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Chapter Text

Arthur stopped. Something was wrong. "Shh!" 

"Is something wrong?" Tristan asked, his voice the only other sound for miles around, save for the spluttering of the torches as their flames kicked against the walls of the cave. Everything was quite, Arthur noticed. Too quiet.

"Merlin." He said. One word to air all his fears. 

"He knows the tunnels, he'll find his way--"

"I'm going back."

Arthur pushed past the rest of the group, torch in hand, with the other on the hilt of his sword. He didn't care what Tristan, or Isolde, or Gwen or any of them thought. All he knew was the thought of Merlin being hurt, or worse, was more than he could bear. His footsteps echoed off the walls, and no matter how hard he tried he could not get them any quieter. His heart pounding and blood rushing to his ears as he saw flickering light on the cavern wall ahead, just around the next corner. 

The young king flattened himself against the wall, trying his hardest to stay unseen, as the voices grew louder.

Or voice, if he wanted to be accurate. "You have magic! You're Emrys!" His uncle, a traitor, could be heard from just beyond. A traitor, but his family nonetheless, and facing a sorceror. The very evil he strove to protect Camelot against. 

Arthur inched closer to the corner, trying to see who his uncle was talking too. But all he needed was the sorcerer - Emrys - to speak, before all his worst fears came to reality. 

"I was born with it!" 

Arthur would recognise that voice anywhere. But gone was the happiness. Gone was the naivety, and the playful banter that he was greeted with every day. In its place was something much deeper, something much more powerful. He couldn't believe it. 

His ears must have deceived him. The rest of the conversation turned to white noise as his mind raced with what to do. Merlin hadn't hurt anybody, it wasn't like he'd done any evil, so surely magic couldn't be that bad. This was MErliN after all, wasn't it? Curiosity got the better of him, and he steppedinto the cavern. Just in time to see Merlin throw his hands forward, eyes flashing gold as Agravaine was going through the air like a rag doll. Landing against the cold stone walls with not a breath left in his body. 

Merlin took one last look at the devastation in front of him, at least 20 dead soldiers, and turned to go back to the group. Only to meet Arthur face to face. 

"Arthur, this isnt--"

"What have you done?"

Arthur's voice was ice cold. His gaze piercing through the very soul of merlin. Seeing for once, the true power his manservant possessed, and how much damage it could cause. 

"Art-"

"Don't." Arthur threw down his torch, instead unsheathing the sword at his waist. "Just don't. Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

"Please, Arthur, I--"

"You killed royal blood, Merlin. Look at it from any angle, you will get the same action. It's treason. You know the punishment."

"It is my destiny to protect you, Arthur, no matter what. You and me, we are meant to unite the land of albion and lead Camelot into a time of peace and prosperity."

"There is no WE Merlin. Not after this."

Merlin looked up to arthur seeing the pain in his eyes. How had he managed to be so stupid? Why could he not just have knocked him out? He has finally done it. Gaius was always telling him it was a surprise he hadn't got himself killed for using magic, and now that's exactly what Merlin had done. He had dug his own grave the second he had attacked Agravaine, and now it was time to lie in it. There was no reason for him to cause Arthur any more pain. "Hey, you've got to do it, Arthur, and that's alright." Merlin said, kneeling on the cold floor and yielding to Arthur with a sad smile.

"Stop." Arthur said forcefully, his breath slightly shaking. "Stop with your fucking manipulations."

He looked down at the young man in front of him. How had he ever believed Merlin was his true friend? How had he ever been foolish enough to believe that he could trust Merlin? everyone close to him had betrayed him. Morgana, Morgause, Agravaine, even his father had treated him like an afterthought most of the time. Why had he believed Merlin had been any different? 

"Arthur, I want you to know,"

"Don't."

"No. I know what's going to happen. But I hope, one day, you will realise how much I have done for you and for camelot. The sacrifices I have made, and everything I did, it was all for you, Arthur. One day you're going to realise that. And in the next life, you'll see me again, and I'll wait for you, Arthur. I'll wait for you just as I have served you and protected you all these years."

"Well Merlin, maybe in your next life you'll realise all that you did was for nothing."

"Nothing you can say will make me see you in any other way. Arthur, I love y--"

Arthur brought his sword to Merlin's neck with one fell swoop. His mind catching up to what had happened as he stared down at the lifeless body in front of him. Now void of life, Merlin looked just an empty vessel. Pale against the dark floor. Skinny, and almost weak, to the untrained eye. But Arthur knew better. Arthur had seen what Merlin had done with his own two eyes. Merlin had killed his uncle. It was treason! Arthur's head told him he had done the right thing. But all the walk back, he couldn't get out of his heart that he'd made a terrible mistake. 

Eventually, he caught back up to Tristan, Isolde and Gwen. His eyes red from crying, just as his conscience was red with blood. Tears still streaming down his cheeks, both in frustration, anger and sadness, as he assumed his place with the trio. 

"Merlin?" Gwen asked, fear in her voice. 

"Didn't make it. We have to keep moving."

Chapter Text

Everywhere Arthur went, the raven-haired reminder of his actions seemed to follow him. 

Every council meeting, every hallway, every training session, every feast. All filled with the ghost of the man he had killed. The man he had let down. 

It was growing too much for Arthur. After all these months he supposed it only surprised him that it had taken this long to be as hard as it was. 

No one met his eyes anymore. 

Not after they knew. 

Not after they found out. 

0=[]=======>

It was Gwen who decided to go back for Merlin's body. Told them all that he was a hero. That he deserved a hero's funeral after all he had done for the kingdom, in both the times of war, and the times of peace. She refused to leave those tunnels, refused to leave Merlin behind until she had seen for her own eyes, that there was no chance of him surviving. Her and Merlin were best friends, and she wasn't going to abandon him. Not now. Not ever. 

"Merlin?" Gwen had asked that day, fear in her voice.

"Didn't make it. We have to keep moving."

"No, my Lord. I won't accept it."

"Gwen, he's gone."

"Well then we bring him back for a proper burial."

"Guinevere, I mean it. We must move forwards."

"Not without Merlin."

"Guinevere-" 

"The Arthur I know wouldn't act like this. He'd want the very best for Merlin. Even in death..." Gwen's voice trailed as she looked up at Arthur, only then noticing the empty space at his side where a sword usually sat proud. "Sire, where is your sword?" Something close to fear flashed through Arthur's eyes, as she made up her mind and turned the other way, following the trail Arthur had left as she was sure it would lead her to Merlin. But nothing could have prepared her for what she saw as she rounded the corner into the cavern. And saw Merlin, lifeless, Arthur's lying between where his body no longer joined to his head. "You're a monster." She whispered under her breath.

"Gwen, please, let me explain-"

"Arthur I swear to the gods if you say one more word I will kill you right here and no one will ever know about it. You're a monster, Arthur Pendragon. Just like your father. He was your friend. And this," she gestured to the ground in front of them, "this is what you did to repay him for his loyalty? He saved your life, Arthur! So many times! I won't ever forget this. And I will make sure everyone else knows exactly what you did here today. You disgust me, Arthur Pendragon."

Tristan and Isolde moved next to Gwen, taking her aside. "As much as he deserves to pay for what he has done, it is his word against ours, Gwen." Tristan said with a broken smile. "Later, we can tell everybody what we know. But for now, I hate to say it but Lord Asshat is right. The longer we stay here arguing, the stronger Morgana gets. And all the rest of your friends, the rest of your city, they need you. I'm truly sorry, for what happened to Merlin, but we are meeting up with your people in only a few days. We need to hurry if we want to meet with them."

Gwen nodded, and the four of them began walking back through the tunnels. None of them spoke to Arthur again. 

The next to stop meeting his eye were Sir Leon and Sir Percival, who had been leading the group of citizens who had managed to escape the citadel, to safety in the surrounding woods. Upon Arthur's arrival - noting the disgust and betrayal in Gwen's eye as she glanced his way - they had instantly known something was wrong. 

"My Lord, where is Merlin?" Leon asked, as soon as he was able to pinpoint the reason for his concern.

"I couldn't save him in time, he-"

"Like hell you couldn't save him, Arthur! You killed him!" Gwen shouted, as the clearing came to an abrupt silence. It seemed as though not even the forest dared to make a sound. Even the rustling of the wind in the trees grew quiet. Everyone turned to stare at the king. It was well known that since coming into Arthur's service, Merlin and the young prince now king had been inseparable. 

"..Sire, is this true?" Leon asked, though in his heart he already knew the answer. Arthur did not meet his gaze, choosing to stare at the ground in front of him.

"How could you?" Percival asked the king in front of him. 

"He killed my uncle, royal blood, he-"

"And if he had not, I would have done so myself, Pendragon," Percival continued. 

"As would I have," Leon added. "He marched on Camelot, My Lord. Marched under the flag of Morgana. He was a traitor. No more worthy of a royal relation than one of the hunting dogs. I know for a fact you were willing to kill him yourself, so that can't have been the reason for your actions. You would have thanked anyone else if they had killed Agravaine. You would have praised them for aiding you in the war against Morgana. So why Merlin? What was different?"

"He had magic," Arthur muttered, barely audible under his breath. 

"You'll have to speak louder, Arthur." 

"I said," Arthur lifted his head, "He had magic. He was a sorcerer, Leon. He killed them, all of them. A full score of men, in an instant. Who's to say he wasn't in league with Morgana, or worse, gunning for the throne himself? He lied all this time. He deceived us all." Arthur looked at them, searching for any sign of understanding.

"Not all of us," Percival said, interrupting once more. "I knew he had magic. I realised shortly after I met him that he was the man the druids spoke of only in legends. The most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth. Destined to unite the land of Albion, and bring magic back to Camelot, alongside The Once and Future King." Percival paused. "At least that would have been his destiny, were he still here."

"You hid this from me!" Arthur roared. "You swore loyalty to me! Not to Merlin!"

"Is it not the same thing?" Leon asked the enraged monarch before him. "Because as I saw it, and the rest of the knights saw it, Merlin has been by your side for a fair few years now. On our side through our victories and failures, always there by your side making sure you get back safe to Camelot. And you, you used to be livid when Merlin got so much as a scratch on him. I may have sworn my loyalty to your family, Arthur, but if you think for one second that Merlin is not included in that then you are sorely mistaken. 

"He is like a younger brother to us. To so many of us. And yes, quite a few of us figured out his gifts over the years. I mean seriously, Arthur, you didn't really actually think you managed to defeat a dragon, or a gryphon, or an immortal army, without some magic to help did you? He was still Merlin. The same Merlin. Magic or no. I'll never forgive this, Arthur. And I'll never forget. You've gone too far this time. My Lord," he finished with a sneer. 

Artur turned to Percival, desperate for some support. He found none.

"I'm with Leon on this one, Arthur. I've lost two of my best friends now because of you. I only march against the citadel tomorrow for the sakes of my people, of those innocent who don't deserve to have their whole lives stripped away because of an outdated vendetta. I don't march for you. You're a disgrace to Camelot. Just like your sister. Just like your father."

Neither Percival nor Leon spoke to him again. Not to organise the way they would storm the citadel. Not to discuss which tunnels to tale. He didn’t even know the times which the guards changed, or where the rest of the prisoners were being held. No, Arthur was shunned and pushed to the background, as his knights took over the reigns. Planning their attack without the input of their king. The people who did speak to him did so with praise. The old guard and the stubborn asses who still wished to live in the tyranny of Uther's days.

His knights could barely look at him as they stormed the citadel. They never met his eyes, they didn’t speak to him. Not as they fought their way through dozens of armed saxons to the throne room. Not when Percival and Leon split off from Arthur, Gwen, Tristan, and Isolde, and headed to the dungeons to free the rest of their friends. Not when Morgana’s magic failed. Not when her henchman fell to the ground by her feet, even though no one had touched him. 

Arthur took advantage of the opportunity, springing forward as the sounds of his sword striking against Morgana’s filled the throne room. He let loose his anger, moving with a speed that no one had seen. As Morgana’s sword flew out of her hand, she turned to it, eyes blazing gold, but nothing happened once again. 

“Emrys,” Morgana said, fear in her eyes. “He’s here.”

Arthur hesitated, his sword pointed at Morgana’s chest with the intent to kill. His sword arm was paralyzed. His mind shocked at Morgana’s words. There was no way Emrys could be here. Not now. Not after... Arthur couldn’t let himself finish that line of thought. He knew who Emrys had been. He knew how Emrys’ story had ended. He stood still, and slowly shook his head. 

Only then did Gwen break the silence that had been filling the room. 

“Don’t tell me you’re hesitating, Pendragon. You killed your best friend. Killing the woman who has been terrorising your kingdom should be easy.”

Arthur tensed up, as Morgana began to smirk from where she lay. “You killed Merlin?” A dangerous glint began to form in her eye. “Why dear brother perhaps you and I are not so different after all. For all your words about acting for the good of your people, you throw the good ones away ever so easily. I wonder, what would have he thought in his final moments? Do you think he regretted ever stepping foot in Camelot in the first place, or just becoming your friend?”

Morgana’s words threw Arthur over the brink, and he drove his sword into her chest.  Her mouth fell open in shock and pain as her scream tore through the castle. The ground beneath her grew red with her blood. 

“You killed him.” Arthur turned around to see Gwaine, fury filling his voice. “You killed Merlin!” He said once more, grabbing the sword out of Leon’s hand as he advanced towards the king. Arthur’s instincts kicked in as he met his sword to meet Gwaine’s and stared into his knight’s rage-filled eyes. 

“When I first met Merlin I warned him no noble was worth dying for, and he– he almost, for a minute, helped me believe that you were different. He would go on and on about your nobility and your kindness and how you always wanted the best for his people, and look what that got him. To think I almost let myself fall for your act,” Gwaine shook his head, and Arthur took the opportunity to leap back and raise his sword once again. “But I see the truth now. You’re the exact same as Uther. And I may not have been able to fight him for his immoral crimes against his people, but I’m sure this will be just as rewarding.” 

He lunged at Arthur wildly which the king easily deflected. Arthur had the advantage, and he let Gwaine know it, his years of training allowing him to overpower the somewhat less experienced and highly emotional man. Arthur continued on the offense, and Gwaine had to focus all of his energy on blocking each new attack. He didn’t notice Arthur was backing him into a corner until it was too late. Stumbling over Morgana’s body behind him, he fell to the floor with a grunt.

Arthur knocked his sword out of his hand, before he stood above Gwaine, sword to his chest. 

“What, are you going to kill me too?”

“Yield, Gwaine.”

“My loyalty was with Merlin, not with you.” Gwaine snapped and balled his fists in anger. If Arthur didn't have a sword to his chest he would have tried to fight him with his bare hands. “I will not yield to Uther’s kind.” 

Arthur didn’t notice Percival creep up behind him until his sword was snatched from his hand, leaving him defenceless. Gwaine took his chance and scrambled to his feet, jumping back until he was in line with the others. Percival joined them, all looking at the king in disgust.

“We can never forgive what you did, Sire,” Leon stepped up and began to speak. He looked at him coldly, colder than Arthur had ever seen him look before. “From now on we don’t fight for you. We fight for our people. We only remain knights of Camelot so we can stop you from continuing down Uther’s path. We will serve the kingdom, not her king.”

“This is treason, Leon.”

“Yet it’s less than you deserve. Murderer.”

0=[]======>

It had been months since his knights and Gwen had walked out of the throne room, leaving him alone with only his thoughts and the corpse of his sister for company.

Months since he had been able to share a smile, or even seen, those he used to call his closest friends. He hated it. By the gods he hated it. But he knew he deserved it, every last second. 

All Merlin had done for him was protect him. He had fought beside Arthur in nothing more than his usual servant’s attire on more occasions that Arthur cared to admit. He had been the one to break down Arthur’s walls. To help Arthur become the man he used to be. Helped him to become a better king. And Arthur had killed him. In possibly the most brutal fashion he could have. He had killed him without a thought. 

He never let Merlin explain himself. Never gave him a fair trial. Less than that, he never gave him even the semblance of a trial. He wasn’t as bad as his father, Arthur thought. No, he was much worse. 

He wished he could take it all back. Wished he could go back to that day and stop his own stupidity before he lost the closest friend he’d ever had, lost all of the closest friends he'd ever had. But he couldn’t. And no matter where he found himself, he was reminded of what he did. 

He missed the daily “rise and shine” as Merlin pulled back the curtains to his chambers. He missed the banter they shared, the way Merlin would constantly complain about his chores, yet somehow get them done anyway. He missed the way Merlin smiled at him when he had told a particularly good joke, or that goofy grin he had when he told Arthur he was a dollophead. He missed the way his eyes would light up every time Arthur entered a room. He even missed the way Merlin would deliberately ruin his hunts in favour of saving the wildlife from a bitter end. 

In the months following Merlin’s death, Arthur realised he no longer cared that Merlin had had magic. Weeks and months alone with his thoughts left him to realise just how many times Merlin had saved his life. Just how many small things Merlin did each day. 

How could he have thought Merlin would ever betray him, when he had stood by Arthur’s side every day, never taking credit for the things he must have done? How could Arthur have thought Merlin was evil, when he had sat outside the throne room for an entire night after Uther’s death, just so Arthur wouldn’t feel alone?

Gradually, Arthur stopped going to the meetings. He found it too painful, looking up to the side of the room expecting to see a quirked eyebrow at an inside joke disguised as a remark, or a small smirk, only for nothing – no one – to be there.

He stopped training with the knights, too. Each time he picked up his sword, the memory of that day came flooding back to him. It got harder and harder to go on, the memories growing  stronger until he was unable to focus And so he put his sword down for good.

The feasts were the next to go. Too many times Arthur gestured to his side for his goblet to be refilled, turning and expecting to see that familiar mop of black hair instead of George or some other random servant. Or worse, getting tired of the boring courteous chatter and absentmindedly scan for Merlin the crowd before the memories of the night returned to him.

It wasn’t long before Arthur stopped leaving his chambers, but even there, the memories of Merlin haunted his every waking moment. Eventually, it got too much for Arthur. He was withdrawn from everyone else, his knights and Gwen were practically running the kingdom. There was nothing for him in Camelot, not anymore. 

And if there was a part of him that still hoped he could be forgiven, it died the morning he left. No one tried to stop him when he rode out the city gates, with only a few possessions packed. No one came looking for him when he didn’t return. Not that night, not that week. 

No one cared that he was gone. But he couldn’t blame them.

After all, he was a murderer, nothing more.

Chapter Text

It had been six months since merlin had died.  

A full month since Arthur had walked through the gates of Camelot for the last time.   

It was no surprise to him that in all his time, no search party had been sent to look for him. Not even one rider from Camelot had made any attempt to bring him home. In a way, Arthur was relieved.  

Despite their feelings towards him, Arthur knew that Gwen and the knights would bring Camelot into a time of prosperity and peace. One where people, magic and non-magic, noble and commoner alike, could all  live in  safety and happiness. One where the prejudices of the Pendragon dynasty no longer cursed the land. Camelot didn’t need him anymore. No one did.   

A week after Arthur left, he had discovered an abandoned hut. It was small, and ramshackle, and looked as though it had not been lived in for months now. Pots and jars were broken, strewn across the floor. Their contents everywhere. Herbs and potions, and small pieces of half-dried meats. There were no weapons to be found. No rugs or warmth anywhere. There was no bed, no kitchen. In fact the hut was only two rooms, separated by a thin cloth.  

It looked so similar to the hut that Merlin had brought him to all those months ago.   

The one where the sorcerer had lived.   

Away from the world, hidden from the crown.   

The sorcerer had escaped the kingdom the hour Uther’s death had been announced. Gaius had told him that in the following weeks. Even if this was the old man’s hut, he wouldn’t be returning any time soon. This was a good a place as any, Arthur had decided.   

It took time, as all things do, but the hut began to look lived in once more, as Arthur worked on repairing it. The pots and jars were swept up, and put into one of the empty crates that lay around. Arthur used his crossbow to hunt, and his axe to collect firewood, and the few books that he discovered in a cupboard helped him know which plants were safe to consume. He now had a mattress, albeit made of straw and old sacks of grain, and he had managed to barter for a blanket and a chicken from a neighbouring village. One he had somehow never heard of before.  

Many people there looked familiar to him, so he kept his head low, and face hidden as he spoke to them, fearful that they would recognise him in return. He used his manners, and averted his gaze. Became the very opposite of what his father taught him a prince should be. The second time he returned, he realised why so many of them looked familiar to him. He had seen them all before. Nearly every person he met, had at one point been accused, and barely escaped the pyre.   

The village and its surrounds had to be protected by some sort of sorcery. There was no other explanation. Something to make it invisible to outsiders. A perfect place to hide from the crown.  

To hide from him.  

And now he was among them, in their space. The very person who in the past had killed hundreds of magic users and druids alike. That was the last time he w ent  to the village.   

He wouldn’t lie to them anymore. He wouldn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t. But he couldn’t show his face. He couldn’t reveal who he truly was. Not to the people he had let down and hunted for over twenty-five years. He was a coward. Nothing more.  

The weeks went on, and Arthur was now more or less self-sufficient. Regardless of what anyone had said in the past, he was perfectly capable of looking after himself. He knew how to hunt, and how to gather. He knew what wood and kindling lit best for a fire, and the creeks and lakes nearby that he could use to fish and to get water. He had a chicken to give him eggs and even managed to travel to one of the other villages to get some grain, using the game he hunted as material to barter.   

He spent the days hunting for food, fixing the small hut he now called home, and training, just as he always had. He was sure, if given the chance to prove himself, he would be a stronger swordsman than any other who called Camelot home. The hatred he felt for himself fuelled his desire to train. Looking for any opportunity to keep his mind off why he was here in the first place. For the most part, his distractions did exactly what they were meant to.   

It was only at night, when the noise of the day fell away, and the crackling of the fire was all he had to keep him company, that his mind wandered. Looking into the flames, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about all those who had died on the pyre during his fathers – and his – reign. How many people, men, women and even children alike, had he seen burn? Heard screaming as the flames leapt up and consumed them whole? It was not a pleasant way to go. Not a fast death. Nothing like those who instead of the pyre, had faced the  executioner's  axe.   

Or his own sword.  

Not a day went by when he wasn’t reminded of Merlin in one way or another.   

Not a minute of each night went by without Merlin on his mind.   

What could he expect, when the very place he  lived  was one Merlin has brought him to, those many, many months ago? Most of the time Arthur found a way to deal with the endless train of thought coming from his mind. But some nights, nights like these, nothing he tried helped. It was nights like these when he grabbed his sword, and donned his cloak, and made the short trip down to the lake.   

The lake was beautiful, in the most unfair way. The deep blue waters surrounded by trees on all sides, reflecting the crescent moon on its gently rippling surface. All overlooked by the white mountains which stood proud, just a few leagues away from the lake itself. Merlin would have loved it here. Everything felt so alive, so special. There was nothing quite like it from anything Arthur had ever seen.   

But Merlin would never get to see this place.   

He would never get to see how beautiful the stars looked as they stood bright and proud against the dark of the sky. He would never get to sit by the shore, watching over the water as he tracked the path of the moon across the slow waves. All because of Arthur’s actions.  

In all his years, there was nothing he regretted more than what he had done to Merlin. There was nothing he wished he could take back more. He wished he could go back. He wished he had listened. He wished he had taken more than his father’s words, his own prejudices, into consideration. He wished he had waited, just a moment longer until he had lost his nerve to kill. ‘I love y-’ Merlin had said, his final dying words. What Arthur would give to let him finish his sentence. What Arthur would give to go back and feel the warmth of merlin’s arms, just one time.  

But he couldn’t.  

It was no one else’s fault but his own.   

He had acted without thought. Without heart.   

He had acted as though he had the right to decide who lived and who died, and that he could kill who he wanted without having to care. He had done exactly what Uther would have wanted. He would have made Uther proud. But what about now? Would his father still be smiling down upon him, seeing him disgraced, driven from his kingdom by his own actions? It wasn’t worth it. None of it was.  

For the first time, with only the galaxy above as his witness, he could admit what he had been scared to for many, many years. His father was wrong about magic. His father had acted out of hatred and  fear and used that to try to excuse a mass genocide of hundreds of innocent people. His father was not worthy to have been called a king of Camelot. And neither was he.  

“You were right,” Arthur spoke, his voice quiet as he walked closer to the edge of the lake and looked up at the stars. “By the gods Merlin, you were right. My father was not a worthy king. His treatment of your people, of Camelot’s people, was unjust and cruel. He didn’t care for the best of the kingdom, but what was best for his own selfish heart. But you were wrong. Wrong to have faith in me. Wrong to think I would ever turn out anything other than a tyrant. I’m just as bad as he is, Merlin, if not worse. I’m not the once and future king you told me I was. I’m not fit to be a king at all. After what I did. After I-” Arthur broke off in a strangled sob. He fell to his knees, not caring that he was now half-kneeling in the lake. His head dropped to his chest, his whole body slumped forward, as the tears he had not yet cried for his friend began to fall.   

“I don’t know where you are, Merlin. I don’t know if you can hear me. But if somehow you can, I want you to know that there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t regret what I did. You were my best friend, my only friend, for such a long time. I trusted you with all I was, loved you more than I could ever imagine loving someone. Even if I was too much of a coward to say it. When I saw you with Agravaine, I felt  betrayed. Scared. I acted without thinking. My actions were unforgivable. But for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry, Merlin. I’m truly sorry for what I did. Even if you were to hate me, I would do anything just to see you breathing, one last time.”  

“Anything?”  

Arthur jumped up from where he was kneeling and drew his sword as he spun around, only to be met an empty space, where he swore there was a voice not moments before. “Who said that?” For the first time since he had left Camelot, his battle senses once again kicked in. He spun around once more,  sword raised in front of him as he searched the forest around him for the source of the voice. “Show yourself.”  

There was a tap on Arthur’s shoulder, and he spun around once more. Facing the lake to be met with an aged man. Holding a staff by his side just like the one Sofia and her father had brought with them to Camelot all those years ago. “Such a strong voice for someone who was crying their heart out mere minutes ago, King Arthur Pendragon.”  

“How do you know who I am?”  

“Is there anyone in Camelot who does not, My Lord?”  

“If you knew who I was, then you would know that I am no king. Not anymore.”  

“You cannot run from your destiny, Arthur Pendragon. It is woven into the purpose of your very soul. You and Emrys are still yet to unite the lands of  Albion and  bring magic back to Camelot.”  

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Arthur said to the man, who had yet to introduce himself. “Emrys is dead. I am the one who killed him. As much as I regret what I did, as much as I wish I could take it back, uniting Albion with Merlin is simply not possible.”  

“The one you were speaking to, he is Emrys?”  

“He  was  Emrys, yes.”  

“And did you mean what you said? That you would do anything to see him breathe again?”  

“With all my heart.”  

“You are a lucky man indeed, Arthur Pendragon. The gods may yet give you a second chance.”  

“Are you,” Arthur’s mind began to race as the implications behind the man’s words set in. “Do you mean there is a way to bring him back?”   

“The lake of Avalon is home to the most powerful beings who have passed onto the next life. With the right knowledge and the right price, any number of things can be achieved.”  

“I’ll pay the price. Whatever it takes.”  

“You are asking me to resurrect the most powerful soul in all of Avalon, My King,” the man turned to the lake, so Arthur could not see the smirk growing on the other man’s face. “The price for that soul will be high indeed.”  

“I know,” said Arthur, stepping forward until he was just behind the other man. “What I did, however, must be fixed. He did not deserve what I did. None of them did. I beg you, please, whatever the price is, however high, I am willing to pay it.”  

“The price I require, is your life. To save a life, a life must be taken. That is the law of such things.” The man turned back around to face the king.   

Arthur’s heart stopped at his words, but he knew immediately what must be done. He had agreed to pay any price. This was to be expected. What was his life compared to Merlin’s anyway? Merlin had been the one to help him become the king he used to be. He was the one who helped Arthur see that commoners were just as able to be knights as any noble man. He was the one who introduced Arthur to some of his most loyal knights. Lancelot, Percival,  Gwaine . The one who, all those years ago, hadn’t been afraid to stand up to Arthur’s brutish ways, and tell him exactly what he thought.   

Merlin had been the one who protected him, all those years. It was something he had come to realise in the months since he had passed. All those things Merlin had told him in the cave, all of them had been true. Every off-handed comment that Merlin had made about saving Arthur’s life, or defeating creatures or bandits by Arthur’s side, none of them had been lies. Merlin was noble. Loyal. A truer man than Arthur ever had been. It was a simple decision, really.   

“I willingly give my life to see him back. I would die a thousand times if he could see the sun again.”  

“The life for which I ask is not your current one,  Arthur  Pendragon.”  

“I don’t understand what other life I can give.”  

“The life for which I ask is your prophesised return,” The man saw the confusion plastered on Arthur's face and continued. “There is a reason they call you the once and future king, My Lord. In the future, many hundreds of years from now, Albion will face an obstacle like none other they have faced. Albion’s greatest need. The prophecy which surrounds you and Emrys states that during this time, you shall rise again, and help save the united lands once more. If you go through with this deal, allow yourself to pay this price, you will not rise from Avalon once you die. This life shall be your last.”  

“Very well.”  

“You will do it?”  

“His life is worth a hundred of mine. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”  

“Then Arthur Pendragon, I will need your hand, and your trust. Walk with me.” Arthur felt the man grab his hand, as he pulled Arthur behind him towards the lakes centre. When the water reached to Arthur’s waist, the man took a step back from Arthur and looked at him once more. Silently, the man reached his hand below the surface of the water and his eyes turned red. He pulled his hand back up, and in  it’s  grip was a dagger like none other the king had seen. “Your hand?”  

“What are you going to do?”  

“The goddess of Avalon requires one soul to be able to release another. But in your case, a blood promise will suffice, until you are able to fulfil your half of the bargain,” the man reached out to Arthur once more. “Your hand?”  

Arthur took one last deep breath before he shoved his hand forward, into the other man’s. One, Two, and it was done. The crimson drops bled into the water below, sinking to the very floor of the lake, for just a few seconds until the man’s eyes glowed red once more and the cut on his hand faded away to nothing. A small, broken heart on the back of his thumb the only reminder of what he had done.  

He looked around expectantly, waiting for merlin to show, but nothing happened. The wind stayed as it should. The night seemed to not change. In fact, everything felt exactly as it had before.  

“Where is he? You said he would be here!” Arthur turned to the man in front of him, only to find the man already back at shore.  

“He is exactly where he should be. In Camelot as we speak. And if I am not mistaken, searching for you in the very woods that surround us.”  

“What?”  

“You cannot kill he who cannot die, foolish king. Emrys was never dead. Not really. He is magic in and of itself. The most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth. No mortal blade can kill him. Most of all yours. He thought you lost, and so wandered to look for you. The past six months he has done but nothing else. Not even returning home.”  

“But I, I killed him. He was dead, don’t you understand I saw him die! I made him die!”  

“You certainly tried. Yet I have been informed that he helped you during your battle with the Lady Morgana, rendering her powerless.”  

“She was a dying woman. They were the words of someone gone mad with power, and fear. Nothing more. He can’t have been there. He was still lying in two pieces a full three-day ride away from Camelot. I should know, I was the one that did it.”  

“And yet he still helped you. Even as his body was taking the time to heal, his magic was reaching out, protecting the once and future asshole who took his life. Although I guess we can scratch the future out of your title now, can’t we, Pendragon.”   

“No, no  no  no,” Arthur could barely believe what he was hearing. There was no way merlin had been alive all this time, was there? He had seen him die. He had had the blood on his hands. He had been the one to lose his temper, bring down his sword, and see the light leave Merlin’s eyes. “The deal, I brought him back. I gave up my resurrection for him, why would you bring him back if he was already alive?”  

“I never specified it was Merlin who I would bring back, Pendragon. I said I would bring back the most powerful soul in Avalon,” Arthur paled at the man’s words, especially as he shrunk down in a second, his skin bright blue and no larger than a bird. He flew down right before Arthur’s eyes, and had just one more message for the king before diving down to Avalon below. “The Lady Morgana send her regards.”  

Chapter Text

The sun was starting to rise before Arthur regained the ability to move. At some point during the night, he had managed to stumble back to the edge of the water, where he fell to the ground and didn’t rise.  

Once again, Camelot’s future and safety was at stake because of his actions.  

All his serving life, Merlin had called Arthur the once and future king, and he had gone and thrown it all away for Morgana. Even if he hadn’t realised it, his actions were his and his alone. Camelot was in danger, once more. He had to fix it.  

Arthur stood, grabbing his sword and began to run back to his house. Wasting no time at all, he rushed inside to don his chainmail and armour. He was half frozen from his night in the lake, but there was no more time to waste until he was warm. So many people had been hurt by him already, he couldn’t let there be any more. No, he had to warn them. He had to stop Morgana, even if it was the last thing he did. His own mortality be damned.  

He walked over to the corner of the room, and gathered up his saddle, ready to leave this place for possibly the last time. Standing at the door, he looked back, only for a glimpse of red to catch his eye. Walking next to the cupboard he had made, Arthur pulled out his cloak, still shining as brightly as ever, the golden dragon crest of his family proud against the vibrant red of the fabric. Hands slightly shaking, he threw the cloak around his shoulders, before tying it at the front. With one last look around, he grabbed his saddle and closed the door behind him, before saddling Llamrei and riding off to Camelot.  

Many hours later, Arthur had still not reached Camelot, and yet the sky was already starting to show the first signs of night. With a sigh, Arthur urged Llamrei to slow down, and it was not too long before he had found a clearing where they could rest for the night.  

They were only a few hours hard ride from Camelot, but Arthur knew that he had pushed Llamrei hard enough for the day. As much as he wanted to get to Camelot as quickly as possible, he did not want to resort to neglecting his horse’s needs.  

Within the hour, Arthur had fed and watered Llamrei, built a fire and had set out camp for the night. However, he soon realised that in all his rush to get to Camelot, he had forgot to pack any food for himself on his journey. Arthur looked to the rapidly darkening sky and shook his head. Hunting at this hour would be meaningless, as all the game would have already gone back to hiding for the night. His best hope would be that there were some plants around that he could use to tide over his hunger.  

“I’ll be back, girl,” he said to Llamrei, before taking his sword in hand for protection, and venturing into the surrounding woods.  

Very quickly, Arthur realised there was nothing around.  

He knew he should have expected nothing less, being in the valley of the kings, but as the sun dipped low enough for the shadows to take over, Arthur began the short walk back to the small campsite.  

With nothing to focus on, his mind wandered. He wondered if there had been any truth to what the man at the lake had said. If Merlin had in fact been alive this whole time. He wondered what had happened to the crown back at Camelot. Who wore it now? Had Gwen stepped up into the position, having had leadership experience of running the house? Perhaps running a kingdom wouldn’t be too different. Maybe the crown had been given to Sir Leon, Arthur thought. He had been the first knight of Camelot for many years and had shown time and time again that he was loyal to Camelot and her people. Arthur could think of no one he would trust more. Well, apart from Merlin.  

Merlin, who was loyal, and brave, and who he would likely never see again.  

Even if Merlin was alive, he would hardly forgive Arthur for what he had done.  

He would likely never trust Arthur again.  

All because of what Arthur did.  

All because Arthur did exactly what his father had taught him to do for so many years.  

He knew know that his father was wrong. He knew now that the people of Camelot, magic and non-magic folk alike, should deserve to live without the fear of execution hanging over their heads.  

But what he knew now didn’t change what he did in the past.  

If he ever got the chance, he knew he would revoke the ban on magic. But deep down in his heart he knew that the most likely thing to happen would be for him to never regain his crown. He didn’t deserve the title. Didn’t deserve his people’s loyalty.  

All he could do now was save them from his last mistake.  

Llamrei whinnied, the sound loud through the quiet forest, and Arthur was drawn from his thoughts. Brought back to the present with the very real realisation that there was someone at his camp, especially when he heard a muffled reply, from a voice he couldn’t quite make out.  

As quietly as he could, Arthur crept forward, his sword raised in front of him to defend himself if it came to it. The voice was louder now, and Arthur’s heart raced as his mind was flooded with recognition.  

Wanting to see for himself before his mind gave him any more false hope, Arthur moved from the tree line into the small clearing, where now he could see the figure’s back, and his clothing, with ease.  

“Merlin.” The figure turned around at Arthur’s voice, and it took just one glance at the king’s face before the other man was running over and pulling him into his arms.  

“Arthur.” Merlin threw his arms around the king, and Arthur hugged him back just as tightly, burying his face in Merlin’s neck as his tears began, once again, to fall.  

“I thought I’d lost you,” Arthur sobbed into Merlin’s neck. “I thought I’d really done it. That I’d never seen you again.” 

If Merlin was confused, he didn’t show it. “I know I snapped at you, Arthur, but I would never desert you. Agravaine is your uncle, just as Gaius is mine, and I should never have acted so heartlessly. I’m just sorry I let you think I’d ever be mad enough to force you away. When I heard you’d run, all because of me,” Merlin trailed off for a moment, until he pulled away from Arthur and looked into the king’s eyes. “I don’t remember much of when we got back to Camelot, but next thing I knew, I was out here, and I just had to find you, I knew I had to find you Arthur. And now I have, and I’m never letting you go again. But there is something I need to tell you, and I need you to trust me.” 

Arthur was speechless at Merlin’s words, at simply seeing Merlin in front of him, alive and breathing once more, all he could do was nod before Merlin continued.  

“When Gwaine found Gaius, we also found Agravaine. He had a dagger held up to Gaius’ throat. Gwaine asked him about it, about why he was even there, and he said that he had followed our tracks. But he didn’t need to follow our tracks. In fact, it was him who led us to the caves in the first place. I found iron ore on one of his boots in his chambers, which was also found in the caverns where Gaius was being held by Morgana and her men,” Merlin stopped once more, and averted his gaze before he finished. “I’m sorry, Arthur, but Agravaine truly is the traitor, and I don’t know when, but he and Morgana are bound to march on Camelot soon.” 

“What?” 

Merlin pulled back, his hands resting on Arthur’s shoulders for a moment before he dropped them to his sides. “Agravaine. He's working with Morgana.” 

“No, I,” Arthur stopped. His mind just catching up to what Merlin was saying. Talking about Agravaine in the present tense. Acting as though Gaius was taken only a week ago, instead of the many, many months that had passed. Almost a year, in fact. Almost as if, to Merlin, Arthur had only been gone a week. What if he didn’t remember what Arthur had one? Would he have to tell Merlin? Would he be able to? Would Merlin ever forgive him if he knew? Arthur brought his thoughts back on track before he could spiral much further and tried to gauge just how much Merlin knew. “I know that, Merlin. Agravaine, he’s dead.” 

“Gods, that’s why you ran, isn’t it?” Arthur nodded his head slightly. Perhaps Merlin remembered what had happened after all. “Killing your uncle can’t have been easy, of course you would want some time alone to process everything.”  

Or perhaps not.  

Arthur barely had time to open his mouth in response before Merlin began pulling him towards a log near the campfire, talking the whole time.  

“I know it would have been a difficult decision, Arthur. I know despite it all he was still your uncle, and that you did care for him. But you did the right thing. You protected your kingdom in the best way you could, and I hope in time you can find it to forgive yourself. You could have just told us though; but you didn’t need to run off without any word or warning.” Merlin sat down, pulling Arthur down with him. “Anything could have happened to you out there, Arthur. The woods are not safe this time of year for any traveller, much less the king of Camelot. There are bandits, and wild creatures, and it is unnaturally cold for the season. What would have happened if something had have happened to you and no one knew where you were. What would have happened to the throne? To your people? To me? Do you have any idea how any of us would have felt if you had been injured or kidnapped, or even worse, killed?” 

Arthur didn’t know how to react, staring into the dancing flames, as his answer. 

“I’m glad you’re coming home, you know. Even if you are a pompous prat sometimes,” Merlin chuckled slightly. “Though I must ask if there is a reason that you are in such a rush to get back to Camelot, seeing as though you forgot to pack any food.” 

“Morgana’s riding for Camelot. I need to be there to defeat her.” 

“You mean you need to be there to lead, so  we  can defeat her.” 

“No, Merlin, I mean me. When we get to Camelot, I need you to get Gaius, and Gwen, and as many people from the citadel and lower town as you can and take them to the castle of the ancient kings. It’s a ruin in the Darkling Woods, on the border of the Forest of Brechfa, and it should be large enough to hold quite a number of people. You need to stay there, with the people, and if I win, I will send a rider as soon as it is safe for everyone to return to their homes.” 

“And if you don’t?” 

“Then at least my people will be safe,” Arthur paused, but continued after a moment’s breath. “At least  you  will be safe.” 

“No.” 

“Merlin--” 

“No, Arthur, no. I just found you, I’m not losing you again. I know you feel terrible about your uncle, and your sister, and because I know you, I know that you are most likely blaming yourself for how the both of them turned out. I can read you like a book, Arthur. You blame yourself for them, and for the danger your people are in because of them. You shoulder all the burden, all the blame, and somehow convince yourself, every time, that  you  let them down. That  you  are the cause of their despair. And whenever you get in this mindset you turn all-sacrificing and self-destructive, and you never seem to remember that your own life holds just as much value as everyone else's. So no, Arthur. I am going to be there, right by your side like I always am. Because I  refuse  to let you fast track your own funeral. Let alone over something that isn’t even your fault.” 

For a minute, both of them were silent, as the flames pushed floating embers further into the sky.  

“Careful Merlin, it almost sounds as if you care.” 

“Of course I care, Arthur,” Merlin said, moving closer to Arthur’s side before turning to face away, not quite having bridged the gap between them. “Sometimes it scares me just how much I care. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and it scares me just,” his voice grew quiet. “It scares me just how much I love you.”  

“I know, Merlin. Me too.” 

“Really?” Merlin said, turning to look at him.  

“Yes Merlin, really,” he moved over, and pulled Merlin into his arms. “I love you too.” 

Not even ten minutes later, Merlin’s breathing evened out, as he fell asleep, back resting against Arthur’s chest. The young king didn’t sleep that night, and the flames were never still. Instead constantly changing the intensities of oranges and yellows and golds, looking much akin to the gold that had swirled in Merlin’s eyes those many months ago. He couldn’t let Merlin know that he knew about his magic - it would raise too many questions. He couldn’t tell Merlin any of it. It was selfish, he knew, because everything would change in the morning. When they would reach Camelot and the truth would out. But for some reason, in that moment, the gods had given him a second chance. Even if for only one night, he would cherish every minute he could hold Merlin in his arms.  

0=[]=======> 

As Arthur rode through the lower town of Camelot the next afternoon - Merlin sitting astride Llamrei behind him, arms comfortable around his waist - the looks on his people’s faces burned themselves onto his mind.  

For the most part, the people looked confused.  

There were whispers, and second glances at the couple as they rode towards the main gates, and the citadel itself. The people spent their time looking. Pointing at Arthur and Merlin and running to get their families so they could come and see for themselves. Last they had heard, Merlin had been killed, by none other than Arthur’s own hand. And now here he was, alongside the king who not only killed him, but then left his kingdom to be run by his knights, instead of doing his job. 

Arthur could sense the questions gathering in Merlin’s mind, and he urged Llamrei to go faster. Hoping to get into the citadel before anyone started to voice the reasons of their confusion.  

Word of their arrival had somehow reached the citadel before they did, so when Llamrei trotted into the courtyard, Arthur and Merlin were met with the confused, and stern, faces of Guinevere and the knights of the round table. He pulled Llamrei to a stop, and he and Merlin dismounted, turning to the group. 

Before anyone could ask any questions, Arthur spoke up. “Morgana rides for Camelot.” 

His words snapped the knights out of their daze, but it was Guinevere who was the first to speak. 

“My lord,” she said with a sneer, “I don’t think that’s possible.” 

“And I’m telling you it is, Guinevere. I wish it were not, but she truly is on her way. You have to believe me. I would not lie to you,” she levelled him with a glare. “Not about this.” 

“Please, Guinevere, I--” 

“If you don’t trust him, then trust me, Gwen. Morgana is riding for Camelot. We need to prepare for her to attack. If we don’t, then innocent people will die.” The group turned to stare at him, all paled as if they could not believe what he was saying. “I know as well as you do that Arthur is a prat, but he isn’t lying. Morgana is going to attack Camelot.” 

“Fine,” Gwen said after a few tense moments or silence. “But we should continue this conversation indoors, My Lord. You seem to have quite the captivated audience gathered out here, and while they may be happy to watch a shit show unfold, I think we should keep your plans as private as possible.” 

“Very well,” Arthur said, before gesturing to the steps that led inside. “After you, Guinevere.” 

He was about to follow suit when Merlin grabbed his arm.  

“Is everything alright Merlin?” Arthur asked, acutely aware of the footsteps behind him coming to a halt. He knew that everything he did now was being watched, but he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he focused on Merlin and Merlin’s words alone. 

“How long do we have until she arrives?” 

“From what I’ve heard maybe two days, if we’re lucky. If we’re unlucky, she may be here tomorrow.” 

“Well, I've got no time to lose,” Arthur looked at Merlin, confusion clear as day across his face. Merlin took a breath and met Arthur’s eyes before he continued. “This may sound strange, but Arthur, you just have to trust me. Can you do that?” 

“Yes Merlin, I can,” Arthur said calmly, his voice the exact opposite to the thoughts whirling in his mind.  

“There’s a weapon. One you don’t know about, one no one knows about, and it will help us defeat Morgana. I can go get it, but it will take me a few hours at the least. If there’s a chance she may arrive tomorrow, then I can’t waste time, I have to go get the sword now. I fear it may be one of our only chances of stopping her.” 

“This sword is special to you.” 

“It was made by an old friend,” Merlin watched Arthur, and could see the thoughts flying through his mind. “I need to go alone to get it Arthur. Please, trust me.” 

“I do trust you Merlin, of course I do,” Arthur began to walk Merlin over to where Llamrei still stood proud in the courtyard. “Just, please, promise me you’ll come home.” 

“You trust me,  and  I get a please? Who are you and what have you done with Arthur Pendragon?” The two of them shared a laugh, before Merlin mounted Llamrei, but he already had one hand on the reigns. “I’ll always come home to you, Arthur.  I love you.” 

Arthur smiled, “I love you too.”  

Merlin's eyes darted to Arthur’s lips for just a second, before he leaned forward and captured them with his own. For half a moment, Arthur allowed himself to forget the mess he had got himself into, and just memorise the feel of Merlin’s lips against his own. But that moment was over too soon, as Merlin pulled away from the kiss, instead resting his forehead on Arthur’s.  

“That was,” Merlin trailed off. 

“Yeah,” Arthur agreed. “We definitely need to do more of that once you get back.” 

“Dollophead,” Merlin laughed before he swung himself up to be back on Llamrei’s saddle.  

“You said a few hours, so I’ll see you tonight. Stay safe, alright?”  

“For you,  fy   brenin .” With a smile, Merlin turned towards the citadel gates and once more left to the woods that surrounded the city. Only now, with Merlin fading smaller into the distance, did Arthur realise the mass of people that stood around the edge of the courtyard, all watching him with the same shocked expression. Only now, did he remember the group of people that stood behind him on the castle steps, who would have seen it all. 

“Arthur Pendragon,” Guinevere said, her voice echoing around the silent courtyard. “You have got a  lot  of fucking explaining to do. Inside. Now.” 

Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning around and following her up the steps and into the citadel for the first time in many weeks.  

0=[]=======> 

“What do you mean he doesn’t remember!?”  

“What do you think I mean, Percival,” Arthur threw his hands up, getting more frustrated by the second. They had been in the throne room for almost half an hour now, and no one was any closer to understanding what had happened.  

First it had been Guinevere, who made sure Arthur knew exactly what she thought of him for leaving his kingdom without so much as a goodbye. She made sure he knew just how alike his father was, willing to give up on his people because he didn’t like the consequences of a decision he had made. She made sure to tell him just how many people he had let down by not being here. Just how many people who had to work harder than they ever should, to pick up  his  slack.  

Then it had been Elyan, who made sure Arthur got a severe earful about the stress Gwen had been under since his impromptu leave. “First you broke her heart, then you broke it again when you killed her boyfriend, then you killed her best friend, dumped a kingdom on her shoulders, and to top it all off, come back a month later and flaunt a new relationship? Do you care that little about those who are supposed to be your friends? Or do you just take pleasure from their pain?” 

This, of course, was where Percival had stepped in, telling him exactly what he thought of Arthur betraying Merlin’s trust by being with him, and acting as though he hadn’t killed him a mere half year ago. Gwaine joined in, going on about taking advantage and how he shouldn’t have just jumped straight back into Merlin’s good graces after what he did, and expect Merlin to continue acting as though nothing happened, and that was when he snapped. 

“He doesn’t remember.” 

“What do you mean he doesn’t remember?” 

“What do you think I mean, Percival.” 

“But that doesn’t make sense. How can he not remember?” 

“I don’t  know,  Gwaine,” Arthur sighed. “When I saw him, when he caught up to me on my way back to Camelot, he spoke as though Gaius had only been abducted a week ago. He thought Agravaine was still alive. Warned me against Agravaine and Morgana working together. It was as if everything after that time had someone been wiped from his mind. Almost as if by magic.” 

“He caught up to you when you were already on your way back to Camelot?” Leon asked, joining into the conversation for the first time that afternoon. 

“Yes. I discovered Morgana was riding for Camelot, and I knew I needed to be here to save my people or die trying. I couldn’t let Camelot fall to her again.” 

“But Arthur, you killed Morgana. We all saw you. She’s dead.” 

“So was Merlin.” As if on cue, the warning bell began to ring throughout the citadel. Arthur was on his feet in an instant, reaching for his sword, before he realised he had left it on the side of Llamrei’s saddle, who he had sent away with Merlin. Hand grasping nothing but air, he turned his attention to the guards who had now opened the doors to the throne room. “One of you find out why that bell is ringing, and report back here, by the time you’ve returned I’m sure I’ll have found a sword I can use.” 

“We don’t need to report back sire, It’s Morgana. She’s been sighted entering the lower town.” Arthur’s face fell. They should have had more time. He’d told Merlin that they’d had possibly two days. They should have had enough time to prepare, but instead... 

From inside the throne room, Arthur and the knights could hear the faint screams of the townspeople as they ran to hide from Morgana. Arthur turned to the group besides him, all still waiting for instruction. For the first time in a long time, he saw the fear in their eyes. This was something none of them had expected – going up against a sorceress who had already been killed. They were waiting for instruction. They needed it. With a deep breath, Arthur pushed his shoulders back, and his thoughts back even further. “Guinevere, go see to Gaius. I need you both to gather as many people as you can, and half the knights, and take them to the castle of the ancient kings. You will be safe there, and I will send a messenger to tell you when Camelot is safe to return to. Percival, Leon, gather the rest of the knights and guards into the courtyard and around the entrance points of the citadel. Elyan, I need you to go with Gwen and Gaius. Keep everyone you can find safe and in the ruins for as long as I say.” 

Gwen, Percival, Leon and Elyan left the room along with the two guards, and only Gwaine and Arthur remained. “Does that mean I’m with you, Sire?”  

“Not quite.” 

“What?” 

Arthur turned to Gwaine. “I need you to find a way to the Darkling Woods, or at least a way to the lower town entrance near there. Merlin went on an errand before, and when he comes back, I need you to take him somewhere safe. Don’t tell him about Morgana, or he won’t want to leave. Make something up, an errand perhaps, maybe the bell is simply being tested. But he can’t know what is happening, I need him to be safe.” He stopped for just a second, almost hesitant, but after a couple of seconds, Arthur continued. “And maybe, if I don’t, you know, just, tell him I love him, okay? And that I’m sorry for what I did. I’m afraid I doubt I’ll still be here when its safe for you both to return.” 

“You doubt you’ll still be here?” 

“There’s no time for me to explain, Gwaine, just go.” 

“Arthur--” 

“Go, Gwaine!” 

With one last look at Arthur, Gwaine left. Leaving the young king all alone. This was all his fault, all of it. Morgana was back because of him, alive because of him, here in Camelot because of him. How many people had already died today because of him and how many more would die before Morgana’s newest campaign to take over Camelot was through? 

Until his death, when the Sidhe could entrap his soul, Arthur knew Morgana was on borrowed time. If she died before him, there was a slight possibility that one day, Arthur could still rise again. But how many people would she be willing to kill to stop that from happening? Too many. However, if Arthur died first, her place in this world would be proper once more. Knowing this gave him the leverage he needed. All he had to do was bargain his own life, for the lives of his citizens. They could be safe, find refuge in another kingdom, work with their allies to bring Morgana down once and for all.  

Merlin's words from the night before screamed through his mind as he made his way to the courtyard.  You shoulder all the burden, all the blame, and somehow convince yourself, every time, that you let them down. That you are the cause of their despair. And whenever you get in this mindset you turn all-sacrificing and self-destructive, and you never seem to remember that your own life holds just as much value as everyone else's. “ I   suppose you were right, Merlin. I suppose you were right.” 

0=[]=======> 

Merlin was already on his way back to the citadel when he heard the warning bell begin to ring. He urged Llamrei to go faster, and it was not long before the Battlements of Camelot were rapidly approaching. He was anxious to know what had caused the bell, and his mind raced with thoughts of Morgana and her army. Maybe Arthur had been wrong with the timing, and she had not been as far away as he had originally thought? Which, now that Merlin thought about it, he didn’t think Arthur had actually mentioned at all. His questions were soon to be answered, however, when he came across Sir Gwaine at the edge of the Darkling Woods.  

“Gwaine,” Merlin said, and the knight turned on his horse to face him. “What’s happening?” 

“It’s nothing to worry about, Merlin, they’re just testing the bell.” Gwaine felt sick lying to his best friend, but he pushed on, He knew that Merlin wouldn’t go with him if he thought Arthur was in any sort of Danger, and he had been given direct orders to keep Merlin safe. “I was waiting for you, actually, there’s an errand I need to run, out at the castle of the ancient kings, and I was told you knew a bit about that area? I was hoping you could help me out.” 

“The castle of the ancient kings?” 

“Yes, are you familiar?” 

“Who sent you on this errand, Gwaine?” 

“Well, it was,” Gwaine trailed off, not sure if he should tell Merlin that it was Arthur, Gaius, or someone else entirely. Merlin met Gwaine’s gaze, and his suspicions were confirmed when the knight looked away, as if he had something to hide. The knight cracked. “It was Arthur.” 

“Arthur sent you to the castle of the ancient kings?” Merlin looked over to Camelot, and inched Llamrei forward, preparing to get her to run for the Citadel at full speed. “Morgana.” 

With that one word, Merlin was off like the wind, racing towards Camelot. In that moment, he was very glad Arthur had allowed him to take Llamrei with him. Allowing him to easily outrun Gwaine’s horse. Llamrei had always been the fastest horse in the Camelot Cavalry, with Merlin’s horse, Hengroen, being a close second. But none of the other horses could compete with the pair, Gwaine’s included.  

Within ten minutes, Merlin had made it back to the citadel. Only to find the courtyard strangely empty. The bell still tolled in the distance, but he could find no trace of anyone, alive or dead. Llamrei’s hooves echoed as she came to a stop, and Merlin leapt down, before grabbing Excalibur in one hand, Arthur’s sword in the other, and letting his magic reach out to try and find Arthur’s location. 

That’s when he heard her.  

Emrys . 

No. 

Emrys.   

Merlin’s mind raced. The only person in Camelot who knew about his druidic identity was Gaius, and Alator had sworn that he didn’t tell Morgana. Had he lied? Had Alator turned against him, only pledging loyalty to him to spare his own life? 

Don’t you want to come save your precious king?  

Merlin reached out with his magic to pinpoint exactly where Morgana’s words were coming from, allowing himself to stand still and silent until a clear image popped into his mind. But unlike other times, no clear place came to mind. Normally, merlin would be careful. Normally he would have seen this for what it was – a trap. But right now, Merlin only had one thing on his mind.  

You better hurry Emrys, or there  won’t  be any king left for you to save.  

Merlin saw red as he tore his way through the castle, trying to search for any sign of anyone, as well as any sign of Arthur. Where had everyone gone? It was almost as if they had all just disappeared. Strange, merlin thought, because usually Morgana loved an audience when she took the throne.  

He stopped, as his mind caught up with his thoughts.  

The throne room.  

That’s where Arthur had to be.  

With a newfound burst of energy, and no one in his way, Merlin sprinted towards the throne room, two swords in hand. He barged through the doors, expecting a large room full of Morgana’s men, all ready for their turn to fight, but instead, he was met with only one person. Hunched over, kneeling, in the centre of the throne room, as if they had lost all their will to do anything else. Merlin raced over to Arthur, dropping his swords by their side as he took Arthur’s face in his hands.  

“Arthur, Arthur, look at me, come on, open your eyes,” Arthur began to open his eyes, and Merlin let out a breath of relief. “That’s it Arthur, come on, we have to get going. I don’t know where everyone has gone, but we need to leave, Arthur, now.” 

“No, Merlin, this is my fault, you need to leave. Get to safety.” 

“Not without you.” 

“Please, Merlin. She’ll be back any minute, it’s not just my life she wants, Merlin, please, I couldn’t bear it if anything were to happen to you.” 

“Well, well, well, dear brother, how you’ve changed your tune.” 

“Morgana,” Merlin sneered, grabbing Excalibur by the hilt and standing upright, holding the sword between them. She stepped forward, forcing Arthur to look at her with her magic, all the while ignoring Merlin altogether. 

“Forgive me, but didn’t you kill him last time? I think I remember it, brother dear, but correct me if I get anything wrong. You saw him use his magic to kill your enemy and then you thanked him by chopping off his head and leaving him in two pieces for the wolves.” 

Merlin’s heart began to race, as did his mind. Morgana had to be lying, there was no other explanation. But even from where he stood, he could see the tears on Arthur’s cheeks. He could see the shame on his face. The hopelessness in the way he allowed his shoulders to fall. He could see the way he struggled to breathe properly, and the way he was refusing to meet Morgana’s – or his – eyes. There was guilt written across Arthur’s features, clear as day. Somehow, she was telling the truth. 

“Remind me, what was it you did next brother dear, when your friends found out what you did to your poor, sweet Merlin?” She stopped, and her face shifted into a snarl. “Or should I say Emrys?” 

Merlin didn’t have time to react before gold over took Morgana’s eyes, and he felt himself flying backwards into something very, very solid. Then, darkness. 

0=[]=======> 

Merlin awoke with a scream, as cold iron manacles were clamped around his wrists.  

“There we are, my dear Merlin. Can't have you running away before the big show tomorrow, can we?” Merlin looked at Morgana, confused, before she smiled and shook her head. She left the cell, only to return with Arthur and two guards moments later, and shackle him just as they had Merlin. “I’m not cruel, Merlin. I’ll leave you two together one last night. It’s the least I can do. After all, watching you both burn tomorrow, will be the thing only dreams are made of.” 

“You can’t do this, Morgana.” 

“I don’t see anyone who is going to try stop me.” Morgana stepped outside the cell and shut it with a bang. “Although a lot of them are pushing for Arthur to face the axe, not just the pyre. After all, he should know how it feels to lose his head to someone he once held dear.” With one last smirk, Morgana and the guards walked away from the cells, leaving Arthur and Merlin alone.  

For most of the night, the pair sat in silence. Until they heard the preparations beginning. They could hear the wood as it was dragged into the courtyard to build the pyre and the executioner’s block, even though it had barely started to turn from night into day. Merlin had never felt so alone, so helpless. He had no access to his magic, nor his memories of what Arthur had done. And on top of that, he was to be face the pyre in mere hours. He was to live his very nightmare in front of his friends, and family, and the people from the place he thought he could call home. But he knew he didn’t want to die without getting closure, or answers. And so, he spoke, when the first light of the new day began to lighten up their cell.  

“You lied to me.” 

“I know.” 

“You killed me.” 

“I acted without thinking.” 

“You chopped my fucking head off.” 

“You think I don’t know that, Merlin? You think that isn’t my greatest regret? You think I wouldn’t give anything to go back and stop myself? Every day. Every day I would wake up regretting my actions more than I had the last. It was unforgiveable.” 

“How long?” 

“What?” 

“How long, Arthur. How long has it been since I died?” 

“6 months and 10 days.” 

“So, I’ve lost six months of my life?” 

“Longer,” Arthur sighed, before he explained. “You remember Gaius being kidnapped, but then nothing. Well, apart from searching for me. Gaius’ abduction was almost a year ago now.” 

“So thanks to you, I’ve lost a whole year of my life. And now, because Morgana knows I’m Emrys, I’m about to lose the rest of it as well. This is great, Arthur. This is fantastic. I’d just got my life back, and I thought maybe finally you had,” Merlin trailed off, tears filling his eyes. “You told me you loved me.” 

Arthur looked over to Merlin before he softly began to speak. “Yes, I did.” 

“Was that a lie too?” 

“’No, Merlin, of course it wasn’t, I would never--” 

“Never what, lie to me?” Arthur’s words died in his throat, as merlin let out a bitter laugh. “I should have known. King’s don’t just go around falling for their warlock manservants.” 

“This king did.” 

“Well forgive me if I don’t believe you, My Lord. You’ve done quite a bit of lying these past days.”  

Arthur didn’t try to defend himself against Merlin’s words, just as he didn’t struggle against the guards when they came into the cell, and began to unchain him from the wall, and lead him through the citadel up to the courtyard. He didn’t struggle when he was led up to the executioners block. Nor when he was pushed to his knees in front of the people of Camelot. He didn’t struggle when he caught Gwen’s eye, nor any of the knights. He didn’t speak a word when Morgana started her speech telling all the people of Camelot why he deserved to die. 

He knew just as much as the next person that he was just as guilty as everyone thought him to be, if not more so. Not only had he killed his best friend, but he had brought back his sister. He had killed Lancelot, and druids, and countless other people. He had led raids in his father's name, and not immediately changed the laws when he became king. He had run away when the consequences of his actions became too much to bear. He had hidden himself from the world, hidden from all responsibility, leaving his kingdom without a ruler. Leaving his kingdom weak. He has left it all to Gwen, and the knights, who should never have had to bear the burden that was ruling.  

And then he had lied to the man he loved. To the man who trusted him more than anyone. Sure, it had been a lie of omission, but it was a lie nonetheless. He had let Merlin believe that Agravaine had been killed by himself, not by Merlin. He should have come clean. He should have told Merlin that he knew about his magic. That he had acted in an unimaginable, unforgiveable way, but that he regretted it more than anything else he had ever done. He should have told Merlin right away, just how much it hurt to live in a world without Merlin. But he hadn’t, and now here he was.  

Arthur didn’t flinch. Not when the executioner lifted his axe, nor when he saw Morgana’s arm raise. He turned to the crowd, and found Merlin’s eyes, giving him a soft smile, before looking away as Morgana’s arm fell. His heart spiked, waiting for the inevitable end, but no axe fell. He turned back to Merlin, only for him not to be found. Confused, Arthur looked up at Morgana, standing on the balcony above them all, and was shocked to find Merlin standing behind her, the axe in hand.  

“I told you, Morgana. You can’t do this.” 

“He killed you, Merlin.” 

“Maybe, Morgana, but he is my friend. My destiny. The other half of my prophetic coin. I will not, let him die.” Merlin’s eyes flashing gold as the axe was replaced with his new sword. “You, on the other hand?” Merlin stepped forwards, plunging his sword into her side. “You have spilled far more peoples’ blood than you have saved. I am more than happy to bring your destiny to an end.” Merlin stepped back, and pulled his sword along with him, and Morgana fell to the ground, hands clutching at her dress, which even from the ground, Arthur could tell was stained crimson with her blood.  

Another flash of golden eyes later, and Merlin was in front of Arthur, pulling him to his feet. Merlin turned to the crowd that was still gathered in the square. “I’m afraid there will be no further executions today. King Arthur has some business to attend to.”  

0=[]=======> 

“Why did you do that?” 

“What?” 

“Why did you save me?” 

Merlin and Arthur were back in Arthur’s chambers, and the events of the past few days were sure to catch up to them both, but they both knew that this conversation was one they needed to have. 

“Because you didn’t deserve to die, Arthur.” 

“You heard the charges, right? What they were all saying? I mean, I killed you, Merlin. I lied to you, and I betrayed your trust and I’ve ruined everything between us. If anyone deserved to die, surely it was me.” 

“Yes Arthur, you killed me. And you lied to me. But I have lied to you for many years, and not just about my magic. There are things I’ve done that have cost hundreds of innocent lives. Things I’ve hidden from you that you have a right to know. You’re not a perfect person, Arthur. But I’m not either. You are destined to be the greatest king Camelot has ever seen. You are destined to be the ruler who, with Emrys by your side, will unite the lands of Albion, and bring magic back to Camelot. Leading the kingdom in a prosperous, golden age of peace.” 

“And you’re Emrys.” 

“Yes, that is what the druids call me.” 

“And you still want to unite Albion by my side?” 

“In any way you’ll have me,” Merlin paused, before taking a slight breath and pressing onwards. “Although, if we’re being honest, those few days since I found you were really nice. Being by your side in that sense would be quite pleasant I would imagine.” 

“You’d want that? Even after everything I’ve done?” 

“I’ve done many things in my time as well, Arthur. And I know we both have many questions that we want to have answers to. It will take work, and it will take time. But I’m certain that if we are open, honest, and patient with each other, we can overcome any obstacle we face, and bring Camelot into a time of peace. And we’ll do it together,” Merlin and Arthur shared a smile, before Merlin grinned larger and looked towards the doors. “Well, us and our friends. Who I’m fairly certain are listening to us on the other side of those doors.” 

“Are not!” said Gwaine and Percival, muffled by the wooden doors. 

Arthur shook his head. “Shall we go see them, fy nghariad ?” 

“Lead the way, fy brenin .”