A/N: Aaaaaaaand here we go with the last chapter! Hope it lives up. ^_^

Merlin didn't fancy the lot who were tasked with cleaning up after the battle. As soon as the magical staff had been destroyed and its spell broken, the skeletons had crumpled, falling apart in the absence of the magic that had animated them, and the bones littered the city from the courtyard to the gates. With them gone, Cenred had recognized that he was at a disadvantage and pulled his troops out. The battle was over and Camelot victorious.

But the true triumph was Morgana sitting in Arthur's chambers, wrapped in a blanket and with a cup of warmed wine in her hands, looking small and uncertain and vulnerable but there. Merlin left the two of them alone—it would take a long time for him to earn back Morgana's trust after all that he had done to her, but Arthur had done her no wrong that he could not atone for. Theirs was a hurt that could heal and heal quickly. Merlin had no doubt that they would talk through the night and come out the stronger for it in the morning. His and Morgana's situation was trickier, but he would do everything he could to make her understand how sorry he was. Just not tonight.

Merlin opened the door to Gaius's chambers to see Gaius, Gwen, and Lahti all waiting up but the babies nowhere to be seen. Presumably they'd been put to bed in his room in the back; it was far into the night by now, well past the time they usually slept. He closed the door behind him quietly so as not to wake them. He'd no sooner reached the three of them than Gwen faced him with her jaw set and slapped him hard across the face. He gaped at her, rubbing his stinging cheek. Then she pulled him into a tight hug that confused him even more.

"Gwen?"

"You're an absolute idiot, Merlin," she said fiercely. "Arthur's right about that."

"I know he is," Merlin admitted. "Why exactly though?" Gwen pulled back to look up at him, lips pursed.

"Because you made up some story before you left instead of just telling us the truth." She sounded disappointed in him, which was so much worse than anger. "I guess I can understand you not telling Arthur because you thought he would tease you, but why did you have to lie to me?"

Merlin shrugged, eyes downcast. "I don't think I was thinking very clearly at the time," he muttered. "I was a little overwhelmed."

"You weren't thinking at all, you mean," Gwen corrected. But then she sighed, her displeasure fading. "Ambrose is a beautiful little boy." Merlin couldn't help but smile at that.

"Yeah, he is."

"And surprisingly well behaved for a child of yours," Gwen added. Merlin gave her an indignant look.

"I take offense to that."

"That doesn't make it any less true."

"How are you, Merlin?" Lahti interrupted the friendly bickering. "Did you get caught in the fighting? Are you hurt?" Gwen looked instantly aghast that she hadn't thought to check him for injuries, but Merlin pushed her questing hands off.

"I'm fine," he said. "I wasn't in the thick of it."

"Did you find Arthur? You said you were going to," Gwen said. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine too. We're all fine."

"Those skeletons," Gaius said with a raised eyebrow. "They fell apart."

"Yes."

"Any idea why that was?"

"Arthur, Morgana, and I went down to the crypts to take care of it," Merlin said simply. Gaius's eyebrow soared even higher and Lahti seemed a bit skeptical, knowing what she did about the circumstances of Morgana's involvement in the whole skeleton situation, while Gwen only looked concerned for her friends.

"Morgana helped?" Gaius asked.

"Yeah," Merlin said, trying to add a significant enough weight to the short answer that Gaius would understand. It seemed he managed it because Gaius's eyes widened and he gave a short nod.

"I'm glad," he said, a world of relief in his tone.

"Me too," Merlin said. "She's with Arthur now. She was pretty shaken up by it all."

"I'll go to her," Gwen said, fretting already. "Gaius, do you have any calming tea? And a sleeping draught? I get the feeling she'll be needing it tonight." Gaius bustled off to fetch what she'd asked for. "You're sure you're alright?" Gwen asked Merlin again, biting her lip.

"I'm sure, Gwen," he said with a fond smile as he watched her twist her hands into her skirts in worry. "I missed you," he told her.

Gwen smiled back. "I missed you too, Merlin. And I understand why you did what you did, even if I'm not particularly happy about it. I'm just glad to have you back. And," she added with something of a tease in her tone, "I'm looking forward to watching your son grow up to be just as wonderful as his father." Merlin blushed, but Gwen only laughed at his embarrassment and wrapped him up in another hug. He sank into it, feeling the strain of the evening's events lift infinitesimally from his shoulders at the pure love and comfort she offered, even when she was displeased with him.

Gaius returned with the draught and the tea and Gwen excused herself to attend to her mistress. Merlin found himself wondering what sort of scene she would walk in on, and if Morgana would be more likely to confide in her maid now that she wasn't so thoroughly convinced that everyone would turn away from her. He hoped she would. Maybe then he could work up the courage to tell Gwen, if not about Ambrose and the circumstances surrounding his birth, then about his own magic.

He was still reeling from the way Arthur had looked at him after he had confessed to it, from the vehemence with which Arthur had sworn to defend Ambrose, from everything that had happened that night. Arthur had reached out in good faith to someone who was actively attacking his kingdom in the hopes of winning back her confidence. He seemed to have accepted a friend who had lied to him for their entire acquaintance, though he would really need to check in on that front tomorrow and make sure they were really okay. And then he had promised to usurp his father for the sake of a child he had met barely two days ago, a child who possessed the one thing he had always been taught to fear and hate. Merlin hadn't known it was possible to be so grateful to or so proud of anyone.

Merlin took the stairs to his room two at a time but he pushed open the door gently to keep it from creaking too badly. The babies were both sound asleep in their little magically-constructed bassinet, as he'd suspected they would be. Moving carefully so as not to disturb Rista, Merlin dislodged Ambrose from his blanket and pulled him close. Ambrose snuffled but didn't wake, turning his face into the warmth of Merlin's chest. Merlin pressed his lips to Ambrose's forehead, the skin there soft and warm, breathing in the scent of him and imagining a world in which his son could live free—and world which maybe wasn't so far away.

Merlin slept that night with Ambrose laid out on his chest in a way he hadn't since he was a month old, a thick layer of magic wrapped around the infant to keep him from rolling over and falling off the side of the bed. The sensation of Ambrose's tiny heart beating alongside his own was all the reassurance Merlin needed to have the best sleep he'd had in a year.

—

The next morning saw Merlin in the throne room with what seemed to be every other resident of the castle and half the lower town as well. A messenger had been by far too early to give him a message from Arthur, which was that he was to wear his best and most presentable clothes. Merlin had no idea what that was supposed to be about, but it wasn't like he had anything that Arthur would consider presentable anyway so he wore his least threadbare outfit and called it a job well done. It wasn't like any nice outfit was likely to stay nice when he had a squirming infant in his arms who liked to spit up on things at every opportunity.

Arthur was stood at the front of the hall, dressed in all his finery and looking annoyingly handsome as usual. Morgana was there as well, still pale and wan but somehow less burdened in a way that Merlin couldn't describe. She met his eye across the room and gave him something that almost resembled a smile. Merlin returned it, his heart swelling up to clog his throat at the thought that maybe they could get past everything.

Uther rose from his throne, holding up a hand for silence. A night of good sleep had done him good. He had the color back in his cheeks and there was no sway in his firm stance as there had been the day before. His madness had passed and he once again commanded the room and everyone in it with ease. He stepped forward and looked imperiously upon each and every person in the room, favoring them all with a hard glance before a smile broke out upon his face.

"In my time," Uther said, his voice echoing in the chamber, "we have won many battles, but none so important as this. Every man, every woman and child, has performed their heroic best, and I thank you, and I salute you all." He raised a hand, tipping his head in a gesture of respect toward his people. Then his face grew grim again. "Even before the battle," he announced, "we knew there was a traitor in our midst, one who was almost the undoing of us. However, we have to thank the one person who outwitted them."

Merlin frowned, looking back and forth between Arthur and Morgana. Considering Morgana was standing up on the stage and wasn't in the dungeon in chains, Merlin figured her status as the traitor had been kept a secret. And if it were Arthur whom Uther planned to commend, he probably wouldn't have been so roundabout with it. His confusion must have been evident because Gaius elbowed him in the side to make him stop looking like a simpleton. Merlin would've jostled him back if that weren't petty and likely to cause a disturbance in the middle of Uther's climactic speech.

"It was this man," Uther called out and Merlin frowned harder, "who determined the source of the dark magic that plagued our kingdom. And it was he who single-handedly destroyed that source and stopped the swarm of unnatural creatures that threatened to overwhelm our forces. For this act of courage and dedication to his kingdom, he must be commended. Merlin, come forth."

It took Merlin a moment to recognize and comprehend the fact that the king had just said his name in front of an entire hall filled with courtiers and townspeople. It took Gaius prodding him again to make him realize that he should probably move. Hurriedly, Merlin transferred Ambrose into Gaius's arms and then he mounted the dais with his heart in his mouth. Uther smiled at him, a real smile with crinkly eyes and everything, and clapped him on the shoulder almost hard enough to send him to his knees. He managed to keep himself upright under the onslaught, though, with the thought that Arthur would never let him live it down if he didn't.

"I thank you for your service, Merlin," Uther said, loud enough to carry throughout the room. "You showed great resourcefulness and even greater courage."

"Thank you, sire," Merlin said, still too stunned to do anything else.

"Once again you have proven yourself to be a trusted ally in the fight against the magic that threatens us all," Uther proclaimed and Merlin bit the inside of his cheek to keep his expression from showing exactly how ironic that was. He had to restrain himself from glancing over the king's shoulder to see how Arthur and Morgana had taken that statement. "You will be rewarded," Uther said. Merlin knew better than to protest this time, even though the last time he'd been rewarded by the king he'd been relegated to a position of servitude and hard labor, and he heaved a sigh of relief when Uther pulled a large sack of gold from his pocket and pressed it into his hands.

"Thank you," he repeated. He bowed and then turned to face the crowd as the entire room burst into applause. Gaius beamed at him, pride shining through on his face. The old man lifted Ambrose high and the baby flailed, smiling and laughing. Just before Merlin began to feel a bit overwhelmed with the attention, Uther finally drew their attention back with the beginnings of yet another speech on the treacherous nature of magic and why they must be ever vigilant and Merlin was able to fade back a bit. He ended up next to Arthur who, now that Merlin had a chance to look at him more closely, looked unbearably smug.

"This is why you wanted me dressed nicely," Merlin whispered accusingly.

"Couldn't have you looking like a vagrant, could I?" Arthur said.

"Some warning might've been nice."

"You should've expected it," Arthur said with a shrug. "You were the one to stop the curse. You were the one to defeat the army. You were the one to out the traitor and put a stop to the attack."

"Sort of," Merlin muttered, his face heating. "I don't think the king would be so quick to commend me if he knew how I'd done it." He wanted to kick himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but Arthur didn't react the way he expected. In fact, it almost looked like a smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"No, he really wouldn't," Arthur agreed lightly. Merlin stared at him, at a loss, but Uther had obviously finished talking because chatter was rising from the crowd now and people were beginning to filter out of the hall. Merlin rocked on the balls of his feet, clutching more gold than he'd ever had—cumulatively—and not having any idea what to do next, not with Arthur so far off script. Eventually he jumped down from the dais and met Gaius halfway, trading out the bag of gold in favor of his son. Merlin didn't realize Arthur had followed him down until Ambrose reached out over his shoulder and let out a squeal of eager laughter.

"Good morning, Ambrose," Arthur said cheerfully, reaching out to let Ambrose take hold of his finger. Ambrose gripped it tight and waved his fist, and Arthur let his hand be dragged through the air with a fond smile on his face. He gave absolutely no indication that he was at all bothered by the fact that the baby he was playing with would inevitably develop magic.

Arthur turned his smile, a bit bashful, on Merlin. "That's a lot of gold," he said. "It could probably support you and Ambrose for a while. If you wanted it to, that is. But—" Arthur bit his lip, looking away for a moment. "But if you still want to work, to fill the time and whatnot, then you're old job's still open."

"You still want me?" Merlin asked, surprised and realizing too late that the question could be interpreted in more than one way.

"Always." Arthur's answer felt loaded and Merlin's breath caught in his throat.

"Then I'll be there," Merlin said.

"Late, probably," Arthur said with a lopsided grin. Merlin laughed, a gusty sound of pure relief, but he nodded.

"Yeah, probably," he conceded. "Always have been. I'm certainly not going to change now."

"I don't want you to change," Arthur said softly. It was only their very public location and Gaius's presence at his elbow that kept Merlin from falling into Arthur's arms right then as every piece of him seemed to rearrange and fall together in a new and wholly perfect way. He blinked away tears even as he smiled wide enough to make his cheeks hurt. Arthur ducked his head, his face flushing. "I'll see you for dinner," he said. Then he cleared his throat, reluctantly dislodged Ambrose's grip on his finger, and strode away with his head held high and shoulders thrown back in the most dignified way possible.

Gaius gave Merlin a raised eyebrow, very aware that he was missing something, and Merlin remembered that he'd yet to actually Gaius what had happened the night before. "I probably have a few things to explain, don't I?" he asked with a wince.

"Indeed," Gaius said, rather ominously in Merlin's opinion.

"Right. I'll fill you in over lunch."

—

Merlin delivered Arthur's dinner predictably late. In his defense, the girls in the kitchen had gotten very excited and affectionate when they realized that he was back for good and would be resuming his duties for the prince, which meant that he sort of got stuck in the kitchen while everyone took turns pinching his cheeks and trying to feed him. Except for the head cook, of course, who eventually rapped him on the knuckles with a ladle and shooed him away so her girls could actually get work done. Merlin wondered if there would be any force on earth strong enough to stop them if they got a hold of Ambrose.

"Where's Ambrose?" Arthur asked as Merlin lay the plates out on the table.

"He was already asleep by the time I left for the kitchens," Merlin said, pulling out the seat opposite Arthur and taking a plate of his own without waiting for an invitation. "Between Gaius and Lahti, I think he'll have plenty of supervision until I get back."

"Lahti is his nurse right?"

"Wet nurse, yeah."

"She seems nice," Arthur said. "Not that I've actually spoken to her. She looks like she's nice though."

"She is," Merlin said with a grin. "She's a great friend. And her daughter Rista is sweet as can be."

"Is Lahti a druid?" Arthur asked. Merlin hesitated on instinct, years of fear telling him that druidism wasn't a safe thing to admit to in Camelot, but then he met Arthur's eyes over the table. He took a deep breath and let the fear out on a sigh.

"Yes," he said. Arthur simply nodded, turning back to his food.

"Is your…your magic," Arthur said, only stumbling over the word a little bit, "the reason why you went to the druids instead of back to Ealdor?"

"Part of it," Merlin admitted. He shifted in his seat, not sure how he was supposed to feel in this moment. "It's, um… It's sort of why I left Ealdor in the first place."

"You said you didn't fit in anymore," Arthur recalled. Merlin nodded.

"Everyone thought I was strange," he said. "Because strange things tended to around me. They couldn't prove it, and there was nothing so obvious that they couldn't wave it away, but a lot of people were suspicious. My magic was getting stronger and I didn't know how to control it properly. The longer I stayed there, the more dangerous it got for me."

"So you came here instead?" Arthur asked, incredulous. "You do realize that's completely counterintuitive and borders on suicidal, right?"

"My mother knew Gaius," Merlin said in defense. "She knew he used to practice magic himself, and she trusted him enough to ask him to help me. Teach me."

"Did he?"

"He gave me advice," Merlin said. "But there wasn't a whole lot for him to actually teach me. By the time I got here, I was already stronger than he'd ever been."

"How strong are you?" Arthur asked, and Merlin couldn't begrudge him his skepticism. He didn't look like much, he knew.

"Stronger than you'd ever imagine," he said with a surety that made Arthur raise his eyebrows at him. "Strong enough that the druids took me in without a second thought and actually started calling me 'my lord,' which was very strange."

"You can't be serious."

"I am absolutely serious," Merlin laughed, enjoying Arthur's disbelief. "It may be hard to believe, but I am actually exceedingly powerful."

"You said, down in the crypt, that you started showing signs when you were Ambrose's age," Arthur said, pushing food around his plate with his fork but not taking his eyes off Merlin. "Is that…normal?"

"Virtually unheard of," Merlin told him. "Normal is more along the lines of early teens."

"Why are you so sure that Ambrose will be the same?"

Merlin shrugged. "He's my son."

Arthur nodded, looking pensive. He returned to his food and Merlin did the same, trying to eat even though his stomach was doing strange flips that were somewhere between giddiness and nausea. Arthur didn't say anything else until he'd cleaned his plate and pushed it aside, pouring them both wine instead. Arthur took his goblet and wandered over to look into the fireplace.

"Did Ambrose's mother have magic too?" he asked. Merlin froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. He dropped it to his plate and pushed back from the table, not hungry anymore. Arthur glanced back at him and looked suddenly contrite. "I'm sorry," he said. "Sorry. You said you didn't want to talk about her. I shouldn't have asked."

Merlin stared hard at his knees, trying to bring himself to say something. He should give Arthur the story he'd concocted about Freya. It made sense, it was perfectly plausible. And best of all, Arthur wouldn't question it. Arthur would take his word for it and he would be respectful and move on with the conversation. He wouldn't press him and he wouldn't doubt him. He would go on believing that Ambrose belonged to a woman who had died long before he'd even ben conceived. And he would never know that Ambrose was his.

"Not exactly," Merlin found himself saying. He couldn't blame Arthur for looking confused. "She—she wasn't—"

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, concerned by far more than Merlin's sudden inability to form a coherent sentence. Merlin pushed himself out of his seat and took a hearty swig of wine, hoping it would smooth the way for the words he needed to say. And he needed to say them. He couldn't let this go on any longer, couldn't possibly live with this one final secret when so many others were out in the open now.

"There is no she," he said.

Arthur frowned at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The impossibility of his situation struck Merlin again and he failed to fight down a laugh. He ran a hand through his hair, then brought it down over his face. "Gods, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Merlin, who is Ambrose's mother?" Arthur asked, opting for the direct approach now that Merlin was acting so very strangely.

Merlin gave a helpless shrug and took the plunge. "I am."

Arthur stared. "Merlin, no matter how many times I may have accused you of it," he said eventually, "you are not actually a woman."

Merlin had to laugh again. "That's exactly what I said."

"That doesn't make sense, Merlin. You're not making any sense."

"I'm a dragonlord, Arthur," Merlin said, rushing to get the explanation out before Arthur could figure out how to react and interrupt him. "Balinor was my father, and I didn't know that until right before we rode out to meet him. And then when he died, he passed on his dragonlord abilities to me, just as Ambrose will inherit them upon my death. But Balinor didn't have time to explain anything about what being a dragonlord entails. So finally I had to go talk to the Great Dragon—and I'll explain everything about him some other time, I can only tell one impossible tale at once—and he told me that passing on the ability is more important than any of the laws of nature. Dragonlords are apparently capable of bearing children through some strange machination of magic, specifically to double our chances of having sons to pass on our gift to."

"Wait," Arthur said, holding up a hand. He was pale and wide-eyed and completely lose. He mouthed at Merlin for a moment, speechless. "I don't understand," he finally said. "What exactly are you saying? That you—"

"I know it sounds crazy and impossible," Merlin said beseechingly. "I would never believe it if I hadn't lived it myself."

"Are you trying to say that you birthed Ambrose yourself?" Arthur asked, his voice strangely high-pitched. "How in the bloody hell is that even supposed to work?"

Merlin winced. "Please don't ask for the gory details, Arthur. Trust me, you do not want to know." Arthur continued to gape, his eyes roving over Merlin's body in a way that made him squirm, probably searching for some physical evidence of pregnancy and childbearing. His eyes eventually returned to Merlin's face, scrutinizing him for signs of insanity or dishonesty or anything else that would disprove this completely ludicrous story. But he found none of that, only a vulnerability that made Merlin feel as if he were torn wide open, laid bare and shaking like a leaf in the wind.

"If…if you're the mother, so to speak," Arthur said hoarsely. "Then who's the father?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Merlin whispered, tears filling his eyes. Arthur put a hand over his mouth. He turned away, then turned back, eyes unfocused and darting around the room as he tried to comprehend what he'd just been told. Merlin stood trembling as he waited for it to sink in, for the disgust and horror he knew was just under the surface to flare up. He waited for Arthur to sneer at him, to throw him out, to tell him to take Ambrose and leave before he called the guards because there was only so much unnaturalness he could take.

But then Arthur looked at him with eyes that sparkled and said, "Ambrose is—" He let out a shaky sound that was almost a laugh. "He's mine?"

Merlin nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Arthur put both hands over his mouth this time, but Merlin almost thought he saw a smile before it was hidden. Arthur dug both hands into his hair, holding his breath and then letting it out in a gust. He laughed again, openly this time.

"He's my son?" he asked, dazed.

"He's our son," Merlin said. He found himself wrapped in Arthur's arms before he could register that Arthur was moving. Arthur held him tightly, lifted him from the ground, spun him around, and set him back down again without letting him go. "Arthur?" Merlin asked breathlessly, not daring to believe what his senses were telling him. Arthur pulled back to take Merlin's face in his hands. He was smiling, a blinding grin that made his eyes crinkle up and forced the tears from them.

"Our son," he repeated with open wonder. "We have a son." He kissed Merlin, his lips clumsy in their haste and excitement. Merlin was left dazed and swaying when Arthur released him to take up pacing again, his steps quick and energetic, like he wanted nothing more than to run and shout.

"Arthur?" Merlin said once more. "You don't—"

"Don't what?" he asked.

"Don't…mind?" It seemed like a drastically inadequate way to formulate his question, but he couldn't bring himself to put it into words properly.

"Mind?" Arthur said with a laugh. "Merlin, I'm a father. We're both—" Arthur was smiling too hard to speak clearly. He ran out and took Merlin by the shoulders. "We have a son," he said, as if saying it one more time would help make it more real.

"Through magic," Merlin said, not wanting to ruin this moment, but feeling the need to point out all the reasons Arthur wasn't supposed to be taking this so well. "It's unnatural, Arthur. It's so, so wrong."

Arthur gave him a shake. "Nothing," he said fiercely, "nothing about Ambrose is wrong."

"He's got magic," Merlin said weakly. "Or he will."

"Apparently half the people I care about have magic," Arthur said, shaking his head. "Either I accept it or I turn my back on all of you. And I can't do that. I could never do that."

"Even if I'm a—a freak?" Merlin asked, his voice breaking. Arthur wiped a tear from Merlin's cheek with his thumb, cradling his face.

"I don't care. I already lost you once," he said, his voice ragged. "Nothing is worth losing you again. I love you, Merlin."

Merlin let out a sob, all his walls crumbling under Arthur's words, or maybe he was flying apart as a weight was lifted. He let Arthur pull him close, hold him and stroke his hair. He clung to Arthur's shoulders and cried for all the times in the last year he'd not allowed himself to. All the while Arthur murmured in his ear, soft affirmations and endearments, reassurance that he didn't care, that he wasn't going anywhere, that he loved him, that he loved Ambrose already and would protect him with everything he had. It seemed like a long time before Merlin had control of himself enough say it back.

"God, I love you, Arthur," he whispered into Arthur's neck. "I've always loved you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"What for?" Arthur asked, pulling back to look Merlin in the eye.

"For everything," Merlin said. "For leaving. For lying to you about so much, about everything. For not trusting you the way I should have."

"Sometimes fear is stronger any trust," Arthur said with a small smile and Merlin recognized his own words quoted back at him. "I understand that. And I'm the one who should be sorry, Merlin. I'm so sorry you ever had to feel like that, especially about me. And I know that one ally isn't enough, but I can promise you that no harm will ever come to if I can stop it. You and Ambrose and Morgana and Gaius. I will protect you all with my life."

"I know," Merlin said, awed. "I know you will." He reached out to run the pads of his fingers across Arthur's cheek, trailing over his lips. "Thank you. I can't say that enough."

Arthur caught Merlin's hand in his and pressed a kiss to his palm that sent shivers down Merlin's spine. "You don't need to thank me," Arthur said. "Just take me to see our son."

Merlin took Arthur's hand in his, and he had never felt more whole.