Happy Merlin Holidays, happyevraftr! [3/3]

[merlin-hols.livejournal.com]

Inside was a small bed and endless amounts of bundled herbs. It was a cosy room and reminded Arthur of his home and life before Camelot.

It was a while before the door opened, and Arthur was lying on the bed, face buried in the pillows. A chair was scraped across the floor so that it could be placed beside the bed and Arthur turned his head to look at Merlin.

“My parents were good people,” he said, shooting Merlin a small smile. “When you don’t know them, that’s what you hope. It’s different knowing it’s the truth.”

With a terrible thud that must have hurt, Merlin slipped from the chair and came down on his knees, reaching for Arthur’s hand and holding it tightly. There was an unspeakable emotion glittering in his eyes and it made Arthur roll over onto his side and sit up, Merlin’s hand still warm in his own.

“What does this mean for you?” Arthur asked, watching Merlin carefully.

He didn’t know what he would do if Merlin was disappointed in the revelation that he was the heir. It was that fact that wracked at Arthur more than the truth itself; he didn’t care for his title or birthright, not if it meant Merlin would grow to hate him. What if Arthur wasn’t the king Merlin had been expecting? He wasn’t wise, he had no experience, and he was hardly sure he could lead a smithy, let alone an entire kingdom.

“I don’t know,” Merlin admitted, but he was still smiling and he rubbed his thumb over Arthur’s hand. “On one hand, I don’t think there could be a better man for king than you.”

Arthur frowned and opened his mouth to correct Merlin, but Merlin silenced him with a smile.

“It’s true. You’ve come a long way since we met in that tavern. I see a great leader inside of you, no matter how convinced you are that there isn’t one.” Merlin paused, closing his eyes tightly for a moment.

“I want…” he started, taking a deep breath. “I couldn’t let myself want more, with you,” he said, words slightly stilted. “I had to be loyal to the rightful king, no matter what my heart wanted.”

As the words escaped, Merlin flushed slightly, not meeting Arthur’s gaze.

“Which leads me to the other thing I wanted to say,” he rushed on, though he kept his hand in Arthur’s. “You being king,” he swallowed and Arthur prepared for the worst. “It scares me. Sigan is ruthless and if he can kill you, he will. I don’t…” Merlin frowned and Arthur shifted closer, wanting to wrap his arms around him and comfort him.

“I don’t think I could stand to lose you,” Merlin said finally, the words barely more than a whisper.

Arthur did pull him closer then, letting Merlin slide onto the small bed with him. He wrapped his arms around Merlin, burying his head in Merlin’s neck and holding him tight. Merlin, in turn, held him close and they stayed like that for what could have been hours, content to listen to each other’s hearts and breathing.

It was a while before they stirred and it was Arthur who spoke.

“I know I’m supposed to be the heir to the throne and help unite the land with you, but I’m still just Arthur.” Merlin looked at him curiously, hair tousled. “Your Arthur,” Arthur continued, giving a tentative, little smile. “If you’d have me.”

Though it was little more than a brush of lips, Merlin bent forward slightly and kissed him. Arthur had never been kissed so tenderly before, never had the opportunity to form a proper bond with anyone and let them so close, and though it was a small kiss, it was more meaningful than any other Arthur had felt.

“I want you,” Merlin whispered, lips wet against Arthur’s. “So much, I’ve wanted you...” he trailed off with another kiss, this time pressing harder and slipping his body closer. He rose from the floor until he was straddling Arthur, making no effort to hide his half-hard cock.

Merlin pushed his hips down, licking at the corner of Arthur’s lips, begging for entrance.

“Sharing that bed with you,” Merlin began between sloppy kisses. “Was hard. I wanted you so badly back there,” he gave a small gasp as Arthur grabbed his hips, pressing him down slightly. Merlin rested his elbows on Arthur’s shoulders and moved back slightly, enough for Arthur to see dark red lips covered in glistening spit.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, pressing his lips to Merlin’s neck and inhaling sharply, taking in all that he’d wanted in the nights they’d spent in that tiny little shed. “Oh, Merlin.”

Calling his name was enough for Merlin to shed all that he’d been holding back and he pulled at his robes, his shirt underneath and then his trousers, letting Arthur lap at his collar as he did so. His hands came to tangle in Arthur’s hair and Arthur bucked his hips up, rocking against Merlin as he pressed down.

The blanket between them was long gone and Merlin was quick to remove Arthur’s own clothes, eyes glinting in what Arthur wanted to think was candlelight but suspected was magic. He was about to comment to ask whether Merlin was in so much of a hurry he needed to use magic to disrobe him when Merlin’s hand wrapped around his hard length, rubbing his own cock against Arthur’s. Fingers curled against the head of his dick as Merlin kissed him, forcing Arthur to open his mouth and claim him entirely.

Arthur had been with others and with himself, but it had never been like this. Merlin kept moving over their joined cocks as he took Arthur’s other hand, whispering a spell to cover it with lubricant, and Arthur moved his hand to the cleft of Merlin’s arse, seeking entrance as he nipped gently at the skin of Merlin’s neck.

It had never been like this, he thought as Merlin clutched at his back, fucking himself on Arthur’s fingers with a small mewl of delight. For Arthur, he had never felt like this with anyone, felt the rush quite in the way he felt it now or been so focused on his partner before. This wasn’t a fumble in the dark or a quick fuck while he was half-drunk; this was Merlin.

“Fuck,” Arthur hissed as Merlin ran his fingers over the head of his cock, grinning wickedly. He pushed up and off Arthur’s dripping fingers and grasped Arthur’s dick, sinking down without warning.

Arthur slid inside of Merlin with ease, groaning as Merlin adjusted. When he was ready, Merlin kissed Arthur softly, rising and sinking back down slowly, infuriatingly. His head lowered to Arthur’s neck where he made small, wet gasps, still in full control of the pace.

Placing his hands on Merlin’s hips, Arthur stilled him and began to move, angling his hips ever so slightly. Merlin’s cock was leaking between them and a trail of stickiness rubbed against Arthur’s belly. It felt good, though, and he pressed kisses to Merlin’s temple as he hastened the pace, hips pumping as he fucked Merlin.

As he drew closer to coming, Merlin seized Arthur’s head and kissed him deeply. It felt as though he was spilling all his secrets, all his emotions, and Arthur pulled him closer, slowing the pace and pushing into Merlin deeper. Merlin groaned, face scrunching up as his breathing hitched.

“Arthur,” he groaned, grasping tightly to Arthur’s shoulder as he moved. He gasped Arthur’s name again before his body tightened, a shudder passing through him as he came.

At the sight and the feeling of Merlin all around him, Arthur’s belly tightened and he felt his orgasm wrench from him. He closed his eyes, still rocking inside of Merlin, and pressed against the juncture of his neck. This was what he’d wanted, what he’d denied himself from thinking about ever since he’d met Merlin.

“You’re the one,” Merlin whispered, still seated on Arthur’s dick and still smiling. He moved up and out of Arthur’s lap with regret and whispered a spell to clean them. Arthur felt a little saddened that his seed was no longer inside of Merlin, as if it were some bizarre marking ritual, and Merlin simply smiled, kissing him and stating that the night was young.

“But,” Merlin said, pulling back and lying down next to Arthur. “I think I love you,” he said unabashedly, even though they both knew there was nothing to think on.

“Then I think,” Arthur said, rolling Merlin onto his back and planning to make use of the night being young, “I love you too.”

.

It was some time later that Arthur woke, a little dazed, but otherwise comfortable. Merlin was wrapped around him, in a bed that was a little smaller than the one they had shared for a week, and Arthur decided two things. One, they’d need a bigger bed to share when all this was over and two, that he never wanted to wake without Merlin beside him.

Just as he was about to wake him, Merlin shot up as if he’d been shocked. His chest was heaving and his eyes were wild and he sprang out of bed, slipping clothes on hurriedly.

“Come on!” Merlin said to Arthur, hopping with one leg in his trousers. “Get up!”

Acting as if he were a man possessed, Merlin hurtled through the small room, throwing Arthur’s clothes back at him and dressing himself. Twice he had to stop, once to turn his shirt the right way around and the second time to swap his boots around. He left his red robes piled on the floor and looked back at Arthur, frowning.

“We have to go now, didn’t you hear?” he said, but Arthur simply shook his head.

“I didn’t hear anything. Are you okay Merlin?” His voice was soft, wondering whether Merlin had been dreaming. “It could have been a dream?”

Merlin’s face clouded for a second before he closed his eyes, smiling slightly.

“You didn’t hear it,” he said and Arthur looked at the clothes in his lap. “It must have been Kilgharrah then.” Merlin looked at him and let out the slightest sigh. “It looks like you’ll be meeting him sooner than I’d promised.”

It took only a short while for Arthur to dress and they left. Gaius was absent - thankfully; Arthur wasn’t sure he could face up to the man in case he’d overheard their earlier activities - and they were able to get out of the castle with ease.

It was night now and, aside from occasional patrols, the streets were empty. When they ducked away from a secondary patrol, Merlin cursed under his breath.

“Should have worn my robes,” he muttered as torches passed them. “Would have made this easier.”

Arthur reached out and squeezed his hand.

“We’ll have to go down to the edge of Camelot. We can get into the tunnels and there’s an exit, if you don’t mind slogging through some water.” Merlin turned to him, eyes bright in the moonlight. “You don’t have to come,” he said, voice low. “I mean, I’d rather you were safe, but I’m not exactly sure what safe is anymore.”

Arthur couldn’t help it and leant forwards, kissing Merlin softly.

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “Though if we could pass by our shed, I can get my dagger.”

Merlin looked surprised at the statement, but he led them through the streets and to their shed. Arthur slipped inside and picked up the dragon-hilt dagger, stashing it under his shirt.

As Merlin had said before, they moved to the outskirts of the village, to the most run down parts of the city. It was here that poverty smacked you in the face; patrols didn’t even touch here and people were spilling onto the streets, groaning with sickness or drunkenness, abandoned by the king who had sworn to protect them all.

“Can’t we help them?” Arthur asked, pausing by a group of children huddled together. Merlin looked back over his shoulder and shook his head.

“We are.” He took a few steps back, clasping Arthur’s shoulder and looking him in the eye. “Trust me, when Sigan is off his throne, you will save them all.”

Arthur looked down at the pitiful group and wondered how anyone could turn their back on their people. Sigan didn’t deserve to be called a human - mortal or magical - let alone a king.

“Kilgharrah never summons me,” Merlin began as they walked away. They had no food to spare the children and gold would simply give others cause to harm them. The best thing would be for Arthur to come back, show with actions instead of small gestures.

“I mean,” Merlin amended, “he’s never summoned me when he can avoid it. In the past he only ever called me to detail my destiny or begin teaching me, but never like this.” He frowned as they came to a gate. It was locked, but locks weren’t a problem for Merlin and his eyes flashed golden as he removed it.

“He seemed almost desperate, giving me no choice but to come.” They entered into the tunnel and Merlin created a small orb of blue and white light, letting it hover in front of them.

The only sound around them was their footsteps, and Arthur thought about what had happened that day. He’d discovered that he was more than an ordinary man, discovered that Merlin was more than an ordinary man, and already pledged that he would save the kingdom. He had no idea how or when, but it was a goal that he wanted to achieve, if nothing else.

Arthur thought of Elyan and the other tired-faced men of the smithy. He thought of the grubby children he’d shared an orphanage with, of the pinch-faced women who’d run it. Before now he’d never had reason to question the taxes and Sigan’s rule, but he’d still known that the mortal-folk were lower classed than others.

That wasn’t to say magicians had been unsympathetic to them. Arthur could name magicians who had defied Sigan’s laws to help them - most recently Merlin and others in his memory who had saved mortal children from drowning, used their powers to save grown men and women or even to allow taxes to be lessened, supplementing the gold with their own wages. The world was full of good people, but Sigan was determined to break them all and send them for execution.

Only now, he’d been sending them to the druid camp. Merlin had saved people this week and Arthur knew that others before Emrys had saved them too. How many people out there were willing to peel away from Sigan’s rule and accept a new king?

His mother and father were good people, people who had fought for their future and been proud to die for the world they would one day help to build. They knew that Arthur could succeed them if they’d died, but if Arthur died then there was no Pendragon or Du Bois line to continue. He was the last and the weight of the people rested on his shoulders.

And that was why he had to fight. At the smithy they’d fought each other with wooden swords, something Arthur had done since he was a boy. In fact, there had been a woman who had looked after him when he was young and she’d been the first to press a block of wood in his hand. Her name had been Alice and she’d taught him the basics of fighting and pointed him in the right direction so many times.

That wasn’t to say that Arthur was a good fighter though. He had his share of luck and an even bigger share of being disarmed. He’d never trained with a proper sword before and was under no illusion that he was the world’s greatest swordsman, but he was willing to try.

“What if the dragon doesn’t like me?” Arthur asked. If a dragon didn’t like him, didn’t accept him as heir to the kingdom, then how could the people?

Merlin simply snorted.

“He’s not going to eat you,” he said offhandedly. They had turned down a series of tunnels and come to a free flowing river. It was clear and slow-flowing; the natural reservoir for the town’s water supply.

“To be honest I’m not sure Kilgharrah likes anyone, if that helps. He’s an old dragon, stubborn and a lover of riddles.” Merlin shook his head. “If anything, you’ll be the one who doesn’t like him and that’s absolutely fine. Not many people do, after all.”

The tunnel ended suddenly and Arthur and Merlin emerged from the darkness, stepping into the bright moonlight. Stars twinkled above them merrily and Arthur looked around.

“We’re in a field,” he said, stomping through the river they’d come out in and making his way up the bank to a field. The grass was long, long enough to come up to their waists, but it wasn’t long enough to cover the other occupant in the field.

“You are unprepared,” the dragon said as it stood, towering above Arthur. He’d never imagined that dragons could be so huge, even though they were said to have rivaled mountains.

At the dragon’s words, Arthur swallowed, though he remained still and bold underneath his muzzle. Merlin stood behind him, poised to act if he had to.

“But this is not your battle.” Kilgharrah snorted and warm air surrounded Arthur. “The time for you to fight will come. Believe me when I say your journey to secure the time of Albion will be hard, but it will be worth it.”

The dragon turned to Merlin, looking at him with fondness.

“If it is not Arthur’s fight, then whose is it?” Merlin called.

Kilgharrah looked pleased by the question and sat down, the earth shaking with his bulk.

“It is yours, young warlock. Your job was always to help Arthur to the throne, but it is your destiny to be by his side to create a land of peace and prosperity for all.” The dragon seemed to smile, eyes flickering to Arthur.

“That’s not the only reason why I’ll stay with him,” Merlin retorted, voice firm. The words warmed Arthur and he smiled, looking away from Kilgharrah and to Merlin. He was still looking up at the dragon, but his eyes were bright and determined.

“Then you’ll agree when I say we need to take the young king away from Camelot.” Arthur’s body jolted at the thought. He would have to ride a dragon - something he’d dreamt of since he was a young child - and yet that wasn’t the reason for his reaction.

He couldn’t leave Merlin. And he certainly would not leave his kingdom now.

“Those willing to help Arthur Pendragon take his kingdom have gathered. Dragons and their lords are ready, as are those amongst the druids and magic users who have sworn against Sigan. Even those without powers have sworn and there is an army ready to protect Arthur and take the citadel.” Kilgharrah stood once more, looking down at them from his great height.

“And you agree that Arthur must be kept away from the battle.” The dragon’s voice was grave and Arthur wanted to turn, to see what Merlin’s reaction would be. He refused to leave his people and sit and watch as brave people fought and possibly died in his name. What kind of king was that?

“No,” he said, voice firm and with more determination that anything he’d done before.

Kilgharrah looked at him, eyes practically glowing with surprise, but Arthur could feel Merlin’s smile behind him and it doubled his confidence. This was the right choice, the first one he’d have to make that was for his people.

“I will fight,” he said, squaring his shoulders. Just because it was a dragon telling him what to do wouldn’t make Arthur relent. “For my people and for my friends. I will fight for those who have been persecuted by Sigan and for those who cannot fight.”

Arthur gritted his jaw and clenched the dagger under his shirt.

“If I am to be king then I will act like one from this day forward. I was not born into a royal line and I will not consider myself worthy until Sigan is off of that throne and the people are happy.” Arthur removed the dagger from his belt and held it up to the dragon.

“A friend of mine trusted me with this. It is a dagger that has been passed down through his family and yet I was the one he trusted it to. This represents the people for me, of how they will be trusting me without even knowing me and I refuse to stand by and watch as people sacrifice themselves in my name.” Arthur clutched the sheathed blade, chin tilted as the dragon inspected him.

Kilgharrah looked down even more, eyes narrowed. He snorted, looking past Arthur to Merlin and then over to Camelot.

“But a king cannot fight with a mere dagger,” he said and his gaze shifted to the dagger, plucking it from Arthur’s grip and using magic to bring it to his eye level. “It is a fine dagger, yet such a blade is not suited for a king who wishes to protect his people.”

The dragon seemed to curl in on himself and Arthur heard Merlin swear before he was yanked to the ground. He didn’t have time to ask Merlin what he thought he was doing before a huge plume of fire erupted around them, spewing from Kilgharrah’s maw.

The fire seemed to circle the dagger, remaining in a bubble. It was way above them, too far for it to be harmful, and so Merlin helped Arthur to stand, even as his eyes began to glow golden and he spoke words of the old magic, letting his power join the dragon fire.

The bubble burst and the fire changed into tiny embers, drifting down to the grass. It plunged the field into a strange light, making this ordinary place seem ethereal and part of Avalon.

“The sword’s name is Excalibur,” Kilgharrah said, his magic bringing the dagger-turned-sword back down to Arthur’s hands.

Unexpectedly, the blade was cool and the handle only a little warm. Arthur could still feel the magic pulsing through it and it passed into his hand, flowing through his body. He smiled at the feeling, the energy, and looked at Merlin, thanking him silently.

The sword itself was a thing of beauty. The blade was etched with runes - and he’d have to ask Merlin to translate those later - and the hilt a perfect fit for his hand. It still had the dragon carved on the end of the hilt, a reminder of what it had once been.

“It is only to be used by you,” Kilgharrah said in warning. “In the wrong hands, it could cause terrible destruction.”

The words fell heavily around them and Arthur bowed his head.

“I swear I will be the only one to use Excalibur,” he said, looking down at the glinting sword. “And I swear I will only use her to protect my kingdom and its people.”

“Noble words,” Kilgharrah commented, drawling out the words. “For a fine king, the finest the entire kingdom will ever know.”

Merlin came to stand beside him and, though he had no armour and looked hardly the part, he was ready to defend his people. He had the strength of dragons at his back and Merlin by his side as well as his people surrounding him. He had a cause and, unlike Sigan, he was prepared to fight for his cause, let every single, tiny voice in his kingdom be heard, no matter how much blood and sweat he had to shed.

“Thank you,” Arthur said, meaning the words more than any time he’d said them before. In return, Kilgharrah bent his neck, eyes closing as he bowed respectfully.

“Are you to fight?” Merlin asked, voice quiet and stilted.

“I will join the other dragons, yes,” Kilgharrah replied. “And I promise to protect your father with everything I have.”

Though he still carried the worry, Merlin seemed satisfied with the answer.

“When will they be here?” Merlin asked next, shifting and brushing his hand against Arthur’s.

“They are already here,” Kilgharrah said, smiling. “If we do not act tonight, Sigan will discover Arthur’s heritage and the future of Albion will be lost.”

Strangely, panic didn’t overtake him. Instead, Arthur nodded, as if he’d expected nothing less than tonight to be the night.

For anyone else, perhaps it would have been too much. To find out you’re the heir to a kingdom, confess your feelings to the most powerful sorcerer in the realm, meet a dragon and gain the finest sword in the kingdom, only to find out you would use that sword that very night when you began a rebellion against the crown, was enough to cause anyone to feel ill. Anyone but Arthur.

Excalibur was firm in his hand and Merlin was strong by his side. He had dragons willing to fight, as well as people who had never seen him, didn’t even know his name. Arthur was ready and the land had been crying out for this for a long, long time.

“Tonight?” Merlin asked and Arthur could hear the worry in his voice. “It’s too soon!”

Kilgharrah shook his great head.

“We have been waiting for this night for generations. What the Du Bois line and the Pendragon line have sacrificed up until now has been for this night, to bring Arthur to Camelot and for him to meet you, Merlin.” Kilgharrah smiled kindly, proudly, down at Merlin. “It is time for you to see what I have been telling you for years. You are ready, young warlock, and now is the time to take Albion from Sigan’s grasp!”

He let out a bellow then and it spread across the land, the wind carrying it. In answer, the roar was echoed by what could have been hundreds of dragons, waiting to seize their land back from the tyranny Sigan had forced upon them.

“Merlin,” Kilgharrah said warmly, bringing his head down to their level. “I believe in the future that you and Arthur will create. Tonight blood will be shed, but it will not be in vain.”

The dragon’s body rumbled as he moved, swinging around until his shoulder was level with Arthur and Merlin.

“I will take you to the citadel. Your people are waiting to fight on your command and the dragons will take to the skies when we do.” Kilgharrah seemed excited, light dancing in his eyes as Merlin took Arthur’s hand.

“The wall needs to be torn down,” Arthur said as he walked over to Kilgharrah. Merlin climbed up Kilgharrah’s side and offered him a hand, and Arthur settled down in front of Merlin, hands clasped tightly around a thick spine.

“And if it can be avoided, please do not kill anyone.” Kilgharrah understood the orders and shouted them to the skies, silky lines of draconic language bursting from his lungs and flowing to the waiting dragons.

“We will fly to avenge those who were bewitched against us,” was the final roar Kilgharrah gave before he shot into the air, wings tightly pressed to his body.

They were flying, truly flying, and Arthur, though they were about to start a war and usurp the throne, laughed. It echoed in Merlin’s chest as they pressed closer, just as Kilgharrah’s wings unfurled and they soared higher.

Around them came the sound of other dragons, deep growls and hums along with powerful wing beats. Arthur looked over his shoulder in amazement, looking at the dragons that were prepared to fight with him. They were different colours, different sizes and shapes, but they were all flying for Albion, and Arthur felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes.

The wind whipped at his face as they plunged from the cloud layer, right above Camelot’s walls, and Arthur was unsure whether the tears on his cheeks were from the flight or otherwise, but he didn’t have time to think upon that now. He gripped Excalibur, tucked into his belt as she was, and squeezed Merlin’s wrist, resisting the urge to turn around and kiss him. If he kissed Merlin now, it would be like admitting one of them wouldn’t come through this and Arthur planned that Sigan and his followers would be the only ones not coming out of this.

Despite being a massive dragon, it didn’t look as though Kilgharrah had alerted anyone to his presence. It made sense - most people were inside and clouds were low now, most likely an effect of having druids on your side who could manipulate the weather. Low clouds meant that the moon was blocked, and the only sign of Kilgharrah were the swoops of his wings he made.

He couldn’t soar forever and the first beat of his wings alerted the magicians below to his presence. Spells were fired and Merlin threw up a shield around himself and Arthur, but Kilgharrah simply carried on.

“Their petty magic is no match for a dragon,” he said, voice curled with a smile. The magicians below visibly balked, something Arthur could see even though they were a good height clear of the nearest houses.

“We need to get to the citadel,” Merlin said softly, a patient reminder. Kilgharrah nodded and beat his wings, swooping higher past the citadel gates and down over the courtyard.

They were welcomed by magicians and guards alike, weapons pointed upwards and magic crackling on the ground. Kilgharrah waited, poised to strike fire and tooth or to simply drift up and away.

“What do you want to do?” Merlin whispered in Arthur’s ear and everything suddenly became real.

This was a battle, a true battle for the kingdom and Arthur took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves in his stomach. It was now or never that he had his chance to become a king and save his people, but he knew it was more than that. His decisions today would be remembered, no matter the ending.

He needed to be Arthur Pendragon, orphan and blacksmith apprentice. He needed to be Ygraine and Uther’s son. He had to be the leader of a mismatched army and a voice for the people. He had to be the man Merlin loved - for all of these pieces were what would make him great.

“Ask them to leave,” Arthur asked of Merlin. “Tell them that you wish them no harm, and give them a choice.”

Merlin nodded and turned to the magicians below. He asked of them to leave, yet none made to move.

“We are giving you a choice,” Arthur said, voice firm as he looked down over the courtyard. “If you remain here, you may be hurt and that is the last thing I want.”

The guards held firm and the magician’s grip on their magic intensified. Merlin’s grip hardened on Kilgharrah’s spine, yet he made no move to interfere, recognising this as something Arthur needed to do.

“My name is Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther and Ygraine Du Bois. I am the legitimate heir of the rightful king, Anlawd, the king that the tyrant Sigan murdered for the crown.” Arthur raised Excalibur and let the sword catch the light of the moon, stars and the vast sky.

“I swear to you that I wish to free the land of Sigan’s curse, but I do not wish to harm you when I can offer you a choice. I believe in the people, something Sigan forgot a long, long time ago.” Arthur looked down and saw the guards lowering their weapons and the magic fading. “If you let us pass, you will be free.”

The use of the word free was loose, something Arthur wanted. He didn’t know much of magicians, but from what Merlin had told him, Arthur knew sorcerers didn’t get a choice. If they were found to have magic, they were escorted to Camelot and turned into nameless magicians. Perhaps some liked it, perhaps some didn’t, but if they came through this, Arthur would give them a choice.

A burst of red light shot towards them suddenly, but Merlin was there, throwing his hands out and blocking it with ease. Golden light erupted around them, framing them, and Arthur wondered what the people below saw.

“Go home, to your families if you wish. You served Sigan well, but he is a false king.” Arthur lowered Excalibur as the light around them began to fade.

Some of the men ran instantly, dropping the weapons. Others waited until Kilgharrah was on the ground and they could look closer at the strange people astride the dragon, but they all left. Only one lingered long enough to bow his head to Arthur before he ran to join the others, but it was enough to warm Arthur’s heart.

“We need to find Sigan,” Merlin said as they dismounted Kilgharrah. “And you need to help the others.”

Kilgharrah snorted, but said nothing against it.

They were about to leave for the centre of the citadel when an almighty boom resonated through the ground. Merlin stumbled and fell and Arthur was propelled forwards against a pillar. His shoulder was bruised, but it was thankfully only small.

“What was that?” he shouted, unsure which side could have produced that.

“What you asked for,” Kilgharrah said, unfurling his wings in preparation to take to the skies. “The wall has gone.”

Arthur gave a bark of laughter, looking to Merlin as he righted himself. He was covered in dirt and his face smudged with mud, but Merlin was smiling back. The wall that had held Camelot back was gone now and, after they’d dealt with Sigan, Arthur would take down the walls surrounding all villages.

If they wished to place up another wall then Arthur would help, but these ones, towering things with Sigan’s raven all over them, were nothing but fancy bindings on a cage. They were symbols of captivity and Arthur, though he had spent his life behind them and at one point needed them, knew they could not live in a world of walls.

“Come on,” Merlin said, tugging at Arthur sleeve and making for the nearby entrance. “Sigan is the only one now.”

Arthur was about to follow Merlin when he shouted out. Merlin turned too late as magic wrapped itself around his ankles, pulling him to the ground with an almighty thump.

“The only one!?” a withered voice shouted. It was Sigan, no doubt about that, and as Merlin struggled to undo the magic cast on him, Arthur turned to the source of the voice, Excalibur poised before him.

“This is my kingdom!” Sigan roared, stepping from the shadows in a cloak of midnight black. His eyes were also dark, too far gone to be considered human. “And yet here you stand, the blood of those who turned against me!”

Sigan curled over himself, hands stretching out. Behind Arthur, Merlin gave a strained gasp and his entire body shuddered, jolting up a moment later in pain.

“What are you doing?” Arthur shouted, lowering himself into a fighting stance. “What are you doing to him?”

A cruel and cold laugh spilled from Sigan’s lips as he shook his head, stepping closer and closer to Arthur and Merlin.

“Emrys is but a name. He is not the one who has conquered immortality! He is but a boy, and a boy who shall soon die.” Sigan’s eyes narrowed on Arthur and he raised his hand.

It happened too fast for Arthur to react and as Sigan pushed him away from Merlin, the breath left him. Excalibur clattered against the cobblestones as he landed, skittering away, and Arthur cradled his side, giving out a strained gasp. He doubted Sigan had meant to kill him with that blow, but he also doubted it would be long before he grew bored.

Arthur knew he was defenceless against Sigan. He had no magic and Sigan was one of the most powerful sorcerers the world had ever seen. Merlin was struggling, though, his breathing erratic, and Arthur knew he couldn’t lay on the ground and do nothing.

So again he stood. And again Sigan threw him to the ground like a rag doll. Again and again it happened until Sigan laughed louder, roaring as he threw Arthur against the pillars. It cracked under the force of magic and Arthur retched, blood spilling from his mouth and onto the floor. He saw Sigan’s glinting eyes as he turned back to Merlin, hands moving to hover above him.

As Arthur’s eyes slipped shut, he wondered if he’d done enough to make his parents proud. He had failed his kingdom and the people, but had he made them proud?

It felt like slipping into a dream, except Arthur had never known a dream like this. The room he was in was pale and sunlight streamed through the window. A face, kind and young, peered down at him before arms reached down, hands tucking themselves under him and lifting him up. He was small, fitting to the woman’s breast like a baby, and Arthur rested his head against her, listening to the first heartbeat he’d ever known.

“No matter what happens,” a soft voice said, vibrating through the woman’s body, “know this one thing, Arthur.”

A man stood from across the room and knelt before them, kissing Arthur’s cheek.

“We will always, always, be proud of you.”

Arthur snapped his eyes open and placed a hand against the pillar. The vision, dream, memory - whatever it was - may not have been true, but he wanted it to be. Those people could have been fabrications of his mind, but they had felt like his parents. They were proud, no matter what, but Arthur refused to let it stop there.

He would never let Sigan kill Merlin. He would never let Sigan take his kingdom when they had this chance and he would never, ever, let Sigan get away with all he’d done.

Excalibur rang true as Arthur pushed the blade through Sigan’s heart. It was enough for a stutter to run through his magic and Merlin snapped free of his control, looking at Arthur with wide eyes. Excalibur wouldn’t be enough, though, and Arthur shouted to Merlin.

“How do you defeat immortality?” he called and a look of incredulous shock crossed Merlin’s face.

And then he was creating a spell, drawing on the magic of the earth and the sky, of the elements and the people. Arthur could feel that Merlin was creating this spell from scratch and knew that Sigan realised this too.

With one last word, Merlin’s eyes burned bright and magic began to tear Sigan to pieces. Excalibur glowed in the calamity, stock still and holding Sigan’s magic back. The dragon-hilt seemed to grow until it was separate from the sword, a miniature dragon that Merlin spoke to, still working his spell.

The rush of magic and Sigan seemed to impact upon itself and the dragon let out a stream of bright blue flames, covering itself and the small bundle. Merlin gave one, final word of magic, barely hissing it as he fell to his knees, and all that was left between them clattered to the floor.

Arthur’s chest was heaving and he moved forwards, falling to his knees beside Excalibur. Her hilt was smooth now, the dragon completely gone. In whatever spell Merlin had created, Arthur knew that the dragon he’d commanded had been the final piece, the one who had created the eternal seal.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said weakly, head bowed down as he rested on all fours. “I needed something strong, something that was magical and yet part of the land. The dragon - you said it was made by the blacksmiths of old? It was perfect to transform into a container, but I’m still sorry.”

Arthur scooted closer, ignoring his sword and the grit that scraped at his grazed knees. His hands were bloody and so was his chin, but he needed to be beside Merlin.

“You have nothing,” Arthur started, tilting Merlin’s head up, “absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

Their kiss tasted of blood and victory, of exhaustion and excitement, but it also tasted of Merlin and Arthur and of Albion. Arthur tightened his grip, pulling Merlin closer and kissing him with something akin to desperation. Sometime during their fight it had begun to rain and Arthur let the water run down over him as he kept pressed to Merlin, refusing to let him go after what had happened.

“I can never lose you,” he admitted when they parted, looking into Merlin’s eyes. “Never. Do you understand?”

Merlin said nothing, but the smile on his lips and the crinkle at the corner of his eyes was all Arthur needed to see.

“The stone needs to go somewhere no one will ever find it,” Merlin said, sagging against Arthur. In the background they could hear the city come alive and dragon-fire lit up the skies in celebration, and Arthur nodded.

“No one ever will,” Arthur promised and stood shakily, helping Merlin and grabbing Excalibur. They left the bright blue stone-heart on the floor, standing beside it as the citadel began to fill, hundreds of people who had heard of the world Arthur wished to build and wanted to see the man himself.

“Sigan is gone,” Merlin said as he bowed his head, following the people as they acknowledged their king. “And you will bring about the greatest age that man will ever see.”

Arthur closed his eyes and let the filth of Sigan wash from the streets. Maybe, just maybe, he could create this golden kingdom Kilgharrah seemed to think he could, but he would simply start by listening to his people and ridding the land of Sigan’s filth.

He would make them all proud and safe. He would secure their future and that of the next generations because he had those he loved, because he wanted to help. That was something he would never forget, that much he vowed as he slumped to his knees, still smiling as the pain finally caught up with him and he let consciousness slip away.

.

After just two days of bed rest, Arthur Pendragon was crowned king of Camelot. Before the coronation, he ignored the queue of councilors and coronation organisers to walk the streets, Merlin at his side and a cluster of people following him. He accepted flowers and tokens from all, promising that he would keep them safe and listen.

The word of his promises spread over the land, and Arthur met with those who wished to praise and challenge him alike. He built a council from common, mortal people, former magicians and those from outside of the city, such as druids and Dragonlords. Arthur let his instinct and wisdom guide him, but he never lost sight of what was important and never made a decision that he didn’t believe was right.

Through it all, Merlin watched and aided, arguing when it was necessary and playing devil’s advocate when he had to. Still, no matter what he said to the king and when, Arthur kept him at his side and never went back on the vow he’d made to wake up without him.

The first meeting between Morgana and Arthur had been an odd one. Merlin and Gwen had stood by the side while Morgana had inspected the king, declaring him fit to be Emrys’ match. Merlin had flushed at that and run to her, asking what she’d seen, but Morgana had waved him off with a laugh.

“I wish to accompany Gwen back to Balor,” Morgana had said after that, crossing her arms in defiance. “I believe you came to see if Gwen was in good health on her brother’s wishes, but now that you are king you can hardly travel to Balor.”

She had frowned when Arthur then made to speak.

“That is, at the current time,” she said before Arthur had had a chance. “You’ll tour your kingdom soon enough, though I’d advise against hunting on the first night.” She’d smiled, somewhat wickedly. “Unicorns inhabit the wood and if you go hunting, you will kill one. We don’t need another curse so shortly after Sigan’s was lifted.”

Later, in privacy, Arthur looked to Merlin and declared that Morgana was positively frightening. Merlin had laughed, but made no move to disagree before burrowing under the sheets, making his way down.

(And, though he would ignore Merlin’s knowing smile on the matter, Arthur made sure that no one went hunting the first night of his tour, even if it had meant carrying another wagon full of provisions.)

He’d allowed Gwen and Morgana to go all the same, appointing a handful of newly knighted men - Leon from the stables amongst them - to accompany them. Elyan had returned to Camelot with a smile and Arthur had embraced him like a brother. He’d never be able to thank Elyan enough for what he’d done, even if the man himself refused to accept he was part of Arthur’s rise to the throne.

And while this was no fairytale, and Arthur had his fair share of mistakes and regrets during his life, they lived happily. Camelot prospered and the wealth of its lands and peoples spread over Albion. Magic flowed freely as well as manual trades, and people were free to go about their lives safe in the knowledge that they were protected and treasured by the monarchy.

“You know,” Arthur commented one day, his crown on the table in his room as he and Merlin sat out on the balcony, looking up at the curved moon. “I tried my hardest not to speak to you back at the inn where we met. Thought you were a bit of an idiot.”

Merlin looked at him curiously, smile on his face. It was wide and made him look like a child, but it was one of Arthur’s favourite smiles.

“You did look like an arrogant prat,” he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Arthur smiled. “Just think - if that man hadn’t got up when he had, I’d never have sat next to you.”

“And what kind of king would you have had then?” Arthur asked, bowing his head in mock respect.

“Not one worth serving,” Merlin said, voice suddenly serious and smile dropped from his face.

Arthur nodded and inched closer, stopping before their lips met, whispering his love to Merlin. The stars twinkled above them as Merlin pressed his lips against Arthur’s, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him tighter, and Arthur knew that he could do anything so long as Merlin was beside him.

The End.