Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To say that Merlin’s day was going wonderfully would be the most blatant lie in the history of humanity.

He had spent the better part of the night, twisting and turning on his bed unable to sleep properly, as was the case with most nights these days. He guessed it was the accumulated stress.

There were the usual problems of vengeful, resentful or even self-righteous and misguided sorcerers, assassins and magical creatures terrorizing the citizens.

The new-found dread of having Mordred around as an everyday reminder, that he was fated to witness his King’s death at the Druid’s hand.

The ever-present stress of not being discovered, while getting his backside handed to him, when dealing with the threats behind everyone’s backs.

He even avoided Gaius, whenever he could take care of his own injuries well enough. There was no need to worry him.

Merlin could see how his guardian got tired all the more easily, slept more and worried more deeply. He supposed it was to be expected, the man was getting older. If anything, he had been stretching himself too thin for a while now, being the court physician and visiting the lower town every other day to care for the citizens there. Merlin had eventually noticed this and asked Arthur to be relieved of most duties, outside of being manservant to the king, of course, -Merlin refused to give that position up no matter what-, so that he could focus on helping Gaius with his rounds and material preparation.

That was what he had been focused on, cleaning and material prep, before being interrupted by a new guest. It was another Druid boy, with a tragic back-story, stupidly coming to the heart of Camelot, to beg for his help in saving his sister. Against his better judgment, the warlock decided he could afford to spare a few hours. What could possibly go wrong in one morning?

Well, the Gods must have had a good laugh at that thought, seeing as the answer to that question was everything.

This one little, attempted, act of kindness was about to cost him and the whole of Albion, their future.

And Merlin was left to suffer; alone, in the wait of a slow and painful death at the bottom of the ditch Morgana threw him in.

He tried, multiple times, to utter the few healing spells he could manage even when he was in the best condition, to no avail; for hours, slipping in and out of consciousness, and in so much pain. Merlin swore he had never before felt as horrified, or as tired. No! I can’t waste time here! She’s headed back!

Morgana had used Daegal to lure and poison him. He supposed it was karma at this point.

His blood was on fire, yet his skin was blue from the cold, his head pounded with every heartbeat, his body refused to move, like he was buried under rubble and it was all he could do to keep himself breathing. He knew it would be over if he relaxed, if he gave up. He would be lying, if he claimed that thought did not appeal to some tired, twisted part of him. No! I can’t leave him.

Arthur was not dead yet. He would not give up. He tried calling the dragon next and when his magic, his body and his voice failed him, all he could do was to stubbornly cling to life. Like a goddamn ghost.

But then the Druid boy came back. The little liar, helped him. He faded in and out for a bit after that, when the pain had finally subsided enough for him to pass out.

It had been a few hours before he finally woke up. He ran. He had no time to doubt or hesitate, so he moved as fast as his tired body and slashed up leg would allow him. Even with Daegal supporting him when he tired, they were moving too slowly.

Then, because the Gods despised him, they had to run into bandits. Merlin regretted the two minutes he took to warn them to back off. He made a quick example of their leader, scaring the bastards away. They should be thanking him. If he could command his magic as well as usual, he might have killed them where they stood.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached the castle. He snuck them in, through the fastest hidden corridors, directly to the throne room. Arthur was supposed to be signing the new peace treaty by then.

Thankfully he noticed that door, that was not supposed to be open, leading upstairs to the gallery overlooking the Great Hall. What he saw, when they finally got up those godforsaken stairs, made his blood run cold.

Sarrum’s warrior had a crossbow aimed right at his King. The assassin spotted them and without wasting a breath, turned and fired at Merlin. He reacted and directed the arrow away from his face at the last second. It felt like his magic was a flame flickering in the wind, with Morgana's poison remaining in his system.

That was why he couldn't deflect the next attack.

The assassin threw two knives, the first aiming for Daegal. He managed to deflect that one, albeit clumsily. The one aimed for himself however…

“Ugh!” The knife was buried in his chest and he was thrown to his back from the force. He would think about that knife later, now he had to save Arthur.

Merlin screamed, and called upon whatever traces were left of his magic. It obeyed, lifting a spear off the ground and running the bastard through.

He was not fast enough. The arrow flew. He could hear the commotion downstairs. No… Please no.

Merlin grabbed onto the railing with a white knuckled grip and pulled himself up.

He was safe. Arthur was safe. The arrow had hit Sarrum.

His King’s gaze lifted and their eyes met. That was the last thing Merlin remembered.

Chapter Text

Arthur was furious.

A bloody assassin had snuck into his palace and killed his guest. The king of a neighboring kingdom had been killed in his own court, he had allowed that to happen. Arthur did not even want to think about the consequences of that. At best he would have to compensate, by giving up land or resources and at worst he would have to go to war.

And why the hell is Merlin up there?

His manservant was hugging the railing looking down at him. What was that idiot thinking? The assassin must still be up there!

“Knights!”

“Sire!”

Thankfully his knights had already started moving.

Then he looked back up, taking a better look at Merlin. His breathing stopped.

Is that a knife? No!

There was a knife embedded in Merlin’s chest. The man swayed and collapsed.

Arthur's body moved before his mind.

He ran after his knights and he ordered the guards to bring Gaius, on his way up to the gallery.

There was a boy he had never seen before hovering over Merlin and putting pressure on his wound.

Gwaine was by his other side checking Merlin’s condition and eyeing the boy with suspicion.

“Sire!” His eyes snapped to Leon who was crouched over a man on the other end of the balcony. “He’s dead. He is the man who you fought yesterday in practice, Sarrum’s warrior.”

Arthur acknowledged the report with a nod and crouched down by Merlin's head.

“How is he?” he asked.

“It's not good, the blade struck far from the heart but it's still a deep wound. He's having trouble breathing and his hands are cold as ice.” Gwaine explained.

Not good was an understatement. Arthur stared at his servant's chest, barely rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths. He felt a deep, dull pain in his own chest at the sight.

Merlin had saved his life once again. That was not the servant’s job. He had no business confronting a trained assassin alone. What was he thinking?

“Make way!” Gaius' voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

Both men backed away to give Gaius some space, the boy remaining to continue putting pressure on the wound. Even those efforts must be fruitless, seeing as blood flowed and pooled on the ground around Merlin’s chest.

“Boy, what’s your name?” Gaius asked hurriedly.

“D-Daegal, sir.” He stammered.

“Daegal, I'm the court physician, let me take over. You did well.” He examined Merlin’s vitals and poured some potion on his knife wound before sending the boy away.

“It looks like he lost more blood than this, are there any other injuries except this one?” Gaius asked, still keeping his composure.

“Y-yes I know there's a gash on his leg but he probably has more bruises.”

“What the hell happened?” Arthur demanded. He knew that the man's condition was worse than what that wound could cause in such a short time but there were even more injuries?

“Gwaine, I am going to remove the knife now, I need you to hold him steady and help remove his shirt and jacket.” Gwaine compiled, with practiced movements no doubt gained from his years traveling. Merlin did not wake up at any part of this process, the only indication that he was in pain being a few gasps and moans.

The physician soaked some clean bandages with an unknown mixture and pushed them into the wound, to stop the bleeding.

“Help me turn him over.” Gaius asked, and Gwaine obliged. The physician let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Merlin's body. No other wounds, only bruises.

How could he possibly feel relieved at that sight?

The man's entire body was covered in scars. Slashes, gashes, burn marks and even a raised scar, that Arthur refused to believe, was in the shape of a serket sting. If he did not know any better, he could swear this body belonged to a victim of gruesome torture. But that could not be right.

Arthur was no stranger to scars, how they formed and healed over time, he was a knight before he was a king. Yet the scars on his servant's body were worse than anything he had ever seen, even on the most seasoned knights. They were no doubt acquired in a long span of time, some wounds were inflicted years ago, some months, and some mere days ago.

His view was cut off, when they finished wrapping bandages around Merlin's torso. And he looked around, finally noticing everybody else’s shock at this. All of his closest knights had gathered by now. Some were still in a daze, staring at Merlin in shock and some were furious clenching their fists by their sides and around their swords. They must have seen the shock on his own face, since no-one questioned him about this.

If one were to ask the knights for their thoughts on the situation, they would speak of their shame and guilt. How could they have allowed this? How could they fail to notice? Had Merlin been walking around with these injuries, while performing his duties as usual?

With a passing thought, Arthur entrusted Guinevere with handling the confusion downstairs and helped Gwaine carry Merlin to Gaius' chambers.

They gently situated the servant in the softest cot and Gaius sent everyone away, apart from Gwaine, since he needed the help to treat Merlin's other injuries.

Arthur promptly sent the knights to resume their duties, with orders to keep him informed about the current situation and the only people left in the hall were Arthur and Daegal.

Arthur led the way to the closest, empty chamber and directed the boy to a small table.

“Tell me, exactly, what happened to him.” Arthur ordered. He sat across the boy, named Daegal, leveling him with his most threatening glare.

The boy trembled, bowing his head before him, Arthur thought him quite smart to be cowering. Had he not helped Merlin, he would be kneeling in the throne room with guards at each side, for his interrogation.

“I-It’s aill my fault my lord.” The boy’s shoulders were shaking but he seemed to be maintaining his composure well enough. That was good. Arthur was not sure if he had the patience to deal with hysteria at the moment.

“Start from the beginning,” Arthur prompted and then warned “and know that if I catch you in a lie you will be severely punished, Daegal.”

“Y-yes, sire.” Arthur merely gave a nod and waited.

Daegal explained the increasingly disturbing story from start to finish.

I thought he was out on date, for Gods’ sake!

As Guinevere had informed him and Gaius earlier, he had brushed Merlin’s absence off, as part of the unplanned disappearing acts that his servant liked to make now and then, only now in the company of a girl. However Gaius had not seemed reassured, not in the slightest. He supposed, the man would know best, as Merlin's guardian he was bound to have good instincts on the matter of his charge’s habits. Arthur, once again, had not listened and put his people in danger.

Hell, his servant was lying alone in the woods, fighting for his life and he was sitting on his ass, in his comfortable chair, thinking of how he would tease Merlin for his absence.

He had no one to blame, but himself.

Arthur was the reason why Morgana would go to such lengths to end Merlin's life. His attachment and fondness for his servant was what led her to consider him a target, someone she could torture Arthur by killing.

After having that shocking conversation, enough time had passed for the treatment to be completed, so Arthur found his way back to the court physician’s chambers, the boy following close behind.

He would be lying, if he said he did not want to strangle the little bastard, when he told the king how he lured his kind-hearted servant to his death. By the end, he decided to hold back, seeing as the boy had saved Merlin's life later on and had apparently given up what meager funds he got for his treasonous services to Morgana, to some bandits threatening them on the way back to Camelot.

If he was being honest with himself, he did doubt that bandits bold enough to set an ambush so close to the citadel, would have been satisfied with so little loot and promptly let the two men go, however he decided to push that thought to the back of his mind for now.

“How is he?”

“I am afraid, he is not yet out of danger, sire.” Gaius admitted with a grave tone to his voice.

Arthur visibly pailed, as he sat down by Merlin's side.

“He lost a lot of blood, both from the stab wound and the gash on his leg. That one I speculate, was left bleeding for quite a while and never properly treated.”

“Gwaine, thank you. Will you escort Daegal to the servants’ quarters? If he tries to flee, bring him back and don't bother bringing him alive.”

He felt, more than he saw, the boy shudder behind him. Some may call him cruel, however he had no more mercy to give, to someone who had already betrayed Camelot once before, nor did he have any shred of trust for the liar.

“...Yes, sire.” Gwaine was understandably reluctant to leave his friend's side but he seemed to get Arthur's message, to keep an eye on the boy.

Once the only people in the room, apart from the patient, were himself and Gaius, Arthur began to voice the thoughts plaguing his mind.

“How could this happen, Gaius?” Merlin’s hand was cold under his fingertips. He held it in both hands, in a desperate attempt to warm it up.

“He was supposed to be out, running around, spending time with a nice girl. Not…this.” Sure Arthur would grumble and tease him relentlessly, even if deep down he would be happy for the man to finally find a partner for himself.

“Why did he lie to Guinevere? Why didn't he tell you where he was really going?” Arthur asked, half to Gaius and half to himself. He observed the old physician's reaction. Of course.

“He did tell you, didn't he?”

It made sense now. Why Gaius was not reassured by Guinevere's explanation, why he came to Arthur worried, asking for a search party to be sent, even while the men were most needed in the capital for the foreign kingdom’s visit. “Why didn't you tell me, Gaius?”

The old man let out a deep sigh, sitting down at his charge’s other side.

“I woke up to him leaving. I tried to talk some sense into him. The boy was a complete stranger who suddenly appeared inside the royal household, asking Merlin to take too great a risk to rescue his sister. I had my suspicions but I don't think I could have kept him from going.”

“Stubborn.” Arthur bit out.

“Very.”

“You still didn't answer my question.” He pressed. He would get a proper answer out of this old fox. Gaius was a trusted friend but Arthur would not make the same mistake as his father, of assuming that the man was always being completely honest with him.

“The boy bore the mark of a druid.” Arthur's eyebrows shot to his forehead. Daegal didn't mention anything like this?

“He begged for help secretly, and Merlin agreed. I am sorry, sire. I should have come to you with the truth from the start, I simply didn't want Merlin to get into trouble.”

“...Why would he get into trouble, Gaius?” He asked, baffled. This is ridiculous. No matter who Merlin decided to help, Arthur would never punish him for it.

“Sire, the boy likely used sorcery to get inside the palace grounds.” Arthur’s mouth clamped shut.

“Even if he did not use magic, he still snuck inside past the guards, like a thief.” He pointed out.

“Sire, at best, Merlin could have been accused of associating with an outsider, something already unacceptable for the manservant to the king. At worst, he could have been accused of conspiring with a sorcerer.”

“That's ridiculous.” Arthur voiced his bafflement, looking at Gaius like he had grown a second head.

That thought had not even crossed his mind. Merlin is literally the last person he would suspect of treason. Apparently, the supposedly wise court physician did not know this.

“I would never suspect Merlin, of all people. You should have told me.”

What else did he have to do to gain people's trust? Had he not shown enough confidence and trust in this man to deserve that much?

“I have failed Merlin. I feared for your reaction at the mention of magic. I’m sorry Arthur.” He apologized offering a deep bow, sincerity clear in his voice and moisture lightly blurring his eyes.

So this was it. Gaius was afraid that he would react like his father. That he would be deaf to all reason. That he would not hesitate to punish his servant, his friend, for helping someone who had magic.

He would. He would have hesitated and then he would have given up on blaming Merlin all together.

He would have probably just disapproved of Merlin's actions, or even tried to stop his idiot servant.

After all, sorcerers were extremely dangerous, he would have never let Merlin go alone. But at this time he could not afford to spare men for a rescue operation, under such dubious circumstances no less. Merlin probably knew this. That was why he left without saying anything. 

Or rather, that was the reason that Arthur would like to believe his servant had. That. Not fear for his job, or his life, should Arthur react poorly.

Wait. The thing that made no sense about this whole situation suddenly hit him.

“Gaius. Tell me the truth. How did Merlin look like to you, before he left?”

“...I don't understand.”

“Did he look scared? Anxious? Did he behave strangely in any way?”

“...” He hesitated slightly but Arthur would give the sly old man, no time to consider this answer.

“Tell me.” The king demanded, firmly grasping the man's shoulders.

“He seemed normal to me, sire!”

“Normal?”

“Yes, he merely seemed worried for the girl and a healthy bit suspicious but otherwise he acted like normal. He made his decision when he promised his help to the boy.”

Arthur gave a nod of approval at the honesty and returned to his position of holding Merlin's, now slightly warmer, hand.

He could rule out coercion, or enchantment since the man was acting normal. But then why would Merlin, someone who feared and disliked magic, as much as he himself did, if not more, agree to help two druids? Especially when the boy had most likely used magic to break in the castle.

“Gaius, I need you to be honest with me one more time.” The old man’s shoulders stiffened slightly. That was all that gave away his discomfort.

“Merlin doesn't hate magic, does he?”

“Sire, I can't possibly know for sure-”

“I am only asking for your opinion. I swear on my life, no harm will come to you or Merlin because of this answer. Nor will I ever judge either of you, for having an opinion different to mine. I am not my father Gaius. I need you to remember that.”

The old man took a moment to process and come to a conclusion, before he spoke.

“No, Arthur. I don't believe that Merlin hates magic. Neither do I. I fear what it can do, in the wrong hands but I cannot hate it. I’ve witnessed magic save lives and bring life to crops, before I witnessed it corrupt and destroy.”

Arthur schooled his expression. He simply nodded and urged him to continue.

“Merlin has also witnessed both sides of magic. Magic is not evil by nature. ‘Evil lies in the heart of men’. That was something he told me himself.”

Gaius paused for a moment, to look over his charge and consider his next words.

“However, he has lost too much to magic, to not fear it.”

“I know. My father, Morgana, Lancelot and Agravein were all lost to magic.” Arthur said, trying to keep his frustration out of his voice, with a good deal of success.

The old man scowled.

“Yes, however Morgana and Agravein were lost to their fear and thirst for revenge, more so than magic. Magic only empowered their hatred. But that was not what I meant. Merlin has lost people and made sacrifices, you know nothing about.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“What do you mean?”

There was more? First the hidden injuries, now lost loved ones? Most of his time is spent in Merlin’s company, how is it possible for him to not have noticed?

“I have already said too much. Please do not ask more from me. He will tell you himself, when he feels ready, just…”

“What?”

“Please listen to him before you pass judgement. Everything Merlin has done, has been for you Arthur. Not himself, not Camelot, not even for his own family at times, everything he has done ever since he came here a decade ago, he has done it to protect you.”

The more answers he got, the more questions arose in Arthur's head.

Unfortunately, he would have to wait for the unconscious man in front of him to wake up, if he wanted the remaining answers.

Chapter Text

Arthur felt Merlin's heartbeat speed up under his fingertips. The servant’s hands twitched slightly, making him direct his attention back to the man.

Merlin was walking up. His breathing got faster as his head swung lightly sideways, as if he were simply having a bad dream. 

Yet, in the near future, Arthur would be the one finding himself living a nightmare.

“Merlin, can you hear me?” The King asked calmly, receiving no answer.  

Merlin slowly began to rouse from sleep but his condition was obviously worsening. He was taking rapid shallow breaths and seemed distressed.

“What's happening to him?”

“I'm not sure, sire…”

Then, the younger man started to cough wetly, more and more violently after each breath. It looked like he was drowning by the time he woke up enough to turn himself to the side, in a desperate attempt to clear his airways.

Arthur felt Merlin clutching his hand like a lifeline, as he coughed out.. so much blood… 

“G-Gaius do something!” Arthur's voice trembled, he felt his heart race and the cruel monster, called fear, digging its claws into his guts. 

“Hold him on his side! He's bleeding internally and the blood is putting pressure on his lung. I need to make an incision to drain the blood.”

Gaius explained but Arthur could hardly hear him over his own pounding heart and Merlin's gasps, coughs and moans.

“Merlin, listen to me,” he held the man, rubbing soothing circles into his back, “you’re going to be alright, okay? You just have to wait a bit, Gaius will help.” He tried to reassure himself as much as Merlin. “You just need to hold on.” 

“A-Arthur?” Merlin asked, between laboured breaths and coughing up the sickening red liquid. This felt worse than drowning. What the hell was happening to him? 

“I'm here. I'm safe, everyone's safe, thanks to you.” Thanks to him? Ah right, the assassin. He managed to save the royal prat and now he was dealing with the consequences, of the business end of the knife that buried itself in his chest. 

“Merlin, my boy, I need you to remain calm. You have been bleeding internally and I need to drain some of it, you need to bear with the pain for a bit longer.” 

“O-okay.” Gaius was going to help. He would be alright, he wouldn't drown in his own blood, not today.

“Hold onto Arthur and try to keep still.”

Merlin did as ordered, only mildly surprised that his King seemed to hold onto him just as strongly. He looked into those blue eyes to try and distract himself. The golden locks framed a tired face. Wow, he must be really worried. It both warmed and broke his heart to see Arthur like this. He shouldn't have to worry about Merlin. He would survive, probably. 

No. He still needs to keep this clotpole safe, he will survive, no matter what. 

He felt Gaius' hands on his side behind him, a liquid wetting his skin and dampening the sheets and the sharp cut of a small blade. 

His breath hitched. More so out of reflex than pain. His chest wound hurt too much, for the small cut to register properly.

Arthur's grip on his shoulder blade tightened reassuringly. He closed his eyes and tried to calm down. Arthur didn't need to see him like this. He tried, really but he couldn't slow down his breathing, his body refused to obey, his hands kept trembling. He told himself it was probably the bloodloss, not his own growing panic.

“Merlin, look at me.” No.

“Please, open your eyes and look at me.” Arthur pleaded and wasn't that rare. 

So Merlin did as asked. He opened his eyes to take in the redrimmed ones of his King. 

He remembered his King's words from the past. 

“N-no man, is worth your tears.” He repeated them back, trying for a smirk. 

The look on Arthur's face was certainly worth it. Like a deer in headlights. Or perhaps, a gaping fish. The man quickly schooled his expression into a mask of calm.

“You're going to be fine, Merlin. Don't be such a girl.”

“Hah!” He huffed out a laugh, immediately regretting it, at the sharp pain that followed, from his new wound. Right, Gaius must have shoved a glass tube in there to drain the blood. 

He had seen this procedure done, countless times before, in his time as the physician's apprentice. He could now sympathise with his patients’ relief after it. He could finally take a deep enough breath, and not feel like he was six feet underwater.

“Thank you, Gaius.” 

“You're not out of the woods yet, young man.” Gaius scolded in mock-annoyance. 

Merlin relaxed a bit, loosening the iron grip he had on Arthur's hand. Surprisingly, the other did not pull away. 

“How are you feeling?” The King asked. 

“Much better. I can actually breathe now.” Relief washed over Merlin and a bone deep fatigue followed. He wanted to go to sleep…

“Merlin…” Arthur hesitated. 

“Yeah?” He couldn't sleep, no matter how much he wanted to, his heart was still beating too fast and the adrenaline from the scare, was still pumping in his body. So why not hear what the King had to say? He would say whatever he wanted, anyway, with or without Merlin’s input.

“Why-” he cut himself off and changed his question, “how did you know about the assassin? What happened to you? Why didn't you say anything…?” Arthur was looking down by the end of his questions. 

He didn't sound particularly accusing, or anything, why was Merlin feeling his chest burn? 

Merlin offered the explanation he had come up with, on the way back to the palace.

“I went out in the woods in the morning to gather herbs for Gaius and ran into Morgana's men. I suspected they were planning something, so I turned to make my way back and ended up tripping and falling into a ditch. Then I was late returning, because I hurt my leg, and when I finally got back I noticed that the door to the gallery was left open. I knew that couldn't be a mistake. You see, James the guard, is very meticulous and gives any servant an earful when they leave doors open; ‘It's a security risk!’ he always says. Some servants have even begun to call him ‘Mr. Security Risk’." 

Merlin laughed a little at a memory of the maids in the kitchen, consoling one of their own who was scolded by James, by calling the poor guard rather creative names and that ridiculous nickname.

“Anyway, the open door, towards the gallery overlooking the throne room, tipped me off and I ran upstairs, to find the assassin pointing his crossbow at you.” Merlin paused for a breath, and to have a look at Arthur's face. 

The hell? The man's face was a mask of cold calculation. Had he messed up? Oh, right.

“I picked up a boy on the way back, Daegal. He helped me with my injury and also helped take down the assassin. I distracted him and Daegal threw a spear and made him miss his shot. I assume he's dead?” Merlin asked. He didn't remember anything after making sure the arrow hadn't hit Arthur. He guessed not much time has passed since then, considering that Arthur was still here. 

Merlin prayed that he hadn't spoken to the boy yet. Arthur could even have put him in the dungeons until things are sorted, when he could interrogate him properly. 

Alternatively, he hoped that Daegal had held his tongue out of fear for his own life. The boy had committed treason by dragging the King's servant to the enemy. It would be beyond foolish, to admit to a sorcerer-hating king about pretending to be one and worse consorting with one, who also happened to be his worst enemy. 

“Arthur?” His King was frowning now. He had completely ignored Merlin's question too…

“Yes, he is dead.” Came a curt reply. 

Shit. Had he really messed up? Did the little fool tell the story before him? How much did he say? No way he told the truth…

Merlin kept his mouth shut. His heart was racing again. He couldn't say for sure what the cause was, between the bloodloss, the poison still in his system making his grasp on his magic weak and the adrenaline, which came with his newfound dread of being caught lying to the King's face. So what? What’s he going to do, sack me? He’d be dead by the end of the fortnight without me here!

“Merlin, I know you're lying to me.” Yeah, so do I. What I don't know is what you think I'm lying about! He needed to find out before he could dig an even deeper grave for himself.

“You spoke with the boy, didn't you?”

“Yes.”

“Look, I'm sorry for lying. I don't know what he told you, but I'm sure he didn't tell the whole truth.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! I'm sure that he lied, at least about half of his story!”

“Really?” The man scoffed, with a parody of a smile gracing his lips.

“Really.”

Arthur pulled himself back. He got up, seemingly ready to storm out, before turning and slamming his fist on the nearby wall.

Merlin and Gaius both jumped at the outburst.

“Sire!” Gaius' eyebrow of disapproval was fully raised, as the court physician levelled the King of Camelot with a threatening glare. 

“If you cannot keep your calm, I suggest taking your leave. Merlin is a patient and whatever grievance you may have, can wait until he recovers.”

Arthur took a few seconds to calm down and then he returned to his seat.

“I understand. I'll stay here.”

“What?” Both master and apprentice were stunned.

“I’ll receive Leon's report, while you patch Merlin up and then we will continue this conversation.”

“Sire-”

“No. Gaius you will do as I say and when you have done everything you can for now, you will leave us.” 

He ordered. 

“I understand.” Gaius relented, although his disapproval was now mixed with disappointment and resignation. 

Arthur hated the looks on both their faces. 

Merlin had lied, expertly, right to his face. He had given absolutely no indication that his words were bordering on fiction rather than simple lies. After the shock and denial faded from Arthur's mind all that remained was rage and hurt. 

He was sure that Merlin had lied just like this many times before. He was used to it. How else was he to explain the man's numerous scars? The ease with which he came up with that story? 

What Merlin had offered as an explanation, would make perfect sense, if not for the testimonies of the alleged druid boy and the man's own worried guardian. That explanation would make perfect sense to Arthur specifically, he realised. He never really doubted the man's bravery, devotion or even intelligence but he did think of him as useless at being sneaky and not capable of deception.

Oh, how wrong he had been. 

What he failed to wrap his head around was why his servant had resorted to lying about his own injuries and achievements.

Just why would he choose to keep everything from Arthur? 

Weren't they supposed to be friends? 

Was Arthur the only one, who had opened his heart to the other; who had asked for advice, who had sought the other’s approval, as much as his reprimands?

Had he really failed so horribly, that Merlin didn't trust him, not even half as much as he trusted his servant? 

Did Merlin really fear him, like Gaius did?

He realised then that his anger was with himself as much, if not more, as it was with Merlin. That was enough to calm his temper. He would put his anger aside for now. 

He remembered Gaius' plea to give Merlin the chance to come clean on his own. But he just couldn't leave. 

He listened to Leon's report and everything was going smoothly, Guinevere had taken care of everything urgent and now it was past midnight, everyone would be resting. He could afford to stay here, for a little longer. 

He was angry but also worried.

Merlin looked terrible. His numerous scars covered most of his chest and back, probably his legs too. Gaius and Gwaine had taken care of any injuries below the waist, so Arthur had no way of knowing how injured he had been there. 

Those scars were a reminder of his failure to be there for his friend. 

He wondered what they meant to Merlin himself. He belatedly realized that he had never seen the man shirtless, not even after heavy rain on a hunt. Has Merlin ever felt safe enough to drop his guard around me?

“I will be in the next room. Call me if anything happens.”

“Yes, thank you.” Merlin assured.

They were finally left alone. 

“Merlin, I have already spoken to Daegal and Gaius.”

“I see.” Merlin covered his eyes for a moment. He let out a resigned sigh and continued. 

“I'm sorry for lying to you Arthur. It just felt easier to explain that way.”

Arthur held his hand. If he was extending the olive branch Merlin wouldn't deny it.

“Will you tell me the entire truth?”

“Could you tell me what you’ve already heard?”

“So you can see what I don't already know and lie about it?” 

“What are you-no! For the love of- I'm just tired. I want to get this over with and finally take a day off.”

“You're not getting a day off.”

“You’re seriously going to make me work, like this?” 

“No, but you can join Gwaine in keeping an eye on the druid boy.”

“...He's not really a druid.”

“What?”

“See, that's what I meant, you don't  know the whole story. You heard about the druid thing from Gaius right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he first approached me claiming he was a druid and that he couldn't bring his sister for treatment to Gaius because of it. I found him suspicious but he was very convincing in begging for my help.”

Arthur nodded, he guessed as much.

“However after we actually reached the valley of the fallen kings where his sister was supposed to be hiding, injured-”

“You went to the valley of the fallen kings alone!? What the hell were you thinking!?”

“...” Merlin offered no argument.

“Then I found out that he wasn't really a druid but by that point, Morgana was right behind me and the next thing I remember is waking up at the bottom of the nearby cliff, poisoned.”

“That was when you injured your leg.”

“Right. I couldn't move for a while because of the poison, it was supposed to kill me.” He shivered remembering the pain, the cold, the hopelessness, he had felt in those few hours.

“Then Daegal came back, asking how he could help me.” He scoffed. “I had half a mind to strangle the little bastard but I could barely speak let alone move.”

Arthur winced imperceptibly.

“I explained what herbs he needed to find and how to prepare them and he followed through. He saved my life. And he helped me get back.”

“Then you were blocked by bandits.”

Merlin stiffened and frowned.

“Yes. Daegal gave them what little he had and they backed off.”

“You're lying.”

Merlin's frown deepened and his gaze glanced back and forth, between Arthur's face and the ceiling.

“I’m not lying.”

“You expect me to believe that bandits who went into the trouble of robbing people, so close to the citadel, just took a few coins and bid you safe travels?”

“What do you want me to say?” 

“The bloody truth!”

“I told you the truth.”

“I was taking your pulse, Merlin. Try again.”

Merlin pulled his arm back with so much force that he opened his injury and the bandages slowly turned red again.

“I've done nothing to deserve an interrogation, Arthur. Please leave me.”

“So you don't trust me, is that it?” Arthur questioned, more aggressively than he intended.

“I trust you with my life.” He countered. 

His servant had said those words before and announced them with his actions many times in the past.

“Yet, you don't trust me with the truth? You don't trust me to handle the fact that you were reckless and have been injured so many times. Do you have any idea how stupid I felt when the knights looked to me for answers about your scars?” 

“I don't want to talk about this right now!” 

“Why not!”

“Damn it! Why do I have to tell you? It's none of your business what I do, or how many scars I have! Now leave me!” Merlin turned around in the cot grunting and breathing heavily again. Only to not have to look at Arthur in the eyes.

“Fine!” The King bellowed and he stormed out the door.

Gaius was by Merlin's side in seconds.

“Merlin, what in the world- you opened your injury again!”

“Leave it Gaius, I’ll be fine.” So what if he died? He would have time to recover now.

Merlin had found out about his immortality, on one of his misadventures, a few months ago.

He had ventured too far out into the woods, in search of a type of crystal, one necessary for a protection spell he was working on. Unsurprisingly, he ran into trouble. They were vagrants fleeing Essetir, probably escaped criminals.

The second he spotted them, he realised that he was surrounded and the second after that, he was shot with an arrow through his heart. 

It was quick. 

He felt the pain for but a moment, before the world went dark and silent. 

His heart stopped. 

When he opened his eyes again, it was night time. He got up, inspected his body and found nothing but a new scar, where the arrow had been. 

When he finally returned to Gaius tired and without the crystal, he found out that two days had passed since he left. He had been dead for an entire day. 

So dying wasn't an option, unless the threats were taken care of. 

As he had learned the hard way, a day was time enough for everything to be taken from him.

Gaius didn't know about this. 

What was he supposed to tell him? That he was a monster, who couldn't even die? 

He was tired. 

All the adrenaline and all the anger had dissipated and been replaced by a heavy weight on his chest.

“I can't keep doing this.” 

The sorcerer, finally, broke down.

“I can't keep doing this!!” 

He screamed and sobbed into his pillow.

“Merlin…” 

Gaius didn't know what to do. He had never seen the young man like this before. He was in utter despair and Gaius had no idea what he could do to help.

Merlin continued to cry uncontrollably, for what felt like hours. 

He had pushed Gaius away, refusing treatment and pain relief. The court physician had been forced to retreat to the other room.

“I'm a monster.” He breathed. 

He had too much magic, too little skill to use it properly and was too cowardly to do what had to be done. 

Really, what had he done right? He had kept Arthur safe, sure, but at what cost?

His own safety.

More importantly,

Freya, Will, Balinor, Lancelot...

People close to him always ended up dying right in front of him, because he was so powerless. ‘The greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth’? What a joke. 

He couldn't protect them. He had failed, because he was weak and inexperienced and cowardly.

“All for this goddamn destiny.”

Too many people have already died for him. For what he was destined to accomplish. 

He couldn't give up. 

He couldn't continue like this. 

He had to change. 

He had to resolve to do whatever it takes. 

He had to let go of whatever moral boundaries he had been unwilling to cross, if he wanted to do that.

He had to stop being scared. No more hesitation. No more sitting around, waiting for something to happen. 

He would take matters into his own hands now. 

If he ends up in the pyre, so be it.

If he gets banished, he'll find a way to stay close enough.

If Arthur ends up hating him…

“It doesn't matter.”

He reminded himself. 

What mattered was that he was safe.

Chapter Text

In three days, Merlin had recovered enough to resume most of his duties.

Like every other day, he gathered breakfast and went to wake Arthur up. The only break in his routine was to reassure those who expressed concern for him.

He didn't bother relieving George of his duties, when he ran into the man outside of Arthur's chambers. Apparently, he had been too late, George had taken care of the King for the morning.

“Thank you, George.” The servant might sometimes make his blood boil, but he was devoted to his job, to a fault. He could appreciate that much.

George gave him a strange look in return.

“I assume the King has already had breakfast, could you please take care of this?” Merlin asked, handing over the plate he had prepared for Arthur's breakfast.

He accepted the plate but made no move to leave.

“How are you feeling, Merlin? When will you be resuming your duties?”

George, showing concern for his wellbeing? He didn't think the stickler cared.

“I am recovering just fine, thank you. However, I won't be resuming my duties as the King's manservant for the foreseeable future.”

“Why? So suddenly… Are you sick? Is something the matter with your family?”

He must have found the answer to his questions from Merlin’s expression, because the man changed his course.

“Did you and the king fight?”

And it looks like he did it again.

“Whatever was said, I am sure the king won't hold it against you…”

“No, wait, it's not that- well, we did fight… but that's not the reason why I'm taking a break from my duties.”

“Then what..”

“Gaius caught a cold. It's nothing serious but he is tired and I'm still recovering, so we thought it best if I acted only as the court physician’s apprentice, at least until we both recover completely.”

“I understand. I wish you both a quick recovery.”

The servant offered a small nod, in lieu of goodbye and took his leave.

“Haa..” Merlin sighed. After a few steadying breaths, he knocked on the King's door.

“Come in.” Came the reply and Merlin wasted no time to enter and approach Arthur's side by the table.

It really was too much for breakfast, what George was serving him. He would have to have a long conversation with the man if he wanted Arthur to stay in shape in the future.

Arthur finished chewing his bite and leaned away from the table, silently observing Merlin.

“Sire.”

“Merlin.”

“I want to ask to be given a temporary break from my duties as your servant.”

“...Is this about your health? If so, you have nothing to worry about, take as much time as you need.”

“No, I am recovering just fine, I've been cleared to return to most of my everyday chores.”

Arthur's confused expression was his signal to keep talking.

“Gaius has caught a cold. I am still too injured to push myself, to cover both my duties as the King’s servant and the court physician's apprentice, so Gaius and I have agreed that I should help him take care of his patients and himself, until we are both in good health.”

There was a pause, long enough for them both to consider their next words.

“Alright, you can take as long as you need. I wish you both a fast recovery.”

“Thank you, sire.”

That was one more obstacle cleared. 

Fortunately, Gaius had agreed to help him with his plans for the next few days, even if the old man wasn't easy to convince.

Merlin had a plan, for once.

They would pretend that Gaius needed him, as an excuse to avoid the time-consuming duties of the King’s manservant. Then, he would gather whatever magic books he could possibly find and research, while also helping Gaius so as to not arouse suspicion.

He would find a way to ensure that Mordred was no longer a threat.

He wanted to resolve this without harming the boy.

Otherwise, he would need to kill him.

Merlin made his decision.

He would take care of Mordred, before telling Arthur the truth, about his past, his scars and his magic.

“Is that all?” Arthur asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“...” Merlin took a second to study his King's expression.

Of course he is still mad. Merlin had been caught lying and had refused to explain himself properly. Of course Arthur would still be mad.

So Merlin decided to apologise, properly.

“I’m sorry.”

He offered a sincere bow.

“I have kept things from you. I have lied to you to protect those secrets. I'm not really proud of half of the things I've done. It's the opposite actually, it would be understandable if you never want to see me again, after you learn everything…” his voice wavered, “Please, just give me some time.”

“...Time?”

“Yes. Please, Arthur, I swear on my life, I will tell you the entire truth. Everything. I just need to take care of something first.”

“Why do you talk as if I’ll send you away?”

“I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to.”

“Merlin.”

Before Merlin could notice, Arthur was standing right next to him.

“Stop this.” He took a hold of Merlin’s shoulders. “You never bow…what the hell is going on?” Merlin straightened and met his King's eyes.

“I'm-I’m sorry, Arthur. Please…I will explain everything later. Please, give me some time.”

His vision blurred and he realised he was about to cry. That won't do.

He took a step back, freeing himself from the gentle but firm hold, the other kept on him.

“Alright. I'll wait.”

He still hasn't met Arthur's eyes.

“Thank you, sire.”

And like that, he ran away. Well, calmly walked away would be more accurate but it sure felt like he was running away.

He did not understand why he got so emotional. He could not think about that now, he had work to do.

Arthur barely slept that night. Much like the night before.

He lay alone these days. Guinevere was a light sleeper and was frequently awoken by his sleep-talking and groaning in his nightmares. She had not complained but he could see the dark circles under her eyes. She needed a good night's sleep, so he had been the first to suggest they sleep apart, putting aside his own discomfort at sleeping alone after so long.

Sleep would not come to him easily.

He had a lot to think about.

Diplomatic relations with the kingdom of Amata, for one.

They had somehow avoided war but the relations between the kingdoms could not be allowed to get worse. Their king had been killed in his court and the only reason he had avoided war, was the fact that the murderer was one of the other monarch’s own men, trying to assassinate the king of Camelot.

Then, there was the preparation for the upcoming winter.

He needed to oversee the process more closely this year, because the previous year many lords had used the hectic atmosphere to impose higher taxes on their people, outside his knowledge. Sneaky bastards.

At the same time, he needed to address some issues between himself, his queen and his knights.

He had not missed the looks full of weariness, suspicion or even outright aggression from a certain tavern-frequenting knight. They’re just worried about Merlin. He reminded himself to be patient.

And Merlin. That was the main issue he tried desperately to avoid thinking about, during the day and failed to stop thinking about during the night.

The man was just endlessly frustrating. Loyal to a fault, braver than any other Arthur had ever met and oddly wise. He would never admit this to anyone else but he considered Merlin his most trusted confidant, a wise advisor -whose insight bordered on prophetic sometimes- and most importantly his only friend.

Yes. Merlin was not like the knights, who swore an oath to the kingdom. He was not like Guinevere, who swore to be by Arthur's side, as his queen, come what may.

He was a servant. Overworked and often mistreated, if he was being honest.

He had every opportunity and right to leave whenever he wanted, whenever he had finally had enough of his stupid king.

Yet he had stayed.

Through all the trials Arthur faced, he was always right there by his side, supporting and offering his opinion. Whether Arthur asked for it or not, he realised he needed it. Merlin made him a better man.

Arthur was there 3 nights ago.

After Merlin kicked him out, he lingered outside the door trying to calm himself before returning to his room; it wouldn't do for the guards to see him lose his temper.

And what he had heard occupied his thoughts ever since.

‘I can't keep doing this!!’

Every time he remembered his friend’s voice, his heart ached.

Every time he remembered his friend's body, surprisingly well built, and full of scars…

He closed his eyes. 

Merlin was hurting. He had been hurt many times before and had always hidden it from Arthur.

Earlier that day he had finally asked for a few days off and even those he planned to spend working.

He swears the man has no sense of self preservation.

‘I'm-I’m sorry, Arthur. Please…I will explain everything later. Please, give me some time.’

What did the man think of him? How much must he fear him, for him to cower and tremble so?

He must have felt as guilty for the secrets, as Arthur felt angry.

Why couldn't he just tell the truth and be done with it?

Merlin is not someone who shies away from speaking his mind. He's not someone to placate for his own benefit. He's not hesitant… scared… like this.

“Haaa” he sighed.

What point is there in thinking about it now?

Merlin had promised, he would explain everything, in time. He would give him time. It was the least he could do.

The following week was endlessly frustrating.

George was his manservant, for Gods’ sake! If he hears another joke about brass, he swears he will lose his bloody mind.

Politics were going well, at least.

The Sarrum's wife, who took over as regent until her son comes of age, came to him to offer apologies and the forest on the border of their kingdoms. It was fortunate for him that the late ruler was a horrible husband and parent. It made negotiations much easier and ensured that Amata’s new rulers bore no grudge. He accepted their appeasement and agreed to continue trade and being allies in case of war with other kingdoms. Overall, it was a positive outcome.

Guinevere… was kind and supportive, as usual. It was just… he got a weird feeling from her. Her positivity felt a bit forced. She was probably just stressed and tired, much like himself.

The knights seemed to brighten up, after they took their frustrations out on him and each other during training. Also, he was sure they had spoken with Merlin and that their suspicions against him had been cleared. Gwaine’s attitude and brief remarks had told him as much.

He himself couldn't say the same. Merlin had avoided him like the plague and when they did run into each other, they only had time for brief 'hello's and 'how are you's.

Then two weeks passed and he was beginning to regret telling Merlin he would wait.

In the man's defense, it wasn't like he was slacking off and refusing to return to his duties. Merlin looked even more tired, now, than the last time he came to visit Arthur.

What the hell is he doing? He was supposed to be resting.

Instead, he seemed to be running himself to the ground, somehow.

His idiot manservant was rarely seen outside the court physician's chambers or the library and when he was spotted, he looked tired and pale.

He had worried and he had asked but Merlin had just shrugged him off, saying he had taken up research on the seasonal illnesses, that they expected to be spreading in the next few winter months.

The king's questions would be answered the next day.

Chapter Text

Merlin came to visit him that morning.

He looked a bit more rested than two days ago, when they spoke briefly in the hallway by the training grounds.

Merlin came, right after he finished his breakfast, greeting him with a forced smile.

Arthur doubted the man knew how rubbish he was at faking his mood.

He had apologised for the wait, announced he had failed at finding any significantly better remedies for the illnesses and requested a private audience with him in the throne room, later in the day. He had immediately agreed of course.

He found the ease with which Merlin admitted his failure a bit off-putting but reassuring regardless. He hated the thought that his friend was afraid of him.

Also the choice of location was odd but he did not think much of it. He supposed that Merlin wanted to make it a formal occasion, rather than a simple private discussion in his chambers.

The day passed quickly. The afternoon meeting has concluded and the members of his court have left for their homes.

A knock on the door sounded, before the door creaked open.

“Sire.”

“Merlin… Mordred?” Why did he bring the young knight? Wasn't this supposed to be a private discussion?

Merlin gives a curt nod and looks around the throne room. What's with that expression?

Merlin's face is a mask of cold determination. He had only ever seen the man like that, when their lives were in danger. Something is wrong.

“Mordred, take a seat.” Merlin orders. He ordered Mordred.

“Merlin?” Arthur asks, thoroughly unsettled.

Merlin finally looks at him, with a complicated gaze. But only for a second before he turns around.

He pulls the gates closed.

He bents down and pulls a small dagger from his boot.

He stands, facing the door.

He pulls his left sleeve up.

Arthur's blood runs cold. He barely noticed the markings covering every inch of Merlin’s arm, before his mind went silent.

Merlin uses the dagger to cut a long deep line, from his elbow to the back of his hand.

He speaks the final part of the spell and the moment his blood hits the ground…

Markings, much like those that covered Merlin’s limbs, glow golden and reveal themselves. They were drawn in crosswise lines all around the walls, the floor and the ceiling. They continue to glimmer, much like prison bars catching the sunlight.

It was done.

“Ugh!” Merlin hears Mordred grunt behind him. The druid must have felt the loss of his magic. No one, apart from Merlin, would be able to use magic in the throne room now.

Of course, there was nothing to be done for Excalibur. He could not destroy it, or block its effects.

But he had prepared. There would be nothing, short of his own permanent demise, that could stop his spell now.

Merlin turns around.

Mordred was grasping at his chest, heaving heavily. He supposes it would be painful to have one's magic stifled in this way, nevertheless he has no intention of pitying the young man.

He turns his attention to Arthur next.

“Arthur.”

The King stands and approaches. His hand is clutching the hilt of his sword in an iron grip.

“What have you done?” He demands.

“I’ve given us some privacy and I've ensured that we will not be disturbed.”

“Who are you?”

Merlin scoffs. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

“It’s still me, Arthur.” He must either think that I'm someone disguised as Merlin, or I'm myself but enchanted.

Fortunately Merlin had prepared himself for this reaction.

“I’m a sorcerer. I was born like this. I’ve been able to move objects with magic, before I could even walk.”

“Lies!” Arthur bellows. “You will tell me who you are and what you've done with Merlin.” He holds the edge of his sword against the sorcerer’s throat.

A sorcerer disguised as Merlin then.

“I can prove it.” Arthur's blade falters, ever so slightly.

“Remember the Labyrinth of Gedref? Anhora’s test?”

Arthur's eyes widened.

“You drank the poison, in my place.” Merlin breathes.

“No…” The King lowers his sword and backs away a step.

The sword falls to the ground, becoming stained in the puddle of blood that formed beneath Merlin's wounded arm.

The King backs away, hiding his face behind gloved hands.

“Why are you doing this?” His voice trembled.

Merlin's heart ached.

“I'm sorry you had to find out this way.”

“Why must you betray me, too?” There's pain and resignation in his voice.

“I will never betray you.” Arthur looks at him and Merlin wants to kick himself for making his friend feel this way.

“I will always protect you, or die by your side. I intend to keep that oath, no matter what.” Arthur remembered that oath.

It was one of the times Merlin left him stunned to silence. He realises he can feel the same devotion from this Merlin, standing in front of him, as the one in his memories.

And that terrifies him.

Merlin bends down. He picks up the bloodied sword and raises it, in a reverse non-threatening grip, in front of himself. His eyes flash gold.

Arthur's heart jumps, adrenaline courses through his blood.

Merlin hands him the sword, now clean as if just polished. Arthur takes it with a shaking hand and resheathes it, by his waist.

“Come. Let's sit down.” Merlin moves as he speaks. He let the blood flow from his uncovered arm, paying it no mind at all.

Arthur and Mordred follow and return to their own seats at the roundtable.

Merlin sat between Mordred and the King, on the seat right next to Mordred's.

“Merlin, what have you done? Why are the birds…?” He did not know how to properly describe the sight, outside the windows.

Birds were frozen mid-flight, the trees were bent by the wind but remained motionless and the flags on the palace gates were extended but did not wave unaffected by wind and gravity.

“Time is frozen, outside this throneroom. My spell covers the entire kingdom. Anyone who crosses the border will be frozen in time, well before they can approach the citadel. No one will disturb us. No one will know about what happens in this room, not before the spell is lifted.”

“And you're the only one who can lift it.”

“Yes.”

Merlin turns to study Mordred. He seemed to have calmed down at some point and was now stupidly staring in shock at him.

“Merlin, why are you doing this?” The young man asks.

He was clearly uncomfortable, afraid even. Well, it was common knowledge that Merlin didn't really like him and the man had just revealed himself as a powerful sorcerer. He should be anxious. Arthur sure was, even after the oath of loyalty the sorcerer had given him.

Merlin.

Merlin was a sorcerer. A powerful one, at that. He must have been practicing for a while then, behind Arthur's back. No.. he said he was born like that? That should not be possible.

“Answer him.” Arthur orders.

“I am doing this, because I will not stand by and risk watching you die.”

Merlin extends his hand, in the direction of the steps between the throne and the rest of the room. His eyes glowed a fiery gold that sent shivers down Arthur's spine.

He had been thrown around and nearly killed one too many times, by people with those eyes.

One of the tiles on the steps came loose and from the space beneath it, emerged a stone tablet and a scroll. Both objects flowed smoothly through the air and into Merlin's waiting hand.

“You know what this is, don't you Mordred?”

“I-it’s, yes.” He stammered. “Y-you can't possibly perform another powerful spell like tha-”

“Shut up.” Merlin snarled. “I don't know what kind of game you're playing but it ends now.”

“I don't understand wh-”

“Did you seriously think I wouldn't know? You, are fated to end Arthur's life.”

Mordred remained as still, as a deer, under the sorcerer’s predatory gaze.

Arthur felt a chill run down his spine but was quick to shake it off. Mordred wasn't so lucky. What both men felt was Merlin's magic coiling around Mordred's body, like a snake, ready to squeeze the life out of him at a moment's notice.

The funny thing was, both sorcerers were well aware that Merlin's magic acted on instinct. Merlin wasn't controlling it consciously, he just refrained from holding himself back like usual.

“You're surprised.” Merlin realises. “Either you are a better actor than I gave you credit for, or you really didn't know.” Mordred winces and Merlin has his answer.

“Pfft! I guess Morgana never told you, did she?”

Mordred was working for Morgana in the past. Arthur couldn't help but wonder.

“No.” Mordred breathed.

“It doesn't matter. I don't care what your plans were, they end today.” Merlin states.

“Merlin, please, I don't know anything about this prophecy, you speak of! I turned my back on Morgana, because she was consumed by hate and the thirst for vengeance. I wanted no part in that! Instead I put my faith in you and Arthur, in the fair and just kingdom you are making-”

“I don't give a damn about your words, Mordred.” Merlin warned.

“You have two choices. Choose wisely.” The sorcerer's word was final.

He is giving an ultimatum. Arthur realised.

He couldn't understand his servant’s blatant dislike for the young knight, before today. Merlin must have been on high alert this entire time, thinking that Mordred would attempt to kill him, the first chance he got.

No wonder the man seemed tired and tense all the time, bearing such a burden alone.

“You will take a blood oath with me.” Emrys explained.

“The ancient magic of the world will be our witness and executioner. You will swear that you forfeit your life, the moment you make the conscious decision to act with Arthur's death or permanent harm as your desire.”

Mordred thought that Emrys was being quite generous, with the vow he proposed. If it were himself in his shoes, he was not sure he wouldn't have ended such a threat to the king immediately.

“Are you sure you can handle that right now?” Emrys was still human. Still one sorcerer, albeit the most powerful one. He had already cast a spell, so powerful, it would take the blood sacrifice of many casters to even attempt. Let alone maintain for as long as Merlin was.

“Please.” Merlin drawls. Sarcasm lacing his lips.

“You will either take the blood oath, Mordred, or I will kill you myself.”

He means every word and Arthur is struggling to accept this… bitter and ruthless Merlin.

“That's enough. You have no evidence to doubt Sir Mordred… whatever you suspect he might do.” Arthur intervenes.

“You must make a choice as well, sire.”

Merlin turns and Arthur sees his friend in Merlin once more. The one who would always offer his advice, whether Arthur welcomed it or not, in that stern voice.

“Right now, there is no way in, or out of this room, for as long as my spell lasts.”

“You can lift it. You will lift it.”

“That's where your choice lies, sire. The only two ways this spell is lifted, are my willingly doing so, or my death.” My permanent death. He kept to himself.

There was no point in revealing his immortality. Arthur's sword was forged in a dragon's breath and it should be able to end his life for good, in any case.

“I have no intention of lifting it before Mordred's matter is settled.”

Arthur believed him. The stubborn idiot would not back down.

“You must bare witness to Mordred's decision, or end me.” Merlin finishes and turns away. He feels a pang of guilt but ignores it.

Arthur lowered his face to rest it in his hands. What the hell?

“No. No one is dying today.” He voiced his hope like a command. “Where did you even hear of this prophecy? You can't be certain that he will-”

“I saw it, Arthur.” Merlin chokes out.

 “I have been warned, again and again, that a druid would be the one to end your life. Kilgharrah had been the first to warn me, all those years back, when we and Morgana rescued the young druid boy from your father. Mordred is that boy. Then just before we met him again, not long ago, a powerful seer showed me the future. I saw Mordred smiling as he ran you through, with my own eyes.” Merlin’s hands are clenched in fists, on the table; blood tickles as it drips down from his elbow. His shoulders are shaking.

“I’ve been a coward. It always ends in disaster. No more. I don't care if I finally become a monster. I won't watch you die.” He was panting now.

“I can't.” He might as well die now and let fucking destiny take its course. At least he wouldn't have to live, to watch his own efforts and countless sacrifices, be for nothing. To watch his King, his best friend, die, without being able to do anything to stop it.

“Alright. Alright, Merlin… I understand.”

Arthur did not know what to do. The mere thought of Merlin being killed was appalling, let alone Arthur being the one to do it. It was out of the question; but he also wanted to protect Mordred.

The oath Merlin had asked was not unreasonable. It was actually, very well worded, no doubt for fear of Mordred taking advantage of any loopholes. Merlin put the most gravity on the intent behind Mordred's actions. That way Mordred wouldn't risk his life by inflicting any accidental harm, like one does in training for example.

Even when claiming that he would become a monster, it was clear that Merlin was anything but. He was desperate. But he was still kind.

This man in front of him has suffered alone for far too long.

They all took a moment to process, the only sounds in the room being those of breathing and blood trickling to the floor, from Merlin's wound.

Merlin's left arm was still bleeding, Arthur belatedly realized.

“For now let's just stop your bleeding.” They could all use the distraction.

“No need.” The man grumbled.

“Oh, come on-”

“No. It doesn't matter. It's going to heal on its own soon enough.”

“Don't be ridiculous. You'll die if you continue to bleed like this, even if the flow seems slow.”

“I won't die.”

“How the hell are you so sure?”

“I’m tougher than I look.”

“You- you are a bloody dollophead.”

“That's still my word.”

“Did you make it to describe yourself?”

“No, I made it for a certain royal prat.”

“You really can't address me like that.”

Merlin shrugges.

They both break into poorly concealed chuckles.

Then the sorcerer remembers something.

“Right. In case I d- pass out,” he corrects “there are rations and water hidden in the steps next to the one I opened before. They should last for a few days.” If he really did die from bloodloss and magic overuse, the others would not starve until he comes back and lifts the spell.

“There will be no need for that.” Mordred speaks up.

“I will swear the oath you ask.” Merlin's head snaps to Mordred's direction.

“You don't need to be so surprised, Merlin. I chose to be here when I came to Camelot.”

Merlin could not discern any deception from the knight but refused to let himself drop his guard.

“But before we continue, can you please gather back your magic. It feels suffocating.”

Arthur glances between them in question but neither bothers to explain. He supposed Merlin had somehow been pressuring Mordred with his magic, with no effort or incantation, the same way he brought that unsettling scroll and stone tablet over.

“Make one wrong move and it will be your last.” Merlin warns.

“I won't.” Mordred assures with a tired smile, as Merlin pulls his magic back. 

He moves the, full of engravings and rather creepy, stone tablet, between them and places the dagger next to it. The one he used to carve the bleeding line on his forearm.

“I will first place four drops of my blood in the corners and you will follow with four drops of your own in the center. Then you will repeat after me. Are we clear?”

“Yes.”

Merlin opened the scroll and after a brief final review, he confidently spoke the words for the binding spell, as he cut his left palm and dragged it over each of the corners of the stone.

“Epikaloumai archaia mageia gis, thalassas kai uranu. Sas kalo na parastatheite gia auto ton orko kai na ekdikitheite auton pou ton paravainei!”

Merlin turns to Mordred, silently urging him to do his part.

Mordred complies and takes the offered dagger, before swiftly following Merlin's example. He cut his palm, his face twisting slightly from the pain but otherwise making no complaints and let the blood flow in the center of the stone.

“Mordred of the druids do you swear, that you forfeit your life, the moment you make the conscious decision to act with Arthur Pendragon's death or permanent harm as your objective; and you understand that your life will end, the moment you break that oath?”

“Yes. I Mordred swear that I forfeit my life, the moment I make the conscious decision to act with Arthur Pendragon’s death or permanent harm as my objective. I understand that my death will follow, the very moment I break this vow.”

Merlin nods, still wearing his mask of cold detachment as he continues the spell.

“As ginei to aima mas thysia kai i mageia mou katalytis gia ayto to ksorki. Apo edo kai sto ex eis, enapotheto tin moira tou Mordred sta heria sas.”

Merlin’s eyes shone gold and the stone tablet was lifted in the air in front of him. Then it slowly crumbled and turned to sand, which scattered and disappeared into the ether.

“Is it over?” Arthur asked, more than a little unsettled by the display.

“Yes.” Mordred answered.

Merlin managed a nod, as his head pounded, his ears rang and his whole body felt alarmingly light. He would probably be losing consciousness soon.

He wasn't sure if the bloodloss was enough to kill him but he had used more magic in a day than he ever had before.

“Merlin? Merlin!” He could hear Arthur's shout. The world swayed around him and the loud noise made his ears ring. His body tilted to the side and before he realised it, he was already halfway falling off the chair.

“Emrys!” Mordred caught his arm and pulled him back up. The wound on his hand stung but Merlin supposed he should be thankful that he hadn't hit his head on the floor. A headache was the last thing he needed right now.

“Merlin, talk to me!” Arthur was by his side now, his arms and chest supporting Merlin's upper body and slowly pulling him to the ground to lie down. Mordred helped with his legs and they had him lying down, with Arthur's cloak as his pillow.

His limbs felt heavy and weak and numb and his heart was beating a bit too fast.

“Don't you dare die you idiot!” Arthur's voice pulled him from the haze.

“Don't worry, I won't die.” He reassures with a tired smile.

“Yeah, you're tougher than you look, so hold on alright?”

There's really no need to worry, thought Merlin.

“Don't worry… just… give me a few hours.” And that was all he managed as the world went dark and silent.