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Chapter Text

When Merlin admitted to having magic, he expected two things from Arthur although they were both drastically different. 

The first was Arthur running him through right there and then. Magic had taken so much from the young king that it wouldn’t be completely unreasonable for him to act on instinct. 

The second was acceptance and a promise that he would be free. They’d been friends for years and druids had helped them on a few occasions so maybe his stance on magic had changed.

In the end, neither of these happened. 

Arthur only seemed to hear that Merlin’s magic was for him and with every story where his manservant saved his life, he was assured that someone up there had sent him the ultimate fighter to protect him. It was an unfortunate side effect that magic was involved but if it was meant for him then how could it ever be a danger to Camelot? In addition to that, Merlin was the most loyal man he’d ever met. Even with magic, he went to battle without chainmail or armour. Merlin had also killed other magic users so perhaps a magic so perfectly crafted to serve Arthur couldn’t possibly corrupt a person. 

The king promised that no harm would come to him but his closest friends and family needed to know so they didn’t cry sorcery if they ever saw him. The knights of the roundtable, Morgana and Gwen were deemed suitable enough to know about it (although quite a few knew prior). Merlin thought that this was his promise that in the future, magic would be free to use in Camelot. He knew it couldn’t happen right away and that Arthur needed to build legitimacy but he always assumed that one day he’d be free. Why else would Arthur accept him?

Then months passed and nothing happened. No council was called to revise the law, there wasn’t even a discussion about bringing the sentencing down from death to banishment at the most. Nothing changed. Still, Merlin told everyone who denied there would be change that one day Arthur would do something and they just needed to wait. Most of all, he told Morgana that she should reveal her magic the day the ban is lifted just to see the look on Arthur’s face. He was as sure as he knew the sky was blue that he’d be free. Yet that morning, he saw the sentencing of a teenager for performing a tiny bit of household magic. Whilst it wasn’t death but instead banishment, he thought more would be done to spare her.

He didn’t say anything until they were in Arthur’s chambers where no one could hear his questioning and accuse him of sympathising with magic. “I don’t understand,” Merlin muttered. “Why did you sentence her like that when you know she had nowhere to go?”

“What is there to understand? They broke the law and now they will be punished. Be glad I didn’t call for a pyre like the council suggested,” Arthur replied. He was much too flippant for someone who had banished a girl, no more than fourteen, from everything she knew simply for performing magic to get rid of a stain in her dress. It was a tiny piece of magic, Merlin had done more than that on a daily basis yet here he stood still in the King’s chambers allowed to live. 

“Why is the law still in place?” he asked. “You’ve banished this poor girl for the same crime I have committed. Why punish her and not me?”

“Because you’re not like them,” the king drawled as though the answer was obvious. No. He must’ve heard that wrong. Arthur was a prat, a massive one, but he wouldn’t say something so stupid. He wouldn’t be so far removed from reality that he’d say that.

“What do you mean?” 

“Oh, you know.”

“I don’t know. Please enlighten me sire.”

“Your destiny is to protect me, it’s what you’re for. Your magic can’t attack me like theirs. You’re for me therefore you cannot harm Camelot. You’re unable to be corrupted like they can and who am I to deny the Gods when they graced me with the perfect weapon?” 

Time slowed down and Arthur didn’t even have the decency to say any of that to his face. He’d been far too engrossed in the latest paperwork dropped off at his chambers. In the snap of the fingers, Merlin realised there was no uniting Albion. There was no future where he’d perform magic freely and teach it to others. The reason he had been kept around and protected wasn’t because of his loyalty or bravery. It was because he was a weapon. He was no better than a sword personified. He was not an example of someone uncorrupted by magic and therefore proving magic itself wasn’t evil, he was an example of someone with magic who could be controlled by another. He was no better than a pet. Like some bloodthirsty dog who would only strike when given the right signal from its master. Merlin wasn’t an ally at all. He wasn’t even a friend or servant, he was something lower.

“Is that all you see me as?” he asked, unable to stop his voice from shaking. All the blood on his hands was supposed to mean something in the pursuit of bringing magic back to Camelot but now it was just a betrayal of his own kin. 

“I also find that you’re a clumsy idiot,” Arthur teased. 

“You truly think so little of me?” At this, the king raised his head with a confused smile as though he was waiting on the punchline but it fell when he saw Merlin’s crushed expression. 

“Merlin-”

“All this time, I’ve been thinking you were waiting for the right moment to remove the ban. I thought I was succeeding and that every life I took was one that simply couldn’t wait or hurt the cause. I thought I was on the right side.” He looked down at his hands as they shook and remembered the nights when he’d washed the dirt off from burying another body. Those hurt people who wouldn’t listen to his own reasoning, who thought he was being played, all of them were dead now. He couldn’t bring them back. 

“You are on the right side. I know it’s hard, you haven’t been brought up like the knights but those people were corrupted. There was nothing you could have done for them.”

“You never intend to make it safe for me to live here, do you? You never intend to let me live freely or help others like me.”

“You’re not like the others!” Arthur argued. 

“I am nothing like you either!” he shouted. The flames of the fire roared in unison with his building emotions. As he was trained to in the sight of magic, Arthur reached for the hilt of his sword and unsheathed it. Their eyes met. The fire died down. Arthur’s eyes widened when he realised what he’d done and quickly put his sword down but the damage was done. “I’m just another monster to you, aren’t I? Ready to be slain the moment I grow weary of my conditions. I’m not better than the dragon your father chained underneath your castle!”

“Merlin, I didn’t mean to- It’s the training- I would never-”

“You would. You have.” He shook his head to get his mind right again. “Is there anything else you require of me, my lord?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? If I’m to be just another weapon in your armoury then I may as well be a dutiful one. So I ask again. Is there anything else you require of me, my lord ?” Arthur swallowed thickly before shaking his head. “Then, I shall take my leave. That is if I’m free to.”

“Yes. Fine.”

Merlin walked out of the room, closed the doors and stared at the handle for a brief moment. All of it for nothing. He was just another misguided magic user. No, no he was something worse. He was just another monster waiting to be slaughtered. Well, he wouldn’t settle for that. He is magic and his destiny was to unite Albion one way or another. What better way to bring a king to his knees than to destroy his greatest weapon?

Chapter Text

There was something wrong with Merlin. It didn’t take a genius to know that. 

Morgana was the first to ring the alarm bells when Merlin visited her at night for their magic lesson. She was surprised that he wanted to meet considering a young girl had been sentenced that morning for the very thing they practised but maybe it took his mind off things. Everything was normal at first although she did note that he looked a bit paler than usual until there was a brief quiet moment between them.

“You know Morgana, you’ve progressed far quicker than I expected,” he stated. She smiled at the praise, a smile he didn’t quite match. “You probably won’t need me for much longer.” He said it with such finality that she immediately looked him over for any injuries she’d missed. 

“I’ll always need you,” she replied when she found no growing red splotches on his clothes. “Is something happening? Do you need to go on a quest?”

“No, nothing like that,” he answered. “I just want you to know in case it ever comes down to it.” Morgana narrowed her gaze, looking for any sort of clue but came up empty. Something was wrong with him but he was unwilling to tell her. 

“You wouldn’t tell me, would you?” she asked already knowing the answer. “You would sooner run yourself into the ground than involve me.”

“I’m meant to protect Arthur but maybe you’re my favourite Pendragon to protect.” She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully. “Just know that I’m doing everything I can for you.”

“Merlin, you’re scaring me now. What’s going to happen?”

“Nothing you can stop. Nothing I didn’t intend to happen.” He had that look in his eyes. One that always made her fear for his future but not her own. “Besides, can’t die can I? Not really.”

“I hate when you do that,” she huffed.

“Do what?”

“Get all weird and cryptic. You’re no better than the dragon you complain about.”

“I am not!” he squawked and she’d laughed. The conversation diverted from there with him listing off all the terribly unhelpful advice he’d received over the years. She knew something was happening soon but she just didn’t know what. All she could do was hope someone else knew.

Gaius was the next to know something was terribly wrong with Merlin. Although his ward was always exhausted the morning after the sentencing of a magic user, he never looked quite as gaunt as he did now. 

“My boy, did you get any sleep last night?” he asked worriedly.

“No more than usual,” Merlin replied. “Say, where do people go when they’re chronically ill? There’s hardly any patients in here who will always be sick.” The physician frowned at the question but initially shrugged it off as one of those random thoughts.

“That’s because those who are sick with no cure remain in their homes till their time comes. It’s no use taking up another bed for someone who will never get better,” he answered. 

“Where would I go? If I was always sick and never got better?” His frown deepened.

“You would likely stay in your room or I’d send you back to your mother if I thought you could survive the journey.”

“And if I could not?”

“Then I would send for your mother.” Merlin nodded and pushed around his food with no real intention of eating it. “Are you feeling ill? I can assure you it’s unlikely to be something incurable. At least, not with your abilities.”

“No, just thinking. I never really wondered what would happen if I was permanently damaged from all this destiny stuff.” Gaius had noticed some of his painkillers going missing over the years and eventually came to the conclusion that his ward didn’t come out of every situation unscathed. Perhaps the chronic pain was beginning to bother him. He knew that knights found their scars became sore with changes in the weather and God knows how many scars Merlin sported. He’d make a batch of soothing salves for him. “I don’t think I’d like to be sent to Ealdor.”

“No?”

“I wouldn’t want my mum under that pressure. At least if she came here to say her goodbyes, she wouldn’t have to worry about burying me.” Merlin looked up at that point and gave his mentor a deadly serious look. “I don’t want to be burned.”

“You can’t die, Merlin.”

“Not without the right means. In case I do, don’t burn me.” His voice cracked and Gaius was quick to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“I promise you’ll be buried.”

“Thanks, Gaius. I better be going.”

“But you’ve hardly touched your food.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just not hungry. Help yourself since I didn’t touch it.” He left in a hurry after that. 

Gwen and Arthur knew there was something wrong immediately upon seeing Merlin. First of all, he knocked on the door which he hardly ever did. Instead, he’d loudly talk to the guards at the doors for a few minutes to give them time to stop whatever they were doing. They assumed that the guards must be late to their duties but when he opened the door, they could see them outside. Second of all, he gave them their breakfast without uttering a word or teasing them about being a couple. He simply placed their food in front of them and then go to work on cleaning the room. 

“You’re quiet this morning,” Arthur commented. Gwen had no clue about their previous fight and he was smart enough not to incriminate himself in his comment. He hoped that Merlin caught the message he was truly trying to ask; are you okay?

“Tired, sire,” Merlin answered. Not at all.

“You didn’t have any adventures last night, did you?” Gwen asked, worrying her bottom lip as she scanned his frame. He didn’t waver in his actions but he did look oh so pale. 

“No, just couldn’t sleep.” I’m still upset about what you said. 

“You don’t look well. Are you sure you should be working?” 

“I’ll get time off eventually,” he responded as though reassuring a child. He collected their strewn clothes, most of them were Arthur’s and he made sure to hide anything of Gwen’s underneath his, and threw them in the basket. “Could I get my tasks in writing? I know you’ll give me plenty so I’d rather not waste more time listening to you prattle on after I’ve done your laundry.” That was the third odd instance that was the nail in the coffin. He never asked for his chores in writing. The pair were so stunned by the request that they didn’t notice him leave until the doors closed. 

“That was odd,” Arthur stated. 

“I do worry about him. Well, more so than I did before. With all he does to protect you, I fear he’s somewhat haunted by it all. A man can only take so much.” Arthur gulped and suddenly felt put off his breakfast. “He’s not even stolen anything off your plate.”

“So he hasn’t.”

“You don’t know of anything that might have him worried do you?” He knew he should say something but he rather liked his head attached to his shoulders.

“No idea my love.”

The knights were last to see Merlin’s behaviour although that was through no fault of their own. They had to practically hunt the servant down to catch him for long enough to hold a conversation and that was only because he was cleaning up the training grounds. It must’ve looked mad to any visitors for the gaggle of knights to follow Merlin around as he picked up after them but Camelot was used to their unorthodox closeness.

“One of these days we should train with you. With all your abilities ,” Gwaine suggested, wiggling his fingers to illustrate his point without saying so.

“Unless you want me dead, there’d have to be a change of law for that to happen,” he answered rather bitterly.

“We could always try on a hunting trip,” Leon suggested. He always liked his men prepared so it would be a good training exercise for those who knew about Merlin. They thought that the servant would jump at the chance to show off since he’d gone unnoticed for so long. Yet he looked entirely uninterested as though they were talking about something in the distant future he could never participate in. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be on the next trip,” he said. Immediately, the knights felt horribly wrong. A pit opened up in the stomachs and released a sense of dread not unlike the one they felt before a battle.

“Why not?” Elyan asked and then in a more hushed tone, “Are you fighting something?”

“In a way,” he responded. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

“We’re your friends, you know that, right?” Lancelot reminded him but that only seemed to make it worse. He seemed to shut off from them completely. 

“That’s the hard part.”

“What do you mean?” Gwaine demanded. He patted his boyfriend on the arm with a weak smile and this close they could see his eyes seemed sunken in. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he sighed placatingly. “You’ll be drinking either way.” They hated when he got cryptic. He was hard enough to understand before all of the weird talk. If magic corrupted then all it seemed to induce was speaking in riddles. “I have to get these cleaned and Arthur’s armour polished by the end of the night so I’ll be missing our trip to the tavern. Sorry to disappoint.”

“I don’t think Princess will mind all that much if you don’t finish all of it, love,” Gwaine replied.

“He’s already reminded me of my place. Best I do as I’m told.” They had an argument then. That didn’t explain everything though.

“Why don’t I get some squires to do the job?” Leon suggested but Merlin shook his head firmly. 

“I’d prefer to do it and I’d hate to spoil their night.” They conceded since that was the most forceful they’d seen him all day. Maybe he was just nervous about something magical and would be fine later on. Surely he’d tell them if something bad was going to happen now they knew what he did in his spare time. “I’ll be seeing you,” he said before walking off, not even waiting for a kiss goodbye from Gwaine. 

“I’m asking my sister what’s going on here,” Elyan stated, the knights nodding in agreement. Gwen knew everything, she’d know what was wrong with him.

They were supposed to be having dinner together and then the men would go off to the tavern to cause trouble whilst Gwen and Morgana caused their own trouble inside the castle. They gathered together and noticed immediately that Merlin wasn’t there. 

They waited a few moments since the knights knew he was busy with chores in the armoury and he likely forgot the time. 

They waited a few more moments because this was Merlin and he always managed to get himself trapped in lengthy conversations when he needed to go somewhere. 

Then they waited even more and there was no sign of the servant.

“I’m going to say it, there’s something wrong with Merlin and him missing this dinner is the best opportunity to talk about it,” Gwaine announced. 

“Oh thank God you noticed it too,” Gwen replied. 

“Wait, so you don’t know?” Elyan asked.

“No, I’ve hardly seen him.”

“Me neither. He’s been busy with chores all day,” Arthur complained only to receive a light slap on the arm from his sister.

“You’re the one who gave him all those chores! Why make him work so hard when you know he’s not alright?”

“He said he was tired so I assumed he just couldn’t sleep because he was restless. You know how awful the idiot frets about everything. I thought the chores would exhaust him enough that he’d be able to sleep.”

“It’s a good thing you’re the king and not the physician,” she muttered. 

“He kept acting like he wouldn’t be there for the future,” Leon informed them. “He cancelled our trip to the tavern and said he wouldn’t be joining us on the next hunt.”

“It was like he was saying goodbye,” Percival commented.

“Are you sure you don’t know anything, Arthur?” Gwen implored. “You two spend so much time together, you must know something?”

“Did you two get into an argument?” Lancelot tacked on.

“He seemed fine yesterday and no. He did his chores as usual and then left a little earlier but that’s simply because I didn’t need him,” he lied. He wasn’t fine. He’d been dehumanised so of course he was acting all wrong but he didn’t expect it to spread so far. 

“He said he was tired. Maybe he’s having nightmares? Morgana, you know what that’s like. Is his behaviour familiar to you?” Gwen suggested. 

“He has plenty to dream of,” she sighed. “If it were nightmares, we’d recognise this behaviour as such. He looks ill.”

“That’s probably where he is then,” Arthur announced, standing up suddenly. “I’ll go down to Gaius’ chambers and see what’s happening. Then we can eat in peace.” He nodded to himself and took his leave swiftly.

“Oh he definitely knows what's wrong,” Gwaine grumbled. “He’s just not telling us…Bet’s on who’s in the wrong?”

“I don’t know, this time feels different. It’s like Merlin knows something on the horizon but won’t tell us for fear we’ll look,” Lancelot remarked. “The question is, what’s on the horizon?”

Arthur knew he was a prat. He knew that he said the wrong things at the wrong times and he did things before thinking about them fully. What he also knew was that Merlin, for some reason, knew all this and dealt with it. He’d be mad for a few days, their banter would take a turn and then they’d silently put the matter to rest. They were skilled in this dance but now his dancing partner had run from the ball and disappeared to leave him alone on the floor. Arthur knew this was a sign he crossed over that unspoken line he’d toed so many times before and if he wasn’t careful, Merlin would forever be out of reach. He raced through the halls at a very kingly pace and definitely did not run at all to Gaius’ chambers and without knocking, barged in.

Gaius jumped at the sound and nearly dropped the glass bottle he was holding, sending a glare to the king. He opened his mouth to say something but Arthur beat him to it. 

“Where’s Merlin? He’s supposed to serve dinner but he never came.”

“He’s taken ill, sire.”

“Did he tell you that? Honestly,” he rolled his eyes in exasperation before storming past the physician and knocking harshly on his manservant’s door. “Stop being such a girl and face me!”

“Have you very well lost your mind?” Gaius shouted. The king winced at the volume and looked back at him only to wince again at the glare he received. “When I tell you my ward is sick then he is sick. I don’t know what it is, as of yet, but when I do I shall inform you. Are you quite done harassing my patient or would you like to yell at a sick man some more?” He shook his head and retreated from the door. 

“My apologies. It’s just that he’s been avoiding me all day-”

“Has he? I saw the list you wrote him. Is that really what you give him every day?”

“No, of course not-”

“Because if it is then it’s no wonder he’s taken ill.” Arthur raised his hands in defeat. He didn’t need someone chewing him out right now, especially if their fight was what caused Merlin to become so ill. He knew stress did a lot to a person. It could drive them mad.

“Is he alright?”

“A fever and vomiting at the moment. I’m hoping it’s a simple illness. His mother said he catches these things rather easily and harshly. She nearly lost him to lung fever when he was a child.” 

“I’ll inform the others. You’ll keep me updated, I hope?”

“Of course sire. You’ll have a replacement by morning.” He nodded and pursed his lips, awkwardly walking past the physician and escaping before he could get told off anymore.

When he returned to the dining hall, everyone suddenly went silent and snapped their heads to face him. 

“He’s ill. Gaius doesn’t know what it is but I have no doubt that he will find out come morning,” he announced, forcing his voice to remain steady. Was this all his fault? No, it couldn’t be. Surely he’d said worse things in their time of friendship and none of those had caused Merlin to get so ill. It must be some magic thing. Perhaps Gaius was waiting to confirm which spell it was before even saying it was about magic. Yes, that’s it. The physician was just exploring all his options. 

“I suppose he was bound to get ill,” Lancelot mumbled. The information that should’ve solved their worries only seemed to sit incorrectly with them. 

“Sickness doesn’t explain everything,” Morgana asserted, getting nods in agreement. 

“Don’t see what there is to worry about,” Arthur lied as he resumed his seat at the head of the table. “It’s not like he’s mortal like the rest of us.”

“Arthur! You’d do well to have some sympathy,” Gwen admonished. “Just because he can’t die doesn’t mean he feels no pain.” He frowned at that and returned to trying to enjoy his meal but he couldn’t quite enjoy the conversations going on around him and the food sat heavily in his stomach. Merlin seemed so unshakable, so unlike any of them, that the thought of him being in any serious pain felt unreal. That was the problem though, wasn’t it? Arthur didn’t think properly about these matters. What good was never staying dead if the journey there was one of suffering?

Something was wrong with Merlin and it was Arthur’s fault one way or another.

Chapter Text

A replacement for Merlin was given for the morning. Then the afternoon. Then for the night. Arthur waited anxiously for any updates from Gaius yet he received nothing. Unfortunately, his day was full with duties he couldn’t skip to check in on his manservant and he didn’t have much time to pull someone aside to check on his behalf. Around dinner time he sent a servant to get some sort of update but they returned only to tell him Gaius refused to give anything. He forced himself through every meal, unable to savour any of the meat's richness or the wine's smoothness. It all tasted sour against the guilt he felt. He knew it was his fault. It had to be his fault, didn’t it?

Finally, as the sun set, Gaius sent word that he wanted a meeting to discuss the condition of his manservant. It wasn’t only with Arthur, thank goodness. The king doubted he’d survive it if that were the case. The knights of the roundtable, Gwen and Morgana were also asked to join it. Perhaps there was a quest they needed to go on or their involvement in keeping his secret meant they needed to be privy to the knowledge. Arthur could feel the anxiety build in his chambers as they waited for the physician to arrive. Some paced, others remained glued to their seats. He took vigil by the window, looking out at the kingdom he helped secure. Merlin helped in that too. 

Gaius entered the room wordlessly, carrying a thick old-looking book and a heavy look wearing down his expression. He looked exhausted so it was safe to assume the illness took a long time to find alongside tending to his ailing ward.

“Have you found what it is?” Gwen asked, hopeful for an answer. Why else would a meeting be called? Well, there was another reason but she’d swiftly dismissed any notion of Merlin not making it. He simply couldn’t die. Gaius nodded solemnly and opened a book, placing it on the table for everyone to see. 

“It’s a curse of extortion,” he began. “For as long as the conditions aren’t met, the person will continue to grow ill until they are no more. He’s in the first stages of the curse where he is awake but showing symptoms of illness.” 

“So it’s curable,” Gwaine said, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“It is but only if the condition is met.”

“How do we find out the conditions?” Morgana asked. The physician seemed to age considerably more as he produced a piece of parchment and placed it on the book. Immediately, they recognised Merlin’s handwriting since he’d been writing speeches and schedules for years. For a moment, they refused to come to the conclusion they were expected to. Merlin wouldn’t do that to them. He wouldn’t force them to choose between meeting the terms of the curse or losing their friend. Yet there was no evidence to suggest otherwise. The note was written clearly so no one had him at swordpoint and someone hadn’t forged his hand either. 

I have grown tired of waiting for the day Camelot is free of the purge. I know my place as her protector and my place as protector of her ruler but I no longer know my place living behind her walls. Arthur reminded me of such. He has forced my hand by prosecuting others who share my crimes without the mercy he showed me. Well, I had hoped it was mercy but I’ve come to understand it was self-preservation. 

In fairness to those who were fooled by a disguise so powerful I fooled myself, I apologise for what my suffering may do to you but I hope in time you find it worthwhile either as a self-imposed punishment for myself or as work for a good cause.

To fulfil my destiny and perhaps to rather selfishly punish myself for my naivety towards what I am, I have cast a curse upon myself. Until magic is free to use in Camelot without persecution, I will grow iller by the day until I die. 

If you find it in your heart to accept magic as a tool as you found it so easy to accept me as your weapon then I will be glad to see it.

Perhaps this monster can be a martyr or my life will just be another monster’s you ended.

Your servant till the day I die, 

Merlin

“He can’t die,” Arthur argued immediately before anyone could comment. “He’s magic, he lives as long as there is magic therefore he cannot truly die.”

“Exactly,” Gaius replied thickly. “The curse will follow him through. He will continue to die, resurrect and die again until the condition is met.”

“Arthur,” Morgana began, finally drawing her eyes away from the letter and settling them on her brother. “What did you say to him?”

“What? How am I to blame for what the fool did to himself?”

“He had an argument with you yesterday,” Gwaine stated, now sure the king had lied that night at dinner. He’d been questioning it before, hoping that it was only an offhanded comment that had hurt his boyfriend, but this only confirmed this definitely happened. “He said you reminded him of his place. I thought you had told him he was just a servant or something along those lines. Did you call him a monster?”

“No! I called him,” his sentence trailed off. No, he’d done something equally as bad, perhaps even worse, and they knew it. He knew it. “I called him a weapon. He got upset, the fire grew and I instinctively drew my sword-”

“You drew your sword?” Gwaine roared. “Against your most trusted friend, against the man you made me jump through hoops just to court, the moment he got upset, you drew your sword?”

“Instinctively! I didn’t mean to,” he insisted.

“You called your friend a weapon,” Gwen repeated. Her hands shook by her sides with anger and if she wasn’t half the woman she was, she would’ve hit him by now. “The man who would sooner die for you than see you hurt and your conclusion was that? That he is just some emotionless thing for you to own rather than a person who does all he can for you?”

“He was sort of made for me though,” he muttered. 

“Excuse me?” Gwaine shouted, looking five seconds away from murdering the man. Percival swiftly stepped between them and grabbed his fellow knight’s shoulder tightly.

“Sire, I don’t like to speak out of turn, but that’s possibly the worst defence you’ve come up with and I’ve heard the “practising poetry” excuse,” Leon admitted. 

“Merlin came up with that one.”

“And you went along with it.”

“Sorry, I’m still hung up on the fact you called Merlin a weapon made for you!” Morgana snarled. “His request is not unreasonable and I’m shocked that it’s taken not just his admission of magic but months later it has to take his life for you to even consider it.”

“I never said I’d consider it. Let him play martyr until he finally sees that I will not bend to the will of magic. He’ll learn his lesson quickly.” The tension in the room could be felt and the temperature seemed to drop to that of ice. 

“You’d let him suffer?” Percival asked his soft voice a great contrast to his harsh glare. When Arthur didn’t answer he looked like he took a physical blow to the face.

“You’d let him die ?” Morgana gasped. They all waited for something, anything! Yet he remained stubbornly silent. Her hand went to her mouth the stifle the sob that escaped her. Merlin had been the only reason she held out hope for her brother and look where it got them. The poor man was on his deathbed hanging on to his last thread of faith in Arthur and it was snipped in half. “The druids were wrong about you. You are no great king and you are certainly no brother of mine.” She nodded to Gwen to signal who saw no issue with leaving, glaring at Arthur one more time before joining the princess’s side. “Uther would be proud of what you’ve become,” she added before making her exit with Gwen following soon after. 

When the doors closed, it felt like a connection became severed and Arthur wasn’t sure how reversible the damage was. He looked at his knights, expecting at least some of them to see how unreasonable this was. Magic had attacked them plenty of times, it had killed some of their best friends, and yet they stared at him as though he’d personally signed Merlin’s death warrant. He looked to Gaius for some support since the man was always so level-headed but was met with a furious glower.

“You are not the king I thought you were sire,” Gaius stated. “Even worse, you’re not half the man Merlin thought you were.”

“How can I reinstate magic when it can do things like these?” he argued. 

“How can you persecute magic when Merlin has saved your life with it so many times?” Gwaine countered. “I can’t believe this is a discussion we’re having, I can’t believe it even got to this point. I never thought you’d push him to do this and still not think that your ways may be wrong.”

“When you were crowned, he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars themselves and now you’re digging his grave,” Leon sighed. “I thought you were a man of compassion and I had hoped you were waiting for the right time but you were going to leave him in fear every day that he would be the next body we tie to a pyre?”

“I have not burned anyone in my time as king and I assured him that I would never hurt him!”

“Because you are kind or because he’s your weapon?” Elyan questioned. He opened his mouth to answer before it clicked shut. “Wow. To think I let you anywhere near my sister.”

“Elyan, this is a complicated matter. Let’s say I thought about repealing the ban, do you know how many enemies I’d make? How many allies rely on our strict ban on magic? There could be a coup against me!”

“But you would have your beloved weapon to dispose of them,” Gwaine growled through gritted teeth. “I need to leave or I’m going to be arrested for treason.” With that, he left, likely on his way to see Merlin before the curse progressed too far.

“It was once an honour sire,” Lancelot said before following.

One by one, the knights left either to pay their respects to Merlin whilst he was still in the first stages or to find some way to ease their frustrations. It came down to just Arthur and Gaius. 

“The ban has only been around for twenty years. The people who attack you with magic lost their livelihoods, their parents, their partners, and their children. Could you imagine let alone comprehend such pain?”

“I can’t lift the ban, Gaius. People have been hurt.”

“Do people with magic not scream when their bodies burn? Do their mothers not shriek for their children? Do they not plead for mercy just like you and me?” The physician collected the book but left the letter. “Am I not a man to you?”

“Of course you are.”

“Yet I performed magic many times before your birth.” Arthur knew the point he was trying to make but remained stubborn by not rising to it. “If you are so willing to let Merlin suffer now, you should’ve run him through when you had the chance.” 

“He can’t be killed.”

“On the contrary, you wield the only thing that can end his life permanently. You wear it on your hip every day. He hands it to you every morning.” He licked his lips nervously like his body was telling him not to say what he did next. “If you are to remain stubborn in your decision then you can be kind enough to end him with that blade although I hope it doesn't come to that. If it does, then you can tell Hunith herself what became of her son.”

Chapter Text

Morgana raced to Merlin’s room, barrelling through anyone who got in her way and throwing his door open only to freeze in horror at seeing him so gaunt in his cot that just about fit him. His eyes slid from where they’d been staring at the walls to her and he forced a weak smile.

“Found out then?”

“You stupid, idiotic, impossibly lacking in self-preservation, dollophead of a man!” she snapped but there was no real heat toward him behind it.

“Dollophead is my word for the record.”

The frustration melted away as soon as it rose up, giving way to a hollow feeling of grieving a man who was still alive. 

“Well, it suits you quite nicely.” She knelt by his bedside and held his hand in hers. His skin looked as white as snow against her own, the blue veins beneath it bright as the sky on a clear summer’s day. She ran her fingers along his knuckles comfortingly although she didn’t know if it was him she was comforting or herself. “I practically left Gwen in the dust getting over here so tell me the spell to remove this and we’ll just pretend you’re sick till he gives in.” He smiled at the idea as though it was daft to even think it, let alone suggest it. 

“Can’t do that.”

“Why not? Arthur is the biggest idiot I’ve ever known. It’ll take at least a few days for him to get over himself and you’ll only suffer whilst he paces a path in the stone or makes everyone else’s lives harder for something to do,” she insisted desperately. He only shook his head and then winced in regret as the room spun. 

“Misery loves company I suppose,” he muttered as he heaved deep breaths. As close as they were, neither wanted to have Merlin throw his guts up as of yet. She pursed her lips as she tried to find some loophole but of course, the manservant had thought of all that. Only he could make a plan so flawless when it involved him wasting away.

Sighing, she moved on to the next issue at hand.

“You’re not a monster,” she stated. “If you are then I am too and it’s not very nice to call a lady a monster, is it?”

“You won’t ever be a monster to anybody,” he told her firmly. His eyes shone bright with determination. 

“What about you then? A monster wouldn’t save me from a sad end, a monster wouldn’t care for its friends or family. It certainly wouldn’t sacrifice itself for the greater good.” He thought on it for a moment before replying rather lamely.

“Never am normal, am I?”

“You’re impossible, that’s what you are.”

“My lady, you really must teach me how you run so fast in a dress. You’d think we were being attacked by the way you got around,” Gwen panted as she finally caught up, leaning against the door frame with a small smile. She swiftly sobered up at the sight of her friend and the horrid flashback it gave her to the last time she’d seen him so deathly pale. “Oh Merlin, what’ve you gotten yourself into this time?”

“Can’t be a weapon against my kind if I don’t work,” he wheezed and curled up as another wave of nausea flowed through him. “Didn’t expect it to come on so hard so fast, I will admit that. Magic can be such a fickle thing, even my own.” Gwen shook her head and glanced around the room, nodding to herself when she found a basin filled with water with a cloth laying beside it. She soaked the fabric for a few moments before wringing it out and dabbing the back of Merlin’s neck. “Thanks, Gwen.”

“It’s alright. Just like old times.”

“Do I get a kiss again or has Arthur banned that?” She immediately became flustered and lightly slapped him on the arm as both he and her previous mistress laughed.

“Gwen! You kissed him?” Morgana asked. “You never said anything.”

“He came back to life! I was caught up in the moment and it was a one-time thing. It was a platonic welcome back to life kiss and nothing more,” she huffed. “Anyway, you have Gwaine to do it this time, don’t you?”

“If he doesn’t kill me first,” he joked. “I’m a shit boyfriend.” He mumbled the last part into the thin rolled-up fabric that he called a pillow but they heard it clear enough.

“With his ever-growing drinking debts and your habit of sacrificing yourself, I think you’re made for each other. You must be with all the trouble you get in and out of,” Morgana countered. He hummed with that stupid love-sick grin he wore whenever he saw Gwaine training on the field. Then it soured and forced himself to sit up despite his friends protesting.

“Did you leave him there? He’ll kill Arthur. He’ll-”

“Merlin?” Gwaine yelled from outside the room.

“In here!” Morgana called back. 

The knight ran in, nearly running straight into the opposing wall when he skidded to a halt and took a seat in the small space there was on the already crowded cot. Someone really needed to get the warlock a better bed. He took the cloth from Gwen and took over the task with a strained smile. Lancelot stepped in behind him, remaining by the door to give them some room. The place was so small but Merlin liked compact things. He’d probably find a way to make the biggest of chambers feel closed in with the amount of trinkets and mess that followed him.

“You’ll be the death of me one of these days,” Gwaine complained lightly. “This room is about to get very overcrowded. I doubt the others will want to stay around the once and future prat.” Merlin laughed under his breath and leaned into his lover’s touch, some of the colour returning to his face although that could be a trick of the light. “I’m guessing there’s no hope of you reversing the spell then?”

“Not at all. Gotta get through to him somehow.”

“And out of all your options, you decided slowly kill yourself?” Lancelot deadpanned.

“Being me wasn’t enough.”

“Merlin, you are more than enough,” Gwen assured him. “Arthur knows this better than anyone and he will realise he can’t last a day without you and he’ll understand how stubborn he was. He’ll be signing the repeal come morning. We’ll be with you until he does.” She intended to come across as comforting but he just ended up looking more forlorn than he’d begun.

“Don’t want you to see me suffer. Not fair on you to care for a mess of my own making.”

“It’s worse to get all our information through Gaius. The man is terrifying with that eyebrow of doom if we ask after you too much,” Gwaine argued. “One time when you were hurt, I believe it was a stab wound that time, he slipped me a sleeping draught so I’d stop pestering him about you.” Merlin hummed half-heartedly at the tale as his eyes began to drift out of focus from exhaustion. ”How does this thing progress then?”

“Like most illnesses with fever, only faster. Fry my brain n boil my blood.” They grimaced at the description and he couldn’t blame them. He’d winced the whole time reading through the effects of the spell and silently hoping it never got to the later parts. “Needs to get a message across. Should be one foot in the grave by the end of the week at this rate.”

“When you’re done with your self-made martyrdom, we’ll have a long conversation about all this. You can’t keep doing this to yourself especially when you don’t even think to tell me.” 

“Like you don’t drink half the tavern every week.”

“Merls, I love you oh so dearly, but let’s not compare apples to oranges.”

“You like apples,” Merlin mumbled. “Will buy you lots of apples to make up for it.” He sighed heavily and his eyes drifted shut. His body relaxed into the bed but they doubted his sleep would be anything near peaceful. 

“Arthur wouldn’t make him suffer, right?” Gwaine asked. He hadn’t known Arthur half as long as the others so he held onto some hope there was some empathy in Uther’s son that would prevent a week’s worth of hell. There had to be when his lover was so sure that there was a good future to suffer for. 

“Not if he doesn’t want to be usurped,” Morgana answered seriously. She couldn’t of course. Merlin had put a lot of effort into making sure that future didn’t happen but that didn’t mean she couldn’t consider it or find a way to do it temporarily. Perhaps pushing Gwen into doing something was the way to go since Arthur adored her. Maybe they could drug Arthur with something to mess with his memory and fake his handwriting to repeal the ban only to insist he’d done it before he mysteriously passed out. They could influence the council with an enchantment for as long as needed. 

Then again, the man lying in front of her wouldn’t want anything like that. He’d want it to be made with a clear mind and Arthur’s consent. She put her head in her hands and let out a deep sigh. Why didn’t she get a vision of him cursing himself? Why did her magic not warn her what would happen to her friend so she could prevent it when it happily kept her up every other night? Did he do something to her during their last meeting?

“He’ll come to the right decision when he sees what he’s done,” Lancelot insisted. “Arthur wouldn’t let a good man remain like this. Not one he cares for like a brother.”

“Does he?” Gwaine snapped. 

“Gwaine!” 

“What, Gwen? Am I so out of line to suggest he doesn’t truly care for Merlin when he called him a weapon? When he acted like he owned the man I love as though he were an object to possess?” He tightened his grip on the cloth, water leaking through his clenched fist. “Merlin has saved him practically every day since stepping foot in Camelot yet you expect me to sit here idly and wait for another knight in shining armour to finally realize his worth. I’m allowed to be angry when Arthur is at fault for not only this illness but the driving force behind it.”

“No one is saying you can’t be angry about what he said but this is Arthur we’re talking about,” Gwen reminded him carefully. She knew that Arthur did a lot of things wrong and she was in no way happy about what he’d said but she knew the man she loved. Merlin knew him too. “He says things he doesn’t mean all the time because he doesn’t know how else to express himself. He probably meant it more as saying Merlin was someone he was proud to fight with or he is as the knights are his troops and tools for Camelot. There is no way that he intended to do such harm. If he truly thought Merlin a weapon for his magic and nothing more then he would be chained up in a dungeon and only let out in times of war. Yet Merlin still serves us breakfast despite being this supposed God that could kill us in a second.” She shook her head. “No, Arthur would never mean the harm he caused. He needs time to realize the good magic Merlin has shown him is not magic completely unique to him.”

“You defend who you court with too much compassion,” Morgana huffed. “My brother picks his words poorly but when he speaks of war and its methods, he’s perfectly eloquent. He may care for Merlin as much as he says but that doesn’t stop him from seeing that magic as something he can own and control as though it were a hunting dog. Like Cenred and his pet sorcerers.”

“My husband is nothing like him ,” her once maid defended, a fierce look adorning her features. She got up and cast one last glance at the sick manservant. “I’m going to warn the cook that she’ll be asked to provide a broth for him from now on. I doubt he’ll be able to stomach much more. Perhaps she could prepare the same for the king so he understands the severity of the situation.” They nodded. She was as loyal to Merlin as she was loyal to Arthur so they couldn’t blame her for wanting to remove herself from the conversation before it got too disparaging. 

They spared a moment of silence as they waited for the next arrival but none came. It wasn’t entirely surprising. The knights probably wanted to get their minds in some calm state before visiting or didn’t want to see Merlin before they heard from someone else so they could prepare themselves. Sometimes it just hurt too much to see people they cared for hurt that they would ask for constant updates but never make it very far into the physician's quarters.

“Seeing as the others haven’t shown up yet, they’re probably on patrols. Leon might swing by before it gets too late,” Gwaine sighed. Usually, it would be himself or Lancelot that would be voted as the person to poke their heads in to see how Merlin was doing but responsibility would fall to Leon if they were indisposed. He acted like it was because he needed the knights to concentrate but in reality, he liked to be kept in the loop with the one person who could keep the king sane. Well, when he wasn’t annoying the king to the point of insanity. “Maybe tomorrow we can give Princess a head injury hard enough to reconsider?”

“He’ll reconsider without the head trauma,” Lancelot said. “Hopefully.”

“Do you think the guys will mind if I stay with him tonight? I know I’ve already missed a few shifts.”

“Trust me, we won’t hold it against you.” Gwaine nodded, his eyes never once leaving Merlin as though he’d die in the seconds it took to glance away. “I would suggest bringing him to your quarters but I think Gaius will want him close for now.”

“It’s too noisy for him down there and not all the knights take well to him. It’s too close to the dungeon as well. He hates being close to that place,” he explained.

“If Gwen is to be believed-” Morgana began.

“-which she can be,” Lancelot interrupted quickly.

“If Gwen is to be believed then he won’t need to be moved,” she finished, glaring at him as she repeated herself. “In any case, if things start to look dire, I’ll have him moved to a guest chamber near me. The beds are big enough for the both of you though I doubt you’ll be able to test them too thoroughly.”

“Who says we haven’t already tested them?” Gwaine questioned with a cheeky grin. The silence following his jest weighed heavily on them. They half expected Merlin to wake only to playfully shove his boyfriend or insist that it was a lie. Instead, he remained still and quiet. “I don’t mean to be rude but I’d like to be alone with him. Come tomorrow, I’ll have to resume my knightly duties.”

“I don’t think drinking ale is a knightly duty,” Morgana teased but she got up all the same with his fellow knight copying her. “Look after him for me.”

“I will.”

“And have faith, my friend. Arthur has surprised you before.”

A curse of extortion. How was Arthur supposed to argue against that? A king didn’t give into such acts and yet he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to Merlin laying sick in bed. The man was thin and pale as it is. He didn’t eat enough normally, he heard Gwaine complain about it enough times to know it was true. Now he was perpetually ill and the only cure was to undo everything Uther did. 

There were a lot of things Arthur didn’t agree with his father on. He’d married Gwen which was a massive no in his father’s book and he knew the former king must be rolling in his grave knowing Merlin had magic the whole time. However, magic (apart from where Merlin was concerned) had been the one thing they could agree on although Arthur thought the death penalty could be quite severe in most cases. Most magic took things as payment. Many spells required damage for there to be healing, that’s why it was so corrupting. Merlin’s magic had to be different! His magic could be done without a spoken word, it was formed to protect Arthur from all the other magical threats out there and it was all contained within Merlin! Merlin was stupid enough to trip over his own feet but kind enough to sacrifice himself for his friends. How could that magic be the same as all the magic they’d fought before?

No, he wouldn’t repeal the ban. He couldn’t! People would get killed or at the very least be hurt. The entire kingdom would be put at risk and although he wanted to put Merlin before them, he couldn’t. Maybe when he was a prince but not now as the sole protector of Camelot. Merlin would understand. He’d get a few days in to prove how stubborn he was and how serious he was but then he’d understand. A few days, that was all it would be. He’d get some time off to think. Arthur assured himself that this would all blow over before the week was done. He wouldn’t visit until it was over only so he could ensure he didn’t cave. It would solve itself soon enough.

It had to.

Chapter Text

Once again, a servant who wasn’t Merlin greeted Arthur in the morning and after a brief bout of confusion, he remembered why. He scowled at the bedsheets as though they’d personally offended him and only scowled harder when he noticed there was an empty space in his bed. Gwen hadn’t joined him last night. He supposed it was punishment for what he’d said to Merlin or maybe she had been so caught up in tending to the man through the night that she never made it to their chambers. 

“I want you to go to Gaius’ chambers and bring the Queen here,” he ordered, George nodded along before leaving right away. He didn’t like George but at least he was quiet this morning. The moment he heard a brass joke, he was going to fire him on the spot. Of course, it was only after he’d sent George away that he realised he wasn’t dressed and would have to do so himself. He groaned in frustration and was half tempted to return to sleep if it weren’t for the fact he’d pushed off reading the reports for that day’s council meeting and there was no Merlin to switch places with. 

By the time Geroge returned, he’d only just managed to dress himself and he wasn’t the least bit comfortable. Everything was either too tight or too loose. He had turned at the sound of the door, expecting Gwen to start telling him about his friend’s condition or criticise him for not visiting but when he looked, there was no Gwen to be seen. He frowned. Had she refused to leave Merlin’s side? He knew the pair were close but surely she must realise how this would make him look. How it would make them look. The rumours would seize the castle faster than a plague and it would be just as deadly to his reputation.

“The Queen was not in Gaius’ chambers. When I asked for her, Sir Gwaine said she had left last night to speak with the cook.” His frown deepened at the mention of Gwaine being in the physician's quarters. They had training in an hour and he doubted the knight would be pleased to leave him to train with the man who caused- no. Merlin brought this upon himself being stubborn and pushing a boundary. That wouldn’t stop Gwaine and the other knights from acting like he’d kicked every puppy in Camelot and demanded they do the same. “Sire, I must also inform you that she intended to change your meals too.”

“Can she do that?”

“It would be within her rights if she had a convincing reason to do so, sire. I can request the change be revoked on your orders but your meal may be delayed.” 

“Revoke any changes past my breakfast. No point making the cook waste whatever she’s been told to make.” George nodded and retreated from the chambers. The change definitely wasn’t good then if he was being so prompt about it. If Gwen had left that night but never returned to bed then she definitely wasn’t in the mood to see him and this was only the beginning of her plans. Whilst he was as brave a warrior as any king should be, he didn’t fancy his chances against her temper and decided she would have to seek him out instead. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. She just needed time to get over the shock of seeing her friend cursed and then she’d see. So would everyone else and then they’d talk about other options to break the curse if Merlin refused to absolve himself of it even with everyone there convincing him otherwise. 

Breakfast turned out to be a thin broth that whilst it was fine (he was lucky to be getting anything with Gwen angry at him), was nothing fit for a king. It was a peasant's meal or more appropriately in this case, it was a sick man’s food. Arthur guessed Gwen thought messing with his meals would put him right for hurting his friend and he didn’t have it in himself to disagree. 

Alongside the light breakfast was the astute lack of conversation. He could complain over and over about how he hated how Merlin chattered but in all honesty, it helped more than it hindered. He liked focusing on something other than the silence or the thoughts that crawled to the front of his mind when given a quiet moment. Usually that consisted of worries for his kingdom. He had no heir and if something were to happen, it would leave Morgana as Queen and she was far too compassionate for her own good. He’d ponder over what war was yet to happen, what his father would think of all this and occasionally, if Merlin were in the room but not speaking, he would think about the scars he’d seen with stories he knew he didn’t hear the full parts of. 

Today, his thoughts were on Merlin but this time conjuring up images of him laying sick in bed. Maybe Gwaine would be there still, waiting until the very last minute to leave for training if he were going to leave at all. He’d probably stay up all night so he didn’t wake up to a dead body in the morning and realize he missed someone’s final hours. It’s not like he enjoyed this. He didn’t enjoy knowing his friend was hurt, he didn’t enjoy that this was instigated from an improperly phrased thought. He also didn’t enjoy this being lauded over his head like he was judge jury and executioner. His father banished magic, it killed his mother, why would he banish something that was only a tool? Uther wouldn’t banish a blade for the crime of killing someone. He wouldn’t banish the sword for running through the wrong person. Uther banished magic because it must be fundamentally different.

What about Gaius?

Gaius was just Uther’s version of Merlin without all the magical destiny stuff. They were close friends and Gaius hadn’t used it in years, he had some sort of abnormal strength to the stuff. He was a rare exception. There are exceptions to every rule there is! The rule stated there could be no magic but Merlin had different factors involved that made the rule easier to bend. Any time he thought magic had been good, when not performed by Merlin, was simply some good done in the overall mission of evil. That had to be it. Why else would Uther ban magic? Why would Uther not utilise magic if it were just a tool?

“Sire, you’re going to be late for training,” George announced. Bitterly, he thought about how it was Merlin’s job to catch him when he spiralled and he would’ve done so before he could question himself. 

“Indeed. Whilst I train, clean up the place,” he ordered as he stood. “And perhaps see to Gaius if you finish before the meeting. He’ll be on his own with my manservant indisposed.” He hoped he sounded as indifferent as he tried to be when in reality he was desperate for information but too stubborn to see it for himself. George nodded dutifully without complaint. It was so un-Merlin that Arthur was basically obligated to roll his eyes. He needed to get to the training field and punch something.

Training wasn’t the break he wanted it to be. 

Surprisingly, Gwaine had shown face and taken his place in the lineup with little fuss. Arthur wrongly assumed that this was a show of alliance. He’d thought this was some small act of the man showing he understood the position that his king was in and with time to reflect had realised that Merlin was being a little overdramatic. It was wishful thinking, Arthur knew that but he let himself think about it. Of course, reality hit him hard when he received a harsh glare from the man and noticed his jaw tense like he was literally biting down on his tongue not to say anything. 

The other knights weren’t much friendlier.

Leon had that disapproving look on him that made Arthur feel impossibly young. He much preferred his friend angry than disappointed. Anger was delusional in some way. When anger was resolved, you see everything for what it was and any impact on how you thought of someone was now softened and sanded away. With disappointment came distinct memories of when someone failed to meet your expectations. Arthur hated failure.

Elyan sported a glare he was sure to see repeated in the softer eyes of his wife later that day if he ever got a hold of Gwen. He thought that since Elyan’s father had died due to magic accusations, the knight would be behind his reluctance to allow magic to run freely through Camelot.

Percival’s expression was plain and forcefully neutral. His hand kept drifting to the hilt of his sword and his eyes would drift to those already engaged in sparring. Evidently, he was just as eager as the king to get started punching things and forgetting. 

Lancelot and Gwaine came as a package deal considering their proximity to Merlin. Lancelot alone would have been uncomfortable enough with his eyes piercing directly into his soul. The knight was easily the most open of the group but now everything was closed off. Arthur no longer deserved to be that close apparently. Paired with Gwaine’s murderous glare, the pair succeeded in their goal of making the king feel like the most worthless peasant there was. 

“Sir Gwaine, I wasn’t expecting you,” Arthur said, forcing his voice to be soft rather than disparaging. “I suppose Merlin mustn’t be doing too poorly if you’re here?” He knew immediately that he’d misstepped because the look he got, which was already dark, somehow turned more murderous than before. For a brief second, he tensed to be ready for an attack. He wouldn’t be surprised if the only reason he was standing was due to Lancelot putting a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder and shaking his head. It was strange to take offence to be the subject of the classic “he’s not worth it” head shake and yet Arthur felt that way. “Alright, you’ve all made your displeasure very apparent but you’re my knights and I am your king. You know who you serve.”

“This isn’t simple displeasure over a disagreement, it’s anger at you for putting someone you claim to care for through pain. He’s sick. Really sick,” Lancelot explained because lord knows Gwaine was too angry to speak a coherent sentence. “Gwaine is here only to maintain appearances and you should be thankful for that alone rather than making jabs about the wellbeing of the man you've wronged, sire.” Merlin always had this special way of saying sire that felt like an insult and no one else had been able to replicate it but Lancelot had come sickeningly close. 

“We’re your knights but we’re your friends too which is something you've claimed and depended on numerous times. We train now as part of our duty but let it be known, we would otherwise not be here if the circumstances were different,” Leon added. "Merlin is our friend too."

“Surely all of you can see my position.” Leon especially. They’d spent the better part of their years slaughtering all those who dared to use magic even in acts as small as cleaning their clothes of unremovable stains. “Elyan, with what happened to your father-”

“Do not bring my father in as some pawn in your game,” the knight snapped, biting out every word. “He isn’t relevant in this discussion.”

“I beg to differ. He’s an example of why we have these laws.”

“Or is he an example of why we shouldn’t?” Elyan asked. “What he was accused of, aside from magic, was healing. The very same acts that Gaius does without magic. It wasn’t even him yet he was damned the moment someone uttered magic. Gwen would've been murdered just as fast if the accusing finger remained on her and perhaps she would've been given the same sentence if it weren't for her position so close to you and your sister.” He shook his head at the waste of a life that he’d never truly recover from. He never could when Gwen was left alone to handle it all. “It wasn’t magic that killed him. It was the law banning it.” Arthur opened his mouth to begin a rebuttal but he shut his mouth with a sharp click lest he say another thing that drove away the people he cared about. He couldn’t be wrong, he just couldn’t be because that would mean so many useless deaths. Things had to be this way because it was the way to do things, right? He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Whatever. You’ll see by the end of this that it was all needless. By next week, we'll be betting on what stupid antic he's going to come up with next,” he insisted. They glared at him in return as though he were doing it on purpose. “If you’re going to struggle to remain civil then you should leave now before you commit an act of treason.” The latter part had been intended for Gwaine so he was surprised to find Elyan and Percival joining the man in storming off the field. Then again, they did rather like Merlin. He was like their little brother although he was a tad taller than Elyan and nobody was quite sure of how old he was exactly. “Right then,” Arthur announced as he shook off the hurt from seeing three of his knights leave. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Your back early,” Merlin greeted, a lazy smile on his face as his eyes focused on Gwaine resuming his spot by the bed. He’d reminded the knight of training that morning and although he didn’t really want him to go, he thought that punching something would help. It usually worked with the knights but from the looks of it, there was no punching to be done. He’d bet all his coins on the reason being Arthur saying something wrong. The king had a special talent for it just as Merlin had a talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Elyan and Percival trailed in which prompted him to force himself up to sit. He wasn’t entirely happy lounging about when Gwaine was there so he certainly wouldn’t do the same in front of his friends. “Visitors too? I’ve never known knights to find the sick so interesting.”

“You’re a special case,” Gwaine told him. 

“Aren’t I lucky?” he responded. “I presume you know?”

“We do,” Elyan replied. “How’re you? Besides from the curse, of course?”

“Not too bad. I’ve got Gaius’ next apprentice here with me and it’s amazing how much reading you get done when you’re not running about.”

“The day I become a physician is the day they stop treating me for hangovers,” Gwaine joked as he dipped a cloth in lukewarm water. It would feel freezing to the warlock with his fever growing. “You’re never gonna guess who he’s got running after him.”

“George?”

“How’d you know?”

“He always takes over. He’s desperate to be close to Arthur, no idea why when he’s such a prat but I humour the guy. Plus Arthur hates him. Win-win.” He glanced around the group, hoping for some guidance on how the king was feeling. Arthur hadn’t visited yet, likely angry about the curse or feeling guilty about its cause. 

“I’m sorry,” Percival muttered and he had his answer. No change. He hadn’t really expected one night knowing he was sick to change much. Maybe if there’d been a visit, more would have been done but he couldn’t exactly force Arthur in the cramped room especially with Gwaine being practically glued to his side. 

“It’s alright. He won’t last long with George.”

“He won’t last long,” Gwaine grumbled, gaining a light glare from the manservant. “I just- You’ve done so much for that man, he doesn’t get it and I fear he won’t ever get it. Why don’t you lift this curse now, when it’s not taken too much toll, and then we can go somewhere else?”

“I don’t usually agree with Gwaine but he has a point. Why curse yourself and stick around here if you’re not even allowed to exist?” Elyan questioned. If it were him, he’d be gone by the first night and using a stolen horse to find a druid camp or something similar. 

“It’s what I’m meant to do,” the servant answered simply. “I’m supposed to bring magic back to Camelot and, whilst arrogant, Arthur does care about his people suffering.”

“That means making yourself suffer?”

“Not exactly a new development if I’m honest,” he admitted before coughing harshly into the crook of his arm. “The curse progressed faster than I thought, a result of my magic being more powerful than the average person's. The upside is Arthur will be faster to come to a decision. The downside is he knows I’m immortal. Even if I suffer, he may feel that without the threat of death, it’s not something to worry himself over.” None of them wanted that to be the case but they’d be foolish to think his tendency to not remain dead would influence the outcome. “Any news on that front?”

“He’s not budging but it’s only been a day or so.”

“A day too long,” Gwaine huffed. 

“The issue is, he’s good at justifying himself. Rationalising everything. It’s what you have to do when your job is to make difficult decisions. Mistakes can’t be mistakes when lives are at stake, they have to be…calculated risks,” he put carefully, knowing that he wasn’t too different in that sense. He was still rationalising that every death by his hand was a death that needed to happen rather than something preventable. “I think if he saw me then he’d be easier to convince but he won’t when he knows what awaits him.” Perhaps this venture was slightly too dramatic for a point to be driven home but if he listened to that perspective then that meant he’d put himself in perpetual pain for no reason other than to punish himself and he really didn’t like that conclusion. “What do you guys think about lifting the ban?” His eyes had landed on Elyan rather than Percival or Gwaine. The knight seemed a little offended at the insinuation but after considering it, honestly, it made sense. 

“There was time with magic and there was a time without it. All the ban has done is persecute the wrong people and antagonise who was left,” he stated confidently, gaining a smile. 

“If you want, you can look through my basic ideas. Not much there but I reckon if I had more access to laws prior to the Purge, I could come up with something solid.” They could see his energy dwindling but that didn’t stop him from opening a drawer with shaky hands and offering them the parchment. There were only a couple of pages but with how ill he seemed to be, this was impressive. “Maybe show it to him? If he doesn’t agree, he should be angry enough that I’m advising him from bed that he’ll see me.”

“We will. We’ll leave you to rest,” Elyan announced, nudging Pecival to start moving to the door. 

“I’ll see you when I see you then?” They nodded and he waved them off. "I don't look that tired, do I?" When he was met with silence, he pouted. "I don't use a glamour for one day."

“What’s wrong?” Percival asked. He’d hoped to spend a little more time with Merlin but there had to be a reason for being pulled out so early.

“Got a plan. We need to see Lady Morgana and Gwen. Now.”

Chapter Text

Merlin watched with a frown as Gwaine quietly ran his fingers through his hair, sometimes twirling the hair that was getting a bit too long at the nape of his neck. There had been quite a few moments like this where he went silent tending to Merlin and it was horrible each time.

“Maybe you should go back to your chambers?” Merlin suggested gently. He knew Gwaine hadn’t slept properly, he doubted that he’d slept any at all, but the knight was too insistent on staying with him to do anything about it. When he got tired, he got introspective and quiet which wasn’t good at the best of times but especially now. There was enough to worry about without lingering on the memories that should remain hidden.

“No, I’m fine," he stated, moving away to busy himself with more ultimately useless work. It was weird seeing him try to keep the place tidy. Even Merlin didn't keep the place tidy and he had items that, if they were found, he'd be brought before Arthur to await sentencing. Maybe a guard would just run him through then and there to do his king the favour.

“You’re not fine though.” He leaned across to grab Gwaine’s gloved hand to stop it from once again trying to get rid of a non-existent wrinkle. “You’ve been quiet since Percival and Elyan left. You didn’t stay at training long enough to get out any nerves either. I know you're tired but you're never too tired for training. Not when you're worried.”

“How could I stay when he was there acting like nothing was happening?”

“I don’t know, I would’ve thought you’d gladly take the chance to fight him without getting told off.” He pulled the hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against it, a simple gesture he knew would gain attention. Predictably, Gwaine’s brown eyes snapped to dance over his face before narrowing in suspicion. “If you won't get some sleep then at least tell me what has you so quiet. There’s something going on and we have all the time to talk. Not much else we can do. So tell me.”

“You’re sick. It can wait.”

“For when I’m still sick? We don’t know how long this will take and it’ll only fester the longer you leave it. Talk to me. Please.” The knight rolled his eyes irritably. 

“Like you talked to me about doing this?” Gwaine asked harshly. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as if that would remove the guilt he had for snapping. 

“See! I knew there was something going on.” 

“You really want to talk about it? With everything else going on?”

“Yes, I do.” It was at this point Merlin expected his lover to sit down and talk to him but instead, he began pacing the room to maintain his composure. That wasn’t good.

“Then let’s talk about it. I have always accepted that I come second to Princess because it’s not like you chose who to be destined to help or dedicate your life to. You've always made it clear that you love me and you feel loyalty to Arthur,” Gwaine began. “But this? This is too much. You didn’t even consider telling me what was going on and don’t try to tell me you hinted at it because believe me I would’ve easily picked up on the hint that you were thinking of killing yourself.” The warlock shook his head, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back against the wall since his bed didn’t have a headboard. 

“It’s not killing myself if I can’t really do it permanently, it's cursing myself, and this is so much bigger than us," he insisted, hating that he sounded petulant. He blamed it on the new rasp to his voice.

“It’s always bigger than us! It’s always everything hinging on you destroying yourself in some way and as hard as it is, I understood when that meant running into the unknown to tackle some beast only you could destroy. That’s not the issue we’re having here. This time, you didn’t need to do this but you did it anyway and you never said a thing to me about it even though I'm your boyfriend.”

“I needed to do this. Nothing was being done and people’s lives are on the line. Arthur may not be sentencing anyone to the pyre nowadays but he’s banishing them all the same to live in the woods we know to be dangerous and that’s not even including those who act in his name. I don't even know how many have died at the end of a guard's sword simply for the crime of being caught.” He thought that would be convincing enough. It should have been. It was a simple fact to save the many over the few and previously that had meant killing the threats to Arthur. His logic was sound, at least he liked to think so, but perhaps that would be the case if he’d said something before cursing himself. Now it sounded less like an explanation and more like an excuse for bad behaviour.

“So you hurt yourself instead of pestering him to change his mind? You’re telling me you’d rather sit here sick than spend your days convincing Arthur?”

“This is to convince Arthur!” he exclaimed, his voice breaking under the strain and causing him to cough. Gwaine would usually break out of his anger to help, he was always soft like that, but this time he held his ground and only allowed for there to be a brief pause in their argument. When Merlin was done, he continued on as if it had never interrupted him in the first place.

“Well, it’s not fucking working! He has no intention of fixing this and honestly, I don't think he ever will no matter how ill you get. Our best bet is Morgana and she risks being accused of treason if she goes against him. This is all an exercise in self-destruction because you think yourself too lowly of anything good and that is something I will not accept. I will not endorse your suicide paraded around as martyrdom.”

“Then leave.” There was a long pause as they both wondered how he’d gained the audacity to say it but there was no going back now. Gwaine stared at him with an expression half way between defeated and offended.

“Don’t you dare tell me to do that.”

“If you can’t understand the gravity of the situation, that I’ve failed in every way imaginable and that this is my last resort, then I will not have you tending to me like some sort of burden. You have your pick of the maidens that are easy , that don’t come with the terms I do and the most you'll ever have to worry about them is that they'll fancy the baker next door.” He knew he sounded wrong. Merlin could blame it on his taxed throat causing a tightness there but he knew deep down that he sounded as bitter as he felt about the prospect of the knight leaving for a girl at the tavern. He always did wonder when everything would get too much for him and maybe if he had a hand in pushing the other away, it wouldn't hurt as much when it happened. It was bound to happen, wasn't it? If Arthur never changed his mind then the sickness would remain and who would love someone that was already so hard to care for when the situation got worse?

“Merlin, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re sick and clearly, the fever has clouded your mind and brought up anxieties you know have no proof.”

“My mind is clear. I warned you, Gwaine. I warned you every day for months that I am not easy to care for nor am I able to be wholly yours until I know a peace I’m not certain I’ll ever find. You don’t get to turn around now and be disappointed when you're presented with the consequences of my work.”

“I’m not disappointed, I’m scared! I fear for your safety at the best of times, not because I think you incapable but because I give a shit so to see you willingly hurt yourself is going to naturally hurt me too!” They stared at each other, watching as both their expressions softened from something defensive to something sorrowful. Magic and what came with it was never the problem Merlin wanted it to be. Just as Arthur couldn’t use it as an excuse to maintain the magic ban, he couldn’t use it to cover everything he did as some completely noble cause. “You don’t deserve punishment because you feel like you’re behind on repealing the magic ban.”

“Don’t I?”

“You don’t. End of. You’re a person and people don't deserve torture like this.” 

There it was again. Someone told him that he was a person. He liked to think of himself as a person. He felt emotions like any other person, he endured pain like any other person and he looked like any other person. Yet, he wasn't. He was Emrys and Emrys was supposed to be a child of the Gods that was brought down to help magic return to Camelot. That's what he was for and if he were that then he couldn't be human. He didn't want to be a monster or a weapon but he couldn't deny that he'd referred to himself as a creature of magic a few times during the dark nights. It wouldn't stop him from completing his duty since he'd devoted all this time to it and he truly did want to see a Camelot that embraced magic. The only thing it stopped him from doing was thinking of himself when he thought of people. 

“Am I even that?” he asked, his voice quiet. “If I am magic and magic is a tool then am I not just a tool for the Gods to fix what they allowed to happen in the first place? If I’m not a tool then am I a creature of magic? If I'm neither, then what am I?”

“You’re Merlin and you’re a person as much as anyone else is," Gwaine answered sternly. He spoke as though it were a fact like rocks are hard and rain was water.

“I wish I was,” Merlin replied. “I really did but alas, I am not. A repeal won’t fix that, nothing will, but it’ll stop people who aren’t like me from thinking what I do. They’ll know themselves to be as much of a person as anyone else.” He hoped there would be children born in the coming months who would grow up only hearing stories of the ban and never experiencing the fear he did but he couldn’t be sure that Camelot would ever be the safe haven he desired it to be. At the very least, he could make sure its laws didn’t get the wrong people killed and people who couldn't let go of the old laws weren't praised for doing the dirty work the king refused to do.

"As lovely as that sounds, you're the one stuck in bed sick because Arthur won't change his mind and I had to find out through a letter. You didn't tell me."

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry I left you out of this and you found out from someone else instead of me. If I'm honest, I don't think I could've told you I'd do it an hour before the deed was done.”

--- Flashback ---

Merlin stormed through the halls, ignoring the maids who gave him worried looks and a few of the braver servants call out to him. He was on a mission. He'd done everything in his power to protect Arthur and ensure the legacy they would leave behind. He'd ignored the dragon's advice when he said Morgana was bad news and he'd ensured that she was listened to and cared for. He helped her get to the druids to teach her how to control the nightmares and then lied to cover up the disappearance. He'd killed his own people to protect Arthur from a revenge plan that should have never affected him since he was only the son of a bad man. Well, he thought he'd only been a son. Now Arthur was just as hypocritical as the man he replaced. 

When he got home, Gaius was already sleeping and there was a bowl of stew left out presumably for him. Gaius knew he never made the servant meal times and basically lived off the dinners Gwaine provided and the apples he snuck off the stable hands so he'd leave something filling at the end of the day. Hunger was the last thing on Merlin's mind. He silently tip-toed past his sleeping mentor and made his way to his small room in the back. He shut the door, locking it with a key as well as magic, and went to the loose floorboards to collect his spellbook. 

If he was a weapon to the king then he needed to use it as leverage whilst also disabling it. A ransom of sorts. There had to be some sort of spell that would offer what he needed. He couldn't simply run away from Camelot even though the thought tempted him. He'd allowed himself to imagine running to Gwaine's chambers, telling him to pack up anything he deemed valuable and then dragging him to the horses. He didn't let himself get past the thought of them riding out in the cover of the night since there wasn't much else out there for Merlin. His duty was to bring magic back to Camelot and he had no intention of abandoning it even though it had only brought him grief.

He flicked through the pages, his eyes jumping from line to line until they finally settled on the index for the curses section. One stood out immediately as though it had been highlighted and big red arrows were pointing at it with alarm bells going off. Curse of Extortion. That's what he needed. He went to the page number, noting that this page was stained with something he feared to be dried blood. That wasn't too unusual in a book of this type but it always left him wary. Well, it always left him wary until today. He continued reading without sparing another thought to it. The curse was simple enough. The victim would grow sicker and sicker unless the terms of the curse were met. There could be no takebacks either or the victim's illness would return with more ferocity than before which he quite liked. Arthur couldn't back down then. 

Usually, Merlin was more careful. Usually, he would note this down and then sleep on it to see if it were the right course of action like when he thought about poisoning Morgana to stop a curse making its way through Camelot or when he admitted what he was to Arthur when there was no other way out other than using his magic. Tonight was no normal night and he couldn't shake the way Arthur acted like calling his best friend a weapon wasn't a big deal. He couldn't push away the memories of washing blood and dirt from his hands after dragging yet another body to a burial site. There was no getting past the flashes of eyes that once burned gold and now turned milky with a faraway stare. 

His mouth was already moving of its own accords as his eyes traced the words. His irises sparked and when he was done, he felt exhausted. He realised then that he may have poured more magic than he'd intended into the curse but what was the harm in that? It would only make it harder to break if Morgana wanted to make an attempt against his wishes. Tomorrow he would set about completing his chores to ensure whoever took over wasn't left with a half-done job. Hopefully, he wouldn't be cursed for too long but if Arthur could somehow convince himself that there was no harm in making his supposed friend live in fear for the rest of his life then he doubted this would be a quick process. He had faith though. Arthur wouldn't be cruel enough to watch him die, right?

--- End of Flashback ---

“I can’t say you’re forgiven yet or that I'm not still furious with you,” Gwaine stated with a tired sigh, “but I can never stay angry at you for long though. It’s those doe eyes of yours.” He pressed a kiss against Merlin’s temple as a small sign that he would forgive. Not now but later. The warlock wasn’t opposed to it and he had no intention of trying to force forgiveness. He only wanted his actions to be understood as ones to help magic rather than to only hurt himself. “Do you have any plans after this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you thought about after the prophecy? It goes up until you bring magic back to Camelot but after that, what are you going to do? Stay here and keep protecting Arthur? Become a physician?” Gwaine took his pale hands into his own and ran his thumbs along the raised knuckles. “You’re doing all this to speed things up but have you ever thought about yourself and what you'll do when your job is done?”

Merlin thought about it for a few moments. He honestly hadn't. In fact, he couldn't remember a time he ever thought about the future past a month before he found out what his destiny was. He had magic, which was a death sentence in itself, from birth and every day after that had felt like borrowed time. He'd tell Gwaine as much but the way the knight looked at him like he was waiting for something to look forward to, he couldn't. That would crush the love of his life. Despite only just arguing about how he'd kept important things secret, he lied.

“Find the peace I’m looking for." As much of a lie that may have been, he was honest when he continued, "If you don’t have me by the end of this, I would be honoured if you helped me find it.” He leaned in slightly, smiling when Gwaine leaned in too.

“You didn’t need to ask.” Their lips were an inch apart before Merlin twisted away to cough into the crook of his arm again.

Only, when he coughed, it just kept coming.

He wasn’t stopping.

“Merlin? Love?” It was a wretched sound hearing someone uncontrollably cough. The hitches in-between as they tried to catch his breath but ultimately failed and the noise grew in volume as panic set in. “Gaius! Gaius, come here!” Little did he know Gaius was already making his way to the room when he heard the cough continue. For someone so old, he worked at lightning speed as he rounded the bed and grabbed Merlin by the shoulders to force him to sit upright rather than hunched over. 

“Hold him there,” he ordered. Gwaine nodded and took over as he grabbed a bottle as well a a cloth from his pocket. Whatever was in the bottle was strong as it made the whole room smell of a mix of mint and citrus. He dabbed the liquid onto the cloth before holding it over Merlin’s mouth and nose. “Deep breaths. If you can fight off half the poisons you usually do, you can get through a coughing fit.” Whilst he kept the cloth pinned to his face, Gaius rubbed circles on his back to provide some comfort. He matched eyes with the knight and sent him a silent look that told him to prepare himself for more of these incidents. 

For far too long, they waited until Merlin’s frame ceased to be rattled by coughs. What relief they felt was swiftly torn away when they saw specks of red on the cloth. 

“That’s blood,” Gwaine stated numbly with his eyes wide from shock. “Fuck, you’re already coughing up blood.” The only times he’d seen people cough up blood had been followed by a very quick turn in health and a visit to the grave.

“It might be from the severity of the cough,” Merlin reassured him, looking to his mentor to further help calm the man down. “It might not be my lungs that are causing the blood, right?”

“I’ll give you something for it but,” he sighed. “My boy, the curse you gave yourself is powerful and has progressed faster than the illnesses we treat. I can only do so much before my priority moves to just keeping you comfortable.” The curse was progressing yet work on a repeal hadn’t even begun. 

“Will we have to worry about his magic?” Merlin winced when he remembered how the fire in Arthur's room had flared to match his hurt. He hadn't thought about his magic reacting to the curse other than keeping it going. He would never forgive himself if he lost control.

“As this develops, his magic will likely focus on both trying to heal himself and maintaining the curse. It'll be too busy to lash out without his knowing as it'll be draining itself on two important functions. Perhaps near the end if he loses lucidity but even then I’m unaware of anything like this happening before so I’m unsure of what will happen.”

“Arthur won’t see me die,” Merlin insisted. “We won’t have to worry about the late stages.”

"I hope for your sake, you're right," his lover replied.

Chapter Text

Gwen had spent the majority of her day with Morgana, unable to return to her bedroom. She didn’t believe her husband to be cruel and she refused to believe that he wasn’t worrying himself over the condition of his closest friend but she couldn’t bring herself to hear whatever excuse he would come up with to keep the ban in place. In all honesty, she’d expected the ban to be gone within a week of Arthur accepting who Merlin was. She supposed that now she knew better. Arthur had been accepting because he valued Merlin as a gift and ally rather than as a person who befriended him when everyone else was too scared to. 

Morgana was upset with her in some way, she knew that, but the princess wouldn’t speak a word of it whilst they were outside of their chambers. Instead, she did small petty things to make her annoyed but didn’t ruin her day. She knew what it was about or at least she could assume so. Morgana thought her blinded by her love for Arthur but she was nothing of the sort. She knew the man she married and wouldn’t let her faith be swayed because he was slow to react accordingly. That didn’t make her any less angry at him. This was a situation that never should’ve happened and it was his fault for letting tensions grow but he would do what’s right. He had to.

When they finally found time to retire to Morgana’s chamber, the princess swiftly ordered her maid to leave and told the guards not to let Arthur in. She hadn’t seen him all day and had no intention of breaking her streak. Once they were alone, she set her piercing gaze on Gwen with an appraising look. 

“What’s your plan?” she asked accusingly. It was suspicious and Gwen felt her chest tighten at the thought of being considered just as suspicious as those slimy advisors trying to climb the social ladder. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you plan to follow me about as though you are still my maid or are you going to share some sort of plan to get Arthur to act like the queen you are?” she demanded. Gwen sighed and sat at the dining table, hiding her face in her hands. She couldn’t bring herself to visit her friend today even though she knew he would only be worse tomorrow. It would be better to see him whilst his mind was still intact. Lord knows how he was feeling down there trapped in his room waiting for something to happen so he could stop being sick. 

“What am I supposed to say that is not already clear to you and me? Arthur will come to the right decision, he just needs time-”

“He’s had time!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “He’s had nothing but time since Merlin told him he had magic and what has he done? Nothing. He’s done nothing.” 

“I’m no happier about it than you are.”

“Then do something Guinevere because I will not lose the only person who understands me because my brother is too stuck in ways that are only as old as himself!” Morgana stormed over to the window, taking in a few deep breaths to calm herself as her nails clawed at the stone. “If this is how he treats the man destined to protect him then how will he treat me?”

It was an odd comment to make but Gwen brushed it off easily. She understood that her relationship with Arthur got rocky at times especially when their father was brought up. It wasn’t unwarranted to fear what future would befall her if this was how he treated his friends. Right now, she had no force telling her to marry and Arthur made no effort to marry her off to confirm a treaty but if Arthur wouldn’t break rules to save his friend, would he eventually forget the decency he was showing Morgana?

“What am I supposed to do?” Gwen asked, desperate for guidance on how she could possibly do anything. “Do you wish for me to go behind Arthur’s back? No laws may be passed by the Queen, not even with a princess in her tow, especially when it concerns magic. They would think us bewitched or conspiring against him.” She watched her friend’s shoulders slump and joined her by the window, putting a comforting hand on her back. “I know why this means so much to you but I cannot risk putting myself and yourself in danger when Merlin’s already doing that.”

“You know why?” Morgana asked. Her voice was tight and anxious. The poor girl must be going through so much right now, the least Gwen could do was offer some support and understanding. She put on a warm smile and moved so she was half hugging her. 

“Of course I do. I’ve seen the same in myself and Lancelot.”

“Uh, what?”

“I know what it’s like to love someone you can’t have and come so close to losing them. Once I thought that was my fate when it came to Arthur but times change. Although I doubt Gwaine would ever-”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“You’re in love with Merlin, there’s no shame in it. You needn’t pretend in front of me.” Morgana broke away from her hold with an offended glare.

“I’m not in love with Merlin!”

“You’re not? Then why do you care,” she paused, immediately realizing that the phrasing was all wrong with her question, “That’s not how I wanted to phrase that.”

“No, no, please ask away about why I would care so much as if people aren't in danger every day thanks to a ban I never once agreed with, or was your question asking why I would care that Merlin dying?” she snapped. She hugged herself tightly and turned away. “Merlin dies not only for strangers.” Gwen didn’t say anything, feeling like it was wrong to interrupt her train of thought even if it left a long silence between them. “It was supposed to be a fun surprise. We agreed to keep it quiet until the day the ban was repealed because he wanted me to be safe. He’s always the suspicious type so he feared that the wrong person would find out. It was easier to banish him than it would be to banish me. It wouldn’t look as bad.” She turned back with watery eyes brimming with unshed tears. “He dies for me too.”

“You practice? What were you thinking?” 

“I never chose it! Merlin and I were both born with magic. I may not be magic but I have it through no fault of my own,” she defended quickly. “The nightmares I had were a result of repressing my nature. He helped me and now he dies whilst I wait for Arthur to do something.”

“Maybe if you told him,” Gwen suggested half-heartedly. Before this, she would confidently say that her husband would be accepting of her if not annoyed that it had been hidden for so long but if he only accepted Merlin because he was different… 

“I don’t know if he would react the way we dreamed he would,” she replied. “The horrible thing is that I know something that could turn the tables in our favour but it’s not my secret to tell and I can’t be sure revealing it would do any good.”

“We need all the help we can get.”

“It’s about his mother.” 

Before she could say much more, there was a heavy knock at the door. She took that as a sign to keep that information to herself. 

“Enter!” she shouted. The doors opened to reveal Elyan and Percival, the first holding a wad of parchment. They immediately thought the worst. The curse was powerful, they knew that but they had hoped for more time. At least a week before they were called to hold vigil. “What is it?”

“I have a plan to convince Arthur,” Elyan announced. They relaxed and gestured for him to continue. “Merlin said that if Arthur saw the state he was in then there would be more of a chance to change his mind. If he won’t go down there to face the consequences then we need to force it.”

“How do you suggest we do that?” Morgana inquired.

“You and Gwen may not have the authority to hold court to discuss the magic ban but you do have authority over the household. That means you can request for Merlin to be moved somewhere they’re more likely to see each other.”

“There’s a guest chamber near our room free,” Gwen suggested. “Merlin certainly looks sick enough to pass for dying, we’d have an excuse to move him closer since it’s no secret how close we are to him.”

“But how would that make them interact?”

“We lock them in together. Arthur can’t come out until he agrees to end this,” Elyan explained. He then handed over the parchments. “Merlin already wrote up an idea for the ban. It was intended for Arthur but he’ll be busy and as great as I’m sure it is, Merlin doesn’t have access to the library to the extent royals do.”

“So, whilst you make sure they talk things out, we find records of the laws prior to the ban to make sure our case is convincing,” Morgana assumed. She flicked through the pages with a raised eyebrow, noting how the usual chicken scratch Merlin used when writing notes had now turned into something far more legible. That was likely so Arthur wouldn’t misread something vital. 

“Exactly. Now we move Merlin tonight, tell Arthur he’s getting worse faster than we thought as our reason, and then the next morning when he goes to training we rush him and force him to stay in the guest chambers. Whilst we do that, you two spend the day making sure once he agrees, we already have the means to get the law through,” Elyan concluded.

“We’ll speak to Leon to make sure the guards avoid this area for most of the day,” Percival added. 

“I can make sure most of the servants are on the other side of the castle,” Gwen noted. They couldn’t have anyone overhearing the king shouting to be let out if they wanted this to work. “Perhaps then you can tell him what you know. It seems important and we need help to convince him.”

“What do you know?” Elyan asked.

“I can’t say but you may be right Gwen. He may be more sympathetic if he knew. If Merlin can go behind my back to endanger himself then I suppose it’s only fair I go behind his to save him,” the witch sighed. “Let’s get this ban repealed.”

Chapter Text

Arthur’s day had been..unfavourable at best. At worst, he felt like he wasn’t a king at all but the man who stayed in taverns for too long and made a fool of himself trying to walk home. Training hadn’t been what he was expecting but he supposed he was stupid to think that they could put their feelings aside to do some good work. Every move was made to hurt him rather than best him and when he came away with bruises, they didn’t feel well-earned but instead painful reminders of the very thing he sought to spend the day ignoring. 

It didn’t get much better. Meeting after meeting was made more dull than the last without someone to look to. He and Merlin had come up with a language of sorts. A few glances and glares that could speak a thousand words that they’d eventually say after the meetings. Sometimes Merlin would risk it to cough at a particularly stupid proposal just to highlight how dumb it was and how advisors really ought to have better ideas for how much they were paid. There was none of that with George. Every time he looked over the man would be standing there straight-backed and impassive as any proper servant should be. Arthur had been spoiled. 

What made matters worse was that Gwen hadn’t spoken to him. The brief moment he saw her in the halls, he knew she was running her errands with Morgana and wouldn’t be joining him. Not out of her own volition anyway. He retired to his chambers as early as possible, knowing some servant would come to tell him that his wife and sister requested to eat without him and he’d have to pretend he’d already heard of the idea and approved it. He couldn’t have servants thinking he was being stepped over and as much as he’d love to put his foot down, he doubted it would end very well for him. 

So when he sat in his chambers alone, pushing his food around rather than eating it and focusing his gaze on papers he wasn’t really reading nor did he have any intention to. George, in all his smugness at being so close to the king, did not comment on his lack of appetite but he watched carefully. It only went to make Arthur angry. 

“Are you hungry? Are they not feeding you?” he snapped. 

“I’m sorry, sire, what do you mean?”

“You’re staring at me like you’ve never eaten in your life.”

“It’s not that sire. I’m well provided for.”

“Then why are you staring at me?” he snarled. Here is when Merlin would put him straight. He’d bite back with something cutting enough to remind Arthur that without his title he was just another man. If Gwen were there, he’d get a light slap on the arm to tell him he was pushing his luck. When he was a prince, he went through servants so quickly that he’d have a different one every afternoon and morning. He didn’t know why he needed to lash out but it made things easier. Made life that bit more in his control. 

“It’s just…sire, I’m in no position to pry nor do I intend to overstep but,” George paused and stared at him, somewhat fearful. “Is Merlin going to be okay?” The heat of anger suddenly went ice cold. His silence must’ve been taken for anger because he was quick to explain. “It’s just, word is going around. Sir Gwaine hasn’t left his side and I’ve never been one to engage in the maid’s gossip but it can’t be coincidental. That’s not to mention that Mary saw Lady Morgana-”

“Why don’t you concern yourself with something more becoming of your status?” Arthur interrupted. He didn’t need to be lectured by someone else on the matter. Part of him wanted George to find the strength to stand up to him and call him out. Some quality of Merlin had to have rubbed off on the other servants in his service. Yet all he got was a servant staring at him like the chopping block was waiting for them outside the door. 

That was what Merlin had been expecting all this time, wasn’t it? All it would take was for Arthur to call out and say the word. Hell, he could just yell sorcerer and point. That would be the end of his manservant then and there no questions asked. 

He wouldn’t do that. 

“Leave me. Tend to whatever you need to.”

“Of course, sire.” 

About an hour later, he heard movement in the corridor. Multiple voices chattering outside his door but the wood was too thick so it was muffled. How could he stew in his misery with all that racket going on? Before he could think any better of it, he stormed over to the door and pulled it open with all the intention of giving the verbal lashing of a lifetime. He stopped short when he saw Gwen and Morgana directing two maids to the guest chambers, the maids carrying baskets of new linen and some of the expensive furs Morgana owned. 

“What’s this?” he asked. The two women whipped around to face him and glared as though his very existence was a personal affront to themselves. 

“You’re getting a neighbour tonight,” Morgana answered, folding her arms across her chest. “We have it handled. You best return to your voluntary inaction.”

“Who said you could do this?” 

“Gwen did. As Queen, she has authority over the house since we can’t possibly bother you with all that nonsense. You’re far too busy stuffing your face,” she drawled. He rolled his eyes at her and glanced at his wife, checking she was happy to go along with it. She met his gaze easily. 

“We’re holding no festivities. I see no reason as to why they must occupy the guest chambers by my room or any guest chambers at all.”

“You’re right, we’re not holding any festivities,” Gwen responded. “Merlin’s gotten worse.”

“We wanted him moved to better chambers so he can be comfortable since there’s supposedly nothing that can be done to aid him,” Morgana explained. Her voice dripped with venom that she saved only for the most vicious fights with their father. It was sickening hearing it directed at himself. Any other man would’ve accepted his fate and left. There was no harm in allowing this anyway. He didn’t want Merlin to suffer any more than he had to and he had to admit he’d feel a little better having his best friend so close after this time apart but that meant the very thing that was making him question everything would be right next door. If he’d eaten his dinner, it would’ve been clawing at his throat at this point. 

“Get in here. Now,” he ordered. They were decent enough to follow him inside.

He closed the door, waited a moment, then whirled around to glower at the pair. They stood firm though and he had to give them that. Not many could stand in the face of the most powerful man in Camelot and still be determined to go against him. 

“I’ve been shown up enough today and this is the final straw! You do not have my permission to move him close to me simply because you pity him, do you understand?”

“This isn’t pitying him! I told you, he’s getting worse and he will only continue to get worse,” Gwen told him. Her bottom lip wobbled, something that could break him down easily if he let it. He still wasn’t sure if she did it on purpose to win arguments or if it was a genuine twitch. He had to turn away. “You can stop this now.”

“Don’t start with me.”

“I’m telling you to show mercy. I’m asking you to be the king he believes you are. As your wife , I’m begging you not to kill our friend because you can’t possibly fathom you might be wrong!”

“Gwen-”

“The man I married would never take so long to make this decision and he certainly wouldn’t berate someone for trying to make sure Merlin was in the best conditions possible.”

“We’re not rewarding him for this! If he wishes to suffer then he can do so where he is now.”

“If you looked at his proposal, you’d see the demands are reasonable and that’s without the help of the library.”

“I’m not looking at anything. The ban remains.” Gwen shook her head in disappointment and took a step back when he tried to get closer to her.

“I won’t see him rot in his chambers,” she said with such finality that he thought this might be their final conversation in a long time. She had never been this upset with him before and he wouldn’t be surprised if she were stubborn enough to not speak a word to him for another month. Especially if Merlin died at some point. Morgana took over swiftly and he suddenly felt outnumbered.

“We have authority over the household and we’re doing what we can. You, on the other hand, would rather uphold laws that you yourself have broken by allowing Merlin to stay here not to mention your willingness to turn to magic when it concerns something personal to you. Do you think your people no different?”

“I turned to magic as a last resort.”

“Is that what Merlin is to you? A last resort?”

“No!”

“Then you have freely sought magic to help you.”

“I sought nothing,” he bit back. “The Gods brought him here and I accepted that as their will.”

“Is it not their will to bring back magic?” He waved his hand dismissively when he didn’t have an answer for her. He hadn’t thought about it. Hadn’t allowed himself to since it was so big of a question that it would no doubt lead down too many rabbit holes to keep track of. “No, you don’t get to do that. Answer my question.”

“I won’t.”

“Then you admit I’m right.”

“That’s not how it works!” How had his father dealt with their squabbles when he was alive and only grew mad near the end? Surely he should’ve lost his mind when they both learned how thrilling winning an argument could be. Morgana wasn’t one to back down but she was not the ruler of Camelot. “Listen here,” he began, using his most authoritative tone, “I care about Merlin. I won’t have this twisted into me not caring for my friend. This is a case of not giving in to demands from someone who is not in their right mind. The ban remains and he will learn that he is the only form of magic I will allow behind these castle walls.”

“Is that right?” Morgana asked lowly. Her scowl was piercing right through him despite how her eyes watered with unshed tears. He nodded firmly. “No other magic user would be allowed to freely practice?”

“Not even Merlin freely practices.”

“Oh but he does,” she informed him. “I should know.”

“I don’t care what little party tricks he’s done to make you think magic is harmless. I’ve seen him in action and I know how far his power extends. He will remain in his chambers and if he has to rot there, so be it.” Arthur didn’t mean it. The moment it left his mouth he felt like he’d touched some unknown slimy thing from the way his skin crawled with disgust. He knew that he could never allow that to happen and if Merlin were in his final hours then he would be moved somewhere more comfortable but he couldn’t be that bad so soon. There had to be more time for the warlock to understand this was a stupid decision and reverse this curse. Merlin always pulled through for him. 

“I will not allow you to do that to my friend or my kin! You may be heartless but I am not and I won’t see him hurt any more than needed.”

The silence in the room was palpable. 

“What do you mean your kin?” 

“I,” she paused and looked to Gwen for support. Her once servant gave her an encouraging smile and a nod. An action so small gave so much power, especially from a woman like Gwen. “I have magic, Arthur. The nightmares, they were visions that were suppressed and  do you want to know why you no longer hear me scream in the night?” The official credit had been given to Gaius for finally finding a draught that was powerful enough to keep her asleep but he didn’t answer a clearly rhetorical question. Even if he did, he couldn’t move his mouth from when it had dropped open in shock. “Merlin helped me so I won’t see him spend his days in a bed too small for him in a room that barely has enough light without candles!” she shouted. “He deserves better.”

“Fine,” Arthur croaked, still in shock from the reveal.

Two people had lied to him about having magic. They were so close to him and with Merlin, he assumed it was due to his position as a servant. There needed to be a base of trust there so Arthur didn’t chop his head off on principle but Morgana too? They had grown up together. Was he that bad of a person that two of the closest people in his life felt they had to hide their magic lest they be put on the pyre?

“But you will not practice magic there,” he added offhandedly as he tried to regain control.

“Why? Because only his magic is allowed? Are only his prophesied powers good enough for you? Think I’ll make his curse worse because I’m oh so corrupted by magic?”

“ Because I had enough to worry about with hiding one magic user from the guards and now I must hide two.”

“From a law you maintain,” she pointed out.

He didn’t rise to her bait. She chewed her bottom lip in thought before taking in a deep breath.

“I really did believe in you before all this but clearly there’s more Uther than Ygraine in you,” she added. Both Gwen and Arthur stared at her in disbelief. It was a low blow. Extremely low. Even Merlin knew not to go there and he could get away with a lot more than the average person.

“How dare you bring my parents into this?” he yelled.

“No, how dare you let an innocent man decay?”

“What does that have to do with my parents? You have no reason to speak ill of the dead.”

“I have every reason,” Morgana responded, now more confident in her stance. “You think magic is evil because that’s what your father taught you not what your mother would have taught you. He told us over and over how magic was the one that killed your mother but it’s not true.”

“What do you mean?” he muttered.

Arthur’s anger came in many forms. 

The first was the most obvious. He would yell and scream and call you all the names under the sun until he was finally tired or got over whatever caused him to get so angry in the first place. This was common and everyone was used to his temper although those close to him didn’t excuse it.

The second was uncommon and therefore more dangerous as it was reserved for when he was truly angry. His voice would go low and quiet as though tempting you into a false sense of security. 

Right now, Morgana was toying with the latter side of Arthur’s anger and if she wasn’t careful, she would be punished regardless of her place in the household. She glanced to the guest chambers despite knowing they were empty for the time being but whatever was there, whether by principle or sheer will alone, was enough to push her to continue.

“Your father was desperate for   your mother to provide him with a male heir and when she couldn’t conceive he turned to magic knowing full well that a life would be taken in exchange for yours, and it was your father who murdered your mother and then blamed the tool he did it with. He couldn't accept his responsibility and condemned everything she cared for to cover it up. If you want to continue that legacy, don’t think I’ll stand back and let it happen.” He stared at her, dumbfounded, until he shook his head.

“You’re lying! Merlin told me that was a lie. Why would he defend Uther?”

“I know exactly what matters I speak of and I’d be well supported if Merlin cared any less for you. You can ask him yourself since your father is gone. He lied to you to keep you from the weight of killing your father so have the common decency to save him as he saved you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand?” she asked, impatience bleeding into her tone making it come out as a whine rather than a demand.

“He could’ve stopped this years ago if I had killed my father.”

“You would’ve suffered for it,” Morgana explained. “You would’ve never recovered from the betrayal and he didn’t trust Morgause’s intentions. He was right to but that doesn’t mean everything she told you was a lie. She told you the truth knowing the rage it would send you into.” She licked her lips nervously. “Your mother cared for magic, Arthur, but it was your father that corrupted it.”

“How can one corrupt what is already corrupted?”

“It’s not magic that’s corrupt!” she screamed, releasing all the frustration she felt. “It is people who have lost themselves in mourning. It is people who have become cornered snapping dogs because they have been stripped of their humanity under your and your father’s rule. It is people looking for power by any means available.” The candles in the room flared momentarily and he got a horrid flashback to when Merlin unknowingly made the fire flare. “What? No sword?”

“We should go now,” Gwen announced. She shoved past him at that point with such disgust it made him wish the ground would swallow him up. Morgana did the same although her look was interlaced with a particular kind of hurt he’d seen before. One Merlin wore when he was met with a sword at an emotional outburst rather than consideration. “Repeal the ban, Arthur. You’ve tortured him and magic users enough.”

“I,” he began before letting the sentence die on his tongue. He saw the exact moment they truly lost hope in him. Tears welled up in their eyes but they refused to cry in front of him. He waited for someone to curse him out, to continue to scream at him until he understood everything but even worse, they just left the room in silence. 

This then left him with two problems. 

The first was that if Morgana had magic then that was another exception to the rule. There was another personalised mark on the board that refuted the rule his father made to keep them all safe. With his reaction to Merlin, he would’ve thought she’d come forth too but maybe without a prophecy to cling to, she thought there wouldn’t be anything to stop her from being banished. Secrecy aside, she was what he considered to be a good person. A good person with magic as it occurred.

His mother was apparently in the same group although it couldn’t be specified if she simply cared for magic or actively practiced it. Despite never meeting his mother, he doubted Uther would ever be able to love someone who cared for something he despised so greatly. Had their years of marriage been cut short because of magic or because of his father’s misunderstanding of it? Would he be doomed to the same fate if he continued to miss the point of magic?

The second was that if she wasn’t evil from magic and Merlin wasn’t evil from magic then the people who were sentenced for minor uses of magic as a means of prevention were innocent. Sure, he’d let some of them loose before like the young druid boy but that was because he was a child! The girl he banished, the sentencing that instigated all this, he thought she must have family elsewhere since her last name wasn’t common to Camelot. Yet, there were plenty of adults he showed no compassion to. He and Uther had murdered innocent people. Innocent children . 

So, if magic wasn’t a corrupting force and was just a tool then Arthur had made his friend suffer for far too long.

No.

That couldn’t be.

Could it?

Chapter Text

Merlin frowned when he found out he was being moved to different chambers. It wasn’t like he could enjoy a bigger room since he could only leave his bed once or twice a day. Besides, he liked his little room within Gaius’ chambers. It was comforting to be closed in away from the world that didn’t care for him where he could practice knowing the only person that would walk in was one who sympathised with him. He’d spent so many nights letting his magic create illusions of dragons and happier times to come to lull himself to sleep when everything felt hopeless. It felt good to get his energy out in a place he knew to be secure without always side-eyeing the entrances. 

Despite this, he didn’t refuse to move. 

When training under Gaius, he asked why some patients were so particular about certain things. One woman he visited refused to drink from cups with chips in them and a man insisted that Merlin wore his blue neckerchief whenever treating him because red would bring more bloodshed. It was then that Gaius explained that when things feel out of control, people seek to control something . Anything. They just couldn’t surrender themselves to the universe and wait until something happened. 

He guessed Gwen and Morgana were seeking something they could do to help since they couldn’t change the law themselves nor could they free him of the curse by other means. He struggled to say no to them at the best of times but with this knowledge in mind and how desperate they looked, he stood no chance. Besides, Gwaine needed somewhere to sleep and his run-down cot wasn’t great for one person let alone two.

Merlin watched anxiously as servants passed in and out of his room, collecting his things to make the guest chambers less intimidating. He about had a heart attack when someone picked up his magic books even though he knew his glamour was flawless. The last thing he needed was to be thrown in a dungeon.

Things hadn’t gotten much better since he coughed up blood. His body ached from the rattling coughs and his throat was ruined, leaving him sounding like he swallowed glass in his spare time. When he cast the curse, he hadn’t been scared. If anything, he’d been angry that it had to come to this and felt rather inconvenienced. He remembered how his hands shook as he traced the spell with his fingers but he’d never thought of it as fear. He knew he was powerful enough that a near unbreakable curse would become completely indestructible but at the time, he didn’t see this lasting more than two days. Now he wasn’t sure if he’d last a few more days without passing. 

He made a silent promise to himself that if he died, he wouldn’t forgive Arthur for making him wait. Their friendship had its ups and downs but this move would be the one to end it. He would’ve completed his end of the deal, bringing back magic and making sure Arthur didn’t die beforehand, so he didn’t need to stay. He didn’t have any other plans but he promised himself this one thing. He may be self-sacrificing but he did have some dignity and dwindling faith in his friend doing the right thing.

“How are we getting him up there? He’s not exactly jumping with energy and the guest chambers are on the other side of the castle,” Gwaine questioned, dragging the warlock away from his thoughts. He hadn’t noticed that Morgana had joined them and she must’ve known judging by the sad frown on her face. 

“He is not carrying me around the castle like some fair maiden he saved from a tower,” Merlin insisted although his smile betrayed his serious tone. “We’ll have to use the wheelbarrow we use for the dead. Cleaned of course. I don’t need any more diseases on top of the curse.” 

“So it’s not demeaning to be wheeled around but it is demeaning to be carried by your ever-so-handsome lover?” the knight asked as he flexed his muscles.

“I don’t enjoy being thrown over your shoulder on the best of days. My stomach is ropey as it is and I’d rather not throw up on the stairs,” he replied. He neglected to mention how his vomit was mostly bile nowadays and he sometimes saw flecks of blood in it. Damn, magic speeding things up.

“Oh, c’mon Merlin, I’m sure he’ll carry you properly this time,” Morgana insisted with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “How else will he get in practice for your union?”

“Union?” Gwaine and Merlin repeated.

“I certainly don’t think you’ll be carrying the tavern’s heaviest drinker out of the hall.” For once in his life, the smooth-talking knight was speechless and the warlock couldn’t help but grin at the effect. He’d keep that in his back pocket. “Let the man carry you, Merlin. We’re not wheeling you in the death cart.”

“You would if you loved me,” he pouted playfully. He coughed into the crook of his arm and was silently thankful that it didn’t turn into a frantic fight for air. He melted into the hand gently rubbing his back in a soothing gesture and when he finally recovered, he caught Gwaine’s fretful gaze. “I’m okay,” he reassured him as he caught his breath. “I swear on my magic, if you drop me, I will never let you hear the end of it.”

“You’re hardly a heffer, my love,” Gwaine replied. “Is the room ready now?”

“It is. Best to get you settled before the castle gets busy in the morning,” Morgana answered. 

“Alright. Better hold on tight Merls.”

As nice as the room was, it did nothing to temper Merlin’s symptoms. He tried to hold in coughs and fought with his gag reflex to not immediately ruin the room with his sickness. Gaius had sent up multiple tonics and foul-smelling mixtures to put in his water in hopes of at least preventing the pain from becoming too much although discomfort was to be expected in his state. Merlin lasted all of five minutes before his hacking cough disturbed his body enough to make him vomit. He eyed the streaks of crimson in the bile but did his best to hide it from Gwaine. He knew the knight knew but hoped his attempt would stop it from being brought up.

It was odd that in the next room lay the man who enabled his illness to be so prolonged. He wondered if Arthur was sleeping soundly or if he was having fitful nights wondering about the servant dying. He fantasised about Arthur studying bills that would lift the ban and the wait was due to him finding loopholes that could be exploited or simply wanting everything to be perfect. 

“It’s a shame you’re sick,” Gwaine commented as he began stripping off for bed. His back was probably cheering at the prospect of sleeping somewhere so lavish. Even the knight’s quarters weren’t as nice as the guest chambers meant for lords and ladies. Especially this one which was the best of the rooms due to its close proximity to royalty. It would be an honour to stay in these chambers under different circumstances. 

“I suppose there’s a specific reason for you saying that.” Gwaine smiled and got under the covers, letting Merlin into his personal space despite his illness and playing with his hair once the warlock settled on his chest.

“Under different circumstances, bedding the king’s manservant and protector in the next room over would definitely be one of my best bar stories.” Said manservant slapped his chest playfully.

“You better not be bragging about your exploits with me with your drinking buddies,” he warned. “I’ll turn you into a frog.”

“I don’t get such joys since my drinking buddies think of you as family. Never great to talk about shagging someone’s brother to their face.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” 

He loved how Gwaine told stories. The better part of the curse and having him fuss was hearing all the stories he had locked away in his brain, half fabricated and half true. Merlin enjoyed trying to figure out which were plausible for a man who got in trouble as much as his lover and which he’d made up just to get a smile. They weren’t all about his sex escapades, there were sweet and sorrowful ones mixed in too. All of them were told with the same passion although exhibited in different ways. It was nice seeing Gwaine smile and the knight loved to make Merlin smile so he just told more.

“I made the mistake of telling Percy what we did in the woods whilst you were out herb picking. There was a live chicken in my room every day for a week! Massive thing, it was. Cook was very happy when I told her if she could catch them, they were hers. Let me tell you, when that woman sees something she wants, she’ll have it.”

“I know, even when I said my attractions lay with the same sex she still tried to court me,” he replied.

“I wouldn’t have thought you were her type. Although, she is quite the domineering woman.”

“Are you saying I’m demure?”

“You’re certainly not the picture of hypermasculinity.”

“Again, I’ll turn you into a frog.”

“And yet you can’t spell your arms to gain any muscle.”

“Believe me, if I could spell things bigger, I wouldn’t begin with my arms,” he taunted, gesturing to his boyfriend’s lap with a smug smile. 

“Brat,” Gwaine replied without any heat behind it. He pressed a kiss against Merlin’s hand, then his arm, followed by his bicep, shoulder and neck. Before he could continue though, the curse decided to remind them of its ferocity as a cough threw Merlin into sitting hunched over gasping for breath and making a horribly strange gurgling noise. 

Another long arduous night followed.

By morning, all Merlin wanted was to sleep more than five minutes without being forced awake by either a cough that cut off his airways or the need to throw up even the smallest drop of water he’d managed to consume. He tried to keep quiet for Gwaine’s benefit but ever since getting sick, the infamously heavy sleeper would wake at the slightest movement and rush to his side to offer comfort. The whole time he whispered sweet nothings into Merlin’s ear, all the warlock could think was how foolish he must look right about now. How stupid he must seem to willingly put himself in pain to get what he wanted. How selfish he must be to subject Gwaine to a deal he never agreed to.

“It’s nearly time for training,” Merlin mused. He was pretty sure Arthur’s routine had chiselled itself into his brain and he felt some distress about being unable to go about it as he usually would. Unsurprisingly, he had more pressing matters to worry about. One of them was Gwaine. “You should try to train again today,” he suggested with lingering energy. He must look as exhausted as he felt from the concerned look on the knight’s face but he knew how knights were. They needed to go punch things when the world seemed so out of control that there was no hope. Of course, Merlin clung to his own hope that Arthur wouldn’t see him die but he couldn’t force that same hope onto his lover no matter how badly he wanted to. “I’ll be alright.”

“You won’t be. What if you finally get some rest and then choke on your own vomit? Do you wish for me to come back to you like that?”

“Gaius will be seeing to me soon,” he said, intending to sound soft but his voice was far too harsh for it. He attempted to push himself up but found that his arms shook too wildly. “Sit me up.” Gwaine did so immediately, going so far as to fluff up the pillows that kept him upright and tucking loose strands of hair behind his ears. “There, I’ll be fine in the time between.”

“Are you that desperate to be rid of me?” 

“No, I just know you far too well. No tavern and no training will drive you mad.” He took Gwaine’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “Watching me being sick isn’t going to make me well.”

“I know but you’re getting worse. I want to be here before it’s too late.”

“Too late won’t-”

Merlin was interrupted by the sound of shouting and the chamber doors suddenly opening only for a very agitated Arthur to be shoved inside. Any other time, he would feel bemused by the look on the king’s face but right now he couldn’t help but feel like he’d been caught in an indecent moment not meant for others. Arthur slammed his hands on the door, yelling to be let out that instant only to huff when they didn’t budge. Then he turned around and seemed to realise whose room he’d been thrown into.

“Hello Arthur,” Merlin greeted quietly. “Nice of you to finally visit.”

Chapter Text

For a brief moment, Arthur stood frozen like a deer realizing it was being watched by a predator in the vegetation. Although Merlin would make for a terrible predator about now, Gwaine fit the part far better as he glared daggers at the king and held onto his lover’s hand that bit tighter. He knew Arthur wouldn’t physically do anything to hurt the warlock, at least not if he wanted to keep his head and title, but that didn’t stop him from being wary. Merlin didn’t seem to share the sentiment. He looked relieved at finally seeing his friend even if he had a suspicion it wasn’t completely his will. 

Then, as Arthur did when he felt intimidated and out of his depths, he pretended everything was fine. 

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable,” he said, firmly staying on the other side of the room.

“No thanks to you,” Gwaine snapped. He went to say more but he was stopped by Merlin putting a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head.

“Okay, I think you should get to training so we can talk in peace.”

“Perhaps I should go instead-”

“Arthur, if you so much as touch that door, I will tell Gwen you visited me just to gloat.”

“I did nothing of the sort!”

“And yet, who will she believe?” The king relented knowing he had no upper hand in the matter and quite frankly, he didn’t want to fight.

He had conjured up ideas of what he’d see if and when he finally got the courage to visit Merlin on his deathbed but none of them seemed to be as horrible as what he saw. He’d seen Merlin ill and deathly pale but this was different. His cheekbones looked like they were trying to poke through his skin with how it was stretched so thinly over it. He looked no better than the sickly people from the further villages who made the arduous journey just to kneel at Arthur’s feet and beg for something to be done. Arthur found he couldn’t quite look him in the eye and instead, he looked slightly behind him or to the left.

Gwaine grumbled to himself as he stood up and gave the sick servant one last almost longing look. Merlin simply nodded, sure of himself. Arthur recognised the gesture from the many times they were facing what could very well be their end. He often wondered what inspired such confidence. Immortality didn’t mean he was from the pain of death nor could he ensure that a mortal like Arthur would survive it too. 

The knight seemed content with the response although he by no means looked happy with it. He made a show of collecting his things and pushed past Arthur despite there being more than enough room for him to walk by him without so much as brushing his shoulders. He slammed the door behind him, the sound of it locking following soon after. 

“Percival shoved me in here. I suppose he does not intend for me to leave.”

“Then I suppose you should make yourself comfortable.” Arthur rolled his shoulders, tenser than he should be when seeing his friend. Admittedly, it could be that their last meeting had one of them running out to curse themselves. Most would feel uncomfortable after that.

“I don’t want to impose.” Merlin shook his head, somewhere between disappointed and too tired with what was presented to him.

“You just don’t want to look at me.”

“I doubt anyone other than Gwaine would care to look at you.”

“Before or after the curse?” He winced at the mention of the elephant in the room. “We have to talk about it.”

“I do not wish to.”

“Because you believe I’m wrong?”

“Because I believe I may be wrong and I don’t know if I can go on knowing I can make decisions so grave so incorrectly.”

“Would you rather continue to be wrong, now knowing you may be, or try to see the truth I’m desperate to show you?” 

Arthur pursed his lips and, whilst he didn’t say anything, he did cross the room and round the bed to sit in the chair Gwaine once sat in. He noted a bucket of water he couldn’t see before with a rag floating in it, bloated from soaking up the liquid. He had vivid memories of Gwen dabbing his forehead with a cold wet cloth when he was sick with a fever and smiled softly at the idea of a tavern casual such as Gwaine being so delicate as his Gwen. It was silly. Then he remembered how worried she’d been for him when she was sick and his smile slid off his face.

“Morgana has magic,” Arthur began. “I never would’ve suspected her. I always thought her passion for saving those with magic was out of kindness or simply knowing your…condition-”

“Condition makes it sound like a disease.”

“What do you suppose I call it?”

“A gift. A talent. Me.”

“It’s hardly a gift if it made you like this.”

“ You made me like this, Arthur.”

“Yes well…it’s made Morgana rather upset. She brought my mother into it. Accused her of caring for magic.”

“Magic is not some dirty word.”

“It is when it killed my mother.”

“A person killed your mother. You would not ban knives if someone murdered Gwen with one. You would not ban crossbows because it killed her.” Arthur leaned forward with a look that practically begged for some insurance that being open to magic wouldn’t be the downfall of his kingdom. “Magic holds the same morals as a sword. You make rules about what a sword is used for, you punish those who use it for evil but praise those who use it for good. You do the same for me. You praise me when I use it for good, to protect you and others.”

“Perhaps,” Arthur replied softly.

“You know it’s not evil and that my magic isn’t different. You just want it to be.”

“Why would I want something to be evil? What king looks for evil in something innocent?”

“One who regrets what they’ve done and clings to the excuses for it.” He buried his head in his hands and sat hunched over in his chair until he had sufficiently willed the tears to remain at bay. 

“I don’t wish to be evil, Merlin. I wish to be a great king. The type people are proud to know. If what you say is true then I am the very thing I never wanted to be.”

“A great king knows when he’s wrong . You know you’re wrong,” Merlin stressed. “It’s hard.”

“How could you possibly know?” he asked, not being rude but genuinely curious. There was so much he didn't know about Merlin and he couldn't help but think if he'd lost all rights he had to finding everything out.

“I know.” He spoke lightly but the words hit Arthur as though an entire castle had suddenly crumbled down on him. “As impossible as it feels sometimes, you have to accept when lives were taken that didn’t need to be.”

“We’re talking thousands of innocent men, women and children. To accept what you’re saying is to accept that I, along with my father, were tyrants.”

“Accepting this won’t bring them back but it’ll prevent more regret.”

“And what of my father?” Merlin glanced away. “Am I to accept that he killed my mother and our people with no basis?”

“I refuse to defend that man. You could starve a brain-eating parasite but you’re not that stupid,” he croaked. He was growing weaker. Would tonight be the night he passed away only to be revived and live another week in pain? 

“I…I don’t want to face it,” Arthur admitted shamefully. He knew it was selfish to deny that among the evil people that littered his body count, there were plenty that didn’t deserve to be there. He couldn’t bring himself to realise that in the end, a man he thought had to be good because what bad man would be king for so long, Uther was misguided and unjust. “I’m sorry but I simply can’t.”

“Which is it? Can’t or don’t want to?”

“I don’t know.” Merlin nodded slowly and heaved out a sigh as he settled into the bed further. He looked about ready to drift off to sleep but he was fighting the urge valiantly. “I’m so sorry.” But that wasn’t enough. Anything short of changing legislation wouldn’t be enough.

“My mother used to tell me that bad things happen to good people sometimes because life is hard like that. I thought that’s all any of this was. It’s what I reminded myself of when Will died saying he was the sorcerer, when I killed people driven mad with grief, and when my father died.” He’d spoken with a smile, not half as bright as his usual one but just as appreciated until he finished his sentence. Now he looked plain tired like a soldier coming home from a long lost battle. “I thought I was a good person for so long. I murdered the grieving parents, wives, husbands, and children. Some even worshipped me as some sort of God who would save them, and yet they died by my hand,” he whispered as though it were a secret. He looked nothing like a man of nearly thirty years but rather a sickly child left with no one to care for him. The bed swallowed him up and the sheets pinned his body down. “But I told myself it was all for you and the future we’d build. I suppose I only damned myself to be that bad thing that happens to good people.” Arthur wanted to throw up. He wanted to run away and never come back to the wretched room with a dying man who would never feel the relief of passing away. 

“Merlin-”

“The destiny fed to be must’ve forgotten to add that although you may be a great king, you’ll only be a great one to those without magic,” he snarled with such hatred it hardly sounded like his own voice. Arthur’s breath turned shaky, his body began to tremble yet the only thing that remained stable about him was his gaze on his friend. One he’d basically condemned to an eternity of suffering because he was neither strong enough to go against everything his father taught him nor brave enough to end his best friend’s life. Two sides of the same coin. Brothers in everything but blood. Only one no longer saw himself as any of that and it was all Arthur’s fault. 

“I-”

“No, you listen to this because I want these to be my final words to you if you chose to keep thinking of yourself.” His eyes shone with determination. A man truly sick of dying for a future he may never witness. “You either break this curse or spend every day of your life regretting it because I’m telling you now I won’t fucking forgive you.”

“But-”

“Kill me now then.”

“What?”

“If you refuse to let me live in peace, if you refuse to break this curse, then I would rather be run through with your sword. Saves everyone else from holding multiple vigils over a corpse that will only rise again.”

“I won’t kill you!”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing now?” Raising his voice caused a coughing fit that dragged on and on until his lips were purple, a mix of blue from the lack of air and red from his splattered blood, and there was a wet crackle to his regained breath. Arthur knew that crackle anywhere and hearing it now made him feel more stupid than the town fool. This had gone on long enough and he could worry about everything else later but what he couldn't do was let Merlin die for something as simple as freedom. Even if that meant reckoning with the bodies he'd helped burn.

“How do I bring it up to them? The councillors?”

“Like any other law change. You can ask no more of me.” His glare turned soft as his body began to sag. “Arthur.”

“Yes?”

“Something’s wrong.” 

Then, his once limp body began to seize.

Chapter Text

“What’re you doing here?” Gwaine asked after storming out of his temporary chambers and running right into the knights. Elyan darted behind him and quickly locked the door whilst Lancelot explained.

“We’re locking them in the same room together so Arthur sees reason.” 

“What makes you think it’ll work? He hardly cared enough to visit these past days.”

“He needs a dose of reality. I assure you, all will be well,” Leon insisted. 

“So, we just wait out here? How do we know when they’re done?”

“We’ll know when we know,” Lancelot assured him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezing. He sighed, knowing there wasn’t much he could do other than wait now. “When Arthur finally understands, we’ll be ready with Merlin’s notes and Morgana has Gwen with her looking for the laws before the ban. Everything will move along smoothly and Merlin will be back to normal soon enough.”

“He better be. I can’t watch him wither any further. There was hardly any of him in the first place,” Gwaine replied. “I know he’ll come back but that doesn’t mean he’s not suffering now.”

“This will work,” Percival stated in a firm tone that would raise the spirits of even the most hopeless of soldiers. 

They waited in silence which, although they were trained to be silent on occasion, was a rare sight. None of them attempted to relieve the tension yet none of them decided to try and listen in on the conversation between king and manservant. Most took it like a watch on patrol whilst others took to pacing their nerves. The occasional servant would glance at the group of knights but never say anything. They gave them small sympathetic smiles, assuming they were holding some sort of vigil for their dying friend.

It felt like years had gone by before they heard anything of note from inside the room and even then, it wasn’t something any of them wanted to hear.

“Help!” Arthur screamed from inside. They knew it wasn’t some attempt for them to open the doors thanks to the rawness of his voice. Not that they had much chance to think thanks to Gwaine ripping the doors open and running inside like he’d heard the tavern were giving away free ale. “He started shaking all over, I don’t-”

“Someone get Gaius now!” Gwaine ordered with Lancelot being the one to take up the order. He kept his hovering hands close to Merlin’s frantic body, knowing he shouldn’t attempt to restrain him without a physician present. He unfortunately also knew that a soft bed wasn’t the best place for a seizure but he couldn’t very well move the warlock now. All he could do was whisper soft reassurances and hope that Merlin could somehow hear them.

Whilst the knights looked on in frozen horror, Arthur felt the culmination of guilt sit heavily on his shoulders and that was he feeling he couldn’t live with. He hated himself for needing to see Merlin so sickly, so un-Merlin-like, but now he’d seen it he had to do something. He stormed out of the room and quickly flagged down the closest servant. 

“Sire, wha-”

“Don’t care. Gather my advisors now. All those I need to pass a law, any others are irrelevant. Do you understand?”

“But sire-”

“Again, don’t care.” The servant rightfully decided to keep their mouth shut and hurried off, grabbing their fellow servants on the way to help with the task that was admittedly a little much for one person to do. He went further down the hall to find another servant to perform a task a little more fitting to do alone. “You there, find the queen and Lady Morgana. I don’t care what they’re doing, I need them in a council meeting this instant.”

“Yes sire!” 

“Tell them it’s to revise the law if they resist.” He didn’t bother to wait around for them to nod. He needed to scribble down some semblance of a law that he would likely have to correct later. 

Calling an emergency meeting so early in the morning following most of the castle finding out that Merlin was moved to guest chambers meant for nobility had done nothing but rile up both Lords and serving staff alike. Whilst some still didn’t think that Merlin’s behaviour was acceptable, all weren’t too fond of him coming to harm and feared what would happen if the king lost such a beloved friend. 

This anxiety was made worse by Gwen and Morgana barging into the meeting room with a stack of papers each wearing grim expressions. They were quick to take their seats and set the papers down neatly. For a brief moment, they shared a look between themselves that, whilst the council couldn’t quite discern its intention, made the meeting seem like it was already running on borrowed time.

Then Arthur stormed in with two pieces of parchment scrunched in his tight fists and his blue eyes stormy. If the councilmen dared to speculate, they would say he looked like he was on the verge of tears or had been very close to crying before entering the room. The king took his seat and nodded to the guard by the doors to seal them in. Only when the doors closed did he stand up to speak. 

“As you can see, only the essential of you have been asked to attend this meeting. I don’t do this because I respect your opinion more than the others and honestly, I do not care for your opinion on the topic at hand,” he announced seriously, far more seriously than he took most of their meetings outside of war. “Before any of you know the business we’re attending to, I will make this clear. I am not bewitched, I am not enchanted and I am not being blackmailed into making this decision. I have simply seen the error in the ways of our kingdom and I must set these things right immediately.” He put the two pieces of paper he brought in to their attention. “Here I have the decree that the ban on magic is no longer and I will not hear any criticism on whether I should or shouldn’t do this. All I care for is that this is sound.”

“If I may, Your Majesty,” Gwen began with faux formality. “Lady Morgana and I have come across documents prior to the ban on the rules of magic. We believe them sound enough to be reinstated upon the ban’s repeal.”

“Thank you,” he replied, genuine. “That does make this much easier. I will sign this decree before me and magic will no longer be illegal. The crimes committed with magic are the same crimes committed with tools. Malicious magic is still outlawed as is the malicious use of a weapon. A good friend of mine said that magic has no more morality than a sword and I trust his opinion on such matters.” His hands clenched then unclenched. “All I require from you today is agreement and signatures. Are there any objections to this notion?” The councilmen looked amongst themselves but none made a move to agree until the eldest of them leaned forward.

“I knew life with magic and I knew life without magic. Losing the Queen to it was a great tragedy that I believe we only extended under your father’s wishes. If you believe you can control magic as you control weapons then I see no reason as to why we should suffer any longer without it,” he stated. “Now hand me a quill. I’ve lived far too long to be woken so early.”

“Seriously? You aren’t going to argue?” Arthur asked.

“It would be better for our battles to wield magic. So many kingdoms embrace it and really, it is a very good pairing to a sword and has nearly bested us numerous times,” one of the newer lords commented. “To be honest, sire, I don’t think I can stand another burning of a peasant woman punished for cleaning her clothes by unusual means.” There were a few solemn nods. “Give us the ink and parchment and we’ll do as you ask so long as you’re sure of yourself.”

“I have never been so sure of something in my life,” Arthur answered. 

Arthur wished it had been harder as each council member signed the document. It was incredibly selfish to think such a thing and yet here he was thinking it. He would’ve preferred more of an argument that he could win through wit and prove his point just as Merlin had proved his. He wanted to fight for his friend to begin making up for all the wrong he’d done. Yet all this time, he could’ve repealed the ban. It was his stubborn ways that prevented this from happening. It was his unwillingness to come to terms with the idea his father had been wrong and that the blood on his hand was no longer traitorous magic users but innocent people carrying on traditions. Merlin looked like he was decaying, he became so ill that he had a seizure and all of it could’ve been avoided if Arthur just listened.

He snuck a glance at Morgana who was watching on with relief. She never attempted to meet eyes with him even though he knew she could feel him staring at her even for the briefest of moments. 

He tried to meet eyes with Gwen who graced him with eye contact but it was pitying. Like he was some wounded deer hunters had left for dead. He felt their distance and hated it but he couldn’t deny it was entirely of his own making.

When the final signature was done, he waved them away, dismissing them with no intent on a formal parting. He turned to Morgana and Gwen with the papers in hand. 

“Will the curse stop now or when I announce this decree?”

“We will have to see for ourselves,” Gwen replied. “How was he?”

“He had a seizure. I left before I saw the consequences of it. Though I doubt I have any right to be there.”

“You have every right to be there as the person who caused it,” Morgana snarled. “You need to learn that when people dedicate their lives to you, it’s not something to take lightly.”

“You needn’t tell me off any further. I know I’ve done wrong by him with how I handled it all.”

“Then how do you seek to rectify it? I doubt doing your usual just looking at each other with fondness will be apology enough.”

“I’ll do something to honour him. When he’s better of course but his commitment to the kingdom will be made apparent to her people. You have my word.”

“It’s a start at least,” Morgana conceded. “But best believe me, brother, I’ll be making sure you make good on your word. Or else.”

Chapter Text

Arthur, followed closely by Morgana and Gwen as well as some servants that trailed behind pretending they weren’t following, made his way back to Merlin’s chambers. Whilst he looked every bit the stern king he was supposed to be, inside he was panicking. Had he done enough? Had he been fast enough? He didn’t know if he could live with himself if he walked to those chambers and saw Merlin dead despite how he knew that it wasn’t permanent. 

As a knight, he’d seen many bodies. As a king, he’d seen many more. Plagues, battles, famine, everything that came with these times. His father always said that seeing the consequences of such things would make him smarter. He could picture their bodies when planning and making the right decisions that would make that death pit at least a little smaller. He wasn’t desensitised but he was used to picturing a dead body and stealing his expression so as to not look weak. 

He wasn’t used to the very real possibility of it being Merlin’s face on those bodies. Immortality had given him a wonderful little safety blanket that he clung onto like a child with a beloved toy. Merlin would always come back and he’d somehow make his way home no matter how bad he was. Yet right now, if Merlin died before knowing the ban went through, there would be no coming back to Arthur with stupid jokes or teasing comments. It would be the death of their friendship and whilst Merlin was entirely in his right to sever their ties, Arthur couldn’t stand the thought of mourning it. 

If Arthur could go back in time, he would yell and scream at himself as soon as he became king to free his friend. It was understandable that he couldn’t lift the ban when he was prince but he’d been the king for so long now. Nothing had been done. He’d been idle letting Merlin risk his life because of a ban he could always change. Arthur shook his head. No, he couldn’t wallow in his own guilt. That would do nothing and no one wanted to see or hear it. It wasn’t fair on Merlin who he forced to live with the guilt of choosing magic haters over magic users all for some destiny he never asked for. 

-

The seizure, for how horrific it was, had been short-lived. By the time Gaius was there it was over and he was left to pick up the pieces as best he could given the circumstances. He gave tonics and rubbed weird-smelling pastes on Merlin’s joints before wrapping them to stop them from staining the expensive sheets. Gwaine had been silently watching him the entire time, as had the knights who were huddled by the door ready to be sent out if need be. He took his spot at the end of Merlin’s bed so he could rush in whenever needed. He hid his wringing hands behind the bed frame so the warlock wouldn’t see him anxious. 

“Is it time?” he asked quietly, his voice barely over a whisper and fighting with Merlin’s whimpers to be heard. 

“Not yet,” Gaius responded solemnly. “We’re close I’m afraid to say. I doubt that he’ll be lucid from now on.” He put his hand on Merlin’s forehead, initially to take his temperature, before sweeping stray hairs away with a frown. 

“Do you think it was the stress of seeing Arthur that brought it on?” 

“No, it’s the end stages. It was bound to happen.”

“It wasn’t!” Gwaine shouted. He’d tried keeping his cool as best as he could despite how everything had unfolded but they were running out of time. He didn’t want to see the love of his life absolutely destroyed when he woke up to find the ban still in place and another round of sickness waiting for him even after death. “None of this was bound to happen. Arthur was supposed to make it safe once he was king. Merlin was supposed to be done with this stupid destiny that haunts him. Dying by a curse of his own making because Arthur is too fucking stubborn was never bound to happen!”

“I know,” Gaius replied sagely. “Your frustrations are valid but they cannot be heard in here right now. The mind is a tricky thing and if it feels anxiety around it, it feels anxious in turn and the last thing Merlin needs right now is for his rest to be interrupted by terrors.” He moved away from the bed and put a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder. “You and Merlin will likely have a long conversation about the repercussions of this curse, as will he have one with me, but for now, let’s not waste our breaths on such things.” They exchanged a silent look. One that couldn’t quite be described but both felt comfort in seeing it on another person’s face. Whilst trapped at sea with this curse, they at least had a small raft of understanding to hold onto.

Suddenly, the room filled with light that forced them both to close their eyes yet even then they could feel it burn against their retinas. Gwaine wrapped an arm around Giaus and brought them to duck behind the frame of the bed to shield them from the light. A sound between a static silence and distant bells followed, both of them knowing it was the sound of magic. Had Merlin been worse off than they thought? It would come as a surprise for Gaius to be wrong but there were so many factors that made Merlin difficult to predict. 

The noise and the light finally died down and they dared to peak over the bed frame. 

Merlin lay there still but admittedly he looked better. He still looked sick but he was no longer a deathly shade of white and could be compared with someone getting over a nasty flu rather than someone days away from dying. He grimaced for a moment as though fighting to wake up but his expression smoothed and the energy was brief. Gaius rushed over despite his aching joints and put his hand on Merlin’s pulse points, a smile gracing his features. 

“What is it?” Gwaine asked anxiously, unable to let himself match the smile just yet. 

“The curse is retreating.”

“The ban has been lifted?”

“It appears so.” 

Gwaine should be happy now. He should be rounding the bed to collect his sleeping lover in his arms and whisper about how everything was okay. Yet he just felt sick. It wasn’t fair that it took Merlin almost dying for something to be done. It wasn’t fair that he had no say in the curse and he was expected to watch it run its course over and over again. It wasn’t fair that he knew Merlin had no idea what to do next.

“When will he wake up?” he asked.

“I doubt until tomorrow. The curse took a lot out of him,” Gaius responded. 

“Send a servant for me when he does. I just- I need some time.”

“Do not force me to fish you out of the tavern, sir Gwaine,” the physician said sternly. 

“For once, it’s not the tavern I’m visiting.” He left without saying where he was going. Only he and Merlin needed to know where it was. 

Not long after Gwaine left, Arthur walked into the room and stopped dead in his tracks when he didn’t see his servant sitting up and acting as usual. He didn’t expect all to be forgiven but he certainly expected for Merlin to at least be awake. Instead, he saw the court physician fussing with the covers like a worried mother. Gwen and Morgana passed him and went to join Gaius by the bedside.

“Is he?” Gwen began.

“He’s alive, your majesty. The curse broke.” The women grinned, grateful tears pricking their eyes but both composed themselves when they remembered Arthur was in the room. He wouldn’t get to participate in their joy or celebration when he was the cause. 

“Where’s Gwaine?” Morgana inquired.

“I’m afraid that’s a question to which I have no real answer. All I know is that he’s not in the tavern.” They nodded in understanding although they were just as clueless as to where the knight could’ve gone. It was none of their business really. Not until Merlin woke up and asked for him. 

“I don’t understand, I passed the law. He should be back to normal,” Arthur fretted from the spot he was glued to. Halfway to the bed and halfway to the door. An outsider looking in on a family glad to have their relative survive the unsurvivable. 

“He was severely ill sire. Though he won’t get any worse, he most certainly won’t get better overnight even with his magic concentrating on the damage.”

“But that’s what I don’t understand. I broke the curse that made him severely ill so surely he should return to normal. That’s how curses work!” He hated how much he sounded like a child but he couldn’t help but whine. It wasn’t fair that this appeared to be one of these curses that didn’t seem to act like all the others. At his short tantrum, Gaius gave him an unimpressed look. 

“He fueled the curse and fought the curse at the same time with his magic. It took a lot out of him to do both and yet he could stop neither,” he explained. “Had he been one or the other, he would be as you expected but he was not so he is still ill.”

“How long for? The people will expect celebrations and he deserves to see what he’s done and be noticed for his achievements.”

“He never did it for that sire,” Gaius began with notable resentment. “I wish he did it for the glory of receiving a title after this.”

“I assure you, he will be receiving such a thing whether he did it for a title or not. I’ll need help on these matters of magic.”

“Arthur, he did this because he didn’t know what else to do and you refused to listen!” he snapped, breaking his usual formal tone. “What use is a title if you will once again never listen to a word that boy has to say? When he tells you something you have no knowledge of, will you suddenly start agreeing or will he have to save your life for nearly another decade only to almost end his until you finally understand?”

“Gaius, I understand your concern-”

“No, you don’t. Not until you have your own child and not until that child looks you in the eye and tells you he thinks himself a monster . Not until you know he believes every word of it too. Not until that child risks killing himself for the cause he’s been told is all he’s good for.”

“I know that I must do a lot to atone for what I did,” Arthur responded. He dreaded it as he dreaded every emotionally taxing conversation but he wouldn’t avoid it. He’d done wrong by Merlin far too often to do so. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re saying that to the wrong person and frankly, I won’t be forgiving you any time soon. Certainly not before I hear what Merlin has to say.”

“I think it’s best that you see to further legal matters,” Morgana stated unkindly. She practically spat out the words. “If he wishes to see you when he wakes, you will be summoned and not a moment before that. Understood?” He nodded, not trusting his mouth to properly communicate his feelings without digging a bigger hole for himself. He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

If he could not be there for Merlin then perhaps the least he could do was ensure Gwaine wasn’t drinking himself stupid somewhere he couldn’t be found.

Chapter Text

Arthur, for all that he lacked, could find anyone when he put his mind to it. He would search high and low if he saw fit to and would send others to double-check his work even at the cost of them abandoning more pressing duties. In this case, he wouldn’t be sending servants on this errand. It felt far too personal for them to interfere and say the wrong thing. He knew if Gwaine caught wind of the king asking for him, he’d high tail it out of Camelot before Arthur could begin. 

There were three places Gwaine would be, one ruled out by Gaius so that left two places. The training field or Merlin’s room. Both offered sanctuary that he never seemed to find in his own quarters despite them being one of the nicest Arthur could offer. 

The training field was the best to get anger out. Any young squire would love to have their asses handed to them by one of the knights of the roundtable simply to say they sparred together and, if they were brave enough, brag about putting up a good fight. Arthur, whilst he wasn’t the best at emotions, knew that Gwaine wouldn’t be there. If he felt angry, he would’ve stuck around to pick a fight or drag another knight with him but all were at their stations. Anger wasn’t the emotion Arthur would associate with the cause behind leaving Merlin’s bedside.

“You’re a hard man to find when you’re not in the tavern,” Arthur stated from the doorway. He leaned against it casually although he felt intensely uneasy being in the room. A room he once found comforting had been stripped bare of everything that made it Merlin’s in favour of making him feel comfortable in his guest chambers and yet it still felt like his. Arthur no longer belonged in the room his friend found comfort in when he’d been the person who had forced him to find comfort in isolation in the first place. 

He felt like withering away when the knight turned with a deep scowl. He hadn’t seen Gwaine truly enraged that often so when easy smiles transformed into deathly glowers it felt entirely unnatural. Like something was parading as Gwaine but couldn’t quite capture his likeness. Arthur knew it was him though. He hated that he was sure of it.

“You’re even harder to find when your friend is deathly ill,” Gwaine snapped back. “Though I suppose weapon is more fitting than friend nowadays.”

“I deserve that.”

“And so much more that I don’t have the energy for. What do you want?”

“You’re not with Merlin and, by all the wrong I’ve done, I believe I can make up for it at least a little by making sure he wakes with you there beside him.”

“I have been beside him. For days. I have had to watch as he coughs up blood and can no longer eat or drink without vomiting it all back up. I have been forced to bare witness to a curse I had no say in because of you yet you walk in here acting like you can solve everything?” he snarled. “Forgive me if I need some time to think about all this.”

“Thinking alone does more harm than good,” the king replied carefully. “I won’t allow you to spiral so whatever it is you think of, tell me. It can help to hear yourself.”

“Oh and you’re so good at listening, are you?”

“Not particularly but I will be for you. So talk to me.” The knight stared at him as though he were bewitched but seemed to accept the company begrudgingly. He waved for him to come in and closed the door behind him. It was just the two of them now and Arthur had to admit, he was a little wary to get comfortable with that fact. “What is it that has you so thoughtful?”

“When the curse began, we had an argument. I won’t tell you the details as you don’t deserve to know them but I will say that what he said lingers.” Gwaine made himself to the tiny cot and ran a hand anxiously through his hair. He looked exhausted which could only be expected when a loved one was sick and you were caring for them. “He hurt himself.”

“Did,” Arthur paused to lick his lips nervously. “Did Gaius see to it?”

“I mean with the curse,” he clarified. “He told me all those months we got closer that I could leave any time and he wouldn’t blame me for it. He comes with a lot more than the average partner and I always told him I was willing to take on whatever there was. He was chosen for such an expansive destiny that I understood when I was second to it. But this? I just- I’d never leave him but I fear for his life.”

“He is well now,” the king reassured him. “Gaius said so.”

“He isn’t well. He’ll be ill until his magic reverses the damage but magic has never healed his mind. I don’t know how or if he even will adjust to life without the burden he’s carried since he stepped foot in Camelot. What if he becomes like the knights that lasted too many wars? What if the man I love will disappear before me?”

“Merlin is stronger than you think.”

Gwaine stood up with a frustrated glare.

“This isn’t about being strong! You’ve been told since you were born that you are something great and since then, you have proven it even if you have failed in this aspect. Every dual, every battle- fuck even a hunt would prove you are great. I don’t deny any struggle you have faced but what I am saying is that he has been reassured since birth that he is not anything.” His eyes watered but he refused to cry. “Just because now he is something doesn’t mean that lesson has been unlearned. What made him worth something, in his eyes, is this destiny. Now it’s over and he’s paid prices so heavy that I don’t think anyone could recover, even him.”

“That is..a lot to think about.” 

Even Arthur hadn’t thought about what life would be like after the destiny. He assumed it would be this lifelong debt that would only end with one of their deaths, most likely his own. He knew Merlin paid prices he couldn’t fathom and he’d seen the effects. Less smiles, more desperate attempts to be listened to, frustration and silent treatment when he would’ve said I told you so and leave it at that. He refused to think further about it, not because he didn’t want to accept the consequences but because then he wouldn’t be able to take in any of what Gwaine said as he continued.

“More than either of us could imagine. He’s hardly ever been in control of his life and now he has the rest of it to live with free will he’s never truly had access to. What if he can’t handle that?” He shook his head. “I know what I want for our lives together because I’ve been given the simple luxury of thinking about it as a possibility. He has not. That’s not to say he has never wished for a future between us, God the things he’s told me he wishes for us but it’s always been wishes. Never plans. Always second to his duty to you.”

To his credit, Gwaine never seemed spiteful of his place in Merlin’s life. A lesser man would cut ties as soon as they knew they couldn’t be someone’s entire world. It had to be hard on both of them, one always playing second and the other never being able to afford to put them first. Arthur wondered if Gwaine was a bittersweet treat for Merlin so he’d hold onto some hope in an otherwise painful and lonely existence. 

“I can relieve him of that,” Arthur offered although he didn’t really want to cut ties. If there were any ties to cut when Merlin woke up that is.

“Funnily enough, I don’t think he’d want that. He cares so deeply for those around him that he could still care despite all we’ve said and done against the very foundation of his being. Your forgiveness will be earned, I assure you that, but he will forgive you.” They shared a sorrowful smile. “I worry for the future. I worry for him most.”

“I believe that worrying for the future without the person involved in it doesn’t do much good.” Gwaine nodded thoughtfully.

“You know, it used to bring me peace that Merlin was immortal. I’d know that whatever horrors the world threw at him, he’d survive. The issue I face now is that those horrors have left wounds that have never healed and they will exist past the destiny that’s done. He may be immortal but we are not. Camelot is not.” He looked for answers in Arthur that he didn’t have. “I don’t want to die knowing he wouldn’t.”

“Perhaps now destiny is done his immortality will go with it.”

“I can only hope.”

“Not only hope but you can make sure your life with him is one he can cherish if his immortality remains. Maybe there are answers out there you two can search for.”

“I’d fear what we’d find.”

Chapter Text

Merlin couldn’t remember a thing as he slowly rose from the painless void he’d been floating in. What he did know was that his body was wrecked, his stomach was twisting with hunger bordering on sickness and he felt exhausted but couldn’t will himself to go back to sleep. He must’ve been hurt trying to save Arthur again. He was always saving Arthur. Always coming back with bruises, welts, cuts and various things misplaced or broken. Gaius would give him the once over and do the best he could. He’d visit Gwaine the morning after for a brief reprieve. No thank yous, no great jobs, nothing. 

With a heavy groan that irritated his dry throat, he forced his eyes open to get a gist of his surroundings. He could feel something heavy on him but not crushing. Not a bunch of rocks but not his usual thin blanket. He was laying against something comfortable so he definitely wasn’t outside on the cold forest floor. Must’ve made it home and crashed somewhere but definitely not his room. Maybe Gwaine’s? Even Gwaine’s bed wasn’t this comfortable. His eyes drifted and studied the ceiling. Or rather, it was the canopy of a bed. Not Gwaine’s room and certainly not his room.

His eyes finally landed on Gwaine who he now realised was stroking his hair. He smiled softly and felt admittedly a little out of it. Did he hit his head? Maybe he was just tired. What plan did he end up foiling this time that left him so out of it?

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” the knight replied. 

“You look tired.”

“Nobody sleeps well with a cursed boyfriend.” 

It was then Merlin realised what exactly landed him in this position and even though he was in pain now, he wasn’t in as much pain as he’d began the day in. He hit rewind on the day and tried to recall why on earth he’d feel better but the only thing he could land on was everything going black and losing control of his body. No, it couldn’t be. He was almost too afraid to ask but he had to know.

“Did I die?”

“No, not today,” Gwaine responded. “You did it. The ban is lifted.” 

This should be when Merlin jumped up with glee forgetting his agony and excitedly asking about everything but he felt nothing. Not even relief. He did everything to get this yet he couldn’t even muster a smile. His eyes watered and for a second he assumed it was from finally accomplishing his goal then he realised it was nothing of the sort. It was just because he hurt so much. 

“Are you okay?” Any other time he’d fake it and nod. Not today. He was too tired for his usual glamors. 

“No.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t know.” Gwaine nodded and stood up, rounding the bed and climbing in from the other side before pulling Merlin into his arms. Although he didn’t have the energy to feel much other than miserable, he somehow found the ability to sob and once he started he couldn’t stop.

When he finally got a hold of himself enough to stifle the tears, Gwaine was staring at him with the utmost concern. He looked tired. Too tired for Gwaine. He should only ever look that tired because he spent all night in the tavern, never from being in the company of Merlin. How many sleepless night had he experienced, too scared to fall asleep and wake up to find Merlin was gone? The knight probably hadn’t had a sip of mead in days. 

“I should be happy,” Merlin muttered when he trusted his voice not to wobble. “I’m free now. Destiny is done and dusted. So why am I not happy about that?”

“You’ve battled for too long and lost too much to be thankful for the end of the war just yet,” his lover replied. He cupped the warlock’s face, wiping away the tears still left on his cheeks. “You will be happy one day and I’ll make damn sure of it.” It was supposed to be comforting but Merlin could only feel guilt that this was a responsibility he’d put onto someone. It didn’t feel fair. 

“Not today,” he determined. “I just feel tired.”

“I’ll fetch you some food and water. You hardly kept anything down whilst you were sick and you’ve been out for a day or two.” That had Merlin’s exhaustion leaving him as he sat straight up in shock. 

“Two days? I’ve been asleep for two days?” Gwaine seemed amused by the reaction. Even in his toughest hours, Merlin had never slept for that long and yet he wanted to sleep even more.

“You needed the rest. What sleep you did get when you were sick was hardly peaceful.”

“There’s work to be done that I’ve missed out on completely, I’ve left this place defenceless for the better part of a week and I’ve just been asleep! I shouldn’t require more,” he replied.

“Camelot can function without you for longer than you think. Morgana has the magic handled, Gwen has Arthur handled and Arthur has the lords handled. There is nothing for you to worry about and I doubt any of them want you to return to work before you’re completely ready.”

“How are they?” 

“They’re fine.” Merlin gave him a look. “Alright, they’re really worried. You’ve been asleep for a long time and we’ve had to hand feed you. Arthur is on this mission to ensure you a title and make this up to you if you even want that. He wants a big celebration at the very least and invite the druids back. Morgana will tell them once she knows you’re okay.”

“No, I should do it.”

“I understand you’re their god or something but you need the rest, Merls. She’s just as capable of the job as you are,” Gwaine assured him. He was right of course. He used all his energy to sit up and even that was hard to maintain, how did he expect to ride in this condition? Morgana was just as respected and perfectly capable. He didn’t need to do everything. In fact, he didn’t need to do anything. He’d done what he needed. 

“I’ll miss it.”

“Miss what?”

“Being needed like I was. I was hardly ever wanted let alone needed before I came here. If Camelot and her king as well as her people no longer need me then who is to say they will want me?”

“Me for a start. Destiny may have brought you to Camelot but her people want you here. If you don’t want to be here then that’s fine.” 

Merlin nodded. He couldn’t imagine himself somewhere else funnily enough. Not even back in the little village he started in with his mother. He’d long outgrown Ealdor and he was well aware that he never truly belonged there. He didn’t know if he truly belonged anywhere physically but he knew he felt right by Gwaine’s side. At the very least, he belonged there. 

“We should talk about this, shouldn’t we?” Merlin said. “We need to. I’ve hurt you.”

“That can wait until you’re better.”

“I’d rather it not,” he replied softly. “I want you to know I’m so sorry for everything I’ve put you through.”

“I understand why you didn’t tell me you were going to do it. I would say no and then you’d do it anyway. I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me after. I would’ve been mad and I would’ve been hurt but not as hurt as I felt finding out through someone else.” Gwaine held his hand, still pale from the sickness that his veins stood out from a mile away. “I love you Merlin in a way I’ve never loved someone before and I don’t know what I’d do if I woke up one day and you were no longer here.”

“I love you too. I vow to you that I will learn to lean on you.” He kissed the back of Gwaine’s hand as though he were some visiting noblewoman to seal the promise. “If you can put it behind us, I would be happy to spend the rest of my days making it up to you.”

“Consider it put to bed,” he confirmed. “How do you want to proceed with Arthur? He wants to see you but for once the prat is letting you lead.”

“I’ll see him when I see him. For now, you need to tell me all I’ve missed.”

Chapter Text

With Merlin in better health, he sent Gwaine on his behalf to tell Arthur a celebration of magic’s return to Camelot would be what the kingdom needed. Arthur was a little downtrodden that his manservant hadn’t told him in person but he didn’t want to push his luck with demanding why. He knew that their friendship had sustained grave damage and he wasn’t about to bury it by being pushy. Instead, he put everything he had into ensuring this celebration would be the greatest the kingdom would know. 

Morgana talked with the druids, inviting them to the celebration as well as to Camelot whenever they saw fit. They travelled a lot so nobody expected them to settle in the inner city but they accepted the invite. They asked after Merlin, somehow knowing of the peril he put himself through, and asked that their respects be paid for his efforts. 

Gwen had the castle staff working overtime on decorations and food but they didn’t complain about the longer hours. The only thing they ever really complained about was the lack of Merlin in the castle. He was better, Gwen assured them of that, but he hadn’t left his chambers much. He only left for short walks, having even shorter conversations with those who caught him. It felt wrong to not be stuck in conversation with him but it felt just as wrong to comment on it. The man had just finished his lifelong mission with a lot more life to live. 

Then the day came and everyone thought that out of all the times Merlin left his room, this would be the longest. Yet after only an hour of partying, he’d disappeared. Even Gwaine didn’t know when he’d left but didn’t seem all that worried about it.

“This is a lot for him. Parties aren’t his thing when he’s serving them let alone when he’s the whole reason it’s happening. He said he needed to get some air.”

“Why didn’t you go with him?” Lancelot asked, surprised the knight was still drinking with his peers.

“I’m not the person who needs to be alone with him right now,” he explained as his eyes darted to Arthur. The king raised an eyebrow in surprise. His friendship with everyone was strained since the beginning of the curse but it had evened out to something civil. They would share a drink with him but it was clear he had a lot more to do in terms of earning both trust and respect back. 

“I should go find him?” Arthur clarified.

“I think it’s time you two talk on neutral ground,” he responded. “He’ll be on the battlements.” He pointed to the castle where they could see the speck of something in the darkness. Presumably, that speck was Merlin. “Does all his best thinking there.”

“And you trust me to be alone with him?”

“I don’t but he does. I trust Merlin. It also helps I know he can flick you off the side of that without speaking so much as a word.” Arthur nodded and downed the rest of his drink for courage. 

“I’ll do right by him.”

“See that you do or you’ll have hell to pay. Don’t think the people would be any less happy with Gwen and Morgana ruling them instead of you.” The king nodded shortly and made a quick exit. He really needed to reel in the threats he’d received from his knights at some point. Lord help him if a noble heard it. 

“I would’ve thought you’d be down there,” Arthur commented as he stood beside his manservant. Below there were people filling the streets celebrating. He never thought that so many people held no true hatred for magic but rather were waiting anxiously for the day they’d be free to use it. It hurt especially when he saw people his own age who had known the law their entire lives. There were so many people like Merlin who had hoped every day for the ban to be repealed and whilst he’d love to sit there basking in praise, he couldn’t. This celebration was for Merlin’s sacrifice and Morgana and Gwen’s hard work building laws the council could agree on. 

“It worked,” Merlin said but he didn’t sound like himself. He sounded outside of himself and his eyes were placed firmly in the distance at nothing in particular. They should be focused on the party below but instead, they were set on the horizon. “After everything, I did it.” This would usually be the place where Arthur would stick his foot in his own mouth and say something about how he actually did the work setting up the council meetings and passing the laws but he’d learned to bite his tongue. If his humility brought this much happiness to his citizens then he could do with more of it. 

“You did,” he settled on saying. “You did a fine job.”

“For all the times I’ve nearly died in your name to achieve this, funnily enough, I don’t feel like it was fair.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told you that I was scared that if you let me die I’d never forgive you. I’d hate to lose my best friend and the closest thing I’ve had to a brother because he’d rather me die than change.” Merlin turned to him with an expression he couldn’t make out. It wasn’t mad but it wasn’t sorrowful either. Maybe it was a pained disappointment. “That doesn’t mean just because you didn’t let me die you are forgiven for everything.” His blue eyes had never felt so cold and piercing. Arthur wondered how many people received that stare and lived. He doubted it was more than he could count on his fingers. “I understand that you grew up with the ban and that to go against your father’s wishes is a big thing to ask of you but did you ever consider how it felt for me? I went against my own people for you time after time knowing that they weren’t entirely in the wrong. Do you think I did that without addressing all those things I’d rather never see?”

“I didn’t think,” he admitted. “I didn’t think about anything. I never thought about the position you were in and I didn’t even begin to think about that. All I ever thought about was how your magic was made for me.”

“My magic wasn’t made for you though. It was made to bring magic back to Camelot and to do so, I had to protect you because you were going to bring it back. I had to keep you alive to bring about the golden age,” Merlin corrected sternly. “Don’t say that it was made for you ever again, got that?”

“Understood.” 

“You’re lucky Gwaine hasn’t murdered you for saying that. You’re lucky I haven’t either. It makes me feel like I’m not a person.” He thought back to what Gaius had said and suddenly his feast was sitting far too heavily in his stomach. Even for those with so little, they had the very small privilege of knowing they were people yet Merlin had feared his whole life that he was the creatures in books meant to be slain.

“Sorry,” Arthur replied. Merlin’s gaze returned to the horizon with a soft sigh. 

“Whatever. I’ve done what I’m made to do now so that’s the end of it I suppose.”

“Yet you’re not dancing in the streets or drinking yourself stupid. Well, stupider than you already are.” Merlin hummed softly.

“Like I said, it doesn’t feel fair,” he said. “I knew what I was in some sense. I knew that I was made so all this could happen and that balance could be restored but that’s it. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be after I succeeded and I definitely don’t know at all now.” He closed his eyes and rubbed them with the back of his hand, hiding the tears that gathered in them. Arthur hadn’t seen him cry all that much even though he made jokes all the time about him being a crybaby. It was jarring and he didn’t know what to do other than stand there awkwardly like an accessory rather than a friend. “Then again, I guess monsters and weapons have no need for such things as lives after the war. Maybe the Gods should’ve given my powers to a sword like they did with Excalibur. Swords have no need to wonder.”

“You’re not a weapon or a monster. What I said that night came from a place of ignorance.”

“This isn’t about what you said Arthur, it’s about what you confirmed. I thought that about myself for so long and people told me that I’m not those things but how could I believe them when they’re my friends and they’re all so kind? They have a vested interest in me thinking I’m not inhuman.” 

“Don’t you get it? It was just me rationalising-”

“It doesn’t matter what it was to you!” Merlin shouted. “You’ve gotten so much from this prophecy, do you know that?”

“I’m an orphan, Merlin.”

“Oh for- You’re the king. You’re married to the love of your life, you have a wonderful sister who cares so much about you despite how you treat those like her, you have knights that would die for you and you’re being celebrated for bringing magic back like I didn’t have to actively try to kill myself for you to do so. I’m not denying what you have lost but look what you came out with. You know who you are. I would give anything for that.” He shivered at a particularly harsh gust of wind and Arthur belatedly remembered that this man had been lying sick in bed only two days ago. He quickly unclipped his cape and draped it over his shoulders. 

“Can’t have you getting sick again.” He received a weary smile as his thanks. “Look, I can’t say I understand all you’ve lost and done to get here today but evidently it’s taken its toll on you. For that, I’m sorry.” But his apologies couldn’t do anything to fix it. They were just nice words.

“I said to Gwaine that after all this, I would try to find peace and I want to do that with him but where do you find something you’ve never had and never known?” He fiddled with the edge of the cape, grounding himself by rubbing the fabric between his thumb and index finger. 

Arthur watched him anxiously as the silence between them dragged on. If the warlock was leaving this big of a space between talking then he wouldn’t like what came after. 

“When I was little, no more than five summers old, I performed magic on instinct and nearly got caught by Cenred’s men. They’re different over there but just as cruel if not crueler to those who have magic. My mum dragged me in the house and she yelled at me, ranting and raving about all the horrible things that would happen.”

“You didn’t mean to,” Arthur argued.

“Wasn’t an excuse. It wouldn’t be to his or your men back then or even a few days ago,” he replied sternly. “She sent me to bed but it’s a tiny home. I heard her cry and beg the gods to take away my curse. That’s what she called my magic when she thought I couldn’t hear.” It was then that Arthur noticed they were facing Ealdor. You couldn’t see it from Camelot but he knew the direction well enough. Merlin hadn’t visited the small village in a long time now, too caught up in making sure Camelot still stood. They should visit one day. “She sent me to Camelot.”

“Even with the ban?”

“She thought Gaius could help, being an ex-magic user himself. I never told anyone this but sometimes I wonder if she sent me here to rid herself of a cursed bastard child.”

“Your mother loves you, Merlin,” Arthur stated. 

“Like people love a broken stallion?” he asked bitterly.

“Like mothers love their sons.” The warlock hummed disinterestedly and ducked his head away. “You know what your problem is?”

“Oh please sire, enlighten me with your great knowledge,” he replied sarcastically.

“You blind yourself and stand in the way of your own peace. Perhaps because you feel you don’t deserve it or that there isn’t enough done but it is here. Look at the people you saved dancing in the street.” When Merlin didn’t look, he tutted and grabbed the sides of his head to force him to look at the people below. “There is your peace Merlin.” The warlock shoved him away with a tut.

“And I deserve it, do I?”

“Everyone deserves to live in peace. I know that now more than ever. I’m not entirely responsible for how you hold yourself but I know you could’ve been saved from a great deal had I done more.” He nodded slightly.

“It’s weird. I can know something to be untrue yet I still feel like they are right only when it comes to myself. How can I think Morgana is not a monster like me when we were both born with magic? How can I know magic is only a tool but consider myself an evil creature of it?”

“The same way I could witness good acts of magic and still think it was evil. The mind is complicated, yours more than any I’ve known.”

“Don’t I know it?” He tilted his head, changing his gaze to somewhere East of Camelot but not far enough to be outside of her borders. “I don’t know how to be happy, Arthur. I know I can be because I have been for short spurts but how do I live a happy life? I feel awful for the blood on my hands, I feel bad for what I’ve put my lover and friends through and whilst they enjoy the merits of my work, I stand here unable to accept it.”

“You’ve never been one who deals well with idle hands,” the king replied. “I suggested, when you were still sick, that I give you a title. Court Sorcerer. Morgana will already be High Priestess due to the agreed-upon negotiations but if I can have five advisors just for grains then two magic advisors will be no issue. Perhaps that could make you feel like you’ve made up for what you’ve had to do in your years as Camelot’s protector.”

“That…that might help actually,” Merlin replied, his eyes brightening for a moment before going dull again. “But not right now.”

“Of course, it’s there when you want it. For now, though, I cannot allow you to sulk up here when you’re still unlike yourself. Either you join your friends for a drink or I’ll help you to your chambers.”

“Do I get to keep the guest chambers now?”

“Not the ones next to my room. I dread to think of the night you’re cleared for more strenuous activities.” Merlin gave him a half smile. It felt like years since Arthur had seen him truly grin. Gwaine made him smile, Morgana made him laugh, and the knights and himself made him as content as he could be once upon a time. Yet, he hadn’t grinned in so long. Not since his first few years in Camelot and he couldn’t be blamed for that. 

Arthur, knowing he was selfish and Merlin was far too selfless, felt the need to rectify something. 

“You- You mustn’t stay here if you aren’t happy. I care for you as much as I can care for anyone not connected to me through blood and I know I haven’t shown that but you shouldn’t stick around purely for that. If you want to leave, either because I’ve wronged you or because your destiny is completed, I only ask that you let me give you enough coin for the journey.”

“Camelot is as much of my home as Ealdor and whilst I never needed your permission to leave her, I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Serves me right trying to do the right thing.”

“Who knows, maybe the next time you do the right thing you’ll be rewarded with more,” Merlin replied. “For now though, I suppose you’ll be doing the right thing by taking me to my chambers. As much as I wish I could enjoy the festivities, I’m afraid I don’t quite enjoy the circumstance for which they came about.” Arthur carefully held him by the arm like he was some fragile maiden but the warlock didn’t mention anything about it and led himself be led back inside. “Perhaps, if you’re willing, we could hold festivities again next year? I think a year is long enough for me to come to terms with this.”

“We’ll make it annual. It’s only fair that as a kingdom we continue to hold ourselves accountable no matter how far up we may be.”

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d be humble.”

“I look forward to surprising you further. I mean that Merlin.”

“I know Arthur. Just…give me time.” The king nodded. Although their friendship wasn’t unscathed, he hoped that the open wounds would heal with little scarring. If he didn’t then he had no right to complain since he was the one to inflict them in the first place. “For the record, I care about you too. As much as anyone could care for a prat.”

“You get two more free insults before I start throwing them back at you. Use them wisely.”

“Then I suggest you don’t do much to deserve the insults,” he answered with a soft smile.