Work Text:
Arthur’s mouth tasted like death. That’s the first thing he thought as he sluggishly came back to consciousness. He blinked, trying to focus his eyes. Blurry shapes surrounded his bed. He felt acutely aware of a pain in his abdomen.
The memories came to him in bits as his vision cleared. Camlann. Mordred. Morgana. The dragon. Merlin.
“Merlin?” he managed to say, with difficulty.
Gaius, who sat by his bedside put a gentle hand on his chest, keeping him lying down. “You have been through a great ordeal, sire, it’s best if you stay still.”
His head hurt, a low, throbbing pain. His throat was dry. Before he could say anything, Merlin appeared, as if from nowhere, holding a glass of water. He said nothing, and did not meet his eye, but the hand that cupped the back of his head to help him drink was painfully gentle.
“Merlin,” Arthur said again, his voice hoarse.
“You should rest, sire,” Merlin said, quiet.
Arthur tried to fight the fatigue, to call out again, but his vision was going black at the edges. He watched as Merlin disappeared from his vision, and then it went dark.
Arthur wasn’t sure how many times he had gone in and out of consciousness, but when he woke up enough to hold a conversation with someone and remember it, Gwen was sitting beside him in bed.
“Good morning,” she said, her sweet voice like a blanket over his sore body.
“Guinevere,” he croaked out, reaching out for her.
She took his hand. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“How?” he said, as Gwen helped him sit up in bed, “Last I remember, I was as good as gone.”
He remembered trying to touch Merlin’s face, but being too dizzy for his hand to reach its target. He remembered the tears that were streaming down Merlin’s face.
Gwen looked sheepish. “Merlin said you knew the truth now.”
Arthur looked away from her, the hurt on his face plain, “You knew?”
“What?” Gwen asked, “Oh, no. Not until after the battle.”
“So, what did you mean?”
She looked hesitant for a moment. “Merlin brought you back. You were on the brink, but his magic brought you back. Turns out he’s very powerful.”
“The greatest sorcerer to walk the earth,” he muttered, repeating the words Gaius had said to him.
“Arthur,” Gwen said, softly, “You have every right to feel betrayed, but please don’t be angry at him. He has only ever done his best to serve you.”
I use it for you, he remembered with absolute clarity, only for you.
“Angry?” Arthur scoffed, “I’m not angry.”
“You looked like a wilted flower as soon as I mentioned him.”
“I just- I need to talk to him,” Arthur said, “He should be up here soon enough.”
Gwen looked like she was about to say something, when she was interrupted by a knocking on the door. Arthur startled. It wasn’t like Merlin to knock.
“Come in,” he called, but he wasn’t greeted with a head of messy dark hair and a brilliant smile, but rather by George, holding a tray with bread and cheese on it.
“Gaius said to avoid hard to digest foods for a few days till you recover, sire,” he said, with a bow, taking Arthur’s confused look to be over his meagre breakfast.
“Where’s Merlin?” Arthur asked.
“Oh,” George said, avoiding his gaze as he placed the food down on the table, “He’s been taken quite ill. He told me to take over his duties till he recovers.”
Arthur had a sinking feeling in his chest.
“Will you need help dressing, my lord?” George asked, his hands clasped properly behind him.
“No,” Arthur said, too quickly, “Guinevere will help me. That will be all, George, you can leave.”
George had barely shut the door behind him when Arthur turned to Gwen. “What happened to Merlin? Did he- did he sacrifice himself to save me?”
Gwen ran a soothing hand over his chest. “Merlin is fine, Arthur. He did exhaust himself and wouldn’t wake for two days, but he’s fine now.”
“Then-“ Arthur stopped himself in his tracks, realization dawning on him, “Oh. He’s avoiding me.”
Arthur felt the sinking sensation in his chest deepen and hung his head. Gwen gently pulled him towards her, and he went willingly, burying his head in her chest.
It was strange how normal everything was.
Arthur felt like his entire world had been tilted on its axis, but everything kept happening as it always did. He trained with the knights, he held round table meetings, he saw to the needs of the people. But it wasn’t Merlin’s sure hands that helped him into his armor anymore.
Arthur felt a yawning gap in his chest. He wandered about the citadel and lower town, hoping to catch a glimpse of Merlin, but he seemed to be awfully good at staying right outside of Arthur’s sights, considering the knights, Gauis and Gwen seemed to be interacting with him just fine.
It’s almost like magic, Arthur thought with a bitter laugh.
It had been a while since he sought counsel from the person he had always gone to when he was younger, but he wasn’t sure where else to go. The walk to the dungeons seemed longer and darker than it ever had before, and the sight that greeted him at the end of it made his blood run cold.
“If it isn’t the king himself,” Mogana said, her voice mocking, “To what do I owe the privilege.”
She looked haggard, her hands and legs shackled in cold iron to keep her from using magic. He looked at the nest her hair was and remembered how she would brush her hair each night before bed. He swallowed roughly as he unlocked the door to her cell.
She quirked her eyebrow at him. “Bold move.”
He sighed deeply, “Would you let it rest, Morgana, I’m not here to argue.”
“Are you here to tell me when I will step onto the pyre, then?” her tone was flippant, but he knew her better than that.
“If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have told Merlin to spare you.”
“I thought you might want the pleasure of ending me yourself, and you did look rather pathetic and pale the last time I saw you.”
He did suppose it was a bit pathetic to beg the person saving his life to spare the very person they were saving it from, but that was a thought for another day.
“I’m not going to kill you.”
“What are you going to do with me, then?”
Arthur sighed, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t know.”
“And am I just meant to rot here forever because you’re too cowardly to give me the release of death?”
Arthur looked away, his eyes prickling. Maybe it was selfish, but he couldn’t bring himself to end her life. He stood in silence, unsure of what to say. The silence lay suspended between them, thick with history and sour with the same.
“Why are you here, Arthur?” Morgana said, finally, the cutting edge out of her voice. Without the armor of mockery, she just sounded tired.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“What?”
“When you realized you had magic- why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you ask for help?”
Morgana laughed, a sharp sound. “Arthur, please, are you saying you would have protected me from your father?”
Arthur looked at her, his eyes wide, no longer bothering to hide the hurt he felt, “I protected Mordred from him, and he wasn’t the ones who cleaned up my wounds as a child.”
Morgana looked away from him, saying nothing.
“Did you really think me so cruel that I would let him hurt you, Morgana? You were my sister long before I knew we shared blood.”
Morgana looked down. “It’s too late for all that now. Why even ask this now?”
Arthur couldn’t meet her eye. He felt his throat tighten. “Do you think he didn’t tell me for the same reason?”
Morgana chuckled, and Arthur felt the weight in his chest lighten. It had been far too long since he heard a genuine laugh from Morgana. She leaned her back against the wall, sitting down. “He’s got you all twisted up in knots, hasn’t he.”
Arthur sat next to her, his shoulders brushing hers. “Every time I entertained the idea that magic might not be evil, I would think that it changed you- you who always stood up to Father, you who always fought for justice. If it could corrupt you it had to be evil.” Arthur sighed, “But then Merlin revealed his magic. He told me how many times he had used it to keep me safe. He stayed by me, knowing he was in danger. He spared your life despite all you’ve done to him because I asked.”
“He is a loyal friend.”
“He can’t be evil. And if he isn’t evil, then magic isn’t either. And if magic isn’t evil, I don’t know how to reconcile everything between us, Morgana. I cannot fathom how you could leave, how you could hurt so many if magic isn’t a corrupting force.”
Morgana was quiet. Arthur turned to look at her as the silence continued. He startled at the tears in her eyes.
“I’ve hurt so many people,” she said, her voice shaking.
There wasn’t anything Arthur could say to argue with her on that so he said nothing.
“Gwen,” Morgana said, in a whisper, “She will never forgive me.”
“She’s the kindest person I know,” he said.
“And you?” Morgana said.
Arthur laughed. “I stood by my father while he slaughtered thousands. I led raids on the druids, I failed to protect my people from my father. I am part of the Camelot you ran away from in fear for your life. Your hands may be stained in blood but mine are too. Who is one murderer to judge another?”
Arthur dismissed George as he attempted to help him into his clothes. He was awfully efficient, but it felt wrong without the long, familiar fingers brushing against his collarbones. He dressed himself quickly, wincing at the dull ache in his stomach. He sighed, mentally preparing himself. Camlann might have been a victory, but it wasn’t one without sacrifice. He had to write letters to the families of the knights who had died during the battle.
He heard a crisp knock at his door.
“Enter,” he called, knowing who was on the other side.
Leon entered, holding a sheaf of papers. “George said you sent for me, sire.”
Arthur nodded towards the papers in his hand, “You have the names?”
“Yes,” he said, voice strained as he looked around the room, “You don’t have to do this right now, you’re not fully recovered, you still need rest.”
Arthur shook his head, “It’s better if I stay busy.”
“Arthur,” Leon said softly. He rarely addressed Arthur by his name, and it startled him. “You look like a mess, the rooms a mess. What’s going on? Where’s Gwen? Where’s Merlin?”
Arthur sank into his chair, feeling the fatigue of the past few days weighing him down. “Gwen’s with Morgana, she wanted to talk to her face to face. Merlin…I don’t think he wants to see me right now.”
Leon sat down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Arthur felt once more like the young boy Leon had trained, soft admonishments and firm compliments were all delivered with one strong hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what happened between you and Merlin, but I do know he wouldn’t leave your side after he woke up. Whatever it is that has you looking like this and Merlin sulking away in his chambers, he still does care for you.”
Arthur deflated. “I haven’t seen him once since I woke up. He’s avoiding me,” he mumbled, feeling a little like a child complaining to his older brother.
“Have you been to see him?”
Arthur looked away. “I don’t want to impose my presence on him.”
“It wouldn’t be an imposition, Arthur, you’re his friend.”
“Am I?” Arthur’s voice cracked, “Or did he stay all these years because of-“ Arthur stopped himself before he revealed too much.
“Because of the prophecy?” Leon asked, a little wary.
Arthur’s eyes widened. “You knew, too?” betrayal plain in his voice.
Leon shook his head, “Merlin told us when he returned. He told us everything as he kept vigil by your side.”
Arthur looked away. It seemed like Merlin would willingly tell anyone about his magic. Anyone but him.
The door slammed open, making both Arthur and Leon’s gaze to snap to it. Gwen looked breathless, “Arthur, you have to come, it’s Morgana.”
Morgana was unconscious when Arthur made it to the cell. He rushed over, leaning by her prone form. “What happened to her?” he asked.
“I hit her over the head,” Gwen said, sheepish.
Arthur stared at her with wide eyes. “Why?”
“I found something,” Gwen said, indignantly, “I didn’t just knock her out for no reason.” She moved her matted hair to reveal the back of her neck, where something dark seemed to be wriggling beneath the skin.
Arthur reared back, his hand flying to the sword at his waist, “What is that?”
“It’s a fomorrah,” Gwen said, her tone grim, “Gaius and I took one out of Merlin once.”
Arthur was fairly certain his eyes were so wide they would just fall out of his head. “You did what?”
“He was trying to kill you!” Gwen explained, defensively.
“I need to sit down,” Arthur mumbled, Leon instantly grabbing his elbow in the fear that he would pass out. “Go get Merlin and Gaius,” Arthur said to Leon, feeling relief and guilt in equal measure at the thought of seeing Merlin again.
He turned to Gwen. “What does this fomorrah do?”
“It bends the will of the person, it gives them a goal that they will do anything to accomplish. It must be a strong enchantment if it could get Merlin to try and hurt you,” Gwen said, looking guilty as soon as she said it, “I’m sorry, I know it’s a difficult thing to talk about.”
Arthur shook his head, “Not at all. He’ll be here any minute, then we can remove it and see what all this was about.”
He watched as Gwen ran her hands through Morgana’s hair, trying to detangle the once beautiful locks.
“You care greatly for her, despite all she has done,” Arthur said, softly.
“Wouldn’t you, if it was Merlin who was driven mad with fear for his own life?” Gwen said, meeting his eye.
Arthur inhaled sharply. He thought of the tears glistening in Merlin’s eyes when he confessed to him. Fear for his own life. Had Merlin been living in fear all these years? “Is that really the same thing?” he asked, his voice meek.
Gwen smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We don’t even know how much of her actions were hers all this time. I can’t imagine a worse fate.”
“Really?”
“Think about it. If you had something in you that hurt the people you love most.”
The grief in Gwen’s eyes made him ache, he remembered how fervently Morgana had stood up for her against Uther. “She did love you dearly.”
Gwen laughed. “I wasn’t talking about myself, Arthur, I was talking about you.”
Before Arthur could respond, he was interrupted by a familiar figure. Arthur wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but Merlin looked thinner, with bags under his eyes.
“Is it true?” he asked, looking at Gwen, rather than Arthur.
“It appears so, but I’m not sure. I thought the two of you would know better.”
Gaius nodded from where he was examining her, “We need to get her on a higher place if I must conduct tests, shall I move her to the physician’s chambers, my lord?”
Arthur shook his head, “The room is too accessible, with nowhere to fasten her shackles, it’s not safe.”
“We could take her to her chambers,” Gwen suggested, her voice small, “There are solid wooden bedposts we can use, and there’s a lock on the door.”
Arthur thought of Morgana’s chambers with a dull ache. It had been kept ready all this time; an instruction given by Uther to the servants but one Arthur could never bring himself to overturn. He nodded.
Arthur watched as Merlin poured something over the serpent head from the back of Morgana’s neck with apprehension. He felt a bit out of place. It seemed even Gwen knew how best to assist Merlin and Gaius. He felt like a sitting duck, lingering on the sidelines but not knowing what to do.
“Alright,” Merlin said, after quiet discussion with Gaius, making eye contact with Arthur for the first time since he had woken up, “The last time this happened, we had to kill the mother beast for its hold to stop. If we sever the head, it’ll grow two. For now, we’ve put it to sleep, so its hold over her should be broken for a few hours. Hopefully she remembers where the mother is.”
Arthur had so much he wanted to say, the thoughts a whirlpool in his mind. Finally, he settled on, “And what if she doesn’t?”
“We’ll find another way,” Merlin said, gently, his head titling to catch Arthur’s eye. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to give up on her, Arthur.”
His throat felt thick with tears. “You’ll help, despite everything she’s done?”
“She’s your sister,” he said, as if it was obvious, “And she was my friend.”
Arthur feared he wasn’t succeeding at seeming nonchalant like he was trying to seem as he approached Gwaine. His fears turned into certainty at the very pointed eyebrow Gwaine lifted at his approach.
“Anything I can do for you, your majesty,” he said, with a mocking bow.
Arthur hesitated, still standing at the door to the armory where Gwaine sat. As though he sensed his apprehension, the half smirk that always graced Gwaine’s face fell. “Is everything okay? Is it about tomorrow’s journey?”
Arthur hung his head. His knights, Merlin, Morgana and him were to set out to find the mother fomorrah at dawn. He felt something heavy in his chest at the thought of it, not unlike how he had felt before Camlann; a sense of finality. He sighed deeply.
“You’re scaring me, princess, I’ve never seen you be quiet for so long.”
Arthur huffed out a laugh. “You knew, didn’t you,” he said after a pause, “About Merlin. About…his magic. You always made excuses for him, even when I was certain he hadn’t been out with you.”
Gwaine looked wary. “I didn’t know for certain,” he relented, “But I did suspect. I thought he would tell me when he wanted to, till then, I would keep his secret safe.”
Arthur exhaled deeply. “You’re a good man.” A better man than I am, went unsaid.
Gwaine stood, coming closer and meeting his eye. “What’s on your mind, Arthur?”
Arthur swallowed; his mouth suddenly dry. “I can’t help thinking- what it- how it must have felt like. How scared he must have been. Seeing one sorcerer after another get burned or hanged. How he must have longed for something better and I- I didn’t say a word. I didn’t make anything better. I only made it worse.” Arthur shook his head turning away from Gwaine, unable to look him in the eye when he looked so understanding and sympathetic when he deserved none of it. “He was bound to me by a prophecy. He was shackled like the dragon was shackled by my father.”
“That’s not true-“
Arthur shook his head again, interrupting before Gwaine could break the flow of his speech, a little afraid that if he didn’t get it all out, he would never have the guts to. “I’m going to free him. After we find the fomorrah and kill it, I’m going to let him leave. Maybe he’ll go back to Ealdor, maybe somewhere else.”
Gwaine’s eyes were wide, “Surely, you’re not serious.”
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. “You’ve always been his.” Gwaine looked a little like child who had been caught doing something he shouldn’t, but he said nothing while Arthur continued. “Your loyalty has always been to him. Can I ask you this one last thing? Go with him, wherever he goes, I can’t bear the thought of him being hurt.”
“He will be safe here,” Gwaine said, softly.
“But will he be happy?”
Arthur felt like his chest had been cleaved open as he trekked back to his chambers. It should have been a moment of joy, having his sister back, although ridden with guilt and fear, but it didn’t feel like a celebration. It felt like grief, he thought, but that was strange because there was nothing to grieve- it hadn’t been real, none of it. For once, it didn’t feel like the night had come too soon. He felt ready to climb beneath the blankets and hide away from the world.
He pushed open the door, surprised at the person perched on the table.
“Merlin,” Arthur said ashamed at how breathless he sounded. Merlin’s eyes were rimmed in red, a stubborn set to his jaw.
“For all the times you called me a coward, Arthur, you couldn’t even tell me that I was banished yourself? You sent the message through Gwaine?” Merlin’s voice was sharp.
“Merlin, no-“ Arthur began, the sinking feeling in his chest returning.
“I thought-“ Merlin sniffed, and Arthur felt his heart clench, Merlin had always been quick to tears. “I thought, despite everything, after all these years you had come to regard me as a friend. Do I not deserve the dignity of being looked in the eye while you dole out punishment?”
Arthur fought the urge to reach out, to rub away the tear that was making its way down Merlin’s face. “It isn’t a punishment,” he said, hoarse.
“You found it in your heart to forgive Morgana despite everything.” Merlin’s voice was barely a whisper, “I know I’m no one important to you, but I wish- I wish- I don’t even know. After everything we have been together, you’re just going to send me away?”
Merlin’s voice cracked, and Arthur stepped closer without intending to. “I’m not,” he said, helplessly, “For ten years you’ve been living with this prophecy around your neck like a noose. Tied to Camelot. Tied- tied to me.” He looked away from Merlin. “I’m not sending you away, I’m setting you free. From destiny. From Camelot. From me.”
He didn’t dare look at Merlin, swallowing roughly and begging his stinging eyes to hold on just a little longer. The silence between them stretched like a bowstring. Arthur could already feel the arrow pierce his chest.
“I can go anywhere I want?” Merlin asked, then, something strange in his voice.
Arthur took a deep breath, nodding.
“Wherever my heart most desires? Where I want to be more than anything?”
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. He had fought griffins and cockatrices and sorcerers and Saxons head on, but he could not bear to watch Merlin walk away. “Yes,” he said, his voice breaking.
He heard shuffling, and then the heat of a body in front of him. One warm hand came to touch his face, wiping away a tear that had managed to escape despite his best efforts. Arthur’s breath hitched as Merlin pressed his forehead to his.
“I’m here, then,” Merlin said, impossibly soft.
Arthur’s chest heaved on a sob. “Merlin,” he whispered, like it was something sacred.
“Oh, love,” Merlin said, pressing his lips to Arthur’s forehead, and then to each wet eye. “I never took orders from The Once and Future King. Destiny couldn’t boss me around if it tried.” He pulled back, looking Arthur in the eye. “If Destiny had her way, you’d be dead. Good thing I’m terrible at taking orders, huh?”
Arthur laughed wetly. “Don’t go,” he said, the desperation leaking into his voice, “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll legalize magic. I’ll do whatever I have to, Merlin, please-“
Merlin cut him off by pressing his plush lips to Arthur’s mouth. Arthur shut his eyes, feeling arms wrap around him as he went weak in the knees. “I’m not going anywhere,” Merlin said, softly, running his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “We have a kingdom to build.”
Arthur laughed, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s shoulders and guiding him towards the bed.
“What are you doing?”
Arthur tugged lightly at his neckerchief. “You’ve done this for me so many times, it’s my turn.”
“That’s not how this works, prat,” his protests were halfhearted as Arthur untied the knot.
“I’m the king of Camelot. If I want to dress my friend for bed, I can do it,” Arthur said, his fingers skimming the bottom of Merlin’s tunic. Merlin shook his head fondly, raising his arms so Arthur could pull it off.
“Friend, huh,” Merlin said, smirking, his eyes falling to Arthur’s lips.
Arthur felt his cheeks go hot. “Friend, first. You were my friend long before I fell in love with you.”
Merlin’s smirk fell into something softer, shier as he looked away. Arthur pushed him lightly till he was sitting on the bed, making quick work of pulling his own clothes off. Merlin watched as he got under the blankets, pulling Merlin in with him. He lay his head on Merlin’s shoulder.
“Stay?” he asked, even while bodily weighing Merlin down.
“I couldn’t leave if I tried, prat.”
“Clotpole.”
“My word,” Merlin said.
“Suits you well.”
Familiarity washes over him like a warm bath on a cool evening. Arthur shuts his eyes, feeling the thrumming of Merlin’s veins. He falls asleep.