Work Text:
Arthur should have suspected something would go pear-shaped when Merlin started babbling on about weapons and sacred places. As much as he hated to admit it, Merlin’s ideas and bad feelings had proven themselves to be useful quite frequently.
Though nothing could have prepared him for the true extent of what would happen inside the cave.
After the first Disir threw her spear towards Gwaine, Merlin stepped forward. “Stop!” he commanded, and Arthur looked at him, speechless. He had never heard Merlin speak with such authority. “You have no right to take the life of anyone here! I will not allow it.”
“The lives of your allies are not in your hands now, Emrys,” the second Disir said.
“It is only Arthur Pendragon who can decide their fates,” the third continued.
Merlin looked at Arthur, and Arthur motioned for him to get back. What the hell was the idiot thinking? But then Merlin’s eyes widened suddenly, and he ran towards Arthur, and before Arthur could even take a breath to yell at him, Merlin crashed into him, knocking him to the ground.
Arthur watched helplessly as the second spear he hadn’t noticed hit Merlin square in the chest. Merlin crumpled to the ground helplessly and without much noise, and Arthur’s ears rang with the silence. He scrambled forward to Merlin’s side. His manservant’s face had turned pale, and he looked almost as if he were only sleeping. But the ever growing red stain on his tunic betrayed the illusion.
The blood froze in Arthur’s veins, because no, not like this, but with a deep breath he gathered his thoughts. There was an injured man to be taken care of. “Someone help me carry him!” he called out to his knights.
Mordred rushed to Merlin’s side. “I've got him, Sire,” he said.
Arthur nodded and faced his men once more. “Retreat!” he commanded, then he and Mordred took hold of Merlin’s motionless body.
Once they were a safe distance from the wretched cave, they made camp. Once Arthur assured that everything was in order, he hurried to Merlin’s side. For lack of a physician, Leon, having the most experience with wounds, and Mordred, with his meager knowledge of druidic healing tended to him. “How is he?” Arthur asked.
Leon looked at Arthur with something like pity, while Mordred didn’t take his eyes off Merlin. “It’s no ordinary wound. Sorcery is involved,” Mordred said.
Arthur sank down to Merlin’s side. “And there is nothing either of you can do?”
Leon shook his head. “I'm afraid only Gaius would know how to treat a wound such as this.”
Arthur clenched his fists, his nails digging into the inside of his gloves. “The journey is long and arduous. I can’t risk his life like that.”
Mordred looked at him finally. “I'm afraid we have no other choice. Without treatment, it will only get worse. But I have faith that he will make it back to Camelot. Merlin has never let you down, Sire.”
Arthur looked at his manservant’s ashen face. Mordred was right, Merlin was made of tougher stuff than Arthur gave him credit for. “Then we ride for Camelot now,” he said and went to ready his horse.
The journey felt far too long, only worsened by the glances Arthur would take at Merlin’s limp form. Arthur would never admit it, but he missed his manservant’s incessant chatter. As the towers of the Citadel came into view, Gwaine caught up to his side. “Cheer up, Princess. It's Merlin. He'll be alright, he always is,” he said, but the worry in his eyes betrayed him.
Arthur sighed. “It seems I have taken that for granted. I shouldn’t have let him walk into that cave.” Because yes, Merlin was always alright. He's faced beasts, dragons, and armies by Arthur’s side, without armour and without a sword, and he'd come out the other end unscathed every time.
“He wouldn’t leave your side, not ever,” Gwaine said. “Not even if you asked.”
Arthur smiled to himself fondly. Yes, Merlin was always quite stubborn in that matter. “Nonetheless, I should have looked out for him better,” he said with an air of finality.
Once they finally arrived in Camelot, Arthur carefully lifted Merlin from the back of the horse and carried him to Gaius' chambers himself.
Gaius examined Merlin with a deep frown. “Sir Mordred is right, the wound is definitely magical.”
Arthur didn’t care about the details. “Can you save him?”
Gaius sighed. “Sire, you know Merlin is like a son to me. I will do everything in my power to heal him, but I am merely a physician. My abilities are limited.”
“There must be something you can do,” Arthur pleaded. “I can’t– I won’t accept this.”
Gaius inclined his head. “I will let you know if anything changes, your Majesty.”
Arthur nodded. He took one more look at Merlin’s motionless form. He tightened his jaw. He wished for nothing more than to stay by Merlin’s side, but he couldn’t abandon his duties. He left the physician's chambers wordlessly.
He was pacing in his rooms when there was a knock on the door. “Enter,” he called out.
Guinevere stepped inside. Arthur slowed his pacing. The sight of his dear friend and advisor calmed his nerves somewhat. “I heard what happened,” she said.
Arthur stopped to lean against the windowsill. “I should have looked out for him better.”
Guinevere shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault. It's almost like instinct for Merlin to protect you, always has been. If you'd stopped him it would be you in Gaius' chambers, and it’s him I would be talking to right now.”
Arthur let his head drop. He knew Guinevere had a point, but he still couldn’t help but feel guilty. “I feel I should have paid more attention to him, at least. He's been by my side without issue for years, and now that something has happened, I…” He trailed off.
“There’s no point in worrying over what has already happened. You cannot change the past,” Guinevere said solemnly.
Arthur shook his head slowly. “I know.” He sighed. “Still, there must be something I can do. I can’t just sit around and watch Merlin die.”
Guinevere smiled weakly. “Whatever it is, I won’t stop you. I know how much he means to you, we all do.”
Arthur crossed his arms over his chest. “He's been a friend to me for a long time.”
Guinevere raised a brow. “As he has been to me, and as I have been to you for almost as long. Except there’s more to it with you two, isn’t there?”
Arthur tightened his jaw. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said. “He saved my life and I am merely returning the favour. If it would be anyone else in his place, I would do the same.” Though that may be true, Arthur had no true misbeliefs about the true nature of how he felt about Merlin. He knew his feelings were different from what he felt for anyone else. Guinevere was right, half the castle was aware of how dear Merlin was to him. Even if they weren’t quite right about the true extent of it.
“Gods forbid you admit you care about him,” Guinevere said as she shook her head fondly. “But no matter. What will you do?”
Arthur took a deep breath. “Gaius didn’t seem hopeful that Merlin could recover through ordinary means. I think my only choice is to go back to the Disir and ask for their mercy .”
Guinevere worried her lip. “Are you certain that is a good idea?”
Arthur shook his head. “No, but there isn’t anything else I can do. I have to at least try.”
Guinevere put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “If there is anyone who can convince them, it’s you.”
As soon as his horse was readied, Arthur headed to the courtyard. As he double checked that all his equipment was in order, Mordred approached him, leading a horse of his own. “Let me come with you, Sire,” he said.
Arthur considered him, torn. “The journey will be dangerous. It is my responsibility alone to face the consequences of my actions.”
“All the more reason for me to come with,” Mordred insisted. “There is safety in numbers. You taught me that.”
Arthur sighed with resignation. “Very well. But be careful. More than enough harm has been done already.”
Mordred nodded, pleased, and mounted his horse. Arthur followed his example. They rode out from the city and into the woods.
As the birds sang their songs, Arthur looked at the young knight beside him. “Why did you want to join me?” he asked.
Mordred smiled to himself. “You are my king. I wanted to show my loyalty.”
Arthur frowned. “There is no need for that. I wouldn’t have knighted you if I hadn’t trusted you. You don’t need to prove yourself more than any other knight.”
“Maybe not to you,” Mordred muttered. Arthur didn’t quite understand what he meant by that, but Mordred spoke again before he could ask. “The powers of destiny are at play, and I wish to bear witness to them.”
Arthur watched him with intrigue. Mordred's druidic upbringing still showed its effects, it seemed. “If it is fated, then what does it matter? It will all end the same either way.”
Mordred looked at him. “Fate and destiny aren’t always the same.”
Arthur contemplated the young knight's words. He would see soon enough if it were truly so.
This time, as they arrived at the cave, Arthur pulled his sword from its sheath and placed it on the ground. Merlin had been right, and yet he'd been the one to pay the price for it. Arthur wasn’t going to make that same mistake again. Mordred followed his example without complaint.
As they entered the cold, damp cave once again, Arthur’s insides constricted. It was now or never. The Disir were standing, motionless, just as they had done before.
“Arthur Pendragon,” the first one spoke.
“King of Camelot,” continued the second.
“We have been expecting you,” the third said.
Arthur bowed his head . He took a deep breath. “My men and I behaved with arrogance and stupidity. We dishonoured this place and insulted your faith. I humbly beg your forgiveness. One amongst us, my manservant Merlin... may yet pay the ultimate price. I have come here to petition you for his life.”
He felt as the women looked at him with judgement. “Why should we help you?”
Arthur looked up at them. “I ask not for myself, but for a man whose only crime was protecting his king.”
One of them spoke. “Emrys' crimes are more numerous than you can possibly imagine, Arthur Pendragon.”
“It is fortunate the Goddess loves him so,” said another.
“And is not him who is to blame for this,” the last one said.
“It is you,” the first continued.
Arthur drew his eyebrows together. “What do you mean by that? And why do you keep calling him Emrys?”
The second spoke up. “Because that is who he is.”
“He is the changer of fates, the king of druids,” the third said.
“Power incarnate,” another added.
“He is magic itself,” the woman in the centre finished.
Arthur watched them, bewildered. That couldn’t be right. “Merlin? Don’t be ridiculous, if Merlin had magic I would know.” Surely such a momentous thing could not be kept secret for so long.
“We speak only the truth of the Triple Goddess,” one Disir said.
“And the truth is that Emrys' fate lays in your hands,” spoke the second.
It was the third that continued. “If you wish to save your kingdom and the one you hold dear.”
“Embrace the Old Religion.”
“Learn her ways.”
“Bow to the Goddess,” the three said, one after the other.
Arthur stood still under their scrutiny. “You know I can’t do that,” he said without conviction.
The one in the center spoke up. “Consider carefully. You have until dawn.”
Arthur left the cave with a pit in his stomach, Mordred hot on his heels. The last rays of the setting sun bathed the trees in a menacing, dark orange. The two of them were quick to make camp.
Arthur sighed as Mordred sat down across him by the still freshly lit fire. He watched as the flames blackened and consumed the branches in their insatiable hunger. The same way they had burnt up the sorcerers his father had executed.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he said suddenly.
Mordred looked up at him. “They were telling the truth.”
Arthur raised his gaze to him. Mordred’s expression was too calm. “You don’t seem surprised,” he noted, an edge of bitterness in his voice.
Mordred averted his gaze. “All druids know who Emrys is instinctively, I've known since I was a boy. It wasn’t my secret to tell.”
Arthur felt irritation bubble up inside him. “You should have told me.” His shoulders sunk. “He should have told me.”
“Perhaps. But like so many others he was born into a world that taught him to fear the pyre all his life.”
Arthur clenched his jaw. “He's been by my side for ten winters now. Did he still not trust me enough to believe I would never harm him on purpose?”
“I don’t claim to know his reasons or what he believes,” Mordred stated, “but I do know that he trusts you with his life.”
Arthur thought to the ultimatum the Disir gave him. Merlin’s life or his father’s legacy. “So what do I do now?” he asked with an edge of desperation. “Merlin has been lying to me all these years, and yet…” he cut himself off. How could he say that Merlin’s life was more precious to him than anything else he knew? How could he put into words that he would give his own life for Merlin's without hesitation, in a heartbeat? “I don’t know if I could let Merlin die when I have the means to prevent it. But I've seen what evils magic can be capable of. It's nearly destroyed Camelot many times.”
Mordred’s eyes bore into his. “But you've seen the good it can be capable of as well.”
Arthur sighed. It was true that not everything he had witnessed magic do was wicked. And Merlin– Merlin would cry over crushed butterflies sometimes, and he would help anyone in need without request and for no reward. He held enough love inside him to cover all of Albion and still have some left over. To Arthur, it was utterly unimaginable that he could be evil. And yet there was still something on Arthur’s mind. “If I do save Merlin, all my father’s work will be for nothing. Sorcery will reign once more in Camelot.” He stared at Mordred’s strangely hopeful expression. He took a deep breath. “Perhaps my father was wrong, perhaps the old ways aren’t as evil as we thought,” he admitted. He turned his gaze to the ever persistent flames. “But it still feels wrong to have this decision forced upon me. To choose between a life and the fate of a kingdom. I don’t know what I should do.” He looked at Mordred questioningly.
“I believe it is only you who can decide, Sire,” Mordred said.
Arthur huffed out a breath. Mordred was right. It was his kingdom, his people, and his friend. He thought deeply, the only sound near him the crackling of the fire and the crickets. He wished Merlin was here more than anything. An involuntary smile spread across Arthur’s face as he thought of Merlin; his laugh, his occasional moments of wisdom, and his stupid self-sacrificial devotion. The thought of never seeing those things ever again made a horrible sense of wrongness settle into Arthur’s chest. It was nigh incomprehensible to imagine a world without them, without Merlin. And it was all up to him now, he would have to be the one to decide between the legacy of a dead king, and the life of the man dearest to his heart.
And, well, maybe with that perspective, it wasn’t such a hard decision after all.
When Arthur returned into the cave the next morning, he had no doubts about his decision. The Disir were waiting for him the same they always had been.
“You have returned,” the first one said.
“Is your decision made?” continued the second.
Arthur nodded resolutely. He kept his head high. “It is. I accept your conditions. I will allow the Old Religion back into Camelot if you spare Merlin’s life.”
The third Disir spoke. “Your choice is a wise one.”
“No coin can exist without its other side,” the first stated.
“You have shown who you are and who you will be,” the second said.
“Chose the fate of your kingdom,” the last one added.
Arthur smiled to himself. “It was the only choice I could make. Without Merlin, Camelot wouldn’t be worth half itself anymore.” It was terrifying to admit out loud just how much importance Merlin held in his heart, but at the same time it felt freeing.
The Disir in the middle spoke. “The Triple Goddess has mercy beyond anything you can imagine.”
“She has given you a chance to write your wrongs,” added the second.
“Do not waste this opportunity,” the third finished.
“Farewell, Arthur Pendragon,” they all said together.
Mordred was waiting by the mouth of the cave when Arthur exited. “Sire?” he asked.
Arthur nodded his way. “It is done,” he said.
Mordred’s face lit up. “Let’s go home, then,” he said.
Arthur grinned, feeling anticipation bubble up inside him. “Let’s.”
The closer they got to Camelot, the more that anticipation turned into anxious worry. Arthur couldn’t help but think about all the possible ways something could have gone wrong. He hesitated to doubt the promises of the Disir, but at the same time he couldn’t know for certain if they had been telling the truth until he saw Merlin with his own two eyes.
As they rode through the gates, all eyes were drawn to them. Just as Arthur dismounted, from the corner of his eyes he saw a familiar shape approaching. And sure enough, when he looked up, it was Merlin walking towards him. He was a little paler than usual, but alive. Before his brain could catch up with himself, Arthur found himself rushing to him and wrapping his arms around his form. He let his nose brush against Merlin’s soft, dark locks. “You’re alright,” he murmured.
“Didn’t know you cared so much,” Merlin said lightheartedly.
Arthur, finally realizing what he was doing, pulled back from the hug. He crossed his arms defensively. “Don’t be an idiot, of course I care. Good servants are hard to come by.”
Merlin grinned. “I'm not that good.”
“True,” Arthur said, dropping his arms to his sides. He cleared his throat. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Merlin drew his eyebrows together, looking somewhat worried. “The others told me what happened. Did the Disir do something?”
Arthur shook his head. “No, but it’s related. Let’s go to my chambers, we'll have privacy there.”
Merlin looked tense still, but he followed Arthur inside without protest.
Once the chamber doors closed behind them, Arthur took a deep breath. “There’s something the Disir told me about you,” he said.
Merlin eyed him warily. “And what was it?” he asked worriedly.
Arthur took in the nervous stiffness of Merlin’s back. “I think you might have an idea.”
Merlin fidgeted with the ends of his sleeves, but he didn’t back down. He took a step closer. “Say it,” he said, voice wavering on the second word.
Arthur locked his gaze with Merlin’s. “You have magic.”
They both looked at each other in silence for some time, until Merlin spoke up. “So what now?” he asked.
Arthur sighed. “There’s something more. When I went to the Disir to bargain for your life, they gave me an ultimatum. Either you die, or I welcome the Old Religion back to Camelot.”
Merlin looked confused for a few moments before his eyes lit up with revelation. “And you– you agreed?”
The corners up Arthur’s lips twitched. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”
Merlin watched him with widening eyes. “But you… you would truly do that just to save my life?”
Arthur nearly scoffed. Nothing was ‘just anything’ when it came to Merlin. “I also realize that some of my father’s ways were unjust. But even if I didn’t, I still would have done it,” he admitted.
Merlin’s eyes shone with something like awe. “Why?”
“Because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you,” Arthur said.
“Really?” Merlin asked. Arthur suppressed the urge to deny it and just nodded. Merlin smiled hesitantly. “So you aren’t angry about the magic?”
“Oh I'm angry alright that you lied to me. But Mordred made me realize you probably had your reasons.”
At the mention of the name, Merlin’s expression soured briefly, but the change was gone so fast that Arthur barely had the time to notice. “I didn’t want to put you into a position where you would have to choose between me and your father,” he said.
Arthur raised his eyebrows. “That’s what worried you?”
Merlin shrugged sheepishly, and Arthur was overwhelmed by a surge of affection. Here Merlin was, still as stupidly selfless and idiotic as always, and in thatmoment Arthur couldn’t hold back anymore. He strode forward to close the distance between them, and his lips collided with Merlin’s. To his relief, after a half second of hesitation, Merlin returned the kiss. Arthur felt one of Merlin’s hands brushing through his hair, raising pleasant goosebumps all along his arms. Merlin’s lips were soft but eager, and Arthur matched them with equal enthusiasm.
After what could have been anywhere between a few moments and a candle mark, Arthur was forced to pull away for air. He laid his forehead against Merlin’s. “You really are okay with all of this, aren’t you?” Merlin said with something akin to wonder in his voice.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “I've had some time to think about it all.” He felt the warm puffs of Merlin’s breath against his cheeks.
“And what do you think?” Merlin asked playfully.
Arthur brushed his thumb against Merlin’s lower lip. “That you're an idiot.” He grinned. “But you’re my idiot.”
Merlin chuckled, and pressed a small kiss on the tip of Arthur’s nose. “Prat.”
Arthur felt his face heat up and claimed Merlin’s mouth with his own to hide his flushed state. Merlin smiled into the kiss.
Arthur knew it would be a long and troublesome journey to fulfill his promise to the Disir. Certainly not everyone would be open to the idea of magic returning to the land, and drafting the laws would be more than a handful. But as long as Merlin was by his side, Arthur figured it was worth it.