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“A drowned child, that’s what he saw. Not an adult, not a soldier, not a sorcerer,” Arthur says, the sound of his voice startling Merlin after so long a silence, making him lose his rhythm at sharpening Arthur’s sword.
Merlin waits for more but quiet falls once more, only Arthur’s expression changing from merely troubled to pained, his lips pressed together as if he’s fighting himself to not speak anymore.
It’s strange, seeing Arthur so subdued, quiet, contemplative. The events of the past few days may have been hardest on Uther, bringing temporary insanity into his mind, but they didn’t leave Arthur unscathed. The brief taste of kingly responsibilities and the heavy weight of Camelot’s dark past forced tightness into Arthur’s shoulders, stole his laughter, brought doubts and worries into his heart.
“War brings casualties,” Merlin says, his tone flat, and returns his gaze back to the sword, resuming his work.
The sound of the whetstone against metal fills the room once more, steady, familiar, soothing.
“Were they mere casualties though?” Arthur says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Would they be allowed to live if they were far away from the field of battle or would they be hunted down and killed nevertheless?”
“We will never know,” Merlin says, even when thinking otherwise.
He sets the whetstone on the table, grabs a piece of cloth, and starts polishing the freshly sharpened blade, heavy silence hanging in the air.
*
Dead tired, Merlin stumbles into Gaius’ quarters. Not only had he his usual chores to do which left his limbs aching from physical strain, he also had to check the secret chamber for any more magical threats. One goblin incident was quite enough and he’d rather not find himself fighting a swarm of leprechauns or other nasty legendary tricksters in the following days.
He’s about to start complaining to Gaius about the mess of a secret chamber when he notices Arthur in the room, talking with Gaius. Their conversation ends as they become aware of Merlin’s presence and Arthur is quick to excuse himself, not without reminding Merlin to bring breakfast on time the next day, and hurries out of the room, a heavy tome of some sort clutched in his hands.
“What was that about?” Merlin asks, turning away from the freshly closed door to face Gaius.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Gaius says, moving his attention to the vials on the work table. “It seems the prince has become rather interested in the way of life before the purge, especially the function of magic in the society.”
“The book?” Merlin asks.
“Don’t be silly, Merlin. Books like that are banned on the penalty of death. Even if I did own one, I wouldn’t tell the crown prince about it.”
“What was it about then?” Merlin asks, dropping on the bench, folding his hands in safe distance from the vials on the table and resting his head on them. “It didn’t seem like light reading.”
“He asked to borrow a book about magical creatures,” Gaius says, picking up empty bottles and carefully pouring doses of healing potion inside. “Remembered it from when we were dealing with the griffin.”
“Interesting,” Merlin says, watching the swirling liquid in the freshly filled vial, his eyes drifting shut.
“You have a perfectly comfortable bed in your room,” Gaius says.
“Hmmm,” Merlin hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t move an inch.
“I suggest you use it,” Gaius adds, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Imagine running after Arthur the whole of tomorrow with your back aching and a crick in your neck.”
Merlin groans at the thought of work, but forces himself into an upright position, trudging towards his room with his eyes barely open. He falls onto the bed, not even bothering with changing his clothes. His thoughts briefly wander as he thinks about what could Arthur’s current behaviour mean. He falls asleep with a glimmer of hope in his heart, considering a possibility of Arthur changing his stance towards magic.
*
The cave tunnel is dark and narrow, until it isn’t.
Merlin’s blood runs cold as he takes a look around the vast cave filled with shimmering white light coming from the crystals growing on its ground and walls. So many of them in one place, all so similar to the crystal of Neahtid that granted him a glimpse of the pain and destruction following the dragon’s attack. He remembers the vision was of no help to him, giving him no advantage, only fear for the future. He won’t make the same mistake again.
With that decision he turns around, expecting to find the old man that helped heal Arthur’s wound before leading him here, but there’s no sign of him. A shiver runs down Merlin’s spine, but he doesn’t waste any more time trying to find the strange man and heads out, moving as quick as he can in the near darkness of the caves.
*
Anxiety becomes Merlin’s constant companion, rising to nearly unbearable levels anytime he has to leave Arthur’s side. He questions his decision to not look into the crystals, thinking about going back and then convincing himself otherwise. He worries his decision might be putting Arthur in danger.
The looks Morgana continues sending his way make guilt and more worry settle in his stomach. He doesn’t know what to expect from her. There’s no doubt she’s still in contact with Morgause, just as there’s no doubt that her hate of Merlin is enormous. Not that he doesn’t understand. He poisoned her after all. He would gladly explain his actions, apologize for all the pain he caused her, but she’s under Morgause’s influence now, she won’t believe a single word he says.
*
“Ealdor lies in Essetir,” Arthur says, pulling Merlin from his thoughts concerning the state of Arthur’s armour.
He waits for Arthur to say more, but it seems that’s not going to happen.
“Prince of Camelot is a prat,” Merlin says, inspecting the dent in Arthur’s shoulder piece.
“What?” Arthur asks.
“I thought we were playing a game of ‘state the obvious’,” Merlin says.
“I’ll show you obvious,” Arthur mutters.
Merlin grins, bracing himself for some kind of physical retribution as he sees Arthur standing up and stalking towards him, even when he knows that no amount of bracing can prepare him for whatever Arthur intends to do.
*
“Why did you mention Ealdor?” Merlin asks, pleasantly warm and completely boneless after a highly satisfying roll in the sheets with the, due to Uther’s current ailment, prince regent of Camelot.
Arthur’s own content smile dims a bit, and Merlin almost regrets asking.
“You grew up in Essetir,” Arthur says. “Magic is legal there and yet...”
“And yet?” Merlin repeats, caressing Arthur’s arm currently resting across his stomach.
“Yet the kingdom hasn’t been destroyed,” Arthur says. “If magic only corrupts, how is it that Essetir doesn’t lie in ruins?”
Merlin doesn’t know how to react, but it seems Arthur doesn’t expect him to.
“Did people know about your friend’s magic?” Arthur asks.
It takes Merlin a moment to realize Arthur is talking about Will, the momentary happiness at making Arthur smile vanishing in an instant, replaced by deep guilt. All that power running through his veins and yet he wasn’t able to prevent Will’s death.
“No one knew,” Merlin says.
“Except you.”
“Except me.”
“He didn’t seem evil,” Arthur says, pressing even closer to Merlin. “Disrespectful of royalty and stubborn, yes, but not evil.”
“He wasn’t,” Merlin says.
‘He wasn’t a sorcerer,’ he wants to say but can’t.
*
“She turned blue,” Arthur says, eyes wide with shock.
“Of course not, Sire. Just a play of the light from the window,” Grunhilda, the princess Elena’s servant, says with a too wide smile.
“I know what I saw. She was blue. And her face changed,” Arthur says, turning towards Morgana who entered the room right behind him. “You saw it too, haven’t you?” he directs at her.
“I…” Morgana starts, her eyes jumping from Arthur to Elena and back. “I’m not sure.”
“She. Was. Blue,” Arthur says. “Merlin?” he tries, turning towards the room’s last visitor.
“I was right behind you. I couldn’t see her,” Merlin says.
What he doesn’t say is that he felt some kind of power in the room when they entered. He can still feel faint remnants of it hanging in the air.
“There’s no reason to worry, Sire,” Grunhilda says.
“People don’t just turn blue all of a sudden. There must be something wrong with her,” Arthur says, not giving up. “Why hasn’t she woken up yet if there’s nothing wrong with her? Magic might be involved.”
“I assure you there is no magic happening,” Grunhilda says but gets ignored.
“Are you planning to inform her father and the council?” Morgana asks, her expression unreadable.
“No, they’d…” Arthur pauses. “Sorcery is a delicate topic. It would be a political nightmare.”
“What do you want to do then to save your beloved betrothed?” Morgana asks.
“She’s not my beloved and you know that,” Arthur says and Merlin doesn’t miss the quick glance he throws his way.
“And if she is some kind of magical being. Will you tell the council?” Morgana asks, her voice sharp.
“She’s not…” Brunhilda starts.
“Quiet!” Arthur orders, shocking the woman into silence.
He takes his time thinking his answer through, looking at Elena who is still sleeping peacefully in her bed, their loud arguing having no effect on her slumber.
“If she meant harm to Camelot, we’d have to deal with her,” he says.
“And do nothing otherwise? That sound suspiciously like treason,” Morgana says.
“Would you rather I drag her in front of the council? Her only crime being her existence?” Arthur asks in a hushed tone as if he’s afraid someone might hear. “My father might be incapable of ruling, but I’m still just a regent. I can’t change the laws at a moment’s notice. I might hate the thought of having to marry her but I don’t want to see her dead, magic or no magic.”
Arthur’s words aren’t a complete shock to Merlin, but hope fills his whole being, speeds up his heartbeat and he has to fight the happy grin that wants to settle on his face.
For Morgana, who doesn’t know about Arthur’s hunt for little tidbits of information about magic, Arthur’s outburst is a complete shock. She stares at Arthur as if seeing him for the first time, genuine emotion in her eyes, not the cold indifference of the past weeks.
*
“If she really is a changeling like Gaius said, then there’s no way around it. We need magic to free her from the Sidhe possession,” Arthur says and shifts the heavy tome he was poring over for answer towards the centre of the table.
Merlin is already thinking about ways in which he could get to Elena’s chambers unnoticed during the night. He might need to ask Gaius for help though. Plus there’s the matter of getting rid of Grunhilda. He’s pretty sure she’s a Sidhe herself and won’t be happy about anyone ruining their plans.
“I might be able to help,” Morgana says, her voice quiet but sure, interrupting Merlin’s wondering about the strength of the door in Camelot dungeon.
“How? Do you know someone with magic?” Arthur asks, watching her intently.
Morgana hesitates, fear evident in her eyes, but she quickly schools her expression.
“I have magic,” she says with pride, her whole posture shifting into one usually reserved for official meetings with nobles and foreign dignitaries.
“What?” Arthur asks. “But… Who taught you?”
“No one,” Morgana says. “It came to me.”
It’s only a partial lie. Merlin is quite sure Morgana studied magic with Morgause’s help in the year of her absence from Camelot. But there’s no doubt Morgana’s powers manifested long before she met Morgause.
“Is that how you escaped your captors?” Arthur asks.
“Yes,” Morgana says, but doesn’t elaborate further.
“Finally it makes proper sense,” Arthur says. “What can you do?”
*
Their plan goes off without a hitch. Merlin doesn’t even have to use his magic with Morgana enchanting the potion that forces the Sidhe to leave Elena’s body and then blasting the small winged creature with a ball of fire.
Arthur watches Morgana as if seeing her for the first time and in a way it’s true, he hasn’t seen her do magic before.
*
Elena is a changed woman once she’s free. She still loves to ride and hunt, but she’s no longer as clumsy and scatterbrained. When before her outings with Arthur were incredibly awkward, now they seem to quite enjoy each other’s company.
Merlin tries to not feel too brokenhearted. He’s always known his time with Arthur was limited, that he will need to marry, and hopefully he’d marry for love. Even if he never stops loving Arthur, he’ll have to let him go.
He allows himself one last night in Arthur’s arms three days after they free Elena. He’s the one to set the pace, trailing his fingers, his lips over Arthur’s body, committing it to his memory. Arthur feels his need for gentle and slow, takes his time preparing him before spooning him and sliding in.
Merlin sighs, the stretch sending tendrils of pleasure through his whole body. He goes boneless, letting Arthur do all the work, feeling his pleasure build and willing his body to wait a bit longer, to let him enjoy the sensations more. He wraps his own hand around the base of his cock when he feels the orgasm approaching. A wave of pleasure crashes through him, a bit muted but strong enough to drag a moan out of him.
Arthur takes it as a sign to speed up, but Merlin doesn’t want that. Not yet.
“Don’t,” he gasps, gripping Arthur’s hand as it shifts from Merlin’s stomach to his side and guiding it back to its previous position. “Slow down. Please.”
Arthur stops moving, pressed flush to Merlin’s back.
“I won’t last,” he murmurs, presses his lips to the side of Merlin’s neck.
“I know,” Merlin whispers, turning his head towards Arthur for a sweet, gentle kiss. “Just a little longer. You don’t even have to move. I want to feel you. I don’t want to ever stop feeling you.”
His voice wobbles at the last sentence, his eyes misting over, but he blinks the tears away, smiles up at Arthur who leans in for one more kiss.
As much as he wishes their lovemaking to never end, he can’t prolong it indefinitely. Arthur is doing all he can, breathing heavy against his skin, his hand gripping Merlin’s hard as he forces himself to not give in, to not speed up his thrusts.
“Merlin,” he moans and Merlin knows the time is running out.
“Go on,” Merlin breathes out.
Arthur lets out a relieved sigh, fucking Merlin faster, his movements turning erratic as he tumbles towards his peak. Merlin wraps his hand around his own cock, magnifying the pleasure Arthur’s movements bring. Arthur gasps as he comes, his hips stuttering, his cock spilling seed inside Merlin’s pleasantly aching channel. Merlin bites his lip and works his cock hard, coming mere seconds later, moaning as his hole clenches around Arthur’s cock.
They stay pressed together, not moving, not even to clean themselves. Arthur’s hand caressing Merlin’s belly stills as he falls asleep. Merlin relishes the moment, committing it to memory. Tears spill freely from his eyes, soaking the pillow while he does nothing to stop them. He allows himself that bit of weakness as he falls asleep in Arthur’s embrace for the last time.
*
Merlin has lost count of how many times Arthur and Morgana chose to leave the castle, heading for the woods so that Morgana can show off her magic and train. The first few times Merlin isn’t able to relax, anxiously waiting for Morgana to attack Arthur or for Morgause to show up, but seeing the genuine joy on both Morgana’s and Arthur’s faces, hearing them laugh and insult each other during their training fights, his anxiety subsides and he finds himself smiling too.
Each night after these outings he thinks about telling Arthur about his own powers, but the time never seems right. He’s working on keeping his distance from Arthur after all. Leaving Arthur’s chambers as soon as his duties are done, avoiding Arthur’s advances, ducking out of way when he tries to pull him in for a kiss.
The first few times he does it, Arthur thinks it’s just a game, but gradually he realizes something isn’t right, hurt and confusion flashing in his eyes every time Merlin pulls away. It takes all of Merlin’s willpower to continue keeping his distance, but he knows it’s necessary.
*
It takes ten days for Arthur to snap.
“Why are you like this?” he asks, ignoring the dinner Merlin just laid before him.
“I’m serving you dinner, Sire,” Merlin says, his tone flat.
“Did I do something wrong?” Arthur asks, a hint of desperation leaking into his voice. “Did I hurt you?”
“We can’t go on like that,” Merlin says, occupying himself by pouring wine into Arthur’s goblet. “You’re soon to be married.”
“I don’t want to marry Elena,” Arthur says.
“And yet you will,” Merlin says. “I promised to be your servant until the day I die, and I intend to keep that promise, to help you bring forth the golden age of Albion just as the prophecy said.”
“What are you talking about? What prophecy?” Arthur asks, and Merlin realizes his slip up.
For a moment he panics, not knowing what to say or do, but then he realizes that there will never be a perfect time to tell Arthur about his magic, so he might as well do it now.
“You are the once and future king who will unite the land of Albion. You will bring peace and prosperity to the land,” Merlin says. “It is my destiny to help you do so.”
“By mucking my stables?” Arthur asks, still thoroughly unconvinced.
Merlin takes a deep breath, meets Arthur’s gaze.
“My magic is yours to command,” Merlin says.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur says. “You don’t have magic. I would know.”
“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispers, breaking eye contact and holding his hand in front of his body, palm up. “Forbaernen,” he says, watching the small flame flicker to life above his palm.
“How…” Arthur’s voice fails him. “How long?”
“I was born with it,” Merlin says, glancing up at Arthur only to see him take an instinctive step back, his eyes shining with hurt.
“All this time...” Arthur says, his voice strained. “Get out,” he says, staring at the floor, visibly shaking.
“Arthur…” Merlin starts.
“Get. Out,” Arthur orders, anger entering the tone.
“Please, let me explain,” Merlin pleads.
“Get out!” Arthur yells, his hands balled into fists, fury and pain mixed in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispers, quickly turning and leaving the room.
*
“Trouble in paradise?” Morgana asks, startling Merlin as he watches George cross the courtyard, his arms laden with Arthur’s armour.
“My lady,” Merlin says, bowing his head and ignoring her satisfied smirk.
It’s been two weeks since Merlin told Arthur the truth. Two weeks since Arthur appointed George as his manservant. Two weeks of no Arthur. Not even a glimpse.
“In the end, everyone gets what they deserve,” she says, clearly enjoying his suffering.
“I am sorry for what I had to do to you,” Merlin says.
“Sure, you had to,” Morgana whispers, her eyes cold as she stares him down. “Does it help you sleep at night?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Merlin says, glancing around to make sure no one is close enough to overhear their conversation.. “I didn’t want to poison you, but it was the only way to stop the curse that was linked to you. That was the reason you were the only one awake. All part of Morgause’s plan.”
“Lies,” Morgana hisses. “She came to save me.”
“I hoped her fondness for you was real. I hoped she’d rather lift the curse and save you than let you die. And I was right,” Merlin says. “I showed her what poison I used the moment she lifted the curse.”
It was one of the most difficult decisions he has ever made. One that still makes him wonder whether there was something else he could have done.
“I’m sorry you were lied to. I’m sorry I caused you pain,” he continues, “but I’m not sorry for saving Camelot.”
Morgana watches him, her gaze calculating.
“If I consider what you’re saying to be true, why didn’t you tell me I was the source of the curse? Why poison me right away?”
“We were running out of time. Explaining would take too long,” Merlin sighs. “And I wasn’t sure you weren’t a willing participant in Morgause’s plan.”
“I thought you were my friend and you betrayed me,” Morgana says, obviously not ready to let go of her anger.
“Hurting others seems to be my destiny, no matter what I wish,” Merlin says. “I’m sorry for causing you pain, my lady,” he repeats his apology, offers a slight bow like a proper servant should, and turns to leave.
“Does Arthur know?” Morgana asks before he can escape.
“No,” Merlin says and sets off, this time without being stopped.
*
“My lady,” Gaius greets Morgana as she strides into the physician’s quarters. “Is there something I can help you with? A sleeping draught perhaps?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Morgana says with a polite smile. “I need to borrow Merlin for a while.”
“Should I bring something with me?” Merlin asks, standing up from the worktable where he’s been reading about a healing potion Gaius wanted him to learn to prepare.
“No need. Just follow me,” Morgana says, already turning and heading out of the room.
Gaius raises an eyebrow in silent question, but Merlin can do nothing more than shrug as he has no idea what Morgana might need from him.
“I’ll be careful,” he whispers, so that only Gaius can hear.
*
“Why am I here?” Merlin asks as he watches Morgana use her magic to lock the door to her chambers behind them.
Morgana circles the table, pours two goblets full of water from the pitcher standing near the centre of the table.
“Are you thirsty?” she asks, offering him one of the goblets.
Merlin’s blood runs cold.
“Not really,” he says, wondering whether she’ll try to force him to drink the liquid.
“Your face,” she says, laughing. “You really thought I was about to poison you.” She laughs some more. “It’s just water,” she adds, proving her words by taking a sip herself.
Not completely reassured, Merlin relaxes only slightly. She still brings the other, untouched, goblet to him, and he can do nothing but accept it from her.
“But that’s not why you’re here,” she says, placing her goblet back on the table. “I have a few questions.”
“Questions?” Merlin asks.
“I talked to Morgause about your version of the story regarding my poisoning,” Morgana says, pausing, not looking at him.
Merlin shifts his weight from one leg to the other, antsy, uncomfortable.
“She admitted I was the carrier of the curse,” Morgana says. “She tried to brush off my question whether you showed her what type of poison you used. As if I wouldn’t see right through that. So it seems you actually were telling the truth.”
She takes a few steps towards him, and Merlin has to stop himself from backing away. He can feel her power as it reacts to her anger, ready to lash out the moment she wishes it to.
“She manipulated me. And I doubt it was just that once,” she continues. “I don’t take kindly to manipulation, so we parted ways.”
Merlin can’t hide the surprise showing on his face, earning himself one of Morgana’s patented smirks. It seems too good to be true. Maybe he’s the one being manipulated here.
“How does that concern me?” he asks.
“I don’t like to be kept in the dark,” Morgana says. “What happened between you and Arthur that made him sack you?”
“I, uhmm…” Merlin says, having no idea how to answer.
“Spill,” she orders, her voice calm, unlike her magic that permeates the air, restless, potent. “And don’t you dare lie.”
“I told him something and he didn’t take it well,” Merlin says.
“What could you possibly tell him that would make him this mad?” Morgana asks. “He’s so smitten with you it’s nauseating.”
Merlin shrugs, looking at the ground. He’s not surprised Morgana knows about them. The whole castle probably gossips about their prince bedding his manservant.
“He’s not very fond of being lied to either,” Merlin says, his throat suddenly dry.
He glances at the goblet in his hands, wondering whether it’s really safe to drink, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Morgana.
“Do you still think I poisoned the water?” Morgana asks. “As if I needed that to kill you.”
Merlin is still not convinced.
“Let magic be my witness, I swear the water is not poisoned,” Morgana says, her eyes swirling with gold for a brief moment. “Satisfied?”
Everyone knows magical oath can’t be broken. Now it’d be a clear insult to her honour and abilities if he didn’t drink the water, so he takes a few careful sips and puts the goblet at the nearby cabinet. Morgana’s expression turns victorious before she schools it again.
“How did you get out of Morgause’s chains?” she changes the topic suddenly. “They were enchanted. You shouldn’t have been able to escape.”
Merlin feels a pull in his chest and before he can stop himself he says, “Kilgharrah helped me.”
“And who is this Kilgharrah?” Morgana asks.
“A dragon,” Merlin gasps out after a fruitless attempt to stop himself.
He starts backing off towards the door, earning himself a smirk and another show of Morgana’s power in the form of an invisible force shoving him down. He cries out as his knees hit the ground.
“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere,” Morgana says. “The fun only just started.”
“What was in that water?” Merlin asks, fighting against her magic’s hold.
“Truth potion of course,” Morgana says, smirking. “So, how come a dragon came to save you?”
“I called him,” Merlin utters through gritted teeth, giving as short an answer as he can.
“But why should it answer your call?”
“Because I’m a dragonlord,” Merlin says, glaring at Morgana.
“A dragonlord? You really are full of surprises,” Morgana says. “You have magic, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Merlin says.
“Is that why Arthur pushed you away?” Morgana asks, her smirk fading.
“Yes,” Merlin says.
“I don’t understand. He doesn’t hate magic anymore. He doesn’t hate me for it,” Morgana says.
“He hates me,” Merlin mutters, utterly defeated.
“You truly believe that,” Morgana says. “Interesting.”
Now that Morgana knows his secret, he doesn’t need to hold back, so he lets his magic push against Morgana’s restraints, snapping them without too much effort and standing up.
Morgana looks surprised, pushing more magic towards him, but it’s child’s play to block it.
“I’m not playing by your rules anymore,” he says, turning to leave.
“Wait, I need to know,” Morgana calls after him. “Do you wish me dead?”
“No, I never have,” Merlin says without hesitation, the easiest questions of all she gave him.
“What about Arthur? What are your intentions with him?”
“He’s the once and future king who will unite the land of Albion. I’m here to help him on that journey.”
“What do you get from that?” she asks as he’s reaching for the door handle.
“Peace and prosperity for the kingdom. Freedom and safety for our kind,” Merlin says. “Arthur’s happiness,” he adds, his tone softer, quieter.
He doesn’t notice Morgana moving closer until she lays her hand on his shoulder and he shrinks away from the touch.
“Don’t go yet,” she says.
“Why should I stay?” Merlin asks. “So that you can have more fun?”
“You’re more powerful than me. You could teach me,” Morgana says.
“You tricked me into drinking truth potion.”
“You tricked me into drinking poison,” Morgana shoots back. “Besides, you would never tell me the truth otherwise.”
“For all I know, you’re still an enemy of Camelot. You claim to have parted ways with Morgause but why should I trust you? Why should I believe that whatever I tell you won’t be a lie?” Merlin asks. “Unless…” he trails off, looking at the still half full goblet.
“You want me to drink that too?” Morgana asks, not looking very pleased with that.
“I’ll leave otherwise,” Merlin says, leaning against the door.
Morgana hesitates, not making a move towards the cabinet.
“Alright then,” Merlin says, once again making a move for the door handle.
“Wait,” Morgana says, crossing the room and retrieving the goblet.
She stares at it for a few moments more before she drinks the remaining liquid.
*
“How can I be certain you’re not immune to the truth potion?” Merlin asks after several long minutes of questioning.
“You can’t,” she says. “But I’m not lying.”
He wants to believe she’s telling the truth, wants to have another ally knowing the whole truth about him, but he’s not the young boy who freshly moved to Camelot anymore. He knows blind trust is dangerous.
“What is your agenda then? What do you want?” Merlin asks.
“I want to be queen,” Morgana says, and for the first time Merlin is quite sure it was the potion that forced her to speak.
“Arthur is destined to rule Camelot,” Merlin says.
“Yes, I’m aware. You keep telling me,” Morgana quips back. “But I can’t help what my wishes are.”
“I won’t let you hurt him,” Merlin says, feeling his magic rise within him, ready to strike if necessary.
“Oh, please, I’m not planning to hurt him,” Morgana says, annoyed.
Merlin remains unconvinced.
“I think we should make a deal,” Morgana says.
“What kind of deal?” Merlin asks, wary.
“You’ll teach me more about magic and I’ll help you reconcile with Arthur.”
“I don’t need to reconcile with him. I can protect him from afar,” Merlin says.
“You’re a pair of stubborn idiots,” Morgana mutters. “Idiots who need to bed each other again so that the rest of us don’t have to suffer Arthur’s sour mood day after day.”
“Don’t worry, Arthur will start bedding Elena in a few weeks and your day will be saved,” Merlin says, his tone bitter.
“Elena? What are you talking about?” Morgana asks, confused.
“Don’t tell me you managed to forget there’s going to be a royal wedding once Elena returns from her kingdom,” Merlin says.
“Arthur broke off the engagement almost two weeks ago,” Morgana says. “That’s why she left. You should have seen the council that day. Absolute mayhem.”
“I don’t believe you. Castle gossip would be full of it,” Merlin says, momentarily forgetting Morgana is still under the influence of the truth potion.
“Of course no one is talking about it with you. Everyone thinks you are the reason he broke off the engagement. And I don’t doubt it’s true,” Morgana says, smirking.
“There must be other reason for that,” Merlin says, not allowing hope to enter his heart. “He doesn’t care about me anymore.”
“Alright, believe what you want,” Morgana says. “But even you would benefit from training with me. We could learn from one another.”
She’s right. Of course she’s right. They’re both magic users, both young, both fairly inexperienced. They need all the practice they can get and it’s always better to have someone to practice with than to push through alone. Morgana studied under Morgause while Merlin learnt all he knows from his magic book and from Gaius. They have a lot to offer to each other.
But…
There’s still that niggling feeling in the back of Merlin’s head that Morgana shouldn’t be trusted.
“I need to think about it,” Merlin says after a while.
For a moment it seems Morgana is going to protest, but then she simply nods, settles more comfortably in her chair.
“When you decide to accept my offer, let Gwen know you’d like to speak with me,” Morgana says, fully back to her confident self, the ‘when’ in her statement signalling that she doesn’t expect him to refuse to cooperate.
*
“I need your help,” Merlin admits when he sees Morgana again two days later.
She sits forward in her chair, satisfied smile on her face.
“I knew you would see sense sooner or later,” she says. “We can start our training tonight.”
“I’m afraid there’s an urgent matter that we need to deal with first. Training will have to wait,” Merlin says.
“Go on,” Morgana says.
“A woman by the name of Alice came to Camelot not long ago and I fear her intentions are far from good,” Merlin says. “Unfortunately she’s Gaius’… dear friend, so he doesn’t want to hear a word of what I have to say about her.”
“Why do you think she might be dangerous?” Morgana asks.
“I saw her talking to a small ugly creature. She collected venom that dripped from its tail. I fear they plan to kill Uther, maybe even Arthur afterwards,” Merlin says. “She had the creature hidden in a box, but when I opened the box after she left, the creature wasn’t there.”
“We need to tell Arthur,” Morgana says.
“He won’t trust a single word I say,” Merlin says.
Morgana looks at him as if he’s the stupidest person in Albion, but says only, “he’ll trust me.”
*
“Uther is safe. Arthur himself is staying with him,” Morgana says. “It seems you were right about that woman. She was the one to bring Uther’s potions this time, claiming that she was merely helping Gaius out.”
“Did Arthur arrest her?” Merlin asks.
“Of course not. We didn’t give the potions to Uther so we don’t have proof there was anything wrong with them. Arthur expects me to find out more about that creature, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do tonight.”
*
“That’s it!” Merlin says, pointing at the picture he just found in an old book of magical creatures.
“Mantichore,” Morgana reads aloud, her eyes sweeping over the text below the picture. “Here it mentions the box. It’s used as a portal for summoning the creature.”
“That’s why I didn’t find it there when I opened the box,” Merlin says.
“We need to summon the creature and destroy the box.”
*
“Could you maybe hurry up?” Merlin yells as the mantichore claws at him, his magic almost useless against it.
“I’m trying,” Morgana grits out, trying to focus more of her magic to smash the box.
Merlin cries out as the creature’s sting buries itself into his shoulder. The effect is almost instantaneous, his vision blurring, strength leaving his limbs. The mantichore frees itself from his grasp and launches itself at Morgana.
“Look out!” he calls out, searing pain spreading from his shoulder towards his heart.
At that moment the creature disappears, its box broken into tiny pieces. Merlin lets out a sigh of relief, the pain in his shoulder ebbing away. He lets his eyes fall closed, just breathing, waiting for his heartbeat to calm.
“Are you alright?” Morgana asks from much closer than she was before.
“I’ll be fine,” Merlin says, opening his eyes to find her leaning over him. “You can go tell Arthur Camelot is safe once more.”
*
Merlin has to admit that he quite enjoyed working with Morgana, so when she brings up the possibility of their training again, he doesn’t resist. They set up their own sessions, separate from Morgana’s training with Arthur, focusing on learning to fight magic with magic, perfecting their shields and offensive spells.
Apart from their outdoor training, they also meet in Morgana’s chambers. Merlin teaches Morgana to feel her magic, to let it fill her senses until her whole body is tingling with it, leaving her calm and at peace with her powers.
In return she teaches him what Morgause taught her, sharing stories of the old religion, of the triple goddess, old gods and spirits of the land.
She keeps talking about Arthur, hinting at all the possibilities for their reconciliation, and Merlin continues to ignore all her attempts to play the matchmaker.
*
They arrive at the clearing they usually train at, laughing at Morgana’s retelling of a situation that happened at the last public hearing, Arthur having to resolve a dispute between two neighbours which revolved around esthetics of their vegetables.
The laugh freezes in his lungs though when he dismounts his horse, leading it off the path, and spots a lone figure standing by the edge the clearing.
“What’s he doing here?” Arthur asks, scowling.
“He’s here to train of course,” Morgana says, and Merlin realizes she planned this.
“I better go back,” he says at the same time as Arthur asks, “what do you mean ‘training’? Have you been doing this behind my back this whole time?”
“Of course I train with Merlin,” Morgana says with a sigh. “He’s been using his magic since he was a child. How do you think I managed to get so much better in the last few weeks?”
“Lies. Always lies. Is that all you’re good at?” Arthur says, looking at Merlin instead of Morgana.
“If the two of you could just get over yourselves and talk,” Morgana says.
“Leave it. It’s not worth it,” Merlin says. “I’ll just go.”
“Yes, run away and hide. Just like you ran from your feelings,” Arthur spits out.
It feels like a physical blow.
“Is that what you think?” Merlin asks, freshly opened wound of the love that cannot be shortening his breath, bringing tears to his eyes. “I always knew you couldn’t be mine, that you’ll have to marry, father a child.”
“You didn’t even talk about it with me,” Arthur shouts, stomping closer.
“I had to serve you and your future queen a romantic picnic in the forest,” Merlin yells back, anger joining the pain.
“You didn’t tell me about your magic for weeks after Morgana revealed hers. You didn’t trust me.”
“And I was right. You threw me away like garbage!”
“I don’t have to listen to this,” Arthur says.
“Neither do I,” Merlin shouts, closing his eyes, pulling at his magic and focusing on being somewhere else.
When he opens his eyes, he’s in his room at Camelot. His anger fading, crushing sadness setting in instead.
*
Uther’s health continues its steady decline and the whole castle is in a state of grim suspense.
Gaius does all he can, but his remedies merely soften the edges of the illness wracking the king’s body. Not even Alice, who has long since explained her mistake of trying to use the mantichore to strengthen her healing powers and getting enslaved by the creature instead, can do much to help.
Even Merlin gets smuggled into king’s chambers one night. He tries all the healing spells he knows, pushes raw power into the fading shell of the once mighty conqueror, but it’s all in vain, like pouring water into a jug full of holes.
*
Days later, Uther dies peacefully in his sleep.
The whole country is in mourning, and Merlin wishes he could be there for Arthur, to offer his support, to lend him strength in this trying time. But he can’t.
His legs carry him to the throne room anyway. He stops by the door. His magic can sense Arthur in the room, standing next to the pedestal holding Uther’s body. He rests his hands on the smooth surface of the door, leans his forehead against it.
Arthur might not know he’s here, but he can’t get himself to leave, so he sinks to the floor instead, his back pressed to the door. He’ll leave before sunrise, he promises to himself. He won’t let Arthur see him, won’t add anger to his grief.
*
The door moves behind him and he nearly crashes to the ground, sliding only half way before he manages to prop himself on his elbows and pull himself into a seated position once more. He should have known he’d lose track of time and fail to retreat.
“Have you been here all night?” Arthur asks, neutral, tired.
He doesn’t answer, doesn’t dare look up. He hears Arthur sigh, watches the rich red of his cloak sweeping over the floor as Arthur turns to shut the door behind himself. He stands there, minutes passing in silence before he moves again, backing away and turning towards where his chambers lie.
“Follow me,” he says.
Merlin stays still, convinced his tired mind is playing tricks on him.
“Please,” he hears, quiet and broken, and he glances up, sees Arthur still standing there, waiting, his head tilted down.
He scrambles to his feet, ignoring the tingles caused by sitting on the cold ground for far too long running through his limbs. Only then Arthur moves.
*
They don’t say a word on their way to Arthur’s chambers. Merlin shuts the door behind them and turns around, standing awkwardly by the door. It’s been so long since he was here last.
He watches Arthur struggle with the clasp on his cloak, watches him give up and lean against the table, his eyes on the floor. He steps closer then, lifts his hands to the clasp, works it open like he did many times before. He eases the cape off Arthur’s shoulders, letting it pool on the table behind, feeling Arthur’s gaze on him. He’s about to pull his hands away and step back when Arthur reaches out, captures his right hand between his. The hold isn’t strong. It’s gentle and warm, unrestrictive.
“Life is…” Arthur doesn’t finish, takes a shuddering breath. “I miss you,” he whispers eventually, tear dripping down on their joined hands.
“I miss you too,” Merlin says, afraid to move to not ruin the moment.
“I can’t…” Arthur pauses again, his grip tightening for a moment before it relaxes again, his thumb caressing Merlin’s palm. “I don’t want to rule without you by my side.”
“I can’t be your queen,” Merlin says.
“I know,” Arthur says. “But you can be my friend, my advisor, my court sorcerer.”
Merlin looks up at Arthur’s tear-tracked face, into his eyes, unsure of what to say.
“I know my words hurt you,” Arthur says. “I am sorry for that. I wish I could change that.”
“You’re not the only one to blame,” Merlin says. “I should have told you about my magic sooner.”
Arthur pulls him closer and Merlin doesn’t resist being wrapped into a hug. He lets his hands rest on Arthur’s sides, sinking into the embrace, breathing in Arthur’s scent. It feels like coming home.
*
“Morgana and I are going to marry,” Arthur says one evening during dinner when the meal has been served and all the servants have left to give them privacy.
“What?” Merlin asks, nearly choking on his wine.
“It’s the best solution for everyone,” Morgana says. “It will show the people that the magic really is welcome in the realm once more. And I told you I want to be queen.”
“But… You…” He gestures helplessly between the two of them. “You see each other as siblings! You said so yourself,” he aims at Arthur.
“Leon is also strong, blond, and aristocratic,” Morgana says. “Less annoying though.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Merlin asks, glaring at Arthur who in turn glares at Morgana for that final addition.
“It means,” Morgana says, talking slowly as if explaining something to a child, “that Arthur is all yours.”
He stares at her, his brain still not catching on.
“If you still want me,” Arthur says with a private smile.
“But…” Merlin’s brain completely shuts down, his gaze jumping from Arthur to Morgana and back.
“I’m sleeping with Leon. You’re sleeping with Arthur. Kingdom has a royal couple, and hopefully, an heir. Everyone’s happy,” Morgana says, rolling her eyes. “You really are perfect for each other. You’re both dense.”
“Oh,” Merlin says, his head spinning a little as the understanding dawns.
Arthur stands up, walks around the table.
“What do you say? Will you be my mistress?” Arthur asks, taking Merlin’s hand and bringing it to his lips, mischievous smile on his lips.
Instead of an answer, Merlin pulls him down for a kiss, their first since their last night together so many months ago.
“And that is my cue to leave,” Morgana says and gets completely ignored in favour of more kissing and touching.