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Arthur remembers the day Merlin died. This is because he wasn't even given the dignity of a body to bury.
It happened after retaking the castle. He'd run in, seen Isolde die in Tristan's arms, and his gaze had fallen on a despairing Gwen.
His heart had pounded—of course it had, he loved Guinevere—but it'd stopped as soon as she'd begun crying.
"Guinevere?"
"Merlin-" she choked on a sob. "He's- Arthur, I don't-"
That was the day Arthur's world ended.
5 years later.
"Absolutely not," Arthur announces to the table. He pushes forward Leon's report with a scoff. "You can't be serious."
Arthur has been king for long enough to know he should be more open to possibilities like these. However, he has been a human long enough to trust his instincts.
"I am," Leon says somberly. "If you're looking to consult with the Druids, Emrys is your answer."
Arthur clenches his jaw, and he stares into the distance.
Arthur is not the immature man he was before; this is only because of careful self control and five years of grief. In moments like these, he really wishes he was Arthur the crown prince, the man who could get away with throwing knives at a servant and not be called an utter ponce.
"Emrys is who the Druids want me to talk to? They don't want to directly meet with me?"
Leon and Elyan exchange a look. "They… are open to speaking to you, sire, but Emrys is the only true leader they seem to respect," Elyan says, stepping forward. "If you truly want to bring magic back, you need to speak with him first."
Arthur sighs. None of them know his true reservations. None of them know that Morgana's death and Merlin's disappearance were linked with only one thing— the mark of Emrys. He's never told them. He barely lets himself think about the reality itself.
"Fine," Arthur says, pushing his own discomfort away. "Do we know where he is?"
Leon sucks in a breath through his teeth. Elyan looks to the ceiling.
"So that's a no, then," Arthur says dryly.
"Yeah, he's been evasive," Gwaine confirms. Because of his good personality (not Arthur's belief, but a close friend's one) and willingness to befriend anyone, he's been in contact with the Druids the most.
Arthur turns to him. "They've mentioned Emrys to you too?"
"He visited a Druid encampment I was staying at, actually," Gwaine says with a shrug. "He was an evasive bastard, but I caught a glimpse of him in the woods."
"How'd you know it was him?"
"There was a dragon perched on his shoulder."
Arthur pauses. That… would be indicative of the incredibly powerful sorcerer able to unite the Druids.
"I've heard rumors about a cave of his, though," Gwaine says. "Far out in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Worst comes to worst, find an old temple Uther didn't desecrate or a Druid encampment: he'll probably hear you from there."
Arthur scoffs. "Gwaine, you're talking as if he's a god."
Gwaine shrugs nonchalantly. "Sire, he was able to hear the prayers and thoughts of the Druids and, if they weren't lying, he can make life from nothing. From where I'm sitting, I don't see a difference."
When Arthur had broken the news to Gaius, Gaius had, very silently, fallen into his chair.
"He disappeared?" Gaius said quietly.
"That's what Guinevere said," Arthur replied. He'd always done better whenever he'd had to compose himself for others. Only when Gaius fell to pieces in front of him could Arthur find an ability to talk calmly and quietly. "We think Morgana may have taken him. Nothing was left behind, so it's most likely she used magic to transport him away."
"I…" Gaius did not tear up, but he breathed shakily. "I see."
"I'm searching for him, Gaius," Arthur said, turning to face him. Gaius was the one person who probably cared more than Arthur about the result of this campaign. "I won't let him be lost."
"Thank you, Arthur," Gaius murmured, and Arthur was hit with how much grief Gaius had seen in his time— how many dead friends had piled up because of Uther's crusade against magic. "Thank you."
Arthur waited just a moment before getting up. "I'll tell you as soon as there's any developments."
"Of course. Arthur?"
"Yes?"
Gaius sighed. Something truly considering flashed across his face. "Nothing, my boy. Nothing at all."
Arthur spends a decent few days preparing himself for this lone quest. Only half a decade ago, a quest meant to be done alone would mean a certain gawky manservant on his trail. It just means silence for Arthur now.
He heads to Gaius' chambers. Gaius opens his doors with a smile.
"Ah, Arthur. I've heard you're going out to meet a leader of the Druids."
"I am." Arthur slowly closes the door behind him. "His name is Emrys."
Gaius freezes for a moment; he begins to head to a bookshelf. "I swear I've heard that name before…"
"I have," Arthur says shortly. "I did my research when I found his mark near Morgana's dead body. He's meant to be magic incarnate of Albion."
"That sounds about right, sire, but I think there's more to it." Gaius takes out an old magical tome, one even Geoffrey hadn't known about, and cracks it open. Arthur nearly chokes on the dust. "He has a prophecy with you, Arthur, one that replaced the one Merlin was supposed to share. I saw it rewritten one morning."
Something twinges in Arthur's heart; he shoves it back. "I did also know that," he grumbles. "and I find myself hesitant to replace Merlin."
Gaius levels him with a knowing look, albeit a sympathetic one. "No one can replace Merlin, sire, but there must be a court sorcerer appointed eventually. I suspect that's the role Emrys is to play."
Arthur sighs. "So it's even more important I speak to this person, then?"
"I am afraid so." Gaius skims over the pages. "Yes, here it is. Emrys, meaning immortal. He is all the magic Uther purged poured into one man."
It took months of magical theory study for Arthur to even begin to realize the havoc Uther had wreaked with his despair. It will take years for Arthur to even begin to restructure it. That is one more thing he resents his father for; this Emrys character could just be another thing added to the pile.
"Fine, fine." Arthur waves a hand. "I'm heading to find him. If he's magic incarnate, he'd know about the rules like a 'life for a life,' right?"
Gaius narrows his eyes. "Indeed. Why are you asking?"
Arthur shrugs. "Considering I still haven't met any sorcerers beyond Morgana and Nimueh, I think it'd be good to know if the same precedent is continual." It's good Gaius doesn't know about the small amounts of stock Arthur took a long while back as a backup in case he needed to poison a man.
"Hm. Then yes, it does." Gaius shrugs. "All magic has a price. Emrys may be able to walk past some of them, but I doubt a god on Earth would be willing to do so."
"Right." Arthur nods. "Any advice, then?"
"Keep an open mind, sire, and be sure to emphasize your good intentions." Gaius does pause for a second. "He may also try and test you, so don't let your temper ruin your reputation."
Arthur chuckles, heading to the door. "I'm not a child anymore, Gaius."
"Of course not," Gaius says mildly, implying otherwise, and it's a good reminder that Arthur is far too lenient regarding insubordination. "And- be careful, Arthur."
Arthur grins. "I do try."
Guinevere spent a good many months with her brother, then another few wandering around the castle as Gaius' new assistant. Arthur wouldn't talk to her, not out of any choice but more… inaction. It would be more difficult to confront her, so he didn't. He stayed away for a solid 8 months.
She'd always been smarter than him, though, so she eventually confronted him when he'd been especially pigheaded.
"Arthur?" She knocked once, twice.
Arthur stared at the wall. He didn't say anything. Guinevere entered after a few seconds of silence. He didn't know what it said about Merlin that he now disliked the sound of people's knocks, wishing a certain manservant would just bustle in with inane chatter.
Guinevere closed the door behind her softly. Arthur could feel her wince. She definitely was judging the amount of dirty laundry on the ground, Arthur's unkempt beard, his general air of disarray. Arthur found it hard to care. That, in itself, should've been surprising, but he couldn't even muster up the feeling of surprise.
"We're all worried about you, Arthur," she said softly, sitting next to him on the bed. "You haven't come out in days."
"The kingdom is still running," Arthur retorted.
"You're more than just your kingdom."
Arthur hadn't really known that until Merlin. Before Merlin, his father loved him most of the time, Morgana could like him sometimes, and he had the respect of the knights part of the time, but it had all depended on his role as the prince. Merlin had liked Arthur more when he was just himself. That had been new.
"He's not actually gone, Guinevere," Arthur found himself saying. He couldn't reconcile that. "Last Friday, I was finally told I had to hire a new manservant. They- they seem to think he's dead, but he's just disappeared. That's all."
Something close to disappointment flashed in Gwen's eyes. "Arthur, it's been over 8 months."
"He was always resourceful, he could still-"
"No." Gwen cut him with her eyes. "No, I really don't think so."
Arthur stared at her. Part of him wanted to yell at her, hurl insults as he used to with Morgana. But Gwen was not Morgana; hell, Morgana wasn't Morgana anymore. Arthur just had to sit with this rage in his heart.
"I…" Arthur couldn't find the words. My truest friend is gone and now I feel like I've lost myself? I look into my room and, as long as I keep it dirty, I can trick myself into thinking Merlin will clean it up? I knew he was one of the most important people in my life, but I think he may have been the only person worth the energy it takes to wake up in the morning?
"I'm so tired," he found himself saying. "Everyone's- everyone's gone, Gwen. Lancelot, Uther, Morgana, Merlin. They've all left."
Gwen broke too. She leaned her head on Arthur's shoulder. "I know, Arthur," she whispered. "I know."
Arthur has less trouble traveling without an entourage, funnily enough. This way, no knights are shouting or creating a general ruckus, and, as a solo traveler, he's an easier target, but he's easier to hide as well.
It also makes the Druid camp he runs into far more likely to trust him. After all, they got used to running from hordes of knights; one traveler is a different story.
The Druid woman bows deeply. "King Arthur."
"Thank you for allowing me here." Arthur feels uncomfortable as they bow. While he accepts the Druids in his lands, he knows he is not their king, and he hopes they do not bow to him out of obligation and false meaning. "I was wondering if I could have food and shelter for the night? I'll bring back whatever you ask once I return from my quest."
The Druid leader nods once. "No compensation is required, my lord." She leads him near the fire pit where many Druids are gathered. Children are running around, their laughs ringing across the woods. A single Druid sits by the fire, face covered in shadows, playing a lute with expert skill. Others are playing with cards and performing small magic charms. The fire flickers gently.
Arthur stares into the fire, and he is only reminded of the many people he's destroyed.
"King Arthur?"
"Yes, sorry," he says, snapping to the leader. "Got- got lost in thought. What was it…"
She looks at him kindly. Far too kindly, in Arthur's opinion. "My name is Abilene, your highness. We were wondering if you would participate in dinner with the children. They are curious about your adventures."
Arthur blinks. Already three kids have turned to stare at him. While he isn't armored, he has chain mail on, and his face is well-known to the Druids. He shrugs. "Of course. Where would you like me to sit?"
Abilene smiles brightly—a far more genuine thing—and gestures to an empty spot by the fire. Arthur sits down on a log stump, and two Druids are instantly at his side, handing him a bowl and a waterskin. He thanks them profusely and begins to eat.
"So you're really the king?" A kid shouts. He's standing right next to Arthur, hand in hand with another child, but he seems to think shouting is the right move nevertheless.
Arthur does not smile. He allows himself a small chuckle, though. "I am, yes. I am the king of Camelot."
"Where's your crown?" The little girl with a runny nose asks.
"I left it at my castle for safekeeping."
"So we're 'sposed to believe you? Without a crown?" The girl says with a raised eyebrow.
"I mean, no, not necessarily," Arthur says, actually unable to stop his smile at this point, "but I am blonde, and I have a rather round head. That's how a friend of mine used to remember me."
A Druid snorts across the fire. The kids blink slowly. They almost look like owls.
"I think that's not allowed," one of the kids say slowly. "My mum used to tell me I couldn't say anything mean 'bout you."
Arthur glances at the parents who are still there, watching from the shadows. A few have innocuous items in their hands, things like ladles and spoons and cutting boards, all very good weapons in a pinch. Arthur stays relaxed and calm. "Well, for my father and my father's father, yes, but I'm trying to be different from them." Arthur takes another sip of stew, and when he looks up, another two children are right by him. "Er."
"Do you have any stories?" One of them asks. She has a small flower crown on.
"I do, actually." Arthur finds himself thinking of Merlin, who was always a listening ear and a willing speaker, able to conjure the best stories out of nothing. "I have one about a magic user, if you'd like. He slayed a griffon."
The kids all gasp, and a few of the adults even lean in. The lone lute player, instead of playing a beautiful melody, lets out a screech through his instrument.
"How?"
"Well, he worked for a rather stupid prince— we'll call him Prince Art," Arthur says, "Not related to me, of course."
The kids all giggle.
"And that magic user knew this griffon, with claws like knives, could only be bested with magic, but he also knew the prince was rather foolish and wouldn't listen." Arthur can hear Merlin's voice in his ear; it's a welcome noise. "The prince liked to call him 'idiot' for one thing, even though this magic user was far from it. So, when the prince wasn't looking, he enchanted a weapon right under the Prince's eyes."
"But that's illegal!" a kid protests hotly.
"For now," Arthur says, making eye contact with the Druids now visibly listening, "but this magic user was very clever. He made sure to hide it. Also, the prince was rather big-headed, and thought a lot about his hair, making it easy for this magic user to hide the truth."
Another kid looks at Arthur's hair with a raised eyebrow. "But your hair isn't even very good," he remarks.
Arthur fakes a look of outrage. "Did I say I was the prince?"
"Well, it was kind of obvious," the five year old says.
"Hm. Maybe." Arthur continues with his story as the five year old begins to protest, and now the rest of the Druids are relaxed, clearly hanging onto every world. Even the lute player has dropped his instrument. "The prince went off to face the griffon, and he got knocked in the head and passed out. The magic user took up the sword and slayed the griffon himself while the prince was out, expertly cutting it in two and then spelling it away."
"But what happened to the prince?"
"Well, he woke up." Arthur sniffs. "I am still here, you know. And the magic user, because he was very, very clever, pretended that the prince had done it while unconscious. The prince was just dizzy and nauseous enough from being knocked out to go with it. Trust me: getting knocked out hurts."
The girl with the flower crown frowns. "How many times have you been knocked out?"
"Oh, far too many times." Arthur says. "Being a prince is a dangerous job— so's being a king. That's why I'm looking for a court sorcerer."
Two of the adult Druids freeze; the one across from Arthur gasps quietly.
"Specifically, I was looking for the advice of his Lord Emrys," Arthur says, fully turning to Abilene. Her eyes are worriedly flicking between the fire, the Druid with the dropped lute on the opposite end, and Arthur. "I've already committed enough grievous injuries I thought it'd only be fair to ask magic itself who would be best fit on my court."
"Are…" Abilene swallows. "The rumors are true, my lord?"
"I am restoring magic to Camelot," Arthur confirms, and he can feel the sigh of the land and the people around him. Truly, how his father was this blind would be bizarre if it wasn't for the fact that he knew Uther. Uther had always been good at ignoring things he didn't like; he'd ignored Arthur's reticence for a long time. "It's taken longer than I would have liked because I've been… told to be cautious." Goodness knew that wasn't Arthur's greatest strength. "You all deserve a king that won't rush into this issue and cause more distress. I was- I was hoping that, before I finalize it, I could consult his lord Emrys for advice."
"He's hidden from all people for years," Abilene says slowly. "Even the Druids are only graced with his presence in certain moments."
"If he does not want to meet me, I understand," Arthur says, "but if not him, the Druids are the best to ask. You are a peaceful people; I think Camelot would be a far better place if my father had learned from your ways instead of Cenred's."
"And if Emrys hates you?"
Arthur turns to this voice. It's from the lute player at the edge of the fire. Arthur still can't quite see his face.
"I'd… I couldn't blame him," Arthur says softly, "but I have to ask for the sake of my kingdom."
The lute player is silent. Arthur finds his eyes tracing the long, slender hands of him, the way the Druids are all silent and waiting on the next noise, and-
"My Lord Emrys," Arthur adds, dipping his head in a bow.
The figure scoffs. "That's presumptive."
"Forgive me, but I know how a leader holds themselves in front of a public court," Arthur says dryly. "If I'm wrong-"
"No." Emrys sighs, standing up, and his cloak falls, and the moonlight shines, illuminating his starkly dark hair and his lean stance. As he stands, a murmur breaks among the Druids; the birds flutter away. His face isn't visible, hidden in some smoky mask made from magic, but Arthur can see some hesitance in the man's—the god's—shoulders. "Took a bit, though, didn't it?"
Arthur blinks. He sounds far more casual than a god should. "It… it did, yeah," Arthur admits.
"Hm." Emrys waves a hand, and the kids all have flower crowns grow on their head; the young girl gains a second one with differently colored roses. "Good job listening to his story. Goddess knows he lied about most of it."
"Hey!" Arthur protests. "You don't even know who it was about!"
"Your manservant, Merlin."
Arthur freezes.
Emrys' face is covered, but Arthur can sense the raised eyebrow. "And he didn't kill any beast. That was one of your knights."
Arthur swallows past the chunk of grief in his throat. Emrys knows a lot, but he doesn't know how much Merlin matters to Arthur— that is why Arthur will not say too much about how much Merlin had done, about all his hidden sacrifices that kept Arthur alive for nearly a decade. "He might as well have," Arthur says, standing up, gently placing the bowl and spoon down.
"Hmph." Emrys gazes at Arthur, searching for- for something, then he whirls on his foot. "Alright, come with me. If you want to talk magic, we'll get out of these poor people's camp. They deserve to get some rest."
Arthur blinks. This is… not at all what he expected. However, it's more than he hoped, so he shakes his head and follows Emrys.
Every footstep of his makes the grass grow additional flowers, and the moon seems to cast around the god to give him some privacy. Arthur wonders what a god is doing here. He also wonders what it says about his long-gone love that the presence of this God just makes him think about Merlin.
After Merlin was gone for a year, Arthur held a private funeral.
He'd officially hired a new manservant after talking to Gwen. It was "part-time," a manservant who had other responsibilities, but he'd become full time after Merlin had been gone for 364 days.
On the 365th, Arthur went to a tree. He opened up a notebook, and, biting his cheek until the blood begin to pool, he began to write.
It was all simple things; Merlin's old favorite memories, moments Arthur had never been able to quite forget, simple scenes that captivated him. Merlin smiling as Arthur did something nice or Merlin's favorite insults. Arthur had to resist the urge to chuckle like a madman at seeing the words clotpole, dollophead, and cabbagehead all written next to each other.
"Good afternoon, princess."
Arthur sighed. "Gwaine."
Gwaine plopped himself down next to Arthur. He'd taken Merlin's disappearance nearly as badly. He hadn't pledged himself to Arthur only for Arthur's sake, after all— Merlin had been his closest friend in the world. Looking back, maybe Gwaine was Merlin's closest friend too.
"Did you know?"
Gwaine blinked. He bit into his apple, and Arthur could see the moment where Gwaine's eyes roamed and he saw the half-done writing about Merlin. "About what?"
"Merlin."
"You'll have to be a bit more specific there, sire," Gwaine said, faux-casually sighing and leaning against the tree. Arthur couldn't help but be in awe of how well Gwaine played his part in all different sorts of interactions. "Merlin may have seemed an innocent bastard, but he had more hiding then you thought."
"That he… cared for me."
Gwaine stared at him. There was a level of incredulity that made Arthur flush. "You mean that he was in love with you? Yeah, I knew."
Arthur choked on a breath. All of the sudden, he was dizzy. It was was if all the possibilities of what could have been flooded into his mind at once. "I- I didn't-"
"Oh, shit," Gwaine said softly. "You didn't know."
Arthur shook his head. "No, obviously not."
"Who told you?"
"The council, I'm afraid," Arthur said with a sigh, smirking a bit as Gwaine then choked on his next bite of his apple. "One of the newer advisors told me it'd be sensible for me to take the day off since a 'man who deeply cared for me' had been missing for a year now."
Gwaine scoffed. "He didn't tell me, if that makes you feel any better. He was just really obvious about it."
"I'm surprised you haven't made fun of me for not noticing."
"Well." Gwaine shrugged. "You love him too, so I just assumed that was what blinded you, right?"
Arthur swallowed. He closed the notebook, and tried very hard not to let the pressure behind his eyes get to him. "Don't be ridiculous, Gwaine. I may not have been… very open about it, but he was just a friend."
Gwaine's gaze didn't leave him for a second. Arthur tried very hard not to feel like a coward when he abruptly got up and walked away.
"For a king, you're rather slow," Emrys retorts. He's a solid 15 feet in front of Arthur.
Arthur swallows past the slight outrage. He's fine if his friends make fun of him, but Emrys doesn't know him. "I apologize, Emrys, but I keep on tripping over the tree roots. I'd rather not bash my head in." He'd also rather not break the bottle of poison he's kept in his pocket and cause any alarm as the tree roots disintegrate, but Emrys doesn't need to know that.
Emrys pauses. "Oh. Sorry. Forgot you couldn't feel it." At least he sounds sheepish, even if Arthur is deeply confused.
"Feel it?" he repeats.
"The- the life here," Emrys says, gesturing. "I feel all of it."
"Oh." Arthur blinks. That sounds overwhelming. "Are you even human?"
Emery's stiffens. For a man hiding his face, his emotion is quite easy to read. Once again, Arthur finds himself drawing parallels to Merlin- Merlin liked to think he was so good at hiding things, but Arthur had always known there was some secret. Not what it was, but that it was there.
"I am," Emrys says shortly.
Arthur nods, holding up his hands. He can tell, at least, that this a sore spot. "I'm sorry, then."
"You apologize a lot."
Arthur chokes back a laugh. Out of everything, he didn't expect that. "Not nearly enough, according to some of my knights and friends."
"Hm."
Arthur finds himself almost saying, hmph isn't a word, you know, but that's far too casual for a person Arthur has literally just met. He keeps his mouth shut instead.
"So," Emrys says, continuing to walk with Arthur carefully dodging the tree roots, "you want to restore magic?"
"I do." Even though this topic is more volatile than a house on fire, Arthur feels himself relax. Apologizing for his father's poor behavior is familiar territory. "Uther committed many travesties in his time as king, and I can just start to make up for it."
"How?"
Well, Emrys is abrupt and to the point. Arthur can respect that. "Make magic usage not punishable by death, for one," he says. Emrys finally stops walking as they approach a hut. Something dawns in Arthur's mind as the hut becomes more and more familiar. "Wait, hang on- that's not your house!"
Emrys laughs a bit. "Really? How do you know that?"
"Merlin used it!"
Emrys freezes. "Excuse me?"
"When he was pretending to be a demented old bat named Dragoon!" Arthur runs towards the hut. "I tried to find this thing for ages. Why are you here?"
"I- well-" Emrys is clearly scrambling, and Arthur begins to scowl. "It was always mine, actually! Clearly Merlin knew it was my outpost for the Druids and used it when it was empty."
"Oh." Arthur stops scowling. "So I broke your pot?"
"Not important," Emrys says with a wave of his hands. "Did you just call your friend Merlin an idiot?"
"I mean, he was," Arthur says before Emrys can get another word in, "but that's what made him so…"
"Foolish?"
"Brilliant."
Emrys stills.
"He pretended to be an idiot for years, you know, acting as if he knew nothing just to hide right under my father's nose." Arthur can feel the fond memory, and he pushes it away. "He was an idiot, but… wiser than the rest of us. Wiser than me."
"It sounds like you cared for him a lot," Emrys says. His voice sounds oddly thick.
Arthur is abruptly reminded he doesn't actually know this person, no matter how much his brain thinks he does. He shifts, standing straight. "Er, well. I do. But I didn't come to you to talk about Merlin, I came to you to talk about magic."
"Then talk about magic, sire."
God, he sounds so much like Merlin. It makes Arthur ache. "I'm making magic legal, and I want you as court sorcerer."
Emrys blinks. "I'm sorry, what?"
At the year long-mark, Arthur's desperation swelled back up again. He spent hours upon hours trekking through forests, following up on year-old leads regarding Morgana just for the potential of being able to find Merlin.
After one long expedition, Guinevere confronted him.
"Arthur."
He did not flinch or jump— he was, at most, lightly startled. "Guinevere!"
Her eyebags were deep, and she seemed to have been crying earlier. Arthur winced a bit. He had been avoiding her for a… while. When he'd seen Isolde die in Tristan's arms, it'd seemed so simple; propose to Guinevere, have her be queen. Then Merlin had disappeared, and everything was complicated again.
A particularly nasty part of Arthur had reminded him that, even when imagining being married to Gwen, he'd never seen himself without Merlin. Merlin would be there; Merlin would be by his side even married. Now that Merlin was gone, the idea of marrying Guinevere without him was… horrifying. They'd mutually removed themselves from each other in the aftermath of Morgana's disappearance, too busy with rebuilding the kingdom, than Arthur had searched for Merlin, and then Arthur had always found himself busy.
It'd been over 1 month since he'd last properly spoken to Gwen, and that month had passed by quickly. Arthur should have been concerned with that; he was mostly concerned with how determined Gwen's gaze seemed to be.
Gwen smiled a bit. It was far kinder than Arthur deserved. "You're jumpy."
"Bad trip." Arthur winced— he'd pulled out some stitches when he'd jumped back. "What do you need, my lady?"
"Well, you see-" Gwen paused. She leaned a bit forward, but then she leaned back, flexing her fists and taking a breath.
"I've been talking to Elyan, and he mentioned that I'd told him I loved you."
Something struck Arthur's heart.
"And, even though I'd told him that long back, he hadn't noticed you around," she continued. Tears began to well up in her eyes, but she continued. She was so brave like that. Faced with genuine emotion, having to be vulnerable, Arthur would have run away. Gwen wouldn't. "That when I needed support, all I had was- was him. Elyan, I mean."
"Gwen…"
"And I know you miss Merlin too, that's why you're being like this," Gwen said, gesturing, "but I think you miss him more than you care about me." You care about him more than you care about me.
Arthur was silent. "I…"
Gwen looked at him imploringly. Oddly enough, there was no anger—or, at least, the anger was faded, long burnt out.
"Father never told me I could truly care for others." he murmured. "I'm- I'm a king. I'm not supposed to. I thought I'd learned otherwise with you, but Merlin is… my affection can't be explained through love."
Gwen was silent for a moment." I think you do love me a bit," she said softly, "and I think I understand what you're saying. But the issue with Merlin is that your affection is explained by love, isn't it?"
Arthur swallowed. His blood roared in his head; he couldn't even turn to face her. "Out."
Gwen was smart enough to listen. By the time the door closed behind her, though, all the rage had faded with the crystal clarity her words had brought.
"I know my kingdom has done much to wrong you," Arthur says, stepping forward. Emrys seems to be instinctively flinching back, though, so he keeps some distance. "And I would understand if you reject the offer because of Camelot's past. I need to ask it, though."
"You hardly even know me."
"I know you're the most powerful sorcerer on the planet now," Arthur says evenly, "and I know the Druids all listen and respect you. Considering my-" he bites his tongue before he can says my top choice is gone. "Well. You're their leader, according to my men."
Emrys scowls again. He stalks off into the cabin, but no tree roots trip up Arthur, so he decides to follow anyways. "I don't lead the Druids. They're their own people."
"They just view you as a god, then."
"I'm not a god," Emrys mutters bitterly. "I'm just a person."
Arthur scoffs before he can stop himself. "It doesn't matter how you view yourself, Emrys. If they believe you're a god, you're as good as one to them." Arthur had learned this himself the hard way, after nights of being what felt like a completely vulnerable and weak prince. Merlin had reassured him early on, told him that his ability as a prince was his own perceived failings, not the truth—that the people viewed him as the next great king through it all.
Emrys almost stumbles on a tree root. He heads forward nonetheless. "Wise words."
"They were from a friend."
"A good friend?"
Arthur looks down at the ground to see bluebells springing up from Emrys' steps. He used to hate sharing Merlin, back when it was a reminder of how little his own feelings mattered. But now Merlin is gone, and getting to tell people about him is almost giving him another life. "Yes," he mutters.
Emrys turns back to face Arthur. There is something very, very charged in his stance, and Arthur feels shame creep over himself.
"I'm- I'm also a person, Lord Emrys," he says instead of now let's get the hell on to wherever you want to go, or shut up, I was only talking about Merlin, for god's sake. "I know what it's like to be forced to live up to other's expectations."
"Yes." Emrys sounds nearly contemplative. "You would, wouldn't you."
He looks Arthur up and down again. His eyes pierce through the gray mask, only showing the pupil and the barest hint of a blue iris. Arthur finds his eyes tracing the slender line of Emrys' figure before the god turns abruptly and enters the hut. "Come on, set your stuff down. We'll talk."
Arthur learned about Merlin's magic around a year and 9 months into him being gone. It happened when a young boy was brought to court under accusations of magic.
Arthur had been able to hide cases like these before. Agravaine had been a traitorous snake in his ear, of course, but he'd found ways to reduce the amount of magical sentencings. He couldn't find that same vitriol his father had. Like it or not, Arthur could only stand by what he truly believed, and he did not truly believe magic made a person evil.
The boy was barely a preteen; a tiny runt. He was furious, lashing out at the guards dragging him, but Arthur had lashed out too at that age. He remembered being a terrified young child. He remembered how desperate he was when he'd had a roof over his head, food and servants to help him; he wondered how much more desperate he could've been.
"Leave us," Arthur said shortly. "Not you, Gaius."
Gaius blinked, but he stayed. He'd always been good at moderating his reactions— it'd probably been the only reason Uther had kept him so long.
Arthur got up from his throne. The boy flinched a bit, but he kept his gaze stalwart and his anger fierce. Arthur could respect it.
"I'm king Arthur," Arthur said, "but you already knew who I was, I suppose. What's your name?"
The kid glared. He scuffed his dirty boot against the shining stone. "don't think it matters if I'm dead in a bit. I don't want you t'know."
"I…" Arthur gnawed on his lip. He saw the tremble in the boy's hand. "I'm not going to sentence you to the pyre," he said. He said it loudly enough for Gaius to hear. Gaius stiffened; the boy's eyes widened to the size of saucer plates. "I'm also not going to behead you."
"How-" the kid's full body shook. "How do I trust you on that?"
"Er." Arthur swallowed. He'd forgotten that, in the matters of life and death to a child, a king's word wasn't any better than anyone else's. "Handshake, if you'd like. I'll— here."
Arthur removed a key on his belt. It was for a random back door, a copy key he only has because he was the king and should have copies of all the keys, but it was far more useful for this child than for him. "This will let you leave the castle at any time, if you'd like. But if you leave now, I don't think the guards will believe the king handed you a spare key."
The kid stared at the key. He clenched it tightly. "My name's Dorian, m'lord."
"Good to meet you Dorian." Arthur tried to smile reassuringly. He'd never been good with kids, but he knew fear, and he knew how to help a man through that. "This is my good friend Gaius, the court physician. Do you need anything taken care of?"
"No. Fixed up all my sprains with some magic." The kid sniffed, glaring again at Arthur, daring him to say something. It worked very well to get Arthur to shut up.
"Alright." Arthur took a breath. "I'm going to let you go, Dorian, because you're a child and magic to steal bread should only be prosecuted as petty thievery. However, I'd urge you to be more careful."
"Hmph."
"Coincidentally," Arthur said, standing up and brushing his cloak, "that key leads to a passageway very close to the kitchens. It's the last right on the hallway, then follow the stairs down and around. You didn't hear it from me, of course."
Dorian looked up and down from Arthur to the key, to Arthur, to the key again. He darted off before Arthur could say another word.
"He'll only use magic again, sire."
"I know, Gaius."
"You cannot give every child a key to the palace kitchens either."
"I know. I just—" Arthur swallowed. "I think it was the right thing to do."
Gaius' gaze softened, just a tad. "Almost certainly, sire."
"Merlin would have told me to do that, I think. He's always been sympathetic to magic." Arthur did not believe Merlin was permanently gone, just missing for part time. That didn't make him any less afraid of him becoming that awful person he'd been before Merlin again.
Something odd crossed over Gaius' face— something akin to regret and uncertainty. "You didn't seem overly concerned about his magic usage, if I may."
"I'm not my father," Arthur said shortly. "I do not believe magic can be used for good, but it cannot- its existence does not corrupt. Not if history is to be trusted."
he'd only started second-guessing it when he'd realized it probably would've been much easier to find Merlin with magic. After he'd thought that, Arthur had punched a wall to stop himself from finding the nearest sorcerer. He was not his father. He would not pursue something that would betray the philosophy of a country in the name of- of sentimentality.
So he looked into the history of magic, of the last 4 kings before Uther who used magic and had seemed almost perfectly alright, up until Arthur's grandfather. He'd watched the streets, seen each moment of young people and old use small enchantments with enough fear to worry him. He'd thought about Merlin's never-ending kindness to the Druids.
"Sire." Gaius paused. "Merlin may not forgive me for telling you this, but I think he'd do it himself in this moment."
They both heard what the other wasn't saying— I'm beginning to believe Merlin may never come back, so I must do things in his name and for him instead of with him. "Speak, then."
And Gaius did.
Arthur tentatively sits on the chair, keeping all the weight on his legs in case he needs to leave suddenly. Emrys has been— off this entire meeting, seemingly fond and then resentful of Arthur at a moment's notice. Arthur can't blame him for it, but it certainly makes things more difficult when doing negotiations.
"So." Emrys sits across from him. "Why do you think I fit as your court sorcerer?"
"Because you're the most powerful magic user in Albion," Arthur says, frowning a bit. "I already told yo-"
"No, not why Emrys should be here." Emrys taps the table. "If I'm going to be working with you, I need to know what your team is like."
"My… do you mean the knights?"
"Partially." Emrys shrugs. "Your servants, too. Who will I have to work with, and how many of them also worked under Uther?"
Ah. That… makes a bit more sense. Arthur can't blame a man for being hesitant to work in a castle famous for housing all the most voracious magic haters of the last generation. "Well. On a day to day basis, none of those nobles are in the castle much anymore. They find the environment… not to their liking."
"They all fled because you insulted them?"
Arthur fights a smile at Emrys' nearly gleeful tone. He waves a hand. "Please, Emrys, I'm the king. I can insult as many advisors as I like."
"Right, sorry, my fault." Even with the mask of shadows, Arthur can see the grin on Emrys' face in the way the man's ears twitch back. His ears are also abnormally large, like Merlin's, except he's grown into them more than Merlin had the chance to.
Arthur swallows past the sickness in his throat.
"Normally, it's just Gaius, Guinevere, and the knights." Arthur sighs, leaning back against the chair. Even with the thought of Merlin, he's comfortable here. It's like being trapped in a memory, as if the old dodgery man is going to step out at any moment.
"Guinevere." Something odd creeps into Emrys' tone. "Merlin told me you were in love with her."
Arthur startles, and his chair nearly falls to the ground with how quickly he stands up. "You- you knew Merlin?" he breathes.
"I…." Emrys blinks. "I litetally told you he used my shack."
"There's a difference between someone using your house behind your back, which Merlin would absolutely do," Arthur says with a laugh, "and being friends with that person. How did Gaius not know about that?"
"He didn't tell the physician everything," Emrys grumbles.
"Oh." Arthur realizes that, like it or not, he's towering over Emrys. He sits back down. "You knew Gaius, too?"
"I know… much more about Camelot than you might think," Emrys says after a second, clearly trying to sound old and wizened but just coming across as generally confusing. It's like when Merlin pretended to be Dragoon, making up stupid things to cover. "Like Guinevere. That you two were together."
"Er." Arthur blinks. He didn't expect this question. "We… were for a period of time, yes. Why do you want to know about that?"
Emrys also doesn't seem to know for a moment, but he shifts. "…She's a peasant. Is that why you didn't marry her? Because she's not a noble?"
"Gods, no." Arthur can't stop his own scoff from escaping. "Things change, that's all."
"Like?"
"How is that any of your business?" Arthur declares.
"I mean, it's not," Emrys admits, and he raises his hands in surrender, "But I am curious. He told me a lot about you two. Said you'd sacrifice nearly anything for her."
Arthur looks down. It wasn't like Emrys was wrong. He would sacrifice an awful lot for Gwen, even now, but he would sacrifice for a good amount of people. That's what Arthur was built for; sacrifice. He was supposed to be a king, to demand from his people, but he couldn't ever get himself to willingly take it. He found his arms carving out parts of himself for the kingdom instead.
"I won't sacrifice my kingdom for her," Arthur says abruptly, "and- that wasn't fair. She deserves a man who loves her before all else."
"And did she want that?"
Arthur inclines his head. "Yes. She… she wanted me, for a while, but…" but then Merlin was gone and I couldn't think about her, but Leon could. "But things change."
Emrys doesn't seem nearly satisfied, but that's as much as Arthur is willing to share about his own personal issues. Even now, he's incredibly surprised Emrys could hear so much, could extract so much. He decides to ask for something back.
"I do have a secondary motivation for being here, though," Arthur admits.
Emrys blinks. "Knew it," the man mutters under his breath. "Alright, spit it out, what incredible magic curse do you need me to break?"
"Something simple, but… it requires an incredibly powerful sorcerer." Arthur hopes this is late enough in the game— clearly, Emrys knows he respects magic itself, is not just using magic for selfish reasons. He just want the selfish thing as well. "Doubt you'll say no since you knew him too."
Emrys' eyes widen.
Arthur swallows, his heart pounding, and grabs the neckerchief. He hasn't allowed himself to think about this part yet- he'd barely thought he'd be able to find Emrys in the first place. He places the neckerchief on the table. "Bring him back."
Arthur noticed the mark on the floor the second he ran over to where Morgana had been, and where he later learned Merlin had been as well. It was a simple thing, burnt into the stone with an amber glow. He couldn't forget it easily.
After Merlin was gone for nearly three and a half years, after 9 months of researching magic, after hearing about Merlin's escapes for over a year, Arthur found information on Emrys.
The only sorcerer to break the rules of the land. He is prophesied to appear once Magic is Drained and The Once and Future King is there to later Rise Again.
He'd called it hogwash. Then he'd seen the drawing of Emrys- a black, cloaked figure surrounded in shadow and drawings of the same markings over and over again.
He'd sought out information. From what he'd learned, Emrys was magic incarnate- something suspiciously like what Gaius had described Merlin as being. He was also immortal, and could kill and create life without needing to sacrifice. Apparently, his existence was sacrifice enough.
Arthur stared into the distance. There was a sorcerer who could bring back Merlin from wherever he was, death or now living far away. Why'd his mark appear near Morgana and Merlin's tussle, then?
Perhaps to kill Morgana. Maybe, as the God of magic, he'd seen what a threat Morgana was to his mission, and he'd killed her. Maybe he hadn't cared in Merlin was in the way.
If he had cared— if, perhaps, Emrys had tried to save Merlin from a destiny to the pyre here in Camelot—that would be a different story. One Arthur would find far more forgivable. But Merlin was gone, and it didn't really matter how that had happened. What mattered was that Merlin was as good as dead, and Arthur was terribly, terribly alone, and he could find himself sympathizing with Uther's ghost.
He'd never really understood how his father could destroy the world for a dead woman until he realized he would do the same thing if it would bring Merlin back.
"I'm sorry?" Emrys says hoarsely.
"Your emblem was on the ground right next to where Merlin disappeared," Arthur says. "Both him and Morgana vanished into thin air. You have to know where he went."
"I- I don't- you really care that much?"
Arthur had prepared himself for a lot—Emrys flat out rejecting him, Emrys being a nuisance and forcing Arthur to abandon this—but insinuating that Merlin wasn't this important? That was too much.
He slams his fist on the table. "How dare you. I swear, if you killed Merlin-"
"I didn't!" Emrys waves his hands frantically. "He's not dead! I promise!"
Arthur freezes.
Not dead. He hasn't let himself think that in years. Not dead. Merlin is somewhere, alive, even if he's bloody and broken and beaten and miserable, Arthur can find him. not dead.Arthur can see him again.
"Oh." Arthur slumps in his chair. He feels his hands being brought to his head, but everything is rather fuzzy right now. It's as if the world is now a dream. Merlin is still alive.
"Arthur? Arthur, are you alright?"
Distantly, he feels water running down his face, salt in his mouth. He must be crying. Arthur moves his hands from his face. They're not big, guttural sobs, thank goodness—he couldn't embarrass himself like that in front of Emrys—but there are tears nonetheless. Merlin is worth the tears for Arthur. "He's alive."
"I…" something in Emrys' posture softens. "Yes, sire," he says quietly, "he's alive and well. Or. As well as he could be."
"That's- good." Now that the shock is fading (though it will never fade, not even when Arthur has Merlin under his hands and can hear his heart beat) Arthur realizes there's still a lot of questions. "Where is- have you been keeping him?"
"It's…" Emrys taps a hand against the wooden table. "I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that."
It took Arthur 3 years for it to fully sink in just how impossible finding Merlin was. On the three-year anniversary, Arthur got dressed in the morning by himself. Cedric hadn't protested a full day off with pay, so he was alone, able to think for some time.
Arthur got his horse ready, making sure the satchel was packed with some food and one of Merlin's old neckerchiefs. It took him only a few hours to ride out to where he and Merlin used to camp during their escapades.
Arthur set up the picnic. Merlin wasn't there, but there was a blanket, and he hunted a rabbit, and he lit the fire all by himself after only a struggling a bit. He remembered how easily Merlin had done it— probably magic, then. Arthur scoffed a bit at that.
"You were always a lazy sod, magic user or not," he murmured. That betrayal hit him in his chest at the idea of Merlin using magic, but he pushed it away. After 3 months, he'd started to get acclimated to it.
It wasn't the magic quite anymore, if it ever had been. It was still just hard to reckon with the fact that the memories Arthur treasured, the ones he held close to his chest after a year, were still tinted with lies and distrust. That was the hardest to deal with of all.
"Alright, Merlin," Arthur announced, pouring himself a cup of wine. The other was set with the plate of food on the ground, filled with an extra sausage and plums because Merlin loved those foods. He held the neckerchief in his free hand, clenching it tightly. Maybe, if he held onto it tightly enough, he could've kept Merlin grounded next to him a year ago. "I know you can hear me. You have to. I couldn't-"
Arthur's voice cut off, choked off by the howling thing in his chest. he took a sip of wine. "If you can't,"he restarted, "then I hope you at least know I'm never forgiving you for being gone, you hear? I don't— I don't care about the magic now. Conjure up a damn dragon if it gets you back, you clotpole."
Arthur took a shaky breath. His eyes stung. He fist had clenched the rag tight enough to wrinkle it. He placed the cup down, and he brought the neckerchief to his face.
It didn't even smell like Merlin anymore.
Arthur felt the beast that now lived in his chest try and wrench itself out of his ribcage, try and rip his already broken heart into more and more pieces. He took another gulp of wine instead, and he ate some food. When he came back, he went to the library and learned about what sacrifice a resurrection would require.
"How much do you now about Merlin? His magic, I mean."
"Everything Gaius knew," Arthur responds instantly.
Emrys' mouth thins. "So you know he was supposed to be the greatest sorcerer to walk the Earth."
"Yes, actually." Arthur feels a little vindication when Emrys is visibly startled. "I actually first thought you'd- you may have killed him so you could have that title."
Emrys chokes on what seems to be a laugh. Arthur would think it's a sob, from the defeated look in Emrys' eyes, but the sound is humorous. "Gods, no. The truth was that Merlin was pretty shit at being the greatest sorcerer to walk the Earth."
Arthur snorts. "Of course he was." He remembers a time where that might've been a scathing remark, but it just sounds fond when he says it now.
"So, he stopped being that. Literally— Merlin was stripped of the title of Magic Incarnate." Emrys sucks in a breath. "I had to take it up instead."
"I mean, he was quite good at keeping me alive," Arthur remarks.
"Yeah. Too good."
Arthur frowns. "I'm sorry?"
"He always chose you, Arthur." Emrys voice quickly clogs with grief. He almost sounds broken, and something inside Arthur fractures. "He chose you above magic, in the end. He would choose you even if it meant the end to magic."
That— Arthur's entire world stands still. He has only seen love a few times, and one of the most impactful depictions was Uther's destructive love regarding Ygraine. When he'd learned Merlin had loved him, he hadn't quite known how deep it went. Maybe it was love similar to have Arthur had loved Guinevere—important, crucial, but something that happened and could change and meld and ebb away. This? To know Merlin was the leader of the magic world, and he'd always make sure Arthur survived? That was ridiculous.
Then Arthur thinks about the neckerchief on the table, how he's willing to let go of his kingdom, his title, his moral compass if it brings Merlin back, and it's not too insane right then.
"So he's… he's alive?" Arthur asks instead of acknowledging the light tears in Emrys' eyes. They glow gold in the light, just like how Merlin's eyes always seemed to shine. Arthur only later realized it was part of magic— he'd thought, before, it was his own foolish fantasies.
"Yeah, he is."
"Then where- where's he been?" Why hasn't he come back to Camelot, come back to me, Arthur thinks traitorously.
"You really think he wouldn't run back to you if he could?" Emrys sounds bitter. Arthur supposes he'd be bitter too if one of his best knights chose their love over his country. "No, he wanted to, he's just not allowed. Not until you make magic legal again. Accept it in your heart, too, but you seem to have done that already."
"I have," Arthur responds instantly. "Accepted magic, that is."
Emrys softens a bit. He looks at Arthur again, wiping his tears, and the look is just so fond. It's as if Merlin is staring at him again in that moment, when they were both young and Arthur would choose to be kind. Merlin had cared for him so many in those moments.
"I can tell," Emrys murmurs.
"So until I make magic legal, Merlin's not allowed to set foot into Camelot?"
"Yeah, basically."
"That's exactly the wording?" Arthur presses.
Emrys' eyes narrow. "What are you trying to get at?"
Oh, he'd thought Emrys was paying attention. He'd even cried a bit for Merlin. Arthur supposes he needs to go the extra step. "I searched for Merlin for 2 years. I only stopped because everyone kept telling me he was dead instead. If I can talk to him still, I'm doing that first."
Emrys stares at him incredulously. "He's— he's far away."
"Fine."
"Very far away. Like, more than three days on horse," Emrys says slowly.
"Are you deaf?" Arthur says before remembering this isn't actually Merlin, just a sorcerer with a very similar personality. "I don't care. I'm going to talk to him."
"He's— he's sick."
"If you keep on making up reasons I can't talk to him, I'll think you're hiding his body," Arthur interrupts, letting his hand casually rest on the hilt of a sword.
Emrys chokes on a breath. "No! He's- I promise you he's alive."
Arthur looks him up and down. His eyes are wide, his face was pale—or the little Arthur could see—and it was like looking at Merlin again. "Fine. I believe you."
Emrys visibly exhales, relaxing. "Good. You're really trying to find him now?"
"Emrys, I don't care if it takes me weeks. I want to see Merlin." Arthur feels like a toddler having a tantrum again. I want to talk to my dad. I want to play with my sword. I want to see Merlin. The difference is that he is choosing to be the stubborn bastard he's always been in his heart because he needs Merlin by his side.
"No matter what?"
Arthur nods.
"So even if I- I told you you had to sacrifice your kingdom, you'd do it?"
"Well, do I?" Arthur asks.
Emrys blinks. "No, but-"
"Then it doesn't matter. I'm going to see Merlin," Arthur announces. He's found that, as a king, when he tells people things are going to happen, they usually tend to.
"You can't just- just declare that!" Emrys sputters.
"Why not? I just did."
"You don't even know where he is!"
"Not yet, but you're taking me to him."
"To do what?"
Arthur freezes. He hadn't gotten that far yet. "To… to say that I'm sorry, I suppose."
Emrys pauses too. "You're sorry?"
"I never realized how much he'd done for me. For Camelot." Arthur kicks the floorboards instead of looking at Emrys as he confesses yet another failing. "I need to tell him I'm sorry for that, and that I never told him I-" he chokes. "I love him."
Arthur can hear all the trees around the house sprout flowers. The moon shines brighter through the window. "that you what," Emrys says flatly.
"I just asked you to bring him back," Arthur says slowly, "No matter the cost."
"Well, yeah, but you didn't mean it," Emrys replies.
Arthur stares him down.
Emrys swallows. "I mean… you couldn't have."
Arthur decides that, this man, even if he's supposed to be a god, is quite bad at it. He seems not to know how much mortals will sacrifice. He pulls out the vial of poison he's kept hidden the entire time. "Do you know what this poison was for?"
Emrys' eyes nearly fall out of his skull.
"It was in case I had to bargain my life for his." Arthur enunciates the word life, even though he's mostly thinking how ridiculous his life is that him drinking poison for Merlin is old news.
Emrys looks rattled. "You were going to kill yourself if it brought him back?"
"Is your skull really so thick you don't realize what poison means?" Arthur is quickly getting irritated, and something is hitting his brain like he's not realizing the obvious. Why won't this sorcerer just let him see Merlin.
"It- But-" Emrys is sputtering, and his eyes are as wide as saucer plates. Even the smoke mask is flickering, and gods, he even looks kind of like Merlin, if his pale skin has anything to say. "But you're the king!"
"You, of all people, should know we're more than our titles."
"He was your servant!"
"He could've taken me apart in less than a blow," Arthur shoots back. "Technically being my servant means nothing. Really, do I need to threaten you again? I'm going to see Merlin."
"Really?" Emrys stalks over to him, waving his hand to move the table out of his way. "No matter what he's done, even though he's been banished from your lands because he failed his mission, you're going to see him?"
Arthur looks at Emrys head-on. Emrys is only a slight bit taller than him. Arthur just gives a single short nod as he stares. "Yes, actually. I shouldn't need to repeat myself so much."
Emrys doesn't seem to know what to do. He's visibly shaking. "God," he mutters, and it's— it's oddly broken.
Arthur frowns. He doesn't want to upset the man. Why is he even upset? "Are- are you alright?"
"Of course you had to be so stupidly brave," Emrys mutters. He wipes his eyes, and a sliver of his face is visible, and something is twisted in Arthur's heart as he sees Merlin's face for just a second. "No, you told me that you wanted to see me, no matter the cost, no matter what I'd done, and—"
Arthur falls to his knees. "Merlin," he whispers.
After one year, Arthur was able to admit to himself that perhaps he'd fallen in love with Merlin on the way to kinghood. It only took Gwaine and Guinevere saying something, shoving him in the right direction, but it had happened in the end. He wouldn't tell anyone, though. His love for Merlin, what was left of it, was his and only his. He kept it nestled in his chest.
He hadn't really stopped being a king through it all, of course: Camelot was his first love. But, he found on the second year anniversary, he was regressing, full of angst and anger like he'd been early on.
It was a rough night for them all. Gwaine had nearly gotten himself killed, and for a second, all Arthur could think was Merlin will be so upset. Then he'd remembered Merlin wasn't there, and it was like getting stabbed again.
It never went away. He stewed in that thought as he watched the fire. He'd thought grief was supposed to go away. It hadn't disappeared for his father, but he'd grappled with it, fought it and figured out how to be better. He still missed Morgana back when she was a kind person with good advice, but he'd learned his lesson from the perils of revenge and rage from her.
He hadn't learned anything from Merlin's death; he'd only learned that he desperately needed Merlin back.
"Arthur?"
Arthur snapped his head around. Leon was standing right beside him. Truly, Arthur needed to get better at paying attention to his surroundings when he was brooding.
"Leon." Arthur gave him a nod. He continued to hold onto the neckerchief he'd kept in his pack.
Leon sighed, very, very audibly. "Sire, it's been two years," he murmured. "I know how much you miss him—"
"You don't," Arthur cut in sharply. He turned to Leon. "I don't try to be open about things like this, Leon, about feelings, but you truly have no idea how much I—" the grief caught his throat.
Leon was so full of pity it made his blood boil. Arthur just turned away. He felt like a petulant teenager again.
"I was going to say that, perhaps, you should remember others miss him too," Leon said softly. It was even worse how he didn't seem truly angry at Arthur. "You two were…. uniquely connected, but he was Gwen's best friend, and Gaius was like his father. I think stewing in it alone isn't helping you much."
Arthur scoffed a bit. In the bright light of the fire, the red neckerchief was thin and easy to see through. "it's worked plenty fine for the last two years."
"You've only been acting like yourself for the last seven months."
Arthur winced. He clutched the neckerchief tighter.
"I'm not trying to impose, my lord," Leon said, ignoring how he was very much imposing, "But there are others that care about you and would like you to be happy. I think you should remember that Merlin would wish the same."
Arthur closed his eyes instead of doing something stupid like yelling at Leon or starting a fight. Leon stood up, his armor clinking as he walked away.
Arthur swallowed. He looked at the neckerchief again. It was a shame his father wasn't alive to see him like this— now, maybe, they could actually understand each other.
Emry- Merlin sighs. He waves a hand, and the mask disappears. He doesn't look all that different. It's been a long five years for Arthur, one where his muscles have tensed and his back has creaked and his body has begun to fail him, but Merlin— he looks healthier than ever. he looks radiant.
Arthur does feel angry on some level. Some part of him is pissed off. Most of him is too busy swallowing back that monster of grief he's suppressed for so long. With Merlin in front of him, it seems to have come back with a vengeance.
"Gods, Arthur," Merlin says, coughing on a sob, "You're so stupid."
That snaps him out of it for a moment. "I am not!" Arthur squawks, and they're kids again, barely understanding the weight of the world. It disappears quickly enough.
"No, really, those are your words." Merlin sniffs. "You told a story about me to my face. It was kind of sweet, actually, but you said it yourself; your head is too big for your crown."
A retort springs to the tip of Arthur's tongue, but it dies as he watches Merlin breathe. Its enough to make him drown in affection. "You- why didn't you find me?" Arthur whispers.
"I tried." Merlin kneels down to the floor, which feels wrong since Arthur is supposed to be seeing him from below. Merlin is the god, after all- Arthur is just a mortal. "I woke up in a cave after battling Morgana, and I was told I'd— I'd failed. I'd failed to keep magic alive. I wasn't allowed to go back to Camelot."
"So you tried anyways," Arthur responds, more hoping that was the truth than anything else.
Merlin rolls his eyes. It's exactly as he used to do it, five years ago. "Yeah, course I did. The minute I stepped into Camelot's borders, I was thrown back away into that cave. I tried a couple more times after that, but… never worked."
"So— so who is Emrys?"
"He's me," Merlin says simply. "Always has been. I just got rid of everyone's memory that I used to respond under that name. Gaius actually used to know I was Emrys, so it's good to know even he forgot."
"You- you removed memories of yourself from his head?"
"I mean, kind of?" Merlin wobbles a hand as if he isn't describing a horrifying use of magic, one that makes Arthur partially understand his Father's hatred. "More the name. Names have enough power that I was able to get rid of the owner. Merlin—me, the person—was never associated with Emrys. Just my magic."
"Because your magic is a separate sentient being," Arthur says sarcastically.
Merlin nods. "It is, actually."
Arthur blinks. Even after rising from the dead, Merlin manages to surprise him. "Christ, of course it is, you prat."
"Hey! That's my word."
"Someone had to use it while-" Arthur stops speaking. While you were gone.
Merlin's face settles into something more serious. Arthur realizes just how full of joy Merlin has been the last few minutes, miles and miles away from the grumpy lute player he was before. "Alright, yeah, I've been a prat. That's… fair."
"Merlin, I understand why you didn't tell me about your magic," Arthur says slowly, "Especially when you accidentally sped up the death of my father. Why- why this secret? Why not tell me as soon as we were alone?" Arthur has the insane idea that maybe, even after all the love he has shown and given to Merlin in these moments, it's still not enough.
Merlin sighs. "It's… it's hard to stop lying, Arthur. I feel panic just using magic around you right now, even though I could split you like a twig." Something warm runs over Arthur's spine at the self-assured way Merlin says this, but it's less important than the way Merlin is so defeated. "I just… I failed you."
Arthur scoffs before he can stop himself. "You did not."
"No, Arthur, I really did." Merlin gulps. "I was supposed to lead you to bring a golden age to magic in Camelot, but I wouldn't have done that. Seriously, I was never planning on telling you."
Something cold begins to sink in Arthur's stomach. Even after all the lies, all the secrets and half-truths Merlin has shared, he'd never really thought Merlin didn't care for him deeply. Maybe not as deeply as Arthur did, but deep still—in many ways, they'd been the only two people who understood each other. Maybe he was wrong, though. Maybe destiny wasn't enough.
"If I told you, that meant you could try and chop my head off or banish me." He says the last two words with such horror, and Arthur feels it too. "I couldn't- I couldn't handle that, the idea of you sending me away."
Something begins to crystallize in Arthur's mind. "Merlin, I could never send you away," he says as soft as he can. He's not a very gentle person most of the time, not since Uther beat it out of him at a young age, but he can try to be that person again for Merlin. He takes one of Merlin's hands. It's fire in his veins, something as beautiful as the gold that is always in Merlin's eyes. "Who'd wear that awful hat to court?"
Merlin laughs. It's bright, sudden, and Arthur can feel the magic buzz beneath his skin. It is hard, being vulnerable, being so open, but he is trying so, so hard.
"I… It is difficult to be angry at you right now," Arthur admits, looking away for a second, and then looking back.
Merlin smiles a bit. It's a small, cautious thing, but it makes that hope in Arthur's chest beat double-time. "I… I think I know that, now." Merlin swallows again. He looks nervously around the cottage. "Do you remember what I told you, about why I failed? What it was?"
"That…" The creature in Arthur's chest is beating his rib cage to shreds now. "That you chose me. That'd you always choose me."
"My magic was made for you, Arthur," Merlin says solemnly, and this— this is worth more than any knight's vow, than any man laying their life at Arthur's knees. Merlin is pledging the most fundamental, instinctual part of himself to Arthur, and Arthur just wants to mold himself to fit by Merlin's side at all time. "And if it came down to my magic or your life, I'd choose you."
Arthur's heart stops.
"That was why I was sent away," Merlin continues, looking down, avoiding Arthur's eyes as the tremor starts back up in Arthur's bones, "because I'd keep my magic hidden for the rest of my life if it meant I could choose you."
Arthur breathes in. He breathes out. He then launches himself at Merlin and kisses him squarely on the face.
It's messy, of course, something born of a man being exiled for 5 years and another desperately grieving him. Arthur is crying, slightly, and Merlin is gasping into his mouth, but Arthur can feel Merlin against his lips and he can almost hear something humming, like a beautiful magical tune.
"I would too," Arthur murmurs into Merlin's lips. "I couldn't— you were gone, Merlin. I couldn't function, I could barely run my kingdom."
Merlin is openly staring at him, now, all awe and slight joy. "Well." His voice is warbling with tears. "Good to know my absence was appreciated."
Arthur brings him in for another kiss instead of acknowledging how much of an asshole he is.
Arthur does not know when he fell in love with Merlin. It was rather inevitable, all in all- he'd felt a spark in his chest when he'd first seen Merlin, gangly ears and cutting words. Falling in love had been something he chose in staying near him, in listening to Merlin's every word and then forgiving him every time he did something stupid and inane.
Arthur did not fall in love, in the end- that implies it happened to him. He chose it. He chose it every step of the way when he went out for the mortaeus flower, when he considered every possible option to keep Merlin by his side at all time.
Arthur was a very bad liar. That meant even his denial to himself ran false. He'd denied being in love with Merlin for years, so when he finally accepted it, all he'd thought was, well, what do I do now?
The answer was nothing. Merlin was gone. So, his brain had responded, then get him back, you idiot.
"You're not allowed to leave me again," Arthur says later. They're on the floor, Merlin's face red from his tears. They'd held onto each other and cried earlier. Now, they are staring into each other as if they're trying to make sure neither are ghosts. "As your king, you're not."
"It's not up to me, Arthur," Merlin says gently. "Weren't you listening, you cabbagehead, or were you too busy pretending to a gallant knight when you're just an idiot?"
Arthur halfheartedly thwacks Merlin on his shoulder. He just keeps his hand resting there for a bit.
"You've got to legalize magic first," Merlin continues. "After that, I'll have finally fulfilled my role as the keeper of magic, and I'll— I'll be allowed to be in Camelot again."
"Well." Arthur straightens his back. "Lucky for you, I've gotten very good at statesmanship while you've been gone. I've had to write all my own speeches, after all."
Merlin's eyes brighten. "You really didn't get a speech writer?"
Arthur shrugs. He looks away for a second. "They weren't good enough."
That was a lie, of course. He hadn't even tried. Besides the most basic of tasks needed for a manservant, Arthur hadn't let them be reassigned. It was like betraying Merlin, even though Merlin wasn't there. More aptly, it had been a betrayal of Merlin's ghost, the very real specter that haunted Arthur's every move.
"You just admitted I'm a good speechwriter."
Arthur sniffs. "I did no such thing."
"Yeah, you did." Merlin cups Arthur's face again with his free hand. His grin is unbearably smug. "The professional speechwriters weren't good enough, but your old manservant was."
Arthur headbutts Merlin. It is undercut by how he keeps their foreheads connected. "Shut up."
Merlin hums contentedly. "No can do, sire. I think I should remind you of how brave was, slaying that griffon as the idiot prince was knocked out and-"
Arthur leaps onto Merlin, wrestling him to the ground. "Lies. Absolute lies and slander."
"Nope!" Merlin's eyes glow, and suddenly, Arthur is lifted up, but he can feel Merlin's hands while Merlin looks every bit the god he is. It is… uncomfortably arousing. "Said it, can't take it back."
Arthur is released onto the ground. He gets to his knees, and, looking into Merlin's eyes, cautiously says, "No. No, I suppose I can't."
The humor disappears from Merlin's face, but it's replaced with enough love that it makes it alright in the end.
"You have to go back to Camelot, Arthur," Merlin says.
"Not without you," Arthur stubbornly replies. "I just need to ensure magic will be legal, right? That I won't prosecute anyone for its use."
Merlin nods. "Yeah, but you can't do that while away from the kingdom-"
"Watch me." Arthur takes out a dagger, and he cuts his palm in half.
Merlin's eyes flare up; the wound is healed instantly. It's a sweet moment, and it's nice to see how protective Merlin is, but it's stupid. Arthur flicks Merlin's head.
'Idiot," Arthur says far too fondly. "I'm trying to draw blood."
"Why?"
"Gods, you spend 5 years away and what little you had in that head of yours disappears again," Arthur mutters, relishing in the outlandish exclaim from Merlin. "I'm giving you a blood oath."
Merlin freezes. Arthur can see the wheels turning in his head. "You're what?"
"You're magic incarnate, right?" As Merlin is processing the extent to which Arthur trusts him, Arthur draws blood again. "So I'm going to promise you that I'll never prosecute a magic user for simply having magic on pain of death, and you'll use my blood so I'm held to that."
"You…" Merlin's jaw drops. "You can't do that."
"I can, and I will." Arthur squeezes his palm, the blood drops accumulate on the floor. "Chop chop, Merlin, you don't want me dying of blood loss while I'm here."
"This is madness," Merlin whispers. "You're going to swear to me on a blood oath just so, what, I'm with you for another five days?"
"Finally, those ears are good for something," Arthur remarks instead of I'd give you all my blood if it meant you were always by my side or I think if I'm apart from you for one more second I may combust into flames.
Merlin stares. His eyes glow, and his palm splits in half too.
"I'm giving you an oath too," he says, linking his and Arthur's palms together before Arthur can protest. "I won't ever leave you again, Arthur. Not until the day I die."
Something shakes in the ground at the announcement. Arthur can feel the dirt vibrating as Merlin talks with all the gravitas of the magical god he is, a god making a proclamation to the man he loves. It's terrifying. It's horrifically validating. Arthur will never have to part from the most important person in his world again, and all he must do is promise to love him back. It's the simplest thing in the world.
"Together, then," Arthur says softly. "I won't leave you either."
"You're sure?" Merlin asks.
Arthur nods. "I shouldn't need to repeat myself." He isn't saying quite a lot, though, and Merlin knows it too. He's heard rumors that Emrys is immortal, and now Arthur will be too. Their blood has intermingled, and some of a god's blood runs into Arthur's veins. He can almost feel it. There is no separating him and Merlin now, no force in this earth that can remove them, not even death.
Merlin tries to read Arthur's face. Slowly, so slowly, he comes to the same conclusion— that Arthur is not lying, that he is telling the truth, that there is nothing more alluring to Arthur than spending the rest of his life locked in Merlin's arms. Merlin begins to smile, and his eyes flash gold.
The room rattles. The air is charged, crackling with static, and it's almost like a warm embrace. Arthur can feel Merlin all around him, his manservant who is also a god, his best friend who is also the other side of the coin. They make each other whole; there is no Arthur without Merlin, and now the universe is finally going to keep it that way.
The magic drops. Merlin sags, a bit, and he falls into Arthur's arms. Arthur catches him. A tattoo is slowly appearing on Arthur's upper forearm, one of a coin, a dragon flying on a golden coin, twined around Excalibur. It's beautiful.
Merlin presses a light kiss to Arthur's forearm, right on the tattoo. It sends sparks of electricity. Arthur just pulls him closer.
"Together, Merlin. We'll face it together." By it, Arthur doesn't quite know what he means— life, he supposes. The rest of the universe and time. The annoying nobles he'll need to negotiate with. Everything important, and everything unimportant too, because that's what love's about.
"Good." Merlin nods. "Together."