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Chapter Text

Arthur burst through the door of Morgana's chambers. "Morgana Pendragon!" He put his hands on his hips. "You may have stolen my-"

Merlin barreled in and bumped into Arthur. "You stole his life!"

The prince spun around and glared. "You ruined it. Go back, go back."

Arthur ushered Merlin out of the room and followed. Then, he stomped back in and took another confident stance. "You may have stolen my life!"

Merlin strutted in and pointed at Morgana. "You stole his life!"

Arthur dipped his head, closed his eyes, and clenched his fist. "You may have killed our father!"

The servant crossed his arms. "You killed your father!"

The prince waved his arms as if gesturing over a map. "You may have spread magic across the land like a disease!"

Merlin's face fell, and he put his arms down. "You spread... magic..."

When there was a pause, Arthur turned his head to glare.

Merlin looked at his feet. "...like a disease."

The prince pointed at Morgana. "But mark my words!"

The servant pepped up and held up fists. "Mark his words!"

Arthur put his hands back on his hips and puffed out his chest. "I will reclaim the throne!"

Merlin circled his fingers over his mouth and 'played' the fanfare reserved for the most important of ceremonies. An awkward silence filled the room, but just for a minute.

"Cringe..." Mordred was doodling at the table.

"Arthur..." Leon said with pity.

"Charming." George was helping Leon put on his armour.

"Frightening." Morgause was smirking while brushing Morgana's hair.

"Anyway..." Morgana crossed her legs and draped an arm over her knee. "Please wear something attractive at the banquet. Your last attempt at dressing up was... sad."

Arthur whipped his head around and locked eyes with Morgana. "That's because my dollop-headed servant," Arthur nodded his head toward Merlin, "Did not show up."

"I was delivering a baby!"

Morgana smirked. "Do try to be an adult this time, dear brother."

Arthur glared for a good moment, and then he spun around and stormed out. Merlin followed suit.

"They'll take you seriously soon, sire. We'll come up with another plan, and they'll all see that you're Camelot's destined king."

"You say the word 'destiny' an awful lot, Merlin. The only thing that should matter is my competence in leadership."

"And you are a great leader! The people know you well and believe in the king you'll become."

Arthur stopped walking and flashed Merlin a pained expression. "The people have accepted Morgana as their ruler."

"Only because they know your status as prince has been maintained."

"What am I supposed to do?" Arthur's voice sounded weak. "Keep her in the dungeons? Perpetually?"

Merlin put a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "We won't let it get to that point."

Arthur turned back, and they exchanged smiles. He hated to admit it, but Merlin was an expert at replacing his usual nervous energy with something else... a nervous energy he couldn't quite name.

"I don't think I'm doing it right."

"Just concentrate and you'll get it."

"What do you think I've been doing? Sitting on my ass thinking about pudding?"

Elyan was attempting to help Gwen cast a spell that heated iron up quickly. Though she was once embarrassed by her intricate knowledge of a masculine pursuit, it had become a badge of pride after their father was murdered. Gwen had gently announced to Morgana her resignation as maid. She spent her days helping Elyan out with the blacksmith shop ever since. They both knew that Morgana was devastated, though she never complained or was anything but supportive of Gwen's decision. In fact, the le Blanc siblings much enjoyed the frequency with which Morgana started to visit their home.

Since the coup d'état, though, they'd been living and working inside the castle as the Court Blacksmiths. They enjoyed the relative material comfort, but they missed the homely feel of the lower town and visited its inhabitants frequently.

Gwen squeezed her eyes shut and held out her hands. "Hathian!"

Not only did the sword in front of her start glowing, but so did the anvil beneath. Elyan stared, mouth agape.

Gwen eyed her accomplishment and put her hands on her hips. "Well, Ely, it looks like I'm more skilled at magic than you."

Elyan did his best to suppress his pride and punched her lightly in the arm. "For one spell!"

Arthur and Merlin entered the room, and Gwen grinned.

"Well, if it isn't my two best friends! Bestier than this wench over here!" She pointed her thumb at Elyan.

"Guess what, guys!" Elyan exclaimed. "Gwen can cast a heating spell better than I can!"

Merlin smiled, and Arthur grimaced.

"Oh?" Merlin's goofy eagerness broke through the poker face he tried to keep around Arthur regarding magic.

"Yeah! Let me show you!" Gwen held her hands out over the anvil. "Hathian!"

Arthur crossed his arms when nothing happened.

"Hathian!"

Elyan suppressed a giggle.

Gwen frowned. "Well, I can do it sometimes..."

Merlin walked up and rubbed her arm. "You'll get it again. I believe in you!"

Arthur turned his head away. Does he have to be so... cute?

"Maybe, one day, Arthur will have a fraction of the power we possess," Elyan quipped.

Arthur's grumpy expression caused Gwen and Elyan to crack up. But when Merlin's face fell and he eyed the floor, Arthur felt a pang of guilt.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your blasphemy. Come on, Merlin, you can scrub my boots. Maybe you can manage to make them look semi-clean for once."

Merlin didn't take up the bid for banter and shuffled out of the room before Arthur. The prince nodded at Gwen and Elyan as they said their goodbyes, and then left himself.

Arthur jogged until he caught up with his servant. "Merlin..."

He kept walking.

"Merlin, slow down."

He sighed and lessened his pace.

"Look at me."

Merlin turned halfway around, and Arthur was taken aback by his frustrated expression. But it was different from his normal irritation; exhaustion pierced through the anger, a tiredness that appeared different from the ordinary kind.

Arthur crossed his arms. "Why are you upset?"

Merlin shrugged.

"Is this about Gaius?"

Merlin's eyes flitted toward Arthur for a few seconds.

Arthur looked down. "I don't... I don't judge Gaius for practising magic in his profession, per se. I know he's a good man and a great healer. I just..."

Arthur glanced up to see Merlin keeping his head down.

"I fear the consequences. It seems like all that my father worked for has been for nothing. His memory is being dishonoured with every spell cast in the kingdom."

Merlin snorted and turned his head farther away. Arthur's heart sank.

"Talk to me."

"About what?" Merlin was quiet.

"About your thoughts."

There was a pause, and then Merlin shook his head. "Got none."

"Okay, then feelings."

Merlin glanced at Arthur in confusion, and then turned back to his original trajectory. "Gotta clean your clothes. Lord help us if you try to do it yourself again."

Arthur sighed as Merlin walked away. Sometimes he was accused of being closed off; such people ought to try getting Merlin to confide in them.

Merlin stormed down the halls. He was at his limit for bullshit that day.

"Dark. So dark."

The servant's anger erupted at the sound of Mordred's voice. "Anbesette friþlīċ eċe!"

"Ow."

Mordred had arrived in Camelot along with Morgause during the coup. In just a few days, Morgana replaced Uther as monarch, and Mordred replaced Arthur as next in line for the throne. The prophecy of Morgana and Mordred joining forces to defeat Arthur seemed closer to realisation than ever. Merlin hated Mordred's hero worship of Morgana, hated his open demonstrations of magic, hated his attempts at bonding with Merlin, and hated when he tried to convince Merlin his dreams of Albion were too lofty. But most of all, Merlin hated how much Arthur adored him. The Pendragon had no grasp on how Mordred was an enemy they needed to take down.

Still, Mordred was one of the only people he knew who was born with powerful magic, someone who had suffered greatly under Uther, and was genuine in his desire to befriend Merlin. And so far, the biggest 'threat' he posed to Arthur was being a wet blanket.

Thus, Merlin felt guilty for hitting him with a mild shock spell, and frantically searched for the source of the 'ow'. He found Mordred floating in an alcove, hands clasped together, staring upward. His satchel of art supplies levitated beside him. A small bit of relief washed over Merlin as Mordred seemed unphased by his spell and kept rambling.

"The sunlight tries to cast a light on my suffering. To make it burn and wither away. But it persists."

"Using 'light' twice in the same sentence isn't very poetic."

Mordred's eyes widened. "You're right." He bolted upright, took a notebook from his bag, and scribbled in it.

Merlin rolled his eyes and kept walking.

'The three of us are burdened by a fate we cannot escape.'

Mindspeak. Fuck. Merlin turned his head around with an eyebrow raised, wondering who the third person was that Mordred was referring to.

'For Emrys, the weight of protecting a prince who hates him.'

"He doesn't hate me!" Merlin shouted out loud.

'For Mordred, the weight of training to become the best warrior-king in the land.'

'Morgana isn't even that much older than you. If she survives to old age, you'll be king for a decade or so before kicking the bucket yourself.'

'For the Once and Future King, the weight of demotion to the Never and Ever King.'

"He isn't the 'Never and Ever King'! He will take the throne again!" Merlin was now facing Mordred with arms pressed to his sides and fists clenched.

Mordred eyed Merlin for a second before looking back at his notebook. 'Our pain radiates through halls that we were never meant to end up in. Not like this.'

Merlin sighed and eased up. 'You're just a pessimist. Things will get better. You'll see.'

'Emrys clings onto hope like a mayfly awaiting death.'

'What does that even-? I'm done talking to you.'

Merlin spun around and turned the corner.

'But one day, he, too, will join me in the abyss.'

The servant clasped his hands over his ears. "Shut! Up!"

"Geez. Fine. Was just trying to say hello."

Merlin whipped his head around at the sound of a door opening and saw Geoffrey grimacing at him. The librarian went back into his room and closed the door.

"Geoffrey! Wait!"

Well, that won't help my reputation as an oddball...

Merlin didn't quite know what he was doing. He shouldn't be down here at all, holding one of Arthur's keys. Merlin never really minded sneaking around, but taking an artefact for personal gain? That was a bit outlandish, even for him. Plus, if Gaius were to find out... Merlin didn't even want to think about it.

He stood at the iron barred door. Unlike when Uther was king, the artefacts inside were polished and presumably intentionally arranged. Only members of the Court with hefty knowledge of magical history were allowed inside. Not that anyone but Gaius and Lancelot knew, but Merlin deserved access, as well. He was about to unlock the door when he heard Leon's voice behind him.

"Poetry again?"

Merlin froze, spun around, and hid the key behind his back. "Leon!"

Leon had made a concerted effort to reach out to Merlin in the past months. Normally, a sense of fear undermined Merlin's interactions with this man who had once been so devoted to Uther. He took special care to hide his magic around the knight. Now, though, he was king of a magic-accepting kingdom. As in, he stole Arthur's place. Anger replaced fear as Merlin would shoot down Leon's attempts at conversation.

Albeit, currently, Merlin was trying to cover up his illegal activity.

Leon was in full armour, but he was not carrying a torch. "Poetry by yourself this time."

"Uh... yes. Great place for inspiration, as, er, Mordred says."

"Woah!" Leon waved one hand. "Don't need to know about Mordred's inspirations."

Merlin sent a confused look. The new king was usually quite involved in the life of his... Son-figure? Adopted little brother? Aw, who cares.

"He keeps droning on about darkness and stuff," Merlin said. "It's like an obsession..."

Leon grimaced. "Merlin! Really! Keep it to yourself." He started walking away, then looked back to say, "Hope Arthur has as much of an... obsession as you do."

Merlin could've sworn he saw Leon's eyes glow a bit. But not the golden glow from casting a spell; more like... a cat?

"Blóstmá!"

A bright purple daffodil grew out of the empty pot of soil in front of Lancelot. Gwen's face lit up and she clapped eagerly.

"You did it!" She placed a hand on Lancelot's shoulder and gave him a peck on his cheek. "It's beautiful," she said as she stroked the soft petals.

"I learned from the best!"

"Oh?" Gwen glanced back up at Lancelot. "Mordred?"

Lancelot's face fell. "Uh, well, I did ask him once, actually. But he kept calling flowers 'living corpses'."

Gwen laughed. "Then who?"

"Uhhh... Morgana?"

"Really?" Gwen's grin widened. "You're finally hitting it off!"

"Y-yup. Friendship on the... horizon..."

Gwen leaned her head on Lancelot's shoulder. "How did I get so lucky to have such a wonderful boyfriend?"

Lancelot eased up and stroked her hair. "I think the luck is reversed."

Both of them were much happier now that the former king was safely encased in his cement grave. They would never say it around Arthur, but they resented having to feign loyalty to Uther. Morgana and Morgause's coup had been a shock to everyone, and knights and guards who were steadfastly devoted to the late king perished in battle or assassination attempts.

But after a few months, so many positive legal changes had occurred that Gwen and Lancelot both pledged their loyalty to Queen Morgana after all. An unusual sense of peace arose around the castle and in their hearts, allowing them to follow their passions and find solace in each other. They even made a joint decision to start practising magic, like they were currently doing in Lancelot's chambers.

A knock at the door interrupted their cuddling. "Come in," Lancelot answered.

An anxious-looking Merlin shuffled in. "H-hi..."

"Merlin!" Gwen smiled and went to hug him.

"Hey there, I just saw you two hours ago," Merlin jested as he smiled awkwardly.

"An eternity!" Gwen quipped back as she pulled away.

Lancelot bowed. His formal address looked odd to most people, but not their friends. Merlin had been cold to the man ever since he became the first of the knights to switch loyalties. The servant seemed to accept the rest of his friends' decisions, just not Lancelot's. Their friends knew that the two were exceedingly close, so they couldn't put their finger on why Merlin didn't seem to resent anyone else as badly.

"Lance, I... I need your help."

"Anything," Lancelot said.

"A trip... a few days."

"When do I pack?"

"Uh... tonight."

Gwen grinned. Lancelot's devotion to his loved ones never failed to make her heart flutter. Plus, Merlin was choosing him to go on some kind of physician trip, so perhaps they would become best friends again.

Lancelot nodded. "Consider it done."

Merlin prodded his fingers together.

"Gweniepie," Lancelot said, "May I speak with Merlin alone?"

"Of course."

Gwen gave a dramatic curtsey and then left. Sure, Arthur was going to be intolerable this week due to missing Merlin. Arthur would also probably think Lancelot was going to 'brainwash' the servant with 'pro-magic propaganda'. But Gwen could withstand the complaining if Merlin's influence led even the son of Uther to forgive Lancelot.

She lingered a bit too long by the door and overheard Merlin saying, "Have you heard of the Horn of Cathbadh?" But Gwen felt bad for eavesdropping and shuffled away. If Merlin wanted others to know, he would share when he was ready.

"Hey," Gwaine asked, "Why'd that chick think I'm... bros with Leon?"

"The stupid... the same stupid hair," Percival answered.

"Well, I love this stupid hair just the way it is." Elyan wrapped his arm around Gwaine and planted a kiss on his head.

Percival stuck his tongue out. "Ew."

The three knights hobbled down the street, already drunk during their day off even though it was the late morning.

"Look!"; Gwaine exclaimed. "It's Lance 'n Merls!"

The aforementioned men were on horseback.

"Wha? Are they? D'ya think they're friends again?" Elyan suggested.

"After all th' cold glares Merls gave Lance? No waaay." Percival said.

"Wait..." Gwaine interjected. "Lance told me somethin 'bout this last night... and I forgot."

"'Cause you were plastered," Elyan said with a knowing smile.

"'Cause I was plastered!"

When Lancelot declared his loyalty to Morgana, Gwen and Percival soon followed suit. Elyan caved next. Gwaine initially stayed loyal to Arthur and Merlin, but he grew weary of the prince's complaining and Leon's nitpicking. With fewer knights to watch over, Leon kept Gwaine under increased scrutiny for tardiness and rule-evading.

Even more importantly, though, Gwaine knew that Lancelot and Gwen were both emotionally intelligent and close to Merlin, so he trusted that they had Merlin's best interests in mind. As in, since Gaius started practising healing magic, they knew what Merlin needed was to accept that his mentor was a sorcerer. Thus, Gwaine needed to accept Gaius's sorcery, too, as well as sorcery in general.

Gwaine would never forget the look of betrayal on Merlin's face when he pledged loyalty to Morgana. Nonetheless, he learned a lot about the Purge and the other injustices against magic-users and druids. He greatly regretted ever having been so prejudiced. Gwaine would even get into heated arguments with Arthur about magic, but he'd back off quickly. He knew a significant portion of Arthur's stubbornness was just grief expressed via anger.

Spending so much time away from Merlin, Gwaine soon found solace in Elyan's similar fiery personality, their common backgrounds as wanderers, and equally strong distrust of nobles. They easily progressed from one-night stands to casual dating to long-term commitment. Unlike during Uther's reign, same-gender couples enjoyed legal equality under Morgana. However, along with Gwen and Lancelot, they didn't feel it was the right time for a wedding, not when their friends were so divided.

And that's why Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival were hopeful when they saw Lancelot and Merlin together. If the two men were on a path to repairing their friendship, then Merlin could eventually accept Morgana as queen. And if there's anything they knew about the prince, it was that wherever Merlin went, Arthur would follow.

Gwen was fiddling with Lancelot's bag when the other knights walked over.

"Wax... medicine... crossbow bolts... Where's the spare clothes?!" Gwen asked.

Merlin patted a bag that sat behind him on his horse. "Right here!"

"Whew! Okay..."

Lancelot reached down and held her chin. "You are a saint. You've already double-checked our things. We're ready, I promise." He leaned down and kissed her.

Gwen hummed in approval. "My brave, sexy knight in shining armour!"

Percival grimaced. "Ugh! Can't escape the gross!"

Gwaine and Elyan keeled over in laughter.

Chapter Text

Lancelot and Merlin stood at the Great Stones of Nemeton. The warlock was holding the Horn of Cathbadh and staring blankly ahead. He had not been very talkative during the trip, but any chatter was better than none. After all, Merlin had just broken his several-month commitment to giving Lancelot the cold shoulder.

The knight was floored when Merlin told him about the horn. It allowed people to contact the dead, though only during Beltane, and only one person. However, it wasn't like Merlin to withhold this information from his friends. Not when he knew they had all lost someone they loved. Not when Arthur's grief over his father was so raw. Merlin's insistence on keeping the destination of the trip a secret could only mean one thing: magic was on his mind. So, Lancelot waited for Merlin to blow the horn, wondering which of the dearly departed Merlin wanted to discuss magic with.

But instead of using the horn himself, Merlin passed it to the knight.

"You go first." The warlock kept his eyes on the ground.

"Oh... okay."

Lancelot blew the horn, and his mind was transported to a void with blue light. A brown, portly woman gradually came into view. Her long, dark hair was pulled into a ponytail that lay in front of her left shoulder, and she wore a simple but charming green dress. An apron with fraying edges was tied around her neck and waist, just like the one she wore the night she was killed.

"Mother!"

"Lancelove!"

Lancelot remembered every detail of that day, from the bread his mother baked, to the kiss she exchanged with his father, to the clanging of the raiders' swords, to his mother taking her last breath. She looked just as kind and cheerful as the last day they shared together.

They both ran forward and squeezed each other tight. Tears fell from their eyes and laughter left their mouths.

"I'm so proud of you, Lance! So proud..."

"I miss you so much, mum!"

"And I you. Your father and I pray for you every day."

They pulled back and took in each other's faces. His mother, Dilys, rubbed her thumb against Lancelot's cheek.

"You've suffered much," she said, "But you've turned it into steadfast courage and admirable strength. And you've stayed kind-hearted! We don't know how you've managed to do so well!"

Lancelot had forgotten the sound of her voice; he would imprint this conversation into his memory as strongly as he could. They hugged again, and he sobbed into her shoulder. She ran her hand through his hair, letting him get it all out.

He eventually calmed down and leaned back. "Mum, I don't- I don't know how to help my friends..."

"Merlin and Arthur?"

Lancelot nodded, and Dilys smiled.

"It's not your responsibility to save others. You can't. You can only be beside them while they save themselves."

He wiped tears from his face. "Just being there doesn't feel like enough."

Dilys cupped his face. "My dear, you are too empathetic for your own good. You don't need to be everyone's anchor."

Lancelot gave a sad smile. "Can we just chat for a while? About anything. I don't care what."

Dilys grinned widely. "Of course, Lancelove!"

They sat across from each other, legs crossed, and talked about everything from the worst moments of their lives to the way Gwen preferred her tea.

"Merlin went with Lancelot and not me!" Arthur exclaimed. "What can Lancelot do that I can't? Doesn't Merlin know I need him?"

"Merlin values your bond with him, far more than you know," Gaius assured. "One day, you will be aware of just how important you are to each other."

The physician was washing herbs in his chambers. Arthur leaned against the wall, arms crossed and pouting. The prince hadn't ranted to Gaius since before the coup; Merlin had stuck to Arthur like glue, making sure he was there for the prince through his fatherly mourning.

Gaius considered the fact that Merlin was taking a trip without Arthur to be a good omen. It meant two things: one, that Merlin trusted Arthur not to fall apart in his absence, and two, that Merlin was allowing his life to be filled with things other than Arthur. Although Gaius appreciated how close the two men were, he knew Merlin would sacrifice everything just to make the prince a little happy. His ward didn't know the meaning of 'self-love', and it caused Gaius much worry.

So, although Arthur had come into the physician's chambers to whine every day that week, Gaius was content to support him.

"But..." Arthur continued, "Well, er... Gaius, can I share something?"

"Of course."

"Don't tell this to anyone else."

"I wouldn't."

The physician was accustomed to keeping Arthur's secrets. Arthur would confide in him during times he hated his father, times he felt such intense grief over his mother that he thought he couldn't go on, times the people he killed showed up in his nightmares.

Though, since Merlin arrived in Camelot, Arthur would sometimes share his vulnerability with his servant instead. And since the coup, the prince had barely talked to Gaius at all. The physician figured that Arthur's sudden need to complain to him was a good sign for their relationship; even Gaius openly practising sorcery hadn't scared the prince away.

"I just..." Arthur looked to the side. "He seems like he's... slipping or something. Like he's gonna leave me for Morgana."

Gaius put down the herbs and turned toward Arthur. "Merlin would never leave you."

"Everyone else has."

"Arthur, look at me."

The prince obeyed.

Gaius dried his hands. "Your other friends have chosen different paths. They no longer serve you, but they still care about you. And, they don't want to dictate your decisions, so they let you be. They don't want to control you. But it's different with Merlin."

"So, what, Merlin wants to control me?"

Gaius sighed at Arthur's raised eyebrow. He sat on a bar stool and continued. "Arthur, listen to me. If you accepted Morgana as your queen, Merlin would, too, even if he grumbled the whole time. If you wanted to become a mermaid and live in the ocean, Merlin would find the best spells for underwater breathing. If you said you were giving up on life and going to lie on the floor perpetually, he would drag you around, personally tend to your needs, and give you pep talk after pep talk until you snapped out of it."

The prince looked stunned, and a little embarrassed. "I don't... follow..."

"You've been shaken up by Camelot's change in leadership. We all have. But some things in life are constants, and Merlin's devotion to you is one of them."

Arthur's face softened. Gaius could swear he saw tears in his eyes, but the prince blinked them away.

"I... thank you." For once in his life, he was speaking softly.

"Now, what do you say about going to watch Gwen arm wrestle the cook? I hear they've become quite evenly matched."

The prince flashed a small grin. "Okay."

The image of Lancelot's mother faded, and cold air brushed against his cheeks. He lowered his aching arm and realised he must have spent hours in the horn's void. He glanced at Merlin, who was looking at him curiously. Lancelot smiled and passed the horn over. He so much wanted his friend to experience the same indescribable feeling of peace.

"Do you know who you're going to summon?" The knight asked as he put a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

The warlock nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the horn. He lifted his arm, took a deep breath, and blew. The pressure of the ground against his feet eased up and light replaced grass and sky. Merlin inhaled sharply when Will's form came into focus; he was still wearing his father's chainmail and the vest with Essetir's symbol.

"Merlin!"

The warlock stood still, floored by getting to see his best friend again. Will ran over and hugged him. Merlin was about to embrace him as well when Will pushed Merlin's arms back and eyed him sternly.

"You're an absolute mess!"

Merlin glanced down. He guessed he hadn't been particularly attentive to his appearance today, but he had on the same kind of outfit as always.

Will took Merlin's chin and pushed his head back up. "Listen. You're subservient under a man who can't accept who you are."

Merlin opened his mouth, but he couldn't think of a response. Then, Will let go and slapped him lightly. The servant touched his cheek in shock.

"The time of Albion has begun," Will said. "Magic is accepted in Camelot! What do you think you're doing?"

"P-protecting Arthur?"

"Why?" Will looked at Merlin like he had just kicked a puppy.

"He- Albion hasn't begun, Will." The warlock gained resolve and frowned. "Arthur isn't king."

"So? What has he ever done for your kind?"

"I-! Hey. He's defended magic-users to Uther many times."

Will crossed his arms. "Like at my funeral? When Arthur said magic is dangerous? Literally while my body burned?"

Merlin grimaced. He didn't know how to defend that, but he didn't appreciate his friend bringing it up, either.

Will shook his head. "I can't believe I sacrificed myself for that dollop-head."

"Will! That's my word, and I use it when Arthur's being annoying. Not to actually insult him!"

His friend sighed. "To think, if he had died, you might have agreed to stay in Ealdor. Or maybe I would've gone to Camelot with you. Anything but leave you alone with that idiot."

Hurt hit Merlin like another slap. He threw his arms up in a shrug. "To think, I could be having a nice conversation with Freya or Balinor right now! But instead, I'm getting lectured by you." He crossed his arms tightly.

Will put his hands on his hips. "The Horn of Cathbadh is used to seek guidance from the spirits of the dead, Merlin. So here I am, giving you advice."

"I don't want your advice."

"Oh really?"

Will raised his eyebrow, reminding Merlin of Gaius and frustrating him further.

"If you didn't want my opinions," Will said, "Then why did you summon me instead of your father or the Lady of the Lake? Face it, your unconscious knows you need this scolding."

Merlin held out his arms, fists balled up. "Why can't you just be nice? Haven't you seen how hard things have been for me?"

His friend rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Spare me the whining. You're only so gloomy because you placed all your bets on a guy who hates magic more and more every year! For Goddess's sake, Merlin. Wake! Up!"

Merlin grumbled, and his hands fell to his sides. He hated how much like Mordred that Will sounded like. "Arthur's going to change."

Will crossed his arms again, this time leaning back and smirking. "Oh? When? What are you doing to make him change? And how? Do tell."

The warlock could feel his heart race and his face flush even with the void muting his sensations. "I believe in Arthur! That's all I need."

Will scoffed, and his mouth twisted into an awful, triumphant smile. "You know it's not happening; you just refuse to see it."

Merlin glared as hard as he could, and then he spun around. "This was a mistake."

The light began to dim.

"Wait!"

The warlock involuntarily whipped his head around and was surprised that Will no longer appeared angry. In fact, he looked scared; terrified, even.

"Don't waste your life trying to make Arthur king. Please?"

Merlin had never heard Will sound so desperate. But instead of assuring Will of anything, he shook his head and laughed before turning back around.

"Bærn!" The sword Morgana was holding burst into blue flames. "This will help you slice through foes much easier. Plus, they'll get burn wounds!"

Mordred went limp in his chair and sighed heavily. He came to Morgana's chambers to spend time with her, not to receive a lesson.

"Mor-Mor, please pay attention. It's important that you know the most efficient ways to kill people."

"People can't appreciate my art if they're dead."

"Ende galdre!" The flames disappeared. "If they're trying to murder you, they don't care about your art, anyway."

Mordred glared at Morgana before looking to the side. "They might change their minds if they saw my creations..."

Morgana and Morgause had found Mordred when a gang of young bandits had attacked them. As soon as Mordred had recognized Morgana, he had dropped his sword and given her a big hug. The leader had yelled at Mordred to cut it out and stab her, so Morgause had scared them off with illusions. Since then, Morgana and Mordred had been inseparable. Not needing to hide her magic was incredibly refreshing. Plus, they proved to be a powerful trio when they used an undead army and three-person spells to conquer Camelot.

And then, Morgana was surprised time after time as people who were initially against sorcery accepted her as both a queen and a friend. Uther was gone, and his supporters either got themselves killed, fled Camelot, or begrudgingly put up with her queenship. And, adding to her good fortune, she fell in love with and married Leon. He proved to be both a loyal husband and a competent leader. Morgana and her kingdom couldn't be faring better.

But not Mordred. He had a stable, comfy lifestyle now, and many people found him endearing, yet the fiery passion for change he once harboured seemed to have fizzled out. He complained so much that he almost seemed to enjoy figuring out how to frame things in a negative light; he cried often and inconsolably; and he had to be repeatedly prodded to get anything useful done. And then, although Morgana was pleased Mordred had found pastimes he loved, blood and death appeared in almost all of his writings and drawings; and not in a proud warrior way, but in a lamenting way. Morgana hardly knew what to do, and she was sad that her love wasn't enough to make him happy.

Still, Morgana tried her best to support him. She sat down at a right angle to Mordred and clasped a hand over his. "Cupcake, I know you've had bad experiences with murder."

"'Bad experiences.' Heh! Just Camelot guards and violent dogs decimating my druid camp; that's all."

"But," Morgana continued, "Not all murder is bad. I killed Uther, and much peace and relief has occurred because of it. If someone had knocked him off sooner, many tragedies would have been prevented." If I hadn't chickened out, Morgana thought.

Mordred rolled his eyes. "I knoooow!"

They weren't getting anywhere today, so Morgana cut her losses. She lifted her forearms and rested her head on her fists. "Show me your latest piece, Mor-Mor!"

Mordred's eyes lit up in childish glee for just for a second, and then he regained his composure. "Okay. So." He scrounged through his satchel and pulled out a drawing of a serket that was missing a claw. "This is Traherne. He got his claw chopped off when a sadistic sorcerer tried to torture him to death. But he escaped, and now he's in chronic pain and is mocked by the other serkets..."

Morgana played with his curls as he spoke. Even when he was talking about horrible trauma, he could be so cute.

The scent of fresh rain reached Merlin's nose, and the void gave way for the dreary landscape. He lowered his arm and noticed he was shaking.

"Merlin?" Lancelot sounded concerned. Merlin had only used the Horn of Cathbadh for a few minutes, after all.

The warlock shouted out in fury as he threw the horn against the ground. He gripped the sides of his head, shut his eyes, and yelled again. He felt Lancelot's hands on his shoulders and looked at the knight's worried face. Merlin pushed him away, covered his face with his hands, and began bawling. He lowered to the ground, and Lancelot pulled him into an embrace.

Merlin collapsed against the knight and allowed sorrow to envelope him. He almost wished that Uther was still alive, because then, at least Arthur would have a direct line to the throne. But now, he had no idea what to do. Though Merlin still believed in Arthur's inherent goodness, he knew Will was right about two things. First, that the prince was no closer to accepting magic than when they had first met. And second, that Merlin had no idea how to change that.

While the rest of their friends had moved on and were enjoying Morgana's reign, he and Arthur were stagnant in their disapproval and misery. And the worst part was that the prince was against his sister's rule for different reasons than him: Arthur, because Morgana had legalised magic; Merlin, because Arthur was supposed to be the one to legalise magic.

The warlock feared that grief over Uther's violent death would close Arthur's heart to magic forever. Merlin clawed at Lancelot's chainmail, crying desperately. If Arthur were to reject him for being a sorcerer, Merlin wouldn't be able to handle it; he would fall apart.

"I just... need-! I need him, Lance! I neeeed hiiiim!" Merlin was referring to both Arthur and Will.

Lancelot stroked the servant's head and rubbed his back. His heart broke over Merlin's grief. Lancelot's friendship alone didn't make things alright, and he didn't know what would. All he could do was hold Merlin and pray he'd be released from his loneliness.

Arthur tried not to cry as he tucked himself into bed. It wasn't befitting a man. And it definitely wasn't befitting of a prince just because he hadn't gotten to talk to his servant. Merlin and Lancelot had come back from their trip, but Merlin had refused to greet anyone. He had stayed cooped up in the physician chambers with Gaius and Lancelot for the rest of the day.

But it's not like Arthur was waiting for him or anything. It's not like Arthur was prepared to forego pride and hug him in front of everyone. It wasn't like Arthur had asked George to help him clean his room so that he and Merlin could just hang out the whole day. No, Arthur was just blue because his friend, who was just as much a friend as anyone else, was feeling bad for some reason.

What the hell happened? Arthur thought. Did the villagers he treated die? Did he catch the plague? Did somebody... hurt Merlin? He flipped over and hugged a pillow to his chest. It was going to be a long night.

Arthur lept out of bed when he heard a crash, and guards burst into his room. Arthur grabbed his sword and walked in the direction of the racket. His dining table had been completely overturned; candles and silverware were spread out across the floor. Arthur stopped a rolling apple with his foot and noticed the window was open. He and the guards searched the room thoroughly, but they couldn't find any evidence of a break-in.

The prince figured the wind was just very strong that night. The guards helped him put the table back and clean up, and then Arthur thanked them for helping and bid them goodnight. He shook his head as he pulled back his covers; now it would take even longer for him to fall asleep.

Arthur woke up the next morning to Merlin's voice.

"Dear Goddess..." He sounded incredulous.

The prince bolted up. "Merlin!"

He rushed out of bed and ran over to his servant, almost tripping over his cloak in the process. Merlin tensed up when Arthur squeezed him tight.

"Um... hello to you, too!"

Arthur let him go, slapped the side of his arm, and laughed. "You're back!"

"I am, unfortunately..."

Merlin gazed perplexingly across the room, and Arthur took in his surroundings. The windows and his dressers were wide open, all his clothes were strewn across the floor, and the things that belonged on the table were back on the ground.

Arthur scratched the back of his head. "No, I... I cleaned up! To help you out!"

Merlin grimaced. "Please don't help me again."