Merlin Emrys cringed when another resounding crash sent a jolt of apprehension into his spine, tingling up the nerve endings as quickly as if he were standing amidst a thunderstorm. The crash was followed swiftly by another, and then another. He heard the sounds of screaming-not screams of terror or pain but of anger and loathing. Once more, men and women beat on the doors all along the Citadel. The Once Peaceful Camelot was in complete disarray.

At every hateful shout where he could discern the words, at each hard pounding upon the beautiful walls of the place he had come to call home, Merlin felt a pang of ache travel in his heart. He had never meant for this to happen. He had feared this with every fiber of his being, and now his worst fears were being realized. Vividly.

He shivered, and it was noticed. Arthur Pendragon, High King of Camelot, Champion, Warrior, Head Knight, Once and Future King, the other side of Merlin's soul stood near the window looking down upon his kingdom.

He turned to eye Merlin with an expressionless face. They were alone in the King's chambers. A dying fire crackled in the fireplace; the embers fading down into orange coals of warmth and light, but it was enough to see the grave expression in Arthur's sapphire eyes, the emotions in them wavering between hurt, anger, worry and guilt.

The Knights of the Round Table were struggling to settle the crowd outside the Citadel, striving to stop the massive tidal wave from storming into the castle and dragging the sorcerer kicking and screaming outside so that they could burn him themselves, and Gwen was straining to keep the Nobles cooped into the castle calm. Arthur should be with them. He was King, after all.

He should either be trying to speak with his people or his Council. Merlin should be on the streets where people burned the houses of anyone they suspected harboring magic or magic users.

He should be conferring with the Druids or struggling to calm the crowds of people, stop them from killing innocent magic-users, but instead he was inside with Arthur. They had to decide what to do. They were the leaders of Camelot. Arthur was King and Merlin his advisor. Both of them had given much-had lost and sacrificed much more- to protect Camelot and care for the people they had come to love. Merlin especially.

Those same people now called for his blood, and no amount of sweet talking from even their beloved king could change their minds. It made Merlin want to curl into a ball and weep, especially when he saw Arthur cringe and look away from the scene outside of his window, when he heard calls for the King to return to sense and save them from sorcery and it's evil. Save them from Merlin, who would rather die than see any of Camelot's people suffer.

Merlin fiddled with his midnight blue cloak and shuffled in place. The beautiful silks and warm cottons of the clothes he wore were gifts from Arthur and Gwen, given to him upon his promotion from Manservant to Court Sorcerer. After five years, and after Merlin had saved Arthur from the plains of Camlann and killed Morgana, he had been able to walk around the halls of his home without hiding who he was from his closest friends. His ceremony had been the night before.

Most of the Council had agreed upon hearing evidence of what Merlin had done at Camlann, but some of them… Some of them had not. Merlin suspected that those few who had not agreed were the few that had incited the citizens to riot. Probably scaring them with reminders of the past sorcerers who had harmed Camelot and experiences with magic.

Kilgarrah's fiery attack, Morgana's multiple crimes, Morgause's immortal army, Mordred's betrayal, the Sidhe, the Troll…Yes, as far as the people were concerned, they had never been given a reason to believe that sorcery were any good. Merlin did not blame them for fear, but what tore into his heart was their hatred.

Surely they could not hate him, could they? He was still the happy-go-lucky man that they had seen following Arthur around all this time! He hadn't changed! They could fear his power, but why did they have to hate him, too?

"Merlin," Arthur's soft voice broke him out of his thoughts. Merlin blinked past his tears and met the gaze of his king. Arthur was standing by the window still, his royal body outlined by the moon's ghostly light and flashes of golden/orange light. Some of the buildings in the Lower Town had been set aflame.

His expression was unreadable, but Emrys could see through to his heart, he was connected to Arthur in that way. Merlin's heart sank. He wished Arthur had never learned about his magic. He wished that this had never happened.

"This," Arthur gestured down to the maddened crowds. "Will pass. They are just afraid. Once they get to know you again, and see all the good that magic can do, then… Then this will pass. All in time," he said, and his words were meant to be comforting. Merlin smiled, grateful that Arthur had tried but his heart felt all the more weighed as it had moments before.

"Arthur," his voice was hoarse. "You don't know that," he pointed out. Arthur turned away, and clenched his jaw tightly; in a stubborn expression that Merlin knew so well. He smiled slightly, and slowly made his way over to Arthur, staying out of sight of the people below the window. They would go mad if they saw him again.

"What would you know, Merlin?" Arthur demanded sharply, for a moment reverting back to his old prattish self. Merlin smiled bitterly.

"I know what kind of hatred this is, Arthur," he replied. "I have had to deal with it my entire life. I know that it is not something that can be wished away with a little time," believe me, I've tried. "Those people have been hurt, betrayed, and burned by magic-users. They have no reason to believe anything you or I say about it," he hung his head. "They have no reason to believe that I am not a monster," he whispered desolately.

Arthur's spine snapped into erect fury. "But you aren't," he growled. "For goodness sakes, you aren't! You've saved all of their lives ten times over! They have no right to treat you this way!" he cried irately. Merlin sighed.

"And why should they believe that? All they have ever known is dark magic and selfish, cruel people!" He snapped. He was not angry at Arthur. Not in the slightest because all his friend had tried to do was make him happy. He had only repealed the magic law so that Merlin could walk amongst the streets without shame or fear, and the druids could come into Camelot without hiding beneath cloaks and perhaps Kilgarrah could roam the skies freely and…

And it hadn't worked.

"I believed you!" Arthur snapped back. It was much easier to be angry at each other than the people below-their beloved people. Merlin could never stay angry for long though. He deflated, and there was a mixture of astonishment, gratitude and beaming love in his heart for this man.

"That is because you are my Once and Future King," he replied softly. Arthur stared into his eyes for a long moment. Merlin stared back, both of them communicating all that could never be said in word through their despairing gazes.

Suddenly, Merlin felt a fluctuation in the currents of power that flowed around him at all times. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "Arthur, down!" Without thinking, he dove forward and tackled the King to the ground, covering Arthur with his own body protectively just as a flaming arrow shot through the window, flying through the air space were Arthur's head had been a minute before.

The arrow landed with a small whoosh and muffled plunk in the wood of Arthur's bed. Immediately, the flames began licking at the Camelot red coverlets. Merlin stilled the flames into silence with a whispered word. "Blast it. Who shot that?" Arthur gasped as he shoved Merlin off of him without gentleness, scrambling to his feet to squint balefully at the gloomy night of his burning kingdom.

"Does it matter?" Merlin remained on the ground, fisting his hair as thoughts ran through his mind. They were targeting Arthur now. Arthur. Who knew who else they would try to hurt to get to him? Would they kill the Knights? Gwen? Would they go for Gaius? At that thought Merlin shuddered, envisioning his kind, firm mentor in the hands of such bloodthirsty barbarians. They would tear Gaius apart. And all because of him.

"Of course it matters, you idiot!" Arthur growled, craning his neck as if he were really going to see the culprit when there were hundreds of people out there. Merlin knew that Arthur was only trying to find a more productive outlet for his fury than to let the true nature of this conflict occur to him.

"Arthur…"

"Kill the sorcerer! Kill the sorcerer! Free Camelot! Free Camelot!" Merlin went pale as the lone call of his death was picked up by more supporters, and then it was a roar as the entirety of Camelot itself screamed for the blood of its guardian angel. Merlin's heart quivered in his chest, and he inhaled a shuddering breath. He sat up and tiredly stood, leaning against the wooden pole of Arthur's bed canopy when his knees shook.

Arthur, meanwhile, slammed the window closed with a growl of impatience. The glass pane shook in its encasing as the roar was muffled by its protective glass. But not muffled enough. Merlin could still hear them in his mind, still smell smoke from the fires, and he moaned as his old nighttime terror of being burned at the stake flashed before his eyes.

"Kill the sorcerer! Kill the sorcerer! Free Camelot! Free Camelot!"

"How could they be so stupid?" Arthur growled as he spun around, now glaring at the arrow still embedded in his bedclothes. Merlin gulped.

"They're afraid," he answered, sounding much calmer than he felt. Arthur glanced at him.

"Fear doesn't give them the excuse to act like this," he pointed out.

Merlin shook his head. "They won't stop until they find me, you know that," he said in reply to that. Arthur's eyes narrowed; and the determined twinkle in his eyes told Merlin just what Arthur would be willing to do to make sure that they did not find him… And how much it would tear him apart. He smiled, eternally grateful that Fate had gifted him such a friend, that he had the support of such a noble man.

"Arthur, they'll tear the kingdom apart from fear, and never realize that they're doing it," he continued. "Camelot will be thrust into a civil war"-both of them cringed and one hand simultaneously went to their hearts, as if to assure themselves that the pain they felt wasn't actually an arrow to the chest-"And your enemies will lurk behind every bush. We can't be seen as weak right now, not now!" He cried.

Arthur stared at him for a long moment, and in his eye Merlin saw that the reasoning had occurred to him too. Arthur was just at a loss for what to do. "I know," The King sighed, bringing his hands up to massage his temple. He closed his eyes, as if he did not want to see any of it anymore. "So what do you suggest?" He asked opening his eyes to gaze at Merlin desperately.

Merlin stared at his king for a long time, memorizing every feature. His eyes swept from the golden/blond hair that held within its uncombed mess the crown of Camelot, to the strong neck and broad shoulders that had borne the weight of responsibility his whole life, and never once slouched.

To the golden buckle of Pendragon's crest that held his blood red cloak to him. The thin cotton shirt Merlin had helped him get on, the riding pants down to the swiftly polished black boots, and finally Excalibur, resting patiently on the hip of his King. At the sight of the sword Merlin had gone to such great lengths to make for Arthur, tears sprung to his eyes, he knew what he had to do. The fact that his heart would break in the process meant nothing.

His knees trembled, and he had to swallow past the lump in his throat. Struggling to remain calm (Arthur's expression told him that it was not working) he forced his trembling knees to lock straight and squared his shoulders.

"I have to leave," he replied, and his voice wavered.

Arthur blinked once, twice, thrice. Then, sharply he exclaimed "what?"

Merlin gulped and gazed pointedly at the arrow embedded in the bedclothes. "Arthur… You know that I have to go. It's the only thing that will make them feel safe again," he repeated.

Arthur stared at him with astonishment. "So let me get this straight, you think that taking away their number one protection against all magical threats will make them feel safe?" he demanded as if Merlin were a small child.

Merlin laughed humorlessly. "I am the magical threat in their eyes! I…" As If to prove the validity of his point, a sudden plunk against the glass of Arthur's window reported that the crowd was throwing rocks now.

"Kill the Sorcerer! Kill the Sorcerer! Free Camelot! Free Camelot!"

The pebbles grew in intensity and size until the tapping of the rocks against the glass sounded like a massive storm had hail the size of mice being pelted against the window. Arthur stepped out of range, knowing that soon it would smash.

"Merlin, don't be stupid," Arthur began again when he was safely away from the window. He set his feet and crossed his arms in a stance that intimidated a great deal of his Knights, but only made Merlin smile bitterly.

"Fine. I won't be. I'll go," Merlin agreed readily.

"That is the most stupid plan I have ever heard! You can't just run away from this! We have to face it; you have to fight it…" Arthur cried, and Merlin snapped.

"Like Morgana fought it?" He barked firmly, shutting Arthur up with a mere narrowing of his gaze. He knew that his eyes were glittering gold in the dark light, and he had been told by more than one person that he was more than just a bit frightening in such a state. Arthur was not afraid of him, but he was afraid of what Merlin was saying.

"What do you think she would have done to them by now, Arthur? Hmm? She would have fought it alright, with blood, sweat and tears! It's apparent that words don't work, that their fear is stronger than their reason. People only want one thing when they're like this: blood. And they won't stop until they get it. If that means trying to dethrone you then they'll do it!" He hissed.

Arthur was shaking his head slowly, eyes wide with sudden terror and denial. "T-they wouldn't," he whispered, and it was choked out with poignant hurt. "They can't," he whispered.

Merlin snorted sarcastically, and pointed out the window furiously. "They already are, you dollophead! Look at what's going on out there! Your own Knights are being forced to fight the people they're supposed to protect! Your Council members are sneering and mocking you behind your back! Your own people are amassing an army to storm your castle! And it is all to get to ME!"The last note ended on a high shriek of despair. This was all his fault. He had only meant to bring peace to Albion, had only meant to make Arthur the great King he was meant to be; and now…

He had ruined everything.

Tears built in his eyes and one trickled down his face. The glass shattered and a sudden barrage of rocks came inside, pinging into the room like small missiles. Arthur ducked as several went flying around the room, ricocheting around. "`Alynian!" Merlin said softly with a wave and flash of his eyes.

Immediately, a new shield of glowing magic covered the shattered panes of glass, but not before a small, sharp pebble bounced off Arthur's desk directly into the skin above Merlin's left eye. He hissed, slapping at the piercing pain that immediately blossomed from the wound. He felt warm blood flowing through his fingers, and a headache throbbed beneath his temples. He swayed a bit, caught only by Arthur's hands upon his shoulders. When he opened his eyes, he saw Arthur gazing directly at him, his own eyes filled with concern.

"Merlin! Are you….?" He trailed off when Merlin waved the question away and nodded.

"I have to go," Merlin continued. Distantly, he touched his fingers to the wound and murmured a word in the old Religion. "Batian*" the wound closed up slowly, and Merlin cringed at the uncomfortable feeling of it stitching itself back to together. His wound would be fine, but his heart… He swallowed. Where would he even go?

"There must be another way," Arthur said, not relenting upon his grip.

"There isn't," Merlin shook his head sadly.

"There must be, blast it! Perhaps if we give a demonstration, or… Or ... Perhaps a joust! A joust always lightens their mood or…" Merlin interrupted without words. With infinite tenderness, knowing that this might be the last time he ever did such a thing, he reached forward and touched Arthur's cheek. The King fell silent, his eyes trapped within Merlin's own. Merlin felt the half of his soul that was Arthur's quiver.

He lowered his voice, and spoke with Merlin Emrys's ancient tongue. "Goodbye, Arthur Pendragon," he stated, and with it was the declaration of his decision. Arthur might not agree, but he could not stop him. The King went pale, but his eyes did not waver. To his surprise, Arthur reached up and tenderly placed his fingers against Merlin's own cheek. His eyes softened into a vulnerable affection that Merlin had never seen before, and especially never seen directed at him.

"You're coming back," Arthur said in a half plea, half question. Merlin bowed his head until their foreheads were touching. He could hear Arthur's rapid breathing, and the quickening jumps of his noble heart, knew that his own were doing the same thing. Their eyes met, blue upon blue.

"It depends," he said softly. "Everyone knows what I am now, knows what I can do. If you never legalize magic, then I can't come back, can I?'" He said, struggling to keep a brave façade up for Arthur. He did not want the last sight Arthur saw of him to be a mourning, broken man. But it was hard. Oh, Gaius and Gwen! Leon, Percival, Gwaine… How could he leave them all? Leave his home and his family?

"I already legalized magic," Arthur snorted. "They," he did not have to specify whom. "Just don't want to accept it," he harrumphed. Then, he turned somber again. "This isn't what I wanted for you, Merlin," Arthur admitted softly. "I never wanted you to be cast away like a pariah," Merlin smiled. He knew what Arthur had wanted. What he would give anything to have Merlin enjoy.

"To all things there is a season," he breathed. "In time, and with some persuasion, they'll see. But for now, it would be best if they returned to reason, and the only way they'll do that is if you take their fear away," their fear. Him. The monster and sorcerer, the villain that haunted children's dreams. Arthur's eyes were sympathetic as they held each other.

"I know how much this hurts you," he muttered apologetically. Merlin gave a half shrug and a goofy, idiotic grin that had accompanied him many days in his life of servitude.

"I expected it, really," he admitted. Arthur's eyes flashed with anger, and the bond between them was suddenly scalding with his fury, hot as dragon's flames. Merlin had never feared the heat, nor ever been burned by Arthur's fire. He closed his eyes.

"My father's legacy lives on," Arthur growled.

Merlin sighed tiredly, and the hand that was on Arthur's cheek gently went up to grip the back of his neck, carding his fingers through blonde locks. It was for this man for whom he'd been born. He was magic, and Arthur had been born of magic. They were brothers in all but blood, and even that was up for debate.

This separation between them would be more painful than leaving Camelot. He had not left Arthur's side for five and a half years. "Don't blame him, Arthur," he breathed, opening his eyes. "He was a mourning, pitiful man. He doesn't deserve the hatred of his son for something that he lost control over long ago," he replied.

"Well, he has it," Arthur's fingers did likewise, gently reaching down to securely fasten Merlin's cloak around his shoulders before squeezing them. They breathed together slowly, hearts breaking as one, dreading the future to come. "Even in his death, my father is controlling my destiny. He's taking away my Court Sorcerer," Arthur let out a sound of disgust. "I can't ever do anything with him," he sighed, and it made Merlin smile. He remembered how many times Arthur had fallen unto his bed as a Prince and declared the same, histrionically. Merlin had only snickered sympathetically then. Now, he smiled bitterly.

"He can't take me away," Merlin whispered comfortingly squeezing the back of Arthur's neck. "Because I belong to you. We are two halves of the same whole, destined to travel one path, even if it goes two different directions," he breathed wisely.

"Two sides of the same coin?" Arthur inquired softly.

"Yes," Merlin blinked away tears, and started to back away. He was wasting time the sooner he got out of there, the sooner things could return to normal…Without him. However, feeling him moving away Arthur gripped his arms with sudden desperation, his iron grip stilling Merlin where he stood.

"I…" Arthur was staring at his face as if to memorize it, as if he were afraid that if he didn't, then Merlin would fade out of existence too. The King gulped, and though his eyes showed his every emotion, he was still struggling to keep the mask of kinghood on his handsome face.

The expressionless, impenetrable mask that he was forced to wear in public, and even sometimes with Merlin. He only let it fall when there was something he needed to say. Merlin waited patiently.

Arthur finished analyzing his face, and with supreme struggle allowed his mask to fall. His expression was a poignant reflection into his heart. Sadness, despair, anger, pain, determination, guilt. It made Merlin's own heart crack to see his King driven to such vulnerability by some stupid law. This was Arthur Pendragon, the man who had vanquished every other foe…

Except the foe that restrained his best friend.

"I…" The King began again, his voice trembling. "I don't want you to go," it was as simple as that. The tears Merlin had been holding back spilled down his cheeks.

"I don't want to leave," he replied thickly. "But we both know it is what is best right now. Morgana is dead, Mordred is gone… This is a time when Camelot could finally be at peace. I have fought for its peace for too long now. And if the last ingredient to that prospering kingdom is my departure, then," Merlin squared his shoulders bravely. "It's just what I have to do," he finished.

Arthur's mouth quirked into a small smile. "We always teased that I was the honorable one," he breathed, affection and pride lighting his gaze. "But look at you now," Merlin blushed.

"Who do you think I learned it from?" He inquired.

"I thought I was a prat?"

"You are a prat. And a cabbagehead, and a dollophead, and a supercilious…"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but added: "Condescending…"

"Patronizing…"

"Overbearing…"

"Great big toad," Merlin finished with satisfaction. Arthur chuckled softly, and playfully punched his shoulder. Then, as the hilarity of their old jokes wore off into despair at the thought of perhaps never sharing one again, Merlin's bottom lip quivered. Who would he make fun of, if not Arthur? Who would make fun of him? Arthur seemed to be thinking the same. The King exhaled a stuttering breath.

Then, surprising the both of them, Arthur reached out and pulled Merlin against his chest for a tight hug. The surprise did not last long for Merlin. Quickly he had wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck as the older man pushed his face into his shoulder. Merlin inhaled deeply the scent of the clothes he had washed ten hundred times, and the sob escaped anyway.

Arthur balled his fists into the back of his cloak. "I'll miss you," he whispered into Merlin's ear. Merlin nodded emphatically.

"I'll miss you too," he choked into Arthur's shoulder. "Oh Arthur, I'll miss you," he heard more than felt Arthur's shoulders hitch.

Merlin thought this might be a fine time for a list of to-do things that were now left up to Arthur. "Take care of Gaius? He likes to pretend that he's as young as he used to be, but he isn't. Don't let him fool you," he would miss Gaius probably as much as he would Arthur. Who would look after him? I don't even get to say goodbye, Merlin thought sorrowfully. He would have to leave the city as soon as possible or risk being caught by the crowds.

"And remember to have George bring Gwen the Chamomile tea without honey because the taste reminds her of her father. Talk to Percival as much as you can; he likes it when people talk to him. Leon's knees are starting to bother him, and his back muscles spasm every once in a while. Make sure he goes to Gaius for his medicine every week," he hoped that Gaius had that next batch ready. Camlann had overtaxed some of Leon's endless Knight reserves.

"And do not let Gwaine go into the tavern every night. He doesn't drink as much as he used too, but you know he has a tendency to get into fights when he's upset, and this battle upset him very much. Leon will straighten him out, just…Ow!" Merlin couldn't help but smile. He had been wondering when Arthur was going to tell him to shut up. A good smack upside the head usually worked wonders.

"I'll take care of them, Merlin," Arthur promised, still holding him tightly. The warlock nodded. He knew that already.

"Good," a pause. "And take care of yourself, too, Arthur," he said, and no other person was at the top of Arthur's to-do list in Merlin's mind. No one mattered more than his king, who had one half of his soul.

Arthur nodded, eyes twinkling. "Only if you promise to do the same," he replied. Merlin nodded and buried his face into Arthur's shoulder, inhaling his scent, taking comfort from the strength of his arms. Finally, after centuries spent in each other's arms, he reluctantly detangled himself from Arthur's embrace. Arthur's hands fell limply to his sides, as did Merlin's. They stared across at each other, tears rolling down their faces. Merlin couldn't help but feel a bit of wonder. He had never seen Arthur cry.

He had seen the aftermath of his crying. After Morgana had taken over Camelot and Arthur had found out that she had betrayed him, Merlin had heard a sniffle. When his father had died, he had seen Arthur's tear streaked face and red eyes as he came from mourning.

The time Arthur had been forced to banish Gwen, he had seen his eyes sparkling and the shattered pieces of his heart in his eyes, but Merlin had never been there witness the physical act of Arthur crying. His friend's belief rolled in his mind from years earlier.

"No man is worth your tears," and yet Arthur was crying over his leaving. It was half a wondrous thing and half a heart-breaking phenomenon that Merlin wished he had never been given to see. Arthur looked so lost. As lost as Merlin felt.

"No matter how far I go, or where I end up, or how long I'm gone," Merlin choked out sincerely. "You will always be my King," he meant it with all the strength in his heart and soul. He meant it more than he had ever meant anything ever before. Arthur's hands clenched at his sides, and he tipped his chin back to be the Brave and Noble King that the prophecy had always stated. Merlin's King.

"And you will always be my warlock," Arthur whispered in turn. Merlin stored the words away to help him through the endless nights of not being with his family in his home. Then, trembling he flashed one last reassuring smile and bowed at the waist, as he had done when he was just a servant, and Arthur just a king.

"Until we meet again, sire," he said. Arthur, to his surprise, returned the gesture.

"May your journey be safe, old friend," he replied.

Merlin swallowed down a sob, and, eyes shining, he straightened, winked, and spun on his heel. Without looking back, for he knew that he would never leave if he did so, Merlin opened the door, and exited from the King's chambers for the last time.