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Title: Restless Fates Have Passed This Way

Summary: 5 times Merlin's magic could have been revealed during the second siege of Camelot, and 1 time it wasn't necessary. (Takes place immediately following The Sword in the Stone - Part 1)

Note: Spoilers up to 4x12 The Sword in the Stone - Part 1 and the trailer and episode summary for 4x13. How a reveal might fit into the season finale. Not based on any 4x13-specifc spoilers. Written and posted before 4x13 aired.

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Restless Fates Have Passed This Way

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(a hint)

Fate travels on a silver thread, tiptoes her way from color to color. A hundred ways history unravels, countless moments where Fate lay the markers. And in one, no one realized even after the annals of these times were written that this is how Emrys the Immortal gave himself away.

.

The woods outside Ealdor were wet and miserable and so was Arthur. He was drowning, overwhelmed by his family's betrayal, feeling a fool for not seeing their treachery. And now hunted by his own uncle and running like a coward, he hardly noticed how he turned to Merlin to lead and how easily he had followed. Arthur was a shadow of himself and even with Gwen near again he could not break through his broken spirit for air.

Merlin, worn, irritable, but ever patient, sat beside Arthur and waited.

"It's no use, Merlin."

And Merlin, for all his earnest words could not convince the king of his worth, could not magic away his doubts. To Arthur, Merlin was but one man, a servant to a master, and above all, a loyal friend. So while it warmed his heart, Arthur could not validate himself on Merlin's words.

Unwilling to give up, Merlin went away to think and when he came back he asked Arthur if knew the legend of the Sword in the Stone.

Arthur didn't.

"No?" Merlin said in surprise but looked like he wasn't at all. "They say there is a sword forged by the dragon's breath embedded in a stone by the Lake of Avalon," recounted Merlin, the rhythm of his voice thrumming like that of an old story-teller, "and whoso can pull the sword from the stone is the rightful king of Albion." Merlin looked at Arthur steadily. "Arthur, if you can pull the sword from the stone, that would be proof, wouldn't it? It'd be your right—your duty—to reclaim your kingdom and be the monarch your people deserve."

Arthur, not daring to place hope on a fairytale, searched Merlin's face for a lie. "They also say that no mortal man can look upon the lake before their dying breath."

"I've seen it," Merlin said simply. "I've been there before, I can find it again."

Arthur, world-weary and bereft of faith, latched on to that of his friend and a glimmer of hope flickered to life.

"Then lead the way."

.o0o.

i. a half

And this is the way Merlin told Arthur something that was true.

.

They were in the glade by the shores of Avalon, the hilt and blade of Excalibur glinting in the glow of a celestial light. Arthur stepped forward with reverential awe, drawn by some mystical siren's song tugging at the depths of his soul. He grasped the hilt and pulled.

And pulled.

And pulled.

"What the hell?" Arthur cried, slapping the surface of the rock, devastated and angry. "There, you happy?" He whipped around at Merlin, who had just stumbled out from behind a tree. "There'syour big fat sign. I'm clearly not meant to be king!"

Merlin, in turn, looked upset and confused. "I...I don't know what happened!"

"What happened, Merlin, was I tried to pull the bloody sword from the bloody stone and I bloody well can't."

"That was barely a tug! Here, have another go at it."

"That was not a tug," Arthur insisted, very much put out. "And if I were the true king, it should just slide—whatare you doing?"

Merlin had blustered past Arthur, muttering to himself, and heaved at the sword making constipated sounds.

"Oh," Arthur gestured impatiently at Merlin's back, "so now you fancy yourself the king?"

Merlin spun around, flustered. "No, Arthur, this is yours." And the persistent fool climbed on top of the stone for leverage and pulled at it some more. Arthur felt some of his ire drain away with the fondness he suddenly felt for his friend.

"Merlin, it's alright. But if the legend says—"

"I made that up!"

Arthur was dumbstruck.

"You jus—wait, what? What's that supposed to mean?"

Still perched atop the stone, Merlin stood upright, breathy from exertion, looking weary to the bone. He turned his palms out in a gesture of surrender. "The legend. I just made that up."

Like a stoker to a fire, Merlin's words made the violent emotions stirring inside Arthur flare. "Then what are we doing here, Merlin? Why the wild goose chase? Why travel all this way for a stupid, bloody sword?" Arthur flung a twig at Merlin's head to punctuate his frustration.

Merlin dodged the projectile. "I thought if you'd felt—or thought—" Merlin stammered, "Because it's special!" His voice rose, "It was forged by the dragon's breath and always strikes true. It has power over magical and non-magical foes alike. It can help you take back Camelot! It was meant for you."

"Why do you keep insisting—"

"Because I made it for you!"

They were both stunned silent at Merlin's outburst, Arthur in confusion and Merlin in horror. Arthur, calmer now, was the first to speak.

"How do you mean, you made it?"

Merlin fidgeted, searching for the right words as if there were more than one truth to tell.

"Do you remember when your father fought the Black Knight?"

Arthur nodded, not seeing how this was relevant. "Yes."

"The sword he used to defeat him was this one. The knight was a thing of magic and could only be killed with a special weapon."

Arthur nodded again. "Go on."

"Only the fight was meant to be yours."

Arthur remembered. Remembered the knight who wouldn't eat, who wouldn't sleep, who wouldn't die. Remembered his fear and remembered Merlin asking him to stand down from the challenge. He remembered his anger after Uther had drugged him and fought in his place, only to learn that he wasn't just an heir, a disappointment, but a precious son.

Arthur looked at Merlin and the first measure of understanding started falling into place.

"The knight was a wraith and," Merlin swallowed uncomfortably, "you needed a sword that could kill it. Kill something already dead."

Arthur remembered rumors of the knight's unnatural death – his face decayed and his body shattering to ashes – but didn't give them much credit at the time. He's seen a lot more since then. He could believe it now.

"That sword..."

"Was forged in the dragon's breath?" Arthur supplied.

Merlin shrugged and smiled a little.

"There was a dragon kept under the castle, remember?"

.

Later, they sat in silent contemplation looking up at the gleaming blade as the breeze tousled their hair and made dappled shadows dance on their faces.

"Maybe you're not ready," Merlin said suddenly, "for this one, I mean."

"Sorry?"

"But that doesn't mean we can't make another one." Merlin stood up and brushed off the dirt from his trousers.

"I'm sorry. Are we having a conversation or are you just talking?"

"Do you remember Balinor, the Dragonlord?"

"Yeah?" Arthur replied, both curious and unsure if he really wanted to know.

"Well," and though Merlin looked bone-weary, his voice was proud, "he was my father."

.o0o.

ii. a whole

On another thread of Fate's tapestry the sword slid easily from the stone and Arthur knew not of Merlin the Dragonlord, only Merlin the Magician. This is how it happens.

.

Excalibur in hand, Arthur led all the allies and knights he could gather and stormed his own castle. They laid waste to the Southrons and searched for their leaders. The enemy was thrown into chaos and in much fewer numbers than expected. Something had happened in their favor and Arthur counts his blessings.

Arthur saw Agravaine disappear into the underground passageways and gave chase.

The passageway turns into a labyrinth of cavern tunnels where Arthur used to play as a child. The torches casted ominous shadows and the walls echoed with the sound of running feet. Arthur dispatched the rebels attacking him from behind and pushed onward.

He neared a turn where he knew opened into a cavity when he saw an unnatural glow—green, bright white, blue—light up the wall. He approached cautiously, pressed up against the rock, when he heard his uncle cry, "You have magic!"

The glee in his voice filled Arthur with dread. Agravaine had found another ally and Arthur had neither power nor protection against magic users while authority was still in dispute in Camelot. He strained his ears to assess the situation.

.

Merlin froze, caught irrevocably in the act of casting magic. He didn't turn from the fire where he was crouched low, not ready to face the owner of a voice he knew all too well.

"This whole time?" Agravaine laughed. "I took you as a fool, but surely even you'd know you'd burn if the Pendragons ever found out. Yet you practice right under their noses. Why? Who are you?"

Merlin said nothing, distracted by the nausea he felt as he realized what he had to do. But he'd answer Agravaine. He should know. Merlin needed someoneto know or he might not be able to go through with it. He turned and drew himself up to his full height.

"I am Arthur's greatest ally."

Agravaine didn't laugh. Perhaps it was the conviction in Merlin's voice, perhaps his power was palpable in the air, perhaps it was something else entirely, but regardless, Agravaine was suddenly taking Merlin very, very seriously.

"I don't understand. Someone like you should side with Morgana. You could have killed Uther and his heir a hundred times over and be free of their tyranny. Why are you loyal to Arthur?"

There was movement just outside of sight, but Merlin didn't take his eyes off Agravaine. The past few years tumbled in Merlin's head, the lonely suffering, the fear and hurt. It was worth it. It will be worth it. It had to be.

"Because Arthur has the makings of a great king," Merlin replied, his voice thick with emotion, "and I believe he can unite the kingdoms of Albion—that he wants to—and bring peace and justice to all its people. Everyone." Merlin slowly advanced towards Agravaine, who started to shift nervously. "And isn't that worth dying for?" Merlin trembled. "Isn't that worth risking everything?"

Agravaine cowed. "What will you do with me?"

Merlin doesn't say he's sorry, doesn't say anything. He just pushes out with his palms and sends Agravaine sailing through the air. Merlin loses time, suddenly finding himself standing arm's length from the last visage of Arthur's family pressed up against a wall by the force of his magic.

Agravaine's dagger floated out from its sheath, bobbing tauntingly by his chest, and the man stared with panicked eyes. He choked and struggled.

This wasn't like the time Merlin tried to sacrifice Morgana to save everyone from a cursed sleep and the Knights of Medhir; this time no one's life was in danger but his own. But he saw no way out. There's too much to do, and he and Arthur are not yet the men they need to be. Merlin's face contorted in anguish and he pulled the dagger back with his mind.

"MERLIN!"

The dagger dropped to the ground with a clatter.

Merlin's breath rattled in his chest and nearly sobs at the sound of Arthur's voice. He turned to see his king stalk towards him angry and with purpose. He turned to face this ugly fate.

Agravaine, on his feet again, rubbed at his neck. "Arthur, thank goo—"

Arthur punched his uncle in the face.

Merlin stumbled back, narrowly avoiding Agravaine tripping into him as he staggered from the blow. The end of a blade was waiting for Agravaine when he found his feet again.

"I will not suffer another word from your serpent's tongue, Uncle," Arthur threatened, his voice strained but steady, "You are hereby under arrest for high treason. On your knees!"

Agravaine lowered himself slowly to the ground, flinching when the blade moved uncomfortably close to the skin of his neck.

"Merlin, bind him."

Merlin started, hardly daring to believe that Arthur would even acknowledge him. He stumbled forward, made quick work of the gag and pulled Agravaine's hands behind his back. Kneeling, Merlin was only too aware of Excalibur hovering under Agravaine's chin and level with his own neck. Fleetingly, Merlin thought he should have worn three scarves that day. His Adam's apple bobbed and his shaking hands fumbled at the knot.

With a final tug, Merlin sat the captive against the wall and stood, watching Arthur with apprehension and fear, searching the king's face for clues. Arthur's jaw was tense, his steely gaze as hard and cold as his blade while he considered his traitorous uncle. He adjusted his grip on Excalibur and lowered it to his side.

"I heard everything I need to know."

Arthur finally looked at Merlin, his gaze piercing, his expression dispelling any hope that Arthur just didn't see. That he'd misunderstood like all the other times Merlin thought he'd given himself away. Merlin's stricken face alone would be enough to condemn him.

"Arthur, I can explain—"

"You can explain later," Arthur said and placed a hand, strong and steady, on Merlin's shoulder, "after we take back the citadel."

This was Arthur in his element. Arthur the commander, Arthur the coach. Arthur the brother, and now truly, Arthur the friend. Arthur was back and for thisArthur, Merlin would gladly lay down his life.

Grateful, Merlin nodded.

.o0o.

iii. a friend

And on another thread still, Arthur pushed his way into the heart of the citadel, searching out Helios, the enemy descending on the king like rats to a corpse. He never saw Agravaine escape to the tunnels.

.

He saw no way out. There's too much to do, he and Arthur are not yet the men they need to be. Merlin's face contorted in anguish and he pulled the dagger back with his mind.

"Merlin, stop!"

Merlin's hold on his weapon and captive stuttered and he turned in time to see Gwaine drop Agravaine to the ground with a right hook.

Merlin's chest heaved, his brain trying to comprehend the body on the floor and Gwaine standing beside him. With a toss of his head, his hair sticky on his neck, Gwaine looked at Merlin and quirked up the side of his lips.

"Murder doesn't suit you, my friend," he said, and slapped Merlin on the arm.

Gwaine then grew serious and looked at the unconscious traitor. "We should leave this one to the king. They both deserve it, don't you think?"

Merlin swallowed nervously, unsure how to act, what to say, what Gwaine was thinking. Gwaine answered with a flash of a vulpine smile. "I always knew there was something about you." He looked disconcertingly gleeful.

"You won't tell Arthur?"

Gwaine ignored the question. "Trouble is, what are we going to do about him?" He nudged Agravaine with his boot none too gently. "Can you keep him from talking?"

Merlin didn't answer right away. It's not as simple as taking a voice. He'd have to take the memory. Gaius' voice was already crowding his head warning him how dangerous it was to manipulate someone's mind. They risked permanent damage, side effects, or the spell wearing off, all of which are magnified by the fact that Merlin had to make up a spell on the spot. But he didn't see another option if they were keeping Agravaine alive. Gwaine and Merlin's eyes meet and Merlin reads in them an anchor, a new ally.

For the second time in as many days Merlin says:

"I can try."

.o0o.

(a prelude)

And in another world, Gwaine, or perhaps Arthur, comes too late. They witness Agravaine flying through the air and the knife twisting in his gut. Either way, Merlin sinks to the ground and stares at the invisible blood on his shaking hands and things can't ever be the same.

.o0o.

iv. a foe

Sometimes fate spins not a friend, but a foe; not a chance to show vulnerability, but a choice to show might.

.

Merlin and Morgana found themselves in the throne room alone, the grand entryway magically locked and barricaded by great blocks of stones and debris. Arthur pounded on the other side in rage when Morgana, clutching her side and gathering her bearings, finally realized Merlin was standing across the room. Merlin, who had grown more reckless as the night crept towards day.

"Morgana," Merlin called, "Stop this."

"You!" she roared, hardly hearing him. "Why won't you just die!" The air stirred and with a spell the swords adorning the walls flew at Merlin. Without thought, Merlin's magic reached out and stopped the blades a hair's breadth away. They spun lazily in suspended time and crashed to the floor.

Morgana recovered from her shock and replaced it with incredulity.

"Well this is rich!" she laughed, "Arthur's little whipping boy fancies himself a wizard." The statement lilted up like a question, condescension dripping off the ends. Her voice was silk and oil, her hips swayed seductively as she slinked across the room. "What magical trinket did you steal from the vaults for your little tricks?"

"I have no need for trinkets," Merlin retorted. "Not like you."

"Enough!" Merlin's head whipped to the side and stung as though he'd been slapped. "How dare you think you're better than me, you peasant!" Morgana spat, her madness unstoppered, all grace and pretense gone from her gait. She clutched at her wound and advanced towards Merlin. "You don't deserve it! None of you deserve it. I will not be denied what's mine by some common palace servants!"

Morgana's eyes were wild and Merlin was sent crashing into a pillar.

"Get up!"

Merlin's head spun. His tail bone hurt. He ached all over, his body, heart, spirit. The pressure of everything was tearing him open at the seams and really, he'd had enough of Morgana's childish tantrums.

"I heard you tortured Gaius to find a man called Emrys."

Merlin rose slowly and deliberately, his voice low and dangerous, and noted with grim satisfaction that Morgana's breath hitched and in her eyes the first glimmers of fear. Merlin could hear the continued efforts to break through the doors and thought to himself, this will be over soon enough.

"Well," Merlin said, and he felt a predatory smile pull tight across his face, "Here I am."

His eyes burned gold.

.o0o.

v. and now everybody knows

Sometimes, a choice isn't really a choice at all.

.

Morgana was not driven to the inner halls of the castle, but to the outer courtyards. Bravely the knights fought, but the Southrons' numbers held steady as rebels occupying the outer city joined the fray and replaced their fallen comrades. The night will be long yet and Arthur's men were tired and outnumbered.

Suddenly there was a primordial scream from the sky and a creature swooped down and knocked off several enemies from the parapet. A griffin?Knights and rebels alike halted to gather their wits and watch the sky with apprehension.

This time there was a roar and an enormous beast engulfed a group of Southrons in flames.

"DRAGON!"

Everyone scattered, the grounds in utter chaos, men falling over debris and tearing at each other for cover. The dragon set flame to more rebels, its reptilian wings knocking Arthur's enemies off the curtain walls.

"To the Keep!" Arthur cried, herding his men to safety. "Retreat!"

But then he saw Morgana's dark form limping hastily across the courtyard and with emotion coursing through his veins, Arthur ran after her.

"Arthur!" Merlin's voice called from behind him.

"Arthur, no!" Gwen was at his side in an instant, jerking him away from a sudden burst of flames. Together they tumbled to the ground.

Before them was a creature of terrible beauty, a dragon but the size of a horse, pale like moonlight. It reared its head back and Arthur shielded Gwen with his body.

"Gescildan!"

There was warmth, but no pain, and slowly Arthur turned his head.

He didn't understand what he saw. Merlin's dark figure stood over them, his arms outstretched, hot flames and colored light licking and roaring around them as if they sat inside a glass globe.

The flames dissipate and Merlin hissed at the creature in a strange, soul-reverberating voice. It hissed back and took flight with a scream just as The Great Dragon – impossible! – dropped to the ground, shaking the very foundations of the castle, near where Morgana laid injured and terrified. The dragon reached out with its snout and witch screamed out her pleas.

"Kilgharrah, stop! Not like this."

Merlin had gone to the middle of the courtyard, vulnerable and alone. The night was silent, the war forgotten as everyone watched the mighty dragon pause as if he understood. Morgana hardly dared to breathe.

Suddenly the dragon snapped at the enchantress.

Katostar abore ceriss!Merlin bellowed. The dragon turned its head, the very weight of it shifting the air, and Merlin, now deferential, said plainly, "but please, stay near." The monster and the man considered each other and in this surreal tableau, an understanding passes between them. The dragon turns to Morgana and leaned in, its enormous yellow eyes narrowing critically as she cowered. With a roar and a blast of air from its mighty wings, it disappeared into the dawning sky.

Through the space now suddenly too empty, Morgana stared at Merlin, her eyes still wide and terrified. "What are you?" she asked.

With pained eyes, Merlin turned to Arthur, who clutched Gwen protectively to his side.

Arthur and Morgana had never looked more like brother and sister.

.o0o.

vi. And one time it was unnecessary

.

It was a miracle Merlin got away with so much magic without getting caught. Gaius could hardly contain his horror and pride as his protégé sat by his bedside and told his stories while Gaius recovered from his time in the dungeon.

He grew nervous though, as he waited patiently in Arthur's quarters, feeling awkward in a place he rarely visited unless the young king was bedridden.

Gaius cleared his throat. "Is everything alright, Sire?"

Arthur turned his attention to Gaius. "Yes, my ribs are feeling much better," he answered but his gaze lingered as if hoping the physician would ask him a different question.

"Then, is there anything on your mind?"

Arthur took a moment before saying, "You were a counsel to my father." The absence of Agravaine was palpable and Gaius drew himself up. It would not be the first time he'd play the surrogate parent.

"And you knew about Morgana?" There was no accusation in Arthur's tone, just a weariness and a need to understand. They spoke about her and of human nature and motivation and magic, about his father's rule and The Great Purge and its consequences. He wondered out loud of his terrible fear of magic and of doubting now the basis of his father's hate and the laws that followed.

Arthur settled by the window and watched his people work tirelessly to rebuild Camelot. He wondered what he should do as king, if there could ever be peace, if he could ever right past wrongs while still protect Camelot from her enemies, or if there would always be people like Morgana, bitter and vengeful.

"I knew, but I don't think I ever really understood. I probably don't still," Arthur confessed clumsily. "You were one of them, Gaius. How could you ever forgive us? How many people were exiled? How many suffer in silence still?"

Gaius' heart warmed. "There are more than you know, Sire," Gaius replied and Arthur deflated a little at the admission, "but there are also those who look not to the past, but to the future. You have more allies within the Old Religion than you realize."

Arthur watched Merlin as he crossed the courtyard.

"I know."

.o0o.

(an epilogue)

And sometimes, Fate gives us a choice, after.

.

Arthur was king again and even had Merlin at his second coronation, even if only to keep up appearances. But Merlin hadn't been summoned since they took back Camelot, the ceremonial robes delivered to Gaius' as if to say Don't embarrass me. It was a testament to their bond that Arthur decided to keep his secret and pretend he didn't know so that he wouldn't have to choose between current law and Merlin's life. But Arthur needed time, Camelot wasn't ready, and with Arthur, Camelot will always come first. Merlin wouldn't have it any other way.

Merlin could wait it out, lay low, bide his time, but it didn't feel right anymore. He had made a mess of things that night, royally pissed all over an already shitty situation and it was a miracle that they eked out even a pyrrhic victory. He didn't have the control, the knowledge, the wisdom he needed when it really mattered. He was useless here without growing himself the way everyone around him had while he stood still and stunted.

He knew what he had to do, but there was something he had to do first.

.

There was a knock on the door and a squeak of door hinges. Arthur knew who it was without looking up.

"Didn't expect you to show your face so soon."

Merlin closed the door gingerly, listened for the click and took his time before turning to face Arthur.

"I've decided to go."

Arthur looked up from his paperwork then, searching Merlin's face for some clarity. All he found was a solemn resolve and he felt his stomach knot despite himself.

"Just because I'm angry doesn't mean you need to leave."

"It's for the best," was the response and Arthur was too tired, still too disappointed, to argue. There would be no point. Merlin never listened to him anyway.

"It's just until…" Merlin started then trailed off, for the first time unsure of his future. "Until."

"You going to tell me not to be a prat?" The joke died on Arthur's lips as his heart clench at a memory, more meaningful now because of what he knew about Merlin.

"No," Merlin's voice was sad but fond. "Just...you know, rule with your head, but also trust your heart."

And they regarded each other from across the room, a chasm widening between them with every beat and breath.

"You'll be alright."

It was a statement, a command, and a question all at once, and it didn't much matter who said it.

Then it was just a nod from one, and a small smile from the other, and the click of a door.

The silence was deafening.

.

.

.

.fin.

-'-

A/N: With all the speculation of a reveal and an enticing trailer, I just wanted to share these ideas before the finale aired! I was also influenced by interviews where it was strongly hinted that Merlin will do something that will have season 5 repercussions.

Comments and thoughts appreciated.