Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Morgana receives the most intriguing news, one day.   

Emrys ’ true identity. 

To think it was him all along. A serving boy. Hiding in plain sight in the heart of Camelot. Wouldn’t it be a waste to kill him ? When she could have him join her instead. Now, enchantments that allow shifting allegiances are tricky and difficult to maintain. But, memory spells are another matter entirely: simple, straightforward.

Under the cover of night and using a concealment spell, Morgana easily finds her way to Merlin’s chamber. She studies his sleeping form, the boy looking harmless and innocent enough. She knows better. He’s the one who stood by as their kind was persecuted when he had the power to stop it. The one who called himself her friend but didn’t hesitate to poison her the first opportunity he got. Oh yes, she will take great pleasure in turning him against his precious king. 

She delves into his subconscious, accessing the tapestry of his memories. Particularly, ones that involve a certain golden-haired someone. She turns every teasing remark cruel, transforming each of Arthur’s fond smiles into a condescending, mocking sneer. She adds a few fabricated memories here and there. Recollections of Arthur rejecting his friendship time and time again, dismissing him, humiliating him. It’s not that far from the truth, their relationship used to be like that at the beginning. She simply enhances what used to be there, multiplies it tenfold and puts it at the forefront of his mind. 

Then comes the masterstroke. She implants the memory she knows will be the turning point of Merlin’s loyalty. The sight of innocent sorcerers being executed for the sole crime of existing. Arthur lighting the pyre himself, with a sort of sadistic thrill.

Satisfied with her work, Morgana withdraws from his mind, leaving no trace of her intrusion. With a confident step, she leaves the way she came, knowing she may just have gained herself a new, powerful ally.

Merlin does not disappoint. In a matter of days, he turns up before her, an offer on his lips.

Chapter Text

Arthur’s eyes widen in shock as he realizes just who is leading the attack alongside his sister. And see, he’s been betrayed a number of times in his life. Honestly, you would think he’d be used to it by now. But he never imagined, never in a million years, that he would betray him, or that it could hurt quite this much. 

Clumsy, loyal , brave Merlin. The one he trusts … trusted most, and yet, here he stands.

An enemy.

In what seems like mere seconds, his men are overwhelmed and led away from the room, so that only he, Morgana and Merlin remain.

Their eyes meet and Arthur is taken aback by the cold indifference the other holds in his gaze. Then, Merlin’s eyes flash gold and with a flick of the wrist, he sends Excalibur flying from Arthur’s grip and into his waiting hand. So not only is his best friend in league with Morgana, he’s also a fucking sorcerer. Arthur doesn’t know whether he should laugh or cry, the irony isn’t lost on him.

Morgana steps boldly into his personal space, taunting. “Surprised, are you ? Merlin here finally sees you for what you are. An arrogant and prejudiced fool !”

Then she turns and heads for the door but Arthur can still hear the smile in her voice as she says “He’s all yours, Emrys ”, before leaving and closing it behind her.

They’re alone now. The silence feels suffocating. Arthur knows he might regret asking but he just has to know. He decides to voice the one question that’s been on his mind since he first spotted his best friend. It comes out a little choked, no louder than a whisper. 

“Why”

Merlin doesn’t answer, his expression doesn’t even shift. It’s still the same detachment bordering on contempt. 

“Are we not… Were we not friends ?” 

Merlin just scoffs at that, like he isn’t Arthur’s closest friend. Like they didn’t spend six years at each other’s side, all difficult trips and easy banter.

“I’m not your friend, Sire ” There’s nothing teasing about his tone, none of the usual playfulness. This feels so fucking wrong. “I’m just a servant, remember ?” He says, mimicking Arthur’s cruel words from their earlier years. They hit him like a physical blow, cutting through him with a daunting finality. 

“I- What are you even- Why would you bring this up now ?” Arthur stammers, confusion and hurt evident on his face.

“No reason. You were under the misconception that we were friends. Just thought I’d correct you” He states matter-of-factly. 

“Why would you do this, Merlin ? What have I done to make you hate me that much ?” Arthur’s voice is quiet. It takes every bit of determination for him not to break down here and there, and lose what little dignity he has left.

The cold indifference in Merlin’s eyes is replaced with a fiery anger “What you- You dare ask me what you’ve done ?! Like you didn’t slaughter hundreds of my kind ! Like you don’t treat me worse than the dirt under your boots !”

This isn’t right. The feeling of wrongness just intensifies for Arthur. No one has been executed for the sole crime of using magic since his father’s reign, and he’s positive he hasn’t talked down to Merlin since his first year in his service. Sure, he insulted him on a daily basis but it was all in good fun and Merlin gave back just as hard. Something isn’t adding up and Arthur’s heart fills with something like hope. Maybe this is not his Merlin, or perhaps he’s under some kind of enchantment. As soon as the thought enters his mind, his hope wavers, for how is he to break such a spell ? He is no sorcerer, has not the faintest clue what to do.

Amidst the confusion, he remembers a childhood tale. One where True Love’s kiss could break any curse or enchantment. It’s ridiculous, really. And if the man before him is just impersonating his friend, it will prove completely useless. Yet, there is no denying that Arthur does, in fact, love Merlin. Truth is at this point, he has nothing left to lose.

“Merlin.” He breathes as he takes a step closer.

The man raises Arthur’s own sword against him, a clear warning “Don’t come closer. I haven’t decided what to do with you yet.”

Undeterred, Arthur tries to deflect the blade, practically launching himself at Merlin. Their bodies collide, sending them tumbling to the floor. In the midst of their chaotic struggle, Excalibur finds its mark, embedding itself into Arthur’s side. He lets out a gasp of pain, his vision blurring from the intensity of it. He blinks rapidly. Whether it’s to clear his vision or to hold back the tears that are gathering in his eyes, no one can tell. 

Arthur recovers and leans forward into Merlin’s space, his heart hammering with hope and fear alike. Before the other can strike again, he closes the remaining distance between them, placing a chaste kiss onto his best friend’s lips. His hand finds solace in soft black hair and he lets himself linger there for just a few precious seconds.

Merlin's senses are overwhelmed as he tastes the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, the ghost of a kiss lingering on his lips. He opens his eyes to find Arthur pulling away, leaving him confused, disoriented.

Suddenly, there’s a sharp pain in his head, and he’s bombarded with a torrent of images and sounds, as though his entire memory is being rewritten. He winces, shutting his eyes to shield himself from the overwhelming onslaught. After what feels like an eternity but must have been mere seconds, the pain gradually subsides. It leaves the warlock breathless, and thoroughly confused. His memories of the past years seem to be fully restored. As for the most recent ones, he remembers in excruciating detail just what he did and what he was about to do.

Merlin’s eyes slowly reopen, and a wave of guilt crashes over him as he takes in the scene before him. Arthur’s once-confident form is now slumped across from him, blood saturating his shirt at an alarming rate. The fabric, once a dull red, is now drenched in a deep crimson hue. Arthur’s hand presses against his side, his breath coming in uneven, shallow gasps. Beside them, Excalibur lies discarded on the floor, its stained blade a damning evidence of what transpired.  Swallowing hard, Merlin forces himself to focus. Arthur needs him now more than ever.

He’s by his side in an instant, eyes filled with nothing but concern. “Arthur” he breathes, gently prying the other’s hands from the wound to get a better look. “Arthur, I’m going to use magic okay ? In fact, I’m not waiting for your permission, you can yell at me after you’re safe. Hell, you can even have me executed for all I care. Just let me heal you.” Good goddess, he’s rambling now.

“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice makes him pause and look up “You’re an idiot. As if I could ever hurt you.”

Merlin hesitates, averting his eyes. Bitterly, he thinks ‘I didn’t think I could hurt you either and yet, here we are’. As if reading his thoughts, Arthur lays his hand on one of his wrist, offering a gentle squeeze. 

“I know it wasn’t you.”

Merlin’s brows furrow slightly. “But it was. I was in control. I remember wanting to hurt you.” Again, he looks directly into Arthur’s eyes. ”Don’t you understand ? All that spell did was alter my memories. Everything else was all me. I chose to go to Morgana, and to attack our home, Arthur. I literally ran you through with your own sword. How can I ever hope to be forgiven ?” The more he talks, the more his voice breaks . Tears blur his vision, making it hard to see Arthur's face clearly.

Arthur just smiles. It’s small and pained but so very him. “Well, Merlin” He utters with a touch of humor, “I suppose you’ll just have to make it up to me, then.”

Merlin offers a wobbly smile of his own in response and focuses his attention on the task at hand. He’s always been shit at healing magic and if he’s to have any hope of success, he’ll have to infuse the spell with his own life force. Not to mention, he has to counteract Excalibur’s own destructive magic, demanding an even greater price. It’s risky, suicidal even, but nothing could keep him from saving his friend.

With a steadying breath, Merlin places trembling hands on Arthur’s wounded side, channeling his magic. 

“gehælan”

With this word, his eyes ignite in molten gold. He feels the flesh knitting itself back together beneath his fingers, the residual offensive magic of the blade receding as well. Too bad he can also feel himself getting weaker and weaker, his very essence pouring into the spell to complete it. After some time, the wound closes entirely, leaving only a thin scar. 

When he looks, Arthur no longer seems in pain, and he’s looking at him with something akin to wonder. Merlin gives him a relieved, exhausted smile, but then the world around him shudders, growing dim. He feels himself tipping forward, vaguely aware of Arthur’s arms catching him, of the frantic shout of his name. He tries to stay awake, he really does but he just feels so, so drained. 

"Merlin! I’m begging you, just stay with me" Arthur’s voice shatters, his vulnerability raw and unfiltered, meant only for Merlin to hear. And how Merlin yearns to reassure him, to wipe away the fear, the pain.

But it’s no use. With the last ounce of his strength spent, Merlin knows no more.

Chapter Text

Arthur’s eyes widen in shock as he realizes just who is leading the attack alongside his sister. And see, he’s been betrayed a number of times in his life. Honestly, you would think he’d be used to it by now. But he never imagined, never in a million years, that he would betray him, or that it could hurt quite this much. 

Clumsy, loyal , brave Merlin. The one he trusts… trusted most, and yet, here he stands.

An enemy.

The assault had caught him off guard, executed with a level of precision that hinted at prior knowledge. It makes more sense now. Of course, Morgana is already familiar with the castle’s layout but Merlin knows absolutely everything about its defenses. From when and where the guards are stationed to which areas are more susceptible to infiltration. He knows Arthur’s schedule by heart, when to strike him at his most vulnerable, like now as he’s accompanied by just a handful of knights. Looking down, Arthur notices the absence of his chainmail, recalling the seemingly innocuous remark from this morning that “Do you really need the full attire, Arthur ? You don’t know how long that blasted thing takes to dress you, what with all the clasps and shit”. Merlin had planned this. Arthur’s eyes burn with unshed tears, his chest feels inexplicably tight all of a sudden.

His thoughts are abruptly interrupted by Morgana’s incantation, a muttering of something indecipherable as she raises her hand in his general direction. Her eyes flash molten gold, and in an instant, all of his knights' swords turn to dust. He's slightly puzzled why his own sword remains unaffected.

“Nice trick, isn’t it ?” Morgana smirks, pausing for effect. “Seize them.” She orders her followers.

Reacting quickly, Arthur steps in front of his knights, just as Gwaine’s voice breaks through, a bit hysterical, “What the hell are you doing Merls ?!”

Morgana eyes her brother critically and then turns to Merlin, standing right beside her. “We can’t have that, now, can we ?”

Merlin and Arthur’s gaze lock for just a second and Arthur is taken aback by the cold indifference he sees in the other’s eyes. Then, as in an echo of Morgana’s earlier display, Merlin’s eyes flash the same golden hue. With a casual flick of the wrist, he sends Excalibur flying from Arthur’s grip and into his waiting hand. So not only is his best friend in league with Morgana, he’s also a fucking sorcerer. Arthur doesn’t know whether he should laugh or cry, the irony isn’t lost on him. 

In a desperate attempt, Arthur and his knights try to defend themselves, even though they're unarmed. But it’s a battle already lost. In a matter of seconds, the knights are restrained, and Arthur is forced down onto his knees, staring up at the two people who once held such a special place in his heart.

“You should see the look on your face, brother dear.” Morgana taunts “Fucking priceless.”

Arthur ignores her completely, focusing his gaze solely on Merlin. He knows he might regret asking but he just has to know. He decides to voice the one question that’s been on his mind since he first spotted his best friend. It comes out a little choked, no louder than a whisper. 

“Why”

Merlin doesn’t answer, his expression doesn’t even shift. It’s still the same detachment bordering on contempt. 

“Are we not… Were we not fr-”

“As endearing as your little raving is, I don’t have all day.” His sister interrupts, her tone sharp “Stand up, Arthur, you look ridiculous”

And he does. What would be the point of staying on the floor ? He'd rather face her standing.

“I think it’s time we end this” Morgana muses aloud, “And I think… Merlin, that the honor should be yours”

"You want Merlin to...?" Arthur's voice trails off, disbelief coloring his words.

Merlin turns to Morgana in surprise “My Lady, I wouldn’t presume…”

The voices around him seem oddly distant, Arthur can barely make out what they say over the pounding of his heart.

“No, no I insist”  Morgana’s voice drips with cruel satisfaction.

“My Lady ?” He can’t determine the emotion behind Merlin’s voice.

“Merls What the fuck ?! You can't seriously be considering this !” Gwaine shouts, his tone a mix of anger and total disbelief. 

“Merlin, don’t you dare or so help me…” Leon’s voice cuts through, and thinking back, Arthur remembers he’s always been protective of him.

Morgana makes a gesture that roughly translates to ‘just get on with it’

Slowly, deliberately, Merlin raises his hand and closes it into a fist, the telltale gold bleeding into his eyes. The air around Arthur seems to thicken, there’s a suffocating pressure tightening around his throat like a vice. His eyes widen as silent panic sets in. It dawns on him that Merlin is actually going through with this. His closest friend, the one he'd have willingly given up his life for a thousand times over. How ironic is that ? That he’d be the one to take it away. 

Involuntarily, Arthur’s hands fly to his throat, as if he could somehow alleviate the invisible pressure. There’s a strangled, desperate sound, and it takes him a second to realize it’s actually coming from him, one futile attempt to draw breath. Through the haze of hurt and disorientation, Arthur locks eyes with Merlin, searching for recognition, for a hint of regret.

But Merlin looks at him like he’s no more than a stranger, no more than a threat meant to be eliminated. His chest hurts and it’s not only due to his burning lungs. Maybe it’s the lack of air talking but he can’t help the insidious thought that maybe he deserves this. That if even Merlin, the kindest person he’s ever known,  wants him dead, he must truly be a horrible person. He’s no longer thinking straight, is he ? As his vision begins to blur and darkness edges at the corners of his sight, Arthur stumbles forward and into Merlin, grasping his arm in an effort to keep upright.

Merlin can feel Arthur’s fingers dig into his arm, ‘these are gonna bruise’ he thinks distantly. He can feel every spasm of Arthur's chest against him as he struggles for breath. Still his grip remains unrelenting, his magic keeping the constriction in place. 

“Mer- lin” Arthur’s voice is barely recognizable, strained, weak. Serves him right, Merlin thinks.

And then, as if in slow motion, Arthur's grip on Merlin's arm falters. His eyes become unfocused, the spark of defiance they once held dimming. After a final shudder, Arthur's body goes limp, collapsing against Merlin. Instinctively, his arms wrap around him to catch him.

The sight of Arthur’s unconscious form, prone and vulnerable, awakens something in the back of Merlin’s mind. He can’t explain the turmoil he suddenly feels. He should be happy, eager even to finish the job and end the life of someone he views as a bully, a murderer. 

Lies, lies, lies , his mind screams like a mantra. 

Without realizing it, his hold on the choking spell slackens, releasing Arthur from its grip. The gold in his eyes fades away, leaving only ocean blue. Merlin feels Arthur’s faint breath against his neck. It’s irregular but it’s there, it’s proof that he still lives. Merlin doesn’t understand why the sensation fills him with intense relief. Why should he care whether Arthur lives or dies ? He’s his enemy, right ?

Then, the images start to flood in gradually. Moments he doesn’t remember but impose themselves as the undeniable truth. The laughter, the smiles, the banter, the trials and deep conversations. It’s like his entire memory is being rewritten. The experience leaves him breathless.

His memories of the past years restored, he still remembers in excruciating detail just what he did. Suppressing a sob, Merlin holds Arthur closer to his chest. His eyes lock on Morgana.

“Morgana” He practically growls. “What have you done to me ?” His voice trembles in unadulterated rage.

But he doesn’t give her the time to respond. In a stunning display of both power and control, he releases a wave of pure energy around him. It blasts Morgana and all her followers into the unyielding stone walls, leaving the knights and Arthur unscathed.

The knights pick up the enemies’ discarded swords and gather around Merlin and Arthur. They appear cautious. Ready to defend their King at the slightest suspicious movement from Merlin, and Merlin wouldn’t have it any other way.

Then, Arthur begins to stir in his arms, eyes fluttering open. At this moment, Merlin thinks that it doesn’t matter what happens to him from now on. As long as Arthur is alive and breathing and safe , he’ll take whatever punishment.