there was some truth in them.

But before he could start getting to know the real Merlin, Arthur would need to deal with the legal side of things first. Changing the laws wouldn’t magically solve everything, he knew. His father’s propaganda had ingrained fear and hatred of magic deep into people’s hearts. But with magic being legal, at least Arthur could provide some level of protection to Merlin, and to other sorcerers as well.

A darker thought whispered to him that legalising magic would open the door to anyone working with Morgana to attack Camelot. Perhaps it was a risk. But Arthur chased the thought away. Perhaps if magic was legal, fewer sorcerers would feel compelled to join forces with Morgana.

In his heart, an amber of hope remained, almost extinguished but valiantly clinging to life, that maybe, Morgana would come back home. Back to him. Back to who she used to be, if magic became legal. Arthur sighed. Even if she did, it would pose many questions about the crimes she had committed against Camelot. She had caused too many deaths, too much destruction, to simply be pardoned.

Definitively giving up on sleep, Arthur got up. In the late spring, the nights were still cold, and the thick stones of the castle made his room feel even colder. He shivered now that he was out of his cocoon of soft fabric and body heat. He wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and lit a candle. If sleep evaded him, he might as well use the night in a productive manner. The candle provided only a small halo of yellow light, barely enough to read by. It would have to suffice, though. On a stray piece of parchment, he found lying on his desk, Arthur wrote words that would make his father choke: Repeal of the ban on magic.

Chapter Text

It was just past noon when Arthur barged into the physician’s chambers. Merlin almost fell off his chair in surprise. The King was dishevelled, like he had attempted to get dressed on his own. His tunic was inside-out, with the seams on the outside. The laces of his trousers were hastily tied, creating a mess of knots. His hair was tousled, as if he had spent the last few hours ruffling and tugging at it. Arthur himself looked terrible. His skin was a sickly grey, his eyes were bloodshot and underlined by dark circles, his lips were so chapped they were almost bleeding.

Before Merlin could say anything, Arthur ran to him, almost crashing into the table in the process. Arthur was usually very coordinated and aware of his environment. He was a highly trained fighter; each of his movements were carefully calculated, even if he was only walking down a corridor. Usually, it was Merlin who stumbled and bumped into obstacles, not Arthur. The King didn’t seem to care, or even notice that, though. He slammed a stack of parchment on the table right in front of Merlin.

“I need your help. I’ve been trying to write new laws, but I’m completely lost,” Arthur admitted.

If he wasn’t so worried about Arthur, Merlin would be flattered that the King asked for his help, and he certainly would have teased him for admitting to not knowing everything. As it was, all Merlin could do was to gently pull Arthur down to sit on the chair next to him and offering him a glass of water.

“Laws on what? Why do you need my help specifically?” Merlin asked, not looking at the thick stack of parchment.

Arthur rolled his eyes, some of his frantic energy evaporating now that he was sitting. “You’d know if you just read the papers. It’s all in the title. Really Merlin, how lazy can you be?”

Merlin huffed, glad that Arthur was going back to something resembling his normal self. His amused grin faded when his eyes fell on the words written on the first page of the document: Repeal of the ban on magic and new laws regulating its use. His jaw went slack as he read the words over and over again until the letters started blurring together.

“I need your help on this. I’ve written a first draft, but I’m not sure if it’s any good. There isn’t much documentation on the pre-purge time and most of the kingdoms Camelot is allied to have very repressive laws regarding sorcery. I have no idea how to do this.”

Arthur sounded desperate, almost on the verge of tears as he explained his predicament. And Merlin felt honoured that Arthur considered him a trustworthy advisor on magic-related topics, but Merlin didn’t feel the same way. Of course, he wanted to help Arthur. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to stand by his side and to advise him. But he had the feeling Arthur wouldn’t want him there once all of Merlin’s darkest secrets had been brought to light.

“I’m not sure that I’m the best person to help you on this. Perhaps you should ask Gaius, he was around before the purge, he could advise you much better than I could,” Merlin said, his heart shattering in a million of tiny shards as the words left his mouth.

The words seemed to smash Arthur’s heart as well. His lips formed a small pout, as they always did when he was disappointed but tried not to show it. It seemed as if the frantic energy that had kept him moving and talking deserted him all at once. His shoulders slumped, and his whole body seemed to deflate.

“I want it to be you,” he said, the words barely audible, even in the silence of the room.

“There are still too many things you don’t know about me, and I’m afraid that once I tell you, you won’t want me at your side anymore.”

“I know about the dragon, and I still want you here. What could possibly be worse?”

Arthur’s face was a mask of confusion and frustration. Merlin thought he even saw concern swimming in the pale blue pools of Arthur’s eyes. Of course, Arthur couldn’t imagine the awful deeds Merlin had committed. Merlin wasn’t sure he wanted Arthur to know about them. But the time for lies and secrets was over, Merlin needed to be brave and honest now.

“I’m the reason Morgana turned against Camelot,” he confessed. There it was, his greatest regret, his most unforgivable crime. Now it was out in the open, free from the prison of Merlin’s conscience.

“What?” Arthur asked disbelievingly.

“I knew she had magic, and I tried to help her. But I was afraid to tell her about my magic, so I took her to the druids instead. And then, Morgause came, and they became allies. Then, Camelot was struck by the sleeping curse, and the dragon told me that Morgana was the anchor of the spell, and that it would only be lifted if Morgana died. I didn’t want to kill her, but I suspected she was in league with Morgause, so I poisoned her. I never meant to kill her, only to use her as leverage to get Morgause to lift the curse. And it worked, but it caused Morgana to definitively turn against Camelot,” Merlin explained, the events blurring in his mind. Everything was hazy in his memory except that fateful day when he betrayed a friend. “If I hadn’t done it, maybe she would still be here, maybe she would still be our friend.”

Arthur was stunned. Obviously, he was. It’s not every day that you learn that your best friend poisoned your sister. He closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. Merlin waited for him to call the guards. Or maybe he would just run Merlin through here and now with his own sword. Merlin wouldn’t blame him either way. He took in the cluttered room, trying to engrave every detail of it in his memory. The book and parchment that covered every flat surfaces. The vials lined on the workbench. The herbs Gaius had hung to let them dry. Particles of dust danced in the rays of the afternoon sun. Merlin hoped Arthur wouldn’t kill him here; he didn’t want Gaius to see his corpse, to clean his blood from the old floorboards.

“You’re not responsible for Morgana’s choices and actions. What you’ve done probably influenced her decision, but ultimately, it was her choice. And if you’re guilty, then we all are. It’s not like anyone was there to support her, after all. She lived in a Kingdom, in a family that hated what she is.” Arthur paused, gathering his thoughts. A pained smile appeared on his lips, and he continued, “Morgana has always been a radical, for her everything is either black or white, right or wrong, without nuances. She might have been convinced by Morgause’s ways without your intervention. She’s my sister and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hate her or to give up hope that she might one day come back. But ultimately, what she does is her choice.”

Merlin was stunned. He had expected words of condemnation, but instead, Arthur was offering him absolution. Arthur’s pardon brough no peace to Merlin’s heart, though. They didn’t come from the only person who could legitimately offer him forgiveness. Regardless of Morgana’s subsequent decisions, he had betrayed a friend that day, someone who had placed their trust in him. How could Arthur still trust him, knowing this?

In a self-destructive instinct born from years of accumulated guilt, Merlin decided to reveal the one crime that might destroy all possibilities of friendship between him and his King. “There’s more,” Merlin added, knowing that Arthur wouldn’t like what he was going to say. “I’m Dragoon; I killed your father.”

Arthur stared at Merlin, too stunned to react. His mouth hung gaping as he stared blankly at the warlock. Merlin’s heart was hammering so hard against his chest that he could feel in down to his legs. He was vibrating with anxiety. Then, Arthur blinked, clenching his jaw. Merlin was sure that he had irremediably shattered the last remnants of trust Arthur still had for him. Arthur stood up and started pacing. There was an aggressivity in his steps, like a soldier marching through a battlefield. He was terrifying, beautiful. Merlin felt a confusing mix of fascination and fear as he waited for Arthur’s reaction.

Arthur finally stopped. He was leaning on Gaius’ workbench with his back to Merlin. “Did you mean to kill him?” he asked, his voice tight with a confusing mix of anger, sadness and hope.

“No, I really wanted to heal him, but I failed. Gaius found an amulet around his neck. He thinks it was the reason my spell backfired. But Arthur, I still killed him.”

At these words, Arthur seemed to deflate. As if all the anger stacked in his body left suddenly. With his head bent, he let out a breath in a long exhale, bending in half until his forehead was resting on his forearms. And then, he straightened up and looked at Merlin with an unreadable expression.

“No, you didn’t. You failed to heal him, that’s not the same thing,” Arthur said in a voice that wasn’t quite quivering but couldn’t be labelled as steady either. Arthur was repressing his emotions, as he often did when he was overwhelmed by his feelings.

After a long stretch of silence, Arthur returned to his seat next to Merlin. He grabbed Merlin’s hand and squeezed it. This drew Merlin out of his thoughts. Merlin squeezed Arthur’s hand back. Hope, dread and guilt were warring in the warlock’s heart.

“How can you still trust me?” Merlin asked in a small voice.

“You never gave me a reason not to trust you,” Arthur replied, staring at Merlin with his piercing, pale blue eyes.

“Except that I have. I gave you many reasons not to trust me.” Merlin’s heart was pounding in his chest. He could feel that this moment was a turning point in his and Arthur’s relationship.

Undeterred, Arthur kept holding Merlin’s hand. “I trust you, nonetheless. You’ve spent years living in fear, putting yourself in harm’s way, risking your life. Just to protect me. And yes, alright, you’ve made mistakes, really bad ones, and you’ll carry the weight of them on your chest until your last breath. I’ve done terrible things too, Merlin. And yet, you still trust me and protect me, even though you have every reason not to.”

Arthur had become worked up during his tirade. When he was done, his chest was heaving and his gentle hold on Merlin’s hand had turned into a crushing, vice-like grip. Merlin’s eyes stayed on Arthur’s face, staring as Arthur forced himself to relax. When he moved to drop Merlin’s hand, the young warlock acted on instinct, tightening his fingers against Arthur’s warm hand.

“I do have reasons to keep you safe,” Merlin replied, feeling brave with Arthur’s hand in his.

Arthur looked down dejectedly. That wasn’t the reaction Merlin had expected. “I suppose you do. You can’t fight your destiny, after all.”

“No, you clotpole,” Merlin said.

Sometimes, Arthur could be so thick. He was clever, but when it came to sentiment, he really was clueless. Merlin loved him regardless. Maybe he was stupid too.

“Destiny might have been the reason I stayed in the first few weeks, but it stopped being my main motivation to keep you safe and happy a long time ago.”

This time, it was Merlin’s turn to lift Arthur’s hand and bring it to his lips. He pressed a light, reverent kiss on each knuckle, relishing the feel of smooth, warm skin. Merlin had to fight the urge to leave more kisses all over Arthur’s hand. He wanted to always stay this close to his King. He wanted to keep whispering silent words of love and devotion on Arthur’s soft skin.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, just a breath, full of wonder.

Arthur’s hand came to delicately cradle Merlin’s cheek, his thumb stroking Merlin’s cheekbone. Once their eyes met, they were locked. For a second, Merlin wondered if his magic was acting up again, stopping time without any direct order from him. But the world around them still moved. The faint sounds of voices and the din of the lively market still reached them. Time hadn’t stopped, but Merlin and Arthur were caught in their own little bubble. They stared at each other for what could have been seconds or hours. Arthur’s eyes were bluer than the sky and so open and earnest. Merlin was enthralled, lured into those pale blue pools. He could drown in those eyes, and he would die happy. He never wanted to avert his gaze.

Slowly, Arthur’s leaned in, his eyes still fixed on Merlin’s, as if silently asking for permission. Merlin couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than getting a taste of Arthur’s lips in that moment. Their fingers were still intertwined where their hands were joined on the table. Merlin tilted his head, prepared to meet Arthur halfway. It felt like time had slowed, every second stretched eternally.

And then the door to the physician’s chambers burst open.

Merlin was ready to hex whoever dared to disturb this perfect moment. He had been so close to finally finding out if Arthur’s lips were as soft as they looked. His disappointment instantly transformed into dread, though, when he saw Gwaine, supported by Leon and Percival. His head was lolling. Blood-matted hair hid Gwaine’s face, but Merlin could easily imagine that he was quite badly injured. Leon and Percival wore twin expressions of concern and barely controlled anger. Whoever did this to Gwaine would pay the price, Merlin had no doubt about it.

Physician’s reflexes quickly kicking in, Merlin jumped up from his seat. His mind was now completely focused on taking care of his patient. He instructed Leon and Percival to lay Gwaine on the patient bed and efficiently went around the room, gathering everything he would need. One advantage of his magic not being a secret anymore was that tasks that usually required time, like putting water to boil over the fire, could be done instantly without so much as a spoken spell.

A steady stream of blood was pouring out of Gwaine’s nostrils, staining his chin, neck, and chest. He had bruises all over his face. Merlin stopped the bleeding with a spell. It was simple healing magic that he had learned in the grimoire Gaius had gifted him. While he wasn’t proficient enough in that kind of magic to practice more advanced healing, simple spells like this came easily enough to him. Merlin cleaned the blood, revealing more cuts and bruises. Finger-shaped marks on Gwaine’s neck were evidence that someone had tried to strangle him. Merlin would need to inspect his throat to evaluate the extent of the damage done.

“Leon,” Merlin called the senior knight, noticing how restless he looked, “Come here and help me get Gwaine out of his shirt, would you?”

Leon seemed relieved to have something to do and quickly came to do as he was asked. As the shirt was removed, large bruises on Gwaine’s abdomen were revealed. Leon stiffened at Merlin’s side, and for a second Merlin worried that he would have to calm the usually cool-headed knight in addition to taking care of his patient. Thankfully, Arthur called him by his side.

With practiced dexterity, Merlin applied salves and poultices to Gwaine’s injuries. Thankfully, it seemed like no internal damage had been done. Still, Gwaine would need some time to recover. Merlin then cleaned and bandaged Gwaine’s hands. The skin of his knuckles had been split and while they were only superficial injuries, Merlin wouldn’t take any chances. Even the most benign cut could become infected, after all.

When he was done, Merlin allowed himself to listen to the conversation between Arthur and the knights. Even though they were talking in hushed tones, he could still easily catch the words in the silence of the room.

“… knights haven’t taken very kindly to the reveal of Merlin’s magic,” Percival said, his voice dripping with restrained anger.

“I have reasons to believe Sir Richard might have been involved in this attack. He has been one of the most overtly hostile knights against Merlin and has threatened several people who took Merlin’s defence, including Gwaine,” Leon added in that professional tone he used to deliver reports during Council meetings.

Arthur silently listened to his knights. From an outside perspective, he looked detached, but Merlin knew him well enough to see the rage boiling just under his skin. For all that Arthur was impulsive and had a short temper, he was remarkably apt at concealing his emotions when needed.

“I need you two to lead an inquiry to discover who was involved in this. Ask Elyan to assist you as well. You must be discreet, though, both for your own safety and because the Crown cannot explicitly take a stance in defence of Gwaine yet. As much as I hate it, with the ban on magic still in place, my hands are tied.”

Leon and Percival gave sharp nods before leaving the room. Merlin had no doubt that they would fulfil their mission with the efficiency they were known for.

“How is he?” Arthur asked as soon as the door clicked shut. He came to stand by Merlin’s side, watching Gwaine with a worried gaze.

Merlin shifted closer to Arthur until their shoulders touched, hoping it would provide some level of comfort to his friend. “He doesn’t have any internal bleeding and he isn’t concussed. He’ll have a sore throat for a few days, but no lasting damage. All in all, he only sustained superficial injuries and will make a quick recovery,” Merlin said, surprising himself with how professional he sounded. It reminded him of how Gaius would report on his patients’ state.

“Good,” Arthur said.

Although the words were spoken with finality, Merlin knew Arthur wanted to say more. He sent the King an inquisitive look, silently prompting him to speak. For a few seconds, Arthur seemed to hesitate. He kept his eyes on Gwaine’s sleeping form, stubbornly refusing to look at Merlin. But then, he heaved a sigh and turned towards the warlock.

“I need your help, Merlin,” Arthur said, emphasizing his words by gripping Merlin’s shoulders. “With my father’s laws on magic still in place, I can’t protect you or anyone else who takes your defence. Protecting a known sorcerer is forbidden. If I publicly condemned this attack on Gwaine, I’d put myself in a very delicate position with the court.”

“I’m not worthy of being your advisor after everything I’ve done,” Merlin countered, casting his eyes downward.

One of Arthur’s hands came to lift Merlin’s face up, forcing him to look at the King’s face again. “Let me be the judge of this, please. I trust you, and I trust your advice. No matter what you did, my trust in you is still intact. Just like you still trust me despite knowing the atrocities I’ve committed against the magical community. Please, help me.”

Merlin fought with himself for a few long seconds. He wanted to help Arthur, and he felt honoured that Arthur trusted him so much. But guilt still plagued him, making him doubt himself and every decision he made. When Merlin looked into Arthur’s eyes, however, he saw nothing but love and trust and honesty. And if Arthur trusted him, he could trust himself too. He could trust Arthur’s judgement.

“Alright, I’ll review those laws and I’ll take notes of anything that would need to be modified. I’ll have it ready by tomorrow morning if that works for you,” Merlin conceded.

Despite his uncertainty and his insecurities, Merlin couldn’t deny that he felt a rare thrill of joyful excitement at the prospect of being involved in the repeal of the magic ban. His magic sung beneath his skin, and it felt like the magic of the world was singing too.

“Thank you,” Arthur whispered.

The relieved expression on Arthur’s face was worth more than all the treasures in the world to Merlin. He lived to protect and assist his King. This was what he had been born to accomplish. This was his destiny.

He walked Arthur to the door, reluctant to let him go. But he knew Arthur had important duties to attend to. And even if he didn’t, he couldn’t stay here too long without attracting suspicions.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Arthur said. His hand was already on the doorhandle, but he looked just as reluctant to part from Merlin.

Arthur leaned in, brushing his lips against Merlin’s cheek in a gentle kiss. Before Merlin could react, Arthur had exited the chambers, leaving a slightly dazed Merlin staring at the door.

Chapter Text

As much as Leon liked to think of himself as a reasonable, level-headed man, he was still only human. Rage was bubbling under his skin, and it was only years of training that allowed him to restrain his wild emotions. Seeing Merlin get hurt was hard. Being unable to lock the culprits up in the darkest cells of the dungeons was worse. As a knight, Leon was meant to uphold the law, and the law stated that Merlin was a criminal. In the eyes of the law, Merlin’s abusers were in the right. At first, he had been worried that Arthur would let Merlin suffer without doing anything. He should have known better. But those things took time, and meanwhile, Merlin continued to be the target of vicious attacks.

And now, another one of his friends had suffered. Leon was convinced that Richard had something to do with this. He had never liked the man, and he knew that Arthur disliked him as well. Richard was arrogant and selfish. He was a brute, never hesitating to resort to violence. He possessed none of the qualities required of a knight. But as the son of a powerful Lord, Arthur had had no choice but to accept him within his ranks. Although, he made sure to only assign him to less important tasks, it still gave this loathsome man a great amount of power. As if he didn’t already have enough of it as the son of one of the richest Lords of the kingdom.

The narrow streets of the lower town were bustling with activity, as usual. People were going about their lives as if nothing had happened. And perhaps for them, nothing had. Still, despite the particular circumstances, an attack by knights on one of their own was an unusual event. Leon was sure they could gather information by just listening to the rumours. He was walking down a busy street, lined with small houses and shops selling all sorts of goods, from colourful fabrics and tasty pies to jewellery and shoes. Percival was patrolling another part of the town. They had decided to split so that they wouldn’t attract too much unwanted attention. After all, even knights needed to go to town once in a while to buy things. Elyan had stayed in the castle, trying to find information from servants and knights. He had asked Gwen to keep an ear out too.

Leon was about to round a corner when he overheard a conversation. He pressed his back to the wall, making sure he was hidden and wouldn’t be caught spying on unsuspecting citizens. This went against all his principles. Leon was an honourable knight, he followed the rules and respected the strict code of conduct the knights had to abide to. But his mission now was to discreetly gather information, and he would fulfil it.

“… probably enchanted them all. Why would knights protect a filthy sorcerer otherwise?” a woman said. Leon couldn’t see who she was, but her tone was dripping with contempt. It took great effort to refrain from saying something.

“Perhaps he even enchanted King Arthur. Why else would he take so much time before sentencing that monster to burn,” a man added. Leon recognised his voice. He was the owner of a small bakery in the lower town.

“To think I ever let him near my little Isabel! He gave her a potion a few months ago, when she caught a bad cough. Said it would be good for her lungs,” the baker’s wife said, sounding on the verge of tears. Leon rolled his eyes. Merlin was a physician’s apprentice, of course he would deliver medicines to patients. He had helped those people, and now they wanted to see him burn.

“Did it work?” the first woman asked.

“Well, yes,” the baker’s wife admitted. “But who knows what he put in it! Or perhaps it was all a ploy to get our trust and steal our daughter from us when we had our backs turned!”

“I heard these people sacrificed children in rituals to their gods,” the baker said, horror and anger in his voice.

Leon almost left, then. He had learned nothing useful from this conversation. But then, the first woman said something that caught Leon’s attention.

“It’s awful that he managed to enchant those knights. But at least Sirs Richard, Eric and Alfred intervened.”

“Sure, it’s a shame that Sir Gwaine needed to be beaten like that, he has such a pretty face. But maybe this will help him wake up and see the truth. Maybe he will be freed from the sorcerer’s influence,” the baker’s wife said, earning a grumble from her husband at the mention of Gwaine’s looks.

Leon had heard enough. Just as he suspected, Richard was involved. He was surprised that Sir Alfred would attack a fellow knight, as he was usually a shy, reserved man. However, he had always been easily swayed. It wouldn’t have been too difficult for Richard and Eric to convince him of joining them. And despite his dull personality, nobody could deny that Alfred was a good fighter, who could rely on his impeccable technique and his muscular build in combat.

If Leon had been angry before, he was enraged now. He was good at hiding it, though. But some of his ire must have risen to the surface despite his efforts of keeping it concealed, if the way Camelot’s citizens steered clear of him was any indication.

Before, he had only considered the physical pain Merlin had endured since his magic had been publicly revealed. He hadn’t stopped to consider how people’s words would affect him. They were people he had talked to, people he had probably shared pleasantries with or offered words of comfort to. People he had helped, whether by providing them medical assistance or by lending a hand. Merlin had always been generous and strived to do good around him. To think that they would turn against him so easily broke Leon’s heart, and he wasn’t the subject of those cruel words.

Merlin had once told them his mother sent him to Camelot because he didn’t fit in his village. They had later learned that this was because of his birth. Merlin was a bastard. His parents weren’t married, and his father had left before his mother even knew she was pregnant. It had taken him time before he trusted the knights and Arthur enough to reveal this information, terrified as he was to be shunned by them. Now, Leon thought Merlin’s coming to Camelot also had something to do with his magic, but he didn’t know whether the villagers in Ealdor also rejected him because of it or they were unaware of his powers. It didn’t matter much, anyway. That night, around the campfire, Merlin told them, eyes glistening with unshed tears, that coming to Camelot was the best thing he could have done. He told them that he had found a purpose for his life and friends to share his days with. He had said that it was the first time in his life that people saw him as a human being and treated him as such.

Now even this had been taken away from him. And Leon didn’t know how to fix it.

The sun had just risen but Arthur was already restless. He had dismissed his new servant as soon as the man had laid the breakfast tray on the table. Arthur hadn’t even bothered learning the man’s name. He felt a bit guilty about it, but he couldn’t help it. His new servant was even duller than George. He was transparent, completely invisible. Arthur hoped he had more of a personality outside of work. There was also the fact that Arthur really didn’t trust the man. He was too bland, and that was never a good sign. At least George had his jokes about brass and his weird obsession with polishing. Arthur couldn’t have said a single information he knew about his new servant.

This, however, wasn’t the reason why Arthur had dismissed him so quickly. It wasn’t the reason why Arthur was restlessly pacing up and down his room. No, the reason was that he was waiting for Merlin to come with the reviewed laws on magic. Arthur was looking forward to knowing what his friend thought of his laws, but he was also worried about the changes the warlock had made. He was worried about Merlin’s judgement too. What if he thought that what Arthur had written was utter nonsense? Of course, Merlin would understand that Arthur lacked knowledge about magic and those who practiced it. He would probably be gentle with his teasing. But for some reason he didn’t want to explore, Arthur wanted to impress Merlin.

When a knock sounded on his door, Arthur almost jumped in surprise. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he had become completely oblivious of the outside world. Still, he recognised this knock, and he was disappointed to know that it definitely wasn’t Merlin.

“Enter,” he said, inviting his knight in.

Leon wore a determined expression, an angry gleam in his blue eyes that made them look colder than the blade of his sword.

“Sire,” Leon said with a slight bow of his head, “I came here to report on the information we found about the perpetrators of yesterday’s attack on Gwaine.”

“Did you find out who committed it?”

“Yes, Sire. Information gathered by Elyan, Percival and Gwen also confirm my own findings. I can say with certainty that it was Sirs Richard, Eric and Alfred who assaulted Gwaine.”

Arthur was troubled. While he wasn’t surprised by Richard’s involvement, given the man’s temper, and that he knew Eric constantly followed Richard’s lead, he was surprised that the quiet Sir Alfred would get involved in such a plot.

“The four of you did an excellent job, thank you, Leon.”

“What will you do now, Arthur?” Leon asked, allowing himself to address the King with more familiarity now that his report had been delivered.

Arthur liked this side of Leon. He was always professional when performing his knightly duties, even if they only involved delivering an unofficial report in Arthur’s chambers. But once he was done, he reverted to being Arthur’s friend. And as King, Arthur needed trustworthy friends like Leon. The man was wise and empathetic, and Arthur knew he could always rely on his judgement and lean on him.

“I’ve thought about this a lot. I can’t punish them too harshly if I don’t want to deal with a popular uprising and mutiny among my knights, but they still went out of line. They’re knights, they’re in service of the Crown. They didn’t act as knights when they attacked Gwaine, since I didn’t command them to do so. Therefore, they committed an assault on a citizen of Camelot. Normally, such a crime would be severely punished, which I can’t presently do. I think a night in the dungeons will cool their heads a bit, though.”

“This is a dangerous game, Arthur. Even if the punishment is very light, it might still be interpreted as your protecting someone who’s in league with a known sorcerer, in addition to what is already said about you protecting said sorcerer. People are starting to talk.”

“What are they saying?” Arthur asked. While he didn’t like listening to rumours, as they were almost always unfounded, this time was different. The people’s opinion was important.

“They say that Merlin has enchanted you and your knights. They say that’s why you still haven’t sentenced him to the pyre.”

Arthur had expected this, but it still sent a pang to his heart. He remembered how well-liked Merlin had been in Camelot before. People talked fondly about him, they used to be grateful to him for his work as Gaius’s apprentice or for the help he offered them in their daily chores whenever he had a few minutes to spare. Now, they regarded him with distrust, and they wanted to see him burn. Arthur had wanted to believe that the attacks on Merlin were isolated incidents, that most of his citizens hadn’t come to hate the young man. He couldn’t lure himself anymore now.

“Thank you, Leon. I have much to think about, it seems.”

Chapter Text

Of course, Arthur didn’t get much thinking done, because only a few minutes after Leon left, Merlin barged into his room. His bloodshot eyes, underlined by dark circles and messier hair than usual spoke of a sleepless night. If Arthur had ever thought Merlin was lazy, that perception had drastically changed once he learned about Merlin’s magic and all he got up to whenever he was supposedly at the tavern. In fact, it was a miracle that Merlin was still in a functioning state.

“I don’t like your new manservant,” Merlin said in lieu of greeting.

“Are you jealous, Merlin?” Arthur teased, although he shared the feeling. There was something off about his new servant. He couldn’t put his finger on it, and it might not be anything in the end, but he couldn’t relax in his presence.

“Who would be jealous of your manservant. I don’t miss washing your smelly socks and emptying your chamber pot. And my knees don’t miss having to kneel on the hard floor to scrub it clean either,” Merlin said, although he had a wistful expression on his face that let Arthur think that he, maybe, missed being Arthur’s servant despite the unsavoury tasks included in the job.

“Anyway, I think you came here to talk about the new magic laws.”

Arthur pulled a chair for Merlin to sit on before taking his own seat in the next chair. He had done it automatically, as if it was a common occurrence. To his credit, Merlin only shot Arthur a curious and slightly flustered look before taking his seat. Arthur placed the breakfast tray his new servant had brought between them, so that Merlin could eat from it too as they worked. As Arthur grabbed a piece of cheese, Merlin stopped his hand. He muttered a few words that made his eyes shine like molten gold. Nothing happened, but Merlin released Arthur’s hand and gestured for him to resume eating his breakfast.

“What was that about?” he asked, trusting Merlin enough to take a bite of cheese before Merlin had time to reply.

“I developed a spell to detect poison. I still have to improve it, but it already detects the most commonly used substances,” Merlin explained.

To say Arthur was impressed would be an understatement. He understood that Merlin was a powerful wizard, but to develop a spell like that certainly required huge amounts of skills. It was a safer way to test for poisons than to have someone risk their life by tasting the food, too. However, it made Arthur wonder how many times someone had tried to poison him, if Merlin found it necessary to work on developing a spell specially for that purpose. Often enough, he supposed. He was the King, after all, and he had been the Crown Prince before that.

Without waiting for a response from Arthur, Merlin started sorting the notes he had taken regarding the laws. They were written in Merlin’s surprisingly tidy handwriting. His letters didn’t have Arthur’s elegant loops, yet there was something pretty about them. Merlin’s letters were small and simple, but not messy. And even when he added something he hadn’t thought of to the neat notes, it remained legible. Arthur decided he really was too far gone if he started admiring Merlin’s handwriting.

“Overall, I think your ideas were good. I only made a few corrections about the regulations of magic. Some of the ones you proposed were either impractical or based on false assumptions about magic. Which is understandable, given your level of knowledge on the topic.” Merlin started. Contrary to Arthur’s apprehensions, his former servant didn’t tease him or mock him about his lack of knowledge. He didn’t ridicule his attempt at establishing new laws, as imperfect as it was. Arthur should have known. Merlin might enjoy teasing Arthur, but he was first and foremost a compassionate man.

“Do you think they’ll be accepted by the magic community, with the changes you’re proposing, of course?” Arthur asked. It was the question that had kept him up all night when he had written those laws. He wanted to keep the peace in his kingdom, but he wanted to establish fair laws for magic users.

“I’m more worried about how they’ll be accepted by non-magic folks,” Merlin replied.

At the resigned tone Merlin had adopted, Arthur stared at his friend. He looked at him, observed him. Merlin’s eyes were dull, as if the spark of mischief that kept their deep blue irises alight had been extinguished. He looked older than he had any right to be. Merlin looked like a man in the middle of a war. Arthur had seen many knights wearing that kind of expression over the years. He had been with his men during every battle since he was sixteen, after all. He had seen their look after they lost a battle and had to prepare for the next one, knowing that the enemy had the advantage. Merlin wore that same look now. He was determined to fight until death, knowing fully well that it was a likely eventuality.

“We’ll make it work. I promise you, Merlin, we’ll make it work. It might take a long time, and it won’t be easy, but we will make this kingdom a safe place for magic and non-magic people alike. We’ll show them that magic isn’t the absolute evil my father’s propaganda made them imagine,” Arthur said, his own eyes blazing with determination.

He hadn’t known his heart contained those words before they flew from his lips, but he knew with his soul that they were true, that he believed them with his whole being. Not so long ago, he had still believed magic to be a dark, destructive force. He had still believed it to be the enemy. Not so long ago, he had doubted Merlin’s loyalty, Merlin’s goodness. He had been blinded by his father’s hateful rhetoric. But he knew better now. Thanks to Merlin, he knew better now.

Merlin looked at him with tearful eyes and an amazed smile. He looked at Arthur as if he had never seen him before. Or, no, not really. He looked at Arthur like he always did whenever the young King did or said something unexpectedly noble, whenever he went against Uther’s ways and paved his own path. Merlin was proud of Arthur. But not only that, there was more to his expression. He was grateful too. He looked at Arthur with so much love that it made Arthur feel overwhelmed with it.

“You really mean it,” Merlin whispered, mouth parted in silent wonder. Slowly, his hand came to rest on Arthur’s cheek, his fingers softly stroking his skin, as if to make sure Arthur was real and not just a product of his own imagination.

“I mean every word,” Arthur replied, his eyes never leaving Merlin’s. He covered Merlin’s hand with his own, as he said, “With you by my side, I feel like everything is possible. And I want to make you feel the same. Together, we can achieve anything we want.”

A choked sob escaped from Merlin’s lips, and for a second, Arthur was terrified that he had somehow said the wrong words. He was scrambling for something to say, fumbling for something to do to make it better. But then, his thoughts stilled.

Merlin’s lips were on his.

Soft and sweet. They tasted like the grapes Merlin had been eating. The kiss itself was messy and desperate. It was nothing like Arthur had imagined. He had had daydreams of kissing Merlin. He had always imagined shy, careful kisses that slowly deepened into languorous ones, heady and delicate. This kiss was rough and breathless, it was wild and undignified. And it was perfect. It was a manifestation of their confusing, scary, wonderful feelings. It reflected all the love and pain and determination they felt. Arthur wouldn’t wish for it to be any different.

With one hand still covering Merlin’s hand on his cheek and the other wrapped around Merlin’s waist, Arthur brought their bodies even closer together. It wasn’t an easy feat to accomplish, with the both of them sitting side by side. With some manoeuvring, Arthur managed to get Merlin to straddle his lap. It would be a very compromising position to be found in, but Arthur found that he didn’t care. Merlin seemed to be a bit more cautious, though, as he locked the door with a silent spell.

Holding Merlin so close, Arthur could feel the way his whole body trembled. He slowed the kiss to something less frenzied, until their lips brushed together languidly. Merlin’s breaths were still short and ragged, interrupted by stray sobs that escaped his red, glossy lips.

Arthur pulled away, but he didn’t stray far. Instead, he pressed his forehead to Merlin’s, holding his lover tight as he shook in his embrace. “We’ll make them see, Merlin. We’ll make them see how beautiful magic can be.” Arthur gazed at Merlin with an enamoured expression that certainly made him look like a fool. Arthur found that he didn’t care. Merlin was his, and Merlin was magic, and Merlin was beautiful. Arthur never wanted to look away.

“I love you so much,” Merlin whispered.

Merlin’s hot breath on Arthur’s still spit-damp lips reignited the flame of his passion, and he was unable to fight the urge to capture Merlin’s lips in another heated kiss. He felt like he was floating. His heart soared, and his body felt weightless as he lost himself in Merlin’s soft mouth.

Despite the late hour and the comfort of Arthur’s bed, Merlin couldn’t sleep. With his head pillowed on Arthur’s chest, he listened to each of his lover’s steady breaths, counted every strong beat of his heart. Merlin still wasn’t sure he deserved this. He had done so many awful things with his magic. He had committed many unforgivable deeds. How could Arthur still look at him and see beauty beneath all the blood and darkness that covered him nowadays. There used to be a time when Merlin was still a pure, innocent soul, but some days, it felt like this part of him had died, slowly dwindling over the years until nothing of it remained. Yet, Arthur still looked at him with that love-sick gaze. He still looked at Merlin and proclaimed that magic was beautiful.

In a way, Merlin knew he hadn’t fought back against the attacks directed against him because he thought he deserved the pain. He took every insult thrown at him by the inhabitants of the lower town and placed them in the holes of his heart. How could they ever believe that magic was anything but evil when Merlin himself had become so ugly inside? How could Arthur believe it? And yet, Merlin wanted to believe it too. He wanted to restore his hope, his faith in the bright future the Great Dragon had painted during that fateful conversation in the cave below the castle. He wanted to believe so desperately.

Merlin hadn’t even noticed he had started crying until Arthur’s sleep-hoarse voice began whispering in his ear. Arthur’s hands were warm against Merlin’s bare skin. He was always so warm. Merlin craved that warmth. It felt like coming home to a blazing fire after spending the whole day out in the snow. It felt like basking in the sun after staying too long in the shade. Merlin was always cold, and it felt like only Arthur could warm him up.

“How can you still see beauty in magic after all it has taken from you?” Merlin asked in a small, wretched voice.

Arthur only held him tighter, and then he said, “Well, it’s quite simple, you see. I know this man, he’s the biggest idiot I’ve ever met. But he’s also the bravest, kindest soul I know. And he happens to have magic. If he has magic, then it can be nothing but beautiful.”

The words only made Merlin cry harder. He was properly wailing now. Fat tears rolled down his ruddy cheeks as wet sobs erupted from his parted lips. He was a mess.

Between choked breaths, Merlin asked, “How can you love a monster?”

Merlin was sure he felt tears landing on his forehead. Was Arthur crying? Had he made Arthur cry? Merlin’s heart broke and he trembled with the strength of his sorrow. His blunted nails scraped at the skin of Arthur’s back, surely leaving red trails behind.

“If you’re a monster, then so am I,” Arthur replied. His voice was fierce like it rarely was, as if a fire was roaring in his soul. And yet, it was also strangled, as if his throat had tightened to trap his own sobs.

Once the words were out, Arthur began weeping too, holding Merlin tight enough to leave bruises on his ribs. Merlin didn’t care. He loved feeling the strength of Arthur’s arms. They were like an armour around his slender frame, protecting him from the outside. And the brightness of Arthur’s love chased away the creeping shadows that wanted to drown Merlin in their never-ending darkness. Merlin hoped his embrace made Arthur feel the same safety, the same love, in return.

Chapter Text

An hour before the first signs of dawn, Camelot was silent. The castle still slept soundly, bathed in darkness. Everything was still and quiet. The only people who roamed the hallways were guards on duty. Merlin easily avoided them. He had a lot of experience when it came to sneaking around unseen in the middle of the night. He knew every alcove, covered by draperies that he could hide behind. He knew every hidden doorway that led to forgotten corridors. He knew the shortest route to everywhere in the citadel. Thus, he reached Gaius’s chambers in record time without being spotted once. It wouldn’t do for someone to catch him exiting Arthur’s chambers in the morning, after all. He already missed Arthur’s warmth and the comfort of his embrace. When he finally pushed the door of his small room, he was exhausted. The bed creaked under the weight of Merlin’s body as the warlock lied down to catch a little more rest.

The previous night had been eventful, and Merlin felt like each of his limbs was made of lead. His head still pounded from all the tears he and Arthur had shed. But his heart felt lighter than it had in a long time, lighter than it had been since the execution he witnessed on his first day in this city. He fell asleep with a smile on his lips, images of Arthur’s beautiful face dancing behind his closed eyelids.

It felt as if he had barely slept more than five minutes when the sounds of the bustling town woke him up. Despite the tiredness still clinging to him, Merlin felt ready to face this new day. Breakfast with Gaius was a short affair. Merlin’s mentor didn’t fail to pass silent judgement on his ward with his impressive eyebrow. Of course, the old physician had noticed Merlin’s absence when he retired for the night. He didn’t ask any questions, though. He didn’t need to. It didn’t take a genius to guess where Merlin had spent the previous night. He must have noticed the renewed spark of life in Merlin’s eyes, though, because he didn’t reprimand him for his lack of carefulness.

After breakfast, Merlin grabbed the medical bag Gaius had gifted him when he first sent his apprentice to treat a disease in a small village. Merlin treated the bag with great care. It was one of his most prized possessions, and not only because of the monetary value of such an item. To him, it represented the trust Gaius had placed in him when he declared him ready to be sent as acting physician.

Merlin first went to see Gwaine. Partly because he needed to check on his injuries and apply salves on his healing bruises. But also, because he was bursting at the seams with the need to talk to a friend about the recent developments of his relationship with Arthur. Despite his many faults, Merlin knew he could always trust Gwaine with his secrets. It was something very few people realised. Gwaine had a habit of drinking too much, and he had a loose tongue once his brain was drowned in alcohol. But he never talked about important stuff.

Thankfully, Merlin didn’t run into any of the overtly hostile inhabitants of the castle on his way. It would certainly have dampened his mood. He knocked at the door, fighting to keep still as he waited for Gwaine to open it. The knight’s wary expression morphed into a bright smile when he saw who was standing in his doorway.

“It’s good to see you, Merls!” he said, as he ushered Merlin in.

Gwaine sat on his bed while Merlin took a chair. “How are you doing? Do you feel any unexpected pain?” Merlin asked quickly slipping into his physician mode.

“Nah, I’m still sore, but I’ve had much worse.”

Merlin nodded, happy to hear that his friend was feeling better. “Take your shirt off, please,” he instructed as he dug through his bag for the salve, he needed to apply on Gwaine’s bruises.

“You don’t waste any time, I see. Eager to see this perfect body early in the morning?” Gwaine teased, gesturing at his chest in what was probably supposed to be a seductive way.

“You’re an idiot,” Merlin replied, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

The salve was very efficient, but its foul smell quickly filled the room. Merlin had prepared it enough times to recite the ingredients in his sleep, and he still couldn’t tell what caused it to stink so much. He imagined it had to be a reaction between several ingredients.

“You look happy,” Gwaine remarked while Merlin was massaging the ointment on the knight’s stomach.

Merlin’s hand stilled for half a second before he forced it to continue its work. Sometimes, he forgot how perceptive Gwaine could be. It didn’t matter, though, as he had already intended on telling him.

“Arthur and I got together,” he revealed, using his work as an excuse to avoid looking at Gwaine’s face. He could feel the bright blush creeping from his cheeks up to his ears and down his neck.

“Finally!” Gwaine exclaimed, as if he had been waiting for the news for years. “And before you say anything, don’t worry I won’t tell anyone about this.”

Merlin didn’t know what he ever did to deserve such great friends, but he was more grateful than he knew how to express with words. Instead, he tipped his head back to look up at Gwaine, hoping the knight could read his gratitude. They shared a meaningful look, and Merlin knew he didn’t need to talk for Gwaine to understand.

After a few seconds, Gwaine diffused the serious and heavy atmosphere that had settled in the room by making a lewd joke about what Merlin and Arthur had got up to during the previous night. And just like that, Merlin resumed applying the salve on Gwaine’s torso and Gwaine babbled about anything that crossed his mind.

It took an embarrassingly short time for Merlin to find out he was being followed. An embarrassingly short time for the people who were following him, that is. They were very bad at this. At first, Merlin wasn’t certain. He simply had a feeling. There was prickling on his neck that alerted him of an insistent stare placed on him. Still, he went about his life as if he hadn’t noticed anything, but he remained attentive. If someone wanted to attack him, he would be ready. But the hours passed, and no one tried anything. Merlin went around town, buying supplies for Gaius and receiving insults and spit in return. He had grown used to it by now. On one occasion, Merlin needed to buy cinnamon and ginger from one of the merchants. They didn’t grow around Camelot, and Gaius needed them for a remedy, so they had no choice but to acquire it at the market. The merchant, a bald and burly man named Daniel who used to be rather friendly with Merlin, simply refused to sell him the spices. He claimed he wouldn’t sell anything to a sorcerer who could use his wares for some poisonous potion. Thankfully, Leon had come to his help, guaranteeing that the supplies would be used by Gaius for his remedies.

After that, Merlin’s mood grew sombre. He couldn’t even do his job as Gaius’s apprentice, because everyone thought he had some nefarious hidden purpose. And there were still those people following him around. Merlin needed to go to the forest to gather herbs. At least he could still do that. But he was hesitant to leave the city while not knowing who was following him and why. He wasn’t sure he would protect himself with his magic if it came down to it. It would only make him appear more monstruous to the people. They wouldn’t care that he had acted in self-defence.

In the end, Merlin decided to confront his pursuers in the city. He left the main street to instead walk down narrow paths. He kept a brisk pace, rounding corners to even more tortuous and dark streets. Merlin finally stopped when he reached a small square with a little well. It was one of the poorest parts of town. There, the bustle of the market and the bright colours of the more affluent neighbourhoods was a nothing but a distant memory. Merlin had been here often, offering his knowledge as a physician to those who couldn’t pay. Gaius didn’t always have time to treat those patients, and in truth, Merlin didn’t either. But he made the time. He often got in trouble with Arthur or Gaius for being absent or gave up on sleep because there was just no time during the day, to take care of the inhabitants of those disenfranchised parts of Camelot.

He knew this place well. He had often fetched water at this well. He had run down those narrow paths when an emergency arose. He had the advantage. And honestly, his pursuers weren’t very good at their job. They were making too much noise, and they were following him too closely. Merlin turned around so suddenly that they were caught by surprise. Already, Merlin had adopted a fighting stance. Perhaps he couldn’t use magic to defend himself, but he had attended and even participated in enough training sessions with the knights to know a thing or two about combat.

However, he deflated when he realised who had been tailing him.

“I’ll tell Arthur to add some training exercises to improve your stealth. You’re abysmal at this, do you know that?” Merlin said, with a disbelieving chuckle.

Elyan looked offended at having his skills questioned like this. “Excuse me? I’ve been shadowing you since you left the castle this morning and you only just noticed me, I’m excellent at this,” he retorted.

This only made Merlin laugh harder. “I’ve noticed you since I arrived at the market. I was waiting for whoever was tailing me to make a move and when they didn’t, I decided to confront them before I left the city.”

“What?” Elyan looked completely crestfallen. His shoulders slumped in defeat and his downcast eyes were staring at his feet.

“It’s okay,” Merlin said, trying to comfort his friend. He found the whole situation very amusing, but he didn’t want Elyan to feel hurt. “You’re a knight, it’s not your job to tail people for long periods. You did a good job, all things considered. And I’m used to look out for threats, I’ve spotted trained assassins before.”

Elyan nodded, although he still looked discomfited. He raised his head to look at Merlin, though, which the warlock took as a victory. “You’ve spotted assassins? I didn’t realise the life of a personal manservant could be so eventful,” Elyan said, trying to lighten the mood.

Merlin was grateful for this attempt, although it was a rather poor one. But still, he took it in stride. “Well, you know. You have to be ready when you’re the personal manservant of Albion’s biggest cabbage head,” he replied jokingly.

Now that he knew he wasn’t in any danger, Merlin really had to go to the forest. He steered Elyan towards the main streets, and they continued to talk and tease each other on their way. One question was still left unanswered, though, and it burned Merlin’s tongue. He stopped Elyan just before they reached the market.

“Why were you following me?” he asked, head tilted to the side.

Elyan chuckled nervously. “Arthur put up a whole plan to protect you while the ban on magic is still in place. He gathered us and we revised our timetables so that we all had some time allocated to making sure you weren’t the target of any other attacks,” he explained in a hushed voice.

“Well, if you want to get out of the city for a bit, you’re welcome to come gather herbs in the forest with me,” Merlin proposed.

“I can’t, but I’m sure Leon will be happy to go with you,” Elyan said.

True to his word, as soon as he left, Leon took Elyan’s place as Merlin’s protector. The older knight didn’t pretend to tail Merlin, though. Instead, he walked by his side as they exited the northern gate of the city.

Chapter Text

It was obvious that leaving the city did Merlin good. Surrounded by trees and the chatter of birds, the warlock’s shoulders lost some of their tension. He looked so at home in the woods that Leon couldn’t help but think of his friend as some magical woodland creature. Leon stayed on his guard, though. Perhaps no one from Camelot would follow them here to attack Merlin, and it was true that bandits rarely ventured so close from the city, but he had read and written too many reports about attacks on patrols not to be wary.

However, as they went deeper into the forest, Leon allowed himself to relax. Out there, the weight of duty wasn’t so heavy on his shoulders, and he could afford to be a man instead of a knight. And as a man, Leon enjoyed listening to the birdsongs that constantly rang and trying to recognise flowers he knew.

“Thank you for helping me out earlier,” Merlin said from where he was crouched to pick up some rosemary.

“Mhhh?” Leon hummed, distracted by his observation of delicate flowers with pale rose petals. A second later, the words registered in his brain, and he smiled sadly at Merlin’s back. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”

“I really appreciated it, though,” Merlin insisted before standing up and stashing away the handful of flowers he had picked.

Silence settled around them after that. Leon didn’t know how to tell Merlin that seeing him being mistreated made his blood boil in his veins. He knew Merlin was a prideful man, despite being so humble. He wouldn’t want Leon to see him as weak and needing to be protected. It was already a miracle that he had accepted the knights’ presence to ensure his safety. Although Leon wasn’t sure how long he would tolerate it.

“Can you show me something?” Leon asked when the silence became too heavy for him. “With your magic, I mean.”

Merlin watched Leon with a thoughtful expression before he sat down on the lush grass and motioned for the knight to do the same. Once Leon was seated in front of him, the warlock pressed his palm to the ground and incanted a spell. Leon had no hope of recognising any of the words Merlin chanted, but he had to admit he was fascinated by the power they held. It wasn’t a harsh kind of power, though. It was gentle and soft. As Merlin finished his spell, his eyes glowed golden. Between them, small flowers started to grow. The light green grass became dotted with vibrant colours as the flowers grew. Saphire blue, crimson red, deep purple. The petals took an infinity of hues. It was the most beautiful thing Leon had ever seen.

Gently, he reached out to stroke the pink petals of a flower. They were softer than velvet under his finger. Leon was transfixed. More flowers kept sprouting from the earth, piercing the supple soil, and emerging from between blades of grass. Whereas the first flowers had grown only in the space between Leon and Merlin, they now spotted the ground all around them, as if the soil had been fertilised by Merlin’s magic.

“That’s amazing,” Leon murmured. He looked at his friend with an awestruck expression. He hadn’t felt such a sense of wonder since he was a small child captivated by the most mundane things.

How could anyone believe magic was evil when it could produce such beauty? Leon wasn’t naïve, he had seen the damage magic could cause. He knew it could be a destructive force too, in the wrong hands. But for most of his life, he had been taught that magic was only dark and harmful. Until recently, he hadn’t been given a reason to question that. He imagined, abstractly, that magic could be used for good as well. He had heard sorcerers beg for their lives, claiming they had only used their powers to heal a loved one, to help their crops grow, or to ease their workload. But he hadn’t seen it, and he had been told that sorcerers lied and cheated. He had been taught never to believe a sorcerer’s words.

Knowing what he knew now, he felt ashamed of how he had treated magic users in the past. Had Merlin’s magic not been revealed, Leon might have continued to hold inaccurate views on magic. 

A light blush was dusting Merlin’s cheek. He obviously wasn’t used to receiving praise for his magic. Or for anything at all. It made Leon want to compliment him more often.

“I was so scared that you would hate me for my magic,” Merlin confessed, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground.

“I could never hate you, Merlin,” Leon said urgently. It was intolerable to think that Merlin even entertained such thoughts. “You’re like a little brother to me.”

This seemed to surprise Merlin. His eyes left the ground, staring disbelievingly at Leon instead. There was something so fragile in those eyes. Leon wondered how he had ever missed the loneliness in Merlin’s gaze. Now that he knew what to look for, Leon could clearly see the deep longing for companionship, the fear of rejection and the self-doubt that swam in those dark blue irises.

“I am? But I always thought… I mean, you’re always so formal, I thought you just saw me as a friendly servant.”

Leon had never resented his strict upbringing more than in that moment. He had been raised to be a knight. His whole life had been turned towards serving his King. And his father had always been very adamant on preserving the rigid separation of the classes. True, Leon had been friends with Gwen and Elyan as a child, but they had only been allowed to play together in secret. That became even more true once Leon had been sent to Camelot to be trained as a squire. Much like Arthur, Leon didn’t know how to express his feelings very well. He wished he had learned a thing or two from his childhood friends. Elyan and Gwen didn’t have any problem showing they cared about others. Leon didn’t know how to do that, and he was afraid of making a fool of himself by being sentimental. So instead, he used formality as a shield.

“I’m sorry, I should have been a better friend,” the knight said. It was now his turn to avoid Merlin’s eyes.

“I’m glad to have a brother like you,” Merlin said. He clasped Leon’s hand in his slender ones, tilting his head to catch Leon’s gaze.

Merlin was too kind and too forgiving for this world. Leon knew he wasn’t weak, though. Merlin’s kindness and compassion were strengths that needed to be nurtured. In this moment, Leon vowed to play his role as a big brother and to always be there to protect Merlin.

“We should go back, now. Gaius will have my head if I don’t bring him those herbs quickly,” Merlin said after a moment. He pulled Leon up with surprising strength and together they walked back towards the city.

When he returned to the physician’s chambers, Merlin was surprised to find Gaius gone. Instead, Arthur was waiting for him. He looked golden in the late afternoon sun. His blond hair gleamed like a crown. Lost in thought as he gazed at the courtyard from the window, he looked like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. It was such a stark contrast from the childish prince Merlin had met five years ago. Arthur now looked like the King he was. Merlin put his bag on the table and joined Arthur by the window, resting a hand on Arthur’s lower back. Arthur startled at the contact, but he relaxed as soon as he saw Merlin beside him. 

“I wasn’t expecting to find you here,” Merlin said quietly, barely above a whisper.

Arthur sighed. He looked frustrated, and Merlin couldn’t resist smoothing the frown that creased Arthur’s brow with gentle fingers. “I wanted to see you,” Arthur confessed. His face was tight with exhaustion and discontent. “Why is everything so complicated,” he whined, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s waist and resting his forehead on Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin returned the embrace, hoping to comfort Arthur. It was so unusual for Arthur to seek physical affection. Merlin felt deeply honoured that Arthur felt comfortable enough to do this. He wanted to take the heavy burden that plagued Arthur’s mind. He wanted to share his worries and to help him solve his problems. On a whim, he pressed a light kiss on Arthur’s temple, smiling when it earned him a contented hum from his King.

“I don’t know what to do, Merlin. If I condemn Gwaine’s attackers for their crimes, I might lose legitimacy in the eyes of the court. But if I don’t, it’ll send the message that I’m condoning their actions and they might feel emboldened to commit such deeds again. I feel like whatever I do, it’ll have negative consequences.”

Ah, so this was the reason of Arthur’s restlessness. It was quite the dilemma. Merlin felt guilty. It was his fault, if only indirectly, that Gwaine had been assaulted and that Arthur was placed in this undesirable position. If he had been more careful, his magic would still be a secret and his friends wouldn’t suffer.

“Can’t you sentence them for something else? Or maybe you could argue that the attack on Gwaine wasn’t related to his protecting me,” Merlin suggested, although he wasn’t convinced by his proposal.

“The court will see right through it. I know for a fact that some nobles are already scheming against me. The ones who were the most loyal to my father are just waiting for me to stumble. If they gather enough support, they might be able to plot a coup, or to hinder my ability to reign,” Arthur explained.

Since they became friends, Arthur had often talked to Merlin about the intricacies of court politics. It warmed Merlin’s heart that despite his humble upbringing and lack of knowledge about those things, Arthur still considered him capable of understanding these issues. He valued Merlin’s advice, taking the suggestions that seemed useful to him and explaining why others wouldn’t be applicable. Merlin had learned a lot during the last few years.

“If you can’t act officially, at least not yet, maybe you could try protecting the knights in another way,” Merlin said. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was better than leaving Arthur’s men vulnerable to attacks.

“How?” Arthur asked. He kept his hands on Merlin’s hips but raised himself to full height. Merlin could tell his interest was piqued.

“Same way you’re trying to keep me safe. Have them always walk in pairs wherever they go or something like that.”

The smile on Arthur’s face was blindingly bright. It was rare for the King to show his emotions so freely, but when he did, he always looked so youthful and lovable. Merlin knew he was one of the few people who got to see Arthur without his courtly mask. It always felt like an immense privilege had been bestowed upon him.

“You’re a genius, Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed. He then proceeded to plant a short but sweet kiss on Merlin’s lips.

“I thought I was an idiot?” Merlin asked with a smirk that was intended to be teasing but appeared way too fond instead.

Feigning to consider this statement, Arthur tilted his head on the side, making a show of observing Merlin. “Yes,” he said in mock thoughtfulness, “you’re definitely an idiot. But you have your moments.”

Merlin laughed at Arthur’s antics. It was nice to exchange jokes and friendly banter again. Except, it was even better now, because Merlin was allowed to feel Arthur’s smile against his lips as he kissed him.

Chapter Text

The windows of Arthur’s chambers had been left open to let cool air in. Honestly, it didn’t do much good. The wind was warm, and even at night the heat that poured out of the stones made his room stifling. Now, in the middle of the afternoon, it was almost unbearable. Despite wanting nothing more than to go for a ride in the forest and maybe take a dive in a river or a lake, Arthur had too many responsibilities as King to leave the castle.

With everything going on, Arthur had almost forgotten about the midsummer festival and the feast that went with it. It wasn’t one of those grand occasions where Camelot would receive guests from all its allies. There would be a small tournament, in which only knights from Camelot and a few from surrounding kingdoms would participate. Each kingdom had their own festivities, so it was an opportunity to strengthen ties with the nobility within the kingdom rather than a time to deepen alliances with foreign rulers. It was still an important event, though. Making sure the Lords who owned estates distant from the capital were loyal to the crown was just as crucial to a kingdom’s stability than having strong relations with foreign royalty.

Arthur knew this, yet he couldn’t focus on the many tasks involved in planning the festivities. He sighed, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. He had been staring blankly at the parchment before him for half an hour. If everything was to be ready on time, he really needed to get a hold of himself and start working. Usually, Merlin was there to provide him with ideas and give his opinions on Arthur’s plans. But it would be too suspicious to have Merlin come to his chambers for hours in the middle of the day. They were already spending too much time together as it was.

It must have been Arthur’s lucky day, though, because a careful knock on his door pulled him out of his fruitless musings.

“Enter,” he called, a smile pulling at his lips.

Guinevere pushed the door open and smiled at Arthur. She didn’t bother with a curtsy in the privacy of Arthur’s chambers. While they kept the pretence when out in public, when it was just the two of them, they behaved as friends.

“I met Merlin this morning. He suggested you might appreciate some help with planning the midsummer feast,” she explained as she approached Arthur’s desk.

“I’ll let you know that I’m perfectly capable of organizing a feast on my own,” Arthur retorted, feigning annoyance.

Of course, Guinevere knew not to take the rebuke seriously, but she still played along. “Oh, should I leave you to it then, my Lord?”

Merlin definitely was a bad influence. Guinevere, who had once been nothing but respectful, now addressed the King with the same kind of teasing arrogance than the warlock. Arthur liked it. He appreciated the familiarity even more because after their failed attempt at courting, their relationship had been strained and awkward for a while. Now, it seemed that their short-lived romance had strengthened their friendship.

“Don’t you dare leaving!” Arthur said, ready to bolt out of his chair. “I’ve been going nowhere with the preparations,” he admitted, waving the blank sheet of paper, as if to prove his words.

Guinevere hummed thoughtfully, coming to sit beside Arthur at his large oak desk. “How about you start listing the guests for the feast and I plan the menu and decoration of the Great Hall?” she suggested, grabbing a spare sheet of parchment from the stack that rested on the edge of the desk and the quill that Arthur always kept in his top drawer.

They started working, the silence between them often broken by a question or advice from either of them. Not for the first time, Arthur reflected about promoting Guinevere to a higher position within the castle staff. That was something to be considered later, though.

Something about Arthur’s new manservant, Stephen, made Merlin uneasy. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but each time he was in the same room as the man, Merlin felt like slimy creatures crawled all over his skin. There was something in his gaze. A coldness, a kind of distance, that gave Stephen a hard, dangerous look. The rest of his appearance was deceptively banal. Stephen was the most average man Merlin had ever laid eyes on. He was of medium height and built, had short, light-brown hair, and brown eyes. His skin was neither too pale nor too tanned. He looked like an average commoner; someone who spent quite some time outside and was thus a bit tanned. His clothes were similarly normal. He wore the same kind of shirts and trousers as half the male castle staff. There was nothing to distinguish him from others in a crowd.

Stephen’s personality wasn’t much better. From the few conversations Merlin had tried to initiate with the man, he didn’t have any particular hobby. There wasn’t anything he loved or hated. Everything blended in a sea of dispassion. At first, Merlin thought Stephen was just a bit boring. There was nothing wrong with that; George was a bit boring, but he was helpful and passionate about his work, which made him likeable. Stephen had no such qualities. He was a blank page. It made alarm bells ring in Merlin’s head.

As the midsummer festival grew closer, the vague feeling of foreboding that had plagued Merlin grew too. Each time he met Stephen in the corridors, shivers ran down his spine. Something was coming. Merlin just didn’t know what.

Two days before the feast, Merlin was walking with Gwaine. They were in one of the poorer parts of the lower town. Here, people welcomed Merlin’s help. They still looked at him warily, as if they expected him to curse them instead of healing them. But they were too poor to pay a physician, and Gaius was too busy with his patients in the citadel and the upper part of town. Merlin was visiting a patient in a small, decrepit house. It was a child who had suffered a bad cold and had never quite healed. Every week, Merlin brought her a draught to ease her cough and the ache in her lungs.

Just before they entered the house, Merlin stopped Gwaine and looked at him straight in the eye, trying to convey his seriousness.

“I have a bad feeling,” he said once he was certain to have Gwaine’s attention. “Keep an eye on Arthur’s new manservant. Tell the others to keep their eyes on him too. He’s planning something, but I don’t know what.”

“What? You can’t be serious,” Gwaine said, frowning in confusion, “What could he be planning? He’s the most boring person I’ve ever met!”

Merlin sighed. He had often wondered if his sense of dread was simply the product of paranoia. After years of looking for potential threats, he saw danger everywhere. He was usually right, though. And Stephen was scheming, Merlin just knew it deep in his bones. His magic never failed him when it came to detecting danger.

“Exactly! He’s too boring. He’s like a white wall. No one can genuinely be so dull.”

When Gwaine still didn’t seem convinced, Merlin sighed. “Listen, I’m not asking you to arrest him or whatever. Just keep an eye on him. If I’m wrong and he doesn’t do anything, you can laugh at me all you want. But it’s better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Alright,” Gwaine conceded, as if he was doing Merlin a great favour in humouring him. It grated on Merlin’s nerves, but he didn’t say anything. At least, Gwaine had agreed to do as he was asked.

Without another word, Merlin stepped inside the house. Gwaine waited for him outside. They didn’t want the residents to feel intimidated with the presence of a knight. Checking on the little girl’s lungs was quick work. No major change, just as Merlin had expected. It was frustrating. He was sure he could do something to help with magic, but it was obvious the girl’s parents didn’t trust him to do so. As it was, all he could do was lessening her discomfort and making sure she could lead a more or less normal life. The veiled insults and blatant distrust targeted at him always left him feeling hollow inside, but it was better than punches and spit.

The rest of his round went pretty much the same way. Tension accumulated in his shoulders as he struggled to keep a kind smile on his lips. Gwaine’s laid back presence helped, but the feeling of being unwanted even as he did his best to heal his patients weighed heavy on his chest. The two hours he spent in the dark streets of the town seemed to stretch indefinitely. The journey back to the citadel was just as harrowing. In the more affluent parts of town, people stepped out of his way and sneered at him from afar. At least, with his imposed bodyguards, they didn’t dare to physically hurt him.

“You alright?” Gwained asked quietly as they walked up the stairs of the physician’s tower.

Merlin answered with a tight smile. “Yeah, just tired,” he said. Tired didn’t begin to cover it. Merlin felt like he had his own personal cloud following him, dropping icy raindrops on his head. He was cold, almost shivering. He was always cold these days. It was as if the sun didn’t reach him.

When they arrived at the top of the stairs, just a few steps away from Gaius’s chambers, Gwaine laid a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin almost leaned into the touch, seeking the warmth the seeped through the multiple layers of clothes covering his skin. Gwaine’s smile almost made him cry. He was such a mess, starving for the smallest show of affection. To his credit, Gwaine was very perceptive despite his careless front. He pulled Merlin in a tight hug, rubbing Merlin’s back with his strong hands. A few tears leaked from Merlin’s clenched eyelids, landing on the bare skin at the base of Gwaine’s neck.

If anything, Gwaine’s arms tightened their hold around Merlin’s waist. Merlin clutched tightly on Gwaine’s shirt as his body shook with silent sobs. He was too wrung out to be ashamed of crying in a corridor where anyone could see him.

“It’s going to be alright, Merls,” Gwaine whispered, his lips brushing the top of Merlin’s head. “It’ll get better, you’ll see.”

The certainty in his friend’s voice soothed something in Merlin’s heart. He didn’t feel as confident as Gwaine, but he was willing to try believing it. Arthur believed in a brighter future too. He was taking steps to legalising magic, even though they both knew it wouldn’t be as easy as promulgating new laws. Arthur planned on getting rid of the death penalty for magic first. That was their priority. From what he had heard, Arthur had managed to gather support from a few lords and planned on getting more nobles on his side during the midsummer festivities. Merlin just had to be patient.

“Will you be alright?” Gwaine asked as Merlin pulled away, drying his tear-stained cheeks with his sleeve.

“Yes, thank you my friend,” Merlin answered with a shaky smile. “You’d better be on your way if you don’t want to be late for guard duty.”

Gwaine’s grumbling tore a wet laugh from Merlin’s throat.

Merlin hoped he could get a few minutes of rest before getting back to work. For once, he hoped Gaius wasn’t home. Merlin loved his mentor, but the old man was working him to the bone. Today, luck wasn’t on Merlin’s side, though. Gaius was at his workbench, carefully measuring dried herbs before adding them to a murky mixture bubbling in a cauldron.

Without turning to look at Merlin, the old physician said, “Ah it’s good you’re back, my boy. The leech tank really needs cleaning, and those pots need to be washed,” Gaius said, pointing his finger to a pile of dirty pots and pans.

Merlin groaned. Internally, he wanted to scream.

Chapter Text

In the bustle of the last preparations for the feast, Emma went unnoticed. The security in the castle was abysmal, just as Stephen had said. She had easily been able to join the servants’ ranks, using a small enchantment to make everyone accept her presence without much questioning. The feast was to be held the next day, and so far, everything was going well. Her Lady would be pleased. Being a servant allowed her to wander the castle as she pleased. With her acolytes, she had found secret passages to go anywhere in the castle, and they had discovered a forgotten tunnel that led out of the city walls. Everything was ready. All they had to do was wait for the right time to put their plan into motion.

Emma had seen the King once as she was placing vases full of colourful flowers in the Great Hall. At first, she thought he was just there to inspect the proceedings and make sure everything was as he wanted. But then, he had seen a servant struggling to hang a heavy tapestry on the wall and had offered the help them. To say she was surprised would be an understatement. From what she knew, Kings had little regard for those below them, and they certainly wouldn’t lower themselves to accomplish menial tasks. Yet, King Arthur had helped a servant and then patted them on the back with a huge grin. For a second, it made her doubt her mission.

But then, she remembered that despite appearances, he was still a Pendragon. If that servant turned out to have magic, he probably wouldn’t hesitate to have them burnt. Worse, he was a hypocrite, like his father. He tolerated magic when it benefitted him, but crushed anyone else who dared use it. And Emrys was even worse. A traitor to his own kind, taking advantage of his privileged position while abandoning his people to the Pendragons’ ruthless persecution.

It all would end very soon.

There was something wrong. Merlin could feel it like. It was a prickling on his skin, as if he had tiny needles planted all over his body. His magic was warning him of impending danger, but Merlin was helpless to locate the threat. Nobody seemed to believe his warnings either. Gwaine said he had seen nothing suspicious about Stephen’s behaviour and had looked utterly unconvinced when Merlin asked him to keep looking. Lancelot would have believed him, Merlin thought bitterly. In moments like these, he felt his late friend’s absence even more keenly. Lancelot’s steadfast support and unconditional trust had been a breath of fresh air in Merlin’s life. At least, Arthur shared Merlin’s distrust of the new servant. Hopefully, he wouldn’t let his guard down and would be able to defend himself against an attack. Merlin really wished he could attend the feast tomorrow. Alas, he knew very well it was impossible.

Since he couldn’t do anything about his growing sense of unrest, Merlin tried to focus his attention and energy on grinding herbs, roots, spices and other ingredients and labelling jars, vials, and bottles so that he and his mentor could easily find what they needed. It was repetitive and mind-numbing, but after a while, he settled into a steady rhythm and found it relaxing. The revelation of Merlin’s magic and its consequences had thrown Merlin and Gaius’s routine off balance at first, but now they had found a new normalcy. Gaius had hired the services of a young boy to make some deliveries for him, since his aging body didn’t always allow him to walk all around the citadel and the parts of the lower town where he had regular patients. The majority of Merlin’s time was spent in the workroom, grinding ingredients and pouring them into appropriate containers. When he went outside, it was generally to gather herbs or other things Gaius needed in the woods. Occasionally, he went to the market, but as this was most often a harrowing experience for Merlin, even now that he had knightly bodyguards, they tended to avoid it. The only patients Merlin treated were the paupers of the lower town.

Perhaps, Merlin thought, his restlessness was a consequence of his isolation. Being a servant and a physician’s apprentice, he had always interacted with many people of diverse status and condition. He missed those interactions. He missed the easy conversations he used to have with the people of the city when he went to buy goods in the market. The chats he had with other servants as he carried out his chores. The care he provided to patients. Despite the propension for secrecy he had developed out of necessity, Merlin was sociable. He loved being around others. Now, forced to remain in his chambers except for a few ventures outside, he felt lonely. It made him doubt his own mind and the validity of his wariness.

Legitimate or not, there was no way to assuage or confirm his suspicions, though. All he could do was to rely on his friends’ watchfulness and wait. Merlin sighed. He still had a lot of work to do; those dried goods wouldn’t grind themselves.

Sitting at his desk, Arthur was trying to pretend his attention was entirely focused on the speech he was supposed to write. Stephen was scrubbing the floor of his chambers, working silently and efficiently, like a proper servant should. Arthur hated it. The servant’s presence made him uneasy, his whole body on high alert, as if expecting to be struck at any moment. The most frustrating thing was that nothing tangible justified his wariness. Stephen hadn’t done anything to deserve Arthur’s suspicion. But there was something about him that felt wrong. His knights didn’t share his concerns. They had watched the servant, observed his every move, and they had found nothing worthy of alarm. Arthur was tempted to dismiss his diffuse sentiment of mistrust as a product of the stressful situation. But Merlin had the same intuition that something wasn’t quite right, and the warlock was rarely mistaken about those things.

However, Arthur couldn’t do anything before he had solid proof. It wasn’t like he could arrest Stephen on a vague suspicion that he was plotting to commit treason. Uther would probably have done it, pretexting something about magic. Arthur wasn’t his father, though, and he hoped he would never become like him. As long as Stephen didn’t do anything explicitly suspect or illegal, all Arthur could do was staying on his guard. If something were to happen, it would come by tomorrow night. Until then, Arthur had a welcome speech to write.

The bell rang twelve times, announcing midnight. Outside, the air was kept warm by the heat seeping out from the buildings and the ground. Merlin’s small room was suffocating. Despite the heat, Merlin was shivering under his worn-out blanket. He tossed and turned on his flimsy mattress, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. Despite his exhaustion, sleep evaded him. He groaned in frustration tugging the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

And then, a voice called his name. Not his birth name, but the name the druids called him by. Merlin sat up, preparing to jump out of bed at any moment. The voice spoke again, more urgent this time.

“Emrys!” it cried, “Emrys help me, please!”

Without hesitation, Merlin sprang into action. He quickly got dressed in the previous day’s clothes and pulled on his boots. He was out of the physician’s chambers before the voice could call him again. He let himself be guided by the increasingly urgent call, taking care to remain in the shadows any time he heard footsteps. The last thing he needed was to be intercepted by a guard and thrown in the dungeons. Merlin frowned as the voice led him to a secluded part of the castle. He took a narrow corridor. No window pierced the walls here. Merlin took a dusty torch from its sconce and lit it with magic. He had been here already. This corridor led to an abandoned part of the basement. It was at the same level as the vaults, but on the opposite side of the castle. The voice kept calling him, begging for help. Something felt off about this situation. Merlin was almost certain it was a trap. But if someone truly needed his help, he wouldn’t abandon them. He took one last turn, the voice ringing louder than the big bell of the watchtower in his head. In front of him was a door that led to an unused storage room. Merlin knew it. He had pushed that door before. He had taken the hidden passage that led out of the citadel. But aside from him, no one ever went there. There was no doubt left in Merlin’s head. This was a trap. But Merlin didn’t know whether the trap had been laid by the person calling out to him or if they were an unwilling victim in need of help. And this uncertainty was what pushed Merlin to open the door despite his instincts telling him to turn back and run.

Against the wall in the far side of the room, a person was curled up. They were hugging their knees tightly and their head was bent. They didn’t look in immediate danger, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. A pained gasp escaped their lips, spurring Merlin into action. He had spent too many years training to one day become a physician not to react to someone’s pain. Merlin crouched before them, keeping some distance to avoid making the person uncomfortable.

“I’m here,” he said in a soothing voice. “Do you need help? Are you in pain?”

The person nodded before raising their head just enough to look at Merlin with tearful eyes. “Yes, it hurts a lot,” they murmured.

“Where are you hurt? What happened? Are you in danger?” Merlin asked with a bit more urgency. He put one knee down to get into a better position.

“I’m not the one you should worry about.” At this, the person tilted their face up, revealing the smirk that stretched their lips.

Merlin recoiled. It was a trap after all, and he had walked right into it. Before he had time to react, pain erupted in the back of his skull and he fell sideway on the cold, hard floor. The last thing he heard before everything faded to black was the voice that had called him saying, “Well done, the mistress will be pleased.”

Chapter Text

Merlin was distantly aware of the pain in his head. It was like his brain was throbbing, the ache radiating all over his skull. He clenched his eyes shut, wishing to fall back into blissful unconsciousness. But a distant sense of urgency kept him awake. Something was telling him that he needed to tear himself out of the arms of sleep. His magic was restless under his skin, begging him to jump into action. He was in danger.

A familiar voice said, “come on, time to wake up.”

The sweet tone sounded deceptive. Like sugar hiding the bitter taste of poison. That voice sent Merlin’s heart beating in a frenzy, and goosebumps to erupt all over his body. Yet, despite his body reacting automatically to what he identified as a threat, Merlin couldn’t put a face on that voice. His addled mind, still sluggish with pain and exhaustion, couldn’t work fast enough. More than anything, the realisation of his helplessness made Merlin open his eyes in panic. He tried to sit up from where he was lying on the floor, but something kept him down.

Abruptly, Merlin became aware of the tight rope that kept his arms bound above his head. Merlin tried to use his magic to free himself, but the rope only tightened around his wrists. He hissed as the friction irritated the fragile skin. The rope was rough, and each time Merlin tried to move, it rubbed his skin raw. Merlin could imagine how red it must have been.

It was dark around him. Either dawn was still too far away for the sun to start lighting the sky, or he was kept in a windowless room. The floor under him was cold and slightly damp, but too hard to be earth. Merlin heard a creaking somewhere that he recognised as the sound of ancient floorboard groaning under someone’s feet.

“Glad to see you finally deigned join us in the waking world, Emrys,” the same voice as before said.

Again, uneasiness gripped Merlin’s gut, making his stomach roil and his palm sweat. He tried to focus on his environment, squinting his eyes in an attempt to banish the blurriness that still impaired his vision. As he forced himself to calm down, he noticed that he wasn’t in complete darkness. Weak rays of pale moonlight illuminated the room dimly.

Another creaking sound, accompanied by the rustle of clothes announced someone approaching. A dark figure loomed over him. Merlin wished he could scramble away, but he was pinned to the floor. He stared at the figure, trying to discern more details about them.

“Morgana,” Merlin groaned as his vision came into focus. Her sneering face was the only thing he could now see distinctly. The rest of his surroundings were still too dark and blurry.

With her unkempt hair and dirty, torn dress, she looked nothing like the Lady she had once been. The dark circles under her blood-shot eyes created a stark contrast against her pallid skin. She looked sick and crazy. Merlin’s heart throbbed to see what Morgana had become. She had once defended the weak and oppressed with fiery passion. Now she was nothing but a hag.

“Merlin,” she said in a deceptively sweet voice, “imagine my surprise when I found out that you were not only a sorcerer, but Emrys himself. You could have helped me all along, but you chose to save your own head instead.” Her voice hardened and her smile dropped from her face as she continued, “Worse than that, you betrayed me. You poisoned me. I thought you were my friend!”

And didn’t Merlin know that. He regretted not being a better friend for Morgana and poisoning her was the worst thing he had ever done. If Merlin wasn’t certain she was planning to kill Arthur and invade Camelot, Merlin would almost consider letting her get revenge and kill him. But he couldn’t. Not when he knew this would mean Arthur’s certain death. This was about more than destiny; it was about love. Love for Arthur, of course. But also, for all his friends who would suffer or be murdered. For the Kingdom he had come to call home. Merlin couldn’t die, not yet.

“There’s not a day that I don’t regret what I did to you. And I know it doesn’t make anything better, but I’m sorry, Morgana.” Tears leaked down his cheeks as he said those words.

“You’re right, it doesn’t make anything better,” she spat, with only hatred in her eyes.

“I know you hate me, and I don’t blame you. But Arthur has nothing to do with this. He’s actually working on repealing the ban on magic.”

“If he really wanted to do that, it would already be done. He’s the King, he can do whatever he likes!”

Merlin sighed. Morgana knew how those things worked; she must have known it wasn’t that simple. “You know he can’t. The people of Camelot, from peasants to Lords, still hate or at least distrust magic. He can’t just repeal the ban without support from at least part of the nobility. If he did, it would cause unrest throughout the kingdom.”

“You see, this is exactly why Arthur will always be weak and unfit to be King. He can’t make hard decisions when the time comes. He can’t rule with an iron hand when it’s necessary,” Morgana said, her face a mask of disdain.

The cold, murderous glint in Morgana’s eyes made Merlin shiver. She sounded so much like Uther when she spoke like this, it was frightening. She spoke like a fanatic, leaving no place for nuance or debate. Just like Uther, she saw the world in contrasts of black and white, right and wrong. People were either with her or against her. Her judgement was unequivocal and absolute. Those she deemed her enemies deserved nothing but death in the name of the greater good.

“And you think you’d make a good Queen?” Merlin asked, never one to back down when faced with a challenge. He strained to keep his head off the floor, ignoring the burn in his neck and shoulders. “You think you’re acting in the interests of magic users? All you’ll achieve is to make people hate magic even more!”

“Shut up!” Morgana shouted, kicking Merlin’s jaw with the hard, pointed tip of her shoe.

The force of the impact caused Merlin’s head to hit the ground. He gasped as pain flared in his skull. The metallic tang of blood invaded his mouth, making him gag.

“Look at you,” Morgana snarled, “You’re supposed to be the most powerful warlock to ever live. You’re supposed to be Magic’s champion, its liberator. But you’re nothing but a coward, hiding while others die. And now you’re lying here, helpless on the floor. You’re pathetic.”

Morgana knelt beside Merlin, the disgust on her face morphing into a deranged smirk. “I have dreamt of killing you,” she drawled. Suddenly, the cold tip of a blade was pressed to the underside of Merlin’s chin, forcing him to tilt his head up. “And I will.” The sting as the blade pierced his skin forced Merlin to clench his jaw, trying to evade the dagger’s unforgiving bite. “But not yet. First, I want you to look as I destroy everything you hold dear, just like you did to me.”

The blade was gone, but Merlin still didn’t release the breath he was holding. Morgana put a hand on his forehead and started chanting. Her eyes glowed gold as ominous syllables rolled down her tongue. Despite his best efforts, Merlin was helpless to fight against the dizziness that overtook him. His head was spinning. His heavy eyelids fell shut. Merlin was back in darkness’ claws.

The castle was already bustling at the break of dawn. With the midsummer feast and the festival that would animate the town, people were busy and excited. Servants made last-minute arrangements so that everything was perfect to welcome the guests, and merchants decorated their stalls with bright fabrics and colourful flowers. Arthur was pacing in his room, rehearsing his welcome speech. Every now and then, he looked at himself in the mirror, rearranging his cloak, carding a hand through his hair or trying to find the most charming expression without it looking strained or fake. Normally, Merlin was there to reassure him and take his mind off the stress. But he wasn’t here today. Stephen had come to wake Arthur up and brought his breakfast, but he had left as soon as Arthur was dressed.

There was a nagging feeling that gnawed at Arthur’s gut. A diffuse impression of wrongness. Arthur didn’t know why, but he had the certainty that this day would end in blood. He tried to dismiss it as just his stress talking, but the feeling remained. He needed a distraction.

There was still time before the first Lords would arrive. Almost two hours. One if they came early. Arthur couldn’t spend one more minute alone with his anxiety. He unclasped his cloak, draping it carefully on the back of a chair, and left his room. He needed to find Merlin.

However, that proved easier said than done. When he arrived at Gaius’s door, the old physician told him he hadn’t seen his apprentice since he went to bed the night before. He looked worried, but not exaggeratedly so, so Arthur tried to swallow his own concern. Maybe Merlin was with one of the knights. Perhaps he had gone to gather herbs early in the morning. Merlin had weird habits, after all.

But none of his knights had seen the warlock either. The last one who saw him was Leon, and that had been early the previous evening. This meant that no one knew Merlin’s whereabouts since last night. Now, Arthur was out of excuses to appease his worry. Merlin could be anywhere. He could be somewhere bleeding out or already dead, for all Arthur knew. The King wished he could cancel the feast, let the Lords share the people’s merriment at the festival, and go on a search for Merlin. But he couldn’t. especially not in the current circumstances. Arthur needed to look like a responsible, level-headed ruler if he wanted to amass support in his endeavours to repeal the ban on magic. Abandoning his duties to go on a frantic search for his sorcerous friend wouldn’t play in his favour.

Much time had passed as Arthur tried to find any clue as to where his lover was. He only had time to go back to his chambers and put his cloak back around his neck before he had to stand on top of the stairway leading to the castle’s main entrance. His knights were already here when he emerged from the heavy oak doors. Leon had once again gone out of his way to assist Arthur. The First Knight had made sure the highest-ranking knights were all gathered in neat lines along the stairs, forming a formidable picture. Arthur couldn’t be more grateful for his friend.

Arthur only had time to take his rightful place, towering over the courtyard as the clatter of hooves hitting cobblestone announced their guests’ arrival. Lower nobles had either already arrived the night before if they came from distant parts of the kingdom or would arrive later in the day. Only the highest nobility under the royal family was granted the honour of being welcomed by the King. Arthur didn’t like it, and he made sure each of his guests were made to feel valued. But for organisational reasons, there was no other way to proceed. He couldn’t stand with his knights here all day, after all.

Just greeting the highest-ranking nobles could already take considerable time, if they didn’t arrive as a group. Thankfully, it seemed today’s welcoming would be short as all the Lords and Ladies he was expected to receive arrived close to each other. An army of servant hurried to bring their masters and mistresses’ luggage to their designated rooms. Arthur was proud of his castle staff. Contrary to his father, he recognised that this was a difficult, thankless job. Servants were essential to the running of the castle and by extension, of the entire kingdom. After nobility left at the end of the festivities, Arthur intended to organise something to thank the servants for their hard work. He wasn’t sure what yet; after all, he didn’t want to give more work to the servants by asking them to organise their own gift. He’d have to ask Guinevere and Merlin. Perhaps even George could give some advice. And Morris.

The thought of Merlin awoke the panic Arthur had managed to sedate. This wasn’t the time. Arthur needed to look strong and confident as he greeted those influential nobles. While he disagreed with a lot of his father’s teachings, Arthur could recognise that the late King hadn’t been wrong when he drilled into Arthur the importance of never showing weakness around nobility. And so, with practiced ease, and manufactured charm, Arthur welcomed his guests properly, clasping hands, accepting bows and curtsies, kissing hands. He exchanged quick pleasantries with each of the Lords and Ladies who made their way to him, asking about the welfare of their estates and the health of their families.

When finally, the last guest had left to rest and freshen up in their chambers, Arthur exhaled a sigh.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, and he quickly tried to conceal his reaction by turning towards the person it belonged to with a smile. It was only Leon, looking at him with pinched lips and furrowed brows. The rest of Arthur’s knights were standing around him with similar expressions.

“We know you can’t search for Merlin right now, it would be a bad look. But we can. The tournament doesn’t start until tomorrow, we have nothing crucial to do for now,” Leon said with his usual seriousness.

“Aye, we’ll find him in no time with all of us looking,” Gwaine added. His laid-back attitude looked forced, but Arthur was grateful for the attempt at normalcy.

Arthur nodded. His knights scouring the castle in search of Merlin would look less suspicious than if Arthur himself did it. They could make it look like a patrol. Arthur knew they were clever, resourceful men; he trusted them to lead this mission to the best of their abilities.

“Thank you, my friends. You are released of any duties you had for the day,” he said, clasping each of their forearms.

This would be a long day, but at least, he knew his friends would do their best to find Merlin. He was not only Arthur’s lover, after all, he was also their dear friend too.

Now, there was nothing for Arthur to do but accomplish his kingly duties and wait for the feast.

Chapter Text

The darkness that enfolded Merlin dissipated, but still tinted the world in greyish hues. Merlin was back in Camelot, walking the hallways with hurried steps. A sense of urgency kept his feet going even as his head was lost in a storm of half-formed thoughts. Servants walked with haste, arms laden with heavy trays and platters stacked with food. It was the usual bustle of feast nights. Merlin’s feet carried him to the Great Hall. He tried to stop himself, but he was helpless to do it, as if his body didn’t belong to him anymore. He knew he couldn’t join Arthur and his guests while they enjoyed the rich foods and delicate wine served to them. He couldn’t stand right behind Arthur’s seat and play his role of dutiful servant. Yet, his feet still carried him there.

It seemed like no one saw Merlin. Even the servants he crossed path with paid him no mind. The bright red drapes that lined the walls of the castle had a muted colour, as if covered with a thick layer of dust. Merlin found it odd, but his mind couldn’t settle on one thought to examine it. As soon as a detail caught his attention, another came to snatch it. A flurry of fleeting thoughts kept Merlin from thinking.

Finally, he reached the ornated doors of the Great Hall. Two guards stood there, their gazes fixed in front of them, stoic faces, and rigid bodies. They looked more like statues than living, breathing men. Merlin easily slipped past them. Just like the other occupants of the castle, it looked like they didn’t notice him, even as he stood in their line of sight. Unease grew in Merlin’s heart, and for a long, endless second, he wondered what he would find behind the doors.

A sigh of relief escaped him as his eyes settled on the scene he uncovered when the doors opened.

Arthur was seated at the high table, flanked by two Lords from rich estates that lay on the south and west of the kingdom. Arthur had his carefully crafted mask of courtly charm firmly set on his handsome features. His hair glowed in the warm light of the many candles and torches that illuminated the Hall. But just as everything else, his golden hair looked just slightly ashen. The room had a grey tint to it, as if a thin veil covered Merlin’s eyes. Similarly, the smells that wafted through the room were muted, as if instead of reaching Merlin’s nostrils directly, they were instead filtered by a thin wall.

The guests all revelled in the luxury of Camelot’s hospitality. Nothing but the finest meats, the ripest fruits and the richest wines graced the guests’ palates. Merlin knew this from experience. On more than one occasion, Arthur had subtly arranged for a plate stacked high with leftovers to be brought to his room so that Merlin could taste those delicacies after Arthur left the feasts. A soft smile graced Merlin at the memory and his eyes found their way back on Arthur’s face.

Now that he took a closer look, he could see that the young King wasn’t as relaxed as he tried to appear. For untrained eyes, he looked a picture of carefree merriment. But Merlin wasn’t so easily fooled. He could read Arthur’s worry as clearly as if it was written in bold letters on his lover’s forehead. It was engraved in the slight crease of his brow, carved in the clench of his jaw, printed in the tension of the King’s shoulders. Merlin longed to walked closer to him, to hold his hand and press light kisses on his forehead. But he was stuck in place, his back pressed against the wall, hidden in a shadowy corner of the room. It was useless to seek to conceal his presence. No one seemed to notice his presence.

Gwaine approached the King, standing behind his left shoulder, he bent down to whisper something in Arthur’s ear. Whatever words the knight had uttered did nothing to alleviate Arthur’s clear concern. On the contrary, they seemed to increase it. Arthur was quick to school his features in a relaxed smile, that would only convince his courtly guests. He whispered something back, earning a sharp nod from Gwaine, who immediately went to carry out Arthur’s orders. It was odd to see Gwaine so compliant. Something really bad must have happened to elicit such an attitude from him.

At some point Elyan and Percival walked right in front of Merlin, but like the others in the room, they were oblivious to his presence. Merlin started wondering if he was in some sort of strange dream that felt too real, like dreams tended to. It was one of his worst nightmares: being surrounded by familiar faces but ignored as his friends led their lives. No one even glanced in his direction.

That wasn’t exactly true, though. Although he hadn’t noticed at first, one person in this room gazed at him. A woman in a dark green dress, her long black curls cascading down her back. Her tanned skin gleamed like bronze in the warm light of the Hall. Soft features were belied by a predatory grin. As their eyes met, the air was punched out of Merlin’s lungs. The orange gem she wore on a chain around her neck glowed and Merlin gasped as the woman smirked. Merlin could recognize that cruel grin and the icy stare that went with it anywhere. Even the craftiest disguise couldn’t conceal them.

Morgana.

Panic rose in Merlin’s chest. His heart was trying to beat its way out of his ribcage, each pulse echoing painfully in his throat.

I want you to look as I destroy everything you hold dear. The threat rang loud in Merlin’s head, almost disorienting as it echoed in his skull. Morgana wasn’t one to throw empty threats, and this one had been no different. Morgana had found her way in the heart of Camelot, trapping Merlin in a dreadful dream to stand witness to the destruction of everyone and everything he loved.

He raged against the invisible chains that kept him locked in this trance, thrashing and writhing. A wrathful scream erupted from his parted lips, low and deep, imbued with all the might of his power. The illusion rattled, like windowpanes struck by the harsh winds of a tempest. It held fast, though, kept in place by Morgana’s magic. Merlin didn’t give up, though. His urgency grew as Morgana’s devious smirk landed on Arthur, as if she delighted in this game, biding her time until it was time to strike a lethal blow. And Arthur still laughed and chatted, unsuspecting of the fate that awaited him. In truth, Merlin wasn’t sure what Morgana was waiting for. She had Arthur and his knights in her grasp already.

But Morgana had always been showy. She would make sure Arthur’s demise would be grand and dramatic. Stephen filled Arthur’s glass before daring a glance at Morgana, receiving a minute nod in response. Arthur lifted the glass to his lips, taking an appreciative sip. Merlin wanted to scream at Arthur to stop drinking. He had never wished so fervently that he could be at Arthur’s side.

Merlin struggled, throwing all his strength in the fight. He screamed, feeling his magic stir and boil in the space between his ribs. His power surged, brought forward by guttural words, in a language as old as the world itself. In this moment, Merlin got a glimpse of what it meant to be Emrys. He was a vessel for Magic, something not quite human. The power that resided in him felt too immense, too raw, too wild. It wasn’t the tamed magic that sorcerers learned to use. It wasn’t even the elemental power that warlocks and witches could wield. It was a force that didn’t, couldn’t make sense to a human mind. It was magic in its purest form, coming to Merlin’s aid. Merlin felt the illusion shake with increasing intensity. Morgana’s eyes widened, terrified fascination painted on her stolen face.

And then, the spell broke. The image of the Great Hall shattered in dozens of tiny shards, like a mirror smashed to pieces. Around Merlin the world was dark again. His wrists bled where the rope had bitten into his tender skin. The ropes loosened, freeing Merlin’s limbs on his silent command. His head swam and his stomach roiled. Panic made his thoughts run wild, untethered. But one certainty kept Merlin grounded, steadying his legs and driving him forward.

His home was in danger.

The Great Hall was too warm. The many candles and torches that lit the room now that the sun had set added to the heat that had accumulated during the day. Arthur could barely focus on his conversation with Lord Evan. All he could think about was Merlin’s mysterious disappearance. True, the warlock was known to disappear at odd times, but now that Arthur knew about his magic, he didn’t need to act so secretively anymore. Something about this whole situation felt off. As a warrior, Arthur knew better than to dismiss his intuitions.

There was a feeling of heaviness about the Hall, as if the air was thicker than it should be. Arthur wondered if he was the only one able to perceive it. His guests didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. Arthur raised his glass, waiting for Stephen to refill it. He knew he shouldn’t drink too much, but the soothing buzz of alcohol was the only thing that calmed his nerves. The wine was good, and there was nothing he could do to find Merlin at the moment, anyway. He only needed to keep a clear enough head to not make a fool of himself in front of his guests, and seeing as they were all well into their cups, he doubted it would be the case.  

With every sip of wine he took, the syrupy quality of the atmosphere increased. Arthur could feel his limbs getting heavier and his thoughts becoming sluggish. He welcomed the feeling. After weeks of stress and anxiousness, it was a much-needed break. At the back of his mind, an insistent voice that sounded oddly like Merlin kept screaming at him that something was wrong. Arthur dismissed it. It was only his latent worry about everything he needed to deal with that resurfaced to prevent him from enjoying a pleasant evening.

“I’ve never tasted a wine as sugary as this, sire,” Lord Evan said in a joyous tone, before taking another hearty gulp and signalling for Stephen to refill his glass.

Arthur was inclined to agree. This was the best wine he had ever drunk. He couldn’t remember how many glasses he had emptied, but it seemed harmless to ask Stephen for some more. As the evening wore on, the excitement dwindled and everyone seemed happy to just drink and chat. They all had relaxed grins on their faces. Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he felt so carefree. He distractedly listened to some story about Lord Alwyn’s daughter, who enjoyed hunting more than embroidery, much to his dismay. Arthur thought hunting was a perfectly fine hobby, no matter what the likes of Merlin had to say.

He was so lost in his own complacent daydreams that he didn’t immediately notice the change in the room’s atmosphere. Where the warm, thick air had been comfortable and numbing, it suddenly became suffocating. Arthur felt like each inhale he took burned his lungs. He tried to move, to reach out for his sword, to alert his knights. But he was paralysed. His body refused to answer his call, and his thoughts ground to a stop. It made his head spin and his stomach roil.

A dark-skinned woman stood up, a cold smirk adorning her face. The gem on her necklace glowed and she began to transform. Between one blink and the next, her appearance changed drastically. Where the unfamiliar Lady had been, Morgana now stood, her smirk growing as her eyes landed on Arthur’s terrified face.

“I’ve given it a lot of thought, you know, dear brother.” Morgana’s lips stretched into a predatory grin that made shivers run down Arthur’s spine. “I’ve considered killing you discreetly, but that didn’t feel right. No, you have to die feeling helpless and desperate, like all those sorcerers who burnt on the pyre. And just like them, no one will remember you once you’re gone. When your heart stops beating, everyone within these walls will forget you ever existed.”

Arthur felt like he was going to throw up. All the nobles had been invited to this feast, and they had all accepted the invitation. Everyone with an ounce of political power would forget who their rightful King was, and Morgana would be free to ascend the throne as the legitimate Queen.

Chapter Text

Merlin had never run so fast in his entire life. His lungs burned and his legs ached, but he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t rest, not even for one second. Not when Camelot was in imminent danger. Thankfully, the hut where they had taken him was close to the city. It was hard to find his way in the dark, but Merlin relied on his magic to guide him. His feet caught on roots and branches, and he almost tripped several times. It was a miracle he managed to stay on his feet. He only accelerated when the white turrets of the castle became visible, glowing in a grey hue under the light of the moon.

The guards at the western gate tried to block his way, but with a quick spell, Merlin put them to sleep. That would certainly get him in trouble later, but Merlin didn’t have time for any interference now. In the empty courtyard, his panting breaths sounded deafeningly loud. He entered the castle by the main entrance, barrelling past the guards. At first, nothing seemed unusual inside the castle. The bustle of feast nights had slowed down. The kitchen staff started cleaning, now that the nobles were done drinking. Empty jugs of wine made their way back to the kitchen where they would be refilled to sate the nobles’ thirst.

It was just Merlin’s luck that he met Ellie and her acolytes on his way to the Great Hall. She tried to trip him, but Merlin had no time for petty bullying.

“Not now!” he shouted, “Arthur’s in danger!” He didn’t turn back to see their bewildered expressions as he raced up a flight of stairs.

Two guards stood in front of the ornated doors of the Great Hall. When Merlin tried to run past them, they roughly pushed him away. Their vicious glares would be enough to make anyone else cower, but Merlin was on a mission, and he was running out of time. When the guards pointed their spears at him, Merlin concluded that he had no other choice but to subdue them. Just like he had done with the guards who stood by the city gate, he put them to sleep. However, the doors remained stubbornly closed when he tried to open them. With his palms against the precious dark wood, Merlin could feel the thrum of magic keeping them locked.

Panic rose once more in his chest, before Merlin forced himself to take a calming breath. He wasn’t some helpless servant, after all. He was a warlock, he was Emrys, he had enough power to overcome any enchantment laid by Morgana. His magic flowed through his veins, waiting to answer Merlin’s command. He focused on the doors, on the magic laced in their wood. And then, he pushed. His magic poured out through his palms, the calloused skin of his hands tingling as his magic was expelled. In his mind, he imagined the doors bursting open, the image as vivid as if he saw it through his eyes. He clenched his teeth, groaning under the effort. Morgana was powerful. She had earned her title of High Priestess. But Merlin held more power. He didn’t have magic, he was magic. And magic would obey him.

And it did. With one last push, the dark web of Morgana’s spell unravelled. The doors swung open with so much force that they splintered as they collided with the walls.

In the middle of the Hall, Morgana stood in all her evil glory. She was standing over Arthur, a dagger held safely in her hand, ready to strike. Merlin didn’t hesitate. As soon as she turned towards him, her features disfigured by contempt, he sent a powerful blast of magic at her, projecting her against the far wall. Merlin roared as he approached her where she was struggling to get back on her feet. He felt a surge of protectiveness towards Arthur, who was still paralysed, only able to move his eyes to witness what was happening around him. Warmth spread through his chest as he noticed that Arthur’s terrified expression had subsided once Merlin had appeared.

Morgana got back on her feet, preparing to cast a spell. But Merlin was faster. He grabbed the pendant that still hung on her neck, feeling the dark power emanating from the orange stone in its centre. With a sharp tug, the chain broke, but the spell didn’t lift. Merlin squeezed the jewel in his hand. He didn’t know a spell to break the hold Morgana’s magic had on the people occupying the castle, but the whisper of his magic told him he only needed to saturate the gemstone with his magic to break it. And so, that’s what Merlin did. With as much precision as he could, Merlin directed his power to flow to his left hand, and then, he poured it in the magical stone, drowning the magic that imbued it with his own. Cracks began to appear in the amber-coloured gem, getting larger as more of Merlin’s magic penetrated it. Dimly, he heard Morgana scream in rage. Without any conscious thought, Merlin’s magic created a shield around him to protect him against the witch’s assaults.

Fat drops of sweat dripped down Merlin’s forehead, stinging his eyes and covering his upper lip with salt. He gripped the stone tighter, pouring more and more magic into it. Morgana’s spell held fast, but he could feel it begin to unravel against the tidal wave of Merlin’s power. And then, with a final burst, the stone shattered in tiny shards, their sharp edges cutting Merlin’s palm.

It was as if the whole castle took in a collective breath as they were freed of Morgana’s influence.

Guards flooded in through the open doors, Arthur and the knights unsheathed their swords, ready to fight. It was completely useless. Fighting magic with human weapons was a foolish endeavour. But Merlin let them. They needed to feel like they were doing something, Merlin understood that. Servants and nobles alike cowered in the corners or ran out of the Great Hall. Absolute chaos reigned. Food and wine splattered on the ground as people tried to get as far away from the fight as they could. Merlin sighed. There would be so much cleaning to do once this was over.

Even as he kept his eyes trained on Morgana, Merlin was intently aware of the position of everyone still in the room. He wouldn’t let her harm anyone here. Many didn’t deserve his protection, but Merlin felt a duty to keep them safe, anyway. Morgana screeched in anger. Her wild hair, pale, ashy skin, and worn-out dress made her look more like a vengeful wraith than the Lady she had once been. Once again, Merlin’s heart broke to see what had become to the woman that had been his friend all those years ago. Now wasn’t the time for grief, though. He may be Emrys, but Morgana was a High Priestess. She was powerful, and her anger fuelled her magic.

In Morgana’s hands, a fireball started forming, quickly growing larger. Nimueh’s magic had been powerful, but it was nothing compared to the depth of Morgana’s power. If she wasn’t using it for nefarious purposes, Merlin would feel a swell of pride at how far she had come in controlling and nurturing her innate magic. The fireball was launched at Merlin with deathly accuracy. There was no way Merlin would be able to dodge it. If he were anyone else, he’d be sure to die. As it was, Merlin summoned a magical shield. He braced for the impact, gritting his teeth. The fireball collided with the shield with a sizzling sound. Merlin shifted, widening his stance. He pushed back, sending more of his magic to extinguish the fire. It disintegrated in tiny sparks, falling harmlessly on the floor.

Just as Merlin was about to counterattack, Arthur had to do something stupid. Merlin loved his King, but sometimes, he really was a dollophead.

“Morgana!” Arthur called, stepping forward under the astounded stares of his knights, “Your quarrel is with me, no one else needs to be involved!”

“My dear brother,” Morgana crooned, “I always knew you were a little thick, but I didn’t know you were utterly brainless.”

Undeterred, Arthur tightened his hold on the handle of his sword. He wasn’t poised to attack, though. Merlin had watched him fight often enough to recognise his pose. He was ready to parry any attack, while appearing non-threatening. “Stop this madness. You’re my sister, I have no wish to fight you.”

“But I do. I want you to die, Arthur.”

Morgana’s words, spoken with such cold hatred broke Arthur’s heart. Merlin could see the faint ambers of hope die in his sky-blue eyes. Despite everything she had done, Arthur still loved his sister. He had still hoped to find a path towards peace. To know that Morgana held no love for him shattered his heart. Merlin wished he could offer some comfort. But he couldn’t take his attention away from Morgana, not even for a second.

Before Arthur had time to react, Morgana used her magic to disarm him. Arthur dropped his sword as if he’d been burned. Before it touched the ground, Morgana took control of it, directing the blade to strike its owner. The ceremonial chainmail Arthur was wearing was thinner than his normal one. It wouldn’t offer much protection. Merlin had neglected to infuse it with the powerful protection spells he had cast on the armour Arthur wore in battle. He had placed only lighter spells on it, just in case. It wouldn’t achieve much against Morgana’s magic combined with a mortal wound by a blade.

However, Merlin hadn’t survived this long without getting good at thinking and reacting quickly. He wasn’t sure he could deflect the blow from the sword. And there was no way he could physically reach Arthur in time. Stopping time could be an option, but it had always been rather unpredictable, and it took a lot of energy. To save Arthur, Merlin only had one option. He directed a wave of magic towards Arthur, pushing him out of the way just in time. Arthur looked stunned as he got back on his feet, a meter away from where he had been standing a second before. His knights helped him up, forming a protective circle around their monarch. Merlin wasn’t sure whether the purpose was to protect Arthur from further attacks or to prevent him from doing something stupid again.

“I will not let you hurt Arthur or anyone else in Camelot, Morgana,” Merlin declared, bringing the witch’s attention back to him. “They may not all be innocents, but shedding blood isn’t the way to build peace.”

“I don’t care about peace!” Morgana spat. “Did they care about peace when they cheered as our people burnt? Did they care about peace when they reported suspected magic users to Uther? Why should I care about peace when they don’t want it?”

With a bone-chilling roar, Morgana’s eyes lit golden. Around the room, the flames of every candle, every torch, every fire that had been lit responded to her call. The flames grew, burning hotter. From all sides, fire flew towards Merlin, destructive, aggressive, uncontrollable. But despite her immense power, Morgana was consumed by rage, and her emotions made her sloppy. The attack was brute strength, lacking finesse. Merlin’s magic formed a dome over him and his friends. The balls of fire fell on it relentlessly. Merlin could feel the rage that fuelled these flames. A single spark from that fire would be able to scorch him. But his magic held strong, nurtured by his determination to protect those he loved.

The gold in Morgana’s eyes began to wane. The fire lost its strength, until it got snuffed out completely. Morgana was breathing heavily, trembling from exhaustion and anger. And then, her knees gave out, and she fell on the floor.

The shield Merlin had summoned dissipated, but Merlin still kept a protective barrier between Morgana and the rest of the room. With careful steps, he approached her. He stopped only when he was close enough to touch. And then, he kneeled. He took Morgana’s hands in his, keeping his touch gentle.

“This has to stop now, Morgana. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend for you. There are so many things I regret. But I can’t let you continue on this path of destruction,” he whispered as he allowed his magic to flow out of him, healing every cut and bruise that marred Morgana’s skin. He hair regained its lushness. Her skin took on a healthier tone. Even her dress started to mend itself.

Merlin kissed Morgana’s forehead, before pressing his forehead to hers. At first, Morgana weakly attempted to push him away, but she had no strength left in her. With her strength used up, her rage also faded and she gave up the fight. Her hands gripped Merlin’s tightly. She looked so young, so lost.

Merlin started chanting. The words spilled from his lips of their own accord. As often, Merlin’s magic understood his wishes, and it guided him. It showed him the path, whispered the right words in his ear. A golden halo formed around Morgana. Her hands tightened around his, the grip becoming almost painful. But Morgana didn’t fight back. A golden thread appeared, connecting Morgana’s heart to Merlin’s. Merlin kept chanting, even as pain flared in his chest.

When he was done, Merlin immediately knew he had achieved what he had wanted. Morgana’s magic was bound to him. It was still hers, but she wouldn’t be able to use it freely. Through the ritual, it had been cleansed. It still held hints of darkness, shadows of fear and anger. Those emotions had always been part of Morgana, and they wouldn’t leave. But they weren’t suffocating anymore.

Morgana slumped against Merlin and started weeping. And Merlin cried with her. He cried for the friend he had lost, for the death and destruction he had indirectly and unwittingly caused, for the pain that laid ahead.

Chapter Text

Nobles and servants formed a circle around the scene unfolding before their eyes. They watched with suspicion as Merlin cradled Morgana’s head against his chest, whispering apologies. The faint rustle of whispers grew louder as the crowd became agitated. Arthur didn’t care. He approached the crying pair with careful steps. And then, he joined them, kneeling on the floor. Morgana stiffened at first, and Arthur could tell she was forcing herself to relax when all Arthur did was to comb his fingers through her hair. One of Merlin’s hands came to rest on Arthur’s knee. A silent gesture of comfort. Merlin tilted his face up, looking at Arthur with a sad smile. Arthur didn’t know what to do. He felt as lost as Morgana surely did, like the boy he had once been, a long time ago. But Merlin squeezed Arthur’s knee, and he knew he wouldn’t have to take the decision on his own.

“I’m sorry, Morgana. I wish I’d been a better brother. I’m so sorry for all the pain you went through,” Arthur said, and his shoulders felt lighter. He had other things to say, but those words were for Morgana’s ears only, and he didn’t want anyone else to hear them, especially a crowd of suspicious nobles and servants.

Eventually, Morgana’s tears dried. Under the heavy blanket of exhaustion that covered her, Arthur could clearly see her fear and bitterness. Now, Arthur had to come to his first decision regarding what to do with his murderous sister. Strangely enough, he found it wasn’t as difficult a choice as he had thought. He briefly considered having her dragged to the dungeons, but he immediately dismissed the idea. His father would certainly call him weak. His councillors and his people surely would too. But Arthur couldn’t stand the thought of hurting Morgana. Especially not now that she was more harmless than she had ever been.

In the crowd, he spotted Leon and Elyan, beckoning them closer. They were the only ones of his knights who had known Morgana before. The only ones he trusted to show her some compassion. He knew his other knights would follow his orders, but he didn’t think they’d understand. Lancelot’s death was still fresh in everyone’s hearts and minds. Arthur wondered what Guinevere would think of him for treating Morgana with so much care after all that she had done, all she had taken from them all. He wondered if Guinevere hated Morgana for causing the demise of the man she loved. Then, he thought about Merlin; about how he had silently mourned Lancelot for weeks, months. They had been close to the point that it had made Arthur jealous. But instead of killing Morgana, Merlin had offered her mercy.

“Take Morgana to her former chambers. For tonight, I want the two of you to guard the door. I’ll send Merlin to ensure she cannot escape. I want her to be treated well,” Arthur instructed.

If his knights were surprised by the orders, they didn’t show it. Arthur had spoken low enough that no one in attendance heard his words. He didn’t want to deal with their questions and their demands tonight. There was still too much to think about. Arthur knew that by the next morning, he would have to publicly announce where Morgana was being held and to declare her upcoming trial. He knew there would be protesters who claimed that a trial was superfluous when everyone was well aware of Morgana’s crimes. But Arthur knew he wouldn’t be able to sentence her to death. Perhaps, he would have been able to sink his sword in her body during a battle. But he couldn’t sit on his throne and order her execution.

Even after Morgana had been taken away, the crowd of bystanders didn’t dissolve. They kept watching intently, whispering words Arthur couldn’t hear. Belatedly, he realised they were waiting to see what he would do about Merlin. The warlock had, after all, openly used magic.

“Thank you,” Arthur said, turning to his protecter, his best friend, his lover. He pressed a light kiss on Merlin’s cheek, causing the younger man to blush softly.

“What for?” Merlin asked, looking adorably confused.

Arthur tried to appear exasperated, but he knew his smile was way too fond. “You know what for,” he said quietly, looking Merlin in the eye. He hoped his face would speak the words his tongue couldn’t. He hoped Merlin would understand the meaning of his silence.

And of course, Merlin did. He always understood what Arthur didn’t say. “Anytime,” he whispered back, cradling Arthur’s hands in his.

The crowd was gobsmacked, confused, frustrated. Their lust for blood hadn’t been sated. Their hatred for magic and those who used it had gone unreciprocated. Arthur knew he had to offer an explanation. His weary body and his muddled mind groaned at the prospect of having to explain himself.

“Magic may have caused us harm, but it was driven by pain and fear and resentment. Tonight, magic saved us too, let us not forget that. As long as those with magic are killed, bullied, cast out and threatened, they will seek revenge, they will lash out, they will turn to dark paths. This cycle of violence must end, and it ends tonight,” Arthur proclaimed.

Of course, this declaration held no official weight. It was only a statement of intention. But at least, Arthur made his position clear. When he felt Merlin’s hand squeeze his, he turned to see his warlock looking at him with such love and awe that he was overwhelmed.

The crowd parted to let the King and his warlock pass. Arthur was eager to get to the comfort of his chambers. Exhaustion felt like a thick cloak on his shoulders. His heart was heavy in his chest as he thought of all the difficult decisions he’d have to take, all the arduous negotiations that would agitate his Council.

“Stop thinking so hard, you’ll hurt your head,” Merlin said once they were in Arthur’s room.

Now that they were alone, Arthur allowed himself to let his guard down. He enfolded Merlin in a tight embrace and buried his face in the other man’s neck. Merlin’s hands rubbed his back, whispering soothing words against Arthur’s hair. Being around Merlin always brought Arthur a sense of calm, and now, he needed it more than ever.

“What did you do to Morgana?” Arthur asked, now that his mind wasn’t swirling with endless questions, he found himself able to focus on the important ones.

“I tied her magic to me. She won’t be able to use it without my permission. I’ll allow her to use it for mundane things, so that it doesn’t hurt her too bad, but nothing else, at least for the time being,” Merlin explained, trying to make it comprehensible for someone with only very limited knowledge on magic. Arthur was grateful for it. He didn’t think he had the patience, or the focus required for more complex explanations.

“You had the chance to kill her,” Arthur said, hoping Merlin would understand the underlying questions behind his statement.

Merlin hummed. Arthur gave him the time to gather his thoughts to form a coherent reply. If Arthur was exhausted, he imagined how Merlin must feel. “I thought you wouldn’t want her to die, at least not like that. And to be honest, I don’t want to kill her either. Despite all she’s done, when I look at her, I still see the person she used to be. But there’s also a more pragmatic reason.”

“Which is?” Arthur asked, finally pulling away from Merlin enough to look at him.

“She had accomplices. At least one of them had magic, perhaps even a druid. If Morgana is alive, it might help us find them.”

Arthur nodded. He felt stupid for not thinking about it sooner. He had been so focused on his sister that he had forgotten there were others involved in her plans. He felt the first signs of a headache. It was difficult enough to decide what to do about Morgana. Now, he had to think about how to find her accomplices and what to do with them once they were arrested.

“Go to sleep, you’ll think better once you’re rested,” Merlin said, gently guiding Arthur to his bed. He helped the King into his nightclothes with lingering touches and tender kisses.

“What about you?” Buried under his soft blankets, Arthur felt the exhaustion settling heavily in his bones. But he wanted to fall asleep in Merlin’s arms.

“I just have to put wards on Morgana’s door, I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I don’t want you to venture out there on your own,” Arthur retorted, already sitting up to accompany Merlin.

Of course, Merlin was taking none of this. With a stern voice that was belied by the fondness of his gaze, Merlin said, “I’ll be fine. I don’t think anyone will dare attacking me after what happened tonight.”

The words were meant to be reassuring, but they only made Arthur’s heart ache. Merlin was so full of love. He loved being around people, and before his magic was revealed, he was appreciated by almost everyone in Camelot. Now, he was shunned, and considered himself lucky if people simply stayed away from him.

Arthur held Merlin’s hand and brought it to his lips, leaving gentle kisses on Merlin’s knuckles. “Come back quickly,” he whispered.

Merlin’s smile was a disconcerting mix of sadness and love, as he replied, “I will.”

The next couple of days were eventful, to say the least. Arthur was spared from the pain of headaches only thanks to Merlin’s magic. Morgana was still safely locked in her chambers. Arthur had meant to visit her, but he hadn’t found the strength yet. He was terrified of what he would find. Would it be the sister he had grown up with, self-righteous and full of passionate ideals about justice? Would it be the cruel witch she had become, filled with hatred born from fear and pain? Would it be something else? Something in between?

The evening after Morgana’s arrest, Merlin had gone to see her. He had come back with red-rimmed eyes and salty tear tracks on his cheeks. When Arthur questioned him, Merlin gave only vague answers, and Arthur decided to give him some space. The next morning, Merlin had visited Morgana once again. Arthur still had no clue what they had talked about, but Merlin had looked less shattered. Arthur wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not.

It was now the third morning after Morgana’s arrest. Patrols had been sent to find her accomplices. So far, they had been unsuccessful, but Arthur wouldn’t give up so easily. Merlin had left to assist Gaius early in the morning, and Arthur found himself feeling lost without his reassuring presence by his side. He tried to shove his emotions aside; there was still a lot of work to do. Arthur was sure no one would object when he presented his new laws regarding magic. They had all seen first-hand how vulnerable the ban made them to magical attacks. But the laws still needed more work, and Arthur’s mind was a mess of confusing thoughts and feelings. He knew he’d need to visit Morgana sooner or later, and stalling wouldn’t do him any good.

A knock on his door brought him out of his musings. Guinevere entered, carrying a tray with lunch for two.

“I thought you’d appreciate some company,” she explained, looking unsure in a way Arthur had rarely seen her. He smiled gratefully and left his desk to sit at the small dining table instead.

“Have you seen Morgana?” he asked once their plates were filled with cold meat and cheese.

Guinevere nodded, a small frown creasing her brow. “I have. At first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to, but then, I talked to Merlin. He said it was alright if I wanted nothing to with her anymore, but that I should consider whether or not I’d come to regret not visit her.”

“How was she?” Arthur asked. He had asked the same to Merlin, but the warlock told him his relationship with Morgana was complicated. Of course, Arthur understood why. Still, he wished Merlin had confided in him.

“She’s…” Guinevere trailed off, pursing her lips as she looked for the right words. “Some of her hatred seems to have faded, but she’s still scared and angry. She’s not the girl we knew anymore, but she’s not the same as she was before Merlin did whatever he did to her, either.”

“Have you talked to Merlin about this?” Arthur was desperate for answers, and Merlin had provided very little explanations. Perhaps he didn’t know how Morgana would behave with Arthur and didn’t want to give him misleading information. But Arthur needed to know.

“He hasn’t talked to you?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

When Arthur simply shook his head, Guinevere sighed. “He said that her dark side was a part of her, it will probably always be there. But on her quest for revenge, it grew and became overpowering. And with every twisted way she used her magic, her power fed her hatred, and her hatred nurtured her power. It was a vicious cycle.”

A heavy stone settled in his stomach. If he understood correctly, this meant that Morgana’s corruption was incurable. It meant she was lost forever.

Seeing Arthur’s dismay on his face, Guinevere smiled reassuringly. “I wasn’t done,” she said. “Merlin also told me that he cleansed her magic when he bound it to him. Morgana’s emotions are still there, and there’s no certainty that she’ll go back to be the woman we once loved, but she has a chance to heal, given the proper conditions to do so.”

Tears pricked at Arthur’s eyes. He hadn’t dared to hope, too scared to be proven wrong. But Guinevere’s words soothed the deep fear that had coiled around his heart. He understood why Merlin hadn’t said anything. He knew better than anyone that Arthur’s optimism sometimes got the best of him. He probably wanted Arthur to see Morgana as she was before giving him hope of getting his sister back. However, it didn’t mean that Arthur didn’t feel hurt by Merlin’s tendency to keep secrets and withhold information. Arthur didn’t need to be coddled. He needed to be given any relevant information to take adequate decisions. He’d have to talk about this with his lover, but first, it was time to finally face Morgana.

Chapter Text

Morgana’s room looked exactly the same as when Arthur had last entered it. Somehow, it didn’t bring him much comfort, as its occupant was so different from the girl he had grown up with. Morgana was staring at him with cold, disdainful eyes. They had been locked in a staring contest for the last ten minutes, and with each passing second, the silence became more oppressive. Morgana had always been better at this game than him, and Arthur could already feel his resolve wavering. Arthur sighed and closed his eyes, conceding defeat.

“I’m working on lifting the ban on magic. Your little stunt during the feast might actually play in my favour in this endeavour,” Arthur informed her in what he hoped to be a neutral voice. He tried to look indifferent, but he was watching her intently, trying to gauge her reaction.

Disbelief and reluctant hope spilled through the cracks of Morgana’s carefully crafted mask of cold contempt. “How so?” she asked, failing to hide her curiosity.

“It showed everyone how vulnerable they were to this kind of attacks without being able to use magic to protect themselves. And Merlin proved them that magic could be used in their defence.”

Morgana snorted. “Of course, Merlin has always used his magic to protect Camelot. To protect you. To protect Uther.” She uttered the late King’s name as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

“I hate him so much sometimes, our father. I don’t ever want to become the kind of King he was,” Arthur confessed. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to show such vulnerability to an enemy, be it his sister. But he felt the inexplicable need to open up to her.

Morgana said nothing in return, but her expression softened slightly. The silence between them was far from comfortable. Arthur was scrambling to find something to say to shatter it. The days of their youth seemed so far away, it felt as if those memories were someone else’s. Arthur and Morgana hadn’t been close for a long time before she set out on her dark path. Uther had made sure they were kept apart. He had turned them against each other on many occasions. Arthur had been so desperate to please his father that he let him shape him into whatever his idea of a perfect prince was. And as Morgana became firmer in her ideas of justice, she began to resent Arthur more and more for not standing up to the King when he took unfair decisions. Now, Arthur wanted nothing more than to mend the bond they had once shared as children and young teens.

“Do you remember that time we escaped our escort and hid in a cave for two days? I was so pissed that you were better than me at hunting,” Arthur said with a wistful smile.

He had expected to receive dismissive indifference from Morgana. Instead, she smirked – like she had when they were still young and carefree – and said, “I would have made a far better knight than you.”

“Hey!” Arthur exclaimed in mock outrage, “I’m the best knight in the whole of Albion!”

“Well, had I been a boy, you would have been the second best.”

Arthur pouted and grumbled. He had to fight not to let his smile show when it caused Morgana to bite back a laugh. She looked so young and innocent, like that. It was easy to forget all the crimes she had committed. But Arthur knew that however much he wished he could erase the past year, he couldn’t and the weight of everything that had happened would remain, like heavy chains restraining them. A cart passed through the courtyard, the clatter of wheels bumping on the uneven ground and the pounding of hooves on cobbles tore him out of his thoughts.

Morgana had sobered. She looked at him with calculating eyes, as if he was a code she needed to decipher. Arthur couldn’t blame her; he quite literally held her life in his hands.

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked. The innocence had bled out of her face, leaving behind complicated emotions and a past that was too heavy to bear. 

“I don’t know. I can’t keep you locked up in here forever, and I won’t execute you. I reached out to the druids for advice.” Again, maybe he shouldn’t reveal so much, but he wanted to end their endless spiral of anger, fear and resentment.

She nodded, wearing the blank expression she donned when she felt too many conflicting emotions. Arthur supposed it was preferable to the blatant hatred she had displayed before.

The bell rang, signalling an hour had passed since he arrived at Morgana’s chambers. Arthur needed to leave. He had a Council meeting soon. Yet, he found himself wishing he had more time in his sister’s company. Perhaps it was for the best, though. Morgana obviously needed some time to process everything.

“Sire!” Leon called, running towards where Arthur was walking with Merlin.

Merlin had managed to convince him to leave his chambers to breathe some fresh air. This time of year, the gardens were beautiful. The grass was sprinkled with delicate flowers and the verdant trees provided some much-appreciated shade as they walked on the dirt path around the gardens. Arthur had grumbled about having too much work to afford taking a break, but he was grateful that Merlin hadn’t given up until Arthur accepted to accompany him on a stroll.

They both turned towards the First Knight. Leon’s cheeks and nose were red from exertion and being in the sun for too long. When he was younger, he had relentlessly laughed at Leon for getting sunburnt so easily. He probably would tease his friend now, if his expression didn’t spark alarm in Arthur’s heart.

“Morgana’s accomplices have been arrested. They’re in the dungeons, awaiting trial,” Leon informed the King.

Arthur sighed. He was glad they had been found, but at the same time, it meant that he had to reach a decision quickly about what to do about them and Morgana. He couldn’t keep his sister locked up in her chambers indefinitely, just like he couldn’t keep her co-conspirators in the dungeons forever. It seemed like his short break was over.

“Thank you, Leon. Take the rest of the day off, you must be tired after your patrol,” Arthur said, earning a grateful smile from his friend.

For a second, Arthur didn’t know what to do. It felt like each passing hour brought new challenges that he was hardly prepared to face. Thankfully, Merlin’s hand came to rest on his lower back, providing strength that Arthur lacked. He looked as weary as Arthur felt, but his shoulders never slumped and not a word of complaint left his mouth. Arthur didn’t know how he did it. He felt like three days had been crammed into one with all the tasks he had already done. And the sun was nowhere close to setting yet.

“Let’s go see what they have to say,” Merlin suggested, a reassuring smile playing on his lips.

Arthur wanted nothing more than to lie in the grass with Merlin. He imagined making flower crowns for each other. He wanted to hold Merlin in his arms, to play with Merlin’s hair as the warlock rested his head on Arthur’s chest. He wanted to kiss Merlin’s lips, sweet and soft like rose petals. But that would have to wait. Duty called, and it wouldn’t take well to being ignored.

The dungeons were dark, the low sun of the late afternoon barely filtered through the narrow windows of the cells. In the flickering glow of torches, the place looked even more sinister. Merlin felt a chill run down his spine. He hadn’t spent a lot of time down here, and he was grateful for it. He didn’t need more fuel for his nightmares. Arthur’s presence by his side was reassuring. A solid warmth that assuaged his worries. Merlin wasn’t looking forward to seeing Morgana’s accomplices either.

They passed several empty cells. The corridor got darker as they went. They stopped in front of a heavy metal door. Merlin gulped; he had never been in this section of the dungeons, but he knew it was the part where they kept dangerous criminals and sorcerers. He wondered if the cells behind the door were different from those they had passed. Arthur looked at Merlin, as if silently asking him if he was ready to continue. Merlin gave a dim, wobbly smile. He wanted to be done with this as quickly as possible. Arthur took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Merlin expected the King to let go, but he kept Merlin’s hand safely in his as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Merlin had to squint. The corridor was bathed in almost complete darkness. Despite knowing that the people held in this section were criminals, he couldn’t help feeling horrified. Being imprisoned was awful enough when you were held in the regular cells; he couldn’t imagine being detained in these conditions.

Instead of bars, the cells had doors made of iron. They weren’t cold iron, Merlin could feel it, but regular iron was enough to weaken magic. Even as he walked along the corridor, Merlin felt his magic recoil and retreat towards his core, nesting in his chest as if seeking refuge. He gritted his teeth as he thought of all the innocent sorcerers who had been kept here since the beginning of the Purge.

Suddenly, Arthur stopped in his tracks and pulled Merlin in a hug. “I’m going to make changes to this section of the dungeons, I promise you,” he whispered against Merlin’s ear.

All Merlin could do was nodding. He didn’t trust his voice just yet. But already, he felt stronger in Arthur’s arms. He wanted to thank Arthur for understanding Merlin’s feelings and sharing his thoughts on proper conditions of detention. But all he managed to do was to hide his face in the crook of Arthur’s neck and to tighten his hold around Arthur’s waist.

“They’re in the farthest cell. Are you ready?” Arthur asked with a soft voice.

Merlin pulled away from Arthur and wiped the tears that had leaked from his eyes. “Yes, let’s go,” he said, speaking with more confidence than he felt.

Arthur opened the cell, staying in front of Merlin as if to protect him from its occupants. The cell contained two people, a woman and a man, cuffed with cold iron and chained to the wall. Merlin felt sick. He had touched that metal once, when he had freed Freya, and he remembered the blisters that this short contact had left on his hands. He could hardly imagine the pain one would feel at being cuffed in cold iron for an extended period. Even now, the phantom pain made his fingers twitch.

The cell was dark. The only source of light came from tiny slits between the bricks. The prisoners squinted at the sudden brightness brought by the torch Arthur was carrying. Soon, however, their frightened expression morphed into contempt, and they sneered at the King and the warlock.

“Ah, the bloody King and the traitor finally graced us with their presence,” the woman, whom Merlin recognised as a new maid called Emma, spat.

Merlin rested a hand on Arthur’s back. He felt the tension in the King’s body at being addressed this way. Truth be told, Merlin felt tense and angry as well, but it wouldn’t do them any good to let their emotions get the best of them.

“Have you come to pass judgement on us, your Majesty?” Stephen snarled, uttering Arthur’s title as if it was an insult.

“No, your sentences will be determined after a trial in two days,” Arthur replied coldly.

Despite himself, Merlin felt pride swell in his chest at Arthur’s words. He had no doubt that Uther wouldn’t have granted these criminals a trial, much less a fair one. But he had no doubt that Arthur would listen to what they had to say and would judge them fairly.

“Then why are you here?” Emma asked, looking at the King with calculating eyes, as if to read through Arthur’s blank expression.

Arthur didn’t reply. Instead, he turned towards Merlin. “Do these cuffs make them suffer?”

For a second, Merlin didn’t reply. He knew his magic was different from other sorcerers. Even from that of other warlocks and witches. As such, it reacted differently to spells, potions or artefacts used to restrain magic. But then, he remembered talking to a young druid girl who had sported scars on both her wrists from being cuffed in cold iron, and his stomach dropped. Certainly, cold iron affected him more strongly than other magic users, but it caused them considerable pain too.

“It does. It burns their skin and probably makes them feel as if they’re feverish and suffocating,” Merlin explained.

Arthur nodded, a thoughtful expression on his features. “Can you restrain their magic in a way that wouldn’t cause them such pain?”

Gratefulness flooded Merlin’s chest, knocking his breath out. Uther would have delighted in the knowledge that he was causing sorcerers such agony. But not Arthur. The King looked vaguely sick as he imagined the prisoners’ pain.

“Right now, I could restrain their magic the same way I restrained Morgana’s.”

He could use other means. There were amulets that could lock magic in a sorcerer’s body, and there were potions that prevented magic from being uses. But these options would take some time, and Merlin was eager to get the sorcerers out of their manacles.

“Can you perform the spell while they’re cuffed, or do you need me to unchain them first?”

Merlin was impressed. Arthur trusted him to restrain these sorcerers’ magic and was even ready to free them to allow Merlin to perform that spell, even if that meant taking the risk that the prisoners might use it as an opportunity to attempt an escape.

“I can do it while they’re cuffed, but it would be easier without the cold iron,” Merlin explained, letting Arthur have the final say.

Arthur placed his torch on a sconce at the entrance of the cell and stepped closer to the prisoners. He crouched in front of the woman, looking at Merlin for confirmation before he unlocked the manacles. Merlin kneeled beside Arthur, ready to form the words of the spell. If he was too slow, Arthur could get hurt, and that was inacceptable. Thankfully, Merlin’s magic eagerly replied to his call, binding the Emma’s magic to him. She gasped as her magic was released only to be restrained again almost immediately. Arthur and Merlin repeated the same process with Stephen.

“Have you received enough food and water?” Arthur asked once both prisoners were released from their cold iron restraints.

“What are you playing at?” Emma asked distrustfully. Merlin understood her wariness. If he were in her position, he certainly wouldn’t expect to be treated with compassion either.

“I’ll have one of my knights deliver a meal and water,” Arthur said, as if speaking to himself. “For now, I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

Merlin held his breath as a pregnant silence settled around them.

Chapter Text

Heavy silence weighed on the dungeon cell, like a lead blanket. Suffocating, terrifying. Merlin kept his eyes fixed on the two prisoners, as if expecting them to lash out and attack him and Arthur at any moment. It was a completely irrational fear; there wasn’t much they could do, even unchained as they were, while their magic was bound to Merlin. They regarded the King with distrust, waiting to see the deceit hidden in his words. Merlin knew there was none. Arthur wanted to do right by them, even though Merlin wasn’t convinced they deserved it. But he was proud of his King for being fair, even towards traitors. It gave him precious hope for the future of magic in Camelot.

“You can explain yourselves now or during your trial,” Arthur told them, his voice firm and cold, but devoid of the cruelness Uther’s had held. Merlin loved him more and more each second.

“You may be a King of prophecy, but what have you ever done for magic? You’re just like your father,” Stephen spat, hatred burning in his eyes.

“And Emrys isn’t better. You were supposed to be the protector of the Druids, sent to guide the Once and Future King to restore magic in Camelot. Instead, you forsake us and devoted your life to a King that hates people like us!”

Stephen nodded at his acolyte’s words before adding, in an acidic voice, “we chose to follow Morgana to avenge our kins, our friends, our family. You brought this on yourselves by straying from destiny.”

Arthur nodded, keeping his face impassive. Merlin could tell their words affected him, though. He could see it in the way Arthur clenched his jaw, in how his nails dug in the palms of his hands, in how tense his shoulders were. They were almost imperceptible, but Merlin knew Arthur better than his knew himself; he could read him like an open book.

“I won’t do you the affront of saying I understand your pain, but I hear your reasons. I cannot change the past, all I can do is offering you my deepest apologies for the deeds my father and I have committed, and to promise you that Camelot will become a safe place for magic users,” Arthur said. Even in a dark dungeon cell, without his crown or his ceremonial cloak, Arthur still shone like the King of legend he was. “And I can assure you that your resentment towards Merlin is unwarranted,” he continued. “Had he revealed himself when my father still sat on the throne, chances are high that I would have had him executed. It is only through the deep bond we have formed through our years together that he was able to make me see the truth about magic.”

Without waiting for the sorcerers to reply, Arthur turned away. He took Merlin’s hand in his, leading him out of the cell before locking it. Merlin was still speechless, dumbstruck by Arthur’s speech. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes as a tight knot unravelled in his chest. All his fears and uncertainties were soothed by the balm of Arthur’s words. The voices in his head that told him he could have done better, that he had failed too many people, that he really was the traitor sorcerers accused him of being, were suddenly silenced. They had just passed the door that separated the normal section of the dungeons from the one where sorcerers were kept, when Merlin pushed Arthur against the wall. He hadn’t even thought about it. It was as if his body wasn’t connected to his brain anymore. All he knew was that he needed to feel Arthur’s warmth against him, to kiss him until he was breathless and dizzy, to feel Arthur’s fingers in his hair and on his skin. And he couldn’t wait one more second.

Arthur let out a surprised gasp as his back hit the wall. The sound immediately swallowed by Merlin’s mouth. He was kissing Arthur desperately, as if his life depended on it. For a second, Arthur was flailing, and Merlin dimly wondered if he had stepped out of line. But then, one of Arthur’s hands settled on his hip while the other buried itself in Merlin’s hair. Only then did Merlin relax. The kiss became gentler, until their lips stopped moving altogether. Tears were leaking from Merlin’s closed eyelids, trailing down his cheeks and staining his neckerchief. His quivering lips brushed against Arthur’s, and the King turned his head to press light kisses on Merlin’s damp cheek.

Merlin rested his cheek on Arthur’s shoulder. “Thank you. I love you.” Merlin repeated the words, over and over, his lips, shiny with tears and snot and saliva brushing against Arthur’s neck. He knew he was making a mess, but instead of pushing him away, Arthur held him tighter.

“Come on, let’s get you somewhere more comfortable,” Arthur gently whispered against Merlin’s ear.

Merlin nodded. He let himself be guided by Arthur. He was grateful to be able to simply follow Arthur’s lead. In his state, he wasn’t sure he would have reached the top of the stairs without getting lost. Arthur stopped at one point to talk to a guard. Merlin thought Arthur asked the man to relocate the prisoners in a regular cell and to have food and water brought to them, but he wasn’t sure. The world was too hazy. Merlin couldn’t fix his attention on anything. He didn’t remember the last time he had found himself in such a vulnerable state, but he was certain that it hadn’t felt so safe. He was with Arthur now; nothing could hurt him. Merlin blinked, and when he opened his eyes, he was lying on Arthur’s soft mattress, with Arthur’s arms wrapped around him and Arthur’s steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep.

The throne room was crowded, filled with nobles and commoners alike. Everyone was curious about the fate of Lady Morgana and her acolytes. Merlin was standing a step behind Arthur’s throne, on the left side of the King. He felt more grounded than he had in a long time. The whispers of the crowd didn’t reach him. Arthur looked regal in his ceremonial attire. It was clear he wanted to make an impression.

As Morgana was brought to the throne room, flanked by two guards, the crowd got louder, directing invectives at her. She looked smaller, somehow, more unsure than Merlin had seen her since she left Camelot. She reminded him of the girl he used to know, who confessed her fears regarding her budding powers. It made his heart clench painfully in his chest. Morgana was forced to kneel in front of the King, hiding a wince as her knees collided with the hard stones of the floor. Arthur got up, and the room got silent.

Merlin held his breath as he waited for Arthur to speak. They had talked about the trial, but Merlin still felt his heart thudding against his ribcage.

“Morgana,” Arthur said, staring at his sister with a look that couldn’t conceal the complicated emotions he felt. “Regardless of our familial bond and the feelings I hold towards you, your crimes against Camelot can’t go unpunished.”

Morgana was looking at Arthur with blazing eyes. Fear, anger, and regret warring on her face. Despite her kneeling position, she still commanded respect and admiration. It was easy to understand why sorcerers would follow her.

“However, I cannot get myself to execute you. Some might call me weak for this decision, but you are still my sister, and I firmly believe you have been pushed to commit your heinous deeds because of the climate of fear, distrust, and hatred you lived in. While it doesn’t absolve you of your guilt, I don’t think killing you would be the right thing to do.”

On all sides of the throne room, people started whispering in angry confusion. Protesting Arthur’s mercy towards the witch. Some weren’t quite so vocal, watching the King with cautious hope. Merlin knew that despite the widespread hatred towards magic, there were still some who were sympathetic to sorcerers, even though they refrained from voicing their true thoughts in fear of the consequences.

“As many of you know,” Arthur continued, now addressing the audience, “I have planned to repeal the ban on magic for some time, now. It is time to end this endless cycle of blood and hatred. It is time to step towards peace and harmony between those who practice magic and those who don’t.”

Arthur turned back to Morgana. She was now watching him with the same cautious hope Merlin had seen on some faces in the crowd. Fear and anger still lingered in her eyes, but instead of a blazing fire, they’d been reduced to ambers.

“Morgana, you will be placed in the druids’ custody. They will teach you to use your magic for peaceful purposes, and help you find a better way to live your life. I believe that under their guidance, you will be given a fair opportunity to redeem yourself. The druid leader Iseldir will report on your progress. Once he deems you appropriately reformed, you will be free to settle wherever you want, under the condition that you don’t use your magic in harmful ways.”

“Thank you,” Morgana whispered, her voice thick with gratitude and disbelief. Then, unexpectedly, she turned her gaze towards Merlin. He had expected to see hatred in her cold green eyes. Instead, there was something like reluctant thankfulness in them. Merlin wasn’t sure he deserved her forgiveness. They had talked quite a lot these past few days. He had explained everything to her, had apologised until his voice was hoarse. They had cried together until their eyes were red and puffy. And still, Merlin didn’t feel like he had earned not only her forgiveness but also her silent thanks. He dipped his head in a slight nod, offering her a small smile.

Their silent conversation was abruptly interrupted by a loud voice.

“This is inacceptable!” Sir Richard shouted, pushing his way out of the crowd until he was standing in front of Arthur, pointing an accusatory finger at Morgana while he glared at the King. “After all the death and destruction, she has caused, she deserves not only to be killed, but to suffer a slow, painful death! You may be inclined to forgive her, but some of us have lost loved ones to her rampage!”

Arthur levelled an icy glare at the knight, looking at him with a cold expression that would have made Uther proud. Even Merlin couldn’t help but find it terrifying, and it wasn’t even directed at him.

“You would do well to remember it is your King you are talking to, Sir Richard. As a knight, your job is to serve and protect the Crown, not to question your King’s decisions, especially not in such a brazen way. Moreover, I shouldn’t have to remind you that I, just like everyone else in this room, have lost people I deeply cared about. The purpose of justice, however, isn’t to enact revenge on those who have hurt us, but to ensure that such acts do not happen again in the future.”

The whole room had gone silent. Every person present held their breath as they watched the confrontation unfold. Merlin wasn’t much better. He was mesmerised by the fire burning in Arthur’s eyes. The King was glowing, glimmering in the sun like a precious jewel. He looked like he did right before a battle: determined, resolute and steadfast. Sir Richard’s confidence deflated. No longer did he look like a proud knight of Camelot. Now, he appeared more like some unruly child getting admonished by his parents. Except the punishment for disobedience could be much worse in this case, and he knew it. Merlin wasn’t usually one to revel in others’ misfortune, but he had no qualms to enjoy this spectacle. Sir Richard had brought this on himself, after all. He was already threading on thin ice for the way he had treated Merlin. This was simply the last straw for Arthur.

“With all due respect, sire,” the knight spat, “if you’re not capable to administer justice in an adequate way, you might not be able to rule either.”

Arthur looked at the knight with cold eyes. Without the warmth that usually shone in his blue irises, the King looked truly dangerous. “Guards, take Sir Richard to the dungeons; I think it will do wonders to help him reflect on the proper way to address his King,” Arthur ordered, staring at Richard even as he was dragged out of the throne room.

Merlin dared a glance at Morgana and found her looking at her brother with a wonderstruck expression. He saw the hurt in her eyes, but also the reluctant admiration at how Arthur was dealing with his knight. A quite voice in Merlin’s head questioned how, after all Arthur had lost to Morgana, he still could take her defence like this. In the past few days, he had asked himself the same question. Almost as often as he had wondered how he could ever forgive himself for the role he had played in Morgana’s descent into darkness.

Morgana was still kneeling on the hard floor. She had been offered a second chance, yet she was still kneeling. It didn’t sit right with Merlin. The King was had resumed his speech, addressing the audience. Merlin didn’t really hear what he was saying. He took quiet steps towards Morgana and extended a hand to help her up. Morgana looked at him distrustfully, remembering the last time she had been kneeling in this room. Remembering Merlin’s betrayal. Vulnerable as she was, with her hands cuffed and her magic bound, Merlin couldn’t blame her for being cautious.

In the end, though, she still took his hand. Merlin gave her a small, sad grin. He hoped it conveyed all the words that were stuck in his throat. Her answering smile made him believe that she understood. Once they were both standing side by side, Merlin didn’t let go of Morgana. He kept a hand on her arm, not in a restrictive grip, but in a gesture of comfort.

“Morgana is not yet forgiven; she hasn’t made amends yet. But I believe that giving her the opportunity to gain forgiveness is the right and just thing to do,” Arthur finished, his words ringing loud and clear in the silent throne room.

Arthur then approached Merlin and Morgana, his back straight and his face neutral. The perfect image of a strong King. “Iseldir will come to collect Morgana this afternoon. In the meantime, can you walk her back to her chambers?” Arthur asked Merlin, his face softening as he talked to his lover.

“Of course,” Merlin nodded. He knew his own answering smile was disgustingly sweet, but he couldn’t help it when Arthur talked like this.

Surprising everyone, Merlin included, Arthur held Merlin back for a second, just the time to press a quick peck on his lips.

“He’s really serious, then?” Morgana asked, once she and Merlin were alone in her chambers.

Merlin wasn’t sure he was supposed to be here. The trial of Morgana’s accomplices still had to take place, and Arthur might want him there. That, and the last thing Merlin needed was to be associated with Morgana. Still, she used to be his friend, and he had played a part in her downfall. He owed it to her to be there. He wanted to be there. To feel like he had done all he could to salvage the remnants of their friendship.

“Of course, he is. You know Arthur, he wouldn’t say he intended to repeal the ban on magic if he wasn’t serious,” Merlin said, finding a seat on one of Morgana’s comfortable armchairs.

“You don’t hate me,” Morgana said. Not a question but an affirmation. There was no mistaking the confusion in her voice, though.

Despite the hours they had spent talking, Morgana still couldn’t wrap her head around this. Truth be told, Merlin himself wondered why he didn’t hate Morgana, sometimes. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the capacity for hatred. He did. He had rarely truly hated someone, but he knew he was capable to feel hatred.

“When my magic was revealed, people who once liked me started throwing insults and threats and punches at me. They seemed to hate me for no reason other than the way I was born. I think, if I didn’t have friends who supported me, if they had abandoned me or turned their back on me in hatred, I may have turned to a dark path too. Before this, I could empathise with you. I could imagine how you must have felt. Now, I understand better, and I can’t hate you.”

“Lancelot, he knew about your magic, didn’t he?” she asked. She had never asked about the people who had lost their lives because of her, before.

“He did, and he kept my secret until his last breath.”

“I’m sorry he died, he seemed like a good man. I know Gwen loved him. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.”

Merlin didn’t know what to say to that. He had no right to talk in Gwen’s stead; only she could decide whether to forgive her former employer and friend. Merlin knew Gwen had a big heart, but she had lost so many loved ones, and no one had an infinite capacity for forgiveness.

“I should go back to the throne room,” Merlin said instead. He gave Morgana a short hug before leaving. He was grateful that he could talk with her one last time before her departure.

Chapter Text

One of the first actions Arthur took after he repealed the ban on magic was to punish anyone who had harmed Merlin and Gwaine. The trial of Sirs Richard, Alfred and Eric was held a week after Arthur had stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard, proclaiming that magic was once again legal in Camelot. It had been a hectic week, filled with paperwork, dealing with unhappy nobles and trying to reassure terrified citizens. Still, Arthur had remained strong, and so, Merlin had done his best to support him as well as he could.

“I should have them executed!” Arthur roared one night, kicking at the bedpost in his frustration.

“That’s what your father would do. You’re not that kind of King; you truly express mercy in all your judgement, just as you swore to when you made your vows.” Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist from behind and kissed his neck.

Arthur sighed and squeezed Merlin’s hands where they rested on his stomach. “Don’t you want to see them suffer for all they did to you and Gwaine?”

“I’m just tired of all this bloodshed, Arthur. I’m tired of the violence and the hatred and the endless cycle of revenge. I just want peace.” Merlin clenched his eyes shut, resting his forehead on Arthur’s shoulder blade.

That was the truth. Merlin was tired. He didn’t want blood to be shed in his name, didn’t want revenge. There were other ways to get the justice he deserved besides executions. Mostly, he wanted to have those people out of his life.

“What would you have me do?” Arthur asked. Merlin felt the comforting vibration of Arthur’s voice from where he was plastered against the King’s back. He tightened his embrace around Arthur’s middle and kissed the base of Arthur’s neck.

“I don’t know. Strip them of their knighthood and banish them. I think that will be punishment enough.”

Arthur hummed thoughtfully, then turned around and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist. “That shall be done, then,” he said before capturing Merlin’s lips in a tender kiss.

It should have been clear to everyone that assaulting Merlin, or any other sorcerer and those who stood up for them, was now inacceptable. The trial of the three knights who had attacked Gwaine was a very public affair, and their banishment had been gossip fodder for days. However, it seemed some people needed more incentive to stop administering what they consider justice by their own hands. Unsurprisingly, Ellie and her friend Danny were among those people. To say they were reluctant to abide the new laws would be an understatement. They quite literally terrorised anyone they suspected of practicing magic.

At first, Merlin had been spared from their violence. They instead opted to target more vulnerable citizens, primarily inhabitants of the poorer parts of the lower town. These people were far less likely to report the assaults they received. They had no easy access to the King and Uther’s rule had left them wary and disenchanted regarding the royals’ treatment of the poorer citizens. They didn’t believe they would be heard, and so, they didn’t even bother speaking out.

Ellie and Danny became more brazen after weeks of their actions going unpunished, and after about a month, they decided to go back to their favourite target.

“You may be wearing finer clothes, but you’re still worth less than horse shit, you know,” Danny taunted Merlin as the physician’s assistant was walking down a corridor towards his next patient.

Merlin decided to ignore them. He wouldn’t stoop so low as to reply to their stupid insults. He had better things to think about and more important people to talk to. In the back of his mind, he thought his mother would be proud of him for not taking the bait.

“Is your mum a filthy witch, or just a sorcerer’s whore?” Ellie asked, a smirk audible in her voice.

This, however, Merlin couldn’t ignore. Insulting him was fine. He was used to it, had been used to it since he was a small child barely able to toddle around his village, even. He could bear it. But he wouldn’t stay silent when someone dared to badmouth his mother. His blood boiled in his veins and he had to consciously restrain his magic. The thought of tearing them to shreds with a single thought was tempting, but Merlin didn’t want to be that kind of person.

“And did your mother leave because she saw what a pest her daughter would become?” Merlin asked in return.

He had lived in Camelot long enough to be familiar with pretty much every servant’s backstory. He knew Ellie’s mother had abandoned her daughter and her husband when the girl was barely out of her cradle. Normally, he wouldn’t weaponize something like that; he knew how much it hurt to grow up without one of his parents and could only imagine the pain of knowing one had been abandoned. But Ellie had brought this on herself, and Merlin wasn’t in a very compassionate mood at the moment.

“You take that back, bastard!” Danny screamed, before launching himself at Merlin and delivering a hard punch to the warlock’s jaw.

Merlin stumbled backward, hitting the wall with enough force to make him dizzy for a second. It was enough for Ellie and Danny to gang up on Merlin. Despite the violence that was raining upon him, he still kept a tight leash on his magic. The damage he could inflict with his magic was incommensurable with whatever harm his assailant could do with punches and kicks.

A particularly well-aimed punch to his sternum caused Merlin to fold in half, struggling to fill his lungs with air. A kick to his stomach and hit on his head brought him down on the floor. From there on, it seemed as if not a single part of his body was spared by the servants’ merciless feet. All he knew was pain, everywhere, all-consuming. And then, darkness.

Merlin had no idea how long he had stayed unconscious, but he woke up in his bed in Gaius’s quarters, with a worried physician and a wrathful King at his bedside. He chanced a glance out the window to find out the sun had almost set. He had been out for several hours. There was an insistent pounding in his head and his whole body felt like a giant bruise. Merlin tried to sit up, only for his arms to fail him. He fell back on his mattress with a hiss, struggling to breathe through his clenched teeth.

At the sound, Arthur sharply turned back from where he was pacing in Merlin’s small room and Gaius raised his eyes from the book he had been studying at Merlin’s desk.

“Ah, my boy, you’re finally awake. We were starting to be worried,” Gaius said as he took a seat on a chair that had been felt beside Merlin’s bed.

When Merlin opened his mouth to reply, searing pain erupted in his jaw. Definitely broken, he thought numbly. This was eerily reminiscent of the last time he had been assaulted like this by Ellie and Danny. Only, this time his injuries seemed even worse. Arthur carefully sitting down on the edge of his mattress and gently kissing Merlin’s forehead brought him some much-needed comfort, though.

“Gaius, is your remedy ready by now?” Arthur asked, glancing up at the old physician.

“Not yet, but it should be in a few minutes,” Gaius replied before going into the main room of the chambers to check on the potion that was bubbling in a cauldron.

True to his words, Gaius came back a couple of minutes later with a small vial containing a greyish purple mixture. Just the sight of it made Merlin’s stomach rebel. The last thing he wanted was to have the disgusting taste of one of Gaius’ surprisingly efficient medicines on his tongue on top of all his aches.

Merlin must have pulled a face, because Gaius sat with sternness; something Merlin was convinced only the old man could do, due to years of practice, and uncorked the vial. A sickeningly sweet scent filled Merlin’s room and he had to fight not to gag.

“You will drink this without a single complaint, do you hear me?” Gaius said, raising a threatening eyebrow at his ward. “It will help your body heal faster, and in your state, you could really need some assistance in the healing process.”

Despite not being able to talk, Merlin expressed his discontent in the form of a groan in the back of his throat.

“I’m sure you’ve drunk worse things, Merlin, don’t be a clotpole.”

“My word,” Merlin mumbled. The pain he was rewarded with was worth it to see the annoyed roll of Arthur’s eyes, counterbalanced by the amused smile he couldn’t stifle entirely.

“And it suits you perfectly,” Arthur answered, as he always did whenever he stole one of Merlin’s insults.

Reluctantly, Merlin brought the vial to his mouth and emptied it in one go. It was too sweet while somehow being too bitter too. There was a muddy taste to it, and an aftertaste that reminded Merlin of the time he had been dared by Will to drink soapy water. However, Merlin had to admit that the remedy was astonishingly effective.

“The legalisation of magic really makes healing much simpler,” Gaius simply said before leaving the room.

As soon as they were alone, Arthur bent down to kiss Merlin’s lips. Merlin felt all of Arthur’s worries and anger poured into the kiss and tried to comfort his lover by squeezing his hand and gently rubbing his thumb over Arthur’s knuckles. Arthur’s presence was like a pain-relieving balm over Merlin’s numerous injuries. Their lips kept brushing together until Arthur’s shoulders finally relaxed. Then, the King pressed one last kiss on Merlin’s cheek before sitting back, their hands still intertwined.

“Who did this to you?” Arthur asked, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. Merlin hadn’t had the chance to look at himself, but he imagined he must have bruises all over his face.

“Two servants, Ellie and Danny,” Merlin revealed, doing his best to talk without moving his jaw too much. Already, he could feel the effects of Gaius miracle remedy, imbued with his mentor’s magic. Still, he knew he should let his body get the rest it needed if he wanted to recover quickly. Merlin’s own magic was already hard at work, trying to heal the damage that had been inflicted on him.

With a sharp nod, Arthur stood up. Merlin mourned the loss of Arthur’s strong body so close to his own. His small bed felt empty without Arthur sitting on the edge of the mattress. He made a disgruntled sound, trying to keep hold of Arthur’s hand. The soft smile he received in return warmed his heart. He knew Arthur loved him, but seeing it written so plainly on Arthur’s face always did things to him.

“Get some rest, I’ll come back later.”

And then, Arthur was gone, and Merlin’s eyelids slid shut.

“Ah, Gwen! Just the woman I was looking for,” Arthur greeted the servant. He had been searching the whole castle looking for her, wishing he had Merlin’s uncanny ability to know exactly where anyone could be found at any given time.

Gwen took one look at Arthur and frowned. “You look distraught, what happened?” she asked, worry creasing her brows.

Arthur looked left and right, ensuring their privacy. While the ban on magic had been lifted and prosecuting attacks on sorcerers was perfectly legal, and in fact, expected, Arthur was still hesitant to speak of such matters where anyone could hear. Moreover, he didn’t want someone to hear them and alert the culprits of the attack on Merlin. He took Gwen’s wrist and guided her towards one of the windows that lined the corridor.

“Merlin has been attacked.”

A gasp from his friend interrupted Arthur in his explanation of the situation. Gwen’s eyes were wide with horror as images of Merlin, bruised and battered, probably danced in front of her eyes. “How is he?”

“He’ll be fine, Gaius gave him something to help his recovery,” Arthur explained. “I need your help, though; I’m looking for two servants named Ellie and Danny, do you know them?”

Gwen thought for a moment before her face lit up with recognition. As soon as she was able to put faces on those names, though, her lips formed a pout of disdain. It was a rare expression to see on Gwen’s face, and Arthur thanked any gods that existed that he had never been on the receiving end of that look.

“Unfortunately, yes, I know them. They’re known to bully anyone they don’t like.”

“I need to have them arrested. Do you know where your brother is? A few knights would come in handy to make sure the arrest goes smoothly.”

Ellie and Danny didn’t even have the decency to look contrite during their trial. They glared at Merlin and barely lowered their gaze when looking at the King. Merlin had expressed his wish to just have them banished, but Arthur was seriously considering going against the warlock’s wishes and having them flogged before kicking them out of the kingdom. Although Merlin’s injuries had healed surprisingly fast, bruises still lingered all over his body. Arthur’s heart clenched every time he saw the green and yellow fading bruises on Merlin’s cheeks or the ones that adorned Merlin’s abdomen. He had kissed all those bruises enough times to remember their exact locations on Merlin’s body.

There was a short break in the trial to give the King the opportunity to decide on the appropriate sentence, and so, he dragged Merlin into an adjacent room, making sure no one was eavesdropping.

“I know how much you despise violence, Merlin, but some people just need stronger punishment. What if I just banish them and they keep doing what they did to you to other people?”

The anguish on Merlin’s face broke Arthur’s heart. He wanted to give Merlin what he wanted, but Merlin was too soft-hearted sometimes, and while this was a quality Arthur admired in his lover, sometimes harsher sentences were needed. Arthur believed now was one of those times.

“You know they have confessed to attacking other sorcerers. And Gwen told me they have assaulted many servants during their time working in the castle. You’re the only one who agreed to testify, but don’t their other victims deserve justice, too? Banishment is too light a sentence for what they did.”

Merlin took a deep breath, steeling himself before he gave Arthur a small nod. “Alright, I’ll let you deliver what you think to be the appropriate sentence. Just, don’t make me watch it, I’ve seen enough floggings for a lifetime during your father’s reign,” Merlin said, resigned.

Arthur hated this. He hated seeing Merlin so defeated, and he hated that he was the one who put that look on his face. He was at least reassured that Merlin didn’t hate him when he didn’t refuse Arthur’s embrace. After peppering kisses on Merlin’s forehead and temple, Arthur whispered, “I’m sorry, I don’t enjoy this either, you know.”

“I know,” Merlin whispered back, his lips brushing against Arthur’s neck as he talked before pressing more firmly on the tender skin to leave a sweet kiss. “You have a soft heart underneath all that armour.”

“Don’t let anyone else know, I have a reputation to maintain,” Arthur warned jokingly.

“A reputation as a dollophead, maybe.”

Just like that, Arthur felt all the tension lift from his shoulders. Merlin may not completely agree with his decision, but he understood and accepted it, and while Arthur would never willingly admit it, he didn’t think he could do anything that didn’t receive Merlin’s approval.

Arthur knew he wouldn’t have nightmares of the two former servants’ faces contorted by pain as they received the five lashes Arthur had sentenced them to. He would have ordered more, but he knew Merlin wouldn’t appreciate it. Just like his lover, Arthur was plagued with memories of people being flogged when they didn’t even deserve it. Uther had ordered people to receive up to twenty lashes for the most benign offences. Arthur didn’t want to be that kind of ruler. When he and Merlin stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard at dawn, they watched the two servants struggle to pull a cart containing their possessions. Arthur hoped they would lead terrible, lonely, miserable lives until they died a slow and painful death for all the hurt, they had inflicted on Merlin, but he kept those thoughts to himself. They hadn’t planned on watching the two criminals leave, but Merlin couldn’t sleep, and his tossing and turning in bed had ended up waking Arthur up. And so, there they were. At least the sky was beautiful.

Chapter Text

Magic had been legal for six months, but it didn’t mean that sorcerers were integrated in Camelot’s society. In the month following the legalisation of magic, there had been very public trials that should have warned everyone about the consequences of assaulting sorcerers. However, there were still some who made their disdain known in rather violent ways, and even more who did it more subtly or covertly. The lives of sorcerers may not have been threatened by the Crown anymore, but it was still a lonely and painful existence.

One morning, Merlin was walking in the upper part of the city, going from stall to stall in search of ingredients for Gaius’ medicines. Despite his new responsibilities as Court Sorcerer, he still insisted on remaining Gaius’ assistant. The physician wasn’t getting any younger, and he needed Merlin to do his rounds for him and gather herbs. Whispers followed him everywhere he went. As he walked through the crowded streets, people gave him a wide berth. A young child ran into him, falling on his back at the impact. Merlin bent to help him up, but before he could grab the child’s hand, his mother scooped him up, holding him protectively to her chest. She looked at Merlin with narrow, wary eyes, as if daring the warlock to harm her son. Merlin held his hand up in a sign of surrender, trying to look as non-threatening as he could. The woman turned, quickly walking away. She glared at Merlin before disappearing into the crowd.

Merlin sighed, watching the little cloud of condensation fade as his shoulders slumped. He hated being regarded with fear and distrust. He used to be well-liked in the city; now everyone avoided him like the plague. Gaius said that he should give people time to adjust to the change, but it was hard. He didn’t feel at home in his kingdom of adoption anymore. Paradoxically, he had felt more like he belonged when he had been hiding what he really was than now that his existence was legal. If this was the Golden Age Kilgharrah had been talking about, Merlin found it very disappointing.

Merlin was pulled out of his thoughts when a passing guard roughly shoved him with his shoulder, causing him to drop his basket, its content spilling on the cold cobbled ground. He recognised the man, he often guarded one of the city gates. He had never been one of the friendliest guards, and Merlin hadn’t shared jokes or small talk with him, even before his magic was revealed. But he had been polite and hadn’t been known for abusing his power or his strength. Merlin never had any cause for complaint against this guard, until that day. Merlin didn’t even react. He froze, looking dumbly at the ground. And then, he dropped to his knees, gathering the ingredients and putting them back into his bag. He wished this was an uncommon occurrence, but sadly, it happened almost daily.

He was reluctant to bring it up to Arthur, though. He had grown used to it, and it wasn’t that big of a deal. Merlin could take a few shoves. Arthur had much more important things to deal with. And the King had already done so much to make sure magic users were safe; Merlin didn’t want to burden him more than necessary.

He heard quick footsteps approaching him and tensed, bracing for more pain. Only, instead of kicking or pushing him, the person knelt at his side and helped him put his stuff in his basket. Merlin raised his head, startled when he saw Gwen’s concerned frown.

“You should talk to Arthur about this, you know he wouldn’t let this slide,” she said when everything Merlin had purchased was safely back in his basket.

Merlin dropped his gaze, his lips pinched in a flat line. “He has more important things to worry about. And it’s not that bad, not like… before. You know?”

“You’re important to him, too. He wouldn’t want you to endure this in silence.”

“Gwen-” Merlin tried to interject, only to be interrupted by his friend.

“You’re the Court Sorcerer; it’s your duty to help Arthur make sure magic users are safe in the kingdom. What kind of example does it set when people see the Court Sorcerer getting assaulted daily without any consequences?”

Merlin couldn’t counter this logic. Gwen was right, as she always was. Arthur hadn’t appointed her as an advisor for nothing. It was true; if people were allowed to mistreat Merlin, they wouldn’t hesitate to do the same with other sorcerers. And he wasn’t alone, even if it felt like it some days. He had friends who would gladly take his defense. He had a King who would readily take measures to ensure that no sorcerers were faced with violence. But for that, Arthur needed to be aware of the problem, and that was Merlin’s job.

“Thank you, Gwen. As always, you’re the wisest of us all,” Merlin said, kissing her cheek.

They walked back to the castle together, arm in arm, exchanging gossip and giggling like children. It was moments like these that made his life in Camelot bearable.

Arthur was furious. He wasn’t just angry or irritated, no; he felt like rage was making his blood boil in his veins. He knew that bringing magic back to Camelot wouldn’t be easy. He had been ready to face challenges, to have to negotiate, and to make use of the full extent of his kingly authority to overcome opposition. But he hadn’t expected people to be so bold as to harm his Court Sorcerer, his best friend, the man he was now officially courting. It had been six months; people should have had time to accept these changes in legislation. He thought they would have understood after the very public trials that had taken place.

His voice echoed in the courtyard as he stood on the balcony. The crowd amassed below was holding its breath. No one made the slightest noise as Arthur spoke. The people had been used to hearing wrathful speeches from Uther, but Arthur had always preferred taking a softer approach to ruling. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be ruthless when the need arose.

“It is unacceptable that a whole category of our people is still living in fear, not of the Crown, but of their fellow citizens. Magic is now legal, and its use is permitted, provided that it isn’t employed for harmful or illegal purposes. From now on, I encourage every person victim of stigmatisation, abuse, or discrimination based on their magical abilities to come forward and bring their complaints to my attention. This mistreatment of magic users will not be tolerated, and the culprits will be severely punished.”

With that decree, Arthur turned back without even waiting for a reaction from his people. He was still seething from the revelation of the abuse Merlin had been subjected to. As he stepped into the throne room, Arthur smiled at his lover. Merlin had chosen to remain inside, on the threshold of the balcony, just out of sight from the crowd gathered below. Arthur understood his unwillingness to be exposed to their eyes after the rough way they had treated him and his kin.

Arthur gathered Merlin in his arms, gently kissing his temple. “Thank you,” Merlin whispered. His lips brushed Arthur’s jaw as he spoke, and Arthur felt a pleasant shiver at the contact.

“I thought these assaults had stopped after what happened with those two servants. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t come to me about this sooner,” Arthur whispered back. He tightened his hold, rubbing soothing circles on Merlin’s back. Arthur would probably never admit that, but he truly enjoyed sharing those affectionate moments with Merlin. He had never thought he’d be the kind of person to enjoy hugs and cuddles, but as it turned out, he was unsatiable.

“It’s not your fault. I’m still learning how to ask for help,” Merlin replied, snuggling closer to Arthur.

The throne room certainly wasn’t the most private or romantic place in the castle, but Arthur was content to stay there with his lover in his arms. He felt invincible with Merlin at his side, and he hoped that the warlock felt the same way. Arthur knew the road would be long still, but he had no doubt that one day, his kingdom would be welcoming to magic once again.

It seemed that just when Merlin had started giving up on the bright Golden Age that had been promised to him by Kilgharrah, the universe decided to reignite a spark of hope for the future. Merlin was coming back from the forest, accompanied by Gwaine and Leon. The two knights had needed a break from the bustle of the city and decided to come with their friend on an herb-gathering mission. As they passed the city gate, apprehension gripped Merlin. Things had got better since Arthur started enforcing laws to protect sorcerers against abuse. However, Merlin knew very well that magic was far from being accepted, even if the overt hostility had almost disappeared.

In the streets, people stayed away from Merlin. They sent him frowns and glares and mumbled under their breaths. Merlin had become used to it, but he still missed the easy conversations he used to have with pretty much everyone in Camelot. At least, he had friends who still stood by his side.

“Do you think you could use magic to enhance our weapons or armour?” Leon asked as they weaved through the busy streets of the lower town.

Leon was always more practical, whereas Gwaine mostly asked about pranks and turning water into various alcoholic beverages.

“I’ve already put protection spells on all your armours and spelled your shields to prevent them from breaking. Oh, I’ve also spelled your swords so that they’d stay sharp during long campaigns,” Merlin answered easily.

Leon’s awed face was priceless. How the knight had thought Merlin hadn’t already used his magic to enhance his friends’ equipment was beyond him. As Arthur’s manservant, he had had unrestricted access to the armoury, and he had used that to his advantage many times. Of course, now he didn’t need to hide anymore, but he didn’t want to flaunt his magic.

“If you have ideas about any enhancements that might be useful, just come to me and I’ll figure it out,” Merlin added after a while.

His proposition was met with a bright grin from the First Knight.

“Can you spell our boots to make them more comfortable? I swear I constantly have blisters with these!” Gwaine whined.

“That’s because you sweat too much,” Leon answered, earning a playful punch to his shoulder.

Just as the trio entered the courtyard, joking and laughing and teasing each other, Merlin abruptly stopped. A man holding a crying toddler in his arms was running towards them. Panic was etched on his tear-stained face. The man stopped just in front of Merlin and promptly fell to his knees. Merlin recognised him as Raymond, and his daughter Orlan.

“Can you help her, please? I’ll pay any price you demand, but please help my daughter. She fell into the hearth and burned her arm. Gaius gave us a balm this morning, but she isn’t getting better,” Raymond explained between panting breaths.

Merlin joined him on the ground. He extended a hand towards the child, “May I?” he asked in a reassuring voice.

Hesitantly, Raymond allowed Merlin to gather the crying child in his arms. He placed a hand above the bandaged burn and sent his magic to survey the damage. Merlin didn’t like what his magic found. The burn was deep, too deep for a simple ointment to heal Orlan. It was no wonder that Gaius’ balm had little effect.

“Let’s go to my chambers, I’ll be able to help her there,” Merlin declared, getting back on his feet, and extending a hand to help Raymond back up. The distraught father eyed the warlock’s hand for a few seconds before he took it.

The journey from the courtyard to the Court Sorcerer’s tower had never felt so long. Merlin wished he could simply teleport there without having to walk through busy corridors and climb steep staircases and slalom through servants and nobles going about their days. Merlin whispered soothing words in Orlan’s ear, sending little bursts of magic to soothe her pain. Orlan was still crying, even though she had no tears left to shed. Merlin made a mental note to give her water to drink as soon as they reached his chamber.

Finally, the door closed behind them, and Merlin set to work. He gave Raymond two glasses of water, instructing him to drink one and help his daughter drink the other. Dehydration wouldn’t help the girl heal, and she would need her father to be alert too. He quickly began mixing a thick greenish paste to soothe the first layer of burnt skin, infusing it with some magic to make it more potent. When this was done, Merlin approached the girl. He gently unwrapped the bandage that protected the burn on her forearm and cleaned the wound with cold water.

“You’re being a very brave girl; do you know that? I’m sure your father is very proud of you,” Merlin said, smiling at the sniffling child. She gave him a watery smile in return, before looking hopefully at her father who kissed her damp cheek.

Merlin carefully applied the paste on the burn, making sure not to put too much pressure on the sensitive skin. When he was done, he wrapped her arm with clean bandages, and then, put his hand on the girl’s arm, over the bandage. He reached for his magic and started incanting a spell he had learned from Gaius to heal injuries such as this one. It was a powerful spell, one that Gaius certainly didn’t have the strength to perform anymore. He closed his eyes, hiding their golden glow, as he felt the magic leave him.

The spell took hold. Merlin could tell it was working. He felt the burnt tissues healing under his magic’s gentle touch. It reduced to a small burn similar to one caused by the flame of a candle. It would only leave a blister that would heal within a few days. Orlan’s eyes widened in surprise as the pain vanished. Her smile was bright enough to illuminate a dark, cloudy night.

“Thank you,” Raymond said. He tried to kneel, but Merlin held him up by his arm, shaking his head to signal there was no need for this. “I don’t have much, my Lord, but I’ll repay you any way I can.”

“Just Merlin is fine, no need for such formalities. And knowing Orlan will heal swiftly and be able to go back to play with her friends is all the payment I need,” Merlin assured him.

Raymond looked taken aback. Merlin wondered if he had looked so surprised when Gaius help him for free, too. Then, he looked down, suddenly seeming almost ashamed. “If you won’t accept any payment, then please, accept my apology,” Raymond said, tilting his head back up, and looking at Merlin with a pained frown.

“What for?” Merlin asked, confused. To his knowledge, Raymond had done nothing requiring him to apologise.

“I have misjudged you and your kind. I feared you were the same as the sorcerers who attacked this city or harmed people for their own gain. I let my opinion of you change after learning you had magic, even though you’ve helped me and my wife before. I’m sorry.”

Tears welled up in Merlin’s eyes at Raymond’s words. He had been so focused on all the negative attention he received every day, that he hadn’t even stopped to consider that people might change their minds. That he could contribute to that change. He smiled as the daughter and father left his chamber, exhausted but confident in the future.

When he recounted these events to Arthur during their shared dinner that evening, he could see his hope and joy reflected on the King’s face, and he couldn’t refrain from laying a gentle kiss on his soft lips.

“I told you, Merlin, it might take some time but we’ll make this Kingdom a safe place for sorcerers,” Arthur vowed, before capturing Merlin’s lips in another kiss.