Chapter 20: Destiny is a Choice

Arthur was pleased with himself as he left the audience chamber, midmorning.

And a little worried at that, too. Hm. He hoped he hadn't outsmarted himself, also.

His proclamation at the commencement of open court had been calculated to distract those of his people – bless them – who were not present for serious reasons. And it worked; court concluded an hour early.

First of all, I thank the druids for their aid in restoring my friend Merlin. Look forward to seeing them again as talk of a treaty progresses. And of course they're invited to see the dragon hatched.

Oh, didn't I mention? Merlin is able to hatch the dragon egg, and we plan for this event to take place at the spring solstice, next year. A time of new beginnings, I think we can all agree? The creature will be young and delicate, but I am confident my beloved people of Camelot will welcome and protect him – or her.

And by the way, quiet down for the first petitioner.

Today Arthur rejected the clothing Orryn had chosen for him in favor of something he would have worn on a day with no official duties. Not his father's heavy crown either, but a lighter circlet not unlike that he'd worn as a prince, and easily passed to his manservant for the return to the locked cabinet in his chamber.

Because he hadn't seen Lady Alayna in the audience chamber. At all, since she'd arrived in Camelot. They all said how timid she was – though Gwaine had said it thoughtfully, and Merlin had assured and reminded him, it was Uther she'd feared, not him.

Thanks, Merlin, I'm not sure that helps.

He hadn't intended to address Bernard's offenses in the public forum. This afternoon, at the council session, it would supersede whatever arguments the councilmen might have had about the dragon's egg. As far as he was concerned – and Merlin – their decisions on that matter would revolve around the supporting logistics of the event. Not whether, or even when.

But, if they'd be focusing this afternoon on their member, the Lord of Descalot, Arthur needed to speak with Alayna.

If he could find her.

"Not here, my lord," the maid in the guest chamber said, with a shy curtsy. "I believe she might have been spending the morning with Gaius? And – Merlin?"

"Thanks very much," he said, and she blushed crimson as he turned to leave.

His two guards took up their accustomed positions at the bottom of the stair, leaving him to ascend to the physician's chamber two steps at a time, alone.

And found the room deserted but for a young girl he recognized, in a plain but fine gown the color of twilight mist, her short black curls hiding her ears and brushing her cheeks. She sat with her feet up in Gaius' chair behind his desk, just turning the page of a large book as she glanced up at his intrusion.

And she smiled. "Good morning. Are you looking for Gaius?"

Which brought up Arthur up, a bit disconcerted, until it occurred to him that she didn't recognize him. She'd seen Uther when he entered her enchantment of Merlin's mind.

Perhaps that was for the best. He carefully shut the door behind him, and approached slowly and courteously. "Not Gaius exactly," he hedged. "I was trying to find Merlin?"

Her eyes were very like her father's, without the intensity. "You just missed him. The druids called to him because they were leaving, and he left to say goodbye to them in person."

"They called to him?" Arthur said blankly, before comprehension dawned.

She cocked her head as if evaluating him, then freed a hand from her book to tap her temple with a forefinger. "The druids communicate with magic, mind to mind," she told him. Watchfully. "You're a friend of Merlin's? What do you think of magic, then?"

Arthur gave her half a smile, and hoped she'd forgive him when she discovered, the dreaded interview with the king was over. "When I was young, my father taught me that magic itself was evil, and anyone who practiced it was inevitably corrupted, sooner or later."

She straightened indignantly. "That's not true. My mother had magic, and it was funny and beautiful. And look at this." She leaned forward on Gaius' desk, turning several pages before pointing to one.

He rounded to her side of the desk, curious – but could not read a word of the strange line of symbols and figures. "What is it?"

"A healing spell," she said, as though it should have been obvious. "It was one Merlin used to heal Gwen's father, once. He's been showing me some of the things he's tried, since he's been here in Camelot and working for… King Arthur."

He hitched his hip over the side of Gaius' desk, eyes still devouring the page. The colored illustrations of two different leaves, and the depiction of a cloud of fog around the head of a horizontal person who appeared to be ready to tip off a long crate – the patient in his or her bed, he assumed.

"This is Merlin's book of magic?" he asked, fascinated.

"He's never shown it to you?" she countered curiously.

"We haven't gotten around to it," Arthur admitted. "Last year, when he was nearly executed, and we all thought he was dead –" she nodded; she'd heard the tale – "I… missed him. I couldn't believe – the things my father told me. I talked to Gaius, and to others, and he explained. Magic is pure, but people aren't. So it's not an issue that's easy –" we wouldn't know what to do with easy – "but the solution isn't, to ban it on pain of death."

"So you think, people who have it should be able to use it freely, however they see fit?"

Arthur flipped the edges of the book's pages, careful of their frailty. He could see now why Gwaine wore that look as he said slowly, she's timid. Intelligent, though. More complex than she appeared at first glance – much like Merlin himself, maybe.

"No," he said. "I have met those who used it for their own ends. I have fought them. So has Merlin."

She played with her fingers in her lap. "So magic-users ought to use their magic however the king sees fit. Or Merlin, maybe. Or just the law?"

He kicked the heel of his boot gently against Gaius' desk, and thought about his friend. Whether Merlin had asked these questions when he'd first come to Camelot. He thought about the confessions Merlin had made, and the absolution – no, the freedom – he'd offered, based on his trust in his friend's character. He thought about Morgana, who'd made her choice long before Arthur was even aware she was faced with one.

"No," he said mildly. "I don't believe the law should tell people what to do. Not with their gold, or with their authority, or with their magic. I believe the law should tell people what not to do. Not to harm others, not to rob or kill or deceive. And those of us who administer the law, have a responsibility to encourage the keeping of it, as well as to prevent and punish transgression."

She nodded slowly, meeting his eyes with an expression very grave for a young girl, and he regretted the loving oppression of her father and her childhood, as his own father had made necessary.

He ventured, "Your interest in the matter seems very personal, my lady."

"It is." A moment longer she held his gaze, then leaned forward on the desk toward the candle in its holder at the far corner of the book – and spoke an unfamiliar word that he recognized as a spell.

Her eyes flashed with the gleam of magic; the candle's wick flickered and burned. There was an anxious draw to her face as she sat back and looked past his shoulder, having trusted a stranger with the secret of her magic in Camelot, based on his claim of friendship with Merlin. Testing him, maybe – and by proxy, testing all the people in Camelot in whatever category she assumed him, knight or servant.

He wasn't sure what to say. Or what to do, yet. Merlin had made it clear that he didn't hold Alayna responsible, and it was a separate question from, what to do about Bernard. Wasn't it?

"Where I come from, I've collected… bits and pieces," she told him, twisting her fingers in her lap and dropping her eyes. "They tell me that… certain bits are… considered forbidden."

"Dark magic," Arthur said before he could stop himself.

She flinched, and lost a little color, because probably she was speaking of the enchantment on Merlin. "I can see that now," she darted a glance up to him, "but I am ashamed, and… concerned, that I once thought there was a good use for it. I… envy Merlin, his Gaius. I wish there was someone like that for me, where I come from."

An idea blossomed.

And Arthur said slowly, "Would you ever consider… staying in Camelot? Joining the court here?"

She pinched the fabric of her skirt, wrinkling and straightening it in turn. "I did something," she whispered finally. He had to lean forward to catch her words. "Something with my magic. And I don't know what the king will do, or say…"

Arthur said nothing. She glanced back up at him.

"I don't know if I'm brave enough," she continued in the same small voice. "To live here, if everyone knows I have magic… even though, so many people have promised to protect me…"

"Make it one more," Arthur said generously.

This time her quick look included the flash of a smile. "And there's my father…"

"Those are reasons you might not be able to stay," Arthur said slowly. "But if you could… would you want to?"

She lifted her face, and her expression held a fearful sort of anticipation, hope and nervousness. "I think… yes, I would. For a while? I'd like to try, but…"

Behind him, the door was flung open and banged into the wall, as Merlin skidded to a breathless and surprised stop. "Arthur! I was looking for you – Carados is back, and -"

He cut off, uncomprehending, at the lady's panicked intake of breath. Arthur didn't move from his casual slouch at the corner of Gaius' desk, but as he turned to face her again, she spread the fingers of one hand over her heart, retreating as far as the high back of the chair would allow.

"You're the king," she said, her voice tipping a degree toward shrill.

Arthur bowed his head courteously, as Merlin moved again, stepping closer to them. "My lady."

"They said you were nice," she blurted, eyes flying to Merlin with an imploring look for help.

"Wasn't this the nicest way I could possibly have done this?" Arthur protested gently, smiling.

"But you don't look – but I thought – they said you were nice," she repeated with more heat. Accusingly. Then her eyes flew open wide as if realizing that her behavior might be considered rude or disrespectful – and in the presence of her feared king. She covered her mouth with her other hand to stifle all but a soft squeak of a sound. "Oh."

"Don't worry about it," Merlin told her, and by the tone of his voice, Arthur knew exactly the sort of smile his friend wore. "I do that all the time."

"I am pleased to meet you under better circumstances," Arthur told her. "If Merlin has pardoned you, how can I do less? Although, please – for both our sakes, caution and discretion in the use of your magic in future."

She nodded. Her eyes could not possibly have gotten any larger.

"As for your father," Arthur added, "I pass judgment this afternoon in council, where your presence will not be permitted. However, since I know you both can keep a secret –" he quirked a warning eyebrow; Merlin grinned – "I will tell you that I have no intention of keeping him imprisoned, reducing his rank, or any form of direct physical penalty."

Alayna gulped a sigh of relief so deep and quick it was almost a gasp. Merlin narrowed his eyes slightly as if trying to read Arthur's intentions, but a smile still lurked in blue depths.

"Thank you, my lord," the lady said. Arthur pushed to his feet and she uncurled from her chair, dipping a shallow but graceful curtsy.

"And what you said about staying," Arthur said, capturing her gaze again. "You meant that, yes?"

Uncertainty entered the blue-gray gaze, but she nodded firmly enough.

"Good." Arthur turned and strode to the door.

Behind him he heard Merlin say with delight in his voice, "You're staying?"

He smiled to himself. Now, it was a sure thing.

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Merlin wasn't the first one to the council chamber, but he deliberately took a place by the door and stubbornly fixed a pleasant smile to his face, thinking it amusing that the servants of the citadel reacted with more grace to his return after the enchantment. Maybe the nobles had hoped they wouldn't have to deal with him anymore.

"Good afternoon, my lord. Good afternoon." You have to deal with me, because I'm not going anywhere. "My lord. Good afternoon."

Arthur was last in, having donned the long jacket that made him look more authoritative in a way that was wilder than any rich satin could do. He glanced at Merlin to mark him, but didn't slow as he strode to the head of the table, and Merlin fell in just behind him.

He hadn't attended the open court session that morning, but he knew Arthur's intentions. The proclamation about the dragon's egg; it was what the councilmen discussed and argued even now, so they barely took notice of the entrance of the king they were waiting for. Old Lord Rowland was seated, gazing at the tabletop, as were Geoffrey and Gaius leaning on the arms of their chairs together to speak in low tones. The rest were on their feet, still, when Arthur stepped into his place between the table's edge and the largest chair in the room. He didn't sit; Merlin never did, though his hands felt suddenly and oddly empty without a water jug or wine pitcher.

Arthur cleared his throat, gaining him about half the room's focus. Then half-turned to Merlin and drawled deliberately, "I do miss that round table at the ruins. Much better for seeing everyone's face at once. Do you suppose order would be kept more easily around a circular table?"

There was a glint in his eye Merlin could not resist responding to. He laced his fingers together, and stretched them so his knuckles would pop.

"I don't know. Shall I make the table round, so we can find out?"

A gasp of silence, before several of the noblemen lurched backward from the table, startled into silence and attention at the suggestion of imminent magic.

Arthur reached out and cuffed the back of Merlin's head – lightly and almost affectionately, and this was much better than clasping his hands behind him and keeping his eyes on the floor so he didn't offend.

"Maybe another day." The king turned his gaze down one side of the table and up the other. "I know many of you would like to discuss the issue of our trophy from the sorcerer's tomb, but as I said this morning, there's to be no change regarding it for many months. We will have time, my lords, to hear every man's opinion on the matter. This afternoon, however, we deal with the confession to law-breaking of one of our own. Geoffrey?"

Arthur lowered himself to the seat of his chair, but held himself upright as the court recorder hitched his seat closer to the table and bent over the parchment laid out before him.

"Lord Bernard of Descalot. Declared himself guilty of released a criminal by the name of Julius Border, now deceased, the twenty-fifth day of the fourth month of this year. Of conspiring with said criminal to steal an object of value and magical significance from the druid Iseldir and his clan – no claim leveled – and to attack the sorcerer Merlin, previously freed from the ban of magic in Camelot, by special dispensation of His Majesty Arthur Pendragon. Of further the deception covering these crimes for some days in an attempt to influence His Majesty's actions and decisions."

Awkward pause. All eyes were on Arthur or Merlin, except Lord Rowland, who gazed at the tabletop, and Gaius, who studied his fellows by turn.

Then Lord Urbert said belligerently, "Well I for one don't believe for a moment that an attack on a sorcerer should be considered –"

Merlin lost the rest in a babble of voices that rose. They argued, as far as he could tell, the comparative relevance of each charge, as well as the severity of sentence they recommended, based on their opinions of the first part.

He rested his forearm over the high back of the king's chair, and leaned down to murmur, "How big do you want this round table, Arthur? Maybe if they're spread too far apart to hear each other…"

Arthur glanced up at him with a grin in the corner of his mouth. "Then I'd have to shout to make myself heard."

Merlin said innocently, "Don't you anyway?"

The king gave him a warning glare that he didn't really mean, before casting his attention back among his councilors with a sigh.

Merlin watched without trying to listen, to follow the thread of one man's argument through the tangle. In times past, he and Arthur both had no choice but to sit through this, when it was Uther's right to call them back to silence. Now that the right belonged to Arthur, he wondered if it was harder to judge when long enough, was long enough, for discussion.

"I agree," Arthur declared loudly, startling Merlin into uprightness. The king leaned forward over one elbow on the table to command silence and attention once more. "The worst of the offenses is the conspiracy, given that the victim of the theft declined to pursue justice in the matter, and the victim of the attack has already petitioned me for clemency in the sentencing, also."

Sharp glances at Merlin. He looked at his new boots and shuffled them a bit before stopping himself. These men, he'd forgotten, would search for and probably believe they found, any number of ulterior motives.

Arthur signaled the guard at the door. "Bring him in."

The guard on the right gave a nod that was also a bow, and turned to pull one of the great doors open. Another guard outside the room handed the prisoner over, and all councilmen turned in their seats to watch Lord Bernard step forward, chin in the air and expression severe, in spite of the chains that bound his wrists in front of him.

The thud of the closing door echoed behind him; Merlin noticed that he'd been provided a chance of his own clothing, charcoal gray jacket that matched his trousers over snowy linen shirt. The fact of his imprisonment was only betrayed in the smallest of details, like the faint smudges beneath his eyes.

Cousin. That was still so strange to think, even though it felt perfectly natural with Ally.

Arthur rose from his chair and stepped to the side to meet him.

"Lord Bernard, by your own admission, you are guilty of several crimes. Against the justice due the estate you're entrusted with. Against an individual citizen under the crown's protection. And against your sovereign."

He paused, and Bernard – maybe waiting for any indication that his daughter was going to be included in the proceedings – then nodded, accepting the sole responsibility. "So I am."

"My judgment is this. You will return to Descalot, where you will prove the resolve of your expressed contrition by providing for the defense of Camelot's borders even where they extend past your own lands, against any and all invaders, from your own funds and ingenuity. However, your daughter Lady Alayna will remain with our court to remind you where your loyalty lies."

Bernard held Arthur's gaze intently. Merlin sent a glance around the table, seeing their thoughts. Surprise, contemplation, respectful acceptance. Illegal use of magic had not been one of the accusations leveled. Bernard kept his life, his title, his freedom – but his daughter was hostage, as far as these men were aware, his personal coffers perhaps drained fighting his king's war for him, as Arthur had delegated the responsibility and expense of border defense as a condition for trust renewed.

He didn't care what they thought. Merlin was proud of his friend. His king. Mercy, justice, and strategy. And Ally would be certain to reassure her father that the prolonged visit was her choice.

"May I speak, Your Majesty?" Bernard said. "And address the council?"

"By all means," Arthur nodded.

"I am grateful for your mercy, and I swear you will see the evidence of that in my discharge of the duty of protection of Camelot's lands. I leave my daughter in full confidence of the court's gracious care…"

His eyes flickered to Merlin - who gave him a surreptitious nod of promise - before gathering in his fellow councilmen.

"I have another confession to make, and it is one I am sure several of you will find familiar, if you search your hearts and conscience. I confess that I had expected a continuation of Uther Pendragon's policies, when I heard that Arthur's reign was to commence. I underestimated our king. I underestimated his compassion and his wisdom – it is not a mistake I intend to make twice, and I encourage you, my lords, to learn from my example."

He lifted his gaze from the men at the table, and pinned Merlin in place. Merlin felt his spine stiffen; in expectation rather than insult, though for what, he couldn't have guessed.

"I suspect that is due in no small part to this unique individual," Bernard added clearly. More than one lord at the table looked around to see if someone else had entered. "Uther Pendragon distanced himself from personal relationships for several decades of his reign, we all saw that. Perhaps it made him strong, but not many will deny it made him cold." He gave Arthur a little bow. "I mean no disrespect."

"He was a… lonely man," Arthur managed to say evenly.

Merlin could not help but think of his own father, who also had distanced himself from relationships, and ice had undeniably entered his soul, also. He was content enough to know that it had thawed, in the end, and that Balinor had at least opened himself to possibilities, again, before his untimely death.

"I did not know anything of Merlin before my arrival in Camelot, other than what various rumors claimed. And I confess, I completely misjudged him as well. This young man has an inherent nobility surprising for a peasant-born – but more understandable after his heritage was discovered. I am proud to claim Balinor the dragonlord as kin of the house of Descalot – Merlin's father, my cousin."

Merlin swallowed dryly, not ready for that revelation to become public. But Bernard was a consummate statesman – he might still have claimed the connection if he had absolutely nothing to gain by it, but then again… The direction of Arthur's favor was plain, and the lord would not let the opportunity pass to put himself in a position to benefit; his fall from grace would not be so very low, then.

The other noblemen – aside from Gaius – were taking a long moment for comprehension. Arthur looked at Merlin with a faint wrinkle between his brows that said, Wait - what? But Bernard went on without waiting for them.

"If you can forgive me, my lords, for my disgraceful actions, I would claim for him the respect due a member of my own household." And Bernard made Merlin a slight bow, as one equal to another.

That raised his eyebrows. If Bernard gained some regard with Arthur because of his relation to Merlin, he was also offering Merlin some regard with the council in return. With Balinor dead and no official marriage recognized, Merlin knew he could never be considered a legitimate member of a noble house. But Bernard had claimed him, which meant – what?

The rest of the council had the same questions, it seemed, as they looked to each other for answers. Servant – sorcerer – peasant – physician's apprentice – dragonlord – noble's cousin… how were they to treat him? Merlin rolled his eyes to himself; as if his identity wasn't complicated enough as it was.

Arthur said incredulously, "Cousin?"

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"Rise, Sir Percival. Knight of Camelot."

Arthur returned his sword to its place at his hip as his newest – biggest – knight turned to face the crowd in the banquet hall, grinning like a little boy, his face rivaling his new cloak for color at the acclaim.

True, some of those present, knights and nobles, were still reserved, sharing sidelong looks with other skeptical neighbors. But the majority of the knights at least – led by Gwaine, vociferous after two goblets of wine already – welcomed a fighter like Percival. Gwaine and Lancelot had led the way, and Percival's inclusion in training sessions had proven to the satisfaction of most of the other warriors, better to have him on our side.

Servants began weaving through the hall with loaded platters, and Percival was drawn away from Arthur by an ever-changing crowd of well-wishers. He backed a few steps and rested his hips against the high table, as Leon seated himself behind it, to the right of Arthur's larger chair.

"My father would not approve," he commented on the reason for this banquet lightly to the knight that was his current heir. Entitled commoners.

"Your father is not here, sire," Leon observed. "And those of us who are, and who care about you the most – you and Camelot – could not be prouder."

Arthur let a smile pull at his mouth, glancing around the room.

Gwen and Elyan in the far corner, not official guests but not serving, either. One day maybe soon Elyan would take the place of honor to the king's left at the high table, newly knighted. He was learning and improving weekly, if not daily. And the lady, darkly beautiful in green-blue, caught Arthur's eye with a happy smile that coaxed his further across his face. She, he hoped, would also join him at the high table – and stay. Five months, one week, and three days, til he would ask her.

He watched her turn to someone else in the crowd – and recognizing Lancelot meant he could identify the slim shadow at the knight's elbow.

"How's Lady Alayna settling in?" he asked Leon.

"Merlin's good at instilling confidence," Leon said obliquely. "And Gwen, of course. And Lancelot… I suppose she'll miss her father and her home awhile yet…"

Lord Bernard had left that afternoon following the council meeting, rejecting the suggestion that he stay for the festivities as inappropriate, under his humbled circumstances – but Arthur didn't regret extending the offer. Chosen absence was better than enforced, for both sides.

"There may be rumors," Arthur said. "Because of the acknowledged kinship, and if they plan on spending much time together."

Cousin to nobility. He snorted to himself in a mix of acceptance and disbelief. Because Merlin could be and show that sort of high caliber of integrity – and then turn around and display manners that were truly atrocious. But Arthur had to admit, the connection would probably help him, help Merlin, in the future. Gaius sat the council not because of his title, but because of his skill and knowledge and expertise – but one day if Merlin served as his replacement, that nod to nobility would support his inclusion, at least among the other councilmen.

"They're going to have to, if he's going to help Gaius tutor her," Leon said.

Neither of them said magic. But there would be rumors. Impetus for Arthur to get working on that next bit of revocation, probably.

"But I don't imagine she'll face anything like the antipathy people felt and showed toward Merlin," Leon added. Arthur turned to look at him, seated behind the high table, and crossed his arms over his chest. "It's different," Leon protested mildly, though his argument was logical, and Arthur knew it already. "She's a lady; no one would lay a hand on her or say one word to her face. People may avoid her when the truth comes out, but honestly, sire, she'll probably prefer that."

Arthur didn't disagree. He shifted his attention back to the room.

It pleased him that people were no longer watching him so much, either; it felt like he had some breathing space. He wasn't recently bereaved and newly crowned anymore – and maybe he felt a bit more confident in his role, now, than he had at his last banquet, for his coronation.

Much of that confidence, he had to admit, was due to the fact that he'd decided, and realized, he didn't have to do this alone. To rule aloof and bear the sole responsibility of his choices. He had Merlin and Gaius to advise, and several trusted knights that also supported his vision of magic in Camelot.

"Sire?" At his other elbow, Orryn proffering his own goblet of wine.

He accepted it, but set it on the table at his hip, untouched. "Tobe's in bed tonight?" Orryn gave him a nod that was also a bow; he couldn't help adding slyly, "Are you sure?"

The manservant quirked an involuntary smile. Leon said, with amusement in his voice, "Boys will be boys."

Speaking of which, Carados was currently occupied in restraining Gwaine from climbing to stand on the bench-seat, at the far end of the knights' row. Arthur bit his lip not to laugh out loud; he suspected that Gwaine was only doing that to panic the more serious younger man a bit. Gwaine would be good for their ranks; shake them up a bit, cause them to question their attitudes and prejudices.

Gaius and Rowland. Geoffrey and Emund. Brenner with Bors and Kay… and all the rest. Arthur was highly content with his kingdom and his people, tonight. But there was someone missing.

"Say, Leon, where's –" Arthur turned, pushing himself upright from the table, and found himself facing the one he'd been looking for.

Merlin, in a re-tailored jacket of deep red, spinning the stem of his own nearly-empty goblet between his long fingers – but casually, without tension. "Here I am," he said. "You were looking for me?"

Arthur tried to think of something rude to say, but he was still too glad, every time, to hear Merlin's voice and connect to his soul when he looked in his friend's eyes, to see him twitch and fidget all on his own. And to have him come right out of the shadows and off the end of the Gaius' bench, to the middle of the room and the center of attention at the king's side, spoke volumes.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," Arthur said.

"About what?"

Arthur took a long breath, and let it out. The room was full of noise and life, people and conversations. And there was so much to talk about – the laws, the egg, the patrols. Merlin's new student and Nemeth's visit. Fathers and responsibilities, allies and policy.

So much that didn't need to be said. About the enchantment and Arthur's appearance there. The misunderstood suspicions of more than just Bernard, whether one of them controlled the other, that no doubt they'd face again, and again.

"Nothing," he said. "Everything. It can wait."

"Well," Merlin said, sidling a step closer and ducking his head a bit. "It seems like everyone's making a confession lately, I thought I might do the same."

"I already know you have magic," Arthur said dryly.

Flash of a grin that lightened whatever burdened Merlin's heart, just as Arthur intended. "When I left Camelot for Ashkenar's tomb, with the triskelion, I wasn't sure if I would be coming back."

Arthur stood very still, letting Merlin speak but slightly uncertain whether he wanted to hear what his friend had to say. Because Merlin had been brought back… and he had bowed to the great dragon.

"I thought maybe, my time with you was done. That you were a good and fair king, and my being here would only hinder what you're trying to do for users of magic, and so you didn't need me." Arthur tried to control his reaction, but Merlin's expression twisted at whatever he saw on Arthur's face, and he rushed on. "I thought maybe destiny was leading me to a different responsibility, with the new dragon, and that I had to sacrifice everything here – Gaius, and Gwen, and… you – to be a dragonlord. But I was wrong, Arthur, I should have trusted you. I should have realized that nothing could take me from your side unless I let it, and I'm –"

"Do not say I'm sorry," Arthur ordered, shoving a strange sort of exhilarated satisfaction down deep where the doubts had taken root, to smother them out. "Then I will have to say I'm sorry for not listening to you properly, for making my own assumptions that were wrong, for making you feel like you had to shoulder this responsibility on your own." He slung his elbow around Merlin's neck for emphasis. "I've been learning a little bit about that, myself."

Merlin gulped, and smiled, and retreated into territory that was more familiar for both of them, but not less expressive than honesty. Putting on a disapproving look, he dodged to see Orryn past him, and said, "Is that your second or third glass?"

"First," Arthur said, letting his friend's movement dislodge his arm, and turn the mood more sarcastic. This was much better than Merlin being stiff and polite and Arthur accepting that it must be so. Their friendship was their business and it would be what they wanted, and the rest could accept or not, as they chose. "You better have some more, too," he added, signaling Orryn without looking. "I expect you to make at least one toast."

"Oh, Arthur, no…" Merlin very nearly whined, backing a step and glancing down at Leon as if hoping for support.

"To Sir Percival," Arthur said warningly.

And he looked – as Leon and Merlin did as well – to where Gwaine and the newest knight were toasting each other as comrades, forearms crooked to form a link as they raised goblets to their lips and the others around approved, encouraged, cheered, laughed.

"Yeah," Merlin said, his look changing. "Yeah, I guess I can do that."

"I always said," Arthur said, teasingly but not untruthfully, "you are the bravest man I ever met."

Merlin cocked his head as if waiting for the last line of a joke. Instead, Arthur lifted his goblet in a small private salute, and drank an unspoken toast to his friend.

A gentle sort of shock spread across the younger man's features – then Merlin crossed one arm over his body and gave Arthur a bow. A genuine, heartfelt gesture of respect and loyalty and contented service that was the same and yet so different than the one he'd given Kilgarrah, and Arthur realized.

Perhaps Merlin had inherited the rights and responsibilities of a dragonlord just as Arthur had inherited throne and crown and kingdom, but this. Perhaps Arthur was prophesied to bring magic back and Merlin prophesied to help him, but this was not a duty, for either of them.

Don't walk away… better than a brother.

This destiny was a choice.

A/N: Thanks very much, everyone, for reading and following and favoriting – and especially for reviewing (Kirsten I wish I could respond by PM)!

Here's the thing. I'm tentatively planning on a third story for this arc, working title "Renewed by Love" but I'm nowhere near a decent initial outline, b/c of a multiplicity of ideas. So I'm going to do a modern a/u, like I said (see profile poll if you haven't yet, and if you care about which one), and then return to this arc after…

Also, "Guest": I really wish you signed in with an account, then we could discuss in PMs (which I love to do)! Otherwise… I'm with you on Merlin's power, though I would differentiate between that and skill/knowledge/training/experience. That's why he was trapped in the enchantment until he was aware there was one, and then he was out just as soon as he figured it out; the power is there. But I wanted to do something different with this fic, in that it's not the impressive and overwhelming power of magic that wins people over, demonstrating his intent to protect them that they can trust – while still remaining leery of him personally – it's about his humanity. He still is a person just like everyone else, still that person they saw about the citadel and lower town, still a very real friend to the king. Occasionally needs their protection (just as Aithusa will). And that, imo, overcomes individual prejudice faster than the sort of spectacular magic I think you're referring to.

As far as Kilgarrah. I don't consider that he was Merlin's friend til after the prison break and Merlin sparing his life, as if he's soured on all humanity and doesn't really believe Merlin's any different from the others til that point, taking into account the things he says to Merlin and the way he manipulates him beforehand. I do think Merlin considers him a friend before that, but Merlin's pov that of a village peasant, somewhat narrow and simplistic – and I love that about him, he gives people the benefit of the doubt and forgives. Kilgarrah's pov is centuries old and kingdoms-wide. It's always been a question of mine, how much he sees of the future (did he see the Purge coming, for instance, or his own capture), and whether he chooses his actions and words based on the outcome he wants – and not necessarily what's best for Merlin or Arthur, as individuals or in their various roles. I think his attack on Camelot once he's freed is more deliberate than reaction-after-imprisonment, b/c I stand by my claim that 20 years would be small potatoes to a thousand-year-old dragon. And of course Arthur raised as crown prince in the court is going to have a different opinion of the dragon than Merlin… I've written Kilgarrah & Arthur more amicably in my "Towers" series, but that's a/u from the start – canonically I think this would be the way it went…