Disclaimer: Merlin is not mine.

It was a quiet morning in Camelot when Merlin returned, and nobody quite knew what to do.

Guinevere wasn't sure what any of them really expected, her least of all. She'd seen Merlin with the burning eyes and was conscious enough of both what could happen and her own responsibilities if it did happen that she fled to the forest, and she'd come back to see a portion of the castle in ruins and Arthur looking like… well, Arthur looked like he'd been under the portion of the castle when it fell apart. Even after all the weeks that had passed since that day and all the work he'd put in, Arthur still wasn't back at his best.

She knew that Merlin was a sorcerer in the academic sense, and despite the concussion, she knew that Arthur's tellings of what happened in those hours between Merlin taking down the gates and Sir Leon finding Arthur in the courtyard were more or less accurate. Once you picked the facts out of the meanderings and impossibilities and spiteful comments about brain matter thrown at a Merlin who wasn't present to duck them, Gwen could see the truth.

And it made her sad in so many ways. Sad that Arthur wasn't the same man since everything had gone wrong and Merlin had attacked, sad that Merlin had gone so long with such a burdensome secret, and sad that she felt both Arthur and Merlin had such valid - if different - points that she couldn't side with one and try to reason with the other.

Not that Merlin was around to be reasoned with, anyway. He had disappeared with the woman he'd turned into a statue, which Gwen hadn't really believed until Arthur stuck to the story even after his head was feeling better and his fever had broken. He hadn't been saying much, at first, beyond relaying what had happened with some commentary that wasn't exactly kingly.

He still wasn't saying much about how he was feeling about everything, and Guinevere was wounded that he was refusing to confide in her until she recognized the look in his eyes as mourning. Arthur missed Merlin, the Merlin he'd known in every single way that mattered, except that Merlin was gone because Arthur had been wrong. And also mourning because Merlin was physically gone and Arthur had to deal with that on top of all his injuries, but Gwen knew it was more than just Merlin not being handy. There was something broken now that couldn't be fixed if Merlin didn't come back.

She was pretty confident that he was also mourning when he was able to coast on his father's policies as king. Oh, Arthur hadn't been actively executing sorcerers for being sorcerers, and really only lashed out when he was attacked first despite the laws of the land still making magic a crime.

For all that she loved him, she could recognize that Arthur was more natural a conqueror than a king, and that's how Uther had raised him. But Uther hadn't conquered magic, not really, so Arthur couldn't inherit a peace that had never existed from his father. It had been a cold sort of war since the purge that burned hot every once in a while when somebody stepped out of line, but neither side did anything to stop it.

The fault lay at Arthur's feet for this since Uther's death, she knew. Arthur and others like him, raised when the purge of magic was a matter of fact rather than tragedy, saw sorcerers as people who needed to justify themselves despite the fact that they were the ones being hunted and forced into hiding. The responsibility to do the right thing was on them, when the wrong things were so often being done to them.

Guinevere held her own share of guilt, she knew. If Arthur was coasting on Uther's policies, Gwen was coasting on her love and faith in Arthur, and those small insecurities that refused to fade away that she wasn't born to be queen, that the women of court - or worse, the men - noticed when she tripped just a little bit over the skirts that were too long for her former life, or when she fiddled with a neckline that was too low for when she had to bend and build and work. She didn't help any more than Arthur did; she supposed she just did less to hurt.

Maybe Arthur missed who she was before, too.

Well, she wasn't going to change herself and the things she saw clearly now just because it would have been convenient for Arthur if she was just there to help him and hold him. The knowledge that she would have been responsible for Camelot if Arthur had died kept her on edge through every hour of that awful night, and it kept her from joining the knights and guards when they charged back to the citadel to find him, because she needed to be safe for Camelot. She would rule if Arthur could not, and she had to be so much better than a ruler that Uther had tried to raise.

She thanked her lucky stars that Arthur hadn't be able to become the man his father wanted, although not for lack of trying. Uther might have enacted a second purge by this point following what this Legion woman had done, or sent soldiers after at least Merlin, or ordered executions until he felt like he was back in control. Arthur may have had a steel spine and iron will, but he had a soft heart. It might get him killed someday, she knew, but he would die a good man if it did.

A better man now that he'd had some sense knocked into him along with the debris of his own castle.

Not enough time had yet passed for him to find jokes about being injured by chunks of his own castle very funny, but Gwen had stored up several to throw at him once he gained a sense of humor about the whole thing. Weeks had passed and he still wouldn't laugh, and Gwen began to hope that Merlin would return for selfish reasons. She didn't know what Arthur would do, what she would do, but his absence was an open-ended question with no guarantee of an answer ever coming. At the very least, they needed...closure.

Yes, it was a quiet morning when Merlin returned to Camelot, and Guinevere would find out later that nobody even tried to stop him when he walked through the gates, across the courtyard, up the steps and through the doors. Nobody got in his way as he walked the corridors of the castle, and nobody even tried to shut the door before he entered the throne room. Only one person drew a sword when he crossed the threshold to the throne room, and that person was for some reason Arthur after he slowly stood up.

Merlin looked exactly the same, except something in his expression was strange and unrecognizable. There was no...deference there. Gwen had seen him genuinely defer to his social betters, falsely humble himself by bowing so low nobody could see him trying not to laugh, and frightfully modest in a way that it always felt like he was trying to blend in with the background and avoid scrutiny.

This last was usually after something massive and unexplainable had happened in Camelot.

Oh, Merlin, thought Guinevere. How lonely you must have been.

No, there was no deference in Merlin's face, even as his eyes dropped to Arthur's drawn sword before flicking back up to Arthur's face. He did spare a quick glance at Guinevere, and she drew in her breath sharply, afraid that she wouldn't recognize him anymore, that the blue would burn gold for some unimaginable reason, even though she knew better than to fear him.

He smiled a small and quick but genuine smile at her, his eyes blue and twinkling like he had something he wanted to tell her but couldn't just yet because they were in the throne room. He looked at her like he did when they first became friends, when she became his first friend in Camelot. A warm sense of relief washed over her, and she forgot for a moment to wonder what would happen next. What could happen that it would all be okay again.

Merlin stopped in front of the throne and nodded his head just low enough that it was a clear acknowledgment that he was standing before the king but not so low that he looked like he had come to beg forgiveness or a favor. Certainly not low enough that Arthur would have had a clear shot at taking off his head if he'd been in the mood, and Gwen knew he could do it in one clean swipe.

His new manservant was quite deliberate in his work on Arthur's weapons, even the ceremonial ones he wore when he sat the throne. Arthur kept cutting his hands on the sword because he was used to his previous manservant being less than diligent when it came to his ceremonial weaponry.

Merlin nodded at Arthur like he was an equal. Different, so very different and not a king, but on the same tier of importance, if not power. Their respective power was the most different thing of all.

"You're back," said the king impressively, and his voice echoed through the silent throne room, for nobody had moved or spoken or even muttered since Merlin entered.

"Yeah," said Merlin, and the somber atmosphere was shattered. Still, though, no one spoke.

"Is it because you're allowed back now?" asked Arthur. "As long as you don't attack?"

"Yes," responded Merlin. "And no."

Arthur scowled and sat down, placing his sword across his knees, and Guinevere realized all at once why he'd drawn the blade in the first place. He was demonstrating that he was armed, but did not intend to attack. It was the first ceremonial stage she'd seen him take a hundred times before, when beginning to negotiate a truce. Armed and ready, but not coiled to strike. Odd that he would be so formal now, doing such a thing for Merlin of all people, but this was at least progress because of what Merlin represented.

"I do appreciate that magic isn't a crime so long as it's not used in attack," said Merlin, very evenly, and Gwen knew that he'd recognized the gesture with the sword as well. "I appreciate the progress. That you've decreed magic acceptable… in moderation."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Would you have me just repeal all the laws against magic all at once, if I was so inclined?"

"No," said Merlin, clasping his hands behind his back. Was this his version of drawing a sword and laying it across his knees?

"Moderation is the best I can do now," said Arthur, more quietly. His voice didn't echo quite as far back into the room, though Gwen still heard quite clearly.

"I know," responded Merlin. "But you can't be done."

"I can't let you do what I know you can do," the king argued. "I'm sorry, Merlin, but you can do too much. I can't take you back here in Camelot like that. Doing what you did that day. Not… without limits."

"Is that why you changed everything?" asked Merlin, his voice suddenly strange. "You wanted me to come back?"

Gwen didn't see quite how he'd gotten there from what Arthur had said, but Arthur scowled again in that way that would be a flush if he wasn't trying so hard to be kingly.

"No," said Arthur, once he stopped scowling enough to speak. "But you're allowed. Nobody will hurt you."

Merlin raised his eyebrows and smiled a bit, but Arthur didn't smile back. Instead, he closed his eyes, and a visible shiver ran through his body. Merlin's smile faded, and Gwen knew that he'd realized already what she'd seen herself: Arthur wasn't ready for this to be fun or funny. She wondered what had happened to Merlin during his absence that he could be like this. Calm, collected, measured. She wondered how much effort this was taking him, how much time he'd spent preparing.

"Nobody will try and hurt you," Arthur amended. "Unless you start a fight."

"I didn't come here to fight, Arthur," sighed Merlin.

"Not even in moderation?" shot back Arthur, although there was no trace of a scowl on his face when he said it. Gwen had the sense that they both meant fighting in terms of more than blades or bolts or spells. Harsh words had been exchanged, if not necessarily meant, and could still be exchanged if tempers flared. Yet it was still somehow about the magic. Maybe it would always be about the magic. She hoped not.

"No."

"Then why come back at all?" asked Arthur, genuine curiosity creeping into his voice. "Why are you here?"

Merlin shrugged and fiddled and shuffled his feet, almost like he didn't want to make what he was going to say too important in case it wasn't received well. He did force himself to look Arthur in the eye before answering.

"To help you figure out how to do it."

"Do what?"

"Moderate," said Merlin, and he smiled.

A long moment passed before anybody moved. Then Arthur dropped the sword to the floor, and the clatter echoed throughout the room.

In three quick movements, Arthur stood, loosed himself from the ceremonial cape that he hated and always caught on the nails but felt made him look impressive on his throne, and gained his balance.

In two long strides, Arthur stood in front of Merlin, who didn't go anywhere or do anything except drop his hands from where they'd been clasped behind his back.

In one gesture that Guinevere would never ever forget for as long as she lived, the king pulled the sorcerer into an embrace.

Some in the throne room looked away, embarrassed at witnessing the king's distinctly unkingly show of emotion. Others started and dropped their hands to the pommels of their swords, startled into movement. Still others looked as Guinevere, as if for guidance because Arthur had gone mad or been enchanted or something else had gone grievously wrong that he would hug Merlin, a sorcerer. They had all chosen their side already, and it was not the side that Arthur was hugging.

Yes, moderation was the order of the day if this was going to work.

For her part, Guinevere felt more at peace than she had since before the night when she had run to the forest, fleeing from her husband and his manservant with the burning blue eyes and already preparing herself for the responsibilities she might have to take on. She could see that not everything about those years of lies and betrayals and failures to act on both of their parts had not been forgiven or forgotten. Perhaps they never would be, not entirely.

But a weight lifted from her chest because in this one gesture, Guinevere saw that the lies and betrayals and failures to act hadn't erased the years of loyalty and the friendship and the deep caring of two men who had the strangest things in common. Merlin's eyes may have burned gold on that awful night, but they were blue now as Arthur embraced him and he hugged back. The king and sorcerer stood in the heart of the citadel of Camelot, alone but together.

And Guinevere knew then that everything was going to be okay.

The End.

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And that's that! Thank you so much for reading, and I would very, very, VERY much appreciate reviews now that I've finished it.

Only took me six years! If I'd gone back to Arthur's POV, I'm afraid this story would have never ended. Hopefully Guinevere worked!

"When Blue Was Gold" got a lot longer than intended and certainly took a lot longer than originally intended, but it is officially finished. I had fun getting back into Merlin writing despite my extraordinarily long break, so I may return to my "In Media Res" series of reveals. "When Blue Was Gold" originated as an "In Media Res" story way back when, so chapters there could start happening again.

Thank you!