Chapter Text
The midsummer festivities held this year were unlike any Merlin had ever seen. For the first time, traditions of the Old Religion could be openly regarded. In the lower town, various stalls had been installed, selling all kinds of foods and drinks. People played games and bought trinkets of all sorts. Magical charms, amulets and other magic-related objects could be bought without anyone batting an eye. Of course, there were still those who were uncomfortable with magic being so openly practiced and talked about, but they knew better than to do anything. The King had made it clear that crimes against magic users wouldn’t be tolerated, after all. Outside of the city, druids and other followers of the Old Religion had built altars to thank the Triple Goddess and other deities and ask them for their continued protection. At night, the people gathered around bonfires to sing and dance and tell stories.
Merlin knew that Arthur had been reluctant to join the festivities. He wanted his people to enjoy the festival freely, without having to worry about their King being there. In the end, Merlin managed to convince him to go out with him and the knights. Morgana had come to the city for the occasion and she and Gwen spent most of their time together.
The people gathered around the bonfire didn’t even bat an eyelid upon noticing their King was among them. They were focused on the story Mordred was telling. A druidic legend he had heard from the elders. Merlin had to admit the young knight had a talent for telling stories. In the bright glow of the flames, his pale eyes looked like shimmering gold.
Merlin and Gwaine fetched drinks for everyone, coming back with large pints of ale. Mordred kept recounting stories he had heard as a boy, and Merlin used his magic to create illustrations from the flames. It felt so good to use his magic openly, and for something so innocuous too. He drank and laughed and used his magic to animate the flames. Around him, his friends were alive and happy and relaxed. It was like a dream come true. Merlin was about to take a sip from his third pint of ale when it was snatched from his hands.
“You’ve had enough for now,” Arthur said, handing the glass to Gwaine.
“That’s my third! And it’s mine, give it back. Besides, Gwaine had more,” Merlin protested, his movement more uncoordinated than usual. He was slightly tipsy, but that didn’t give Arthur the right to take his cup away from him.
“Gwaine can hold his liquor. You can’t,” Arthur pointed out, an eyebrow raised and a smirk pulling his lips upward.
Merlin was about to respond when Lancelot turned him around by the shoulder and handed him a piece of strawberry tart. “Here, eat that, and you can have more ale later.”
Merlin pouted, but he relented. They were all teaming up against him, he had no choice but to admit defeat. Besides, Lancelot at least had the decency to offer him food.
Mordred’s tale gave place to musicians playing lively tunes. When he recognised one of the songs, he grabbed Lancelot’s hand and dragged him in a fun, messy dance around the fire. The knight threw his head back when Merlin almost tripped over his own two feet, keeping him upright with a hand on his chest. All around, people danced and laughed. Elyan had managed to convince Leon to dance with him, by some miracle. The usually uptight knight didn’t even seem too uncomfortable, although it was clear he didn’t know what he was doing. After a while, Merlin left Lancelot to dance with a new partner and he took Arthur’s hand instead.
“Come on, dance with me, it’s fun,” Merlin said with a beaming smile.
Arthur visibly tried to reject the offer, but just as Merlin had a hard time saying no to Arthur, so was Arthur incapable of refusing anything Merlin asked. With a put upon sigh, he followed Merlin’s directions. They tripped over each other’s feet, bumped into other dancers and laughed a lot. It was the most fun Merlin had had in a long time. They only returned to the castle when the first colours of dawn started painting the sky, exhausted but happy.
Of course, Camelot couldn’t have a festival without a tournament. Just as the festival, it differed from the tournaments Camelot usually held. A separate category had been introduced for magic users. Just like duels between knights, sorcerers would face each other in magic duels. Of course, people could enter both categories if they wished to. Merlin and Morgana had worked hard to place magical shields to protect the public. It wouldn’t do for someone to get hurt by accident during the first tournament to include magic.
Merlin was included in the organisation of the event. It didn’t mean he wanted to take part in it.
“No, I’ve already told you, I’m not fighting in the tournament,” Merlin said, exasperation creeping in his voice, giving a sharp edge to his words.
Of course, Morgana and Arthur weren’t so easily deterred. Gwen had had the good sense to give up after Merlin said no for the third time. But the Pendragon siblings were stubborn.
“Come on, you’ll have fun! Or are you scared you’ll lose against me?” Morgana taunted, one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows raised.
Merlin knew what she was doing, and he wouldn’t fall for it. He wouldn’t let her rile him up. He was better than this. He wouldn’t fall for that witch’s dirty tricks.
“That would be an interesting fight. I wonder who would win. Of course, Merlin, I’d understand if you were scared of facing Morgana,” Arthur joined in, smirking at Merlin.
“I’m not scared of her! I could crush her in less than a minute in a serious fight!” Merlin replied, finally losing his cool.
“Great, then you’ll enter the tournament, and we’ll fight each other at some point,” Morgana concluded.
Merlin had to admit defeat. He was helpless against the joint forces of Arthur and Morgana Pendragon.
As it turned out, the tournament was more fun than Merlin had thought. Now that he wasn’t a servant, he could sit and watch the duels and cheer for his friends. He spent most of his time with Gwen and Morgana, laughing at visiting knights trying to act strong and manly. Merlin needed new insults for them; clotpole, dollophead and prat were already reserved for a certain King. The only downside of fighting in the tournament was that Merlin constantly had to hold back. He was Emrys, after all. A duel between him and an average sorcerer wouldn’t be fair at all if he used the full extent of his powers.
It came as a surprise to absolutely no one when Merlin and Morgana won all their matches and were due to face each other in the finale. Just as no one was surprised that Arthur would fight against Leon.
The night before the finale, Merlin was getting ready for bed when a knock sounded on his door. He opened it to reveal a weary Leon, strain lines on his face and dishevelled hair.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but I could really use a talk with a friend,” Leon said, giving him a tired smile.
“Of course, come in,” Merlin said, opening the door wider to let Leon enter.
They sat on the comfortable armchairs Merlin had acquired recently. Despite the open window, the lingering heat of the day still clung to the walls. Leon gratefully accepted the cup of watered wine Merlin offered him.
“I love tournaments, but I also hate them,” Leon declared after a long stretch of silence.
“Why, did something happen?”
Leon shrugged. He looked so exhausted and defeated that Merlin’s heart ached for his friend. Leon was usually full of quiet confidence. Steady and strong like an oak in the midst of a storm. He hid his fears and his insecurities well.
“It’s just… Usually people leave me alone. Well, not really, there is always the occasional Lady who more or less subtly tries to make her interest known. A few Lords too. But during tournaments, it’s like they all wake up and think it’s the perfect opportunity. They all vie for my attention, hoping to gain my affection. It’s tiring. Even if most of them don’t insist after I made it clear I wasn’t interested, there are just so many of them coming at me. I hate it. I don’t like being flirted with. Except if it’s Gwaine who’s doing it, because he’s not serious about it.”
Merlin laughed at the last remark. Gwaine was the greatest flirt of Albion, but he mostly just took it as a game. It didn’t matter if the person rejected him or not, he just liked flirting. Leon understood that, and it had become a sort of game between them.
“I know the feeling. Even when I was a servant, there were always people who flirted with me. Sarah from the kitchen always gave me pastries and complimented me and all. At first I didn’t understand, I thought she was just being nice, that she just wanted to be friends, so I complimented her back. Until one day she kissed me and I had to tell her I wasn’t interested. She looked so heartbroken. We’re still friends now, though. But since I became Court Sorcerers even more people are trying to seduce me. It’s exhausting.”
They smiled at each other, finding comfort in their shared understanding. Gradually, Leon’s face became more relaxed, a small smile even appeared on his face as he listened to Merlin talk about the pie he had eaten in the lower town and the performers he had watched after the last duel of the day was over.
Merlin woke up before dawn. He was buzzing with excitement. Although, he would die before he confessed that to Arthur. He would never live it down. Still when the first ray of sun pierced the dark blue sky, Merlin was out of his room. He headed to the kitchen and asked the cook for a breakfast tray for three. Merlin almost ran back up. It was so reminiscent of his days as Arthur’s manservant. Back then, Merlin always complained about the work, but he had secretly loved the quiet moments he got to spend with his friend, before the bustle of the day swept them away.
Once he arrived at Arthur’s door, he knocked and waited a few seconds before entering. He deposited the tray on the table before heading to the window to open the curtains.
“Rise and shine, your Majesties! It’s a beautiful day and there’s no time to laze around in bed!” Merlin cheerfully announced.
Arthur groaned, turning away from the offending sunlight with a muttered, “Go away, Merlin.”
Gwen, much more used to waking up early thanks to her years as a servant was already sitting up, gently playing with her husband’s hair.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of this early visit?” she asked, an amused grin lighting her face.
“Nothing in particular. I woke up early and thought it would be nice to have breakfast together. The tray’s on the table,” Merlin replied, nodding to the table, already set for three. “Now wake up, dollophead,” Merlin said, trying to sound stern and wildly missing the mark. He sent Gwen a half-hearted glare when she giggled at his efforts.
“I think he needs a bit more convincing,” Gwen said with a mischievous smile. Sometimes it was too easy to forget how chaotic Gwen could be when she set her mind to it. There was a reason she had become Merlin’s partner in crime when he first arrived in Camelot.
Without missing a beat, Gwen yank the blankets away, letting it fall on the floor by the bed. Arthur only had time to let out a very kingly yelp before Merlin grabbed his ankle and pulled him off the bed, softening the King’s fall with a silent spell.
“My wife and my best friend are teaming up to commit treason!” Arthur lamented once he was sprawled on the cold, hard floor of his chambers. He managed to look outraged for all of five seconds before a blindingly bright smile appeared on his face.
“Always, my love,” Gwen giggled. She kissed her husband’s cheek before gathering her clothes and heading behind the changing screen to prepare for the day.
“I assume you still don’t know how to dress by yourself,” Merlin teased as he picked clothes from Arthur’s closet.
“Perhaps, but at least I’m not a clumsy oaf,” Arthur replied, always very mature.
“No, you’re a supercilious cabbage head,” Merlin teased back. He was very mature too.
They easily fell back to the familiar motions of getting Arthur presentable for the day. It may have been months since Merlin had last helped Arthur get ready, but it still came naturally after years of performing the same routine. There was something comforting about it. Merlin was happy where he was. He loved being Court Sorcerer and working with Gaius. And he didn’t miss having to clean the stables or polish Arthur’s armour, or scrub the floor of his chambers. But he missed taking care of Arthur.
When Gwen sat down in front on her mirror to brush and braid her hair, Merlin hesitantly approached. He loved taking care of Arthur, and he wanted to take care of Gwen too, even if that was unfamiliar territory for him.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
He knew he sounded too hopeful. It was a bit pathetic. But after having the chance to help Arthur get prepared, he was itching to do the same for Gwen. He figured she usually had a maid to do it for her. Or knowing Gwen, she possibly did it herself.
“Of course, I’d love it,” the Queen replied, handing Merlin her brush.
At first, Merlin wasn’t sure he was doing it right. He had brushed his mother’s hair a few times back in Ealdor, when her shoulders were sore from her work and he had wanted to do something nice for her. He had only been a little boy, then. Still too young to really do anything of consequence like ploughing the fields or cooking a meal. He used to use his magic to clean so that his mum wouldn’t have to. But brushing her hair was something he loved doing. He hoped he still knew how to do it, after all those years.
“It feels nice to have someone else brush my hair. I understand why Morgana liked it so much,” Gwen said after a moment.
Merlin was glad. He then took strands of Gwen’s hair and braided them. One of the servants had showed him how to do it once, using her girlfriend as a model. Merlin didn’t remember why, but he could recall that it had been on a long and dreary winter day. Gwen’s hair felt nice under his fingers as he made two braids that met at the base of her skull and turned into one. It was much simpler than the intricate hairstyles some of the other Ladies wore, but it was well done. Gwen seemed satisfied when she looked at the result.
“Thank you, Merlin.” She got up and gave Merlin a tight hug.
Arthur had attempted to make the bed. It was messy, but at least the servant that would come to clean the room wouldn’t have to pick the blanket from the floor.
The excited cheers of the crowd faded in the back of Merlin’s consciousness as he focused on his opponent. Morgana wore a well-fitted armour, her long black curls were tied in a low ponytail. Merlin wore a leather armour. He had argued for hours with Arthur. The King wanted him to wear a full armour, claiming that despite his great powers, Merlin still needed the protection. Metal armours were heavy, though. They restricted his movement too much. Arthur was used to move in armour, but Merlin wasn’t. It would put him at a disadvantage. It was Gwen who offered the perfect solution. The voice of wisdom, as always. The leather armour was perfect. It fit Merlin like a glove, and he still had his full range of movement.
The competitive glint in Morgana’s eyes promised that this would be an interesting duel. She was a powerful witch. Her innate magic was strong, but she had also trained hard to gain perfect control of it. Merlin had watched her matches during the tournament, and he had to admit that she was quite impressive. Merlin was proud of her.
The magical protections they had placed around the fighting ground were soon proven useful. Morgana didn’t waste time. The duel had barely begun when she launched a fireball at Merlin. He dodged at the fire instead crashed around the invisible shield. Merlin vaguely heard gasps from the crowd. In retaliation, he sent Morgana flying. She landed on the ground with a clunk, but it didn’t stop her for long.
“Is that all you’ve got, oh great warlock,” she taunted him as she pushed herself up.
Merlin didn’t reply, only smirking at her.
As soon as she was back on her feet, he levitated rocks, throwing them at her. With a quick spell, Morgana dissolved the rocks, the dust falling harmlessly at her feet. Merlin’s magic alerted him of something approaching him from behind. Without taking his eyes off Morgana, he raised a magical shield. Whatever object she had thrown at him crashed against it. It was only a distraction, though. In a split second, Morgana had another fireball flying towards the warlock. With a flash of his eyes, he changed its course, returning it back to her. She dodged and in the same movement, she raised her hand, sending Merlin flying against the magical barriers protecting the spectators. The impact punched the air out of his lungs. A dull ache spread from the back of his skull down to the bottom of his back. He soon regained his footing, though.
“Nice try, but you’re going to need more than that,” Merlin said, trying to conceal his wince when the muscles of his shoulders throbbed.
“Don’t worry, I’m only getting started,” Morgana replied adopting a fighting stance.
“Good,” Merlin smirked.
With a silent spell, Merlin had thick fog invade the arena, blinding Morgana. He couldn’t see anything either, but he had trained hard to be able to rely only on his magic to orient himself and detect any threat. From all around the fighting ground, rocks and pebbles levitated, flying towards Morgana. He heard her scream, and a strong wave of magic swept the arena. It dissolved the fog in an instant. Merlin only had time to mutter a spell to protect himself against the shockwave and the rocks that were shot at him. Morgana’s magic had grown immensely more powerful than when she left to live with the druids. They had taught her well. Her strength almost matched Merlin’s. At least when it came to non-lethal combat. The only possible difference was that Morgana’s magic was a limited resource. She would grow tired eventually. It could still be some time before that happened, though. But Merlin had a feeling that her ability to orient herself and detect objects with her magic wasn’t as precise as Merlin’s. He had to test his theory first, though, before relying on it.
Simultaneously, he sent a fireball at her from the front, while a ball of water was launched at her from the back. She managed to raise a shield against the fire, but the water hit her in the back of her head. It distracted her. She turned back, only for a second, before realising her mistake. A shield enveloped her completely, protecting her from the cutting wind Merlin had sent to her. He had practiced this spell a lot. Wind was a tricky element. Simply using wind as a distraction or to push people away was fairly simple. But this spell used wind to create some sort of blades. It was a spell Merlin had invented by modifying existing spells that manipulated the element. In a fight to the death, Merlin wouldn’t have to be too careful, but to use it in a friendly fight, he had to perfectly control the strength of the spell. As it was, it would have cut her skin, but only superficially. Painful, but not deadly. It had taken a lot of effort to perfectly master it. Lots of training dummies had been torn to shreds as a result.
“Nice shield,” Merlin commented.
He meant it. The shield Morgana had used was a powerful one, but it also meant it required a lot of energy. Merlin could tell it wouldn’t be long before she showed signs of fatigue. Until then, she could still launch powerful spells. And even after the first signs of tiredness showed, she would probably still be a dangerous opponent. Merlin couldn’t afford to let his guard down. Being able to fight so intensely without any threats, without knowing he might have to take another life, was strangely refreshing. Merlin began to understand why Arthur and the other knights enjoyed tournaments so much. He still preferred to use his magic for harmless purposes, simply for the beauty of it, or to assist in healing. But this was fun too.
“Shut up,” Morgana spat, although her harsh tone was contradicted by the proud smile that briefly crossed her face.
Morgana’s magic formed a solid blade that she shot at Merlin. It flew with astounding speed. That was a spell Merlin didn’t know. Maybe he would ask Morgana to teach him when the tournament was over. Instinctively, Merlin raised his hand and a strong wind swept the arena. The blade cut through it, but it was dramatically slowed. Enough so that it fell by Merlin’s feet. The magic lost its shape and seeped into the dry soil. Morgana had been swept by the wind. She had crashed against the magical barriers and struggled to get back to her feet. For a moment, Merlin was worried she had been injured, but she quickly regained her balance. Before he knew it, she stood straight and tall in front of him. Beads of sweat made her forehead glimmer in the afternoon sun and strands of hair had escaped their tight ties. But she still looked formidable.
Fire flew at him from both sides. It seemed Morgana had an affinity with this element. Merlin shouldn’t have been surprised; after all her magic messing with flames was how she first had confirmation of her powers. Her fireballs were compact, dense spheres of energy launched with deadly speed and accuracy. Merlin managed to stop them with thick walls of water. The fire fizzled and evaporated, leaving only dark, thick smoke. Morgana wasn’t done, though. Before the smoke even began to fade, the ground beneath Merlin’s feet became wet and slick. Merlin tried not to move, knowing he would slip if he attempted to take a single step. It was proven difficult, however, when Morgana pushed steam at him. The hot, humid air burned his skin. He hadn’t seen that coming, too distracted on keeping his balance. He slipped, landing on his back. Beneath him, the ground was still too slippery for him to get back up. He muttered a spell, one hand pressed to the ground. His magic broke Morgana’s spell, allowing him to get back up. Instinctively, he created a shield and braced himself right before Morgana’s magic collided with his magical shield. Had he not reacted on time, he would have been projected against the barriers protecting the public, and that would have been painful.
“Getting tired, Merlin?” Morgana taunted.
“Not as much as you,” Merlin shot back with a raised eyebrow.
It was true; Morgana was growing tried. This series of attacks had taken a lot out of her. Merlin took his opportunity to go back on the attack. He put one knee down and pressed the palm of one hand on the ground. A tiny earthquake shook the arena, destabilising Morgana. While she was distracted, Merlin launched rocks at her from all sides. She managed to stop them, but she was unprepared for his next move. Her shield had just disappeared when Morgana was hit by Merlin’s wind blades. He controlled them precisely, making sure not to cause any serious injury. And before Morgana probably even had time to understand what had happened, the wind morphed into a tornado. Morgana was swept away, crashing against the magical barriers.
She heaved on the ground, too exhausted to get up. When Merlin extended a hand to help her back on her feet, she gratefully accepted it, a tired but content smile on her face. She had shallow cuts on her wrists and on her cheeks and scratches on her armour, but she was otherwise unharmed. Merlin was instantly reassured. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his friend.
“I hadn’t had so much fun fighting in a long time,” Morgana breathed between harsh breaths.
“Likewise. We should do that again sometime,” Merlin replied, throwing an arm over her shoulders.
They shared a complicit smile, both tired and satisfied, as the gathered spectators sheered and hollered. Tournaments weren’t as bad as Merlin used to think, after all.
It wasn’t Merlin’s first feast as a guest, but it was the first one where guests from other kingdoms were present. Merlin had thought the banquet held to celebrate Morgana’s coronation as Crown Princess and his and Morgana’s appointment as Court Sorcerers was huge. This one was overwhelming. When he had still been required to serve Arthur during those events, he had been able to fade into the background for a few minutes and breathe. But now, he and Arthur were the centre of attention, as winners from the tournament. Merlin even more so than the King, because he was the first winner of the newly established magical branch of the tournament. Everyone wanted to congratulate him, and talk to him, and try to get in his good graces, for some reason. It was exhausting. And that was without taking into consideration all the people who suddenly found Merlin so terribly desirable. Most of them were innocent enough; a blush here, a less than subtle compliment there. He could live with that. But a few made his skin crawl, like the knight from Gawant who had whispered a few very obscene words in Merlin’s ear when he came to congratulate the young warlock or the Lord from Nemeth who wouldn’t stop saying Merlin would make a perfect husband for his daughter.
Thankfully, as the food arrived and the wine started to flow, the guests had better things to focus on. Still, the atmosphere of the room was stifling. The lingering heat from the warm summer day was almost suffocating. The music was too loud. The guests all spoke together, flooding the room with a cacophony of words and laughter and cheers. Cutlery clinked together and scraped against the plates. There were too many people, not enough space between the chairs. The light was too bright, between the flickering flames of torches hung on the walls and magical spheres of colourful light that lined the ceiling. Merlin felt like his skin was too tight and his throat was too dry and his head was going to explode.
Until Arthur took one look at him and stood up, extending a hand towards him.
“I think I need some fresh air. Walk with me?”
Merlin instinctively took Arthur’s hand, before his brain even had time to register the meaning of his friend’s words. He would have followed Arthur anywhere, anyway.
The corridors were blessedly cool and silent and dark. As soon as the heavy doors of the banquet halls were closed, Merlin took a deep breath, relishing the feeling of fresh air entering his lungs. He followed Arthur in silence as they walked down a corridor and up a flight of stairs. After a few more turns, they reached Arthur’s intended destination.
The battlements were one of Arthur’s favourite places to go when he needed to be alone to think or to cool down. A gentle breeze had started blowing, bringing a much-needed relief from the sweltering heat of the day. Merlin hoped it would rain soon.
“Feasts can be overwhelming, when you’re not used to them,” Arthur said from where he was leaning against the battlement. “I used to hate them as a child.”
“And now?” Merlin asked, curious.
He knew Arthur didn’t really love huge feasts. For all that he was an obnoxious clotpole, he preferred more intimate settings. But he was a King, and as such, he had to host such events occasionally. Merlin didn’t think Arthur hated feasts, but his friend could be very good at hiding his true thoughts and feelings.
Arthur shrugged, still facing the horizon. “I wouldn’t say that I love them, but I learnt to tolerate them. It gets less overwhelming with time. I always hated when Father insisted that I stay until the last of the guests were ready to call it a night, though.”
“Thank you for getting me out of there, I really needed a break.”
Arthur turned towards Merlin for the first time since they arrived on the battlements. He had a soft smile on his face, one that was rarely allowed to grace his lips.
“I enjoyed watching you and Morgana fight, it was an amazing duel.”
Arthur said that as if it was some sort of secret confession, something that could only be whispered when cradled in the dark arms of the night. Perhaps it was, given how Arthur was raised, how deeply the hatred of all things related to magic had been ingrained in him. And yet, there Arthur was: the King who brought magic back to Camelot. Merlin was so incredibly proud of his best friend that he felt like his heart could burst with it.
They remained in silence for a while after that, both staring in the distance, standing close enough that their shoulders were pressed together as they admired the kingdom bathed in the silvery glow of the moon. Merlin didn’t know how much time had passed before a chuckle tore its way out of Arthur’s throat, seemingly out of nowhere.
“What’s so funny? Have you received one too many blows to the head during the tournament?” Merlin asked, falling far too easily back into their familiar teasing.
Arthur shook his head, ignoring Merlin’s comment. “I was just struck by a thought.”
“That must have been painful.”
Merlin was gratified by a glare from his friend. “Shut up, Merlin.”
The words were spoken without any heat. It was still just friendly banter. Merlin was curious, though. “What did you think about that was so funny?”
“I just pictured my father’s face if he saw what Camelot has become now. My wife used to be a servant. Magic is legal, and hopefully it’ll soon be thriving. My former manservant has been appointed Court Sorcerer. And not only are peasants allowed to be knights, now, but sorcerers too! And they’re even invited to participate in tournaments! He would turn purple with rage!”
Merlin had to admit the image was rather funny. Uther was certainly turning in his grave at the moment, but there was nothing he could do wherever he was. Merlin exchanged a look with Arthur and soon they were both breathless from laughing, leaning against each other. Each time their laughter subsided, they’d meet the other’s eyes and be sent into another bout of giggles.
When finally, they managed to stop laughing, Merlin asked the question that burned the tip of his tongue.
“You’re really alright with that? Knowing you’re going against all of your father’s beliefs? That you’re dismantling his legacy?”
Arthur paused for a moment, but it wasn’t in hesitation. He wasn’t thinking about the question, but about how to find the adequate words to formulate his answer.
“For a long time, I’ve wanted to walk into my father’s footsteps. I wanted him to be proud of me. I did what I was told, even when I doubted that it was the right thing to do, even when it went against my morals. And then, you came, and you showed me that I could be my own person. You showed me that it was alright if I held different views than my father. You showed me that I could rule according to my own values. That’s what I’m doing now. And sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes, it hurts to think that my father wouldn’t be proud of the Kingdom I’ve built, with you, with Guinevere, with our friends. But this is the Kingdom I’ve been dreaming of, and I’m proud of it. So thank you, old friend, for helping me achieve it,” Arthur said, his voice sounding slightly hoarse from restrained tears, even as he smiled softly at Merlin.
“Thank you, Arthur,” Merlin replied, not caring to hide his own tears. “Thank you for being my friend, for letting me stay by your side all these years. Thank you for accepting me.”
Even for Arthur’s manliness, the moment was too emotional for forgo a hug. Arthur’s arms were tightly wrapped around Merlin’s torso, his strong hands splayed against Merlin’s back. Merlin’s own hands cradled the back of Arthur’s head as he kept whispering words of gratitude in the King’s ear. He didn’t mention the tears that had started leaking from Arthur’s eyes, just as Arthur said nothing about the tears that streamed down Merlin’s cheeks.
Merlin felt lighter than ever. Magic was legal, his friends knew what he was and still loved him, and he and Arthur had grown closer than ever.
“Thank you, Arthur,” Merlin whispered, lips brushing against the side of Arthur’s head. “I didn’t know it was possible to be so happy.”