Merlin had never been afraid. The few times he had been close to fear was when Arthur was in danger. He had never feared for himself, because he had not needed to. He was more powerful than any man he knew. He could kill with a flick of thought. He needed no sword.

He'd never needed a sword. He'd needed Excalibur once, but that was only because of its magic. He'd grown so used to not carrying a sword that it hadn't occurred to him to bring one.

Watching Gwaine battle a small group of bandits, he began to wish that he had. He flinched when it looked like the bandit would score a hit on his friend, and he unconsciously focused on the bandit's sword, trying to knock it out of his hand.

Nothing happened.

He felt the beginnings of fear again, as he had when he'd discovered he no longer had magic. He drew back. He was truly helpless.

A bandit made it past Gwaine and moved towards him, axe lifted. He stumbled back and tripped on the rocks. He couldn't move out of the way fast enough, he knew. He curled away out of instinct. "Gwaine!" he shouted.

It was more of a scream than a shout, a desperate cry that a child would give when something scared him, when they faced something more powerful than they could imagine. Was he afraid? Or just annoyed that he might die this way and be unable to help Arthur? Whatever it was, Gwaine heard his cry and cut the bandit down in time.

He realized then just how scared his cry had been, when he saw his friend's worried and confused look. Gwaine extended a hand and he stood up, trying to compose himself.

Emotions flickered through himself and across his face. He tried to come up with something to say but couldn't. He settled for a quick smile of gratitude. He thought that Gwaine probably thought the same thing Arthur did, that he had been brave before, but now he was a coward.

Then he realized what the emotion that had been lying underneath the fear was.

Anger.

Merlin was angry. He was angry that Morgana had taken his magic, he was angry that he had to go find a way to get it, seemingly abandoning his king when Arthur needed him most, he was angry that the lack of himself—for the magic was as much a part of him as his soul, and he found he was missing part of himself with its absence—was driving him towards cowardice.

Merlin had never really been afraid. No, not even now. He was only angry. And he was rapidly straining for his dignity and pride. He would reclaim himself, he would turn back fate itself, he would defeat Morgana, and he would save Arthur.

Merlin wasn't afraid.

Author's note: Because episode 12 was heartbreaking and I needed to give him something because he's never ever afraid and that cry I just wanted to wrap him in fluffy clouds and tell him it would be okay while I rewrote the whole thing. And it's still...it's still sort of sad. Because he didn't, really, in the end. But I needed to put this out there because all of us were shouting at Arthur that he wasn't a coward and this is the only way we can.

Also, it was ending and this is the only way it can continue and this is my first Merlin fanfic.

(and no, I don't think I've gotten over it yet)