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Chapter Text

Arthur was just getting ready to walk out of his room when Merlin barged in. The manservant had been holding a jug of wine. It knocked into Arthur, covering his shirt with dark liquid.

Arthur snatched the pitcher away from him. "You idiot! Can't you get through a single day without displaying your incompetence? I've got to go listen to petitions in five minutes, and thanks to your laziness, this was my last clean - "

"I'm done." The quiet words cut neatly through his tirade.

"What?" Arthur stared at him. "Done with what, the laundry?"

Merlin's head had been bowed, but he raised it now, and he was angry in a way Arthur had never seen before. It wasn't the blustering, exaggerated irritation he displayed when the knights had hidden his food or Arthur had piled on chores. It was quiet and fierce, and it ignited instincts in Arthur's mind that wanted nothing more than for him to run.

But this was Merlin for crying out loud, not a dragon, and he hadn't backed away from the dragon in any case, so he raised an eyebrow and waited for an answer. "Done with what?"

"With you."

The words fell small, heavy, and cold and dropped between them like a thrown gauntlet.

He licked his lips, wet shirt forgotten. He set the pitcher down on the table with exaggerated caution. "What do you mean, exactly?" Because there was no way Merlin meant that the way it sounded. He couldn't. It was one thing for his father to dismiss him, for Morgana to turn, but Merlin - He couldn't.

"I'm done with you, Arthur Pendragon. I give up. I quit. I'm leaving. Is that clear enough for you, or do you need a written proclamation?"

Arthur froze. "You can't," he said immediately.

Merlin laughed bitterly. "Of course not. Because according to you I'm an idiotic, useless, talentless, cowardly servant. Except when you need something. Then I'm your 'friend'. Or, more commonly, I almost am. Almost good enough, Merlin, have another crumb of hope. Maybe if you drink poison for me one more time, you'll be good enough. Maybe if you reveal one more traitor, I'll finally trust you -"

"If this is about Agravaine -"

Merlin laughed again. How could it be so different from his usual happy one? "Why on earth would this be about Agravaine? I mean, he was the one to convince you to kill Caerleon, to mistrust Gaius, to not look into Gwen -"

"Don't say her name!" he roared.

"Or what, you'll exile me? After I faced Morgana for you? After I threw myself at the Dorocha for you? After everything? Grow up, Arthur! Your feelings got hurt, you made her leave, and now you miss her. And you call me a girl! Well, I'm sorry, sire, some of us don't have the luxury of blocking all mention of our beloved when thing things go sour. Mine's dead. You killed her, and to make up for it, you put me in a headlock."

Arthur gaped at him. "What?"

"You really are oblivious, aren't you? You don't even notice that Elyan would have gone after Gwen by now if she didn't keep sending him letters begging him to stay. You don't even notice when Gwaine gets that feeling of wanderlust, and I have to talk him out of wandering off. You actually thought I was happy, didn't you? Happy with your threats. Happy with the bruises from all those goblets. Happy being told I was worthless. I'm done. Gaius and I are leaving. We're going to Catha. Gwaine said he always wanted to see it. I think he might come too."

Merlin left. The door swung shut behind him.

Arthur threw the pitcher against it.

Then he sank into a chair and wept.

Gwen was gone.

Elyan was gone.

Gwaine was gone.

Gaius was gone.

Merlin. Was. Gone.

He had to break the sentence up. It was the only way that it made sense.

Where was Merlin? He needed Merlin.

He'd gone to talk to him. Tried to convince him to stay.

"Look, if this is all some trick so I'll give you a raise -"

Please, Merlin, please stay, I can't do this alone, please -

"How can I get this through your thick skull? I stayed, despite everything, because I believed in you."

He had, Arthur realized. It was that faith that had kept him going.

"I don't believe in you anymore."

And those words that had crushed him.

Ygraine was gone.

Morgana was gone.

Lancelot was gone.

Uther was gone.

Agravaine was there. Whispering words that felt like poison. Trying to blame the leaks on Percival. On Leon.

Arthur let him and banished them both. Not because he believed, but because he didn't know what else to do.

This was wrong. This was all wrong.

Please, Merlin, I need you, I trust you, please, Merlin, please -

"Morgana."

"Arthur. How delightful to see you again. I'll admit though, I was hoping to see your manservant while I was here. Where is he?"

For the first time in a year, Arthur laughed.

"Gone. They're all gone."

Because I didn't deserve them.

"Surprised at your dear uncle's treachery?"

"No."

He had known ever since Merlin left. But he had fought, always, to protect his people. To provide what was best for them. People, he realized now, who would be better off without him.

If Merlin didn't believe, then no one did.

"I wish you luck, Morgana. Truly."

Arthur was gone.

Arthur jerked upright. Sweat soaked the sheets twisted around him. He stared into the dark for a moment, panting desperately.

"I don't believe in you anymore."

He shoved the covers off, or tried to. They tangled around his legs, trapping him.

Wrong, all wrong, they were still here -

Gwen wasn't. His father wasn't. Morgana wasn't. Lancelot wasn't.

He shoved the covers off at last and bolted out the door, not even bothering to grab a shirt. His bare feet slapped the stone passageways as he ran to Gaius's chambers.

He hadn't even paused to think about how late it must be, but when he threw open the door, Gaius was still up, grinding herbs by candlelight.

"Merlin, you're back."

"Back?" Arthur demanded. "Where is he?"

Gaius looked up. "Sire! Forgive me."

"Where is he?" he repeated.

"I believe he said something about the tavern, sire."

"The Rising Sun?" Of course it was, it was the only tavern in the city.

"Sire, perhaps you should wait."

"No. It can't wait."

"At least put on some boots." It was plain Gaius hoped this would deter him.

Arthur hesitated before a thought hit him. "Merlin took a pair of mine with him to clean. I'll get them from his room."

He ran in, still half hoping he'd find Merlin asleep in bed.

But the only thing in the bed was a thick book of some sort. He didn't bother examining it. He just grabbed his still muddy boots, shoved them on his feet, and ran. He stopped at the door and turned back to grab one of Merlin's shirts. It itched like mad, but he couldn't exactly go running into town without a shirt, and a sense of panic he refused to acknowledge wouldn't let him backtrack to find his own.

He flew out the door, past a startled Gaius, and out into the courtyard. He slowed just enough to order the guards to let him pass. Most of the city was quiet, but there was still plenty of life in the tavern. Arthur barged in, door swinging shut behind him. A few people looked up, but most were too deep in.

None of them were Merlin.

One of them, however, was Gwaine.

Arthur stormed over to him. "Gwaine! Where's Merlin?" He would have thought they'd drink together.

Gwaine looked up at him, eyebrows scrunched together. "Mer'in?" he slurred. "'Scuse me gents." He nodded to his drinking partners and threw an arm over Arthur's shoulders. He steered him towards a corner with surprising strength.

"Now, what's this about Merlin?" Gwaine asked. Concern was thick in his voice.

Arthur gaped at him. "I thought you were drunk!"

"Yeah, so do they. Keep your voice down, will you? Where's Merlin?"

"Gaius said he was at the tavern again."

Gwaine frowned. "Again? He only ever comes down here to drag me out of it. I've never seen him drink a drop."

Never.

Arthur felt cold.

"Never mind," he choked out. He pushed his way out of the tavern, ignoring Gwaine's calls.

Never.

"Sire!"

"Merlin wasn't there. According to Gwaine, he's never there."

"Ah." Gaius said. He hesitated.

Arthur waited expectantly.

"I must have been mistaken."

The door banged open. "Agravaine gave Morgana the plans to the siege tunnels. Gaius, we've got to hurry."

Gaius shot to his feet. "Merlin, you're bleeding. What happened?"

Merlin waved a hand. "Agravaine caught me from behind. Got me on the shoulder. Don't worry, he didn't see my face." He finally turned and saw Arthur. "Oh. Ah. Um."

"Eloquent as ever, Merlin." He grabbed his good shoulder and looked him over. "What happened to your head?"

"I . . . tripped and fell on the way home from the tavern?"

Arthur resisted the urge to smack him. "I was in the room, Merlin. I'm not a complete idiot. So unless my uncle," he swallowed hard, "unless my uncle was meeting Morgana at the tavern, I really doubt it."

Merlin glanced at Gaius for help.

"Eyes on me, Merlin. I just learned Gaius is a much better liar than you are. I don't want him giving you any hints."

"Sire," Gaius protested.

Merlin was clearly uncomfortable with the subject of Gaius lying so soon after the kidnapping incident. "Morgana . . . might have thrown me into a tree."

Arthur closed his eyes. "How - exactly - are you still alive?" He could break down over his uncle later. Merlin was the priority.

"I run really fast?"

"Not this time, id-Merlin. I mean in general. You're supposed to be doing my laundry, not following traitors. You've done this before, haven't you?"

Merlin's eyes narrowed. "Speaking of laundry, you're wearing my shirt. Why are you wearing my shirt?"

"Answer the question, Merlin."

"Sire, if I may, I'd like to treat his arm."

"Of course." He backed away.

Gaius led Merlin to the bed. Arthur had never really noticed before how beaten up it was.

"Merlin?"

Merlin looked down. "I'm a servant, Arthur. I can go places other people can't, and no one notices me, but I notice them. I see things. Valiant. Nimueh. Morgana. Agravaine. Others. So many others. But you don't believe me. You never believed me after Valiant. I'm just a servant, and it's their word against mine."

Until you want something. Then I'm your friend.

Merlin was looking at him now, eyes begging Arthur to trust him. "Normally I just handle it on my own, but Agravaine was important to you. I tried to tell you, but you were being your pratlike self, and you needed proof. So I went closer tonight to try and get you some."

What could he possibly say to that? "Why?"

Merlin frowned. "I just told you -"

"No. Why bother? Why not tell one of the knights? Why risk your life for a king who wouldn't believe you?"

"Because I believe in you, Arthur. I always will."

Something settled in Arthur that had been roiling ever since the dream. "Thank you. For everything."

Merlin beamed at him like he'd just been told he had a whole week off.

"I'll let Gaius get you cleaned up. I'll take care of Agravaine." He headed for the door.

"Oh, sire. What was it you wanted earlier?"

Earlier? Oh, right. "It doesn't matter now. Just, Merlin . . . Despite what you seem to believe, you're not actually expendable." There should have been a jibe in there somewhere, but he couldn't quite manage it. Not now. "No more midnight escapades, all right?"

"Sure. I'll stop when magic's legal in Camelot."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Merlin."

"What?"

"I was being serious."

The sorceress watched invisibly from the shadows. She shook her head.

So was he.

It seemed she still had some work to do.

She went to go change the poultice under the king's pillow.

No one noticed servants.

Chapter Text

"Arthur, you're looking at me funny. Why are you looking at me funny?"

Arthur picked at his breakfast. "Don't be ridiculous, Merlin." It was a king's prerogative to avoid answering questions if he wanted to.

Particularly questions with answers like this one had.

"Is this about Agravaine?" Merlin asked with unusual hesitance.

Agravaine was bad enough. He'd been killed in an escape attempt not a week back, but no, this wasn't about him.

It was natural, he supposed, so soon after one betrayal to have nightmares of others doing likewise. So the first night's nightmare had made sense.

The last bandit collapsed under a falling tree branch. By this point, Arthur just accepted it.

Except Merlin had been standing right behind him, hand outstretched and eyes glowing gold.

He lowered his hand and laughed nervously. "I thought that branch looked shaky. Good thing I shoved him under it."

Arthur nodded like he accepted the excuse, but he knew what he had seen.

Merlin was a sorcerer.

"Let's go," he managed to force out. It must have sounded natural enough to Merlin, because he grinned in relief and turned to go.

Magic corrupted. How long had it had its hooks in his friend? How long since his good heart had been turned? Or was it still pure, still good for a little while longer?

By law, the flames had to claim him either way.

The very thought sickened him. He couldn't.

He couldn't let a sorcerer roam free in Camelot either.

Arthur hadn't sheathed his sword. He left it loose in his hand as he strode after the cheerfully chattering manservant.

In. Out. The blade dripped red down onto the leaves.

Merlin never felt a thing.

The law said you couldn't mark a sorcerer's grave. Arthur decided then and there it was a stupid law. He'd have to change it when he got back to Camelot, right after he'd gotten Gaius to examine him. He must have gotten a concussion somehow. His vision was blurry.

Gaius. Gwaine. Hunith. He'd have to tell them -

I killed your son. I killed your friend. I killed your ward.

Actually, he might as well say, I killed your son, twice. It would hit Gaius as hard.

No, there wasn't a trial. But he killed a bandit with magic, so I snuck up behind him. It was quick. The blade went right in. I think I buried him beneath this tree. Or was it that one? I can't remember.

Arthur collapsed to his knees, acid burning up his throat. He gagged, throwing up the contents of his stomach as he hadn't since his very first kill.

He was talking about lunch. He was saying all the excitement had made him hungry, and he was talking about lunch before he got distracted by some birds. He had that look on his face, all wide eyed wonder. I know because he was turning to look at me, smiling in that way he had, and he saw -

He saw. He knew. He saw.

He said, "Arthur?"

What was it he'd told Merlin once? No man is worth your tears. No man. Especially not a servant. Especially not a sorcerer. Especially not a traitor.

Arthur sobbed.

Merlin had apparently given up on getting a response. "Right, well, you've got training in an hour, so why don't I make sure your sword's - "

"No!" The choked cry was out before Arthur could stop to consider that Merlin's shows of initiative with his chores were rare enough that Arthur should probably be encouraging this, not shouting at him to stop. "I'll get it."

"Arthur, are you alright? You don't have a fever, do you?" Merlin's eyes had narrowed, and he'd grabbed Arthur's arm and put a hand to his forehead before he could stop him. "You're freezing. Sit down. I'll stoke the fire up."

There had been a trial. It was perfectly legal. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that he was guilty.

Or, rather, no doubt he'd used magic. Gwaine had made it quite clear that magic didn't translate to guilt in his book.

But Gwaine was in the dungeons now, and Merlin was in the courtyard. Arthur was above it all on the balcony, and he wished he was anywhere else.

When his arm fell, it did so without his permission. It was acting on its own. He was merely an observer. Detached. Proper. Implacable.

He stayed that way until the torch was thrown. Until the flames licked up the wood. Until Merlin"s eyes somehow, impossibly, connected with his, until Merlin's screams rent the air, until he realized what it was he was screaming, Arthur, always Arthur, because that's what, to Merlin, he'd always been. Arthur.

And Arthur was no longer detached, or proper, or any of those things. Arthur was screaming and thrashing and trying to get to his best friend who was being burned alive. Who was screaming for him, who needed him, right now -

But Arthur was imprisoned, chained by a crown and a cold kingly exterior that couldn't be allowed to crack.

Not even when the screams stopped and the body was cut down to be tossed out with the rubbish, and a small, broken voice whispered that Merlin had died thinking he didn't care.

That was the last he heard from that voice. It got thrown out with Merlin, and a proper, cold, shell of a king began his empty reign.

"Arthur? Arthur, you're scaring me. Did you sit up all night with the reports again? When was the last time you slept?"

He didn't want to sleep. Sleep brought dreams, and those were never good. Not anymore. He thought he might have mumbled something to that effect, because something like comprehension was spreading over Merlin's face, and he was rushing over to the bed as soon as he'd eased Arthur back into his chair.

Exiling Merlin had seemed like a good idea at the time, although for the life of him, he couldn't remember why. True, it was better than the alternatives, but it wasn't all that long ago that a dream had forced him to consider life with Merlin gone, and that dream hadn't exactly been pleasant.

Well, Agravaine was gone, so Morgana hadn't taken over again. Yet.

He had to add the yet because the last few patrols hadn't gone well, and he was starting to wonder if maybe Merlin's claims that he'd been protecting the kingdom might have had some truth to them.

Even if it hadn't been for that, life seemed . . . empty with him gone. Like something had been torn from him. An amputation, of sorts, like Merlin had been an essential part of him somehow, and now that he was gone, he had to spend the rest of his life crippled, trying to make up for the loss.

It wasn't working.

He'd been through - Actually, how many servants had he gone through since then? Did it matter?

The latest one brought him a tray of food. He ate it mechanically. If the taste was a bit off, he didn't notice.

He did, however, notice the flames that were racing through his veins.

Apparently the number of replacements did matter. Morgana had managed to slip an assassin into the job.

As the darkness closed over him, he wondered if Guinevere and Merlin would ever hear of it in their exile.

He wondered if they'd care if they did.

Merlin was under his bed. Why was Merlin under his bed?

"Come on, it's got to be mandrake root, it's got to be! Okay, okay, so it's not mandrake. What is it?" He started flinging the blankets off the bed.

Arthur's head dropped towards his desk. He was so tired . . .

"I can explain."

Arthur looked down at his armor. It was currently on the floor. A moment ago, it had been in midair, being industriously polished by various cleaning implements and only in the most indirect of senses by Merlin.

"Merlin?"

"Yes, sire?"

"You're fired."

"As in, permanently and completely fired, or as in, you'll cool down in a day or two and plop your armor down on Gaius's table while I'm eating fired?"

"I haven't decided yet."

No sooner had Merlin shut the door to his room then an assassin burst from the shadows.

Really, Arthur had rather expected it.

.

"Arthur? Arthur, wake up! I found it! There was a poultice under your pillow. And before you ask why I didn't notice before when I was making your bed, there was a really strong concealment charm on it."

"That's good." Arthur's head nodded towards the table again.

"Hey! Let's get you to the bed first, alright?" Merlin helped him over. Not that it was necessary, of course. Arthur meant to sway like that.

"Dollophead," Merlin said fondly.

For the first time in two weeks, it wasn't a nightmare that woke Arthur up. Instead, it was Merlin being his clumsy self. Apparently the idiot had dropped something. From the sound of it, the unknown object had shattered.

He glanced towards the bed. Apparently he thought Arthur was still asleep, because he whispered a word in the language of the Old Religion, and his eyes glowed gold. Shards of a vase flew up into the air and mended themselves before settling on the table.

Arthur blinked and pinched himself just to make sure this wasn't another dream.

It wasn't.

"You're a sorcerer." After two weeks of nightmare reveals, he couldn't muster up much outrage over it.

Merlin jumped. His mouth worked furiously as he tried to come up with an excuse.

"Don't bother," Arthur said tiredly as he got out of the bed. He wandered over to the vase and poked it. "Huh. Not even a crack."

"You're taking this rather well," Merlin managed.

"I've had a lot of practice." A thought occurred to him. He frowned. "You weren't the one who put the poultice in my bed, were you?"

"What? No!"

Given what he'd seen earlier today, Arthur believed him. "Good." He looked around. "What time is it?"

Merlin looked to be in a state of shock. "Er. Noon. Ish. Am I under arrest?"

"Not at the moment, no."

"Are you going to exile me?"

"You never really thought I meant it, did you? Good grief, Merlin, if I was going to exile you for dropping something, you wouldn't have lasted a day."

"I meant for the magic, you prat!"

"Not for that either. Particularly as I suspect the same statement would hold true. You're not fired either if that was what you were about to ask."

" . . . Stocks?" Merlin tried.

Huh. He hadn't had a chance to try that one. Then again, given his track record . . .

Arthur cuffed him around the head and was mildly surprised when the action didn't cause immediate and painful doom. "There. Consider yourself punished. Now sit down and tell me everything."

Somewhere, the sorceress watched from her scrying bowl and smiled.

Chapter Text

Vivian wasn't actually an idiot. Nor was she madly in love with Arthur, love potion or no love potion.

. . . To be brutally honest, she wasn't even a princess. She was, in fact, a high priestess of the Old Religion. She'd told Morgause she was planning on sneaking into Camelot and needed help. Together, they'd managed to enchant everyone into temporarily believing the cover story they'd cooked up.

Morgause had been ready to sympathize when she'd returned. "Our next plan will go better," she assured her.

Vivian blinked at her. "Better? This one went perfectly."

"But - but I hadn't gotten word that the Pendragons were dead - "

"Of course not. I would never defy Emrys, much less the prophecies. I just wanted a piece of the legend."

Morgause gaped at her.

Vivian tilted her head. "I do feel bad for the boy, though. Arthur really should appreciate him more. Hmm." She brightened. "I"ll be out of the country for a year or two, dear. I need to gather ingredients for a poultice or two."

Morgause was still gaping at her as she rode away.