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Arthur paused, looking back over his shoulder as he heard the rush of Morgana’s men through the tunnels. Merlin knew them he’d be alright he’d find his way. He swallowed thickly and turned.
“What are you doing?” Tristan asked.
“Merlin,” Is all he said, it’s all he could think.
“He knows the tunnels,” Tristan said, tone tired and annoyed as it always was when he spoke to Arthur. “He’ll find his way-”
“I’m going back,” Arthur said, charging past him. He couldn’t leave Merlin, not now, not when everyone in his life had betrayed him but his bumbling manservant. Not when Merlin was the only one he had left. The only one he’d ever truly been able to trust.
“Tell me, Now!” Agravaine’s voice carried through the tunnels. “Or I’ll have to kill you,” He turned the corner quickly following the sound of his uncle’s voice. Merlin had been caught. He was going to die, Arthur would lose him.
“I don’t think so,” He heard Merlin's voice soft yet stern. He caught himself on a rock rounding the corner just in time to see the bodies fly back. Slamming into walls, necks breaking, bones crushed as they fell in heaps on the floor.
He stumbled back ducking behind the rock. A sorcerer? Had Agravaine brought Morgana along on his hunt for him? But it was her men he’d seen attacked why would she-
Agravaine’s ragged coughing drew him from his thoughts. “You… have magic,” He said, half laughing in awe. Arthur peaked his head around cautiously. They were fighting a sorcerer but who-
“I was born with it,” Merlin said. Voice still stern and soft. Arthur froze, unable to believe, unable to accept it. He’d been betrayed, again. Tears stung his eyes but he blinked them away.
“So it’s you,” Agravaine was saying. “You’re Emrys,” That name, Arthur had heard it before. Spoken in passing and in whispers. Always with reverence, he’d assumed it was a god.
“That is what the druids call me,” Merlin said and Arthur saw him swallow. Saw him school his expression and in spite of the circumstance he was impressed at how well Merlin was holding himself together. He didn’t think the man had it in him, he felt a pang in his heart at how easily he’d been fooled.
“And you’ve been at court all this time,” Agravaine said, lowering his weapon. “At Arthur’s side, how you’ve managed to deceive him,” Arthur felt his heart clench. “I am impressed, Merlin, perhaps we’re more alike than you think,” Agravaine took a step forward. Merlin threw up his hands in defense. Arthur felt as if he was going to be sick.
Agravaine paused, lowered his weapon fully and took another step forward. Merlin lowered his hands and for a moment Arthur thought they would join forces. Then Agravaine lunged for him and before Arthur could even blink he was being thrown back against another rock. His head lulling over groaning softly.
Arthur stood there, watching unsure of what to do. If he should do anything at all.
Merlin picked up the dagger Agravaine had tried to skewer him with. He stepped over the bodies of the men he’d killed, crouching down in front of Agravaine he leveled the dagger at his heart. “You and I are nothing alike,” He growled and Arthur felt gooseflesh cover his neck at the intensity of the hatred in his voice.
“Everything I have done, everything I have lost, has been out of loyalty to my king. Because I know him because I believe in him. Can you say the same?” He asked, pressing the dagger into the fabric of Agravaine’s tunic, blood blooming as he pierced the skin covering his heart. “No, you’ve sold out your family and chased Morgana’s coat tails begging for the scraps she left behind,” He drove the dagger in deeper and Agravaine coughed on the blood in his mouth. Weak hands desperately trying to break Merlin’s grip on the blade.
“The only thing we have in common it seems, is that we’re willing to die for the Pendragon we love,” He said and Arthur’s hands began to shake, he clenched them into fists to steady them. “Though I am leagues better than you could ever hope to be,” He twisted the knife vindictively and bloody spit bubbled out of Agravaine’s mouth. “And I would never fall so easily,” He said and tossed the dagger away, still lodged in Agravaine’s chest he sent the dying man tumbling over to bleed out on the cave floor.
Arthur gasped quietly and doubled back down the tunnel. He didn’t know what to make of everything he’d seen and heard but one thing was for sure. After a display like that, he didn’t want Merlin knowing he knew.
He heard hurried footsteps behind him and turned, coming face to face with the sorcerer himself. “Merlin,” He gasped out, and the sorcerer just blinked at him. Expression calm and empty. Like he hadn’t just brutally killed a man. “Where have you been?” Arthur asked, schooling his tone and expression into indignation.
“Were you worried about me?” Merlin asked, tilting his head slightly to the side. Arthur swallowed, he had been worried. He’d been sickeningly worried and now looking at the dark spot of his uncle's blood on his manservant’s neckerchief he just felt sick.
“No,” He said, and he wasn’t sure why it felt like a lie. “I was making sure we weren’t being followed,” He lied again.
“You came back to look for me,” The sorcerer said, a small smile on his lips. One Arthur had seen so many times, one he’d cherished and valued. He wondered if it was a lie too.
“Alright it’s true,” Arthur said, feeling his emotions stick in his throat. “I came back because you’re the only friend I have,” He said, unsure if that was still true. “And I couldn’t bear to lose you,” Because he couldn’t. Even now he could feel the weight of what he’d just learned tearing his heart apart slowly and the only thing keeping him on his feet was the fact that he had to keep fighting. To stay alive to save Camelot.
“Really,” Merlin said, with a soft smile that did things to the way Arthur’s heart beat. He turned quickly, unable to face him anymore.
“Don’t be stupid, Merlin,” He said and his name tasted like ash on his tongue.
Arthur had given in to bunking down in the forest of Ascetir for the night. He didn’t want to agree with Merlin, but he was too exhausted to fight. Torn apart physically and mentally by the past few days. He thought back on his hazy memories of leaving the kingdom but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t make them out. It felt like the times he’d been enchanted, and he felt ill at the thought of Merlin enchanting him.
“You alright?” Merlin said, taking a seat next to him. He suppressed a flinch when the sorcerer spoke.
“I’m just… thinking,” He said, because he was. He was thinking about what he’d seen, and what he’d heard. The title Emrys nagging at him more than anything. “Have you ever heard of a man called Emrys?” Arthur asked, and didn’t miss the way the sorcerer stiffened.
“Why do you ask?” He said, fidgeting with a stick he’d found on the ground. Arthur wondered how he’d never seen it before. He’d always assumed the man was afraid of magic and that’s why it always made him uncomfortable. He saw the truth now, saw the poorly hidden truth and felt dumber than he ever had before.
“I’ve heard the name before, in passing, and it’s bothering me,” He said. “You spend more time with Gaius than anyone,” He looked at the sorcerer from the corner of his eye. “I figured you were the next best thing, to all his infinite wisdom,” He grumbled.
“I-I don’t know much,” He mumbled, snapping the stick between his fingers.
“Then what do you know,” Arthur said, doing his best to keep the angry bite out of his voice. He couldn’t give himself away.
“He’s supposed to be powerful,” He said, dragging half his broken stick in the ground.
“How powerful?” Arthur pushed.
“More than anyone,” Merlin said and his voice was small, guilty. Good, he should be. “He’s the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, though I’m not sure I believe in him,” He tossed his broken stick away. “He’s meant to be from a prophecy but I think he’s just a fairy tale.”
“What’s he meant to do?” Arthur asked, suspicion and concern warring in his gut to hear Merlin talk about himself like that.
Merlin was silent for a moment. “Bring magic back, it’s why the druids speak of him the way they do, he’s meant to save them.”
Arthur felt the hair on his neck raise. “From Camelot?”
Merlin looked at him with a furrowed brow, confusion evident on his face. He blinked a few times and took a shaky breath, panic flicking through his eyes. Arthur didn’t say anything, face still as stone. He watched as Merlin swallowed and dropped his eyes back to the ground. “He’s meant to work in the shadows, never to be seen or known for what he is, or recognized for what he does,” Merlin took in a breath that made his shoulders shake. “He’s supposed to be wise, to make way for the once and future king of Albion, so that he may bring magic and peace to all the land.”
Arthur sat there quietly, chewing on his lip, on the information he’d been given. Merlin was onto him, he wouldn’t say it out loud, wouldn’t admit his secret. Even if he made the guess that Arthur knew, he wondered if the sorcerer just thought he was that stupid or if there was something more.
Why hadn’t he told him, but when could he have? When Uther was alive and he’d likely get his head taken off? Or when he’d found out Arthur had once slain a druid village? Possibly after he’d seen him cry in recompense for the slaughter he caused.
Did he really think he was such a heartless monster? That he’d lose his life if he’d told him. He realized that’s what hurt the most. That he’d been lied to, not the treason.
“Come with me,” He said, standing up and stomping off into the woods. He heard Merlin scramble to follow. He continued walking until he found a clearing where he couldn’t see the light of their fire anymore. He was alone, with the sorcerer, his sword, and the light of the moon.
“Arthur,” Merlin said, but clamped his mouth shut as he unsheathed his sword and leveled it at the sorcerer.
“Emrys,” He said, disdain in his voice. A million emotions flashed across Merlin's face, Arthur was able to pick out guilt, panic, fear, and finally acceptance.
“How long have you known?” He asked, his voice a whisper. Not making any move to deflect the sword or blow Arthur away. After what he’d seen in the cave he assumed Merlin would immobilize him the moment he drew his sword.
“Since you killed Agravaine,” He said and Merlin’s eyes dropped to the ground. “You took joy in it,” He growled in an attempt to hide the shake in his throat.
“Of course I did,” Merlin said, glancing up at the king through his lashes. Head bowed like a servant, rather than the greatest sorcerer to walk the earth. “I’ve watched him manipulate you, and lie to you for months.”
“And you’ve done the same for years,” He hissed, pressing the sword forward. Forcing Merlin to look up, to look him in the eye.
“I didn’t want to,” Merlin said and his voice shook. “You can kill me if it’ll make you feel better,” He whispered and Arthur grit his teeth as his knuckles turned white on the hilt of his sword.
“Is that truly what you think of me?” He growled. “That I’m some blood thirsty monster who would kill my dearest friend just because it would make me feel better!” He spat, tears stinging his eyes.
Merlin looked from the sword at his throat to Arthur. Confusion and concern warring on his face. Arthur gripped his sword so hard it shook, before he screamed in rage and chucked it across the clearing. He ran a hand through his hair breathing heavily, unsure if he was about to start sobbing or not.
“My kingdom is gone, the woman I loved chose another, my father is dead, my sister sits upon my throne, because she used the only family I had left to betray my trust and take my crown,” He twisted a hand in his chain mail, as if trying to grip his pounding heart. “Out of all of that, out of everything,” He said, tears running freely now as he looked up at Merlin. “I thought you were the only one who would never lie to me, now I find out that everything you have ever said has been a lie,” He spat.
“I never lied about what mattered,” Merlin said and Arthur couldn’t help but laugh. Humorless and dry around the tears that stained his face. “Not about my loyalty and not about my faith in you,” He said, voice breaking as he began to cry as well.
“But you lied about who you are!” Arthur yelled, closing the gap between them and pointing an accusing finger in his face. “For years you lied to my face about what you really are!”
“I’m Merlin!” He yelled back, slapping Arthur’s hand out of his face. “Son of Hunith of Ealdor servant to the king of Camelot, anything else is inconsequential.”
“Inconsequential?” Arthur cried in outrage. “You’re Emrys,” He spat. “Savior to the druids, most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, the bloody magical messiah-”
“You think I asked for this?” He cried, gesturing to himself helplessly. “I never asked to be the harbinger of destiny, to have to hide who I am lest I be killed, or hunted like an animal as my father was,” He took in a shuddering breath as he fought to speak through his tears. “To be jerked around by vague promises and crushing responsibilities, I have protected you and Camelot from the shadows for years! I have lost count of the times I’ve saved your life and the lives I’ve taken in turn,”
He stepped forward, the toes of his boots touching Arthurs. “I have stained my hands in the blood of magic and non-magic users alike, for the sole reason that they have come for your head,” Arthur didn’t back down, no matter how much his hands were shaking. “Everything I have done, every breath I have taken has been for you, I have been kidnapped and tortured and left for dead and never once did I let you know,”
“Why?” Was all his voice was able to muster. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Merlin took a shaky breath. “When I failed to save your father,” He whispered and Arthur sucked in a harsh breath. “I thought you would never be able to accept magic into your heart, that it had hurt you too much, that I had failed, all I could do was stand back and protect you. Pray that my mistakes hadn’t ruined everything,” Tears rolled freely down his cheeks as he took a step back, dropping slowly to his knees.
“You are everything to me Arthur,” He said, reverent as if he were looking at a god. “You have been since the day I drank poison for you, I have made mistakes, I have lied and betrayed your trust,” He swallowed, his voice breaking. “If you think death is a proper punishment then I will take it gladly and with grace so long as it’s by your hand,” He bowed his head, bearing his neck. “I only hope that one day you’ll forgive me, that I can atone for everything I’ve done like this.”
Arthur glared down at him. At his best friend and one of his greatest betrayers. He walked across the clearing picking up his sword where it had landed and stood in front of him. In front of the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, who bowed his head and waited to be killed. Arthur was sure he wouldn’t fight back either, was sure he’d stay still and silent till the bitter end.
“Get up,” He hissed as he sheathed his sword. Merlin looked up at him with confused teary eyes. “Are you deaf? I said get up you look pathetic,” Merlin scrambled to his feet. “I’m not going to kill you,” He said, and watched the tension drain from his shoulders. “But I don’t think I can trust you ever again,” He admitted.
“Arthur please,” He begged, reaching out for him, but Arthur stepped out of his reach. He looked at the sorcerer and felt his gut twist as he thought how similar that expression was to the one Gwen wore when he’d banished her. It infuriated him.
“You want my trust again?” He growled and Merlin nodded quickly. “Then bring me back my crown,” He smacked Merlin’s shoulder roughly with his as he stormed past. “Should be an easy feat for the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth.”
He barely heard Merlin whisper. “As you wish, sire,” Before he was bellowing in a loud ancient language. Arthur turned, readying his sword expecting an attack but Merlin wasn’t looking at him.
He was watching the sky. He fell silent and they stood there in the sound of the forest for a moment. Before the beating of heavy wings caught his attention. He scrambled backwards into the tree line as the creature landed. It glanced at him, but paid him no attention beyond that.
He swallowed. He knew that dragon, it was the one Merlin had claimed he’d killed.
“What do you require, young master? '' The dragon asked, tilting it’s head.
“We’re going to take back Camelot,” Merlin said, standing tall voice stern. Even though Arthur could still see the puffiness of his cheeks and redness of his eyes from crying earlier.
“Should be fun,” The dragon said, bowing it’s head. Arthur watched with wide eyes as Merlin easily mounted it’s neck and the great beast took off.
He stepped out of the trees, watching them fade away in the direction of Camelot. Merlin’s earlier words rang in his head like a bell. ‘Hunted like an animal as my father was,’ and he felt sick all over again. As he remembered the dragon lord Balinor, and how he’d been lost to the bandits. What he’d said to Merlin, about how his father hadn’t been worth tears.
He couldn’t stop himself. He began hurling chunks of stew onto the grass.
The sun peeked over the horizon as Camelot came into view. Riding on Kilgharrah Merlin should have gotten here hours ago, but they’d made a stop for a few essentials.
“Are you ready old friend,” Merlin said, fastening his mask tight behind his head, pulling the hood of his cloak up as well.
“I couldn’t be more thrilled you’re finally letting me attack Camelot,” Kilgharrah bellowed and Merlin couldn’t even muster the energy to roll his eyes. He just wanted to get this over with.
Morgana’s men swarmed in the courtyard below, readying their shields as if it would do anything against Kilgharrah’s might. The dragon bent his neck and Merlin slid to the ground, black cloak billowing behind him. “Leave the citizens of Camelot untouched,” Merlin said and Kilgharrah rolled his eyes. He looked to the soldiers brandishing their shields, unsure if they were under attack or not. “As for Morgana’s men,” He glared at them, though they couldn’t see it behind his mask. “I don’t want a single one to escape alive,” He hissed.
“As you wish, young master,” Kilgharrah said with a toothy smile, before raining fire down on the men in the courtyard.
It was a simple feat, hacking, slashing, and blasting his way through the castle. Making for the throne room where he just knew Morgana would be. On that day anyone who came in contact with Excalibur did not live to tell the tale.
It wasn’t long before he reached the throne room. Blowing the doors wide with a simple spell. Morgana whipped around, her newest lackey he had yet to learn the name of standing beside her.
“Who are you,” She hissed. “What do you want with my kingdom?” She demanded.
“The druids call me Emrys,” He said, dropping the hood of his cloak. Morgana stiffened as he spoke. “But you would know me by a different name,” He pulled his mask from his head, letting it fall to the ground with a clatter.
Morgana stared at him with wide eyes and laughed. “Merlin? No you’re not,” She took a step back, face warring between fear and disbelief. “I’ve seen Emrys, he’s old!” She cried.
“Don’t tell me the great high priestess has never heard of an aging spell?” He smiled menacingly and she flinched back. “How many times have you tried to kill me now Morgana,” He said, stalking forward. “And how many times have you failed?” She whimpered, taking shelter behind the throne. Behind Arthur’s throne, and Merlin felt rage boil in his gut that she would dare to touch it.
“That is enough,” Her lackey said, stepping in his way. “That’s as far as-”
His severed head hit the floor with a wet thunk, followed soon after by the rest of his corpse. Morgana screamed and ran for the back exit. Merlin reached out, grabbing her with magic he dragged her roughly back into the center of the room. She rolled to a stop at his feet, sword leveled at her chest.
“I was sorry once,” He said, with sadness and regret in his eyes. “About everything I’d done to you, how alone you’d been, how I didn’t give you a friend when you needed one,” He steeled his gaze, glaring at the great sorceress who shook like a leaf before his blade. “But you have long since crossed the line of my sympathy.”
“Why do you fight for him!” She cried, tears welling up in her eyes. “He hates magic, he’d hate you if he knew, we’re the same Merlin, please!” She sobbed, tears running down her cheeks.
“Simple,” He said, his voice a whisper as he raised Excalibur above his head. “It’s because I love him,” Then he brought it down.
Morgana didn’t even scream. The wet heavy sound her head made as it met the ground echoing through the hall. Her body falling with it, collapsing askew on the ground. Merlin stared at it, at her, and he wondered why he hadn’t done this sooner.
He’d always had the power within him, but he’d held himself back. For the sake of Arthur, or Gaius. Maybe for the sake of himself, because he didn’t want to use his magic in a dangerous and violent way like the sorcerers Arthur feared. He looked down at his blade, covered in the blood of dozens, and he felt a spark of fear.
Fear at the lack of remorse. At the knowledge that he knew, if Arthur asked it of him, in rage or earnest. He would do it all over again. If Arthur asked it of him, he would do anything.
Even burn the world.
He swallowed down the fear, and focused on the task at hand. He picked his mask back up and tucked himself under his hood again. Making his way to the dungeons. There weren’t any soldiers in his way this time. They had all either already fallen, or were in the process of doing so in the courtyard.
He couldn’t find keys but it’s not like he needed them. He walked through the dungeons, whispering spells to unlock the doors of every cell with prisoners. He stopped short at the last. Staring at Gwaine, Elyan, and a dying Gaius.
“Who are you?” Elyan asked, eyeing the blood still dripping off his sword warily.
He took a breath. Gaius would be alright, there were no more enemies and Elyan and Gwaine would take care of him. He couldn’t reveal himself, not now. Not until Arthur said he was allowed. He held out his hand and whispered his spell.
Gwaine and Elyan flinched back as he did. Staring at him warily as he turned and left. Gwaine ran out into the hall panting.
“Wait,” He called. “At least give us the name of our savior.”
Merlin turned, he couldn’t speak, he knew they’d recognize his voice. Instead he held up a finger, to his credit Gwaine didn’t flinch, and he began to write. Fire trailing behind his hand as he wrote out his name. Then he finished he snapped his fingers, flipping the word so Gwaine could read it.
“Emrys?” Gwaine asked and he nodded. Turning to leave once again. “Thank you Emrys, we shan’t forget your kindness!” He called but Merlin didn’t turn around. He had a crown to find and a king to return it to.
When he found Kilgharrah he was tearing into the fallen soldiers like a satisfied cat that had caught a fat mouse. “Kilgharrah, have you finished?” He called and the dragon looked at him, tossing the dead body from his mouth into the air so he could get a better angel upon catching it and swallow it whole.
“Not quite, but I’m nearly there,” He said, poking at the bodies in front of him.
“Not with eating, I meant with killing,” He huffed.
“Oh, yes I finished with that a while ago,” The dragon said, flicking his tail contentedly.
“Good then it’s time to go,” He said, gesturing for Kilgharrah to lower his head.
The dragon looked mournfully at the uneaten soldiers. “Can I take them to go?” He asked hopefully.
“No you can not,” Merlin said and Kilgharrah huffed smoke in his face, but lowered his head all the same.
It was mid afternoon by the time they made it back to Arthur’s camp. Making sure to swoop low enough to be seen but only if you were looking. Then they landed in the clearing they’d taken off in. The clearing Arthur had confronted him in.
Merlin slid off Kilgharrah’s neck and bid him thanks and farewell. He heard a rustle in the brush behind him once the dragon had left. He turned, watching Arthur emerge from the undergrowth.
Arthur stared at him, silent with his emotionless mask he used in court. Merlin stepped forward slowly, and when his king did not make any moves to step back, he walked until he could kneel in front of him.
He removed his hood and blood stained mask when his knees hit the soft earth. “Sire,” He said, his head hung low as he waited for orders.
“Do you have something for me?” His king asked, his voice calm and measured.
He reached under his cloak unhooking the crown he knew was Arthur’s favorite where it sat bound to Excalibur. He held the crown up with both hands, looking up to his king. “Morgana and her army are dead, and all the prisoners she kept have been freed from the dungeons.”
“You actually did it,” Arthur whispered, the shock and awe clear on his face.
“You asked it of me,” Merlin said, as if it was the most simple answer in the world. Because to him, it was.
“You would truly do anything I ask,” Arthur stared at him in disbelief.
“Anything,” Merlin said, a million vows wrapped up in the single word.
“Why haven’t you used your power this whole time,” Arthur growled, clenching his fists. “We could have used it, could have saved so many.”
“I have been, Arthur,” He said and his king looked at him with wide eyes. “But I’ve done it alone, hidden, restrained. The difference now is that you asked this of me, and if I don’t have to hide from you I don’t have to hold back,” He said and Arthur stared at him. Just stared for what felt like eternity.
“Get up,” He said, a softer mirror of himself the night before. Merlin scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could. “Did anyone see you? Did anyone know it was you?”
“No one who lived,” Merlin said, and Arthur swallowed thickly.
“Good,” He nodded. “We need to find any citizens that fled to the woods, then we’ll go back to Camelot, lead them in as if we plan to fight for it, we must both seem as surprised as they are when we find it unoccupied, understand?”
Merlin nodded. “All the citizen’s are grouped together about an hour’s walk that way,” He said, pointing east.
“How did you-”
“I was looking for them, when I flew in on Kilgharrah,” He answered.
“Your dragon? The one you told me I killed,” Arthur said, but there was no accusation in his voice.
“Yes,” He said, looking to the ground in guilt. He was waiting for another reprimand but instead Arthur said.
“Get rid of that cloak, you reek of blood,” He turned and marched back through the woods. “Come back to the camp when you’re clean.”
“Yes, sire,” Merlin said a wide smile plastered on his face. He knew it was going to take a while to win Arthur’s full trust back, but he knew it was possible and possible was all he needed. He wasn’t dead, nor was anyone he loved, Morgana was defeated for good, and Arthur knew. He actually knew about his magic and didn’t banish him, or execute him, or hate him.
All around this was one of the greatest days he'd ever had.