Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What happened to Camelot, old friend?”

Uther sighed, raising his gaze and looking his oldest ally in the eyes.

Godwyn had always been there when Uther needed help, and when the fate of Camelot seemed to be sealed, Uther and his best knights travelled to his friend’s kingdom. 

He had no other choice, Uther was well aware of that. The evil magic had run its course, and his land had suffered.

Godwyn wouldn’t ever turn his back on Uther in a time like that, even more so when his son and ward were with him, seeking protection.

He was sure that he would find a safe place for himself and those closest to him. 

“Camelot was cursed, Godwyn.” Uther spoke, his voice low and firm. “This sorcerer, this enemy, decided that my kingdom was too strong, and he destroyed it. He dried up our wells, cursed our fields. The harvest yielded nothing, and without rations for all of them, my people ... ”

“What? What happened to them, Uther?” Godwyn asked, his expression turned to concern for the fate of all those innocents. “Did they manage to survive?”

“They starved. There wasn’t enough food. I sent the survivors to other kingdoms, where they could find supplies and safe homes,” Uther said, looking into Godwyn’s eyes. “But…I couldn’t trust anyone but you with my safety.”

“I know, Uther. You are a powerful king, and others might see this as an occasion to put an end to your rule.” Godwyn shook his head. “Rest here. Have a safe place to call home again.” He smiled. “Maybe, with this, you could use this opportunity to spend more time with Arthur and Morgana.”

Uther nodded, looking at the end of the room, where his children were talking with Princess Elena, Godwyn’s daughter.

“I think you are right, old friend. I might as well spend this time with my children.”

*** 

A successful hunt was always a reason for celebration in Uther’s opinion.

They allowed him to remind his people and knights why he was their king, especially at a time when his kingdom seemed to always be under attack from magical threats, with sorcerers looking to oust him from his rightful role as their ruler.

Uther would never allow it.

So, at that moment, he was ordering his men to set a trap for the beast they had been tracking and decided to kill.

It would make a great feast for the evening.

Dismounting from his horse, Uther took his crossbow, positioning himself so as to take aim.

And then, his heart skipped a beat.

In front of him stood the best prey he could’ve hoped for: a magical creature.

The beast was as white as the cold winter, standing out on the green clearing like a ghost. White as the walking dead, a being unworthy of life itself, wandering through his forest, as if that beast thought it had the right to do so, as if that thing could ever possess it.

As if that monster deserved to breathe while his Ygraine no longer did. 

He took aim as he breathed in and, once he was sure of hitting the foul creature, he fired the shot.

With a smile, Uther basked in  the praise and admiration of his subordinates.

This was another victory for the people of Camelot in the fight against magic.

***

In the chambers Godwyn had given the king, Uther shook his head, pacing the room as he contemplated everything that had happened, the memories still fresh in his mind, forcing their way to the forefront of his thoughts, even after all these years.

Gaius had not followed him on his journey, claiming that Camelot's fate could have been avoided if Uther had not killed the unicorn, or if he had felt some regret for its death. Gaius was wrong.

Uther's greatest prize was certainly not the reason Camelot had fallen.

Uther was certainly not the reason Camelot had fallen.

There was a knock on the door, and Uther forgot all his thoughts about traitors and sorcerers.

He granted entry with a firm, "Come in."

One of Godwyn's servants accompanied Arthur into the room.

Uther looked at his son, taking note of his bunched shoulders and strange curl of his lips, a grimace of weakness . His whole posture was tense, and it was clear that Arthur needed far more time to grow before he would be ready to face the intricacies of court life, as prone to wearing his heart on his sleeve as he was. 

"Father." Arthur bowed his head, showing deference to his father, just as he had been taught.

Uther allowed himself a brief smile; despite the deception that Nimueh had woven, and the pain she had caused, Uther would never regret Arthur's birth.

He may still be young, but Uther knew that Arthur was a worthy heir and a fine warrior, and that when the evil sorcerer, Anhora , was slain, he would someday make a worthy king.

Uther knew though that Arthur had too fragile a heart to be king. 

He wasn't ready, not yet. 

"Arthur, sit down." Uther gestured to the chair. “You said you wanted to talk to me?”

"Yes, father, it concerns Camelot."

Uther nodded, showing that he was listening to the boy.

Arthur took a deep breath, then spoke. "Father, not all of the people have left our kingdom, and some are not able to, and the land can no longer provide for them. The curse has robbed them of their livelihood. They will have nothing left, if we don't do something for them. Let me travel to Camelot, father, I will find the sorcerer and slay him, and free our lands, to save our people.”

Uther observed his son's posture. His hands were shaking, his breathing was fast and harried.

He was not strong, not sure of himself. 

Not ready.

"Arthur, the citizens were warned of the difficulties that would arise if they remained. It is their choice to stay there, we can do nothing for them And I cannot risk you, Arthur, for something dangerous and useless like this trip. You are my only son and heir."

Arthur opened his mouth to speak again, but Uther had no intention of hearing anything else.

"That is enough, Arthur. We are guests in the kingdom of Gawant and you will no longer talk about such nonsense, like leaving to rule a ruined land. We will discuss what to do about Camelot in the future, when we have enough support from the other kings and when my power is no longer under such scrutiny."

"But, Father—"

"I said, enough!" Uther exclaimed, staring steadily at his son. "You will not question my orders, Arthur. Stop bothering me with these kinds of fanciful requests. Now, you may return to your rooms and continue your studies. I do not wish to be disturbed until tomorrow morning."

"Yes, My Lord. I apologise for overstepping." Arthur bowed to his father once more before leaving the room, head lowered and gait shuffling.

Uther glanced towards the balcony, sighing wearily.

If only Gaius had helped him find Anhora when he requested it; Uther’s land would be flourishing, and his kingdom would still be the most powerful in the realm. 

Instead, his glorious kingdom was now a deserted wasteland, its people sick and dying, its inhabitants all fled, and its plants and fauna wilted and rotting.

Anhora had struck a heavy blow, but Uther had promised long ago to eradicate his kind from the soil of Camelot. 

And that was a promise he had every intention of keeping.

***

Arthur didn't quite remember what it was like before .

He didn't remember what the fields of flourishing flora had smelled like when he galloped through them, how the water would be drawn up from the city's well everyday, what the castles' walls would look like when they would glisten in the fading sunset, or what sounds the bustling courtyard would produce in the summer.

He didn't remember what it meant to see a populace happy and proud to be Camelot’s citizens, her people.

He didn't remember what it meant to not be constantly afraid and grief-wracked inside.

Arthur wished he did remember, and sometimes, it seemed he almost could.

He thought he had some blurry memory of a time before , of a time when being Uther Pendragon's son filled him with pride, not guilt and shame.

Yet these days, he only felt disappointment in the man who was supposed to be his father, his idol, his king. 

They had run to an ally with their tails between their legs, forgetting about their subjects in less than a heartbeat.

Arthur had entered his father's chambers full of hope, sure that he could convince his father to let him go find a way to try and save Camelot.

Uther would never put his own life on the line, not even to save their people, their kingdom, but he would gladly sacrifice the lives of their allies and so-called friends, the people who had offered them shelter in their time of need.

He wasn't even willing to let Arthur go and try to make things right, too concerned with his own selfish desires.

Entering his room, Arthur wasn't surprised to see Morgana lurking there, waiting for him.

“I am not in the mood to be scolded by you right now.”

"I'm not here to scold you, Arthur," Morgana chided gently, "only to offer comfort and advice."

"There's nothing for you to say. My father denied my request. There's nothing you can do."

“And yet, I think there is” Morgana looked at the blond with a raised eyebrow. "Otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed," Arthur murmured, “They are our people, people we swore to protect, who are now in danger because of our mistakes.”

Morgana smiled, her eyes shining as she looked at the man she always saw as her brother, something encouraging in her face. “Then do something about it.”

"How? My father’s already denied my request." Arthur sighed, as disappointment in the man he had always admired, as a father and as a king, threatened to overwhelm him.

"And? Will this stop you from doing what you think is right?” Morgana raised an eyebrow at the prince, who sighed.

“I can't do anything, Morgana; his word is law . And I will be the future king of…the future king. I cannot afford to die."

“And what kind of king would the people want? One who does what his father says, or someone who makes the right choice, and saves his citizens?”

Arthur stared at Morgana. “This is not a journey I can undertake alone. And,” Arthur raised a hand, stopping her from speaking, “You can't come with me. I don't know what kind of dangers I will encounter, and I don't want to put you at risk.”

"I expected that." Morgana smirked, picking up Arthur’s sword and  handing it to Arthur. “And I won't try to go with you. Gwen and I will hide your departure as best as we can from Uther. Leon will accompany you.”

Arthur blinked, staring at Morgana, before looking down at the sword she was offering him.

“Arthur, you will be a great king. Follow your heart and you will always remain true to yourself." Morgana smiled. “And you know that Leon is a loyal friend and an invaluable fighter, he would follow you no matter what.”

"I know." Arthur nodded. "I trust him." Then, taking the sword: “And I trust you .”

Morgana nodded, bowing to the prince as she would to a king. Like she never did for Uther and like Arthur knew she wouldn’t do for anybody else. “Good luck, Arthur, I wish you the best.”

“And you, Morgana.”

Arthur smiled at her, sheathing his sword and heading towards the stables, sure he would find Leon already there.

Indeed, not disappointing Arthur's expectations, Leon was waiting for him with two horses already prepared for the long journey and some supplies placed in satchels.

“Leon, you do know that we are disobeying my father's orders by doing this?”

“I know, sire.” Leon bowed his head. “But I am with you, my lord.”

“Please, Leon, I've told you before, call me Arthur.” Arthur mounted his horse, Leon immediately following suit.

“Where are we travelling to, sire?”

“Camelot.” Arthur announced, no doubt in his voice. “We shall return to Camelot.”

With a firm nod to his friend, Arthur commanded his horse to depart, shortly followed by Leon's, knowing that, sooner or later, the truth about the fate of his kingdom would become known.

Sooner or later, he would find out what had happened to his home.

***

From a very young age, Merlin had known he was different.

Bizarre was really the best way to describe him.

The other children would go hunting with their fathers, but Merlin would only feel transfixed every time an animal died.

The other children ran around and played in the village, learning from their parents how to cook and clean and provide for their families while Merlin only had his mother, and nobody to play with.

The other children, when faced with snarling beasts and bloodthirsty bandits, screamed and ran. But Merlin's eyes would turn golden, and very often he was the reason for such causes of fear disappearing.

The other children were praised for everything they did, while Merlin was scolded if he didn't hide who he was.

In the beginning, Merlin hadn't realised he was different from them.

Hiding when merchants from other kingdoms passed through had always seemed like a game he and his mother played. Until Merlin noticed that the other children could run freely in the streets and even talk to them, laugh at their stories with eyes shining, but not with golden light.

Being with his mother all the time was fun, but Merlin always felt a kind of feverish anxiety from the woman, a kind of tension that never ended, as if she was waiting for something. For some disaster to occur.

But, if he was being honest, the moment he realised something was wrong was when his uncle arrived.

Uncle Gaius had followed one of his friends into war, his mother had explained to him one evening, while she was explaining the man's return home. He had been very brave and had made many sacrifices. But then, he discovered that the friend he thought he had known and had followed and the king that man had become were two very different people.

His conscience had reached a limit.

Merlin hadn't understood everything his mother had said, but Gaius had joined them, and Merlin's little family had grown.

The man was very cultured, previously having been a court physician, and he had taught Merlin to count, to read, to write, and to practise the art of healing. A few weeks into Gaius' stay, excited to continue his studies, Merlin had levitated a stack of books into his hands. Gaius' expression had frozen, as a look was exchanged between the two adults, and, later that night, a whispered conversation.

“He has magic, Gaius!” His mother looked terrified, worn out and tired. "He…I fear for him.”

“I know, Hunith.” Gaius' voice seemed comforting, but Merlin could tell the older man was scared too. “The only comfort I can offer you is that Uther is no longer actively hunting down those with magic, preoccupied as he is with his and his kingdom's survival. Merlin will be safe, for now.”

“I worry that what happened in Camelot will make him even more of a target. If anybody catches him, they are far more likely to fear and report him. Now that word of the curse has reached us, people here are more wary of sorcery than ever.” Hunith said, her voice cracking. “I cannot lose my son, Gaius, not my Merlin.”

They fell quiet then, their voices lowering when they continued to talk. But his mother's sobs and his uncle's hushed words kept Merlin awake for the rest of the night.

***

Merlin was sitting by the stream.

This was not an unusual activity. He had left the house early this morning with the excuse of wanting to learn to recognise the plants Gaius was teaching him firsthand. The young boy had run away towards the nearby woods, walking without thinking about the direction he was taking, letting his feet lead him through the foliage, sure that his strangeness , his weird and unnatural feelings, would lead him home.

They always did.

Merlin sat, tired, sad, and hurt, all alone, feeling broken inside in a way that couldn't be healed by anyone.

Not even by himself.

He felt helpless.

He had always known, at least on a subconscious level, that he wasn't normal. That he was strange and different and dangerous.

The other children did not have golden eyes, they did not cause logs to burst into flame when they were angry, they did not have books and cutlery and other objects jumping eagerly into their hands, and they did not feel so deeply connected with nature as he did. They couldn’t feel each individual blade of grass whispering in the wind, couldn’t sense when a storm or sunny skies were approaching, they never heard the wind whispering secrets or the trees giggling and gossiping. They didn't attract animals, didn’t have foxes or squirrels or fey-kind approaching them in the woods. Merlin had always experienced these things, and he pondered how the others could live lives so void of such wonder as he watched a young deer approach, cautiously nuzzling against Merlin’s hand.

The other children were loud, not still and quiet like Merlin. They were obnoxious and playful and ever-so-charming. The other children were not instructed to be afraid, they weren’t made to hide away when visitors and knights came round, yet Merlin was.

Why him?

Why was Merlin so strange and abnormal that the other villagers shunned him, turned blind eyes when their children hurled stones and cruel words, whispered insults about him and Hunith when they thought they weren't listening. Why was Merlin so different that he was made to hide who he was, for fear of being hated more than he already was?

Did he not deserve a childhood?

Was it his fault, a little voice in his mind wondered, that his father had left them? Had he foreseen the danger that his son would bring and run away because of it, forcing Hunith to bear the burden of raising Merlin on her own?

Merlin shook his head, then, curling up and hugging his legs tight to his chest, rested it on his raised knees.

It was all his fault.

His mother's fear,  their neighbours' suspicions, the other children’s disgust, the constantly looming threat that both Uther’s and Cenred’s laws posed.

All because of him.

Merlin stayed like that for a while, wallowing in his sadness, feeling exhausted.

He was beginning to feel increasingly saddened, and at first, Merlin had thought that it was due to the knowledge that he was a danger to the most important person in the world for him. He soon realised however that the pain was not his.

It was a reflection of the world around him.

Swallowing nervously, Merlin stood up and headed towards where the feelings of fatigue, emptiness, and pain that he perceived were coming from.

As he continued to walk through the forest, the vibrant green grass slowly dried up, becoming more and more withered the further he walked. The trees lost their leaves, becoming barren and displaying sickly-looking colourings of ashy grey and rotted brown. Herbs and flowers normally seen in the ground were being strangled by weeds, and normally lush berry bushes had been overtaken by thorns.

Merlin shook his head, trying to get rid of what felt like a cloud fogging up his mind, making him feel sluggish and ill.

The land was dying, struggling to try to produce something, but failing. Merlin could see that some plants still grew, although they were vastly different from the kinds of flora which normally flourished, but he could also feel that the land itself was calling out to him, seemingly in anguish as it struggled to remain healthy.

He reached out, his breath slowing to a calm pace as he released the energy which he could always feel within himself into the earth.

A soft smile grew on Merlin’s face as he realised that the earth, at least in the area surrounding him, seemed healthier. It was more vibrant now, less ruined, less dead. The blades of grass had turned green again, colour bleeding back into them, and it seemed like a fresh rainfall had blessed the parched ground, rejuvenating it and turning the earth damp.

"What are you doing?"

Merlin jumped, recoiling at the sight of the shocked gaze of a boy from Ealdor.

With a start, he recognized the boy. It was William; the son of the local lord, a sort of Prince of Ealdor, if one wanted to be precise. His father was a knight in Cenred's army, and had been away for many years fighting the king's wars.

A brave and loyal man, who absolutely terrified Merlin.

If William’s father discovered his strangeness, Merlin had no doubt that he would be brought before King Cenred and sold to him as a slave.

Some stories had reached Ealdor as well, after all.

“I—nothing, I wasn't doing anything!” Merlin stepped back fearfully, but William had grabbed his arm, preventing him from retreating.

"Careful!" William snapped, looking at the ground.

Merlin looked down, realising that the boy had saved him from an embarrassing, and most likely painful, fall.

"Thank you." Merlin scratched the back of his neck nervously, smiling sheepishly at the other boy.

“What did you do to the land?” William asked, looking down at the patch of grass that held renewed vibrancy and life. “Did you use magic?” He whispered, almost fearfully.

Merlin shook his head, his mother’s warnings ringing in his mind. “No! I can’t do magic! I—I’m not a sorcerer!”

But William didn’t seem horrified or scared by Merlin. He seemed curious. “Did you—did you heal it?”

Merlin eyed William suspiciously, feeling scared as he asked. “Are you going to tell anyone?”

“No! I swear, I won't. Merlin, I swear, you can trust me!” The boy's promises reassured Merlin, and he felt his racing heart start to calm down as he glanced at William, debating the answer to the other's question. "No, I didn't. I don’t think I can either. Not completely. There's something blocking life from growing here. I can feel it.”

“Oh. You can feel the nature around us? The plants? The animals? Can you sense insects?” 

Merlin nodded. "I can. Why?"

“I just wondered…what it's like. What’s it like when it speaks to you? What is it saying?” William motioned to the clearing behind Merlin. Indicating the barren, ruined area. The lifeless land. “What happened here? What’s happening to it?”

"She's hurt. I don’t know why, but I can hear her crying," Merlin whispered back. “She's desperate and desolate and has no one left on her side.”

"Is that how you feel?" William asked, and Merlin sighed.

"Perhaps. I don’t know."

"Well, now you have me," William proclaimed. “I won't say anything about you, not my father or anyone else. You're not dangerous. And I won’t sell you out to Cenred, I don’t like him. I don’t trust him."

Merlin smiled. "Thank you. I’m sure you’d rather hang out with someone else though.  I don't have many friends.”

"Me neither!" William smiled, a crooked kind of grin that looked so natural on him, lighting up his face in a childlike way. “We can be friendless together!”

Merlin giggled, the tension easing away. “Maybe we can.”

***

From that moment on, Merlin and Will became inseparable.

Two best friends, two peas in a pod, always ready to get into trouble and seek new adventures together.

Merlin had grown up fearing his gifts, knowing how risky it was for him to just exist, but Will made it all too easy to forget his mother’s warnings. Together, they took to playing in the woods, using Merlin’s magic to muck abound and fool around.

Until something happened—something dangerous and deadly.

Bandits had come to Ealdor and, spying the two boys alone in a forest clearing, had thought to use them to locate the village so they could threaten its inhabitants and steal their grain.

Merlin, gripped by fear, released his magic, allowing the power within him to lash out. Golden light spilled out of the young boy, blowing the bandits off their feet and saving Will from being impaled on a nasty looking sword. Distracted with Will and his magic, Merlin did not notice that one of the bandits had gotten up and was creeping up behind him, axe held menacingly above his head.

"Merlin !"

Too late, the boy turned, gasping as he realised that he would never again see his mother.

He closed his eyes, flinching in anticipation of the end, but the pain he was awaiting never came.

Confused, and hopeful, Merlin opened his eyes, gasping when he saw a man before him.

His hazel eyes were full of concern as he looked at Merlin. His hair, brown and slightly wavy, was soiled with blood and grime. He was wearing simple clothes, not too different from the style of the ones Will owned.

Merlin took a deep breath, the realisation that he had almost died filling him with a strange mixture of dread and relief.

"Are you okay, kid?"

Merlin wrinkled his nose. He didn't appreciate being referred to as a child. He wasn't that small, he was fourteen, for heaven's sake.

Will had approached in the meantime, grasping Merlin in a concerned embrace.

"Are you okay?"

Merlin nodded slowly, before addressing the stranger. "You saved my life. Thank you."

"It was nothing." The man shrugged abashedly. “Normally, I would have tried to resolve the conflict without violence, but… I couldn’t just stand by and let you get hurt, and I had my own reasons for being insulted by these particular men.” He then glanced appraisingly at Merlin. "Be careful, child. What you did… it will get you into trouble if you are caught."

"What? I didn’t do anything!" Merlin played dumb, fidgeting nervously and clinging on to the vague hope that he would be able to confuse the man before him.

"You know very well what you did," the other murmured. "But I will not turn you in. My younger brother had the same gift as you, I know it's not as evil as they would lead you to believe." He smiled kindly. "My name is Lancelot, what is yours?"

"I’m Merlin," Merlin introduced himself. "And this is my friend Will. Thank you for saving me just now, you were very good, where did you learn to fight like that?”

“Here-and-there,” Lancelot explained, “I have learned much on my travels across Albion, making my way by fighting and lending help where it is needed."

Then, Lancelot glanced around the clearing. "Do you mind leading me to your village? It is getting quite dark, and I’d rather not still be here in case this lot," he motioned to the bandits on the ground, “have backup on the way.”

Merlin nodded. "Of course, I’ll show you the way. You can stay the night at my house, it’s the least I can do after you saved my life. My mother and uncle would gladly welcome you."

****

Will had left them once they reached Ealdor, bidding them goodbye and heading back to his house, eyeing Lancelot distrustfully as he left.

Merlin watched the man sit without discomfort or disgust on the dirty bench in front of the ruined table, his willingness to do so convincing Merlin more than anything that Lancelot did not come from a wealthy background. He was not a knight or nobleman of any sort.

"What brings you to Ealdor?" Merlin asked.

"Hope for the future… and revenge." Lancelot said. "Those bandits, they attacked my village. My family…" Lancelot trailed off and Merlin belatedly realised that the man had used the past tense when he had referred to his younger brother earlier.

He remained silent, knowing well the pain of loss. After all, he had never met his father, the only memory Merlin had of him was  merely a vague sense of comfort, a sort of link to the man he never knew, something that he couldn’t really understand, but that made his heart ache with longing whenever he noticed it.

Lancelot gave him a grateful smile, before saying, "I am simply a traveller journeying east. I hope to someday join the knights of Camelot."

Merlin grimaced. He knew only two things about Camelot; its king was a tyrant and a danger to Merlin, and his uncle, Gaius, came from there.

"I don't understand. You are already in Cenred’s kingdom. Why don’t you aim to join his knights instead? Why travel all the way to Camelot?" Merlin murmured.

"Cenred has no honour. Ever since I was a child I've dreamed of going there. It is my life's ambition to join their ranks." Lancelot replied. "I am not noble by birth, and I know that the knight’s code would normally prevent me from becoming a knight, but the current situation Camelot finds itself in would likely allow me to become one."

“What current situation?” Merlin asked quickly. “Is it about the pain of the earth?”

Lancelot nodded. "A few months ago, Camelot was subjected to a terrible curse by a powerful and evil sorcerer. King Uther has granted the prize of knighthood and riches to anyone who can save his kingdom."

An idea sparked in Merlin’s mind. This could be his opportunity to stop the pain that the world kept showing him, this could be something good he could use his magic for.

"I could come with you!" Merlin exclaimed. “You can't beat magic without magic, I could help you save the land!”

"It would be very dangerous." Lancelot looked at Merlin with narrowed eyes. "How old are you?" As Merlin stalled, trying to come up with a suitable age that the man would believe, Lancelot smiled. "And don't you think about lying to me. I had a younger brother, I know when kids like you are lying."

"Right." Merlin sighed. "I’m fourteen."

"You're too young," Lancelot shook his head, “You are but a child. I cannot endanger you like that.”

"But I can help you!" Merlin said. “Just, please, hear me out.”

Lancelot looked at him, and Merlin smiled when the man nodded at him to continue, giving Merlin his full attention.

"It is not fair that I should fear for my life just because one man decided that anyone with magic, no exceptions, should be hunted and killed. Just as it isn’t fair to judge all knights the same just because a few abuse their authority, or all kings to be as cruel as Cenred, it is not fair to judge all sorcerers as those who hurt and kill. I can help you! Please, Lanceleot, let me do this! I need to do this. I need to make the land safe again, I need to stop its pain." Merlin blinked, looking Lancelot in the eye, staring into his heart, pleading with him to understand. “Please don't take this chance away from me.”

"I won't.” Lancelot sighed in defeat.  “But you will have to listen to me, and we will have to be careful. I don't want to be the reason for your death."

Merlin smiled. "Thank you, Lancelot. You are a good man."

***

Gaius had not been happy with Merlin's plan.

"Do not trust Uther's promises, Lancelot," the old man had said. "My old friend was a man of honour before he was corrupted by power and his hatred of magic. He is the reason behind Camelot's sorry fate, after all. Yet he would let innocents suffer once again to hide his own mistake and faults."

Merlin asked, "What did he do to bring such pain to the earth?"

"He killed a unicorn." Gaius confessed, making Merlin gasp as Lancelot looked at the two men in confusion. "He killed an innocent. And he brought suffering to his land and his people as a result, not even caring that he did so."

Lancelot and Merlin looked at each other.

"Even if his words are nothing but lies, the people do not deserve to suffer because of him," Lancelot said. "I have every intention of undertaking the journey regardless of the destination."

Merlin smiled at Lancelot. "Uncle, I only wish to be free, to be safe. Uther may be a liar, but not all of Camelot has to suffer."

"You’re right, they don’t," Gaius murmured. Then, he handed Merlin a book. "Your magic is powerful, but it’s instinctive, wild. Study as you travel, seek to control and tame it."

Merlin took the offered book with reverent hands, fingers running cautiously down its spine and flicking through the yellowed pages.

"It contains many spells and enchantments," Gaius said. "For healing, defensive, and offensive means. Additionally, it has a list of all magical creatures and their uses. Please, use it well, and be careful, Merlin."

"I will, uncle," Merlin promised, shouldering his saddlebag, before mumbling, "Thank you."

Gaius smiled, before pulling Merlin into a hug and allowing Hunith and Will to do the same before all three of them accompanied Merlin and Lancelot out of the door, preparing to wave them goodbye on their journey.

The five of them were saying their final goodbyes to each other, exchanging tearful hugs and worried advice when a voice called out.

"Gaius?"

The old man turned around, his signature eyebrow shooting up in surprise when he caught sight of the two men on horses who had approached the house. "Arthur. Leon."

The blond dismounted, approaching Gaius. "You left us! How could you?”

“Arthur, please, allow me to explain,” Gaius said. "Many things will become much clearer after I do."

Merlin spoke up before the blond could respond. "Uh, who are you?"

"This is Leon, the first knight of Camelot," The young man turned to Merlin, gesturing to the red-haired man still on his horse, "And I am Arthur Pendragon."

***

Arthur couldn't believe what he had stumbled upon.

Although it was one of the longest routes from Godwyn's kingdom to Camelot, it was also the safest, and Arthur had made the decision to follow it to his destination.

This included passing through villages on the borders of kingdoms, mingling with the merchants and knight-errants headed towards the cities.

Where Gaius lived now was certainly, Arthur reflected, as the old physician accompanied him inside one of the houses on the outskirts of the village, far more modest than the rooms his father had granted the man back in Camelot. Arthur would never have expected to come across the man who had betrayed everything his father represented without a second thought, and definitely not in some poor border village that wasn’t even in Camelot.

Gaius had finally sat down in front of him, his aged face exactly as Arthur remembered, from the laugh lines around his mouth to the permanently-cocked eyebrow of doom. Obviously, Arthur thought with a hint of irritation, it hadn't been that long since they'd last seen each other, despite how long and trying the previous years had seemed.

Despite that, or more likely because of it, Gaius' betrayal weighed heavily on Arthur's mind.

He had trusted this man with all of himself, had looked up to him as a father figure and beloved mentor, only to be abandoned in Camelot’s time of need as if none of it had ever mattered.

As if, in the end, Arthur wasn't important enough.

"I see you've found yourself a new home, Gaius," Arthur murmured. "I am sure that my father — your king—would have been willing to find such arrangements for you even in the kingdom where we were forced to move to."

Gaius raised an eyebrow at the prince and Arthur had to control the feeling of longing that enveloped him in response to that familiar gesture.

Gaius had left them in a time of great suffering.

Gaius had left him .

"I wonder what your father told you about my leaving and what caused it."

"The truth. Camelot was dying." Arthur replied shortly. "And you refused to help him locate the sorcerer responsible for it."

"Of course. Camelot was dying." Gaius nodded. "But I'm afraid it wasn't a sorcerer who caused it." The man shook his head, something disappointed and hurt lurking in his gaze. "Though I'm not surprised that Uther decided to blame a sorcerer for this. It's a bad habit he's picked up over time, a result of bad experiences, I'm afraid."

"What you're saying doesn't make sense!" Arthur exclaimed. "My father would not lie or distort the truth in such a way!"

"I did not leave Camelot intending for it to suffer, Arthur." Gaius murmured. "Indeed, I even suggested to your father a way to repair the damage, yet my advice was not what he desired."

"So you didn't follow your king's orders." Arthur retorted. "As was your sacred duty as a citizen of Camelot…"

"Ah, Arthur, I was never a citizen of Camelot," Gaius retorted, surprising Arthur enough to make him look at Gaius in shock. "Uther never saw fit to provide me with that title and honour. So, as I'm sure you are well aware, it was within my rights to return to the kingdom to which I belonged by law. My friendship with Uther, along with the affection and esteem I felt, and I still feel, towards you and Morgana, prevented me from seeking employment at court here."

"The woman and that boy," Arthur murmured, changing the topic and glancing away from Gaius. "Who are they?"

"Oh." Gaius smiled softly, looking over Arthur’s shoulder towards the door, where Arthur could only assume Leon was helping the woman with some work. “Hunith is my niece, sire. I helped her mother care for her growing up, long before I met your father and began to follow him and act as a friend and advisor. My travels brought me into your father's service for much of her adulthood. She kept me informed of the most important moments of her life, however. She told me of the first patient she ever treated, of the man she had loved and how he disappeared. Of the son she had had, a special boy, so kind and pure, who she named Merlin. She kept me feeling like I was still a part of her life, although I was far away."

Arthur nodded. Merlin was the scraggly-looking, tall and thin boy, who he had spotted when he and Leon had first arrived. The boy with frankly ridiculously enormous ears, with bright, blue eyes.

A blue which looked like someone had bottled the sea and the sky and transformed them into the two shining eyes.

"And the other man?" Arthur asked, tilting his head. "He seemed close to your nephew."

"Lancelot." Gaius nodded. "He has travelled far, all the way from his village in the north, which was destroyed by bandits. He saved Merlin's life, and my nephew trusts him. I can only be grateful that he will not be alone on his journey."

"His journey? Journey to where?" Arthur asked immediately.

Gaius raised his eyebrow again. "Perhaps you should be asking Lancelot and Merlin this question, Arthur. Although I suspect it won't be a mystery even if you didn't pry them for further information."

Arthur shook his head. Trying to get information from Gaius was sometimes as difficult as attempting to read Apuleius’ or Virgil’s works in the original Latin.

"I see," he murmured, though he hadn't understood much, "and I take it you intend to remain here despite the people's need for you?"

Gaius shook his head. "Soon, Arthur, you will understand my reasons better. There are motives that push me not to reveal too much, sire. There are things that should be described in great detail, but it would take time that, unfortunately, we do not have right now."

Arthur groaned mentally. At times it seemed that Gaius just enjoyed being unnecessarily difficult.

"Obviously." Arthur stood up. "I enjoyed seeing you again, Gaius. I can understand that you feel resentment towards my father, but there was no need to treat me and Morgana with such contempt in the process as well."

"No resentment, sire. Just disappointment and disillusionment," Gaius admitted wearily. "And yet, I had no intention to show contempt to you or Morgana, Arthur. Only to preserve my old heart from the pain of farewells."

Arthur smiled. At least Gaius had missed him too. Perhaps as much as Arthur had missed the old physician.

The two left the house, and Arthur noticed at that moment that Leon was listening to Merlin, enraptured.

"Leon?"

The knight startled, before bowing towards the prince. "Your highness, I have just been talking to Merlin, and it turns out that he and Lancelot are also setting out to find a way to help Camelot heal. We’ve been talking, and they wonder if they could join us on our quest, as we all desire the same goal."

"Arthur," Arthur corrected his friend without even thinking, before addressing the two others, "is what Leon tells me true?"

Merlin and Lancelot nodded.

"I see," Arthur replied, "and what has driven you to undertake such a journey?"

“I want to help where I can,” Merlin murmured. "It is no longer safe anywhere in Camelot, people are needlessly suffering. I know the pain of hunger, myself, Arthur. I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

Arthur grimaced at the name, even though he couldn't expect to be called by his official title after having just scolded Leon for using it.

"You seem a little young to me." The prince narrowed his eyes, observing the boy in front of him. "I cannot allow a child to be placed in such danger, I'm afraid."

"I'm not a child," Merlin protested, "I'm f— sixteen. I’m sixteen."

Then he nodded at Merlin. "While you may be old enough to make such decisions as to embark on this journey, you don't strike me as the type capable of fighting, and I wouldn’t want to bring you along only for you to be injured or worse if we are attacked."

Leon intervened, surprising Arthur and, judging by his reaction, Merlin as well. "Sire, Merlin appears to have the same knowledge of healing as Gaius. His knowledge of healing may prove invaluable to us."

Arthur nodded. He could see the merits of having someone aware of medical remedies with them, someone capable of aiding them in case one of them was injured. Leon was right—Merlin could indeed prove himself to be indispensable on their long journey.

"Very well, Merlin," Arthur conceded. “I just hope you're aware of what you're risking.”

Merlin smiled, throwing himself at Arthur to pull him into a sudden hug. "Thank you! You won’t regret this, I swear!"

Arthur coughed, pushing Merlin away from him, before addressing the other man in the most composed tone of voice he could muster. "And you, Lancelot?"

The man bowed his head. "I initially made the journey because of a rumour that your father would grant knighthood to anyone who could resolve the situation, sire."

"My father would never allow a non-noble to join his ranks." Arthur felt compelled to warn the man. "You have no reason to undertake the journey, Lancelot."

"If becoming a knight was the only reason I had for undertaking this journey, sire, I would not deserve to become one."

Arthur smiled at Lancelot's statement. When he became king, Arthur promised himself, everyone would have a chance to prove themselves. And anyone, no matter their background, would be given an equal chance.

In the distance, far away in the heart of Camelot’s citadel, a small flower began to bloom, as a trickle of water began to flow through the aqueducts and into the city well.

****

It was a while before Arthur and the group accompanying him reached a clearing, where the prince deemed it best that they stop and rest for the night, Lancelot and Merlin dismounted and began to set up camp.

Checking the distance between them and the two men of Camelot, Lancelot whispered to Merlin, careful not to be heard by the others, "You lied to them, Merlin."

The boy, called out for his lie, flushed a deep red. “Look, I know I didn't tell the complete truth, but… he wouldn't have let me come otherwise!”

Lancelot raised an eyebrow in his direction, clearly unimpressed by Merlin's explanation.

“Look, I know lying isn't good , okay?” Merlin glanced at their two travelling companions before continuing, his voice even lower than it was before. "But I didn’t lie about anything important. In fact, in a few weeks, I'll be fifteen. That’s not that far from sixteen. Or do you really think one measly year would make that much difference in my maturity?"

Lancelot smiled, amused by Merlin’s justifications. "I think it's experience that makes us grow in maturity, and that experience comes with age. But, I can admit that maybe, you've had more than enough experience in your time already, despite your youth." The man took a deep breath, levelling a slow, thoughtful gaze at Merlin. He didn't particularly like the idea of deceiving their company, but it was too late now to call him out for the lie he had already told the prince.

"Very well." Lancelot nodded. "I will not reveal your secret to them, but, Merlin." Looking earnestly at the boy, Lancelot added, "Be careful. You may be close to fifteen, but you're still young."

"I'll be careful," Merlin promised, his huge grin and cheeks flushed with emotion making Lancelot smile in response. "Thank you, Lance. It means a lot to me."

"I know." Lancelot smiled. "Now, give me a hand with these, come on."

***

After the bedding had been made, the fire lit, and dinner hunted, caught, and prepared for consumption, Arthur turned to Merlin and Lancelot. There was something that had clearly been weighing on his mind for a long time, and it was time to address it.

"What happened to Camelot after we had to leave?"

The prince's question made the other two men freeze, and Lancelot was the first to find his voice again.

"Sire, I believe you are aware of the curse that has plagued your land?"

Arthur nodded, looking intently at Lancelot. "I know that when we left, Camelot was suffering from extreme droughts and the destruction of crops. That the wells were completely empty and that no field in the kingdom was capable of producing any sustenance for the people."

“The situation has remained the same for some time.” Lancelot replied. "And the neighbouring kingdoms have shown no interest in the dead land. But… I've heard some stories of places that…"

Merlin spoke up when Lancelot trailed off, his gaze going to where he knew he had healed the weeping earth. "There are rumours of a farmer from a village not far from here who claims that, by mistake, he wandered past the borders of Camelot. And, when he did, it was as if the land came to life again. The berries grew back on the bushes, herbs flowered and crops sprouted, and the river flowed with water once again."

"Witchcraft?" Leon asked, frowning. "There can be no other answer. If the lands were dead before and were no longer dead to him, he must have used some kind of magic."

"No." Merlin denied it. "Because when Cenred heard of it, not even a week later, he sent his knights to conquer those lands and claim them as his own, and they died instantly. Not a drop of water was anywhere to be found."

Arthur murmured, "He seems to have a problem with nobles."

"Who?" Merlin asked confusedly, looking at Arthur with wide eyes.

"Anhora. The sorcerer who cursed Camelot and brought this suffering to my people. We have been searching for him, in hopes of finding a way to revert the spell."

"And what do you intend to do when you come face-to-face with this sorcerer?" Merlin asked, gripping the stick spearing his piece of rabbit as if his life depended on it.

He didn't know Arthur or Leon very well. Yet, their clear disgust of magic and the ease with which they had blamed a sorcerer was enough to frighten Merlin and send a pang of hurt through his heart.

"So, in the months that we've been away," Arthur tried to summarise, bringing the conversation back to where it had originally began, without answering Merlin's question, "the lands that were claimed by people in need have been made prosperous again, while those that were claimed by kings and nobles… are dead?”

"Essentially, sire," Lancelot spoke, glancing at Merlin, "that's what has happened."

"You know," Merlin spoke up, looking around, "there is a tavern nearby that is very close to the territories of Camelot. Many of their supplies come from the border fields that the owner has access to. Perhaps we could visit it and see what’s happening for ourselves?"

"Very well." Arthur nodded. "That's where we'll go, then."

***

Morgana knew this would happen, ever since she persuaded Arthur to leave and take his chance to save Camelot she’s been waiting for this.

If there was something she could always count on, the girl thought sarcastically, it was Uther being ready to complain about something Arthur had done that didn't unquestioningly follow his direct orders.

"I ordered Arthur not to leave!"

And, many times, Arthur's actions were taken with noble and just intentions, while the king's orders were uncaringly issued and likely to wrong someone else.

Arthur would become a better man away from Uther's influence.

“And I have to say, it really worked out.” Morgana replied sarcastically, approaching the table in her room, where a book lay open.

"Not a word!" Uther warned her, his eyes glared at her, narrowing in anger for a brief moment.

"My mouth is sealed." Morgana replied, looking defiantly up at the man who had welcomed her into his home and to whom her father had dedicated his life.

The king was not finished with loudly proclaiming his thoughts on his son's behavior. “I should lock him up, that would teach him.”

“You can't chain him up every time he disagrees with you.” Morgana replied, wondering what had driven her father to dedicate his life to a man like Uther.

“Are you trying to annoy me?” Uther looked at her, before adding, his pride clearly wounded by Arthur's actions and obvious challenge against him. "No one should disobey me, especially not my own son."

Morgana sighed. "No, of course not." She finally sat down in her chair, imagining that soon Uther would leave her room and allow her to continue her studies in peace.

Something in Morgana's voice must have grated on the king’s nerves. 

"You already knew what he was up to, didn't you?"

Out of the corner of her eye, the girl saw her guardian's hands resting on the table, on the opposite side from her. "Morgana, don't lie to me."

Morgana looked up from her book. Having pity, and feeling a sliver of fear towards the man who had raised her, with his ever-furious eyes and menacing stance, she said. "Arthur is old enough to decide for himself."

"He's not a man yet."

“Have you seen your son recently?” Morgana couldn’t help but respond, her voice sharp, averting her gaze when she realised she'd spoken out of turn.

She knew Uther, and she knew perfectly well that, in moments like these, she was not allowed to challenge him. Not when Camelot's future was at risk.

"He can handle himself now." She added, trying to be reassuring.

Something must have worked to appease Uther, because the next thing Uther said, calmly now, was, "And so I should let him go to his death?"

As the old king left her chambers, Morgana took a deep breath.

She hoped that, at least, Arthur had found the help he needed to make the journey and complete his quest.

****

The unicorn was breathtaking.

In all her previous dreams, Morgana had never found herself able to perceive such grace and beauty before, but she certainly couldn't complain.

It was also the first time she had seen all the details from her dreams in person, the girl noted, looking around her.

The forest, the grass, the insects. Sounds, smells, noises, colours, everything defined and tangible . As if Morgana was really in the middle of the forest and there really was a unicorn right in front of her.

Then, she heard the sounds of hunting.

She looked around frantically. Even though it was just a dream, she knew the unicorn was in danger.

"You have to go!" Morgana murmured frantically to the shimmering animal, "They'll kill you if you don't! Please, you're in danger here!"

The unicorn only gazed at her naively, its large eyes expressive and full of life and wonder, when the noise of the approaching hunting party became louder and Morgana saw the shadows of the men of Camelot approaching.

"No, wait!" Morgana screamed, watching Uther take aim to kill the unicorn. "Uther, stop!"

It was too late, Morgana realised. She saw the arrow fly and ran in front of the unicorn.

She woke with a start, her hand flying to her chest and a muffled scream in her throat.

And, near the borders of Camelot, a young boy had also jolted awake, his heart racing and his eyes full of tears.

****

Percival wasn't sure what he had expected to find when Iseldir and Aglain had called for all the druids to gather together.

When Uther had fled Camelot, along with his knights and children, Percival and his family had been among those who had smiled in relief, hoping that their fears would finally fade away, the tyrant distant from them, unable to hurt them anymore.

Then, they discovered that Uther had sought refuge with one of his allies and friends, and that his war against magic would not stop even when his arrogance and ignorance had brought suffering and death to his people and his kingdom.

And the fear was back, stronger than it was before. No kingdom was safe for them, no true friend they could trust in.

So they sought refuge in the same place where their lives had once been in danger.

Percival approached the two druids, those who had led them in their time of greatest need.

"What is the meaning of this, Iseldir, Aglain?" Percival couldn't help but ask.

Iseldir was smiling looking at a stream of water that flowed undisturbed in the middle of an arid land. “It means, Percival, that Camelot will soon have the king that was destined for it.”

“Finally, we will have a good and just ruler.” Aglain added, also smiling as the stream wove through the land, filling all the assembled druids with hope.

*****

Gwen knew the cruelty Uther was capable of. And she also knew the stubborn and proud nature of her lady and friend.

It was for this reason that she was not surprised when Hilda, Princess Elena's servant, warned her that her mistress had been confined to her rooms.

“My king had to strictly forbid Uther from locking her up in our cells.” Hilda whispered to her as they both gathered breakfast to take to their respective princesses' rooms. “He stated that it was not the right punishment for the guilt of having faith in the abilities of her brother and friend. Fortunately, my king has the final say in what happens here, and none of the guards could ever be made to doubt their loyalty to Godwyn.”

And, to obey Uther, it was implied.

Gwen couldn't help but agree. No one would have preferred Uther, full of wrath and cruelty, instead of Godwyn, a just and good king, connected to his daughter in a way that everyone could observe and appreciate.

Of all the kings of the five kingdoms, Uther was the one who most despised and humiliated his children. With his way of judging Arthur, testing him constantly and holding him to standards  impossible to satisfy. With his way of punishing Morgana for her willingness to speak up for herself and for the things she cared about, to challenge a kingdom of cowards and the wrathful, to voice proclamations about justice, goodness and courage.

Morgana and Arthur would have been the pride of any father except Uther.

They both deserved better.

Gwen thanked Hilda for letting her know, before nodding her thanks to the cook and departing for Morgana's chambers.

She gave a polite nod to the guards Uther had placed beside the doors of his daughter's rooms, before entering and closing the door behind her.

Morgana sat at the table, reading an old book about folk tales as if nothing was bothering her.

“I saw the guards at the door, my lady.” Gwen spoke, carefully observing her lady's posture to pick up on her real feelings.

Morgana’s shoulders stiffened slightly, but otherwise she showed no other obvious reaction to Uther's actions, a sign of strong habits ingrained throughout the years.

“Uther doesn't appreciate it when he's faced with the facts as they really are,” Morgana finally replied, “we can only be grateful that Godwyn is a kinder and wiser king than Uther could ever hope to be.”

“Morgana–” Gwen looked at her, before taking a deep breath and gesturing to some flowers resting on her nightstand. “These are lovely, my lady. Who sent them to you?”

“They're not for me, Gwen.” Morgana said, smiling at the girl. “They’re for you."

"Me? Who would send me flowers, my lady?” Gwen giggled, blushing slightly.

“An enamoured stranger, maybe?” Morgana suggested, smiling fondly at her maidservant. “Why don't you read the note, Gwen?”

Gwen did as she was told, her hands trembling slightly as she opened the carefully folded note resting on the red carnations.

As soon as she read it, her hands became numb, and the note fell to the floor, Morgana's voice becoming distant and muffled.

It couldn't be true.

****

The journey to the inn didn't take long, but Arthur found himself deep in thought.

What had made that farmer so special that he had changed a barren land into something ready to be cultivated and inhabited? And why hadn't Cenred been able to do the same thing? What did Cenred know that Uther had never discovered?

Arthur also reflected on Lancelot's words. How many men had undertaken the quest hoping to become a knight of Camelot? Why did the kingdoms opposed to Uther spread such lies regarding his father?

“Arthur?”

The prince snapped out of his thoughts, turning to look at Merlin, eyebrow raised. "Yes?"

“I… I know you probably don't want to hear this, but…”

“Don't tell me now, Merlin.” Arthur spoke, glancing at the boy, who lowered his head and swallowed. Recognizing the signs of disappointment too well, Arthur spoke gently to the boy. “I don't feel ready for any more deep discussions right now, Merlin. You and Lancelot have given me much to think about and reflect on. Many things that I wasn't aware of and that could help me decide on future steps to take.”

“It was about the man. I…I'm not sure if we said this, but that farmer, Arthur, the one for whom the land came alive again… He didn't have magic, Arthur. He wasn't even a druid."

Arthur nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes at Merlin’s words.

“So, something about that man was special, and it was something that neither my father nor King Cenred possessed.”

Merlin looked at him, and Arthur sighed. “I imagine you have thoughts about this matter, Merlin.”

“Indeed, I have. You see–"

Merlin's lesson, fortunately in Arthur's opinion, was interrupted by a nod from Leon, who was pointing to a place ahead, where the smell of a cooking meal attracted their attention.

Merlin's expression became confused. “We are still far from the inn. It can't be coming from there."

Arthur nodded. Even from his memory, the inn they were headed to was much further away than the distance they had travelled thus far. Usually, of course, Arthur set out from Camelot and not Ealdor. But he knew his kingdom like the back of his hand, and he would never miscalculate where he had ridden, even if it had been nearly a year since he had set foot on home soil.

He directed Merlin to move to the left, moving his hand in the direction he wanted the boy to go, before bringing it to his own eyes and pointing in the opposite direction.

Then he sighed tiredly when he saw Merlin following him.

In an annoyed whisper, Arthur explained. “Surround him from the left, I'll take the right, so he doesn't run away.”

“ Oh …” Was the brilliant response he received in return.

Irritated, he gave the same signal to Lancelot and Leon, feeling vindicated in his annoyance at Merlin when Lancelot clearly understood the message sent.

They dismounted to make as little noise as possible, before drawing their swords and rounding the trees to the right, knowing that Merlin and Lancelot were closing in on the left.

It was strange to trust two men he had just met like this, but Arthur knew instinctively that both Lancelot and Merlin were two reliable and, above all, good people.

“ If becoming a knight is the only reason I want to help you, then I don't deserve that title. ”

How was it right that the person who understood the knight’s code so well could never be a knight just because of his humble origins?

The four appeared at the same point, in front of a man bent over a plant which, before their astonished eyes, grew until it had fruit ready to be picked and eaten.

"Stop!" Arthur brandished his sword, pointing it at the man, who had scraggly white hair and a sunken face, his knobbly knees braced in the soft ground, a stick placed on the ground next to him.

“Arthur!” Merlin intervened, placing his hand on Arthur's arm, trying to get him to lower his sword. “Look at him, he's only an old man!”

“He's a sorcerer!” Arthur responded, raising his voice at Merlin, who took a step back, clearly stunned by the raw anger in the prince's voice, before grabbing the prince's arm again when he saw him take a step forward.

“Arthur, what harm is he doing?” Merlin spoke to him, trying to reason with him. “He's old and he was hungry. He just grew some fruit so he could eat something.”

“He shouldn't be using magic! It's against my father's laws!”

“I know, Arthur.” Merlin said, using a calm and pacifying tone of voice, a calmness in the way he spoke that forced Arthur to listen to him. “But a king should only give a just punishment for a crime. He's just looking after himself. Does he deserve to be put to death for that?”

Arthur lowered his sword, turning to Merlin. “He has magic, Merlin! Didn't you hear what I told you? Of what the sorcerer did to Camelot?”

“And didn't you listen to what we told you? Of the man who, without any magic, managed to live and survive in previously barren lands within the borders of Camelot? Why do you think this happened? Why do you think that, while two kings have failed, a humble peasant has succeeded?”

“You tell me, then!” Arthur shouted, shoving at Merlin slightly, who, taken by surprise, fell to the ground.

Arthur paled, sheathing his sword and rushing to Merlin's side, a hand on his shoulder. "I’m sorry. I didn't mean to knock you over, I…I shouldn't even have pushed you to begin with.”

“Arthur, it's okay.” Merlin pushed Arthur's hand away, standing up and saying. “You asked me why you should let him live? Here is my answer: a king must be just and good. He must give the right punishments where required, and rewards where needed. I'll leave it up to you to decide whether using magic simply to survive is a good enough reason to kill a man with no other options.”

Arthur blinked, his eyes falling to the dead grass at his feet.

The sight made him pause. Dead grass? The entire clearing was full of life, from the flowers, to the fruits, to the trees and the birds twittering above.

Why was Arthur in the one place where the earth seemed to still be cursed?

His gaze fell on the sorcerer.

Since their appearance, he had done nothing. He hadn't run away, he hadn't struck him down with his magic. He stood still, his hand full of the fruit he had grown to eat. To survive.

Arthur looked away, thinking.

Would it be just if someone had killed all the men of Camelot who had sought refuge in other kingdoms in search of shelter?

Arthur took a deep breath. “I will let you live, but you must swear to only use your magic for good, do you understand? If you ever harm anyone with your magic–"

The man smiled. “Thank you, Arthur Pendragon. You are a good man."

Arthur noticed that the man's gaze had fallen to his feet, perhaps he too was surprised and disgusted by the withered earth at his feet.

But when he looked down, the ground at his feet was as alive as everything else. Looking at it carefully, Arthur could tell that it was even more alive than all the rest.

"Let's continue." He barked at the other three travelling companions, trying not to glow under the proud look Merlin was giving him.

Merlin was just a farmer, Arthur mused as he walked back towards their horses, his approval should mean nothing to Arthur.

And his anger and disappointment shouldn't have made Arthur’s heart ache as it had done moments before.

****

Merlin wasn't an idiot, despite Will's unflattering opinion of him.

Was he careless? Of course he was. Only a careless person would embark on a journey with the son of the man who would kill him the exact moment he learned the true nature of his talents. Was he making a foolish decision in following Arthur? Probably.

And yet, Merlin was accompanying the prince and working together with him to restore Camelot to the powerful kingdom it once was, with no certainty of how magic users would be treated after the Pendragons returned.

But Merlin wasn't stupid.

He had noticed the way Arthur had struggled to understand how an ordinary man could be better than his father. He understood that Arthur's hesitation lay in the affection he felt towards his father, rather than in the belief that a peasant was not worth as much as a king.

But then, they had found a sorcerer using magic and Merlin had felt truly afraid of Arthur.

If the prince ever saw his magic, a part of Merlin wondered, would he turn his sword on him without question? Would he hesitate because they knew each other? Would he kill him without hesitation?

Merlin didn't want to find out.

Convincing him not to strike at the elderly man had been difficult. Being pushed to the ground had been painful, not physically, but from the way Arthur had looked at him.

Then, he had rushed to his side, but Merlin didn't want his help.

If Arthur knew about my magic , Merlin thought, the prince would kill me without hesitation.

He stood, his gaze watching the death of the land around Arthur's feet, and presented the prince with the choice between doing the right thing or blindly following in his father's footsteps.

And then, the land had come to life again when Arthur made the right choice, the good choice.

Sure, he had threatened the old man, but if a man without magic killed another man, he would be punished by his death. It was only fair that the same punishment should also be aimed at sorcerers.

And the land had responded to Arthur's pure heart, as it had responded to the kindness of the old man before them, of the farmer on the edge of Camelot, and of the inn to which they were headed, all while Uther and Cenred and all the men like them could not find refuge in the lands of Camelot.

****

The rest of the ride was made in complete silence.

Merlin realised that neither Lancelot nor Leon had any desire to annoy Arthur any further after his previous outburst, and Merlin had no intention of being the first to speak to the prince who had been so furious earlier.

Especially not when he had a feeling that Uther was the only one responsible for Camelot's fate.

“We have arrived,” Arthur announced, seeing the outline of the inn become visible, “please, no one reveal our origins or our intentions.”

Leon nodded, while Lancelot looked thoughtful.

Merlin couldn't understand why they had to hide. Arthur was the prince of Camelot. Did the people who remained blame him for leaving and abandoning them? But none of that had ever been Arthur's decision. Uther was the one who had killed the unicorn and it was Uther who had decided to leave, bringing his nobles to safety and abandoning his people.

Part of Merlin was surprised that the curse that had fallen on Camelot hadn't followed Uther, though that could always be part of the punishment. Losing his home, whilst watching others keep theirs.

They dismounted and entered the inn, finding a place to sit.

As the four of them looked around, the owner of the inn approached them.

“Ay, aren’t you an attractive fellow?” The woman commented, drawing the four men's attention to her as she cleaned the table with a rag.

Arthur grinned, making Merlin roll his eyes. “Well, you wouldn't be the first to tell me–”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” The woman interrupted the prince, before casting an appreciative glance at Merlin and saying, “I was talking about your friend here.”

Merlin felt himself blush, replying to the woman with a sweet smile. "Thank you."

Arthur, visibly annoyed, intervened abruptly. “Four glasses of mead.”

Merlin snorted in amusement, catching Leon and Lancelot shooting amused glances at Arthur.

The prince looked around, then murmured. “No one around here appears to have magic. Yet the inn has enough water and food for plenty.”

Merlin murmured in agreement, trying to sense if anyone nearby had magic. He had always had a certain attunement towards magical creatures, he had discovered. Towards nature and her inhabitants. But towards other magic users? He had picked up on the magic of the older man they had met while he was using his own magic, but he had no idea if the same thing would work in the presence of someone who simply possessed magic but who was not actively using it at the time.

His gaze fell momentarily on a man, with long dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He had a mug of mead in his hand and was talking to three other people, animatedly and without worry for their reactions. In fact, Merlin could see that the other three were actively becoming irritated towards this man.

When he saw him turn, Merlin looked away without hesitating, blushing slightly and hoping to not be noticed by the other man.

Their mead arrived and Merlin thanked the woman, who introduced herself as Mary.

Then, as Mary walked away, Merlin turned his attention to Arthur. “What will be our next step?”

“Well, I can see there is enough water and food here.” Arthur murmured. “This gives me hope for my people. If some of them have found refuge in their own homes, I think that's the best thing for everyone. Going further inland we will see what happens to the soil and crops.”

Merlin nodded, wondering what Arthur had against direct and simple answers. Was it too much for him to ask for a clear answer, instead of having to, every time, try to decipher the messages Arthur sent in a very confusing and unclear way.

The prince's gaze fell on two corpulent men who were advancing with  determined steps towards the bar, where Mary had frozen.

“Mary. Business is good, I see.” One of them spoke.

Mary answered, her voice cold. “It changes from day to day.”

“Our payment? Where is our money?”

Mary, glancing around the room, took out a few coins, then passed them to the two men. “That's all I have left.”

"Really?" One of the two men growled, stepping forward and raising his fist threateningly.

Merlin had turned to see what reaction Arthur would have, but he was no longer sitting in front of him. Instead, whirling around again, Merlin saw him next to the bandit, his hand on the man’s forearm, stopping him before he could threaten the woman further.

Merlin smiled slightly. If he had been right about the curse, and Merlin was sure he was right, then Arthur would handle the situation brilliantly.

****

Gwaine was having fun, as per usual.

Ever since Uther had abandoned Camelot and its people, fleeing like a coward, Gwaine had begun to frequent the taverns nearest to the kingdom, relieved that there would be no risk of any remaining wandering nobles or knights in those barren wastelands.

After what Carleon had done to his parents, Gwaine could be sure he didn't want to deal with any other of the so-called nobility.

None of them were worth it.

His gaze fell on the new group that had entered. He watched them, having fun trying to understand their relationships and their origins, a game he played whenever he grew bored, trying to guess the lives of new and interesting people.

The first person that entered must have been the same age as himself; blond with blue eyes, an arrogant expression on his face, as if he had something to prove to someone. Next to him, on his left, was a slightly older man with curly red hair and very light-brown eyes, who stood beside the first man protectively. Maybe a cousin, or a close friend. To the blond's right, a boy with black hair and bright blue eyes was hidden, almost as if he was protecting him. He looked younger, but not so much, due to a far too mature look in his eyes.  However, at least from where Gwaine was seated, he seemed to be intimately close to the blond and the fourth man, who had rather long, slightly wavy brown hair, and brown eyes, and who was cautiously protecting the blue-eyed boy, like an older brother would do with a younger sibling.

Gwaine snorted, watching the way the blond got jealous when Mary complimented Blue-Eyes. Gwaine, however, had to agree with the owner of the inn. Blue-Eyes was definitely handsome.

Gwaine hadn't heard their conversation, unfortunately. He wanted to hear the boy's voice. He wondered if his voice was as pure as his bright eyes. But, being a regular at the inn, he knew Mary quite well, and knew what she would say to handsome newcomers, especially with that infatuated smile on her face.

Gwaine, drawing his attention away from the strange group, brought it back to his three drinking buddies, who were obviously getting tired of his stories and looked about ready to start a brawl.

Gwaine usually tried to avoid tavern brawls. He waited to leave, or be thrown out by the owner before making a mess with other customers. The risks of breaking something (and being forced to pay for it) were simply too high to take. And, most times, it was always the owners who ended up losing customers just because of a couple of rowdy patrons.

Fortunately, his attention was caught by the entrance of two very obvious bandits. Gwaine narrowed his eyes. He hated those people, who, like the nobles, abused the less capable and took everything they had, sustaining themselves of the peasants and leaving them to rot once they were done, like a parasite.

He listened in to their conversation, before looking surprised when he saw the blond from earlier advance towards the two and stop them before they could strike at Mary.

His gaze fell, against his will, back on Blue-Eyes, registering the proud gaze and knowing smile displayed openly on his face.

While he was distracted, lost in the swirling shades of the boy's blue eyes, one of the two bandits called for his friends.

It seemed that, Gwaine mused as he rose from his seat, his personal no-fighting-in-inns policy would have to change, at least temporarily.

“It seems you've found yourself in quite a pickle.” He commented, walking up to the side of the blond and the two bandits.

The blond, giving him a sideways glance, replied. “You better leave while you still can.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Gwaine conceded, offering the empty glass of beer to the nearest bandit, the same one that tried to hit Mary earlier, who took it, looking at its contents in confusion. Or, rather, its lack of thereof.

Giving him a rueful smile, Gwaine pulled his arm back, before slamming his fist into the man's face.

From that moment on, it was pure chaos in the room. Everyone present rose to join the fight, none of them pleased with the presence of such thieves in one of the few still-functioning inns near Camelot.

Gwaine watched Blue-Eyes run behind the counter, but a man blocked his view just as Blue-Eyes hit a couple of  plates onto two bandits who had been approaching him.

“Pass me that jug, will you?” Gwaine said to him, dropping the body of the man who had blocked his sight moments before, and whom he had knocked out with a well-placed clock to the head.

Blue-Eyes did so, looking confused.

Gwaine took a generous sip, then asked. “What do they call you?”

“Merlin.”

“Gwaine, it’s a pleasure.”

Gwaine held out his hand to shake Merlin's, who responded, clearly stunned by his actions. Gwaine felt himself smile.

Then, Merlin’s gaze snapped behind him. "Careful!"

Without hesitation, Gwaine used the jug to hit the man on the head, before flashing Merlin a smile and muttering. “What a waste, huh?”

Merlin's shocked but impressed look made him smile even more, as Gwaine returned to the fight with a lighter mood.

****

When all the bandits were tied up and had been left outside in the scalding sun as punishment, Gwaine watched the blond, the curly-haired man, and the presumably older brother of Merlin make their way towards him.

The blond looked at him warily. “Why did you help us?”

Gwaine shrugged, while he looked around for Merlin, finding him busy talking to Mary and helping her arrange the inns’ tables and chairs.

Mary would have received help from the other patrons. The people around here were all decent folks.

“You didn't stand a chance.” Gwaine smiled, shooting an amused look at the blond who narrowed his eyes in response. “And I have a weakness for lost causes.”

Merlin's brother chuckled, holding out his hand and saying. “I’m Lancelot. Thank you for helping us.”

“Gwaine. Your brother is very clever.” Gwaine replied, nodding towards Merlin nearby.

Lancelot looked confused, before humming, softly. “Oh, no, Merlin is not my brother. We only met a few days ago, actually.”

And you're already so protective of him? Gwaine wanted to ask, but stopped himself. It was none of his business. His gaze, however, fell on the blond and the curly-haired man.

“Leon, my pleasure.”

“Arthur.” The blond grunted sharply, shaking Gwaine's hand who took the opportunity to observe his clothes, snorting when he saw the Pendragon crest displayed on his jacket.

“I didn't think a Pendragon would ever return to Camelot. Despite Uther's false promises about the rewards offered.”

“My father’s false promises?” Arthur asked, narrowing his eyes at Gwaine, "What are you talking about? My father would never lie about Camelot."

“I speak of the reward of knighthood to anyone who can remedy the situation he created. Many believed it and were killed.”

"By whom? The sorcerer?” Arthur asked, pressing, ignoring the offence towards his father. Many people liked to blame Uther for Camelot’s fate, but Arthur knew better than simply trusting those people. His father would never let his people die, not when he could have saved them in any possible way.

Gwaine shook his head. “I don't know which sorcerer you're talking about. No, bandits who are infesting the forest, magical and non-magical beasts that are rampant in the woods.”

“The magic is damaging more than just the earth, then.” Arthur murmured, glancing at Leon.

“No, I’m not talking about magic. Only hungry creatures that need food too.” Gwaine replied, rolling his eyes. Caerleon may have been a petty and cowardly king, but at least he had had the decency not to hunt down sorcerers, providing a safe kingdom for all of his subjects. Rodor and Godwyn had done the same. Uther had never had a good relationship with magic, although Carleon had repeatedly mentioned how the king had used magic when it was to his advantage and then, dissatisfied with the results, had let all the other magical users pay the price.

Not a king worthy of any titles or respect.

But, in reality, none of them were. Although…

“I'm surprised Uther allowed you to leave the security of your new home. Where did you run off to?” Gwaine asked, tilting his head, hoping to provoke the blond at least a little.

To his surprise, Arthur’s face flushed red.

“Oh,” Gwaine suddenly realised, “you don't have permission, do you? You ran away then? The prince of Camelot, a disobedient son — who would’ve thought."

“My people are dying.” Arthur replied, glaring at Gwaine as if daring him to make fun of what he was about to say. “And I can't leave them like this without doing all I can to help them.”

“So what? Will you go into the grounds of Camelot and search futilely for a solution?” Gwaine shook his head. “The curse is the result of the death of a unicorn, you have no chance to change what has been done.”

“The sorcerer must pay for what he has done.” Arthur replied, narrowing his eyes at him.

Gwaine shrugged. “You should talk to the druids, if you want any hope of fixing things. They are peaceful and have vast knowledge about magic. Maybe they can explain to you what really happened, and what it would take to save your kingdom.”

“They have magic.” Arthur murmured, as if those three words alone explained why he couldn't search them out.

“Not all of them, no.” Gwaine shook his head. “The Catha are a magical population. But the druids? Not everyone possesses magic, and even those who do have the gift have it in varying amounts. They all love nature and peace. Harmony.” At the looks he received, Gwaine shrugged. “I've travelled enough to know what I'm talking about. If you have never met with them or gotten to know their cultures, how could you hope to know what to truly believe? You will never change your mind, and you will remain stagnant in your ways, unable to save your precious kingdom.”

Arthur pursed his lips, about to respond, when Merlin returned, knocking into the blond.

“Mary offered to lend us some supplies for our journey, Arthur. And she also showed us which path to follow to get us closer to Camelot. She said to avoid the woods, because..."

“...they’re full of creatures, magical and otherwise, and bandits, yes.” Arthur murmured tiredly in response, and Merlin brought his gaze to Gwaine, smiling at him immediately.

“Thanks for helping us out, Gwaine!”

"It was a pleasure, Merlin," Gwaine smiled, bowing slightly and taking the boy's hand, kissing the back of it.

Merlin laughed.

He then turned his attention to Arthur, who was already looking at him.

Gwaine frowned as he saw an entire silent conversation unfold before his eyes. Apparently, even without knowing what they were arguing about, it seemed to Gwaine that Merlin had won, as evidenced by Arthur's defeated sigh and his subsequent question as the prince rolled his eyes. “Would you like to join us on our journey, Gwaine?”

With a smile, aimed at Merlin, Gwaine replied. “It would be an honour, princess.”

****

Morgana, feeling extremely worried, helped Gwen sit down.

The poor girl had suddenly gone pale, and she hadn't responded to Morgana's increasingly frantic calls, seemingly miles away from the real world.

She watched her stare blankly at the wall, unresponsive to the sweet and careful caresses of Morgana's hands on her shoulders, to the glass of water placed next to her arm on the table. Gwen wasn't reacting at all, and Morgana was getting more and more worried.

What was written in that note? What had upset her so much?

Morgana was trying to figure out if she should have found a way to contact Tom and let him know about his daughter's health, when Gwen started crying, putting her hands to her eyes and folding in on herself, trying to stifle the tears and her sobs.

Morgana ran her hands over the maidservant’s shoulders, then wrapped her in a tight hug before she could change her mind.

“Gwen, what was written in that note?” The noblewoman asked in a soft tone of voice as she turned to her friend. “What upset you so much?”

“ Elyan …” Gwen whispered.

Morgana pursed her lips. Elyan was, to put it as politely as possible, the troublemaker of the family, the black sheep. Not wanting to become just another blacksmith in Camelot, not wanting to be stuck forever in a position and job he hated with a passion, he had left, leaving Gwen with the responsibility of caring for their sick mother and tired, ageing father. 

But Gwen, in her innate and infinite goodness, could never find Elyan guilty of anything.

“Did he finally write to you?” Morgana asked, starting to worry when she realised that Gwen was genuinely upset.

If the news in that letter had been good, Gwen wouldn't be crying her eyes out right now.

“They got him.” Gwen whispered, and Morgana blinked.

 “Who took him, Gwen?” She asked urgently.

“Cenred.” Gwen sniffed at her, her doe-like brown eyes shining even brighter from all the tears she had shed. “He sent me the flowers to warn me. They have my brother and there is nothing I can do for him.”

“Don't say that, Gwen.” Morgana was quick to reassure Gwen. “We can do something, we must. I will talk to Uther and try to–”

"It won’t work." Gwen interrupted, looking at her with desperation in her eyes. Morgana looked at her speechlessly, but Gwen didn't need any prompting to explain her thoughts. “Uther would never waste resources to save a rogue, a blacksmith's son, a servant's brother. And you, Morgana, have already made him angry enough, you cannot risk drawing more of his ire."

Morgana nodded. Gwen was right, if she had gone to the king right then and asked for a team to be sent to rescue Elyan, Uther would have actually locked her up in the cells, regardless of what Godwyn might have said on the matter.

Then, she had an idea.

She smiled, beaming at her best friend. “Gwen, you're right, we can't do anything.”

Gwen narrowed her eyes at her, her cheeks still wet from crying, her eyes ringed red. “Then why are you smiling, my lady?”

“Didn't you listen to me, Gwen?” Morgana asked, the smile widening on her pale face. “ We can't do anything. But someone else can.”

****

Arthur couldn't stop thinking about what he had done.

He had spared the life of a sorcerer .

And the thing that had pushed him to do it, surprisingly, was Merlin. His look of hurt at being pushed away, at being shoved to  the ground.

How could Arthur hurt Merlin ? The boy was risking his life for Arthur's kingdom, for Arthur's people. He was taking a big risk with no expectation of any reward.

Arthur had no problem admitting that he had only accepted Gwaine's company in the hopes of being forgiven by Merlin.

And, fortunately, Gwaine could fight very well. Arthur had proof of this, for when they had faced a group of bandits, who had recognised Arthur and Leon's fine clothes and had been ready to attack them. Gwaine had fought like no one Arthur had ever seen before, a hurricane of unconventional slashing and large, open swings that on anyone else would have been wasted energy but not on him.

Lancelot also fought very well, for a peasant. He had a way of dancing with his opponents, a posture, a way of wielding his sword. Lancelot was a graceful fighter.

However, Merlin had no idea how to use a sword, or any weapon for that matter. Leon had pushed him into hiding, and Merlin had been more than ready to cower behind a tree.

Fortunately, Arthur thought, casting a nervous glance over his head, said tree had lost many branches in the course of the fight. It must have been very old, Arthur thought, trying not to show how worried he was that one of the branches they were passing under would fall on their heads in the same fashion.

“Arthur?”

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who was watching him curiously, blue eyes sparkling as they frowned at the young prince.

“Yes, Merlin?”

"Are you okay?" Merlin flushed at Arthur's pointedly raised eyebrow, starting to stammer as he explained. “It’s just, you're very quiet, and that's fine, but I want to help where I can, so…”

“Merlin, can you do something for me?” Arthur asked, smiling amusedly when Merlin nodded seriously.

“Sure, anything.”

“Can you, please, shut up?”

“Of course I can, I'm perfectly capable of not…”

"Now."

Arthur chuckled at the shocked and offended look Merlin gave him, before Gwaine swooped in and demanded his full attention.

Leon, however, approached Arthur. “Arthur, you heard what Gwaine said, didn't you? Bandits, creatures and magic… It won't be easy to make it through these woods.”

"I know." Arthur nodded. “But it's a risk we had to take. The journey would have been too long otherwise.”

Leon nodded, glancing at Lancelot who, in the meantime, was attempting to free Merlin from the clutches of Gwaine, who had grabbed his arm and was talking enthusiastically in his ear.

Meanwhile, Merlin was laughing, amused by the antics of his two friends.

“And do you think it was the right decision to bring the three of them with us? None of them live in Camelot, sire, and yet they are risking their lives for a foreign kingdom.”

Arthur sighed, nodding. “I didn't want to include them, Leon, believe me.” His gaze fell on the trio, “This mission is too risky, and it didn't seem right to bring them with us, knowing the danger. If they ever wish to leave, Leon, I can guarantee you that they will not be held back by me. It is their right and I will respect it, whatever direction their desires take.” Arthur swallowed, before admitting, under his breath, “Actually, I'm grateful for their presences. Merlin has already shown that he has the courage to question a prince's orders and thoughts. And…I'm grateful that he decided to question my orders. He prevented me from making a big mistake.”

Leon smiled, something warm in his eyes. “You have changed and grown much from the sheltered boy you once were, my lord. I am only grateful that our new companions are able to help you grow personally, sire.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Call me Arthur, Leon. As I have told you before, we are committing treason. There is no need for you to call me ‘my lord’ or ‘sire’ anymore.”

“Actually, Arthur,” Leon replied, looking at him with piercing eyes, “I think that this is the exact reason why I need to address you with such respect – you deserve it.”

****

Elyan looked up at the ceiling of the cell where he had been thrown.

He had been making his way to Camelot, worried for his sister by the rumours he had heard about the kingdom’s fate, when men had appeared out of nowhere, surrounding him and knocking him out in mere minutes, much to his shame.

And, now, it seemed that Cenred was setting a trap for his little sister.

A blonde woman had visited him not too long ago, explaining that this was a consequence of his father's actions. Apparently, before Uther killed Camelot, whatever it was the woman meant with that strange sentence, his father had made a deal with a sorcerer, and offered his services in craftsmanship in exchange for pay.

But now, a device belonging to the wizard had seemingly fallen into Tom's hands.

Elyan and Gwen, the woman had concluded, an evil smile on her blood-red lips, would have to help fix the problem.

****

Leon was observing, amused, as Gwaine entertained Merlin with a story of one of his many misadventures in the taverns he frequented.

In other times, he would have stopped the display of childishness much sooner, but Leon was present not as First Knight of Camelot, but as Arthur's loyal friend, and Gwaine was not a knight of Camelot, but a man brave, and foolish, enough to follow them in their quest.

So he would allow them the fun they wanted, especially considering the wary glances Merlin sometimes tended to shoot Arthur's way. It was clear they all needed the opportunities to relax and unwind.

He was probably still scared, Leon thought. Merlin had grown up in a small village far from the citadel, among farmers who did not seem inclined to violence or abuse of any kind. Furthermore, when he had spoken to Will, Merlin, and Lancelot while waiting for Arthur’s return, the villagers had constantly cast worried and protective glances towards Merlin, many of them stopping to make sure Leon wasn't bothering the other boy.

And that was the main reason why he had come to the conclusion that Merlin had lied about his age. There was no way the boy had already reached the age of sixteen if the other inhabitants of his village expressed such worry about his safety and the danger of leaving with two strange men. People were not generally that protective over those of age, only those they saw as far too young to be undertaking such journeys.

He had wanted to broach the subject with Arthur, but after seeing the way Merlin had stood up to the prince, he had changed his mind.

What would have been the point of revealing the truth, when it would only lead to more arguments and fights?

Merlin must have had a very good reason for having decided to lie. The boy was sensible and was aware of his limits, as he had demonstrated when he hadn’t even tried to be a hero and had willingly followed Leon’s suggestion to hide until the end of the fight.

So, Leon allowed Gwaine to entertain Merlin, reassuring him and soothing his worries when Leon and Arthur could not.

The knight’s gaze shifted towards the sky, where a raven was flying towards them.

“Arthur?”

The prince looked up, and so did the other three men, following Leon's gaze.

“Morgana.” Arthur murmured, extending his arm and allowing the raven to perch on it.

“Is Morgana the raven?” Gwaine asked, frowning. “How do you even know that it is a female?”

“Morgana is Arthur’s half-sister, King Uther's ward.” Leon corrected the other man with a sigh. “Long ago, she somehow managed to convince a raven to convey her messages, and has kept it as a pet since. She has used it as a means of communication since she was a child.”

Arthur made a muffled noise. "We have to go."

"Where?" Merlin asked, frowning.

“They took Elyan. We have to help him.” Arthur communicated, starting to gather their bed rolls and bags.

“What about Camelot?” Gwaine asked, confused and hesitant.

“There is no point in saving Camelot if we let her people die. Elyan is an innocent man, it is my duty to help him.” Arthur replied.

Leon smiled, before glancing at the others to register their expressions. Gwaine seemed shocked at the thought of a prince willing to risk his life and his kingdom for a common man. Lancelot seemed intrigued, while Merlin looked proud, his gaze resting somewhere far in the distance.

Following his gaze, Leon blinked. The beasts they had encountered thus far in the forest were predators, animals that were too dangerous to be hunted without a proper party to back them up. And yet, in front of them, behind the prince who was still busy arranging their supplies, a herd of deer walked undisturbed.

****

Percival was busy weaving reeds into a basket when Iseldir joined him.

“Percival, walk with me for a moment.”

Without hesitation, Percival rose and followed the druid, remaining silent while Iseldir seemed to consider how to approach whatever topic he wanted to discuss.

“Tell me, Percival, what do you think of Camelot’s condition?”

Percival frowned. “She is living again, Iseldir. Camelot is coming back to life.”

Iseldir nodded, but did not offer any input. Percival continued speaking.

“So that means we will soon have a worthy king.”

Iseldir smiled at the words echoing what he and Aglain had spoken about a few days earlier.

“And what does it mean to have a worthy king, Percival?”

The young man couldn't answer the druid who, with a smile, said,  “Do you know about the prophecy of Once and Future King, Percival?”

At this, Percival snorted, unable to contain himself.

All druids, from birth, were educated in the prophecies of old. And, the prophecy, the legend, regarding the Once and Future King and Emrys was the most repeated and remembered by all of them. It was their hope for a better future.

“And I imagine you know of Emrys too, don't you, Percival?”

Percival nodded. “The most powerful sorcerer to ever walk this Earth. The one who will guide the Once and Future King towards the right path, without malicious intent, without manipulation, but with honesty and friendship.”

“This is why I want you to take the journey.” Iseldir nodded. “No one seems to understand that Emrys must not force his king onto the path Emrys wants, but to guide him to find the one best for himself. Uther’s hatred has made us all desperate for change, no matter how it comes about. And I fear that no druid would be able to see the man in Emrys, rather than Emrys in the man."

“I don't understand, Iseldir.” Percival murmured. “What journey do you mean?”

“The Earth is coming back to life because the King and his sorcerer have finally met.” Iseldir announced. “The sorcerer has already begun to fill his role as the king's guide, and the king has accepted him and followed his advice. Your task, Percival, is to ensure that Emrys does not fear himself. Does not grow to hate himself or his gifts. That he does not see the horror of magic or begin to despise it."

“Emrys is magic.” Percival murmured. “How could he hate what he is?”

“Emrys is a boy, before he is magic.” Iseldir told him with a sympathetic smile. “And even hating what you yourself are is not as rare as you might think, Percival.”

"What should I do?" Percival asked.

“You and I, Percival, will join them where they are. We will offer them answers to their questions and then, you will offer them your sword.” Iseldir said. “Perhaps seeing Druids living in harmony with nature will convince the king to truly accept us as his people.”

Percival smiled. “When do we leave?”

***

Merlin was questioning Leon about Morgana and Gwen.

"Gwen is Lady Morgana's servant." Leon was fulfilling the boy's insatiable curiosity, a small smile on his lips. "Her mother served my family, so as soon as Morgana arrived at court, I made sure Gwen was entrusted to her care. Being the personal servant of a member of the royal family is a great honor."

Merlin rolled his eyes, glancing at Arthur who was walking ahead, a determined expression on his face. "I can imagine."

"It really is." Leon insisted. "Such a position comes with benefits and privileges. The salary is higher, and each personal servant has the right to stay in the antechamber of their noble's rooms. Gwen didn't use hers, she lived with her father. But, since servants are usually confined to very small spaces, having rooms is a great advantage."

"Sure," Merlin agreed, not wanting to hear any more clarifications from Leon. He understood, it was an honor.

But given Arthur's behavior, Merlin had his doubts that being his personal servant would be a great honor. Whoever used those antechambers would have probably had the constant temptation to smother him in his sleep with a pillow.

"Gwen has an older brother, Elyan." Leon continued, making Merlin sigh in relief. "He had no desire to continue the blacksmithing work their father had started, so he decided to travel. Gwen never heard much from him in those years. Then, after the curse, we just assumed he had no idea where to look for his sister. " Leon sighed, a worried expression on his face. "I wonder what trouble he might have gotten himself into. Elyan, while he did not wish to remain as a blacksmith in Camelot, would never have put his sister or father in danger. He just had dreams that Camelot was unable to fulfill."

"You seem disappointed." Merlin couldn't help but notice, frowning.

"Camelot should be a home for all its citizens. One of its citizens not feeling safe is our mistake." Leon said. "And I feel personally responsible for it. I should have understood Elyan's pain better, and sought a solution for him. Or, at least, helped to provide safe means for his travels."

“It's not your responsibility.” Merlin contested. "You've done a lot for Gwen and her family, from what you've told me. I can imagine that it was you who insisted that Gwen and her parents follow you."

"Only her father." Leon murmured, his eyes sad. "Her mother died of an illness when they were still young, shortly after Elyan first left. I tried to provide her with the best care, but sadly there was nothing that could be done."

“I guess servants don't usually have the best care.” Merlin observed. "So you really did everything you could, and then some, for Gwen and her parents. Elyan should have known he could at least ask you for help, but I don't think he would have even accepted it." Merlin smiled at Leon's stunned expression. "We don't take kindly to pity, Leon."

"But it wouldn't have been pity." Leon contested. "Just deep concern and affection."

"And, for peasants, a noble's concern is usually perceived as pity." Merlin shrugged. "I've lived it, Leon. In Ealdor, when the knights first arrived, no one wanted to accept their help. We resented how poorly they treated us. We had survived up to that point with what we had. Their pity was only a nuisance."

"And was it mercy?" Leon couldn't help but ask.

"For some." Merlin nodded. "For many others, no. They were just worried about the fate of all those children who didn't have enough food to survive the harsh winter."

Leon nodded thoughtfully. “And you think we are giving you mercy?”

Merlin fixed Leon with a thoughtful gaze, stopping and causing the knight to stop as well. "I think you are a good man, Leon. I think you have a good heart and are one of the few who can claim nobility of heart and birth."

Leon smiled.

***

Finally, the sight of Cenred's fort appeared.

Arthur sighed. He’d felt scared, for a moment, that they'd be too late. That Elyan would have already paid the price.

From what Morgana's letter said, apparently Elyan's father was in possession of something that Cenred wanted for his personal gain.

Arthur wouldn't let him use Elyan for that purpose.

It wasn't right.

And, Elyan was one of his people. Arthur had made an oath to protect him and all the others who were in need.

Arthur wouldn't let him suffer. 

***

And in Camelot another stream of water began to flow, another thread of life grew.

Camelot was beginning to bloom once again.

****

Elyan didn't know how to describe the relief he was feeling.

It had all happened much too quickly. One moment, he was being used as bait to capture his sister, endangering the future she had built for herself in Camelot.

The next, Arthur Pendragon, Sir Leon, and three others had appeared and rescued him from his captivity.

“Cenred won't stop.” Arthur had commented as the group walked away from the fortress. “We need to put as much distance as possible between us and them. The woman who was with him clearly had magic.” Arthur nodded to himself. “We cannot delay.”

No one had objected, although Elyan had noticed that the three strangers had exchanged a doubtful look.

Now, finally , they had stopped to rest, and Elyan had taken the opportunity to ask about Camelot, Gwen, and the three strangers.

“Camelot has fallen.” Arthur spoke, his voice solemn. “A sorcerer has placed a curse on the kingdom, and its people have abandoned its lands and sought refuge elsewhere.”

Elyan blinked. “But how did Cenred know where to look for Gwen? And what are you doing here?” Elyan turned pale. “How's Gwen? My father? My mother?"

“Your mother sadly passed away some years ago.” Leon told him, speaking in a slow and reassuring tone of voice, giving the boy time to mourn his mother. Seeing him take a deep breath, he continued. “Gwen and your father, however, are both fine. They are thriving at King Godwyn's court.” At Elyan's confused look, he explained. “It is the kingdom where King Uther and his most faithful have found refuge. Gwen is Lady Morgana's personal servant, and she managed to bring your father with her as well. Lady Morgana made it possible.”

“Cenred will have to have had some of his people spy on my father, perhaps to predict when he would return to Camelot.” Arthur commented. “So he knew where to find Gwen. As for us, we are looking for ways to reverse the curse wrought on Camelot. Morgana sent us the news of your imprisonment.”

“We are far from Camelot.” Elyan murmured, “How could you be so close to me?”

“We weren't.” One of the three strangers spoke. “The princess decided to come look for you.”

“I'm Merlin, by the way.” Another, the youngest, said. “This is Lancelot,” Merlin pointed to the man beside him, “and Gwaine.” Now he gestured to the one who had called Arthur 'princess'.

Elyan smiled. “Elyan. It is a pleasure to meet you." Then, he looked at Arthur. “And I thank you, sire. You saved me from certain death.”

“I couldn't have left you there.” Arthur replied. “You are a citizen of Camelot and, more importantly, innocent. I will always strive to keep my people safe.”

Merlin intervened. "Why don't you join us? Cenred may still try to hunt you down. The more of us there are, the harder it will be for him to catch you.”

Elyan sighed. “I don't want to put you in danger…”

“Arthur’s the son of Uther Pendragon.” Gwaine shrugged. “That puts him, and all of us, in enough danger already.”

Elyan glanced at the prince. Seeing that he didn't reject his presence, he smiled. “I would love to join you. It would be a great honour.”

"Well." Arthur nodded. “Then we'd better move on. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

***

Finally, after hours of waiting, Percival heard voices.

"This is them?" The druid asked his leader, who simply smiled.

“It would seem so, Percival. Let us go and introduce ourselves."

The two continued on their path, emerging into a clearing and seeing a group of six people sitting around a fire.

A man, with reddish blond hair and blue eyes, saw them first. “Arthur,” he warned the blond on his right.

The future king turned to look at them, before his gaze fell on the triskelion tattoo on their forearms.

“Druids.” Arthur murmured, his hand going to the sword of its own accord.

The man on his right, with black hair and blue eyes, stopped his hand. “Arthur.”

The blond brought his gaze to him, and he continued. “We had decided to talk to them. To know more about what happened in the past. Furthermore, they came in peace. They're not hurting us. Why respond with violence?”

Arthur took a deep breath, before nodding and relaxing. “Please, join us. We have spare food, and water, if you wish to rest and nourish yourself.”

“Your hospitality lends you credit, Arthur Pendragon.” Iseldir sat down.

As soon as Percival had sat down too, the boy who had convinced Arthur to welcome them rushed to pass them some plates.

"Thank you." Iseldir smiled at him.

“Have you had a long journey?” The boy asked back, a gentle smile on his face.

“We are from the grounds of Camelot, actually.” Iseldir said, looking at Arthur. “We were aware of your arrival, Arthur Pendragon, and hoped we could assist you.”

"I do not know how I could." Arthur murmured stiffly.

The boy sighed. “Gaius told me that Uther killed a unicorn. Is it true?"

Iseldir nodded sadly. “Many Druids were relieved not to have to be exterminated for being born with a gift, but the damage Uther has brought upon his people… None of us would ever want to be free with that price.”

“What damage?” The man with reddish hair spoke. Percival narrowed his eyes. He was to Arthur's left, therefore the closest man to him among those present. Except, of course, the boy who had served them, who sat to Arthur's right.

One of the two had to be Emrys, then. Percival turned his attention to the red-haired man. He had the battle-hardened frame of a warrior, and looked to be older than Arthur. Maybe a couple of years.

The other boy, however, with those blue eyes wide at the sight of them, looked like a child, still capable of looking at the world and seeing its goodness.

“Killing a unicorn is a horrible crime.” Iseldir said, sighing. “It leads to great punishment for the guilty.”

"Why?" Arthur asked.

“It's like killing a child.” The boy said, speaking in a whisper. “Killing innocence itself in its purest form.”

Everyone looked at him in amazement, and the boy blushed. “I…Gaius told me.”

“And he told the truth.” Iseldir confirmed. “What's your name, young man?”

“Merlin.” The boy, Merlin, introduced himself.

Percival's eyes widened as he allowed himself to feel and see his magic.

It was intoxicating. The man was not surprised when he noticed the way nature tried to bend towards him, as if he were part of nature itself.

"It doesn't make the slightest sense." Arthur shook his head. "How could it be the cause of the devastation of my home? The death of a creature of magic ?"

"It is. Simply because the unicorn is, as your friend said, completely innocent. How can you be worthy of ruling, if you slay such a thing?" Iseldir asked. "Gaius tried to warn Uther. He is a good man and knew for a fact that magic is not evil. He knew for sure what killing a unicorn would bring and what not offering the correct reparations would entail. He warned Uther of all this and, in return, Uther asked him to find a way to kill the sorcerer, Anhora, the keeper of the unicorns."

Iseldir sighed. "Uther has been given several opportunities to redeem himself, but he has never taken them. He shows no remorse for his actions. As evidenced by the lies he is spreading in hopes of finding someone to save Camelot for him."

Arthur took a deep breath. "It's really not possible that my father..."

Iseldir shook his head. “It is always difficult to see the wrongs of those we love.”

“My father would never put his people in danger!” Arthur shouted. “It's not his fault that the sorcerer cursed Camelot!”

“Arthur.” Merlin placed a hand on Arthur's arm. “Gaius told me about what happens if you kill a unicorn. You wanted answers.”

“But…” Arthur suddenly looked defeated. “My father would never put his people in danger. He is a good king."

“Uther is a good king, until magic is mentioned.” Iseldir agreed. “Then he knows no reason. Gaius knew this, yet he tried to reason with him anyway, still looking for his old friend in the tyrant he had become.”

“My father is not a tyrant!” Arthur retorted, the fire returning to his eyes. “He is a just and strong king!”

“Then why did you have to run away, Arthur Pendragon?” Iseldir asked. “Why does the earth live with you and not with your father?”

Arthur stopped speaking, blinking in confusion. "I do not understand." He murmured.

“There are many things you don't know about magic and the war your father started. He betrayed the trust of your mother’s closest friend, Nimueh.” Iseldir smiled sadly. “I enjoyed her company. She was so full of confidence and life, so sure of the kingdom Uther would create, and she loved being a part of it. Court Sorcerer. Uther had honoured her beyond measure, but…” Iseldir sighed. “Unfortunately, Uther never listened to the laws of magic. He misunderstood the simple balance, he misunderstood that life would be taken in return for a new one. And, sadly, Nimueh and all the mages ended up paying the price for his foolishness.”

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked. “Nimueh is the witch who tried to kill my father. I heard about it.”

“Nimueh was heartbroken by your father, Arthur Pendragon.” Iseldir took a deep breath. “Betrayal always hurts so much because it comes from the people we expect it least from. Nimueh did not expect what Uther would do to her. And this hurt her like nothing in the world had done.”

Iseldir eyed Arthur, and Percival did the same.

Merlin placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder, leaning in to whisper something in his ear.

Arthur nodded. “How do you live in Camelot? The earth is dying.”

“The earth lives to help us.” Percival said. “We are safe there. The food grows and the river flows.” He added to the dubious looks he received. “We are not punished.”

Arthur frowned. “Why wouldn't you be punished?”

Merlin intervened, speaking softly, as if his words were only addressed to the prince and no one else. “Arthur, you have already seen how the taverns were prosperous with food and water. The sorcerer also had no problems, and we have already told you about the farmer. And you saw that the earth was healed when you were just towards the old man we met.”

“The sorcerer we met.” Arthur specified.

“Did it make a difference in the end?” Merlin asked back.

Arthur murmured. “You spoke of a Nimueh, is that correct? Court Sorcerer? Of Camelot?”

“Long before you were born, Arthur. When Uther still used magic in his kingdom.”

“Did my father allow magic in his lands?” Arthur asked. “It doesn't make the slightest sense.”

“If you want more answers, prince, you will have to ask Nimueh herself.” Iseldir said. “Only she has the right to share her suffering.”

"Very well." Arthur nodded. “If it helps save Camelot, we can divert our course. Leon,” he said, looking at the red-haired man, “you can stay here until tomorrow morning. You don't need to get back on the road now."

“It will be an honour, prince.” Iseldir bowed his head.

Merlin smiled softly. “Come, I'll help you.”

“Thank you, Merlin.” Iseldir smiled. “Your kindness does you honour.”

Merlin blushed. Percival, at that moment, understood Iseldir's words.

Merlin was just a young man, good and pure, but still young and inexperienced.

Percival would gladly help him.

***

Arthur was finding it difficult to rest.

Apparently, his father had indeed spread lies about his intentions to knight commoners and hopefuls. Why would he do something like that? Arthur knew well that his father would normally never, ever, stoop to such a level.

Why lie? Why abuse the courage and kindness of strangers?

“Arthur?”

The whisper made him turn around. Merlin was there, a gentle smile and worried eyes gazing upon the prince fondly.

Arthur smiled back. “Merlin. What's the problem?"

“Nothing, I…” Merlin shrugged. “You seem worried.”

“I've just been thinking about my father, Merlin.” Arthur sighed. “I have always admired him, always looked up to him, and yet I cannot help but find faults in his decisions.. I don't know how to reconcile it with the man I call father and that I love."

"It's not your fault." Merlin whispered, sitting down next to Arthur. “I can understand your pain, Arthur. It's hard to realise that the people around us aren't really what we thought they were." Merlin grimaced, thinking about the way he'd heard Gaius confess to his mother that he'd let sorcerers die, one after another, only so he wouldn't be the next. If Hunith had really sent Merlin to Camelot, as Merlin knew would happen if the kingdom hadn't already become a wasteland (there were advantages to eavesdropping sometimes), would Gaius have watched him burn? It had become a recurring theme in his nightmares.

Gaius standing in front of his pyre.

Merlin shivered.

Arthur looked at him worriedly, before murmuring. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Merlin nodded. “You can ask me anything, Arthur.”

“Why are you helping me? The real reason." Arthur said, speaking softly. “Why are you so understanding of those with magic? Don't you know what harm they can do?”

“Because it's the right thing to do.” Merlin said. “I have a home to return to. I have a family that will protect me. You... you no longer have a home. When I was born, shortly thereafter, Camelot began to die. You have enough memories to miss it, but not so many to have any kind of consolation. I… want to help you get back to your home. Everyone deserves that safe haven in the middle of the world. I know where I'll go when it's all over. I want to give you that same certainty.”

Arthur smiled. Merlin was good, innocent, and so pure. It was because of people like him that Arthur wanted to fight to heal Camelot.

And, apparently, Merlin wanted to fight for Arthur himself. The prince had to admit that he was not used to receiving that kind of loyalty. Usually, it was he who offered it to others, or it was men at arms who offered it to him. But a peasant, from a kingdom hostile to Camelot, offering it for the sole purpose of doing so? Arthur really didn't know how to react.

“Thank you, Merlin.” Arthur nodded. “And what about sorcerers? The druids, they are here in the same camp as us. Do you really trust them?”

“They’re people, just like you and me.” Merlin shrugged. “You may think magic is inherently evil, but if that were really the case, the old man we met earlier would have killed us, Arthur. It's not bad or good, it's just a tool.” Merlin's gaze shifted into the distance. “Some have no choice, they are simply born that way into a world that hates them. It's not magic that corrupts, Arthur. It's fear. The fear of being betrayed, the fear of being different. The fear of being abandoned. To become the target of others and ultimately be killed. You don't know what it's like to live in fear. Why should you judge them for the way they react?”

“Many of them have harmed Camelot, Merlin.” Arthur said. “And you also saw the witch who aided Cenred in holding Elyan captive.”

“Have you ever seen an animal about to be slaughtered, Arthur?” Merlin asked, looking at the prince.

Arthur gaped when he realised how painful this conversation was for the boy. Everything about him was emitting waves of tension and pain: his hunched shoulders, the tears that weren't falling but were gathering in his blue eyes, making them even brighter than usual, the sad curl of his lips, and his furrowed brows.

Merlin ached to hear the accusations Arthur was making against magic users. Why? Was he really so empathetic and protective that he felt their pain as his own?

And what did slaughtered animals have to do with sorcerers?

Arthur answered anyway. "I’ve seen them. They fight like they've never fought before.”

"Yes." Merlin nodded. “They use all their power to try to survive. Just like the sorcerers.” Merlin looked at Arthur, waiting for him to understand.

Just like sorcerers. They fight like they've never fought before.

The sorcerers were the slaughter animals, and Uther and Camelot the executioner.

"Oh." Arthur murmured. “I…I had never thought about it like that.”

“And you wouldn't have done it if you hadn't realised that your father wasn’t perfect.” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Really, I'm not even fifteen yet, and yet I know for myself that parents lie sometimes.”

“Aren't you fifteen yet?” Arthur retorted, blinking.

Merlin blushed. “Here… I… Oops?”

“Oops?!” Arthur retorted. “Merlin, you told me you were sixteen!”

“I was going to say fourteen, but you wouldn't have let me come!” Merlin protested. “And I just helped you! I was helpful!”

“That doesn't mean you had to be put in danger!” Arthur growled. “That was stupid!”

"No!" Merlin retorted. “Doing the right thing is never stupid!”

Arthur stopped screaming when he saw Merlin's eyes become more fragile, like glass about to break.

“Merlin…”

“If I were sixteen would it be okay for me to be here?” Merlin asked, obviously a rhetorical question, as he continued to speak. “If there really is such a big difference, why didn't you notice it right away? Why didn't you realise right away that I wasn't sixteen, but fourteen?”

Arthur had no answer to this. The truth was that his problem wasn't really that Merlin was fourteen and not sixteen. His life was not in danger.

Arthur's problem was that Merlin was too young to have a relationship with him.

And, Arthur's second problem was that he hadn't realised this desire until he heard Merlin's true age. Why was everything always so confusing?

Now, at least, Arthur understood the smile on Leon's face when he had given Merlin the upper hand where Gwaine, Elyan and, now, the druids were concerned.

“You're right, I…” Arthur sighed. “I don't want to have another life on my conscience, that's all.”

A pain in the back of his neck made him wince.

“Hey!” He protested, glaring at Merlin's offending hand.

“You were talking nonsense, dollophead. I couldn't let you continue." Merlin rolled his eyes. “And most importantly, it was my choice to come here with you. You didn't force me to do anything. Remember that. It's not your fault. The war against magic was started by Uther. We'll find out why by talking to Nimueh. But the fact remains that all the deaths that have occurred were not caused by you. Uther killed the unicorn. Not you. The consequences of those actions do not fall to you. You are innocent, Arthur." Merlin lowered his voice as he said. “You are as innocent as that unicorn was.”

Arthur felt a lump in his throat.

"Thank you." He managed to murmur finally. “Just…thanks.”

***

Merlin wanted to hit himself on the head.

He revealed that he was fourteen. He hadn’t even been found out, he’d given himself away with a simple slip of the tongue.

What if he had accidentally confessed to having magic instead? Arthur wouldn't have been as understanding!

Sure, he had shown compassion towards the old man, but Merlin knew it had more to do with the man's age, and perhaps the horror of having just hurt Merlin. And the Druids, everyone knew that they were a peaceful people, and that not all of them had magic. It wasn't an openness to magic, only being wary of something you weren't sure was there.

And, in this case, Merlin had been on the verge of tears. Arthur had discovered his true age, seen him as a child who needed understanding, and hadn't denounced all his unhealthy ideas about magic. Besides, Merlin thought back, Arthur was coming to terms with his own personal betrayal.

Uther and his lies.

Obviously he hadn't paid due attention to their talk of magic.

Merlin approached Lancelot, murmuring. “I admitted I was fourteen to Arthur.”

Lancelot rewarded him with a smile. “I'm proud of you, Merlin, you clearly made the right choice…”

Merlin grimaced, and Lancelot sighed. “You didn't admit it, did you?”

“I said it, and he was there. I call it admitting.” Merlin retorted.

“Merlin?” Lancelot raised an eyebrow, clearly not liking Merlin's response.

That's right, he was a big brother. He had heard it all before.

“I was teasing him for believing that his father had never lied and I said that even before I was fifteen I already understood it.” Merlin murmured.

Lancelot laughed. “Only you, Merlin.” Then, becoming more sober, he said. "And now? Will he make you return to Ealdor?”

“I pointed out to him how he didn't even realise I wasn't sixteen.” Merlin shrugged. “Said I was clearly mature enough to follow you, and he admitted I was right and agreed to let me stay.”

"I'm happy." Lancelot smiled. “I may have started out wanting to become a knight of Camelot, but…I'm honestly glad I met you, Merlin. You are very special."

Merlin blushed, feeling his face heat up.

“Well, are we all ready?” Arthur's voice made them turn, in time to see Arthur's narrowed eyes turned towards them.

The prince then turned to the two druids. “Would you like to accompany us further, or would you prefer to return to your camp?”

Iseldir smiled. “I would like to return to my home to rest, Arthur Pendragon, but Percival would be honoured to follow you further.”

“Is that so?” Arthur asked, looking at Percival. “I won't force you to come with us, I hope that's clear.”

“I know, Prince Arthur.” Percival said, tilting his head towards Arthur. “But I would be honoured to follow you, your highness.”

“Then you're one of us.” Arthur nodded. “I'm afraid I don't know where to find this Nimueh.”

Percival bowed. “After Camelot's condition worsened, Nimueh sought refuge in the Crystal Cave, seeking premonition of the future to save this land. This cave is located in the Valley of the Fallen Kings.”

"Very good." Arthur nodded, glancing at Leon. “We will be able to find our way, I'm sure of it.”

Iseldir bowed. “Then it is here we part ways, Arthur Pendragon. May you find the answers you are looking for.”

As the druid walked away, Merlin asked. “Are all druids this vague?”

Percival laughed. “You have no idea, Merlin.”

****

As soon as he stepped into the Valley of the Fallen Kings, Merlin could feel the magic buzzing around him.

He took a deep breath, falling behind the others, taking a moment to appreciate everything around him in the moment.

Every tree, every bird, every insect, every blade of grass, it was all so alive, so vibrant with life. Merlin couldn't even believe he was still in Camelot.

Nothing had ever seemed so alive and strong before in this kingdom.

“Another sorcerer who makes the land come alive.” Merlin heard Leon whisper, turning to Arthur, who only nodded.

“If we are to believe Iseldir,” Arthur murmured in response, his gaze falling momentarily on Merlin, “we can say that magic does not determine the goodness of a man’s heart.”

“All the sorcerers we’ve ever encountered were determined to kill us.”

“To defend themselves, probably.” Arthur pondered. “We'll see what happens now. I don't want to make hasty decisions, Leon. Just have faith in me.”

“Always, sire.” Leon smiled. “You know I will always have faith in you.”

Arthur nodded gratefully, and then his gaze was drawn to the woman standing in front of a cave.

She had a red dress that hugged her curvy body. Her eyes were dark blue, almost black, her hair was loose, with curls falling softly to her shoulders.

“Arthur Pendragon.” The woman spoke. “I can't say I expected a visit from you.”

“Nimueh.” Arthur dismounted, approaching the woman with a slow pace. When he was near her, he said. “Iseldir invited me to ask you about my past.”

Nimueh raised an eyebrow, looking at the rest of the procession that had accompanied Arthur. “If I have to talk about my past, I would like to have names. Who are your companions?”

“They are Leon, Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan, Percival and Merlin.” Arthur said. “They are the bravest people I have ever met who have done me the honour of following me in this quest of mine.”

“Restore Camelot.” Nimueh nodded. “I knew this mission would never be ordered by Uther. He's not the type to admit his mistakes. He never was.” Nimueh's voice became sad, melancholy. “You must have been shocked when your quest turned out to be uncovering your father's wrongdoings, rather than saving your home.”

“From what I've been told, the two things could be one and the same.” Arthur replied.

Nimueh sat on the ground, gesturing for the others to join her. “I would invite you inside, but the crystal cave is not the place for those who cannot control their visions.”

Arthur was the first to sit down, and everyone else followed soon after, maintaining a respectful silence and letting the two continue their conversation.

“I was told you were once the Court Sorcerer of Camelot.” Arthur spoke first.

“Surprised to realise that magic was not only present, but tolerated and used in Camelot?” Nimueh asked, a soft smile on her face.

“Surprised that my father would make use of such practices.” Arthur corrected.

“Uther benefited greatly from the use of magic.” Nimueh sighed. “In war and in peace, everywhere.”

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked. “I can understand in times of war, but in peace? And everywhere?”

“Did you know your mother was sterile, Arthur? That she couldn't conceive a child?” Nimueh asked, looking sadly at the prince.

"That’s not possible. How would I have been born?” Arthur denied it.

“There is a balance in magic. To give a life, one must be taken. Uther knew the price very well.”

Nimueh's sentence fell into silence as the realisation hit everyone present.

Arthur was the first to put the pieces together and voice what everyone else soon understood.

“My father used magic to conceive an heir to the throne, and my mother paid the price?” It was the horrified whisper as he murmured into the silence of the valley, his gaze turning shocked and fragile.

Nimueh nodded, without saying anything else.

“No, I…I can't…” Arthur shook his head, before getting up and running off towards the woods.

Merlin and Leon stood up together, before looking at each other with surprised eyes for a moment. Finally, Leon smiled sadly, sitting back down and motioning for Merlin to follow Arthur.

***

He used magic, Arthur couldn't help but think. He had used magic to his advantage and then made innocents pay the price. Countless people killed to allow Uther to hide his personal guilt, the contempt he must have felt for himself.

Arthur was glad he wasn't anywhere near his father at the moment. The anger he felt would likely lead him to try to kill the man, without even hesitating.

“Arthur!”

Arthur growled at Merlin, who took a step back for a moment, before deciding to ignore the obvious anger Arthur was displaying and stepped forward to hug him.

"Merlin..." Arthur sighed, obviously tired of everything that had happened to him.

“Shh.” Merlin whispered in his ear. "Everything is going to be fine. I understand this is tough, and you have every right to be angry. But don't push away the people who care for you, Arthur. Don't become like that."

Arthur stopped trying to move away from Merlin. Instead, he leaned into his shoulder, bringing his arms around Merlin's waist and tucking his head into the crook of Merlin's neck, accepting the comfort and warmth the boy was offering him so freely.

“You are a better man than your father, Arthur. I'm sorry you had to find out what happened to your mother like this. She deserved better. You both did.”

“She died because of me.” Arthur whispered, his breath warming Merlin's neck given their closeness.

“No, don't even say it.” Merlin shook his head, pulling away just enough to look Arthur in the eyes. “She died because of your father. It was his choice. And, I'm sure, if she had the choice, your mother would have accepted the price to have you."

“How can you say that?” Arthur asked, tears gathering in his eyes.

“Because she is your mother and she loves you.” Merlin replied. “And there's nothing like a mother's love.”

Arthur sniffed.

Before he could say anything else, before he could thank Merlin for his words, and his support, before he could say something he would surely regret, the unmistakable sounds of the bandits reached them, and, shortly after, a group of half a dozen men emerged from among the leaves, approaching them at a fast pace.

Arthur started to reach for his sword, before cursing and remembering that he had left it on his horse, so as not to give in to the temptation to kill Nimueh or react violently to any news the woman would have for him.

He was defenceless, and, even worse, Merlin was with him.

“Merlin, go away!” Arthur screamed, trying to at least save the boy.

"No!" Merlin shouted back.

“Don't be stupid, they'll kill you too!” Arthur replied, but Merlin didn't listen, turning his gaze towards the bandits.

As Arthur prepared to witness his friend's end, his only consolation being the knowledge that he would soon reach him, an explosion of power rang out, and the bandits were swept backwards.

They fell, ran away, and left them alone, alone in the clearing.

Arthur's gaze was trained on Merlin. On his raised hand, fingers splayed wide.

“You’re a sorcerer.”

Arthur's voice made Merlin turn around, and he gulped at the cold look the prince was giving him. He tried to hide his gasp when he realised Arthur was reaching for his sword, before snarling as he realised he didn't have it.

"You lied to me." Arthur growled.

“I never said I didn't have magic.” Merlin protested. “I never lied to you.”

“You made me believe you were innocent.” Arthur replied.

"And? What horrendous acts have I committed?” Merlin asked, feeling his anger rising.

“You chose to practise magic!” Arthur yelled. “How could you do that?”

“I didn't choose!” Merlin screamed back. “Do you think if I had the choice, I would have chosen this life? Would I have chosen to have to be afraid every single moment of my life? Would I choose to have to fear my friends, the same people I grew up with?”

Arthur started to speak, but Merlin didn't let him.

“Do you know what game they play in Ealdor? Kill the sorcerer! Slay the evil magic user! I have to see the children I grew up with, the children who are born, playing, imitating knights or valiant heroes who hunt sorcerers like me and throw them onto the pyre. Or pretend to drown them! I know that if they knew I had magic, they would do the same to me! They would kill me without hesitation, or sell me to be a slave for Cenred, or to  a bounty hunter to be killed soon after! I can't trust anyone, I have to live in fear and I can't confide in anyone!” Merlin spread his arms, tears starting to fall from his eyes. “I didn't choose to be born so strange, I didn't choose to live in fear!”

Looking down, Merlin whispered. “I didn't choose this. I never wanted this.”

Merlin didn't look up, blinking as he tried to stop the tears that were now streaming down his cheeks.

Two arms around his waist made him gasp.

Arthur had held him close, bringing him further closer. “I'm so sorry, Merlin.”

Merlin buried his face in Arthur's chest, starting to sob.

“You don't deserve any of this. I'm so sorry."

Merlin kept his face buried in the prince's chest, letting his sobs settle into small sniffles as his tears dried up.

“I'm sorry for everything you've had to endure, Merlin. Really. It's not right."

Merlin looked up, trying to thank Arthur, but his eyes were drawn to the sight behind the prince. “Arthur.” He whispered, unable to contain his amazement.

The prince turned, holding his breath: in front of them, not far away, a white unicorn was grazing, its beautiful silver horn reflecting the golden light of the sun.

Around it, and the couple, it was as if the world had come to life again: the trees had blossomed and grown, berries and fruits thrived on the branches of shrubs, the unmistakable noise of animals and birds echoed in the distance.

****

The news of Camelot's healing had reached Gawant, from where Uther and his men had left to return to Camelot.

“Arthur,” Uther spoke in a low and monotone voice. Usually, that tone of voice was enough to make his son understand how disappointed he was in his actions.

The boy did not respond, remaining seated on the throne, at the head of the assembled council of nobles.

Uther grit his teeth. Had Arthur warned the random nobles first, taking them back to Camelot, rather than warning his father and king?

“I see you have succeeded in your fantasy, son.” Uther said, frowning and pursing his lips. His son's lack of reaction was starting to irritate him, especially in front of the entire assembled council.

“I'm glad you made it, Father.” Arthur finally spoke, sounding confident. “There are some issues that should be resolved as soon as possible.”

“Arthur.” Uther barked his son's name, letting all his anger and frustration take hold. Beside him, he noticed Morgana shiver.

Arthur took a deep breath, and Uther noticed at that moment the closeness between him and a boy behind him who, as soon as Uther had raised his voice, had approached his son and gently touched him with a hand.

Unacceptable. The Pendragons showed no weakness and would not accept any help from mere peasants.

"Father." Arthur said. “How do you plead to the accusation of having used magic and witchcraft for your purposes?”

Uther snorted. "Arthur, what are you doing?"

“How do you declare yourself?” Arthur repeated. “I'm not sure if you realise it, father, but this is a trial, held against you for the damage you have brought to Camelot and its people.”

“I've never used magic, Arthur! You know how corrupting it is!” Uther screamed.

“It's a shame that several doctors, experts in their field, have confirmed what I recently discovered. My mother was sterile.” Arthur's statement was met with several raised eyebrows. “How do you explain my birth, then? A miracle?"

“Many doctors make mistakes, Arthur. You know better than to take their words at face value.” Uther replied, gritting his teeth.

“But in the castle records we found evidence of the presence of two court sorcerers in Camelot. Balinor, a dragon lord, and Nimueh, a Priestess of the Old Religion. And we know you asked the second one to use magic to give you an heir. Leading to the death of my mother.”

“I didn't know it would take Igraine's life!” Uther screamed, anger at this betrayal making him careless. “I thought it would take someone unimportant! Some commoner or criminal!”

Arthur nodded. “So you were prepared to let one of your citizens die, someone you were supposed to protect with your life as per your oath, for personal gain.” Uther watched his son take another paper as he said. “Were you warned of the consequences of killing a unicorn, Father?”

"What are you talking about?" Uther growled.

“It is clear that the Great Purge was your attempt to hide your mistake and guilt by declaring war on the innocent.” Arthur explained. “But you also killed a unicorn, and despite the warnings Gaius gave you, you chose to let your people suffer instead of fixing it.”

“Gaius betrayed me!” Uther screamed. “I don't know what I ever expected from a sorcerer!”

If Uther hoped that the accusation would move those present, he was disappointed when he noticed that no one seemed to care.

“You are rather late, father.” Arthur said. “Your faults have already been proven and exposed to all present, along with the talents of Gaius and Nimueh. You have been deemed incapable of continuing to rule this kingdom. I do not wish to banish you, but if you ever jeopardise my kingdom and threaten my people, I see no choice but exile for you.”

“How dare you, you ungrateful brat?” Uther screamed.

“Don't talk like that to the king!” A knight said, his hand resting on his sword. “You will show due respect when addressing him!”

Uther grit his teeth. “What evidence do you have to support these accusations?”

“In addition to the records you compiled yourself?” Arthur pointed to the several books that were placed on the table. “Testimonies of the people present at that moment.”

Uther gasped when he saw Gaius and Nimueh standing in the corner of the throne room.

“They are sorcerers!” Uther screamed. “Capture them! Arrest them at once!”

No knight moved at his command.

“I don't think that's going to happen.” Nimueh smiled. “I regret granting your request, Uther. If I had known what was going to happen, I would never have given it to you.”

“You…” Uther growled.

“You were a good friend.” Nimueh shook her head. “And I appreciated you, truly. But…you are not that person anymore.”

Arthur nodded towards the witch, before turning to his father. “What will you decide, father? Do you prefer exile or will you be satisfied with remaining at the castle as a guest?”

“I have no desire to stay here with a traitor like you.” Uther growled. “But, believe my words, son , you will regret it."

Arthur nodded, sighing as if disappointed by his father's choice. "Very well. You have until this evening to leave.”

Uther narrowed his eyes, looking at all the assembled nobles, waiting for one of them to step forward and defend him. Then, his gaze fell on Morgana, who raised her chin defiantly.

"Very well." Uther nodded. Then, maintaining what dignity he had left, he turned and left the room.

***

“Now, Arthur?” Geoffrey spoke, writing Uther's decision on a piece of paper to add to the matters discussed. “What is left to discuss?”

Arthur glanced at Merlin, at his side, a comforting presence as the prince was confronting his father.

“Now, we have a law to rewrite.” Arthur nodded. “It is far overdue time to abolish the magic ban.”

***

It was only after everyone had left that Merlin reached Arthur.

“How did it feel?” Arthur asked, smiling at the boy. He had been extremely supportive, the whole time. “Real enough for you?”

“I mean, still a donkey, but now a real one.” Merlin joked, laughing at the other's expense, before saying. “No, really, you couldn't have given me a better present, Arthur.”

"Present?" Arthur asked, blinking.

"Present." Merlin nodded. “It's my birthday today. I turned fifteen."

"Oh." Arthur murmured. “Uh…happy birthday?”

Merlin laughed, before stepping forward and hugging the older boy. “Thank you, Arthur.”

***

“Do you solemnly promise to govern the people of this kingdom and its territories according to the statutes, customs and laws established by your noble ancestors?”

"I do."

Merlin and Gwen were standing next to each other, and Merlin could feel the other girl's gaze trained on him as she proudly witnessed Arthur take his rightful place as king of Camelot.

“Do you promise to exercise mercy and justice in your decisions and judgments?”

"I do."

“And do you swear allegiance to Camelot, now and for all your life?”

“I, Arthur Pendragon, do swear to devote my life to the service and protection of this kingdom and all its people.”

Merlin smiled. All its peoples. Arthur was also including the sorcerers, as demonstrated by the druids present in the room, or by the presence of Lady Morgana, a seer, and Nimueh, a Priestess of the Old Religion.

“Therefore, having come of age and being the sole heir, I hereby declare you king of Camelot.”

Arthur rose, resplendent in his crown and heavy red cape, turning to face the crowd as the sun glinted off the metal band and cast him in a halo of light. It was clear to see, this was the dawn of a new era.

***

"Nice neckerchief, Merlin, is it new?"

Nimueh's voice made Merlin turn around.

"Oh yes." The boy said, smiling, "Arthur gave it to me. Something about finding him all the new Knights and a member of the Council."

Merlin was so proud of his friends. Lancelot, Gwaine, and Elyan had all been made Knights of Camelot, while Percival, being a druid and despising violence, had been made a member of the council of nobles.

"Oh, really? My dear brother gave you that beautiful neckerchief?" Morgana said, coming over and looking extremely amused. "Did you say for what occasion?"

“Just…thanking me for my help, I guess.” Merlin replied, blushing.

After making common men knights and rewriting all the laws regarding magic, Arthur had turned to Merlin and Morgana and requested their support as Court Sorcerers. When it was pointed out to him that they knew nothing about magic, the laws and theory behind spells, Arthur had asked Nimueh to teach them.

Now, after almost a year of learning, Merlin and Morgana were finally ready to take their place.

"For your help, eh?" Morgana clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I received no such gift from Arthur for mine."

"I don't know what you expected, Morgana." Nimueh said, laughter in her eyes. "You're clearly not Merlin. Why would Arthur give you a gift?"

"I wonder too…" Morgana smirked, startling Merlin.

"He's just happy for me, that's all." Merlin murmured in response.

"Yes, that's why he gave you such comfortable rooms, I don't know how many books and jewels, and now a new neckerchief." Morgana nodded. "He's happy for you."

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "Are the jewels you speak of the cursed magical talismans?!"

Morgana ignored him. "So, Nimueh, what are we doing today?"

***

"Merlin?"

Arthur's voice made Merlin turn away from the window, where he had been watching the going-ons of Camelot down below.

In the square, children were happily playing, with one of them making smoke figures to entertain the others.

"Everything is fine?" Arthur asked, slowly approaching.

"More than," Merlin smiled, "you made all this possible, you know that?"

Arthur blushed, as uncomfortable as Merlin at receiving compliments. "Made what possible?"

"This." Merlin pointed to the town below. "When I was a child, there was a game that everyone played. And it was pretending to be on a witch hunt. And now…Arthur, look at them!" Merlin smiled hugely, moisture gathering in his eyes. "They're playing with magic! Children! Creating things with magic! And no one ignores them, avoids them, fears them, or reports them…Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur blushed again. Then, he smirked. “Well, I suppose fooling around with magic is not just for kids, huh?”

Merlin gave him a confused look, blushing when he saw a blue butterfly land on Arthur's finger. "Stop that." He murmured. “I can't control it.”

"Hey, I was just teasing you." Arthur smiled. "It’s sweet."

Merlin blushed, grasping desperately for a new topic, one that wouldn't embarrass him.

"Oh, do you know that Morgana is convinced that there is a double meaning in the gifts you gave me?" Merlin asked, stifling a laugh. “She and Nimueh kept exchanging these knowing looks.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Arthur asked, shocked.

"I said it was because you were happy for me, Arthur." Merlin rolled his eyes. "And Morgana just giggled."

"Merlin…" Arthur's voice trailed off, before the king continued. "Merlin, you know I'm courting you, right?"

"What?!" Merlin exclaimed. "Since when?"

"Since the room I gave you!" Arthur said back.

"You said it was for the books and magical items and to be closer to Nimueh!"

"What about the books and jewels?" Arthur relaunched.

"What do you Pendragons have with calling cursed magical items jewels?" Merlin asked rhetorically. “You said it was for my studies!”

“What about the neckerchief?”

“You were proud of my accomplishments!”

"Merlin, I was courting you!" Arthur screamed.

"Good!" Merlin blustered, blushing furiously.

"Good!" Arthur said.

After a moment of silence, Arthur murmured. "I realised I loved you two years ago. I…waited until you were sixteen to formally begin my courtship."

Merlin blushed.

"Will you marry me, Merlin?" Arthur asked.

"Yes."Merlin smiled. "With all my heart."

****

“Do you solemnly promise to govern the people of this kingdom and its territories according to the statutes, customs and laws established by your noble ancestors?”

"I do."

Merlin was kneeling in front ofArthur, who was watching him with a smile on his face and a sweet look.

Morgana, behind the king, looked at him proudly, as well as Gwen, Nimueh, Gaius and his mother.

Merlin couldn't see the knights, but he was sure he would find similar expressions.

“Do you promise to exercise mercy and justice in your decisions and judgments?”

"I do."

“And do you swear allegiance to Camelot, now and for all your life?”

"I, Merlin Emrys, I dedicate my life to the service and protection of this kingdom and all its people.”

“Therefore, with the powers vested in me as the king of Camelot, I crown you, Merlin Emrys, king consort of Camelot."

Merlin felt the weight of the crown settle on his head, but he wasn't bothered by it. All he could think about was getting up and finally kissing his king and husband.

No young man, no matter how extraordinary, can know their destiny. Like everyone else he must live to know it. And the same went for the kings of Camelot, The Once and Future King and Emrys.

Chapter Text

Stream and Download

MP3 stream/download Internet Archive

For this podfic I have used multiple songs from the Merlin OST:

• Hunith’s Letter To Gaius (S1)
• Gwaine’s Bar Brawl (S3)
• To Morgana (S1)
• The Fisher King (S3)
• Infiltrate the Citadel (S3)