A/N: Oh hello. Hi, yeah I know, it's been quite a long time. Bet you all thought I had abandoned it. Only once have i abandoned a fic and I promised i wouldn't do it again. So here it is, better late than never right? Now seeing as it's been over a year since my last update, I'm guessing you all would like a little refresher on what has happened so far so you don't have to go back and read all 41k words that you have most likely forgotten...

Merlin and Arthur were captured by mercenaries and when Merlin gets beaten for running his mouth, he ends up vomiting into a gag and nearly dying. They escape but Merlin falls ill from his ordeal and they take shelter in a small village where the villagers give them aid and a horse in the morning. One their way to Camelot they are caught by the mercenaries and Arthur is taken. Merlin suffers a horrible coughing fit and is left behind. Gwaine and Percival find him and race him back to Camelot while Arthur is ferried to Deorham and discovers Alined is behind all this. But it isn't Arthur he wants.

In Camelot, Merlin wakes up still very ill and weak and is distraught knowing Arthur was taken. He overhears Gwen reading a randsom note from Alined demanding Emrys come and claim his king in a week or else Arthur will die a slow and painful death. The letter is accompanied by Arthur left forefinger as proof. Merlin of course races off to Deorham despite still being very ill and Gwaine and Percival intercept him and insist they join him. Merlin spells them to sleep once there and sneaks into the castle to find Arthur only to be caught in a trap and wake up bound to a chair in front of Alined. Alined demands he swear a blood oath and bind himself to him and Merlin refuses so he brings Arthur in threatening to kill him but Merlin still refuses. Merlin manages to blast the guards and Alined and Trickler back and release Arthur but he's ailing and weak and cann't even manage to stand. But in desperation he transports himself and Arthur to the outskirts of Gwaine and Percival and his camp before passing out.
Arthur is shocked and angry at having seen his friend use magic and reveal his true nature and tries to prevent Gwaine from helping an unconscious Merlin. Gwaine of course gets angry and does it anyway but even as they race back to Camelot with Alined's men on their heels, Merlin doesn't wake. He is taken up to Gaius' chambers upon their arrival and Arthur stalks off not paying his clearly dying servant any mind.

He refuses to see Merlin for a week. Even after being told he has awoken and is calling for Arthur, even after Gwen begs him saying Merlin is getting worse, not sleeping, not eating, constantly fearful and worried. He still refuses not ready to face the betrayal of his best friend because it is easier to just hate him. The last chapter ends with Arthur coming to the conclusion that he needs to know, he needs to let Merlin explain himself before he can finally understand and decide what he should do. (I do recommend re-reading the last chapter just in case, but do whatever you want)

So, without further ado, the next and final chapter of Compromising Position...

Merlin tried to will himself to sleep, begging to be allowed to rest, just for a little while. But his mind refused to give him any reprieve. Every sound, every creak every footfall or muffled voice made his heart race, his breathing to become labored until he nearly got his desired sleep from mere lack of oxygen. Several times Gaius had to come rushing in to get him to breathe, reassure him and beg him to eat something. It wasn't that he didn't want to, because he did, he was starving. But food wouldn't stay down, his nerves getting the best of him every time he tried until he was sick all over the bedclothes.

The guards would be coming for him and take him down to the dungeons to await the assembling of a pyre. He didn't know when, he didn't know how, but it was approaching. His death was approaching

He wasn't sure why it hadn't happened already.

He used to say he wasn't afraid of death. He would gladly have walked through the veil and given his life for Arthur. But this, too weak to get out of bed, too ill to even walk to the pyre himself, that wasn't how he imagined himself leaving this world. And especially not on Arthur's orders.

That's what he feared the most.

That the man he had dedicated his life to, that he swore to protect and held so much faith in would in the end, order his death to be carried out. The ultimate betrayal, the definition of failure.

If only he could get out of his damn bed and talk to Arthur himself. It was clear that Arthur didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to see him or else he would have done so by now. No doubt he felt angry and hurt, adding Merlin to the long list of friends that he trusted only for them to turn around and betray him.

Except Merlin had not betrayed him. Well, not in the long run.

He just needed Arthur to understand that. But he couldn't very well explain himself when Arthur refused to see him. And he couldn't go see Arthur when he was confined to his bed, weak and trembling and so high strung for the very reason he needed to go talk to Arthur.

He didn't know how much longer he could last before his heart, his lungs, or his body gave up.

Merlin jumped as the muffled creak of the door in the main chamber startled him out of his thoughts. Was this it? Was this the moment the guards would come bursting in, dragging him to the pyre? His breathing sped up, body shaking, listening to the inevitable sound of multiple pairs of boots on floorboards, of the clanking and creaking of metal armor, of his death coming to greet him.

Muted footsteps sounded beyond his door increasing in volume as they approached his room. Boots, one pair. Definitely not Gaius.

He struggled to pull himself into a sitting position in the dark room, his arms trembling and lungs heaving as he tried to control his panic. It was no use. His body couldn't handle the strain and he ended up in a half-sitting position just as his door unlatched and was pushed open.

Merlin let out a shaky breath, resigned. "Arthur."

"Merlin."

Arthur stood in the doorway, his face shadowed, body backlit by the light of the fire burning in the main room. It set his hair aglow, golden and wind swept as though he had just come from the battlements. A cloak was draped across his shoulders creating a long uninterrupted dark line from his neck to the floor. No bulky armor, no sword strapped to his waist.

Merlin didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one.

"Arthur. Please, listen to me. I—"

Arthur interrupted him with a raised hand and shook his head. "Merlin—"

"No, Arthur damn it you will listen to me!" He hadn't meant to shout but the words just came bursting forth. He was sick and tired, physically and mentally, and too stressed to let this go on any further. "I have spent a week in constant fear of dying without getting to say my peace, of having to see the betrayal and hatred in your eyes as I burned. Now you will shut up and listen! I refuse to die with you thinking me a traitor!"

"You are not going to die, Merlin," Arthur said. He moved further into the darkened room, moving his head about as though searching for something.

With a whispered word, the candle on Merlin's bedside table burst to life, it's flame dancing across the ceiling and chasing away the shadows in the room. Arthur flinched, his eyes wide as they locked onto the flame but he remained where he was. A small spark of satisfaction washed through Merlin at the sight but immediately he felt guilty for it.

It must have taken all of Arthur's willpower not to go running for the guards.

"I'm not leaving, if that's what you are thinking," Merlin said, proud of himself for keeping his voice steady and collected when all he wanted to do was break down and beg for forgiveness. "I won't do it. You'll have to kill me."

Arthur shook his head. "I won't—"

"That's the only way to ensure I won't fight to protect you," Merlin continued on. He kept his eyes on Arthur's face, trying to determine his reaction. But Arthur had recovered from the shock of Merlin's blatant use of magic, his features now schooled into an unreadable mask. Uther had taught him well in that aspect. "The only way to keep me from remaining by your side. You can run me out, take me to the furthest reaches of this world and leave me there, but I'll find a way back. My place is by your side."

Arthur opened his mouth to interrupt but Merlin ploughed on. He had too much he needed to say, too much he needed to get off his chest.

"No, listen to me Arthur. My magic, it isn't for me. It's for you. I use it for you. To protect you, to aid you, to give you the strength you need to fight for us all. This kingdom you have built, it needs you. And you need me."

"What if I don't want you here?" Arthur said. His voice was low, even, almost monotone.

A sharp stabbing pain lanced through Merlin's heart at Arthur's words. He looked down at the blanket over his lap, trying to hide the hurt he knew was written all over his face. "Then you won't know I'm here," he said in a quiet tone. "But it won't stop me from still caring about you, for fighting to keep you safe."

Arthur's mask finally broke at that, his face crumbling into a mixture of pain and anger. "Why? Why do you care so much?" he demanded, throwing his hands up and pacing to the desk on the side of Merlin's cramped chambers. "I've hurt you, caused you so much pain and anguish. I'm the reason we were captured. I avoided you for a week even knowing what it was doing to you! You should hate me! Why don't you hate me?!"

Tense heated silence filled the room. Merlin studied Arthur's face, his pinched brow, the drawn tired eyes he only just noticed, the torment in his expression. It was clear that Merlin hadn't been the only one suffering from their week long separation. The reveal of his magic had took its toll on both of them, just in different forms. Didn't make the pain any less for one over the other.

"Do you want me to?" Merlin asked, voice soft.

"No!" Arthur shouted, eyes turning wild as he took another step forward as though to reach out. Merlin shied away, still not sure what Arthur's motive for being here was. And he dared not hope for it being in his favor. Arthur sat heavily on the edge of the bed, form slumping in defeat as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "No, Merlin. I need you, I understand that now. I would have been dead long ago if it weren't for you, I'm guessing."

Merlin winced, but stayed silent. He didn't dare interrupt Arthur, not when his words were starting to sound promising.

Arthur sighed, glancing over at him. "I'll take that as a yes." He shifted on the bed, bringing a knee up to lay on top of the bed and turning his body so he faced Merlin. "If there's anything this past week has taught me it's that I need you, Merlin. I need your strength, your wisdom, your council. I can't even make a decision about you without feeling the need to consult you! And without your advice I clearly make poor choices." He gestured to Merlin's current bedridden state, his trembling hands, his sunken tired eyes. "So I humbly apologize, my friend. I need you, more than I ever realized. Even if it's just to tell me when I'm being a royal prat."

"You're being a royal prat," Merlin deadpanned.

Arthur chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, that I had actually gleaned for myself."

Merlin couldn't help but softly smile at that. "Took you long enough."

He know he should still feel anger at how Arthur had treated him the past week but it was washed away with his admission. There was no use for anger on his part. What was done was done and now they could hopefully begin to heal and recover. One step at a time, one word at a time.

"I do sincerely apologize." Arthur said again, meeting Merlin's eyes. The genuine regret in his eyes was like a balm to Merlin's nerves, washing away the tension and stress that had been building throughout the days.

"Now I know you must be truly addled without me," Merlin said with a chuckle of his own. "That's twice you have apologized in one conversation let alone one day."

Arthur rolled his eyes before leveling Merlin with a look. "There's a lot I'm sure I need to apologize for. Might as well start somewhere."

"And there's a lot I need to apologize for as well." Merlin admitted. Arthur was far from the only one to blame in all this. Merlin had a lot he needed to own up to, a lot that he knew Arthur would not be happy to hear. He had made so many mistakes and had hurt a lot of people. Arthur's people and Arthur himself. There would be anger and shouting and accusations, but it needed to be done.

They couldn't begin to heal without first extracting the poison.

Arthur shook his head with amusement, looking down at his lap. "Aren't we a pair." He brushed his fingers over the bandage covering his left hand, fiddling with the fabric. Merlin wasn't sure if he was aware of what he was doing, but he sure was. For a while there he had forgotten about Arthur's injury, about what he had lost. Now, the guilt came back full force.

Merlin winced as he watched Arthur pick at the bandage. "I'm sorry." Arthur looked up at Merlin, brow pinched in confusion. Merlin nodded toward his injury. "About your hand."

Arthur shrugged. "I'll live." He was trying to brush it off like it was nothing, to show he was the strong powerful king he had to be. Merlin could see right through it. But he wasn't about to let Arthur wallow in self pity when there was something he could do about it.

"You will but it's my fault you have to live with one less finger." If Alined hadn't captured Arthur in the hopes of trapping Merlin, trapping Emrys, none of this would have happened. And if Merlin hadn't opened his damn mouth and goaded the mercenaries who had captured them into taking their anger out on him, he might not have fallen ill. They could have found a better time to escape and Merlin would have been strong and healthy and capable of protecting his king. It was all Merlin's fault, in more ways than one.

Arthur spoke up then, breaking through Merlin's guilty thoughts. "Does your….can you…" He was staring down at his bandaged hand, brow furrowed, eyes unable to meet Merlin's as he tried to find the words he was searching for. "Can anything be...done about it?"

Guilt and shame washed over Merlin as he shook his head. "No," he admitted watching Arthur's expression fall, his shoulders slump even further. He put on a brave enough face, nodding like he expected it but he wasn't fooling Merlin. "I'm sorry Arthur. Even if I wasn't absolute shit at healing spells, magic can't bring back what is no longer there."

Arthur nodded again, picking at a loose thread on the bandages around his hand. "I'll get used to it."

"You shouldn't have to though. If I could trade my own for yours, I would."

With a shake of his head, Arthur straightened up, his face once more composed as he met Merlin's eyes. "You've gone through enough. But you can start explaining."

Merlin's heart sped up in fear or excitement, he didn't exactly know. But it didn't matter. This was a vital moment, his words his admissions, he answers. They would either make or break their relationship. Make or break the future of Albion.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a calming breath. "What do you want to know?" Merlin asked.

"Everything."

So Merlin started at the beginning, with his birth and his childhood, how he came to Camelot and the years he had spent by Arthur's side. Arthur for his part, remained quiet, listening, only interrupting with questions or comments here and there. He didn't take the release of the dragon too well but calmed enough to talk it through when tears welled in Merlin's eyes as his guilt overwhelmed him. Merlin was shocked when Arthur completely understood that Merlin had nothing to do with his father's death, that he hadn't blamed Dragoon for a while now. There were smiles and tears, laughter and anger, accusations and apologies but together they talked it through and came to a mutual understanding.

Arthur didn't fully accept his magic, he would still need more time, but Merlin had hope that he would eventually. It would be hard and taxing on the both of them. Change didn't happen overnight.

It was Merlin who suggested they continue to keep his magic a secret. Arthur agreed, saying the kingdom wasn't ready for it yet. But he promised the executions and harsh punishments for mundane harmless magic would cease.

He didn't bring up possibly lifting the ban and Merlin didn't dare bring it up. There would be time enough for that later. For now, it this was enough.

And as the night waned and the sky painted a rosy pink of a new day, Merlin bowed his head from his place on his bed and swore fealty to the once and future king, that he was Arthur's for now and until he left this world for the next. That his magic and all that he controlled were Arthur's, to command and direct as he saw fit.

But most importantly, his loyalty was to Arthur and only to Arthur.

As soon as Gaius—who, as Merlin suspected, had purposefully made himself scarce the night Arthur came to talk to Merlin—released Merlin from bed rest, he was out the door and down to the stables.

Barda's mare was in the furthest stall, next to Merlin's own, casually grazing on a bunch of hay the stable hands had just delivered. Merlin sighed upon seeing her. Her coat shined in the morning light filtering through the stable windows, her eyes bright and warm alighting on him as he approached. The stable hands had been taking good care of her, just like Arthur promised. Now all Merlin needed to do was fulfil the second half of Arthur's promise.

Merlin smiled as the mare met him at the entrance to her stall. "Hey girl, you ready to go home?" She pushed her snout against his ear and he laughed, reaching up to give her a few caring strokes.

"Merlin, what are you doing?"

Merlin didn't even bother turning around to face Arthur. Instead, he gave the mare one last stroke on her snout before walking over to the next stall over and grabbing his mare's tack.

"I'm taking the mare back to Barda. He's been without her long enough, I'm sure he would like her back." His own mare gave Merlin the same pleased greeting, pushing her face against his before searching his hands for a treat. "Sorry, I don't have anything for you," he said to her. "I promise to bring you the juiciest apple when we return."

Arthur let out a loud deep sigh behind Merlin. "You aren't going Merlin."

Merlin whipped around, nearly falling amongst the fresh hay that littered the stall floor, dropping the tack as he tried to right himself. He met Arthur's gaze. "Why not?"

"That sickness must have really adled your brain," Arthur chuckled before growing serious once more. "Alined knows who you are. He could have men waiting to ambush you the moment you leave the Camelot."

Merlin rolled his eyes at Arthur's antics. "I'll be fine. If he tries anything, I can just…" He wiggled his fingers in an exaggeration of casting a spell.

He could, really he could. Arthur didn't seem to mind as much when Merlin casually used his magic as long as it was done out of sight of those who remained ignorant. He still flinched sometimes so the less Merlin used in front of Arthur, the better. And although his body was still recovering, he felt more like himself. Still a little weaker than he liked and more prone to shortness of breath, but his magic felt better and more alive than it had in a while.

Arthur crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at Merlin. "Yes because that worked so well last time."

Merlin huffed, picking straw off the tack he had dropped on the floor. "I was ill the last time. I'll be fine now."

"You are not in perfect health Merlin." Arthur walked over and joined Merlin in his mare's stall. He reached up to the horse, allowing her to nuzzle into his hand before stroking her between the eyes. "You just got off bed rest."

"Arthur, I have to go. I need to thank them in person," Merlin persisted. He wanted to go, to get out of Camelot for just a brief stint. He had been locked away in his chambers like an abducted damsel for far too long. A bit of fresh air, some sunlight and the calm surroundings of the forest was what he desperately needed right now. And he felt an obligation to the people of that village. A need to repay them for all they had done for him and Arthur. "We owe those people so much."

Arthur nodded as he continued to stroke Merlin's horse. "You can, just when you are in better health and the issue with Alined has been resolved." He turned his head then and met Merlin's eyes. "We will both go."

With a sigh, Merlin relented. He picked up the tack and returned it to its place by the stall. He hated to admit it, but Arthur had a point. Just the act of lifting and carrying the heavy tack had left Merlin winded. He was in no way in perfect health but he hated being idle and useless. And if Alined didn't accept their terms, there was no telling how long he'd have to stay cooped up within Camelot's walls.

"I'm still not sure declaring war was the best course of action," he admitted aloud, more to himself than to Arthur.

Arthur shook his head as they each gave the mare one more friendly pat before leaving the stall. "It was your idea," he pointed out. "Besides, like you said, with Annis and Rodor agreeing to back us, he has no choice but to concede."

"But he's just that side of unhinged that he would allow his men to be slaughtered, his kingdom to fall, and his head to be on the chopping block before he admits defeat." Merlin had had enough dealings with Alined to know just how far the man would go to get what he wanted. How far he would let things go before he would give up.

And people thought Merlin was the one with a mental affliction.

Arthur shook his head again. "He won't take a declaration of war lightly," he assured Merlin. They picked their way through the stables toward the door, shoulders brushing as they walked.

"I hope he doesn't take it lightly. If he does then unseating him from the throne will be the best course of action for the whole of Albion."

Arthur shrugged, his face set in a mask of indifference. "It's no less than he deserves. He broke the treaty, held me hostage, and tried to enslave a warlock in order to take control of the five kingdoms. But if he relinquishes his title and forfeits his kingdom in recompense without bloodshed, all the better."

Merlin nodded in agreement. He hadn't wanted any bloodshed, not on either side. But the fact remained that blood had already been shed. Arthur had lost a finger and recompense needed to be made. When Arthur revealed his decision to declare war with Deorham, Merlin had suggested an alternative. Ask for the support of Nemeth and Gwyedd and together they could declare war. The threat from three kingdoms should be enough to result in Alined's immediate yield and the three kingdoms could divide his lands up accordingly.

"I must admit, it was not a bad plan." Arthur said, squinting in the morning sun as they exited the stables.

Merlin glanced over at Arthur, a smirk on his lips. "I've been known to have them every once in a while."

"A long, long while," Arthur said without taking his eyes off the courtyard ahead. "Almost a rarity I would say."

A pair of guards passed by, bowing respectfully to Arthur before continuing on to their post. "Rare indeed, sire," Merlin chuckled. "Nearly endangered."

A week later, Arthur, Merlin, a handful of knights, wagons full of goods and food, and a docile mare made the journey to a small little village south of Camelot that had lent aid to an ailing warlock and his once and future king.

THE END

A/N: Thanks to all who stuck with this story until the very end, through all my inconsistent posting and haphazard writing sprees. And thanks to all who commented, they are greatly appreciated and treasured. Hope you all enjoyed it.

Stay magical my friends and as always, have fun, be safe, and don't die.