Chapter Text
“We shall have made such a blaze that men will remember us on the other side of the dark.”
–Rosemary Sutcliff, “The Sword and the Circle: King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table”
“Please,” Merlin begged the magical creature that stood tall in front of him, blocking the sunlight out of his face.
Merlin was on the verge of losing it all; Arthur was lying by the lake, his last breaths leaving him, and he had no idea what to do. If his magic isn’t enough to save his king, then what is?
“The matters of life and death shall not be meddled with, even by the greatest of sorcerers,” Kilgharrah glanced behind Merlin then back at him.
“He cannot die.” He gritted his teeth, rapidly blinking to hold back his tears, but eventually failing miserably as the droplets rolled down his already wet cheeks. “There’s no point in me living if he dies.”
“Your future holds greater things than you could ever imagine, young warlock,” argued the dragon, ignoring what Merlin said about Arthur.
“I don’t want it!” Merlin shouted, his heart heavy in his chest. “I don’t want a future without Arthur in it.” He didn’t even want to think about it.
He will save Arthur.
“If you don’t do it willingly, I will command you,” said Merlin fiercely.
The dragon gave a defeated sigh, knowing it was no use arguing with his lord. “I may have the power you need to save Arthur, but you must give me your word.” Kilgharrah looked at him cautiously.
“Anything,” Merlin immediately answered, unable to contain his desperation anymore. “I will ask no more favours; you will spend your last days in peace.”
The dragon cackled at Merlin’s words, throwing his head back. “You know that your favours were never of trouble, Merlin. It is not like I ever had the ability to disobey you.” He briefly bowed his head before his expression went serious again.
“Then what is it that you want?” Merlin asked, half puzzled, half irritated. Every second that passed meant that Arthur was a breath closer to death.
“Whatever your decision will be, you must promise me that you will accept the consequences.”
“Whatever it takes, just please, let me save him.” Merlin assured him, however, not giving too much thought to the creature’s words. This was the only way to save Arthur, and he wasn’t going to let this chance slip away from his hands.
The dragon took a deep breath, before he forcefully exhaled it in Merlin’s direction. The young man struggled to keep his feet on the ground from how strong it was. As soon as Kilgharrah was done, he felt stronger, lighter, more capable. His insides buzzed with adrenaline as he looked up at the magical creature, flashing him a look of gratitude.
“Thank you.” Merlin nodded at him.
“Farewell, young warlock.” The dragon said as he spread his wings, and weakly took off, flying away.
Although he and Kilgharrah weren’t always on good terms, Merlin appreciated the times he helped him in; especially this one. He ran back to Arthur, who was now unconscious, which sparked fear inside Merlin. That fear did not last for long though, because as soon as he reached him, Merlin rested his hand on Arthur’s forehead and started performing the spell. He saw a brief flash of golden light through his fingers before it died down again, ending the spell with it. Merlin slowly took his hand off of Arthur and watched him closely, waiting for the blue eyes he had spent years studying every shade of to open, for his chest to rise and fall in a breath of life. He waited for a silly joke from him, a dumb nickname, an insult, anything. He just wanted his friend back.
And it happened.
Arthur’s eyes fluttered open, a confused expression written across his face before he saw Merlin.
“Merlin,” he called, sitting up.
How he had loved how his name sounded coming from Arthur , Merlin thought to himself, relief spreading through him like an elixir reviving him back to life. It was as if his heart had died by the lake with Arthur, and the only magic it needed to beat to life was to hear Arthur’s voice again.
Colour was starting to come back to his face, and his nose was still scrunched up. Merlin knew that Arthur always did that whenever he was confused, disgusted, or terribly angry at him. But right now, he couldn’t decide which one of them it was. It didn’t matter though, as long as he was alive.
Merlin couldn’t help but laugh in joy, tears falling down his cheeks again. “Are you alright? Do you feel anything?” He offered to help Arthur up to his feet, but he shocked Merlin by rejecting his hand of help.
“I’m fine,” he muttered. His eyes looked down at himself, his hand examining where his death wound had been.
“Arthur, are you—” Merlin approached him again, wanting to make sure that he was alright, but Arthur’s hand came up, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t,” he warned in a deep tone. “Stay where you are.”
Merlin stood in his place; apprehension written all over his features. Maybe he needed time to process what happened , he thought. One does not simply die and come back like nothing happened. So, maybe Arthur just needed a little time.
“You did this?” He pointed at the blood that stained his chainmail from his previous injury.
“Yes, I used my magic to save you, Arthur.” Merlin said as a matter of factly, vividly recalling last night.
“Your magic,” Arthur repeated as if the word was new to him then looked up at Merlin, an unreadable expression on his face.
He slowly approached Merlin, drawing his dragon-forged sword as he spoke. “Are you sure, Merlin ,” he drawled in a voice foreign to the sorcerer’s ears, pointing the blade at him, and Merlin felt like he had just lost all the sense in the world the longer Arthur talked, “— that this is the only thing you’ve done?”
Merlin’s eyes glanced down at the sword that was now dangerously close to his chest, barely centimetres away from his frantically beating heart. “Arthur, you already know—”
“It’s Sire , to you, by the way. And don’t you dare lie to me, Merlin.” Arthur gritted his teeth, the point of the sword now touching his chest.
Merlin’s mind went blank; he didn’t know what was happening. After having lived with Arthur for almost half of his life, witnessing him in every light life put him through, Merlin could confidently say that his faith in Arthur could shake mountains, but yet here he was, threatening Merlin’s life right after he got his back. Because of Merlin. He wanted to speak up for himself, he wanted to shout at Arthur, what is wrong with you? What changed your mind? But he couldn’t. All that came out was merely a whisper.
“I thought– I thought you didn’t want me to change…” Arthur let out a cold laugh at what Merlin said, crushing his heart into a million pieces, each of them a sharp shard wounding his insides.
“I almost forgot about the nonsense you used to say all the time, Merlin.”
“Nonsense?” he breathed; feeling his insides twist with pain.
“Now is not the time for your stupidity.” Arthur said in a bored tone.
That was Merlin’s last straw.
“You know what? Maybe I am stupid. I was stupid enough to think that death changed you.” He looked at Arthur with a mixture of disgust and pain in his eyes. “I was stupid enough to think you were any different from your father,” he said in a threateningly calm tone. The words hurt to say, but Merlin knew better than showing that they tore him in every part that had believed in the good in Arthur.
“Is that really what you thought?” Arthur raised his eyebrows, gripping his sword tighter in his hand and stepping closer to Merlin, closing the distance between them.
“Yes,” replied Merlin daringly. He stood still, showing no signs of weakness in any way. Until the two were only separated by the length of Excalibur.
“I think there is something you need to learn, Merlin,” he dug the point of the blade into Merlin’s skin and slowly dragged it to the side, closer to his heart, causing it to create a cut right above it.
“When you speak to your king , you show some respect!” he snapped, shoving Merlin to the ground and pulling away the sword. “And don’t ever think yourself worthy of mentioning father.”
Under any other circumstances, Merlin would have wasted no time in stopping his assailant within the span of a blink of an eye– before they even thought about laying a finger on him. But the man who stood in front of him was no usual opponent. Merlin stared down at the blood that trickled down his skin; tears following. His skin stung where the blade had been, but he was nearly oblivious to it, too consumed in thinking. This is not right , he said to himself. It couldn’t be. That is not Arthur.
Arthur carelessly wiped the tip of his sword clean, looking at it in disgust as if Merlin’s blood was filth before he fixed his gaze back on the young warlock, who sat on his knees, mind spinning in spirals. It wasn’t his wound that hurt, it was everything that was happening. He had longed to hear Arthur’s voice again, to engulf him in a bone-crushing hug and tell him how he would never want to lose him again. But now, as Arthur stood in front of his very own eyes, Merlin couldn’t recognise him. There was something wrong in the way he sounded, the way he moved, the way his bright blue eyes were now overshadowed by a deeper colour.
That is not his Arthur.
“You do know that sorcery is a crime, right?” Arthur casually asked, resting his sword next to him.
“Why, are you going to have me executed?” Merlin asked bitterly.
“So, you’re not that stupid after all.” Arthur smirked. “However,” he looked up at the sky, like he was searching for something. “I could spare your life if you do as I ask.”
Merlin’s eyes looked away, not wanting to look at him. The fresh cut on his chest continued to sting, but he didn’t care. Something deeper than that cut hurt more. He gave no response.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes, sire’.”
“When I was by the lake,” Arthur ignored Merlin’s silence and continued. “I heard you shout in an unknown language. What were you doing?”
“Why does it matter to you?” Merlin spat.
“It’s your life we’re talking about, Merlin. Not mine. So, whether you like it or not, you will answer me, or die a horrible death.” Arthur was bent down, staring him right in the eyes as he spoke. Merlin looked into them, and all he could see was a pair of nightshades ready to poison him. “Your call.” He patted Merlin’s shoulder rather roughly and turned his back to him, walking away.
Merlin still couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Why was Arthur acting like this? He had made it very clear to Merlin that he was prouder than ever of who he was and of everything he had done for him and Camelot. Or was he just saying that because he was dying? The thought made Merlin’s stomach churn.
“I don’t have all day, Merlin.” Arthur snapped.
“I was calling for a dragon.” Merlin finally admitted, his eyes fixed on the grass.
“The Great Dragon?!” Arthur angrily asked. “You’re a Dragonlord and a sorcerer,” he said, as if he had disappointed him in the worst way possible.
His tone nibbled at Merlin’s temper and he looked up at Arthur challengingly as he spoke, “the last Dragonlord.”
“But, Balinor, he—”
“Is my father.” Merlin cut him off, finishing his words for him.
“You…” he watched as all the anger in the world gathered in Arthur’s eyes like dark clouds before a violent storm.
“You had the power to kill that creature and you didn’t! You watched your king get hurt and did nothing!” Each word that left Arthur’s lips felt like a dagger that was thrown at him, because he was wrong. He did everything he could.
“I sent him away! And he never came back as I ordered.” Merlin shot back. He had always hated fighting with Arthur, and this was no usual banter of theirs. This was something way worse.
This was Merlin’s world ending, and it was his own doing.
“But you didn’t kill it.” Arthur frowned in disapproval.
“I can’t.” Merlin shook his head. “It is my duty to protect his kind.”
“Here comes the nonsense again.” Arthur rolled his head back in disinterest.
“He has helped me so many times, Arthur. He helped me bring you back.” Merlin tried to convince him; clinging onto his last hope of making him see sense.
Arthur stood silent for a few minutes, his eyes lingering on his feet. He looked like he was in deep thought, which ignited a spark of hope in Merlin. When he looked back up, he had an air of conviction about him. “Then I suppose I should thank him in person.”
“What?” Merlin asked, yet again surprised.
“You said it yourself. You sent him away, he never did us any harm since then, and he helped you save my life. I owe him just as much as I owe you,” he genuinely said, turning the spark of hope into a flame, the fuel being Arthur’s words.
So, he was right. This was all a misunderstanding, and Arthur just needed some time to wrap his mind around everything that happened. Merlin didn’t care about the wound in his chest, he didn’t care about what Arthur said to him. He just knew that his king could never deliberately hurt him.
“There might be a little trouble, though.” Merlin said, finally getting up to his feet and ignoring the continuous burning in his skin.
“What is it?”
“I told him that I will not disturb him again.” Merlin nervously rubbed the back of his head.
“Oh, come on, Merlin. I’m sure you can do something about that.” Arthur squeezed his shoulder, encouraging him. “Go ahead, summon him.”
Merlin couldn’t help but feel a little relieved at the change of mood in Arthur. A Pendragon thanking the Great Dragon in person for saving their life was worth the call, right? He even stepped back to allow Merlin some comfort space.
Merlin took a deep breath before he screamed the words at the top of his lungs and waited for the creature to arrive. A few seconds later, he saw him floating in the air before he landed right in front of the young sorcerer while Arthur stood a few steps behind, watching closely.
“I see you have achieved your goal, young warlock.” His eyes glanced at Arthur then back at Merlin.
“Yes.” He grinned.
“What is it that you wanted?” asked Kilgharrah.
“Arthur wanted to thank you in person when I told him that you helped me bring him back,” said Merlin proudly.
“I’m sure he does.” Kilgharrah laughed, confusing Merlin.
“What are you—” Merlin paused, his confusion turning into a horrible realisation as he felt cold metal against the back of his neck, causing him to shudder. He didn’t dare turn around. He couldn’t. His nerves, his blood, his bones, even his heart had frozen in pure terror.
He felt Arthur’s hot breath against his ear as he whispered over his shoulder. “Kill it, Dragonlord .”
The words came out like drops of lethal venom, threatening to end Merlin’s heart within moments. He cautiously turned around, his hands trembling at his sides. “What?” he whispered.
“There’s a reason why Father had it imprisoned, Merlin,” Arthur said nonchalantly, now fuelling Merlin’s rising anger.
There it was. The last hope he was clinging to, gone, crumpled like a useless piece of a paper scroll in Arthur’s hand. The darkness and malice he saw earlier in his eyes were clearer than ever. And he was back to referring to the dragon as ‘it’ again. Arthur lied to him, fooled him, and he was stupid enough to believe him. His head was spinning from how many emotions were washing over him as he stood facing Arthur. Anger, pain, betrayal, every vile emotion he had never imagined could be associated with Arthur.
“I won’t kill him,” Merlin finally said.
Arthur laughed a full-hearted laugh, “you would lay down your life for a monster?!”
“The way I see it, the only monster here is you,” Merlin coldly stated. “This is— it can’t be real.” He shook his head.
“It’s your life against his. The choice is yours,” Arthur spat, completely unfazed by Merlin’s previous insult to him as he turned around and walked in the opposite direction, tucking his sword away.
Merlin turned back to the old dragon, not knowing what to do or say.
“Do as your king said, Merlin,” Kilgharrah said.
“No,” Merlin snapped. “He doesn’t get to hurt me like that after I saved him—” he paused, taking a breath. “—this is not the Arthur I knew.” He clamped his jaw shut, a tear sliding down his cheek. He immediately wiped it away, refusing to shed any tears over that— that stranger.
“Whether you like it or not, young warlock, it is Arthur Pendragon,” the dragon confirmed.
“No, it can’t be,” Merlin argued back, still not believing that Arthur would willingly do what he did.
“I’m a thousand years old.” Kilgharrah weakly smiled at him. “I have lived long enough to witness excellence and failure, and you, Emrys, you’re the greatest of the great.”
“I am supposed to protect you, not—” he stopped, trying to voice his words. “Not kill you.”
“I am already dying, young man. You will just put me to rest,” he warmly said.
“I can’t— I can’t do it.” Merlin furiously shook his head.
“You can do anything you set your mind to, Merlin.” He pushed, but Merlin couldn’t see himself doing it.
“Remember the promise you made.” Kilgharrah warned, looking down closely at him.
Merlin stood silent; his fists curled on either side of him. He hated everything that was happening. He hated the situation he was left in. He was supposed to choose between his life and the life of a creature he has sworn to protect? And by Arthur? It didn’t make sense. Nothing did anymore. Ever since he and Kilgharrah’s paths crossed together, he has been walking around carrying the weight of his destiny on his shoulders. A destiny that has never felt heavier than right now.
Merlin had long learnt that his gifts were given to him for a purpose, and later he had found out that this purpose was to protect Arthur at all costs. Since then, his uses of magic were always for Arthur; he had barely used it for his own benefit. Never would he have imagined that there would come a day, and he would use it against Arthur. Merlin wouldn’t have dared hurt him, but Arthur wasn’t doing exactly the same right now.
“You said that I’d have to accept the consequences of my decision, but I didn’t promise not to fight them,” Merlin sternly said. He watched as the creature’s expression turned to a pitiful one, but he ignored it.
“I command you to leave,” he quietly said.
“I’m forever indebted to you, Emrys.” The dragon briefly bowed his head, acknowledging Merlin’s mercy on him before spreading his wings and flying away from Merlin for the last time.
Merlin then turned back and his eyes landed on Arthur who was fixing the saddle on his horse until he noticed the sudden wind, signalling Kilgharrah’s departure. His eyes burned at Merlin’s from afar as he neared him. He stormed his way towards Merlin, his neck veins showing from how angry he seemed.
“Out of all the stupid things you have done, Merlin,” Arthur started, pointing at the sky. “This was by far, the stupidest of them all.” He smirked, crossing his arms over his armour-covered chest.
“And what you’re doing is smart?” Merlin grimaced.
“I’m doing the right thing. The one thing I couldn’t do earlier,” he said, referring to when Merlin told him about his magic last night.
“And killing me is the right thing to do...?” Merlin breathed, dreading the words that he was going to hear.
“By the looks of it, yes,” Arthur confirmed, triggering the last ounce of patience Merlin had.
“I saved your life!” Merlin shouted in anger.
“And I would have rather died than be saved by a sorcerer ,” replied Arthur dryly.
Merlin scoffed, trying not to bitterly laugh at what Arthur said.
At this point, he was done trying to find excuses for what Arthur was doing. He was done trying not to fight for what was left of his dignity. He did not deserve any of what has happened to him so far, and he had a right to stand up for himself, even if that meant fighting Arthur with the same weapon he was using.
“Are you really that oblivious?”
Arthur furrowed his brows. “To what exactly?”
Merlin looked down and shook his head. He doesn’t know . He doesn’t know that all the times he had miraculously survived something, it had been magic. He doesn’t know that his own father, the man who killed thousands of Merlin's people, turned to magic when he was at his weakest. He doesn’t know that Morgause wasn’t lying that day, and Merlin was just trying to protect him like he always did. He doesn’t know that Merlin could have rejoiced in the death of the man who annihilated sorcerers in Camelot, but he still chose to spare Arthur instead.
“To the fact that your whole existence depends on magic, Arthur,” Merlin held his chin high as he spoke.
“What are you saying?” Arthur seethed, taking a couple of steps in Merlin’s direction.
“Guess daddy’s little secret is no longer a secret, now,” he mocked, watching Arthur’s blood boil.
“Choose your words carefully, Merlin ,” Arthur warned, his tone low.
“Or what?” he challenged.
“Or I’ll kill you.” He raised his eyebrows, reminding him once again that he would easily do it.
“But you haven’t heard me out yet,” Merlin casually replied.
“Why should I?”
“Because you deserve to know the truth.”
“Really.” Arthur narrowed his eyes impatiently, hinting that he was far from interested in any word Merlin had just said. “And what ‘truth’, have you, saint Merlin, chose to bless me with?”
“That day, when Morgause let you see your mother, she wasn’t lying.” Merlin blurted out.
“Liar,” Arthur retorted, his jaw clenched. “My father would never do that,” he said, immediately catching onto what Merlin was trying to remind him of.
“But he did, and you cannot deny it.” Merlin’s eyes glanced at his hand that was gripping the hilt of his sword, before he looked back up at the fuming Arthur in front of him.
“ Everything you are today, everything you have achieved in your life is all because of magic, Arthur Pendragon. You cannot escape who you are,” he finally said, stepping back but still holding a straight face.
Now that Uther was dead, and Arthur would not try to kill him for doing this to him, it was almost the perfect chance to break to him that he was indeed born out of magic. Almost.
Merlin watched as Arthur drew his sword, holding it with ease as his eyes darted to Merlin. “You are a dead man,” he spoke, his tone filled with untamed rage.
“You don’t want to do this.” Merlin shook his head.
“I have never wanted anything more.” Arthur swung his sword in the air, signalling that he was about to strike.
Merlin’s hands twitched by his sides; a tingling sensation starting to build up in them.
“You don’t stand a chance,” Merlin warned once again, feeling his energy rise with every stride Arthur took towards him.
“It seems to me that you have forgotten that I’ve been trained to kill, since birth, Merlin,” Arthur proudly remarked, waving his sword once again before he raised his arm above his head and aimed at Merlin.
“And you forgot that I can take you apart with less than one blow,” replied Merlin before he pushed his hand into the air, bright flares of orange peeking through his fingers and causing Arthur to stop in his tracks and fall to the ground unconscious, his sword following suit. His body lay limp, his eyes closed, shielding his rage and hatred filled eyes that stared into Merlin’s seconds before he knocked him out.
Merlin wasted no time and dragged his body across the field of green to where their horses were. The spell he casted was enough to knock Arthur out for a few hours, long enough for them to reach Camelot while he was still unconscious. He heaved Arthur up onto his horse and hopped onto his own, heading back to the kingdom. Throughout the ride, Merlin couldn’t help but replay all what had happened in the past two days in his mind. Morgana’s death, Mordred’s death, Arthur’s death , and then… this . He still couldn’t believe that Arthur, his Arthur , would do this to him. Did he really hate him this much? Was he really showing Merlin empathy just because he was the one who needed it when he knew he was leaving this life?
Merlin pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind and didn’t let them cloud his already distorted mind, because the person who laid on the horse behind him wasn’t Arthur; that was just a vessel, and Merlin was almost sure that Arthur’s phantom was trapped somewhere in there screaming for help. Hours later, as Merlin had assumed, they arrived at Camelot. Arthur was taken to his chambers and well taken care of, while Merlin rushed to meet the only person who could help him the most right now. He busted the doors to his chambers open and saw the old man jump at the sudden sound.
“Merlin!” he sighed in relief, joy dancing in his eyes.
“Gaius,” Merlin breathed, a grin forming on his lips at the sight of his mentor.
Gaius engulfed him in a hug and rubbed is hand up and down his back, showing how relieved he was to see him again.
“What happened to you?” He pulled away, his eyes observing his appearance.
“Long story.” Merlin sighed.
Gaius gestured for him to sit down so that he could examine him, while Merlin told him everything.
“You did the right thing, Merlin.” Gaius assured, after Merlin was done.
“I’m not really sure about that,” Merlin bitterly joked. His eyes stared at Gaius’s hands while he cleaned his wound. “You should have seen him, Gaius.”
He covered the injured spot on Merlin’s chest with a piece of gauze before looking back intently at him, his brows knit together in deep thought while Merlin continued. “The person who did this is not Arthur. I know it.” He shook his head. “Arthur would never hurt me.”
“But he did, Merlin,” Gaius responded, sadness latched onto his voice. “And you, out of all people, know that Arthur’s sword is no mortal blade, this will take time to heal.”
“I don’t care,” Merlin replied, his gaze fixed on his feet. “Nothing about what I told you makes sense, Gaius,” he insisted.
“Perhaps, it is a downside to the spell you used to revive him,” Gaius stated.
“That’s the only logical explanation at this point.” Merlin pursed his lips in thought.
“I assume what Arthur is experiencing is temporary, and he should be back to his senses when he wakes up,” he concluded. “How long has he been out?”
“Hours,” Merlin said. “I knocked him out just in time.” Before he could have killed me , he mentally added.
“I’m sorry, Merlin.” Gaius patted his knee.
Heavy silence fell between them before Merlin was startled by the doors opening, revealing two of Arthur’s guards.
“The King wants to see you,” one of them announced.
—
Merlin abandons him right before they leave for Camlann.
Him waking up in the middle of the night to go to war.
Him fighting Morgana’s men on his own.
Him being helped by a mysterious sorcerer in the middle of the battle.
Him being stabbed by Mordred.
Him dying..
His body jerked awake, his hands frantically feeling over where he was hurt, finding nothing. He glanced around him, and found that he was no longer by the lake. He was in his own bed, covered in his usual clothes. No one was in sight. He was all alone. His mind went back to the memories that forced him out of his sleep.
Bright purple light flashed before him along with the booming sound of thunder that accompanied it, echoing in his ears. The image of the unknown helper could not leave his mind. He remembers the man’s skinny figure, he remembers seeing his long hair swaying with the wind as he stood in the far distance. Arthur could not remember his face, but something about that man’s appearance felt familiar. It was like he had seen him before, but he couldn’t remember when or where.
He sat upright in his bed and recalled everything that happened before he woke up here.
Merlin.
—
Merlin and Gaius made their way to Arthur’s chambers together. The guards opened the doors for them, and Merlin stepped in first. He found Arthur resting in his bed, shooting both Gaius and Merlin a soft smile. His face was no longer covered in dirt, and he was no longer weighed down by his armour. He was wearing a white tunic that hugged his masculine form, fitting him perfectly.
“Come in, Gaius.” Arthur gestured for him to follow Merlin into the room.
“It’s good to have you back, sire,” Gaius greeted respectfully, before he shot Merlin a ‘I told you so’ look.
Gaius approached Arthur to check up on him once again, and after he was done, Merlin heard Arthur mumble a ‘thank you’ to the physician.
“If you will excuse me, now, sire.” Gaius nodded, squeezing Merlin’s shoulder in assurance on his way out.
Merlin stood a few feet away from Arthur’s bed with a sceptical look on his face. He was completely taken aback by the once again sudden change in Arthur’s behaviour. Is he pretending again? Merlin couldn’t help but wonder, but his thoughts were interrupted too soon.
“I understand if you don’t want to come any closer,” Arthur said, looking down at his hands.
Merlin gulped, dreading the whole conversation he was about to have with him. He stepped a bit closer, allowing himself a better look at Arthur’s features. He looked tired but well. His hair was a pale gold crown over his head in the candle lit chambers.
“I don’t know what took over me, I shouldn’t have attacked you like that, I—I’m so sorry, Merlin.” Arthur looked up at him, and Merlin’s heart shattered at the sight.
His eyes were brimmed with red, tears pooling in them. His cheeks were flushed, signalling that he was trying not to cry. Merlin’s hands slightly shook behind his back, scared, hurt, confused. He wants to believe him. He desperately wants to, but the last time he did that, things didn’t go quite well.
“Merlin, say something,” said Arthur after Merlin had been a little too quiet. “You don’t believe me, do you?” A tear streamed down his cheek.
“I want to believe you, Arthur. More than anything.” Merlin fought back his own tears as he spoke.
There was only one way to find out.
“Do you remember what I did to prove to you that I’m a—”
“Yes,” he replied immediately, a smile breaking through his pained expression. “I remember. It was one of the many beautiful things you had done with your magic.” Merlin watched as a saddened look washed over his face. “I just didn’t realise it back then.”
“What else—”
Arthur held up one hand, stopping Merlin. “I just want you to know that,” he took a deep breath. “I am not my father, Merlin. I know that this is quite hard to believe at the moment, but I can assure you, that you never have to live in fear again.”
“What you did, letting the dragon go, in honour of your father.” Arthur continued. “That was brave, Merlin.”
And that was it. That was all it took for Merlin to crumble like a leaf by Arthur’s side onto the bed. His lips were parted in a silly grin, tears filling his eyes. He felt like he had been standing on the edge of a cliff, and hearing Arthur’s words now was a pair of hands miraculously pulling him back and bringing him back home to safety
“I’m so sorry I put you through all of that,” he apologised once more.
Merlin shook his head, not caring about anything else other than the fact that Arthur was back. “I thought I’d lost you.” He sniffed.
“Thought you could get rid of me that easily, Merlin?” His face matched Merlin’s with a full smile.
“You? The Royal Prat of Camelot? I think not.” Merlin shook his head in refusal, earning a laugh from Arthur. The sound was a familiar melody played after years of deadly silence to Merlin’s ears.
Arthur’s laughter died down, leaving him with a soft look that gazed back at Merlin. This was everything, Arthur safe and back as himself again. He didn’t want to remember what happened today, he didn’t want to use his magic against Arthur again, he just wanted peace. Merlin broke their eye contact, looking down at his red tunic.
“I, uh, I will leave you to rest.” Merlin shortly nodded, standing up.
Arthur startled him by grabbing his hand. “Thank you, Merlin.” He shot up a smile at him.
Merlin placed his hand over Arthur’s and softly patted it, smiling back at him. His grip then loosened around Merlin’s hand, allowing him to leave. He reached out to open the door, glancing once more at Arthur who stared back at him with the same warm look.
Merlin stepped out of the room, and hell broke loose.