A.N. : This is an adaptation of the idea presented in the fic To The Death by JessieJay13. Go check her page out. I don't own the BBC. Which should be bloody obvious.

The feast tables were laden, and conversation and laughter roared in the hall. Arthur sat at the high table, Gwen at his side. Despite the uplifting atmosphere, he found himself unable to relax. Merlin had been acting strange all month, and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. When confronted, the idiot would misdirect and distract.

Arthur scowled, then chugged his wine. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would bring Gwaine along and stage an intervention. He couldn't take anymore of the gloom emanating from his peasant friend.

Merlin stared ahead, unseeing, completely oblivious of the rowdy feasting crowd. The wine jug in his hands forgotten. It was Autumn. Every year when the leaves fell and things began to die it reminded him of his father. Balinor had died in his son's arms in Autumn, his killer dead at his feet.

Perhaps tonight he would call the dragon. Perhaps there he would find solace; question him further about his father's life.

The doors to the hall suddenly flew open with a crash, startling both Arthur and Merlin out of their respective thoughts. The knights drew their swords. Standing at the entrance was a trim but well built man in armor, sword sheathed at his side. Arthur held up a hand to his men. Wait.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion? Who are you?" He demanded.

The man stepped forward, removing his helmet. Dark hair wreathed his face where startling blue eyes sparked. He stopped in the middle of the room, unbuckled his sword, and laid it on the ground. He straightened, and Arthur realized the man was probably barely out of his teens, most likely of similar age as Sir Mordred.

"My name is Owen, and I have come to challenge one of your warriors to a fight." The boy growled.

"Why?" Arthur queried.

"He killed my mother, Nimueh." He hissed.

The hall filled with noise at his words, and at least one wine jug fell to the ground. Arthur held up his hand, trying to quiet the room.

"I will allow this. Issue your challenge."

A noble stood, exclaiming: "Sire, he could be a sorcerer!"

"A sorcerer has as much right to seek retribution for the death of his mother as any of us do." Arthur replied calmly.

Owen stormed forward, and Arthur realized that he was going to be the one to be challenged. Mentally he sighed. When would this stop? This struggle between those with magic and the kingdom of Camelot.

Owen did not stop. He jumped onto the table and stomped between Guinivere and Arthur, knocking over Gwen's goblet, leapt down and continued to the back of the room. Arthur craned his head in unison with the rest of the hall, trying to see what in hell the man was doing.

Owen came to a stop in front of Merlin, ripped off his gauntlet, and threw it at his feet. The two men stared at each other, almost as if having a conversation.

...

Merlin had dropped his wine jug with a clatter. His duel against the Priestess was so long ago, now. Her's was among the first lives he had taken.

Nimueh's son was in front of him now, his face contorted with hate and fury. The boy was so young... The gauntlet lay at his feet.

"I don't want to kill you." Merlin said, telepathically.

"What makes you so sure you will? Pick it up!" Came an answering telepathic growl.

Merlin stared at the boy, then reached for the gauntlet. His movements shocked Arthur out of his stupor. He leapt put of his chair and dove for the gauntlet, but was too late.

"Merlin, what are you doing?!" Arthur hissed in his friend's face. "You have the wrong person!" He snapped at Owen.

Merlin ignored him, still looking at Owen. "I, Merlin, accept your challenge."

"Tomorrow at midday. Single combat. To the death." Owen turned and stalked out of the hall as abruptly as he had entered it.

Gwaine clattered to where Merlin and Arthur stood. "Merlin...?" Was all he could say. Gwen had risen, and was looking at them, worry written across her face.

Arthur was furious. "Merlin! What was that?! He had the wrong person! Why would you pick it up when it wasn't you that he was seeking to challenge?"

Merlin turned to Arthur, the cold, angry look on his face reminding him of their first confrontation, the day they had met. They had been overgrown boys then.

"How do you know if he had the wrong person?" With those words, Merlin whirled and stalked out the small door at the back of the hall, Gwaine pursuing him.

Arthur stood alone in the middle of the floor. His best friend was going to die tomorrow. All because of his stupid pride. That was a role reversal.

...

"Merlin!" Gwaine shouted down the hallway. Merlin didn't alter his course. Gwaine grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. "let me take your place tomorrow."

"Can't do that Gwaine. Already accepted the challenge."

"You're brave, Merlin, but you're not a knight! Why did you accept the challenge? He wasn't looking for you."

Merlin shrugged, attempting a grin. Gwaine sighed. "I think this calls for a mug of ale."

"Everything calls for a mug of ale with you, Gwaine." Merlin laughed. "Nice try though. Get me drunk, add a draft of something, take my place. Top marks for effort."

...

By the midday the next morning, the king and all of the original knights of the round table had come to Merlin, offering to take his place. All of them except Mordred. Merlin was almost insulted at their lack of confidence in him. But it was rather gratifying to know they cared.

Arthur was standing in front of him in the armory looking like an anxious mother hen. "Are you sure the only armor you want is mail?"

"Arthur. I probably wouldn't even be able to walk with anything else."

"Not even a helmet?"

"No."

"What about gauntlets?"

"No."

"Merlin, I saw Owen earlier and he is wearing full armor -"

"Arthur. Stop."

The king frowned.

"I'll be fine." Merlin smirked at him.

Arthur drummed on a rack of weapons uncomfortably. "Merlin if things don't turn out...I want you to know that I consider you a friend. More of a brother really. And I want to thank you for your bravery and loyaltly."

Merlin looked shocked for a moment. "...thank you...Arthur...whatever happens out there, don't think any differently of me. I've always considered you a friend as well. No matter what happens, please remember that I'm still the same person."

Arthur looked confused. "There is nothing wrong with being scared, Merlin. I wouldn't think any less of you."

Merlin shook his head. "Nevermind. Go ahead. I will be along."

Arthur slapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck Merlin." He turned and left the room.

Merlin gazed through the doorway after he left, thinking, until he realized another person occupied the space Arthur had already left. He looked up to meet Mordred's gaze.

"Merlin." He greeted, quietly.

"Mordred."

"Your opponent has magic."

"I know, I felt it."

Mordred looked at him curiously. "Will you fight in kind?"

"Yes."

"In front of the king and the knights?"

"Yes."

Mordred brightened, looking almost excited. He went to the weapon rack and picked up a sword. Turning, he presented it to the other warlock with a slight dip of his head.

Merlin took the sword with a nod, and they left the armory, heading for the arena. Gaius was at the edge, looking unhappy. Merlin stopped beside him.

"Be careful, my boy." Gaius murmured.

"Honestly, I don't think anyone but Mordred thinks I can win!" Merlin said, amused.

Gaius' eyes widened, he took in the eagerness on the younger man's face and he realized what Merlin was about to do.

"Merlin..!"

"Don't Gaius."

Gaius sighed. "Perhaps it is time. Good luck, my boy."

"Thanks Gaius."

Merlin stalked into the arena where Owen had already planted himself. He glared at Merlin as Arthur began to speak from the crowded stands. The unbelievable circumstances had drawn the people like flies to honey. People liked a show. A challenge issued to the king's servant over the death of a high priestess wasn't an everyday occurrence.

"This is single combat, to the death. May the best man win." Arthur roared above the din. "Begin."

At his words, the two men squared off, and Merlin let go of the barriers on his magic that forced him to live like an inebriated klutz. His movements smoothed as his senses were flooded with information; colors and smells sharpened, his hearing became acute. He sensed the life force of the people and creatures around him, could sense the growing things of the earth. His eyes flooded with flecks of gold.

Owen's eyes widened and his grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles white. He struck an experimental blow, and stepped back after it was blocked.

"One well aimed blow!" Roared Arthur from the stands.

Merlin snorted. That phrase brought back memories.

Owen attacked him in earnest now, but Merlin blocked every blow. The boy was a decent swordsman, but not an accomplished one. After years of being forced to spar with Arthur, Merlin was more than competent enough to stay alive.

His movements were graceful as he spun and blocked, almost like a dance. In the stands, Arthur was shocked. Where the hell did he acquire these skills? Normally the man was like a day old foal.

Merlin saw his opening and disarmed Owen. He levelled both swords at his neck, then lowered them and stabbed them into the ground. "I have no wish to kill you."

Owen was breathing heavily, and his lip curled. "You killed my mother. I called her memory to me. I know it was you."

"Your mother decieved me. I went to her to save Arthur. I bid my life, and she gave me the water from the cup of life. she pledged my mother's life instead, then accepted Gaius'. We fought and I killed her."

"She did not deserve to die!"

"She killed innocents in her quest against Camelot and she tried to kill me. She was consumed with bitterness and hate!"

"Uther was the cause of that! You should have let her succeed."

"Uther was the cause, but she let herself descend into darkness."

Owen screamed and his eyes flashed, sending Merlin head over heels.

"Oops." He muttered, picking himself up.

"Forbaernan!" Screeched Owen.

"Scieldan!" Merlin hissed, and the fireball dissapated against his shield. An echo of shock and screams rose from the crowd. Behind Merlin the king shot to his feet.

"What now, murderer? Your king knows what you are!" Owen gloated.

Merlin stood, and watched calmly as Owen raised his palm again. A large tornado rose up and swept toward Merlin. He waved his hand as he walked forward, snuffing it out like a candle. The boy's eyes widened.

"Owen, stop this. You cannot win."

The boy ignored Merlin and began to mutter desperately. He screamed and threw the completed spell towards Merlin. The dirt began to swirl and move, racing for Merlin, forming into wolf like creatures. Merlin went a knee murmuring a spell, and struck the earth with his palm.

The ground shook, and the spectators screamed. The sand wolves dissapated into nothingness. A wind began to pick up and Owen fell. Merlin loomed over him. "Do you surrender?"

"No! I told you it was to the death!" The boy's eyes flashed and one of their forgotten swords shot towards the king and queen who were desperately trying to keep their balance. Merlin clenched his fist and stopped the weapon. I turned in the air, and shot towards the now standing Owen. With a sickening noise, it pierced his heart.

He fell to the ground, dead.

"I'm sorry, Owen." Murmured Merlin. His eyes flashed and the wind and quake stopped, and an unnatural fire rose up, consuming the sword and the boy. It dissapated quickly, leaving nothing behind.

He looked up to find Mordred and Gwaine rushing to his side as he turned to face the bewildered king.

Merlin spoke into the wide eyed king's mind. "This is what I meant, Arthur, when we spoke in the armory. I am still your friend. I am still me. I have never used my gifts against you or Camelot, only in defense of it and you. I am tired of hiding. I am tired of living like a shadow. Magic is not evil. Evil is in the hearts of men. It corrupts no more and no less than the power wielded by a king. There are good and bad kings, as there are good and evil people with magic."

...

Merlin paced the length of the room. Gwaine and Mordred had accompanied him when Arthur had had his guards escort him to the physician's quarters.

The door flew open. Gwaine stepped to Merlin's side, glaring: Arthur stood on the threshold, his jaw tense. "Gwen told me you saved her once. That she knew after that. You could see her true form after Morgana turned her into a doe. She told me you stopped us from killing her on a hunt, and that you healed her arrow wound and changed her back. She knew you had magic after she awakened back to normal with you sitting across the fire."

"Yes, I always wondered if she understood after that. She never told me."

"Tell me, Merlin. Tell me everything you've done, good and bad."

...

A year had come and gone since the day Merlin was challenged by Owen. There had been arguements, screaming, laughter and slammed doors, and visits to the druids for a discussion on prophecy, but they had managed to come to a solution.

The ban on magic was repealed. The revelation that Mordred was a warlock like Merlin was handled. Disgruntled nobles were dealt with. Merlin was the obvious choice for a magician counselor, and accepted the promotion. George accepted his as well, much to Arthur's irritation.

The meeting of the round table was going splendidly on this particular day, until Gwaine decided to speak up. Arthur sighed. Every time. Every time there was a discussion at the round table about a magical problem, solved or unsolved, Gwaine had to put forward his favorite solution.

Mordred was snickering.

Merlin, in the chair on Arthur's right, mirrored the king's annoyed expression.

"No Gwaine. I will not make it rain ale." Merlin grumbled.

I intend to write more on Falcon and The Wolf this weekend, the fic has not been abandoned. This one-shot was a temporary diversion. Thanks for following, reading and reviewing. :)