Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The castle courtyard bustled with life as the late afternoon sun spilled golden light across the stone. Servants moved briskly between errands, kitchen staff darted to and from the side entrances, and knights on patrol loosened their cloaks in the warmth. Merlin moved among them, his stride quick and erratic as he muttered to himself about how “Lady Ennis and her nerves could bloody well wait.”

He was on an errand for Gaius - just a bundle of calming herbs wrapped in cloth - but the castle seemed more crowded than usual, and Merlin, in his impatience, took a shortcut through the inner courtyard by the western wall.

He perked up at the sight of Gwen across the way, standing with a basket hooked over her arm while having a conversation with a cook.

Nothing was unusual about the scene, but just above her on the ledge about three stories up, a wooden flower box shifted. An iron hook anchoring it to the stone struggled and bent under the weight of soaked soil. 

The strain proved too much, and the hook pierced through the wood of the box, splintering it and pitching it forward. Soil and petals began to fall, and Merlin was the first to catch the movement from the corner of his eyes.

“Gwen -!” Merlin shouted.

Gwen sensed the disturbance and looked up, instantly screaming and dropping her basket to protect herself from the blow.

Every eye in the courtyard was on the scene, but Merlin couldn’t keep still.

He raised his hand in an instant, a jolt of power surging through him, turning his desperate eyes to an otherworldly gold.

The flower box was hurled sideways into the wall where it smashed completely and crumpled to the ground. Wet dirt spilled like guts over the splintered edges of the box, while the remains of the flowers lay buried under the debris.

The bustling yard had gone completely still. The cook gawked at the sky. A guard at the courtyard gate had frozen completely, mouth agape. 

Merlin just began to comprehend what happened.

“Did… did anyone see that?” Gwen’s voice rang out, fueled by panic.

Whispers broke among the servants and the cook backed up a step as if to distance herself from the scene.

“No wind could’ve done that.” Sir Leon appeared from near the stables and approached the box.

Merlin swallowed hard. This is not good.

“Are you alright, Lady Gwen?” he asked. 

She nodded quietly, still stunned to silence.

“Everyone, return to your duties!” Leon shouted, and the servants and staff quickly snapped to it, just as startled by the order as the incident that had taken place before them.

Merlin held the herbs tight to his body and made a break past Gwen as quick as he could, trying his best not to look her direction as he passed. 

As he made his way through the corridors, he heard whispers already spreading like wildfire through the castle.

“Did you hear what happened?”

“It was definitely magic!”

“Who do you think did it?” 

“Do you think the king knows already?”

Sweat beaded on Merlin’s brow as he ran up the worn steps to Gaius’s lodgings. 

“Oh, I am in a lot of trouble.” He said to himself.

The door creaked open suddenly as Merlin slipped inside, the scent of crushed chamomile and dried mint smacking into him. 

The usually calming herbs could not abate his anxiety this time, though, and he fretted over what to say to Gaius, if anything.

The wizened man in question peered up from his workbench to look at his ward as he stumbled in. “You’ve sure taken your time for someone in such a rush.”

“Right. Sorry.” Merlin said between breaths. “I did try to take a shortcut through the west courtyard.” He placed the herb bundle on the table clumsily, causing some to fall to the floor.

Gaius lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry.” Merlin said again, then reached to collect the fallen herbs.

Gaius placed the vial he was working with on his bench and stood, making his way closer to study the frantic young man.

“You look paler than usual.” He remarked.

“Do I?” Merlin replied quickly, not meeting Gaius’s gaze. “Feel fine though.”

He moved to the basin and busied himself rinsing his hands, but the water splashed too hard, too fast and went everywhere.

“Merlin…” Gaius addressed him, concern heavy in his voice. “What happened?”

“Sorry, what was that?” he asked, using an old rag to clean up the water that had been thrown onto the floor.

Gaius approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“Tell me what happened.”

Merlin let out a breath, slow and quiet, like it might carry his problems away if he exhaled carefully enough. “There was… a bit of an accident in the courtyard.”

“No one was injured I hope?”

“No, no. No one was hurt.” Merlin went on. “A flower box broke off one of the windows. Gwen was standing under it, and it was falling so fast. It would have hit her but…” He stopped.

“ Merlin. ” Gaius whispered, astounded. “Tell me you didn’t -”

“I had to,” Merlin cut in. “There was no time to think, Gaius! No time to weigh the consequences, she was just there , and the box was falling -”

Gaius placed both hands firm on Merlin’s shoulder and looked him square in the eyes. “Tell me no one saw you, Merlin.”

Merlin hesitated.

“ Merlin .”

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “Maybe. A few people were nearby. Sir Leon, some maids, a cook, a stablehand or two… I just got out of there before anyone could ask questions.”

Gaius sighed, stepping back and rubbing a hand over his face. “The court is a place of whispers, Merlin. It won’t take much for a frightened servant or an overzealous guard to suggest sorcery.”

“I know ,” Merlin snapped. Then his voice softened again. “There’s already whispers in the corridors. And I wish it wasn’t, but it was a fairly obvious display. Someone’s going to report it to Arthur. He may know already. But if I hadn’t -”

“I’m not blaming you,” Gaius said, more gently now. “You did what you felt you had to. I would’ve done the same if I could. But if Arthur hears of this…”

Merlin sank into the chair by the fire, the warmth doing little to calm the knot in his chest. “He’ll call for an investigation.”

Gaius didn’t answer at first. He only turned toward the window, staring out at the sky.

“I think,” he said after a pause, “you should be prepared for that very possibility.”

The sound of a sharp knock at the door rippled through the air, cutting the building tension in two.

Merlin startled, jumping upwards from his seat like a frightened deer.

Gaius looked to the door with a frown and the knock came again -  firmer this time.

He wandered to the door while Merlin fidgeted with his hands by the fire, trying his best to act natural.

Gaius opened the door to find Arthur standing tall, arms crossed, impatience already set in his brow. 

“Gaius.” He greeted.

“A pleasure to see you, sire.” Gaius greeted. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“I’ve come for Merlin, actually.” He stated, peering past the man into the room. “He’s here isn’t he?”

“Ah, yes. He is.” Gaius stated, not moving from his spot at the door.

“...Mind if I come in?” Arthur asked awkwardly, having decided not to wait any longer for an invitation.

“Of course.” Gaius said, snapping to his senses and stepping to the side.

“Come on, Merlin. You’re coming with me,” Arthur said, briskly stepping towards him as if Merlin had already agreed.

“I am?”

“Yes. I’m needed in the throne room immediately.”

“I see. Well then you had better hurry over - don’t need me slowing you down.” Merlin said, trying his best to emulate his carefree attitude, using it as a thin veil to mask his fraying nerves.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Merlin. You are to accompany me. Your presence is required too.”

Merlin’s stomach dropped. “Me?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Yes, you. Now are you going to question everything I say or are we going?” He gestured to the door.

“I just…” Merlin cast a glance at Gaius, who watched them both with quiet apprehension. “I’m not sure I’ve finished my work here.”

“ Merlin .” Arthur’s tone sharpened.

“Right. Coming.” Merlin acquiesced, knowing Arthur’s patience was nearing its limit.

As he walked through the door with Arthur, Merlin glanced at Gaius again, eyes searching, but Gaius only gave a subtle shake of the head, urging silence. 

Chapter Text

Merlin’s boots scuffed the floor as he trailed slightly behind Arthur, who walked with purposeful strides, every inch the royal.

“You’d think after I became king that you’d speak to me with a little more respect.” Arthur muttered over his shoulder.

Merlin jerked his head up. “What?”

“I said - never mind.” Arthur threw a sideways glance at him. “You’re acting a bit… strange today.”

“Strange? No, I think I'm perfectly ordinary.” Merlin replied, almost tripping over his own boot, but steadying himself before falling.

Arthur scoffed, amused, and shook his head. “Merlin, you barely spoke two words when I showed up, and now you look like someone’s shoved a badger down your tunic.” Arthur slowed his pace as they approached the doors to the throne room. “So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Merlin said quickly. “Just didn’t sleep well.”

Arthur didn’t seem convinced by his excuse, but decided to let it drop. “Well, if you’re going to faint from exhaustion, do it after the meeting.”

Merlin forced a tight smile. “Right. Wouldn’t want to cause any trouble for you.”

The heavy doors creaked open before them, and Merlin’s breath hitched as he took in the room’s occupants.

Sir Leon and Gwen stood to the side of the room, while across from them was the cook and several of the other servants who had been in the courtyard earlier today.

Arthur came to a halt at the front of the room and shooed Merlin away from him towards the other servants. He joined them reluctantly, heart pounding.

“I have summoned you here in regards to an incident on the Castle Grounds.” Arthur began. “This morning, a flower box fell from the high window facing the courtyard. It has come to my attention that the object - had it followed its true path - would have likely fallen directly onto Lady Gwen. Numerous accounts have reported the box to have been thrown off course into the wall, and I suspect this was no accident.”

Merlin took a breath and glanced at the faces of the other servants to his right. They all looked nervous.

Well, at least my expression doesn’t seem so out of place here.

“I must ask you all to submit to questioning about this incident.” Arthur stepped forward towards the line of servants. “My father had a zero-tolerance policy for sorcery, and I must know every detail of what happened.”

Merlin swallowed as Arthur addressed the first servant in line - a footman - stocky and sweating despite the chill of the stone room.

“Your name?”

“Thomlin, sire.”

“You were in the courtyard?”

“Yes, I was heading to the stables.”

“Did you see what happened?”

Thomlin hesitated. “Not directly. I - I’d just turned when I heard a shout. That’s when I saw the flower box crashing into the wall… I didn’t see it fall before that though.”

“I see.” Arthur said, turning to Sir Leon who was keeping an account of each testimony. “Very well.”

Thomlin bowed as Arthur made his way to the next in line.

“Brynna, sire.” The kitchen maid introduced herself, voice shaking. “I didn’t see anything,” she whispered. “My back was turned. I just heard Lady Gwen cry out, and then the crash.”

Arthur continued down the line taking statements until he reached the cook, arms folded across her ample middle. She stepped forward immediately at his arrival without needing to be prompted.

“I saw the whole thing, sire.” she said bluntly. “Clear as day. The box was falling just over Lady Gwen when, WHAM! It went flying into the castle wall. I’ve never seen anything like it - and I’ve lived through more than a few magical messes in this castle.”

Several of the others nodded faintly at her words.

A courtier further down the line added, “I saw it too - saw the light around it. Like the shimmer of heat.”

The confessions spurred a flurry of others to speak up. Each servant told their version of the story, most of them slightly embellishing what they had seen.

Arthur’s face remained impassive through it all, but Merlin could feel the pressure coiling tighter around his ribs with every corroborated word until finally, Arthur turned to him.

“Merlin,” he said, careful and measured.

“Sire,” Merlin replied with a nod, his throat dry.

“You were in the courtyard when this happened?”

“Yes. I had just come back from gathering herbs for Gaius.” Merlin said the words automatically.

Arthur tilted his head, studying him. “And where were you standing?”

“By the fountain, sire.” He replied too quickly, lying about his location in the yard due to panic. He hoped no one would notice.

“And what did you see?” Arthur continued.

Merlin swallowed. “Just the end of it. Gwen screamed. The box hit the ground. I - I didn’t see it move in midair or shimmer with heat or anything like that.”

“You’re certain?”

Merlin nodded. “Completely.”

Arthur studied him for a long moment - long enough that Merlin had to fight not to look away. But then moved on. Merlin finally let out a breath once he was sure the king was out of earshot.

“After hearing your words, it is clear to me that sorcery was used.” Arthur began, ascending the dais to the throne. “I will personally conduct an investigation to identify the individual responsible for this act.”

Arthur nodded to Sir Leon and the guards stationed at the door to the room. “Dismiss them. But keep them within the castle. No one leaves until the investigation is complete.”

The gathered servants and onlookers began to disperse, their hushed murmurs filling the great hall like the rustling of uneasy leaves. Merlin shifted to follow the crowd, his shoulders tense, but felt a firm hand on his arm pull him back.

“Merlin,” Arthur beckoned, “wait for me outside.”

Though anxious, Merlin gave a quick nod and backed away, slipping out into the corridor beyond the towering doors of the throne room. He hovered near the archway, just out of sight, his heart hammering in his chest.

Inside, the doors hadn’t yet shut completely, and through the narrowing gap, Merlin could still hear Arthur’s voice.

“Sir Leon, alert the other knights to this incident. I want you all rotating guard duty on the castle exterior and patrols in the town. There are already whispers of sorcery about the castle from today’s incident, and I want the people to feel safe.”

“Understood, sire.” Leon bowed slightly and began out the throne room doors. Merlin sunk his back into the wall instinctively, pretending he hadn’t been listening, and glanced away awkwardly as Leon walked by.

“Arthur.” Merlin heard another softer voice slip out of the cracked doors - Gwen.

“I understand that magic is outlawed in Camelot, but whoever used it only did so to save my life. Must you really carry out an investigation over such a thing?”

“Magic is outlawed for a reason, Gwen.”

“Then would you have rather that box hit me over the head and left me dead on the ground?” She pressed.

“Of course not.” Arthur replied quickly. “But just because someone used their magic to save you doesn’t mean they won’t use it to harm someone else.”

There was a pause, and Merlin heard Arthur take a breath.

“You must understand how dangerous it is… Magic killed my father, Gwen.”

“And swords killed mine.” She retorted.

Merlin closed his eyes, the words he overheard piercing his heart. 

“I must do my duty to protect my people.” Arthur stated, breaking the heavy silence that hung between them. “I can’t weaken my stance on magic just because of a single favorable act.”

Gwen sighed softly, “I understand you must do what you think is right.”

Merlin heard some light shuffling, and then Gwen exited the doors into the corridor.

Merlin stepped back from the doorway again, his pulse drumming in his ears. 

Gwen locked eyes with Merlin and opened her mouth as if to speak when Arthur emerged behind her. 

Without a word, she turned away and departed.

“Come on,” Arthur said to Merlin, frustration evident in his voice. “We’ve got work to do.”

Chapter Text

The sun had nearly vanished beyond the western towers of Camelot by the time Merlin was released from Arthur’s charge. 

He walked the stone corridors in silence with his shoulders slumped and head down. His nerves were raw from the day - from Arthur’s questions, the whispers in the halls, the glances he couldn’t help but feel lingered too long. He wanted nothing more than to reach Gaius and hope he had some idea of how to get through this without being caught.

“Merlin?”

He looked up with a start to see Gwen waiting near the entrance to Gaius’s tower. She approached with a calm, steady expression.

“Gwen,” he said, blinking. “You’re out late.”

“I could say the same about you,” she said with a quiet smile. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

His brow crinkled slightly. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head. “No. Nothing like that. I just… wanted to talk. About earlier. In the courtyard.”

After a day full of tension, his heart gave another uncomfortable lurch. “Ah,” he said, trying to be casual. “Strange thing, wasn’t it? Don’t hear about something like that every day.” 

Gwen tilted her head, studying him with those perceptive eyes of hers. “Indeed. It was very strange.” She agreed. “One moment I was speaking with cook and the next a flower box was hurtling toward me. I barely even screamed before it had been flung away.”

“I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” Merlin offered, trying to steer the conversation away from the heart of the incident.

“Yes, thankfully I am quite well.” Gwen agreed. “I heard your voice, just before it happened,” she added. “You called my name, tried to warn me.”

“Reflex,” he said too quickly. “Anyone would’ve done the same.”

“Of course.” Gwen said. “But I am thankful.”

Merlin nodded and began to continue on his way, as if to say he accepted her thanks and that was all she had to say, but Gwen wasn’t done.

“Merlin?” She reached out for him, placing a gentle hand on his arm, forcing him to return to the conversation.

“Why did you lie to Arthur?” She asked.

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked, barely managing to silence the intense alarms he heard go off in his head.

“In the throne room today, you told him you were by the fountain, but you were near the herb beds.”

Merlin’s shoulders stiffened. “Honest mistake. I passed by the fountain earlier that day and couldn’t remember which time that was when he asked.”

Gwen clearly didn’t buy the excuse. “Then what about when you told him you didn’t see anything?” She asked. “You saw it before even I did. You were the one who warned me.”

Merlin searched his brain for any excuse to offer, and to his horror, kept coming up dry.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Gwen interrupted his thoughts, her voice lower now, eyes kind. “I’ve known you long enough to trust what I feel, even if I can’t explain it. And what I felt today… was something good.”

He forced a shaky laugh. “Maybe Arthur’s speeches are getting to you.”

Gwen smiled faintly. “Maybe.”

Merlin said nothing, gaze on the floor.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” she said. “Even if you insist you didn’t do anything.”

He looked up at her then, his troubled eyes welling with emotion. “I’m glad you’re okay, Gwen.”

She nodded, still smiling as she let go of his arm. “You should get some rest.” 

Merlin nodded tentatively and began to walk away. “Goodnight, Gwen.”

Gwen said nothing more as she watched him disappear up the stairs, but her eyes lingered where he’d gone - thoughtful, concerned, and burdened with a new and heavy truth.

The door creaked open as Merlin stepped inside, shoulders sagging beneath the day’s weight. 

Gaius turned from the hearth the moment he heard the door.

“Thank heavens,” he said, crossing the room quickly. “Merlin, it’s late. I was beginning to worry.”

“Sorry,” Merlin muttered, closing the door behind him. “Arthur kept me with him all afternoon.”

Gaius took a longer look at him - the dark circles under his eyes, the slump in his spine, the way his hands twitched restlessly at his sides.

“I had hoped that was the case,” Gaius said gently. “I kept your dinner warm.”

He moved back to the hearth, ladled stew into a bowl, and set it on the table with a thick slice of bread. Merlin hovered nearby, but didn’t sit.

“You should eat,” Gaius urged, watching him. “You need your strength.”

Merlin sat at their small table and began stirring his stew absent-mindedly with a spoon, but didn’t eat.

“Gwen stopped me on the way home.” Merlin stated, to which Gaius cocked his head, questioning. “Said she heard me call out her name when the flower box fell and that she knows I saw it happen. And… I think she suspects… about the magic.”

“Did she say as much?” Gaius asked, abruptly stopping from tending to the stew.

“No. Not directly. But… she hinted. She said she felt that the magic was something good. And she thanked me.”

Gaius nodded slowly, his expression grave.

“I didn’t say anything, Gaius,” Merlin added quickly. “I didn’t admit to anything. I just… told her I was glad she was okay.”

“You did the right thing,” Gaius said, but there was a furrow in his brow, deepening with worry. “Still… Gwen is very bright. It’s likely she has indeed pieced it together.”

“She won’t tell anyone,” Merlin said firmly. “Not Gwen.”

“No. I don’t believe she would,” Gaius agreed. “But others might not be so kind, or cautious.”

Merlin leaned his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

Gaius was quiet for a moment. Then he reached out, placing a hand gently on Merlin’s arm. “You’ve already done what you thought was right. You saved a life today, Merlin. You used your magic, perhaps without due caution, but for good reason.”

Merlin looked at him, eyes tired and uncertain.

“Finish your stew,” Gaius urged softly. “You’ll feel worse without it.”

But Merlin only pushed the bowl slightly away, his appetite long since gone. “Maybe later.”

Gaius studied him for another beat, then relented. It was one of the rare occasions where his stubbornness had to fold in favor of the young warlock’s. 

“Then at least rest. The day is over, and nothing new will happen tonight.”

Merlin nodded slowly, and the silence that settled between them was heavy - but not without comfort. Even beneath the weight of secrecy and danger, Gaius’s presence anchored him, a quiet promise that he was not alone.

Chapter Text

The sun crept slowly into the chambers above Gaius’s workroom, golden light stretching across stone walls and uneven floors. But for Merlin, the new day brought no warmth. He sat upright in bed, having slept little, his stomach still hollow from the night before.

His thoughts churned endlessly - Gwen’s gentle words, Arthur’s dutiful questioning and his certainty that sorcery had crept into Camelot’s very heart. Every thread wound tighter in his chest until it was hard to breathe.

Merlin hoisted himself upwards and made his way to the common room where Gaius was already busying with his work.

He looked up from his mortar and pestle as Merlin emerged sluggishly from his room, hair tousled and eyes shadowed.

The two hadn’t even exchanged a greeting before a solid knock came at their door.

Merlin’s stomach turned to stone. It was too early for this kind of tension.

He approached the door and grabbed the knob tentatively, turning to Gaius who nodded in return.

Once he saw who was on the other side, Merlin felt a bit of relief wash over him.

“Good morning Merlin. Sorry, did I wake you? I was hoping to speak to you before you went to Arthur’s.”  Lancelot said.

“No, not at all.” He replied brightly. “I was actually just about to leave.”

“...Looking like that?” Lancelot gestured to Merlin’s unkempt hair and raggedly dressed form.

He laughed. “Not all heroes dawn shining armor, Lancelot. But -” Merlin flattened his hair with his hands and straightened his lopsided clothes. “Is that better?”

Lancelot chuckled quietly. “Much.” 

Merlin turned back to look at Gaius and bid him farewell before stepping out the door and beginning down the tower steps.

“So, you wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes. Though I think it best if we take it somewhere rather unoccupied.”

Merlin nodded. He was eager to talk to Lancelot about everything that had occurred. It wasn’t often he could have discussions with someone besides Gaius who knew of his magic - and when he did, it was usually a dragon or a druid who was insistent upon his destiny. 

The two made their way through the castle corridors and down the front steps before crossing a courtyard to a nearby garden. Noble women would sometimes take refreshments here, but never this early on.

“I believe this is far enough.” Lancelot stated, kneeling down and picking at the grass.

“So, is this about yesterday?” Merlin asked.

“Yes. Arthur explained to us that he believes there is a sorcerer in the castle and has us patrolling night and day. Are you doing alright?”

Merlin sat in the grass next to the knight and let out a labored sigh. “To be honest, i’m kind of terrified… I really messed up this time.”

“So, you were the one who saved Gwen.”

“Did you think it was someone else?”

Lancelot shook his head. “No. Most sorcerers wouldn’t risk their neck to save a castle servant.”

“You’re right. But Gwen isn’t just a servant, and I’m not just any old sorcerer.”

“Mmm.” Lancelot hummed in agreement. “You’re a bit more reckless.”

Merlin shrugged. “It’s just my nature.”

Lancelot looked Merlin in the eyes, his smile fading for a moment. “So, what are you going to do?”

Merlin took a breath in and thought for a moment. “Well… I kind of figured I would pretend everything is normal and hope it works out for the best?”

“You want to pretend everything is normal when you practiced magic in front of a dozen witnesses and have the king and all of his knights actively searching for you?”

“Well, not all of his knights.” He joked nervously.

“Merlin. This is serious.” Lancelot chastised.

“I know .” He admitted. “But I don’t know what to do! Anyone could have seen me. Gwen already suspects herself!”

“Gwen knows you have magic?”

“Yes - well, I think so. I didn’t tell her directly, but last night she thanked me for helping her and really hinted that she believes it was me.”

“If Gwen found out then you can’t really believe no one else noticed.”

“Oh don’t say that, Lancelot. That’s exactly what I want to believe.”

“Merlin, listen. I don’t know what the best option is for you right now, but I have to ask, have you thought about telling Arthur the truth?”

“You know I want to… But it’s never the right time.” Merlin tore a chunk of grass from the ground and threw it out in front of him, each blade slowly falling back to the Earth. “Just when he seems he might be softening on magic something happens to remind him why he hates it.”

“I understand.” Lancelot consoled him.

Merlin sighed and brought his knees to his chest. The two sat in silence for a while, neither having answers to the problems posed in that moment, but Merlin was glad someone else understood what he was going through. It helped a little.

“Well,” Lancelot said, rising to his feet and clapping Merlin heartily on the back, “I'll support you wherever I can Merlin. You’ve never proven yourself to be anything less than a friend. Magic or not.”

“Thanks.” Merlin replied, looking back at him.

Lancelot nodded and began to walk back towards the castle.

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything incriminating. Just, try and stay out of trouble, will you?”

“I’ll do my best.” Merlin replied, not turning back to look as the knight walked away.

Chapter Text

Merlin showed up late to Arthur’s chambers with breakfast. The man had already rolled out of bed and dressed the better part of himself for the day by time his servant peeked through the door.

“About time.” Arthur remarked, pulling on a leather vest over his shirt.

“Sorry.” Merlin replied softly, still a bit on edge around the man due to his nerves.

“Let me guess… you overslept?” Arthur questioned him as he made his way to sit at the table. “Not at the Tavern, I hope?”

“No, no Tavern.” Merlin shook his head and placed the plates of bread, fruit, and meat onto the table. 

Arthur raised his brows at Merlin, waiting for an explanation.

“Uhm… Gaius had me do an errand this morning.” He stammered. “Wasn’t supposed to take long but you know me - always taking extra time to ensure quality work.”

“Right.” Arthur eyed him suspiciously but didn’t argue, his stomach’s demands working their way to the forefront of his mind. “Well, after this we’ll be gathering in the throne room for an update of the guard and review of yesterday’s testimonies. With any luck, we should be able to pick out a suspect.”

Merlin dropped a half-filled goblet of water onto the ground and Arthur looked at him wide eyed.

“You’re certain you weren’t at the Tavern last night?”

“Absolutely, sire. Just a slip of the fingers.” Merlin assured as he picked up a rag and began to wipe the pool of water off the stone floor.

Arthur said nothing but returned his attention to the food before him, unceremoniously tearing into the bread.

Merlin tossed the now wet rag into an empty bucket nearby and began filling a new goblet of water.

“Arthur?” He asked carefully. 

“Mmm?” He hummed, mouth too full of food to speak.

“When you find the sorcerer that saved Gwen, what exactly are you going to do?”

Arthur swallowed his food and replied. “A bit of a pointless question, isn’t it Merlin?”

“How so?”

“Well, what do we always do when someone is convicted of sorcery?”

“Well, what about the good ones?”

“Good ones?” Arthur asked, acting as if he couldn’t comprehend such a notion. “Merlin, what on Earth are you talking about? Sorcery is not good . Did you hit your head or something? You’ve been a bit off for a while now.”

Merlin huffed. “I’m just saying, whoever used that magic only did so to save Gwen. It doesn’t feel like much of a crime.”

“Magic is outlawed in Camelot for good reason, Merlin.” Arthur said firmly. “How can you know that the sorcerer was not the one who dropped the flower box in the first place? People with that kind of power will always be tempted to use it for the wrong reasons - even if it starts out otherwise.” Arthur took a last bite of his bread, “It’s why we face enemies like Morgana, and why we will continue to face more until sorcery is gone for good.” He finished his reply and stood from his chair, allowing Merlin to grumpily begin collecting the used plates and utensils.

“I don’t know, Arthur. Maybe there are sorcerers out there who want to protect Camelot just like you do.” Merlin said it with a bit of a bite, a little frustrated by Arthur’s comments.

The king turned and watched Merlin as he cleared the table. His mouth hung in disbelief at the audacity of his manservant arguing over law with him. 

“You know, Merlin. Why don’t you skip the meeting today? You could clearly use some fresh air and a moment to return to your senses.”

“That’s very generous, sire, but i’m sure I’ll be fine.” Merlin said, trying to avoid the inevitable.

“No, please, I insist .” Arthur continued. “As a matter of fact, I heard the stables need mucking. I think you’re just the man for the job.”

“Oh, I couldn’t take time away from my regular duties to do that. It would inconvenience you.” Marlin bargained.

“Don’t worry about me. In fact, take as long as you need. After all, it allows you the opportunity to ensure quality work.” Arthur smiled at himself and retrieved his belt and sword as he walked toward the door.

Merlin smiled back, but as soon as the King exited, he frowned.

Great.

Chapter Text

After a long and painfully smelly time cleaning out the stables, Merlin returned to Gaius's tower to freshen up. 

“Well, I see some things never change.” Gaius stated, taking in the visage of the filthy young man entering the room.

“Arthur had me muck out the stables.” Merlin groaned, shearing off his stained tunic.

“Yes, I can see that.” The older man replied, working his way across the room for a bucket of water. “You're not finished with your other duties for the day, I assume?”

Merlin dunked his head in the bucket and resurfaced, his hair dripping wet streaks down his eyelashes and nose.

“Not even close.”

At that moment, another knock came at their door. 

The two glanced at each other. “We've been quite popular lately.” Gaius remarked. 

“Unfortunately.” Merlin said, drying his hair with a cloth and moving towards the next room to fetch a fresh tunic.

When Merlin returned, dressed once again, Gaius had already sent the visitor off. 

“Who was it?” Merlin asked. 

“A castle page.” Gaius replied, turning back towards the center of the room. He lifted a small paper in his hand upwards.

“We've been summoned to the throne room for a trial.”

“A trial?”

Gaius nodded solemnly. “They're sentencing the sorcerer responsible for yesterday's events.”

“Sentencing?” Merlin questioned. “But I haven't been arrested. Who are that sentencing? How could they put anyone else on trial besides me?”

“I don't know, Merlin. But we'd best be off quickly or we may be too late to find out.”

Merlin nodded fervently and the duo stepped out the door. 

They walked side by side through the castle’s long corridors, each step a drumbeat in Merlin’s chest. 

When they arrived, the guards at the great doors to the throne room opened them wordlessly. Behind them was a relatively large gathered audience including knights, courtiers, and a few scattered castle servants.

 Arthur sat on his throne waiting, and just as Merlin and Gaius found a place to stand, Leon and Percival walked in escorting a woman Merlin recognized from the kitchens. Her name was Brynna - a gentle, middle-aged servant who often gave him extra bread when no one was looking.

“What -” he whispered, confused, but Gaius hushed him softly, urging him to do nothing but stand quietly near the wall.

Arthur’s voice rang out above the crowd, clear and authoritative.

“We have reviewed the testimonies of all witnesses present and have found sufficient evidence to believe this woman is guilty of practicing magic.”

Brynna began to shake her head wildly in disagreement, tears streaming down her face. 

“No! No, your majesty. I am no sorceress! I've never even seen magic! I've never practiced any!”

The hall was deathly silent, waiting to hear Arthur's reply.

“During my interrogation yesterday, you told me you had not turned around in time to see the incident. Is this correct?”

“Yes, sire.” She replied, breath quavering. 

“Then explain how multiple other witnesses came forth and told me that not only were you facing towards the incident when it happened, but you also shouted a nonsense word and lifted your hands towards the flower box moments before it shifted direction.”

Merlin’s heart pounded in his ears.

“No, sire. Please. You don't understand! I did see the incident, I admit! But I was too scared to say when asked! I just screamed for Lady Gwen when I saw the box tumbling down and reached out for her! I didn't want any trouble! I did not want any involvement in this!”

Arthur stepped back from the servant and addressed the audience, formal and grim. “This woman has admitted not only to being witness to the scene and yelling and reaching for the flower box, but also to lying to her King.” 

Arthur's gaze drifted down to the servant, silent tears pouring down her face as she watched him wide-eyed.

“I'm afraid I have no other choice but to find Brynna guilty of practicing sorcery.” Arthur declared. “Let the dungeons keep her until I am ready to pass judgment.”

Brynna shook her head as the knights lifted her to her feet.

“I don’t understand -! I didn’t do anything!” she cried, struggling against their grip. “Please -! Your majesty, please!”

The cries followed her out the great doors and echoed hollow off the stone walls, but no one moved to stop them.

Merlin’s feet were rooted to the stone. He felt immense guilt and panic within him. His breath caught in his throat, threatening to choke all air from his lungs.

Brynna was innocent.

His magic had placed her in the noose.

Gaius’s hand found Merlin’s arm and gently pulled him back as the crowd began filing out.

“We must be careful,” Gaius murmured. “You can’t -”

“She’ll be executed,” Merlin said hoarsely. “Because of me.”

“Which is why you must not act rashly,” Gaius whispered, steel in his voice despite its softness. “We will find a way. But not here. Not now.”

Merlin nodded tightly, but his eyes remained fixed on the doors where Brynna had vanished. He had to do something - had to find a way to save her - even if it meant risking everything.

Chapter Text

Arthur descended the dais, expression unreadable, already turning to speak to one of the guards. Merlin hovered near the exit, uncertain - Gaius refusing to leave his side in case he did something even more careless under the pressure.

“Merlin.” Lancelot came and stood near him, trying his best to appear casual, though Merlin knew he sensed his overwhelming anxiety. 

“Don't do anything senseless here.” He whispered. “I'll come to you later tonight. We'll think of something to do.”

Merlin nodded stiffly, his emotions torn between angry, tired, desperate, starved, and panicked.

Finally, Gaius couldn't stand the growing despondency in Merlin's eyes and escorted him from the room.

“What do I do, Gaius?” Merlin asked as they entered their quarters, the young man covering his stricken face with shaking hands. “An innocent woman is going to hang for something I did.”

Gaius guided Merlin towards a chair. “You mustn’t think like that, Merlin. We’ll find a way to make it right.”

Merlin sat down heavily, wiping evidence of his sorrow from his face. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Before Gaius could respond, a knock came at the door. The older man rolled his eyes at yet another interruption and turned for it, but the visitor entered without even waiting for a reply.

“Gwen?” Gaius said, surprised as she entered the room. “Is something wrong?”

She nodded and took a purposeful step forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “I heard what happened about Brynna.”

Merlin swallowed. “So did most of the castle, I think.”

“I wanted to speak with you,” she said, her gaze flicking to Merlin and holding there.

“I know she didn’t do it,” Gwen said quietly. “And I want to help.”

Merlin shifted. “Gwen -”

“I know what I saw,” she interrupted, stepping closer. “Brynna wasn't the one who helped me. I'm certain of it.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment before Gaius stepped forward. 

“So you know who it was then?” He probed.

“Yes.” Gwen stated, her gentle and knowing eyes shifting to Merlin again. “And as I said before, I am grateful to them.”

Gaius took a deep breath before continuing. “Are you sure you wish to be part of this, Gwen? We haven't yet a plan, but helping will likely be very dangerous.”

“I understand.” Gwen said. “But Merlin helped me, and if I can be of any help to him in return, I'd like to.”

Merlin looked at her, and something in his chest eased knowing there was one more person in the world who knew about his magic and still chose to trust in him. 

“So she does know!” Lancelot’s voice rang across the room, simultaneously startling it's occupants and announcing his arrival.

“Good Lord, are we just foregoing all formality this evening?” Gaius commented, surprised. 

“Sorry, door was ajar.” Lancelot shrugged. “Thought I'd just let myself in.” 

Gaius squinted his eyes at the Knight's lack of impropriety while Gwen stood slack jawed at the sight of him. 

“Lancelot?” She questioned. “He knows?”

Merlin nodded, a small, amused grin coming over his lips. 

“First to unwittingly find out.” He commented. “Welcome to the team.”

Gwen smiled lightly to herself. 

“Well then.” Gaius said, bringing his hands together in front of him. “Unless there are any more surprises, I believe we'd best get on with thinking of a way to assist Lady Brynna.” 

The mood shifted back to it's serious tone and the three young adults nodded.

Together they'd have to think of something . 

An hour or so later, the candle on Gaius’s worktable had burned low, its flame flickering with each small gust from the open window. 

The air in the chambers was heavy, the silence between them broken only by the rustle of parchment and the occasional clink of a cup being set down. 

Merlin sat hunched forward in his chair, staring at nothing while Gwen paced slowly near the hearth, arms crossed tightly over her chest. 

Lancelot, meanwhile, was using the chair to crack his stiff back, and Gaius sat opposite Merlin, chin resting atop steepled fingers.

“There has to be something we can do,” Merlin said, exhausted from all the critical thinking with no real results.

“We could break her out,” Gwen offered, her tone tentative but serious. “Get her out of the dungeon and out of Camelot before they decide to—”

“No,” Merlin said quickly, his head shaking. “We already said that wouldn't work. They’ll just hunt her down and she’d have to run forever. It wouldn’t clear her name.”

“Right.” Gwen agreed.

Merlin leaned back and scrubbed his hands through his hair, frustrated. “Then what? What do we do?”

Lancelot straightened himself in his chair and spoke. “What if we staged another incident?” he offered. “Something else that looks like sorcery. Something that would prove that the real sorcerer is still out there. If Arthur is convinced the person responsible is still active, maybe he’ll realise Brynna can’t be the one.”

Merlin straightened slightly, hope flickering in his eyes. “That might actually work -”

“No,” Gaius cut in firmly, his voice sharp with concern. “Absolutely not.”

Gwen blinked. “Why?”

Gaius shook his head. “If there’s another incident, Arthur might see it not as a new act, but as an act of vengeance. He could decide Brynna is lashing out from within the dungeons - trying to spread unrest in response to her sentencing. It may possibly even hasten her execution.”

The room fell into silence again, heavier this time.

Merlin leaned on the table with both elbows, his face drawn. “Then what do we do?” he muttered. “We can’t free her. We can’t prove her innocence. We can’t make another move without making things worse.”

Gwen sat down beside him, her brow furrowed in thought. “We just need something… solid. Something that proves she didn’t do it. Or better, proves someone else did.”

“And short of Merlin standing up in the middle of the throne room and saying, ‘Sorry, that was me’ we’re out of ideas.” Lancelot concluded.

The group fell into silence again as the flame of the candle on the table finally extinguished. 

“It's gotten pretty late.” Gwen observed mournfully.

“Indeed.” Gaius said. “I think it best you two retire for the evening. Merlin still has to return to Arthur to complete his duties and it would be best that we all eat a good meal and get some sleep. We will continue our planning for this tomorrow.”

Lancelot and Gwen stole a look at the clearly exhausted Merlin before nodding and taking their leave. They hated seeing him like this and felt remorse they could not be of more help to him tonight. 

“Merlin.” Gaius addressed him softly. “Will you be alright with Arthur on your own?”

Merlin nodded and tried to smile, faking a confidence that wasn't there. 

“I'll be fine.” He said, attempting to reassure his guardian. “I'll just finish up my evening tasks and come back. Shouldn't be a problem.”

Gaius worried deeply about the false positivity his young ward displayed, but simply patted him on the back in support. 

Merlin pushed himself up from the table and made his way out the door. 

“Just stay calm, Merlin.” Gaius instructed. “We'll figure it out and everything will return to normal soon.” 

Merlin nodded, but he knew it would never be the same again.

Chapter Text

“There you are,” Arthur said as Merlin ducked into his chambers. “You do remember that you’re my manservant, don’t you? Or has your memory been scrambled from your nightly escapades to the tavern?”

“I wasn't at the tavern. I’ve been busy,” Merlin replied stiffly. “I was helping—”

“Right. Helping, talking - slacking off probably.” Arthur huffed. “Well, enough of that. My chambers are a disaster, my boots look like they’ve been through a swamp, and I had to polish my own sword this morning.”

Merlin said nothing but began to work as Arthur scribbled onto some documents at his desk.

Soon, the king’s chambers were filled with the quiet clatter of buckles and the dull scrape of metal against cloth.

Merlin worked silently, scrubbing at a smear on Arthur’s armor with more force than necessary, his jaw set tight and lips pressed in a thin line. 

“You’re quieter than usual,” Arthur remarked, voice casual but probing. “Well - quieter isn’t quite the word. Broodier, maybe. Definitely sulkier.”

Merlin didn’t respond. He bent over to pick up Arthur’s boots and dropped them a little harder than needed onto the floor.

Arthur leaned forward in his chair and glanced at him. “You’ve been like this since yesterday. Did someone hit you in the head when I wasn’t looking? Or - wait - it’s about the situation with the sorcerer, isn’t it?”

Merlin shot him a sharp glance, but still said nothing.

Arthur tilted his head, studying him. “Do you know her well?”

“Sorry?” Merlin asked. 

“Brynna.”

“Not really,” Merlin muttered, focusing far too intently on aligning the king's boots.

“Hm.” Arthur smirked faintly. “Is this… heartbreak, then? You’ve fallen in love with her, haven’t you?”

Merlin snorted and looked up at him. “Oh, absolutely. A deep, tragic love born of the two entire conversations we’ve had. It's been brewing for days.”

Arthur blinked, momentarily taken aback by the biting sarcasm. “All right, no need to be dramatic.”

Merlin stood and grabbed a cloth to dust the mantel. “I’ll try to keep the melodrama to a minimum, sire.”

Arthur let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You know, for someone in the service of the king, you’re awfully fond of mouthing off.”

“Well,” Merlin said, brushing at the same spot over and over again, “it’s probably a symptom of my tragic heartbreak.”

Arthur dropped his pen, watching him closely now. “Seriously. What is it? Have I done something to upset you, Merlin?”

Merlin’s hands slowed. He stared at the fireplace, the faint flicker of flame reflected in his eyes. “No,” he said at first, then after a beat, “Yes. Sort of.”

Arthur folded his arms. “You’re really making this difficult.”

Merlin turned to face him, brow furrowed, the tiredness evident in every angle of his face. “It’s just… I know Brynna didn’t do anything. And you don’t have real proof, just coincidences.”

Arthur’s expression hardened. “More than one coincidence like that is unlikely. Besides, she lied to her King. And did so again in front of the whole court! That's pretty well damning itself.”

“I just don't believe someone should be condemned to die without irrefutable proof. In general I think people shouldn’t be criminalized just because they have magic.” Merlin said, voice rising with emotion.

Arthur looked away, jaw tight. “This is the second time you've said something like that today. Since when did protecting sorcerers mean so much to you?”

“It's not just about protecting sorcerers. It's about defending good people from unjust punishment.” Merlin said.

“ Unjust ?” Arthur narrowed his eyes and stood from his desk. “Alright, you don’t believe she did it, fine. But the evidence speaks otherwise. What would you have me do, let her go and carry on as usual? It's not possible. Sorcery isn't safe and if there's any chance that Brynna is a sorcerer then I must act as if it's so.”

Merlin turned from the fireplace and met Arthur's gaze. “If it’s not Brynna, and the real sorcerer is found - would she be set free?”

Arthur frowned. “Of course. But why are you asking that? Merlin - if you know something, you have to tell me. Now.”

The room tensed, silence stretching long and brittle between them. Merlin didn’t speak. He looked at the floor, chest rising and falling with controlled breath.

Arthur took a step closer. “Merlin.”

Still no answer.

“Merlin,” he said again, sharper now. “If you know something -”

“I do,” Merlin interrupted.

His senses were loud in his ears now. He felt the heat of anger in his cheeks and an overwhelming panic settling into his gut. 

For a moment he felt as if he could hear his own blood rushing through his veins, and every moment before this, every close call he'd had where Arthur almost learned about his magic flashed across his mind. 

Right now, he felt the weight of all of those moments multiplied exponentially.

It almost made him sick.

”I know it wasn't Brynna who used magic…” Merlin began shakily. “Because… It was me.”

Arthur stared at him, silence hanging in the air for a moment, then let out a short, incredulous laugh.

Merlin’s heart clenched. He couldn't laugh along this time. 

“Arthur, I was the one who used magic,” he stated again. “I was the one who saved Gwen.”

Arthur’s laughter cut off, replaced by a baffled, almost pitying look. “Merlin. I know this whole thing has been hard, and I’m sorry it's made you upset, but making up stories like this isn't going to help.”

Merlin's expression remained unmoved as he replied. “I’m not lying.”

Arthur’s mood fell.

“I have magic,” Merlin said, more firmly now. “I’ve always had it.”

Arthur stepped back, eyes narrowing, showing his annoyance. “I've heard enough about this, Merlin. It’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Just… stop ,” Arthur snapped. “You’re telling me - what? That you’re a sorcerer? You?” He scoffed. “You trip over your own feet putting my armor on, and now suddenly you’re one of the ‘cunning and dangerous’ magic users my father taught me to hunt since birth?”

Merlin swallowed hard and looked at the floor beneath him, fists clenched at his sides. 

“Arthur, I'm sorry. I really didn’t want you to find out like this, but I just can’t let an innocent person die to keep my secret.”

Arthur stared at him for a long time, uncertain, teetering between disbelief and suspicion.

“Prove it,” he said finally, his voice low and challenging.

Merlin hesitated, his throat tight. “What?”

“I don't believe you.” Arthur said coldly. “So if you want to convince me and take Brynna's place, then prove it.”

Merlin felt anguished by his words. “Arthur, please. Don't do this.”

“I said show me your magic, Merlin. Because either you're lying to me right now, or you've been betraying me all these years by my side, and I need to know which.”

The anger Merlin had felt previously was completely overrun by sorrow now, and he felt tears threatening to break.

Finally, he realized he had no choice. 

Slowly, as if in great agony, Merlin raised his hand. 

“Ethęrín.” he whispered.

Arthur took a step back as Merlin's eyes turned gold and just a fraction above his palm a bright blue light hovered.

Merlin let the moment pass in silence and released the spell, a part of him fading along with the ball of light. 

Arthur’s face drained of color.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered, his eyes filling with tears. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

Arthur stood frozen, staring at Merlin as though his skin had just turned inside out.

“No,” he said softly. Then louder, firmer, “ No. ”

Merlin’s heart pounded. “Arthur -”

“Don’t,” Arthur snapped, his voice cracking at the edge. He took a step back, eyes wide, disbelief slowly brewing into anger. “This isn’t - this can’t - you’re not -”

“I’m still me,” Merlin said desperately, taking a step forward. “I haven’t changed, you can trust me.”

As he approached, Arthur’s hand twitched near the hilt of his sword - more instinct than intent - but the gesture made Merlin flinch. Arthur saw his reaction and his emotions twisted inside him - shame, confusion, and anger all tangled in his eyes.

“ Trust you ?” Arthur asked, a dangerous, emotional edge to his voice. “You’ve lied to me. All this time… You’ve lied. ”

“Arthur, please understand. I had to,” Merlin begged. “You know what would have happened if I didn’t. Your father alone -”

“My father,” Arthur echoed hollowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “My father had good reason to ban magic. He always warned me that your kind would be working to get your way into the heart of Camelot.”

“Arthur, stop. You know that isn’t true.” Merlin argued, his face red and raw with desperation and hurt. “I saved Gwen,” Merlin said. “I’ve saved you. And everything I've done - even keeping this a secret - has been for you!”

Arthur shook his head, dismissing Merlin's words. “I trusted you,” he said. “You were the one person who… I thought…” Arthur chuckled ruefully. “And I trusted you.”

Merlin shifted. He didn't know what else to say to convince him. It seemed like no matter what he shared, it just made him angrier. 

Arthur turned away, pacing once, running his hands over his face like he could wipe the moment away. He didn’t speak for a long time.

Then, finally, without looking at Merlin he uttered, “Get out.”

Merlin stared at his back and dropped his voice so low it was hardly a whisper. “Arthur -”

“I said go, ” Arthur barked, the edge in his voice like a whip crack.

Merlin’s chest ached and heaved. It felt like the world was going to ruin around him. 

“Just -” 

“NOW.” Arthur whipped his head around with the command and Merlin faltered under his gaze.

All he could do was nod in return. A few tears spilled down his cheeks as he backed away silently, bowing one last time before slipping through the door. He closed it behind him gently, like he had finished reading a long, sorrowful tragedy, and wordlessly put the book back on the shelf.

Chapter Text

The night sky outside rumbled with discontent, highlighting the frantic sound of Merlin’s footsteps as he stumbled up the stairs to Gaius’s tower. His eyes were rimmed with red, breath catching with the effort to keep from full on sobbing.

He shoved open the door and stepped inside, startling Gaius who sat waiting at their small dining table with two bowls of stew. Merlin barely looked at him as he passed and disappeared into his small adjoining room, the door left ajar behind him.

Gaius stood immediately and swiftly followed. He found Merlin crouched by the foot of his bed, shoving clothing into a knapsack with trembling hands. His journal thumped heavily into the bottom of the bag, followed by the weathered cover of his spell tome.

“Merlin,” Gaius said, quiet but firm.

Merlin didn’t answer. He wiped hastily at his wet face, trying his best to control the outward expression of his internal conflict.

“Merlin, what in God’s name is going on?”

The younger man’s hands stilled. He looked up at Gaius, eyes wide and brimming again. “He knows,” Merlin choked out. “Arthur - he knows.”

Gaius’s heart dropped like a stone in his chest. “Knows? You… told him?”

“I had to,” Merlin gasped, sitting back on his heels. “He wouldn’t believe me. Not until I showed him. I didn’t want to - I never wanted to tell him like this - but I couldn’t let Brynna die for something she didn’t do and there was no other way!”

Gaius moved forward quickly and knelt beside him, placing a firm, warm hand on his shoulder. “Did he call for the guards? Is he making to sentence you?”

Merlin shook his head. “I don't know, Gaius. He just told me to leave. Told me to get out. ” His voice cracked. “I don’t know what he’s going to do next, Gaius. What if he has me arrested? What if he wants to- to-.” Merlin couldn’t say the words.

Gaius’s expression was grave as he gripped Merlin’s arms gently. “Don’t even think it, Merlin. We’ll come up with something. There has to be some way to keep you safe.”

Merlin met Gaius’s eyes and shifted his pack onto his shoulder, the older man finally realizing what he was doing.

“You’re leaving?” He asked.

Merlin sniffed and nodded. “Right now, I think this is my only real option.” 

Gaius furrowed his brow disapprovingly. 

“You didn’t see how furious he was, Gaius. I don’t know what he’ll do to me, but if I leave - give him space and time - then, maybe…” Merlin gulped. He had no idea how long he would be gone for or if he would even come back. 

Suddenly his small room seemed much cozier than it had ever been.

Gaius took a breath. “Then, you must leave,” he agreed softly.

Merlin stared at him, anguished, lips trembling. “I’m sorry for everything, Gaius.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Gaius said, pulling him into a tight, fierce hug. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

The two sat this way for a moment until Merlin nodded weakly and stood, the weight of his knapsack burdening his shoulders as much as the weight of the decision.

As he stepped into the main chamber, he struggled not to scan the room and overwhelm his already fragile heart with waves of nostalgia.

Gaius followed closely behind him and took in every inch of the young man he had come to know. 

As the young warlock reached for the knob of the door, Gaius uttered one last farewell.

“Be safe, Merlin.”

He turned and nodded again at the old man, a small, burdened grin across his face. 

“I’ll see you again.” He replied, then turned and slipped out the door into the deepening night, the walls of Camelot closing behind him like a shadow.

Chapter Text

Arthur stood frozen in the center of his chambers long after Merlin had gone, the echo of the silence he left behind still ringing in his ears.

His breath came slow and uneven. He was shaking.

Merlin has magic.

The words resounded through him like a blow. He tried to push them away, to shove them into the corner of his mind where he stored the impossible - but he couldn’t. He had seen it. He had felt it.

And worse than that, the terror in Merlin’s voice - the tears in his eyes - Arthur had never been used to seeing him upset, but he’d certainly never seen him like that.

Merlin - the bumbling fool who never remembered breakfast, who tripped over his own boots, who talked back to royalty without a care in the world - was a sorcerer.

Arthur ran both hands through his hair, pacing furiously.

He wanted to be angry. He was angry. Merlin had lied to him for years. He had risked Arthur’s life, at one time, the trust of his father, the knights, and even Camelot’s safety.

But he had also saved Gwen without any expectation of praise or protection. He had even claimed to have saved him.

Arthur swallowed hard, his mouth dry. His legs carried him back toward the table where he collapsed into his chair and buried his head in his hands.

He thought of Merlin’s face. The pain in his voice. “I never wanted you to find out like this.”

He hadn’t meant for anyone to suffer. He’d only tried to help. Just like always. Merlin, that idiot .

Arthur slammed his fist into the arm of the chair. His chest ached with the weight of it.

“Damn you,” he whispered. “Why did it have to be you ?”

He stood slowly, body heavy with the decision already forming behind his ribs like a stone. He had no choice. No choice.

Brynna didn’t deserve to die. She wasn’t the one who broke the law.

There was only one thing left to do.

Arthur pushed open the chamber doors.

A guard stood nearby and snapped to attention.

“Send word to the dungeons,” Arthur said, his voice low but firm. “The girl - Brynna - is to be released immediately.”

The guard blinked, clearly confused. “But sire -”

“ Now. ”

The man bowed and rushed off.

Arthur turned, pausing just outside his chambers. He glanced once back inside, where the chamber still bore the ghost of Merlin’s presence .

Then he set his jaw and turned his back on it.

“Ready an audience with the knights,” he said to the nearest attendant. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

Arthur was first to arrive in the council chamber, the room unusually dim. The castle slept beyond the heavy doors, but within, the round table stood as a circle of tension and shadows as the knights arrived.

They entered one by one, their boots soft on the flagstones. Some were only half-dressed in hastily donned tunics or jerkins, weapons buckled loosely at their hips, but they all exchanged questioning looks.

Gwaine glanced at the windows, and yawned loudly, noting the hour. “Is there a reason we’ve been called in the middle of the night?”

“Is there a threat, sire?” asked Leon, ever dutiful.

Arthur stood from his seat, and walked behind the chair, bracing his arms against the carved wood.

“There is no attack,” Arthur said at last, voice serious and steady. “I’ve called you here to discuss some intelligence I have come upon - concerning Merlin.”

Elyan raised a brow, confused. “Merlin?”

All but two of the knight’s faces showed expressions of skepticism.

“It may come as a shock to you, as it did me, but I want to discuss what I have learned and determine our next best possible course of action.” Arthur said.

“This all sounds a little too serious considering it’s Merlin you’re talking about.” Gwaine joked. 

Arthur sighed and rubbed his temples tiredly. “I wish it weren’t, but it is very serious.” He took a breath and finally told them what they had been called to hear.

“Merlin…” he began. “Has just revealed to me that he is a sorcerer.”

The silence that followed was one of shock and barely masked confusion.

Leon’s lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but no sound came. Elyan and Percival exchanged startled glances, and Gwaine sat forward slowly, brow crinkled in thought.

Lancelot shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and near to him, Mordred did the same.

“You’re… certain of this, sire?” Leon asked after a long moment.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Arthur said. “He told me of his… abilities. ” he said, sidestepping the word magic. “Merlin insisted that he was the one who stopped the flower box from hitting Gwen and initially I didn’t believe him. I even challenged him to prove it - and he did.”

A breathless silence fell over the table again, broken only when the scrape of a chair rang out.

Lancelot rose to his feet.

Then, slowly, solemnly, he stepped away from his place at the table and dropped to one knee.

Arthur turned toward him, startled. “Lancelot?”

Lancelot bowed his head. “My lord. I have a confession of my own.”

Arthur stared at him, a confused and concerned expression across his face.

“Speak then, Sir Lancelot. You don’t need to hide anything here.”

Lancelot stood and locked eyes with the king, eyes unwavering.

“I knew about Merlin’s magic. In fact, I have known for some time now.”

The others stirred, shock rippling through the circle.

“I found out on the night your father banished me from Camelot.” Lancelot said. “Merlin used his magic to help me slay the griffin that had been ravaging the city and its people.”

Arthur’s mouth hung open. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this new discovery. 

“I have seen Merlin use his magic for good many times, and I chose to keep his secret out of loyalty to him for saving my life.” Lancelot bowed his head again slightly. “Still, I know I should not have kept it from you. If you deem it treason, I will accept whatever punishment you see fit.”

Arthur was motionless as he processed everything he had been told. The flickering light danced across his face, catching the conflict in his eyes.

Finally, he let out a small laugh and placed his hand on his head, in complete disbelief.

“Well.” He stated. “While we’re at it, does anyone else want to confess to knowing this fact?” 

There was an uncomfortable pause until one of the knights shifted and stood.

“I also knew.” Mordred offered, his voice soft, but certain. 

Arthur was astounded. “Of course. Was I the only one in this castle who knew nothing of this?”

“No, sire,” Leon said quickly. “I swear it - I had no idea.”

“Nor I,” said Elyan, shaking his head.

Percival nodded in agreement. “Same. I would never have guessed.”

“Actually it makes a lot of sense.” Gwaine said. “Remember when he and I accompanied you for the Fisher King’s Trident and that odd troll on the bridge said we’d need courage, strength, and magic to complete our quest? Merlin was the magic all along! Who knew?” Gwaine smiled to himself, proud to have pieced it together, but Arthur was none too amused.

He let out a slow breath, shoulders heavy beneath the weight of it all, and came to sit in his chair. 

“Lancelot, Mordred - return to your seats.” He said, exhausted. 

The two nodded and sat, relieved to be out of hot water for now.

“So, what will you have us do?” Leon asked carefully.

Arthur looked down at the table, then slowly raised his gaze. “For now, Merlin is guilty of practicing magic. We have no other choice but to bring him in. I want him questioned. Thoroughly.”

The knights looked at one another, a feeling of discomfort spreading silently among them, but not enough to cause anyone to speak out.

“I don’t want harm to come to him,” Arthur added after a moment. “But I can’t ignore the law just because it’s Merlin . We can’t allow Camelot’s most dangerous crime to go unanswered. Not even now.”

The tension lifted slightly at Arthur’s declaration. None of them truly wanted to hurt Merlin, even knowing now that he was a sorcerer and had been lying to them all this time. If all they had to do was detain him, it would be easier to stomach for now.

“We’ll go to him, then.” said Leon, his voice drawn with resolve.

Arthur nodded, though he felt uneasy. “It’s already late - get some rest. We’ll act at first light.”

As the knights began to stand, Arthur remembered that first time they used the round table. 

Merlin had been there, sitting among them and supporting their cause. Just his humorous, idiotic, loyal servant.

It felt like so much had changed since then.

Chapter Text

The moon was high and veiled behind scattered clouds, small droplets of water beginning to fall from the sky.

Merlin felt a chill begin to creep towards him as his clothes became steadily more damp from the elements.

He had made his way out of the city and into a nearby forest, working his way through the underbrush under the cover of night.

He wasn’t sure how far he would go tonight, the weather seemingly taking a turn for the worse and his body and mind exhausted from the events of the last two days.

He realized he hadn’t eaten since the morning he used his magic to save Gwen. That must have been partly why he now sported a terrible headache and violently aching pit in his stomach. 

His cloak snagged on a branch, and he paused, carefully freeing it before trudging forward. The further he walked, the more the towering trees seemed to press in around him. It had only been a few hours since he slipped through Camelot’s western gate, but it already felt like another world.

Merlin stopped near a tree with a thick, twisted trunk and slumped down at its roots. There was enough cover here to stay dry, so he let his satchel fall beside him with a dull thump , and dropped his head into his hands.

What am I doing? He asked himself.

The question pressed at his heart like a blade. Leaving had felt necessary, instinctive. But now, in the dark, quiet wood, the doubt crept in like fog.

He glanced back the way he’d come. There was no sign of the castle lights through the trees. 

He thought of the people he had left behind. There were so many he wished he could have said goodbye to, at the least it would have been nice to speak with Gwen and Lancelot, but he hadn’t thought it through in the moment.

This is for the best. He reminded himself.

He didn’t know what Arthur would have done had he stayed - what he still might do . Merlin had seen the anger, disbelief, and heartbreak in his eyes after he confessed. Sticking around to remind the king of every wrong he had done him was too much of a risk.

A twig snapped somewhere deeper in the woods. Merlin jolted, heart pounding, until a rabbit darted past and vanished into the brush. He let out a breath and leaned back against the tree.

He wanted to sleep, and though his body was ready, he knew it would not come easily.

Instead, he opened his satchel and pulled out his spellbook, running his fingers along the edges of the worn pages. So many of the spells inside he had never dared try. Not while he lived in Camelot’s shadow.

But now… Now Arthur knew his secret, and there was nothing left for him to fear.

“I suppose I'll finally have some time to study.” he whispered sadly to himself. Never having thought before that he’d be afforded an opportunity like this. 

Strangely, the thought wasn't much of a comfort.

Merlin shifted his body to lay his head on his satchel and rest. He held his spellbook to his chest as he debated inwardly on where to go next and his mind drifted from thought to thought.

Finally, he decided on Ealdor. He couldn’t stay long - Arthur would know to find him there if he came looking - but it was a start. And truthfully, Merlin already felt immense loneliness creeping in. He longed to see his Mother and tell her everything. He knew how worried she would be if she received a letter from Gaius about it all, and he wanted her to know that for now, he was safe.

Merlin closed his eyes and willed his complaining body to quiet.

I should have eaten that stew Gaius made me. He thought.

Chapter Text

The sun was just beginning to rise over Camelot, painting the stone corridors in muted gold. Arthur led the knights through the keep with swift, purposeful steps, the tension in his shoulders betraying the thoughts still spinning behind his eyes.

They reached Gaius’s chambers in moments.

Arthur didn’t knock.

He pushed the door open with the flat of his palm, and the knights entered behind him.

“Merlin!” he called, eyes scanning the room.

There was no answer.

The chambers were quiet. Gaius sat silently at his work bench, the usually busied old man now still in front of a bowl of half-crushed herbs.

Lancelot and Gwaine proceeded past him to check the annex which Merlin had been given to be his room, but they found nothing but a cold bed and some scattered belongings.

Gwaine emerged and shook his head at Arthur.

“He’s already gone.” Gaius said, quietly working his herbs with his tools again.

Arthur frowned and addressed the knights. “Search the castle. And if he isn’t found, the town too.”

They nodded in return, leaving briskly, only Arthur and Gaius remained.

The king walked slowly towards the weathered man and finally addressed him.

“Gaius, where’d he go?” He asked.

Gaius shifted in his chair but still didn’t meet his gaze. “He didn’t say.” He replied. “Only that he felt he had no other choice.”

Arthur felt a strange twist of emotion in his chest. “You knew about him all along, I take it.”

“Indeed,” Gaius said evenly. “It’s the very reason he came to Camelot. A life as someone who wields magic as strong as Merlin’s is not an easy one. He needed a guardian who could protect and guide him… I tried my best to do just that.”

Arthur stared at him. “All this time. You lied to me. You lied to my father .”

Gaius finally turned to face Arthur. He saw the confusion and feelings of betrayal in his eyes and thought of just how much it must have hurt for Merlin to see these reflections.

“I chose to protect an innocent boy who was given a destiny he never had a say in.”

Arthur looked away, fists clenched at his sides. “Was he ever going to tell me? Or just play me for a fool until the day I died?”

“Merlin thought keeping his secret was the best way he could protect you and himself. You weren’t ready to accept it.” Gaius said.

Arthur’s eyes snapped back to him. “You think I needed protecting from the truth?”

“I think you needed time to become the man who could bear it.”

The silence between them stretched, the weight of old loyalties and broken trust thick in the air.

Arthur exhaled slowly, tension softening just slightly in his shoulders. “Still, he lied to me. He broke the law.”

“And yet,” Gaius said, “you haven’t condemned him.”

Arthur scoffed. “I haven’t even found him.”

Gaius gave the faintest of smiles, warm and heavy with knowing. “Well, when you do find him - listen. There are many things he will want to explain.”

Arthur stood in silence for a moment, neither accepting nor rejecting Gaius’s words.

Then, he made for the door.

Just as he reached the threshold, he paused and lingered for a moment. Then, wordlessly, he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

The clatter of hooves and swift movements of busy servants echoed through Camelot’s outer bailey as Arthur walked to meet his knights. 

“Nothing in the lower tunnels,” Leon reported. “We searched the whole east wing. Not a trace.”

Arthur gave a sharp nod, his gaze already scanning the courtyard as if his manservant was simply hiding behind a pillar.

A shout broke across the yard and the two turned to see Gwaine running up to them, waving.

“A guard on the western wall said he saw someone slip through the gates in the evening. A thin looking servant with dark hair.”

Arthur’s heart thudded.

“He was carrying a pack.” Gwaine added. “Moving towards the forest.”

Arthur turned without a word, striding toward the stables. “Alert the other knights and have the stablehands saddle the horses.” Arthur commanded. “We ride now.”

It wasn’t long before the king and his knights were on their way.

As they rode out trodding through the chill of the morning, wind tearing through the holes in their armor, all Arthur could think about was Merlin’s face in that horrible moment when everything changed.

When he found him, he would escort him back to Camelot. But after that… Arthur chose not to think about it.

Chapter Text

Merlin awoke to the sound of birdsong.

His back ached from the rough sleep against the gnarled roots of the tree, and his cloak was damp with dew. Blinking against the early light, he sat up slowly, groggy and stiff, his stomach twisting in protest at the lack of food.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he stood and slung his satchel back over his shoulder. The forest felt quieter in the morning light - less ominous, but still vast and eternal. Every direction looked the same.

He brushed the dirt off of himself and began on his way, heading northeast.

The hunger gnawed at him before long. He paused to sip from his waterskin, but it did nothing to quell the hollow ache in his gut. As he pressed forward, feet dragging slightly, a flicker of movement caught his eye.

A rabbit.

The same one, he was almost certain, from the night before - dark fur and twitching ears, nibbling on something at the edge of a berry bush.

Merlin crouched down, watching it.

He thought about it for a moment, all it would take is one simple spell and he’d have something to cook. He’d done harder things with less focus.

But…

He looked back the way he came. No signs of pursuit, but he couldn't be sure he was safe. It wouldn’t do if they found the remains of a campfire or saw signs of a spell used on an animal.

He shook his head - not yet.

The rabbit darted off, having become wise to the young warlock’s presence. 

Merlin stepped forward and reached for the berries it had been nibbling - red, round, their stems clinging to the thicket.

He sniffed them and tasted one cautiously. They were tart, soft, and most importantly - safe. 

A few berries was barely going to be enough to take the edge off his aching stomach, but it was something. He collected what he could and ate as he walked, promising he would find a proper meal for himself tonight.

By mid-afternoon, the forest began to thin. The trees gave way to a wide, sloping hill, beyond which was a long clearing.

At the base of the rise, a worn dirt road cut across the land like a scar, its edges overgrown with grass and weeds. It may have been a little neglected, but it was still travelable.

Merlin exhaled a quiet sigh of relief.

He made his way onto the path, shielding his eyes against the direct sun as he emerged from the woods.

The ground felt easy beneath his feet, and he reveled in the fact he wouldn’t have to dodge scraggly branches and tricky tree stumps for a while.

The morning sun was warm out of the shadows, and Merlin hoped he would be in it long enough to help dry his damp clothes.

It was odd being on a journey by himself. He hadn’t done it for years - not since the day he came to Camelot.

He never would have suspected that he would end up a servant to a spoiled prat of a prince, nor that he would come to find so much satisfaction at his side. He definitely never considered that the man would become one of his closest friends and that even now, when such a great rift had driven them apart, Merlin would risk his life if it meant saving Arthur’s.

I hope I have the chance to explain it all to him one day. He thought.

After some time in the sun, the road curved into another stretch of woods. The opening was narrow and thick with trees, but the path remained, for which Merlin was grateful.

His boots crunched over the damp leaves on the path as he followed the overgrown road deeper into the woods.

A chill worked its way over him again as he settled into the shade of the forest.

Strange, he thought, glancing around. A road through the woods is invaluable, but this one seems like it hasn’t been traveled in a while.

The thought had barely formed when a noise cracked through the silence - subtle, but sharp. A footstep behind a tree - the rustle of leaves unnaturally close.

Merlin froze, eyes scanning the brush.

Three men appeared swiftly from the thicket, blades already drawn.

“Afternoon, traveler,” said the one in front - a large, stocky man, with yellowing teeth and a voice slick with ill intention. 

And that’s why no one travels this road anymore. Merlin thought to himself.

“You couldn’t spare some coin for a few fellow wanderers, could you?” Another slimmer man asked.

“I don’t have anything of value.” Merlin replied cautiously. “And I don’t want any trouble.”

“Oh, but trouble wants you,” the bulky man sneered.

The last man, a short one with thin, wiry hair licked his lips and pulled a knife. “Don’t be that way boy. You’ve got something worth taking, don’t you? That little satchel of yours… and that fine cloak.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes at the group and considered his options. Three of them. He thought . I can take them.

He slowly placed his satchel on the ground and lifted his hand towards the bandits. “I’m warning you.”

The large one barked a laugh. “What, you’re going to fight us with your fists?”

Merlin didn’t reply.

“Well,” he continued, still amused. “Good luck.”

He nodded to the other bandits and they lunged forward, but Merlin was ready to meet them.

"Asfætelese!"

The ground beneath the bandits erupted. Roots burst from the soil like iron whips, wrapping around the thin man’s ankles and yanking him downward. He shrieked as he hit the earth hard, arms flailing, blade lost to the grass.

The leader reacted instantly. “He’s a bloody sorcerer! Spread out!”

The remaining two put some distance between each other and Merlin made to back up so he could keep all three assailants in his sight. 

“Stienan!” Merlin shouted at the thicker of the men, gauging him to be the easiest target and biggest threat.

A pulse of wind shot from Merlin’s palm, slamming into the man’s broad chest and launching him back into a low branch with a sickening crack . He crumpled to the ground, groaning at the pain.

By the time Merlin had turned back, the third bandit had hidden behind the trees. He cursed inwardly at himself, hurriedly picked up his satchel, and made a break for it. His energy was low and he couldn’t waste time trying to find the third man. He didn’t even know how much longer he could keep up the fight.

Just keep running. He told himself.

Thwip .

Merlin turned his head toward the sudden sound and saw a bolt lodged in the tree to his right.

The last bandit had a crossbow.

Suddenly, Merlin was unsure if running was the answer.

Thwip . Merlin ducked behind a tree just as the bolt passed him, lodging just a breath away from where his head had been.

He took a deep breath and pressed his back against the tree. He had limited options and limited strength. 

Merlin grit his teeth and raised his hand again, calling on another spell.

Focus. Just one more -

A sound came from behind, but Merlin turned too late.

The leader of the bandits was already there, smiling.

“Got ya.” he said, bringing the hilt of his sword down in a brutal arc.

Pain blossomed at the back of Merlin’s head. A burst of light filled his vision, then everything spun violently sideways as he buckled to his knees. 

Only blackness remained.

Chapter Text

The forest was quiet, but it told a story if one knew how to read it.

Arthur rode at the front of the small column of knights, eyes sharp as he scanned the ground before him. He followed the faint impressions in the earth - soft scuffs, bent grasses, the occasional snapped twig. It wasn’t much to the untrained eye, but if there was one thing Arthur knew how to do, it was hunt.

They were getting close.

Mordred leaned forward in his saddle, scanning the path ahead. “He wasn’t exactly subtle, was he?”

“Merlin, subtle ?” Lancelot joked.

“Well, he did hide his magic from us this whole time. He’s probably fairly good at keeping things close to the chest.” Gwaine remarked.

The knights all glanced at him with damning eyes, using their stern gazes as if to say ‘don’t talk about it in front of Arthur.’ 

Gwaine lifted his hands in surrender but said nothing more.

“Merlin left in the dead of night. He likely could see little, and he probably thought he had a head start.” Arthur explained frustratedly to the knights.

The group simply nodded, though Arthur wasn’t looking their way. They could all tell he was taxed greatly by these recent developments and his fuse was just a bit shorter than usual. All they could do was obey their orders swiftly and try to keep Gwaine from making any more senseless remarks.

After a moment more of riding they crested a gentle hill where the forest thinned into a wide clearing. At the far end, a narrow, overgrown road stretched out like a forgotten vein across the land.

Arthur raised a hand. “We’ll follow the road.” He commanded.

The company raised their pace and galloped forth, soon entering another stretch of trees.

They slowed to a walk again as they entered the shade, but didn’t get far before being forced to stop.

Just beyond the bend, the forest changed completely.

The undergrowth was scattered in unnatural patterns - churned earth, split roots, and shreds of leaves strewn about the forest floor. The air felt off, humming with the raw remnants of dissipating power.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the wreckage. “Dismount and begin a search. I want to know what happened here.”

The knights obeyed, boots landing softly on the damp road. They fanned out, stepping carefully through the torn path.

Arthur slid off his horse and stared at the twisted roots and the ragged impressions in the dirt.

There were signs of a struggle along with glaringly obvious signs of magic.

Was this all really Merlin?

He remembered Gaius’s voice - calm, measured, steady as ever:

“A life as someone who wields magic as strong as Merlin’s is not an easy one.”

Strong , Gaius had said.

Arthur’s lips pressed into a line.

He’d never thought of Merlin as strong - not in the way knights or enemies were. Merlin was quick with a joke and slow with his chores. He was never where he needed to be and generally acted a fool. Occasionally he displayed bits of cleverness, and perhaps he could be even wise at times, but… formidable ?

He still couldn’t picture it.

Percival paused beside a tree and plucked something from the bark. 

“Crossbow bolt,” he called, holding it up.

Arthur turned and strode toward him, taking the piece of iron in hand. The work was rough - hastily carved and poorly balanced.

“Bandits,” he muttered.

Lancelot stepped forward. “Sire, if my memory serves, there’s been reports from villagers to the east about a string of ambushes in this area. There are even claims that some travelers have gone missing.”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. That idiot. He thought.

“Sire, hoofprints.” Leon called from across the way.

Arthur shook off his rising apprehension and inspected where the knight pointed to a patch of fresh tracks veering off the road.

“Two, maybe three horses,” Leon continued. “They can’t be more than a few hours old.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened. He tossed the bolt he had been holding carelessly to the ground and mounted his horse again.

“Mount up. We follow the tracks.” He said.

The knights obeyed without question, swinging into their saddles.

Arthur gave one last glance at the wreckage on the road - he didn’t know how to feel about seeing such a display. If anything, it just proved how dangerous Merlin truly was.

Arthur shook his head and spurred his horse forward.

I’ll just have to be prepared when I find him. He thought.

Chapter Text

Merlin awoke slowly, as though surfacing from deep water. Everything ached - his back, his ribs, the sharp, throbbing pain at the base of his skull. His mouth was dry, his vision unfocused, and he was lying on his side against cold earth, hands bound tightly behind him, ankles lashed together, and a filthy cloth gag tied cruelly between his teeth.

The world swam for a moment before sharpening into view.

He hadn’t a clue where he was now, only that he was not at the same place as the ambush, and he wasn’t alone.

Merlin could see the orange flicker of a fire a few feet away, its glow the only illumination in the descending twilight. The forest around them was darker now, cloaked in dusk, with the sky beyond the trees stained purples and deepening blues. The air smelled of smoke, sweat, and meat.

Merlin's stomach twisted with hunger and nausea. He hadn’t eaten a full meal in two days, and it had caught up with him. His limbs were weak - his head pounded. Every breath seemed to fight against him.

He shifted slightly and winced - his body sending sharp pains through him in refusal.

“Look at this,” a voice sneered from the other side of the fire. “Useless old book. Thought he’d have something at least a little valuable.”

Merlin’s eyes drifted toward the voice.

The wiry bandit who had tried to shoot him earlier now held his spellbook and flipped through the pages with greasy fingers, squinting at the runes.

“I can’t make any sense of this.” He said disapprovingly.

The stocky leader stood, wiping his blade on a cloth. “Doesn’t matter then. It’s trash.”

With a flick of his wrist, the wiry one tore a page free, then another. The parchment fluttered to the ground beside the fire.

Merlin groaned in protest behind the gag, trying to speak - to beg, to threaten, something - but his voice couldn’t pass over the cloth.

The leader walked over to him, a hideous smirk plastered across his face.

“Well, well,” he said, crouching. “The little sorcerer finally wakes.”

Merlin tried to roll away, but the leader seized the front of his shirt in his fist and yanked him upright. 

“You made a fool of us, you know that? Tossed my men around like twigs.”

It was my pleasure, too. Merlin wanted to say, and the larger man slammed a boot into his side.

Merlin inhaled sharply through his nose and curled inward, the pain radiating through him.

Another kick followed the first, then a third, just as unforgiving and relentless as the last.

“Not so tough now, are you?” the bandit growled.

Merlin tasted blood and coughed. He felt the cloth gag shift slightly in his mouth, working its way undone from the sudden, repetitive movements.

Another taunt came from the fire, followed by more laughter.

Merlin coughed again and tried to loosen his jaw. The bandits remarked at his sorry appearance and continued to make him the brunt of their jokes. 

They didn’t notice what he was trying to do until it was too late.

The cloth hung just loose enough now that his lips could part and breath could pass. It was all he needed.

Merlin drew one sharp breath in between his teeth and gasped, eyes turning to a raging gold.

“Bærnan burh dracan!” he yelled.

The bandits rose to their feet just as the campfire roared to life.

It exploded upward in a column of flame, twisting into the shape of a dragon - its mouth wide with fire and fury. 

The heat was immediate and intense. So much so, one could hear the creature of flame bellow a deafening roar as it rose towards the tops of the trees.

The bandits screamed and scrambled back from the blaze, falling over themselves in panic.

“What the hell is that?!”

“Make it stop!”

“Put it out you idiots! PUT IT OUT!”

In the chaos, none of them noticed as their captive whispered another spell, tearing the ropes around his wrists and ankles with a sharp snap.

His entire body screamed in protest as he rolled to his feet and staggered away from the firelight, forcing his legs to move against their will.

The branches tore at him as he pushed through the woods, heart racing, body shaking. He didn’t know where he was going - just away .

But the bandits recovered faster than he expected.

“AFTER HIM!” the leader shouted, pure rage foaming at the edges of his voice.

Thwip .

A crossbow bolt slammed into a tree just ahead of Merlin. He stumbled, barely avoiding a graze.

Thwip .

Another whistled past his side.

But the next one didn't miss.

Pain burst through his shoulder as the bolt hit. He cried out, falling hard against the forest floor, his hand grasping at the shaft embedded in his flesh. He couldn't move - couldn't even breathe.

Leaves crunched behind him. The bandits were closing in fast.

But just as the first shadow loomed -

Steel clashed.

Arthur burst from the trees like a thunderclap, sword already swinging.

He cut the nearest bandit down in a single stroke.

The rest of the knights followed - Percival, Leon, Elyan, Mordred, Lancelot, Gwaine - crashing through the forest like a tide of retribution.

The second bandit raised his crossbow and shouted in panic, but Leon was already upon him. The bolt missed wide before the knight’s sword buried in his chest.

While the warriors were occupied, Merlin pulled himself forward behind a tree with the strength remaining in his one good arm. He pressed himself into the tree, clenching his eyes shut, willing his body to bear the pain.

He heard the leader of the bandits roar and charge in his direction, but couldn’t leave his spot at the tree to see as he swung at Arthur who parried effortlessly and drove his blade through the man’s side.

All he heard was a hollow thump, signaling the chaos had reached its end.

Three bodies lay broken on the ground, and Merlin, trembling and bloodied, could only lean his head back and wonder.

What’s going to happen to me now?

Chapter Text

Blood seeped from Merlin’s wound and stained the ground beneath him, the small pools of crimson reflecting the light of the newly risen moon. 

He was gasping for air, trying to shove down a rising panic as he heard the shuffle of the knights through the woods. 

He knew they were looking for him.

“Merlin!”

He looked to the noise through half-opened eyelids and saw Gwaine sprinting towards him.

The relief in the knight’s features quickly morphed into concern when he reached him. Merlin was barely conscious, wracked by pain and dangerously pale from loss of blood.

Merlin wanted to speak, but taking in the breath to prepare his words only caused him to launch into a fit of coughs.

“Woah, settle down, my friend.” Gwaine said. “No need to speak just now.”

He pressed his hand gently onto Merlin’s chest, causing him to wince in pain.

The other knights had reached them now, and Arthur worked his way to the front of the group.

He took in the sight of his servant before him and cursed.

“You stupid, reckless -”

“He’s losing a lot of blood.” Gwaine interrupted. “We need to treat him.” 

Arthur snapped his gaze away from Merlin and took on his mantle of authority again.

“Percival, rekindle the bandit’s fire. Elyan, Leon, retrieve a few blankets from the saddles and place them nearby. Lancelot, bring me my waterskin.”

The knights nodded and departed immediately upon receiving their orders.

“Gwaine, help me lift him.”

“Aghh!” Merlin cried out as they moved his body. The feeling in his shoulder indescribable in its pain.

Each man took an arm around their neck and pulled Merlin’s body upward, dragging him towards their makeshift camp.

Percival lit the fire as they approached, allowing Arthur to see Merlin’s wound clearly for the first time.

The bolt was deep in him now, caught on thick muscle and tissue beneath his skin. Every move of his body caused it to grate against him from the inside, bringing forth yells and moans of discomfort, along with a slick, cold sweat on his brow.

Elyan, Leon, and Lancelot had fulfilled their tasks and were dutifully waiting by the fire as Arthur and Gwaine laid Merlin out onto the blankets. 

They rolled him to his side, making it so they had easy access to the arrow in his shoulder.

“A- Arthur…” Merlin rasped weakly.

Arthur’s ears pricked.

“You’re alright, Merlin. We’ve got you.” He reassured.

“No… Listen.” Merlin coughed again.

“Whatever you have to say, Merlin, it can bloody well wait!” 

Merlin wheezed as Arthur began to cut off his tunic, exposing his wound to the crisp night air.

“If you’re going to -” Merlin started, but cut himself off with a strained yell as water was poured onto his back, aggravating his tender wound.

“Arthur…” He started again, voice insistent, but still weak. “Listen to me.”

Arthur chuffed in annoyance and stopped working at his wound. “What is it, Merlin?”

“If… If you’re going to have me executed for magic…” he started, the strength in his voice coming and going in waves, ‘then please… just let me die now.” 

Arthur felt a weight like an anvil fall to the pit of his stomach. The other knights looked away solemnly, for once feeling a kind of guilt rising in them because of the conflict between loyalty to their friend and their kingdom.

Arthur put his closed fist to his mouth, biting back his emotion. He dropped his voice low and replied. “You broke the law, Merlin.” He whispered. “But… I won’t have you executed. I just… can't,” he admitted, his depth of care for a known sorcerer now out plainly for the world to see. 

Merlin took a shaky breath and tears found their way to the corner of his eyes. He could only tilt his head forward in the slightest nod of acknowledgement, then winced as Arthur went back to work on his wound

“Gwaine, Lancelot - hold him down,” he ordered.

Merlin felt his body tense instinctively in preparation for what was to come next.

“I’m going to pull.” Arthur warned, but Merlin couldn’t respond. His body was stiff with anticipation and fear, but he knew it must be done.

“Alright.” Arthur steadied himself. Three, two, and -”

Yank!

Merlin screamed and hissed sharply, teeth clenched as he writhed from the pain. His body sent ripples through his nervous system in alarm, sending his heart into an unsteady, frenzied rhythm that caused his breath to shallow and quicken.

Arthur tossed the blood-soaked bolt aside quickly and pressed his hand roughly against the wound.

“Lancelot, more water. Elyan, cloth.”

Lancelot thrust the waterskin into Arthur’s hand again followed shortly by a large chunk of cloth from the other knight.

Arthur quickly doused Merlin’s exposed back with water again, washing away the newly spilt blood, and immediately pushed the bundle of cloth onto his wound, pressing hard on it to keep it secure.

Merlin arched his back and shrieked at the sensation.

“You’ve really gotten yourself into it this time.” Arthur noted as he tightened a belt around the cloth on Merlin’s back. 

“I-I’ve had… worse,” Merlin croaked, his voice tight with pain.

Arthur gave a faint, disbelieving huff. “Making jokes even now - you truly are an idiot.”

“So I've… been told.” He choked in response.

Arthur looked to Lancelot and Gwaine who had let go of him now. 

“Help him sit up - we need to keep the wound elevated.”

Merlin knew he was right but frowned at the words, already set against the horrible piercing feeling he knew would ravage his body again.

After a great heave, he was sitting up. Leon had come with some bags to place behind his back for support.

Arthur stood finally and stepped back, the circle of Camelot’s finest all watching the sorcerer - their friend - with a weathered eye.

“Can you… heal it?” Arthur asked - so tentatively the group was unsure if the words said were actually his.

The king - suggesting that a sorcerer practice magic in his presence. They would much sooner believe a phantom had appeared and possessed him.

Merlin blinked, confused. “What?”

“With magic.” Arthur continued, more certainty in his voice. “Can you… I don’t know, wave your hands and seal it up or something?”

Merlin wanted to laugh at the scene. For some reason, the smallest sliver of joy crept into his mind at the king’s unknowing request.

He really wished he could oblige.

“I… don’t have enough training in healing magic.” Merlin responded weakly. ”Even if I did…” He coughed laboriously. “Magic… takes energy I don’t have right now.”

Arthur looked to the ground awkwardly. “I see.”

The limits of magic in this case was a surprise to him, though for once, not a welcome one. Merlin was in a poor state - he didn’t know if he could last the night.

“Is there anything that can be done?” Arthur asked again.

Merlin tried his best to think through his muddled thoughts. They were clouded and unfocused. Every potential solution had a major drawback, and perhaps it was the hysteria that incentivized him to speak, but he shared a single, desperate plan.

“K-Kilgarrah.” He muttered.

Chapter Text

“What?” Arthur said sharply, blinking. 

He knelt beside Merlin, who had slumped more heavily against the rolled bags behind his back, his breathing shallow and ragged.

Merlin’s lips parted again, but the words barely came.

“I… can call a friend,” he whispered hoarsely. “He can help.”

Arthur frowned, his brows knitting in suspicion. “What friend? What are you talking about?”

Merlin’s head lolled slightly. He looked toward Arthur, exhaustion washing over his face like a tide. “You’re… not going to like it.”

Arthur drew back slightly. “As long as it won’t harm us, I don’t care if it’s a troll or a talking toad.” He stated. “Merlin - you’re bleeding out - if you’ve got an idea, we’re doing it.”

Merlin coughed weakly, eyes fluttering. “It’s actually… a bad idea.” He retched.

Arthur huffed, half-laughing. “Then it fits the day perfectly.”

Merlin closed his eyes and made his choice. He felt the weakness in his body growing, and an otherworldly cold spreading like poison from the gash in his back, threatening to consume him.

“I need a… a clearing. Big - open sky.” he whispered weakly.

Arthur glanced up - the trees here were too close, the moon barely a shimmer between the leaves. He thought for a moment before remembering.

“There’s one not far - come on.”

Arthur helped Merlin onto his feet, Gwaine quickly taking up his other arm once more to assist. 

He winced and cried out at the movement. His extremities wouldn’t move of his own volition anymore, and the fresh bandage secured to him was already damp with fresh blood.

Together, they hoisted him gently onto Arthur’s horse, propping him against the saddle. The knights surrounded him, silent and wary. The idea of a mysterious “friend” was unsettling, but none of them could offer another solution.

The group walked slowly, guiding the horse through the brush until they broke through the trees into a small clearing bathed in moonlight. 

The sky above was vast and cloudless, the silver light falling on them like a quiet benediction.

Arthur dismounted first and reached up to steady Merlin as the knights lowered him carefully down. 

“I hope this is enough,” Arthur said.

Merlin didn’t reply with words.

Instead, he staggered forward a few steps, placing as much weight as he could onto Arthur and Gwaine as they continued to support him. 

“Remember…” Merlin muttered. “He is… a friend.”

Arthur nodded, wary of the declaration, but convinced to follow through with their plan - whatever that would mean.

Merlin shifted his good arm off of Gwaine and lifted it toward the heavens.

Arthur didn’t know what to expect - every moment with Merlin now challenged his very idea of the world - but the sound that came from his servant’s mouth startled him into a stiff, complete shock.

A deep, booming voice tore from Merlin’s chest - more powerful than his ragged body should have allowed - speaking in a tongue none of the knights had ever heard before. It was wild and echoing, filled with guttural reverberations and sharp, commanding tones that chilled the very marrow of their bones.

Arthur’s eyes widened. This wasn’t Merlin.

Not the Merlin he knew.

Merlin’s knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground, hands pressed into the dirt to keep from collapsing entirely. His lips were pale, and sweat beaded on his brow. He was barely hanging on.

Then the wind shifted.

The trees groaned.

And something vast passed over the moon.

FWUMMM.

Wings. Massive, ancient wings.

Leaves tore from branches. The earth trembled. The knights drew their weapons in stunned instinct as a monstrous shape descended from the sky, silhouetted against the stars like a nightmare made flesh.

The dragon landed in the clearing with a thunderous crash , wings kicking up dust and leaves in a cyclone around them. His eyes glowed like molten gold, and his massive form loomed above them, coiling with strength and ancient magic.

The knights staggered backward, stunned speechless.

Arthur stood frozen, mouth slightly open, eyes locked on the massive creature before him.

Kilgarrah's gaze swept across the group, then dropped down to the slumped figure of Merlin in the center of the clearing.

In a voice like rolling thunder, the dragon spoke.

“You are looking worse for wear these days, young warlock."

Chapter Text

Merlin tried to lift his head and speak, but couldn’t find the strength. His breathing was heavy and laboured, and all the knights stood on guard - paying more attention now to the beast in front of them than the withering sorcerer on the ground.

“Y-you.” Arthur started, shaking away his shock to move in front of Merlin protectively and point his blade at the dragon. “I killed you!”

Something akin to a smirk passed across the dragon’s face in an instant.

“So you did.” He answered, moving closer to the young King and his servant, seemingly unbothered by Arthur’s threatening stance.

“Back away!” Arthur shouted, stubbornly standing his ground.

The other knights snapped to their senses now, raising their swords at the dragon as well. The only one who remained unmoved was Mordred, whose hands trembled bare, hanging at his sides. 

Merlin wheezed as he lay on the cold ground, as if attempting to speak, but no words came.

“I understand your fury for me, young Pendragon,” Kilgharrah began, “but unless you wish for Merlin to die, then I suggest you step aside.” He said easily.

Arthur spared a glance to the ailing Merlin beneath him. 

His thoughts tumbled chaotically in his mind.

The dragon responsible for setting Camelot ablaze was offering to assist them. And Merlin, who had lied to him about who he was, wielded magic behind his back for so long, and was now on the verge of death had said the winged beast was a friend.

Arthur wouldn’t believe that.

His grip tightened on his sword.

But he had no other options.

Arthur took some careful steps back, standing very near to Merlin, sword still in hand while Kilgharrah moved ever closer.

The giant, golden dragon put him on edge, and despite Merlin being a sorcerer, despite his frustration at everything that had happened, he couldn’t help but be wary as the beast’s maw moved until it was only a hair’s width from Merlin’s head.

“If you hurt him, this time I won’t relent until I have your head mounted on my wall.” Arthur warned.

Kilgharrah said nothing. The threats meant very little to him, as without Merlin’s or another powerful sorcerer’s assistance, it was more than unlikely that he could be felled.

With a deep, resonating breath, the dragon opened its mouth and blew a burst of thick, humid air onto Merlin’s body.

The servant’s dark hair instantly heavied with glowing, golden droplets of water, and Kilgharrah reached for him slowly with one of his massive hands, pulling him into his body.

Arthur’s jaw tensed as the dragon pulled his servant away from him, and watched apprehensively as the beast settled onto the ground, tucking Merlin against his body and obscuring him as he shielded the young warlock with his great wings.

Kilgharrah curled in on himself like a snake keeping coiled tightly for warmth and laid his head on the dirt, closing his eyes and humming.

One by one, the knights began to relax and lowered their weapons. It seemed the dragon was indeed a friend - to Merlin at least - and was no threat to them while he still required tending.

“Let’s make camp.” Arthur commanded, eyes still not deviating from the ancient creature who held Merlin’s very life in his grasp.

He didn’t know how long it would be or what exactly was happening, but for now, he chose to wait.

Elyan, Gwaine, Leon, and Percival had returned to the bandit’s camp to fetch what horses and items had been left in their hurry to move Merlin, while Lancelot, Arthur, and Mordred remained with the dragon, watching with concerned, barely concealed glances as they began to start a fire.

“Did you know about this as well?” Arthur asked, breaching the careful silence.

“The dragon?” Lancelot asked.

Arthur nodded. 

“No, sire.” He replied, and Mordred stared, not answering.

“Mordred - you’ve been awfully quiet since our meeting yesterday evening.” Arthur pointed.

He nodded, face still stricken. “I am sorry, sire. I’m just a bit shocked by it all.”

“What’s so shocking to you? I thought you said you knew of his magic.”

“I did… But I didn’t know he was a dragon lord as well… and I've never seen a dragon.” He sighed and tossed a small twig into their now blazing fire. “Merlin is so… kind, that I often forget he’s supposed to be Emrys.”

Arthur and Lancelot turned and started at Mordred, whose eyes were focused on the fire.

“Ah, a dragon lord. That explains how he was able to summon the winged beast then, I suppose.” The lighthearted, easy voice of Gwaine rose as he and the rest of the knights returned. “And what’s an Emrys?”

Chapter Text

Mordred stiffened as the knights settled around the fire and looked to him.

“Y-you… I…” He stuttered, stunned that he had thought such things aloud so easily.

“Yes, do tell.” Arthur pushed, a hint of irritation in his voice at the idea that even more secrets were being withheld from him.

Mordred squirmed. He hated being the center of attention like this, but he put himself in the position this time.

He took a breath.

The knights knew Merlin had magic now, but was it safe to reveal everything else? What he was destined to be, and the true extent of his power… Mordred was raised to know, and the sense of magic shimmering within his veins reaffirmed that every word he had been taught was true.

Mordred clenched his fist, excitement and nerves welling up in his heart.

Finally… He thought to himself. We’re finally at the beginning. 

Mordred released the breath he was holding, and met the gazes of each of the men staring at him.

If he had a part to play in all of this - to aid in the effort to return magic to Camelot - he would be brave enough to help pave the way.

“I am not sure which of you are aware…” Mordred began, “but I was raised by the druids.”

Silence hung in the air around them, beckoning him to continue.

“I was raised surrounded by belief in the old religion. Witness to the ways the druids lived and spoke of magic and peace as if they existed in the same word… There were many prophecies among them, but the most meaningful, well known, and deeply believed prophecy of our people centered around a sorcerer by the name - Emrys.”

Kilgharrah stirred slightly, opening his eyes at the name.

The knights turned to eye him warily, but he only stared, watching and listening intently.

Mordred knew the dragon was aware of the prophecy. Based on his size alone, he had been alive since the days it was foretold. He looked deep into his wizened eyes but saw nothing in his gaze that condemned him, nothing which bade him to stop his tale.

He took a breath and continued.

“Merlin… Emrys - they’re the most powerful sorcerer to ever live - born with natural talent and an uncapped ability.”

The knights stared silently, Arthur’s face especially, stricken.

“The prophecy states that he…” Mordred looked to his king. “And you, sire, are destined to unite Albion.” 

Mordred intentionally left out the part of the prophecy that said they were also destined to return magic to Camelot and the world - but he hoped it was implied. After all, if Arthur chose to keep history’s most powerful sorcerer by his side, he surely could not force him to cast out his magic - not now that he knows of it.

Arthur sat as silent as the rest as the fire blazed before them.

So many thoughts welled up in his head and he could hardly keep them from overwhelming him.

He was still angry with Merlin, and he hadn’t forgotten that Mordred and Lancelot had been keeping secrets as well. He was scared, too, for his servant. He wanted him to live, but now… he struggled to find the answers for what he would do if he did.

If he were his father, Merlin would already be a pile of ash - but he wasn’t, and he did not want to see the man he had become so fond of die. 

What was right?

If Merlin wanted Arthur or Camelot to come to ruin, surely he would have done so by now. But then, other questions rose in his mind.

What about his father’s death? Did Merlin know? Could - would - he have helped? Was he somehow involved, or secretly in league with Morgana? 

No - no. Arthur shook the ideas from his mind. This is Merlin we’re talking about. My bumbling fool of a servant… right? The image of the roaring dragon shaped pyre of flame he laid witness to only an hour ago came to the forefront of his mind.

His heart thumped and clenched solemnly.

Do I truly know him? He wondered to himself.

The group sat in silence before a voice finally rose again.

“What are you planning to do, sire?” Leon asked.

His knights looked to him - it was a question they all wanted an answer to.

Arthur didn’t say anything immediately, and he turned towards the dragon as the sounds of his low breathing hummed in his ears.

The two locked eyes, and Artur felt the pressure of Killgharrah’s unspoken judgement passing even before he had made a response.

“Let’s get some sleep.” He responded, standing from the fire and turning to fetch a bedroll from one of the horses.

Normally, someone would have complained - Gwaine, usually - but the company complied silently, each one’s mind stirring beneath the weight of worries about Merlin, Arthur, and all of Camelot.

It was some time before they drifted into sleep, Arthur the only one remaining wholly awake where he lay, glancing at the now slumbering dragon who held Merlin protectively from the world. 

His thoughts were too loud - his heart too heavy - he would find no rest tonight.

Chapter Text

It's warm… So warm.

Merlin pressed in on himself as if holding the comforting sensation to his chest.

Have you awakened, young warlock?

The familiar voice reverberated in his head.

Kilgharrah…?

Merlin heard a deep, gentle hum in acknowledgement and the feeling returned to him as his body was moved.

He opened his eyes to see as the great dragon pulled him away from his chest, though kept him under the fold of his wing.

The bright light parted into shimmering golden fractals as it passed through the most transparent parts of the wings, and Merlin’s feet landed on the ground, leaving him standing unsteadily, admiring the scene.

After a moment of awe, he tested his body, carefully shifting on his feet. He did not feel completely renewed, but the force which drove him to live could be felt in him again. His magic thrummed softly - but stronger beneath his skin. 

Merlin lifted his arm and felt the tender spot where his body had been pierced by an arrow protest at the movement. 

He jerked back towards his body in surprise, then slowly tested the motion again.

The worst has passed. Kilgharrah’s voice rang again. But you are not yet healed. There is damage to the inside of your body that I could not fully repair. 

Merlin rubbed his shoulder at the level of his neck, hoping to soothe the jolting pains that radiated from his now closed wound.

“Thank you.” Merlin said, looking at the great dragon who had now tucked his head under his wing to speak with him. “It must have been a surprise arriving with so many others around.”

Kilgharrah breathed a small chuckle. 

“It was unexpected, but I am bade to heed your calls - and I do not believe you wish harm on me, Merlin.”

“Well again, thank you.”

Kilgharrah huffed a gentle, warm breath that ruffled the sorcerer’s hair.

“You have been asleep for some time… Your king has grown restless. Even now he stands near, watching.”

Merlin nodded, suddenly feeling a wave of anxiety pass over him. “How long?”

“You laboured for three nights.” He responded. “Both the force of your magic and your life teetered in the balance, but now, you should have enough energy to return to Camelot, at the least.”

The young sorcerer’s eyes widened. “You think I should go back?”

Kilgharrah hummed, the deep sound undulating in his throat. “It is your destiny, Merlin. To unite the people of Albion at the side of Arthur Pendragon - it is only you who can return magic to the heart of Camelot. Only you, who can show the king that magic can be wielded for more than the destruction he believes.”

Merlin cast his gaze to the ground, thinking.

“You cannot tell me you intended to leave forever.” The dragon stated.

“No… I was still going to protect him.” Merlin replied. “I always will.”

Kilgharrah nodded and began to stretch, unfurling his wings and lifting his head towards the sky, releasing Merlin to the view of all.

“Two sides of the same coin, young warlock.” He reminded. “I am eager to see how the world changes with you both leading the way.”

Merlin stood silent as Kilgharrah rounded to stand in front of him and bow.

The dragon had been many things to him since his first days in Camelot, but through it all, they emerged as unlikely comrades. 

In moments like these, Merlin realised what a gift it was.

Kilgharrah shook the stiffness from his wings and fluttered them, spurring gusts of wind which kicked billowing clouds of dirt into the air.

The party of knights gathered around them quickly, all eyes watching as the dragon heaved his mighty body into the sky.

They watched until he had disappeared from the clearing completely, then turned their eyes to Merlin who stood alone in the opening, body illuminated completely by the rays of the sun.

The sorcerer turned to face them, saying nothing as he directed his gaze.

Arthur stared back, feeling a new, unknown feeling settle like a weight in his chest.

“Merlin!” Gwaine called out, easily crossing the distance with Lancelot by his side and the others trodding behind them.

“It is good to see you alive, my friend.” Lancelot said easily as Gwaine pulled the lanky servant into a tight hug. 

Merlin winced but returned the gesture, heartily hitting Gwaine on the back with his good arm.

“Missed me that much, did you?” Merlin joked as he shifted his weight, hoping to shirk off his pain.

“Get off him you buffoon." Elyan chimed in lightheartedly, reaching for Gwaine’s arms and peeling them back. “He’s clearly still hurt.”

Merlin grimaced as the weight of the knight was removed from him.

“Maybe a bit.” He admitted sheepishly. “But I’ll live.”

He smiled and through the small crowd of knights, Arthur parted silently.

They met each other's gazes and the mirth fell out of the reunion to be replaced by silent tension.

The pair stared at each other for a minute before they simultaneously began to speak.

“I -”

“So -”

Arthur clenched his jaw tightly while Merlin rubbed the back of his head.

“Sorry, you go.” He said quietly.

Arthur cleared his throat.

“So… You’re okay now?” He asked a bit awkwardly.

“Um… Yeah. Not completely back to normal, but I’ll be alright.”

“Good.” Arthur replied, taking a step closer.

Merlin stood straight as the king approached, then staggered as the top of his head was met with the brunt of Arthur’s gloved fist.

“Ouch!” Merlin exclaimed in protest. “What was that for?”

“For lying to me.” Arthur replied. “And there’s plenty more where that came from, believe me.”

Merlin rubbed his head where he had been struck and cast his gaze to the ground.

“I-i’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, I just -”

Arthur raised a hand. “Save your excuses Merlin. I’ve had enough time to contemplate what I know of your misadventures over the past few days.” He sighed. “Now that you’re well enough to travel, I’d like to return to Camelot.”

Merlin nodded and Arthur began to turn away, but before he could, Merlin spoke up again.

“Arthur.”

The king’s gaze drifted to meet his own.

Merlin swallowed. “You want me to return with you?”

“Don’t be daft, Merlin.” He responded. “I wouldn’t have waited here otherwise.”

“Right, but…” He shifted. “Am I returning as a prisoner… or something else?”

The knights stared, eager to hear the answer after watching Arthur silently brood over Merlin for days.

“As my servant.” He answered.

Merlin nodded again, a bit shaky now - emotion flowing into him. “Yes, sire.”

Chapter Text

Merlin rode with Lancelot, his body pressed into his back as they shared the saddle.

“Alright back there?” He asked as his steed hopped to clear a fallen tree.

“Oh, fine.” Merlin assured. “Not bothered in the slightest.”

Lancelot chuckled. “That worried, are you?”

Merlin eyed Arthur who led the group of knights, his horse a stride or two ahead of the rest. 

“How could I not be? He’s barely spared me a word.” Merlin muttered. “He’s usually so easy to read, but for once I can’t tell what he’s thinking.”

Lancelot nodded. “Well, he’s got a lot on his mind… It was quite a shock to him to learn you had magic, and now he’s digesting the idea that you’re supposed to be the most powerful sorcerer alive.” He took a breath in. “Honestly, the news was a bit of a surprise to me as well - and I’ve more experience seeing you in action.”

Merlin blanched. “Wait, how did he -?”

“I told them.” Mordred chimed in, pulling his horse back to fall in line with Lancelot’s. “It was an accident initially, but I couldn’t deny them the information after that.” He hung his head in way of  apology. “I’m sorry, Merlin.”

His jaw went slack. “Then… does he know about…?” Merlin ceased speaking and Lancelot’s ears pricked.

Mordred’s eyes went hard, providing an answer to the unfinished question.

Does Arthur know about your magic, too?

“Right… Nevermind.” Merlin changed the subject. “So what exactly did you tell him?”

“He knows of the prophecy, and that the druids call you Emrys.” Mordred started. “He also knows that he is a part of that prophecy, and the two of you are destined to restore peace to Albion.”

Merlin nodded. “And magic.”

Mordred went silent and the older sorcerer eyed him.

“To restore peace and magic.” Merlin repeated.

Lancelot looked to the younger knight and Mordred swallowed.

“I may have… occluded that part, for now.”

Merlin sighed and Mordred shrugged.

“I just thought that if he accepts you for who you are, then he has to see it means accepting magic too. That’s why I didn’t say anything. He can’t bring you back to the castle without having realized that. He probably doesn’t want to hear any more about magic right now, anyway.” He added.

He’s right. Merlin thought, resting his chin on his thumb. Arthur can be a royal prat but he is generally reasonable. If he has enough time to contemplate then he usually can adapt to change. Best not to overload him with more information than he needs.

“You lot, keep up.” Arthur shouted, turning his head back to call for Lancelot and Mordred whose horses had steadily fallen behind during their conversations.

The knights broke away from their chat to catch up with the rest of their party, falling into a careful silence.

After a few moments, Gwaine - who always struggled to exist quietly - spoke up.

“So - Emrys… A bit of a girlish name, is it not?” He asked jeeringly, his smirk directed at Merlin.

Percival cracked a toothy grin and chuckled nearby, amused by the taunt.

“No more feminine than your flowing locks, I’d say.” Merlin countered.

Percival laughed again and Elyan joined in this time, his barely restrained chuckles turning to coughs as they escaped his throat.

Even Gwaine cracked a smile.

“Ah, Merlin. It’s good to have you back.”

Merlin smiled. It feels good to be back, he thought, though he still harbored anxiety for everything that lay ahead.

“Oh, Merlin.” Elyan addressed. “I forgot that we have something for you.” He reached back into his saddlebag and rummaged around, retrieving a leather-bound tome and passing it to Gwaine, who passed it to Lancelot and finally, him.

“We found it when we returned to the bandit’s camp. It looked a bit… Well, we assumed it might be yours.”

Merlin held the spellbook in his hand and ran his fingers along the now scuffed spine. That bandit had really been rough with it.

“Thank you.” He replied, feeling somewhat uncomfortable about holding something so obviously related to magic in plain sight among the king’s men. He never thought it would be possible to do something so simple without the threat of execution.

Arthur turned back slightly to eye him, examining the item Merlin held close to his chest.

“Explain it to me.”

All voices fell silent as Arthur’s rose, and the tension along with it.

“S-sorry?” Merlin asked, nervous to be addressed by the king directly as he had gone so long avoiding speaking with him.

“Magic.” Arthur continued. “Explain it to me.”

Merlin let out a short, astonished laugh as Lancelot pulled his steed forward so the two could speak easier.

“It’s… Well, it’s a bit of a broad subject, I suppose.” Merlin answered, scratching his head. “Was there something specific you wanted to know, sire?”

There were only a few reasons Merlin would choose to address him formally: one, when acting in official settings, two, if he was humorously mocking him, and three, if Merlin was displeased with him, or believed Arthur felt that towards himself.

Right now, it was a case of the latter. In truth, Merlin didn’t know what to think. Arthur had been so uncharacteristically silent he could only assume he was upset. He had also hit him quite squarely on the head, so that contributed to the belief as well.

“Well, to start. How did you become… this?” Arthur asked, gesturing to him haphazardly.

“A sorcerer, you mean.”

“What else could I mean?” Arthur asked haughtily. 

The knights around them were dead silent as they listened in on the conversation, especially Sir Leon, who was perhaps the most wary of magic among the group of knights. 

“I was born that way.” Merlin answered simply. “Since I was young, I could just use magic. In general it’s not a decision someone can make for themselves.”

Arthur thought for a moment before responding, giving in to the suggestion Gaius had made before they set off from Camelot to find his wayward servant.

When you do find him - listen. There are many things he will want to explain.

“You were born with it, but that doesn’t mean you had to practice it.” Arthur stated. “But you did anyway - why?”

Merlin shifted his body off of Lancelot’s back to sit straighter. “Magic is part of who I am - as much as being your servant is a part of me. I can’t stray away from it - not when I know I can use my powers for good… to protect you and the people I love.”

Arthur stared at him.

“So you being an idiot was another lie.” He said ruefully.

Merlin sighed from his nose. “I never said I was one.”

“No.” Arthur admitted. “But that’s what it seemed like… Most of the time.”

Merlin smiled slightly to himself.

“Well, if it counts for anything, I didn’t always think you were such a royal, pampered prat… Not all of the time.” Merlin joked, and the corner of Arthur’s lips lifted to form a very, very slight, nostalgic smile.

Arthur sighed. “You remain a puzzle to me, Merlin. But now that I know about your… abilities…” He added, still clearly uncomfortable discussing magic so casually. “I believe I have a fair chance at figuring you out completely.”

Merlin smiled, pleased that Arthur seemed to be erring more in favor of forgiving him than remaining distant. 

“I’m an open book.” He replied.

Chapter Text

It was just after sunset that the party passed through the last of the thick trees and underbrush to reveal the silhouette of the city in the distance.

The large castle walls were lined with the distinct red hue of torches and shimmering armor of the guards patrolling the tower tops.

Arthur was insistent to press on to return that night, and seeing the familiar stronghold come into view lifted everyone's spirits.

The pace of their horses picked up simultaneously as if their steeds too, were eager to return home.

Merlin felt a kind of nervous apprehension tighten in his chest as they approached the Eastern gate. He tucked his spellbook under his shirt and held it to his back behind him, all too aware that despite the fact Arthur knew his secret, he still had to protect it from others for now.

As they passed onto the cobbled streets of the city, Arthur dismissed the knights one by one, allowing them to leave his company to find some rest. Anything remaining to be discussed, he said, would be discussed tomorrow.

Gwaine clapped Merlin on the back before departing, taking care to avoid hitting his healing wound.

Percival, Elyan, and Mordred exchanged a quick grin and a nod with him as they followed, and Leon said nothing but glanced at Merlin assessingly before following suit.

“Lancelot, escort Merlin to Gaius and have his wound tended to. Once that’s done, consider yourself free for the night.”

“Yes, sire.” Lancelot confirmed.

The two continued into the courtyard where they were met by servants who quickly approached and took the horse’s reins.

From across the plaza, Gwen hurried into view, her face a mixture of anxiety and relief when she saw Merlin had returned.

Arthur dismounted swiftly, as did Lancelot, who helped Merlin to carefully lower himself to the ground.

“Oh, and Merlin.” Arthur added.

Merlin turned to meet his gaze.

“On account of your injury, I won’t expect you to be returning to work immediately. But regardless, I’ll have you report to my chambers come morning.”

He nodded, certain that he could anticipate a very long conversation. He hoped the contents wouldn’t distance him and Arthur further - especially if the topic of his father came up.

“Also, that fun little fact we learned about you…” He said in a quieter, almost mocking voice, “I think it should go without saying, but keep it to yourself for now.”

Merlin’s spirits lifted immensely with those final words. 

For now.

He wasn’t sure if it was too soon for him to feel happy or for his hopes to lift, but he wanted to be accepted by Arthur so badly, that he couldn’t help but feel a modicum of optimism.

Arthur turned on his heels then and made for the stairs into the castle.

Gwen rushed to Merlin and Lancelot’s side as the king departed.

“Merlin! Thank heavens you’re alright!” She shouted, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“Ah..!” Merlin winced as her hand clutched him, holding the tender spot on his shoulder.

She pulled away in an instant.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Are you hurt?” She asked, fluttering about him like a mother would their child.

Merlin smiled, touched by her concern and reached out to steady her, taking one of her worn, rough hands into his own.

“I’m fine Gwen. Just a small injury - nothing Gaius can’t help.” He assured.

Lancelot eyed him skeptically, but let him downplay the events for now so as not to cause her further worry.

“And what about Arthur?” She pressed on. “Is he… Are you…?”

Merlin knew what she wanted to ask, but this wasn’t the place.

“I’ll escort you both to Gaius’s.” Lancelot cut in. “I’m sure he’ll be just as eager to hear what Merlin has to say.”

The pair of servants nodded and followed Lancelot to the physician’s tower. Merlin followed them up the stairs, proceeding slowly as his limbs were sore and stiff from his recovering injuries and the long horseback ride home.

Gaius’s eyes widened considerably when he saw the visitors who entered his hall.

“Merlin!” He shouted, dropping the book he was holding onto the table beneath him and shuffling to meet the trio at the front door.

“What on Earth are you doing back here?” He asked as Merlin pulled the spellbook out from under his shirt and dropped it onto his small cot where he promptly fell along with it.

“Arthur caught me.” He replied lightheartedly, settling into the comfort of Gaius’s sickbed.

The wizened physician squinted at his young charge. “Not a statement one would usually make so matter-of-factly.” He commented, examining Merlin as he lay. “But then again, your head is still on your shoulders, so I suppose that is good news.”

“He may still have his head, but he was wounded.” Lancelot mentioned. “Arthur asked to have you look him over.”

Gaius lowered himself to a chair near the cot and placed his hand gently on Merlin’s arm, nagging at him to reveal his injury.

“Let’s see what you’ve done this time.” Gaius said as Merlin complied with his intentions wordlessly, peeling off his mangled, dirty shirt to reveal his back.

The stains of blood on the clothing did not miss the man’s astute gaze, and he instantly palmed the smooth, new layers of skin forming just above Merlin’s shoulderblade.

“Merlin…” He whispered. “Were you able to heal this with magic?” He asked quietly.

Merlin shook his head. “Not me.” He answered. “I had some help from a friend.”

Gaius huffed, a single, powerful magical creature immediately coming to mind “This friend of yours wouldn’t have happened to meet Arthur would they?”

He grimaced as Gaius pressed on his wound. “...They may have exchanged a few words.” He admitted.

“Merlin.” Gaius chided. “Don’t you think that was perhaps not the wisest idea?” 

“I didn’t have much of a choice. It was just the first solution I thought of. I knew he could help - I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“No, I imagine you weren’t.” Gaius agreed as he finished studying the mark on Merlin’s back and stood. “A wound like this - you must’ve lost quite a lot of blood.”

“I thought you said it was a small injury.” Gwen cut in.

Merlin turned his face towards her and smiled apologetically.

“I didn’t want you to worry - I’m fine now, really - agh!” Merlin shouted as Gaius pressed a cold salve onto his back, cleaning the area that had been left dirtied by the old, used bandages.

“You’ll scar, but otherwise heal just fine. Your friend did good work.”

“Who is it you keep referring to?” Gwen asked, inclining her head towards the physician and his wounded apprentice.

The two exchanged a tired, knowing glance.

“I can fill you in.” Lancelot offered, effortlessly saving Merlin the exhaustion of having to explain the events of the past few days.

“Alright.” Gwen agreed, turning to look at the knight, their eyes meeting in a quick, furtive glance.

Gaius nodded at the pair who took the motion as silent approval for them to leave.

“He will be alright, won’t he?” Gwen turned back to ask before reaching the door.

Merlin smiled as Gaius answered.

“Given he hasn’t been placed in the dungeons upon return to Camelot, I believe he has a rather brighter outlook on his future than before.”

Gwen sighed, relieved at Gaius’s assurance.

“And Merlin, about Arthur, he's not planning to sentence you, is he?”

Merlin closed his eyes and released a pent up breath.

“No, it doesn't seem so.” He said.

Gwen's shoulders loosened, the otherwise invisible tension she was holding there falling away. 

“I'm relieved. I never wanted you to see harm, especially not when your actions were responsible for saving me.”

Merlin smiled. “I wouldn't hesitate to do it again, Gwen.”

She sighed lightly, “You’re a good friend, Merlin.”

Lancelot walked in front of her to pull open the door. 

Gwen nodded once more to Merlin and Gaius before passing across the threshold and departing.

“It’s good to have you back.” Lancelot commented as he stepped into the hall.

“Rest well Merlin.” He said, closing the chamber door softly behind him.

“I'll try.” Merlin replied.