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One
In the chaos and roar of the battle, Merlin doesn't notice Mordred's dagger until it's too late -- until it's buried in Arthur's chest.
For a long moment Arthur stares at Mordred, then he staggers, and falls to one knee. Knights are rushing towards Arthur, barging and slashing at anyone in their path, but they're too late. Even if Gauis was still alive he couldn't heal a dagger through the heart.
Merlin raises his hand and feels the magic surge within him, hot and furious, as though he's going to burst. He needs a way to channel this power: something, anything, that will fix this.
Once upon a time Merlin would have been by Arthur's side to deflect any attack, but Arthur stopped accepting his help a long time ago.
"There is no place in my court for liars," Arthur had said, voice as cold as his father's. "I can't trust someone who would not place their trust in me."
"I did it to protect you!" Merlin had shouted, and seen Arthur's eyes narrow.
"You were only protecting yourself. If you wanted to help me, you would have told me the truth."
Then, Merlin had expected Arthur to change his mind. Now, with Arthur's lips whitening and his tabard stained dark with blood, they've run out of time for that.
All Merlin needs is time, just a moment for him to --
Arthur sways, his mouth opens silently, and he slumps to the ground.
"No!" Merlin shouts, and the power explodes from him. Lightning surges from his hands, crackling over his skin, and everything disappears in a flare of light.
Two
Merlin bursts through the door of the throne room, and sees Uther sprawled on his throne with Arthur's sword to his throat.
"Arthur don't! You don't want to do this!"
The words are instinctive, immediate, before Merlin even has time to think.
Then the realisation hits him: somehow, miraculously, he's living this moment again. This, this is his chance. If things are going to be different, if Morgana isn't going to betray them and Arthur isn't going to be murdered before his hair turns grey, then Merlin needs to change it. He can save Arthur.
"My mother is dead because of him," Arthur says furiously, and Merlin swallows.
He remembers what he said to Arthur the first time he walked in on this scene, and the sick feeling of betraying himself -- of betraying all magical people -- by confirming everything Arthur has been taught to believe: Morgause is lying. She's an enchantress. She tricked you...This has been her plan all along, to turn you against your father...This is what she wants. Merlin had the opportunity to change how Arthur felt about magic and lay the foundations for a kingdom where magic could be honoured, but he threw it away. He won't make that mistake again.
"I'm not defending your father's actions," Merlin says carefully, thinking hard, "but killing him won't bring your mother back. You don't want to do this, Arthur. Think about what's best for Camelot."
"I have to avenge my mother's death," Arthur spits back, his sword inching closer to Uther's neck. Merlin takes a deep breath and tries to make his voice sound calm and reasonable.
"Vengeance isn't always the answer. Wouldn't your mother have told you if this was what she wanted?"
For an instant, Arthur's concentration shifts from his father to Merlin, and Merlin thinks he's done it.
Then Uther lunges for the sword at his feet, and Arthur's hand slashes down. It happens so fast that Merlin is sure Arthur's movement is pure reflex, honed through years of training. The sword slices into Uther's throat, and blood spurts out, coating Arthur's face and armour in seconds.
Merlin is too shocked to move. He looks from Uther, shaking as blood gushes from his neck, to Arthur.
Arthur drops the sword, his eyes wide and shocked. For a moment Arthur stands there frozen, soaked in his father's blood, and then he strides from the room.
"Merlin!" Gauis snaps, hurrying forwards, and Merlin realises he should do something.
Uther makes a horrible choking sound, and blood oozes from his mouth. Merlin runs forwards and reaches Uther in time to grab his legs and stop him sliding off the throne onto the floor.
"There must be something you can do!" Merlin says desperately.
Gauis wraps his hand around Uther's throat, but the blood spurts between his fingers and runs down his arm. Merlin hears a rip, and then Leon thrusts red fabric into Gauis hand, pressing it against the wound.
Uther shudders, his eyes wide and terrified. Merlin can see the blood soaking through the cloth Gauis is pressing to his throat.
"I fear this is beyond my power, Merlin," Gauis says, and there's a tremor in his voice.
It takes Merlin several seconds to understand what he's implying: if you think Uther deserves to live, then you'll have to save him yourself.
For a long moment, Merlin and Gauis stare at each other. I can't Merlin thinks frantically, I if save Uther he'll kill me, and he might kill Arthur. I can't!
Uther makes that horrible choking noise again, and jerks convulsively. The blood seems to be flowing more slowly now, and Merlin knows what that means.
"I'm sorry, sire," Gauis murmurs, but Uther's eyes are glassy and Merlin doesn't think he can hear the words.
They stand there for what feels like a long time, Gauis' hand still held to Uther's throat.
"The king is dead," Gauis says finally, dropping his hand. "Sir Leon, Merlin, help me with--"
"Of course," Leon says, reaching for Uther's legs.
Between the three of them, they lift Uther from the throne and lay him flat on the floor.
"What..." Leon begins, and it's the first time Merlin's heard his voice shake. "What should we do with the body? What will we tell people?"
Merlin looks to Gauis, at a loss for words. Gauis is scarlet with blood, and Merlin realises his own tunic is soaked with it.
"Don't tell people anything until I've spoken to Geoffrey," Gauis instructs. "Cover the body and don't let anybody into the room."
Sir Leon nods dumbly. He removes his cloak and kneels down to drape it carefully, almost lovingly, over Uther's body. Leon lingers there for a moment, head bowed, paying his last respects to his King.
Watching him, Merlin realises that Uther will be missed -- he may, even, have been loved. Merlin has never paid attention to the wider politics of Camelot, and he doesn't know how people will react.
Sir Leon gets to his feet, and meets Gauis' eyes. Together, they walk back across the throne room, and Merlin helps to pull the huge door closed behind them. Sir Leon stands in front of the door, face grave, hand on his sword, and Merlin doesn't think that anyone -- except perhaps Arthur -- could get past him now.
"Wait for me in my rooms, Merlin," Gauis says firmly, and Merlin nods dumbly.
He walks back to Gauis' rooms in silence, thankful not to meet anyone on the way.
It's hard to believe this is real -- that Uther is lying dead and Arthur, Arthur is responsible. Merlin has hoped for Uther's death a dozen times, cursing the King's cruelty and paranoia, but he never expected it to happen like this.
What did you expect to happen, says a treacherous little voice in Merlin's head, how else did you imagine you could tell Arthur the truth? Merlin shakes his head, trying to brush those thoughts away, and rubs his hand over his eyes.
It doesn't matter, now, what he thought beforehand. All that matters is what happens next: how Arthur reacts, whether he can rule the kingdom, whether Arthur will hate Merlin, or hate himself.
There's a knock on the door, and Merlin jerks with the sudden awareness that he's still covered in blood.
"Er, wait a minute," he shouts, hurrying to his room.
"Merlin?" calls Gwen's voice. "Can I come in? Is everything all right?"
Merlin tugs at his shirt, peeling the drying blood away from his skin, and pulls it over his head. He unties his neckerchief, scrambles out of his trousers, and pulls on his other pair -- not exactly clean, but they'll do.
His arms and face are streaked with drying blood, and Merlin runs back into Gauis' workroom for the rags and water jug. He dips a rag into it, scrubs it over his face, then throws the bloody rag onto the floor and picks up another. It takes eight rags before they stop turning pink.
That will have to do, Merlin decides, and pulls on his spare shirt.
Merlin half-expects Gwen to be gone, but she's still waiting when he opens the door.
"People are saying..." Gwen begins, and Merlin gestures her inside, closing the door. "They're saying that Arthur and the King were fighting."
The door to the throne room was open the whole time, Merlin realises, and they made no effort to be quiet. The servants probably know what happened already, and if they don't then they'll have guessed from Arthur's bloodstained face and hands. Within hours, the whole city will know.
"Is the King..." Gwen says hesitantly. "Merlin, is he..."
Merlin swallows around the lump in his throat, and nods.
Gwen gasps, looking sickened. "It wasn't...Arthur?"
Merlin forces himself to meet her eyes.
"It was an accident," he says, "I don't think he meant to do it. They were fighting, and Uther went for his sword--"
Gwen staggers, reaching out for table and leaning heavily onto it.
"--I'm sure it was just instinctive. If he'd had time to think then Arthur wouldn't..."
Except that Arthur must have planned that confrontation throughout the ride back from Morgause's castle. He walked deliberately into the throne room and started a fight with his father. He threatened to kill Uther. Whatever Arthur was thinking when he struck the final blow, it wasn't just an accident.
Merlin's words die in his mouth.
Gwen is pale and still unsteady. When Merlin pushes a stool towards her, she almost collapses onto it.
"How could he do that?" she asks eventually, in a shaking voice. "I thought Arthur..."
You thought Arthur was different Merlin thinks, and reaches out his hand. Gwen clutches at it, hard enough to hurt, and Merlin squeezes her hand in return.
Merlin thinks back to what Gwen said after her father was killed, when he'd asked her, "If you had the power of life and death over Uther, would you kill him for what he did?": "No! What would that solve? That would make me a murderer. That would make me as bad as him."
Gwen's breathing is ragged, as though she's choking back tears, and Merlin sits with her and holds her hand as the sky darkens. Finally, the door swings open and Gauis bustles into the room.
Gwen starts, visibly pulling herself together. She tugs her hand away, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, and Merlin realises she must have been crying.
"Is it--" Merlin starts, and doesn't know how to finish that sentence. "What did Geoffrey say?"
"We've arranged the coronation," Gauis says briskly.
"So Arthur is still going to be King?" Merlin asks, wanting to be certain.
Gauis hesitates, glancing at Gwen. "Yes."
The pause is too long for reassurance, and Merlin hears the fear in Gauis' tone: that Arthur will be crowned, but may not be accepted by the people.
"Gwen says there's talk," Merlin says, so that Gauis knows the worst, and sees Gauis' frown deepen.
"I'm afraid that was inevitable," Gauis says. Turning to Gwen he asks, "What are they saying?"
"A girl in the kitchens heard the fighting," Gwen replies, and her voice is steady despite her red eyes. "She said there was shouting, and then swords clashing, and when the shouting started again she didn't hear the King."
Gauis nods, as though he was expecting this.
Gwen has a determined look on her face as she meets Gauis' eyes, and says firmly, "She wasn't gossiping, she was frightened. We all were -- we didn't know what to do. That's why I came for you. They mustn't be punished."
There's a tense silence, and then Gauis says, "Punishing them wouldn't help, anyway. The word is out."
Gauis turns to Merlin, and says, "Geoffrey and I have spoken with Arthur. You should see if he needs anything."
Arthur, Merlin notes, not the King.
Merlin finds Arthur in his chamber, leaning up against the window and looking lost in thought.
"Is there anything I can do for you -- Sire?" Merlin asks, stumbling over the new title.
Arthur waves him away without speaking, and Merlin leaves reluctantly.
The castle is eerily quiet, as though everyone is on edge and waiting to see what happens next. When Merlin goes to the pump for water he notices that this unnatural stillness applies to the town, its streets almost empty despite the warm summer evening. If the townsfolk are suddenly afraid to go outside then the news of Uther's death must have spread.
Merlin remembers the way the townsfolk used to look at Arthur with a mixture of awe and pride, as someone they respected and trusted to protect them. He always imagined that there would be celebrations when Arthur became King, not this awful, ominous silence.
Back in his room, Merlin washes himself thoroughly with cold water, sloughing off the flecks of dried blood on his arms and scrubbing until his skin is pink and sore. He lies down on the bed, closes his eyes, and tries to believe that he's done the right thing.
In the morning, Merlin finds Arthur's room empty. He eventually tracks Arthur to the training ground, where he is watching barely a dozen Knights go through the sword-drill.
"Where are the others?" Merlin asks in confusion, and Arthur's lips narrow.
"They were missing this morning. I imagine they've ridden back to their estates."
"But..."
"This was my father's army," Arthur says, voice clipped. "Some of the Knights were loyal to him and will not follow me."
"What will they do? What will you do?" Merlin asks.
"Must I explain everything to you, Merlin?" Arthur snaps, and Merlin steps back, wounded.
"I'm just trying to help."
"Well, you're not. Go away if you don't have anything useful to contribute."
Merlin opens his mouth, then closes it again, and walks back towards Gauis' chambers.
The castle is full of people performing their duties with lowered eyes, and Merlin rounds a corner to find two servants whispering. They jump apart at the sight of him and hurry away.
"Arthur won't talk to me," he complains to Gauis.
"He's been talking to Morgana," Gauis says. "She was there when I visited his rooms last night."
"What did they talk about?"
"I don't know. She left as soon as I arrived. Let us hope they were comforting each other."
Merlin has seen Morgana plot to kill Uther, known her to ally with Morgause and Mordred, and to betray everyone in Camelot by leading an army against him. The reason Arthur was stabbed, the reason he's here, is because Morgana is capable of murder. Morgana is dangerous and unpredictable, and the idea of Arthur confiding in Morgana frightens him.
"I'll keep an eye on her," Merlin says. "Let me know if you see anything...odd."
"You know something," Gauis says, frowning at Merlin as he leans closer. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing!" Merlin says, looking away quickly. "I just -- I don't entirely trust Morgana."
Merlin busies himself powdering herbs with the pestle and mortar, but he knows Gauis is watching him.
He doesn't want to tell Gauis about the fact that he's travelled through time -- or has he slipped from one version of history to another? Merlin doesn't want to see Gauis' fear at the power of that magic, doesn't want to hear Gauis' warnings about all the things that can go wrong, doesn't want Gauis to share the awful responsibility for those choices. No, Merlin has to conceal this, and since he has no concrete grounds for suspecting Morgana yet, he needs to be more circumspect.
When Merlin walks though the lower city that afternoon, the townspeople seem to draw away. The stallholders in the market fall silent as he nears, giving Merlin frightened glances, and one woman traces a symbol of protection in the air as he passes.
"There are a dozen rumours in the town," Gwen tells him, when Merlin asks. She glances around to make sure the hallway is empty, and then continues in a lowered voice. "People are saying it was a fight over power -- that Arthur wanted to rule and Uther wouldn't step down. Some people say it was Arthur; some that Arthur paid an assassin; some say that you killed Uther, because everyone knows you're loyal to Arthur. People are even saying they were fighting over a woman."
"What woman?" Merlin asks, in confusion.
Gwen bites her lip. "Morgana," she whispers. "The rumours are crazy. One women asked me who the father of her child was, and I know Morgana's not pregnant. People will believe anything of Arthur, now!"
"We have to tell him," Merlin says, taking a step in the direction of Arthur's room.
Gwen hesitates. "I don't want..."
You don't want the blame for bringing bad news, Merlin guesses, with a sinking feeling.
"Gwen," he says, "it's Arthur. You can trust him."
Gwen looks down at the floor. "If you think he needs to know the rumours, then you tell him, Merlin," she says, very quietly. "Anyone close to Arthur is suspect in the town at the moment, and I value their trust."
She doesn't say it, but the message is clear from Gwen's body language, from her tone, and from her refusal to speak to Arthur directly: Gwen doesn't have faith in Arthur any more. If Gwen feels that way -- Gwen who looked at Arthur as though he'd hung the moon -- then the opinion of him amongst the townsfolk must be far worse.
Merlin tells Arthur that evening when he delivers the tray of food. Arthur listens silent and tight-lipped, his right hand clenched around the arm of the chair.
"Thank you for telling me," Arthur says, distant and formal, when Merlin finishes.
"Aren't you going to do something?!"
"What would you have me do? Imprison people who spread rumours? That's every person in the castle at the moment, the guards included."
"Tell them the truth!" Merlin bursts out. "That Uther killed your mother, and lied to people, that he was wrong about magic--"
"Which would be dismissed as the excuse of an ambitious son bent on ruling before his time," says Arthur. "The people already believe me a murderer; I don't wish to be considered a liar too."
"Then we'll tell them I saw it!"
"The word of a servant will count for little, especially one known to be so loyal to me," Arthur replies dismissively, and for an instant Merlin wants to damn that loyalty and punch Arthur's arrogant face. "Besides, even if people believed me, and they wouldn't, why should they care? My mother died over twenty years ago. Half the people in Camelot don't remember the days when magic was practiced openly, and would laugh at the idea that my father plotted with sorcerers. There's nothing to be gained from telling them."
"So you're going to let people think, and say, whatever they like?" Merlin asks incredulously.
Arthur sighs. He looks pale and tired, as though he hasn't slept in days, and there's tension in every line of his body.
"Merlin, no ruler can stop the people speaking against him. Trying to silence or contradict the rumours would only add to them. I must rule wisely and win back their trust."
The words given what they're saying about you, good luck with that are on the tip of Merlin's tongue, but he bites them back.
"Let me know if you change your mind," Merlin says curtly, and leaves Arthur to his thoughts.
As the presumptive King, Arthur has a host of new servants to wait upon him, and Merlin finds that most of his duties have been taken over. Now other people are polishing Arthur's armour, cleaning his room, and laying his fire, and Merlin finds a tailor inspecting the state of Arthur's clothes. The one duty Arthur reserves for Merlin is bringing his meals, which Merlin suspects is because Arthur doesn't entirely trust the other servants not to poison him.
The concern is proved justified the next day, when a man is arrested trying to bribe one of the cooks to poison Arthur's wine. Arthur imposes a curfew and extra patrols in the town at night, and Merlin sees the resentful looks amongst the guards and Knights, who are already over-stretched.
Arthur spends his days in meetings with Geoffrey, Sir Leon, Morgana, and a few people Merlin recognises from Uther's council. Merlin pours Arthur's wine, and around him they discuss allegiances, the grain stores and upcoming harvest, the condition of the roads, and the strategy Arthur will employ if the succession is challenged. Merlin listens from the sidelines, watches everyone's faces -- especially Morgana -- and makes sure that no traitor or assassin would have a chance.
On the morning before the coronation Sir Gareth makes an attempt on Arthur's life during training. He is dragged away to the dungeons by the other Knights, but not before the whole castle and half the town hear his shouts of "Traitor!" and "Kinslayer!". Words have power, and Merlin fears that hearing those words spoken openly will embolden others.
Later, Merlin watches Arthur kneel before Geoffrey and pledge his allegiance to Camelot. It's the second time Merlin has seen this happen, but this Arthur is younger than the other was, and then the audience smiled and cheered. Now, when Arthur turns to face the crowd in his new crown, there is scattered applause and few smiling faces. The tables for the feast are less crowded than they were the first time Merlin saw Arthur crowned, and the absent Knights and nobles are ominous.
Merlin is woken that night by the toll of the castle bells, and knows immediately that something is badly wrong. He sprints to Arthur's room, and when he finds it empty, to the throne room.
Arthur is sitting on his throne in full armour, with Sir Leon at his side. Their heads are bent over a spread of papers, and neither man looks up when Merlin runs into the room.
"What's happening?" Merlin pants.
"My cousin's army is marching on Camelot," Arthur says, without looking up. He jabs a finger at a point on what is presumably a map and says, "What if we sent half the men here?"
"I'm not sure we can hold it, sire," Sir Leon says, and Merlin hears the hissed intake of Arthur's breath. "With so few men, perhaps we should focus on defending the city?"
"When will they be here?" Merlin asks, and Arthur glances at Sir Leon.
"A few hours. Perhaps by dawn," Sir Leon answers. He looks up at Merlin, and for a moment their gazes lock.
Sir Leon is dutiful and loyal to a fault, but now his face shows only resignation. He must have suspected this was coming Merlin realises, remembering how Sir Leon had lingered by Uther's body. He knew there would be a fight.
"I need to consult," Arthur announces. "Sir Leon, please see that Geoffrey, Morgana, and the other council members are sent for?"
Leon nods, and Merlin hears him hurry from the room.
"Arthur," he says, quietly. "What can I do?"
At that, Arthur finally looks up. "Unless you have powers you've never revealed, Merlin, there's nothing you can do."
Merlin takes a deep breath. Don't lie to Arthur he reminds himself. You've made that mistake before. You don't need to tell him everything, but don't lie. Not at a moment like this.
"If I did have powers like that," Merlin says hesitantly, his mouth very dry. "What would you want me to do?"
Arthur gives a bitter laugh, and says, "Make this not be happening."
Merlin swallows and clenches his hands into fists to stop them shaking. "If this doesn't work," he says, meeting Arthur's eyes across the table, "remember that you asked me to try."
As the bells peal in the background, Merlin closes his eyes, feels for the thread of magic running through him, and pulls. There is a sound like thunder and the world explodes in a blinding flash of light.
Three
The door to the throne room slams open, and Merlin pounds into the room.
"Arthur! Stop!"
"My mother is dead because of him," Arthur says furiously.
Merlin sucks in a breath, and tries to think. The past is jumbled in his head, his first life mixed up with the second as though his brain is overfull and memories are seeping through the cracks. The only things that he is certain of are don't lie to Arthur and don't let him kill Uther. Merlin won't make those mistakes again.
"Killing your father won't bring her back," he says, struggling to remember what he said to Arthur the first time, back when they were young and Arthur trusted him. It seems so long ago. "You've lost one parent, do you really want to lose another?"
Merlin doesn't say, I've seen what happens if you kill him. It tears you and the kingdom apart.
"Listen to him, Arthur," says Uther, and Arthur's sword moves a crucial fraction of an inch closer to Uther's throat.
"Arthur, please...put down the sword," Merlin says.
"You heard what my mother said!" Arthur snarls in reply, his eyes never leaving Uther. "After everything he has done, do you believe he deserves to live? He executes those who use magic, and yet he has used it himself." Arthur is almost spitting with fury as he says, "You have caused so much suffering and pain. I will put an end to that."
This is the moment when everything went wrong between him and Arthur the first time, and Merlin feels as though he's teetering on a precipice. He can't lie to Arthur, but he mustn't let him kill his father. He needs to give Arthur just enough of a reason, a hint...
"What if Morgause is lying?" Merlin says, struggling to think clearly. "How do you know that was your mother, and not an illusion? Maybe Morgause wants to turn you against your father to destroy Camelot. What if you're wrong, Arthur?"
Arthur blinks, and then the blind fury on his face is tinged with uncertainty.
"But... how can I be sure?"
"Maybe someone else knows," Merlin suggests, saying the first thing that comes into his head. "Somebody who knew your mother."
He thinks, I could use some help, here, Gauis, but Gauis is silent.
Arthur stares at Merlin for a moment, then turns back to his father.
"Swear to me it isn't true, You were not responsible for my mother's death -- give me your word!"
"I swear on my life," Uther says immediately, his voice low, and Merlin watches Arthur's face. "I loved your mother. There isn't a day passes that I don't wish she was still alive. I could never have done anything to harm her."
Arthur's face crumples, and he drops to his knees in front of Uther, sword falling from his hand. Uther reaches for him, and Merlin sees them embrace.
"My son, you mean more to me than anything," says Uther, and Merlin almost believes him.
It would be easier if Arthur didn't care for his father, or if Uther didn't care for his son, but they do. The tragedy of it is that Uther loves his son enough to lie about his birth, and Arthur loves his father enough to be devastated by that betrayal. Merlin can't resolve that, just as he can't undo the bargain that Uther struck. All he can do is trust in himself, and in Arthur, and hope that it will be enough.
"I'm sorry," Arthur murmurs, barely audible, and Merlin sees Uther lean closer.
"You are not to blame," Uther says quietly.
Perhaps the words are reassuring to Arthur, but Merlin hears the threat in Uther's tone and it sends shivers down his spine. He knows that magic users will be made to pay for this.
Uther kisses the top of Arthur's head, as if Arthur were a young child needing comfort after a nightmare, and Merlin looks away. He's done his part.
Merlin and Gauis leave the room together, walking in silence until they reach Gauis' chambers. Once the door is closed behind them, Gauis turns and fixes Merlin with a piercing look.
"It must have been tempting to denounce the use of magic."
"It was tempting for a moment," Merlin says, turning away. Gauis knows him well, too well, and he can't risk Gauis reading the truth on his face. "But I don't want to lie to Arthur. Not outright. One day, he'll know and I need him to trust me."
Merlin waits a few breaths, but Gauis doesn't respond.
Perhaps the words sound like a reproach for Gauis' own actions, and his constant refrain: keep the magic secret. In a way, it is a reproach: the reason he's here, living this all over again, is because Gauis was wrong. History has proved to Merlin that keeping his secret is less important then telling Arthur the truth.
Merlin goes to his room, throws himself onto the bed, and focuses on getting the past straight in his head. His mind keeps returning to the sight of Arthur with the dagger in his chest, but Merlin pushes that memory away. In this reality, it hasn't happened yet -- won't happen, if Merlin can stop it. He has to stop it.
When Merlin attends to Arthur that evening, he finds Arthur staring pensively out the window.
"I am indebted to you, Merlin. I had become…confused. It is once again clear to me that those who practice magic are evil and dangerous. And that is thanks to you."
Merlin takes a deep breath, pulse racing, and forces himself to say the words he's planned.
"Perhaps not all magic is evil," he says, clasping his hands behind his back so that Arthur won't see them shake. "Morgause kills and manipulates people, but I don't believe all magic is bad."
Arthur turns slowly, and stares at him.
"I -- I'll fetch your dinner," Merlin stammers, and almost runs from the room.
He half expects to hear Arthur call for the guards, but Arthur doesn't say anything until Merlin returns. Then, Arthur watches him closely, eyes steady and face expressionless, before saying, "That's all."
As Merlin leaves the room, he has the feeling Arthur is watching him.
That night, Merlin tosses and turns on his bed, trying to remember every detail of the past two lives: who threatened Arthur, what did Morgana do, who was loyal and who wasn't. He gets very little sleep.
Merlin's exhaustion the next day is probably why he doesn't hear Arthur approach. He's sitting at the table polishing Arthur's boots, when Arthur's voice startles him.
"You were thinking of Will, weren't you?"
Merlin jumps to his feet, dropping the boot. "I thought you were at training."
"I finished early," Arthur says, taking a few steps closer.
Arthur moves incredibly quietly for a man in armour, sword still strapped to his waist, and Merlin realises that Arthur has surprised him like this deliberately. This is Arthur's style: a carefully planned and meticulously executed ambush.
"What you said last night, about magic... Were you thinking of Will?"
Arthur is standing between Merlin and the door, his feet planted wide. His arms hang by his sides, but Merlin has seen how fast Arthur can draw his sword. If Merlin tried to run from this conversation then he wouldn't have a chance.
Merlin chooses his words carefully.
"That magic saved our lives. It saved the whole village. I don't believe it was wrong."
Arthur looks at him evenly. His face is calm, but Merlin can see the tension in the line of his shoulders.
"I've thought a lot about that day," Arthur says slowly. "A lot of strange things happen in Camelot, Merlin, but sorcerers must be stranger than even my father believes. If Will had the ability to summon a storm at any time, to defend his village alone, then I wonder why he didn't act earlier. Why did they send for you, Merlin?"
A lie is on the tip of Merlin's tongue, easy, familiar, and he clenches his mouth shut. Don't lie to Arthurhe tells himself, repeating it like a mantra. Not this time.
"I can't explain it," Merlin says, half willing Arthur to understand and half praying he won't.
"For a long time I didn't understand it," Arthur replies, his eyes never leaving Merlin's face. "But Will was never the sorcerer, was he?"
Merlin holds Arthur's gaze, and says nothing. His heartbeat thunders in his chest, and the silence seems to stretch on and on, until the air is so thick Merlin can hardly breathe.
"I expected you to deny it," says Arthur, finally.
"I don't want to lie to you."
"Good," Arthur replies curtly. "Far too many people have lied to me already. Besides, you're a terrible liar. Did you think I wouldn't notice all those conveniently falling branches and stones, and mysteriously flying spears? Nobody is that lucky."
Merlin almost objects, because Arthur really is that oblivious, or was for years, but it's not the time for that.
"I just wanted to protect you," he says, instead.
Arthur snorts. "If I was in any doubt about that then you'd be in the dungeons already," he says, and Merlin smiles. "I understand why you do it. That's why I want you to leave Camelot."
"I'm not going anywhere!" Merlin protests.
"It's not safe --"
"You're not safe without me!" Merlin interrupts. "What if there's another Questing Beast, or poison in your goblet, or undead Knights? Do you have any idea how many times I've saved your life?"
"Then let me return the favour," Arthur says, his voice quiet and deadly serious. "I mean it, Merlin. There are rumours amongst the men that there is a sorcerer in our midst. There have been too many coincidences."
"If there's no proof--"
"My father has executed people without proof before," Arthur says sharply, and Merlin almost flinches at the tone. "Until I'm king, I can't guarantee your safety. You need to leave Camelot."
"No!"
"You won't be much use as a manservant if you've been burned at the stake, or executed, or drowned," Arthur replies brutally, and Merlin realises for the first time how Arthur's childhood must have been shaped by watching those events. "I'm not going to take that risk."
"I'm not leaving," Merlin says stubbornly.
"I can have you fired from this post," Arthur points out.
"Then I'll stay with Gauis," Merlin says, crossing his arms. "I don't have to follow your orders."
Arthur's face works for a moment, and then his hand comes up to rub his forehead. "It's not an order," Arthur says, quietly. "I'm asking you -- please, Merlin."
"You've never said please to me before," Merlin says slowly.
"And may never again," Arthur tells him, and Merlin hears the slightest waver in his voice. "As your...friend. Please, stay safe."
For a long moment, Merlin watches Arthur. He takes in the hunch of Arthur's shoulders and the tension in his jaw, the sunburn on his cheeks, his blue eyes and golden hair. Merlin's every instinct is to protect Arthur -- that's what drove him here against all the laws of nature -- but nothing like this ever happened before. In their first life together, the world where he lied to Arthur, Merlin would have given anything for this degree of trust between them.
"I'll summon you as soon as I'm king," Arthur says, ending the silence. "I don't know how long that will be, but I'll want you with me. I can -- I'll change the laws. But I can't do that yet."
"Promise me you won't get yourself killed," Merlin says, his voice breaking.
He sees a tear gleam in Arthur's eye, and Arthur turns away, coughing to cover it. The gesture is so utterly, ridiculously Arthur that Merlin can't help but laugh, although the sound comes out choked.
"I'll do my best," Arthur says, and there's a croak in his voice too. His shoulder bumps against Merlin's, and Merlin leans into him. It's a moment that Merlin tries to press into his memory: the feeling of being drunk on hope, on the affection in Arthur's voice and the warm press of his body.
Riding away from Camelot is the hardest thing Merlin's ever done, and he couldn't have done it at all if he'd stopped to say goodbye to Gwen and Gauis. Just past the city gates, he reins the horse around and looks up at Arthur's window. Perhaps Merlin is imagining it, but he thinks there is a glint of red and gold behind the glass.
Merlin remembers the way Arthur said please, and pulls the horse round before he can change his mind, spurring it into a gallop.
Arthur knows about his magic, and Arthur trusts him, and he'll be back the moment Arthur sends word. It might only be months before he returns, and that's nothing after the long years Merlin spent in exile from Arthur's court. Arthur, he thinks, blinking his eyes against the tears prickling up, I'm doing this for Arthur.
It's a long ride to the druid lands, but Merlin remembers enough about his first life with Arthur that he has a task in mind. He needs to befriend the druids, to win their trust, and forge the beginning of a truce with them so that they won't follow Morgana or Mordred. Perhaps, just perhaps, it isn't too late to reach an agreement with Mordred himself.
Four months later, Merlin is drinking in a tavern on the edge of the druid lands when he hears that Arthur is gravely hurt. He rides through the night, clinging to the horse's neck as he spurs it onwards, and runs up the steps to Gauis' chamber.
When Merlin throws open the door, he can read the answer on Gauis' face.
"No," he says, backing away. "No, there must be something I can do."
"Merlin--" says Gauis, and Merlin staggers. "I'm sorry. I tried everything."
"I knew I shouldn't go! I should never--"
"It's not your fault, Merlin!"
"It is my fault!" Merlin shouts, and sees the fear on Gauis' face. "It wasn't meant to be like this. I can -- I have to fix it."
"Merlin!" Gauis shouts, but Merlin shuts his eyes, and focuses on the magic balling in his chest.
He just needs one more chance to fix things, he'll stay by Arthur's side and keep him safe. He can put everything right.
Distantly, he hears Gauis say, "Merlin, what are you going to do?"
Merlin takes a deep breath, and reaches for his magic. There is crash like thunder and the world flashes white behind his eyelids.
Four
Merlin runs into the throne room and sees Arthur standing over his father, sword poised at Uther's throat.
"Arthur, don't! I know you don't want to do this," he shouts.
"My mother," Arthur growls, never taking his eyes from Uther, "is dead because of him."
This was so much easier the first time, when Merlin was hopeful and stupid. That was before Merlin knew that his words would change everything; before he'd watched Arthur and Uther die. Merlin takes a deep, shuddering breath and focuses on what he knows for sure: don't lie to Arthur, don't let him kill Uther, don't leave him. He won't make those mistakes again.
"Killing your father won't bring her back," Merlin says. "You've lost one parent. Do you really want to lose another?"
"Listen to him, Arthur," says Uther, and Merlin keeps his eyes fixed on Arthur's sword point.
"Arthur, please," he says carefully. "Put the sword down."
"You heard what my mother said," Arthur shoots back, and Merlin tenses, his fingers outstretched. It's so easy for things to go wrong, and one movement from Uther, one twitch of Arthur's arm, one distraction, could change everything.
Arthur is still speaking, and Merlin forces himself to concentrate on the familiar words: "After everything he has done, do you believe he deserves to live? He executes those that use magic and yet he has used it himself. You have caused so much suffering and pain. I will put an end to that."
Arthur's grip on Uther tightens, his sword dangerously close to his father's throat, and Merlin knows he has to act.
"Arthur," he says clumsily, hoping that the words will come and somehow he'll know what to do.
Arthur glances at him, just for a second. Arthur's face is a mess of pain and fury at a world turned upside down, but Merlin sees a glimmer of hope.
Merlin reaches for his magic, feeling it surge in his bloodstream, extends his hand towards Arthur and pushes. The air seems to boil around him, whipping Merlin's face and clothes, as though he's in the centre of a whirlwind. He sees a blur of silver that must be Arthur, and then there's nothing but the sensation of falling.
He lands with a thump on a surface that is softer than he expected. Merlin opens his eyes and sees dappled sunlight falling onto mossy ground. He rolls over to find Arthur standing nearby, sword still in his hand.
Arthur stares at him, eyes wide, and Merlin sees that Arthur's cheeks are streaked with tears. With a colossal effort, Merlin hauls himself upright.
"Merlin," Arthur says, face working. "What...How are..." Arthur draws in a rasping breath, and Merlin watches him struggle for control over his emotions. "Did you -- did you?"
The moment of truth isn't any less frightening the third -- or is it fourth, Merlin can hardly remember -- time than it was the first. Merlin meets Arthur's eyes, his pulse racing, and Arthur's head jerks with shock at what he sees in Merlin's expression.
"You did," Arthur breaths, sounding amazed, and then the anger seeps back into his tone. "You're – Merlin – you're a – why did you do that?"
"You would have regretted it afterwards," Merlin says inadequately.
"You dare to presume my thoughts?" Arthur retorts, eyes narrowing. "How would you know what I want?"
Arthur's cocky pride is so familiar, so desperately missed during all the months Merlin spent away from Camelot, that it makes his chest ache.
"Because I know the king you're going to be, and your greatness cannot be founded on vengeance. You're a better man than your father, and unlike him, you understand mercy."
"Mercy," Arthur says ominously, and Merlin realises that Arthur needs to hear an explanation. He can't tell Arthur about the death and shattered futures it took Merlin to get here, but perhaps he can explain enough.
"And..." Merlin says, praying that it will be sufficient, "Arthur, you love your father. You would have hated yourself."
Arthur just stares at him, eyes very blue, and it's a moment before Merlin notices that Arthur is shaking. Arthur, who has faced down monsters and giants, who fights for his life with a steady hand, doesn't know how to handle this. He looks young and so very tired, as though he can feel the weight of history on his shoulders. Perhaps he can, Merlin thinks.
Then Arthur makes a ragged, broken noise and sinks to his knees, sword falling to the ground. Merlin is hardly aware of moving, but the next moment he's clutching Arthur. Arthur's forehead leans against Merlin's shoulder, and Merlin feels him shake with sobs, his tears damp against Merlin's neck.
Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur's shoulders, ignoring how the plate armour digs into him, and thinks I will protect you. Even if he has to run into the throne room a thousand times, until the sun burns up and the stars blink out, Merlin will do it. He'll do whatever it takes until Arthur becomes the King he's destined to be.
Merlin tightens his grip, pulling Arthur closer, and hopes that this time he's got it right.