Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Throughout life and in any given moment, Merlin was many things. A servant. A sorcerer. An enemy. A friend. Clever. Foolish. Clumsy. Powerful. He tended to shift like wind, unseen and morphing into a thousand things.

And right now? Well, right now he was desperate.

It wouldn’t be the first time he had found himself in a desperate situation. Camelot was nothing else if not a landscape of problems and impending doom that needed some sort of remedy and that - inexplicably - only Merlin can somehow provide. In some ways, Merlin had gotten numb to some of the panic that might normally plague him. He learned to temper himself and dampen his emotions to do what needed to be done.

Except… Arthur dying… well, that was something he had never really learned to cope with.

The odds weren’t looking good. Arthur was weakening, the blood slipping through his chainmail to stain Merlin’s hands as Kilgharrah had pretty much told him it was useless. This was how Arthur was supposed to die. By Mordred’s hand in Camlann, breath going shallow in Merlin’s arm.

Any reasonable man would accept Arthur’s final words peacefully and wait for the next part of the prophecy to unfold.

Sometimes Merlin was reasonable.

But, as previously stated, right now he was desperate.

“Just- just hold me,” Arthur tried as Merlin dragged him closer to the lake, almost slipping on the muddy bank. He should do that. He should try to make Arthur comfortable. He deserved a comfortable death.

He also deserved not to die at all.

“I’m fixing this,” Merlin told him, voice raw and strained. Arthur blinked slowly at him - as if he couldn’t quite process the words. “Stay still.”

“You can’t fix this.”

“I can,” Merlin snapped right back, dragging Arthur into the lapping waves of the lake.

Arthur grimaced, wincing a little at the movement. “...are you going to drown me?” he muttered, looking only moderately dismayed by the idea.

“No,” Merlin said and started stripping his armor off. “I’m going to save you.”

Arthur made a pained noise at the back of his throat when Merlin undid a strap. “With magic?”

“Probably, yes.”

“And if I ask you not to?”

Merlin’s fingers froze. He looked up slowly to meet Arthur’s eyes, taking in the thin sheen of sweat over his face and the gaunt look on his cheeks. Merlin licked his lips, trying to keep his voice steady as he answered. “...please don’t ask that.”

Arthur closed his eyes and Merlin waited only a few more seconds before continuing to drag the armor off, letting the pieces spill over the bank shore. The white of Arthur’s tunic was almost completely red, the area near his side so dark that it could have passed for black.

“It isn’t so bad,” Merlin lied. More for his sake than Arthur’s. He put his hand over the wound and Arthur gasped at pain, hand darting over to clasp his wrist. “Let me try,” Merlin said, and this time there was no hiding the fear in his voice. “Arthur. I’m sorry, but please… please let me try.”

Slowly, Arthur’s eyes opened again. The gaze seemed distant. Glassy. He fell back into the shallow water with a splash, face just barely peeking above the surface so he could breathe.

“Once,” he rasped. “Only once.”

Fine. Merlin could work with that.

Gently pulling Arthur’s hand away, he tried to think of any solution he could. No healing spell would fix this. There was no remedy he knew. All of Gaius’s training left him floundering in the wake of this one wound, which looked to be festering with poisonous magic that ate at the skin.

Merlin just needed more time to figure something out. He had slowed down time before. Maybe he could-

Something in his chest faltered.

Maybe.

Maybe…?

He bit his lip, heart thundering in his ears. Maybe he could do more than slow down time. Maybe he could reverse it. Undo it. At least, undo time around the wound. Was that possible? Could he just… reset Arthur? Make him as healthy as he was two days ago but in this moment?

Hell, even if Merlin messed it up and brought them back in time a few days, he would at least be better prepared for the battle.

Gaius would hate the idea. There were a thousand stories and warnings about playing with time, and that was for a world that couldn’t control such forces. Merlin had never tried anything more than dipping his toe in the surface, but if he could… well, it would be a first.

Arthur’s breathing slowed.

He had to try.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin pressed down harder on the wound. This time, Arthur didn’t even flinch. His eyes only fluttered slightly as Merlin tried to reach for his magic, pulling at every possible tie he could find. The water. The leaves. The sky. The grass. The mud. The fish. The deer. The wind. The clouds. He pulled, plucking each invisible string dragging them back and back and back and back and back and back and-

A burning went through his arms. For a moment, Merlin could have sworn he was holding up the sky, shoulders aching and pressure unyielding from the palm of his hands. His breathing stunted as he tried to use his energy to keep focus, eyes squeezed shut.

Please… please…

“You’re hurting me, you idiot!”

Merlin collapsed forward. His hands splashed in the water as he made a crude attempt to catch his breath, but all that seemed to come out was short intakes of air. From under his chest, he could feel Arthur beneath, face situated between Merlin’s shoulders, but he didn’t dare look down. He wasn’t ready to know if he failed.

“Merlin?”

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. “Are you dead?” he asked quietly. “Am I talking to a ghost?”

A hand touched his chest, gently pushing him back. When Merlin sat up, his hands were trembling. Something touched his arm, making Merlin abruptly aware of the fact his trousers were soaked, and the lake was still sloshed against his side.

“If you opened your eyes, you’d be able to see for yourself,” Arthur’s voice came.

“I don’t want to.”

“Don’t be such a child.”

“If I open my eyes and see you’re dead, I swear Arthur-”

“I’m not dead!”

Merlin opened his eyes.

Thank God.

Arthur was blinking at him, looking almost the vision of perfect health. Merlin shoved his shirt up, ready to burst into tears at the sight of an unmarred torso with no sign of even a scar.

“What did you do?” Arthur asked, peering down with a sense of awe to see he was no longer dying.

Merlin shook his head. He didn’t know. All that mattered was he had healed Arthur. Somehow. Some way. Honestly, Merlin didn’t really care what he did. This was the result he wanted.

Wordlessly, he threw his arms around Arthur, burying his face into his shoulder. A brief pause followed. Merlin could feel Arthur tense up, and he was ready to return to an argument over the betrayal and sorcery, but surprisingly the tension only lasted a moment more before melting.

“Don’t be such a girl,” he muttered, but Merlin felt his hand card through the back of his hair and that was enough to completely zap the energy from him.

Now that the adrenaline was gone, Merlin practically rolled off Arthur onto the muddy bank. Everything hurt. His brain felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton. All he wanted to do was sleep.

“We should get moving,” Arthur said getting up and Merlin gave a strangled laugh.

“Fuck you,” he managed and threw an arm over his eyes. “I just dragged your royal ass here after blasting a bunch of Saxons. I will not be moving, thank you very much.”

A shoe lightly poked his side. “So you plan to lie in the mud?” Arthur asked skeptically. “I need to check on my men. Someone could be hurt.”

The audacity. Merlin removed his arm from his face to give him the most withering look humanly possible. Arthur met it without the least bit of apology.

“And I still would like to hear more about this magic you hid from me,” he added, voice holding a note of resentment that made Merlin flinch. It only lasted a moment before he sat up, the stab of hurt quickly blossoming into anger.

“Oh?” he asked, wiping some mud from his arms. He stood, the dampness of his clothes making his body ache more at having to move. “The magic I hid because if you found out I would be dead and unable to protect you.”

Arthur gave him an infuriatingly sarcastic smile. “That’s the one,” he said dryly and turned to stomp away from the lake.

…this bitch.

“Are you angry with me?” Merlin demanded. He supposed that he had always anticipated Arthur to be beyond furious when he found out. But this wasn’t the situation he typically envisioned his reveal. Given the circumstances, he expected Arthur to be hurt, perhaps. Or maybe blindly infuriated. But instead, it was this…. petty sort of anger.

“For lying to me?” Arthur asked, walking ahead.

Merlin gave a disbelieving laugh. “When would have been a good time to tell you?” he called, storming after him. Arthur gave a dismissive wave. “Is this seriously the attitude you’re going to take when I just used my magic to heal you from certain death?” he asked heatedly.

Arthur whipped around so fast that one wouldn’t think he had been bleeding out less than twenty minutes ago.

“You expect me to just blindly accept everything you say after this?” he asked and Merlin scoffed. Was that a serious question? And Merlin knew Arthur had no context to the decisions he had made over the years or everything Merlin had done, but surely - surely - he couldn’t still believe all of his father’s words?

He opened his mouth to say as much, but Arthur had already started talking again. “I mean, did you save me because you care or I’m someone easy to manipulate?” That made Merlin pause. Arthur ran a hand over his face. “Everything I thought I understood is… blurry now. And all I know is that even if magic isn’t evil, which I suspect it is not, and even if you are not evil, which I know you are not…” He trailed off and looked away. “I may still be a pawn for you. And that means I cannot trust you, Merlin. Not until I understand more.”

And that stung. That stung because suddenly magic was out of the equation. Arthur didn’t think magic was evil - or even Merlin himself. He just didn’t know if Merlin had Arthur’s best interests at heart or his people’s. You know, magical people. The people who Merlin had… admittedly not put first over the years. Because protecting Arthur was supposed to go hand-in-hand with protecting magical people.

And now that Arthur said the words out loud, it felt as though Merlin might have not completely taken the side he was supposed to have… and Arthur had no idea how much Merlin had put on the back burner for him.

Merlin was almost ashamed to tell him.

“Then don’t walk away from me,” he said instead, voice sharper than any tone he had used with Arthur before. “And make an effort to understand.”

The wind blew, sending a chattering over the trees as the leaves rattled together. Arthur’s eyes flicked over Merlin’s face, expression taut, but Merlin could see a thousand thoughts hiding behind whatever regal mask he had decided to throw up between them.

He opened his mouth and then shut it again. “I need to check on my men,” he said finally and turned away. “Join me, if you’d like.”

“I would like to,” Merlin snapped back. “Since they’re my friends too.”

Arthur didn’t respond to that.

Before either could take another step forward, the gentle clomping of hooves sounded towards the edge of the woods. Arthur spun around, lifting Excalibur, which had sat loosely in his hand despite his missing armor.

“Who goes there?” he called, peering through the trees. Merlin could see glimpses of a white mare trotting toward them, a man dressed in armor with a light green cape. Arthur’s brows furrowed as he gave Merlin a wary look. None of the Saxons had fought in such colors. Merlin actually didn’t recognize it all, though the bird branded on the stranger’s shield had a dim familiarity.

“I could ask the same of you, stranger,” the person called, spurring his horse from the treeline toward them. Arthur raised a hand, warily putting himself between Merlin and the newcomer. “Armor and a sword,” the person noted, studying the mess by the lake. “A knight, perhaps?”

“You have a similar look to you,” Arthur said tersely. “But I know for certain the sigil and colors you wear have long been retired. Do you know who you are wearing this disguise in front of?”

The knight gave a booming laugh. “Retired? I think not. Don’t tell me you’re a Pendragon supporter, friend.” He brought out a sword from his side. “I have strict orders on how to deal with Pendragon supporters.”

Arthur frowned, genuinely looking perplexed by that.

“You’re a Saxon?” Merlin tried and the knight turned his attention to him with alarm.

“A Saxon?” he repeated and took off his helmet. Beneath it was a young man with strawberry blonde hair curling to his ears, eyes a deep brown. “You lads can’t be from here,” he tsked and Arthur blinked a few more times. “Are either of you aware of the war rampaging in these parts?”

What was happening? Merlin very much was aware of a war… but this man didn’t seem to be referring to the one they just fought.

“What’s your name?” Arthur asked slowly. His eyes were trailing over the man’s face slowly. “You… I believe I’ve seen a portrait of you before,” he murmured and shook his head. “But it is impossible.”

“Does my fame really precede me so much?” the stranger snorted. “I told my sister not to spread so many rumors.” Arthur didn’t respond. “My name is Tristan of House de Bois. The rightful heir to the throne of Camelot.”

….Uh-huh. So something wasn’t right. Arthur slowly turned to Merlin.

“Heir to Camelot?” Merlin repeated slowly. “But I thought-”

“That this land belonged to the Pendragons?” Tristan asked snidely. “They would have you think so. Constantine Pendragon has been determined to get his son on the throne since our late King Ambrosius died.”

….oh. Oh, dear. Merlin swallowed, thinking through all his time weeding through Arthur’s speeches and other castle records. This much he knew was recorded throughout history:

• Arthur was the son of Uther and Ygraine.
• Before Uther ruled, Ambrosius Aurelianus, did.
• While the two weren’t blood-related, Uther and Ambrosius were very close and considered brothers by all. It was assumed after Ambrosius died that Uther would be revealed as his heir.
• Uther was not. Someone else was and Uther’s father called for war, claiming the scroll with Ambrosius’s heir was fake.
• The Pendragons won. Uther was crowned king.

Now, based on the conversation currently happening… Merlin should be shocked to learn the family that Pendragons apparently fought for the throne was Ygraine’s. Or maybe not. Perhaps Ygraine and Uther’s marriage came to ensure the de Bois family wouldn’t try to take back the throne if they married into it. At any rate, there was a more pressing question at hand.

Tristan was dead. That war was done.

So why were Arthur and Merlin here?

It had to be some weird… coincidence. A man who had stolen Tristan’s identity or something equally as plausible. Sure, Arthur seemed to see a resemblance between this man and his late uncle, but when had portraits ever been accurate?

Just as Merlin was about to voice this, another sound of hooves padded through the forest floor. Tristan glanced over his shoulder, expression hardening. “You are supposed to be in the camp-” he began as another horse darted out so that Merlin had to jump away to avoid getting hit as it circled them.

“I’m just gathering berries, brother,” a woman’s voice answered. The swirl of a green cape fluttered in the wind as a young woman pushed her hood back, revealing a cascade of blonde hair as she smiled prettily over her shoulder at them. “Our soldiers need sustenance.”

Tristan bristled. “You need to take this war more seriously, Ygraine,” Tristan said sharply, pulling at the reigns on his horse. “There could be Pendragon men out here, ready to kidnap you-”

“You said they’d kidnap me at our castle. You say they’d kidnap me in the camp. I am beginning to think I am safe nowhere other than holding you or Agravaine’s hand, Tristan.” The girl held up her chin, looking so strikingly like Arthur that Merlin knew this woman could no way be an imposter. “But I am not so easily frightened by pretenders like Constantine and Uther Pendragon. I invite them to kidnap me - let them see how well they can keep me.”

“If they succeed, I’d say they could keep you,” Tristan muttered and looked back at Merlin and Arthur. “You two, come on. We’ll take you back to camp and decide if you're spies or just lost fools.”

Okay. So. Merlin may have, potentially, maybe, just a little, sort of… leaned into the undoing of time thing too much. His mouth felt dry as he gave Arthur a petrified glance. Wordlessly, Arthur put his sword away, looking dazed as he met Merlin’s gaze, a hint of horror no longer hidden.

“What…” he began as they quietly began to walk behind Ygraine and Tristan’s horses as they bickered. “Did you do?”

Something potentially very, very bad, Merlin was sure. He didn’t say that though. Not when he was annoyed with Arthur and there was still too much to figure out.

“I saved your life,” he whispered back. “So say thank you.”

Chapter Text

Arthur was having a long day.

No. Listen. What the average person might take away from that was that Arthur was having a long day. What was actually happening was this:

Arthur….was… having….a… long…. day.

From fighting a battle to getting stabbed by his own knight to learning his servant was the most powerful sorcerer in the world to pretty much dying to now getting thrown back into time…

Yes. Long day did no justice to the fatigue that was shuddering through his veins.

And to put the cherry on top of it all, his dead family was in every crevice of this time. His father was off somewhere doing who knows what. Agravaine was presumably at the camp that his Uncle Tristan (who Arthur had never even met) was taking him to, and his mother…

His mother was beautiful.

He had thought so when he first saw her all those years ago with Morgause, but that had only been a glimpse of her. A version of herself conjured from… what? Death? Morgause’s mind? He could never be certain.

But this… This was Ygraine de Bois. Living. Breathing. Beautiful.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her as they moved through the brush of the woods, birds chirping and twigs snapping as they went. Ygraine didn’t seem to notice. She had a million other things on her mind as she rode, growing more irritable with her brother at every step.

“-ridiculous notion,” she was saying. “You act as if I am the prize instead of the throne, Tristan. This fascination with my abduction is borderline concerning.”

Arthur wished he could see her face better. All he could make out from behind were the rippling waves of her hair, floating down to her waist. She was in a velvet green dress that whisked back behind her horse, sending the smell of a flowery perfume.

It took all his willpower not to sprint in front of the horse and demand to see if they shared the same eyes or nose.

Tristan looked over his shoulder as his sister kept ranting, expression torn between exhaustion and pure regret at having started this argument at all. Merlin smiled back at him, possibly to reassure Tristan that they would at least be less trouble than her.

Arthur’s jaw set.

It was too much, really. Trying to cope with this whiplash of this situation (time travel? He was expected to stay calm during time travel?) while marinating in the change of, well, the time traveler himself.

Merlin had done this. Merlin. Merlin.

His servant who tripped over his shoelaces. The one who once cried because a bird was - and this was a real quote - the prettiest shade of blue he had ever seen.

Merlin, who snuck food from his plate like Arthur wouldn’t notice. Merlin, who laughed at his own stupid jokes. It was just ridiculous to picture him as a sorcerer, let alone the most powerful one the world had ever seen.

And Arthur wasn’t a child. He knew better than to react too rashly to this reveal. A good ruler would and should take time in such a situation. And despite his trepidation, Merlin had never hurt him.

...and, truthfully, Arthur wasn’t sure if he could hurt Merlin.

“If you think about it,” Ygraine continued. “It would actually benefit us if I was kidnapped. I could destroy the Pendragons from the inside. I have no doubt their armies are just misinformed and a true leader would inspire them to go in a different, more reasonable direction.”

Arthur absently wondered if this was what Merlin meant when he told Arthur that he wasn't good and letting things go.

Tristan sighed. “If Uther Pendragon doesn’t kill you first,” he said.

Ygraine scoffed, lightly rubbing her mare’s neck. “I have no doubt he could kill ten or fifty men,” she said solemnly. “But me?”

“Do you believe yourself to be made of steel, sister?”

“Of course not,” Ygraine dismissed before giving a smug smile. “Steel is far too flimsy for my bones.”

From beside him, Merlin gave a small, ‘huh’ under his breath. When Arthur turned to him, he glanced up at Ygraine and then back to Arthur. “...I always figured your hubris was a learned behavior. Or at the very least, inherited from your father,” he said quietly, leaning over so only Arthur could hear.

“Are you insulting my mother?” he replied flatly.

Merlin solemnly shook his head. “Only noting a family resemblance.”

From upfront, Tristan cleared his throat, narrowing his eyes. “Are you two conspiring back there?” he asked, pulling his horse out into a clearing. Arthur opened his mouth to defend them only to falter when he saw what he could only presume was their destination.

As far as battle camps went, it was impressive. A makeshift fence of wood and stone lined the area with traps placed along the perimeter to defend the fleet of tents inside. Hastily made wooden towers overlooked the area. That would mean they had been here for at least a few months - if not more. Men in armor all bustled about, shouting orders and sparring as they entered.

Ygraine slipped off her horse, beaming as she put two fingers in her mouth to give a sharp whistle. Instantly, the army quieted, seemingly recognizing the call as if they already knew who it was.

“-princess?” someone asked and a low swear followed. That was probably who was supposed to be looking after her. Tristan sighed. “How did you get out?!”

Ygraine ignored him to instead heave a bag off her horse and raise it over her head.

“I COME WITH BERRIES!” she shouted and a roar of approval went through the camp. At once, a crowd of sweaty men were rushing over to meet them. “Come now, boys. I brought plenty,” she said, holding out the bag so they could each take a handful.

Merlin curiously peered over, looking like he might ask for a few as well.

“Men, perhaps we should not indulge my sister in leaving the safety of the camp,” Tristan told them flatly. A few men hung their heads but Ygraine only held the bag out closer to them so they’d be tempted to take more. Finally, she turned and held the bag out to Arthur and Merlin. “You two can have my brother’s share,” she said, giving them a quick wink.

Huh...She and Arthur did look alike.

This was so bizarre. Arthur didn’t even know what to do as he watched Merlin dutifully take a handful of the berries, snacking on them as if this was just an ordinary day. He supposed for a sorcerer of his caliber things like this might not seem so strange.

Numbly, he allowed himself to take a berry for himself, catching the flap of a tent open somewhere in his peripheral vision.

“OI!” someone shouted and the men all moved to salute. “What’s this?” a man called, clomping over. The metal of his armor clanged together, sending a few men quickly scampering back. “I thought we had soldiers, not a flock of chickens!”

As the men parted, Arthur could see a man with dark hair, streaked with gray moving to the front. He wore fine leather under decorated metal, the de Bois crest delicately etched into the front. Nobility, surely. But who?

Ygraine held out the bag. “Hello, Father. Would you like some berries?” she asked sweetly.

The man peered over and silently plucked a few out. He took a bite before rolling another in his fingers. “...where did you get these, my sweet?” Ygraine only smiled at him. “Nevermind. I fear I would not like the answer.” He touched Ygraine’s cheek. “Go, my child. Rest for your next bout of trouble.”

At that, Ygraine laughed, leaning over to kiss his cheek before handing the bag of berries off to one of the bystanders. She spun around, giving them all a low curtsy, the green of her skirts sweeping back as her hair practically dusted the ground with flourish.

Father. So this was… Arthur’s grandfather? He glanced over at the man, who was watching Ygraine leave with a thinly veiled fondness. As a child, Arthur had asked about his grandparents multiple times. His father never failed to regale him with tales of Constantine, but he had never heard much of his mother’s father. Not even from Agravaine. He wondered if his grandmother was here too. Arthur didn’t quite understand why Ygraine was in an army camp rather than her home, but he also couldn’t say he had the appropriate context for any of this.

“Tristan,” his grandfather said, turning to brush against his son. “You have visitors. Perhaps we bring them somewhere more comfortable?”

Never in his years as a royal had Arthur heard someone offer him a chance to be ‘more comfortable’ and have it end in anything other than attempted murder. Absently, he grabbed Merlin’s arm, ready to pull him over the fence and back out toward the forest. He had taken stock of each trap on their way in. He’d be able to navigate them quickly-

No. No, he needed to play along for now. Tristan smiled, bowing his head before politely holding out his arm to gesture toward the largest tent near the center of the camp.

Merlin’s arm shook him off, leaning in as they squeezed past the men still feasting on the berries Ygraine left behind toward the guarded entrance of the tent. “Arthur,” he murmured quietly. “Let me do the talking.” Arthur gave him an incredulous look. “I’ve had more practice at playing inept,” he added.

Ah. Right.

“I’ll leave the lying to the professionals then,” he said shortly. Merlin shot him an irritable look but didn’t respond as he ducked under the cotton fabric.

The area was surprisingly well furnished, confirming Arthur’s suspicion that this camp had been sent up for months. A large wood chair sat in the front with a green woven rug. Tables were off to the side covered in maps and various scrolls that were thrown about with quills dripping black ink over the papers. Two flaps sat to the left and right, probably leading to sleeping areas.

“You know,” Arthur’s grandfather began, stomping inside to where a silver pitcher sat. He picked it up to pour himself some water. “The men should be heeding your words as they do Ygraine’s.”

Tristan laughed as the tent fluttered closed behind him. “Should I be picking berries for my soldiers, father?” he asked dryly and accepted a goblet for himself.

“You are to be king, Tristan. A certain love and infatuation should be present.”

“I’m not sure I’m blessed with the same assets my dear sister has,” Tristan mused, flashing Arthur and Merlin a smile as he threw himself in the wooden chair in front of them. “My friends,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “This is my father, Amlawd of Cornwall. Father, I found these two wandering around near a lake and am trying to decide if they are lost fools or Pendragon fools.”

Amlawd took another sip of water, eyes raking them up and down with consideration. He pointed his goblet at Arthur. “I like the look of this one. He has the face of a nobleman. If he is a lost fool, see how he is with that sword.”

Arthur smiled tentatively in return. He was lucky they hadn’t tried to take Excalibur from him. It seemed risky to let Arthur remain armed when just Tristan and Ygraine had escorted them here. Perhaps that spoke to Tristan’s confidence in his own skills.

Amlawd moved over to Tristan, clasping his hand. Arthur frowned, noting when he pulled away, Tristan was rolling something over his palm. Interesting. Merlin’s eyes warily flicked over the movement, but before anyone could comment on it, Tristan was leaning forward.

“So,” he began. “Are you spies for the Pendragons?”

“No, my lord,” Merlin said, and instantly Arthur saw a shift. It was as if someone had snapped their fingers and the reveal of Merlin’s secrets had been undone. Beside him was just his servant, looking abashed as he half-heartedly apologized for something ridiculous like ruining Arthur’s shirt or spilling his food. “Truly, we are… very lost. I have never been the best with navigation.”

Tristan hummed, glancing at his father. “And do you hail from Camelot?”

“I was born in the village of Ealdor,” Merlin said, brightening. “Have you heard of it? It’s not within Camelot, but an excellent farming village. If my lord requires food, perhaps I can-”

Amlawd rolled his eyes, muttering pleasantries as he slammed his goblet down on a side desk and marched out of the tent. Merlin jumped, knocking into Arthur, who instinctively reached out to steady him as he had a thousand times.

“Or, maybe,” Merlin stuttered as looked over his shoulder at where Amlawd had disappeared. “We can offer you some entertainment. I was a jester at a court, once long ago!” he said brightly. Arthur snorted at that. Well, jester was one of putting it.

Tristan paused, giving Merlin a curious look. “Were you?” he asked slowly and Merlin beamed in return. “Which court?”

Merlin’s smile vanished into blank confusion. “Uh, was it… Northumbria?” he muttered and turned to Arthur. “Or Nemeth? No, not Nemeth. I- maybe Amata… Which is the one with the bull man?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

“The bull man?” Tristan repeated, leaning on the arm of the chair. His finger tapped his lip, but Arthur could see a ghost of a smile underneath. “Are you referring to the Minotaur, which is the sigil of the House of Nemeth?”

Merlin hit Arthur’s arm. “It was Nemeth!” he said brightly.

Tristan leaned back in his chair. For some reason, he seemed more interested rather than turned off by Merlin’s inane prattling. “What’s your name?” he asked.

Merlin paused, looking almost offended that he had been asked. “Merlin,” he said, slowly. “Is there a tavern near here?” he added. Tristan raised a brow. “Not that I do not support your noble cause, my lord, but I do think a drink would be more refreshing… in a building, perhaps.” He held out his hands.

This time, Tristan didn’t bother to hide his delight, smiling as he rolled whatever Amlawd had given him between his fingers. Merlin responded with a baffled look only to pause when he looked at the movement. Tristan raised his eyebrows. The cheeriness on Merlin's face dropped.

Somehow, in some way, they had messed up. Arthur wished he knew how. Whatever silent conversation these two were having was not one he was privy to apparently.

“Do you support the Pendragon reign?” Tristan asked.

And just like that, the sweet, foolish act Merlin wore like a regular tunic vanished. “I do not support Uther Pendragon,” he said, voice a tad too aggressive.

“Do you support my reign?”

“I can’t say I am too familiar with you, my lord.”

“And why have you been lying to me?”

“Could you be more specific, my lord?”

“You were not a jester for Nemeth. Why pretend?”

“Perhaps I am truly that forgetful.”

“Are you?”

“Is anyone?” Merlin shot back, growing more agitated by the minute.

Tristan laughed. “And does this act of yours typically work?” Merlin’s jaw set. “You’ve never been called out on it, have you?” he asked, amusement growing.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Merlin said flatly, putting his hands behind his back.

Arthur looked between him and Tristan, a little unsure of what was happening. Actually, very unsure. What the hell was this?

“Tell me this, Merlin,” Tristan said, leaning forward. “Are you clever?”

“Such a quality is subjective, my lord,” Merlin threw back.

Tristan tilted his head tauntingly. “And do you happen to have any other talents? Fighting? Magic? Strategy?”

“Would that be of interest to you?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” Tristan said and flipped what Arthur now realized was a coin in his hand. Merlin bit his tongue, looking away. Tristan gave him a thoughtful look. “Magic,” he decided. Merlin didn’t respond. “Are you any good with it? And let’s keep this as a yes or no answer, please.”

Merlin didn’t respond. Arthur was debating about jumping in, despite his dazzling lack of context for whatever the hell this was when Tristan cleared his throat. “Yes,” Merlin muttered.

“And your friend?”

Merlin’s eyes flashed. “No.”

Tristan nodded, looking thoughtful. “Well,” he said, pocketing the coin. “I believe you are not a supporter of Uther or Constantine Pendragon. “But I also think you might be a valuable asset, my friend. For that reason, perhaps stay a few days. Let us evaluate one another further.”

Merlin exhaled sharply as Tristan stood up, brushing by them. He spun around, expression the same one Arthur had seen right before he did something stupid - like attack a witchfinder or accuse a nobleman of a crime.

“And if I wish for us to leave?” he asked, voice rising.

Tristan clicked his tongue, giving Merlin another look of defiant amusement.

“I wouldn’t recommend rejecting our hospitality… and I think we both know you showed your hand.”

And with that, he left.

Merlin stood frozen - stunned by the last comment.

“Um,” Arthur began after a few moments had passed. “What-?”

A crack sounded as Merlin turned to kick one of the tables. Oh, okay. Sure. Arthur had never known Merlin to resort to breaking things during a temper tantrum, but Arthur had also never known Merlin to use magic so… he supposed anything was on the table.

“What just happened?” Arthur tried again and Merlin ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots.

“He- oh, for- oh,” Merlin spit out and spun around as if looking for something else to hit. “The stupid coin is magic. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it when the conversation started,” he said, pacing.

Huh. Arthur supposed that in this day and age, magic was perfectly legal. His uncle having a magical artifact wasn’t out of the question, but something about it still felt shocking.

“The coin told Tristan when you were lying?” Arthur guessed. That would explain why Merlin had switched to answering questions with questions halfway through. “A nice trinket to have…”

“Don’t start,” Merlin muttered. “I can’t believe I messed this up.”

“I don’t think we're in any danger,” Arthur pointed out, a little exasperated by this reaction. It wasn’t like they had anywhere else to go at the moment. Arthur had no idea how to even get back to their own time. “A mistake is fine-”

“I don’t make mistakes,” Merlin snapped. “Not like this.” He paced back and forth. “You’ve never been called out on it, have you?” he mimicked. “I’ve never had a more irritating first interaction with someone.”

“I threw you in the dungeon when we first met,” Arthur pointed out. Merlin waved him away. “And then chased you through town with a mace.”

“It’s a different sort of annoyance,” Merlin muttered. And… that bothered Arthur, actually. He wasn’t sure why. Someone new annoying Merlin should be good news, but Arthur almost felt indignant at this entire situation.

It should be refreshing to see his uncle clock Merlin on his bullshit minutes into a conversation. To trick him like Merlin apparently tricked others, but… Arthur found himself agitated that the stupid coin had given Tristan an advantage that Arthur never had. He was even more irritable to see this reaction from Merlin, though it was hard to pinpoint why.

“You’re losing sight of the bigger picture,” he decided, grabbing Merlin’s arm to keep him from moving. “This is all good.” Merlin stared him down. “If we are to be stuck in this time, we may as well make some good of it. All we need to do is keep my mother from marrying my father. That’s it.”

Merlin blinked. “...what?”

“Think about it,” Arthur said, letting go of Merlin’s arm. “If my parents never marry, my father will never go to Nimueh for an heir. My mother doesn’t die, magic isn’t outlawed, and thousands of lives are saved.” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking Merlin up and down. “That is if I can assume Morgause’s description of my conception is more accurate than you led me to believe?”

A hint of guilt touched Merlin’s face at that, but it disappeared almost instantly. “If we interfere with your parents, then you won’t be born, Arthur.”

Sometimes Arthur wondered if Merlin truly believed he was dumb.

“I know,” he said and Merlin held out his hands. “That would be the point. Gaius said the druids call me the Once and Future King. Perhaps this… intervention was foretold,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “Maybe this is the decision I make that will undo all the suffering that Camelot has foreseen. I was meant to die in Camlann, anyway. This could be a more meaningful death.”

Merlin stared at him. Arthur waited. He thought it made quite a bit of sense, personally. And Merlin should be pleased with this proposal. It saved his people - and others - from persecution.

“No.”

Oh, come on.

“Merlin-”

“No,” Merlin repeated, and Arthur felt another stab of irritation. “You don’t get to get out of ruling so easily,” he said as if Arthur hadn’t ruled for several years already. “Even outside of magic, you have done good that no other ruler has done. If you don’t exist, that change doesn’t happen. Knights like Elyan, Percival, or Lancelot would never exist. Servants will never be respected. I- no. No.” He threw up his hands. “No.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You ask me to rule and then dismiss my ruling in the same breath. Are you sure you don’t want to usurp this throne from the Pendragon and de Bois families?” he asked snidely.

Before Merlin could respond, the flap to the tent opened and a new man stood at the entrance, looking vaguely annoyed. This one Arthur recognized, even if he looked decades younger with his hair fuller and face absent of any weathered lines.

“I was asked to escort you to a tent of your own,” Agravaine greeted, eyes looking over them both with distaste. “You are the stragglers Tristan picked up, yes? I am prince of this kingdom, brother to-”

“Are you a prince before your brother has won the throne?” Merlin asked, clearly recognizing Agravaine with the same hatred he had always met his uncle with. Agravaine reared his head back. “Presumption is hardly a good quality of a royal - despite its commonness among the nobility.”

“Merlin,” Arthur hissed, vaguely horrified. Was he trying to get them killed after all?

Before he could start spluttering out apologies, Merlin had already barged out of the tent, leaving Arthur awkwardly to stand with his uncle as he processed those words. He half-expected Agravaine to start spewing angry threats, but he only nodded to himself.

“I apologize for him, my lord-” Arthur tried but Agravaine merely shook his head.

“No,” he sighed. “Tristan has that effect on people. We best be pleased that Ygraine is there to win everyone back over. She and her betrothed have a habit of cleaning up the mess he makes.”

Arthur considered commenting that Ygraine seemed equally chaotic only to pause at that last part.

“Her betrothed?” he repeated. There was simply no way his parents were already betrothed at this time. And if they were, Ygraine seemed to have a thing or two to say about it. “Your sister is to be married? To who?”

Agravaine held open the tent flap, gesturing Arthur out. “The only man brave enough to fall in love with her, I would think. Gorlois le Fay.”

Chapter Text

Merlin wasn’t proud of how he had reacted in the tent.

And honestly? He had suffered far worse humiliations in his life and kept it together. Something about Tristan’s words had just gotten to him in a way nobody had before. He could distance himself from Arthur’s insults or the sleights of various noblemen because nobody knew who he was. He could internalize the berating from fellow sorcerers because nobody knew Arthur.

But never had someone just… so casually pulled the rug out from under him. Not since his first year in Camelot. Merlin had gotten better than that. And now? Undone. From a stranger, no less. It felt like someone had somehow poured salt under his skin, the agitation bubbling in his blood.

Also, Agravaine was here. Merlin had always hated his twitchy little face and now he had to deal with him in the past. As if he hadn’t suffered enough.

Oh, and Arthur. King Noble himself. The nerve. Sure, let them just prevent Arthur’s entire existence. Why not? It wasn’t like the whole point of Merlin bringing them here was to save his life.

Admittedly, it was unfortunate to look at Ygraine and know what fate awaited her. Uther and death. Nobody should be subjected to that. Especially not anyone with such life as Ygraine appeared to have.

“You look like you’ve been through something fierce.”

Not another. Merlin turned, unsure which hauntingly young face was here to greet him now.

“You could certainly say that,” he said, taking in the newcomer. A man with long hair and soft eyes.

He grinned at Merlin, almost as if they had been friends for years. “Well,” the man said with a stoic nod. “A good meal and rest has always done wonders for souls who have traversed the depths of hell,” he said, and then considered. “Or a conversation with Tristan.”

Merlin snorted. Fair enough, he supposed. “I’d hate to take food away from your men-”

“Nonsense,” the man said, waving the words away. “I love to cook.” That gave Merlin a pause. This very much seemed like a nobleman if his clothes were anything to go by. He had never met a nobleman who cooked.

Still, the man seemed genuine about the offer, so Merlin curiously followed him, noting that despite the man’s young age, he walked with a limp.

“A battle wound,” he said when he caught Merlin’s eye.

“From the Pendragon army?”

“From birth,” he said and then laughed at Merlin’s face. “A leg needed to be broken to get me out of my mother’s womb. It never quite grew right,” he mused, looking down at it with a shrug. “Nevertheless, it only slows me down from time to time. Never stops me.”

Merlin smiled a little at that. The man limped over to a large fire, set out in the open with wooden tables surrounding it. Various servants already stood at each, gutting deer and chopping vegetables. Upon seeing the man, a few shuffled aside.

“Gorlois,” one greeted, offering him some space at one of the tables.

Merlin did a double-take. Gorlois? His heart skipped a beat. Morgana’s father. At least, the man she considered her father. Morgause’s father, too. He could see bits of his oldest daughter in his face, the same brooding look and dark eyes.

“Do we have some of those berries my future wife picked?” Gorlois asked, looking around. One of the servants grabbed the bag Ygraine had brought in earlier and slid it onto the table.

“Future… wife…?” Merlin asked faintly.

Gorlois smiled weakly. “Politics,” he said softly. Merlin tilted his head. “You aren’t a nobleman, are you lad?” he asked. Merlin shook his head. “Ah, well. It’s the way of things when war comes about. When our dear King Ambrosius lay dying, he declared Tristan de Bois his successor. We all knew the Pendragons wouldn’t take well to that. Alliances were formed quickly. Marriage is a sure way to solidify them.”

Merlin pulled up a stool, watching as Gorlois began organizing some vegetables on the table before him, cutting them up faster than even Merlin was able to do when preparing food for Arthur on hunting trips.

“You don’t sound pleased to be betrothed to the royal family,” he noted carefully.

Gorlois paused, looking thoughtful. “Our hearts align,” he finally said. “But our wants? Not so much.” Merlin couldn’t decide if he wanted to press on that. He had never seen a nobleman so open. The man was just out there saying things to a stranger who had been under interrogation less than an hour ago. “I have never been a man of much ambition. My dreams are to enjoy my life exactly how it is. Ygraine is likely to never be satisfied with such a life.” Gorlois grimaced. “An argument we’ve already had numerous times… but we will find a way. Such is marriage.”

Fascinating. Merlin mulled over what his next question might be as a woman marched over, practically shoving Merlin to the side to put her hands directly in front of Gorlois’s cooking.

“He spoke to me again.”

Gorlois snorted, giving a slight smile as the woman theatrically fell against the table, head buried in her arms. One of the servants wordlessly brought her a stool which she gratefully accepted and then even more dramatically fell into.

“If a man speaks to you, that does not mean you are destined to marry, young one.”

“That would be left to the whim of my brother, would it?” the woman muttered. “Or whatever king ends up on that ugly throne.”

Gorlois hummed, taking some of what he had pulled together and moving to put it over the fire behind him. Merlin licked his lips, trying to remember the last time he had eaten. A day ago? More? Everything had blurred together once Camlann started. The smell of firewood and freshly rolled dough made his stomach twist.

“I’m not even of noble blood,” the girl continued. “I shouldn’t be subjected to the likes of nobility games. The only reason we’ve been dragged into this at all is because King Ambrosius took my brother and me in as wards all those years ago. And we likely wouldn’t have had that kindness if Gaius hadn’t shown off his infuriating intelligence to half the court.”

…Gaius?

“Are you Hunith?” Merlin asked before he could think better of it.

The woman turned to him slowly and Merlin felt his heart drop with recognition.

“Gorlois,” she whispered and buried her face into her hands. “I fear yet another man has spoken to me.” Gorlois rolled his eyes and put a plate in front of Merlin. By the gods, it smelled divine. It looked to be two tarts, one stuffed with vegetables and another with berries. “And what is your name, stranger?” Hunith asked, grabbing the berry tart. Merlin snatched the remaining one before she could take that too.

“Um, Merlin,” he said, and Hunith gave a slight hum.

“At least he isn’t horribly named,” she muttered, taking a despondent bite into the tart. “You should know the only reason I am forced to muck about this camp is because my brother is a physician who was sponsored by our late king. I have no noble blood, I swear to you, and while my brother will likely serve as court physician to King Tristan, I will have no power.” She gave a small sigh. “Be as the gods wish for me to run off and become a farmer.”

…dear lord. She sounded like Arthur.

“I, uh, have no interest in marrying, either, my lady. Nor am I of noble blood that I know of,” he said and Hunith grimaced.

“I am not a lady,” she said flatly and stood up to dust her hands of crumbs. “Promise me, you will kill any man who asks for my hand?” she added to Gorlois, who leaned his elbows against the table, giving her a fond look. “Find a dragon to feed him to and let it take me away to a village where I am to toil with the sun on my neck.”

“Only spoiled children wish to live a life of poverty, Hunith.”

“And fresh children are what your kind plucks up from the marriage market like berries,” she said flatly and turned to Merlin. “I will take my leave, Finch-”

“Merlin.”

“-and if the spirits of the old religion and new God are to wish me any goodwill… we shan’t see each other again.”

Incredible. Merlin gaped as she took an apple from one of the tables, sashaying away as Gorlois shook his head.

“Is she always like that?” Merlin asked, a little starstruck. His mother would have never accepted that level of attitude from him. She had always been a calm, warm presence. He also hadn’t realized she had been raised in a king’s household.

He supposed it made sense. Gaius once mentioned he had trained under the old king, but Merlin hadn’t known that both Gaius and his mother had been his wards. It explained how they were both able to read and write, eventually passing the skill down to him. Fascinating. Just fascinating.

If he ever saw his mother again, he would be bringing this up. The reminder that seeing her wasn’t a certainty made his heartache.

“I’m afraid so,” Gorlois said. “I’ve grown quite fond of it, though. She speaks as if the world is constantly ending. Makes it feel less scary when it actually is,” he mused. “And her brother is a fine man. I hope they find their places in Tristan’s court.”

Merlin’s amusement vanished. Tristan. He felt the need to complain again, but the words fell away as a hand clapped his back. It really was pathetic he could recognize who it was by touch alone.

“Arthur,” he greeted, shrugging the hand off. “Meet Lord Gorlois, future husband of Princess Ygraine.”

Arthur took the seat Hunith had left behind, expression guarded as he took in the other man.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I heard.”

If Gorlois was confused by the trepidation in this random stranger’s voice, he didn’t show it. The man only reached beneath the table, pulling out two goblets from seemingly nowhere.

“You two seem to need a moment,” he said, slamming them down onto the table so ale splashed over the side. He tapped the table, leaning over to meet Merlin’s eyes. “Don’t let Tristan get in your head too much, lad. He’s annoying, but he’ll also be king.”

That was very incorrect, but Merlin actually found himself believing Gorlois in a strange way. As if this patriotism had gotten into Merlin's blood despite knowing the outcome.

Arthur grimaced as he took a sip of his ale, looking around as Gorlois limped away, greeting the servants by name.

“I met my mother,” Merlin told him. Arthur choked on the drink. “Her and Gaius were wards of the old king.”

“Were they?” Arthur said, frowning at Merlin. “I sometimes forget you are blood-related to Gaius,” he mused. Merlin shrugged. “Does that mean he’s here somewhere? Gaius?” Arthur looked around. “Would honestly love to see him before he knew everything.”

Merlin couldn’t help but smile a little at that. “Based on what my mother said, he already does. We might have to travel a bit further back in time if we have any hopes of outsmarting him.”

“Eh,” Arthur muttered, rolling his eyes. “Even then, probably not,” he said, looking a tad disappointed. “I must say, this is not the tale I heard of my parents growing up…” he mused. Merlin tilted his head. “Not that I heard much at all, but I was under the impression that once my father was crowned king, he picked my mother as his wife.”

“Maybe that’s still what he did. As a cruel jab at your mother’s family,” Merlin said. Arthur gave him a look. “Sorry.” He wasn’t sorry. Not about Uther being the worst. He was just sorry that Arthur had him as a father. Life really could be cruel. “I suppose it doesn’t matter… we need to figure out what to do.” Merlin ran a hand over his face. “If I bring us back to our time, would it just… put you in the same position as before? Dying?”

“There’s always my idea,” Arthur said, taking a sip of his drink. Merlin shot him an irritable look. “You can’t stop me if I wish to intervene. Perhaps you are as powerful as everyone seems to think you are, but I’d like to think you have the character to let others choose their destiny.”

Inwardly, Merlin flinched. He stared into his drink before taking a long pull.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” he finally said quietly. Arthur’s eyes flicked him up and down, lips pursing. “We should speak more… about some of the things I’ve done. And why.”

The idea kind of made him sick. For the longest time, Merlin assumed the pain of revealing his magic to Arthur would be the magic itself. But the more Arthur spoke of it these past few days, the more Merlin realized that… well, magic might not be the primary issue.

Would Arthur approve of some of the choices Merlin had made? Would Arthur think he should have done better by Morgana? The druids? Mordred? Would he hate Merlin not for lying about his magic, but for lying about the quality of who he was as a person?

Arthur had called Merlin brave early on in their… friendship. But Merlin was beginning to wonder if some of what he had done was truly brave or if he was a child clinging to his favorite blanket, assuming Arthur would fix everything and considering absolutely nothing else.

It had never occurred to Merlin that he and Arthur would ever be equals. But now? Sitting at this table where Arthur couldn’t reveal his lineage and Merlin’s powers would only grow more obvious… the dynamic shifted. And Merlin worried that while he excelled as a servant, he could have fallen short as a man.

“...kings are lucky.”

Merlin looked over to find Arthur looking at him. “Are they?” Merlin repeated, too tired to think of a single joke, despite Arthur dangling the opportunity in front of him.

“Of course,” Arthur agreed. “We're surrounded by endless counselors and advisors. Most kings can put their politics out in the open, privy to various beliefs and opinions. If you are wise enough to listen,” he added and gave Merlin a knowing look. “Pulling strings in the darkness must be harder. The wisdom you’d have around you must be scarce.”

And that put a lump in Merlin’s throat.

“So is this what it took?” he asked warily. “All these years of you being a prat and all I had to do to make it stop was be worse?”

Arthur snorted. “Worse,” he muttered. “I’m going to be beside myself when I find out your great magical evils were stepping on daffodils or something equally ridiculous.” He took another sip of his drink. “I am still displeased with you, you know. I’m just… tilted due to current circumstances.”

“To be fair, you’re taking the recent events very well, Arthur.”

“Your horrific serving has toughened me up for the most dire experiences, I fear.” Merlin scoffed at that, smiling a little at his drink. “I mean, how could you be that bad when you had magic?”

“I wasn’t about to get my head chopped off to avoid washing your laundry, Arthur.”

“I’m fairly certain you just avoided my laundry in general.”

At that, Merlin laughed. He didn’t even feel the need to snipe back. He was just relieved at how well this was all going. Perhaps the key to a good betrayal was to overwhelm the other person with insane things so that the lying in question seemed small in comparison to, say, time travel.

From somewhere above, a horn blew. Men all began to come out of their tents, heading toward the horses as Tristan walked out, tapping a scroll against his palm. He did look strikingly like Arthur, in Merlin’s opinion. They could have passed as brothers. Tristan’s hair sat differently, hints of red in the golden color with more curls, but otherwise? Eerily similar.

And both were annoying.

“Ah,” he said when he spied Merlin. “There you are!”

Merlin clicked his tongue. “...here I am,” he muttered, and threw Arthur an accusatory look. “If he asks me about knee walking, I’m going to leave.”

He half expected a surly retort at that, but Arthur was also fixing Tristan with an irritable look, which was a tad reassuring. At least he understood that Tristan was a menace and the worst.

“My lord,” Merlin said, turning as Tristan walked over, armor clanging and eyes bright. “Are you and your men leaving for patrol?”

Tristan’s smile widened as he snagged Arthur’s ale from the table and took a sip. “We’ve gotten a tip that Pendragon’s men have left the castle.” Merlin glanced over at Tristan curiously. He had honestly pictured the Pendragons to be in an army camp themselves. He didn’t realize they had already claimed the castle. “You see, they have more in the way of magic at the moment. Sorceresses, dragonlords, and such.” He waved his hand. “I’m hoping we may find a strong magical ally of our own to match such talent.”

Merlin briefly considered turning him into a toad just for the hell of it.

“What makes you so certain I’m so good with magic?” he asked, unable to stand Tristan so easily jumping to the right conclusion time after time.

“You told me.”

“You asked me if I was good. I said yes. You seem to be putting a lot of weight on that.”

Tristan hummed, walking around the table to where Gorlois had been standing minutes earlier. Wordlessly, he slammed something onto the table. When his palm moved away, the coin from before sat between them.

“That was a gift from the Fisher King,” he said conversationally. Merlin tensed. He remembered the Fisher King. A man whose magic kept him alive as his kingdom fell into a barren wasteland. He finally accepted death shortly after meeting Merlin when he was on a quest with Arthur. Tristan bit his lip. “To help my family navigate the dishonesty of nobility. He was always fond of us for whatever reason - and told me I had the makings of a king before I even knew it was a possibility.” He slid the coin across the table to Merlin. “Take it.”

Merlin stared at the coin. “...why?”

“Because I am clever and can see you hiding in the shadows. This is war. I need someone strong. When I leave with my men, you may be tempted to journey back out into the woods and forget our plight. Understand if you don’t - if you help me - this could be the first of many gifts. I won’t ask questions about where you came from. I won’t ask your parentage or even look into the secrets that clearly are so important to you. Whatever you want, it can simply be yours.”

Merlin didn’t know what to say. Typically, sorcerers attempted to win his allegiance by trying to convince him to kill Uther or Arthur. But those were people who knew he was Emrys. Who lived through the Purge.

This was just a man who had an odd belief that this stranger he met in the woods held the key to the most important war he’d ever fight in. Merlin honestly didn’t know what to make of it - or even how to respond.

From beside him, Arthur cleared his throat. Tristan glanced over as if just realizing he was there.

“And for you,” he added hastily. Arthur raised his eyebrows. “I leave men behind to guard my sister and brother in my absence. If you could be a loyal sword among them, I would gladly reward you.”

“...that is very kind,” Arthur said dryly.

Tristan gave them both a beaming smile before clapping Merlin on the shoulder and walking away. “GORLOIS!” he called. “GET READY TO GO!”

Arthur rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his ale with a slow exhale. The ringing of metal and shouts of soldiers surrounded them as horses began to ride out the gate, leaving perhaps fifty guards behind.

“Arrogant clotpole,” Arthur muttered.

Merlin nodded, picking up the coin. “He truly is your ancestor,” he agreed, ignoring the withering look Arthur gave at that. Wordlessly, Merlin handed him the coin. Arthur glanced at him in confusion. “So you can tell if I’m lying,” he explained.

Arthur stared at the coin but didn’t take it, instead taking another sip of ale. “And how will you know if I’m lying?”

“You are a terrible liar. I don’t need a coin.”

“That’s untrue.”

“Take the coin and let me say it again then,” Merlin said, holding it closer.

Arthur made a face, swirling his cup before sighing. He set it down with a thud to snatch the coin out of his hand. Merlin waited with a smugness to confirm that he really did consider Arthur a terrible liar, but Arthur didn’t ask that.

“Did you ever consider telling me the truth?”

Merlin faltered. Oh.

“Yes.”

“Did you enjoy lying to me?”

“No.”

“Did you think I would kill you if I found out?”

Silence. Arthur waited. Merlin didn’t respond. Perhaps that was answer enough because Arthur didn’t ask again.

A few servants cleared the tables away, done with their food preparations. In the distance, he could see a man exit a tent, Hunith moaning and groaning behind him. Merlin quickly nudged Arthur, jerking his chin in their direction.

“I don’t care-” the man was saying as he walked closer to them, nose in a book.

“-and then, quite frankly, I believe I would die,” Hunith continued with whatever she had been saying. “So you don’t care if I die, Gaius? You want me rotting in the ground so you may continue to languish in books and ink in service of a war that is not yours to fight?”

“That sounds right.”

Hunith collapsed to the ground. One of the guards stepped over her as if this was a regular occurrence. “Forsaken by my own flesh and blood,” she sniffed into the ground.

Arthur gave a slow nod. “What were you saying about the family resemblance between me and my mother?” he asked and Merlin snorted.

Gaius looked over his shoulder, snapping his book closed. “Sister, you needn’t fear remaining in a life of spoils,” he said, voice surprisingly gentle. “For you are not comely enough to be of interest to any man looking for marriage-”

Hunith gasped as she scrambled up, face streaked with mud as she marched after Gaius, shouting crude insults that she would have certainly punished Merlin for if they had ever left his mouth.

The sight of his mother actually got him thinking...

If Arthur remained stubborn with his plan to erase himself from existence… Merlin wouldn’t exist either. If Arthur wasn’t born, the Purge wouldn’t happen, and Balinor would never have need to hide in Ealdor.

Maybe he’d keep that in his back pocket in case Arthur continued to be stubborn about this. He may be willing to sacrifice himself at every turn, but realizing he’d also erase others from their lives was a different story.

Another horn blew.

“That was short,” Merlin said, looking around to see if Tristan had already finished riding out for whatever tip they got. “Did Tristan forget something?”

Arthur didn’t answer. Instead, he tensed, putting his ale down as he jerked his head up like he’d heard a ghost. Merlin gave him a curious look.

“Where’s my mother?” he asked quietly. Merlin shrugged. Presumably in her tent? Arthur stood, but not before a man in a red cloak stepped out from the treeline. Then another. And another. And a few more.

Men from inside the camp raced into position, pulling out weapons, but Merlin quickly realized the problem. Of the fifty men Tristan left behind, they were now surrounded by at least two hundred.

For all of Tristan’s crowing about being clever… someone had set them up.

From outside the gate, the army of men raised a Pendragon flag.

Chapter Text

The chaos came instantly. Spears shot up when the first trap around the gate went off. Horses reared back, which at least gave Arthur a second to gain his bearings.

“Stay behind me,” he said at the same time identical words passed through Merlin’s lips. They both looked at one another, vaguely surprised before jumping back into action.

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm, tugging him to the left where his mother’s lodgings most likely were. Soldiers dashed by him, almost knocking him back as they pushed against the crowd.

Arrows flew. One pierced a man’s neck so he crumbled to his knees, blood spurting everywhere.

“CAREFUL!” someone screamed. “WE NEED THEM ALIVE!”

Another wayward arrow flew and Arthur grabbed the fallen man’s shield to block it only to find the arrow freezing in midair. It dropped a second later, Merlin’s eyes blazing gold.

So, he may finally see exactly what this so-called sorcerer was capable of.

“Can you take them out?” he asked, thinking of the Saxons who had attacked them in Camlann. Merlin had knocked out a majority with a swing of a staff. Surely, this was no different.

But Merlin only looked around and grimaced.

“Not without revealing myself.”

….seriously?

“Revealing yourself?” Arthur repeated and lifted the shield again to block some shrapnel from the fence from being knocked down. “It’s legal here-”

Merlin shoved Arthur back, letting them stumble through tents as soldiers began swarming in.

“It’s not that simple,” he hissed. Someone shouted and Merlin dragged Arthur to the side. “I’ve tried to manipulate prophecies before and it never worked. And this…this is a prophecy with more stakes,” he muttered.

“Stakes? What are you talking about?” Arthur asked, yanking out Excalibur. “If there is a time for you to show me magic is not evil, saving my mother would be it!”

Merlin looked over his shoulder, waving his hand with a casual flourish so that another tent collapsed on a handful of men. He waved his hand again and a snake appeared, making one of the horses rear back and knock into several Camelot soldiers.

“Look,” Merlin said, eyes flicking around as he pulled Arthur into another area shielded between two tents. “Your mother must have survived this the first time. If we don’t intervene she’ll be fine.”

“And the rest of these men?” Arthur asked as someone cried out in pain.

Merlin looked away. Something hard crossed over his face. “You can’t always save everyone.”

“But you should try,” Arthur hissed back, unable to believe what he was hearing. Never, in a thousand years, would he think Merlin could be so coldhearted. It just wasn’t in his nature - magic or not. “And you should be more paranoid about our parents if you are that determined to ensure I exist in the future-”

“For the love of God, Arthur,” Merlin snapped, surprising him with the note of emotion. “Do you think that I’m saying this out of malice? I’ve done this before! For years!” His voice rose, though it didn’t quite reach the levels of the screams outside. “I have tried to save everyone. Again and again and again, but let me tell you something, sometimes you have to prioritize. Otherwise, you lose more than you intended to save in the first place.” He peaked out of their hiding place and his eyes glowed gold again, sending the wind scattering dust into the eyes of Pendragon soldiers.

He took a deep breath and turned back to Arthur. “If I reveal my magic here, then I officially become part of this war. I officially become a factor in this time - risking not only lives but you not being born. And you seem to think that’s okay because people will be saved by you not being born. That’s naive. Your father could still become king and maybe something else entirely will set him off. Maybe Nimueh denies him a child and he purges magic for that. Maybe he thinks he’s cursed and can’t have children and purges magic for that. Maybe a thousand other things happen but because you don’t exist and then it. Doesn’t. Get. Fixed.”

Arthur stared, he didn’t know what to make of that.

“Merlin,” he finally said and shook his head. “Be that as it may, we cannot watch forever. At some point, we have to do something.” He raised Excalibur. “And so I will, and you can make your choice.”

There. Arthur stepped out of the tent to block an incoming hit from a passing soldier on a horse. He could appreciate that scheming and wisdom were often two approaches that went hand-in-hand. He knew that playing with time could lead to something far worse than what was originally destined.

But… maybe it would lead to something better.

Disarming another soldier, Arthur made note of all the strange whispers of magic around him. Wind blew flags in faces, leather straps broke, and swords fell out of tightly clutched hands. Things he had never noticed, but now that he knew his shadow was woven into the fabric of magic itself, he couldn’t help but see.

Had Arthur always been so blind to it?

Stepping to the side, he caught sight of Gaius and Hunith ducking into one of the tents that were still standing. A man in Camelot colors turned, stalking after them. Darting forward, Arthur grabbed the back of his chest plate and slipped his blade between pieces of metal.

It felt… sickening, actually. To strike anyone wearing Camelot’s colors, let alone kill them. Arthur had grown numb to battle - disengaging his senses so he couldn’t smell the sharp taint of blood or bile, but now he could feel the heat through his gloves, a gurgling sound following as the man collapsed.

Arthur yanked the sword out, shaking himself from the stupor looming over him, and stepped into the tent where Hunith was trembling. Gaius was shoving a few items in a bag, forcing it over her shoulder. At Arthur’s entrance, he swung around, arm lifting to defend his sister.

“I mean no harm,” Arthur promised and walked to the other side of the tent. They were right at the edge of the camp with the fence just on the other side. Lifting the sole of his foot, he kicked forward, breaking the remaining pieces of wood still keeping it together. “The soldiers are inside now. If you’re quick, you can escape.”

Hunith clutched her chest, struggling to catch her breath as Gaius watched her helplessly.

“They’re less likely to notice one of us,” Gaius noted slowly. Arthur opened his mouth to object, but the look on Gaius’s face would be the same one he’d wear years in the future when he silently told Arthur to be quiet and let him work. “Hunith… Hunith.” Gaius grabbed his sister and shook her. “Listen to me. You’re going to go under that fence and run, okay?” He gestured to the hole in the perimeter. “You’re going to run until you find the second - not first - but second village. Do you understand?”

Hunith took several breaths, clearly trying to keep herself from hyperventilating as she grabbed Gaius’s wrists.

“W-what about you?” she managed, voice dazed. Blood splattered across the other side of the tent and she jumped. “I won’t leave you,” she said, voice wavering.

Gaius looked at her for a moment and then nodded. “I’m taking another opening in the back.” Hunith blinked in confusion. “As I said, they’re less likely to notice just one person running, and if they catch sight of one, we can split them up.”

Arthur pursed his lips but kept quiet.

“But what if they-”

“There’s no time,” Gaius said and shoved some books into her arms. “Wait at the second village for three days. If I don’t meet you there, then I’m dead. I’ll do the same.”

“Gaius!” Hunith began, horrified, but Gaius had already spun her around and shoved her towards the opening. Hunith stumbled, eyes wildly looking around to see if anyone had noticed her pushed out into the open. She looked once more at Gaius, expression uncertain before running out across the mud into the treeline.

Gaius closed his eyes.

“You could go with her,” Arthur finally said, but Gaius shook his head.

“I’ll wait here,” he said. “And see if anyone goes after her. If they do, I’ll distract them. It’s safer.”

Some things were forever the same - past and present. Wordlessly, Arthur clapped him on his shoulder.

“I’ll keep you alive,” he promised and Gaius shot him a curious look. He was a handsome man, Arthur decided. The same long hair, except now it was the same black as Merlin’s and somehow the same cheekbones. It made Arthur wonder how he hadn't noticed the two were related before.

Gaius frowned, confusion arching in his brow. “Who are you?” he asked.

Arthur flicked the blood of Excalibur. “A future friend,” he said, giving a wicked grin before stepping back out into the battle.

Next stop: his mother.

Arthur took a moment, eyes flicking over the camp until he caught sight of blonde hair. Taking a step forward, he raised Excalibur only for the sound of wind to shoot by his ears… which was strange considering he felt no wind. He turned only to find three Pendragon men slammed to the ground, looking dazed.

“Ah!” one soldier called, yanking the reigns of his horse toward Arthur. “They have a sorcerer. How exciting!” He grinned and Merlin stepped out, looking mildly irritated by this battle rather than truly afraid. He caught Arthur’s eye, giving him a look that clearly said, I’ll do it, but whatever happens next is your fault.

Ha. Arthur knew he wouldn’t be able to stand by after all.

“You are outnumbered, lad!” the soldier called, eying Merlin a playful smile that made Arthur’s skin prickle with dislike. “You think your magic is powerful enough to take us all?”

Merlin looked around, evaluating the situation with a stoicism that was… a little unsettling if Arthur was honest. It seemed a little too natural on him. As if this expression had crossed his face a thousand times despite Arthur having never once seen it.

“Lower your weapons,” Merlin said, voice steady and low despite the chaos of sound around them. “And you won’t ever have to find out.”

The man scoffed, grabbing at his sword. Every Camelot soldier dropped.

It took Arthur a moment to realize what happened. Only the man who had been speaking to Merlin remained conscious while the rest all collapsed on the ground. His horse snorted in alarm, trying to back up as the man looked around in utter horror.

Merlin put his hands behind his back. “It… would seem that my magic can take you all,” he noted.

The man made a cross over his chest, swearing lowly as he spun his horse around, galloping out of the camp. Merlin watched him go, twisting his hand up to stare at his palm with a grimace. When he looked up, he found Arthur staring at him.

He should probably say something… but he didn’t. Couldn’t. The words were lost on his tongue, trying to form the insults he’d been raised to say at such displays. But he wouldn’t be able to say them. Not to Merlin.

And, also, on a wiser note, perhaps not to someone who just dismantled an entire attack without so much as flinching.

Arthur sheathed his sword. “So,” he began and Merlin looked away. “You would just join me in battle for a show then?”

Merlin scoffed, opening his mouth to respond when a squawk sounded somewhere above. Gaius had grabbed Ygraine, bringing them closer to Arthur and Merlin as Agravaine clumsily stepped over bodies to race over.

“My brother was right about you,” Ygraine said, looking at Merlin mystified. “Are you a human?”

Merlin frowned. “Of course I’m human,” he said indignantly, and another squawk sounded. “I-” he paused. Arthur looked up, trying to decide where the noise was coming from when Merlin went eerily still. “...shit.”

“What?” Agravaine asked, tripping over an unconscious soldier. “What is it?”

Merlin ignored him. “Your family doesn’t have magical allies, do they?” he asked Ygraine.

She wrinkled her nose. “Of course, we do-”

“Do you match what the Pendragons have?” Merlin interrupted. Ygraine looked away. Merlin grabbed Arthur’s arm. “We need to go,” he said, pulling him over. “Right now. Quickly. Come,” he added to Ygraine, holding out a hand to help her balance over the unstable ground.

“What? Why?” Gaius asked as they began to move. Arthur yanked Agravaine over - mostly because he couldn’t seem to stay upright, but also because he was certain Merlin was secretly trying to leave him behind.

“Because-” Merlin began, rushing them toward the treeline. A dark shadow came over them. “That.” He grabbed Arthur again, tilting his head up at the massive creature obscuring the sun.

A dragon.

Arthur raised his sword, but Merlin shoved it down.

“Dragons can only be killed by dragonlords,” he said, looking around. Gaius made to move for the trees, but Merlin pulled him back. “It’ll burn the forest down,” he said tightly. “And even my magic can’t heal wounds from dragons.”

Arthur pulled Merlin closer. “I killed one of these before-” he began as the dragon began to circle them. Merlin shook his head...oh. “You killed one of these before,” he corrected because of course that was what happened.

“Not really,” Merlin whispered back. “I used my dragonlord powers to order it away.”

“You-? I have more questions, but for now, just do that.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?!”

The dragon swooped down, landing on the ground with a thud that shook them all. Agravaine fell again, leaving Ygraine to reach down and pull him up.

“Why can’t you?” Arthur hissed. Now that the dragon wasn’t directly in front of their source of light, he could see it was a sparkling blue with silver eyes. If he squinted, he could make out a man on top, patting the side of the beast as it roared up at the sky.

“Because dragonlord powers are passed down from father to son,” Merlin whispered back. He narrowed his eyes and rather ridiculously, Arthur wondered if he could see better than most people. Was it possible for him to simply… zoom his sight in for a closer look at things? “I got my powers after my father died. They won’t work here.”

“Your father is alive here?”

“I haven’t been born yet, Arthur! Of course, he’s alive!” Merlin snapped at him. Okay. Jeez. Forgive Arthur for forgetting some of the logistics of their time traveling adventure. Merlin grimaced as he glanced around. “And I’d try to use my magic to knock whoever is on the dragon off… if I wasn’t almost certain that was him.”

Because why not? They had met almost every other member of their respective families. Really, only Uther and Constantine were missing from the bunch.

“Is there anything we can do?” Ygraine called from behind them, wiping her hands on her ripped skirts. “If we kill the rider will the dragon let us go?”

“No!” Arthur said quickly because despite how annoying Merlin was, he didn’t want him blipped out of existence… yet. “Um, the dragon will attack without its rider,” he said, not knowing if it was true. It sounded true, which was good enough for him.

“And if we run, we’ll be burned because your magic doesn’t work against this beast,” Agravaine said with a note of accusation.

The rider slipped down the side of the dragon, leaving Merlin to slowly turn to where Agravaine was glaring. “I’m sorry, should we use your magic then?” he asked. Arthur hit his arm. “What? He’s the one bitching…” Merlin muttered and held up his hands. “Don’t come any closer!” he called.

The rider stopped.

Merlin turned to look at the others. “Hey, um… if anyone asks, I don’t have magic, okay? Some other guy knocked them out.” Gaius and Agravaine exchanged baffled looks.

Ygraine crossed her arms over her chest. "As long as you're on my side, stranger, then I see no magic from you. Drift too far and that may change."

Merlin looked at her for a moment. “Fair enough,” he sighed and turned back to the rider. “STATE YOUR NAME!”

The rider came closer, and Arthur pulled out Excalibur.

“Easy!” the rider called back. “I mean no harm. The name is Balinor.”

Balinor. Arthur knew that name. He glanced at Merlin, who swallowed.

“What happened here?” Balinor called, taking another step forward. “Looks like some powerful magic knocked our men out.”

“Ugh,” Merlin grimaced. “He’s with Uther.”

Ygraine huffed, glowering as Balinor continued his approach. Arthur definitely recognized this man. His eyes flicked to the dragon and then he blinked again. Of course - the only dragonlord that Arthur had ever met was the one that came to collect them today.

“Yes,” Gaius called out over Merlin’s shoulder. “A sorcerer came by. He disappeared into the trees that way!” He pointed off into the distance.

From behind Balinor, the dragon lowered its head, its horns peaking out to make them look as if they were growing from Balinor’s head. He kept walking, and Merlin’s breath caught. Wait.

“...this is your father?” Arthur whispered. Merlin nodded shortly. “So when we met him, he was your father?” Merlin nodded again. “And when we asked him to save Camelot, he was your father?” Merlin gave him a look. “And when he died-”

“Can this conversation wait?” Merlin whispered back. Arthur might have retorted but Balinor had finally approached them, taking in Arthur’s sword and where Gaius, Ygraine, and Agravaine stood huddled behind him.

“Well, today is full of surprises,” Balinor said, dusting off his hands. He didn’t much look like Merlin with his hair a rich sort of brown and eyes dark. Not to mention the beard. Merlin could never even dream of having a beard like that. “I come here to find a battle has taken place that Uther didn’t authorize. A mysterious sorcerer is missing from the battlefield. And now I find strangers with members of the de Bois family.” Balinor held out his arm. “What a day!”

From behind him, Arthur felt movement and his mother shoved past him. “What do you mean Uther didn’t authorize this battle?” she asked, ignoring Arthur reaching for her. She slapped his hand away, which… okay. “Your men just follow anyone’s orders? You can just kill our people at a whim?”

“Ygraine-” Agravaine began nervously, but Ygraine raised her hand for silence.

“Well?” she asked shortly.

Balinor smiled a little. “You must be the sister,” he greeted.

“I prefer my name. Ygraine.”

“Ygraine.”

“Princess Ygraine if you had any sort of decency.”

Balinor clicked his tongue. “I’m afraid I’m fresh out of that, my lady. Besides, I doubt King Uther would be pleased to hear such a title being thrown so casually about.” Ygraine’s eyes narrowed. “Now, I hope you don’t mind if we escort you over to the castle…?”

Everyone turned to Merlin.

A very strange change of pace, to be sure. Arthur half-expected everyone to turn to him. But Arthur hadn’t taken down a dragon before… and despite Merlin’s objections that time travel would have undone his apparent powers over dragons, Arthur thought he could try. Maybe teleport? Could Merlin teleport? He should try teleporting.

…by the gods, he had warmed to magic uncomfortably quickly. His father would be ashamed.

The same father who apparently had magical creatures like dragonlords that helped him win the crown he wore when condemning them all to death.

Balinor raised his brows, possibly noting everyone’s attention diverting to one man. Before he could speak, another shriek went through the sky. Smiling, Balinor glanced up. In the distance, three more dragons rose over the horizon.

“I brought some of my brethren,” Balinor explained as they all looked up. “In case the mysterious sorcerer was still about.”

…yikes. Arthur could believe Merlin could maybe take one dragon down on raw power alone. But three?

So they walked to the castle.

Not for the first time, Arthur wished his father had told him more than the vaguest of details of this story. Now that they were slowly inching toward the center of things, he found Merlin’s earlier words weighing on him. What if they had somehow made things worse by meddling? Could Merlin pull them back in time for a redo?

Balinor didn’t join them as they got to the castle’s front gates. He and the other dragonlords just hovered above them, watching with a watchful eye to make sure no funny business went down.

“We’ll escape,” Merlin reassured the others as they saw guards waiting for them at the entrance. “There’s a servant passage near the dungeons. If everyone keeps quiet about my magic, we’ll be out by dawn.”

Ygraine frowned. “How on earth do you know about servant passages?” she asked, and Merlin gave her a weak smile. “Hm.” She squinted at him slightly.

Arthur watched, awkwardly thinking of all the passages he knew in the castle. For some reason, he couldn’t ever quite find the right words to strike up a conversation with his mother. As silly as it was, there was an underlying fear that anything that came out of his mouth would be met with heavy disapproval from her. And on God, Arthur wasn’t sure he could handle that right now. He’d be content just to watch. To see what kind of person she had been.

Guards surrounded them without a word. Everyone seemed to recognize Agravaine and Ygraine on sight, giving them both nods of acknowledgment while ignoring Gaius, Merlin, and Arthur altogether.

The throne room remained unchanged… or perhaps the correct term was that it would remain unchanged in the future. Arthur could have sworn he had merely returned home. That, maybe, if he turned he’d find his knights behind him. Guinevere in the doorway. Merlin at his side as the man he had always known.

Maybe Camlann was only a bad dream.

The thought was ruined by his mother stepping forward. The guards shifted, but she paid them no mind as she walked up the length of the room, shoes clacking against the stone floor.

“Lady Ygraine,” one of the guards said sharply. “You are to wait here quietly until King Uther comes for you.”

Ygraine looked back at their escort, expression the epitome of innocence. “Then wait I shall,” she said and continued walking toward the throne. The guards all looked at one another, seemingly unsure what to do as Ygraine moved to where a pillar stood beside the throne. On it sat a crown.

His father’s crown. The one Arthur remembered him wearing all his life. As a child, he’d grab at it, pleased when his father laughed and took it off to place it on Arthur’s head. It had been too big then, slipping over his eyes and down his nose.

When Ygraine touched it, the guards all brought out the swords.

“This is the prize?” she asked, lifting it up.

“Lady Ygraine, step away,” one of the guards said sharply. “Or we will be forced to retaliate.”

Ygraine’s brows raised. “And get blood on this pretty crown?” she asked, placing it on her head. The guards started to move forward, but Ygraine only laughed and sat right on the throne, crossing her legs. “Hurt me, and the leverage you’ve gained from having me as a hostage would be lost.”

The guards faltered. Arthur glanced at Merlin pointedly, silently ensuring that he would step in if these guards continued to move closer to her.

“The pretender doesn’t need to know your state,” one of the guards snapped.

Ygraine settled into the throne, and the smugness that had been agitating Arthur about Tristan showed up clear as a bell on her face.

“If you think Constantine and Uther are comfortable with you harming me… go ahead.”

It was a bluff. Arthur knew the intricacies of war. Of course, some honorable warriors would ensure their hostages are never hurt, but there was no denying their levity here. Hurting Ygraine would cause Tristan to act rashly if he knew. And it was easy to lie to him and say Ygraine was unharmed if they didn’t want him to believe that.

Alas, Ygraine’s confidence seemed to unsettle the guards, who seemed to be seriously questioning if there would be consequences to tearing her off the throne and beating the crown off of her head.

Before any of them could decide, the door squeaked back open.

Uther Pendragon stood in the doorway.

He only took a few steps forward, yanking off leather gloves before freezing. His eyes moved from the guards with their weapons out to where Ygraine sat on the throne, crown firmly placed on her head. She raised her chin when he caught her eye, defiance dripping off of her.

“Lord Uther,” she said. “I see you’ve finally decided to show yourself. You’ve been missed on the battlefield.”

Arthur held his breath. His father was barely recognizable in this state, his hair dark and the scar above his brow not yet there. He looked alarmingly young, despite the fact he was perhaps Arthur’s own age.

“King Uther,” he corrected, and Ygraine gave him almost a chastising smile. “I must confess, fair maiden, I am unaware of which battle we missed one another in. Might I have your name?”

Ygraine bristled. “Take a guess.”

“I cannot even begin to fathom,” Uther said innocently. “Might we have met in this court before?”

“Once or twice,” Ygraine said, fingers twitching on the throne. Uther took a few steps forward. “But I suspect my identity is of little interest to you when you can’t even keep your men in line.” She leaned forward, and Arthur absently took a step toward them. “Word has it you didn’t authorize the attack on our camp.”

Uther’s expression went blank. “Do you expect me to give details of my battle strategy, my lady?”

Ygraine tilted her head, lips parted slightly as she seemed to assess him with cold eyes.

“Strategy,” she said softly. A small smile curled over her lips. “You don’t even know the strategy, do you? Is Daddy not letting you into the war room?” Uther’s eyes flashed. “At least my brother acts as a king,” she spat. “Instead of sitting idle while our father makes war.”

Uther lifted a hand. The guards reached out, grabbing Ygraine’s arms. Instinctively, Arthur jerked forward, but Gaius’s hand surprisingly yanked him back. He turned to pull away only to get distracted when Uther plucked the crown off his mother’s head.

“My father did go behind my back,” Uther said simply. “If I had made this attack on your camp then rest assured I would have made sure your pretender brother was there. That way I could have lopped his head off and been done with the war with no more bloodshed.”

Ygraine scoffed, yanking against the hold of the guards. “You think this would end with just Tristan? My brother is his heir. Then me.”

Uther grimaced and put the crown on his own head. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” he said quietly and turned to look at Arthur. “My father thanks you,” he said, giving a nod. “For your noble service.”

….what? What? Arthur didn’t- Did he know who Arthur was?!

The panic began to melt over him when light footsteps came from behind. Agravaine awkwardly slipped past Arthur, ignoring Gaius and Arthur's horrified expression to kneel in front of Uther. Merlin silently mouthed a swear to himself.

Ygraine looked at her brother and swallowed.

“Sister-” Agravaine began weakly but she shook her head.

“No need to explain, brother,” she said, smiling tightly. “The red of Camelot suits you well.” Her eyes flicked him up and down. “It will go well with the blood that stains your hands.”

Oof.

“I heard reports of a sorcerer who took down our men at the camp,” Uther said, ignoring Ygraine. He gestured for Agravaine to rise. “Is that true? Do you have an identity?”

This was it. Agravaine would reveal Merlin and they’d have to somehow battle their way out of here only to have Merlin face down against an army of dragons the moment they escaped. His stomach sunk, disappointment knotting in his stomach as such a cold betrayal.

Agravaine looked over at Ygraine. “...no,” he said, eyes not leaving her. Oh? “It was just… some man. I didn’t see him.”

Uther frowned, looking vaguely disappointed before nodding to the guards. They lifted Ygraine from the throne as a few others circled the rest of them.

“Make sure you get rid of their weapons,” Uther added, glancing at Excalibur as he turned away. Agravaine followed.

“Ygraine,” his mother called. Uther faltered, looking back at her. “My name is Ygraine,” she said. “And I promise you’ll remember it well before all of this is done. I swear you will remember my name far longer than I will yours, pretender.”

Uther gave one last look before smiling coyly.

“Of course, my lady. I’m sure it’ll stick at some point.”

And with that, he left the room.

Chapter Text

Good to know Agravaine had always been and forever would be the worst.

It was a mystery why he didn’t reveal Merlin as the sorcerer. Perhaps it was part of a larger, stupider strategy. Or maybe he truly felt bad about betraying his sister.

Which he should feel bad about. Ygraine seemed to have the same ticks as Arthur when she was upset: jaw set, eyes cast downward, fingers stiffly hidden away…and right now? All of them were on display. She was devastated.

Not that she had much of a chance to languish in it as they were led to a surprisingly lavish room which Merlin recognized as a place to house visiting nobility.

“They stay with me,” Ygraine informed the guards when they grabbed Merlin’s arm. “If I am to be in this silly attempt of a hospitable cave then they will be with me.”

The guards hesitated, each looking at one another warily, but with all the fuss Ygraine had already raised, they seemed to fold on this particular battle.

“We will relay this to the king,” one said. “And if he asks for them to be moved to the dungeons, they will be.”

“I don’t see why my brother would wish for such a thing,” Ygraine threw back, not missing a beat. Merlin resisted the urge to laugh. Again, he was reminded of a younger Arthur - always throwing himself into any given problem with a pratty attitude.

The guards each rolled their eyes and slammed the doors shut. A click followed. Ygraine made a face at the door.

Everyone turned to him.

Merlin hated it when people turned to him. At one point, he’d relish at the idea of being so important that everyone looked to him. But after so many years of operating away from any eyes, he found the expectation overwhelming.

“I’ll get us out tonight,” he said. Ygraine accepted this with a nod, turning to Gaius to whisper something. Merlin used that to step away, absently moving to the window. At the very least, sneaking out of the castle with magic would be easier than slowly lowering Arthur from a window in full armor.

Red blurred with pink over the sky, the day already finishing. Part of Merlin was tempted to suggest they escape tomorrow. After all, he could use a good night’s sleep in a warm, plush bed. Gods, that sounded amazing.

“I would offer a coin for your thoughts,” Arthur said, slipping beside him. “But I know you have neither.”

Merlin snorted. Arthur leaned back on the ledge of the window so he could face Merlin, who was standing directly in front with his palms pressed on the same ledge beside him. He turned his head, meeting Arthur’s gaze. He didn’t seem… angry. Or particularly upset. That was good.

“What do you think?” he asked. Arthur tilted his head. “Of the princess,” he said, smiling a little. “Is she what you imagined?”

Arthur gave a low, ‘ah’ before glancing over at where Ygraine had decided to take down every single Pendragon symbol in the room and throw them into the burning fire. He scoffed. “I never really pictured her all that much,” he admitted. “It seemed…unkind in some ways. I feared I could dream up a version of her completely different from who she was. I thought it would be an insult to her memory.”

Merlin understood that. When he was young, he’d tried to imagine his father only to frown at the realization that his version of his father could be the opposite of the real thing. If anything, it made the mystery greater than alleviating it.

“Balinor is your father,” Arthur added quietly. Yes. Right. They were due for a conversation about that. “Have you always known?”

“No,” Merlin murmured. “Gaius told me right before we left to find him.”

Arthur went quiet at that.

“How much… how often did things like that happen?” he finally asked. “Magic and fighting and long lost fathers, I mean.”

Merlin looked down at the slab of stone between his hands. “Often,” he said quietly. “I want to tell you everything, but… I’m not even sure I remember everything if I’m honest.” He shook his head with a mirthless exhale. “There were pixies and sidhe and changelings and sorcerers trapped in stone,” he said. “Dragons and enchanted shields and high priestesses and prophecies.” He paused. “I tried to kill you once,” he added because that was probably important for Arthur to know.

Arthur paused. “When?” he asked.

“Morgana had kidnapped me and put this creature in my neck to possess me.”

“You should probably lead with that when mentioning to someone you’ve tried to kill them,” Arthur said flatly. Merlin shrugged. “It feels like the task should have been easy given your magic. How did you not succeed?”

“I didn’t use my magic,” Merlin said. “Apparently, I tried to poison you, stab you, and maybe boil you? I can’t really remember. Gaius thinks my magic didn’t come out since it was more powerful than the Fomorroh. It actually might have been what was making me such an incapable assassin.”

Arthur hummed. “Did Morgana know?” Merlin shook his head. “Gaius?” He nodded. “Anyone else?”

“Lancelot.”

“...Lancelot,” Arthur repeated slowly. “Right.”

And because Merlin had at least rehearsed one part of this conversation in his head a thousand times, he fixed his eyes out in front of him and took a deep breath. “I was born with magic,” he explained quietly. He was pretty sure he had already told Arthur that part but it was part of the script now, and Arthur was dying a majority of that particular reveal. “When I came to Camelot, it wasn’t with the intention of meeting you. Becoming your servant was chance - at least I thought. Then I met a dragon under the castle who started blabbering on about destiny and telling me how it was my job to keep you alive so you could become this great king. Two sides of the same coin,” he said, trying not to sound bitter.

As if on cue, Arthur brought out Tristan’s coin. “Two sides of the same coin,” he repeated.

Merlin turned, elbow against the window to face him. “How does it work?” he asked, given he hadn’t really spent time with the object before handing it directly over to Arthur.

Arthur turned the coin over in his palm so that the tail end was facing up. “Tell me a lie,” he said.

Ha. “I don’t have magic,” Merlin said. Arthur turned the coin over. It was still tails. “I have magic,” he said. Arthur flipped it again. Heads. “Huh,” he mused and Arthur handed it to him. Merlin ran a thumb over it, feeling the spark of magic inside.

“I forgive you.”

Merlin looked up so fast that he almost dropped the coin. Arthur just looked at him expectantly. They held their gaze for a moment before Merlin found the bravery to turn the coin over.

Heads.

A pang went through Merlin’s heart. “You haven’t heard everything yet. There isn’t time for me to tell you everything. Once you learn about Morgana and Mordred-”

“Then I can give that back to you,” Arthur said and Merlin’s eyes darted over his face, trying to detect… something. He wasn’t even sure what. “And we can both see if it’s still true. But for now…” He shrugged and Merlin squeezed the coin tight in his hands.

“Would you have killed me?” he asked quietly. Arthur went still. “If you had found out before?”

From outside, the sun sunk lower, stars peaking out. The town below was settling in for the night, children rushing home while the smell of dinner filled the air.

“I don’t know,” Arthur answered. “But… I like to think I wouldn’t.”

Merlin flipped the coin over. Heads.

For some reason, that was more reassuring than if Arthur had given him a blanketed no. Wordlessly, Merlin handed the coin back, fingers lightly brushing over his wrist as he pulled away. Arthur shifted - almost leaning towards him, but a clang broke whatever spell Merlin hadn’t noticed being cast.

A golden pot of ink had hit the floor, bouncing over with black smearing over the tile. Merlin frowned as he watched Gaius ignore it as he yanked up a quill and tapped it in the spilled ink. Then, he opened a journal to scribble something down.

“What…are you two doing?” Arthur asked, mystified to see Ygraine pressed up against the door, whispering something to Gaius to write down. Both shushed him. He glanced at Merlin, who shrugged. It was his mother. And, well, technically Merlin’s uncle, but Gaius rarely caused problems.

“-did they say two or three?”

On second thought, maybe Merlin should evaluate.

“Need help?” he asked, seeing as Arthur’s direct questioning hadn’t worked.

Ygraine looked up at him, shoes kicked off to the side and cheek smashed against the wood.

“The guards are talking about Constantine,” she said and squinted. “They say he’s… happy?” she muttered. “Mad. Wait…”

“I’d call him something of a prat.”

Ygraine and Gaius both gave shouts of alarm as Arthur reached for a sword that had been taken from him previously. Merlin found he wasn’t as shocked. His heart actually remained steady despite the new addition to the room. Maybe that said something about how used he was to being snuck up on.

“How did you get in here?” Arthur demanded.

Balinor waved. “The window,” he said, brightly. For a horrible moment, Merlin pictured him right outside where he and Arthur had stood, eavesdropping, but Balinor pointed to the window on the other side of the room. “Uther hates it when I visit prisoners, but I’m bored of nearly everyone here.” He clicked his tongue, looking around the room with a low whistle. “My, my. He set you up very nice, didn’t he?”

Ygraine took one of her shoes and threw it at him.

“Hey!” Balinor said, giving a sniff of indignance. “That’s not nice for someone who brought you food,” he said, pulling a satchel off of his shoulder and tossing it to the floor.

“And why should we believe that anyone who follows Uther Pendragon has any kindness in their heart?” Ygraine said, throwing a second shoe at him.

This time, Balinor dodged. “Because I’m bored?” he tried. Ygraine reached down again, only to discover she didn’t have three feet. She turned to Gaius, who wordlessly took off his shoe and handed it to her. “Oh, come off it. Everyone knows Uther isn’t like his father.”

Oh? That was interesting. Arthur and Merlin exchanged curious looks. Merlin had told the magical world time and time again that Arthur was nothing like his father. How fascinating to hear a similar thing said about Uther. Maybe the one thing to know about Pendragon men was that none of them were like their fathers.

“Does that mean the rumors are true then?” Ygraine asked, pointing Gaius’s shoe at him. “Constantine is truly insane?”

Balinor hesitated. “Now, I didn’t say that,” he began. “Just that whatever Constantine has done should not reflect on Uther’s claim. You know the inheritance change was unfair. You must.”

Ygraine huffed at that, looking away as Arthur glanced between them in utter confusion. “What is he talking about?” he asked, and Ygraine lifted her chin, refusing to look at anyone. “What is this about the inheritance?” he repeated more forcefully.

Gaius cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well,” he began and looked at Ygraine warily. “Our late king, Aurelius Ambrosius, was not but three years old when his father passed away rather suddenly. That meant Aurelius was technically a child ruler, but Constantine eventually became regent and guardian of the young prince.”

“To manipulate the poor boy, surely,” Ygraine muttered.

Gaius shrugged. “Well, that had been the plan. Aurelius grew into a fine king, thinking of Constantine as a father and Uther as a brother. For years and years, he declared Uther would be his successor. The two were very close.”

Silence.

“...and?” Merlin prompted.

Balinor crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the edge of the table. “Well, then Constantine killed Aurelius’s pregnant wife to ensure his son would continue to be heir.”

Ygraine shook her head, expression filled with putrid disgust. Arthur’s eyes widened, giving the smallest intake as Merlin resisted the urge to nod. Yep. That would do it.

“My God,” Arthur muttered. Gaius made a gesture over his chest. “Constantine thought he would get away with such a crime?”

“He did for a while. Until, conveniently, a certain Tristan de Bois found out-”

“Who rightly told the king,” Ygraine quickly jumped in.

Balinor waved her away. “Yes, and implicated Uther as well.”

“Who most certainly was involved!” Ygraine began, voice raising. “How can you be sure he wasn’t?” Balinor gave her a look. “And even if he wasn’t, he’s still his father’s son. If his father grew mad with the greed for power, then your darling Uther may very well be the same,” she said, handing Gaius his second shoe back.

“All I know, Lady Ygraine, is that the crime happened in this very castle, in which you were not present. Your family’s estates are east of here, are they not?”

“Are you calling my brother a liar?” Ygraine spat. She raised her hands as if suddenly unable to stand listening to Balinor for one more moment. Merlin blinked a few times, trying to keep up with all of this. “What matters is that Aurelius disowned Constantine and Uther and changed his heir to Tristan. Legally, he is king.”

Balinor rolled his eyes before giving Merlin a look. Almost as if he expected Merlin to be on the same side as him. Like they had known one another for years. Pulling out an apple from his tossed satchel, he tossed it to Merlin with a sly wink.

And it was only thanks to his years in Camelot under Uther’s reign that his magic didn’t reactively stop it. Instead, it bounced off his shoulder, leaving Merlin to awkwardly flail for it before Arthur just plucked it straight from the air and handed it to him.

“Good reflexes,” Balinor noted. Merlin felt his face heat up - a small part of him feeling ridiculous for looking like an idiot in front of his father.

Ygraine took Gaius’s shoe back and threw it at him… just because it seemed. Then she went back to eavesdropping at the door.

“So, you don’t think Constantine is going to be a problem if Uther sits on the throne?” Merlin asked carefully, taking a bite of the apple. Balinor twirled a piece of his beard, eyes twinkling with thought.

He was so different from the man Merlin had met in the cave. It was hard to reconcile the two.

Balinor poured himself wine from a silver pitcher. “Say what you will about Uther Pendragon, but the man loves in spades. Nobody grieved more for Aurelius when he died. He’ll either build a new world or tear it apart to avenge a loved one.” Arthur’s eyes flicked to Ygraine. “And for that reason, I believe Constantine will eventually be dealt with. When the time is right,” Balinor said wisely.

Right. Interesting, interesting.

“You seem… close with Uther?” Merlin said, trying to comprehend that.

Balinor took a sip of his wine. “Eh. Not particularly. But he was the one who convinced King Ambrosius to allow me into this kingdom when nobody else would, so…” He gave a meager shrug to which Merlin returned with bafflement. “Balinor of Ladon,” he added as if that clarified anything.

“Ladon?” Merlin repeated blankly.

“You don’t know about Ladon?” Balinor asked, almost offended. Ygraine shushed them both, pressing her ear against the door again. If Balinor had questions about that, he didn’t ask. He seemed far more concerned with the idea Merlin had no idea what Ladon was. “Huh. But you know about Ladon?” he said, turning to Arthur.

Merlin expected Arthur to say no, but instead, he shifted, looking uncomfortable.

“Um, where dragonlords hail?” he asked quietly. Balinor raised his glass in approval.

Oh. If Merlin hadn’t heard of Ladon and Arthur did… well, there was no telling what was destined to happen to his father’s homeland after Ygraine’s death. And despite that morbid image, Merlin found himself wondering what a kingdom of dragonlords looked like. If it was filled with high towers and roads in the sky. He wanted to ask but also knew he had to prioritize what questions to put forward.

“Why did you leave Ladon?” he went with.

Balinor took another sip of his wine. “I don’t suppose you know what a Dragon’s Exile is, do you?” he asked. Merlin shook his head. Balinor tapped his finger against the goblet. “You’re strange,” he said pointing at him. “Smart, but somehow knows nothing.”

“That’s what I keep hearing,” Merlin agreed and Balinor laughed a bit at that. It warmed Merlin’s chest a bit - hearing him laugh. A small, young part of his soul lit up at the sound.

“A Dragon’s Exile is the punishment for when a dragonlord loses control of their dragon. My father died young, so I got my powers perhaps earlier than a dragonlord should. It made me reckless. A grieving young boy with a dragon…” He clicked his tongue. “I took my father’s dragon out for a ride and… well, after the damage I caused, I wasn’t welcomed back to Ladon. No kingdom really wishes for a dragonlord who can’t control a dragon.” Balinor took another sip of his drink. “Uther met me. Told me he could only get me a chance, nothing more. The rest is up to me.” Balinor gave a wry smile. “I’ve turned into a decent rider if I do say so myself.”

Merlin smiled back. He had tried not to pay too much attention to his father’s flight above them on their way here, but… it was hard when the other fliers seemed so bland in comparison. Balinor was the only one who rode with any flair. As if he and his dragon had somehow melded minds.

He opened his mouth - uncertain if he planned to compliment Balinor or ask another question, but before he could, Ygraine gasped.

Arthur jumped, hand moving to a weapon that was no longer at his side as he looked his mother over warily. From beside her, Gaius seemed just as horrified, his own ear against the door and a quill against parchment. They looked at one another, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Lady Ygraine?” Balinor asked and Ygraine slowly turned to him, expression darkening to the point that even Merlin wanted to take a step back.

“You,” Ygraine said, standing up. Balinor set his cup down. “What do you know about this?” she said, pointing at the door - as if they had all somehow heard what she and Gaius had. “How dare you let this stand? How dare Uther let this stand?!” she shouted.

“Let what stand?” Balinor asked, frowning. “Give some context, woman.”

Not wise. This only seemed to infuriate Ygraine more as she stormed up to point a finger at Balinor’s nose.

“They speak of a woman in a well,” she said, voice low and dark.

“A woman in a well?”

“A woman in a well!” Ygraine shouted. “Imprisoned there by the Pendragons. You serve a man of this wretchedness?” she demanded.

Balinor spluttered. “Um, no? I think you misheard. This is no woman in a-”

“I know what I heard,” Ygraine seethed. “They said in the Western Well is a woman who has been trapped there for two weeks. You will take me to that well. Now.” Ygraine pointed to the door. Balinor just blinked twice. “Now!” she shouted.

“For the love of- you know what? I’m not sure I’m paid enough for this,” Balinor muttered and pushed past them all to knock on the door. “Oi! Balinor is in here. The lady is mad about some woman in the well?”

The door cracked open. “How the fuck did you get in there?” one of the guards asked. Balinor waved. “Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling for pretenders?”

“I got bored and Tristan is too clever to be caught by me on a dragon,” Balinor dismissed. “I thought the prisoners would be fun, but they’re just mad about a woman in a well, apparently.” Silence. “...William. You’re supposed to now tell me there isn’t a woman in a well.” Silence. “William?” More silence. “Dear God, man. What?!”

Ygraine shook her head, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“Um,” Merlin began leaning in. “Ygraine, if we want to escape tonight-”

“I am not leaving behind some poor woman in a well,” Ygraine spat back at him. Alright. Fair. Though he wasn’t sure how to tell Ygraine if the woman had truly been in a well for two weeks then she was almost certainly dead. He looked at Arthur, who grimaced, possibly having a flashback to his own well-related trauma with the druid boy. “YOU GET ME UTHER PENDRAGON!” Ygraine shouted over Balinor’s shoulder. “YOU GET YOUR SO-CALLED KING AND BRING HIM HERE NOW-”

“You are so getting beheaded before this is all over,” Balinor told her, only mildly annoyed.

Ygraine’s screaming seemed to be effective, though, because not ten minutes later, Uther Pendragon returned.

“Why in the name of whatever god you believe in, have you awoken me?” he asked, hair rumpled from sleep and clothes askew. He did a double-take when he saw Balinor. “You should be on patrol. Do you ever do what you’re told?” he asked Balinor, who gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Only when it makes sense, I’m afraid,” Balinor reported back. Uther pinched the bridge of his nose.

“There is a woman in a well,” Ygraine said possibly for the hundredth time. Uther blinked. “I want her out.”

“A… I beg your pardon?”

“Ooh,” Ygraine said and shook a finger at him. “Don’t play dumb with me, Uther Pendragon. Free her right now.”

“We don’t have a woman in a well!”

“Uh,” Balinor cleared his throat. Uther whipped around and Balinor subtly pointed at the guards. “William said there was,” he whispered. Uther stared at him. Balinor shrugged.

“WILLIAM!” Uther shouted and the guard stumbled into the room, looking wistfully out the door. “What is this about a woman in a well?” he demanded.

William’s Adam’s apple bobbed, fingers tightening a bit around the halberd he was holding. “Um,” he began and licked his lips. “Well, my lord, I… um, thought… you were privy to the happenings of… the castle.”

Uther closed his eyes. “Well, it does not appear I am privy to this, does it?” he asked snidely. “Am I to believe there really is a woman in a well somewhere on this property?” William gave a slow nod. “Why?” he asked, voice growing dangerously low. “On whose orders was that?”

“Your father’s, my lord.”

Uther’s mouth snapped shut. He seemed more angry than truly shocked. Merlin watched as he ran a hand over his face and glanced at where Ygraine was watching him with narrowed eyes.

“Take me to this woman,” he finally said. The guards moved back and Ygraine made to follow. “Not you,” he snapped.

“Yes, me,” Ygraine argued. “How am I to ensure you release this woman if I am not present? Along with my guards?” she added, gesturing to the rest of the group. Balinor stepped to the side as if not wanting to be associated with them. Uther stared at her, clearly unimpressed. “Are you really so threatened by me and three men?” she asked. “Can the whole of your castle not contain me?”

Uther glared at her. “Fine,” he snapped. “If only to keep you from screaming in my ear all night.”

“Fine.”

“Great.”

“You first.”

“I will go first.”

“Go faster then.”

“I’ll go at the pace I please,” Uther told her and stormed out of the room.

Well… It seemed they were doing this now. Arthur and Merlin exchanged looks, neither looked particularly thrilled with the development. Balinor, for his part, threw his arm over Gaius’s shoulders and led him out of the room.

“You know, you have lovely cheekbones, my friend. I would sell my soul to find a woman with cheekbones like yours-”

“Are you sure that isn’t Gwaine’s father?” Arthur muttered as he brushed past. Merlin scoffed and hurried after him.

More guards joined them as they hurried through the castle to where the Western Well sat. Uther and Ygraine kept sniping at one another, followed closely by Balinor and Gaius, who both didn’t seem to know what to make of one another.

“I’m failing to see how they fall in love,” Arthur noted, watching his parents.

“Maybe we already changed things so they won’t fall in love?” Merlin asked, hoping to the gods it wasn’t true. He needed Arthur to be born still. “I’m a little concerned about your grandfather. Did your father mention much of him?”

“All the time,” Arthur whispered back. “He spoke highly of the man. Was it a lie?”

“Hard to say,” Merlin murmured.

The air turned frigid as they stepped out of the heated stones into the the grass near the Western Well. Everyone seemed to hold their breaths, a beam of moonlight perfectly cast on their destination. Merlin inched closer. The guards didn’t move, opting to stay behind them.

At first, it seemed like it was just… a well. Nothing particularly special about it. But then the water rippled and to Merlin’s utter horror, a pair of eyes peeked out.

“My gods,” Ygraine whispered, crossing herself. Sure enough, Merlin could make out a young woman with hair floating around her like a dark halo. Her eyes were a vivid gold, piercing even in the depths of the water. “Get her out!” Ygraine said, whirling around to whack Uther’s shoulder. “She’ll drown-”

“No, she won’t,” Merlin said, surprising himself a little. Everyone turned to him. “She’s a vilia,” he said, horror sinking in. Arthur turned for an explanation. “Um, a… water…spirit…” he said slowly, shaking his head. “They healed me from the dorocha,” he added to Arthur lowly. “But when I met them, they were part of the water. Not-”

“I don’t care what she is, we are not leaving her in that well,” Ygraine insisted.

At least Merlin could agree with that. Luckily, so did Uther, who grabbed a rope and sent it down.

Merlin was still confused, though. Why did Constantine capture a water spirit? Why not tell his son? To what end?

Uther heaved again, and this time Arthur came over, silently helping his father pull the string up until a pale figure emerged, collapsing onto the ground outside the well. Ygraine hurriedly fell to her knees beside her, trying to squeeze water from the soaked cloth she was wearing.

“You poor thing,” she said, pushing back pieces of wet hair. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” A funny thing for a prisoner to say to another prisoner, but Merlin found Ygraine could make the words quite convincing. Wordlessly, Balinor shrugged off his coat and tossed it over the girl, awkwardly wrapping it around her.

“I sincerely apologize,” Uther said. Ygraine scowled up at him. “My lady, there has been a grave misunderstanding. We will make this right, I swear to you. My father has-”

“Your father has what?”

Uther went still. In fact, everyone went still. The voice came from behind the guards, who parted to reveal a large man stomping over. He had one arm and a nasty scar from his temple right across his face to his neck. Even looking at him felt a bit like a death sentence. Merlin wanted to step away - to apologize to this man for the inconvenience of existing.

“Has made a mistake,” Uther finished toutly. The newcomer scoffed. “Because I do not agree that you would purposely put a girl into a well,” he added.

“No,” the man said, clapping Uther on the shoulder. “My son, as our new friend here pointed out this beauty is a vilia. And she is no prisoner! An honored guest, to be sure. My dear, what is your name?” the man who Merlin assumed to be Constantine asked, turning to the young woman.

The vilia looked away, flinching a bit as she mumbled her answer.

“What?” Constantine prompted.

“Vivienne,” the girl said louder, voice borderline tears. Arthur choked on the air. Merlin didn’t blame him. Vivienne. He knew that name. He knew her two daughters better.

“Vivienne!” Constantine crowed. “Come, my girl. Come. And Uther! Come say hello to your future wife.”

Chapter Text

It was hard to gauge who had the best reaction to Constantine’s declaration that Uther and Vivienne were to be married. For example, you had….

• Vivienne, who burst into tears.
• Uther, who looked like someone had just beaten him overhead with a particularly heavy rock.
• Balinor, who seemed to be trying to toe the line between being sensitive to Vivienne and laughing at the look on Uther’s face.
• Ygraine, who clutched Vivienne to her chest as if she wanted to marry her.
• And, of course, Constantine who seemed just delighted by the whole ordeal.

Arthur tried to process this all in one gulp but with each passing event, found the trial of accepting these things less and less tolerable.

“Father,” Uther began and approached the man like a wounded horse. “Why?”

Arthur thought this was a fair question, but Constantine’s face fell. Without warning, his hand shot out, fingers curling into the back of Uther’s hair to yank him back.

Ygraine jumped, instinctively covering Vivienne’s eyes like you would a child. The guards all shifted but Uther quickly raised his hand to stop them.

“You’re hurting me,” he said, voice strained as Constantine kept his head tilted back. He sounded relatively calm - like Constantine genuinely didn’t know he was causing him pain.

“You don’t understand,” Constantine said, eyes flicking to Vivienne. “You don’t see! This is good news. She is a spirit of nature. A powerful fairy. To get one in human form will tie us to all of magic. They will have to be our allies-”

“I’m not arguing,” Uther said, slowly raising his hand to grab Constantine’s wrist. “It’s clever. You’re right. I just didn’t understand.” At that, Constantine’s fingers loosened and Uther gently pulled his hand away. “It’ll be hard to pay for a war and wedding, though,” he said, voice surprisingly familiar. Arthur had heard that tone most of his life. It was the one his father used at important diplomatic meetings. The one that said, ‘hm, how can we solve this problem?’ rather than, ‘there is a problem’.

Constantine clapped his hand against Uther’s cheek, holding his face in his thumb and fingers. “I will find a way,” he promised. “I swear I will find a way, my son. We can raise the taxes-”

“Of course,” Uther cut in quickly. “But I worry Tristan will use that against us. To try and upset and confuse the common people, who don’t understand how important their funds are to our rule.”

It was…interesting. To see his father tiptoe like this. Arthur may be familiar with the various arts of diplomacy, but Uther had always still held an authority to him. Not here. He spoke like an advisor, who worried a king may behead him.

“Maybe,” Uther suggested patiently. “We use the engagement to gain our alliances and then use the wedding to celebrate our triumph.”

Constantine frowned, not looking particularly thrilled with this approach, but slowly released his son. “Yes,” he murmured and pointed at Uther. “Yes. Good boy. Smart. This is why you’ll be king. It’s why you’ll be king.”

Uther swallowed, giving a weak smile at that. Constantine beamed in Vivienne’s direction. Arthur used the pause to really drink in his appearance.

He looked quite a bit like Arthur's father, actually. Bigger. Bulkier. And of course one of his arms was missing, but Arthur knew that Uther would age to look similar. He’d even get that vaguely vacant look in his eyes toward the end of his life.

The thought depressed him.

“Balinor,” Uther said. “Please take my father back to his room to discuss battle plans.” Balinor frowned, looking at Constantine with a bit of distaste. At Uther’s glare, he sighed, giving a low bow. “And remember - these are secret battle plans,” Uther added pointedly.

Fascinating. His father was fighting two wars it seemed: one with the de Bois family and one with his own flesh and blood.

Oddly enough, the thought made his stomach twist with familiarity. How often had Arthur subtly gone against Uther in the past? Engaging in secret missions and sneaking out?

At least this cleared up the attack on the de Bois camp. Constantine wasn’t an overbearing father who didn’t think his son could be in the war room. He was just slightly insane and did his own thing when Uther wasn’t looking.

Balinor grimaced, dragging his feet as he leaned over to whisper something to Constantine. “You know,” he added to Uther. “I should really be patrolling-”

“Go,” Uther said flatly and Balinor grimaced as he bowed lowly, slipping past the guards. Uther watched them go, staying silent until the door closed. Then, wordlessly, he looked at the guards, who all took a step back. “I want to find out how this woman got here, who exactly put her in this well, and everyone my father enlisted in this.” The guards looked at one another. “Now.”

At that, they all darted in different directions. Only the ones who had led Arthur and the others to the well remained. Uther turned to glance down at Vivienne.

“I apologize, my lady,” he said quietly. “We will find you a suitable room while we-”

“She’s staying with me,” Ygraine informed him.

Uther closed his eyes. “What?” he asked flatly.

“She’s staying with me,” his mother repeated more forcefully.

Uther ran a hand over his face. “She is not a prisoner. You are.”

“So she can leave?” Ygraine offered.

Uther pursed his lips. “Eventually, yes,” he said and Ygraine raised an eyebrow. “But if she disappears now, my father would-”

“So he is insane,” Ygraine cut in. “Great.” Uther threw up a hand. Arthur stayed silent, curiously watching the two. He had thought Constantine’s burst of violence might be something that endeared his mother to Uther – or at least spurred some empathy.

He was incorrect.

“I’ll figure it out,” Uther said. “But if she leaves-”

“Then your father will throw a tantrum?” Ygraine asked, gently detangling herself from Vivienne to stand between her and Uther. “Is that how you would rule a kingdom? With your father undermining every decision? Folding at the slightest breeze?”

Uther’s eyes flashed. “As if you would understand-”

“I wouldn’t want to understand, you pompous tool!”

“You can’t address me like that!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ygraine said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to understand your pompous tool brain, my pretender king.”

….why did that sound familiar? And as if destiny itself decided to taunt him, he saw Merlin watching the altercation with the same puzzled look.

Ah. Their eyes met and there was something about the realization of why the words sounded so familiar that made them both flush as Ygraine and Uther continued to argue.

“Hi,” Merlin said, kneeling next to Vivienne. Arthur inched closer, trying to decide if it would be helpful or harmful to be near her. Gold eyes flicked up to Merlin, and a sudden burst of awe spread over her face.

Annoyance touched Arthur’s chest.

It wasn’t the first time someone had looked at Merlin like that. Far from the first time, actually. But this was more than adoration from Merlin telling a silly joke or being unreasonably brave in the face of something ridiculously dangerous.

No, this was worship. Vivienne’s breath caught as if seeing light for the first time.

“Hello,” she breathed out. Her fingers reached out, absently touching Merlin’s cheek in wonder. “You…” she began, tilting her head. “Are you supposed to be here?” she asked, voice slow and sweet. Nothing like the fire that bubbled under the surface of Morgause and Morgana’s words. Her voice sounded like the slow trickle of water over rocks. Dewdrops on grass. Rain.

Merlin smiled and Arthur resisted the urge to tell him to stop messing around.

“No,” he admitted. “Do you know who I am?”

Vivienne’s fingers fell away from Merlin’s face. “A phantom of the after,” she mused.

A few guards looked at one another and Arthur pulled the back of Merlin’s jacket, lifting him to his feet.

“What are you-?” Merlin hissed, but Arthur leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“People are watching. Do you want her to tell everyone we’re from the future?” he asked tautly.

Merlin shot him an irritated look before shoving Arthur’s hand away.

“Fine!” Uther finally shouted, throwing his hands up. “She can stay with you if she pleases. Only if she pleases,” he added, looking over Ygraine’s shoulder to where Vivienne glanced up at them with an air of uncertainty. If Morgause took after Gorlois, then Morgana did Vivienne. Except for the eyes. Morgana had Uther’s eyes. It felt exceedingly clear, especially looking at this younger version of his father.

“Vivienne?” Ygraine asked, somehow sounding as if they had known one another for years instead of minutes. “Would you like to stay with me?”

Vivienne tightened Balinor’s coat around her shoulders before nodding. “Yes, please,” she said quietly and then looked at Merlin. “Is he coming?” She grabbed Merlin’s wrist.

….did all magical creatures treat him like this? Arthur truly hoped not.

Ygraine raised an eyebrow, looking between Merlin and Vivienne before nodding. “Yes, of course,” she said. Vivienne relaxed. “I’m Ygraine,” she told her, offering a hand. Vivienne’s hand slipped off of Merlin, looking up at Ygraine like night at day.

“Hello, Ygraine,” she said, accepting her hand.

And that was that.

Uther had the guards lead them back to their rooms, sending an extra set of soldiers at the doors and outside the windows. Arthur wondered if this would pose a problem for Merlin’s escape plan - and if they could escape with Vivienne. What happened in the original version of this story? Without Merlin and Arthur? He couldn’t see Ygraine leaving Vivienne behind.

“Here,” Uther said, reappearing at the doorway to hand Vivienne some clothes. “Um, these are… my mother’s. They might be a bit big, but I can send a tailor for tomorrow,” he offered.

Vivienne looked down at her damp dress and nodded. “Give your mother my thanks,” she said quietly.

Uther grimaced. “I shall try, but it may take some time to reach her. She’s in the eastern part of the country.”

From behind Vivienne, Ygraine paced, watching Uther like a lioness.

“Why’s that?” she asked. Uther shot her a glare, but Ygraine only held his gaze. “Worried your mother wouldn’t approve of your conquest?” she asked dryly.

Uther rolled his eyes. “I wanted her away from my father,” he said tautly. “It was too much to ask her to take care of him and mourn Aurelius.”

Ygraine said nothing. She just watched.

“Goodnight, my lady,” Uther said, bowing his head. “Rest easy. I will take care of everything,” he promised her. Vivienne smiled politely, watching as Uther gave the rest of them a nod before spinning out of the room. The door clicked closed behind him.

Ygraine huffed, turning to Gaius. “Unbelievable,” she said and gestured to Vivienne. “Does she look sick?”

Gaius glanced in Vivienne’s direction. “Let’s give her some room to get dressed and then discuss health,” he decided, gesturing them toward the other end of the room. Vivienne awkwardly went behind a changing screen. When Arthur turned, it was to see Ygraine sitting down at a table, watching Merlin curiously.

“She warmed up to you quickly,” she noted. Merlin shrugged and sat down. “You know, I realize I haven’t actually gotten your names.” She gestured between Arthur and Merlin. “All of this excitement has me forgetting my manners.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, looking surprised. “Right. I don’t actually think we asked your name,” he added to Gaius as if just realizing they shouldn’t, in fact, know anyone’s name other than Ygraine’s. “I’m Merlin and this is Arthur-”

Ygraine gasped. “Arthur?” she repeated, clapping her hands together. Her eyes flicked to him with excitement. “That’s one of my names!”

Gaius smiled a little as he sat down at the table next to her.

“Your… name?” Merlin repeated, bewildered.

From behind the changing screen, Vivienne peeked out, dressed in a plain purple dress. She inched closer, looking uncertain if she was invited into the conversation. Ygraine saw her and patted an empty seat at the table.

“One of my baby names,” Ygraine said, twirling a strand of her hair.

Oh.

“You… want children?” Arthur asked, feeling like someone had hit him. For some reason, the thought of his mother wanting children just hadn’t really occurred to him. She was the queen. The queen was expected to provide heirs. That was why he existed. The idea she wanted to be a mother hadn’t really crossed his mind.

Ygraine beamed. “Yes! Ideally, four.”

“You want four kids?” Arthur managed, trying not to sound too distraught. “And you have names picked out for all of them?”

“You don’t have names for your future kids?” Ygraine asked, sounding a little skeptical. And… no. Arthur didn’t. Was that bad? He looked at Merlin, trying to decide if he had names picked out for any future kids. “Arthur is for a boy and then for a girl…” Ygraine tapped a finger against her lips. “Morgana. Or Morgause. Or Elaine. If I have three daughters I may use them all,” she said brightly.

Vivienne smiled weakly as she sat down. “Morgana and Morgause,” she repeated faintly. “Beautiful names.”

“And Elaine,” Ygraine added, pausing. “I hope I have lots of girls.”

Something about that made Arthur want to cry. Suddenly, the cruelty of magic came back to him unexpectedly. The acceptance he had carved out throughout his time in Camlann shot out of his head. All he could think of was how unfair it was that all Ygraine got was him and not three little girls. If she were to give her life for a child, magic should have at least given her that. Not Arthur.

“Can vilia have children?” Ygraine asked, looking at Merlin as if to be sure she got the word right. He nodded and Ygraine turned back to Vivienne expectantly. “And, also, what exactly is a vilia?”

Vivienne absently looked around, almost like she expected Merlin to answer on her behalf. When he didn’t, she tucked a lock of hair behind her and smiled. “Just... water magic, essentially. And, no, I wouldn’t think vilia could have children,” she said before wrinkling her nose. Ygraine bit her lip. “Though, not many of us take human forms, so perhaps I can.”

“Why are you in human form?” Merlin asked, picking up an apple in the center of the table. He glanced back at Arthur, eyes flicking purposely toward the open seat next to him. It appeared he still seemed comfortable enough to try and boss Arthur around, then.

Vivienne looked at her hand. “I wasn’t,” she said slowly. “But then a priestess summoned me. A woman named Nimueh.” She turned her hand again as Arthur tensed at the name. Ygraine also looked up, eyes alight with curiosity. Arthur wanted to jump up and scream no - to warn her to banish that name from her mind.

Before he could, Merlin’s leg pressed against his. A silent warning to stay quiet. And watch.

Because that seemed to be what they were doing here. Watching.

Arthur had never been good at watching.

“So a priestess turned you human,” Gaius said, settling into his seat. “Why? Does she work for Constantine?” He looked at Ygraine as he said that, both possibly trying to make note of who was an ally and who was a foe.

Vivienne shrugged. “All I know is one moment, I was home. The next, I was with Nimueh in a strange form and being thrown into a well.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not even sure how to use my magic like this.” Merlin shifted at that and Vivienne’s eyes lit up. “Could you teach me?”

An awkward moment went by. Arthur wondered if Gaius and Ygraine realized Vivienne had clocked Merlin’s magic so quickly.

“Oh,” Merlin said. There was something in his eyes - a pained gaze. “Um, I could try, but I… have never really taught anyone magic before.” He looked away as if that was shameful.

“Really?” Gaius asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “You seem adept enough in your skills.”

“Where I come from, you hide magic,” Merlin explained warily. “And so I couldn’t teach much of anything.”

“You hide magic?” Ygraine repeated. “But… what sort of place would that be?” She laughed as if the idea was ridiculous. “Do royals hide their noble blood? Knights hide their weapons? Is this a place of only mystery?” she chuckled.

Merlin smiled weakly. “In some ways, yes,” he said. “I once knew the king of my land to hide his identity in order to enter a tournament.” Ygraine tilted her head at that. Arthur paused. Wait, a minute- “He was a prince at the time, but he wanted to make sure nobody was letting him win his jousts.”

“Were they?”

“Oh, of course. He was the prince,” Merlin said.

Arthur bristled at that. “But he won in disguise,” he jumped in. “So, really, he was very good.”

“He was alright,” Merlin said because he was annoying.

“You’re from the same place then?” Gaius asked Arthur. “What is this place with secret magic and a secret king?”

Arthur grimaced, tapping the table. “A secret, I suppose,” he answered vaguely. Merlin snorted as Gaius gave an almost offended look at the non-answer. “Supposedly, there is a sorcerer there, practicing magic in the king’s shadow without the king even knowing. They say he pretends to be a servant.”

Merlin gave a disbelieving hum at that, raising a finger. “I hear he actually is a servant,” he said. “To pretend he’s a servant implies he doesn’t do servant work. I think he does.”

“Does he? Because it seems like he’d just use magic to complete servant duties.”

“But if he has secret magic, then no. He isn’t using magic to do his servant duties. He just has two sets of duties: one magical and one not.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Vivienne frowned.

“It does,” Merlin agreed, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

Ygraine looked between them, brows raised. She opened her mouth, looking like she might have more to say on this matter only for a crash to sound from the other side of the room. Vivienne jumped, tensing as everyone turned to see Balinor waving from where he had entered through the window… again.

“I’m here to get my coat,” he greeted.

“There’s a door,” Merlin told him, aghast.

Balinor laughed, getting up. “If you had a dragon who would fly you to a window whenever you wanted to enter a room, you wouldn’t use a door either,” he said, dusting himself off. Merlin pursed his lips at that. “My lady,” he added to Vivienne with a low bow. “I see you have decided to room with our prisoners.”

Vivienne looked between them all. “I… suppose,” she said slowly. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand the politics at play here,” she admitted. Balinor and Ygraine looked at one another, seemingly deciding if they wanted to dive into those particular logistics right now.

“Uther can explain that to you tomorrow,” Balinor said. Ygraine scoffed. “And whatever she tells you is nonsense,” he added. Ygraine gave a sarcastic smile before subtly putting the tip of her thumb between her teeth.

Arthur smiled and looked away. His father had always told him that biting your thumb at someone was the classier way of swearing at them. It seemed right his mother knew that little intricacy - and Balinor too based on how he did it back.

“How about I explain with your precious Uther tomorrow?” Ygraine asked, putting her chin in her hand. “And we can see who Vivienne here thinks is correct.”

….so were they just not escaping anymore? Was that over? Arthur ran a hand over his face and glanced at Merlin, who looked like he was having similar thoughts. At some point, the two of them needed to come up with an actual plan. Merlin might be someone who was used to adjusting to the flow of things, but Arthur certainly wasn’t. He needed a goal beyond just ‘surviving this moment’.

“Oh,” Vivienne said, blinking. “I’m not sure why my opinion would hold such weight, but very well.” She got up, grabbed Balinor’s jacket, and held it out. “Thank you for allowing me to wear it, my lord,” she said. “You and your son have shown me much kindness already.”

Balinor's hands stiffened around the jacket. “My… what?” he asked. Merlin choked on some water. “I don’t have a son,” he said and then blinked several times. “No, I don’t. I definitely-” He around as if someone might jump from behind a chair with a baby in hand. “No! What? No. What?”

Vivienne blinked several times, also confused as she stared at them all in bafflement. Her eyes moved to Merlin before awkwardly shifting. “Apologies, since vilia are water spirits, we see glimpses of the past and future as water sees the past and future.”

Shit.

Merlin went white. Arthur watched as he turned back to the table, swallowing hard. What did this mean? Did Vivienne know who Arthur and Merlin were then? How much of the future had she seen? This would definitely put a kink in whatever frugal plans they did have at the moment.

“I have a son?” Balinor asked, rearing his head back. “You see that I have a child? A boy?” he asked, voice rising a little. “With who?”

“Someone very unlucky, I’d imagine,” Gaius muttered, rubbing his temple.

“I… I mean, I think so,” Vivienne stuttered out. “Nothing is set in stone, but I see… glimpses,” she said uncertainly. “Everything is blurry. Moving. As I said, I cannot use my magic too well in this human form.” She glanced at Merlin again. As if to say, yet.

Ygraine sat up. “What else do you see?” she asked.

Vivienne smiled at her, lips twitching. “A boy named Arthur, and two little girls named Morgause and Morgana.” Ygraine’s eyes brightened. “I’m left to assume they are yours.”

He hoped Vivienne truly didn’t have clarity over the future as she claimed. Otherwise, that comment alone would be the cruelest thing Arthur had ever heard.

“Can you see if I’m a good father?” Balinor asked. “Does my son like me?” Vivienne shrugged helplessly. “Hm. Well, I’ll plan accordingly, then.” He dusted off his hands. “I will help Uther Pendragon build a kingdom worthy of him.”

“So you’re a bad father,” Gaius offered and Ygraine snickered.

Balinor made a face at them. “My condolences to Arthur, Morgause, and Morgana for having a tyrant as a mother,” he said snidely, and a roar came from outside. Balinor gave a long-suffering sigh. “I suppose that’s my cue to look for your brother,” he said, slipping on his jacket.

“Good luck,” Ygraine threw back.

Balinor gave her a sarcastic bow before heading back toward the window. Arthur could see a gleam in the darkness of scales. Merlin turned, trying to get a look at whatever dragon Balinor was mounting. It must have been a small one based on how close to the castle it was.

“Do you know a dragon called Kilgharrah?” Merlin suddenly blurted out.

Balinor’s head popped back in through the window. “Kilgharrah?” he repeated. Merlin nodded. “Of course, I know Kilgharrah. How do you know that name?” he asked. When Merlin didn’t respond, Balinor gave him a puzzled look. “Hm. You are a riddle, stranger. But worry not. Kilgharrah and I do love a riddle.”

And with that, he disappeared again. A huge gust of air went through the windows, sending curtains fluttering back as Balinor’s dragon lifted from the ground.

Arthur glanced at Merlin. He wanted to yell at him for asking such a question and then giving no details, but something held him back. Instead, he just turned back to the table.

“Are we still leaving?” he asked Ygraine. She took a sip from her goblet. “If you have a plan, you ought to share it with us,” he added.

The goblet hit the table with a clink. “Why?” she asked. “Don’t you come from a land of secrets, Arthur?” she asked, eyes glittering. With that, she stood. “I’m not quite ready to leave yet. Nor is Vivienne, I’d wager,” she added, holding out a hand to the other girl. “Would you be comfortable to share a bed?”

…okay. Arthur kept silent as Vivenne and Ygraine both went over to the bed as Gaius claimed a spot over two plush chairs pushed together. The man had never mentioned how close he had been to his mother. Arthur had never asked much about Ygraine as a child, but it stung a little to see how well Gaius had known her. And not once did he say a word about her to him.

Arthur wondered if Gaius ever thought that he was similar to Ygraine. Or if he had ever spoken to Uther about her.

The thought was still on his mind as the lights dimmed, leaving Arthur to realize he also needed to sleep. Merlin had laid out some spare blankets on the ground, putting together a makeshift sleeping roll as he would when they were out hunting. They didn’t speak. Eventually, Merlin laid down and melted into unconsciousness. Arthur supposed the past few days would have left him utterly exhausted. But it did leave Arthur as the only one awake.

Thinking. Just… thinking.

Arthur laid on the ground next to Merlin. It felt odd to just… sleep next to him.

Not that they hadn’t slept together before. Various quests and adventures did that, but typically one of them would need to take watch.

If Arthur was an honest man (and he did try to be) he’d admit that at times during his watch his eyes wandered to Merlin. Studying his face. The way his breath evened out. How his fingers twitched in his sleep. In some sort of strange, ridiculous way watching Merlin had become a visual lullaby.

A lullaby he watched now, face against the stone as Merlin shifted in his sleep, hand absently reaching in the space between them.

Merlin was a sorcerer.

This Merlin.

His Merlin.

A sorcerer.

Arthur rolled on his back. Nothing felt real. Too much had happened in too short of time, and now, in the depths of the night, he was forced to let it all sink in.

Morgana was dead. Mordred was dead. So many others. And yet… somehow not here. Not now. That should be comforting, but it didn’t change the whispers of memories behind his eyes. The way Morgana looked up at Merlin as Excalibur went through her, knees buckling.

His friend. His sister.

Arthur pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes. It felt ridiculous to mourn in front of these strangers-but-not-strangers. Still, the tears pricked at his eyes, demanding attention.

Merlin was a sorcerer.

And Arthur had taken it well. Maturely. Fairly. Since being here anyway. Perhaps upon first finding out as he literally died was different, but in Arthur’s defense… he had just been stabbed.

Now, he had been honest about his feelings. Told Merlin he forgave him - because of course, he did. Arthur had laid in Merlin’s arms dying yesterday. He had forgiven everything and anything.

And now he was here. God, this was confusing. He was so confused. A small part of him even wondered if this was all a trick. His brain imagining something before death set in. Or maybe even something Morgana cooked up to torment him with magic.

He rolled back to his side, watching his lullaby again. Merlin’s face seemed to slip between relaxed to tense at any given moment, dreams plaguing him.

“You’re infuriating,” Arthur told him. Because he was. This was true when they first met, this was true now. It comforted him, actually. To think of what things stayed true about Merlin despite all that changed. “And you’re just like your father as it turns out. Never following orders. Never listening.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes in the darkness. “And stop trying to get me to live. You did this with the unicorn and the poison and every other thing. Have you considered that I was raised to die for this kingdom?” Arthur sighed and rolled on his back again. “I hope you know when all of this is said and done, I’m going to make your life miserable. You’ll be cleaning the entire castle and sleeping in the stocks for this.” He paused. “But I suppose I can’t keep you on as my servant, can I?” Arthur bit his lip. That was a bit depressing. He didn’t like George. And servants were really who royalty spent the most time with, whether they’d admit it or not. “Maybe an advisor,” he muttered. “Do I need to raise you to nobility?”

“...no,” a tired voice muttered.

Arthur turned his head. “Are you awake?” he whispered.

Merlin shifted, groggily rubbing a hand against his eyes. “Now I am,” he groused. “Are you talking to me?”

Arthur felt his face heat up. “Well, yes, but only because this is the only time I can count on you to not talk back.” He gestured to the air. “And now you’ve ruined it.”

Merlin blinked a few times, blearily scowling at him through the low light of the room. “Go to sleep,” he said, tucking his arm under his head. “I don’t want to spend all morning getting you up tomorrow.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“Sure.”

“I’m not!”

From somewhere else in the room there was a long-suffering sigh. “Are you two always like this?” Ygraine’s voice asked.

….how much of Arthur’s rambling had she heard? All of it? None? She would have some questions if she caught on about Arthur raising Merlin to nobility.

“Unfortunately,” Merlin told her with a yawn. “We’re sleeping now. Sorry.”

Ygraine muttered something unintelligible before her bed creaked, probably with her turning over. “Do not wake me with any unseemly noises,” she warned.

Merlin, who was already half-asleep again, hummed. “What unseemly noises?” he asked as Arthur felt himself wanting to fall through the floor right into the center of the earth. Was she implying…? Wait, did she think-?

Right. Arthur was going to bed.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Merlin woke to Uther and Ygraine sitting across one another, a chess board between them, and Vivienne looking between the pair silently. Balinor stood in the background, propped up on the window with his leg swinging, flicking some grapes in the air and catching them in his mouth.

Uh-huh. Looking over, Merlin caught sight of Arthur still fast asleep, using his arm as a pillow like he always did. If they were at home, Merlin might take a pillow to whack him in the face or pull the covers out from under him. But for now, he let him sleep, stretching his arms before heading to the table with Uther and Ygraine.

“....the white pieces are my family, and the black pieces are the Pendragons,” Ygraine was saying. She pulled out two marbles from nowhere and set them in the center of the board. “This is Bruta. The original king of Camelot,” she said. Vivienne nodded. “Bruta died with only one son - Aurelius, who was a baby.” She flicked one marble off the board and moved another toward the black pieces. “Aurelius was king, but left in the care of Constantine Pendragon and his family.”

Honestly, why was Merlin even surprised? He had woken up to stranger things. Silently, he moved next to his father by the window. “What’s this?” he whispered.

Balinor chuckled. “Two petty nobles trying to convince a fairy to side with them out of pride,” he mused and held out some grapes. Merlin took a couple.

“Aurelius grew up and declared Uther his heir,” Ygraine continued, moving the marble and one of the black pieces to the center of the board.

Uther pressed a finger against his lips. “A pawn?” he asked, looking at the chess piece Ygraine had decided to represent him as.

“Are you not?” Ygraine asked innocently. From the door, a soft knock came and a serving girl slipped in, carrying a pitcher of wine. It was then that Merlin noticed a handful of guards inside the room, watching them all with an air of exasperation.

Uther glanced at the serving girl before silently gesturing for her to join them. “I wish I had the startling level of impudence you do,” he told Ygraine and then smiled at Vivienne. “Yes, I was Aurelius’s heir first. That changed when he got married to a beautiful woman named Igraine.”

“Similar to my name,” Ygraine added.

Uther didn’t miss a beat as he added another marble to the center of the board to represent Igraine. “What’s your name again?” he asked.

Ygraine’s eyes narrowed. “And then,” she continued tautly. “Aurelius and Igraine announced they were expecting their first child. Their future heir,” she said. Uther pursed his lips at that, looking away. “Until, of course, Constantine came in and killed Igraine to ensure Uther remained heir.” She flicked another marble off the board, replacing it with a black rook.

Uther tensed. “That is not what happened,” he said shortly.

Ygraine raised an eyebrow. “No?” she asked. “Balinor said so not too long ago,” she added. The serving girl awkwardly stepped around them, filling goblets with wine as she attempted to dodge the tension rising across the room.

Uther slowly turned to Balinor, who held out his goblet with an apologetic shrug. “Your father did admit to the crime,” he said gently, and Uther’s fists clenched against the table. “Tattletale,” Balinor muttered under his breath, shooting eyes of daggers at Ygraine. He plucked another goblet from the serving girl and handed it to Merlin. “Speaking of tattletales,” he added, lowering his voice. “I spoke to Kilgharrah last night.”

Merlin tensed. He felt a bit like an idiot, having mentioned the dragon so offhandedly like that. As if wanting to be caught. He had just been so thrown by Balinor’s reaction to having a son… to wanting to show Merlin had a connection to him…

He had made a foolish decision.

“Oh?” Merlin said, watching as Ygraine moved the black pawn that represented Uther off to the side of the chessboard.

“Well,” she continued. “Aurelius was very displeased at having Constantine kill his pregnant wife, so he disowned him and Uther and declared my brother, Tristan de Bois, his heir.” She moved the white king next to the marble.

Uther pressed a finger to his temple. “Except,” he cut in. “I spoke to Aurelius on the matter and he changed his mind again, returning me to my rightful place as heir. Shortly after he signed the paperwork and planned to make the announcement, he very mysteriously was poisoned.” He gave Ygraine a cold look. “And the paperwork disappeared.”

“A convenient story for you,” Ygraine said tightly.

“Convenient circumstances for you,” Uther threw back.

From the floor, Arthur groaned, getting up with his hair rumpled and eyes a bleary red. It was a little amusing to see him pop up, his head appearing between Ygraine and Uther’s faux chess game like an omen from the future. He took one look at the game, and then to where Vivienne was still watching the interaction wordlessly.

Balinor took a sip of his wine, still observing Merlin with thoughtful eyes. “Kilgharrah laughed when I said your name. Asked if you would be interested in speaking to him.”

Merlin froze.

Kilgharrah laughed. Kilgharrah knew Merlin’s name.

Relief swept through him. Finally, a lead. If anyone would know how to fix this mess, it would be Kilgharrah. And if he was reading this conversation right… Balinor was offering him a chance to meet.

“I might be,” Merlin murmured. “But as a prisoner…” he trailed off, looking at his father pointedly.

Balinor smiled a little. “You would need to be escorted by a trusted member of Uther’s army, of course,” he said, clicking his tongue. “Perhaps let me see through some of that strange mystery you wear, and I might be interested in helping you.”

Typical. Merlin mulled over the words as Arthur stumbled to his feet, also accepting some wine from the serving girl… and then giving it back when he realized how early in the morning he was being served alcohol. Instead, he walked over to the platter of oranges and took one instead.

“So, because of this disagreement,” Ygraine continued, gesturing to the board. “Our families are at war. Constantine would like you to wed his son to gain an alliance with magical people.” She made a face. “Possibly to counteract that the druids are our allies.”

Uther scoffed. “Yes, because the druids are renowned for their fighting skills,” he muttered.

Ygraine ignored him. “They are excellent advisors and healers,” she told Vivienne. “My brother even plans to take a little druid girl named Anna as his ward. Anna’s parents were killed by one of Uther’s armies,” she added snidely.

“Might I remind you, my army consists of several dragonlords. The addition of Lady Vivienne to my family would, of course, secure the loyalty of some magical creatures, but do not think we are hurting for allies, my friend,” he said, tapping the board. “And might I advise that if you decide to ally yourself with a group of people who cannot fight, then keep them far away from the war you are fighting.”

Ygraine’s jaw clenched. “Your army is barely under your control,” she said tightly. “I assume your father organized this sham of a marriage to give you a better illusion of power. After all, how do you know creatures of magic would so readily side with you after your father kidnapped one of their kind?”

“I don’t,” Uther said, voice rising. “That is why I am not forcing her to marry me. I merely need to convince my father-”

“Because all good kings need to convince their father against injustice,” Ygraine said, standing up, palms pressed against the table. “My brother-”

“Is not here,” Uther snarled, also standing with his chair scraping back. “And if you truly wish to prevent injustice, you would be here trying to play diplomat instead of instigator. You’d be working to organize a treaty-”

“A treaty?”

“And as far as my father goes, you needn’t be nasty over things you have little understanding of. As far as we know, he has an eye of magic himself. Perhaps it is destiny that led him to bring Vivienne here-”

“Oh,” Ygraine scoffed, and Uther threw up a hand. “Destiny. What a lovely excuse for the mistreatment of an innocent bystander. Do you think your claim to this kingdom is also destined, Uther Pendragon? Does that justify the evil you have and will do?”

Ygraine wasn’t speaking to Merlin, but something about the words made his blood turn cold. He felt as though he was next to Arthur, listening to him break down Merlin’s plights over the years, demanding to know if the crimes Merlin committed were worth the end result destiny promised.

And, at some point, Merlin would need to answer that too.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Uther hissed.

“You-” Ygraine said, stepping up to point a finger in Uther’s face. “You are a liar and a murderer. The fact you believe someone as sweet and caring as Vivienne is destined to marry you is a tragedy in itself, but if you expect me to hand over my brother’s rightful claim to Camelot’s throne-”

“My claim to Camelot’s throne,” Uther threw back, face growing more red as Arthur looked between his parents in utter bewilderment. Merlin didn’t blame him. Even with all he had seen so far, Merlin couldn’t help but envision Uther and Ygraine’s love story to be more… well, less based in war and battles.

Ygraine’s eyes narrowed as she grabbed a goblet of wine and threw it in Uther’s face. A few of the guards shifted, but Uther only raised a hand to pause them, spitting out the wine with furious eyes.

“You,” Ygraine said coldly. “Are unworthy to sit upon a stool, let alone a throne.”

From beside Merlin, Balinor scoffed as he sipped from his own goblet. “I kind of like having her as a hostage, Uther. She livens up the place.”

Uther didn’t respond. He instead grabbed the pitcher of wine from the serving girl and dumped it over Ygraine’s head. Vivienne’s eyes widened as she nervously wrung her hands together. Ygraine spluttered, looking downright shocked Uther had the nerve to do what she had just done to him.

“Good day, Lady Vivienne,” Uther said politely. “Please, let me know if you’d like to be escorted around the castle or if you’d rather stay here.” He looked at Ygraine pointedly. “With questionable company.”

Gaius awkwardly grabbed a blanket from the bed, dabbing the wine off of Ygraine as Vivienne stood, absolutely stunned. She looked at Merlin, eyes wide.

Do I… say something? she asked, voice echoing in his head. It had been a startling realization last night. Merlin knew he had the ability to communicate with magical creatures, but it happened so little that the ability still occasionally startled him.

He smiled weakly before responding. Is there something you want to say?

Vivienne tugged at her hair. “That was a lovely story,” she said. Uther and Ygraine both turned to her. “Aside- aside from the murder, I mean.” Everyone continued staring. “Who poisoned the last king?”

Ygraine and Uther answered at once.

“Constantine-”

“-Tristan.”

Both looked at one another.

“My brother would never,” Ygraine said.

Uther flicked some wine from his hand. “Yes, just as your other brother would never betray you, right?” he asked dryly and turned away. “Balinor, tell you brethren I wish for a meeting. I’m tired of the pretender king hiding from me.” He gave Ygraine a dark look as he marched out of the room.

Ygraine threw some chess pieces after him.

Balinor tipped the rest of his drink back. “Ah, duty calls,” he said, giving Merlin a sly wink. “Should I ask to meet again?” he asked, brow raising. Merlin nodded. “Good. I’m sure Kilgharrah would love to say hello. And you’ll tell me…?”

“What do you want to know?” Merlin asked quietly. Arthur was speaking to his mother, but his eyes flicked over Merlin, looking curious at Balinor’s hum.

“Who was the sorcerer at the de Bois camp?”

“I don’t know.”

Balinor smiled a little. “You’re a funny man, Merlin,” he said, pinching his cheek. Merlin jerked back, feeling a bit like one of the knights had come to pick on him again. “But there isn’t much time to joke in war. I’ll ask again tonight. It will be the last time I ask.”

Well, what the hell? Merlin opened and closed his mouth, offended. Like, sure, he was definitely lying, but Balinor didn’t know that. What was this ultimatum? How could he be so sure that Merlin had an answer?

Unbelievable. Unless…

“Did Kilgharrah tell you that I know who it is?” he asked.

Balinor smiled and tapped the tip of his nose before throwing his leg over the window. “Might I offer you a piece of advice?” he asked. Merlin scowled. There was a time in his life when he’d love to get advice from his father, but in this context, it felt condescending. “If you’re talking to a pretty fairy in your head… try not to look at her when you do so. And remember that other magical folks can hear you too.” He winked before falling away.

….what?

The blue of Balinor’s dragon soared into the air, but Merlin was too stunned to speak. Balinor could… hear him? All this time, Merlin has assumed the connections with magical beings were private. He hadn’t been around multiple creatures to realize others could hear if they pleased.

How could he have been so foolish? At least, Vivienne and he hadn’t spoken about where he was from or whose child he was or anything else too damning. Yes, Vivienne had that slip up but it gave nothing away. It couldn’t have.

Frozen in place, he almost didn’t realize Arthur was next to him until a hand touched his arm.

“Are you okay?”

Merlin swallowed, mouth feeling a bit like it was filled with sand. “Um, yeah,” he said numbly. Arthur’s lips pursed before bringing out Tristan’s coin. Damn that thing. “I don’t know,” he corrected himself. “I just realized Balinor could hear my conversations with Vivienne.”

“So? What’s wrong with talking to her?”

“No,” Merlin corrected and glanced over at where Gaius, Vivienne, and Ygraine all were talking. He grabbed Arthur’s arm and pushed him behind the changing screen. “I can hear magical creatures in my head. I can talk to them,” he explained. Arthur blinked a few times. “I didn’t realize Balinor could overhear and now… I don’t know. I’m realizing how little I actually know when magic is legal,” he muttered.

“You… can talk… to people… in your head…?” Arthur said slowly. Merlin bit his knuckle, trying to decide what other things he had missed. Were there magical guards in this building? Yes, Merlin was powerful - he had faced undead armies and such. But not an army of sorcerers. His magical fights had always been one-on-one for the most part. And even then there had been some tough ones. He wasn’t prepared for this-

“I need a teacher.”

Arthur stared. “A teacher?” he repeated. “Didn’t you just say you’d help teach Vivienne her magic?”

“I did,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “But I need someone, too. Someone who knows what the hell they’re doing. Maybe when Balinor brings us to Kilgharrah-”

“When- wait, what?” Arthur said and smacked Merlin’s hand down. “That is the second time you’ve mentioned that name. Who is that? Why are you making plans without me?”

Oh. Merlin frowned, a little taken aback. “I… suppose I never had to make plans with you before,” he said. Arthur’s eyes flashed. “I typically do everything myself!”

“Then you should be excited to have help,” Arthur told him coolly.

Merlin wanted to tell him not to take it so personally, but he also couldn’t see how Arthur wouldn’t be offended by Merlin seemingly dismissing his opinion. He didn’t mean to. It was just kind of how things were. Yes, Merlin followed orders, but it was Arthur who sought Merlin’s opinions on things. Not the other way around. It was Merlin who made decisions regarding Arthur’s well-being, and most of the time, Arthur was not informed of those decisions.

“I’m sorry-”

“Who is Kilgharrah?” Arthur repeated blandly.

This wouldn’t go over well.

“Um, a friend,” Merlin began. “He… well, he was my advisor of sorts.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You called him a dragon before. Back when you asked Balinor if he knew him.”

“I did,” Merlin said, regretting everything that led him here. “He is a… dragon…”

“The only dragon I’ve known is the Great Dragon,” Arthur mused. Merlin looked away. “Which can’t be Kilgharrah,” he added suspiciously. Merlin didn’t answer. “Because that dragon burned my people alive, remember?”

“So did your father,” Merlin snapped back without thinking.

This was not a wise thing to say. He could see the way Arthur’s brows raised that he had fucked up.

“Hm,” Arthur said tightly. “And Balinor has offered to take you to this Kilgharrah? For what?”

Something that Merlin hadn’t expected upon Arthur learning about his magic: having to include him in things. In theory, he had known that. It was actually something he’d been looking forward to, but now that Merlin’s business was out in the open, he wasn’t sure how much he enjoyed it. Despite his years as a servant, there had always been a streak of pride that never wavered with his magic. Merlin knew what he was. That had never left his mind.

“What do you mean for what?”

“Balinor didn’t just offer to take you to this dragon out of the kindness of his heart,” Arthur said. “He thinks we’re part of the de Bois army. He isn’t going to be doing us favors.”

Merlin scowled out the window. It felt so natural to search for a lie. When had the truth become uncomfortable? “He wants to know who the sorcerer at the de Bois camp was.”

Arthur shook his head. “So you’d reveal your powers to him?” Merlin shrugged. “Okay, so… no.”

“No?” Merlin repeated. “What do you mean no?”

“No, we’re not doing that!”

“I- excuse me?” Merlin asked. Arthur gave him a look. “Kilgharrah recognized my name. He must have some sense of the future and past. He could point us in the right direction-”

“And you’d have a target on your back as being a powerful sorcerer associated with one of the warring families,” Arthur pointed out. “No. Talk to him in your head, because apparently you can do that-”

“It doesn’t work like that! And Balinor already knows I’m magic because of that-”

“But there are plenty of other magical creatures here. He can’t be sure you were the one who took down the Pendragon soldiers back at the camp. I mean, how valuable is this dragon’s opinion?” Arthur whispered, throwing up a hand. “What great advice has he given you?” And then held up the coin pointedly, as if to remind Merlin not to try and lie.

The action sent a trill of annoyance through him. “Lots of things,” Merlin muttered. “Your sword, for one. Mordred, Morgana, how to defeat enemies-”

“Mordred and Morgana?” Arthur cut in, ignoring how Merlin tried to move past their names quickly. “The two people you mentioned I may not forgive you for once I found out how you dealt with them? He advised you on that? Was it before or after attacking my kingdom?”

“Arthur, we don’t have another plan.”

“You don’t have another plan,” Arthur said. “There was no we in whatever half-hazard attempt of a plan you put together.” He shook his head. “No. You’re not telling Balinor anything and you’re not going to see this dragon.”

Now, wait a goddamn minute. Merlin bit his tongue, forcing himself to temper his response. “This is more of my area of expertise-”

“Is it?” Arthur asked. “Are you still my servant?” Merlin stared at him. “Are you?”

“If you’re not sacking me, then-”

“Am I still your king?”

“Technically, right now-”

“Merlin.”

“Yes!” Merlin hissed back. “I serve you. Obviously. What of it? Do you need me to launder your clothes?” he asked, only being half-snarky. There was a chance that actually needed to be done soon.

“No,” Arthur said. “I need you to obey me because I am in charge. Or does your magic change who is king?” he asked.

That was a low blow. Merlin felt a little like he had been shoved into the dirt. There was a crackle of energy between them. Sure, Arthur had asserted his kingly authority before, but this was so profoundly different in a way that made Merlin kind of want to scream. This wasn’t Arthur ordering about him as a servant. This was Arthur ordering him about as Merlin. Magic and all. There was something humbling about being the greatest sorcerer of all time, having literally controlled dragons, fought beasts, conquered armies, and undone time, only to be told no so bluntly.

“Well,” Merlin said, giving a tight smile. “I didn’t listen before you knew about my magic. I don’t need to now.”

He made to walk away, but Arthur grabbed his arm, pinning him back against the wall. He opened his mouth, possibly to say something that would piss Merlin off even more, but was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“We found a secret passage.”

Merlin and Arthur both turned. Gaius was off to the side, watching them with his signature brow raise that somehow looked ridiculous on him as a younger man. Arthur and Merlin looked at one another.

“A secret passage?” Arthur repeated, not letting go of Merlin. “To where?”

“Another part of the castle!” Ygraine said, also popping her head behind the changing screen to smile at them. “We’re going to explore. Do you want to come?”

“Explore?” Merlin repeated. “What do you mean explore?”

Ygraine glanced at Gaius, who shrugged. “Well, if we’re prisoners… I don’t see why we can’t make Uther’s part in the war a little harder. Perhaps burn some weapons. Steal some food. Hide armor.”

That… probably wasn’t the best idea. Merlin didn’t really know exactly how far Uther and Constantine could be pressed before they brought out an executioner. Before he could voice this, though, Arthur surprisingly nodded.

“Go ahead. We have business to finish here,” he said.

Ygraine and Gaius exchanged looks. “I’m sure you do,” she said, and for some reason that made Arthur flush pink, eyes narrowing as Ygraine gave him a wicked grin. “Very well. Vivienne!” she called disappearing again. “Let’s see if we can find the serving quarters and disguise ourselves.”

Oh, that wasn’t good. Gaius gave Merlin and Arthur one last look before following after his mistress.

Both waited until they heard footsteps retreat before reacting. Then Merlin shoved Arthur’s hand off of him. “You’re just going to let them run about the castle?!”

“For some reason,” Arthur threw back. “They seem like the least of my problems.”

Unbelievable.

Merlin turned away to pace in the now empty room. Fine. This was fine. They just needed to cool off. In truth, Merlin did value Arthur’s opinion. Very much so. He just wasn’t… used to this. After a good ten minutes of them giving one another the silent treatment, Merlin sighed and turned back around. “What do you think we should do?” he asked.

Arthur looked at him before nodding. Like he was accepting this path forward. “Would the druids know as much as this Kilgharrah?” he asked. “And perhaps inform you of the magical concerns you have?”

….fair.

Merlin crossed his arms over his chest. “Perhaps,” he admitted, not meeting Arthur’s eyes. “How do you propose we get to them?”

Moments passed and Merlin wondered if Arthur was thinking or just upset. He risked a look up, surprised at the resignation that flooded his chest when he saw the other man sitting at the edge of the bed. He looked tired. Merlin bit his lip.

Wordlessly, he walked over, kneeling in front of him. Maybe it was the fact they were in the castle that would one day be their home or just the familiarity of the space between them, but he absently fixed Arthur’s hair and righted his shirt.

“Your mother said druids were their allies. If we can convince her to escape, then she may be able to bring us to them,” he said. Arthur’s eyes flicked up. “Look, I'm-”

Someone screamed. Arthur and Merlin both stood up, moving toward the window. From below, there was another yell as two soldiers stood near the entrance of the castle. Behind each stood a handful of knights, each trying to speak over one another. One man was on the ground between them, groaning as he rolled over, blood staining the cobbled ground beneath them.

“What on earth…?” Arthur muttered, and then one of the knights threw a gauntlet down. Someone else shoved through the crowd, the yelling getting louder until a fist was thrown. “Foolish of them to weaken their own forces when a war is going on. Who trained these men?”

The disapproval in Arthur’s voice was almost funny. Merlin had no doubt if they were his men that Arthur would have whipped them into shape far before this point.

“I’m not sure who trained them,” Merlin said, nudging Arthur’s shoulder. “But I think I know who started whatever argument they’re having.” He nodded a few feet from the yelling where Ygraine was off to the side, legs swinging from where she was on a pile of crates. Vivienne watched in horror, hand clasped over her mouth as Gaius leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the upcoming injuries.

Arthur sighed. “We should convince her to leave before Constantine kills her,” he muttered. Merlin was inclined to agree. Ygraine could only piss off her captors so much before-

The doors slammed open. Merlin jumped, moving back to see Uther entering. He looked around the room once, noting an opened passage that Merlin hadn’t paid any mind to earlier before silently walking to the window. He moved Arthur to the side, eying his brawling men. From down below, Ygraine looked up. She stood, giving a low bow as she met Uther’s eyes.

Uther slammed the window shut.

“Was she raised by wilddeoren?” he hissed. Pressing the heels of his hands to the side of his head, he turned to them. “Were you not interested in joining your mistress?” Arthur and Merlin looked at one another. “Nevermind that,” Uther muttered. “GUARDS!” he shouted. “GO FIND THEM AND BRING THEM TO THE DUNGEONS THIS TIME!” From outside, there was a scrambling of men. “Rodney!” he called, and one of the guards peered inside. “Make sure my father is preoccupied while I take care of this.”

Rodney grimaced but gave Uther a low bow before turning to move the opposite way outside the door.

“You won’t tell your father?” Arthur asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Uther glanced at him. “He’d act rashly,” he said, shaking his head. “And your mistress is no use to me dead.” A pause went by as Uther ran a hand over his mouth. “Though it’s strange. Tristan doesn’t know his brother betrayed him. He knows I have both his siblings with me and yet… he stays missing.” His brows scrunched together. “Does he hope I kill them to turn the kingdom against me?”

That seemed extreme to Merlin, but he also didn’t know Tristan well. It seemed Uther genuinely thought he could be capable of such a thing if he really thought Tristan had poisoned the last king.

Uther turned to them. “Come with me,” he said, voice sharpening.

Oh, dear. Was he going to execute them instead? Merlin inwardly sighed, but Uther didn’t call any guards to escort them out of the room and to the chopping block. He just… walked away. As if Arthur and Merlin were members of his household and didn’t come here beside his nemesis.

Once again, Arthur and Merlin exchanged wary looks, but followed. Merlin really couldn’t imagine anything good coming from it, but surprisingly Uther just kept walking until they reached the king's quarters. Wordlessly, he opened the doors, looking over his shoulder to make sure Arthur and Merlin were still close behind.

Huh. Merlin cautiously entered, eyes scanning the room for any traps. Was Balinor here? Did he tell Uther about Merlin's magic? Was this a setup?

There were no traps, though. Only dozens upon dozens of papers. Merlin had actually not seen so many pieces of parchment thrown about before. It was awe-inspiring to see the amount of blotted ink and broken quills snapped across the room.

“What is this?” Arthur asked, looking around with genuine concern in his voice. “Are you well?”

Uther laughed, stepping over some blank parchments to rummage through something in his desk at the far end of the room. “Depends on your definition of the word well,” he said, and then glanced up, giving a genuine smile. “I… fear I am pressed for time.”

“You’re dying?” Merlin asked, alarmed.

Uther rolled his eyes. “No,” he said, and looked around. “Well, maybe…” That cleared nothing up. Perhaps Merlin’s face said so because Uther grimaced. “Even I do not have the hubris to believe that Tristan de Bois can't win this war. I could only have a short time to help this kingdom. I intend to make the most of it.”

Interesting. Merlin picked up one of the parchments, a little surprised to see various scribblings of different initiatives, defense plans, trading routes… Things that actually would help people.

And Merlin knew that outside of magic, Uther had been somewhat of a reasonable king. But this was also a starting point that felt troubling in a way he couldn’t articulate.

“This gives people their taxes back,” Merlin said, a little surprised as he held up a parchment. He was familiar with this decree, actually. Whatever money the kingdom didn’t use from taxes would be given back - typically alongside a large festival for the lower town. He had no idea that was Uther’s doing.

“Not all of it,” Uther admitted. “But it’s a start.”

Merlin looked at Arthur, but he didn’t seem surprised. No doubt Arthur knew his father was responsible for changes like these. Uther had been the one to teach his son these things, after all. And despite it all, Arthur remained a king who strived to make his father proud in many ways.

“You should be focusing on the war,” Arthur told him gently.

Uther shook his head. “No. If Tristan wins this war then none of this will get done. And Aurelius had other ideas I'd like to bring to fruition. Something about potions and limiting spend? I know so little of magic and haven’t had time to learn,” he muttered. “Ah. Here.” He pulled out one of the parchments and held it up. “Two pardons.”

Arthur did a double-take. “Excuse me?”

“I’m pardoning you,” Uther said. “For being associated with the de Bois army.”

…okay. This was unexpected.

“Why?” Merlin said slowly.

Uther brushed by them, shoving the papers in their hands as he did so. “They aren’t for free,” he said. “They are only if you help me.”

“And why do you believe we would help you?” Merlin asked, deciding that was the better question.

Uther shut the door to the room, looking at them both. “Because if you do, I will give you a lot of money and ensure your mistress remains unharmed.” He nodded to Merlin. “Balinor tells me you have magic.”

God damnit.

“I'm not the sorcerer from the de Bois camp-” Merlin began but Uther waved him away.

“Even if that is indeed true, it matters little. I just need a sorcerer who is not associated with me.” Uther wrung his hands together. “Nimueh is who cursed Vivienne on behalf of my father. I questioned my men and got knowledge of where she is. However, for some unknown reason, she refuses to speak to me. Only my father.” Uther shook his head. “I don’t understand it,” he muttered and gave a long-suffering sigh. “At any point, I sent Balinor to speak to her. I sent other envoys to speak to her. She will not hear from me, and I cannot risk her simply taking orders from my father and causing strife like this.” He gestured around wildly. “Balinor says Vivienne warmed to you quickly,” he added.

Merlin looked away. “Perhaps,” he admitted. “And you wish for me to charm Nimueh into speaking to you?”

It was interesting. Why was Nimueh only dealing with Constantine when his son was the one who would be on the throne? And to the point where she wouldn't even speak to anyone associated with Uther? Merlin didn't know what to make of that.

Uther crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t even need her help. Just the knowledge that she will not aid my father in whatever wayward plan he concocts. In return, I promise all your allies will be safe during your absence. I will give you land, money - whatever it is you desire.”

And suddenly, Merlin had an idea. An idea Arthur would hate.

“Balinor spoke of a dragon,” Merlin said slowly. “Kilgharrah. I would like an audience with him.”

Slowly, Arthur turned to look at him. Yeah. Merlin would regret that the second they were out of Uther’s earshot. But they’d need Ygraine to lead them to the druids. If they were doing Uther’s bidding here, then Balinor could just take them to Kilgharrah. It was so much simpler.

“Done,” Uther said with a shrug. “I will inform your mistress that you and your companion have been moved to a different part of the castle as punishment for her…” Uther rolled his eyes. “Insolence.”

Arthur frowned at ‘companion’ - as if he didn’t quite know what to make of the word, but didn’t say anything as Uther looked at them expectantly.

Well… Merlin supposed it was a start. No matter how bewildering this all was.

“Tell us where Nimueh is then.”

Chapter Text

Arthur was going to kill him.

Slowly. Painfully. Ideally, begging for forgiveness would be involved. Maybe even tears.

Which, okay, maybe that was a tad dramatic, but Arthur was frustrated. Understandably so, in his humble opinion. Arthur didn’t think he had been asking for much, all things considered. Just some… you know. Collaborative effort?

But no. No, King Merlin himself - greatest sorcerer to walk the earth, Emory or whatever fuck they called him - knew better. How dare Arthur think he could hold any sort of authority in the wake of such an honored creature?

And maybe it wouldn’t sting so much if it wasn’t such a… change. If change was even the word. It kind of… just… well, you see-

He couldn’t even think of the words properly to voice them. He was frustrated? Hurt? Both, probably. Definitely.

It was like this: Imagine you had a puppy. A cute little annoying thing that yapped and tried to scare away bigger, meaner dogs whenever they walked by you. Of course, you adored that puppy. It was loyal. It was sweet. Part of you even hoped it would grow up to be the big, scary dog it thought it was even if you were very fond of the sweet, tiny version it was. It was your job to protect that puppy. And you did.

But then, unexpectedly, you learn the puppy wasn’t actually a puppy at all. It never had been. It wasn’t even a dog, but a wolf. And the entire dynamic you had with that sweet little puppy flipped overnight. Now, even though it was second nature to protect that puppy, the wolf snapped at you every time you tried. The wolf growled whenever something came near you. It growled at you when you strayed too far.

Arthur was starting to hate the wolf.

Which was wrong. He knew it was wrong. But… He missed the puppy. The version of things he knew. He didn’t like being corralled into safety. Arthur understood that Merlin had been protecting him since the beginning, but Arthur had grown used to the illusion of being capable.

And now? It felt a bit like a sham.

Maybe he was the puppy. Thinking it was bigger and scarier than it was. Something fragile and in constant need of protection. Arthur just wasn’t sure he could live his life like that. Kept in a gilded cage and forced to live for a world he didn’t even understand yet. And how could Arthur understand? He hadn’t lived in it. Not the way he thought he did.

But Arthur couldn’t say that. It felt silly to tell Merlin he was being too overprotective of all things. That Arthur was smothered and confused by the sudden change in dynamic. To tell him how strange it was to stand by as everyone sensed Merlin’s importance while regarding Arthur as an accessory.

Was that what Merlin’s life had been? Decoration to a king?

And how could Arthur complain when it was his turn?

So he didn’t say those things. He just walked. Out of the castle with a cloak over his head, Merlin pressed closely to his side. It felt odd leaving his mother behind. He really would prefer to have stayed with her and escaped with one another, but Merlin hadn’t given him a chance to object to Uther’s offer. And Arthur deeply suspected that if he put his foot down then Merlin might just leave without him, assuming Arthur would be safe in the confines of the castle.

…how was this his life?

“Do you know where Ladon is?” Merlin asked.

Arthur inwardly rolled his eyes. At first, Merlin seemed delighted to learn Nimueh was hiding out in his father’s homeland. But as they walked, he almost seemed nervous to see it. Like he would walk in and find out his ancestral land was… what? What was Merlin hoping it would be? What was he hoping it wasn’t?

“No,” he said, tightening his cloak around his shoulders. “My father only mentioned it.”

“Uther acted as if we should know where it is when he told us.”

“Most people in this time probably do know where it is.”

“But we don’t.”

“Correct.”

“So…”

“I don’t know, Merlin,” Arthur said dryly. “You make all the decisions. I’m just here.”

And he was kind of just here, wasn’t he? A puppet who Arthur wasn’t sure had ever made any of his own decisions. His previous fears returned. What if Merlin was only pretending to be close to him to get power? What if he was somehow evil? Well, not evil, but… something.

“I saw an opportunity and I took it,” Merlin sighed. Arthur didn’t respond. “I’m sorry, but I really think Kilgharrah can help us. And maybe this quest for your father can help us too. I can learn something-”

“From Nimueh?” Arthur clarified. “The woman who will kill my mother?”

“I- no,” Merlin said and then paused. “Technically, she… well, it was…” he trailed off, but Arthur knew what he was trying to say. Nimueh hadn’t killed his mother. Magic had. Not out of evil, but out of balance. A cost his father knew.

“Whatever happened to her anyway?” Arthur asked. “Nimueh, I mean. She just disappeared.”

An awkward silence followed. “I, um… I killed her,” Merlin said.

“Why?”

“You were bitten by the Questing Beast.”

Arthur frowned. Yes, he remembered that. His miraculous recovery. Stepping over the crunching rocks, he gave Merlin a wary look. Something told him he wouldn’t be too fond of whatever came next. “And…?” he prompted.

“I made a deal with her to sacrifice my life for yours,” Merlin said. Arthur stopped walking. Merlin didn't seem to notice. “But then my mother was the one who bore the price, so I ended up using Nimueh’s life to satisfy the rules of the Old Religion.”

What the fuck?

Arthur didn’t say that. He couldn’t say that. Not to someone who willingly gave his life for Arthur’s. Over and over and over-

No. He needed to stop spiraling. That was the life of a king. Sometimes, people died for you. Sometimes, it was people you didn’t want to die for you. He should just be grateful that Merlin was still here.

And he tried not to feel too bitter that Merlin got to negotiate his own mother’s life when Arthur had never had such a chance.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, looking back. Somehow, he looked more like a stranger than when Arthur first found out about his magic. The thought put a lump in his throat as they continued walking again.

They made it about a hundred yards further before a blue dragon flew overhead.

Balinor.

Great.

Merlin squinted up at his father, looking like he wanted to decide if he was pleased or annoyed by his reappearance. For a moment, Arthur thought he was just passing by, but the dragon got lower and lower, a gust of wind hitting them with every flap of its wings.

“HI, THERE!” Balinor shouted. Merlin raised a hand in greeting. Arthur wondered if Uther told him that they were doing this or if Balinor thought they escaped. His hand went to Excalibur, which his father had kindly returned to him before they left the castle.

A thud sounded as the dragon hit the ground. Balinor jumped off, flipping in the air like an acrobat and landing with a ridiculous pose that reminded Arthur of something his knights might do. In fact, Gwaine might have done something similar once or twice.

“I hear you boys are heading to Ladon!” Balinor called, which at least had Arthur releasing his hold on his sword. “Thought I might give you a ride.”

Arthur’s eyes moved to the dragon. Respectfully, fuck no.

But Arthur didn’t make decisions anymore.

“That would be amazing,” Merlin said before frowning. “I thought you were exiled from Ladon?”

Balinor shrugged. “I am, but I can get you close. It’ll save you a few days of walking.”

Arthur looked up at the dragon and made a face. He was well aware of the fact his dying body had been hoisted on a dragon at some point during their journey to the Lake of Avalon, but as of right now, he was a fully alive and conscious body who had no interest in riding a dragon.

And you know what? He wouldn’t.

“No, thank you,” Arthur said politely and kept walking.

Balinor and Merlin both blinked, giving identical expressions of utter confusion. It would have been funny if Arthur wasn’t in such a bad mood.

“Uh- hold that thought,” Merlin told his father and jogged next to him. “Arthur? Arthur, hi. We need to ride the dragon.”

“You can ride the dragon,” Arthur told him, still walking. “I can walk.”

“You don’t even know where Ladon is!”

“My first goal will be to acquire a map.”

“Arthur,” Merlin said and stepped in front of him. “It’s perfectly safe. I promise.”

“I’m sure it is,” Arthur said, squeezing Tristan’s coin in his hand. He tried to remember what he had already asked Merlin and if it would be hurtful to ask again. Just for reassurance. “But what if I just don’t want to?”

Merlin looked at him. Genuine uncertainty crossed his face - as if he wasn’t quite sure what that meant either. As they stood there, Arthur went through his memories, trying to decide how much of it was manufactured and what was real. It really explained so much about so many things. Even-

“I promise it’ll be over quick,” Merlin tried and gave him a weak attempt at a teasing smile. “You’re not scared, are you?”

“How did I get out of Camelot during Morgana’s invasion?”

Merlin’s smile disappeared.

“What?” he asked, expression wary.

“Morgana. Agravaine. ​​The Southrons,” Arthur reminded him. “They were invading one moment and the next I was in the woods. Did you knock me out? Enchant me? What happened?”

And what he was hoping would come next was, Arthur, don’t be stupid. I wouldn’t ever use magic on you.

But Merlin didn’t say that. Merlin didn’t meet his eyes. Arthur’s heart sank.

“You… mind controlled me?” he guessed.

Merlin flinched. “No! I mean… I just… made you more agreeable.”

“Agreeable,” Arthur repeated.

“I drained you of your will,” Merlin relented. Arthur brought out Tristan’s coin and flipped it. Heads. He stared at it. Merlin shifted. “Arthur-”

He dropped the coin. Merlin sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as if hoping he could reverse time again.

“Is that how it is going to be?” Arthur asked. “Every time we don’t see eye-to-eye you’ll make me more agreeable?”

“Of course not! That was a matter of life and death.”

“And only you can decide when I die? I don’t get a choice to meet my end with honor? To die with my beliefs and values?”

“I would think the more honorable thing for you to do is live and make change,” Merlin said coolly and Arthur felt something in him snap.

“Then choose someone else!” he hissed.

From a few feet away, Balinor put his hands on his hips, looking up at the sky as if something interesting was up there and he totally wasn’t eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Excuse me?”

“Choose someone else to serve,” Arthur repeated. “Someone more agreeable to your demands. I don’t see why it has to be me. There are plenty out there who would be happy to comply with being so well kept.”

“Well kept?”

Arthur held out his hands. “Whatever you’d like to call it. I’m sure many rulers would be honored to be protected and serve as your voice. I’m not against you, Merlin. I just don’t know if I can live a false life like that.”

Balinor glanced at them, clearly confused, but Arthur didn’t care. He didn’t care if anyone found out who he was or what he was doing with Merlin here. He didn’t care about any of it.

“What are you even talking about?!” Merlin asked, voice also rising. “You’re acting like I’m the one ruling and have a knife to your neck!”

“….see this is interesting because neither of you should be ruling,” Balinor jumped in. Merlin held up a hand to keep him out of the conversation.

“I’m not entirely sure you’re not!” Arthur said, frustration rising. “How do I know you’re intentions?!”

“The coin-”

“Maybe the coin doesn’t work,” Arthur said stubbornly. “And I don’t want to rely on a coin forever just to have a conversation with you!”

“Then trust me!”

“How?! You don’t even trust me! You couldn’t even tell me the truth about how my mother died!”

“So I’m a bad person for not wanting you to choose between magic and your father?”

“I’m not supposed to be the burden, Merlin! I’m supposed to carry the burden-”

“So you can’t accept help?”

“This isn’t help. This is a hostage situation-”

“Oh, a hostage-”

Balinor cleared his throat. “I can’t help but notice some tension,” he interjected. Arthur and Merlin both looked away, scowling at something off in the distance. “As someone who loves to get involved in arguments, could I weigh in?”

Arthur sighed, running his hand over his face. “You don’t have the proper context-”

“I think blondie here is right.”

“-which is fine because we need an objective point of view,” Arthur finished as Merlin threw up his hand, throwing his father a betrayed look.

Balinor bent down to pick up the coin Arthur had dropped. “Look, here’s what I’m gathering. You are somehow a king. Don’t really know of what kingdom or why you’re here, but I must say that I’m tickled that I accidentally kidnapped royalty back at the de Bois camp. You appear to be a…” He looked at Merlin thoughtfully. “Some sort of commoner who pretended not to have magic for some reason.”

“The reason being it’s illegal in his kingdom,” Merlin informed him heatedly.

Balinor shook his head. “You are from the strangest place,” he mused, looking aghast. “And so you’ve been protecting him with your illegal magic?”

“Yes.”

“And he didn’t know?”

“Yes.”

“But now he does?”

“Correct.”

“And you think you should be in charge because you are now in a place where magic is legal?”

“Well,” Merlin hesitated. “Not in charge, but it’s my job to keep him safe. Even when he’s impossible about it,” he added with a nasty glare at Arthur.

Balinor looked between them. “...why?” he asked. Merlin stared at him blankly. “Why do you need to keep him safe?”

“Because he’s the king!” Merlin said, pointing at Arthur accusingly. “He has important things to do!”

“Okay, but… he made a fair point. You can pick a different king. I’m sure Uther would like to have you in his service.” Merlin made a face of distaste at that. “I’m asking what is special about him that you do all of this for?” Balinor raised a hand. “And I don’t really need an answer. Because if he really is special enough to make such a fuss for, then why are you trying so bad to control his decisions? Shouldn’t your goal in protecting him be that he makes his decisions?”

Merlin snapped his mouth shut. Ha.

“And you,” Balinor said, spinning around. Oh, no.

“You said I was right,” Arthur defended quickly.

“That was to get you to stop talking,” Balinor shrugged. Rude, but sure. “I get where you’re coming from, I do, but this man lived in a kingdom where magic was illegal, apparently. And then he used it to protect you. That means he had to do most of what he did alone. He had to live with his mistakes and triumphs in silence. He wasn’t appreciated. He wasn’t listened to. He was ignored. Overlooked. I mean, if he’s a commoner, he probably had next to nothing. But still, he did all of this for you.”

Arthur looked away. He had said something similar to Merlin in the beginning. Back at Tristan’s camp. He had acknowledged Merlin had made the decisions he had alone and Arthur didn’t think he held that against him… but maybe he did.

“Your problem is that you’re willing to forgive the past if the present doesn’t change,” Balinor continued. “But it has. And you’re being a bit of a dollophead over it.”

Instantly Merlin and Arthur blinked at the word. The shock of hearing it almost made him laugh out loud. All these years, he had been so confident Merlin had made that stupid word up to mess with him. Go figure.

“So,” Balinor finished. “In conclusion, you need to accept the fact he knows more about this magic business and listen to him as an equal,” he said to Arthur and then turned to Merlin. “And you need to loosen the reins a bit because he’s not a toy you can protect from everything.” Balinor flicked the coin in the air and Arthur caught it. “Any questions?”

Silence went by. Balinor kept looking at them. Finally, they both broke.

“Um, no…”

“...no, don’t think so.”

“Phenomenal. Shall we?” Balinor asked, pointing to where the blue dragon was sprawled out in the meadow, puffs of smoke coming out of its nose.

Arthur and Merlin both looked at one another, an unspoken truce shared as they glared after Balinor sauntering away.

“….didn’t realize he knew us so well,” Merlin muttered sarcastically.

Arthur snorted. “Good for him,” he agreed. “Being able to solve our problems in sixty seconds. He should do that with this entire war they have going.”

“Maybe he should have been made heir.”

“Clearly, with all that diplomatic prowess.”

“I can hear you!” Balinor called back joyfully. Merlin rolled his eyes. “Who wants to ride up front?”

….good question. Arthur looked at Merlin. “Suggestions?” he asked.

“Middle is best so don’t feel like you’re slipping off the back whenever we move. I’d say since you’ve ridden less than me that’s where you would do best,” Merlin said carefully.

Arthur nodded in return. “That makes a lot of sense. That’s where I’ll go then.”

“Okay, thank you for listening to my suggestion.”

“Thank you for suggesting it.”

Balinor threw his leg over the dragon’s back. “Are you two always like this?” he asked and jerked his head to gesture them up.

Flying on a dragon was actually not that bad. Dare he say it was even…. fun? Terrifying. Utterly terrifying, but when you got past that, it was also fun. Arthur couldn’t help but enjoy the wind through his hair and the dampness of the clouds running over his skin. By the time they landed his legs were numb and he was completely drenched from head-to-toe.

“Uh…” Merlin began when he hopped off the dragon, absently patting its leg. “Where is it?”

This was a good question. The dragon had landed them on a cliff overlooking a deep valley. No castle, no houses, no people. Was this a trap?

Balinor’s brows pinched together. “….it’s the solstice,” he said as if this should be obvious. And maybe it was but Arthur had no idea what that had to do with anything. When Arthur and Merlin just stared back blankly, he shook his head. “I’ve been playing around, but seriously. Where are you two from? Do you really know nothing about Ladon?” he asked, sounding as close to appalled as Arthur had yet to hear.

“Pretend we’re from a different world altogether,” Merlin suggested.

Balinor shook his head. “No,” he decided. “You argue like children and you appear to know as much as children, so I shall explain Ladon to you as we do children,” he decided solemnly.

…Arthur was suddenly glad Merlin wasn’t raised by this man. If he was a menace now, who knows what he could have become under a young Balinor’s watch.

Gesturing them closer to the edge of the cliff, Balinor pointed out over the valley.

“Ladon is where the first dragon egg was hatched,” he told them. “Because of that, the Triple Goddess imbued this land with her magic. Now, do either of you know when the Triple Goddess’s power is at its highest?”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “The winter and summer solstices?” he asked dryly. Balinor beamed. “This doesn’t explain where the entire kingdom is, Balinor.”

There was something so profoundly weird about Merlin addressing his own father by his given name. Even if Arthur had just learned the two were related, it felt wrong.

“Well,” Balinor continued, ignoring his son’s quippy attitude. “When magic is at its highest is when the kingdom has the most protection.”

“It’s invisible?” Arthur asked. Balinor nodded. “But- we need to go inside!”

“You can see just fine as soon as you pass through the barriers.”

Balinor pointed to the valley again.

….right.

“You want us to walk off this cliff?” Arthur asked. He turned to Merlin. “He wants us to walk off the cliff.”

“I’d rather him not walk off a cliff,” Merlin said as if it was very much acceptable for him to walk off a cliff over Arthur. That was annoying, but for the sake of peace, Arthur would let it go. At least until this cliff business was taken care of.

Balinor glanced back at his dragon, who was flicking its tail in tiny little swishes.

Merlin jumped, looking around in alarm.

“Oh,” he said out loud. “I- you two are talking,” he said, looking between the dragon and Balinor. Then winced. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to ask your name,” he added to the dragon. “Kilgharrah would speak out loud-”

“Well, Kilgharrah is old,” Balinor said, sounding offended on behalf of his dragon. “Haizea here will need another hundred before she can speak out loud.”

“Haizea,” Merlin repeated and bowed his head at the dragon. “I’ve completely forgotten myself. Thank you for getting us here. Do you mind helping us into Ladon?” he asked, peering over the cliff.

Balinor smiled a little at the ground. Huh. It was kind of weird that Balinor didn’t just… fly them into the valley. Arthur turned, ignoring the telepathic conversation the dragon was apparently now having with Merlin. Edging toward the cliff, he reached out.

Something cold flicked over his fingers.

Fascinating. He reached further out, the chilliness moving from his knuckles down to his wrist. The edges of his hand began to blur. Looking over his shoulder, he met Balinor’s gaze, who gave a quick wink before looking back at where Merlin was still in deep conversation with Haizea.

Well… Arthur was known to occasionally be a menace.

“Alright,” he announced, lowering his hand. Merlin glanced back at him. “I’ll jump off the cliff.”

And then he did.

There. Now he and Merlin were even for the stupid stunt he pulled accepting this quest.

A flash of cold went through him as he moved through the barrier, the valley beneath his feet vanishing into cobbled roads. The change felt a bit like he had missed a step on a staircase, but somehow the opposite. Wind zipped past him and when Arthur looked up, his breath caught.

Ladon was…

Well, it was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made your skin prickle. The beautiful that zapped the breath from your lungs. The beautiful that made Arthur feel like looking at it had to come with some cost.

A second later Merlin fell forward, catching himself on Arthur’s arm as he clumsily crashed through the barrier.

“You are the most infuriating person I have ever met,” he snarled as a greeting. Arthur grinned at him. “Infuriating,” he repeated.

“Aw, come on Merlin. A good cliff jumping might actually be good fun.”

“Only if I get to shove you off myself.”

Hardy-har-har.

Nudging him, Arthur jerked his chin up to get him to concentrate on the kingdom in front of him. Merlin scowled up only to falter at the sight of Ladon. A castle was off in the distance, towering high above them while the town bustled about with people and… creatures? Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what the right words were, but they certainly weren’t human. Dragons flew above, circling some of the towers while children dashed down the street, a little girl cackling as she chased them on a broom.

“POTIONS!” someone shouted. “LAST OF THE SEASON! GET THEM WHILE YOU CAN!”

“-get me three crystals.”

“Do not even try that. I heard it never works-”

“As if the council will allow that!”

Merlin spun around, almost looking dizzy as he tried to take it all in. A burst of light went up somewhere and a woman popped out of the upper window of a tavern shaking her fist in the light’s general direction.

“YOU BETTER NOT BE BLOWING ANOTHER GODDAMN HOLE MY BUSINESS!” she screeched and slammed the window back shut with a bang.

Arthur walked back, also trying to take in the bustling streets. One boy wistfully tried to light a stick on fire to no avail.

“Some aren’t suited to magic, lad. You can’t be good at everything,” a man told him and the little boy gave a humph of disappointment.

“I don’t know how we’re going to find Nimueh here,” Merlin said, still gazing around. He held out a finger and a butterfly fluttered down to him. Arthur smiled. That just seemed right. Merlin was someone who animals and insects alike flocked to. It was comforting, actually. To see something familiar in the midst of everything that felt so new. A reminder that even outside his annoyance, Merlin was still someone gentle who liked butterflies. “What?” Merlin asked, catching him staring.

Arthur was about to answer when a young woman caught his eye, gathering herbs by one of the shops. Was that…? Arthur squinted a bit before reaching out to tap Merlin. There was no way.

From beside him, Merlin made a choking sound. “Mother?” he asked.

Sure enough, it was Hunith who was examining some fruit. At Merlin’s voice, she looked up, hand touching her chest as she looked over her shoulder to see if he was looking at someone else. “Mother?” she repeated, voice rising an octave.

Merlin winced. “Um, sorry. I thought-”

“I’ll have you know, I am nobody’s mother,” Hunith said, narrowing her eyes. “Unless you are looking for a wife, in which case, I am a mother to all. Wed to my duties as the sun is wed to day.”

“I can definitely see that about you,” Arthur said with a solemn nod. At this point in his life, he knew not to try and parse out the strange things people say. It was no different than when Merlin announced he was a swan or made some other comment that Arthur had learned to take in stride over the years.

His agreement at least seemed to get Hunith’s approval as she gave him an appraising look before her eyes flicked back to Merlin. “Do I know you?” she asked, taking a step closer. At Merlin’s face, she tilted her head. “You look… familiar.”

Well, it was her face copied on a different person. Arthur had always been struck by how alike Merlin looked to Hunith, but now that their ages were roughly within a few years of one another, it was almost a little scary.

“I’m Merlin. We met at the de Bois camp,” Merlin said. “You’re Hunith, right?”

He said that so easily. Knowing the right tone and hesitation to put between the words. As if he really wasn’t sure who Hunith was. Arthur couldn’t help but stare a bit, watching him lie through subtext of all things. An act that came so naturally that it left Arthur to wonder if Merlin even knew who he was outside of the things he had pretended to be over the years.

At his words, Hunith’s eyes widened. “Yes… yes, you were with my brother,” she said and dropped the basket she was holding. “Did you escape with him? Is he alive?”

Merlin nodded quickly. “Yes. He’s being held hostage with the Pendragons, but he’s fine. I actually think he’s having a good time, all things considered,” Merlin said with a weak laugh.

And if Arthur and Merlin hadn’t mucked up history too badly already, it might be fair to say Gaius would continue to have a good time for many years to come. Or, well, for a few years at least. Until the Purge.

Hunith pursed her lips. “He would,” she grumbled. “Put that man in a dusty castle with old parchment and he’ll act as if he’s already entered Avalon.” She picked her basket back up. Arthur expected her to demand them to take her to Camelot. To go full Merlin Mode on them and start screeching they need to rescue her brother or else.

She didn’t. On the contrary, she took a deep breath and nodded. “I suppose that’s fine,” she said. Both Merlin and Arthur paused. “If he’s having a nice time, I won’t have to hurry to rescue him.”

You know, maybe this is what he should have expected from a woman who would one day send her sorcerer child into the heart of a magic-hating kingdom.

Still, Arthur let out a bark of laughter. “What?” he asked. “Are you not worried?”

“You said he’s fine!” Hunith threw back defensively. “If he’s having a nice time, why would I bother him? I’ll just go rescue him when I miss him most.”

Fair enough, honestly. Arthur wished her son would apply that logic more often than not.

“I- okay,” Merlin said, looking genuinely taken aback. An awkward pause followed. “And, um…what are you doing here exactly?”

Hunith jutted out her chin. “Not that it is any of your business, strange man with a bird name, but I am gathering supplies for my new life,” she said proudly.

“New life?” Merlin repeated and Hunith brought out her basket.

“Yes. I am going to be a farmer now.” She showed them the seeds and various supplies in her woven basket. “A man here says there’s a place right outside of Camelot that has fresh fields. There are caves and creeks and it’s far from any royalty,” she smiled a little. “Just horses and mud and no silly arranged marriages.” She spun around, skirts flying out as if the very thought made her want to dance. “The only pain I shall endure is blistered hands and an aching back.”

Merlin looked at her skeptically. “Really?” he asked. “You think your life will be improved as a peasant over the king’s ward?” he said. “And…” He paused as if trying to track something in his head. “Wait, why aren’t you and Gaius siding with the Pendragons anyway? If you were Aurelius’s wards then you would have been raised alongside him, right? He wasn’t that much older than you.”

Hunith raised an eyebrow. She looked eerily like Gaius for a moment. “Firstly,” she began and Arthur looked around for some place to sit. He had never had a mother, but he had once had a Morgana, and anything that began with ‘firstly’ required sitting.

“You clearly understand very little of nobility, little bird,” Hunith continued as Arthur spotted a barrel near the merchant cart. Merlin smiled at that last part and Arthur wondered if it was a nickname she had used before. “I was fifteen when the king took us in. We were wards, but that doesn’t mean guardian, necessarily. We just had… his protection. His love.” She grimaced at the last part. Like she had been told this many times and still wasn’t too fond of having the king’s love.

“The king was like… a friend of Gaius’s.” She shrugged. “But Constantine didn’t look too fondly upon us given we were of common birth.” The smell of something sweet filled the air and Arthur glanced over to see a bakery not too far. He wondered if the pies were made with magic too.

“The Pendragon family stayed far from us. My only real friend at court was when Gorlois visited,” Hunith mused thoughtfully. Then shrugged. “It was lonely. People came and went but it was my brother’s brains they wished for. I was just… in the shadows. My opportunity in Camelot was to marry into a noble family and solidify our station.” She wrinkled her nose. “And perhaps a peasant life isn’t as glamorous as I act it will be, little bird. But I believe I have the strength to handle the hardship. To make a life beyond luxury and comforts and ease. I can find more outside walls of political games and pleasing lords.”

Did she? Hunith certainly had seemed content the few times their paths had crossed. Despite it all, Arthur hoped she enjoyed her life in Ealdor… and would continue to do so in their time and beyond.

“Why are you two here?” Hunith finally asked, eyes flicking between the two of them. “Are you joining the festival?”

Of course, there was a festival. Arthur supposed it was best to celebrate when your city was most protected. How had his father destroyed this place? It seemed impossible standing in the center of it. And clearly, Uther had done such a good job that it became nothing more than a whisper in their time.

“No, we’re looking for a sorceress,” Arthur said, glancing at Merlin, who nodded. “Her name is Nimueh. We were told she was here…?”

“So… you are here for the festival?” Hunith asked. When Arthur and Merlin just looked at her, she frowned. “Nimueh is a priestess to the council.”

“Oh,” Merlin said. “Right, of course.”

“Absolutely,” Arthur agreed. “That makes sense.”

They both stood there.

“What’s the council?” Merlin asked. Arthur snapped his fingers and pointed at Merlin in agreement.

Hunith gave them each a concerned look. “The… council of dragonlords who rule this kingdom?” she asked, looking vaguely concerned. “Huh. Maybe I don’t want to live a peasant life if they are as uninformed as you,” she said. “Do you know what we were talking about when I called Aurelius a king?”

“Yes, we know what a king is.”

“Well, I assumed you knew what the council was and look where we are now,” Hunith grumbled. She dusted off her dress, giving them a wary sigh - as if this conversation had somehow exhausted her beyond compare. “Well, come hither then. I’ll take you to the festival as long as you promise me one thing,” she said, voice turning very serious.

Merlin nodded. “Anything,” he told her and Hunith closed her eyes, taking a very deep breath.

“You, nor anyone else here, may fall in love with me,” she said stoically.

Arthur had to turn to keep from laughing in her face. When he looked back, Merlin just met her gaze with a look of exasperation that tended to be reserved just for Arthur.

“I… will resist the temptation,” he told his mother dryly. Hunith gave a solemn nod and turned to lead them down the cobbled path.

Chapter Text

Asking questions continued to be a pain point in Merlin’s life no matter what time he ended up in.

Before it was, Merlin, don’t ask any questions about magic because it’s illegal! You should be ignorant. Asking questions puts you on everyone’s radar! Bad!

Now? It was Merlin, don’t ask questions about magic because you should already know! You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you’re ignorant. Asking questions puts you on everyone’s radar! Bad!

It was a miracle he learned literally anything, ever.

If he were to ask a question (which he wouldn’t dare given his mother’s reactions to their previous inquiries), he might ask what this festival even was. Were they celebrating something? The solstice maybe? A holiday? Something else entirely?

As they entered the center of the city, Merlin began to suspect it was some sort of cultural event. He thought to the books Gaius had snuck him on the Old Religion, trying to decide what this was. The town square was decorated in bright colors, with people dressed in costumes, all covering their faces in various masks.

Hunith led them over to a building where people were darting in and out, talking loudly over one another and trying on various pieces of clothing. “What do you want to be?” she asked, picking up a few different masks to examine them. Arthur leaned over Merlin’s shoulder to get a better look.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to a mask with a red ribbon on the back. Hunith picked it up to reveal the left half was a stunning gold, red jewels embedded across the top while the right half resembled a skull with the same jewels over the top, like a rubied crown.

“It’s the Once and Future King mask,” she said, handing it to Arthur. At that, both Merlin and Arthur stiffened. Suddenly, the mask seemed a bit creepier than he wanted. “Is that who you want to be?”

Arthur looked down at the mask with a grimace. “Depends on the day,” he muttered.

“Here,” Hunith said, handing two masks to Merlin. “Pick which you want.”

Merlin looked down to see the first mask was red with black horns curling from the sides. The second was a dragon face, doused in glittering white scales with golden outlines.

“I’ll take this one,” he said, deciding on the one with the horns. Mainly because he didn’t want a mask that hit too close to home like Arthur’s did.

“The cambion?” Hunith asked, glancing over at him.

“Uh, yes?” Merlin asked, suddenly uncertain. Hunith gave him a curious look and took the dragon mask from him.

“How do you know about the Once and Future King?” Arthur asked because he had never been scolded for asking questions. Even here, he never seemed too bothered to care about what he should and should not know. Possibly because nobody had ever yelled at him for asking.

Hunith gave him a look. “If you want people to stop knowing about the Once and Future King, you’d have to kill everyone here,” she snorted. At Arthur’s blank stare, she raised an eyebrow. “It’s a famous prophecy,” she said. Arthur continued staring. “I mean, if you believe in prophecies, I guess.”

“Do you?” Merlin couldn’t help but ask.

It was strange… having these conversations with his mother. As a child, he had been told to limit his questions too. It was too dangerous to learn. Too dangerous to speak out loud in a village where there was no privacy.

“Maybe,” Hunith mused. “I’m not sure about this one. A king who can save both the past and the future seems far-fetched to me. What do you think?”

Arthur tied the mask over his face. It covered his eyes and nose, leaving his mouth exposed. “I’m not a big believer of prophecies myself,” he said, giving Merlin a side-eye. “And I find the people who do can be irritating about them.”

Merlin turned to Hunith. “He prefers to be irritating about other things,” he told her.

A ghost of a smile touched Hunith’s lips as she handed them each a jacket to go with their new masks. Arthur’s looked like something he actually might wear during a feast or to impress a visiting nobleman. Velvet with gold buttons. Merlin’s was more of a cloak with black trim.

“Do you believe in your prophecy?” Hunith asked.

Merlin froze at that, a thousand questions rushing through his mind. “What-?” he began trying not to stutter over his words. “I don’t have a prophecy.”

Hunith gave him a baffled look. “Your mask,” she said, tapping one of the horns. “The prophecy you’re dressing up as?”

Oh. Okay. So each mask was a prophecy. Interesting.

“Right,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I actually don’t know this one too well.” He went to put on the mask, tightening the silk straps around his head.

“Ah, I see,” Hunith said, which was a relief. She didn’t look too outraged that he didn’t know this. “I guess it’s one of the less popular ones. Apparently, a woman is supposed to have a baby with this sex demon and the baby is one of the most powerful beings in the world. A cambion,” she said, gesturing to Merlin.

“Oh… lovely,” he said as Hunith put on her own mask. She tucked the wayward strings into the bun of her hair, glancing at a mirror in the corner to make sure it was straight. “What’s your prophecy?” he asked.

Hunith pulled on a white cloak, lifting the hood of it over so just her mask was visible. “The two dragons under the castle,” she said and gestured them over. “Come on. The festival is this way.”

“Don’t we pay?” Arthur asked, patting his pockets as if he had kept gold in his armor before battling the Saxons.

Hunith snorted. “No,” she said. “We give these back when we’re done so people can use them next year. Right now, we wear the robes of a hundred lives before us,” she said and pulled Merlin over. Arthur kept close, helping them push through the wades of people.

“This council,” Arthur began when they got out of the shop. Merlin hit his arm to shut him up, but Arthur only hit him back. “There’s no king? No rulers? Just the council?”

“When Gaius is free I'll ask him to appeal to our new ruler to make more schools," Hunith mused, as if she had just proclaimed an unfaltering kindness over just calling Arthur an idiot. "But, yes, just the council,” she confirmed with a shrug. “A representative from four of the oldest dragonlord families serves on the council. They hold the festival each year to celebrate all the prophecies ever given.”

Clapping sounded as people danced in the town square, one man juggling while a girl played the lute. Several sidhe sped overhead, which made Merlin tense, but for once they didn’t seem to be causing trouble.

“The cambion!” someone cried and tugged at Merlin’s arm. “That’s my favorite prophecy.” A girl stood in front of him, eyes bright from underneath a mask made to look like fake fire. “I think that means we have to dance,” she said, twirling a piece of hair around her finger.

“Oh,” Merlin began, trying to decide if this was customary or if he was being flirted with.

Not that he had a chance with Arthur appearing by his side at an impressive speed. “No time dancing, Merlin,” he said, cheerfully. “We have work to do - or have you forgotten?”

“I-”

“Work?” the girl interrupted, and Arthur smiled back. “This is a festival!” she laughed.

“That it is,” Arthur agreed, pulling Merlin away. “Go have fun!” He steered Merlin away through the crowd off toward where a long, wooden table stood, filled with food. The lightness to his tone dropped a second later. “We have to find Nimueh, remember?” he asked as if Merlin had spent hours with that girl when all he had gotten to say was ‘oh’.

“I remember,” Merlin grumbled. “She just- are you serious?” he asked, as Arthur’s mask fell. “You can’t tie a mask in place?” Arthur frowned, trying to right it on his face. Merlin watched him struggle for a few seconds before turning him around.

“Why didn’t you do this the first time?”

“I’m sorry that I trusted you to tie a knot,” Merlin said, securing it in place.

“How is it you have magic but you still cannot be bothered to do your job?”

“Am I still your servant?” Merlin asked, genuinely surprised as he tapped Arthur’s back to let him know he was done. Arthur glanced back at him. “I kind of figured after… you know, everything, I was sacked.”

“Did I say you were sacked?”

“No…”

“Then I guess you’re not sacked,” Arthur informed him gravely, clapping the side of his arm. “How am I supposed to make your life insufferable otherwise?” He gave a bright smile and brushed past him to where Hunith was shaking her finger at some man who attempted to talk to her.

Running a hand over his face, Merlin followed. From the castle above, five figures walked out onto the balcony and the crowd cheered. The council. Merlin looked up, watching as four men all waved, each wearing costumes of their own. Off to the side stood a woman.

Nimueh.

She looked exactly how he remembered her. Merlin couldn’t even guess how old she truly was given how her age never seemed to change. Still, there were differences. Startling differences, actually. Her face was free of a mask, hair worn into an intricate crown of braids around her head, held up by a simple, silver circlet. She wasn’t in the tattered, red dress he had come to know her in, but instead, a dark blue gown that seemed like something Morgana would wear. Most startling, though was the laughter. Her head tilted back, eyes bright, hands clapping together.

She looked… happy. Truly, utterly happy.

Something about it felt earth-shattering.

It was like realizing the piece of glass you had once sliced your hand on had once been a sculpture. He knew without a second thought that this Nimueh had never killed anyone. That if he spoke to her, she would explain her strange allegiance to Constantine easily. That she could explain Vivienne.

This version of Nimueh was somehow equal to what he had been when he first entered Camelot.

“Is that her?” Arthur asked, and Merlin absently nodded. “So we need to get into the castle-”

“Wait,” Merlin said, jutting out his hand to stop Arthur from moving. He kept staring. Arthur looked at where Merlin’s hand was curled into his sleeve to where he was staring at Nimueh.

“Were…you…?” he began, eyes flicking between the two of them.

Merlin’s gaze broke away, unsure of what he was asking. “Were we what?” Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Oh. No. Definitely not.”

Arthur let out a breath. “That’s a relief. She is way too old for you.”

“She also tried to murder you,” Merlin added, glancing to where Hunith was tapping her foot from a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest as she waited for them to spot her.

Arthur followed his gaze and pulled him through the crowd again. A few people were playing a game, tossing a ball around near the front entrance of the castle. Guards stood nearby, watching with amusement until they saw Hunith.

“We’d like an audience with the council on this sacred day,” she said when the guards straightened up.

Merlin fully expected laughter - or for them to just be sent away - but surprisingly the guards moved aside.

“Only five minutes,” one of them said. “Many people wish to meet them today.”

Okay… so, new note: apparently during festivals, commoners could request to see the council. Fascinating. Arthur also seemed baffled as they walked over a wooden bridge that led them through a small moat Merlin hadn’t noticed.

They entered the castle.

“Do you come to Ladon often?” Merlin asked, unable to help himself. His mother had never once mentioned this place. Nobody had, really. It seemed like an impossible thing not to mention now that he was here. He supposed after the Purge it would seem like a forbidden word to use in a place like Camelot, but Merlin just couldn’t wrap his head around the absence of a place like this.

“Not particularly,” Hunith admitted. She looked back at Merlin with the utmost suspicion. “This might only be my third time. Why do you wish to know? My history is of no importance.”

“I was just curious-”

“Don’t be curious about me,” his mother said. Merlin couldn’t decide if her stubborn belief that everyone was out to fall in love with her was funny or exasperating. It did stir a vague memory of being young, playing in a pile of hay in Ealdor where he overheard two men talking.

“She has a kid!” one had said. “So it must not be impossible to win her favor.”

“Perhaps the father still holds her heart,” the other man suggested, and Merlin kept very still as he listened, wondering if the reason his mother had never found a husband was because she was still taken with Merlin’s mysterious father.

He had built it up in his head, admittedly. It was fun to imagine his parents’ epic love story filled with lifelong yearning and an eventual reconciliation. Merlin wondered now exactly how many times Hunith and Balinor’s paths had almost crossed. They always seemed to be just shy of missing one another. Aligned with opposing sides that blocked their view of the other person.

Large doors squeaked open and Merlin felt a stab of awe at the interior of the castle. Plants crawled up stone walls, flowers blooming with lights floating overhead like small stars. He turned to look at Arthur, curious to see if he’d find wonder or repulse on his face.

But it was neither. Arthur wasn’t looking at the castle. He was looking at Merlin.

“What?” he whispered, falling back a little as Hunith led them down the path. For having only been in Ladon three times, she seemed to know exactly what to do and where to do. Maybe the stories of Ladon were enough to direct her. Maybe it was strange that Arthur and Merlin didn’t know where to go.

Arthur reached out, lightly grabbing one of the horns on Merlin’s mask to tilt his head down. “You have light in your hair,” he said.

Before Merlin could ask what the hell that meant, Arthur pulled his hand away, bits of the stars from the ceiling falling to the ground.

“Oh,” Merlin said and Hunith once again cleared her throat from where she was walking up a spiral staircase. “We’re coming!” he added to her.

“Why do I do nice things for people?” Hunith asked herself as she climbed the stairs. “I give away my labor for what? It certainly doesn’t grow into fruits or any other crop. Only blank stares and pitiful men,” she sighed.

Arthur leaned forward, breath hot against his neck. “Was she like this when you were growing up?” he asked, and Merlin shook his head.

“Mainly she just told me how much she loved me and got on me for getting into trouble,” he said, realizing just how lucky he was to have this woman to dote on him so freely. Clearly, it wasn’t something she gave to many. He tried to remember if his mother had spoken with this level of theatricality to anyone else in Ealdor. “Farmers must be treated with more respect than the noble population in her eyes,” he said, wondering suddenly if he had subconsciously picked that up from her. Arthur gave a low hmph - probably thinking the same thing.

When they reached the top of the staircase, it was to find the four men from the balcony all feasting on a wooden table. Upon their entrance, they all cheered.

“Well, hello!” one of the men greeted merrily, raising a glass. “More visitors for this fine celebration. Welcome, welcome.” He waved his hand and the table lengthened even further, three new seats appearing. “Did the guards tell you only five minutes? We’ll give you fifteen since there are three of you,” he said, giving a small wink.

Not knowing how to respond, Merlin sat down. The four men looked something like caricatures from a story rather than any sort of real rulers. They each wore cloaks of different animal pelts - a mismatched group somehow all from the same painting.

“I am Vortiporius,” the first man greeted, shifting his leopard-spotted pelt around his shoulders. Merlin definitely wouldn’t remember that but nodded anyway. “And, of course, you probably recognize Maglocune.” He nodded to a man wearing glittering dragon scales. “Cynlas.” He gestured to a man with a bear pelt, the head of the bear covering his head like a hood. “And Conaan!” He clapped a hand on the man with a lion’s pelt next to him with a booming laugh.

Hunith nodded to each of them. “My father was also named Conaan,” she noted, which pulled Merlin’s gaze away from his search for Nimueh. Merlin had never heard about his grandparents before. He had actually never thought to ask. His mother spoke so little of her childhood that he thought she probably had never even known them. That perhaps she came into the world and only Gaius was there by her side. “He was a sailor.”

“A noble job,” the other Conaan said, pointing at her. “And a good name. Did you know him well?”

Hunith shook her head. “He took my brother with him at sea for months at a time. I stayed with my mother. My brother got smarter and I got wiser. Then they brought us to Camelot to start a new life and died.”

She said this so matter-of-factly. And perhaps it was, but Merlin couldn’t imagine the devastation. He had been heartbroken after a few days of knowing his father and watching him die. He killed to keep his mother safe from harm. The idea that Hunith could speak of her parents' deaths with such casualness made him want to hug her profusely. Not that she would allow that at this point in her life.

“A fate that awaits us all,” one of the men said. Merlin had honestly lost track of their names immediately. “And what can we prophesize for you?”

Oh. Okay. So this was a holiday where everyone dressed up as famous prophecies and then came to their leaders to receive their own. It was coming together. But he had more questions. Questions he shouldn’t ask, so he sat there for a moment, trying to think of how to string answers together through commentary alone. Arthur opened his mouth.

“Could we hear your favorite prophecies first?” he blurted out before Arthur could ask anything he shouldn’t. The men all turned to him. “Before receiving ours, I mean. I just wonder if there are any that have made an impact on such esteemed men as yourself.”

At the word esteemed Arthur gave him a disgusted look, but each of the councilors looked downright tickled to be asked.

“Ooh,” one of them said and popped a berry in his mouth. “What a question, what a question. How I wish I had an eye for the future,” he said. “Instead of interpreting what dear Nimueh sees.”

“And how I wish I could ride a dragon,” Nimueh’s voice came, entering the room with a swish of her dress. “Instead of giving you pieces of a puzzle to solve.”

Merlin’s heartbeat raced. A velvet curtain moved, revealing an entryway to a hallway that Nimueh slipped through, joining them with bright eyes. Merlin quickly did some calculations in his head. Okay. The dragonlords couldn’t see the future. Nimueh could. They just heard what she saw and made it into a story.

Was this how the druids did it too? Or were there different cultures even among magic users? There must be. No druid would be caught in such a frivolous castle. Besides, there was a reason they still existed while Ladon vanished. One was a bigger target.

“My favorite prophecy was the one we gave young Pelleas,” the lion-pelted man (that was Conaan, right?) said. Nimueh grinned. At their silent confusion, Conaan gave a fake whisper. “Our Lady Nimueh here was recently married to Pelleas.”

….she was married? Merlin had no idea how to process that. He didn’t want to process that. He didn’t like thinking about the family of someone he would one day kill. He didn’t like watching Nimueh flush at her husband’s name, holding a golden ring he had never once seen her wear close to her chest.

“What was the prophecy?” Arthur asked and the table cheered.

“That Pelleas would marry the most beautiful jewel in the land,” the dragon-clad man roared. Nimueh fondly rolled her eyes as she put a bowl of water on the table. “And he would one day rise to greatness. What is it you saw, dear one?” he asked.

Nimueh poured some powder into the bowl, mixing it in as she answered. “I saw a beast. It had the head of a dragon, the body of a leopard, the haunches of a lion, and the feet of a hart.”

Arthur and Merlin both exchanged glances. That sounded… familiar. Very familiar, actually.

“The Questing Beast?” Arthur asked, and Merlin wanted to throttle him.

“The what?” the leopard-clad man asked. “A fine name, actually. I enjoy that.” He raised a glass and Merlin kicked Arthur under the table. “For are we not all men of fine quests?” he asked.

At that, the bear-clad man pursed his lips, giving the others a cold look. Nobody seemed to notice.

“And this prophecy meant what exactly?” Merlin asked. Arthur kicked him under the table. Probably to just get back at him, but Merlin’s question wasn’t as stupid.

“I saw the silhouette of a bear that lay with his sister,” Nimueh explained with a shrug. As if that was a totally normal thing to see in a vision. “And when he turned, a hart was there. The hart ran to a leopard, lion, and dragon to tell them of this tale, but the bear roared so loudly that they became a terrible beast, melded together.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, but nobody seemed that concerned.

“The interpretation is obvious,” the leopard-man said with a chortle. “Nimueh’s dear Pelleas comes from the sigil of the hart. It looks as if after Cynlas here decides to leave the council to care for his family, Pelleas will take his seat.”

The bear-clad man - Cynlas - gave a dry smile in return. Merlin really wasn’t sure that was the correct interpretation of that, considering the Questing Beast was an actual animal in their time. He picked at his hands under the table, trying to make sense of the vision these men so wrongly translated.

“Do you have a sister?” Arthur asked Cynlas, which Merlin thought was a dangerous question to ask.

“I do not,” Cynlas said. Oh. Okay, then. It was fine. “My wife does, however. A sweet woman.”

Andddddd they were back to ‘oh no’ territory. Merlin kicked Arthur under the table again. They didn’t need to potentially expose that Cynlas was probably sleeping with his sister-in-law and that he would turn the entire council and Nimueh’s husband into a ravenous beast when they found out.

“But as for your prophecies,” Nimueh continued, looking into the water. “Is there anything you’d like to ask?”

Right. This was their chance to-

“Who will win the throne for Camelot?” Arthur asked.

Everybody froze. But Merlin didn’t kick Arthur under the table this time. It was the right question to ask.

Nimueh looked up, frowning. “What does that have to do with you?” she asked, brows furrowing together. Her eyes roamed over Arthur’s face and a brief flicker of recognition touched her gaze. Maybe she had seen Arthur in a vision once too.

“Perhaps I wish to know what side I should support,” Arthur told her evenly. “I do hear there is good land there and would like to curry some favor with the rightful king.”

A nervous chuckle went over the table and Nimueh nodded very slowly.

“Do you and your husband have a preference on who will win this war, my lady?” Merlin asked her, jumping in where Arthur had left off.

Nimueh pursed her lips. “I-” she began and then patted her face to cool the flush of her cheeks. “I cannot say the politics of another kingdom intrigue me,” she said, stirring the water. “But I do hope Constantine stays safe during this tumultuous time.”

Everyone gave a low hum at that, leaving Merlin utterly bewildered.

“Is Constantine a favorite of Ladon?” he asked, unsure if he could take the potential chance that Uther’s own father somehow was associated with a magical kingdom.

Nimueh only smiled weakly. “No,” she said softly. “Just a favorite of mine.”

“And… Uther?” Arthur asked, clearly confused by this one-person fondness.

Nimueh’s smile disappeared. “What of him?”

What the hell was going on?

Merlin didn’t know how to break this down, so he just kept silent as Nimueh looked into the water for their prophecy. He couldn’t figure out why Nimueh would hold a fondness for Constantine and not Uther. Enough so that she was deliberately helping Constantine complete mad war plans that went against his son’s.

She couldn’t be in love with him. She loved her own husband, it seemed. So what? Were they related? Had he saved her life? Constantine didn’t care for peasants, according to his mother, so what was this strange connection?

“I see…” Nimueh began. “A wooden dragon.”

Nobody spoke. From outside, more music came, alongside someone laughing loudly.

“It’s on fire,” she murmured. “But it isn’t burning.” Nimueh touched the center of the bowl so that a ripple went through the water. “It’s at the bottom of a lake now,” she mused, tilting her head. “Still on fire. Still not burning. Just… there.” She looked up at the council expectantly.

“Um,” lion-man said, frowning a bit. “A dragon would mean the Pendragons prevail, no?”

“Why is it burning in the middle of a lake?” bear-man asked, scratching his chin. “And why is this dragon wood?”

“I’d say that the Pendragons win but ultimately their reign will one day end,” dragon-man shrugged. A murmur of agreement came over the group.

“Or the houses unite,” Merlin said. Everyone turned to him. It felt a bit like cheating - given how he knew what was going to happen. But he needed to get Nimueh alone and suddenly had an idea on how to do it. “May I?”

Nimueh blinked a few times, glancing at the council before slowly getting out of her seat. She gestured Merlin to sit, eyes alight with interest. Merlin ignored Arthur’s gaze digging into him to instead look at where his mother was staring at the window, not even paying attention to the discussion at hand.

“Are you a prophet?” the lion-man asked.

“I have magic,” Merlin answered as he sat in Nimueh’s seat, glancing down. His own reflection looked back at him. It felt strange for there to be no reaction to his declaration of magic. To these people, it was just a fact. Another person who could wield magic. If they knew exactly how well that might be a different story, but for now, his abilities remained uninteresting. “I see a marriage,” he began. A murmur went over the table. “Water and fire together… Dragons and wood… What does de Bois mean?” he asked, knowing Arthur would have the answer.

And sure enough, Arthur gave him a look that practically screamed, you are laying it on too thick. But everyone else remained silent, locked onto Merlin’s words.

“Of the woods,” Arthur finally answered.

Merlin hummed, squeezing his eyes shut. At the very least, he’d have some fun with this. “Yes… yes, I see… the uniting of two houses. A woman of fire and a man of water. Their child…” He squeezed his eyes shut tighter. “Their child will be a great king… A good man…” And because Merlin couldn't help himself, added, “and a bit annoying.” Another whisper went around the table.

“...I would like a turn after this,” Arthur’s voice said dryly but was shushed.

“He’s loud and arrogant and… “ Merlin paused, remembering Arthur wasn’t his only audience. “Kind. Fair. Just.” His eyes flickered back open. “The wooden dragon is the Once and Future King.”

This was a calculated risk. He knew this in part because of Arthur’s look of pure horror when he opened his eyes. He also knew this based on the heavy silence of the room. Ladon was now invested in Camelot’s war in a way they were not before.

“Christ,” leopard-man muttered. “My boy, have you been trained?”

Merlin shook his head. A half-lie, half-truth. He wondered what Tristan’s coin would think of that.

“You must be,” bear-man decided, which was exactly what Merlin had hoped to hear. “Yes. Yes, Nimueh. You must train this boy. If what he says is true - if he is truly a prophet…” The table all stared at Merlin.

Innocently, Merlin looked up at where Nimueh was looking at him, face unreadable.

“Would you train me?” he asked, and her eyes narrowed. Perhaps she knew this was all a ploy for Merlin to get her alone and figure out what the hell was going on with Constantine. Perhaps she saw glimpses of Merlin in the future too. Maybe she just thought he was after her job. Whatever the reason, it was clear she didn’t trust him.

And she shouldn’t. Merlin’s goals had never strayed since entering Camelot - and they wouldn’t stray now.

“I would be honored,” Nimueh said, and Merlin gave a bright smile. She looked at the dragonlords, all sat at the table to stare at Merlin in pure wonder. “I must read other prophecies for the day, but would you stay in this castle for the night? We may assess your skills then.” Her eyes flicked to Hunith and Arthur. “Your companions may also stay.”

Hunith opened her mouth, looking very much like she wanted to argue being brought into this, but Merlin was already accepting on everyone’s behalf, thanking them all profusely. He stood, and one of the guards opened the curtain Nimueh had entered the room from.

“The Once and Future King,” dragon-man whispered as they shuffled into a new hall. “Do you really think it could be the child of this war?”

A scoff sounded as the curtain closed. “That would require Uther Pendragon and Ygraine de Bois to agree to such a match,” one of the dragonlords said. “And if we must rely on that then surely we are all doomed."

Chapter Text

Arthur had seen men return from war in better spirits than Hunith currently was.

“I cannot believe you kidnapped me,” she said, sniffling behind her mask.

“We did not kidnap you,” Merlin said, possibly for the hundredth time. “Are you not excited to stay in a magical castle?”

And even Arthur knew better than to say that to a woman who had made her opinion on nobility life very clear.

“I can’t believe you want me dead,” she hissed, collapsing onto the floor.

It made Arthur wonder what kind of toddler Merlin had been. If he was the type of child to fling himself onto the ground at any minor convenience or if he was someone who kicked and screamed. Maybe his temper tantrums came in little bursts of magical fits, which probably left poor Hunith utterly terrified.

Merlin, who always seemed to toe the line between unwavering patience and being over nonsense, stepped over his mother and took off his mask to look around their rooms. Rooms as in multiple because the castle seemed ready to accommodate them, connecting three identical chambers that magically filled with supplies each perfectly suited to them. Arthur’s had his favorite meal waiting for him along with a bed that looked and felt eerily like his own back home. The colors were doused in red, and a large bath that somehow was built into the ground at the perfect temperature was steaming in the corner.

Merlin’s room, which they were currently situated in, was filled with books. An entire wall of bookcases made up a library with a plush chair in the corner. A bowl of fruit smothered in honey sat near the window and clean clothes lay over a bed that also looked like Arthur’s.

“We should get some rest,” Arthur decided. Yes, they still needed to question Nimueh, but Arthur had also slept on a floor last night and spent the better half of the day arguing with Merlin. He needed to sleep.

Hunith rolled over, refusing to stand as she practically crawled to the door leading into her room. Merlin watched her for a few minutes as she just gave up when she reached the door. Wordlessly, he walked over and opened it for her. Hunith continued rolling into the room, which looked incredibly empty compared to theirs. When she entered, Merlin shut it.

“She is so strange,” Arthur decided. He thought Merlin might take offense to that, but even he couldn’t seem to find an argument to defend his mother and just shrugged. “Do you…” Arthur began and hesitated. “We should talk,” he went with.

Merlin looked at the bed longingly. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “Maybe we multitask.” He brushed past Arthur, walking into the adjoining room. Arthur followed, trying to figure out what they were doing as Merlin opened a wardrobe to see various clothes in Arthur’s size.

Then he circled back around, looking at Arthur expectantly.

…what? Oh!

He raised his hands and Merlin pulled his shirt off. The familiarity of the process was a little relaxing. They fell into old patterns. Merlin undressing him, tending to the room in the chaotic way he did while Arthur let himself stew in his thoughts.

“So,” Merlin began as Arthur stepped into the bath. “What do you think of Ladon?”

Arthur settled into the water, the heat easing the knots from the day's adventures. He breathed in deeply, letting the steam rush through his nose into his throat. The tub was twice as large as Arthur's back home - maybe even three times. He was able to let his feet stretch out in front of him, head against the stone floor. He once heard Romans would build large baths into their floors. Was this how they looked?

“Beautiful,” he admitted, closing his eyes. “I admit it sometimes feels like a trap. I keep thinking it’s lulling me into a false sense of security.”

Merlin hummed. “Do you want to wash your hair?” he asked. Yes. That sounded amazing. Arthur didn’t even need to respond before he heard Merlin rustling.

“I should apologize,” he said suddenly. Merlin’s footsteps faltered. “About… earlier. When we were with Balinor.”

“Admitting you were a clotpole already?” Merlin answered and there was some grumbling as he heard the click of shoes behind him. “This is a ridiculous bath. Are you seriously going to make me sit down to wash your hair?”

“You’re still my servant, aren’t you?” Arthur asked sweetly, letting his eyes flutter open. Merlin stood above him, looking down with annoyance.

“Unfortunately,” Merlin said and sat cross-legged on the ground behind him. The clanking of bottles came and Arthur waited for him to speak again. “I probably also owe you an apology... Not that you ever gave yours,” he added under his breath.

He was such a petty thing.

“I apologize,” Arthur threw back snarkily. Merlin reached in to lightly splash some water on his face. “It will take time for me to get used to this,” he admitted. Because it would. His fingers still twitched whenever he thought of Merlin’s eyes turning gold. His stomach twisted when he saw how easily Merlin fit into Ladon. How much he looked like he should have always been here and not in Camelot. Merlin’s fingers went through his hair and Arthur reached up to grab his wrist. “I do need you to…” he trailed off, not sure what the right words were. “I need to be true to myself,” he went with. “I have heeded your advice as a servant and I will heed it as a sorcerer, but Merlin, you must swear to me-”

“I won’t force you into accepting magic.”

Arthur turned around so his chin was near the edge of the tub and Merlin no longer appeared upside down.

“I’m not worried about that,” he said. Merlin looked away. “I’m worried you will turn into my father.”

At that, Merlin’s eyes snapped back to him.

“Excuse me?”

Arthur smiled a little. He knew that would get his attention.

“I’ve always admired your loyalty,” Arthur said, and Merlin’s eyes narrowed. “And I will accept that you will insist on dying for me whenever the opportunity arises, but… I do have concerns about the lengths you are perhaps willing to go to ensure my livelihood. Lengths that perhaps cost more than what my life is worth.”

Merlin didn’t answer. Arthur knew if he did answer it would be to argue. This was his way of trying to be agreeable.

“My father agreed to use magic to ensure my life. It cost my mother, and in doing so, many lives were lost. My mere existence was founded upon bloodshed. I don’t wish for that to continue to be the price of my life.”

“What your father did to ensure you were born is not your fault - neither were his decisions afterward.”

“No,” Arthur amended. “But what you do to ensure my life… and what might happen if you fail…” Arthur waited until Merlin met his eyes to finish. “I do believe I have some sway in that.”

“You think I would go on a genocidal rampage?”

“I think you’re haunted by enough decisions you had to make to keep me alive. I’d rather there not be more,” Arthur said gently. “That is all.” And then he splashed Merlin. “Your turn.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, gesturing for Arthur to go under the water. He ducked down, letting his hair dampen before popping back up and putting the back of his head back up against the ledge.

“I’m sorry I’ve been…” Merlin paused. “Overbearing.”

“Insufferably so.”

“I didn’t interrupt your apology,” Merlin groused. Arthur mimed shutting his lips. “When I came to Camelot, I was told you would be who would bring Albion. Free my people. Free me.” Something warm touched Arthur’s scalp. It wasn’t the normal concoction of grounded plants and ash that he used, but something smooth and tingly. Magic, probably. The thought should stress him out, but he was too locked in on Merlin’s words to pay it much mind. “And at some point, I just decided to use you as the solution to everything. If I kept you alive then I had absolutely nothing else to worry about. I didn’t have to think about the consequences of my actions as time went on because you would fix everything.” Merlin’s fingers scratched back and forth. Instinctively, Arthur curled into the touch. “I mean, it wasn’t everything. I did some things outside of you, but ultimately… I worry that I didn’t do everything I could for my people simply because I wanted to put that on you instead. And it made me… a bit irrational when it came to protecting you. It makes me irrational now. Sometimes. But,” Merlin lightly tugged his hair. “It would make me feel better to know you also want to live.”

“Well, I don’t want to die.”

“That’s not the same thing, Arthur,” Merlin sighed and signaled for him to dunk his hair again. When Arthur emerged again, he continued. “You seem willing to die for just about anything with no concern about what you’d leave behind.”

“To protect-”

“No,” Merlin said and pointed a finger at Arthur’s face. A drop of water dripped from his hand, landing on Arthur’s nose. “You don’t even have an heir. Say you are dead in our time. You’ve just left Gwen to rule alone. And what about after her? More war as everyone scrambles for your land? Is that not what is happening here?” he asked. Arthur snapped his mouth shut.

Guinevere. He had desperately avoided thinking about her for more than a few moments at a time since arriving here. Strangely enough, it seemed almost easy to push her from his mind these past few days. With all the revelations and constant change of scenery, well... it was easy to pretend he didn't leave her in their time. Alone.

And Arthur wasn't even ready to dissect his poor performance as a husband these past few days. Nor the nasty taste it left in his mouth when he remembered a conversation she had with him only mere weeks ago.

"If there was another," she had said, watching Arthur with knowing eyes. "I would understand. Some people are easier to love in the shadows than in the light of day. Sometimes we confuse the types of love we have, mistaking them for one thing when they are actually another."

And Arthur had stared at her in offense. Hurt. Betrayed, even. Did she think Arthur's love for her was untrue? Ungallant? That he mucked about falling in love with someone else on a whim? And to imply he didn't even know?

It was insulting. But now that he sat in this tub, realizing all his attention and effort had been stuck on something - someone - else these days... He wondered. He worried. And he wasn't sure when Merlin's touch began to feel like a necessary part of the world, but he was suddenly very aware of it. Aware that it was Merlin who held him as he died on the shores of Avalon. Merlin who pressed against his side during hunts. Merlin, always Merlin, in the shadows only a few inches away with a hand outstretched.

And what was he supposed to do with that growing realization?

“Whoever rules after Gwen could be cruel," Merlin continued, his lecture uninterrupted by Arthur's internal ramblings. "Maybe they hate magical creatures. Maybe they hate non-magical creatures. Maybe thousands of people could have been saved if you were king for a few more years, but instead, you seem focused on saving whatever life is in front of you.”

Arthur bit his tongue. “A bit hypocritical of you, don’t you think?” he asked because there was no way Arthur was letting him get away with that.

Merlin closed his eyes and popped open another glass vial. “Probably,” he admitted. “I just need you… I need to trust that if I’m not there, you will at least try to survive.”

“I always try to survive.”

“Put yourself less in harm’s way then.”

“See, this is our issue. I’m not going to hide away in a castle, Merlin.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to just-” Merlin began and then stopped himself, clearly getting frustrated. “This is going to be a difficult balance for us, isn’t it?” he asked, and Arthur grimaced. He had a feeling they would have the same argument multiple times before either one gave in. Both were unfortunately stubborn in their own ways. Neither willing to compromise in their values, which made things difficult when their values so often pointed to protecting the other.

“We’ll figure it out,” Arthur finally said, letting Merlin run some oil over his hair next. “Tell me more about what you’ve done.”

And so Merlin did.

Arthur was pruned by the time he got out of the bath, skin shriveled and head filled with even more tales in no particular order. At one point, he and Merlin tried to parse out what had happened when, but some of it seemed to blur for Merlin, who seemed to have some sort of adventure weekly.

“I’m beginning to suspect you’ve never stepped foot in a tavern,” Arthur said when he collapsed into bed.

Merlin placed a pillow behind his head. “Only when I want to take your money.”

Wait, a minute… “You cheated,” Arthur said, narrowing his eyes. Merlin only gave a coy smile. “When is Nimueh coming to train you?” he yawned, looking out the window. The sun was setting. Arthur might only be able to get an hour of sleep before the festival ended.

“Tomorrow,” Merlin said. Arthur frowned at him. “I sent a note to ask to meet in the morning.” A pause. “Sorry, I… should have asked you before I did that.”

Arthur flicked his eyes over Merlin’s face. “Can you hand me Tristan’s coin?” he asked. Merlin stared at him for a moment before getting up and snatching it from the bedside table. “Are you trying to trick me and sneak off to meet Nimueh by yourself?” he asked when Merlin handed it over.

“What? No!”

Arthur flipped the coin. Heads. “Just checking,” he said and settled into the bed.

Merlin made a noise of disgust. “Prat,” he muttered and left the room, letting the warmth of the room draw him to sleep.

When Arthur woke, he was not in his bed.

He was in a bed. But not the bed he had fallen asleep in. Normally, he might panic in such a state, but at this point, he was primarily confused. Mostly because someone was curled up against him. In a bed that was not his.

And for some ungodly reason, Hunith was looking over at him from across the room.

“Good morning,” she said, taking a swig of some tea. From beside Arthur, the person next to him moved closer, a pressure close against his chest. Hunith gave an approving nod. “I wish you had told me about this earlier.” She gestured to Arthur. “I wouldn’t have been nearly as worried about either of you falling in love with me.”

Arthur pulled back the blanket and blinked at the mess of dark hair asleep against him.

How did this happen?

“I-” he began and looked at where Hunith was stealing some of the fruit from Merlin’s bowl. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he said, glancing up to try to see where the door to his room was. But nothing was there. From beside him, Merlin shifted his arm lazily crossing over Arthur’s chest. “I was in my room. Where is my room?”

Hunith shrugged, popping some berries in her mouth. “I guess the castle decided you didn’t need it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Beg some more,” Hunith grumbled and just took the entire bowl of fruit. At Arthur’s outraged look, she sighed. “It’s a magic castle. It adapts to what we need. Clearly, the magic decided you needed to be in the same bed as your husband.”

For the love of whatever God or gods were out there. Arthur closed his eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks.

“He is not my husband,” he said. “I have a wife.”

Poor Guinevere. She didn't deserve this.

Hunith raised an eyebrow. “Sure. You’re whore then.”

“How dare you,” Arthur snapped back on Merlin’s behalf. It felt ridiculous that he couldn’t quite move or yell with Merlin entangled with him like this. He tried to imagine how the stupid castle even pulled this off. Did it just float Arthur from his bed to Merlin’s? Did he just appear? What gave the castle any right to adjust sleeping arrangements like that? “He’s not a whore-”

“I don’t know what the male equivalent is to mistress,” Hunith said, unbothered by Arthur’s outrage. “Paramour?”

“We’re not sleeping together!”

Hunith silently assessed them both in the bed and took a sip of the tea again. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. “I can see that,” she finally said.

Arthur let his head fall back against his pillow with a frustrated growl. The movement seemed to be the final straw for Merlin, who blearily peered up around them. He paused when he saw Arthur, the sleep in his eyes trying to register what was happening when he noticed he was practically melded to his side. Arthur unceremoniously pushed him away, and then immediately regretted the warmth that left him.

“Hello?” Merlin asked, clearly confused. “Did you… sleep badly?” Hunith snorted and Merlin looked over at her in confusion.

“I was looking for woodworm,” Arthur said since that seemed to be Merlin's favorite excuse for when Arthur woke up to find him in some sort of strange position over his bed. “Get off of me, you girl,” he added, pushing Merlin further from his side of the bed.

“Is your nickname woodworm?” Hunith asked Merlin innocently and Arthur decided that if he ever got back to their own time, he’d find Hunith again and confront her about this abhorrent behavior.

Merlin only sat up, absolutely baffled as he rubbed his eyes. “Has Nimueh come yet?” he asked, stretching. Arthur threw his feet over the side of the bed, looking for a shirt. A wardrobe appeared in the corner of the room, Arthur’s clothes from yesterday cleaned and pressed.

“No,” Hunith said, plodding toward the window to look out over the town square. Arthur followed her gaze, to see that while the festival had certainly died down, there were still some masked figures dancing about, laughing.

“How long does this last?” he asked and threw his shirt at Merlin, who looked at him with a vague contemplation of murder.

“The festival is technically over,” Hunith said. “But people will still dress up for a few more days. They just can’t visit the council anymore.” She seemed to finally accept that Arthur knew literally nothing. Good. He was hoping to wear her down, but Merlin seemed determined to blend in to an extent. At this point, he wasn’t sure why. They had already made their bed. Might as well lie in it.

“When do you need to leave for that new life of yours?” Merlin said, putting Arthur’s shirt over his head. Hunith gave him a pointed look and Arthur decided he would just dress himself for the next few days.

“Whenever you release me from this prison,” Hunith answered solemnly.

“Good to know,” Merlin said, taking the temper in stride. He looked around. “Has anyone seen my boots?” he muttered. Arthur held out his hands. Literally, it was his job to know where things were. He was not helping with this. Merlin turned to his mother, a note of expectancy in his eyes.

“Have you tried looking for it?” she asked.

“I’m trying right now!”

“Clearly not very well,” Hunith said. “Where did you leave them?”

“Uh,” Merlin glanced around the room. “I don’t know. By the bed?”

“They didn’t just get up and walk away,” Hunith told him.

“Well,” Arthur jumped in. “It is a magical castle.”

“Why would magic steal his shoes?” Hunith asked, and a loud knock sounded. Merlin looked at his devastatingly bare feet before sighing and moving to the door. When he opened it, Nimueh was standing there, holding some boots.

“I found these in the kitchens,” she greeted. Merlin turned to give Hunith a very told-you-so stare before accepting the shoes. Without waiting for an invitation, Nimueh swept by Merlin into the room. “I don’t think I ever got your name,” she said, politely spinning around. “Any of yours,” she added as if Hunith and Arthur were an afterthought.

“I’m Adhan,” Hunith volunteered instantly. Arthur didn’t know what the hell that was about, but it also seemed right that Hunith would give strangers a false name to avoid having an actual relationship with them. “And this is Arthur who has a wife. Merlin is the dark-haired boy who is not sleeping with him.”

…..okay. Everyone just stared at Hunith as she smiled and raised her tea.

“Well, I’m going to go put on my costume from yesterday and pretend I can fly out of this castle to somewhere with less annoying people,” she said brightly and stood up. “Cheers!” And with that, she exited to her room.

Nimueh looked between Arthur and Merlin.

“Don’t mind her,” Merlin finally said. He slipped on his shoes, almost falling over as he did so. “Thank you for coming-”

“Have we met before?” Nimueh asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She was studying Merlin with sharp eyes. “You feel… familiar,” she said slowly. “Like a dream I have yet to have.”

Merlin gave a grim smile, expression flickering for a moment before shrugging. “Who’s to say?” was his only response before sitting in one of the chairs that had appeared in the center of the room. Arthur remained standing, not feeling particularly in the mood to rest when everything around him seemed to oscillate between safety and danger.

Nimueh also sat down, crossing her legs as she pressed a finger against her temple. “You have magic,” she began. Merlin nodded. “And visions?”

“Sometimes,” Merlin said. Nimueh’s lips pursed. “I actually had some more questions,” he added, and Nimueh raised her brow. “About Constantine.”

“Why do you need to know about Constantine?”

“Because I know you helped him kidnap Vivienne and I want to understand why.”

At that, Nimueh lowered her hand, resting it on the arm of the chair. “Uther sent you,” she said, lips curling with distaste. She laughed. “I should have known. He gets more creative by the day.”

“We’re his prisoners,” Arthur jumped in to attempt to provide some allegiance to her. “We were actually found at the de Bois camp.”

“Were you?” Nimueh asked. “Fascinating.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I did not kidnap Vivienne. I put her in human form-”

“Which she did not like,” Merlin cut in sternly. Nimueh frowned at that. “They put her in a well.”

“A well?” Nimueh asked, and Merlin held out his hands. “Uther put her in a well?”

“Constantine put her in a well,” Arthur corrected. “We’re a little unclear on the details other than you were somehow involved.”

At that, Nimueh went quiet, a finger coming to her lips. “I…” she began and then shook her head. “Who are you?” she went with, looking at Merlin. “Do you truly have magic?” Merlin nodded. “And your so-called prophecy?”

“What about it?”

“The council asked me to train you,” Nimueh said heatedly. “And now I am supposed to tell them this is a guise for two strangers to do bidding on behalf of their prison warden?” She stood up, taking a few even breaths before pacing the length of the room. “They won’t like being tricked,” she told them darkly.

“It isn’t a trick,” Merlin said and Nimueh stared him down. “It was sort of a trick, but the prophecy I gave was true. Ygraine and Uther’s son would be the Once and Future King if that future comes to pass.”

If. Because everything was an if now. Arthur and Merlin had left footprints on this history, and at this point, they were just praying it somehow worked itself out.

“And,” Arthur jumped in because the least he could do was help his father get Constantine out of the picture. “If Vivienne marries Uther, like Constantine wants her to do, that future will never come to pass.”

“We have a coin,” Merlin added, looking up at Arthur. Oh. Yes. The coin. Arthur brought it out and handed it to him. “It can tell you if we’re lying.”

At that, Nimueh’s brows came together, expression shifting as she looked down silver. Slowly, she picked it up. Arthur braced himself, hoping she would ask a question that they could actually answer. He’d leave it to Merlin to come up with a clever workaround if not.

But Nimueh didn’t ask anything. She just looked at the coin. “This is from Tristan de Bois,” she finally said. Her eyes moved up. “I remember when my father gave this to him.”

Her father. Arthur tried to remember the name Tristan had given him, but Merlin had already stiffened with the realization.

“Your father was the Fisher King?” he asked, and Nimueh gave a wry smile. Wordlessly, she handed the coin back to Arthur and sat down in her velvet chair.

“My name was Elaine back then,” she said, absently tugging at her hair. “The only child of my father. Arguably, the most important magical kingdom at the time. Greater than even Ladon,” she said, and pressed a finger to her lips. “But Ladon is where the best prophets went so when I was old enough, I came here to receive my destiny. I had big ideas. And probably bigger hopes for my importance in the world. Dragons would call me Nimueh, and…” She shrugged. “To hear that there was already a name that creatures of magic whispered about me,” she glanced out the window where an orange dragon soared in the distance. “It’s a terrifying thing. To already be known for something you not yet are.”

Arthur looked down at where Merlin swallowed hard.

“At any rate,” Nimueh continued. “I decided to embrace my destiny and go by Nimueh furthermore. I came into this castle, met with the council, and asked to hear a prophecy. There was a different High Priestess at the time. She sat and read the water, looked in the crystals…” Her voice trailed off.

“Did she see something awful?” Merlin asked. Something about his tone made Arthur think that it was only possible to see awful things in the future. Based on what had heard of Merlin’s experiences so far, that might be the case.

“She saw something wonderful,” Nimueh corrected. “I was to have a child who would be a great hero to my father and kingdom.” She pursed her lips. “A boy,” she murmured and breathed out. “Perhaps you do not understand as men, but… this was everything I could have hoped for. My father did not have a son and here I was to bear the future king of our lands. A protector. Someone my father could pass this legacy down to while I was free to live a long life watching the world around me prosper. I wanted that.” She nodded slowly. “I wanted that very badly.”

Knowing the future made Arthur nervous - but also not knowing these small details. These stitches that made up a larger canvas. It was mind-boggling to see how many strings tied together one piece of history. How things you didn’t know existed could so largely impact everything you know.

Nimueh tucked her hair behind her ears. “I went to my father and asked to be married. He agreed and I met my first husband, but no child came from the match. I told my father I’d like to take a second husband. He agreed.”

“You… could take multiple husbands?” Arthur couldn’t help but ask.

Nimueh shrugged. “When a great child is prophesized, whoever is said to bear the child can have as many husbands or wives as they wish. That has always been the rule of magic.”

Huh. Interesting. Arthur filed that way for later.

“How many husbands did you end up having?”

“Thirteen.”

“Damn,” Arthur said and regretted it the second Nimueh and Merlin turned to give him identical looks of disgruntled annoyance. “Um, congratulations,” he amended.

“Anyway,” Nimueh said, shaking her head. “Eventually, I met Constantine. I had yet to have a child - any child - let alone this son I was promised. I wanted so badly to meet him. I even named the boy. Galahad,” she smiled a little at the name. “But, nothing. So I went to yet another available noble in the kingdom, which was a young Constantine Pendragon, and offered him my hand.”

….oh dear. No, no, no. If Nimueh had relations with Arthur’s grandfather then he might just leave. That simply could not mean anything good. Definitely not. How could-

“He refused me.” Thank God. That was a close one. Arthur let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Luckily, Nimueh didn’t notice. “He… invited me inside, asked about my life, and then called me a coward.” She laughed. “I did not take that well.” Arthur absently turned Tristan’s coin over in his hands as he spoke, ensuring the heads remained steady throughout. “He told me that I had spent my life trying to create something great instead of becoming something great and that was a shame. That I used this promise of a child to shirk my actual duties to my father and kingdom. And then he asked me if I wanted to even become a mother.” Nimueh leaned back in her chair. “Nobody had asked that before. And… I realized I didn’t. I never wanted a child. Maybe if I had then I would have already been someone great for raising a hero, but… if all I was meant to do was deliver this boy from my womb, then…” She gave a meager shrug.

“So you became a High Priestess,” Merlin guessed.

Nimueh’s smile widened. “I divorced each of my husbands with my father’s blessing. I asked him to learn such magic that even he would be dazzled, and so he got me the best teachers in the realm. When I surpassed them, he taught me himself. Eventually, my skill became unparalleled. Now,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “I am so skilled that if I wanted a child, I could most certainly have one if I’m willing to pay the price.” And then she shook her head. “But I am content. I have found a man I truly love to marry. I am happy here. Content. And I owe it all to Constantine, who told me a truth I hadn’t been willing to hear.”

It was an awe inspiring story. Arthur could see Merlin looked at her with a subtle glaze behind his eyes. He wondered what it was like to sit in front of someone whose blood was on your hand - seeing the best of them. Then again, Arthur figured if he really wanted to know, he might just need to look at the window.

“But why help Constantine and not Uther?” Arthur asked. “And surely you understand Constantine is… not as he was.”

Had she not visited him recently? The man was a few marbles short. Surely she must understand that helping him in this war against the de Bois family was not the smartest choice.

But Nimueh only pursed her lips. “I’ve learned the power of prophecy myself,” she said darkly. “And what I’ve seen of Uther’s rule… it is blurred in smoke. I cannot see what he will do, but I’m not sure I’m inclined to find out.” She stood, moving to the window to look outside. “And I do understand Constantine is not what he once was… but I owe him my life. And for that, I will protect him. He asked me for help in this war. I gave it knowing that it would hurt his son’s cause. I enchanted men to follow his orders. Used political sway to have them undermine Uther’s authority, and, yes, I gave him Vivienne. A powerful fairy in human form from the waters of my father’s sacred land to help him gain allies as he asked. A fairy who I bound to his family to protect him once Tristan’s rule comes about.”

...well. This explained a few things.

“Vivienne is meant to protect Constantine,” Merlin said slowly. “So when you help Tristan win this war, he will be safe under her power.” Nimueh looked over her shoulder. “Clever.”

Clever, but also… it wouldn’t work. Nothing Merlin and Arthur had done would have impacted this specifically. How did his father overcome Nimueh’s loyalty to Constantine? How did he become king at the end of this? What exactly happened?

“So now what?” Nimueh asked, turning around so her back was against the window. “You plan to trade this information to Uther for your freedom?”

“We’re looking to speak to a dragon,” Merlin admitted. “Kilgharrah. We were promised an audience with him if we helped.”

“Ah.” Nimueh clicked her tongue. “Of course… but you understand I cannot allow that?” she asked because… yeah. This had been going too smoothly. Merlin didn’t seem panicked, though. He just watched her, still seated in his own armchair with Arthur behind him.

“I understand,” Merlin said. “But I would like to remind you of my prophecy. Does that change anything?” Nimueh sighed. “Uther and Ygraine’s child-”

“Yes,” Nimueh interrupted. “But I was promised a child once too. Prophecies tell a potential future. Not the only one. And what are the chances two warring families will come together and have a child? None. If that is how the Once and Future King is made, then…” She threw up a hand. “The chances are slim. And then we risk my visions of Uther Pendragon on the throne coming true. The safest thing to do is to help Tristan ascend to the throne.” Merlin stood up and Nimueh looked at him. “I cannot grant you access to Kilgharrah. Very few dragonriders have access to him, but if you truly are from the de Bois camp then we are on the same side.” Nimueh’s eyes flicked to Arthur. “I do not wish to hurt anyone here.”

And Arthur believed her.

He believed her.

Merlin hesitated, looking back at Arthur. What did they do? And Arthur realized with a start that Merlin was letting him decide. He was waiting for Arthur to say something. To dictate the right move here. The realization almost made him laugh. Progress.

But before Arthur could say something to even buy them time to figure out the right call, a scream came from Hunith’s room.

Merlin was first to jolt forward, barreling into the door to find Hunith standing on some simple furnishings. She hadn’t been lying earlier. She was dressed in her costume from the previous day, her white mask rightfully in place as she threw dirt on a man who was also wearing a dragon mask, except his was red and silver.

“Why do you have dirt?” Balinor’s voice asked, and Arthur almost groaned. “Where is that coming from?”

“Who are you?!” Nimueh asked and raised her hands. “Remove the mask and declare yourself,” she ordered.

Balinor raised his hands. “Hi. Sorry. Um, my name is… friend of these two,” he said with a jerk of his chin to Arthur and Merlin. “I will not remove my mask. I don’t think anybody here wants to see my face.” He looked over in Hunith’s direction. “Who are you?” he asked, baffled.

“Adhan,” Hunith said and threw more dirt at him. “Slayer of dragons.”

“You’re dressed as a dragon,” Balinor informed her.

“If humans can slay other humans then dragons can slay other dragons. It says so in my prophecy.”

Balinor brightened. “Oh, are you the dragons under the castle too?” he asked and gestured himself up and down. “I’m the red dragon!”

“Which means you’re my enemy,” Hunith informed him solemnly.

Nimueh cleared her throat. Balinor gave an apologetic nod. “Right, um… I need them to come with me. Quickly, if possible,” he said and Nimueh looked over at Arthur and Merlin.

“I- no?” she said.

Balinor gave another nod. “I see,” he said. “That’s unfortunate. Would it help if I said it was an emergency?” he asked.

“No!” Nimueh said and Balinor gave a low hum.

“Well,” he said and looked around. “In that case…” He threw his arm out a flash of gold coming behind his mask. Merlin jumped at the suddenness of it as Nimueh flew back against the wall, sending a painting falling to the floor. “I guess we run.”

Chapter Text

Here’s the thing. Merlin’s father seemed great and all, but his main thing was, you know, being a dragonlord. He had proven to know some magic, sure, but it was nowhere near the magical prowess that Nimueh had cultivated in the years she had been alive.

Which meant that they had exactly three seconds. During those three seconds, Merlin needed to decide what exactly he planned to do about this. As far he could tell, his main options were:

1. Side with Nimueh and potentially earn her trust by subduing Balinor.
2. Side with his father and hold off Nimueh as they escape.

Now, some pros and cons (Merlin discovered early into his career at Camelot most decisions in life were best approached with a pros and cons list)

Option 1:

• Pros: Nimueh could be a valuable ally and Merlin really wanted to find a way to help her given… you know. Their future.
• Cons: Balinor said there was an emergency and helping Nimueh almost certainly meant keeping them away from that emergency for an extended period of time.

Option 2:

• Pros: Balinor said there was an emergency and Merlin was inclined to help - and he was the one who will most likely get them to Kilgharrah.
• Cons: If they ended up not escaping… well… in that case there were a lot of cons. Nimueh was powerful and she had lots of magical backup.

But all in all? Who knows what would happen to his exiled father if the council found out he was back in Ladon. So with a groan, Merlin reached the conclusion that he’d have to go with Option 2.

Tragically, this realization took him exactly four seconds.

The doors and windows all slammed shut with a gust of wind, bells tolling somewhere in a tower above them. Balinor had already made for one of the exits, but when he touched the knob he yanked back his hand as if he had burned himself, hissing in pain.

If Merlin ever found himself in a position where life wasn’t so chaotic… he planned to follow in his mother’s footsteps and stay on a farm. Just for a bit. A little tiny bit. To relax. To breathe. To not deal with all of this nonsense so often. He’d bring Arthur with him too, and possibly goad him into doing some real work for once in his life.

But for now? This.

“Stand back,” he said as Nimueh stumbled to her feet. Balinor shot him a baffled look but moved away as Merlin shot his hands forward, blowing the entire wall between them and the outside world wide open. Hunith gasped as she scrambled back, her white costume stained with soot as Arthur went to help her up.

Nimueh spun towards him in alarm. “You-” she began, but Merlin quickly stepped between her and the others.

“We can fight,” he warned her lowly. “But I will win. Please. Just let us go.”

Nimueh’s expression hardened and it was startling how much it pained him to see. Their previous fight had been boiling with anger - a betrayal that Merlin was starting to wonder was even her doing. How many times had she claimed magic didn’t care which lives were chosen to restore balance? And maybe Merlin’s rage at her wasn’t so different from Uther’s when the people chosen were not the ones he wanted.

“Please,” he said again. This time softly. “Elaine, please.”

At her given name, Nimueh’s expression flickered. For a moment, something akin to recognition touched her gaze. Then fear.

“I have seen you before,” she said. Merlin’s breath caught. “In the reflection of my own blood.”

“We’re going to have to jump,” Balinor announced, looking down at the hundred feet between them and the moat below them. Rubble continued to spray down from Merlin’s blast, the people of Ladon all shouting in alarm as they clumped away in the town square.

“We?!” Hunith shouted. “Who is we? Because you better not mean me!”

Nimueh looked over Merlin’s shoulder and he stepped to the side to keep her eyes on him.

“What are you?” she finally asked. Merlin didn’t have a chance to respond. Fire burst to life where the wall had been, keeping them all from leaving. The bells rang louder. From somewhere in the distance, he could hear the roars of dragons.

Merlin twisted his hands and the fire sizzled into steam. “Go!” he shouted to the others. Arthur unsheathed Excalibur. “No,” he told him and Arthur gave him a look. “I- damnit,” he hissed when Arthur took Hunith and practically threw her to Balinor. She gave a choking yell as a dragon swooped down and Balinor jumped them off the side of the building. Haizea plucked them up, swinging them back into the air.

“Annoying when someone doesn’t listen when you tell them to run, isn’t it?!” Arthur shouted and shoved Merlin to the side, blocking a strike of lightning from Nimueh with Excalibur. Merlin shot up, grabbing his arm to bring him to the ground and swinging his hand around so rubble flew itself at Nimueh. She shielded with a raise of her hand, the stone bursting into dust.

“NIMUEH!” someone shouted from outside the doorway. She had backup. Merlin looked at where Haizea was starting to circle back to them. There wouldn’t be enough time. By the time they got there, Nimueh and the council would have surrounded them.

“Trust me to try something crazy?” Merlin shouted, sending up a column of fire between them and Nimueh.

Arthur looked around with a grimace. “Do I have a choice?” he called back, and Merlin grabbed his arm, dragging him to the edge of the castle.

“No!” he shouted and jumped.

Desperately, he gripped his magic like a blanket that he was straightening out over Arthur’s bed. With a flick a gust of wind shot them up, a small hurricane pointing them up and forward. Arthur gave a mind-boggling yell of alarm as they were tossed across the sky where Haizea was zipping toward them.

Merlin yanked his magic back, and the wind stopped. The breath left his lungs as they fell again but this time he hit the crook of Haizea’s wing, barely able to balance as he worked to scramble on her back where Balinor was attempting to keep them all from falling off. Arthur came next, almost missing the dragon entirely. Merlin reached out, grabbing his arm to stop his fall. A yelp of pain came when Arthur’s descent was cut off. Merlin could hear the pop of his shoulder coming out of his socket. Yeah. He’d be hearing about that later. Grimacing, he hoisted him up, ignoring Arthur’s grunt of pain.

Balinor gave a shout lost to the wind, but Haizea seemed to understand because she turned around, shooting over the sky. From behind them, four dragons darted in their direction.

“HOLD ON TIGHT!” Balinor shouted back. Merlin didn’t need to be told twice. He whispered a spell he had used a few times while riding Kilgharrah, practically sticking their legs to Haizea before he wrapped his arms around Arthur to then curl his hands into the back of Hunith’s dress.

A low growl sounded as they flew, lowering themselves so they weaved between mountains. Heat brushed their backs and Hunith made a terrified squeaking noise as a column of fire burst beside them. Balinor made a quick turn, somehow squeezing in between a valley close to the ground and then rising suddenly. A squawk came from one of the dragons as a horrifying crash sounded, orange dust rising behind them.

“SOME HELP WOULD BE NICE!” Balinor yelled as another dragon soared from above, beginning a rapid descent on them. Merlin raised his hands, whispering another spell to blow the dragon off course. It yelped, head rearing back.

Arthur and Hunith continued screaming.

Balinor turned again, this time darting through a waterfall that Merlin was fairly certain would kill them, but somehow they came out the other side unharmed and alone. Haizea slowed, circling above a temple until she landed in a meadow.

“Was that… that a portal?” Merlin gasped, wiping water from his eyes as he slid off of Haizea’s back. “Holy- I’ve never seen a portal,” he muttered. Unless the tear between worlds counted, then no.

Balinor didn’t answer. He just slipped off Haizea. Hunith fell to the ground, dazed when she rolled on her back. She seemed blown into silence by the ride, her mask askew and white cape torn away.

Arthur groused as he stumbled off the dragon, holding his arm with grunts of pain.

“Let me see,” Merlin said, gently taking Excalibur from him to survey the damage. “I can fix it.”

“If you…can… blow a dragon… from the sky… you better… be able… to fix this…” Arthur said between ragged breaths. Merlin touched his shoulder and Arthur hissed.

“I’m going to have to put it back into place first, okay?”

“Why?” Arthur whined. “Just flick your hand.”

“I can, but unless you want it to heal in the wrong place, then I have to put it back first.”

Arthur gave a small groan as he put his head against Merlin’s shoulder and nodded. Not waiting for him to change his mind, Merlin yanked it back in place. As expected, Arthur gave a muttered swear that softened when Merlin quickly followed up with a spell.

“Let’s not do that again anytime soon,” he breathed out, clapping Merlin’s arm.

Merlin let out a soft laugh. He turned, half-expecting to find his mother having a full-on mental breakdown, but she was still on the ground, staring at the sky. Balinor, on the other hand, was looking at Merlin as if he had kicked every single puppy in existence.

“It was you at the de Bois camp. Don’t deny it!” he said when Merlin opened his mouth. “That was greater magic than any common man is capable of. Especially someone who said he is from such a place where practices are illegal. Who are you?” he asked and Merlin backed up, raising his hands.

“You want to interrogate me?” Merlin asked and threw a hand up. “You just came barging in! Weren’t you exiled from Ladon? Who in their right mind would just burst into a castle in a kingdom they are exiled from?!”

“There was an emergency!”

“Then why aren’t we attending to it?!”

“Well, I was a little thrown by you blasting a wall through a magical castle,” Balinor shouted back. “You are not who you say you are. The two of you better explain yourselves-”

“We don’t owe you an explanation,” Merlin said, insulted by the very idea. “You kidnapped us! And then you imprisoned us! And then you barged in on us when we were getting information to help your king!”

“Oh, well-”

“What the actual fuck?!”

Balinor and Merlin fell silent as Hunith sat up, apparently over her shock. She ripped her mask off, hair tumbling free from its usual bun to cascade down her back to her waist, expression the epitome of fury. Arthur opened his mouth once, glanced at Balinor and Merlin, and then quietly stepped away.

“Oh,” Balinor said. He seemed caught off-guard to see her without the mask and Merlin inwardly lamented over ruining his parents' initial meeting. Surely it had gone nothing like this when his father left Uther’s realm to flee to Ealdor. “Um, I-”

Hunith stormed over to rip off Balinor’s dragon mask and threw it down. “You will let me see the face of the one who has so self-righteously inserted himself into a life that is not his own!” Balinor blinked. “I do one kindness for these fools, who prance around knowing nothing, and you have the entitlement to simply take me as if I am aligned with them?”

“I- well, I thought… You were there with them so….” Balinor began absently holding out his hands and Hunith raised a finger to his nose. “I thought I was helping you?”

“You thought I needed help?”

“I mean, you were in a castle with an angry sorceress…”

“She was angry at you!” Hunith screamed. “She was angry at them!” She pointed to Merlin and Arthur. “I should be milking a cow right now!”

“You should what?”

Hunith let out a scream of frustration and spun around to pick up her mask. Her eyes zeroed in on Arthur before using her mask to hit his arm several times.

“Hey! Ow, okay-” Arthur said, dodging the blows.

“Fuck you!”

“Whoa,” Balinor said. “What…?” he looked at Merlin blankly. “What was that?”

“That’s-”

“YOU BETTER NOT USE MY REAL NAME!” Hunith’s voice screeched as if somehow knowing Merlin planned on introducing her.

“Adhan,” he finished. “She’ll calm down. Probably.”

“ORDER YOUR DRAGON TO EAT ME!”

“I… don’t think I will,” Balinor said slowly. He turned to Merlin. “Is she okay?”

“NO!”

“No,” Merlin agreed. Giving a long sigh, he ran a hand over his face. “But nevermind that. What is this emergency?” He looked around, eyes taking in a vaguely familiar area. “Where even are we?”

The area around them did feel like a place Merlin had been before. Through the treeline he could see a stone building with curved ceilings that had large, wooden doors with black hinges and handles.

“The Temple of Earu,” Balinor said gruffly. Why did that name sound so familiar? Merlin dragged his feet over the dirt, feeling a familiar thrum of energy beneath the feet. “As for the emergency…” Balinor tugged at his beard. “It’s Vivienne.”

“Vivienne?” Arthur repeated with a note of concern. “Is she alright?”

Merlin pursed his lips. A similar concern was swelling in his chest alongside a beat of cautiousness. Why did Balinor need Arthur and Merlin for this? And why bring them here?

“There was an altercation,” Balinor said slowly. “The Lady Ygraine has been…”

“Causing problems?” Arthur guessed and Balinor pointed at him.

“She is ensuring to cause as much chaos as she can from inside our walls,” he said. “After I dropped you off in Ladon, I went back and Constantine was in a fury over it. And, out of nowhere, he ordered Vivienne to attack her.” Balinor shook his head, expression shifting to outright bafflement. “And she did.”

Ah. Merlin grimaced.

“Vivienne is bound to Constantine,” he explained. “Nimueh has a fondness for him… and some skepticism for Uther. Vivienne was meant to protect Constantine in the event Uther lost this war.”

“Is Ygraine alright?” Arthur asked an edge in his voice. Merlin didn’t blame him. In fact, Merlin wondered how he’d react to Ygraine becoming grievously injured after Merlin had dragged him away from her. Probably not well.

“She’s recovering,” Balinor said. “Uther stepped in, but Vivienne just vanished. Constantine has gone feral over it. If I can’t find a way to bring her back to the castle soon, he might just burn the whole place down.”

“So we need to find her?” Arthur clarified.

Balinor shook his head. “No, I found her. She’s right inside the temple,” he said, jutting a thumb over his shoulder. “The problem is she is far more powerful than me and refuses to leave. And the only person she wants to talk to is you.” His eyes snapped to Merlin. Ah. He rubbed the back of his neck. Right.

How was he supposed to navigate this?

“Okay,” Merlin said slowly. “I’ll talk to her.”

But Balinor no longer seemed pleased with this plan. Now that Merlin’s strength was out in the open, there was a wariness there. The charm had gone into something harder - firmer. Which was a tad frustrating. He had expected Merlin’s powers, hadn’t he? Taunted that he had guessed as much. So why was he so irked about seeing them in real life? Was Merlin somehow even more than he envisioned?

“Why did you come here?” Balinor asked.

Merlin glanced at Arthur, who warily stepped to his side. “Does it matter?” he asked. “I thought you wanted me to talk to Vivienne-”

“No, I need answers first. You show up in an enemy camp with members of a noble family and court. You gain a fairy’s trust by simply existing. You’re from a place that has outlawed magic, even if nobody here has heard of such a thing. You are apparently royalty of some sort and don’t get me started on that sword you think we all haven’t noticed.” Arthur held Excalibur closer while Balinor circled them, eyes bright as he sized them up. “And now your power is triple the amount I assumed you had. Neither of you know of our lands, our history, or our culture. Despite your talent, you don’t even seem trained in magic,” he added to Merlin with a note of disgust. “And yet you hide away in the shadows for one man. So, my friend, I’ll ask again… who are you?”

And… Merlin found he actually wasn’t sure he could answer even if he wanted to. He didn’t know. Maybe he had never known. People had always told him what he was. And the identity he had given himself - Arthur’s protector - seemed to be slipping through his fingers as they adjusted to this new normal.

He wasn’t a guard dog for the king. He was no longer an assassin, confined to the shadows. He wasn’t a defender of his people. Not in the way he felt he should be. In this time, he wasn’t even anyone’s son. And if Arthur wasn’t technically born noble yet, could he even be his servant?

So… who was he? What was he?

The future murderer of a girl who would one day trigger a war by giving the future queen and king the child they always dreamed of? Was he the mighty Emrys, a name he only whispered by magical creatures but not one he had ever fully embraced? Dragoon, a disguise he wore to fool the world? Dolma, another disguise? Was he a sorcerer or a warlock or magic itself? A dragonlord - or future dragonlord? Defeater of immortal armies? Survivor of the dorocha? Enemy of Morgana Pendragon? Guardian of Camelot?

None of it seemed right. None of it fit.

But there Balinor was, waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. Balinor frowned. “Merlin is my name. I’ve gone by others, but mostly everyone calls me Merlin.” He paused, trying to think of anything else to say. “I suppose I’m waiting to find that out too.”

Balinor narrowed his eyes. He didn’t seem pleased with that answer. Instead, he paced. Merlin waited. Trying not to let his anger bother him. Merlin had never had to deal with a father being angry at him before. He wouldn’t deal with it now. Not like this.

“You figure it out,” Balinor finally said. “Because I’m going to need an answer soon, Merlin. Whatever or whoever you are is too important to not know.”

And with that, he stepped to the side, giving him access to the door. Merlin felt as though he had been slapped. The words stung. Possibly because there was disappointment there. As if Merlin not answering these demands of knowing himself was a failure. As if he owed Balinor his identity.

And, well, maybe he did… but Balinor didn’t know that.

For now, he walked past him toward the temple. As his hand touched the handle, a shuddering gasp interrupted his thoughts. His hand froze. An almost choking sound followed and it took Merlin a moment to identify what it was.

Off to the side, under one of the large branches of the oak trees, his mother had her knees up to her chest, stifling small sobs as she hastily bit at her knuckles.

Merlin’s heart fell.

It was easy, he thought, to forget that fear wasn’t sewn into everyone’s sleeves. That once, things like being grabbed from a tower and forcibly put upon a dragon into the woods, far from home, with three men you don’t really know, and your only family imprisoned somewhere else far was… terrifying.

And Merlin should really know better. After all, he was a man traveling with his father, king, and mother. Hunith was… well, he suddenly felt foolish to not have had some forethought here.

He turned, already thinking of ways to comfort her, but surprisingly Balinor moved first.

Not toward her - but in her general direction. Several feet away but close enough that they were sitting across from one another. Hunith quickly wiped her tears, glaring up at him through wet lashes.

“I don’t know how to milk a cow,” he started and Hunith tensed. “Or much about farming at all. Could you tell me about it?”

Hunith’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t patronize me,” she muttered.

“I’m really not,” Balinor told her. “I’ll be very honest with you, Adhan. I fear that without my dragon I have no skills.” Hunith didn’t answer. “Well, that’s a lie,” he amended. “I’m told I’m exceedingly charming.”

“You’re not.”

“Okay, I’m back down to only one skill then.” At that, a ghost of a smile touched Hunith’s lips. It seemed to be enough to egg on Balinor. He leaned back on his elbows, head tilted up toward the sky. “Do you know who I am?” he asked her curiously.

“A dragonlord.”

“Well, yes, but specifically.”

“No, should I?”

Balinor’s lips twitched. “I suppose not. Do you want to know my name?”

“No.”

“Then you better tell me something about cows or farming because we are rapidly running out of conversation topics,” Balinor told her seriously.

Hunith took a breath, sorting her hair out as she puffed out her chest. “Maybe I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Fair enough,” Balinor countered. “Could I talk to you?”

“It depends. Is it something interesting?”

“It might be.”

“What is it then?”

Balinor considered, before sitting up. “I can whittle wood,” he said, and Hunith blinked. “I know it sounds stupid, but I’m actually quite good.”

“Why do you know how to whittle wood?”

Balinor opened his mouth and then shut it. “...I’ve already revealed too much.”

At that, Hunith laughed. And Merlin realized that since appearing in this whirlwind of some twisted version of time, he hadn’t heard her laugh before. Maybe a chuckle or scoff, but this was true laughter.

“Well, then do you have something else interesting to talk about?” she asked. Balinor gave her a sheepish shrug. “There must be something. You can’t be that boring.”

“I fear I’m the most boring man alive,” Balinor mused and then gave her a considering look. “I like maps?” he offered. Hunith raised a brow. “To be specific, I like maps that are wrong. You won’t believe how many maps are wrong in this world. I fly above and see all of the kingdoms only to realize everything is misplaced. Did you know there is a mountain range on those maps that is actually a valley? How do you mix those up? You don’t even need to fly to see a mountain. At some point, people just lie, I swear.”

Hunith smiled a little and nodded. “Okay,” she decided. “That’s interesting. You may continue.”

Balinor nodded thoughtfully. “Well,” he began, and Merlin figured he’d leave them to it. Glancing over his shoulder, he glanced at where Arthur was standing off to the side. Silently, he jerked his chin to gesture him over.

“Do you want me here for this?” Arthur asked warily as he approached.

Merlin pushed the door open. “Magical people are people of Camelot too, are they not?” he asked. Arthur hesitated. “And so you are their king, no?”

“Right now, I am no one’s king,” Arthur said, and Merlin rolled his eyes. “But fair point all the same.”

And with that, they walked inside.

The same eerie familiarity wafted over him as they walked through crisp walls, ornate statues, and fountains placed tastefully in various corners. It was only when they reached a courtyard that the memory clicked.

“We’re in the Darkling Woods,” he mused. Arthur turned to him sharply, eyes asking the very question that was on Merlin’s mind. Were they really so close to Camelot? “I met a woman named Finna here before. She was a friend of Alator’s.” Arthur pursed his lips, possibly trying to remember all the names Merlin had told him over the coming days. “The Catha Priest.”

“Right,” Arthur mused, looking around. “I remember this now - it’s all ruins in our time, isn’t it?”

“Not now,” Merlin said and turned a corner.

Vivienne.

She stood silently at the end of the corridor around the courtyard, staring absently at a painting on the wall. Her head tilted and Merlin realized with a jolt the paints were moving.

“Temples are filled with the best magic,” she greeted them, voice distant. “If you look hard enough, you start to see some of the prayers of those who come here.” Her finger touched the wall. “They ask for riches and brawn and kindness.” Her finger slid off of it. “For love,” she murmured.

“Are you okay?” Merlin asked her gently. Vivienne turned, eyes still that hauntingly gold color as she looked them up and down. For a moment, her face looked too much like Morgana’s and he forced himself not to flinch.

“I hurt Ygraine,” she said, voice catching. “I don’t… I couldn’t control it. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how-” she began and touched her chest. “This form is so strange to me and it doesn’t truly feel like my own. It is a garnish to keep my soul warm, but so often I feel as if I am just meant to watch as it wreaks havoc.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Merlin told her. “Nimueh bound you to Constantine.”

“And now Constantine wants me back.”

“Yes.”

“To hurt more people?”

Merlin hesitated. “I think Constantine just wants you back because he wants to control many things,” he said slowly. “I’m not sure he even knows his intentions.”

Vivienne pursed her lips. “And… if I do not wish to return?” she asked.

This time, it was Arthur who answered. “You do not wish to see Ygraine again?” he began cautiously. “She is a prisoner there too-”

“A prisoner I could easily kill if Constantine willed it,” Vivienne said quietly. “I do not wish to harm her any more than I have. She has been kind to me.”

Arthur looked like he wanted to argue. To perhaps propose Vivienne help his mother escape. To come up with some convoluted solution that would appease Constantine and help protect those in the castle.

He didn’t, though. All he said was, “Very well. Then you do not need to return.”

Something about that sent a jolt through Merlin. That was Arthur’s king voice. The one he used when making important decisions. When he passed sentences or laws. To hear now - in front of a magical creature with the intent to give them freedom… A knot formed in his throat.

Vivienne’s shoulders relaxed, bowing her head. “Thank you, my king,” she said and Arthur gave her a puzzled look.

“You know who we are, don’t you?” he asked. Vivienne nodded. “You know where we come from?”

Vivienne gave a small smile at that. “In a sense,” she said. “My knowledge is… tangled,” she decided. “As water, I see all. I am all. The past. The present. The future. I am the water your ancestors drowned in and the water that will one day flood the world. But in this form?” she shook her head. “It all blurs.” She looked around the walls again, colors dancing over them in various shapes in symbols. “I worry for your mother. Sometimes I see her and…” she trailed off. “I worry she is not in your time.”

Arthur didn’t answer that. Merlin doubted he knew how.

“Do you know how we can get back to our own time?” Merlin asked. “And if… everything we’ve done here will affect, you know…?” He gestured vaguely.

Vivienne looked at him as if he was speaking another language. “What do you mean?” she asked, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. “This is where you’re meant to be. This is how it is all meant to go.” She gave a light laugh. “How do you think it all happened the first time?”

The first time.

The first time?

Something twisted in Merlin’s gut - a cold panic that froze him as Arthur took the words in stride.

“We’ll take you somewhere safe,” he promised. “And then deal with Constantine ourselves. We also have a dragon we’re supposed to meet at some point,” he added with a wary look at where Merlin still hadn’t moved.

The first time?

“Where would you like to go?” Arthur asked Vivienne, but Merlin started shaking his head.

No. No, no, no…

“But-” he began and felt everything around him tilt. “No,” he managed, and Arthur grabbed his arm. His name echoed through his ears, but it didn’t seem real. “No,” he repeated numbly.

The first time.

Of course. How could he be so foolish? Merlin had not once - never once - been able to change the future. His choices had always led to exactly what was predicted. Why would he think this bout with time would be any different? How could he be so foolish?

“Merlin,” Arthur said, giving him a light shake. “What is going on?”

“We… we don’t stop it,” Merlin managed. “We cause it.”

“What?”

“I was worried we would mess up you being born or something else entirely, but we can’t. I don’t know how - it doesn’t make sense. Everything is already wrong, I think. Unless it isn’t?” he muttered. “My parents met. They didn’t meet until after the Purge. But…”

“You need to breathe,” Arthur said, voice growing firm. “Calm yourself. Now.”

“Nimueh-” he tried. “Nimueh was friends with your father. She was. That… That was why your parents went to her to have a child, but she doesn’t like Uther here. It doesn’t match up. It can’t be the same-”

“If you do not calm down, right now, I’m going to have to knock you out,” Arthur warned and Merlin burst into tears. Arthur froze. “I… I didn’t mean it,” he added hastily.

But Merlin only found himself on the ground, crying much like his mother had minutes ago. Arthur knelt in front of him, clearly not understanding what was wrong.

But how could he? Arthur had never fully grasped his importance. If anything, what would upset him most was being unable to stop the Purge.

And Merlin… if this all ended with Arthur dying, then the least he could do was stop the Purge. He couldn't let both happen. It simply could not be an option.

How do we fix this? he asked Vivienne. There must be a way.

Vivienne looked at him, expression uncertain. You’re… upset, she noted and Arthur grabbed Merlin’s wrist to gently shake him. I’m not sure I understand.

How could anyone understand? The thought made me him want to laugh hysterically. The future isn’t good, he managed anyway. You’re not even in it and Arthur dies. We have to figure out-

“Stop that,” Arthur interrupted and tapped Merlin’s forehead. “I know you’re talking to her in your head.” Merlin took a deep breath. “Say things out loud,” Arthur ordered flatly.

Merlin grimaced as he glanced over at Vivienne. “I-” he began but was cut off by a new voice.

Breathe, Emrys. There are bigger plans, still. Albion was promised.

Merlin’s head snapped up. Iseldir? he asked with a dim recognition. He hadn’t seen the druid since Aithusa was hatched, but Merlin still knew the voice. A soft laugh echoed in his head.

Do we meet in the future? came the delighted reply.

Vivienne smiled. “Your friend is here,” she said and Arthur looked between them, smacking Merlin’s knee in annoyance for still not speaking out loud. Merlin hoped his father wasn’t in earshot of whatever telepathic conversation they were having.

Hello, Vivienne added. Would you be able to show yourself?

And from the balcony above them, a hooded figure stepped out, leaning against the stone railing.

“I might,” he answered out loud. Arthur sighed loudly and turned around. “Hello, Emrys. And hello, my king. I believe I may be of some assistance.”

Chapter Text

The druid’s name was Iseldir.

He seemed nice enough, in Arthur’s humble opinion. But it was hard to say because he couldn’t actually tell what he was saying. If there was, in fact, a conversation happening in the heads of three magical beings right now then Arthur wasn’t privy to it.

It was little things like this that reminded Arthur of his father's paranoia about magic—the concern that secret plotting was happening in every shadow. Arthur supposed he had no reason for such fears with Merlin by his side. If there was one thing that had become abundantly clear these last few days, it was that Merlin would not stand for any sort of betrayal of Arthur.

That didn’t mean these little side conversations weren’t annoying.

“I would prefer to hear what you all have to say,” he began (because he just knew they were still talking). “Or is there something I am not allowed to know?”

“Sorry,” Merlin responded instantly. “Force of habit.” He gave Arthur an apologetic smile as they moved towards the back of the temple.

Arthur absently wondered how long they could keep Hunith and Balinor waiting. It seemed wrong to leave them behind, but given that the druids were supposedly Tristan’s allies, it seemed equally unwise to bring Balinor along for whatever was about to happen.

“Force of habit,” Iseldir repeated, running a hand through dark hair. “So it’s true then? Prophets whisper of a doom that rushes our kind into the shadows.”

Our kind. Arthur didn’t know how to feel about that term. A reminder that there was a stark difference between them. And that Arthur was the odd one out.

Merlin didn’t seem to know how to answer that. Either way, the silence confirmed what Iseldir needed to know. Or maybe Merlin answered telepathically again because he was just that irritating.

“Where are we going?” Vivienne asked, looking around as if seeing something in the air. “What is that noise?”

Arthur couldn’t hear anything, but whatever Vivienne heard made her smile. Iseldir only nodded before stepping outside the back of the temple. The woods greeted them, endless trees and no sign of any animals. Half of Arthur expected Iseldir to wave his hand and reveal a hidden world like Ladon, but instead, he walked around the side of the temple. His eyes flashed gold, causing two rocks to fall away. A small tunnel waited for them.

“After you,” Iseldir said, gesturing for them to enter the hole.

Merlin hesitated, but Arthur jumped straight down. He was a little insulted on this druid’s behalf. Did Merlin always show such hesitancy to even those he knew? Arthur had always regarded Merlin as someone quick to trust, but he supposed after all the betrayals that may have faded.

The thought saddened him. Over the years, they had both changed. It was only now that Arthur wondered if they ended up in different places. Arthur’s journey led him to see more good. Merlin’s seemed to have led him to see more evil.

Perhaps the Purge wasn’t the only horrible thing that came from Arthur’s existence.

Torches lit once his feet hit the floor, the sides of the dirt-packed walls turning to solid rock farther down the tunnel. A few seconds later he could hear the others follow, feet scuffling before the rocks ground back into place behind them.

“I… have never known druids to live underground,” Merlin said, sounding disturbed. “Not even while in hiding.”

“Oh,” Iseldir chuckled. “This is not a home of the druids, Emrys. This is a sanctuary we built for allies.” He brushed past Arthur to lead the way. As they began to walk, a man’s voice echoed against the stone walls, the strumming of a lute hauntingly beautiful.

Vivienne’s breath caught from behind him. Iseldir didn’t comment as he continued to lead the way deeper into the burrow they had entered, turning through a labyrinth of hallways until the walls began to lower and the ceilings inexplicably got higher.

As everything opened up, they entered a… well, a something. The best way Arthur could describe it was a huge circular room, except the walls were tree roots with lights embedded into the bark, illuminating everything as if daytime was somehow all around them.

And within the room-

“Well, well, well,” Tristan called, lifting a cup into the air from where he was sprawled out on some blankets. “Look who showed up.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. Arthur couldn’t decide if he hated or enjoyed that there was another noble who got Merlin’s nerves so much. From a few feet away Gorlois sat in a large armchair, foot propped up a stool as he strummed a lute. It was his voice they had heard, a number of druids and soldiers sat by his feet to listen to the song.

“You’ve been here?” Arthur asked, unable to keep the disapproval from his voice. “Your sister has been kidnapped by your enemy and you sit here sipping wine?” he asked.

Tristan flicked a strawberry blonde curl back, lips quirked into a sly smile. He reminded Arthur of a fox, eyes shifty and far too lean for someone who supposedly fought in many battles. Slowly, he took a long sip of his drink. “My sister is perfectly safe. My brother will ensure it,” he said.

“Really?” Arthur asked, annoyance flaring up. How could this be the uncle who had supposedly been so angry about his mother’s death that he challenged his father to a duel? “Because my understanding is that Agravaine betrayed you.”

Tristan shrugged. “Then you don’t understand much,” he said. Slowly, he stood, placing his goblet on a log that was serving as a makeshift table. “Do you really think my own blood would side with a Pendragon?” he asked, tilting his head. Arthur frowned. Was he implying-? “No. Agravaine and I worked together to orchestrate that attack and subsequent kidnapping. Enemies are much more vulnerable when you spend time in their walls.”

Arthur’s temper flared. “You planned that?” he asked darkly. Tristan smiled. “The men you left behind were massacred! Gaius and his sister were left behind. Your siblings could have been killed!”

“All calculated,” Tristan assured him. “The men I left behind were all a gift from a lovely sorceress from Ladon who believed Uther’s rule would be perilous… but also one I know has a soft spot for a certain Constantine Pendragon.” Tristan held his hands out playfully. “Eventually, they would have betrayed me. The thing about politics, friend, is that only the silly pawns think there are two sides to any given war. Everything else is a temporary alliance.”

Arthur pursed his lips. He couldn’t argue that necessarily. Even the Saxons who sided with Morgana may have turned against her the second Arthur was out of the picture. If he was honest, his rule might have been one of the few that had the level of loyalty it had. And even then… there had been slip-ups.

“And leaving Gaius and Hunith behind?” Arthur said flatly. “Your siblings?”

Tristan snorted, glancing at Merlin as if he might understand the demonic level of strategy here – but Merlin said nothing.

“My allies are the druids… and I was told to expect an incredibly powerful sorcerer to appear at my camp. That he would protect my family and friends.” Tristan smiled at Merlin. “And funnily enough, one did appear.”

“That seems like an awful gamble,” Merlin told him. “Did Ygraine even know?”

“No,” Tristan said. “I adore my sister, but she is not a good liar. As far as gambling goes, I’m not that reckless. I have other safety precautions in place. The only thing I did not account for is you,” he said, looking at Vivienne with a slight frown. “My lady, I’m afraid I don’t have a name for you.”

Vivienne wasn’t paying attention to Tristan, though. She was entranced by Gorlois’s music. Golden eyes fixated on him as if she had never heard music before. And maybe she hadn’t. For as much as she apparently knew, she also seemed to approach everything in the world as if it were all unfamiliar. Maybe she only knew of music as water - and hearing it through human ears was a novel experience.

“That is who attacked your sister under Constantine’s orders,” Merlin informed Tristan coldly.

Tristan frowned. “You seem upset with me,” he noted. Merlin’s eyes narrowed. “You two are incredibly critical for strangers who don’t know my family. Do you not remember when I first found you in the woods? How I argued with Ygraine on her safety then? Did you not hear her response?” Tristan shook his head. “If she had shown any concern then, I wouldn’t have gone through it. But she wasn’t scared. And I know her. She is not a fragile doll with an ego of glass. She is more of a warrior than any knight I’ve trained. I will not apologize for respecting her strength. I will not apologize for knowing if she is attacked, she will not only survive but respond. I will not apologize for using her because I know she would also evaluate my weaknesses and strengths and do what is needed. She’ll forgive me when she finds out what I’ve done. That much I know. Judge me if you must, but I won’t pretend Ygraine cannot take this.”

“And Gaius?” Merlin asked darkly. “Hunith?”

Tristan shrugged. “I wanted my sister to have some familiarity and friendship. You were supposed to protect them. Their lives were on you.”

For a second, Arthur thought he might have to drag Merlin away like he had with the witch hunter all those years ago. But Merlin just looked back at him before breathing out slowly. He turned to say something to Vivienne, but she was already gone. Arthur looked around only to see her drifting closer to where Gorlois was still singing, approaching him like an animal.

“Come,” Iseldir said, stepping away. “A bigger explanation is needed.”

That was a damn good point. Tristan bowed his head, glancing over his shoulder in the direction Vivienne went. “I shall leave you to it then,” he said, turning away.

Arthur wanted to know what exactly he was doing hiding out here. When was he planning to come out of his hole and fight? What was he waiting for?

Iseldir led them to the other side of the room where a spread of pillows and blankets were. He sat down, patting beside him. Arthur looked over his shoulder to see Tristan settle back into his seat next to Gorlois. He looked over the room and saw Arthur staring. Smiling, he gave him an invisible tip of his hat in acknowledgment.

“What do you know?” Merlin asked Iseldir as he sat down.

Iseldir brought out a bowl of nuts and held them out. It wasn’t until Merlin accepted a few that he spoke.

“I know that you shouldn’t exist yet,” Iseldir said. “I’ve spent time in the Crystal Cave. Studying for this.” He held out the bowl to Arthur next. Hesitantly, he took a handful. “And this is what I’ve parsed out. Emrys will appear in this time to save the life of his king. In doing so, he will set the stage for his king to once again exist. Another doom is to fall upon our people. Another cycle of horror that will always just fall short of the Albion we were promised.”

Ah. That didn’t sound great.

Merlin buried his face in his hands. “It is supposed to be my destiny to help the Once and Future King bring about a golden age,” he whispered. “What am I doing wrong?”

Iseldir put down his bowl of nuts. “Who says you’ve done anything wrong?” he asked and the look Merlin gave him would have been funny in any other circumstances. “You are simply fulfilling one prophecy. To change the outcome, fulfill a different one.”

Merlin gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, I have tried to alter destiny in the past,” he said. “And it never once has worked.”

Iseldir gave a polite smile, reaching out to clasp Merlin’s knee. “Respectfully, Emrys, you have never been able to change destiny.” His eyes moved to Arthur. “Our king may be another story.”

Merlin blinked, almost looking offended before warily glancing at Arthur. He could practically see his expression morph into one of panic. As if the idea of Arthur being in charge of his own safety was the most terrifying thing he could imagine. “Arthur can break this cycle?” he asked slowly. “But… why hasn’t he before?”

Iseldir laughed. “Oh, Emrys, don’t get us into the details of time. He has, he hasn’t. Everything and nothing always happens at once. But for the sake of our sanity, let us say you have been stuck in this cycle for a million lives. The king always dies in Camlann. You always save him. You always come here. You always try to change your path. You always cause your path.”

Arthur pursed his lips, eating a few of the nuts Iseldir had offered him. The crunch let him mull over this. He wasn’t going to let himself be distracted by whatever logistics this magical hurricane of time was. No, he would leave that to Merlin.

In fact, Arthur was in no mood to outsmart destiny. He was in the mood to fix things.

“If you can see across time,” he began, rolling another nut between his fingers. “Could you tell us what we are doing wrong? I’d like to find a way to stop the Purge.”

Iseldir shook his head. “I cannot see across time,” he corrected. “Only study what the crystals have shown me. The Great Dragon may have more insight into what you have attempted in other versions of this journey,” he added. Merlin used his thumb to scratch at his eyebrow, trying and failing not to look annoyed.

“Tell me about Tristan,” Arthur said, leaning forward. Merlin opened his mouth, but Arthur raised a hand to silence him. “You’re his ally. Would he make a good king?”

Iseldir blinked. “My lord?”

“This…” Arthur waved his hand. “Destiny. It holds no interest to me. I know the outcome of my father becoming king. What would happen if Tristan became king? Would he do right by my people?” Merlin threw a hand up and Arthur shot him a cool look. “Is there something you’d like to say to me?” he asked.

Merlin glared back. “No, sire,” he replied flatly, though he could see the frustration hinting at his expression. “I’m sure if you deem Tristan a worthy ruler then all will be fine,” he muttered, standing up.

“What do you want me to do?” Arthur asked. “Put my father on the throne so that we can end up here? Again?”

“Iseldir just said you could break that cycle!”

“And what if I don’t care to?” Arthur argued loudly. “What if this is me breaking the cycle? Putting a different king on the throne so-”

“You wouldn’t exist!”

“So?!”

“We just talked about this!”

“And yet it remains my decision,” Arthur threw back heatedly.

Merlin’s eyes flared, a spark of gold lighting as he stood. Iseldir grimaced as he leaned away. “Your decision,” he repeated and Arthur jutted out his chin. “After all I’ve done and suffered to get you on the throne?”

“That was in a different time. A time after the Purge! How could you not wish to avoid that?”

“I never said I didn’t,” Merlin yelled back and the music behind them stopped. “I’m saying that there is a promised golden era under your rule and I am interested in getting that instead of a bandage of a king whose only redeeming quality is not being your father.”

From across the room, Tristan frowned. “If you are speaking of me, I have other redeeming qualities,” he called and then paused. “Your father?”

“Emrys,” Iseldir cut in. “Let us take a moment to-”

But Arthur had already stood up, storming to another end of the room where the roots parted to show a new exit. He didn’t know where it led but also didn’t much care. Why was Merlin so infuriating? Why did he have to make everything so bloody hard?

Cold air whipped through the new tunnel, stinging against his face. It did nothing to dim the heat of his anger as he continued to march forward.

Eventually, a stone staircase appeared, leading Arthur up into a small, meadow. He had no idea where it was. Perhaps magic played a role here or he was in some undiscovered spot in the Darkling Woods. Either way, it was a welcomed reprieve to be able to see the sky and lie among the grass.

Taking a deep breath, he collapsed, realizing tiredly it was already night. It was hard to believe this morning they had been in Ladon and now the sun had long set, giving way to the moon.

A shuffle came from behind him.

“Go away, Merlin,” he said darkly. “I’m not in the mood to argue right now.”

“I don’t much like arguing,” Vivienne’s voice answered. Arthur sat up, turning to see her picking up her skirts to trod over to him, dark hair sat over one shoulder as she got on the ground next to him. “Do you?”

Arthur shook his head. “No,” he sighed. “But he and I seem to be having the same argument often enough.” He looked up at the stars above and pinched his nose. “I don’t see why he is so set on my rule. I did rule. It was nothing special. If he just wishes for me to release the laws on magic, I don’t see why this isn’t a fair compromise. Is it really so horrid that I might not exist?”

Vivienne ran her fingers over the grass with a meager shrug. “You not existing is not much different than you dying,” she told him. Arthur scoffed. “And he seems keen to avoid that fate.” A pause. “Aren’t you?”

“I’m not afraid of dying,” Arthur said. “I know I’ll die eventually. It is what all knights know. What all men know. My only fear is not dying for what I believe in. Not death itself.”

Vivienne tilted her head, examining him with thoughtful eyes. “Do you want to know a secret of the universe?” she asked. As if it was the most casual thing in the world to offer.

Why not?

“If you’re offering, I suppose it would be rude to decline,” he told her.

Vivienne smiled before pointing up to the sky. “Every single star you see is a sun,” she said. Arthur’s brows shot up. He had never been much for looking at stars or even the sky. That was more Merlin’s forté. His tutors had taught him about stars, but it was mainly constellations and interpreting what their position in the sky meant - up until his father deemed that too close to magic, anyway.

“A sun,” he repeated slowly.

Vivienne nodded. “Most are so far away that we’d die a thousand times over before ever reaching them,” she explained. “And there are more suns out there than there are grains of sand in our world.”

“That can’t be true,” Arthur said, struggling to imagine going straight up into the sky only to find millions upon millions of suns. It occurred to Arthur that if they were really that far from them, the stars might not actually be the small balls he envisioned but something far larger. The thought troubled him for some reason.

Wind blew and Vivienne smiled a little as she looked back up at the sky. “It is,” she promised, reaching up as if she might swipe these suns right from the sky. “But you know what’s strange?” she asked, eyes flicking to Arthur. He looked at her. “It doesn’t matter that there are so many suns out there – because if our sun disappeared right now, we would all cease to exist. None of those others could replace it. None of those other suns could give us the life that this one could.” She shrugged. “They are pretty to look at, of course. And perhaps they are important for other people in other ways… but the fact remains. Our sun is the one we need to survive.” She looked at Arthur, golden eyes practically slowing in the darkness. “Kings are like suns in many ways, Arthur Pendragon. And perhaps you are as common as you say. But what I believe I wish to truly say is that while the sun itself isn’t afraid of death, we are most certainly afraid of the death of the sun.”

Arthur looked up at the sky – and suddenly everything Merlin had been telling him over the years made sense in a way it hadn’t before.

If he was being entirely honest, he might have suspected the gravity of his own importance for a while now, but it had always been easier to dismiss it. To be king at all was an enormous pressure. An undertaking not to be taken lightly. But there was some comfort that he could be replaced. That not all would fall to pieces in the wake of his absence.

And maybe, technically, it wouldn’t fall apart. Not exactly. But the world he could build would. What he was meant to create would cease to exist - or never exist at all. To keep Vivienne’s oddly specific metaphor going, leaving now would be like the sun snuffing out before the earth offered all it could.

Which… sucked.

Arthur flopped onto his back.

“You remind me of your daughter,” he said quietly. Vivienne said nothing. “My sister.”

“How is my daughter your sister if you are not my son?”

Arthur didn’t answer. He wondered if, as she asked the question, the future untangled itself for her. If this was all some sort of endless loop, would she think back to the conversation as she carried Morgana in her womb? Would she know the path her daughter would one day walk? A sun that was merely a star to their world?

“She had kindness unlike anything I had ever seen. I truly believe she was my first example of compassion,” Arthur murmured, thinking back to his earliest memories of Morgana.

At first, she had been a frequent visitor of the castle. Arthur remembered her as a friendly face, an older girl who would play with him dotingly. She would always burst into the room with an unprecedented level of excitement.

“ARTHUR!” she would yell and when Arthur would appear, she would light up as if it had been years since they last saw one another. “You’ve grown again,” she groused and hugged him while comparing heights. Arthur had never had much of a feminine influence in his life with no mother, so Morgana being a bold noble girl who could show such love was a fascinating dynamic for him.

And then Gorlois died and Morgana was no longer a frequent visitor but a permanent resident. There was no more excitement when she saw him – only growing annoyance that he began to return as they butted heads over pretty much everything.

Yet, still, she had been a staunch defender when Arthur showed any softness. She called out any unkindness. Cried over injustice. And Arthur had watched. Year after year. He hadn’t realized how much he watched her if he was honest. She was more of a teacher for him than even his father in many ways.

And Arthur couldn’t save her. He didn’t save her.

Regret clutched at his throat.

“I would do anything to get her back,” he whispered. Vivienne looked down at him. “To keep her from reliving the pain she endured. I wish she knew how deeply I cared for her.”

Vivienne didn’t say anything. Instead, she reached out and grabbed Arthur’s hand, holding it between her own. A vague memory of Morgana doing the same thing after his father had yelled at him for something or another crossed his mind and Arthur’s fingers squeezed tighter.

“Do you think I can find a way to change this?” he whispered. “In the way Merlin wants to? That I can possibly create something like Albion?”

A long silence followed.

“I think,” Vivienne finally said, hands still wrapped around his, “that my daughter believed you could. I fear she may have forgotten her beliefs as we so often do. Maybe if you succeed here, then there will be a time in which you could remind her.”

And perhaps he could. Stop the Purge. Ensure his birth. Get Morgana back. Prevent endless suffering - and then rule long enough to keep anything bad from happening ever again.

Arthur wished he knew where to start.

Except…. Yes. Yes, he did.

“Thank you,” Arthur said, sitting up to kiss the top of her head. Vivienne smiled as he stood up. “I never knew what happened to you,” he said, suddenly very nervous at what fate the Vivienne of his time met. “Your name was… not often spoken in my youth.”

Vivienne didn’t seem troubled by that. “Well,” she mused. “Maybe you should endeavor to speak it more.”

Arthur chuckled, squeezing her hand before letting go. There was another thing he'd need to change. Morgana would grow up with her mother. Arthur would ensure it.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur marched back inside. As expected, when he entered the room, it was to find Merlin sulking while poor Iseldir tried to console him.

“It is a complex situation, Emrys-”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“That seems counterproductive, my lord.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not a lord. I’m not as annoying as a lord. I wasn’t raised in nobility. I wasn’t given a noble position. Nor would I want one. Do you see how he acts?”

“I… believe it is complex, my lor- Emrys. As I said before.”

“He acts as if I want the Purge to happen. And I told him! I told him literally anyone could cause the Purge. For any reason! His preventing one outcome leads to no certainty. But no, he’s King Arthur. He has to self-sacrifice because he’s noble. He’s brave. He’s-” Merlin made a noise of utter disgust. “He’s a pain in the ass is what he truly is.”

Iseldir glanced in Arthur’s direction before awkwardly clearing his throat.

“And you know what?” Merlin began. Iseldir cleared his throat again. “I think-” Iseldir coughed loudly this time. When Merlin turned to him he pointedly glanced at Arthur. Merlin followed his gaze before scowling. “I think he's a prat," Merlin finished pointedly.

Arthur walked over, planning on saying something to annoy him even more, but was cut off by a tiny blue cloak darting out directly in front of him.

“Tristan!” a small voice called out. From across the room where Tristan was either eavesdropping or truly not paying attention to them, he turned, a bright smile touching his face.

“Hello, my favorite advisor,” he said, kneeling down. A girl practically pranced into his arms, giggling as he swung her around. “I was wondering where you snuck off to. I thought we agreed the temple was dangerous above ground,” he said, but the girl whispered something in his ear and Tristan nodded solemnly. “I see. You are quite right. That is an important quest for you to attend to.” He tapped the end of her nose. “But perhaps bring me along next time. I believe I could be of some assistance on occasion.”

Merlin gave Tristan a perplexed look before glancing at Arthur, who shared his bewilderment.

“That is Anna,” Iseldir offered. “King Tristan’s ward.”

Right. Ygraine had mentioned that Tristan had taken a druid child under his care. Arthur hadn’t really given it much thought if he was honest. But seeing Tristan’s cunningness shifting into something softer caught Arthur off-guard.

“Are you two done then?” Tristan called as he caught Arthur and Merlin staring. “Iseldir said you two had business to attend to, but if that is finished, I’d like to return to my war now.”

“Done lurking in the shadows?” Arthur asked his uncle dryly.

Tristan walked over, still holding Anna, who was looking at them with hauntingly familiar eyes. Arthur swore he knew her in some strange way, but couldn’t quite think of how.

“You’re a surly one,” Tristan noted and gave Anna a very serious look. “Tell me, Lady Anna, as my favorite advisor, how must I deal with such disagreeable subjects?”

Anna giggled, hiding her face in Tristan’s neck before whispering something to him. A ghost of a smile touched his lips.

“A very fitting sentence,” he told her and gave Arthur a quick wink. Like he was somehow in on whatever the hell was going on. “Now,” he began, shifting Anna slightly. “I am told you two are something of… an anomaly in our time. A paradox, if you will. Right, Iseldir?” he asked and then kept going without an answer. “I’ve gone back and forth on whether I wish to be given details on your exploits. If you are indeed from the future as I suspect you probably are based on the snippets I’ve heard and the fact they call you Emrys,” he added with a nod toward Merlin. “Then I suppose there is an opportunity to learn more about the outcome of this war.” Tristan pursed his lips, expression shifting into something more thoughtful. “But I’ve decided I don’t want it.”

“You don’t?” Merlin asked, brows raising.

Tristan brightened at the question, probably pleased he had once again gotten Merlin to engage with him. “Oftentimes, too much knowledge obscures what you truly need to know. If I am to sit on this throne as a man, I want to fight without the influences of gods.” He reached out and slapped Merlin’s arm. “Maybe that is advice the two of you should think through, hm?”

Arthur wanted to ask what the hell that meant, but before he could, Anna looked over at Arthur with big eyes.

“Emrys thinks you’re pretty,” she said. Everyone paused. Anna looked over at Merlin, who seemed taken aback by the words. They stared at one another, most likely speaking in each other’s heads for a moment. “He thinks you look like a sunflower.”

“I did not say that,” Merlin said, face turning a dark red.

“Eh,” Iseldir murmured. “You thought it.” Merlin turned to stare at him. “Apologies, my lord. I overstepped.”

“Do you think Emrys is pretty?” Anna asked Arthur, eyes digging into his very soul. He felt compelled to tell this small child literally anything and everything she asked.

“Yes,” he answered and then realized he probably said that too quickly. And with far too much certainty. He should have used some diplomacy or made a joke out of it, but he hadn’t even hesitated.

Anna beamed. “What flower do you think he looks like?” she asked, but Arthur wasn’t falling for that twice in a row.

“Probably something that makes you break out in hives,” he said, and Tristan gave a low hum.

“I’d say he looks more like a bird.”

“She didn’t ask you, Tristan,” Arthur muttered. “Look, if we’re done here, we should discuss what to do next.”

“Marriage,” Anna said wisely.

“I’m already married,” Arthur snapped, feeling oddly a bit like he needed to remind himself, which in turn made him feel like the worst person to ever have walked the earth. He needed Guinivere here to talk sense into him.

Tristan laughed and put Anna down, ignoring Merlin gawking at this child with ultimate betrayal. “I think marriages may have to wait until after the war.” He lightly pushed Anna toward where Gorlois had put his lute away, offering once again to help some of the wandering servants with cooking. “Are you married?” he added to Merlin.

“NO!” Anna shouted as she ran off in Gorlois’s direction. “HE LOVED A LAKE LADY!”

“A lake lady?” Arthur repeated. Merlin hadn’t told him that story.

“SHE TURNED INTO A CAT!”

“I’m not thinking any of this to her. Is she in my head somehow?” Merlin complained. Anna cackled. “Can all druids do this?” he asked Iseldir.

“No,” he answered, giving Merlin an apologetic smile. “But a select few with a stronger pull to magic can. Anna appears to be one of them.” Merlin glared in Anna’s direction.

“A cat lake lady?” Tristan asked Merlin. “You are a fascinating man.”

“Right,” Arthur cut in. “We need to get back up there. There’s a dragon we need to speak to and apparently Constantine is causing problems, so we should take care of that before he takes it out on your sister,” he added to Tristan, who held up his hands.

“Very well,” he told Arthur. “I give you my leave. I have work to do - though I do hope we may meet again. Before you return to wherever you’re meant to be.” He held out a hand and Merlin begrudgingly took it. He turned to Arthur next. “Your sorcerer called you king over there,” Tristan said, looking him up and down. “I heard him.”

“Yes,” Arthur said warily.

Tristan gave him a long look. “You’re a future king then?” he asked. Arthur shrugged. Tristan’s eyes drifted over his face for a moment, then smiled a little. “In that case,” he said, voice going surprisingly soft. “You look very much like your mother. May even have her heart, too.”

The words caught him off-guard. He wasn’t sure how exactly Tristan made the connection so quickly. Did he think that Arthur’s claim to the throne was passed down through him? That perhaps Tristan and Agravaine died without heirs, leaving only Arthur? Or did something else tip him off? Maybe Anna searched Merlin’s mind and told him.

“Thank you,” Arthur said, because there was really nothing else to say to that. A beat of silence passed. “You really don’t want any information about the future?” he asked. Tristan shook his head. “Even if it would help you win this war?”

“I think your shouting and whining have given me some hints,” Tristan said and then shrugged. “But I needn’t worry over the future when my people and home are in need of me now. It sounds like that may be what you need to worry over, I fear.” He held out his hand. “I hope Iseldir got you the information you needed.”

Arthur took it. “Not everything, but…” His eyes drifted over to Vivienne, who sat down at a table to watch Gorlois cook. “I think I’ve been put on the right path.” He jerked his chin over. “You’ll take care of her?”

Tristan glanced over his shoulder. “The girl? Of course.” Gorlois smiled and offered her some food. Vivienne took it, sniffing it once before taking a bite and brightening at the taste. Tristan watched them for a few seconds before sighing. “Do you still have that coin I gave your friend?” he asked and Arthur absently brought it out of his pocket. Tristan nodded to himself. “Give it to Ygraine when you see her next. She may need it.”

And with that, he turned to walk away. Arthur wanted to call after him, but he got the strangest feeling he was meant to mull over those words.

Well, in that case, it was time to return to Balinor and Hunith… and decide how to resolve this prophecy once and for all.

Chapter Text

Thank you for this, Merlin began as he stepped out of the temple. Balinor was asleep under a tree, Hunith surprisingly resting her head against his shoulder. He stopped to stare at them, taking in his parents with curiosity. He tried to imagine a life where they stayed together. Where a younger version of himself might be nestled between them, safe and unconcerned with the dangers of the world.

Iseldir clapped a hand on his shoulder. The sound made Balinor’s eyes flutter open. He squinted - tensing at the presence of three people in front of him - but didn’t move.

“Where the hell have you been?” he whispered, eyes flicking to where Hunith was still asleep. “Where’s Vivienne?”

“Somewhere safe,” Arthur said from beside Merlin. Balinor’s mouth opened. “We will deal with Constantine, but Vivienne will not be returning. She is under my protection,” he finished firmly.

Balinor’s mouth snapped closed. He looked like he wanted to argue more but found it hard with Hunith still asleep. “And… this is?” he asked, looking at Iseldir.

“A trusted friend,” Merlin answered and knelt down to gently shake his mother’s shoulder. “Hello,” he whispered. Hunith’s eyes fluttered open. “Are you ready to go?”

“To go?” Balinor repeated. “Where is she going? You can’t just-”

“That village you wanted to find. The one near Ladon,” Merlin interrupted him, speaking to Hunith instead. “Iseldir is going to take you there so you can start your life.” Hunith rubbed her eyes, sitting up as she processed the words. She looked at Merlin and then to where Iseldir was standing. He waved and Hunith blinked at him. “I’ve already told him that he is not to fall in love with you,” Merlin added to her.

“And I will not,” Iseldir added very seriously. “For I only find love in nature and magic.”

Balinor shifted. “Now, wait a moment,” he began. “You vanish, do not return with Vivienne, bring this stranger here, and then plan to send us each on our way?”

“Do you know much about farming?” Hunith asked Iseldir and Balinor gave her a betrayed look.

“Not you,” Arthur said helpfully. “You need to bring us back to Camelot so we may deal with Constantine. Then there is the dragon to consider-”

“I’m sorry,” Balinor said, standing up. “Has something changed? Because I don’t remember you being in such a position to be doling out orders when we last spoke.” When neither Merlin nor Arthur answered, he shook his head. “Adhan here is not to leave unless she pleases to.”

“I do please to,” Hunith cut in. Balinor paused. He looked at her, a hint of hurt touching his expression as she looked back at him. “I admit,” she said, standing up and dusting her hands. “You have a spark to you, stranger. But I cannot pause my life for a spark when fires await me.”

“A village in the middle of nowhere is a fire?” Balinor asked her doubtfully.

“If I add enough kindling,” Hunith said, standing up to stretch. She looked at Balinor with thoughtful eyes. “Thank you.” Her voice softened. “For being interesting.”

Balinor smiled a little, looking down. “If you tell me your true name, then perhaps I may find you again in the future. To entertain you more?”

And for a moment, Merlin thought his mother might tell him. That maybe they’d witness their first change in history.

“I rather like being Adhan,” she said, and reached out, fingers lightly brushing a strand of hair from Balinor’s eyes. “But if you do happen to stumble across me again… perhaps I will give you my real name. And I will think to ask yours.” She smiled a bit at that and Balinor returned it. “For now, I can only hope Iseldir here has good maps.” She turned to where the druid was waiting. “You won’t force me upon a dragon, will you?”

“I am no dragonlord, my lady.”

“Hm,” Hunith said and picked up her mask. Wordlessly, she handed it to Balinor before turning back to Iseldir. “I’m not a lady, so let’s start there. My second question is if you come equipped with snacks, mystery man?”

“I do.”

“Then we shall travel and feast,” Hunith declared. She turned to Merlin and Arthur. “Thank you for this passage. It has been…. quite terrible, actually.” Balinor snorted. “Please do not seek me out again.”

Merlin almost asked her about Gaius but realized if he did, then Balinor could put together who she was. Part of him was still tempted - but no. No, he’d let them reunite by chance. Through Gaius helping Balinor escape to freedom and his father unknowingly rushing to Adhan.

It must have felt like such fate for him to knock on her door all those years later. The thought made Merlin smile.

“Enjoy your fancy dragon life, stranger,” Hunith said to him. “Perhaps one day you too will find solace in a peasant life.”

Balinor looked at the ground, clearly trying to hide a smile and failing. “I rather doubt it, but if I ever find myself forsaken in a forest or cave, I’ll think of you.”

Hunith opened her mouth and then considered. “I’ll allow it,” she decided and then gave Merlin a once over. “Be good,” she told him. “For some reason, the idea of you dead devastates me.”

A slow smile curled over Merlin’s lips. “Ah. So you’ve fallen in love with me then?” he asked solemnly.

Arthur snorted as both Hunith and Balinor gave him the most disgusted look he would probably ever see on their faces.

“No,” Hunith said with an impressive amount of certainty and hugged him. Merlin smiled into her shoulder, noting that she still somehow smelled as she always did when he was growing up. Gently, he squeezed her once and let go. She looked at Arthur next. “I don’t mind quite as much if you die, but would personally prefer if you did not,” she informed him.

Arthur nodded. “Understood. You are not as much in love with me as you are with Merlin.”

“I hope we never meet again,” Hunith decided and marched off toward Iseldir.

Well… That went as well as Merlin could have possibly hoped. He turned to find his father hesitating, eyes following where Hunith didn’t even look back at them before shaking his head.

“You are both the worst,” he informed Merlin and Arthur before stomping off in the direction of the castle. Merlin glanced in the direction his mother had gone before Arthur grabbed his arm to follow Balinor back home.

Home was a strange way to think of the castle, actually. This wasn’t the castle Merlin had grown comfortable in. Or as comfortable as someone like Merlin could get in a castle filled with royals who would murder him. Still, it was where he would one day meet some of the most important people in his life. It was where he’d learn about himself and others and his destiny… if any of that would still happen.

Despite their conversation with Iseldir, Merlin still felt eager for Kilgharrah’s counsel. The idea that Arthur could change the future in a way Merlin apparently hadn’t was… maybe a little terrifying. Reassuring, yes. Completely. And terrifying.

And Merlin really didn’t mean to question Arthur. He was the king. Merlin trusted his judgment. Never once had he tried to influence policy or laws, but… well. Arthur’s safety and livelihood had always been Merlin’s concern. It felt as though the lines of their roles had blurred and he didn’t quite enjoy it.

At least Arthur seemed somewhat determined to exist still. Merlin hoped that attitude would last.

He opened his mouth to ask him what his current plans were on the matter when a ringing cut off his thoughts. Through the thinning trees, he could see the castle. Balinor frowned, squinting at the movement of soldiers running over the balcony, and sighed.

“Damnit,” he muttered and jerked his head for Arthur and Merlin to follow. “What is it now?”

Half of Merlin expected a full-fledged attack when they finally entered the citadel. But that couldn’t be right. They had just seen Tristan and he had definitely not been gathering an army. Still, there was no denying the chaos as bells rang and people scurried about. Balinor looked around, tensing until he saw a man in leather nearby.

“Moigne,” he called, raising his hands. “What’s going on?”

One of the men who had rushed past them spun back around. “Balinor!” he (Moigne apparently) said, jogging over. He was tall, with scars clawed over his face and coiled hair. “Where have you been? We’ve been riding without you,” he scolded, and Merlin realized with a start that this was another dragonlord. It felt strange to just… see one so casually. As if they were commonplace. He supposed they were in this time.

“It’s a long story,” Balinor said, glancing over at Arthur and Merlin. “Haizea and I have been busy. What’s all of this?” he asked, gesturing to the bustling castle.

Moigne grimaced. “Tristan de Bois.” Arthur and Merlin exchanged looks. “The fox knows we’d beat him in open battle with our dragons, so he’s taken to setting traps,” he said, which… okay. That explained why Tristan was so comfortable with hiding out. He hadn’t been retreating. He had been patiently waiting for the pieces of his trap to set. “An explosion was rigged along our men’s patrol route and someone put iron in Catigern’s food.”

Iron? Merlin asked hesitantly and both Balinor and Moigne looked at him.

Iron weakens those of us with magic, Moigne’s voice answered. Shouldn’t a sorcerer know that?

Merlin did not know that. Merlin had also touched iron plenty and never noticed much of a difference. Was he immune?

Will Catigern be alright? he asked instead.

Moigne gave him a long look. “In time,” he said out loud. “He’s lucky it didn’t kill him. Who are you?” he asked, but Balinor waved the question away. “Uther has been informed, but he’s struggling to deal with Constantine. And just this morning the bridge near Bowden Hill was demolished. None of the weapons we expected will come for another two weeks now.”

“Surely we have enough weapons,” Balinor argued and Moigne grimaced. “....right?”

“For now. But several of the weapons were found cursed. We’ll need to check the rest for the entire army before using them now.”

Balinor swore loudly. “Tristan fucking de Bois,” he seethed. “And why is Uther still dealing with Constantine?”

“The man blames the de Bois girl. Uther has had quite the time trying to keep peace here,” Moigne said dryly. “Honestly, I don’t see why he doesn’t free or kill her. Either would be more productive than whatever this is,” he said, and another bell rang. “That’s my cue. I’m going to scout from above. The fox can’t get me there,” he said, slapping Balinor’s arm. “Keep a sharp eye, brother!”

Merlin leaned toward Arthur. “Any guesses on who poisoned Catigern?” he whispered. Arthur pursed his lips, though Merlin was pretty sure they both were thinking Agravaine at this point. If he truly was on Tristan’s side, then they were almost certainly seeing his work at play.

“He wasn’t that clever when he betrayed me,” Arthur muttered, almost insulted.

Merlin turned to stare at him. “....he ran you out of your own castle,” he said.

Arthur shrugged. “Feels like Morgana did most of the work there,” he muttered and grabbed Merlin’s arm when Balinor began to walk down the corridor. As they dashed to follow him, a strikingly familiar silhouette caught his eye.

Merlin stopped in his tracks. “Gwen?” he asked, realizing as soon as he said it that he was wrong.

In his defense though… the woman looked strikingly like Gwen. Even Arthur did a double-take next to him, expression brightening. Merlin tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment that flooded through him at the sight of it.

Not that he thought Gwen was somehow unworthy of Arthur. She was exactly who Merlin wanted him to be with. A good queen. A loving wife. His friend. Merlin adored Gwen. There was nobody better.

…but if he was honest, sometimes, the sight of Gwen and Arthur together left him a little… empty. And maybe that was his fault. Things had been messy after Morgana enchanted Gwen and Lancelot – something that tore Merlin to pieces each and every day because he wasn’t able to explain.

How could he tell Gwen or Arthur what had truly happened? Gwen, who had no control over the situation, and Arthur, who spent so long forgiving her…

It bothered him immensely that neither knew the truth of it. Gwen had even spoken to him about it once after she came back from her time under Morgana’s curse.

“Merlin,” she had said gently. “I… I’ve been wishing to discuss something with you.” She came into Arthur’s chambers, shutting the door behind her with a click. Merlin looked up at her and smiled - as he always did when Gwen came around - but then she turned around and said, “do you remember when I kissed you?”

Which was not a conversation you wanted to have with the queen in the king’s chambers.

“No,” Merlin said because of all the things to kill him this simply would not be it. He refused.

But Gwen had only laughed and walked over to him, gently taking Excalibur out of his hands and placing it to the side. “Well,” she began. “I do.” And Merlin was fairly convinced she was under the influence of some spell or potion for a full ten seconds as she continued speaking. “You see, I loved you so dearly and it was… confusing, I think. To love so intently with someone kind and handsome and charming.” Merlin looked over her shoulder to where he feared Arthur may burst in with a battle axe and kill them both. “But then to realize it wasn’t necessarily romantic.”

Oh, thank the gods.

Gwen grabbed his hands. “Sometimes, I feel that for the truest love, there can be a very fine line between romantic and non-romantic feelings. So often we think things are one when in truth they are the other.” She looked at Merlin pointedly. Like he was supposed to have some sort of realization at that. “And after I kissed you, I realized shortly after that my feelings were perhaps not as I thought.”

Merlin nodded. “Great,” he said. “Thank you for letting me know.”

But Gwen only squeezed his hands tighter. “I understand it is far more complicated with a marriage,” she added. “To have a realization that someone who you deeply love may only have been romantic for a moment - or perhaps many moments - but it was not meant to be a forever love.” She waited. Merlin tried to dissect that to no avail.

“I… I don’t hold feelings for you, Gwen,” he said slowly. “You don’t need to worry.”

“But,” she said. “Is there perhaps… another?” she asked. Merlin frowned. “A… someone who perhaps it is just the opposite? You think you do not have romantic feelings for them - that your love is non-romantic - but maybe…?” she trailed off purposely.

“Is this about Lamia?” he asked and Gwen closed her eyes. “I don’t know why she didn’t affect-”

“Is there a man?” she suggested and Merlin quickly let go of her, absolutely bewildered. “I’m sorry. I- that was blunt. Um. Okay.” Gwen smiled and placed Merlin’s face between her hands. “I adore my husband, Merlin. I think, after much consideration, my love for him exceeds our marriage into something else. He may be my closest friend.”

Oh. Merlin’s stomach dropped. Oh.

Gently, he pulled her hands off of him. “I understand,” he said, trying not to sound too hurt. “If you wish to be your husband’s best friend instead of mine, I will support it. Not sure you needed a whole speech though, Gwen.”

Merlin had never quite understood the look she had given him. One of pure disappointment and exhaustion. He wasn’t sure what she had wanted him to say, but it wasn’t that. He wished he could have had an open conversation with her. To tell her how sure he was that they belonged together after love potions and cleansing spells and such. But no. He couldn’t.

So he just watched her leave and mulled over his lost friendship.

“Who?” the woman asked now, eyes taking in both Arthur and Merlin before giving a low curtsy. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to cause confusion. My name is Claire. I am from the Cameliard household.”

She kept her head bowed low and Arthur tensed.

“Cameliard?” he repeated.

Merlin glanced at him. Cameliard was another kingdom and a strong ally of Camelot’s. Merlin only knew about them abstractedly, though. Nobody really spoke much about the royal family and Arthur had always seemed irritable in the rare instance the name was mentioned. Even meetings between the kingdoms never took place in Camelot.

Claire ducked her head again. “Yes, my lord,” she said, possibly sensing Arthur’s nobility a mile away. “I am accompanying my mistress and the king for an important meeting with Uther Pendragon,” she explained, eyes flicking toward the throne room.

Arthur took one look at the throne room and then in the direction Balinor went.

“Thank you,” he said and pulled Merlin away.

Alrighty then. Merlin let himself be dragged to the door of the throne room, unsure what this was as Arthur moved to the guards and whispered something. The guard looked at Arthur with narrowed eyes and then nodded, slipping into the room.

“What’s going on?” Merlin whispered and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“My father is about to make an alliance,” he said wryly.

Before Merlin could ask for more information, the guard reappeared, opening the door wider for Merlin and Arthur to enter. They slipped inside to find a table had been moved into the center, food filling the space as servants rushed about. Uther sat at one end, looking utterly exhausted with dark circles under his eyes and cheekbones hollow. It was a startling difference in just the two days since they had last seen one another. When he caught sight of Merlin and Arthur, he gestured them closer into the room.

“You’re back,” he greeted, and Merlin caught sight of an older man on the other end of the table with a flop of red curls and eyes a startling blue. Beside him was a pretty woman who kept her eyes downcast, a plate of food untouched before her. “Perfect timing. These are my messengers from Ladon,” Uther explained to the strangers.

Arthur and Merlin weren’t technically messengers or from Ladon, but it was an interesting spin all the same. Merlin wondered what angle Uther was trying to show here. Clearly, some sort of diplomatic negotiation was in play, but Merlin wasn’t entirely sure what it was.

“Ah,” the redheaded man said. “You have allies in Ladon. Reassuring,” he said, fingers tapping against the table. Uther smiled weakly. “And what news do you bring?” he asked, looking curiously at Arthur and Merlin.

“Come now,” Uther cut in quickly. “You and I have not yet even feasted and you’re already trying to learn my secrets?” He laughed and the stranger smiled. “I’m young, but not foolish.”

“You don’t think you can trust me, boy?” the stranger asked.

From behind him, the throne door opened again and the maid from before - Claire - entered. She scurried over to the woman, quickly placing some tea in front of her before stepping to the side.

Uther glanced at Arthur and Merlin again before smiling. “If I were to go on stories of your greatness alone, then of course,” Uther said and started piling his plate with food. “But I’d like to confirm what I think I know.”

The redheaded man hummed before pulling his own plate toward him. “So,” he began. “I hear Tristan de Bois has recently made a dent in those armies of yours. I suspect you have invited me here to ask for some of my men?” he asked.

“Many of your men, actually,” Uther corrected. The stranger raised an eyebrow. “But I am prepared to pay you handsomely for them. And once I win this war, I’d like to make even more arrangements to strengthen our loyalty to one another.”

Arthur’s eyes dug into his father. Merlin could feel waves of annoyance rolling off of him. What on earth? He leaned in, careful not to get the attention of anyone at the table, and asked, “these are your allies, right?”

No answer came.

The redheaded man took a bite of meat, looking at Uther thoughtfully. “You needn’t pay me, child,” he said. Uther paused. “I have a different request. If you abide, then I shall give you a thousand soldiers.”

“A request?” Uther asked, taking a sip of his wine. “What is this request exactly-?”

The woman slammed her hands down on the table. “I won’t do it!” she snapped. “I won’t. I will not allow it. I will not give this child up.”

Uther choked on his wine. “I beg your pardon?” he asked, but the redheaded man only waved the question away before giving the woman a bone-chilling look. She met the gaze evenly, but Merlin could see her pale slightly.

“Please,” she whispered, hand curling toward her stomach.

The redheaded man ignored her and turned back to Uther. “As you know, I am a married man,” he said, as if the woman’s outburst hadn’t even happened. “And, currently, my wife is displeased with me.”

“I… see,” Uther said slowly. Concern touched his face as he looked at the woman, but said nothing else.

“She is a good wife,” the stranger said with a vague nod - like he was discussing the weather or cattle. “Bore me an heir and such, but as you can see, Lady Evaine here caught my eye.” Oh, dear. Merlin bit his lip, suddenly wary about where this was going. “I did not think it would be such an issue for me to take a mistress, but my wife is beside herself with fury. Apparently, this is an insult to her.” He took another bite of his food. “I had hoped this foolishness would die down. Lady Evaine is from a noble family, so I see not what the insult is, do you? I mean, she is of good breeding, a fine figure, a good face. It is not as if I took a peasant to my bed,” he muttered. “At any rate, she has found out Evaine is with child and it has caused… even more disarray,” he said.

“Ah,” Uther said, shifting uncomfortably. “How very unfortunate.”

“Hm,” the man agreed. “So here is my offer, Uther Pendragon. Take the child, raise it well, and I shall give you my men.”

Uther stopped eating. “Take… your child?” he repeated. “As what? My ward?”

“No,” the man snorted. “No, no. I’d have members of my house stay here to help raise it. I only ask that if it is a girl, she has the first right to marry your firstborn son. Or, perhaps, your daughter if I were to have a son.”

“I… see,” Uther asked slowly. “That is a very big ask. I assume you are sending the child away to temper your wife?”

“Correct. She will certainly throw the poor babe from a window if it stays in my kingdom,” the man said.

“And so you’d rather your bastard child sit the throne alongside my legitimate heir?” Uther clarified. “An heir I do not yet have?”

“You say you’ll win, no? And you wouldn’t be so careless to not have a child quickly after a civil war such as this one. Camelot will need a strong claim,” the stranger said. From beside him, the woman scowled at the table, taking a slow breath.

“And… if our children are both male? Female?” Uther asked warily.

“A knight,” the man said, pointing a fork at Uther. “Or perhaps… I don’t know. I’ll find another suitable marriage to one of your lords for a girl, I suppose.”

Uther absently picked at his food, not looking entirely sure what to do with this conversation. Merlin didn’t either if he was honest. The Uther he knew had been dead set on Elena and Arthur’s marriage to ensure an everlasting treaty with Gawant. But Elena didn’t exist yet. Neither did Arthur for that matter. This was a hypothetical alliance with only one child - who had yet to be born - actually present.

“Children sometimes fade before they are born. This seems a bit premature, no?” Uther asked warily. “I, myself, am not even married to ensure my end of the bargain.”

“Rumors of your engagement have flown,” the man frowned. “A fairy of some sort, I believe. Your magical allies should be more than willing to ensure my child is born safe and healthy?”

“I- it’s a complicated matter,” Uther muttered and leaned back. He looked across the table. His eyes flicked to the woman, an underlying apology in his gaze. Part of Merlin thought he would refuse - or maybe just hoped. “Very well. Your child will have a place in my household, I promise you that. Be it knighthood or marriage. I’ll have my finest physicians and mages ensure the wellbeing of Lady Evaine and her babe,” he said, giving Evaine a small smile.

She did not return it.

“I will remain here after the child is born then,” she said instead.

An awkward silence fell over the table.

“No,” the man said simply.

Evaine’s eyes flashed. “You cannot-”

“I can,” he interrupted easily. “If it really means so much to you, you may appoint the household of your choice to look after the child, but you will remain with me after you are recovered.”

Arthur tensed again. Merlin felt as though something should be clicking right now, but he was missing something vital about this interaction. Evaine did not speak again, picking at her food as Claire continued to attend to her with gentle hands.

“You will stay here,” she said when Claire removed a dish from the table. “With my son. I trust nobody else in my absence.”

Claire blinked. “I-” she began and shifted uncomfortably. “I am but a maid, my lady.”

“Then be a maid,” Evaine said. “And be with him.”

Claire continued to stare, looking unsure of how to approach this as the man dabbed a napkin at his face.

“A boy, hm?” he asked and Evaine gestured for Claire to step back. “Is that a feeling?” She didn’t answer. “If it is a boy, he should have the family name.”

“No,” Evaine said again, and this time, the man rolled his eyes. “He should have his own name. So that his greatness is not confused with yours, my king.” She looked up, expression pointed and daring. The man met her gaze with a slight frown. “Perhaps a… homage to you, instead, my lord. For if the boy were to have the family name, surely your wife would be displeased.”

At that, the man grunted. “I suppose. As fine of a name Leondegrance is,” he said, then considered. “Leon then. Shorter, but a way to ensure no one may forget where he comes from.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, a tad too loudly. Arthur stepped on his foot, but luckily nobody noticed. “These are Leon’s parents?” he whispered.

Arthur made a face. “Unfortunately,” he muttered back. Merlin marveled. Leon never spoke much of his family. He was utterly and completely devoted to Camelot and Arthur. Merlin had assumed he was a child of one of the nobles within Camelot - not a bastard of an allied kingdom.

It did make sense that Arthur’s feathers were so ruffled, though. Of all his knights, Leon was perhaps the only one who could get away with telling Arthur off, which was a quality Merlin had always admired in the man. In many ways, he was something of an older brother, though Merlin wasn’t able to fully appreciate that until this moment. Leon had literally grown up here alongside Arthur and Morgana. He would have been turning into a full-fledged knight right as Arthur began as a squire.

And this Leondegrance man did not seem like a father who… well, was filled with the same code of honor his son would one day have. He could imagine Leon’s shame in growing up here as a bastard of two nobles, desperately trying to prove himself as Arthur watched.

And to think… if Leon had been a girl then he would have been betrothed to Arthur. Merlin almost made a face at the idea. Not that he didn’t adore Leon, but - actually, nevermind.

The rest of the meal finished quickly. Uther and Leondegrance (what a name) discussed logistics and Evaine stared blankly at her meal.

“You should meet our blacksmith,” Uther told Claire when she began to clear away some plates. “If you are to keep an eye on young Leon then it would be useful for you to help get him the armor and weapons he needs as he grows.”

“Yes, my lord,” Claire said quickly, curtsying.

“He has a new apprentice,” Uther mused. “Might be good for you to speak to him instead. Let him learn as Leon grows and have his master attend to the more practiced men.” Claire nodded, keeping her eyes lowered as she stepped back behind Evaine’s chair.

Arthur kept his lips pursed, watching as Leondegrance thanked Uther for the meal and offered Evaine his arm, announcing they would spend the night in Camelot’s welcome. Merlin wasn’t sure why he wanted to stay in this castle with everyone frazzled by Tristan’s recent attacks. Surely there would be more. Perhaps he wanted to take a closer look at Uther’s forces before actually sending his own men over.

The door shut with a thud and Uther turned around.

“Tell me of Ladon,” he greeted.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “You should set more stipulations for that child,” he said, and Uther frowned. “Insist his mother be allowed to visit at least once a year so Leondegrance won’t keep them apart. Find a way for the child to occasionally visit his homeland. To meet his brother.”

“Are these stipulations not implied?” Uther asked, genuinely perplexed. “The man seems to have good intentions. He wants to protect his child from his wife. Granted, his treatment of the Lady Evaine is… less than appealing. Perhaps I will find a way to see if I can keep her here…” he muttered to himself.

“Trust me,” Arthur said. “Leondegrance is the type of man to give you whatever is wanted for an alliance - but he will use his loyalty to you to excuse the most egregious behaviors. I don’t believe he will be as kind to this child as you seem to think.”

Merlin wondered what specifically Arthur was thinking about. At some point, he had figured he had learned almost everything about Arthur. More often than not, Merlin could get him to launch into childhood stories of misadventures and hunts and knight training whenever they went on a quest, or even just mulled about the castle. He was a little surprised to find there was something he hadn’t heard. Then again, Arthur wouldn’t have spoken ill of Leon’s family to Merlin on a whim. He wasn’t that type of person.

“If you insist,” Uther said, giving Arthur a curious look. “Ladon?” he prompted. “Did you find Nimueh?”

Where were they even supposed to begin?

Arthur opened his mouth to answer when the door flew open.

And there stood Ygraine. With a very angry Agravaine.

“What is this?” Agravaine hissed, pointing at a bruise that blossomed over the right side of Ygraine’s face. Ygraine slapped his hand down, looking irritable at being dragged into the room. Upon seeing Uther, her expression darkened. “I come here to support your claim to the throne and now I find my sister beaten like a dog?”

“I- excuse me?” Ygraine snapped. “Like a dog?”

“Look at you!”

“Look at you!” Ygraine threw back. “You’re mad that I’m injured? I’m a prisoner here, Agravaine! You betrayed us! Why are you surprised my feet are not kissed and hair pampered? Besides, it is barely even a scratch,” she muttered.

Agravaine scowled at her. “I was promised her protection for orchestrating the attack-”

“To be fair,” Ygraine interrupted. “Constantine probably didn’t realize how much trouble I’d be when he agreed to that.”

Uther shrugged. “That is true, actually.”

Ygraine and Uther both gave each other a nod of acknowledgment which felt bewildering, but also Merlin appreciated that they found a common enemy in Agravaine.

“I want to know who did this,” Agravaine said shortly. “Was it your father?”

It was interesting that he didn’t already know Ygraine was hurt. In Merlin’s mind, the fact he had been so inattentive to his sister’s well-being in the castle meant Tristan must have been telling the truth. Agravaine was on his side. And most likely orchestrating much of the chaos they were seeing now.

He supposed the remaining question was if Uther would figure that out – or Ygraine for that matter.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ygraine cut in sharply. She gave Uther a stern look which he surprisingly only met with narrowed eyes. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to the pretender king by myself.” Her gaze moved to Arthur and Merlin. “For he has much explaining to do on why two of our brother’s guests have vanished from my care only to just now reappear.”

Ah. Merlin awkwardly waved and the look she gave him almost made him want to hide under the table.

“You’d-?” Agravaine spluttered. “No! I’m not leaving you with him while your face looks like a battered peach.”

“Insult my face again and you’ll be the one battered,” Ygraine said shortly. Agravaine closed his eyes, clearly fighting for composure as she pointedly stared at Arthur, who, in turn, only looked uncertain. She jerked her head and Arthur slowly unsheathed Excalibur.

“Ygraine!” Agravaine hissed, stepping back. “You cannot-”

“Arthur, please escort my brother out of the room,” she said calmly.

Merlin could see something shift in Arthur’s expression. Was this the first time she had directly addressed him by name? What a bewildering experience that must be. He knew hearing Balinor call him by his name for the first time had been… oddly surreal.

“Uther, are you allowing this?” Agravaine asked when Arthur stepped forward.

Uther yawned. “It looks like it,” he said and watched as Arthur practically herded Agravaine at the door. Ygraine watched, expression solemn up until Arthur shut the door in her brother’s face.

“You are not to tell him about Vivienne,” she said shortly. Uther raised his eyebrows. “I forbid it.”

“You forbid it,” Uther repeated dryly. “It’s incredible how determined you are to give orders in a castle that is not yours-”

“No, it is my brother’s and since he is not here, I will dole out orders as I must,” Ygraine said, walking around to him. “If you dare tell anyone-”

“You defend her?” Uther cut in. “After she attacked you?”

“Your father ordered her to!”

“And yet she struck.”

“I would not blame a sword for the hand that delivered a blow.”

“Oh, so now you’ve completely taken away your so-called friend’s agency in order to dissolve her of responsibility and pin this on my father,” Uther said, and Ygraine threw up a hand. “You should be thanking me for intervening-”

Ygraine gave a high-pitched squawk of disbelief. “Thanking you? I would sooner thank a fire for providing me warmth as I stood on a pyre.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Uther muttered and Arthur awkwardly cleared his throat. Both Ygraine and Uther turned to him, expressions a mixture of annoyance and expectance.

“Technically,” Arthur said, managing to keep himself from looking too nervous and instead the well-poised king he had been for the past few years. “Princess Ygraine is correct. Vivienne is bound to Constantine by Nimueh. She wouldn’t be able to defy his orders.”

Merlin waited for Ygraine to give a victorious ‘ha’ at that, but she only instead leveled Arthur was a stern glare.

“And where exactly have you been to know such details?” she asked. Arthur glanced at Uther. “Do not look at him. It is me you’re answering.”

“Uh,” Arthur said, looking genuinely taken off-guard. “I- we went to Ladon-”

“You left me here to go to Ladon?”

“No!” Arthur said quickly. “I mean, yes-”

“You thought that was acceptable?”

“Uther said-”

“Oh, so you take his orders now? You’ve betrayed me?”

“No,” Merlin jumped in because Arthur seemed too horrified to properly defend himself. “With all due respect, princess, we declared loyalty to no family. Uther assured us your safety in return for information from Ladon-”

“Oh, and clearly those terms were met,” Ygraine said snidely, gesturing to her face. “And so you two went to Ladon to learn that Vivienne answers to Constantine? And did you figure out how to break that tie?” Arthur and Merlin stayed silent. “Then that was a waste of a trip and a duplicitous waste of my trust.”

Arthur winced and despite himself, Merlin found himself once again defensive of him. He supposed he couldn’t really help it. Whether it be a magical creature, a neighboring kingdom, Uther, or even Ygraine, Merlin truly hated to see Arthur slighted on anything that wasn’t his fault.

“If you give out trust that freely then it is no wonder your brother betrayed you,” Merlin said. Ygraine whipped around, eyes widening at Merlin’s tone. “We also found where Vivienne was after the attack,” he added. Both Uther and Ygraine both went still. “But Arthur opted to not bring her back to the castle to avoid her falling to Constantine’s whims again.” At that, Uther closed his eyes in defeat. “But if you wish to stomp your feet over what little details you have, then go ahead. I’m sure your rashness is your most admirable quality.”

“Merlin,” Arthur hissed, looking at his parents with a hint of panic. “I’m so sorry, he’s an idiot-”

Ygraine held up a hand. “No,” she interrupted and gave Merlin a considering look. “I am not someone who is insulted by truth,” she said, giving a pointed scowl at Uther. “My temper was rash and I have only known the two of you for a short time. To expect anything of you is premature.”

The words made Uther look at her with something on his face that Merlin couldn’t quite read. A few moments passed, and he swallowed, wordlessly grabbing a plate of leftover food from his feast with Leaondegrance and holding it out to Ygraine.

“I will not tell your brother of Vivienne’s attack,” he said. Ygraine looked at the plate in confusion. “In exchange for perhaps a day or two of you not trying to sabotage my war efforts.”

Ygraine’s eyes flicked again to the food and then to his face. “I did not poison your silly dragonlord,” she said. “Or have anything to do with the attacks on your men… or the cursing of weapons.”

“You wish it had been you, though,” Uther said and Ygraine took the plate.

“Very much so, yes.”

And despite the exhaustion and frustration on Uther’s face, a hint of humor touched his eyes. “And it was you who convinced my guards that the castle was haunted by our late king and got six of my servants to resign?”

Ygraine tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Seven. I convinced Gerald not but an hour ago.”

“Of course you did,” Uther muttered. “Were you not in a prison cell?”

“I’m very charming.”

“Are you?” Uther asked doubtfully. Ygraine gave him a sarcastic smile. “Very well. I will keep Vivienne’s attack under wraps for now… and if you give me three days of peace I might consider moving you back up to the guest rooms instead of the dungeons.”

Ygraine took some food off of the plate and took a bite. “And Gaius?” she asked. Uther shrugged. “You could demand me give you infinite peace.”

“I prefer to set realistic expectations of my subjects.”

“I am not your subject. If I were, you wouldn’t need to negotiate,” Ygraine informed him flatly. After a few moments of deliberation, she spoke again. “For Gaius and Vivienne, I could perhaps do three days,” she amended. “But I have one request.”

“You have no room for requests.”

“And yet,” Ygraine said. Uther rolled his eyes. “I want to hear what these two have to say about Ladon.” She jerked her head to Merlin and Uther. “I’m sure there is so much more they have not yet said. It’s captured my interest,” she said, giving them an appraising look.

“My lady-” Uther began.

“Ygraine.”

“Whatever your name is,” he shot back. “Do you really think I’m so foolish I’d let the sister of my sworn enemy listen in on intelligence that may help me in this war?” he asked. Ygraine pulled out a seat, and sat at the table, letting that serve as her answer.

It truly was fascinating. Merlin expected Uther to call guards - to lose his temper. To do something. But he just looked at her. As if he truly had no options other than to cave to her every demand. Merlin could see him trying to find a solution, but all the ones that sat in front of him, he seemed to ignore.

“Fine,” he said, and Ygraine smiled. Arthur looked between them in bafflement, but it quickly turned serious when Uther’s eyes met theirs next. “You two… tell me what you’ve learned.”

Chapter Text

It didn’t take too long for Arthur to explain everything that happened at Ladon. Mostly because he didn’t tell them everything. The last thing his parents needed to hear was that they were destined to have, well, him. But he told them enough. Enough that his poor father looked as if he had been hit several times with a log.

“Nimueh… saw a vision,” Uther began, a surprising amount of hurt in his tone. “That there would be terror under my rule?” He sat at the table he had feasted at with Leondegrance, hands folded together, pressed against his lips.

Arthur half expected his mother to jump on the knowledge - demanding loudly that Tristan was clearly the rightful heir. But she didn’t. She watched Uther with her expression masking something that Arthur had trouble deciphering.

Uther lowered a hand, tapping the table. “But, why? What do I do?” he asked and stood up. He looked around, searching for something. Someone. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he paced. “I don’t understand,” he muttered. “I don’t… I don’t understand.” He ran a hand over his mouth.

“Prophecies are not certainties,” Merlin surprisingly began, but Uther shook his head.

“No. No, but they are possibilities, yes? I am capable of something so awful that this sorceress will not have me on the throne.” Merlin didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. Arthur didn’t either. “Aurelius-” Uther began and then placed his hands on the table, taking a long breath. “Aurelius would not have put me on the throne if he thought I could do harm. He wouldn’t,” he said, voice wavering. “He loved this kingdom. He would not have given me back the title of heir if he thought I could be capable of hurting his people. Our people.”

Ygraine’s brows furrowed. Arthur could see something shift. Something unspoken. Something… vaguely concerned. And then worried.

“He told me he confided in prophets about who his heir should be,” Uther continued. “He would have told me if they saw me cause any harm.”

Arthur closed his eyes. He wanted to reassure his father. To impress with every ounce of his being that he was a good king. A good man.

Instead, Arthur straightened his shoulders to try and meet Uther's eyes. “Relinquish your claim to Tristan,” he began gently.

Was it really this easy? To change the past and future? Was this all Arthur was meant to do? It felt so tiny. So insignificant.

Uther looked up at him, expression filled with uncertainty. “How can I be sure you tell the truth?” he asked, and when Arthur reached for Tristan’s coin, shook his head. “No, I will trust no gimmicks. I must speak to this priestess myself. I must hear her words.” He nodded to himself. “Find a way to deliver a message to her. Say if she comes to me, I’ll ensure her protection, and if she says her word is true… I will give up my claim.”

“What?” Ygraine asked, standing up. Uther looked at her. “You’d surrender on the word of one woman?”

“Shouldn’t this please you?”

But Ygraine didn’t look pleased. She looked horrified.

“You…” she began. “You’re being honest. You truly believe Aurelius gave you your claim back,” she said. Uther didn’t answer. He just looked at her. “But-” she pressed her fingers against her lips and turned away.

“What Aurelius wanted does not matter if I’m an unfit king,” Uther said quietly. “Perhaps have this priestess read into the prophecies of your brother’s rule. If they show no doom then… I would gladly pass over my crown.”

Ygraine turned back around. Arthur wasn’t sure he had ever seen her so shaken. Granted, he felt shaken too. His father’s reaction was the last thing he expected. Never once had Arthur seen his father doubt his right to Camelot. And for the first time, he wondered if that confidence was maybe a facade so that Arthur would never doubt his own claim.

And without warning, Ygraine knocked over a chair. The clatter made everyone jump, but she barely seemed fazed as she stormed over and shoved Uther back. He stumbled, expression switching from forlorn to utter defiance.

“Look at me,” she hissed and shoved him again. “Look at me!”

“I am!” Uther snapped back.

Ygraine stared at his face, blinking rapidly. Whatever she saw must have confirmed her worst fear because she took a long breath and turned away again.

“I’m not sure Nimueh will be pleased to see us again,” Merlin said slowly. Uther at him warily. “We may have… blown a hole in the castle as we were leaving,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. Uther pinched the bridge of his nose. From off to the side, the door to the room opened again and Balinor walked in. His eyes flicked over the room, relief touching his face when he saw Arthur and Merlin. No doubt, he realized at some point he had lost them and panicked. “Though in fairness,” Merlin continued. “We had to because Balinor came and attacked Nimueh.”

Balinor turned around to leave the room.

“Well then Balinor can go back and apologize,” Uther said loudly. Balinor paused, looking back like a deer caught at the end of a spear. “And ask the Lady Nimueh to come to Camelot so I may apologize in person.” Balinor slowly turned back around. “And pay for the Dragonlords’ castle.”

“Hi,” Balinor greeted. “I’m exiled from Ladon.” Uther pinned him with a glare. “Why can’t you send your brother?”

It took Arthur several seconds to process that.

“Brother?” he repeated. “I- Aurelius was his brother, right? Is there another adopted brother?” he asked, trying to put the pieces together there. He had heard of Aurelius as a child but his father had no other family that Arthur knew of.

Uther ignored him. “Moigne did not blow a hole in their castle!” he countered instead.

“Neither did I!” Balinor said and Merlin gave him a look. “...technically,” he added, then shook his head. “Actually, no. Why am I covering for you? He has magic!” Balinor said, pointing at Merlin, whose mouth dropped in offense.

Arthur wasn’t really paying attention, though. He was far too caught up in Uther’s last comment.

“Moigne?” he repeated, thinking back to the dragonlord they had briefly met in the hallway. “I- you…” he began. Uther turned to where Merlin gave a weak smile at having been outed as a sorcerer. “Are you a dragonlord?” Arthur asked, thinking how Moigne also called Balinor brother. As he said the words, he realized that didn’t add up, but also there was no feasible explanation for what was going on.

“No,” Uther said, frowning. “Moigne is my older half-brother. From my mother’s first marriage.”

Arthur’s heart dropped. He had no idea what his face looked like, but based on the perplexed looks the others were giving him, he must seem horrified. Maybe because he was. Wordlessly, he set Excalibur down, a little dizzy.

“Is he okay?” Ygraine asked, but suddenly Merlin was there, saying… something. The world blurred a bit and when Arthur blinked he was in the cupboard near the back end of the throne room. The smell of damp stone and wine clung to his throat as the door squeaked shut. At least the dim light was a welcome reprieve as he tried to sort out his feelings.

His father just found out Merlin had magic. That should be a problem. It didn’t feel like one though. Not right now. Not with this new information hanging over him that just… Didn’t add up.

“Arthur,” Merlin said gently, and Arthur exhaled sharply. “He said half-brother. That must mean that your grandmother’s first husband was a dragonlord. It isn’t in your blood.”

Slowly, Arthur looked up, incredulity trickling through him.

“That is what you think the problem is?” Arthur asked, shoving Merlin away. He gave an almost hysterical laugh. “Why the hell did you even support my claim to Camelot if you think so lowly of me?” he asked and Merlin blinked, a flash of shame touching his face. “My father had a brother he never told me about. A dragonlord who he could have very well killed during the Purge! His own flesh in blood!” Arthur hissed.

Merlin winced. “I- I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I wasn’t thinking-”

“He wiped out not one, but two members of our family from history. I never knew my grandmother had another husband. Nobody mentioned that to me!” Arthur let his head fall back against the stone wall. “My very belief of this world has been shaped by the history I’ve been taught and half of it isn’t even true!” he snapped, hitting a wooden crate beside him.

For a moment, there was only the sound of his own ragged breathing before he felt Merlin shift, pressing against his side instead of kneeling in front of him.

More silence passed.

“Keep talking,” Merlin finally said. Arthur shook his head. “I think it will help.”

Arthur scoffed. “And say what?” he asked bitterly. “That I loved my father? I love my father, and…” Against his will, his throat tightened, threatening tears. “It’s difficult to see him here. Like this. To see everything in a clearer light. To know what he was and what he will be, and that even when I saw him at his worst, I still thought of him as the man he wanted to be and not who he was.” Arthur closed his eyes. “How could I have been so blind for so long?”

“Because you love him,” Merlin’s voice said. “And even in spite of that, you still told him when you thought he was wrong. You argued and you did what was in your best judgment even before you became king.” Merlin touched his wrist. “I’m sorry that I… what I said about before. I know you better than that.”

Arthur opened his eyes, looking over to find Merlin already looking at him. Wordlessly, he held out Tristan’s coin and flipped it. Heads. Merlin rolled his eyes but said nothing.

“Any ideas on how we fix any of this?” he asked quietly.

Merlin scoffed, head also falling back against the wall. “At this point? Feels like the only idea I have is asking Kilgharrah. And even then, I’m not really sure anything I do will be of any use.”

Arthur hummed. Kilgharrah. He was not looking forward to facing that dragon again.

“Maybe Tristan had the right idea,” he said. “Stop thinking about the future.”

Merlin nodded. “...can that work when we already know the future, though?”

“Probably not.”

“Ah.” Merlin clicked his tongue. “Any other ideas then?”

“Not even one.”

“Right,” Merlin murmured.

Arthur bit his lip. “Do you… think if Mordred had known he was meant to kill me, things would have still turned out the same?” he mused.

At that, Merlin tensed. “I don’t know,” he said, voice tightening. “I really don’t know. Maybe.” A beat of silence passed. “Kara was why he did it.”

“Hm?”

“The druid girl you executed. The one who you offered to spare,” Merlin said softly. “He loved her. And I… didn’t properly explain to him why you had made the decision you did. Didn’t have any faith in him to make him see reason.” Merlin closed his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about how I could have done it differently. It all seems obvious in hindsight. But I… I don’t know. Clearly, I’m not one to outwit destiny,” he said, giving a weak smile. “Seems that falls to you.” A pause. “Not sure how you’d outwit anything, but-”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur cut in and tapped his knee. He had one idea, maybe. Merlin would hate it. Then again, Merlin seemed to have some control issues so Arthur wasn’t sure he’d like anything suggested. “What do you think would happen if we just… told them?”

“Told who what?”

“My parents. What if we told them everything?” Merlin blinked several times. “And just… let whatever happens happen.”

“You want to tell your warring families that you are their future child and that after your mother’s death due to magic exchanging your life for hers, your father caused a massacre that eventually led to my parents meeting, and subsequent creation, making me the personification of magic and inexplicably linked to you in order to bring back magic to the kingdom?”

“You summed that up quite well,” Arthur told him. Merlin stared at him. “That works for me.”

“I-” Merlin began and then stared in front of him as if trying to decide if he was dreaming. “What?”

“Well, if we tell them-”

“Will they even believe us?”

“We have the coin!”

“Your father won’t even take our word about Nimueh using the coin. He’s not going to believe he marries Ygraine and has you,” Merlin said, voice rising an octave.

Fair enough, he supposed. Though Arthur was beginning to see something change in his parents' dynamic already. He thought to his mother’s reaction to his father’s response of Nimueh’s vision. In her mind, he really had been a conniving nobleman, plotting to steal a throne that wasn’t his. The realization that might not be true would have flipped everything for her in the same way that hearing Moigne’s name had flipped everything for Arthur.

And neither of them seemed to know what to do with this new vantage point.

“Do you have a better idea?” he asked, looking over at Merlin.

Silence.

“Could we still talk to Kilgharrah first?” Merlin asked warily. God, him and that dragon. Arthur shrugged. At this point, why not? He wouldn’t say no to more counsel - even if he was unlikely to heed it. “Okay. So… we get Balinor to take us Kilgharrah and keep everyone alive and well until then.”

It was a good enough plan as any. Still, neither moved. It felt oddly safe in this little room, where neither past nor future could get them. No big decisions were in this closet. No lives clung to a balance that had never been properly measured. It was just them. No titles. No powers. No destiny. It was Arthur and Merlin.

“Can you conjure food?” Arthur asked, and Merlin shot him an incredulous look. “I’m hungry. We haven’t eaten since we spoke to Iseldir and that wasn’t enough,” he said.

“Is it ever?” Merlin snorted and Arthur nudged him with his arm before he reached into his jacket. “Here,” Merlin said, bringing out some bread that had been wrapped in a piece of cloth. “It’s the last of it.”

“You’ve had food this whole time?”

“Of course, I do. You’re always hungry,” Merlin said defensively. Arthur took the pitiful loaf and broke it in half, handing a piece over. Merlin accepted it, nibbling at the end. Arthur yawned, rubbing his eyes. Maybe he’d rest for a moment more. He took a bite of the bread, realizing just how sore he was from the past few days. Being stabbed, transported back into time, kidnapped, forced into dragon riding, and then snuck into a secret underground temple would perhaps do that to you.

“I’m going to close my eyes for a bit,” Arthur decided and shifted so his head was in Merlin’s lap. Obviously, he needed a pillow and this closet had a subpar amount of sleeping materials.

“You-?” Merlin began, blinking down at him. “They’re waiting for us outside,” he pointed out. Arthur shrugged. Who cared? He was tired. This was tiring. Right now, the only thing in the world that felt enticing was the warmth of Merlin’s skin through his clothes.

…which was a peculiar thought now that he thought about it. Maybe he should dissect that more, but his mind was already drifting into sleep.

When he opened his eyes he was floating.

A brilliant blue sky shone above him, puffs of clouds obscuring the sun so only a few rays reached the water of the lake that surrounded him. Was he... back in the Lake of Avalon? He looked around, water seeping through his simple white tunic and trousers.

"Merlin?" he asked, eyes trailing around the bank. But he was alone. At least, he thought he was until something touched his back.

He whipped around, jerking back to find a young woman staring back at him, hair drenched from the water and wide.

"King Arthur," she said cautiously. Despite the fact Arthur was treading the water, she looked like she was somehow just standing there across from him. Her eyes flicked over his shoulder, a hint of disappointment touching her face. "No Merlin?"

"I... don't believe so," Arthur said, and she nodded. "Who are you?"

A shy smile touched the woman's face as she held out her hand. "I'm Freya," she told him softly. Arthur warily took her hand, noticing a druid marking on the inside of her forearm.

Just as he was about to comment on it, her hold on him tightened and she disappeared beneath the water, dragging Arthur down with her.

Why did destiny seem so determined to get him into this God forsaken lake anyway?

He turned to twist away, but the pressure of the water seemed to vanish, letting him fall to the ground with a thud.

“What?” he muttered and sat up, rubbing his forehead. “Freya?!” he called, but all he could see was mists of white around him, the smoke forming different silhouettes as voices whispered. "What is this?" he called, reaching to where Excalibur would normally sit.

Freya didn't answer.

“Arthur?” someone called. They sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. Not until a face broke through the canvas of white. “Oh, darling,” Ygraine said, rushing over to him. Arthur blinked a few times. This Ygraine was… well, older. The one he had seen when Morgause had summoned her for him. She placed her hands on either side of Arthur’s face, eyes brightening at him. “What are you doing here?”

That… was an excellent question.

“Am I dead?” he asked, wondering if everything he had been through with Merlin had just been a dying fantasy. The thought filled him with dread, but Ygraine shook her head. “Dreaming?” he asked.

“That depends on your definition of dreaming,” another voice said. That one he recognized.

“Father,” he said, sitting up straighter as Uther walked through the smoke. He smiled at the sight of Ygraine and Arthur together, expression softening as he took them both in quietly. “Where…” he began, unsure of what to say. This had never been a situation he ever expected himself to be. Even in these glimpses of the past, his parents hadn’t known who he was - or even liked one another.

“The gods are in disarray,” Ygraine told him, a hint of a smile touching her lips as she brushed back a few strands of his hair. Her fingers were unnaturally soft. He found that a little surprising now that he knew her better. His mother didn’t seem like someone who kept her hands clean despite her nobility. “They are trying to figure out time and destiny and magic… all of them realizing the one thing their power cannot control is you.”

A note of pride was in her voice and Arthur couldn’t help but feel warm at it.

“Perhaps he should use that to his advantage,” Uther muttered. “Instead of folding to it.”

Ygraine’s expression didn’t change. She looked at Arthur with the amount of adoration she had started with.

“You know,” she began, letting her hand fall from Arthur’s hair. “I don’t think I ever apologized to you, Uther.”

“To me?” Uther repeated, voice straining as he looked down at where she was still kneeling next to Arthur. “No. You have nothing to apologize for. Why would you ever-?”

“If I had known that love would have made a lesser king and even lesser man, then I would have turned away the other the moment you gave me the ring,” she said, smiling up, expression pleasant as she looked at Uther with the same, soft voice. But Arthur knew better now. “Unfortunately, I thought love could make you better. I thought it would be what helped you avoid the doom Nimueh prophesized, not the cause of it. Alas,” she sighed, ignoring Uther’s horrified stare at her. “If you were half the king you were as my husband, then perhaps my son wouldn’t have had the trials he did. For that I apologize,” she said, giving Arthur a nod. “But if you deem yourself able to give council, husband, then you should think about why he is the Once and Future King… and you are not.”

….Arthur wasn’t sure he had heard anyone speak to his father that way. Minus Merlin who came close that one time as an old man. In retrospect, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t realized Dragoon and Merlin were the same person earlier. It was just an unfiltered, more chaotic version of him.

He half expected his father to get angry, but he just looked at Ygraine as if this was an everyday conversation. Hurt touched his face, but it only lasted a moment as he seemed to process the words and an appropriate response.

“I love you-”

“I believe you,” Ygraine interrupted. “But I don’t have to agree with how you loved. And I don’t. Not to me. Not to our son. Not to our kingdom.” She turned back to Arthur and smiled again. “But for what it’s worth, before I died… you really were a great man. The proof is before us." She touched Arthur's cheek again. "Though, perhaps, I should get more credit for my blood,” she added and Arthur flushed.

Uther scoffed, but it seemed weak. If Arthur didn’t know his father so well, he’d say he was unfazed by the words, but Arthur did. He could see Ygraine’s speech had bothered him. “All the credit,” he said quietly. His eyes flicked to Arthur next. “I do not agree with all you have done as king, Arthur,” he began and then fell silent again. “But you have always been a greater man than me. A greater king seems like a natural progression.” Arthur smiled weakly. “Until then, I suppose my final piece of advice will be…” He looked down at Ygraine again. “Listen to your mother.”

And with that, he turned away. Arthur opened his mouth, wanting to call out to him. For better or for worse, he had missed his father. Despite their differences, there was no denying the love they had for one another. It made all of this more painful. But his father was gone. And his mother gripped his hands tightly.

“Good advice,” she told him. “But we don’t have much time. The gods are possibly realizing their times are overlapping as we speak.”

“So this is real-?”

“Shh,” she said, waving an impatient hand. “Don’t worry about that now. When you wake up, focus on who poisoned Aurelius.”

“What?”

“They said it was a man named Eopa, but I know it wasn’t. Find the real culprit.”

Arthur shook his head, trying to process that. “Do you know who did it?” he asked.

“Oh, no-”

“Then how do you know Eopa didn’t do it?”

“Sweetheart,” Ygraine said and patted his hands. “We didn’t get a chance to know one another, so you don’t know this, but if I’m talking then everyone else is generally listening.”

Arthur wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cower in fear. He settled for the middle and just nodded.

“Eopa was the physician in Aurelius’s court. Gaius studied under him for a time. He swore by his innocence for as long as I knew him, but all evidence said otherwise, unfortunately. Constantine executed him within the week of Aurelius’s death,” she grimaced.

Arthur shifted. Well, it seemed to him that Constantine was an obvious suspect in that case, but pocketed that for later.

“So…” he began tentatively. “I change the future if I find the right culprit?”

Ygraine smiled a little. “Arthur,” she said voice growing more serious. “I very much like your pretty friend, but do not repeat his mistakes. Do not aim to change the future to get what you believe to be the best ending. Do what you believe is right and the future will change.”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond only to process ‘pretty friend’ and felt himself turn bright red.

“Good luck,” his mother whispered, not giving him a chance to die a second time from utter humiliation at his mother calling Merlin of all people pretty. Which, she wasn’t wrong, but Arthur was pretty sure nobody was allowed to go around saying it. “I love you.” Ygraine stood up. “Do not let any past version of me bully you,” she added and then reconsidered. “But I am often right so you should listen.”

Arthur wanted to point out the contradiction there, but she had already blown him a kiss, stepping into the mist. Arthur sat frozen, trying to come to terms with everything. It all felt like it had shifted so fast. He stood up, wondering what would happen if he walked through-

And he was in the water again. Of course. Always with the goddamn lake. He reached up, breaking to the surface with a gasping breath only to jerk up, somehow back in the closet.

“Hi,” Merlin greeted sleepily. His head was pressed against the wall, hand placed on his thigh where Arthur’s head had been moments ago. He yawned. “Do you think they’re still out- okay,” he said when Arthur scrambled up. “What’s happening?”

“We need to find out who poisoned Aurelius,” he said, opening the door.

Merlin blinked. “Wha-?” he began but Arthur had already bolted out of the door.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been in there, but somehow Ygraine, Balinor, and Uther were all still in the throne room - this time joined by Moigne who sat with his feet propped up on the table, drinking wine. Uther was staring from the table at the throne, expression solemn as he absently picked at his lips while Balinor floated a ball of fire in his hand.

“Look who came out of the closet,” Ygraine greeted from where she stood by the window, looking out at the citadel beneath them.

Arthur ignored her. “I want to visit Eopa’s chambers,” he greeted.

Uther blinked once and turned to him in utter bafflement. “Excuse me?” he asked. “You dare speak that name here?”

“So you believe he’s guilty?” Arthur asked. “Gaius says he isn’t.”

“Gaius?” Uther repeated. “The- Aurelius’s ward? The one with her?” he asked, jerking his head to Ygraine, who had turned to give Arthur a curious look. “Why would I believe a man who studied under Eopa for a time? And who are you to come in here demanding anything? The fact I humored you running off into a closet and hiding there is lenient enough in my opinion. Everything I have done regarding you and your warlock has been more than kind. My treatment of you has been kind,” Uther said, voice gradually growing more distressed. “I have been kind!” he said with an amount of insistence that Arthur was fairly certain this was about more than Arthur’s demands to see Eopa’s chambers. “How can Nimueh see me as-?” he muttered and stood up, pacing. “Is it a lack of authority? Is my cruelty from letting those under my care get away with too much?”

“Uther,” Moigne cut in, but Uther waved him away. Moigne watched him for a bit and in turn Arthur took him in. If nobody had told Arthur they were related he would have never guessed it. Not just because they bore different colors of their skin, but something about their core just felt different. Moigne felt something like… a statue. Proud. Unmoving. Reasonable.

Arthur couldn’t help but think it was exactly what his father tried to portray during his tenure as king, but he had never quite managed it in the way Moigne had. He wondered if his father ever thought of his brother when he looked at Arthur. If he ever saw glimmers of Moigne in his son.

“Fine,” Moigne muttered. “I will go to Ladon to avoid Balinor here getting burned alive,” he said, glowering a Balinor who gave a bright smile in return. “You will take over all my patrols while I’m gone, hm?” he asked, pointing at Balinor.

“Gladly,” Balinor returned sweetly, tossing him the fireball.

Moigne lifted his hand to extinguish it. “You are my brother through dragons, Balinor. But he is my brother through blood. Be emboldened to cause less problems,” he groused.

Balinor rolled his eyes. “I’ve solved more problems than I’ve caused and you know it. I fly better too,” he added. “So perhaps it’s right that I take to the sky while you negotiate with our Ladon brethren.”

Moigne narrowed his eyes before glancing up at Uther and snapping his fingers. “Do not let your father see you so upended. It is bad enough the fox’s sister sees you in disarray.” Uther glanced irritably at him. “I will right this with Nimueh. Whatever she has seen is most likely a mistake. Aurelius would not do this to you. I swear it.” He reached out and clasped Uther’s arm. “And figure out what to do about that,” he added, pointing to Arthur and where Merlin had quietly exited the closet to also join them.

Uther placed a hand over Moigne’s with a wary nod. “Don’t give me orders. Give me council,” he muttered.

Moigne’s lips quirked at that. “Then consider my words,” he said and a genuine smile touched his father’s lips. Absently, he patted his brother's hands. At the movement, another thought occurred to Arthur.

His father had… killed all the dragonlords. But even more than that, he had killed all the dragons. All except one. Arthur once thought he had killed a dragon, but he hadn’t. Only Merlin could because of his dragonlord powers.

And suddenly, he was concerned that maybe his father hadn’t killed Moigne. Maybe Moigne would do something worse. The thought was chilling in a way he wasn’t expecting. Swallowing, he tried to think of his mother’s words. Do the right thing now. Now.

“We were also promised an audience with the dragon Kilgharrah,” Arthur added because he knew Merlin would not let it go until it happened.

At that, Moigne did a double-take. “You… were offered an audience… with Kilgharrah?” he asked slowly. Arthur met his gaze and gave a sharp nod. “By who?”

Balinor looked at Uther, who scowled back at him.

“Uh, well…” Merlin began, looking uncertain. “It’s been brought up a few times. Nimueh mentioned she wouldn’t be able to have access to him-”

“I would think not,” Moigne began heatedly. “Kilgharrah is not Ladon’s.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Uther, did you offer them this reward?”

Uther held out a hand. “Balinor offered it first. They asked, I said I could make it happen.”

“Tattletale,” Balinor muttered when Moigne turned his eyes to him. “Oh, come on. Like you would have even noticed. Kilgharrah loves talking to strangers-”

“He is my dragon,” Moigne said, pointing a finger at Balinor. “The dragon my father rode and that his father rode before him. And you think to just offer him up to strangers without my knowledge?” he asked as Merlin made a choking noise.

Arthur reached out to grip his arm. Moigne being Kilgharrah’s rider hadn’t been his first guess, but he didn’t want Merlin’s reaction to draw too much attention.

“I am not to go back on my word, Moigne,” Uther said quietly. “If you would grant me your permission now… I’d ask that you supervise the visit upon your return to Ladon.”

Moigne laughed. “So, to be clear,” he began, raising a hand. “You offered strangers who were found with your enemy a chance to roam free to Ladon in order to meet someone else meddling in our war only for them to blow up their castle because that one lied about having magic and now after I go to rectify the situation I must supervise a visit for them to speak to my dragon about a topic seemingly unbeknownst to anyone here?”

Uther fixed him with an irritated look. “Yes,” he said. “You understood that quite clearly.”

Moigne sighed, closing his eyes. “I do hope there is a larger plan at play here, brother. Because this is borderline irresponsible. You crumble over the idea you may one day fail as a king without seeing you could lose the war.” He reached over and smacked some food Balinor began picking at out of his hands. “And you, get to scouting,” he added flatly.

God, Arthur hoped that Moigne’s conversation with Nimueh didn’t mention that prophecy Merlin gave at the festival. Balinor looked forlornly at the chicken knocked on the plate and sighed, also standing up.

This could have gone better.

And as Moigne swept from the room with Balinor giving a low bow before exiting behind, he turned to see both Ygraine and Uther staring at him.

…this was probably about to go worse.

Chapter Text

Merlin was, quite frankly, over the fuss of all of this.

So the moment the door closed and they were left alone with Uther and Ygraine, he snapped his fingers, sending both tumbling into sleep. This would almost certainly make enemies of them when they woke up, but Merlin would deal with that later. Chances were they probably wouldn’t even know what happened. Probably. Maybe.

“What did you do?” Arthur squawked and Merlin turned to him.

“You wanted to search Eopa’s chambers?” he offered. Merlin wasn’t sure why this had been added to their list of things to do, but sure. Why not? He trusted that Arthur had a reason to dive headfirst into this particular hole.

Arthur glanced at where his parents were now on the floor, eyes closed and expressions blank before moving his eyes to the doorway with a sigh. His jaw clenched and finally, he gave a terse nod, jerking his head for Merlin to follow.

From there, it was like old times. Sneaking through the castle and avoiding guards and knights alike. They figured if Eopa had been the court physician then checking Gaius’s future chambers seemed as good of place as any to start. Merlin helped navigate them from various intrusions as Arthur began explaining some of his dream from the closet.

“So we think Constantine poisoned Aurelius?” he asked, wondering where the brutish tyrant was even hiding in the stone walls. Arthur shrugged, but Merlin could see something else in his expression. “Who else?” he said, nudging him.

They were close to the tower now, only a few corridors away. Arthur looked down to ensure nobody was walking by before answering.

“What do you think of Moigne?”

Merlin frowned. Moigne? Well, he had a lot of opinions there. Moigne was Kilgharrah’s rider, apparently. That naturally made him a person of interest. And Uther’s older brother, who was a dragonlord of all things. One could argue that Moigne was perhaps one of the most interesting people in their cast of the past.

“He seems serious,” Merlin offered. “A tad overbearing, perhaps,” he added, thinking about how he ordered his father about like some errant toddler, which… was maybe a little deserved, but still.

Arthur kept quiet as he nudged Merlin to distract a few more guards, finally approaching Gaius’s chambers which had been boarded up. A good sign actually. If these were Eopa’s rooms then they were hopefully untouched from when he last entered them. Merlin walked over, touching the wooden panels with his hand so they pried off the door with the smallest touch of magic.

“I thought perhaps my father might kill him during the Purge,” Arthur said when Merlin slipped into the room, pressing his forehead against the back of the door to magic the boards back into place with a whisper. “But now I…” He trailed off. “I wonder if perhaps Moigne is the enemy here.”

Merlin turned around. “Really?” he asked, a little surprised. Moigne didn’t seem like a bundle of fun, but enemy felt a tad dramatic.

“Think about it,” Arthur said as they climbed up the tower. “My father killed all the dragons and dragonlords. How was he able to do so without the help of a dragonlord? And the only dragon he left alive was Kilgharrah? The dragon Moigne rode?”

Fair points. Still, Merlin hesitated.

“But why?” he reasoned. Did Moigne want the throne? Did he hate his own people? Something bigger was missing. Arthur didn’t seem to have the answer either as they clambered into the room, a familiar yet unfamiliar sight greeting them.

These were definitely Eopa’s chambers.

It looked like how Gaius might have his study if magic was still legal. Instead of shelves, books were floating against the ceiling, spines out toward them so you could open your hand and have it fall into your palm. Dozens of candles sat throughout, dripping wax, but clearly meant to stay lit given how the wick never went down.

Potions and herbs and various ingredients were neatly organized in cabinets, the smell of lavender thick. Unexpectedly, Merlin felt yearning for his old rooms. For Gaius. For his home that seemed like a ghost of this one.

“If this was all they had to go on, then it was a weak investigation,” Arthur said, recapturing Merlin’s attention. He walked to the center of the room where a single vial labeled Hemlock sat on the table, half emptied. Beside it, a single note, outlining mealtimes that Merlin would assume was when Aurelius’s food would be delivered.

“It does seem like he was pretty obviously framed,” Merlin admitted, setting down the parchment. Sighing, he took in the room with his lip caught between his teeth. “Agravaine?” he suggested because that was his favorite person to blame for any misfortune.

“Agravaine isn’t magical,” Arthur murmured shifting through a few items. Merlin narrowed his eyes. “I’m just saying,” he added hastily.

“Saying what? Hemlock isn’t magical. Anyone could have poisoned him.” Merlin didn’t quite like this new attitude. The wariness felt too much like hesitation towards anyone who wielded magic. “You’re just trying to pin Moigne for whatever reason.”

“Because it makes sense! He killed Aurelius and he is the only one who could have killed dragons and other magic users.”

"Those are separate crimes. One of which hasn't even happened yet,” Merlin told him, frowning. “And don’t make it sound like magical beings are these otherworldly things. I can be killed just as you.” Arthur turned to give him a look, expression somewhere between dismissive and incredulous. “I can,” he said shortly.

Admittedly, dragons were more difficult to explain, but Merlin didn’t like the idea Arthur considered all magical beings could only be killed by magic. That wasn’t fair.

“A dorocha didn’t kill you.”

….fair point. “I’m not a good example,” Merlin decided. “But, look, you can’t blame Moigne based on the fact he’s magical. A non-magical person could easily defeat the average magical person,” he reasoned.

And then Arthur gave him another look. “How?” he asked and Merlin stared at him. The man had fought magical beings. What was he on about? “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Now that I know you’ve been lurking in my shadow, I rather doubt I have slayed any sorcerers with my bare hands,” he muttered.

If Merlin was feeling particularly cruel, he might bring up the druid raid or point out that many of those his father executed had not been able to escape their sentence. There was a time and a place for that conversation, and now probably wasn’t it.

“Hands and mouth,” Merlin said instead. Arthur turned from the cabinet he was rummaging through and gave him a third look. “That’s what the average spellcaster needs to use magic. Even I need it for some spells. I have to say certain incantations and move my hands a certain way otherwise it doesn’t work.”

Arthur’s brows furrowed at that. “I suppose that makes sense,” he murmured. “So if their hands are tied and mouths gagged…?”

“No magic,” Merlin said and held out his hands. “Try it.”

Arthur stared down at his outstretched wrists. When Merlin nodded, he took them in his own hands. Quickly, Merlin ran through his itinerary of spells, trying to think of which he had not yet mastered nonverbal or still command.

“Lig-fyr onbærne swithe,” he said, absently jerking his hands out of habit, but Arthur kept them still. Nothing.

“You hardly tried,” Arthur said.

“That isn’t the point! If my father or perhaps even Moigne-”

“Try it again,” Arthur insisted. Merlin narrowed his eyes. “I want to see if you can do it.”

“I promise you that eventually, I can.”

“Show me, then.”

How utterly surreal. In a different time, in a different place, Merlin would love to sit and impress Arthur with his magic. He just wasn’t sure why the man needed to choose now and here to relish in Merlin’s greatness. Sighing, Merlin tried again.

“Lig-fyr onbærne swithe,” he said and then paused as heat flooded his palms. Still, nothing happened. “Lig-fyr onbærne swithe-” The candles all around them went out, leaving Merlin and Arthur in darkness. But still, Arthur did not let go.

“Can you… light them again?”

“Forbearne,” he said and the candles flickered back on.

“You didn’t need to move for that one,” he noted. Merlin shrugged. It was one of the more common ones he used. “Can you do it without speaking?” he asked. Merlin considered. Possibly, yes, but when he couldn’t speak, he preferred to rely more on his hands, which were very much still entrapped in Arthur’s. Licking his lips, leaned over and blew out one of the candles on the table next to him. Then stared.

Three.

Two.

The candle flickered. Arthur stared, eyes fixed with something he couldn’t quite decipher as he waited. The candle’s fire grew stronger and when he turned to Merlin there was unbridled curiosity there.

This time, Merlin didn’t need to be asked. He blew the candle out and did it again. Arthur continued to watch. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what Arthur was looking for here. He had seemed little interested in most of the displays of magic since coming here. Understandable, of course, given everything going on, but Merlin couldn’t figure out what about this enchanted him - or what this had to do with their previous conversation.

“I can’t believe I’ve never noticed your eyes turn gold,” Arthur finally said after Merlin blew the candle out a third time. He stepped closer and Merlin’s face felt hot. “What if you’re focused on other things? You’re captured, you’re gagged, you’re tortured - could you still use magic?”

“Magic users can’t-”

“Sure, but you?” Arthur asked.

This should be a terrifying conversation. The way Arthur talked was like a lion trying to pounce on some prey, but Merlin wasn’t scared. If anything, he found himself meeting the curiosity in equal parts. There was something enticing about this. In the same way that Arthur pushed his knights, he was now pushing him.

What do you do in this situation? That situation? What move would you use? Why?

Arthur had always been a punishing commander but Merlin had rarely been able to appreciate it like this. Never in a way that had Arthur view him as someone powerful and worth pushing to be stronger and better.

“Um,” he began, distracted a bit by the thought. “Maybe.” He shook his head. “I don’t think so. There have been times in the past where I…” He looked for the right word and failed. “Struggled with that sort of thing,” he went with.

Arthur nodded, and Merlin almost felt a swell of disappointment that this impromptu game of theirs would finish so fast. He waited for Arthur to let go of his hands and continue on their quest to search the rooms.

But still, his hands remained there. Unmoving. Tight.

“You should practice that,” Arthur decided and Merlin couldn’t help but laugh.

“You want me to practice being tied up and gagged and tortured?”

For some reason, that made Arthur blink several times before turning bright red, flushing right to his roots as he stumbled for a response.

“Not tortured, obviously,” he said, voice rising up an octave. “Just… distracted, I guess. I can fight blindfolded. It shouldn’t be so different, right?” Merlin didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t sure, actually. “Maybe try casting magic while juggling or singing.”

“Juggling?” Merlin smiled. “I excel at juggling. Shouldn’t be hard.”

“Well, other things keep you from using your hands and mouth?” Arthur groused.

At that, Merlin laughed again. “I don’t know. This is your idea. You show me.”

Arthur looked at him strangely for a moment. And then kissed him.

Which… huh.

Huh.

Huh.

To go over a few things:

Yeah.

Sure.

Very soft.

This was still happening.

…good?

“Well?” Arthur asked, lips barely pulling away as his mouth moved to Merlin’s jaw.

Well? What did he mean well? Merlin blinked a few times, trying to remember what they were talking about or why it would even be relevant now. Arthur’s hands squeezed impatiently against his wrists and Merlin had a brief memory of supposedly doing… something.

Magic. Right. He was supposed to try magic. Fire? Candle?

Literally, who cared about a candle? Merlin moved his face to try and catch Arthur’s lips again, completely forgetting whatever task he was given. He felt a hint of a smile at Arthur’s mouth, hands loosening up to move from Merlin’s wrist to his forearms.

“You’re not even trying-”

“I don’t want to,” Merlin informed him flatly and something about that seemed to jolt Arthur out of whatever state he was in. He jerked back, blinking a few times before staring at Merlin and then at how close their chests were with Merlin’s back pressed against the wall.

Why was he against a wall? When did that happen?

Arthur blinked again before staring down at their hands. “Right,” he said. “Okay. Um, something for you to work on then,” he said and spun around to move into the adjoining room.

Merlin stood frozen, absolutely flabbergasted.

What just happened?

Arthur kissed him. Right? Yes. That happened. He was fairly certain. Or was he? If Merlin was completely honest the odd dream may have crossed his mind every so often. And maybe even a rogue daydream, but Merlin had never let anything… you know. Uncouth come of it. This was his friend. Who was also married. And the king.

And also someone who might have definitely just kissed him.

And then left.

Why did he leave?

Merlin made a choking sound on the air, trying and failing to put all of that together. When Merlin said he didn’t want to try magic, did Arthur take that as he wanted to stop what they were doing? Because he didn’t- oh, but he should. He should have wanted to stop. What was wrong with him?

But also, he didn’t initiate that, technically, so-

No excuse. That was not an excuse. What was wrong with him? Dear gods. Dear God. Dear whoever was listening. Help.

“I found something in here!” Arthur’s voice called, which felt exceptionally casual given the fact their tongues had touched mere moments ago, but sure. Merlin haphazardly slipped through the door to find Arthur standing near a locked trunk that had been placed under Eopa’s bed, slid beneath a few pieces of floorboard. It was where Merlin would one day hide his spellbook, actually.

Arthur dragged it out, and Merlin awkwardly stood by, neither meeting one another’s eyes as Arthur tugged experimentally a golden lock. Without glancing up, he nodded to it, directions obvious.

Merlin cleared his throat and whispered an enchantment. The lock clattered to the floor.

“Thank you,” Arthur said, still not looking at him as he popped open the lid.

Should they have a conversation about this? Probably. But also no. Merlin didn’t want to start that conversation. Not now, at least. But would Arthur? Maybe. Not likely. Shaking his head, Merlin looked down at the opened trunk to see-

“Letters,” he said, kneeling down to sift through them. All tied in ribbons. Some in red and some in black. As he unrolled a few, Merlin realized with a jolt that the colors were to separate the writer. It was unusual to find a batch of correspondences in which both the letter and response were kept in the same place. It made Merlin think that this was not a relic left behind by a dead man, but a vault of treasures from an alive one.

Not knowing where else to start, he unraveled one of the notes and read.

To my friend Eopa, it began. Thank you again for fixing my knee. I promised Mother I’d be more careful and she said I should tell you the same since you are always fixing me up.

I know I have not spoken words to you before so I hope it’s okay if I write them. Speaking here is intimidating, I must admit. Everything here is big. The castle is big, the skies are big, the forests are big, and so are the people.

My father was said to be a big man too. Strong and brave and solemn. My mother said he was all of thirty years of age when he became a dragonlord. Thirty seems so old to me. I was only five when I became a dragonlord. The story goes that Constantine and my father once fought over some trade agreement in which Constantine killed my father in a fury. Out of duty and honor, he married my mother and took me in to ensure we would be taken care of.

It strikes me as strange that duty and honor mean taking the family of the man you killed. If it had been a fair fight, I don’t think my father would have lost, but nobody seems willing to tell me how exactly the duel happened. As it is, my mother said Constantine is kind to us and we should be grateful. I even have a new baby brother. Uther.

I hope I don’t dislike him. I’ve tried not to dislike Constantine, but I’m finding it difficult. I pray liking this baby does not prove to be just as difficult.

If I am horrible and don’t like this baby, would you still tend to my wounds? It’s okay if you say no.

Sincerely,

Moigne

“Eopa and Moigne were friends,” Merli said gently, handing the parchment over. He looked around the room, trying to picture a little boy bouncing by some mystery man’s side, eager but silent as he came in with scratches and bloodied knees.

“My grandfather killed his father?” Arthur asked, eyes flicking over the words. “He feels young in this. I can’t believe-” Arthur began and then snapped his mouth shut, possibly deciding there was nothing he wouldn’t believe anymore.

Merlin pulled out a black-ribboned letter and read that next.

Dearest Moigne,

How delighted I am to hear from you! I asked your mother if your lack of speech was a mutism or perhaps a touch of the fae but now I feel foolish to not think to write to you. If you wish to speak this way, then I’d gladly continue to do so – and treat whatever wounds we both know you will inevitably stumble into.

It is maybe best you don’t speak much, child. Criticizing your warden is not a wise move and your mother is right to say you should be grateful of his kind treatment. I hope he takes the same care with our young Aurelius as he does you.

But I do understand your heavy heart. You are not a bad person for disliking in secret, Moigne. You were robbed of your father and a heavy burden was placed on your shoulders at an unfair age. If I understand correctly, you are tasked with the mighty Great Dragon. I very much doubt you can ride him now, but fear not, little one. I have a feeling you’ll grow into him quickly.

As for young Uther, I do not think you need to worry, Moigne. For do not think of this child as Constantine’s son - but your brother. He will love you fiercely. I suspect it will be easy for you to do the same.

Please, write again soon.

Best,

Eopa

Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose. “What does this mean?” he asked, handing the note to Arthur. “Moigne is loyal to Uther, clearly. But he also loved the man who supposedly poisoned Aurelius?”

“Or maybe he’s not loyal to Uther,” Arthur murmured, running his finger down the parchment. “And is looking for vengeance for Eopa’s execution. Or even for Constantine’s murder of his father.”

Merlin got up, leaning against the ledge of the window, picking at his lower lip. That had recently been kissed if you hadn’t heard. Not that it seemed to matter now. “If he wants justice for Eopa’s execution, then I very much doubt he was the one who poisoned Aurelius, Arthur. He would confess if that were the case.” He rubbed his eyes. “I also don’t see a motivation for killing Aurelius.”

Arthur didn’t answer. He instead pulled out another letter and skimmed through it before handing it to Merlin with raised eyebrows. Sighing, he snapped it from him and uncurled the aging page.

Eopa - Why must Aurelius be king? He is unfit for such a position. I know you would scold me for such language that could take my head, but he is of the most insufferable breed. Do you know he proposed a tax raise for another festival? Yes! Another.

And Uther, bless him, thinks the world of him. I watch my tongue because my brother sees the sun and sky in Aurelius' eyes, but I must admit it is tiresome when I only see storm clouds. Aurelius doesn’t seem to care about the gravity of his position. All he does is write these wondrous plans. And they are good plans, Eopa, I promise you, but they are an illusion. He says he will do these kind and good things, but never follows through. There is always some excuse. Some lack of funds. Some diplomacy meeting to align the stars and then he has another festival.

Constantine told me he’d grow into his position. After all, the boy is all of fifteen years of age. All I’d say to that is I am also fifteen and have sense.

At least Uther is his heir. My brother, despite all odds, has grown into someone decent. He would take those plans Aurelius touts and make them actionable. He would be a king of action.

Alas, I fear Aurelius will likely outlive us all. Uther may never sit on the throne. It isn’t my place to intercede, but goodness. Think of a world where a just man ruled? One who didn’t lie through his teeth? To even believe in such a thing feels too much like fantasy.

I wish you well,

Moigne

Ah. Merlin bit his tongue.

“There is no reason to believe this resentment festered,” he said flatly. Arthur scoffed. “You disagreed with your father on policies and you never tried to kill him.”

“But Morgana did,” Arthur said and Merlin raised his brows.

“So if a magical person disagrees with policies, they are more prone to violence?” he asked and Arthur closed his eyes. Merlin might have said more, but Morgana’s name still rang in his head.

Morgana, Morgana, Morgana. Swallowing, he looked down at the floor and shook his head.

“Say Moigne did kill Aurelius,” he began. “We can’t tell anyone.” Arthur’s eyes moved to him sharply. “Not until we know more.”

“Know…? What more is there to know?” he asked, voice rising in surprise. “He killed a man! Possibly to get my father on the throne-”

“Do you know what I have done to get you on the throne?” Merlin interrupted quietly. “I poisoned Morgana to protect you.” Arthur’s mouth snapped shut. “I have… failed so many magical beings throughout the years. But let me do right by Moigne by at least giving him a chance to speak the truth. We haven’t even read through all of this yet!” he added, gesturing at the piles of parchment.

Arthur took a long look at the pile before sighing and giving a slow nod of his head.

The next few letters were out of order. Some, from when Moigne was a child, telling of his adventures learning how to ride dragons and teaching Uther how to fight. Others included his rather cold interactions with Aurelius, who seemed to very much enjoy throwing Uther’s love for him in Moigne’s face.

Eventually, with Eopa’s encouragement, Moigne began to speak. Then learn magic. And then truly become a dragonlord. It was fascinating to watch him grow. To make peace with his past in a way that reassured Merlin he might not be the villain Arthur feared him to be.

But among all the responses between the two, one caught his eye.

To my friend Eopa, it said in wobbly writing. I am distressed. Kilgharrah has been whispering to me again. I don’t why he feels the need to dig into my head and make me question my choices, but here I am writing in the lowest light. He sends a warning about Aurelius’s new wife. He says she’s in danger and if I am to save her, I must kill Constantine.

Kill Constantine?

Sometimes, I wonder if Kilgharrah is truly on my side despite his allegiance to my bloodline. For, I do not fancy myself a friend of Constantine given my father’s blood on his hands, but I could not think to go against him. Besides, he would not truly harm Aurelius’s wife. For she could be with child any day now and that would certainly be an unspeakable evil.

Just… send me reassurance, please. Tell me I am not to do evil to prevent evil from happening. All will be well and perhaps Kilgharrah’s odd mood will pass. He seems distant these days. Displeased in a way I cannot understand despite our bond.

Your friend,

Moigne

And then afterward a single line written on a crumbled sheet of parchment.

It happened. Kilgharrah warned me. I let this happen. I hope Aurelius kills me for it.

“So…” Arthur said, grimacing. “Not good.”

“Not good,” Merlin agreed. He tapped his fingers against his thigh, mind flicking through all the possibilities. “If he’s hoping Aurelius kills him then I’m not convinced Moigne is our culprit,” he said, walking around the room. “For what it’s worth, it might be someone who wanted to prevent the general population from finding out Aurelius made Uther his heir again.” Merlin gave him a pointed look. “Someone who would benefit from the de Bois family gaining power?”

Arthur sighed. “You mean Agravaine.”

“Hm,” Merlin said, absently flicking some light over his fingers. It was nice to be able to do this so casually. To not think much of using his powers. Arthur’s eyes followed his fingers, reminding Merlin once again about the fact they were ignoring their impromptu makeout session. “Well,” he said. “We could always ask Moigne.”

“Do you think he’ll tell us the truth?”

“We have the coin,” Merlin reasoned. “And chances are if we talk to Moigne, we can talk to Kilgharrah.” He closed his hand around the light, making it disappear. Arthur shut the trunk, glancing around the room as if hoping there might be another clue.

Actually. Fuck it.

“Did you kiss me or did I imagine that?” Merlin asked because…no, he wasn’t going to let that slide.

Arthur blinked, eyes widening as he looked up at Merlin like a deer at the end of a spear. “What?” he asked. “Oh. Um, well… I-” He winced. “I apologize. I just… I don’t know what that was.”

Okay.

Merlin stared at him. Arthur stared back.

“Alright,” Merlin finally said. “Noted.”

And honestly, what did he expect? Arthur was… Arthur. Emotional vulnerability wasn’t exactly high in the Pendragon skill set.

He turned to leave the room only for Arthur’s hand to suddenly jerk out, pulling his wrist back. Merlin looked down warily. He very much doubted this was going to lead to an actual explanation.

And sure enough, Arthur stayed silent, looking frustrated by Merlin not being able to read his mind. Maybe he expected that now that he knew Merlin could communicate with creatures of magic that way.

“It’s just-” Arthur finally managed. He pursed his lips. “When Guinevere and Lancelot-”

“Morgana,” Merlin interrupted, a stab of annoyance flooding through him. Arthur blinked. “Morgana used magic to make that happen. Lancelot was a shade and Gwen was enchanted. So if this is your version of revenge-”

“No!” Arthur interrupted sharply. “No,” he repeated. Grimacing, he closed his eyes. “Listen-”

The door banged open. Merlin honestly didn’t mind. He wasn’t sure that Arthur would say anything he wanted to hear.

“Seize them,” Uther’s voice greeted, and Merlin pulled his hand from Arthur’s as the familiar clanking of armor came in. He had work to do.

“Eopa didn’t kill Aurelius,” Merlin said, turning to where the guards had come into the room, roughly grabbing Merlin’s arms.

Uther’s eyes narrowed from where he stood in the doorway. “And you didn’t use magic to put me to sleep,” he shot back. “I have been decent to you both. And yet-”

“If you care about justice, then you’d want the right man who killed your brother to be punished for the crime. And an innocent one exonerated,” Merlin said as guards came to grab Arthur, who had the nerve to sigh while getting arrested.

“Eopa confessed,” Uther said, though Merlin could detect a hint of concern lingering underneath.

“To who? Your father?” Merlin asked. Uther didn’t respond. “Did you hear this confession or was Eopa dead before you even had a chance to judge the man himself?” The guard behind him tightened his grip on his arms. Merlin jerked back.

“And what about Moigne?” Arthur jumped in.

Uther blinked. “Moigne?” he repeated. “You accuse my father and now you’re throwing accusations at my brother?” he asked, voice rising. “Tell me. What role do you truly have here? What are you hoping to gain with your meddling? How can you-?” he began and then his voice caught.

Merlin waited. He wasn’t sure what had interrupted him, but Uther’s face seemed to shift with confusion as he looked around.

And the footsteps echoed up the stairway. Heavy. Purposeful. And Merlin recognized the expression Uther was wearing. He knew the feeling of being able to recognize the approach of someone before anyone else. Someone you loved. Someone you feared. Someone who continuously broke you.

Sure enough, the door opened again, and this time Constantine stood in the doorway. Eyes bloodshot. Hair greased in unkempt clumps and expression hard. Uther didn’t turn to look at him, shoulders tensing.

Merlin wondered if Nimueh had seen Constantine in this state. If she had, would she so readily support him? Did she know about Moigne’s father?

And Merlin wondered if the magical community who didn’t know Arthur looked at Merlin as he did Nimueh in this moment. Unable to understand someone who was involved in druid raids and the persecution of magic be anything but evil.

“Is the fairy back?” Constantine grunted. Uther sighed. “Why are we in the traitor’s room?” he demanded, grimacing as he looked around. Arthur narrowed his eyes, shifting a little in the guard’s hold on him. His eyes flicked to Merlin, who only shrugged in return. “My son, why do you not answer?”

“I am amid an arrest, Father,” Uther answered evenly. “May we speak of the fairy later?”

Constantine narrowed his eyes. “We need her. She is to be your wife.”

“And we will get her back,” Uther assured him. “But-”

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy,” Constantine said, pointing a finger at Uther’s face. “Don’t think I don’t see you plotting.” Uther did a double-take at that, looking genuinely taken off-guard. “Do you think you’re really clever enough to pull it off? That you can win through diplomacy?” Disgust laced the tone, making the words almost sound like a curse.

“What?” Uther asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“The de Bois girl,” Constantine hissed. Uther frowned, eyes flicking warily at Arthur and Merlin, who were still being held by the guards. “You think you can have her and her brother will just fold. No. It’s foolish, Uther. They’ll pretend to be amendable. They’ll even let you have the wedding before poisoning you just like Aurelius!”

Uther let out a laugh. “I am under no illusion that a marriage with the de Bois family is an option,” he said. Constantine snorted. “Father, please. Let’s discuss this under more civil and private conditions-”

Constantine jolted forward with impressive speed. The action was jarring enough that the guards let go of Arthur and Merlin, stumbling for their weapons as glasses clattered against the floor and Constantine’s hand went to Uther’s throat.

“My lord, release him-” one of the guards tried to reason, which was a little useless as Uther’s back hit the table of tonics behind him.

“Do you know what I have done to get you on this throne?” he asked and Uther’s hands went to where his father held him by the throat. “And I know you, Uther. I know your foolishness will give it up. Your weakness will send Aurelius’ legacy into the shambles. If I had another son-” he began and just as Merlin reached for his magic to separate them, Constantine froze.

His hand loosened, then fell away from Uther altogether. He looked down. Merlin’s eyes followed and he realized with a jolt that blood was blossoming over his tunic. For a moment, Merlin thought Uther must have had a weapon, but his hands were empty.

Constantine’s head turned to the side and through the space of him and Uther, he could see Ygraine. A blade was clenched between her hands, rubied droplets falling from the tip as she stood eerily still, expression set stone. She looked like she half-expected Constantine to turn around and attack her.

Which was correct because once Constantine’s shock wore off, he turned to her with a growl. This time, though, Merlin was ready. He raised a hand and Constantine flew back, hitting the wall behind him with a bang. Uther flinched at the movement but didn’t object. He stayed silent. Just like Arthur, really. Always silent in these sorts of situations.

Ygraine took in a long breath. She looked down at where the blood was starting to roll off of the blade onto her hands. Wordlessly, she dropped it so it clattered to the floor.

The guards stood there - useless as ever as they looked between everyone with uncertain eyes.

“Are you going to kill me?” Ygraine asked evenly. Uther opened his mouth but no words came out.

“Your majesty,” one of the guards began, but Ygraine shook her head.

“Did you mean what you said before?” she asked when no immediate answer came on her execution. “About handing the crown to Tristan if Nimueh told you to?” Her expression wavered as she swallowed hard. “Look, I know- I know I haven’t been an easy captive. And I can fight, I promise you that, but if we could end this war…” She blinked away what suspiciously looked like tears. “I’m tired of being scared for my family and myself and my people. So, please… please… mean that…”

“Are you alright?” Uther asked quietly. “You’re not hurt?”

“You need to swear that you mean it!”

“Ygraine,” Uther cut in. “I swear I will hand this crown over if prophets like Nimueh deem your brother a better fit. Now, are you hurt?”

Ygraine shook her head before wiping her bloodied hands on her skirts. She slumped against the wall, covering her mouth with the back of her wrist. After taking a long breath, she looked up at Uther again. “I knew I’d get you to say my name,” she whispered, smiling weakly. Then looked at Constantine at the other end of the room. "Is he... dead?" she asked and Arthur shoved a guard's hand off of him to kneel next to the body.

"No," Arthur said. "But he will be if the wound is not addressed soon."

Uther pursed his lips. He seemed to automatically accept his father's life would flitter out within the day. “Have you killed before?” he asked quietly. Ygraine squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Okay,” Uther said. “It’s okay. I can help you get through it.”

Ygraine let out a watery laugh. “He’s your father,” she said with a note of hysteria. “Are you not furious? Will you not help him?”

Uther looked over at Constantine and then back to Ygraine. “I mourned my father years ago,” he said, offering her his hand. “Perhaps he will live. Perhaps he will not. All in all, you may have just banished a ghost.” Ygraine stared at him. “Now, if you try to kill me that will be a much different story.”

Ygraine smiled weakly before accepting the offered hand. “No promises,” she said tiredly and met Merlin’s eyes. “Thank you for saving me,” she added. He smiled wryly in return.

The guards awkwardly stepped back toward Arthur and Merlin, but Uther only sighed, closing his eyes for a few seconds before nodding to himself.

“Put them in another room. I will come by to hear what they have to say on Eopa,” he said, eyes narrowing as he looked back at them with distaste. “And we will perhaps finally have some honesty with one another,” he warned and walked out the door.

Arthur and Merlin looked at one another.

Great. Alone. In another room. After kissing for a reason Merlin still didn't understand.

This was going to go great.

Chapter Text

Arthur’s first kiss had been when he was thirteen years old.

He was barely a squire and not often in the presence of children his own age. Most of the common children wouldn’t even look him in the eyes, and the ones of noble blood just preened and politely indulged whatever he wanted to speak of. Only Morgana held any grit when around him.

So one could imagine his utter bafflement at the stable boy.

Yes, the stable boy. He knew it was cliché. Whatever.

Arthur had been sneaking out when he first met him. Some wiry thing with dark hair and mud smeared over his face. It had been after an argument with his father, and Arthur thought he’d run away because that would surely show him.

He’d made it down to the stables when the boy came out, barking orders and giving surly comments about Arthur being late on his first day.

Now, naturally, Arthur knew he was clearly mistaken for some other child who was supposed to come work that day. But Arthur found himself a little fascinated at being spoken to so brashly. It was equally as fun to reply back just as caustically and have no immediate scandal caused. The boy merely rolled his eyes and threw some rope at him with a mutter to get to work.

And so Arthur’s plans on running away got a little derailed.

He ended up leading a double life for a time. Going to the castle during the day and at night, he’d rush out in plain clothes to help with the horses, posing as another stablehand, all in the hopes of mocking this random boy and enjoying the fact that someone didn’t stutter over their words around him.

And, eventually, the nights softened. The boy’s attitude would dilute into something more teasing. At times, they'd fight with wooden sticks, and the boy would be endlessly impressed with Arthur’s seemingly naturalness with a sword. Sometimes, Arthur would sneak food from the kitchen, and the boy would gawk at the ballsiness because how on earth did you possibly get that much food? Did you steal it? Did nobody try to steal it from you?

And of course it ended badly because there was no other way for it to end, really.

Arthur had begun to notice things. His stomach twisting. Heart stuttering. Getting flustered for no reason. And, eventually, he came to the conclusion that he very much liked this boy more than the normal amount. More than the acceptable amount for a prince, really.

But the stable boy didn’t know this. To him, Arthur was just another stablehand. So it might have been entirely fine to kiss him. And perhaps in a different world, Arthur would have reacted better. He wouldn’t have panicked. He wouldn’t have scrambled away and never returned to the stables.

He would have spoken to the boy days later when Arthur stood by his father’s side to greet some visiting nobility. He could see horrified recognition in the boy’s eyes when he walked over to get the horses from the nobles, seeing Arthur standing in his finest clothes, a circlet placed firmly on his head.

If Arthur had been better then, he might have smiled. He might have given a nod. He might have gone to speak to him when it was safe.

But he didn’t. And rumor had it that the boy left that very night - seeking work away from Camelot in some other kingdom. It didn’t bother him. Not at all, really. Except… yes. Maybe it did. Maybe Arthur hated himself a little for it. For not saying anything. For reacting so badly. For lying about who he was, for not reassuring someone he potentially cared about, for doing nothing.

And he promised himself if he ever found himself in a similar situation, he’d do better.

A small part of him was counting on the fact that he’d never be in a situation like that again.

Surprise.

So, in retrospect, Arthur would maybe say that in hindsight and upon further reflection, perhaps, after some additional reconsideration, he might have, maybe (just maybe) fucked up by kissing Merlin.

Yeah.

…yeah.

In his defense-

Give him a moment to think of his defense.

Look, a lot of things were going through his mind at the moment. Eopa. Moigne. Uther. Ygraine. Other things. And it was just hard to reconcile these new aspects of Merlin with the one he knew. It was confusing! For a lot of reasons, but right now his mind seemed to be very zeroed in on the ‘all-powerful’ aspect of things.

Which, yes, he had already struggled with when they were adjusting to the ‘who calls the shots’ aspects of their journey, but now it had developed from ‘this is a huge change and major annoyance’ to… something else.

Merlin was all-powerful. He could do things other sorcerers couldn’t. He could do things thought to be impossible.

And it was Merlin.

Was Arthur not supposed to be a little flustered by that? What was even stranger was that, in a roundabout way, that meant Arthur was all-powerful. One of the most magical beings in existence had chosen him.

And despite the fact that legends and prophecies had put Arthur in Merlin’s path there was something nice about the fact Merlin looked at him and decided he was worthy of that prophecy. That he trusted him to actually fulfil the destiny set before him.

So… yeah. Arthur had some stuff on his mind. That had maybe led to him kissing Merlin.

He wasn’t sure why he did it. It had somehow made sense at the time. And then it suddenly hadn’t. Except it did. It very much did. But, logically, no. No, it didn’t.

What was he even talking about?

The horrifying part was that the guards were leading them into another room, which would mean Arthur and Merlin would be alone, and Merlin seemed keen to talk about the situation even though Arthur was pretty sure he’d rather face Mordred and Morgana again.

What was he even supposed to say?

‘Oh, hey, about me putting my tongue in your mouth? Yes, I just wanted to do that, but no worries. The information I gained from that experience has just confused me more.’

And it really, really had. In a way that Arthur had no interest in dissecting because now was certainly not the time to have any revelation about anything regarding his personal life outside Camelot and his future existence.

Maybe when they eventually met this dragon, he could ask to be eaten. Seemed like a fitting end.

The room they entered was different from the one they had been locked in with Gaius and Ygraine. Arthur wondered if they still occupied that room or if they had been moved. Either way, it was smaller and simpler than most of the other noble rooms. Arthur tried to map out what this room was during his time, but honestly, nothing came to mind.

And that seemed important.

“What do we use this for?” he asked when the door shut. Merlin gave him an incredulous look, but Arthur very much needed to know. “I don’t think I put nobles in any room like this,” he said, noting the fine silk bed near the window and stunning view of the town below. Huh. Maybe he should use this room for something. Despite its size, it was nice-

“This is Gwaine’s room.”

Of course it was. Arthur wondered if Gwaine had claimed this room himself or if he had enlisted Merlin to find some secret crevice of the castle. Probably the latter. He was sure Merlin had gone out of his way to make sure his favorites got the best. Ironically, Merlin’s favoritism towards his knights seemed to have more perks than Arthur’s.

“Right,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck. Merlin’s eyes followed the movement, and he absently reached out to fix Arthur’s collar. “We should-”

Whatever else he was about to say was cut off by Merlin yanking him over by the shirt. Arthur barely had a chance to react before Merlin kissed him.

And, like, it was a good thing Arthur fought his natural instincts because he had been trained to kill at sudden movements like that. Not that his opponents were much interested in what Merlin was doing, but still.

For the record, Merlin tasted like honey. Maybe not the most important thing at the moment, but he had noticed it before, and he was noticing it now. How did he even manage that? It wasn’t like he had access to honey on a regular basis. Was it the magic? Did magic taste like honey? Or maybe his magic just made him taste like the favorite thing of whoever was kissing him.

Arthur would compare notes, but that required gathering a list of everyone who kissed Merlin, and suddenly he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know that.

“What?” Arthur asked when Merlin pushed him away again. He probably had just missed a chance to reciprocate, but he was so caught off guard that he just sort of… stood there. Thinking about how he tasted like honey.

“Hm?” Merlin asked, wiping his mouth, which… okay. Did Arthur taste bad or something? Forgive him for not being made out of whatever ridiculous pollen and sugar that Merlin was. “Oh, no big deal. Nothing important to talk about, right? We just occasionally do that?” he asked, leaving Arthur to gape at the pettiness. “Anyway, so we need a plan-”

“Now, wait a minute,” Arthur interrupted, feeling heat crawl up his face. “I’m sorry my explanation got cut short by us getting arrested and then my grandfather getting stabbed. I didn’t realize I had to reprioritize-”

“Completely understandable,” Merlin said with a solemn nod. “And then we had to figure out that this was Gwaine’s room. Our list of important quests knows no bounds-”

“Oh, okay,” Arthur muttered. “Immaturity is not an attractive trait, Merlin.”

“Is it not? What do you find attractive, Arthur?” Merlin shot back. “I am just so eager to know-”

“I said I don’t know why I did it!”

“That’s no answer!”

“It is. And it’s the one I’m giving,” Arthur snapped. “You could at least give me a few moments to think on the matter before throwing a whole fit about it.” Merlin’s brows shot up, a note of incredulity behind his eyes. “I-” Arthur tried again and closed his eyes. “I think your magic just… overwhelmed me, is all.”

Merlin’s mouth fell open. “My magic?” he repeated.

“Yes! I think maybe just a bit of enchantment got on me or something-”

“Firstly, that’s not how it works. Nor does that make sense,” Merlin said, and held up his hands. “Look, if you don’t want to explain, fine. But I need some expectations here. I can’t go around wondering if you’re going to kiss me at any given moment. Could we at least establish if this is going to happen again?”

“Of course not!” Arthur said and then bit his lip. The lingering taste of honey filled his mouth. “I mean, why is that even my decision? Do you want it to happen again?”

“You’re the one who did it!”

“You did it back!”

“Yeah, so now we’re even.”

“I’m not sure that stands to reason,” Arthur frowned. “You don’t just kiss someone to get back at them for kissing you.”

“I can. I did. I will again if deemed necessary.”

….well, what the fuck did that mean?

“Okay. Well. Noted.”

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

“So we’re in agreement then?”

“Absolutely.”

Arthur had no idea what the agreement was. He was fairly certain Merlin didn’t either, but they were so riled up that it hardly seemed to matter either way.

Both glowered at one another up until the sound of leather against stone echoed through the room. Arthur turned to the window, already suspicious about- yep. There he was.

Balinor threw a leg over the ledge, giving them a wicked grin as he waved.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked innocently, swinging his other leg over. Merlin closed his eyes and took a long breath.

“Haven’t a million people told you to go patrol?” Arthur asked. “And have you ever used a door?”

“Yes to the first, no to the second,” Balinor chirped. “Why use doors when I have the ability to fly to windows?” He slipped inside, dusting off his hands. “As for patrol…” He looked between Merlin and Arthur. “I don’t see why I should look for Tristan when I am almost positive the pair of you jesters know where he is.”

….hm. Arthur narrowed his eyes. Balinor was right, of course, but that didn’t mean he wasn't also wrong.

“Isn’t Tristan launching other covert attacks? I can assure you that we know nothing about that,” Arthur argued.

“Maybe not, but Agravaine does,” Balinor countered. Arthur’s brows raised. “Uther may think he’s defected to our side, but I think he’s a manipulative liar.” Merlin gave his father an approving look…because, of course, they were aligned on this. “And I just don’t believe in duplicative work.”

“So you’ve come to bother us?” Arthur asked dryly.

Balinor shrugged. “Your friend Gaius refuses to tell me if he has a mother with his cheekbones, and I find myself bored without Adhan.” A ghost of a smile touched Merlin’s face at that, but he didn’t say a word. “So what are you two arguing about now?” he asked, and Arthur turned away to run a hand over his face.

“Moigne,” Merlin said, saving them both from having to confront the actual argument they were having. Arthur peeked over at Balinor’s face to confirm - yep. He didn’t look the least bit convinced. “Arthur here thinks he poisoned Aurelius.”

“Moigne?” Balinor asked, head tilted. “Why?”

Merlin hesitated before shrugging and launching into what they had found in Eopa’s chambers, along with Constantine’s unexpected attack.

“Ygraine stabbed him?” Balinor said and gave a low whistle. “You know, in a different life, I think she and I could have had so much fun together. She would have been an excellent dragonrider,” he mused. Arthur couldn’t help but secretly agree with that. His mother felt like she might have been part dragon herself with how she strutted around. “As for Moigne, it isn’t impossible, I guess,” Balinor added thoughtfully. “He’s been sneaking into Eopa’s chambers for months now. Probably to read through those letters you mentioned.”

Despite his wariness of Moigne, the thought made Arthur a little sad. All he could think about was the little boy who refused to talk, all grown up and sneaking into a dead man’s room, adding Eopa’s letters to the collection of his own so that he could relive conversations with his friend.

“But do you think he would?” Merlin pressed.

Balinor went quiet at that. “Not if it meant Eopa got the blame,” he said. Merlin nodded, looking pleased by the answer. He gave a knowing look to Arthur, a triumph ha in his eyes. As if Balinor’s opinion alone meant he had somehow won this argument.

But maybe he was right. Arthur couldn’t just pin it on a convenient suspect.

“So who killed him?!” Arthur asked, throwing up his hands. Constantine? Maybe even Tristan himself? He seemed sly enough to plan something like that out, even if it was horrifically cruel. Sighing, Arthur collapsed into a velvet chair, scowling at the ground.

Balinor looked between them. “You know,” he began carefully. “Nimueh probably won’t want to meet with Moigne, considering he’s aligned with Uther. Nobody else could get to her when they tried, but if I bring the news of Constantine’s potential death…” he trailed off, brows raised. “Might get him back quicker. You can talk to Moigne about this yourself. And Kilgharrah, since you’re so up in arms about that.”

“You’d still help us?” Merlin asked skeptically. “Have you even told Uther that Arthur is royalty?”

Balinor stroked his beard, expression flickering as he looked at Merlin.

“No,” he said. “I haven’t. I don’t know why, but I trust you for some reason. Against all odds and despite all suspicion around you, I just see something in you.” His brows furrowed together, a look of genuine confusion touching his eyes before taking Merlin in. “Maybe we have a destiny together.”

Merlin’s mouth snapped shut. Arthur could imagine the spike of pain that shot through him at those words - knowing what their future entailed. “Maybe,” he said. Balinor grinned and turned back to the window. “Before you go-” Merlin added on quickly, and Balinor looked back. “Can I ask what... what do you think of me?”

“What?”

“Outside of the unexplainable trust,” Merlin said, face turning a hint redder. “Just… what do you think? Of… me,” he added awkwardly. Balinor raised an eyebrow, and Merlin only returned it with a weak smile.

Arthur wanted to complain that he was being too obvious, but honestly? He had thought about asking his mother the same question.

“You seem… kind,” Balinor offered, looking unsure what to say. Merlin bit his lip. “Mysterious, but in a confusing way. You shouldn’t be mysterious, but you are.” He wrinkled his nose. “You remind me of the sea and sky,” he decided.

“The sea and sky?” Merlin repeated, seemingly disappointed with that answer.

Balinor perched himself at the edge of the window. “Both seem straightforward at a glance. Air above us and a bunch of water,” he shrugged. “But each holds depth and secrets and power that most forget on sunny days.” He held out his hands and shot a look at Arthur. “And for what it’s worth…” He gave a wicked grin. “Nobody’s magic can accidentally make you want to kiss them.” And with that, he fell backwards out of the window, leaving Arthur to fume silently.

If being a menace was in someone’s blood, then Merlin never stood a chance with parents like his.

And sure enough, Merlin gave the window his father had just fallen from a thankful nod before circling back to the table.

“Okay,” he began as if that entire interaction hadn't happened. “So let’s go over everything-” Arthur let his head fall back against the chair. “Aurelius was poisoned. Before he died, Uther and Tristan were told they had a claim to the throne. Uther was originally the heir until Constantine allegedly killed Aurelius’s wife and unborn child. Uther seems reluctant to believe his father actually did it, but Constantine killed Moigne’s father, and Moigne seems to think Constantine did it along with everyone else.”

“How is this helpful?” Arthur muttered, but Merlin started pacing. Absently, he lifted his hand and an apple from the table zipped directly into his palm.

“Because of the confusion around who actually has a claim, Uther and Tristan are at war. Ygraine seemed surprised that Uther genuinely thinks he has a right to the throne, so we have to assume both think they’re claim is legit… unless Tristan has manipulated his family.”

Merlin threw the apple in the air and continued pacing, walking under it floating a few times before opening his hand and letting it fall again. Arthur watched, feeling antsy at the way his eyes glowed gold and the casual display of magic. He still wasn’t used to seeing it. It almost gave him a jerk reaction of fear, but he kept quiet.

“As for the actual war, the druids have sided with Tristan even though they don’t really fight. Nimueh supports Constantine even if she doesn’t want Uther on the throne. It seems that Uther has more resources and dragonlords on his side, but Tristan has Agravaine, who appears to not have actually defected to Uther’s side and is instead an inside man.”

He threw the apple again, and this time it zipped in a circle around the room before returning to his hand. “Can you stop that?” Arthur asked, rubbing his temple.

“It’s helpful to say everything out loud,” Merlin countered, probably deliberately misunderstanding Arthur’s request to stop playing with the damn fruit. “All of this somehow factors into us being here. Apparently, this is a loop, meaning us being here causes our future to happen.” He threw the apple again, and this time it stayed exactly where Merlin threw it, floating patiently until Merlin came by and plucked it out of the air. “But I can’t break the loop. Only you can do that, apparently. And we know through your weird dream thing that the best way for you to break the loop is to figure out who poisoned Aurelius.”

“Merlin, stop with the apple,” Arthur snapped when he threw it again and narrowly missed Arthur’s face as it spun around to return to Merlin’s hand.

“Which leads us back to the original topic at hand,” Merlin grimaced, not responding to Arthur. “Aurelius was poisoned. Who did it?” He tossed the apple again, and Arthur stood up, wondering if his magic would save him from getting tossed out a window. Probably yes, given that Balinor was his father. “Moigne, Constantine, and Agravaine seem the most likely suspects-”

“I think Tristan over Agravaine,” Arthur said, walking over to grab Merlin’s wrists. The apple fell to the ground beside them. Merlin scowled.

“Fine,” he said. “Moigne, Constantine, Agravaine, and Tristan are our suspects,” he rectified and looked down at the apple on the ground. “Onbregdan,” he added flatly, and the apple floated over again.

Arthur narrowed his eyes but ignored it. If he kept his hands on Merlin’s wrists, then he could only do so much. “So what do we need to do to find out-” Arthur began, but was interrupted by Merlin murmuring something else, and the apple began to circle the room again. “...you’re trying to provoke me,” Arthur informed him flatly.

“I’m sorry, is my magic making you uncomfortable?” Merlin asked. “Wouldn’t want any of my silly enchantments to accidentally rub off on you and make you do silly things.”

“You know what?” Arthur began, voice rising. He fully intended on following the words with a fairly lengthy and harsh telling off that Merlin’s pettiness had surely been leading up to. Unfortunately, Arthur stopped himself when Merlin opened his mouth again, most likely to do something else infuriating with the stupid apple.

And, thus, Arthur made another bad choice.

He kissed Merlin.

Again.

God, part of him wanted to cry. What was he supposed to do if he ever got back to their time? How was he supposed to face Guinevere? He felt like the most worthless-

“I told you.”

Arthur practically choked on Merlin’s face as he shoved him away. The look in Merlin’s eyes told him that he’d be hearing about that later, but he was more or less distracted by his mother in the doorway with Gaius in tow.

“You did,” Gaius greeted with a sigh and handed her a handful of coins.

“You bet on us?” Merlin asked, genuinely insulted as Arthur processed the interaction. “You bet on us kissing?” he added, sounding even more appalled.

“I bet you two didn’t realize your feelings,” Gaius said petulently. “Ygraine said you were together this entire time and hiding it.”

“We aren’t together,” Merlin said flatly. “According to him, magic made him randomly kiss me.”

Ygraine and Gaius both turned to stare at Arthur, who honestly couldn’t believe Merlin was just throwing that information out to the world, but okay. His face heated up as Ygraine wordlessly handed the money back to Gaius and then pulled out some additional coins to also drop into his palm.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, hoping to barrel past this conversation. “I thought you were still imprisoned?” he added to Gaius, who looked fairly decent all things considered. He was in clean clothes, hair brushed, and seemingly unharmed.

He seemed better than Ygraine, who looked utterly exhausted and her dress still covered in Constantine’s blood.

“Uther told me I had free rein of the castle to get what I needed as long as I was escorted by a guard,” Ygraine explained. “I asked to bring Gaius and he agreed.”

Arthur looked over her shoulder. “...where’s the guard?” he asked.

Ygraine and Gaius looked at one another. “Anyway,” she said without answering the question. That was concerning, but perhaps not the most important detail at the moment. “Balinor just came by to tell Uther he was leaving to catch up with Moigne. He said Constantine’s state would likely convince Nimueh here faster.”

That was fast. When Balinor wanted to be, he could be damn efficient.

Ygraine walked further into the room, shutting the door behind her. “I spoke to Agravaine,” she added. Ah. Arthur nodded. If Uther had allowed her to move about the castle, it made sense that she’d find Agravaine. And if she had somehow given her guard the slip… “He claims he did not betray my family,” she said quietly, confirming Arthur’s suspicions.

A long silence followed. Arthur wanted to outright ask again what she was doing here, but before he could find the words, she continued.

“He plans to kill Uther.”

Oh. Well… yeah, that made sense.

“You don’t want him to?” Arthur asked gently.

“I believe Uther when he said he’d give up his claim if the prophets declare him unfit,” Ygraine said evenly. “And Nimeuh is coming here. Soon. This has the opportunity to end without bloodshed, but Agravaine…” she shook her head. “Remains unconvinced.”

“Hm,” Merlin said, and Arthur shot him a look.

“I’m not surprised,” Arthur told her. “Even if Uther gives up the crown, most wars like these must end with an execution to prevent future uprising.”

“I cannot accept the outcomes of other wars,” Ygraine shot back heatedly. “There has been enough death. Enough war. I…” Her voice caught, and she took a long breath. “I think Tristan could be reasoned with. Balinor seems to think you know where he is. If you do… please, please bring him here. Let him meet with Uther and Nimueh himself so this war can end with a treaty signed in ink over blood.”

Yikes. Arthur stared at her. At the earnest determination in her eyes. The need to end this.

And would Tristan? The man felt impossible to read. And what if he did kill Aurelius? What if this was his entire plan? Arthur had questioned if he was the right king for his people but now he was going back and forth, baffled on who wore what mask.

And God, if Nimueh was coming to Camelot… what were the chances the Dragon Council joined her? Merlin’s prophecy stunt had given them some interest in this war. Could it be that fetching Tristan to this meeting could bring everything to a head?

Arthur looked back at Merlin. Always Merlin. Even when they were at odds, he felt an intrinsic need to search him out. It was strange. Arthur had often wondered how he had fallen to the need of one man’s approval, but he was starting to think it wasn’t Merlin’s approval he was after.

It was his faith. His faith in Arthur. Faith that Arthur found himself lacking in himself. Faith that seemed ironic for someone who was supposedly closer to a god than a man to have in a mere mortal such as Arthur. He swallowed and Merlin nodded.

He needed to decide what came next. As his mother said, as Tristan said, he needed to decide what was the right thing to do now. And perhaps Ygraine’s dreams for a civil war to end, well, civilly, were outlandish, but… well, perhaps that’s where he got his dreams from.

“I’ll bring Tristan back here,” he said quietly, and Ygraine’s shoulders sagged with relief. “And will oversee the treaty myself.”

Gaius frowned. “Why would you preside over such a thing?” he asked.

Arthur’s heart pounded.

“Because,” he said. “Once I do, I plan to tell you exactly who I am.” He looked at Merlin, and for a brief moment, the stable boy’s face flashed before his eyes. If nothing else, he needed to do better for him. Otherwise, Merlin might disappear into the night too - and that seemed more devastating than any other outcome of this war. “I plan to be honest with everyone here on out,” he said quietly. “Especially myself. I only ask that I have a moment to find the words.”

Merlin said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Ygraine picked up the apple that had been left on the ground and handed it to him.

“Thank you,” she said and dusted off her hands. “Now, we should probably get you out of here before that guard gets down from the ceiling.”

“Very well- the ceiling?” Arthur repeated, and Gaius brushed by him to open the door.

“Sometimes when I’m stressed, I accidentally do levitation spells instead of knocking people out,” he said wistfully. “But Ygraine put a cloth in his mouth before I sent him up, so he can’t really yell for help yet. We should be fine for another ten minutes.”

Ygraine gestured them toward the exit, looking back to see Merlin and Arthur staring at them both, horrified.

“You two are terrifying,” Merlin said, and then glared at Gaius. “And I have a feeling you’ll grow old and tell innocent children you weren’t terrifying.”

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “That’s an oddly specific prediction, but very well.”

Merlin walked over, huffing a little. “I know an old man like you,” he said. “Always telling me off when it turns out he was just as bad-”

“If I promise not to tell any children off in the future, will you walk faster?”

“You’re a liar,” Merlin groused, and as Arthur shut the door behind them, turned and shoved him back. Before he could react, Merlin kissed him again, the taste of honey returning at a dizzying capacity. A second later, and it was gone. Arthur blinked. "I warned you I would retaliate," Merlin told him as if he had done some horrible misdeed.

With that, he turned to dash after Gaius, leaving Ygraine to stare between them with her arms crossed over her chest.

"You two are the strangest people I have ever met," she decided and grabbed Arthur's hand to pull him along.

Chapter Text

It was actually incredible how annoying Arthur was.

Like, a genuine feat of mankind. No human has or perhaps ever will be as annoying as Arthur Pendragon. It made sense he was the Once and Future King, really. The gods were trying to keep him out of Avalon for as long as possible.

So what did it say about Merlin that he was utterly obsessed with kissing him again?

Nothing good, probably. Maybe that he liked difficult situations. That he was a bad friend to Gwen. That he had no self-respect for tripping over his feet over someone who refused to explain his kissing actions. That Merlin’s priorities were completely skewed. Or, maybe, he could blame destiny for this nonsense, like Uther would eventually blame magic for everything wrong in the world.

At any rate, things were at least going well. Or as well as they could be when Arthur existed and was involved in anything emotional. Merlin could maybe see a light at the end of this ever-winding tunnel of this time-turning mystery, and for that, he was thankful.

He was less thankful for the other half of the coin he was part of, but he’d already internally ranted about that for long enough.

Taking a deep breath, he let the cold air wash over him as he stepped out of the castle into the night. Stars glimmered above, the moon hanging high above as Ygraine and Gaius quickly stepped back into the stone walls.

Tristan wasn’t far. Honestly, they could be back in an hour if nothing went wrong…but something always did. So, two hours, probably. It was a familiar trek to the temple, so Merlin led the way into the Darkling Woods as Arthur fell in sync beside him.

“You’re not talking,” Arthur noted a few seconds later.

“I am not,” Merlin agreed, stepping over a fallen tree. “Would you like to talk?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m merely surprised you aren’t blabbering away, is all,” he said. Merlin hummed. “...is something wrong?”

Merlin stopped walking. Honestly.

“Is something-? I’m angry at you!” he snapped, voice rising.

“Shh,” Arthur said, looking around the woods. “Bandits could be nearby-”

“You wanted me to talk!”

“I never said to yell!” Arthur shot back, and Merlin briefly considered what it would be like to strangle him. “I thought… I mean, we’re past the other thing, right?” Holy shit. Merlin pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, absolutely obliterated by the sheer audacity. “I said I just needed time to-”

“If you need time to think, then why are you insisting on talking?” Merlin argued. At that, Arthur’s mouth snapped shut. “Impossible. You’re impossible,” Merlin informed him and pressed a finger against his chest. “Impossible.” He shoved himself past him, leaving Arthur to mutter something under his breath.

“Okay, well, this is way easier for you.”

“Excuse me?” Merlin asked, looking over his shoulder.

“You have magic. You knew the kissing thing was going to happen!”

Merlin groaned, turning back around. “I knew you would be a jackass at some point, sure, but that’s more or less just a pattern.” Arthur made a face at him. “And stop assuming magic gives me some ungodly insight into things. It’s more complicated than that.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you see prophecies?”

“I have. Clearly, it hasn’t worked out the best for me, has it?” he asked dryly.

At that, Arthur grimaced, giving a sheepish shrug. “I…I just… Guinevere…” He groaned, head tilting up. “You’re not married. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t,” Merlin agreed. “You see, if I married someone, I would never kiss anyone else.” Arthur narrowed his eyes. “And to think, you’re supposed to be the epitome of chivalry.”

“You kissed me back!”

“I’m not married, remember?”

“You knew I was!”

“Oh, Gwen won’t care if I kissed you,” Merlin dismissed, leaving Arthur to splutter as he began walking down the path once more. “She owes it to me from that time she kissed me.”

“....when she what?” Arthur’s voice squawked from behind him.

“It was before you two were a thing,” Merlin said with a wave of his hand. “When I woke up from the time I drank that poison.”

Silence followed, and Merlin peered over his shoulder, wondering if he had accidentally killed him. Arthur only walked behind him, the moonlight catching the utter bafflement on his face.

“So… you kissed her before I did. And she kissed you before I did?” he clarified, because sure. That was what was important.

“Correct,” Merlin said helpfully.

Arthur frowned. “And this means Guinivere won’t mind if you kiss me?” he added, not looking convinced.

“I mean,” Merlin said, wrinkling his nose. A few seconds passed as he mulled that over. “Not really, actually. Here. Be her for a second.” He stopped walking to grab Arthur’s shoulders and shift him until they were facing one another.

“Be her?” Arthur repeated, but Merlin shushed him.

“Gwen,” he said, grabbing Arthur’s hands. “I have two important things to tell you.”

When Arthur didn’t respond, Merlin cleared his throat pointedly. “This is stupid,” he said, and Merlin scowled at him. “Fine. Fine… um, yes, Merlin. Anything.”

“I have magic,” Merlin began, because if he had one regret in life, it might be not telling Gwen. Of all the people in his life who perhaps deserved to know, it was Gwen. “I want you to know I never told you not because I don’t trust you, but because it meant asking you to lie to Arthur for the rest of your life, and that didn’t seem fair. You’re one of my closest friends, and I knew you’d probably be the first person to protect and accept me. I just didn’t want to drag you into something you didn’t deserve to be in.”

Arthur pursed his lips, expression growing thoughtful. “I think… I might have always suspected,” he said slowly. “But didn’t ask because you never seemed ready. I’m perceptive like that,” he mused, and Merlin smiled a little. “I would have stood by you. I hope you know that.”

And Merlin did.

“I also kissed your husband,” he added, and the thoughtful expression from Arthur’s face dropped.

“Whore,” he said flatly – which again was bold for someone who kissed him first.

“Gwen would never say that to me,” he said, and Arthur sighed. “What? Do you not even know what your own wife would say?”

“Yes, I do!” Arthur shot back. “She would… probably laugh, actually.” He frowned. “I’ve never really seen her caught off-guard by these sorts of things. Have you?” Merlin shook his head. He hadn’t, really. “Well, then, I guess she would just ask questions.”

“But she’d already know the answer.”

“Yes,” Arthur muttered. “It’s like she asks questions just to get you to admit things.”

“Exactly. Like, she’d be all ‘Merlin, why did you think an appropriate reaction would be kissing him back?’ and I would have to explain that I don’t really know how else to cope with the fact I enjoyed it. And then she’d say, ‘well, what is wrong with enjoying it?’ and I’d have to remind her she’s your wife.”

“Honestly, it wouldn’t go that differently with us,” Arthur admitted. “She’s said stuff like that before. Sometimes we confuse the types of love we have,” he quoted. “And I’d ask her what that means, and she’d say that, of course, she and I hold love for each other, but perhaps it was only fleeting, and that shouldn’t stop us from seeking out permanent happiness. That there’s a difference between loving someone and being in love with them, and if ever….” he trailed off. “Huh.”

Merlin blinked. “Huh,” he repeated. They both looked at each other.

“...she knew, didn’t she?”

“She absolutely did.”

“Before either of us?”

“Way before,” Merlin sighed. “Did she…want us to get together?”

Arthur opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I don’t know if we can go back to our time,” he finally mumbled. “I’m not going to be able to face her if she thinks we’re that stupid.”

“In fairness…” Merlin said, and Arthur pointed a finger at him. “Fine. Let’s go get Tristan and decide if we’re stupid afterwards,” he said, patting Arthur’s arm before moving back toward the temple. Leaves crunched beneath their feet as Merlin tentatively reached out, trying to see at what point the druids would be able to hear him.

Um, can someone let Tristan know we’re coming? he asked. Silence. Can anyone-?

Hi, Emrys, a tiny voice answered excitedly.

…oh, no.

Anna?

That’s me, Anna replied happily. Are you married yet?

No.

You like the pretty blonde man, right?

That depends on the day.

Tristan says you probably kiss him.

I’m beginning to think most people say that.

Is it true?

Could you please tell Tristan we’re coming? Merlin asked as the stone walls of the temple came into view. Silence. Anna?

Could I please ride a dragon?

“What?” Merlin asked out loud. Arthur shot him a curious look. I don’t have a dragon, Anna. And even if I did-

Tristan is very busy.

Merlin was a little surprised he didn’t know Anna in their time. This seemed like someone who would grow up to harass him.

I will do my best to inquire about a dragon ride for you, he thought, and a small squeal sounded somewhere in the back of his mind. Rubbing his temples, he grimaced as light and shuffling noises sounded from ahead.

It surprisingly came from the Temple of Earu, the oak door cracked open to let out what seemed to be celebratory laughter. They slipped inside, and Merlin found it wasn’t empty as it had been the last time. In fact, it was actually… a little crowded.

Merlin would have expected a temple to be filled with cloaked druids if it were filled at all, but surprisingly, those who looked not too different from the townspeople of Camelot frequented the halls. Most dressed in plain clothes, carrying baskets with food and leathers. He even spied Claire looking around, eyes wide as a young man who Merlin suspected to be Tom led her around, pointing at different groups who were dancing near fountains or by gardens.

“Huh,” Arthur said when he saw people walking through the temple, some laughing while others whispered prayers. “My father was right.” Merlin turned to him. “I mean- about this,” Arthur quickly corrected. “When I was young, he said magic users would worship in the temple most often during full moons.” He pointed above, and sure enough, a full moon glowed above them. “He said something else about sacrificing souls, but I’m not inclined to think that part is true,” he added as one woman suddenly darted in front of them with a cry of victory.

“James!” she shouted, and the temple turned to her. Nobody scolded her for shouting. In fact, everyone seemed to be waiting with bated breath as she spun around. “James Collins!” she called, and a man stood up, frowning as he lowered a prayer book. The woman held up her hands in triumph. “The priestess confirmed it. I am with child!” A few people clapped. James dropped the book, rushing over to spin her around.

“Mary!” he gasped, and Arthur stopped to watch the couple. “Yes. Yes. We should move here, no? Settle down. Stop our travels?” he asked her gently. “I feel it to be a boy. Thomas.”

Someone gave a light aw at that, but Merlin found a string pulling in his head at the mention of the name.

Thomas. Thomas Collins. Why did that sound familiar?

Merlin mulled it over as they continued to walk through the temple, everyone buzzing with the news of Mary’s pregnancy. From the snippets of conversations he made out, the Collins were travelers and devout followers of the Old Religion. Now that they were potentially permanent residents with a child, they could be a great addition to leading the temple. Mary, specifically, was said to possess a-

“Oh,” Merlin said out loud as they stopped in front of the passageway that would lead to Tristan's hideout underneath the temple. “Mary Collins.” Arthur tilted his head. “She tried to kill you.”

“Mary Collins did?” Arthur asked, and Merlin moved the rock from the entrance so they could slip through. He grimaced, his stomach slowly sinking as the memories began to come together.

“The witch who disguised herself as the opera singer when I first came to Camelot,” Merlin said, and Arthur’s mouth snapped shut. “Who came to avenge the son Uther executed.”

“Thomas,” Arthur guessed, voice tightening. They walked in silence for a few more seconds. Then stopped. “Merlin…” he began, but Merlin already knew where this conversation was going. He looked up at the dirt-packed ceiling and sighed. “I don’t have all the answers right now… but we can’t leave unless we are sure the fates of these people have changed. We can’t.”

It felt a bit like he was suffocating. The idea that everything could end like… this. With Arthur fixing the world and then disappearing into the air because he fixed it.

“I will give you and everyone else the Albion promised,” Arthur said, grabbing Merlin’s hands. “I swear it to you. I will find a way to rule despite the consequences of us changing this time, but first, I will prevent my father’s purge. I must. Do you understand?”

Merlin did.

He also hated it.

So he did the only thing he could think of to cope with that fact and lifted his hand to Arthur’s neck, leaning forward to kiss him, and why, why, why did his lips have to feel so soft?

“Retaliation,” Merlin informed him when he pulled away. Arthur didn’t say a word, but the question was still on his face. “For stressing me out.”

“...if you kiss me anytime I stress you out, then we will be doing nothing else.”

“Well,” Merlin said, patting his chest. “Maybe then you won’t have time to stress me out.”

And with that, he turned down the passageway only to find Tristan de Bois waiting at the end of it. He was in chainmail, helmet under his arm, and eyes sharp as he blocked the entrance to the larger circular room where everyone else was either preparing weapons or making food.

“Why is it,” Tristan began with a slow sigh. “That every time I start to make progress in my campaign against Uther, you two show up to distract me?”

A fair complaint, really. Merlin almost apologized.

“Well,” Arthur began, absently touching his lips before shaking his head clear of whatever daze Merlin had left him in. “This time it’s to prevent a war.” Tristan narrowed his eyes. “Uther is open to peace negotiations.”

At that, Tristan snorted. “Please. With Constantine over his shoulder? I know better than to walk into that trap-”

“Constantine is indisposed after your sister stabbed him,” Arthur cut in, and Tristan froze. “She is who asked me to come here. According to her, Agravaine is planning to kill Uther and will not be deterred despite the promise of potential peace.”

Tristan stood there for several moments, processing each word as if they held the universe’s secrets. “Agravaine and I have ways of communicating,” he said suspiciously. “He has told me nothing of this.”

See? Merlin very much wanted to point out he was the worst again, but knew neither Arthur nor Tristan would appreciate it, so he kept quiet.

…well, actually…

“And you trust Agravaine implicitly?” he asked. Arthur shot Merlin an irritable look. “You don’t think he’d undermine you?”

“Of course not,” Tristan shot back. “He’s my brother. He…” Tristan trailed off with a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sometimes does question my judgment,” he admitted with a grimace. “Tell me the exact terms of these peace negotiations Uther wishes to discuss.” Arthur opened his mouth, but Tristan cut him off. “Alone,” he amended, looking around the room. “Not everyone here needs to be privy to matters of war. There is another room over there,” he said, jerking his head to a moss-covered door at one end of the circle room. Tristan looked at Merlin next. “Would you stay outside?” he asked.

Well, then.

“Why?” he asked, subconsciously stepping toward Arthur.

Tristan smiled. “I do not think I would fare well against both of you if a fight came about. At least lend me some comfort that this is not a trap for you to kill me once we are alone.”

Again, fair. Merlin nodded, not really thrilled, but also not too concerned that Tristan would cause Arthur problems. He stepped back, watching as Arthur absently brushed his fingers over Merlin’s wrist before walking off with Tristan. His touch tingled over Merlin’s skin.

….Gwen probably hated them both for taking this long to figure things out.

Sighing, he stepped further inside the room, ready to find Iseldir when something else caught his attention.

“Try it,” Gorlois’ voice laughed, and Merlin turned to see Vivienne sitting at a table, hair braided with numerous flowers and eyes squeezed shut. She opened her mouth, and Gorlois put a spoonful of something in her mouth. Vivienne closed her mouth, lips smacking thoughtfully. “....well?” Gorlois asked, almost nervous as he watched her face.

Vivienne cracked an eye open before a slow smile spread over her face. “It’s sweet,” she noted, and Gorlois smiled with an exasperated shake of his head.

“No, it’s salty.” He held up the spoon again, showing meat with white dotted on top. “Salt is the briny one, remember?” Vivienne wrinkled her nose. “Like the sea?” he tried, suddenly reminding Merlin that Vivienne wouldn’t necessarily know much in the realm of taste, given… you know. She was technically water.

“Ah,” Vivienne said, eyes brightening, and opened her mouth again. Gorlois dutifully gave her another spoonful. “Salty,” she repeated, licking her lips. “My turn.” She got up, and Gorlois sat down on the stool, eyes not leaving her for a moment. “Close your eyes.” Gorlois obeyed. Vivienne looked at him for a moment, taking every inch of him before pressing a hand against his face. There was a shimmer, and when Gorlois’s eyes opened, they were gold.

“This is… everything?” he asked, sounding utterly amazed as he looked around.

Vivienne chuckled. “No, this is nothing,” she told him. “But they are more similar than you would think.”

Gorlois looked around, his eyes somewhere else, the gold still glinting.

“How could nothing even exist? If nothing exists, it isn’t nothing,” he muttered and stood up. “How can this be nothing?”

Vivienne touched his face again, and the gold left his eyes. He looked down at her, almost as if surprised to still find her there. “I enjoy your mind,” she told him, and there was no hiding the underlying adoration. “It strives to make sense of things that don’t.”

“Don’t all minds do that?”

“See? You’ve done it again.”

Gorlois tipped his head back, a booming laugh echoing over the chamber. “If only my mind could impress all so well,” he said. “Yet, somehow, it only seems to impress the one person who should surely find me the most foolish.”

Vivenne raised a brow. “You are to marry Ygraine?” she asked. Gorlois nodded. “Then you should know your future wife will find you more foolish than I.”

Gorlois laughed again, but something about it was empty. Merlin almost wanted to mourn with him - though he wasn’t sure for what. Before he could decide, a familiar nuisance stepped into his line of vision.

"I want to write!"

Anna darted after a man who was holding parchment close to his chest, glaring at her over his shoulder.

“I want to write!” she called after him, and Merlin had to step to the side to keep the man from colliding with him. “Please? Please!”

“I need my parchment and my quills,” the man said, holding his materials high above his head. “Go. Go, loud child!” he told her and kicked out his foot as if he could shoo her away like an animal. Anna gave the man an affronted look, her little nose scrunching in utter offense.

“I am to be a princess when Tristan takes the throne,” she informed him. “Emrys, tell him.”

The man looked back at Merlin.

“I am uninvolved in this,” Merlin said, and Anna huffed again before turning around to stomp back toward where some druids were separating herbs. She gave Merlin a wounded look before sitting down, arms crossed over her chest with a pout.

Ha.

Merlin looked over at the man, who didn’t seem too startled by Merlin’s reveal of Emrys. He must not be a druid. Curiously, he watched as he took his parchment and quills, spreading them out over a rock near one of the crackling fires around the room.

“What’s your name?” Merlin asked the man as he hunched near the fire, scribbling away furiously.

At the question, he barely glanced up, fingers smudged with ink and eyes red with a lack of sleep that Merlin was all too familiar with. “Geoffrey,” he answered gruffly. “Of Monmouth.”

Holy shit.

This man was the librarian? The one who yelled at Merlin for breathing too loudly? Merlin barely saw him outside the castle walls, let alone huddled under a temple. Unable to hide his fascination, he sat down cross-legged next to him.

“You’ve sided with Tristan then?” he asked, and Geoffrey’s head shot up, looking out right affronted.

“I side with no man in this war,” he said as if Merlin had accused him of cutting open babies. “I write truth and chronicle the world. Who wins this fight is of no consequence to me. I only come in hopes I may record it all for the world to know.”

“Right,” Merlin said, and Geoffrey shot him a nasty look. It was strange to see him young. Geoffrey was someone Merlin had imagined always existed as an old creature, not some short man with a round face, curly hair, and bright eyes.

He was about to question him further when the moss door swung back open. Merlin stood quickly.

“Well?” he asked as Arthur and Tristan walked out. Tristan gave Merlin a charming smile and left without an answer. Because this was where Arthur clearly had inherited his irritating qualities from.

“He says he’ll do it,” Arthur said, sliding up next to him. “Now, we just need to make sure it goes well.”

That seemed unlikely, but Merlin wasn’t about to give up now.

Tristan jogged up to a table, standing up with a sharp whistle to silence everyone. “There are rumors of peace treaties among us,” he called. A murmur went over the room. “And while I always hope to find the end of a war, I must take precautions. While I investigate these potential talks, I ask those who do not join me to move into another hideout with our allied forces. Lady Anna,” he added, and the girl stood up, face solemn. “Will you help oversee this task?”

Anna didn’t look pleased with her assignment. Merlin had a feeling Tristan was getting ahead of her, asking to go with him. Everyone else must sense this, too, because they all turned to her expectantly. Finally, she nodded.

“Good. Gorlois. May I ask you to join me?” he called. Gorlois stood. “And, my understanding is that Constantine is incapacitated. If I confirm that’s true, would the Lady Vivienne wish to aid me with her magic?”

Gorlois tensed at that, but said nothing as Vivienne also stood, bowing her head politely in acceptance. Tristan listed off a few others, all standing in solidarity.

“I will contact my brother, and we’ll head out shortly,” Tristan decided, and with that, he jumped down from the table to let everyone disperse. Geoffrey whipped around, papers clutched to his chest with wide eyes.

“I must go with Tristan!” he declared. When nobody argued or paid him much mind, he nodded to himself. “This will be written of,” he decided, and gathered more of his things.

The next hour was filled with preparations. See? He knew they couldn’t return within the hour. Merlin and Arthur stood to the side, watching as the army and druids packed with incredible speed. Anna stood to the side, her eyes large and solemn as Tristan walked over in a blue cloak and knelt in front of her. He whispered something that made her look at the ground. Wordlessly, she threw her arms around his neck.

“I need to learn more,” Arthur suddenly said, also watching them. Merlin turned. “Magic. Dragonlords. Ladon. I need to understand it to do right by them,” he said.

Merlin smiled weakly. He thought to Vivienne showing Gorlois everything and nothing. If she could do that, then he probably could. The question just remained how. “Me too,” he said and lightly bumped against his arm. “Maybe once we get things sorted, we learn together.”

Arthur hummed, lips quirking upwards. “Maybe so,” he agreed. “Until then, it’s good to know about the hands and mouth thing-”

“Shut up.”

Once the first group moved out of the temple, Tristan took the rest in the opposite direction. Iseldir led them, spying ahead by looking through the eyes of animals. Merlin watched with curiosity, his magic curling to also attempt the same magic.

A second later, he could see the world from a bird’s eye view - and then from the ground, tiny paws in front of him. He blinked again, looking down from the trees with nuts in hand.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, and Merlin blinked again, his normal eyesight returning. “What are you smiling at?”

Merlin shrugged. “I love magic,” was all he offered as the trees thinned, showing the dim lights of the castle. From beside Gorlois, Vivienne looked up, Gorlois’ cloak around her shoulders, a few sizes too big.

Arthur moved forward.

“No,” Tristan said, putting his arm out to stop him. “If I am to walk into this castle, we will do so on my terms. With my precautions,” he said, eying the walls. He looked around at their group. “Iseldir, take some men and blend in with other servants. Disguise yourself. Be ready to heal at a moment’s notice and use your telepathy to communicate with druids outside the castle to get more men if something is to go wrong.”

Iseldir nodded.

“I suspect you know the layout of this castle well?” Tristan asked Arthur. When Arthur nodded, he pursed his lips. “I want a good understanding of all exits and a neutral meeting point in the castle. I’ll have scouts go ahead to ensure there are no traps,” he added. Merlin was curious who was scouting, but it didn’t look like Tristan was going to give them more details than he had to. “Gorlois,” he added. “Have the Lady Vivienne disguise you and find Constantine. Ensure he doesn’t interfere with any negotiations. Vivienne will stay by me during the actual negotiations.” He looked over at Merlin. “Others will be there? Lady Nimueh?” When Merlin nodded, he sighed. “Give me back my coin,” he said. Arthur frowned and held it out. “I get to at least know if I’m being lied to.” He whipped out a note and handed it to another soldier. “You go in through the front,” he said dryly. “Give this note to our hosts. It informs them that if my siblings come out harmed, I have allies at the ready to burn every single crop within fifty miles of the castle. If they try to trick me? They can starve.”

With that, Tristan gave a stunning smile. “And while they deliver our message…us, dear friends, shall go in through another entrance. Because treaties are much more fun when nobody knows you’ve arrived, hm?”

The other entrance ended up being the windows directly beside the throne room. Everyone crouched as they approached, Tristan sending several men off to distract the guards so only a handful of them remained. Geoffrey remained by their side, eyes wide as he paused to scribble something down on his parchment.

Voices murmured. It took Merlin several seconds to identify them as Ygraine and Uther. Arthur peered over the side of the window, glancing in before kneeling down again.

“No guards are inside,” he whispered. “We can go in-”

“Wait,” Tristan said, tilting his head up slightly to hear better. Merlin did the same, even though nobody was speaking anymore.

“Your men can only distract the guards for so long,” Arthur argued. “We need to-”

“I said wait,” Tristan whispered sharply. His eyes moved over Arthur’s face. “You are a ruler, too, no? Do you believe in knowing things before you make decisions?” he asked. Arthur paused, expression steady as he gave a slow nod. “Then let me learn,” Tristan whispered, finger pressed against his lips before turning to look back through the window, fingers twisting around the handle of a dagger.

Merlin did the same, eyes peeking over the bottom part of the window.

Inside, Ygraine sat on the throne, staring off into the distance. She was in a silk dress, fingers pressed against her lips as she absently tapped her fingers over her thigh.

“I’m debating if it is even worth trying to pull you off of that thing,” Uther told her warily.

“It’s not,” Ygraine said, and then slumped back. “I would bite off your sullied hands if they ever dared to touch me.” The threat was said with no real heat. Just… matter-of-factly. Which might have honestly made it more terrifying to find in the throes of casual conversation.

“Would you?” Uther asked, walking up to the throne. Ygraine’s hand fell away from her face, eyes narrowing. He stepped closer. “I’m starting to wonder if you’re all bark, not bite, my lady.”

“Ygraine,” she corrected flatly. “You said it once, I’m sure you can say it again.” She leaned forward. “Big words can be scary, I know.”

A hint of a smile touched Uther’s face as he reached forward to lightly tap the tip of her nose. “See?” he said quietly. “Not so scary.”

Ygraine smiled a little and leaned back in the throne. “Maybe I’ve just grown ever so slightly accustomed to you.”

From beneath the window, Tristan frowned, tensing a little.

“Hm,” Uther said. “Could I ask you something… a little strange?” Ygraine hummed. “If… well, I guess if it is decided your brother is a better fit for the throne. Would we be able to still talk?”

“I am engaged, Uther.”

“No,” Uther grimaced. “I mean… genuinely. Could we talk?”

“Talk?” Ygraine repeated. “Talk about what?”

Uther shifted uncomfortably. “Well,” he began. “All we’ve done since we’ve met is fight and scream at one another. I suppose I am just… curious. About you. The things you think when you are not yelling and screaming. When you’re not biting people,” he said, and Ygraine gave him a long look. “Like, do you have a favorite season?”

And at that, Ygraine’s smile widened as she put her chin in her palm, elbow resting on the arm of the throne. “Of all the things you wish to know…”

“Oh, forget it,” Uther muttered and turned to walk away from the throne.

“I have an answer!”

“Good. Keep it to yourself.”

“Oh, don’t be a child,” Ygraine laughed. “I prefer winter.”

Uther spun back around, horrified. “Winter?” he said. “How could you say that? It’s horrible! Crops don’t grow, people go hungry, nobody is warm, hunting is miserable, and you catch much less- what?” he asked when Ygraine smiled.

“Nothing,” she said. “You like summer?” she asked, voice surprisingly gentle. Uther shrugged. “Because that is when the people of Camelot are happiest? Warm and fed and with good work?”

“Is it amusing that I like seeing my people happy?”

“No,” Ygraine said. “But it warms me that you have happiness from seeing others safe and happy.” Uther pursed his lips, looking unsure if this was a genuine compliment or if she was somehow making fun of him.

From beneath the window, Tristan sighed, pressing his head against the stone.

“My turn,” Ygraine continued. “What is your favorite place?” Merlin peered over the window again to see Ygraine still on the throne, Uther walking back in her direction as if some invisible string was yanking him closer with every step. “It can be in this castle, in Camelot, somewhere else entirely-”

“Herefordshire,” Uther cut in. A pause followed.

“That’s my family’s ancestral lands,” Ygraine noted curiously.

Uther scowled. “You asked. I answered,” he said defensively. Another pause. “My father was… well, he was a common soldier before he was a noble. Long ago.” Merlin turned to Arthur, a little startled. Constantine had been… of common birth? That seemed bewildering in itself. Especially given Uther’s resistance to raising common men to any rank.

Based on Arthur’s face, this was news to him too.

“Eventually, his prowess got him raised to nobility after a battle in Herefordshire,” Uther said, and Merlin risked another look over to see Uther staring off into the distance. “He would take me there as a boy. And… told me to be grateful to the lands. That the blood in the soil is what allowed nobility to enter ours.”

Ygraine stood, eyes sharp as she studied him. “So in some twisted way, my land represents your claim to this throne?” she asked, voice going taut.

Uther looked up at her, surprised. “No,” he said. “It represents the only place I remember seeing my father truly happy.” At that, Ygraine’s expression softened. Uther shook his head. “If I’m honest… I sometimes wonder if it was a mistake. Elevating my father. Look at him now,” he said with a shake of his head. “Maybe common men shouldn’t be raised to such heights. It breaks them.” Uther sighed. “Maybe my temperament comes from the nobility of my mother’s blood.”

“Or maybe,” Ygraine offered. “You are simply a good person.” Uther raised an eyebrow. “I know,” she said, stepping down from the throne. “I was surprised too.” At that, Uther laughed and Ygraine smiled a bit. “Go on then,” she said. “Ask me another. Before our time of assured peace runs out.”

That seemed to be Tristan’s cue. Standing up, he threw a leg over the window (Balinor would be very pleased to see he was a trendsetter) and gave a two-fingered salute.

“I’m afraid it already has,” he greeted. Ygraine whipped around. “Hello, little sister,” he added as her face broke into a bright smile. Wordlessly, she rushed over to him, picking up the skirts of her dress. “Causing trouble, I hear?”

“The most,” Ygraine assured him as the rest of their little cavalry also began climbing through the window. Uther tensed, looking towards the doors of the throne room, but it seemed that Tristan’s message being delivered at the front of the castle had pulled them all away to investigate.

“Worry not,” Tristan assured him. “I am here for peace talks. Messengers have assured me you are willing to negotiate.” His eyes narrowed as he put an arm over Ygraine’s shoulders. “But know that I have taken precautions if fighting is on the table.” Uther tensed, but he gave a taut nod, pausing when he saw Arthur and Merlin. With a long-suffering sigh, he rolled his eyes as Ygraine gave a delighted squeal.

“Vivienne!” she called, ducking under her brother’s arm when she saw the other girl. Ignoring everyone else, she rushed over, hugging her. Vivienne stepped back, looking a bit surprised at the greeting. Her hands awkwardly froze in midair before she very softly hugged Ygraine back.

“You… are not angry?” Vivienne asked softly. She pulled back to put two gentle hands on Ygraine’s face. “You are not angry,” she frowned. “I hurt you.”

“Someone else used you to hurt me,” Ygraine corrected. Her eyes moved over the cloak she was wearing, fingers touching the fabric with interest. “You are lovely,” she added.

Vivienne chuckled, but a strange expression touched her face. Merlin wondered what she knew in the tangled web of the future that could make her question that.

The doors swung open.

“Your majesty, Tristan de Bois-” Balinor greeted and paused when he saw Tristan already in the room. “...you are by far the worst person I’ve ever gone to war with,” he said dryly. Tristan put a hand to his chest, looking strangely touched by that, despite the fact Merlin was pretty sure Balinor had never been at war with anyone else. “Anyway, Moigne is also back,” Balinor told Uther. “He brought-”

“Where is he?” Nimueh asked, bursting through the doors. Gaius also slipped inside, nodding when he met Ygraine’s gaze. “Where is Constantine? Is it true he is near death? If you want any peace treaty, you should let me heal him now,” she said fiercely.

“Now wait a moment,” Tristan cut in sharply. “I was promised peace talks. That will not happen with Constantine Pendragon healed.”

“You expect me to let him die?” Nimueh asked dangerously.

“Is he your lover or something?” Tristan asked, and Uther made a face. “I was under the impression you were the High Priestess Nimueh and had a husband. Or have you taken another?” he asked with a flat note.

Nimueh’s eyes narrowed. “You do not know-”

“If I may,” Arthur cut in, his voice drowning everyone else out. “I do happen to know some of the story here.” He looked at Nimueh, expression unreadable, before he stepped in front of her. “I understand what it is like to have someone put you on the right path - and to be grateful for the love and insight that got you to walk it. But the fact remains, you were the one who walked it. Don’t stand by someone giving wrong directions just because they once pointed you the right way.”

Nimueh’s expression flickered, eyes closing. “He cannot truly be so bad these days,” she whispered. The silence honestly spoke for itself. “Make these talks quick,” she said darkly, whipping her dress around as she moved to the window. “I will heal Constantine after agreements are met, and each moment wasted hurts my chances of success.”

Gaius shifted, expression vaguely annoyed. It occurred to him that without Eopa, there was no physician to adequately treat Constantine. Had that somehow fallen to him? No wonder he was in such a mood.

The doors opened again, this time revealing a worn Moigne who glanced around the room before spying Merlin and glared. “We owe the Dragon Council an update on how this gathering goes,” he told Uther. “Something about a prophecy he gave.” He pointed to Merlin.

Oh.

Merlin smiled weakly. “Hi,” he said. “Um, yeah. Just… I don’t think we need to dive into it right now,” he said with a nervous laugh.

“Again, where did you two come from?” Uther muttered, and Nimueh frowned.

“They were with you, right? Or prisoners of yours from the de Bois came, no?” she asked.

“I think so,” Uther said, turning to Ygraine, who was smoothing out her dress at the long table she now sat at with Vivienne at her side.

“I met them when my brother was escorting them to our camp,” she said, and everyone turned to Tristan.

“I found them at a lake,” Tristan shrugged.

Everyone turned to stare at Arthur and Merlin.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Um,” he began. “We will answer those questions, but first…” He gestured to the table, and everyone looked at one another before sitting down. Another squeak came from the door, and Agravaine slipped inside. Nobody else noticed, but Merlin felt his eyes narrow. Ugh. Him.

Servants followed in, filling up goblets with wine. Merlin didn’t sit. His legs were far too used to standing behind fine chairs with a pitcher in his hands. Surprisingly, Arthur didn’t sit either. He walked to the opposite end of the table, eyes watching over everyone like a hawk.

Not for the first time, Merlin wished he could read his mind. After the years beside one another, Merlin knew most of what he should know about Arthur. Still, there was always part of him that yearned for more. To just plopped Arthur’s mind into his own so that he could do more than just marvel when he did something ridiculously unexpected.

Agravaine moved to the table, kissing the top of Ygraine’s head and patting Tristan’s shoulder as he passed. Completely uninvited, but sure. Uther’s eyes flicked up, realization touching his expression as he caught sight of the other man.

“You never were my ally, were you?” he asked. Agravaine sat down on Tristan’s side of the table as an answer. “Hm.” Uther tapped the table with gentle fingers before nodding. Balinor looked at Agravaine with slight annoyance before gesturing Moigne to sit near Uther.

Nimueh sat in the middle of the table, fingers curled under her chin as she impatiently waited for someone to speak. Gaius took the seat next to her. Geoffrey continued writing in the corner, the scratching of the quill filling up the room.

“So,” Arthur began, arms crossed over his chest as he paced behind Uther’s chair. Everyone just looked at one another. “Uther, you asked for this meeting. You may begin.”

It was a little amusing to see how quick everyone just… accepted that Arthur was leading this now. Merlin smiled a little, trying to ignore the pride he felt whenever Arthur showed off how capable he really was.

“Right,” Uther began. “I don’t wish to put the people of Camelot through war. My understanding was that I was given a claim to this throne. That, before his death, Aurelius consulted prophets who foretold my success as king. However, recently, I have heard that the High Priestess Nimueh has seen other visions.” Nimueh’s eyes shot up, expression surprised. “If that is true… and she deems me unfit to rule. I would like to discuss if Tristan de Bois is indeed a better fit.”

A murmur went over the table. Nimueh straightened up, looking as if someone had hit her. Moigne apparently hadn’t told her this.

“You… plan to end this war based on my vision? One vision?” she asked slowly. Uther just looked at her. Nimueh gave a shaky breath, slumping in her chair as she closed her eyes. From a few seats away, Vivienne watched her stiffly. “If that’s all this is, then yes. I saw doom under your rule. Give Tristan the crown and let this matter be done-”

“That isn’t what was asked of you,” Vivienne interrupted. “You need to look and see if Tristan is a suitable fit,” she told her.

A few people did double-takes, confusion sweeping over the table as Vivienne sitting with the de Bois and yet defending Uther’s claim in a roundabout day.

Nimueh turned, and a flash of alarm touched her face. “Vivienne,” she said. “My darling, I… I didn’t see you.”

Vivienne swallowed. “You forced me into this human form, and you do not recognize it?” she asked. “You created this version of me and then abandoned me to do your bidding.”

Nimueh flinched. Merlin thought of Aithusa. For a moment, the association confused him. After all, vilia and dragons did not have much in common. But as Vivienne stared, her expression betrayed, and shoulders tensed… Merlin felt a horrible stab of guilt. He wondered if Aithusa would say something similar to him.

It wasn’t like he meant to abandon her. He had left Aithusa in Kilgharrah’s care. He thought that would be enough - especially in a place as dangerous as Camelot. But apparently it hadn’t, given the dragon’s allegiance to Morgana. He should have checked up on her more. Realized something was wrong.

“I… you are completely right,” Nimueh amended quickly. She sat up. “I reacted cruelly in a moment of desperation. Vivienne, I am sorry,” she said, reaching out. Vivienne didn’t pull away when their hands touched, but didn’t reciprocate either.

From across the table, Arthur met his gaze. He shook his head. Merlin tilted his head, but Arthur only raised his eyebrows.

You did your best, his eyes seemed to say. Merlin wasn’t sure how on earth he knew Merlin was feeling guilty over something, but… well, it was a needed reminder.

“I will look into Tristan’s rule,” Nimueh decided. “And see what visions I have before moving forward.”

Uther nodded, taking a gulp of wine set in front of him. Tristan said nothing, hands folded against his lips as he watched the table silently. He looked to where Moigne sat by Uther’s side, staring blankly at the table in front of him.

“Lady Nimueh,” Gaius suddenly said, and Nimueh turned to look at him. “Can you see the past as well as the future?” No answer came, only confusion as Nimueh looked at him. Moigne’s eyes darted up. “For I will serve either rightful king decided, but not…” He swallowed. “Not if they killed Aurelius.”

Arthur and Merlin’s eyes met from their sides of the room. It was hard to say what the first true deviation from their time loop was, but this very well could be it.

“What do you mean?” Uther asked slowly. “Eopa killed my brother.”

“I don’t believe that,” Gaius said evenly, eyes flicking up to meet Uther’s gaze. “I studied under Eopa. I know he would do no such thing. I am quite surprised Moigne believes so. For I thought that you were close as well,” he said.

“What are you accusing me of?” Moigne asked darkly.

“Whoever our rightful king is deserves to know the truth of his predecessor,” Gaius began loudly. “All I ask-”

“My father conducted the trial himself,” Uther argued, and Agravaine scoffed, sipping his own wine.

“And we believe Constantine’s judgment after all of this?” he asked dryly. Tristan’s eyes flicked between his brother and Gaius. “Perhaps our friend has a point. He was Aurelius’s ward after all-”

“Do not provoke, brother,” Ygraine cut in with a frown. “Arthur,” she said, surprising the table as she looked up. “What do you think?”

“Why are you asking him?” Agravaine sighed, but was silenced by Tristan shushing him. “And are we not more concerned by Uther’s refusal to question Aurelius’s death anyway? For he just believes Constantine at a whim? Surely, he must know his own father better-”

“Funny,” Uther cut in hotly. “For it is very convenient that Aurelius died before he had a chance to publicly announce he had given me back my claim-”

“Convenient for you maybe.”

“You accused me of murdering my own brother?!”

“You speak of him as if he were your blood!”

“He was as good as!” Uther said hotly, standing up. “And why not suspect you, Agravaine? Perhaps your loyalty to your own blood has allowed you to murder to get your own brother on the throne.”

“Do not accuse my family,” Tristan cut in sharply. “You dare-”

With that, more arguments broke out.

“-Aurelius would never!”

“Wrong and distrustful-”

“Have no idea the pain caused!”

Arthur sighed and looked at the ceiling.

“Enough,” Moigne said, and when everyone kept talking, slammed his hand down. “Enough!” he repeated, voice raising. Uther’s head jerked up, expression wild with anger as he scowled across the table. Before he could speak, Moigne cut in again. “Nobody at this table killed Aurelius.”

A brief pause followed those words.

“Because Eopa did,” Uther said, relief fluttering his face. “Thank you, brother-”

“Eopa did not kill Aurelius,” Moigne interrupted quietly. “But…” He closed his eyes. “I know who did.” Arthur and Merlin exchanged another look, unsure of what exactly this was. Moigne swallowed. “I…” he began and then swallowed. “You have to understand, I only kept it a secret to protect you,” Moigne told Uther, a note of raw desperation lacing his tone.

“What are you saying?” Uther frowned. “Moigne, tell me. Who killed him, if not Eopa? If not anyone in this room?”

Moigne opened and closed his mouth a few times. Slowly, uncertainly, he looked across the table until he met Merlin’s eyes.

Help me, his voice requested quietly. Help me show them. I don’t think I can say it.

It was a type of magic that Merlin wasn’t even sure he could do. He’d never tried it before. But he wouldn’t shy away now. Awkwardly slipping by the others, he walked over to where Moigne was shifting nervously. Uther shifted, looking antsy at the silence as others gave hushed whispers.

Merlin took Moigne’s hand, doing nothing more than offering power and hoping he needed nothing else.

And suddenly, the room was empty.

Almost empty.

Papers littered the room, smashed bottles of ink on the floor, and a chair lying on its side. And among the chaos sat a man. A boy, even. Merlin couldn’t decide with his face hidden, head hung between his legs.

“Your majesty.”

The stranger’s head jerked up, and Merlin found himself surprised to find a man with soft brown curls and hazel eyes looking back at him. From the doorway, Moigne stood, surveying the damage.

“Get out,” the stranger said hoarsely, but Moigne stepped inside cautiously. “I said get out!” He stood up and threw a goblet that had been on the floor near Moigne’s head. Then reached for another discarded cup and felt around until he found a pitcher of wine a few feet away to fill it.

“I’ve come to offer my condolences,” Moigne said softly. He walked in front of the man and knelt. “Constantine killed my father,” he reminded him. “I know what it is like to lose someone to him, Aurelius. Let me help you.”

Aurelius licked his lips. “Help me,” he repeated and fell back on the floor. “Do you know Uther says Constantine didn’t do it?” He laughed. “He says nobody can prove his father killed my wife. My child. That they’re rumors that I shouldn’t believe.”

Moigne winced. “He’s defending his father. His love blinds him-”

“I don’t care,” Aurelius replied heavily. “I… don’t… care…” Moigne looked away. “You know, you never appreciated me, brother,” Aurelius said, voice laced with slurred words and disgust. Moigne frowned. “What? We are brothers in a way, no? Bound to the same man who raised us like pieces in a set. Prepared to put his own blood at the top. We both call Uther brother.” Aurelius took a long pull of the wine, Adam’s apple bobbing. He threw it to the side a second later, the metal clanging across the floor. “I see how you look at me. Disappointment. You think I am an unfit king.”

“I would never say such a thing, my lord.”

Aurelius snorted, wiping his upper lip. “Of course not,” he muttered. “But if you did think such treasonous thoughts, you should know that my inaction is something to be grateful for. I could bring this kingdom crumbling with a snap of my fingers.” He raised a hand to demonstrate the action with a wild gleam in his eyes. “I could avenge my dead wife and child. I could do so in a night.”

“You’d execute Constantine?” Moigne asked slowly.

Aurelius rolled his eyes. “No. No, that is… not good enough. I want the kingdom gone. Everyone… shattered.” He lay flat on his back. “You told me your dragon warned you of Constantine’s crimes?” he asked. Moigne didn’t respond. “But, like Uther, you refused to believe him culpable of such a heinous murder.”

“We should sober you up,” Moigne said quietly. “Let’s get you to Eopa and then you can decide a fit punishment for me.”

Aurelius stumbled to his feet, something bright in his eyes. “Yes… yes, I think I just did,” he murmured. “Tell me, who is the strongest house to stand against Pendragon? Their greatest threat?”

Moigne frowned. “I… don’t know. The de Bois family, maybe? Tristan was favored by the Fisher King.”

“The Fisher King,” Aurelius murmured. “Constantine is fond of his daughter, is he not?” he asked, stumbling to the door. Moigne tensed, suddenly looking suspicious. “Come, brother. I need to sober up. I have more plans to make!” he said, clapping his hands on Moigne’s cheeks.

The pair disappeared a second later.

Everyone stood frozen.

“I thought it was just drunken ramblings,” Moigne said quietly from where he stood at the table. Uther was eerily still, pale and expressionless. “I thought in the end he named Tristan heir as punishment for Constantine’s crimes. I never imagined he’d…” Uther slowly looked up, and Moigne gave him a helpless look. “Orchestrate all of this.”

Uther picked up his goblet and swallowed another gulp of wine. “Orchestrate how exactly?” he whispered. Moigne flinched. “You’re telling me… he purposely named Tristan heir in front of just enough people to give him legitimacy… and then did the same to me before…?”

“Poisoning himself,” Moigne whispered. “And framing Eopa. That was my punishment.”

Uther didn’t move. Merlin could only imagine how deep this betrayal went. It left his skin prickling as Tristan stared at Uther, something of sorrow over his face. And there was something Merlin realized might have been shared between them. A moment of mourning. Of regret.

They fought this war because both believed Aurelius thought they should be the rightful rulers of Camelot. And it turns out he had faith in neither of them. All Aurelius wanted was for the kingdom to fall into ashes.

“You said nothing,” Uther whispered. Moigne’s fingers twitched. “You knew this and you said nothing!” he hissed, knocking a chair back. Moigne took a wary step back.

“I was away when Aurelius poisoned himself, I only realized when I came back. I knew Eopa could never-” he began, and Uther turned away. “There would have been war either way. At least this way, you would still believe you had his faith and love,” Moigne tried. Uther ran a hand over his mouth. “Uther, please. Please, understand-”

“No. No, you’re keeping something else from me,” Uther said, turning around. Moigne sighed. “The fucking dragon. He advised you to keep this a secret, didn’t he?” Moigne rubbed his shoulder absently. “Didn’t he?!”

“I didn’t listen to him about Constantine killing Aurelius’ wife, and look what happened!” Moigne broke, voice cracking a bit at the end. “I couldn’t risk not heeding his advice again. He told me this was the only way to protect you-”

“I want that dragon dead!” Uther hissed. “People have died! If we had known the truth, we could have-”

“Do you think Constantine would let this tear away your claim to the throne?” Moigne shouted back, hitting the table. “No. He’d force you to fight if another family tried to sit on that throne, and let’s not pretend the de Bois wouldn’t have tried. Am I wrong?” Moigne asked, turning to Tristan, who just crossed his arms over his chest wordlessly.

“I wouldn’t have been forced to fight,” Uther said coldly. “I stand here now trying to negotiate for peace!”

“As Constantine lies dying in another room!” Moigne argued. “And I very much doubt it was you who put the blade in him, Uther.”

Uther pointed a finger at Moigne, chest heaving. “The dragon goes,” he whispered. “He whispers poison in your mind. My love for you is the only thing keeping your head on your shoulders right now, brother.”

Moigne closed his eyes. “Kilgharrah is the only thing I have left of my father,” he whispered. “You know I can’t part with him.” Uther scoffed. “Besides, I only heeded his advice. The action remains with me. If anyone were to be punished-”

“How could you do this to me?” Uther asked, sounding oddly young. Like a child who had been struck for the first time. Moigne gave him a helpless look in return. “Will you choose this dragon over me next?”

“This isn’t Kilgharrah’s fault!”

Uther looked down at the floor. After a few seconds, he nodded. “Fine,” he murmured. “Fine.” He walked back to the other end of the table. “I will give you my crown,” he told Tristan, who gave Uther a wary look. “Under the condition that the war ends, I am free to tend to some lands as a lord, and my brother and his dragon are banished from Camelot.”

“Uther-”

“I never,” Uther whispered, turning back to him. “Want to see you again. I-” Uther faltered. “I…” He touched his throat, and Moigne hesitantly reached for him. “I…”

“Uther?” he asked, and Uther touched his lips. When he pulled his fingers away, red stained his fingertips. Moigne’s eyes widened. “Shit-” he began and just as he said the words, Uther turned back.

Agravaine wordlessly took another sip of his wine, and Merlin’s heart sank. No. How could he have missed this?

Uther’s fingers clutched his throat, coughing slightly as Balinor also stood, expression horrified.

“Ygraine-” Uther managed and collapsed.

Chapter Text

The chaos was immediate.

Moigne dove for Uther, whispering magic that appeared to do nothing as Uther convulsed, face going a disturbing shade of blue as veins began to pop out of his forehead and neck, blood still staining his lips.

Balinor stood up, making a beeline for Agravaine, whose lack of surprise at Uther’s poisoning did nothing but mark suspicion. Tristan quickly moved between them as Balinor raised his hand. Unfortunately, there was no defending anyone from Ygraine, who seemed to instantly realize who was responsible for Uther’s state and grabbed her brother’s hair.

“Ygraine-” Agravaine yelped as she pulled him to the ground and lifted her foot as if to stomp on him.

“What did you use?” she asked and when Agravaine spluttered, she slammed her heel onto his wrist. Hard. Agravaine gasped, swearing loudly as he tried to wiggle away, but Ygraine had clearly tussled with her brothers before and kicked him in the ribs. “What did you use?!” she hissed.

“Let me see,” Gaius said, shoving Moigne away to try and get a better look at Uther. Tristan grabbed Ygraine away from Agravaine. She responded by spinning around and smacking him.

Nimueh made for the exit, but Merlin blocked her, giving her a stern look to which she huffed and turned back. Balinor took advantage of Tristan now preoccupied with stopping Ygraine from beating out the name of the poison from their brother and more or less just took over for her.

Geoffrey wrote with an almost laughable ferocity in the corner.

Arthur wished he had known how chaotic his father’s rise to power truly was. It would have made it so much easier to tell his father no whenever he had ridiculous requests of Arthur growing up. He looked at Merlin, wishing for some order.

Luckily, Merlin caught on because he waved his hand and suddenly everyone was thrown back, invisible ropes keeping them all in place.

“Excuse me!” Nimueh spluttered. “How dare you-”

“He’s dead,” Gaius cut in and the room went silent.

And despite the fact Arthur saw what happened, the announcement still left him taken aback.

Dead?

How…? He looked down at his own hand, expecting to disappear on the spot, but nothing happened. Nobody seemed to know how to respond.

“No,” Ygraine finally said. She looked around. “No, no. I-” She took a deep breath. “My family’s reign will not begin on the grounds of murder!” she spun around to where Agravaine sat, staring at the ceiling. “What have you done?” she asked before picking up one of the goblets of wine and throwing it at him. “What have you done?!” she screamed.

“Me?!” Agravaine shouted, wincing as he stumbled to his feet. “You think I’m the one to be questioned here?”

“You killed a man!”

“It is war, Ygraine!” Agravaine threw up his hands. “You are both so frustrating. Am I seriously the only one here who wishes for our family to live?” he asked, voice rising. Ygraine opened her mouth, fury at the tip of her tongue, but Agravaine wasn’t done. “Neither of you see the bigger picture. You never do!” he hissed, gesturing between Tristan and Ygraine. “And I’m the one left to do all the dirty work. As usual!”

Arthur stared at the ground, feeling a little numb. He wanted to process what Agravaine was saying. To better understand what family dynamics were clearly at play here, but his mind kept drifting to his father’s eerily still body on the ground.

“Brother,” Tristan said, looking genuinely taken aback. “What do you-”

“What do I mean?” Agravaine interrupted. “It means you are clever, Tristan. So, so clever, but guess what? You would never beat him in a fight.” Agravaine pointed at Uther’s corpse and Tristan frowned. “You could win a war, brother, but never a battle. If your blades crossed? That boy was brought up to be the finest fighter in all the realms. You would lose.”

Ygraine’s hands clenched by her side. “It wouldn’t have-”

“Come to that?” Agravaine cut in again. “Because Uther thought we could have a peace treaty. Sure. Why not? I told you before, Ygraine. People don’t leave survivors in wars for power. He might let Tristan on the throne for now, but only to gather more allies, more armies, and more weapons so he could try again later. Only for his sons and their sons and their sons to one day come back to fight our children because they still believe they have a right to this throne. Is that what you want, sister? For your children to have to worry that their throats might be slit in their sleep simply because you couldn’t kill one man?”

Ygraine’s nostrils flared. “Why am I to worry myself over a future that does not yet exist? Do you believe us to be so fragile that we would cower before the threat of a possibility?” She grabbed her hair, looking down at Uther’s body helplessly. “You may think you’ve bought our lives, Agravaine, but you have simply limited them. We had the chance to be honorable-”

“Did we?” Agravaine threw back. “Or did you perhaps want him on the throne after all?”

And at that, Ygraine went still. Arthur knew this was when he should intervene. Move. Keep things from escalating more than they already had.

It was hard when he kept wondering if he might disappear at any second… and based on Merlin’s face, similar thoughts were going through his mind.

But before he could, Vivenne stepped forward.

“I can save him,” she announced, kneeling down by Uther's side. Her voice was calm. Eerily so. “If we decide it to be so.”

“He’s already dead,” Nimueh sighed, leaning against the table so her palms were flat in front of her, hair hanging free over her shoulders. “We cannot bring-”

“I can find a way to save him,” Vivienne replied simply. A beat passed. Then another. “...would we like to?”

“No!” Agravaine snapped and Balinor yanked himself free from Merlin’s invisible grip to punch him. This time, Tristan just let it happen, eyes exhausted as he watched his brother crumble back down.

“Yes,” Balinor said, shaking out his hand.

“Yes,” Moigne choked out, still in the same spot where Uther had collapsed, face gaunt and pale. “Please. Please try-”

“I disagree with the poisoning, but I must caution against any form of necromancy,” Gaius said, standing up. “It is far too risky. We cannot be sure it would work correctly-”

“It would work correctly,” Vivienne said. She looked up at Merlin and Nimueh. “I believe I can find a way, but would need your help.”

Ah.

Merlin blinked several times, looking like a deer caught at the end of a spear. He looked around, seeing all eyes on his before looking at Arthur. And it didn’t take a genius to know what was going through his head.

An alive Uther meant Arthur. There was no real question Merlin would do this.

Nimueh seemed less convinced but said nothing.

“Several other things would need to happen,” Vivienne continued. “My magic is bound to Constantine. It could be bound to his son once he dies.” Nimueh closed her eyes.

“A life for a life,” Moigne murmured. “Yes. Yes, we could-”

“No,” Vivienne shut him down flatly. “Constantine is dying and weak. His life alone would not be enough to satisfy the balance needed. At most, he could let Uther draw one final breath, but that is all. But for this to work, I need my magic to be bound to Uther and not Constantine,” she said, eyes flicking up to Nimueh. “And then, yes, a life may be needed.”

Balinor swung around to look pointedly at Agravaine, but Tristan gave a sharp look in return.

“Magic chooses the life,” Merlin murmured, eyes fixed on Nimueh. “Unless the caster takes one themself.”

“...then my vote still stands,” Balinor muttered.

Ygraine straightened up. “I-”

“No,” Agravaine and Tristan both said at once.

Ygraine slowly turned to stare them each down. “I was going to say that I don’t believe more murder is the solution.” She looked down at Uther and then turned her head away. “If someone wishes to sacrifice themself that is one thing. But to kill to exchange souls? No.” She shook her head. “Gaius is right. It is too risky to play a card game of lives.”

A murmur went over the group and Vivienne nodded, moving to stand again.

“I’ll do it,” Moigne said. His fingers clenched around his brother’s lifeless arm. “I’m banished anyway, right? So… He doesn’t even have to know.”

“Haven’t you lied to him enough?” Tristan asked warily. “You would even betray him in your death?”

“I just wish to protect him,” Moigne said softly. “To help him grow into the man he should be and not what Constantine wished for him to become.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I worry too much pain will melt the good out of him one day. Forgive me for trying to keep the flames away.”

Nimueh placed a hand over her mouth. Eyes fixed on the ceiling as everyone else processed Moigne’s offer. “This would please the Dragon Council,” she finally admitted. “Even if it may not appease me.”

“Why would it please the Dragon Council?” Geoffrey asked, making them all jump. He had been writing so furiously in the corner that Arthur honestly forgot he was there. Merlin quickly shushed him, but the damage was done.

Nimueh shrugged. “They wish for the Once and Future King to come to fruition. And the Once and Future King cannot exist without Uther and Ygraine’s union.”

Arthur didn’t expect this to go over well.

And it didn’t.

“Excuse me?” Ygraine said flatly. “Is… does Ladon expect me to marry Uther Pendragon?” she asked, voice rising. “So I could have his child?”

“Ygraine gives birth to the Once and Future King?” Agravaine asked, sounding doubtful. “Really? Her?” Ygraine spun around and smacked his arm.

Tristan, on the other hand, quickly found Arthur’s eyes. The one person who already knew a bit more than anyone else on who Arthur was. Their gazes met and he waited until Arthur gave the smallest of nods.

“That is quite an honor, sister,” he said, turning to Ygraine. She turned to gawk at him. “What? I thought you wanted children-”

“I do!” Ygraine said. “But I am not to be told who to marry over a prophecy!”

“You’re engaged to a man out of an alliance?”

“And that is all fine and well!” Ygraine shot back, voice growing hotter. “Because that was a surety. I marry Gorlois, and his family gives us support. But you expect me to marry based on something that may or may not happen? Everyone knows prophecies are mere samplings of potential futures. I will not get married over a possibility!”

“So we do not resurrect Uther,” Agravaine began solemnly and Ygraine groaned.

“I did not say that! Only that if Nimueh agrees to help raise him from the dead, I shall not be handed over to breed some potential king. It is no different than your silly attempt to save us from the potential happenings of him living,” she added to Agravaine fiercely. Then turned to the rest of them, her voice rising to echo over the room. “I will not have this unnecessary complication causing folly among otherwise sensible minds. Glimpses of the future may very well provide guidance, but let me ask you this: do you wish for your greatness to be foretold, or simply told? Because one is an expectation and another is a reality. You tell me which is more important.”

Arthur loved his mother.

He always had, in the sort of way where a child just loved the idea of their parent. But now? He loved her as he probably would if they lived side-by-side for many years. It was rapidly becoming clear to him that the pieces of himself he never quite understood were her all along. That perhaps her last gift to him hadn’t been her life, but her voice.

It reminded him to use it.

“There is one other factor to consider,” he said, and the room turned to him. “If Uther does live… there is still a chance he would cause the Purge that Nimueh foresaw.”

Confused looks shot around the room.

“The Purge?” Nimueh asked slowly. “I… do not understand. I saw doom in Uther’s rule, but could not make out what it was. What is a purge?”

“The Purge,” Merlin corrected quietly. He put his hands behind his back. Arthur could see the hesitation in his eyes, but he pushed forward. “It is… a future where Uther persecutes and kills all magical beings. It is the future Arthur and I are from.”

Now, this was an alarming thing to say, so Arthur fully expected there to be some pushback. If someone had shown up in his throne room and said they were from the future at a catastrophic event, he’d have some questions.

“….which lake did you find them at?” Balinor asked, turning to Tristan.

“Now is not the time for this,” Moigne said, gesturing to Uther’s lifeless body. “You expect me to believe Uther would endeavor in a quest for the eradication of magic people? It’s ridiculous.”

“He believes all magic to be evil,” Merlin jumped in. “Or, rather, he will. I mean, Aurelius sent this kingdom into civil war after his wife died. Uther does something… similar.”

“Uther isn’t married,” Ygraine said flatly.

And this was the part Arthur was probably most nervous about. “Not yet,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. Reasonable. “But, in our time, he does get a wife. A wife who cannot bear children and so they turned to magic for their heir.” Ygraine gave him a suspicious look. “An heir who would grow up to be the Once and Future King,” he added softly.

Ygraine looked at him. He could see the moment realization struck. Then denial. Then something else entirely.

“Me,” she said. “You… you mean me. I die. And he decides to kill magical beings in response?” Arthur nodded. “Hm.” Ygraine pressed her knuckles against her lips. “And you…?” she began slowly. “If I am to believe this tale of yours, then I feel I should know your true name.”

Arthur’s heart thudded painfully against his chest. “It is Arthur,” he assured her and swallowed. “Arthur Pendragon.”

Ygraine gave a sharp intake.

“That’s ridiculous,” Agravaine said sharply. “Clearly a lie-”

“The druids did confirm they are from the future,” Tristan cut in.

Agravaine spun toward him. “You knew?”

“I suspected,” Tristan shrugged and slammed his coin into the center of the table. "If you need proof," he added to the others. Nimueh darted her hand out, possibly recognizing her father's coin, and stared down at it.

They might have continued their quips, but it was hard to tell with Arthur so fixed on his mother. She was staring at him. He waited - half expecting her to accuse him of lies and God knows what else. But she just kept staring. Maybe she just... knew. Maybe they all knew. Deep down.

“I’ve always liked the name Arthur,” she finally said, voice tight with emotion, and Arthur couldn’t help but give a sort of exhale of relief. She took a step toward him. Then another. “You look very tired.”

“It’s been a long journey,” Arthur admitted. “But I am glad it has allowed me to get to know you in some way. Our paths only crossed for moments in my time.”

Sighing, Ygraine reached out to grab his hands. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

And wasn’t that the question.

“I was dying,” Arthur began, awkwardly clearing his throat. “In a war at Camlann. One of my knights betrayed me and stabbed me with an enchanted sword. Merlin here healed me and somehow managed to bring us here.”

Everyone turned to Merlin, who awkwardly waved.

“Oh,” Balinor said, snapping his fingers. “That was the nonsense you two were talking about with your magic being illegal,” he said. “In your time it is. Very concerning,” he mused, looking down at Uther. “I still don’t really see Uther going down that path, though. Maybe something different happened in your timeline?”

“We’ve apparently done this before,” Merlin said, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s a loop. We come here, somehow set off the events of our timeline, and then it all leads to Arthur dying and me bringing him back here.”

“You’re Adhan’s son, aren’t you?” Balinor asked without missing a beat, or even reacting to what Merlin just said. At Merlin’s shocked glance, his grin widened. “You look like her,” he said, not even waiting for Merlin to confirm it. “And you have something of her in your eyes. That spirit of impertinence.”

“Thank you…?”

“And her cheekbones, of course.”

“Okay,” Merlin said dryly. “Yes, she is - or will be - my mother,” he confirmed.

“And you’re his father,” Vivienne added helpfully.

“What?” Geoffrey asked, head jerking up.

“What?” Tristan asked.

“What?” Ygraine added, doing a double-take.

“What?” Balinor choked. Merlin winced. “I have a kid with Adhan?” he asked, sounding utterly bewildered. “Wait. You?” he asked and Merlin bit his lip, sending Arthur a panicked look. “How can my kid have as much power as you?” He gasped. “Is Adhan a sorceress?”

“Definitely not,” Merlin snorted.

Balinor looked at his hands. “…am I that powerful?” he asked, perplexed. His eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? I saw you knock down a magical wall.” He opened and closed his hands. “Did I teach you magic?” he asked and Merlin paused.

“We… didn’t meet until later in my life,” Merlin said and Balinor’s face fell from wonder to disappointment.

“I left you?” he asked. “Your mother?”

“You didn’t know I was born,” Merlin quickly corrected. “You were running from Uther and found refuge with my mother. You left before they could find you and never knew about me.” Balinor blinked, eyes flicking to Uther’s corpse. Arthur could imagine how disarming those words would be. Genocide seemed surreal in some ways, but to suddenly hear how it impacted your life - your family’s lives - it would have brought new color to something that seemed impossible.

“But we met?” Balinor said, a little forcefully.

“We met,” Merlin agreed softly. “You saved my life.”

At that, Balinor relaxed a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. “And… we can prevent this Purge?” he said doubtfully.

Moigne quickly stood. “No. No, we aren’t leaving him dead-” he began.

“He kills everyone!” Agravaine argued. “He’s the reason Ygraine dies,” he added and Ygraine rolled her eyes. “And Tristan. How does Tristan die?”

“Who says I’m dead?” Tristan argued and Arthur awkwardly cleared his throat. “I’m dead?”

“...you, uh…” Arthur began and Merlin shook his head. Probably because he knew what the reaction to the truth would be. “After my mother died, you blamed my father and challenged him to a duel. And, well… he won.”

Agravaine pointed a finger at Arthur. “I knew it!” he hissed, swinging around to where Tristan stood, utterly offended. “I told you! He lives, you both die. I told you! And does Uther die?” he asked.

“That was necessary for Arthur to become king,” Merlin muttered. Agravaine looked at him. “Yes. I… may have accidentally killed him.” A long pause followed. “I also killed you,” Merlin added to Agravaine and threw himself into an empty chair, giving everyone a daring glare. “That wasn’t an accident.”

“Merlin,” Arthur sighed.

“It wasn’t,” Merlin shot back. “And you should know,” he added to Ygraine. “He actively campaigned against Arthur and tried to kill him multiple times. Multiple. How? Well, Arthur welcomed him into his council because he assumed his mother’s only living relative was not the worst.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, inwardly groaning. There was no way-

“What?” Ygraine asked and very slowly turned to Agravaine, who froze. “You try to kill my son?” she asked dangerously. “My only child?”

Arthur figured Agravaine’s natural defense would be ‘I haven’t yet’ but it appeared his uncle may not have had the best survival instincts because he said, “It makes sense.”

Which was a little hurtful, honestly.

“I didn’t treat you badly,” Arthur said, trying not to hide his surprise at the quick acceptance. “I really valued you.”

“Yes, but you're the son of the man who killed my sister and brother,” Agravaine pointed out. “Of course, I would hate you.”

“He’s also my son!” Ygraine hissed.

“But you’re dead!” Agravaine argued. “He was raised by Uther, who apparently kills thousands of people. Ygraine, it sounds like Uther just wanted an heir or someone else wanted the Once and Future King born. What are the chances you even wanted the child at the expense of your life? And even if you did, you aren’t there to suffer the consequences of going against him. Uther is! It sounds like-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Ygraine said, whipping around. “Play with your justifications all you wish, but I will not allow you to feign nobility on the back of my child.” She took a few steps closer. “He did not ask to be born. Even if it was against my will, I would never blame him. And the fact you’d rather hurt Uther than honor me through my son tells me all I need to know.”

Tristan stepped between them. “None of this has happened yet-” he reminded them, but Ygraine’s eyes were locked on Agravaine.

“I don’t care if I’m dead or alive, brother. If you touch this child or any others I may have in any other time, I will ensure you enter hell thinking that it is a paradise after what I’ve put you through.”

It was a terrifying threat, if not slightly offset by Merlin nodding his fervent approval in the background.

Agravaine threw up a hand. “None of it matters because you won’t marry Uther because he is dead and staying dead,” he said, glaring at the corpse.

“None of it matters because even if he lives, that does not mean I will marry him,” Ygraine shot back. “And if I do, you won’t dare to touch my son.” And she turned to Tristan. “And you won’t duel him because that is stupid!” she tacked on furiously.

For good measure, she also pointed a finger at Tristan’s face before turning around. After a breath, she smiled at Merlin.

“Thank you for looking out for Arthur,” she said as if somehow knowing exactly how much Merlin had done for Arthur. Maybe it was obvious to anyone who looked at them. He smiled weakly. “And know if I had raised him, the whole…” She gestured between them. “He would be better at communicating with his lover,” she went with.

“Oh,” Merlin said, turning bright red. “Um. I… we don’t-”

“Don’t call him my lover,” Arthur winced.

This was a mistake to say.

“Is my son not good enough to be your lover?” Balinor asked, brows raising. “You kissed him, remember? I heard you in the tower!”

“He didn’t mean that,” Ygraine quickly came to Arthur’s aid. He wished she wouldn’t. He wished they wouldn’t argue about this with his father’s body sprawled out on the stone floor with Moigne watching them with a mixture of disgust and bafflement. “I’m sure your son is an excellent lover-”

“Oh God,” Merlin said. “Let’s actually not-”

“Maybe you don’t want to be with my nephew?” Tristan jumped in. “Are you stringing him along?”

“What? No!” Merlin squawked, looking horrified. “He’s the one with a wife! Not me!”

“Hey!” Arthur frowned. “We agreed that Guinevere-”

“This,” Nimueh finally spoke up, rubbing her temples. “Is not the time.”

Yeah…yeah, Arthur was aligned with that sentiment. Forcing himself to stop looking so much like a scandalized child and more like the king he was supposed to be, Arthur cleared his throat.

“We need to decide what we’re doing,” he said, looking over the room carefully. “What’s decided here will impact all to come. I know we’ve been given a lot of confusing information, but I’d like two things to be very clear: Camelot’s people come first. Not just for the future, but now. And if the way I provide Albion to them is through stepping away, understand I will do it.” Merlin opened his mouth. “Only if it is how we get to Albion,” he reassured him. He turned to Nimueh. “I’d like to see what Tristan’s rule would be like now. If his time on the throne would be more acceptable to you.”

Moigne made a choking noise, eyes flashing with panicked grief. Arthur didn’t acknowledge it. He understood his grief, but he couldn’t let pure emotion play into anything right now.

Nimueh’s expression was unreadable, the only giveaway being her eyes moving briefly to the door before she sighed and gave a nod.

“This is just to get more information,” Arthur added, seeing his mother’s fingers twitch. “You’ve made it clear how you feel about prophecies. I agree, but want to ensure due diligence.”

That was fair, right? If they were going to make a decision, they needed to fully understand all the options. He wouldn’t be able to live with the idea he hadn’t done everything in his power to do right by these people. His people.

“While she does that, maybe Vivienne and I can speak on how to bring Uther back to life?” Merlin suggested hesitantly. “If we find a reasonable way…” He looked at Ygraine thoughtfully. “We may be able to facilitate Arthur’s birth without your death too.” Ygraine raised her eyebrows. “If you end up on that path again,” he added hastily and turned to where Gaius was watching them. “Care to join us? We could use a physician’s thoughts.”

“I don’t agree with necromancy,” Gaius reminded him.

“You disagree with me on many things in the future,” Merlin said merrily, jerking his head to call him over. “That’s never stopped you from lending a helping hand.”

Balinor looked between Gaius and Merlin, eyes narrowing before also volunteering his magical knowledge for their endeavor. Moigne sat by Uther, face buried in his hands. Arthur didn’t blame him in the least. He couldn’t imagine what could be going through his head right now. Stepping forward, he went to reassure him, but a wisp of color caught his eye.

“Nimeuh?” he asked, but Nimueh had retreated to the other end of the room, grabbing another bowl from the table to begin her prophecies. Arthur turned to where he saw the flash of color in the doorway and cautiously poked his head out, peering down the hallway. “Hello?” he asked.

A pause. Then something clattered.

….uh-huh. Placing a hand on Excalibur, Arthur quietly tip-toed out into the corridor.

“Arthur.”

Shit. He tensed. The voice reverberated around his head. For a moment, he thought he imagined it, but then he turned around.

And he was back in the lake.

The water around him was strikingly clear, the blue of the sky above him reflected in its waters. More concerningly, was the part of the water not around Arthur. The rest of the lake was a ruddy red. Blood. Arthur grimaced and reached out, but the water around his hand remained clear despite him reaching into the red section near him.

“Of course, it would clear up for you,” the voice from before said flatly and Arthur jerked his head up to see Morgana on the bank. She was in one of her old dresses, looking remarkably like she did before leaving the castle. The hardened glint in her eyes told him she wasn’t. “Well?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you going to come out?”

…somehow the lake of blood seemed safer than Morgana on the bank.

“Will you kill me?” he asked her, still treading water.

Morgana gave him an irritable look. “I’m dead, Arthur. Your beloved Emrys made sure of that.” When he didn’t move, she sighed. “I cannot harm you here. As it is, we may… surprisingly be on the same side again.”

Again. It pained him to remember there had been a time before they fought one another.

Against his better judgment, he swam to the shore.

The water remained clear around him, untainted by the blood up until he left. Morgana watched him, expression dark with something he couldn’t quite read as he walked over, boots splashing until he reached her.

“Well?” he asked crisply. “Am I back in Avalon for good?”

Morgana looked out over the lake. “No,” she said. “Not yet.”

And there they stood. Neither seemed to know how to start the conversation. Arthur certainly didn’t. He had no idea why he was even here. The last time he’d been in Avalon had been through a dream of some sort. This was something else entirely.

“They’re planning something,” Morgana finally said. Arthur tore his eyes away from the lake to look at her. “The gods.”

Interesting. “Which ones?”

“The new ones. The old ones. All of them,” she murmured.

“My mother said they were panicking that they couldn’t control me.”

“They can’t,” Morgana agreed. “But there are other things they can control. You need to be careful, Arthur. I believe you may be inches away from a trap.”

Arthur laughed. “You want me to believe that you don’t want me in a trap?” he asked. “You bring me here and expect to talk to me like we’re young again and you didn’t raise an army against me?”

At that, Morgana’s nostrils flared, fingers twitching against where they clutched her arms. Arthur thought he wouldn’t get a response to that, but surprisingly, she sighed, turning to face him.

“I’ve been watching you,” she said carefully. “Through the mists of Avalon. I… had hoped you and Merlin would meet a doomed end in that time, but…” she trailed off. “You have surprised me.”

Arthur felt a stab of annoyance. “I could have surprised you with one conversation if you had allowed it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You see how Uther talks now. I’m still not convinced you won’t sour, Arthur Pendragon. Maybe you’re doomed to follow in his footsteps.”

“Like you?”

“I am nothing like him,” she snarled, and there was the familiar gleam of chaos in her eyes that he had only seen after she left them.

“Then prove it,” Arthur told her evenly. “If you think the gods are planning a trap, help keep me from repeating our time.”

Morgana scoffed. “You could start by leaving Uther dead.”

“Then you wouldn’t be born either.” Morgana didn’t answer. Perhaps she was at peace with that. “You may hate him, Morgana, but he does remind me of you. And at one point, he had your heart. I’d like to save it. I wish I could have saved yours.” She shook her head, clearly irritable, but still said nothing. “So you just brought me here to tell me to be careful and confirm you still hate me?” he asked.

Several seconds passed. Arthur looked out over the lake of blood and wondered who had filled it. If this was her piece of Avalon, the lake filled with her sins, or something else.

“I’ll help you,” she finally said quietly. “I will find whatever trap I believe the gods are laying and leave it to your judgment.” Her expression hardened. “Judge correctly,” she warned.

He felt a sudden swell of sympathy for the de Bois brothers. Sisters were annoying.

“I’ll do my best,” he said dryly. Morgana nodded. “Now what? How do I leave? Do I just-?”

Morgana reached into her dress, pulling out the knife he had once given her. Arthur only had half a second to register it before she found the spot where Mordred had stabbed him and plunged the blade into his side. Surprisingly, there was no pain. Only a coldness that ran through his side as Morgana’s fingers pressed it further into him.

“That wasn’t as pleasurable as I had hoped it would be,” she admitted. Arthur looked down, a little offended, before stepping back, the blood on the shore lapping at his feet. “I’ll send you a sign if I find anything,” she promised.

And then he was in the castle hallway again.

Magic made life so strange.

Arthur looked down, lifting his shirt to find himself unharmed. He sighed, running a hand over his mouth. His mind was going in a thousand different directions. One could argue (and Merlin definitely would) that putting their faith in Morgana was foolish. But somehow… he trusted her. In a strange, twisted way he felt their goals were aligned. Maybe they always had been.

But what was he supposed to make of that? The gods trying to trick him… why? Didn’t they want what he did? Why would they want him in this endless loop of past and future? Did they not also want Albion?

“Arthur?”

Merlin’s face peered into the corridor and Arthur felt the thudding in his chest die down. He always felt safer when he was around. For the longest time, he thought it was simply imposter syndrome. Being big and brave for someone he needed to look out for. And maybe that did still hold some validity, but… maybe part of him had always known that Merlin was protecting him.

“Vivienne and I might have figured something out,” Merlin said, walking over. “If we’re right, we’d need Nimueh, but…” He gently closed the throne room’s doors behind him and leaned against it. “This could be huge.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked and Merlin tugged at the scarf around his neck.

“I think we know how to bring your father back. But, more importantly, I think we figured out a way for you to be born without sacrificing Ygraine’s life,” he said cautiously.

Arthur’s skin prickled, thinking of Morgana’s warning of gods setting traps. Was this it?

“We haven’t decided if my father lives,” Arthur said quietly. Merlin ran a hand over his mouth, frustration bubbling under his expression. “Nimueh needs to see Tristan’s potential rule. My mother won’t even promise to marry my father if he does. We should wait and-”

“You promised Albion,” Merlin reminded him hotly. “How can you do so and then not exist? We agreed! You understood-”

“I promised Albion,” Arthur said, voice going taut. “And I am doing my best to give it to you, Merlin. I understand my importance. I do. I swear it. But perhaps I ruled and I learned and now? I must choose the right successor to finish my work. Maybe it’s Tristan. If it is, I plan to sit him down and tell him all of my plans for this realm.”

“Like Aurelius did with Uther,” Merlin muttered. “Remind me, what kind of king was he again?”

“Don’t,” Arthur warned. “I am not saying that it will happen, but I am saying if that is the answer? Then I will do it. I promised Albion, Merlin. I did not promise to stay with you, which seems to be what you’re truly after.”

The words came through like a slap. They even echoed like one. Merlin stared at him, mouth snapping shut. Something crossed his expression, but it was hard to read. It made Arthur think of the stable boy. And that made him say more.

“Even if it’s what I want,” he added quietly. Merlin swallowed, not meeting his eyes. “We aren’t going to get a perfect ending, are we?” he murmured. “You’ve already done all you can and we just end up in the same place over and over again.”

“I can do more,” Merlin insisted, but he sounded tired. Arthur could only imagine how tired he truly was.

“I’d have you rest,” Arthur told him, reaching out to grab his hand. “I need you to know that whatever decisions come next… they are mine. You cannot change them. There is nothing you can do to alter the outcome. Whatever happens, is not your fault. And if we come to a place where I must die and you must live…” He squeezed his hand. “Live knowing that I died trying to give you all I owe you. Even if you would forgive the debt.”

Surprisingly, Merlin didn’t argue. Didn’t speak. He just stared at the ground, their hands pressed together. Inwardly, Arthur planned to confront these gods the moment he stepped into Avalon. To demand to know why they insisted on a doomed narrative for people to live in a world that deserved better.

Before he could start his inner tirade, Merlin moved forward. The taste of honey pressed against his lips, hands brushing against his neck. This time, shock didn’t paralyze Arthur. He kissed back, trying to memorize each touch as he vehemently reminded himself that things could still work out. Maybe Nimueh would say Tristan’s rule was unfavorable. Maybe it would be the best decision to bring his father back. Maybe his parents would fall in love the moment he opened his eyes again. Maybe knowing the future would be enough to guide them.

Maybe. Maybe they could have this. Forever.

“Retaliation?” Arthur asked when Merlin finally broke away.

Merlin pulled his lips in, giving a flat smile before shaking his head. “Loyalty,” he said.

Arthur wanted to respond, but the door opened again. Gaius’ wary face peering over at them.

“Apologies,” he said politely. Merlin let go of Arthur’s hand. “Nimueh has her answer. And if Vivienne’s plan to resurrect Uther is to stand a chance, we only have hours.”

Hours. Arthur’s heart thudded uncomfortably. He tried to think of Vivienne’s earlier words to him. The sun. They needed a sun. They needed their sun.

He took a shaky breath and walked back into the throne room.

Chapter Text

Magic had a taste to it.

Or perhaps a smell? It was hard to say. For the longest time, Merlin hadn’t been in a world where magic was as common as air. He found himself marveling whenever he noticed it, curiously sensing how the magic seemed to change around whoever used it.

For Balinor, it shifted into heat. It smelled like a campfire. Tasted like smoke. For Vivienne, it was moss and freshwater. The smell of wet grass and hints of sea salt. For Gaius, it was herbs. Plants and soil and earth.

For Nimueh it was peppermint.

He hadn’t been paying close attention to it, but now as he sat at the table, waiting for her look into the future, he found himself marveling at it. The smell seemed to whisk around the room as she stared blankly in front of her, fingers absently braiding her hair. She seemed distressed. Merlin couldn’t decide if that was good or bad news. Perhaps she had seen doom in Tristan’s rule too. Maybe doom was unavoidable no matter who wore the crown.

Uther’s body sat on the table, which was… uncomfortable. Moigne probably moved him, not wanting his brother to be left on the floor, but instead, they were all awkwardly seated around a corpse. Arthur paused when he saw, but sat down anyway.

Geoffrey eagerly kept writing.

“Lady Nimueh?” Tristan said, pulling out his chair and sitting down. Ygraine was still looking out the window, tugging at a gold necklace around her neck. It was only when Agravaine tapped her that she straightened herself up and took a seat next to Tristan.

Nimueh looked up. From behind her, Gaius and Vivienne stood, both mulling over old scripts before they too returned to the table.

“We have much to discuss,” she finally said, sliding the bowl of water away from her. Merlin’s heart sank. That didn’t sound reassuring. “I have looked closer into both potential kings and received… varying results for one and certainty with another.”

Arthur pressed a finger over his mouth, leaning back in his seat as he processed the words.

“Meaning?” Merlin asked cautiously.

Nimueh pursed her lips. “Lord Tristan,” she said. “Your rule is fine.”

A pause.

“Fine?” Tristan repeated. “As in…?”

“I see no doom,” Nimueh assured him. “I just see… a man ruling over a kingdom.”

Tristan opened his mouth, almost looking hurt before nodding slowly. “Do I… not cause good? Or is my rule simply peaceful?” he asked.

“I saw the normal trials a king may face. Battles. Starvation. Revolts. You face them all fairly,” Nimueh shrugged. Agravaine gave a quick nod, a flash of relief on his face. Merlin expected Tristan to take to this answer, but he just sat there, fingers absently tapping against the table.

“And Uther?” Gaius asked, giving Ygraine a reassuring nod as he spoke the words.

At that, Nimueh sighed. “I see doom at times,” she said slowly. “And greatness in others.”

“Oh,” Merlin said. “Well, wouldn’t the greatness be Arthur-?”

“No,” Nimueh said. “I mean, I certainly saw glimpses of the Albion that would exist under Arthur’s rule, but I focused on Uther. His rule could yield doom or greatness.”

Huh. Merlin looked at Uther’s corpse. He was stiff, almost like he was carved of stone rather than someone who had once breathed and moved mere hours ago.

“Greatness how?” Agravaine asked slowly. He glanced worriedly at Tristan. “Surely this greatness cannot be worth the risk of the Purge he may also cause?”

“That seems to be the question we’re here to debate,” Balinor said, running his hand through his hair. “Not that anyone in this room seems to value your opinion,” he added to Agravaine dryly. “So feel free to watch.”

Agravaine sneered in return, Nimueh ignored them as she gave a weak grimace. “From what I can tell,” she said. “Uther can either rule can cause this Purge, or his rule would build a strong and rich kingdom for Albion to be built upon. The foundation to his son’s rule as it were,” she said and shook her head. “I… even saw my father’s lands,” Nimueh added. “They flourished." She buried her face in her hands. “I cannot tell you which outcome is more likely,” she said and looked up again, dragging her fingers over her face. “If you’d like, I can send word to the Dragon Council-”

“Unnecessary,” Arthur cut in. “Surely Tristan’s rule will suffice? He can build Albion if I tell him how?”

“Do you know how?” Agravaine asked.

Balinor flipped him off, the tip of his fingers flickering into a flame. Merlin smiled a bit to himself. He found himself growing increasingly fond of his father at every interaction.

“I can give some judgments,” Arthur offered. “We may discuss some of the changes I made in my time and plans to make more. I can tell you which commoners I knighted and-”

“Commoners?” Tristan said, brows furrowing. “As knights? I’m not sure I understand… why would we do such a thing?” Arthur paused, eying Tristan as if trying to decide if this was an argument he wanted to get into right now. “Knighthood is about alliances as it is valor. If we go about knighting commoners, how can we secure the backing of powerful armies and aid from lords and neighboring kingdoms?”

Others at the table also looked at each other, doubt etched into their expressions.

“Do you not have the loyalty of your lords?” Arthur asked skeptically. Merlin shifted. Most of the time, he liked seeing Arthur putting nobles in their place. But they only had so much time and Tristan could probably keep the argument going for quite some time.

“Perhaps that is the foundation Lady Nimueh speaks of. The lords in your time have established their loyalty to Camelot through your father. After all, you inherited it, no?” Tristan asked, an edge coming into his voice. “Commoner knights might be worth the risk when the realm already has secure support, but in a time of uncertainty after war, I cannot make such promises.”

Arthur opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Ygraine gave a dramatic sigh.

“Brother, he never said you shouldn’t knight nobles. Think not as a strategist but as a leader.” Tristan paused, eyes shifting to her. “Knights may traditionally be nobles, but armies are traditionally common men. Would they not be inspired more by one of their own leading them into battle?” she asked. “Would nobles not be forced to better earn their keep?”

Tristan shook his head. “They would bound together and usurp anyone who cuts off their power.”

“So the lords are the true rulers then?” Ygraine asked. “My son is right.” She paused. “...that is still strange to say out loud,” she muttered. “Nevertheless, nobles are easy to set straight. If they do not act of their station, you strip them and perhaps replace them with someone else worthy of their rank. Maybe that’s a commoner,” she shrugged. “What is the value of blood, if not an ancestor doing something great? Perhaps we should demand that same greatness in all rather than expecting it in the children of greater men.” She held out her hand, almost looking bored. “Am I wrong?”

Tristan hummed, brows furrowing at that.

“Right or wrong, I did not see Albion under Tristan’s rule,” Nimueh reminded them. Ygraine rolled her eyes. “I know your opinion on prophecies, my lady. They still have weight.”

“Think of it as a recipe,” Merlin tried. “We can make several things with the ingredients, but we first must ensure we have the ingredients.”

Nimueh, Vivienne, Moigne, and Balinor all murmured in agreement. If only Merlin had realized that sooner… maybe things wouldn’t have gone so awry.

“It seems to me that now we are aware of the Purge we can easily prevent the Purge, no?” Moigne asked. “And no Purge would mean Uther would surely be on the path to greatness. And if Lady Vivienne is right and we have a way to resurrect my brother with no life taken then he can have his son in the same manner,” he added, gesturing to Arthur. “It is clearly the best outcome-”

“If nothing goes wrong,” Agravaine interrupted. Merlin felt a stab of irritation. He waited for Tristan to tell him to quiet down but the eldest de Bois was still staring at Ygraine. There was something in his expression that Merlin had begun to recognize as him strategizing. In his left hand, his coin sat between his fingers, flipping with every word each person spoke.

“That was implied, but thank you for attempting to contribute,” Merlin said instead. Balinor snorted.

Agravaine narrowed his eyes. “You snipe at me, but you have seen Uther’s doom. Shouldn’t you be more wary?” he asked, leaning forward. Merlin met his eyes, Uther’s pale face between them. “Shouldn’t you care more for your people?”

Merlin’s chest burned. As if answering his anger, the room trembled, dust coming from the ceiling as glass rattled. Gaius pushed his chair back, eyes horrified as Moigne and Tristan both placed their hands on those next to them.

“I haven’t seen Uther’s doom,” Merlin answered, voice steady. “I lived through it. And as for my people, I have not had the honor of truly meeting them until coming to this place.” He leaned forward slightly, not breaking eye contact. “Make no mistake, I know what Uther is capable of. I know what you’re capable of too, Agravaine. And I don’t think there would be much consequence to the future if I kill you again. Now and here.”

“Merlin…” Arthur warned and Merlin fell back in his chair. Agravaine stiffened but didn’t respond to Merlin's threat.

“Apologies, my lord,” Merlin muttered in an attempt at self-preservation.

Everyone looked at one another.

“So,” Gaius said, breaking the silence as he shifted in his seat. “We decide between the adequacy of Tristan’s rule or the potential best and worst of Uther’s. And if we are to choose Uther, more will need to be decided-”

“Actually,” Tristan cut in. “I retract my claim.”

Another heavy silence swept over the room.

Ygraine’s head jerked up. “What?” she asked sharply. “Brother, why-”

“On one condition,” Tristan continued. “My sister is to be Uther’s queen.”

...alright.

Arthur and Merlin both looked at each other, each trying and failing to hide their bafflement. This was… unexpected.

“Have you lost your mind?” Agravaine asked, standing up so his chair scraped behind him. “You would have her marry him knowing she’ll die?! Knowing what he is capable of? What’s wrong with you?” he hissed.

Tristan hummed, looking across the table and then at Uther’s eerily blue body. “You are being narrow-minded,” he said, voice calm and decisive. “It is rapidly becoming clear to me that Uther and I are not the key pieces to this puzzle. Ygraine is.” He turned to where his sister was leaning away from him, brows raised in a silent dare. “This Purge began with her death and without her on the throne, my rule does not flourish as I would wish. The solution is that she needs to be on the throne. Moreso than I. Moreso than Uther. There is a reason she is the mother of King Arthur. Though… his existence will remain her choice,” Tristan added to Ygraine. “If we are to have our Once and Future King, we will need to ensure her survival. Which… I believe if we can resurrect Uther as Lady Vivienne suggests, without the taking of a life, then that may be possible.”

Ygraine blinked several times. “I… I’m engaged to Gorlois-” she began and Tristan shrugged. “I am not to be bartered away for a prophecy!”

“Take the indignance from your ears and hear me, Ygraine,” Tristan said dryly. “I am not asking for a prophecy. That possibility remains in your hands. I am asking because I think you are the right ruler.” He shrugged. “Now, candidly, I can’t just put you on the throne. You have no real claim. But if you marry Uther…”

“And he’s to agree to this?”

“He was after peace, no?” Tristan asked. “These are my terms. And it will ease my brother's earlier concerns about retaliation against our family,” he added to Agravaine. He looked around the table. “Any questions?” he asked.

Moigne let out a slow breath of relief. Everyone else turned to Ygraine. She didn’t seem to know what to do with this turn of events. Merlin glanced over at Arthur, curious to see how he was processing the information. At first, he could see a whisper of concern cross his face… and then pride.

Ygraine looked around. Now that the shock was wearing off, she just stared at Uther. Then glanced over at Vivienne.

“You say you can bring him back without taking a life?” she asked slowly.

“Well,” Vivienne said. “We’d need to kill Constantine, but that’s just for my powers-”

“Uther is already dead,” Agravaine said, sounding a tad desperate. “Your power wouldn’t just go to him!”

Vivienne shrugged. “No, it would belong to me. But it needs to belong to me to resurrect him. And then, once he’s alive, it’ll go to him.”

Ygraine frowned. “But… it could belong to you,” she pointed out gently. “Do you not wish for that?”

Vivienne chuckled, expression softening at Ygraine’s concern. “Ask me again in a hundred years. For now, I’d like to see you on the throne, my lady.” She bowed her head and Ygraine swallowed. “But, after Constantine is dead, I believe…” She looked at Merlin. “We would not need another life. Nor would you, if you wish to have your son,” she added.

Ygraine hesitated. She looked once at Tristan - and then at Arthur.

Please, Merlin inwardly whispered to himself. Please, let her agree.

Calm yourself, Nimueh’s voice answered. Your desperation reeks in your mind.

Oh. Right. They could hear that.

Let him be, Balinor’s voice answered. We all beg for our loves to see light.

Flushing, Merlin looked over at his father who gave him a quick wink before lifting his goblet up to take a drink. A bold move to do in front of a corpse, but clearly he had a stronger stomach.

“Very well,” Ygraine said slowly. “Only if no other life than Constantine’s is the cost,” she repeated again. Forcefully. Decisively. “And let us all be sure to explain clearly my role in this rule. If I am queen, I will not kneel to the king.”

Agravaine buried his face in his hands.

Merlin stood up, unwilling to wait around for someone to change their mind. Arthur caught the movement, his exasperated expression confirming he already knew what Merlin was up to.

He turned, about to shepherd Nimueh out of the room and merrily cut Constantine open, only for her face to stop him cold. She rubbed her hands together and Merlin could have kicked himself for the eagerness he had to do something that would clearly hurt her.

I’m sorry, he told her quietly and she looked up, placing her chin on folded hands to look up at him. Would… you like me to…?

No, she answered and stood up. I will do it. I take it you will join me to ensure it is done properly?

Merlin hesitated. Then shook his head. Just to keep you company, he said. If you want it. Nimueh tilted her head. Very slowly, she nodded.

“I will move forward with Constantine,” she told them. “Merlin will join me.” And with that, she turned to the door. Merlin glanced over at where the rest of the group still seemed to be adjusting to the new reality they were entering. When Arthur nodded, he rushed out the closing door where Nimueh had swished her skirts into the hallway.

“Nimueh!” he called after her, jogging to keep up. She didn’t look back. “I…” he began when he finally synced steps with her. “I’m sorry you have to do this,” he repeated again. “But if it is any consolation, he really has soured since you’ve known him…”

“He was a great man,” Nimueh said simply. “If, in many years, your Arthur were to sour, you might understand.”

Merlin shook his head. “Not possible.” At that, Nimueh gave a noncommittal hum but didn’t answer. They walked in silence for several moments before Merlin’s curiosity got the better of him. “Do you know much about the gods?”

Arthur had mentioned something before their final discussion. About gods and Morgana and tricks…

“Who doesn’t know about the gods?” Nimueh chuckled. At Merlin’s face, she stopped. “Oh… right. Apologies,” she tacked on quickly. “I’d imagine not much of our religion is known in your time.”

Merlin put his hands behind his back, somehow feeling embarrassed at not having the basic knowledge that apparently was ingrained in every other person here. “I… know about the Triple Goddess,” he offered, inwardly cringing out how tentative he sounded.

Nimueh nodded. “Yes,” she said, looking almost cautious as they turned another corner. “She’s the leader of sorts. Past, present, and future.” Merlin nodded slowly. “Our kind don’t necessarily believe in beginnings or ends. Things simply just… are. The Triple Goddess shows us this. Our minds perceive her as three things, but she is simply…. one.”

“Ah,” Merlin said, unenthused. “That’s… existential.”

Nimueh smiled a bit. “It’s impressive you borrowed her powers.”

“Borrowed?”

“Of course,” Nimueh smiled. “That’s where magic comes from. We, as sorcerers, borrow it from the gods. Spells are simply prayers for us to borrow pieces of their powers. Warlocks, like you, are a bit different. You are born with that power in your blood. You don’t ask for it with your spells, you demand it – because that power is as much yours and it is theirs.”

Merlin registered that, the clicking of Nimueh’s shoes like a rhythm to his thoughts.

“And the other gods?” he asked. “Who are they?”

Nimueh smiled as if being asked about old friends. “Alaunus,” she said. “He is the god of prophecy, so I pray to him often. Belatucadros is a warrior god. Nehalennia watches over the sea.”

“How many are there?”

“Too many,” Nimueh chuckled. “One for every lake, every forest, every river, every town… they are very tied to places, our gods. Or people, I suppose. Perhaps that’s where your loyalty comes from,” she said lightly.

“I’m not sure I like being compared to a god,” Merlin admitted. “Arthur said they’re trying to trick us for some reason.”

“And this bothers you?”

“Yes,” Merlin said incredulously. “How can it not? Do they want suffering? Why can’t they just let us have the happy ending and not try to derail anything,” he said, nose wrinkling. Nimueh gave him a look. “Is that naive?”

The clicking of Nimueh’s steps stopped. Merlin walked a few more steps before looking over his shoulder to find her no longer moving, but instead deep in thought.

“Have you changed your mind?” he asked warily. He should be prepared to be the one to take the knife to Constantine, after all.

Nimueh’s eyes snapped back into focus before she shook her head. “No,” she told him and then looked out toward the courtyard. “Just remembering my childhood. Care for a game?”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “We’re on a time limit-”

“It will be quick,” she promised. “I think you’ll understand the gods better afterward. My father played this with me.”

Hm. Well, Merlin couldn’t deny he was intrigued. As he hesitated, Nimueh sidestepped outside, gesturing for him to follow. Inwardly sighing, he followed. Five minutes. That’s all he’d allow.

Nimueh led him not down the path of the courtyard, but into the gardens of it. She sat down at a large stone, waiting for him to duck under tree branches to sit down on the other side.

“See the ants?” she asked. Merlin looked down to find the rock was indeed covered in small black ants all lined up. He nodded. “Watch them.” Merlin did. He didn’t know why. He wasn’t sure exactly what this was, but patiently waited for further instruction as the ants continued their journey. After a few moments, he felt a stab of impatience. When he looked up, Nimueh smiled. “Okay, I’ll make it more interesting,” she said and put a twig directly in the path of the ants. Half continued their march forward while the rest paused - seemingly unsure how to continue with this new obstacle.

“I don’t think I understand this game,” Merlin told her.

Nimueh shrugged. “You try and make it interesting,” she said.

Sighing, Merlin grabbed a pebble and also placed it near the ants.

It continued that way. Both of them went back and forth on creating more and more obstacles for the ants before Merlin finally squashed one, hoping to end the game. The moment he did it, he felt a stab of regret. He had killed ants for a good chunk of his life (they were a common pest in Arthur’s room) but ending a life out of frustration didn’t seem right.

As the thought passed him, he paused.

“They’re…bored?” he asked, realization pouring over him.

Nimueh smiled wryly. “And confused,” she offered. “Gods don’t understand us. They don’t understand death. All they do is create and destroy. It’s all they know how to do. They’re bards, weaving a song. Poets, writing stories. Perhaps they are trying to trick you – but it is likely there is no moral reason for it. They know you are in a loop. But once the loop ends, and Albion is here, their world will be significantly more boring. They’re vortigerns as it were.”

“Vortigern?” Merlin repeated slowly. He remembered seeing that name in some of the genealogy records when he forced Lancelot's papers of nobility. “Who is he?”

Nimueh stood up, dusting off her hands before offering one to him. He grabbed it and she heaved him up.

“Vortigern is a word in our language,” she mused. “Not a person. It’s a title of sorts. For those who rule over destiny.”

Our language. Merlin nodded slowly. He knew, abstractedly, that the druids and magical people had a language of their own. He thought of Ladon again. He hadn’t really considered it much at the time, but among the familiar language he knew, there were symbols on street signs and whispers of words he hadn’t heard beyond written in forbidden spellbooks.

His legs felt heavier at that thought. With each passing conversation in this time, he was left to consider the weight of all Uther had taken. Not just lives - but the things people built in their lives. The things made to give those same lives meaning. He had burned people and the marks they had left behind. Their songs, their language, their homes, their way of life…

“Merlin?” Nimueh asked when she went to leave the courtyard and found he hadn’t moved.

He looked up, suddenly realizing how similar he was to the gods after all. Easily disregarding things he hadn’t experienced or understood. And now here he was… fighting to bring the perpetrator of some of the greatest evil he had known to life.

“Merlin,” Nimueh said as he put a hand over his mouth to keep from choking on the horror of it all. She cautiously turned to him. “Oh,” she said when she saw his face. “You’re not sure if you want to do this anymore.”

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. “What else am I supposed to do?” he asked, voice shaking. “Arthur…”

Arthur, Arthur, Arthur… why was this such an impossible choice?

Nimueh grimaced. “We know your future now. We can prevent it, remember?” she said quietly. “Even if Uther is alive.”

Merlin took a long breath. Right. Yes. They were armed with knowledge.

“I killed you,” he said, voice breaking slightly. Nimueh blinked. “In my time. You were… an enemy. You were trying to avenge your people and I killed you.”

He expected Nimueh to step back from him. To cringe. But all she did was nod, eyes thoughtful as she reached out to squeeze his arms.

“Well,” she said and let go. “Nobody is meant to live forever.” She stepped back. “Speaking of which…” she looked up at one of the towers. “We need to hurry and kill Constantine.” And with that, she picked up her skirts and carried on.

The rest of the walk to Constantine’s rooms was met with silence.

The castle felt strangely empty. Merlin wasn’t sure where all the guards or soldiers were. How long before someone realized Uther was missing? It would be a mess if his supporters found his dead body before they had a chance to revive him. The thought made him walk faster.

“The great child I was destined to have,” Nimueh began as the door to Constantine’s room creaked open. “Do you think…that was meant to be your Arthur?” she asked. Merlin didn’t answer. He was distracted by the putrid smell coming into the room. Like rotting meat and forgotten vegetables. Nimueh didn’t seem bothered by it as she walked inside. “If he is… his work here may not be done. He would be destined to be a great hero to my father and his kingdom.”

The inside of the room was dark, only lit by one candle. Constantine himself was laid out on a bed, chest slowly rising and falling. His shirt was stiff with dark stains. Nimueh walked to his side where Constantine’s face twitched, doused in sweat.

“It is said your father was wounded in battle,” Merlin told her, walking to Constantine’s other side. “And that his lands wilted as his powers did.” She nodded. “What battle was it?”

Nimueh placed a hand out on Constantine’s forehead. “You know,” she said softly. “I’m not sure I could tell you. All I truly remember of it was that Constantine fought by his side.”

“He did?”

Nimueh nodded, still looking down at Constantine. “He said he owed it to me,” she mused. “For becoming something greater than I was told to be.” She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “He was a good friend… even if he lost himself toward the end. I only apologize for not bringing him out of his stupor as he once brought me out of mine.”

At her voice, Constantine twitched. His eyes moved barely behind his eyes and Nimueh swallowed.

“Can you hear me?” she whispered. Constantine twitched again, but his eyes remained closed. “Well,” Nimueh mused and reached to a side table where several knives lay, all adorned with the Pendragon crest. “I have news for you. The war is over. Your son shall be king,” she said and unsheathed the knife in her hand. Constantine’s breath stuttered. “You can rest now.” She pointed the tip of the blade to his throat. “Remember yourself in Avalon. For my sake.” And with that, she jammed the blade into his throat.

A horrible choking sound followed as Constantine’s eyes flickered open. Blood pooled at his neck, spilling on the sheets. His eyes widened, popping open uncomfortably large, but strangely enough, once he saw Nimueh’s face, he relaxed. Almost as if it was acceptable for him to die - as long as she wielded the blade.

The choking only lasted a few seconds before Constantine slumped back into the bed, unmoving. Nimueh calmly removed the blade, her hands sticky with blood, and set it to the side.

“There,” she said, swallowing thickly. “Now… we bring Uther back.”

Right. Now… they bring Uther back.

When they returned to the throne room, Arthur and Ygraine were in deep conversation. Based on how Arthur was moving his hands, Merlin guessed they were discussing metal trade. Little known fact about Arthur’s reign - metal trade was very important to him. Merlin had never seen a man more singularly focused on negotiation when metals were involved. Bronze, steel, iron - he had strong opinions on it.

“Nobody knows this, but west of here there is a mine,” he heard Arthur say. “If you get to it now, you’ll be able to not only create enough weapons and armor for two armies, but you can use it to reinforce walls-”

“And who shall I send to mine this endless metal?” Ygraine asked, fully locked onto every word between them.

“Tell the townspeople they may keep a portion if they volunteer to help. Pay them well. Tell the knights it is for their armor and they will mine it themselves. At the very least, go out there yourself and reap with the wealth,” Arthur said seriously and Ygraine laughed.

Is it done? Vivienne’s voice asked, making Merlin jump. Nimueh didn’t startle, instead just nodding when Moigne and Balinor all whipped around. Good. Now we get to work.

To do a bit of level setting here… Vivienne, Nimueh, and Merlin were quite possibly the most powerful magical trio at the moment - maybe at any moment. Vivienne was a magical spirit, Merlin was magic itself, and Nimueh was the daughter of the Fisher King and the most well-trained high priestess in all the lands. They were supported by two dragonlords and Gaius, who was probably the most educated person in the room along with Geoffrey.

And yet… they were trying to revive a dead man, already a nearly impossible feat, but without sacrificing a life.

So as badass and cool as Merlin imagined their magical soiree to be, the reality of it was… probably not as impressive to their non-magical onlookers.

This became abundantly clear about an hour later as Geoffrey continued his scribbling while the rest of them became increasingly agitated with one another.

“That’s not going to work!”

“It would if you just tried it!”

“Wait,” Merlin tried, accepting another book Gaius handed him. “We could-” He flipped a page. “Ah. Nevermind.”

“I thought you said you had a plan?” Tristan asked only for three indignant pairs of eyes to jerk to him. “...and it seems to be going well,” he rectified quickly.

“We need something of equal value to give to the gods,” Nimueh said, rubbing her temples. “Which is an excellent idea for a substitute, but Vivienne here doesn’t understand human values!”

Vivienne crossed her arms over her chest, the first sign of a pout crossing her face. “A teardrop seems like a perfectly acceptable price,” she mumbled.

“Humans cry all the time! That’s not a rare commodity!”

“And you humans are born and die all the time. I don’t see the difference,” Vivienne tried as Balinor patted her shoulder.

“What if we give a future life?” he suggested. “Is there someone who you don’t like in the future? Someone we can prevent from being born?”

Merlin looked up. Now that was interesting. His mind flicked through an itinerary of people. Maybe…

“No,” Arthur said quickly, eyes narrowing as he studied Merlin’s face. “Leave Mordred out of this.”

…worth a shot. Based on Ygraine’s face, she wouldn’t accept any other substitutions either.

“We need a genuine sacrifice,” Nimueh sighed, running a hand over her face. “The only thing that would equate to a life is something that makes life worth living. We need someone to give what they value most… Emotion. Intelligence. Morals.”

“I can try to give my magic,” Merlin said, though he wasn’t sure if he meant it. The idea of giving up his magic for Uther seemed repulsive. He wasn’t even sure it was possible, but he supposed in desperate times he could entertain it.

Luckily, Arthur shook his head. Possibly to ease Merlin’s fear of this being a solution.

“I could give my sight,” Balinor said, and they all turned to him. “I would never be able to see Adhan’s cheekbones again.”

Gaius gave a long-suffering sigh. “Please stop talking about this woman’s cheekbones. I beg of you. Stop talking about everyone’s cheekbones, actually.”

Merlin inwardly snorted. Gaius was going to lose it when he realized who exactly Merlin’s mother was.

“Lord Tristan, how would you feel about giving up your intelligence?” Vivienne asked.

Agravaine folded his arms over his chest, scowling at Uther’s corpse. “He already has,” he muttered. They all ignored him.

Merlin flipped through more pages of the books Gaius brought. He couldn’t think of anything the gods would really want that would convince them to give Uther back. His head hurt while trying to process it. If he could just ask them. Negotiate in person. This could be so much easier. Running his hands over his mouth, he stood, finally unable to stand his mind swimming.

“I’m taking a walk,” he decided. Arthur shifted, subtly following him as he exited the throne room without waiting for a response from anyone else. The door squeaked shut behind him, Tristan’s voice calling his name indignantly from behind the wood.

“We’ll find something,” Arthur’s voice promised as Merlin moved to a window, pressing his hands against the frame to breathe deeply. A hand touched his back. “Don’t panic.”

“How are you not panicking?” Merlin asked, head still hanging between his shoulders. “Maybe I can be the one that we prevent from being born and that could be the price-”

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm, pulling him from the window. “You said you were taking a walk,” he reminded him. “But here you are. Standing and moping.” He lightly pushed Merlin’s arm, getting him to move.

To deal with the annoyance of being hassled in such a trying time, he leaned over and kissed him before storming away.

“You know that’s eventually going to make me associate annoying you with affection, right?” he called after him.

“Not affection!” Merlin shot over his shoulder. “A psychological manipulation tactic.”

“Ah. How silly of me to forget you have been trained in the ways of war.”

“Why are you always in a good mood when I’m not?” Merlin muttered, slowing his pace so Arthur could catch up with him. They were heading outside. Neither discussed it, that just seemed to be where they were heading. Merlin needed to see grass and trees if he were to continue on.

Daylight had broke, the sunrise already melting away into the gold light of day. Only hints of the red from the morning remained as Merlin walked out onto the grounds and stood silently. From the front of the castle, he could see where Uther's army was still facing down with Tristan's men. That must be where everyone was. No battle had broken out, but it seemed they were still keeping each other busy, which was something.

Arthur peered at Merlin's face, brows raised in subtle expectation. “...are you going to yell at the clouds?” he asked seriously.

“Maybe,” Merlin sighed before a sudden idea came into his head. He looked over his shoulder at the castle. And then to the large, grassy area they were in. “...do you want to see if my Dragonlord powers still work?” he asked suddenly.

With his father alive, it seemed unlikely, but that argument could be made about any traits really. How could he have his mother’s blue eyes when he hadn’t been born yet?

Arthur grimaced. “Are you still trying to talk to that dragon?” he asked, rubbing his temple.

Merlin decided to answer that by tilting his head up and reaching for the familiar pull of his powers. “DRAKON-” he began and Arthur jumped at the guttural yell.

“Why do you sound like a goose?!” he complained, but Merlin only shoved him away as he continued the call, pausing with the hope Kilgharrah would actually come and he hadn’t just screamed at the sky for nothing.

In fact, he was a little worried Moigne might pop out and start throwing a fit over someone else trying to summon his dragon when a burst of wind fell over them. Or, rather, a gust of air from a wing. The grass around him went dark and when Merlin looked up, it was to see a scaled body obscuring the sun from view.

Aha.

“....dear god,” Arthur muttered as the mass of golden scales began to lower itself.

Merlin squinted, curious to see if time had changed his old advisor much. In truth, Merlin couldn’t say he looked much different. He’d imagine twenty years or so was nothing to a creature that roamed for centuries. Still, he could feel a difference. A sort of freedom and satisfaction he had never known his Kilgharrah to have - even after being released.

A shaking thud sounded and a pair of yellow eyes looked down at him.

“Emrys.”

Merlin smiled and waved. “You know who I am,” he said as Arthur stiffened from beside him. “Balinor mentioned you recognized my given name.”

“Merlin,” Kilgharrah said, lips pulling back to show rows of sharpened teeth. “Despite us not having met, I remember you well, young warlock. I am glad to see I got you to the lake in time.”

“You didn’t, actually,” Merlin pointed out. “If you had, I wouldn’t have tried to undo time.”

“And you do not think you were just in time to undo time?”

Arthur shook his head. “Oh. This is not helpful at all,” he said. Merlin nudged him. “I’m not playing nice with the dragon who burned my kingdom down,” he whispered.

“I have done no such thing,” Kilgharrah snapped indignantly. Arthur gaped up at him. “....yet.”

Well… Merlin couldn’t exactly blame Arthur for hating Kilgharrah. He supposed if Arthur could put up with Merlin relentlessly hating Agravaine, then he could put up with this. Kilgharrah certainly didn’t make it easy with how he talked.

“Moigne said you advised him on Aurelius’s wife,” Merlin said before Arthur decided slaying a dragon was worth another attempt. “That you warned him.”

Kilgharrah sniffed. “I did. And much like you, he did not listen.”

“Because you give bad advice?” Arthur asked dryly. Merlin looked at him. “What? From what I can tell, he has gone to great lengths to keep me alive for some reason. I don't see the harm in forgetting any form of diplomacy in turn.” He looked up at Kilgharrah with stoic eyes. “You’re ugly,” he informed him sagely.

….Merlin typically blamed Uther for everyone wanting to kill Arthur, but maybe he just forgot that Arthur had a very killable personality. The pretty face had clearly blinded him recently.

“Let’s stay on task,” Merlin said as smoke rose from Kilgharrah’s nostrils. “Moigne, Kilgharrah. What was going on there?”

At that, Kilgharrah lifted his head up to give a gurgling growl. Maybe Merlin had a killable personality too.

“You ask as if I am an enemy, young warlock!” he said, voice echoing. It almost made Merlin nervous that someone might pop out and ask what they were talking about. “You and the young dragonlord are much the same in this. I have given you the information you need. The fact you did not like it is what swayed events, child. I warned Moigne of Constantine, and yet he sat idle because of his love for Uther. I warned you of Mordred and you did not let him die-”

“He was a child!”

“Who grew up to kill your king,” Kilgharrah threw back. “It is hardly my fault you wished for him to be of a more acceptable age in your eyes before you considered killing him.”

…ouch. Okay.

“If you hadn’t turned me against him, maybe things would have worked out differently. If you had advised me to confide in Morgana-” he began and then stopped. Kilgharrah’s golden eyes narrowed at him.

It didn’t matter.

It was becoming rapidly clear that Kilgharrah was like Vivienne. Time had no sense. It wasn’t a straight line. The past, present, and future mixed and mixed so that knowledge blurred into a brown sludge of beliefs that were paradoxes.

The thought made Merlin a little sad, actually. Here, in this place, this time, he could see people as they were. The kindness of Uther. The outspokenness of Ygraine. The charm of his father. The grit of his mother. They were able to be so many different things and become different too. For better or for worse.

Kilgharrah just… was. Everything. Nothing. Like Vivienne had pointed out, there wasn’t actually too much of a difference after all.

And despite all of Kilgharrah’s questionable advice, it had been Merlin who made the calls. Now, it was time to make another. The dozens of questions Merlin had been quietly compiling in the back of his mind to dump on his old mentor faltered. At the end of it all, there actually was only one thing he needed to know.

“We need something of equal value to a life to offer the gods,” Merlin said, voice even and firm. “Do you know what would be an acceptable price?”

Kilgharrah’s eyes brightened. “I wouldn't go looking for gods, Emrys,” he warned.

Merlin bristled. “Why not?”

And Kilgharrah lowered his head so his snout sat near Merlin’s feet, the heat of his breath almost burning his skin.

“They might look back at you.”

That was foreboding, but Merlin stayed quiet as he waited for a better answer.

“The price is not something you would give up,” Kilgharrah said. Merlin narrowed his eyes. “To ask for something of equal value to a life, Emrys… you would need to allow the gods to choose.”

Merlin’s heart sank. So what? They’d let the gods take their pick of whatever they wanted? It could be anything? He couldn’t think of a worse idea. Almost anything could go wrong. A deal like that would require trusting the gods and Merlin wasn’t sure he was inclined to do so given the situation. He looked at Arthur, who was already shaking his head.

Before Merlin could answer, a blood-curdling scream came from the castle.

“....what was that?” Merlin asked. Arthur squinted up at the window, putting a hand over his eyes to block the sun. “Probably not a problem for us, right?” he asked.

A horrified yell sounded and something loud clattered as windows from the castle burst open to reveal Leodegrance, dressed in velvet finery with his mistress’s screams still echoing throughout the castle.

“THE KING!” he shrieked. “THE KING! THEY KILLED THE KING!”

Ah… so it was their problem.

Merlin looked up at the sky, groaning. How could he have forgotten about Leodegrance? Always something.

“You don’t think Uther’s men are going to come in and avenge your father, do you?” Merlin asked Arthur. “Or that Tristan’s men won’t attack in an attempt to defend him?” Arthur closed his eyes. “Or that once everyone else sees Uther is dead our chances of resurrecting him get impossibly thin?”

Arthur glared at Kilgharrah as if this was somehow his fault. “We need to make a decision fast,” he said, grimacing. “We should-”

“I’d like to suggest terms,” Merlin said suddenly. An idea weaseled into the back of his mind. Almost unwittingly. Arthur’s mouth snapped shut, eyes sharpening with wariness. They looked at one another, that familiar push and pull that had now entered their lives since learning of Merlin’s magic filling the air.

Merlin wanted to barge forward. To execute the half-haphazard idea he had in the back of his mind, but bit back that temptation as he looked at Arthur. Waiting. Silently pleading with him to throw aside all reservations and trust him… even if he wouldn’t necessarily like the answer. If Arthur was allowed to potentially give up his life for Albion, then he should accept a similar sacrifice from Merlin, right?

After several grueling seconds, Arthur finally nodded.

Warmth flooded Merlin’s chest.

“The gods can have their choice,” Merlin said, turning back to Kilgharrah. “Whatever it is they want as long as we’re allowed one loophole.” Kilgharrah tilted his giant head, a row of glistening teeth baring in amusement. “If the price ends up being something too great for us to bear… they take my death instead.”

Arthur’s breath hitched. “What do you mean?” he asked sharply, but Merlin didn’t look at him.

“Your… death?” Kilgharrah repeated. “As in, you would grant yourself immortality?”

“I’m not naive,” Merlin said with a shrug. “I know everyone I love is destined for Avalon.” His eyes flicked to Arthur. “I know what I would be condemning myself to.”

From the castle, there was more yelling. Kilgharrah seemed perturbed by this offer - as if Merlin had suggested something he somehow shouldn’t have been able to.

And then he laughed.

“Deal.”

Arthur whipped his head up. “Deal?” he repeated. “You think the gods will accept this offer?”

Kilgharrah’s wings opened up. “They already have,” he said and Merlin stepped back. “I do hope this is the time you outsmart us, little ones. I am one of the few of my kind looking forward to the kingdom you’ll build together.” His wings flapped, almost knocking them over with the force as he rose off the ground. “Watch out for Moigne,” he added, almost quickly. Too quickly. Like he didn’t wish to reveal his fondness. “I cannot stand to see an ill fate for him again.”

Another gust came and when Merlin opened his eyes, Kilgharrah was already high above them.

Arthur and Merlin looked at one another.

“I can’t decide if that went well,” Merlin said, head spinning. Arthur grimaced, looking torn between wanting to scream at him and wanting to kiss him. “We should hurry back to the others,” he added before Arthur could decide.

Arthur looked back up at the castle before kissing Merlin. Again. The audacity. The nerve. He hated the way his stomach flipped despite the fact this was no longer a shocking occurrence given the past few days.

“Retaliation,” he said, and despite the situation, Merlin couldn’t help but smile as they both left it there to start running up to the castle.

Chapter Text

The situation stood as follows:

A very angry mob of men were trying to get inside the throne room while another angry mob of men were trying to prevent them from entering the throne room. Soldiers yelled, spit flying between them as swords came precariously close to one another. A few were even cut, holding nicked limbs and busted lips. Among them, Gorlois was shoving men apart, desperately looking around until he saw Arthur and Merlin. When their gazes met, his eyes narrowed with some sort of expectation.

This was unfortunate.

Arthur looked around, trying to decide where he wanted to start in this shit-show.

And then he decided Merlin was going to handle the shit-show.

“I’ll sneak around the side, you distract them,” Arthur whispered, clapping him on the shoulder. Merlin turned, looking outright affronted, but Arthur had dashed off before he could receive an argument back.

With everyone screaming at one another, it was relatively easy to slip himself back out one of the windows, crouching so he could slink down and carefully scale the side of the castle. As he inched toward an open window of the throne room, he heard a sharp whistle.

“Stop!” Merlin’s voice called. “Uther is alive!”

The sounds of fighting halted.

“Where?!” someone yelled, and more voices joined in demands to know where their king was while Tristan’s men muttered to one another.

“If he were alive, he would come out-”

“-liar!”

“Where is he then?!”

Arthur winced, leaning over to the left so he could glimpse inside again. Merlin was backing up, looking unsure how to answer before clearing his throat again. “It is hard to explain,” Merlin began, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because…” he began, looking around. “Well… that’s because…” Suddenly, his face lit up. “Because he’s right there!”

Merlin pointed through the crowd at where a baffled Gorlois stood, mouth slightly agape as he looked around.

“What?” a knight asked, eyes narrowing. “That is Lord-”

“Uther,” Merlin cut in. “In disguise. Obviously.” Oh, dear lord. Arthur let his head fall against the stone wall. “Because I used my magic to disguise him so he could see his true love.”

...right. Arthur decided to keep moving. Merlin’s voice continued to wind up some story about how Uther had fallen in love with Ygraine when she was captive, but since she wouldn’t talk to him, he asked for Merlin’s help to use his magic and disguise him as her betrothed so he could confess his feelings.

Arthur was certain nobody would buy that, so he pulled himself towards the first window of the throne room to try and quickly get back to him. Only the moment he rolled inside, he found a familiar sword at his throat.

“Hello, Tristan,” he said when the blade lowered. “We need to hurry.”

From behind Tristan's shoulder, Ygraine peered around, twisting her hands together. “How?” she asked anxiously. “They’re trying to get in, and Merlin isn’t even here to-”

“Merlin,” Arthur began tightly. “Made a deal with the gods, and this might be able to work now.”

He had some opinions on that, by the way. A lot of opinions, but he would make sure Merlin personally got to hear those opinions later.

“But we need Merlin for the spell,” Nimueh said, gesturing toward the door where the hum of Merlin’s voice came through. “He can’t remain out there-”

“He’s busy,” Arthur interrupted. Vivienne and Nimueh looked at one another. “Must it be all three of you?” he asked, a little desperately.

“This has never been done before! He's the most powerful among us.”

For the love of God. Arthur looked at his mother. “You need to go outside and announce your betrothal,” he said. She blinked. “And you need to pretend Gorlois is Uther and you just found this out.”

“...what?” his mother asked flatly.

“I– it’s Merlin’s fault,” he said, pulling her over. “We don’t have a lot of time. Please?” he asked as he placed his ear to the door. “Gorlois must be playing along if nobody is dead yet.”

Ygraine raised an eyebrow, looking doubtful at this. “If you were not my future son, I would not agree to such foolishness,” she finally relented. Sighing, she dusted off her dress and fixed her hair like someone straightening their armor for battle. “Open the doors.”

Arthur did, careful not to open them too wide, so as not to let them see inside. At the squeaking of the hinges, everyone turned, revealing Merlin and Gorlois awkwardly standing in the middle, both looking baffled by their own web of lies.

“Lady Ygraine,” someone said, and all of Tristan’s men cautiously lifted their weapons.

Arthur quietly shut the door behind him, slipping through the crowd to where Merlin was. The room smelled close to a fight - smell and anxiety stinking up the hall. At the end of the hall, he could see Leondegrance watching them all skeptically, nose wrinkled at Ygraine's eerily calm approach.

“Uther?” she asked cautiously. Gorlois’s brows raised. Then, very slowly, he nodded. Bless this man for just accepting this role without any context. Arthur would see him honored above all others.

Ygraine pressed a hand to her chest. “I…” she began, voice thick with a surprising amount of emotion. Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm. He jumped at the touch, relaxing instantly when he saw Arthur next to him. “Has it been you all along?” Ygraine asked, voice wavering.

Poor Gorlois. He stared at her, clearly trying to decide if she was somehow enchanted.

“....yes,” he finally said.

Ygraine gasped. Arthur pulled Merlin back through the crowd toward the door.

“Is this how you show love?!” she shouted at him. “You lie and manipulate?” She took off one of her bracelets to throw it at him. Gorlois’s suspicion instantly melted into relief. Clearly, Ygraine's shouting was convincing proof that she was in the right state of mind. “You hide your face behind another to earn my love? You’re a coward, Uther Pendragon. A coward!”

Gorlois opened his mouth.

“-don’t even try to deny it!” she screamed as Arthur managed to get him and Merlin back to the door.

“She’s really jumped into this,” Merlin whispered, clearly impressed with Ygraine’s theatrics.

“And after we lay together?!”

Everyone gasped.

“Ooh, took it too far,” Merlin muttered, and Arthur shoved him through the door into the throne room.

“Hurry,” Arthur said, pushing him to Vivienne and Nimueh. “Before my mother starts a different war.”

That, at least, seemed to snap Merlin out of his stupor as he turned to where Nimueh was pouring over a book, biting at her thumb as Vivienne murmured incantations over his father’s body.

“If the gods accepted whatever you sacrificed, this should work,” Nimueh said, snapping the book shut. Merlin and Arthur exchanged looks. Technically, they had no idea what they had sacrificed. Only that if they didn’t want to pay the price, then Merlin would gain immortality.

Because, sure, that was a decision to be made willy-nilly with a dragon.

Again, Arthur had opinions. Again, he’d make sure Merlin heard them later.

“Hurry,” Tristan said, pressing his ear to the door anxiously. “Things are getting-”

“AND WHAT ABOUT THAT THING YOU DID WITH YOUR TONGUE?!” Ygraine screeched.

From across the room, Agravaine reeled back, looking startled that his sister knew tongues could be involved in such activities. He turned to Tristan, who shrugged.

“I gave her a book.”

“Why?”

“YOU CANNOT SEDUCE WOMEN WITH FINGERS OF GOD WHILE HIDING YOUR FACE, UTHER PENDRAGON!”

“She asked what all the fuss was about,” Tristan said. Agravaine opened his mouth, but was silenced by Merlin and Nimueh joining hands. Vivienne clutched Uther’s head, eyes brimming gold.

“This might hurt,” Nimueh warned them.

“Hurt?” Merlin asked, sounding taken aback. “Using magic doesn’t hurt-”

“You’ve clearly never done necromancy,” she said, and Merlin’s expression twisted into horror as she began chanting. He hesitated for a moment before joining in. Arthur watched anxiously. He didn’t love the idea of this being a painful experience either… but Merlin seemed fine.

The chanting rose and fell, quieted by Ygraine’s rampage outside. It sounded like she was still throwing things, now demanding they get married, as Gorlois attempted to figure out how exactly to react.

Wind from outside picked up, rattling everything in the room as the chanting continued. Arthur couldn’t quite make out the words they were saying - some other language that might have been a siren call if he hadn’t known better. It lulled like a song, each word a melodic rhythm.

Arthur braced himself, unsure of what the next step might be. Part of him expected something awful. Like them all shriveling to dust, and his father popping up as an undead corpse. A more hopeful part of him waited for golden glitter to rain down and bring Uther back in a flourish of flowers.

The truth ended up being something more beautiful and more horrifying.

As the chanting grew, the three grabbed onto one another, squeezing tightly. Merlin’s breath caught, stumbling over one of the words. Arthur stiffened, glancing over at Gaius, who was watching with equal wariness.

“What’s happening?” he asked, leaning over. The sound of glass breaking sounded outside from Ygraine. “Are they okay?”

Gaius pursed his lips. “I’d wager they are seeing life and death,” he replied evenly. Arthur wasn’t sure he loved that answer. “If this goes how I suspect-”

Agravaine gasped, jerking back as he stumbled away from the three as gold began to trickle from Nimueh’s ears, drops falling onto her shoulders.

“What’s that?” Arthur asked, but before he could even finish the question, the same melted gold fell from Vivienne’s mouth, spraying everywhere as she continued chanting. It stained her lips, making Tristan stumble back into Moigne, who steadied him. “What is that?” Arthur repeated with more urgency.

“I think it’s working,” Moigne said, exchanging a look with Balinor.

“Why does that mean it’s working?” Arthur asked, voice tightening as he watched Merlin, unsure what to do if he began bleeding the same golden substance. Moigne nodded his head to Uther’s body. With every drop of gold that fell from Vivienne’s mouth or Nimueh’s ears, his skin shifted from the pale blue to something pink and soft. The stiffness faded.

“The gods are listening,” Gaius murmured and turned to where Geoffrey was gaping. “Are you writing all this down?” he asked.

“...I’m not sure I know where to begin,” Geoffrey admitted.

Arthur swallowed. How long was this supposed to take? And-

Merlin opened his eyes. Still chanting. Fingers still locked around Nimueh and Vivienne’s hands. His eyes brimming with gold tears that bled down his cheek onto Uther’s body below.

“No-” Arthur began sharply, but Moigne blocked him.

“Let them finish.”

“They look like they are all dying,” Arthur said, shoving Moigne’s hand off of him. “How do we know the gods won’t take all of them in exchange for Uther?”

“What do you mean?” Balinor jumped in, his demeanor sharpening. “The gods wouldn’t be doing this unless they accepted your offering. What did you offer?” he asked. Arthur looked over at Merlin helplessly. He needed to do something- “What did you offer?” Balinor repeated a bit more forcefully.

“Anything,” Arthur said, voice tightening. The chanting continued, splashes of gold still falling as a sense of horror fell over the room. “But Merlin left us with a loophole. He-” Arthur stepped forward again, but Moigne put a hand on his wrist. Arthur stiffened at the touch. “I won’t let him die for this,” he said, low enough that Moigne had to lean in to hear above the chanting.

“Do you know enough about magic to be sure that tearing him away from the spell won’t do something worse?” Moigne asked. Arthur’s heart thudded harder. What had he done? “Because I know for a fact that magic doesn’t like to be interrupted.”

What had he done?

At this point, Uther was covered with an onslaught of golden bodily fluids. Shouting continued outside - laughter and then cheering. The door squeaked open, and Arthur whipped around.

“I’ll get Merlin to change him back!” Ygraine called as she pulled Gorlois into the room, positioning herself between the door and the frame to keep anyone from seeing inside. “Then we can speak of alliances!” she said as if referring to some inside joke. She laughed as the door closed again, turning to freeze at the sight before her.

“What the hell is this?” Gorlois asked, eyes widening in pure horror. At his voice, Vivienne’s hands twitched.

Could they hear them?

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, peeling Moigne’s hand off of him. Merlin kept chanting, gold staining his cheeks. His eyes were bloodshot with the color. “If you want this to stop, find a way to tell me…” he tried. No response. “I want you to stop,” Arthur added a little desperately.

Merlin’s hand twitched. He kept chanting. Instinctively, Arthur lifted his hand-

“No!” Moigne began, but Arthur could hear Balinor trying to pull him away.

And there Arthur’s hand stayed. Inches from Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin was the most powerful sorcerer of all time, right? Surely, he could handle Arthur pulling him away from this. He would be fine. It had to be better than watching him bleed out magic from his eyes.

“I want you to stop,” Arthur repeated quietly and lowered his hand. “But if you don’t… and you die… right here… right now…” Arthur’s throat tightened. “I’ll still forgive you. Just like I forgive the magic and the lying, and you not letting me truly see you when you were the only person who ever truly saw me.” Merlin’s hand twitched again. “I’ll forgive you,” Arthur repeated. “But you still need to find a way to come back to me, okay? If I can’t leave you, you can’t leave me. Consider that an order.”

A burst of wind went through the room.

Arthur looked over just in time to see Uther jolt up with a startling gasp. Vivienne and Nimueh each faltered, leaning against the table with heaving breaths as they tried to steady themselves. Merlin fell to the side, and Arthur moved to catch him before he hit the floor.

“Merlin?” he asked sharply as he heaved him into a chair, gripping his face between his hands. Golden blood smeared under his thumbs beneath Merlin’s eyes. Despite being liquid, it somehow felt like silk. “Merlin, say something,” he said firmly.

And then the gold of his eyes faded to blue. “No take backs,” he rasped, practically breathless. Arthur frowned. “You forgive me. I heard you.”

Arthur could have laughed with relief. “I think I told you that before,” he said gently, still not releasing him. “And I had Tristan’s coin, so you knew I wasn’t lying.”

Merlin hummed. “Yeah,” he murmured and gripped Arthur’s wrists so he could pull his hands away from his face. With a small sigh, he leaned forward to rest his forehead in the crook of Arthur’s shoulder. “You did.”

God. How did either of them make it this far? He lifted a hand to the back of Merlin’s head, drowning in the relief of it all as voices all trilled behind him.

“-and those are the terms of our engagement,” Ygraine was saying. Arthur turned his head slightly to see his poor father, newly resurrected and obviously very confused. He winced, a hand touching his throat as he stared at the remnants of gold that covered him before swinging his legs off the table to get down. Ygraine hadn't even let the man have a full minute of peace before getting him up to speed.

“I… we’re engaged?” he asked Ygraine, who had made her way to the throne again, the crown back on her head.

She smiled at him, eyes softening ever so slightly as she gave a meager shrug. “Apparently, you are helplessly in love with me,” she told him. “So much so that you disguised yourself as my betrothed to have a single conversation without me trying to kill you. We’ve also slept together.” Uther stared blankly at her. At his face, she scoffed. “Come on. I’ll catch you up. Believe it or not, we somehow came to a reasonable peace treaty after killing you.”

“You killed me?”

“Agravaine did. Just a little,” Ygraine assured him. Uther blinked several times. “Do you trust me?” she asked, stepping down off the throne toward him. Uther remained at the bottom of the slight platform the thrones sat on, looking up at her as if, of all the bewildering things that were currently happening, her standing there was the most bewildering of all.

“You’ve done everything in your power to ensure I lost this war,” he told her. Ygraine looked down at him. Wordlessly, she took the crown off her head and put it on his. “I have lost this war, haven’t I?” he asked.

Ygraine's lips twitched. “Absolutely,” she said. “But I think you’ll find that in marriage… I am just as accommodating of a captor as you are.”

“Uther,” Vivienne said, and Merlin lifted his head to turn toward her. She was leaning heavily against Gorlois, coughing up pieces of gold. “Could… you… tell me… to heal…?” she asked a little breathlessly.

Uther did a double-take. “What? Why do you need my permission?” he asked. Gorlois frowned, gently pushing a strand of hair from Vivienne’s eyes.

“My magic is bound to you now,” Vivienne said. Uther opened his mouth. “So any wish you have… my magic reacts the strongest to. It’s faster.”

“I… I did not ask for your magic to be bound to me,” Uther said, voice rising a bit. Gorlois turned, giving him a warning look. “Um, but, yes. Yes, of course. Heal yourself, please.”

Almost instantly, Vivienne perked up. Gorlois did a double-take at how quickly she snapped back, the gold completely gone from her mouth as she straightened her dress.

“Huh. That explains that,” Merlin murmured. Arthur looked over at him. “Vivienne’s magic is bound to your father,” he said and waited. Arthur just stared. “In the other timeline, he probably asked her for a child,” Merlin continued pointedly.

…oh.

Morgana.

Uther and Vivienne had never slept together. There had been no scandal against his barren mother as Arthur had so often envisioned after the reveal of his sister. No. He could almost certainly see how it happened. Uther came to her, asking Vivienne to help him have a child before approaching Nimueh. Vivienne’s magic did just that, but not through Ygraine - through her.

Maybe Gorlois even knew. Maybe once they all realized what happened, they agreed to keep it a secret to prevent scandal.

“But…a life for a life?” Arthur asked uncertainly.

Merlin shrugged. “Vivienne had Morgause. It probably doesn’t count if you don’t have issues conceiving,” he said.

Huh. Arthur pursed his lips, a little irritated by the unfairness of that. With a sinking feeling, he realized that if Uther and Ygraine had the same success they had here today, then Morgana probably wouldn’t ever be born.

And maybe that was for the best.

At least, that was what he told himself as he looked at his feet, realizing he’d have to mourn her twice. Maybe his true destiny was forever mourning Morgana, never able to save her. Not in any time.

He thought about voicing this to Merlin - a silent plea to have someone who at least could sympathize with this pain - but before he could, the doors flung open.

It seemed the armies had finally had enough of waiting.

“My lord,” a man said, and Arthur did a double-take. Was that…?

“Sir Kay,” Uther greeted with a nod. Arthur raised his brows. He didn’t remember Sir Kay much. He was a knight who had fallen in battle when Arthur was still a toddler. He did remember how fondly his father spoke of the man, constantly encouraging Arthur to follow in his footsteps. Until now, he had only seen paintings.

Kay looked around the room, eyes flicking to where Ygraine and Uther stood together, to where Agravaine and Tristan were. Geoffrey kept writing, nonplussed with them all as Gaius peered over his shoulder to see what he was scribbling down.

Balinor and Moigne were with Nimueh, and Gorlois with Vivienne. It was a strange sight, all of them spread out across this throne room, still set up for a dinner that happened days ago.

“Your…. Treaty allowed some peaceful conversations among our men,” Kay began, giving Ygraine a wary look. “And as we did so, we realized these two did not belong to either of us.”

The group parted, metal clanking as muttered curses and scowls were thrown across the room. Arthur paused, waiting for some of the druids Tristan had sent out to scout to be revealed, but surprisingly, it was two strangers brought out.

Uther stiffened.

“Saxons,” Tristan said, frowning slightly. The two men were thrown to the floor. “No doubt spying. Seeing if our war weakened forces could be taken advantage of,” he said, and narrowed his eyes. Both armies gave a growl of offense, shouts of dismay hitting across the room.

Arthur watched, a bit of curiosity rising in his chest. For the longest of time, he knew Saxons as wandering tribes inching into their territory, but never much of a threat. His father had said they’d once tried to gain power in their lands, only to be squashed early on. It was Morgana who gathered them under her service, and they became a more significant problem.

“Speak your names,” Tristan said, scowling down at the two Saxons.

The elder boy gave a sharp look at the other before glaring up at Tristan. “Bedivere,” he said evenly, voice surprisingly strong. “And this is Lucan.”

“And what are you doing here?” Tristan asked.

Kay narrowed his eyes. “Should the king not be asking such questions?” he asked slowly. A few men grumbled. “Or was this claim of peace not as decided as Lady Ygraine made us believe?”

“Queen Ygraine,” Uther said, glancing at her. Ygraine raised her brows at the correction, but nodded. “And as I plan to make Lord Tristan an esteemed member of my council… he has a right to question these intruders.” Tristan looked back over his shoulder at Uther, meeting his eyes. There was a brief moment of respect there. Uther glanced at the Saxons. “Answer his question.”

Bedivere’s nostrils flared. “We knew of chaos happening in this realm,” he said. “We aimed to investigate.” Agravaine shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest with annoyance. “This was my plot,” he added quickly, jerking against the guards’ hold on him. “My brother simply stood beside me. He is innocent of any perceived crime.”

Lucan opened his mouth but was silenced by a deadly look Bedivere sent his way.

Uther ran a hand over his face. “Put them in the dungeons for now,” he said. “There are more pressing matters to be handled.”

Kay stepped forward, pulling Lucan back up by the back of his hair.

“You’ll regret this one day,” Bedivere hissed as he was also pulled up. “You cannot keep dismissing and mistreating those whom you view as other in your land. Welcome our people, and we wouldn’t need to-”

“Quiet,” Kay told him flatly, but Arthur felt a strangeness in his chest as he watched them go. Silently, he turned to Merlin, who gave them a questioning tilt of his head. Arthur said nothing. The Saxons were a problem he’d sit on for the time being. He didn’t have an answer now – only the thought that perhaps Bedivere’s words echoed the future in which Morgana would rally them against Camelot.

Her army had been made up of the outcasts of his kingdom. Sorcerers. Saxons. Bandits. Exiles. In a way, they had made Morgana’s army for her.

The next few days were a lot of maintenance. Everyone waited to see what the gods planned to take from them, but nobody dropped dead. No evil happened. Nothing really of note changed. Arthur knew it was beginning to stress Merlin out, but they had other things to worry over.

Arthur attended his parents' wedding. It happened fast. A large, fanciful affair to let the whole kingdom see the alliance of the Pendragon and de Bois family. It was a sight he never thought he could even imagine, but part of him was grateful to be a part of it. His parents weren’t quite in love, but with each conversation and jab between them, he found more smiles shared between them. Even a laugh.

Arthur sat down with them both, outlining important political alliances and future decisions to be regarded with the utmost importance. Mostly, they focused on the Purge and reinforcing the idea that if his mother did still die of magic, his father was not to go on a rampage about it.

“I just… don’t see Uther being capable of such atrocities,” Ygraine frowned and looked over at her new husband. “Do you think you're capable of such atrocities?”

Uther glanced at her, lips pursing. “My brother started a war over his wife dying. Maybe he and I are more alike than I see,” he told her quietly. Then cleared his throat. “But that would require me liking you much more than I do, so I do find it unlikely.”

Ygraine rolled her eyes. “Well, if magic kills you, I can promise not to start any trouble,” she said, jutting out her chin.

Merlin had similar conversations with Vivienne and Nimueh. Even gently inquiring about the chances of Morgana’s existence.

“Obviously, it’s completely optional, but your daughter would be… well, I believe Arthur would like to know his sister as his sister in his timeline. If they both can exist. For them to not be enemies.”

Arthur stood right outside the door, having been walking by when he caught a whiff of the conversation and froze.

“She isn’t a horse,” Gorlois’s voice answered tightly. “To be used to breed future friends for the crowned prince. Her magic may now be bound to Uther, but if he dares abuse such-”

Vivienne’s laugh danced over the stone, cutting him off. “We shall see,” she said. “Ygraine still has not said if she wishes to bear this future king of Camelot. I do not see why I must decide now.”

“Of course not,” Merlin said quickly. “It’s just information.”

“You forget I know a good many things, Emrys,” Vivienne answered, voice light and flowy as always. “Stay a bit longer and I can teach you to know a bit more too.”

Which led to their final dilemma.

Leaving.

Nimueh had told them their best bet would be to arrive at the Isle of the Blessed during a sacred day and have Merlin use his magic to guide them back. They had been practicing together, Nimueh imbuing him with all her knowledge as Gaius eagerly jumped in with additional lessons. Balinor took him dragon riding, showing him hidden eggs and both of them egging Moigne into joining them in races.

He looked so happy that Arthur almost didn’t want to force him back. In a strange way, things felt right here.

But he also wasn’t sure he could sit idly as others ruled. He had left a mess in his timeline, and it was his job to attempt to clean it up.

“Will our timeline even exist?” Merlin asked one night, rolling over toward him. They were back in their previous tower, which Ygraine had begun calling the ‘Retaliation Chambers’, much to Arthur’s horror. She had insisted they only had the one room available, despite the dozens of chambers that Arthur knew the castle had. Alas, neither he nor Merlin complained. After all, they retaliated a lot.

And, you know, sometimes retaliation escalates.

“I’m not sure,” Arthur admitted, absently playing with Merlin’s fingers. “We might go back to a different future.” And that seemed strange. To enter a time with his mother alive, Morgana perhaps non-existent, and his father’s previous rule peaceful.

Would Arthur even be king? Much of Uther’s fall had been at the hands of Morgana. Maybe he was still a prince. He frowned, torn between the joy at more time with his family and the sudden demotion.

“If I’m a prince again,” he said, giving no other context because he was sure Merlin could read his mind. “Then we may have many years before the Albion I promised comes to fruition.”

Merlin yawned. “I’ve waited this long,” he murmured.

Arthur snorted. “I’d have fewer duties. More time to learn about magic.” Merlin’s eyes shot back open. “Well, not to learn magic, but to become familiar with your people and customs and what it all means,” he clarified.

Merlin’s lips twitched. “I could use some brushing up there too,” he said, and rolled over onto his back, going quiet. “Do you think…” he began. Arthur waited. “What do you think I’ll become? Once I actually learn it all?”

He sounded worried. Maybe even scared. Arthur couldn’t exactly blame him. He had seen the depths of Merlin’s power in recent days, and the idea that there could be more felt intimidating. This was Merlin without true knowledge or training. Having lived in a world not made for him. What exactly would happen once that changed?

“Still annoying,” Arthur said, because he had confidence in some things never changing. He squeezed Merlin’s hand. “Still good.”

And so… they left the next morning.

“When do I meet Adhan again?” Balinor asked for the millionth time as they packed up. “You’re my son, you should be invested in this!” he insisted. Merlin snorted, but Arthur could see some consideration flicking behind his eyes. After all, no Purge would give Balinor no reason to flee Camelot.

“Ealdor,” Merlin finally relented. “Her true name is Hunith.”

From a few feet away, Gaius whipped around. “What did you just say?” he asked. Balinor glanced over at him in confusion. Gaius stared. Merlin stared back. Some sort of internal conversation seemed to happen before Gaius ran a hand over his face. “I should have known,” he muttered. “You’re just like her.”

“You know Adhan?” Balinor asked, brows raising. Merlin mouthed ‘sister’ to him, and Balinor’s eyes widened. “Why hello, darling brother-in-law!” he said, whipping around to where Gaius was glaring. “I knew I recognized those cheekbones-”

“Get away from me - stop that!” he added to Geoffrey, who brought out a piece of parchment to start writing.

As Merlin laughed, continuing to heckle his family, Arthur turned to his own. Ygraine stood off to the side, scowling at him as if he had done something to offend her. Uther was by her side, absently looking around as if another future child might pop up out of the ground and start telling him various futures.

“I… hope we’ll see each other again,” Arthur began, but was cut off by Ygraine squeezing him into a hug. Arthur froze, trying to memorize the feeling of her arms around him. The sureness of her grasp and the strength of her pushing them together. He imagined growing up with this sort of love in his life. Arthur knew, without a doubt, that his father loved him. But it was more of a hearth to the fire his mother seemed to exude. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed back.

When Ygraine pulled away, it was to grasp either side of his face, thumbs resting over his cheekbones as she stared at him.

“I will try,” she said. Arthur frowned at her. “To find a sacrifice worthy of the gods to have you come into my life once more,” she began, and swallowed. “But I also see that if my life must be payment for yours…”

Arthur tensed. “Don’t,” he said sharply.

Ygraine smiled. “Uther knows not to create such horror if it comes to that. He’ll remember,” she promised, but Arthur felt his heart sink. Not because he doubted Uther would abide by the lessons he had learned over the past few days, but Arthur found disappointment swirling into his throat at the idea of living once again without a mother.

“You can choose not to have me,” he said, almost expecting Merlin to whip around despite the fact that the words were barely whispered.

Ygraine smiled. “Has Vivienne told you about suns and stars?” she asked knowingly. Arthur scoffed, a note of resignation touching his chest. Run as he might, he seemed destined to rule one way or another. Silently, he leaned forward and kissed the top of her head.

“Goodbye, Mother,” he said, tasting the word on his tongue.

Ygraine pulled away, taking a deep breath. Uther smiled at him, seemingly unsure of what to say as he approached him next.

“I… suppose we may see each other soon,” he began awkwardly. Arthur smiled. “I-” he began, and Arthur waited. “Ambrosius,” he said. “My brother. I thought…” Uther trailed off and then shook his head. “I thought he loved me. Now, I can’t decide if grief overtook him with the kingdom as collateral or if he really was so callous.” He reached out, clapping Arthur’s arm with a squeeze. “I hope I never left you in such despair.”

Oh.

Arthur pursed his lips, trying to find the right answer to that.

“No,” he decided. “But, while I have always known I was enough as your son, there are times when I rather doubt I am the heir you wanted.” Uther went quiet at that. And a memory spurred at the back of his head - something quiet from his childhood as he sat on one of Gaius’s counters, swinging his legs as his arm got bandaged. “Once, Gaius told me you saw me as Ygraine’s son and your heir. And each was treated differently.”

Uther licked his lips, glancing over at where Ygraine was watching Gorlois with narrowed eyes as he tucked a flower behind Vivienne’s ear. It was hard to say if she was annoyed her betrothed had moved on so quickly, or if it was Vivienne she was feeling protective over. Maybe both.

“Do I truly come to love her that much?” Uther asked, sounding almost fearful of the answer. “To not just burn the world, but to be the fire that does so?”

Arthur didn’t need to answer. Uther may not be there yet, but Arthur was sure he felt it coming. In the same way that Arthur felt Merlin coming. Like being on a horse outracing a storm. For Arthur, he hadn’t been sure if Merlin’s storm would bring hail or rain or something else altogether. In the end, he can’t say he minded that he got caught in the wind.

“Remember all I’ve told you,” he said, grabbing the reins to his horse. Merlin took that as his cue to get on his. The group all waved, Tristan running over to pat Arthur’s leg and hand him some food before heading back to where, surprisingly, Moigne was waiting, ignoring exasperated looks from Agravaine.

“Here!” Nimueh called, rushing over to shove a few more books into the bags near Merlin’s saddle. “If you go back and there is no magic still, you must teach it again, understand?” she said. “Read. Be smarter. Practice.”

“I cannot be smarter on a whim,” Merlin informed stoically.

“I cannot believe Hunith’s son is the greatest sorcerer,” Gaius muttered. “She’s going to be so insufferable about it…”

“And hatch those dragons I told you about!” Balinor chimed in. “I’m sure Uther’s men didn’t find all of them. I lie to the man all the time, there’s no way he knows where they all are- sorry,” he added when Uther frowned at him. “But to be fair, it sounds like lying to you worked out for me where they're from. Oh! And be sure you two talk things out before you start yelling,” Balinor added on.

At once, everyone made noises of agreement.

“Patience is a key to a good relationship-”

“-need to base everything in good communication.”

“You can’t both die for each other, so just keep that in mind.”

“Thank you all for your opinions on our relationship,” Arthur said loudly. Geoffrey wrote that down too. “Somehow, it makes it far easier to say goodbye.” He looked at them all. “Goodbye,” he added, and jutted his horse forward before the annoyance could turn emotional.

The sound of Merlin’s horse clopping behind him sounded before a yell called out. Both turned to see Vivienne suddenly dart toward them.

“Don’t forget Morgana!” she said, voice rising an octave. “She warned you! Remember she warned you!” Gorlois rushed over to her, whispering something. “You mustn’t forget her!” Vivienne shouted, golden eyes flicking around worriedly.

Merlin and Arthur exchanged looks before nodding, calling back not to forget her.

The first few miles went by in silence.

“Does this mean we broke the time loop?” Merlin finally asked.

Arthur shrugged. They would have had to. Even if everything went wrong, Arthur couldn’t see how Uther would rule as he did after everything. Even if he did decide to start another Purge, he’d definitely recognize Merlin on sight and execute him.

He was about to voice this when a voice sang out to them.

“​​All the ends of the earth have seen,” a man’s voice came, booming loudly over the dirt path. “The salvation of the king! The lovely, righteous king. Saviour of which we sing, for the Albion he’ll bring! This righteous, lovely king-”

Merlin snorted. “Oh, this is about you,” he murmured as the singing man on the horse continued his jaunty tune, a white horse clopping to the beat. Arthur made a face at him.

“Hello, there!” the man said brightly. Arthur gave a polite smile, but tragically, the man slowed. “Where are you two off to then?”

“Isle of the Blessed,” Merlin said, ready to reveal anything and everything as always. “And you?”

“Ah,” the man said with a groan. “Nowhere near as fun! King Carleon has asked me to speak to the Saxons that everyone is on about. See if we can pay them off our lands.” The man grimaced. “I might just get myself stabbed, but we’ll see.”

“You’re a knight in Carleon’s lands?” Merlin asked, brightening up at that. “Do you happen to know of any knight in his army with a boy named Gwaine?”

Arthur shot him an incredulous look. Gwaine wasn’t that much older than them… was he? No. Right? Arthur suddenly was unsure.

“Gwaine?” the man asked, brows raising. “Can’t say I have… but boy. That is a strong name. Fierce,” he said. “Might steal it myself if my lady gives me a son. We have a little girl right now. Graeria,” he said fondly. Merlin’s eyes widened.

Arthur knew Gwaine had a sister, but had no details other than that. Based on Merlin’s expression, her name just might be Graeria.

“She has an imagination of ten thousand men,” Gwaine’s likely father continued. Arthur inwardly sighed. How was he unable to escape this man’s chattering even prior to his birth? “You know, she just came into the castle the other day all out of sorts about this lady in a lake.”

Merlin and Arthur both paused.

“....a what?” Merlin repeated.

The man laughed. “A lady in a lake,” he repeated. “My goodness, it was quite the story. The woman appeared in the lake like a reflection, but nobody was behind little Graeria,” he said, wiggling his fingers like he was telling a scary story. “The woman gave her a riddle, and Graeria has been beside herself trying to figure it out ever since.”

Something cold touched Arthur’s chest.

“What’s the riddle?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

The man smacked his lips, nose wrinkling as he squinted up at the sky. He did look strikingly like Gwaine. They had the same ridiculous hair and beard.

“Um, it was something… ah, like, the gods seek to reap a debt. Going forward makes the sun reset. Stay and pray things may change; otherwise, the future remains in chains.” He paused. “Or something like that.” He snapped his fingers. “And something about forgetting.” He pointed to Merlin and Arthur. “See? Good imagination.”

Arthur didn’t respond. Did Vivienne deliver this message? Freya? How many lake ladies were there? He scratched his head, trying to decide why they would need to-

Arthur stopped the horse.

“Morgana,” he said, thinking of Vivienne’s warning.

Merlin turned his horse around. “Arthur?”

“Morgana,” he repeated.

Gwaine’s father frowned. “Not sure that a random lady is the answer to the riddle, mate.” Arthur ignored him, his heart caught in his throat as he looked at where Merlin was frowning at him, clearly replaying the words in his head.

“The warning she gave you,” he finally said, sounding almost defeated. “She said the gods would try to trick us.”

Arthur nodded. This was it. The trick. Morgana had figured it out from wherever she was in Albion and warned them.

“If we leave… it resets,” Arthur said, trying to piece together the loose riddle Gwaine’s father gave.

“They forget,” Merlin amended. “That must be the price the gods chose to bring Uther back. They forget us, probably. Your father. Your mother. My father. Everything we warned them about.” He closed his eyes. “Fuck.”

“So what? They just think my parents got married to end the war? Nothing we did here made an impact?”

“That would be how the timeline resets,” Merlin sighed. “We leave thinking we changed everything, but leaving ensures we don’t.”

Gwaine’s father nodded as if he knew what they were talking about. “That is a pickle,” he said wisely. Arthur and Merlin turned to look at him. “My ma said to always agree with crazy people,” he added as if that would explain everything.

“Now what?” Arthur asked. His horse jerked its head back at his anxiety, snorting nervously. Absently, he leaned down to stroke its neck. “We just don’t go back?”

Merlin bit his lip. “Well,” he began, and Arthur narrowed his eyes, already not liking the tone. “Technically, forgetting would be payment for us bringing Uther back to life, right?”

“Right,” Gwaine’s father said with a nod of his head.

“I put a safeguard in there for a reason,” Merlin pointed out softly. “I give up my death, we go back to our timeline, and theoretically, everyone should remember.”

No. No, Arthur felt hot at the idea. A strange chill was coming over him in the same way he would get those flashes of hot and cold before heading off into battle. Nerves that could never quite be stilled despite the years of experience.

Would it even solve their problem? Maybe. Maybe not. One thing was for certain: they could not go back without making a decision. Either they were staying here or giving up Merlin’s chance to enter Albion. He wondered how many times they had made that mistake, skipping off back into their time, only for the cycle of violence and tragedy to continue.

In the end, it wasn’t even Merlin or Arthur who would truly be breaking the cycle. It was Morgana. Morgana, who, against all odds, figured out the puzzle the gods played and found a way to warn them.

He had to do right by her. Right by all of them.

Merlin took a breath. “I can-”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur cut in. “Let me think.”

That was what Vivienne said, wasn’t it? This had to be Arthur’s decision.

When he looked back up, Merlin’s hands were practically white from gripping the reins so hard. Arthur’s heart softened.

“Alright,” he said, voice growing more gentle. “Here is what we’re going to do.”

*Ten Years Later*

“Again?”

Fixing up the Fisher King’s lands was something of an ongoing project for Arthur. Merlin’s existence certainly helped. His magic made lakes swell and flowers flourish, but on days like these, when Merlin was in Camelot with Ygraine and Uther, Arthur was left to deal with the most exhausting array of problems known to mankind.

“My lord,” Geoffrey said, eyes flicking at the pile of rubble while three hundred baffled builders stared in disbelief at the wreckage. “Might you tell me more of the other world-?”

“Geoffrey, I am busy at the moment,” Arthur sighed, running a hand through the scruff of his beard. It had been months since he had given up shaving. These days, he found he never had much time – especially with the castle building and rebuilding and whatnot. “Why does it keep falling? Do castles typically fall like that?” he asked, turning to where Geoffrey was tapping a quill against his chin.

“No,” he said, nose wrinkling. “Have you asked your husband? That seems like something he would be able to parse out.”

Arthur scowled, tongue pressed against his cheek as Geoffrey stared back innocently at him. “You mean the one who left me?” he muttered, and a loud groan came from his side as Bedivere appeared next to him, flicking back a black curl as he gestured for Kay and Lucan to follow him over.

“You know, many ladies wait at home while their men go off to battle. I don’t see them complaining,” he said, turning to lean back against the stone wall that came up to their waist—a remnant of another attempt to build this god forsaken castle.

“He isn’t at war,” Arthur pointed out. “He’s in Camelot.”

“Wasn’t that your idea?” Lucan asked with a snort, patting Arthur’s shoulder. “I could have sworn that was your idea-”

“I daresay, it might have been,” Kay jumped in and turned to Geoffrey. “You there. Writer. Did you happen to transcribe that particular moment in history?”

Geoffrey didn’t even look up from rolling up his most recent parchment. “It was King Vortigern’s idea,” he said, and Arthur scowled at him.

“All of you out of my face,” he muttered. “It was King Vortigern’s idea,” he mimicked under his breath. The name still felt… foreign. Partly because it was. The whole idea had come from Nimueh, who had been surprisingly accommodating to the idea of Arthur taking control of her father’s old lands. It had been relatively easy for the magic community to rally behind him with her approval. Many questioned who he was and where he came from, but once the Dragon Council mysteriously accepted him, the questions died away.

Merlin insisted on a backstory anyway. Vortigern was the name he was given by the magical people - a title of sorts - but insisted it was a fitting name given how they’d outsmarted the gods. Arthur had no better ideas, so he moved onward as King Vortigern, allowing Geoffrey to course correct history as he deemed fit.

Of course, Geoffrey wasn’t the only one telling tales. The tale of Uther and Ygraine’s union had spread like wildfire throughout the kingdoms, and over the years, many versions had popped up. Some more romantic than others.

These tales had, of course, gotten worse once Arthur was born. The other one. The new one.

The one Merlin was currently with – because ironically their roles had become somewhat switched over the past decade. Merlin was openly and unapologetically the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth. And Arthur? Well, he worked from the shadows these days.

“At some point, he must come home and tell me why this castle refuses to stand,” Arthur said, squinting up. He wished he could just build the thing someplace else. It wasn't like he required another summer home. In fact, he could hear Merlin taunting him over the simplicity of the solution.

Moodily, he turned to Lucan. “Have I not been considerate enough to your people?” he asked flatly. “I think I've made well enough diplomatic treaties with them. Why do I still find myself needing to build a fortress at all to defend my land from them?”

Lucan’s brows raised. “The Saxons aren't interested in attacking you, my lord. They want Camelot. You simply stand in the way.”

“And why do they wish for Camelot when I have given their brethrens land here?”

Bedivere snorted. “Because Uther has not made peace with them.” Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. To his father’s credit, it wasn't like Uther hadn't tried. The truth was that there was a certain delicacy when it came to uniting two populations together. There were cultural barriers. Language barriers. Belief barriers. And while Arthur had managed to find the right balance of it all, Uther and Ygraine still struggled.

It was his mother who kicked them out, technically. After a misunderstanding between Camelot’s native residents and the new Saxons had turned into a massacre, she had them pushed out until the right Saxon council could help them navigate it all.

The Saxons did not like that. She offered them land away from their people until they had better ambassadors. They took it and then made their own kingdom, which was annoying but not a huge problem until they spoke of usurping Camelot.

Now, it was a huge problem.

Meanwhile, Arthur and his group of Saxons were dealing with falling towers and such.

“Well, I'm not letting them attack Camelot,” Arthur sighed. Bedivere shrugged as Kay promised his knights were continuing to search nearby lands for someone who could crack this mystery.

He missed Merlin.

To be clear, his husband had been gone for perhaps a month and was due back any day, but Arthur loathed days like these, where nothing made sense and he had to deal with life as one person rather than two.

Not that he could voice this without being heckled by his knights, but that was neither here nor there.

For now, he rode back to his own castle, which miraculously remained standing, and swept through the halls to attend to his duties.

It was strange to rule in a castle that was not Camelot, but instead the home of the Fisher King. Sometimes, Arthur swore the old king’s ghost watched him, trying to decide if Arthur was worthy of the throne he now sat.

“My lord,” someone called, and Arthur inwardly sighed. “There have been some concerns over druid protections-”

And so it began.

Most of Arthur’s rule as Vortigern had been marked by bizarre orders that seemingly had no rhyme or reason to them. Of course, to those in the know, they would realize Arthur was setting the stage for his future self to flourish. Befriending the Saxons was one such challenge, but there were others. Arthur had sought to find new protections for magical people, knowing his father wasn't the only one who could demand a Purge.

And progress has been made. He built schools, most of which included magic and the Old Religion alongside the new. He listened to cultural differences. He dismantled older traditions that caused strife between classes. He claimed land that most saw as untenable, but he knew would flourish in a decade or so. He spoke to the Dragon Council often. All productive. All good.

And yet his damn defensive castle kept falling.

Arthur had even resorted to sending out pleas to others nearby to ask what the deal was since his husband couldn't be bothered to drop by. It was infuriating and kept him up at night, scowling at the ceiling as he tried to parse out why this one piece of land condemned him to this suffering.

Anyway. Life was fine. Better than he initially thought when turning back. It was a terrifying decision to make at a whim - to realize the only solution that could change anything was to stay in the past.

All in all, however, he wasn't mad with how things had turned out. The real stress was ensuring justice for those they left behind in the future.

“Uncle, a boy is climbing through the window.”

Speaking of which.

Arthur jerked his head up, first to see Morgana in the doorway of his throneroom, dressed in fine silk and hair in loose curls. Her existence had been a sticky one to navigate, but they had cautiously tried Merlin’s theory of Uther simply asking Vivienne for a child, and…behold. Nine months later, magic delivered Morgana.

It was odd for her to grow up in their strange family. Her calling Arthur uncle when he knew she was his sister. Her true parentage known, but not flaunted. Merlin desperately wanted to wait until Arthur was born before seeing if they could bring Morgana into the world. An older sibling in his mind could still one day threaten Arthur’s rule, but Arthur liked to think he knew her better than that.

Morgana was someone he’d one day tell the truth to. All of it. His story and hers.

All of that aside, she was right to say a child was climbing through the window.

“Should I call the guards?” she asked, peering over. Arthur shook his head, trying to decide what to make of this muddy gremlin who slipped into the room with a thwap. Morgana walked over to stare down at the newcomer. “Hello,” she greeted, and then looked out the window from where the throne room towered high into the sky. “You are a very good climber.”

The child sat up, dark hair long and sticking up in numerous directions as he looked around. When his eyes locked on Arthur, his eyes narrowed, and a wave of familiarity hit him.

“There are dragons under your castle,” he greeted.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

The boy stood up, shaking his head like a wet dog before speaking again. “There are dragons under your castle,” he said simply. “A red and white one. They’re fighting. That is why your castle falls.”

Arthur glanced at Morgana, who looked intrigued by such a declaration.

“And…who are you?” Arthur asked, already knowing the answer. He had hoped he’d one day meet this boy, but knew his mother would prefer to keep him from the frills and theatrics of royalty for however long.

The boy hesitated. “Myrddin,” he answered.

Arthur smiled. “The dragonlord’s son?”

A look of surprise touched the boy’s face. “….no,” he said. Arthur tilted his head. “If so, it is no business of yours.”

“I would think your parents would like to know what you're doing so far from them, Merlin.”

“Myrddin,” Merlin corrected, looking irritated. “And I am practically full-grown.”

“Of course,” Arthur said, already preparing himself for when Balinor would come barreling into his balls with dramatic accusations of Arthur taking his boy hostage. “Come then. Tell me of the dragons under my castle.”

He gestured for Morgana to follow, knowing she’d beg him for the details anyway. Vivienne sent her to his court every few months in hopes that she would become more familiar with the Saxons - and eventually a future ambassador. Maybe this version of Merlin could play a similar role.

“Geoffrey!” Arthur added as he walked out of the room. “Merlin is here!”

“Myrddin,” Merlin tried again.

Geoffrey popped his head around the corner, took one look at the muddy child before him, and began writing without another word. No doubt he didn't want a detail of this missing for when Arthur’s Merlin returned.

Which was good because three days later, Balinor and Hunith came knocking with the older Merlin in tow, each looking more outraged with every step.

“I brought all of Camelot with me,” Balinor greeted moodily. “If you think you can just kidnap my child-”

“We’re friends, why would I kidnap your child?” Arthur asked, stepping aside to let Hunith through.

She wagged her finger at him, eyes narrowed. “You kidnapped the older one!”

“I married him, that's different,” Arthur tried as Merlin himself walked in, fixing everyone with a tired look. “Hello, another version of you came to visit,” he said quietly. Merlin pursed his lips. “He hates baths and has the temperament of a rabid badger.”

Merlin kissed him as an answer. “You don't get to complain about me,” he said quietly. “Not when-”

“FOR CAMELOT!”

It seemed Balinor really had brought all of Camelot with him. Tragic.

A blonde boy rushed in with a teenage Leon at his heels. Upon seeing Arthur, the child wheeled around and raised a sword.

“Release your prisoner, Vortigern!” he said loudly. Was that really him? Had he really been that way? Leon put a hand over the younger Arthur’s mouth, but it didn't do much good. Little Arthur just pushed it off. “My Uncle Moigne says you are trying to steal future dragonlords, and I will not stand for it!”

“Your Uncle Moigne has spent too much time with your Uncle Tristan, and both like to cause problems,” Arthur informed him flatly. It was still strange to speak to himself in this way. It felt surreal... because it was probably. The younger Arthur scowled. “Where are your parents?”

“My mother sent me to protect the boy you stole!” the younger Arthur growled.

“Of course, she did,” Arthur muttered, inwardly wishing his mother didn't have the sense of humor she did.

From behind him, the younger Merlin popped out, freshly cleaned and holding Morgana’s hand.

“I don't need protecting!” he announced, indignation coloring his tone.

The younger Arthur turned to him, eyes curious for a beat as Gwen and Elyan both rushed in, the former already trying to calm everyone down while the latter tried to egg on a fight.

Why were they even here? Did Ygraine just send her son and his friends to meet the younger version of his future husband? Actually... yes. That was almost definitely what she did.

“I’m not even scared of him,” the younger Merlin said, squinting as he looked up at ‘Vortigern’. “You are not scary,” he said, and then looked at Arthur and squinted again. “Neither are you.”

“This is Prince Arthur that you’re addressing,” Leon jumped in, watching as Arthur’s face turned a bright shade of pink. “Heir to the Camelot throne-”

“I’m Myrddin,” Merlin said dryly. “But you can call me Emrys. It’s what important people call me.”

Arthur watched his younger self narrow his eyes. “And I’m important.”

“I’m sure you think so,” Merlin said, making Morgana snort.

It was nice to know that some things never change - even across various timelines and universes.

Wordlessly, he took his Merlin's hand and squeezed.

Vivienne ended up being right about suns in such. He was needed. Then. Now. And in the future. Everything he had done somehow was beginning to weave together into what was rapidly becoming Albion.

But as Merlin squeezed his hand back, he couldn't help but think how none of it would really be worth it if it weren't for the other stars alongside him.