Chapter Text
Merlin woke in a panic, which immediately yielded to the pounding in his head. Before he opened his eyes, he clutched at his head as if he could somehow smother the pain, but the movement only informed him that his entire body ached.
When he did open his eyes, he saw Morgana.
He tried to scramble to his feet, but his boots slid on slick stone, and he did not have the strength to right himself. He slumped against the wall with a small moan.
Morgana smirked. “Did no one warn the great Emrys about using too much magic?”
Panic anew shot through Merlin’s heart, but even as he struggled to make sense of her words, the memories started to return.
He had placed the curse beneath Morgana’s bed to drain her magic, but as a High Priestess, she must have discovered it. When he and Arthur confronted Morgana and Helios in the throne room — along with Gwen, Tristan, and Isolde — she unleashed a wave of magic that could have killed them all had Merlin not intervened.
He didn’t remember much forethought before he revealed himself in a blaze of magic. The battle was a blur, but he did remember fighting Morgana. She was powerful, but he’d gotten the upper hand and knocked her unconscious.
Oh, this was the part where he’d been stupid.
He remembered meeting Arthur’s eyes and recognizing the betrayal there. Desperation had consumed him. He’d so wanted to prove to Arthur that he was on his side that he’d then killed Helios and all those who remained of his army in a show of magic he had not known himself capable. The last thing he remembered was hitting the hard stone of the floor.
No wonder his body felt seconds from death.
But that didn’t explain — oh.
Yes, now that Merlin looked beyond Morgana, he could see that they were in cells in what was undeniably Camelot’s dungeons. He’d never seen this part before, but he recognized the iron bars and stone walls. His and Morgana’s cells shared a wall of lattice iron, so he had a perfect view of her growing smirk.
“Are you proud of yourself for betraying your kind? As you can see, we both ended up in the same place.”
She was also sitting on the ground, her black dress tucked around her, but she lifted her arms to encompass the dreariness of their surroundings. Though there were other cells, the two of them were the only people down here. It was too dark to determine much else when there was but one sconce on the wall outside their cells.
“At least I didn’t kill innocents to get here,” Merlin said, his voice raspy.
“No, you just watched as innocents died,” Morgana snarled. “You knew I had magic — you knew how I was suffering — and you said nothing.”
Merlin winced. There was much he regretted in his life, and much of it to do with Morgana, but that was one choice that still haunted him. He’d trusted that Gaius knew best, but if Merlin had told Morgana the truth, would they be here now? Or would Merlin be dead and Morgana the tyrannical queen of Camelot? He would never know, but he would always wonder.
“I’m sorry,” he said honestly. “I hated to leave you in the dark, but my job is to protect Arthur, and I—”
“Why?” Morgana growled. “Why would you protect him? He’s Uther’s son. You saved his life and put him back on his throne, and he still threw you down here with me.”
Merlin could not deny how the truth struck him deep, and by the triumph on Morgana’s face, she saw it, too. Then Merlin took a deep breath.
“Arthur is the Once and Future King, and it is foretold that he will unite the lands of Albion and return magic to the land. I believe that. I really do. And if he—-” Merlin’s voice broke on the last word, and he took another deep breath to continue. “Whatever he does to me, I still believe that. Everything I’ve done is to bring about that future.”
“Please,” Morgana snorted. “I lived with the two of you for years. You protected him because you love him.”
“That, too,” Merlin said simply.
Morgana looked startled to hear him admit it, but locked in a dungeon beneath the castle, he didn’t see much point in lying anymore. It clearly hadn’t served him well in the past anyway.
When she failed to have a response to that, Merlin tried to take in more of his new situation. Neither he nor Morgana were chained, but their cells did not allow much movement. The rest of the prison seemed bare, but then he saw runes etched into the stone walls and even on some of the iron bars.
Ah, that explained why he and Morgana were not clapped in chains. The entire prison was charmed to muffle magic. He wasn’t about to test his own while Morgana was watching, but he could guess that she already determined she could not perform a magical escape here.
“State secret,” Morgana said bitterly. “Uther probably killed the sorcerer who did it, but these dungeons were charmed to make sure no one could use their magic down here.”
“The perfect place to store Emrys and the last High Priestess of the Old Religion,” Merlin said wryly.
Morgana gave him a strange look, and Merlin shrugged. He didn’t really understand it either.
Vaguely, he realized he should probably be panicking or at least dreading what was to come next, but after fearing this moment his entire life, there was an odd relief. He’d returned Arthur to Camelot, saved the lives of his friends and people, and defeated the enemy. His magic was out in the open, and there was nothing he could do about it now.
Sure, Arthur had thrown him in the same dungeon as Morgana, and that didn’t bode well, but he felt oddly at peace about it. Maybe deep down, he didn’t believe Arthur would execute him.
Or maybe he was just tired.
“I’m going to sleep,” Merlin said. He almost told her to wake him if anything happened, but he remembered they didn’t have that relationship anymore.
He curled onto his side, facing away from her, and with that prick of sadness, he let sleep take him once more.
…
When the door opened with a creak and a stream of light, Merlin thought he was hallucinating at first. He and Morgana were ignoring each other, and he’d just been thinking about how tired he was of staring at the same spot on the wall.
Then Gwaine emerged, and Merlin smiled.
He leapt to his feet, which was a mistake, and he ended up leaning against the iron bars to stay upright.
“Whoa there, no need for all that on my account,” Gwaine greeted with a dashing smile, but his eyes held depths.
Merlin realized Gwaine would know everything, possibly even what Arthur was planning, and the thought was enough to temper his joy.
Then Gwaine lifted a basket full of blankets, food, and water skins. “I come with gifts,” he said.
He slid a plate of bread, cheese, and fruit through a hole in the iron lattice and then handed the skin to Merlin through the bars. Merlin immediately took a drink but carefully stopped himself from draining the entire thing. He didn’t yet know how frequently he’d receive meals. He also immediately wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.
Gwaine slid an equal supply of rations through the bars of Morgana’s cell. He said, “I won’t even make you fight for it,” but she continued to ignore them both, her body curled toward the wall.
Gwaine sat down next to Merlin’s cell, and with relief, Merlin sat as well. His body still ached, and exhaustion was quick to take him.
“Are you okay?” Gwaine asked softly.
“Sure, for the circumstances,” Merlin said. “It’s good to see you. I’m a little surprised you’re allowed down here.”
“Gwen wanted to come, but Arthur wouldn’t let her. I suppose these cells haven’t been tested against a magic user in a long time.”
Merlin flinched. “I would never—”
Gwaine shook his head. “Not you,” he said with a tilt of his head toward the other occupied cell.
“Oh,” Merlin said, and he felt both relieved and guilty over that relief. “I guess Arthur wasn’t worried about me then.”
“Mate, I think Arthur assumed you could hold your own. I was in the dungeons, getting ready to join the fight, and suddenly every one of Helios’s men dropped dead. I didn’t know sorcerers could do that.”
Merlin searched Gwaine’s eyes for fear, but he found only awe and the affection and familiarity of a friend. He found himself relaxing a little more, his body slumping further against the iron bars.
“I’m sorry,” Merlin said.
“Why? For winning the kingdom back and saving our lives?”
“For lying.”
Gwaine pressed his lips together and nodded. “Well, it’s not like we don’t realize why you did. Well, Arthur will once he gets his head out of his ass.”
Merlin squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the tears. When he met Gwaine’s gaze once more, he said, “So he’s angry?”
Gwaine shrugged. “At first. I nearly took a swing at him when I heard he’d put you down here, too, but Arthur assured me it was just temporary. I wish I could tell you more, but he’s putting the kingdom back together. It was all I could do to get approval to come down here.”
“I suppose that’s not the worst news,” Merlin said though his stomach still squirmed uncomfortably.
“He’ll come around,” Gwaine said.
“Thanks. And for the food and water, too.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that. I feel like I should be thanking you.”
Gwaine’s gaze was so heavy that Merlin wanted to look away. He could feel the weight of the questions he wasn’t asking, and Merlin didn’t know if it was Morgana’s presence or concern for Merlin’s well-being that stopped him, but either way, Merlin was grateful.
“Make it up to me by telling me what’s going on in the castle,” Merlin proposed.
Gwaine grinned, and he talked about the rebuilding efforts and the aid being offered to all citizens who were displaced.
“Speaking of, I’m supposed to help with the cleanup in the lower town,” Gwaine said, rising to his feet. “But I’ll be back, okay?”
Merlin nodded and smiled, and he tried not to ache as his friend left, closing the door and taking the stream of light with him. He was once again left in the dark with a single lantern and Morgana.
…
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The two of them had been sitting in silence for so long that Merlin needed a moment to interpret the words. He shifted his gaze from the wall to Morgana’s cell where she was sitting opposite of him. She had draped her blanket over her lap, and she still had a regal air about her even now.
“Tell you what?” Merlin said.
“About your magic. You knew about mine.”
Merlin almost mentioned Gaius and Kilgharrah, but though they had both warned him, he’d ultimately been the one to make the decision.
“You were Uther’s ward. I couldn’t take that risk,” he said, which was true but perhaps not the whole truth. Even he couldn’t really pin down the reasoning behind his decisions regarding Morgana.
He could try to explain the prophecies that surrounded her as they surrounded Arthur and him, but it seemed cruel to inform her that she was destined for evil. Besides, whatever their prophecies had said about them, they had ended up in the same cell.
“I helped protect the Druid boy. That was before Morgause and—” Morgana sighed, and Merlin appreciated that she wasn’t forcing him to explain why he didn’t trust her after that.
“You’re right,” Merlin acknowledged. “But he was just a child, and I’m, well.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t be sure that you’d feel the same about me.”
“I think I would have,” Morgana said quietly. Then her face darkened, and she spat, “You knew about mine. You knew how I was suffering, and you did nothing.”
Merlin winced. “I arranged for you to meet the Druids.”
“Yes, and do you remember how that went?”
It was true, and for a moment, they both struggled under the weight of the innocent Druids who had died due to their own foolishness.
“I’m sorry,” Merlin said. “If I could go back and change things, I would.”
“Even poisoning me?” Morgana snarled.
“No.”
Morgana startled, apparently shocked at his response. Hate gleamed in her eyes, and Merlin had no doubt that she would kill him now if she could.
“You were the vessel of the spell. It was the only way to save Camelot,” Merlin said. “I did tell Morgause the poison, so she could save you, but I understand if you can never forgive me.”
Morgana’s eyes grew wide, and Merlin wondered which part she didn’t know. Then again, perhaps she didn’t believe him.
Either way, she didn’t respond, and Merlin eventually let his gaze drift to the wall once more.
…
When the door opened this time, Gwen appeared in a glow of light, and Merlin’s heart leapt. He was thrilled to see the smiling face of his friend, and he was also relieved that Arthur had allowed her to visit. Perhaps that only showed faith in the magic-suppressing qualities of the prison, but Merlin still considered it a good sign.
Gwen’s smile faltered for a moment when she met Morgana’s eyes, but Morgana sneered and turned away from her. Heartbreak flashed across Gwen’s face, but she recovered her smile by the time she came to Merlin’s cell.
“I have food and water,” she greeted. She slid one basket through the bars of Morgana’s cell, which she ignored, and slid the other into Merlin’s.
“I’m just glad to see you,” Merlin said.
He did not bother trying to stand, and he was grateful when Gwen sat next to him. The two of them leaned against the bars, and Merlin could almost pretend for a moment that they were sharing a moment of reprieve on the castle steps as they used to do between chores. He wondered if Gwen was thinking the same thing.
“How are you?” Gwen asked, but she winced as if she realized the inane quality of the question.
“Good,” Merlin said because he didn’t want to talk about the pain that still lingered in his body or the fear that grew with each passing hour. “A little bored.”
That startled a small laugh from her. “You’re missing out on all the clean-up upstairs,” Gwen said. “Arthur’s chambers were a mess.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “His chambers are always a mess.”
Gwen’s smile faded, and she grew serious. “He’s a bit of a mess right now, too,” she admitted in a whisper.
“Is he angry?”
“He’s more hurt than angry though he’ll never admit it,” she confided.
“And you?” Merlin asked.
“I suppose I was a little hurt,” Gwen said. “Maybe even a little angry for just a moment. But mostly I’m curious. Maybe a little confused.”
Merlin huffed out a bitter chuckle. “Fair enough,” he said. “You can ask me anything. I know I hid this big thing from you, but I didn’t want to put you in danger in case—” He shrugged. “But I always considered you a close friend. I still do if you’ll have me.”
Gwen’s eyes shined. “Of course I’ll have you,” she assured him. “I don’t doubt you’re my friend, and trust me, we all know you saved us.”
Relief washed over Merlin once again. It was one thing to hear the sentiment from Gwaine, who had seen much in his travels, and quite another to hear it from Gwen, who had grown up in Camelot and its magic-fearing ways.
“I suppose I’m unsure about… how much of it was a lie?” Gwen’s voice was small as if she didn’t want to throw the accusation at Merlin’s feet, but she’d always been brave about the difficult conversations.
“I’m still me,” Merlin said, and he tried to smile.
“I know. Really, I do,” Gwen said. “It’s just, they’re saying you’re more than a sorcerer. That you’re more powerful than anyone else. If that’s true, why would you be a servant in Camelot?”
Panic struck Merlin, and he desperately wanted to ask who was saying these things and what exactly they were saying. Surely, Gaius wouldn’t be spreading around the truth of his destiny. Were the Druids involved somehow?
Then Merlin really took the time to read the emotion on Gwen’s face, and he stopped himself. To her, this wasn’t about his destiny or great power. It was about their friendship and whether it was built on a lie.
He couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t sure they’d have become as close as they were if they hadn’t both been servants. He had relied on her knowledge so much during the early days, and then he’d come to rely on her for companionship and kindness. They both understood the trials that came with their class. Even while Arthur had grown in that area, only they really understood the helplessness and frustration of being a peasant at court.
Merlin stretched his hand through the bars of his cell, and Gwen immediately took his hand and squeezed.
“You met my mother,” he said. “You saw where I grew up. None of that was a lie.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. I was born with magic, and my mother taught me to hide it. I knew I was different of course, but I didn’t know I was different among magic users until I came to Camelot,” he said with a shrug.
“You could have gone anywhere,” Gwen said.
“Maybe, but my mother thought I should come to Camelot. I think we both hoped I’d find a purpose here, and I did,” he said with a smile. “But I’m still a peasant from a small village. Just one with magic.”
She giggled and squeezed his hand again.
“I know it must seem silly,” she said. “It doesn’t really matter, but I just. I guess for a moment, I wondered if I really knew you.”
“You do,” Merlin said. “I’m sorry I hid this from you.”
“It’s not like I can’t understand why,” Gwen admitted. “And honestly, looking back, it does explain some things. You’ve always acted so strangely compared to anyone else.”
Merlin laughed. “Part of my charm.”
“I suppose it is,” Gwen laughed. “And you saved my father, didn’t you? From the plague?”
Merlin winced. “Yes, and I nearly got you executed for it. I’m sorry about that.”
“You don’t have to say sorry for everything, you know,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes. “I’m grateful. I also know you helped get me out of prison then.”
“It was the least I could do.”
“I’m starting to think you never do the least,” Gwen teased.
Before Merlin could think of a response, a guard appeared in the doorway and informed Gwen that she needed to leave the dungeon. Gwen pressed her lips together, but Merlin squeezed her hand once more and assured her that they could speak again. He didn’t really know if that was true, but she nodded and left with conflict shining in her eyes.
Once the door shut behind Gwen, Merlin started eating from the basket of food, and he tried not to wonder why he hadn’t heard from Arthur yet. Surely, if he allowed Gwaine and Gwen to see him, he wasn’t planning on executing him before he had a chance to explain.
“Funny how they’ve embraced you with open arms,” Morgana hissed.
Merlin sighed. “I didn’t try to kill them, Morgana,” he said.
“It may not matter,” she said. “We’re both still down here after all.”
Merlin abandoned the food and laid down on his side once again. He wasn’t really hungry anymore.
…
Two guards came for Merlin. They clasped manacles around his wrists and marched him out of his cell.
For just a moment he met Morgana’s eyes, and they shared a look of panic. He wasn’t sure if she would mourn him if he was executed — probably not — but it wouldn’t bode well for her fate.
Then the guards escorted him out of the prison, and the moment he crossed through the doorway, he felt the return of his magic. If he wanted, he could escape right now, but instead he allowed the guards to lead him to what he now recognized as part of Camelot’s standard dungeons.
They took him to an interrogation room, and they attached his manacles to chains that hung from the ceiling. They were intentionally too short, so he held his arms above his head in a position that was all too familiar after he was captured by Morgana.
The low-level panic rose like a cresting wave as he surveyed the many tools of torture on the walls. Surely, Arthur wouldn’t— but suddenly, he didn’t know.
It was easy to have faith that Arthur would not execute him in the face of Morgana’s disdain, but alone and chained, he now wondered. Arthur had just been betrayed by Morgana and Agravaine. He would see Merlin’s secret as a betrayal, too.
Merlin did not know how long he stood in the interrogation room, but it was plenty of time for his arms to ache and his thoughts to turn against him. When the door finally opened to reveal Arthur, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or panicked. Something was certainly making his heart hammer in his chest.
Merlin met Arthur’s eyes, and he could see worlds of emotion in their blue depths, but his jaw settled into anger. Arthur shut the door behind him.
They were alone, a situation that was familiar, but Merlin had never felt so vulnerable. He had his magic, but he would not use it, not like this. Arthur had not brought a sword, but then again, he had ample weapons among the torture devices, so that did not mean much.
Merlin could barely breathe, the silence between them suffocating him. “Arthur—”
Arthur shook his head, and Merlin stopped.
When Arthur did speak, his voice was carefully measured in a way that Merlin knew was difficult for him.
“I have spoken with Gaius, Gwaine, and Guinevere. Others, too. But I want to hear it from you,” he said. As I should have, goes unspoken.
Merlin nodded. “I was born with magic,” he said. “I use it for you. To protect you. To protect Camelot.”
“Why?”
“Because you are the greatest king—”
“No,” Arthur growled. “I don’t want to hear any more rubbish about how I am the greatest king this land will ever know. You may be a sorcerer — even a powerful one — but you’re also a man, and I’ve known you for years. Why?”
Heat flushed Merlin’s cheeks, and he genuinely did not know if this was going well or not, but he owed Arthur the truth.
“You’re my friend,” he said. “And I believe in the world you’re trying to create. I think Camelot could be something special if we— if we work for it.”
“A world where magic reigns?” Arthur challenged.
Merlin narrowed his eyes, and ah, there was the steel he always found with Arthur. Perhaps he was a chained prisoner before the king, but they’d always had a way of transcending their stations when together.
“A world where no one lives in fear. Where people with magic are just people, and they can use their gifts to help others without facing death for it.”
Arthur held his gaze for a long time, and then he nodded as if Merlin had confirmed something. The king left him for a moment, and Arthur appeared vulnerable and tired in a way that tugged at Merlin’s heart.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
“I don’t know,” Merlin said. “I hoped you might someday know, but I never wanted to put you in this position. I’m sorry you’re in it now. Though I’m not sorry for what I did. Whatever you do to me, I don’t regret it.”
“I’m not going to kill you, Merlin,” Arthur said, and he actually had the nerve to sound exasperated as if Merlin was being unreasonable.
“You put me in a prison,” Merlin pointed out, and then he moved his arms just enough to rattle the chains. “And, well—”
Arthur winced. “I didn’t tell them to put you in chains. I just thought this would be a private place for us to talk. Hold on.”
He pulled a key from his belt, and Merlin held his breath as Arthur came close. Merlin was more than familiar with Arthur’s personal space, but normally, Merlin tended to Arthur in various states of undress. Now Merlin felt very aware of how he was still filthy from battle and several days in prison, and yet Arthur seemed unbothered.
He unlocked the chains, and for a moment, Merlin lost control as he realized his body was more affected than he realized. Without hesitation, Arthur caught him and helped him into one of the wooden chairs at the table that Merlin guessed was usually put to far more unsavory purposes. Merlin folded his arms on the table and took a moment to regain equilibrium.
Arthur sat in the chair across the table and regarded him critically. “You should have told me,” he said. “Do you need medical attention? Gwaine and Guinevere didn’t say anything.”
“I’m fine,” Merlin said. “I just haven’t used that magic before, and my body is taking some time to recover.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes. “I’ll ask Gaius if there’s something we should be doing for you.”
“Could I—?” Merlin blushed, somehow uncomfortable to ask. His voice was small when he said, “Could I see him?”
Arthur winced again, and this time, panic shot through Merlin.
“Is he okay?” Merlin demanded. “He’s alive, right? You said you talked to him—”
“He’s alive,” Arthur assured him. “It was just that Morgana’s imprisonment took a toll on his health. Guinevere is tending him, but he will recover.”
“Arthur,” Merlin said, and there were tears in his voice. “Please, whatever you do to me, I don’t care, but if Gaius is dying, please let me see him.”
“I would, I would, I swear it,” Arthur insisted. “Merlin, you know I would. If Gaius was truly in danger, I’d bring you to him, but he’s just recovering. I just didn’t think it’d be a good idea for him to walk that much.”
Merlin regained control of his breathing, and he nodded. Whatever else, he did believe Arthur.
“Besides,” Arthur said. “I’ll admit that I put you in the prison first because I didn’t know what else to do, but I’m not planning on keeping you there. Believe it or not, it’s partly for your protection.”
“My protection?” Merlin scoffed.
“Yes,” Arthur said as if Merlin was being purposefully obtuse. “Plenty of people are grateful for what you did, but the fear of magic runs deep. Some believe you’ve been plotting against Camelot all these years. If you’re in that prison, no one can come after you.”
Merlin wanted to point out that he could protect himself just fine if he was outside a magic-smothering prison, but he didn’t actually think that argument would help their situation. He could almost see the logic if he wasn’t the one forced to stay in a cage.
“There are also rumors,” Arthur admitted.
“Rumors?”
“I suppose there are those in Camelot who still follow the Old Religion or at least remember parts of it. It’s complete rubbish, but some are saying you're this mythical figure called Emrys? Apparently it’s part of the lore of the Druids. The greatest sorcerer—”
“—to ever walk the earth,” Merlin finished grimly.
Arthur’s eyes sparked. “You’re kidding,” he said.
Merlin shrugged. “It’s what the Druids call me. I’m not entirely convinced, but there are prophecies about you, too. They call you the Once and Future King. We’re supposed to unite all of Albion.”
“Well, that seems like a bloody lot of work,” Arthur said with a hysterical edge to his voice.
“Tell me about it,” Merlin agreed.
For a moment, they stared at each other in complete unity — marveling at the destiny before them and wondering at how the hell they could accomplish something like that. Then a shadow crossed Arthur’s face.
“All those times, when you told me I was a great king, was it because of the prophecy?”
“When I first learned of our destiny, I didn’t believe it,” Merlin said. “I’d just met you, and you were such a prat. I thought the prophecies were a bunch of shite.”
Arthur snorted.
“But then I was your manservant, and I got to know who you were underneath the mask of the bratty prince. That’s when I started to believe,” Merlin said, and he met Arthur’s eyes with all his conviction. “I suppose I’ll never know how I’d feel if I’d never learned of the destiny, but I believe in you, Arthur. Not in some mythical figure of the Druids. You, Arthur, the man.”
Arthur inhaled deeply, and he nodded. There was a shininess in both their eyes that they each decided to ignore.
“I don’t suppose your great destiny told you what we need to do next,” he said.
“Nope,” Merlin said. “I did my part. This next bit is on you.”
“Of course,” Arthur huffed, but there was a shift between them, and Merlin felt lighter.
Whatever happened next, they were still Merlin and Arthur. Merlin would always believe in that.
…
Once Merlin was escorted back to his cell, Morgana pretended that she didn’t notice or care.
Merlin was fine with that. He had enough to think about, so as soon as the guards left, he sat down in his usual spot and leaned his head back against the wall. He felt energized after all he and Arthur discussed — and the relief from Arthur’s better-than-expected reaction — but his body still protested everything that had happened to it in the past few days.
“You’re still alive,” Morgana observed.
“I am,” Merlin acknowledged.
“You don’t look as if you’ve been tortured.”
“Arthur wouldn’t do that,” Merlin said though he had admittedly been in the interrogation room.
“Did you see Arthur?” Morgana tried to seem as if she didn’t particularly care either way, but Merlin could sense the desperation in her.
“I did,” he said.
“What did he say?”
“He’s not going to execute me,” Merlin said, and only then did he realize that they had not spoken of Morgana.
“Yet you’re still down here,” she huffed with a bit of a hysteric tilt to her voice.
Merlin thought about ending the conversation. He was tired, and he wanted to live in the high of his conversation with Arthur. However, if he’d been a bit more honest with Morgana from the start, maybe they wouldn’t be in side-by-side cells. He owed her this at the very least.
Besides, hadn’t he already decided he was done with secrets?
“Apparently, this is partly for our safety,” Merlin said. “Between your invasion and my sudden reveal as a sorcerer, not everyone is feeling warmly toward magic users. No one can hurt us here.”
“Yes, I’m sure this is out of the goodness of Arthur’s heart,” Morgana spat.
Merlin shrugged.
“So what else did Arthur say?”
“I told him about our destiny. How he’s the Once and Future King.”
“And did he believe it?”
“I’m not sure. He said it sounded like a lot of work.”
Morgana snarled, “Then he’s not worthy of the title.”
“Morgana, that doesn’t mean he’s not going to do the work,” Merlin said. “And I mean the actual hard work of bringing people together. Not just invading and forcing people to do your will.”
Morgana pressed her lips together and turned away.
“Gaius is recovering if you’re interested,” Merlin said, and okay, he felt sorry for Morgana, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t spit barbs of his own. “He hasn’t come to visit because his health doesn’t allow for it right now.”
“What do I care? He let me suffer for years,” she said.
“He was trying to help.”
“He should have tried harder.”
“Maybe,” Merlin admitted. “I know we made mistakes. That doesn’t mean he deserved what you did to him.”
Morgana didn’t respond.
…
The next time Merlin startled awake, Tristan and Isolde walked through the door. Merlin’s eyes widened, and he carefully rose to his feet. To be honest, he’d forgotten about the two smugglers in the midst of everything else, and he was pleased, if a little surprised, to find that they were still in Camelot.
“Hello,” Isolde greeted him as casually as she did when they first met with her sword in his back.
She glanced at Morgana with curious eyes before moving on to Merlin’s cell. There was an odd bounce in her step for the grim setting.
“Hello,” Merlin responded with a wry smile. He didn’t really understand why the two of them would visit him of all people, but he was happy to receive any company. “How’s the smuggling trade?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Isolde said. “You’re looking at the next two knights in training.”
“Knights? That’s incredible. You’ll be amazing,” Merlin exclaimed, and he meant it. He was pleased to see that Arthur had grown past his initial reaction to his sword fight with Morgause. Besides, Isolde and Tristan were both talented warriors.
“Thank you. I will be,” she agreed. “In the meantime, we’re here to let you bathe. Arthur thought you might appreciate it.”
Ah, so Arthur had noticed his state of hygiene when he’d unlocked Merlin’s chains. Honestly, Merlin couldn’t find it in him to be embarrassed or insulted. He was just grateful.
When he looked past Isolde, he saw two guards pouring buckets of steaming water in a tub while Tristan dragged in a screen. Once the screen blocked the tub from view, Tristan joined Isolde and offered Merlin a rakish smile.
“So there was more to you than we thought,” he said.
Merlin shrugged. “Guess so. I’m glad you’re both unhurt.”
“I think we have you to thank for that. Twice over now.”
“Sounds like you’ll be repaying the favor. Knights of Camelot,” Merlin mused.
“We thought it was time to try a new gig,” Tristian said dismissively, but there was a bashful smile on his face that he couldn’t hide. “Now do you want to bathe first or the lady?”
“I am not bathing,” Morgana snarled. “Not under guard.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Isolde assured her with the same unfazed, perky energy. “You’ll bathe behind a screen, and I’ll stand guard, but I won’t watch.”
“Why should I trust you?”
Isolde shrugged. “It’s up to you. No one will force you, but this is your chance to get clean, and we have a change of clothes for you.”
Morgana wavered, clearly torn between her pride and the prospect of some small modicum of comfort. Merlin’s heart ached for her, but he was relieved when she eventually nodded.
The guards left and shut the door behind them, and Isolde unlocked Morgana’s cell. There was a moment when Morgana met Isolde’s eyes and then Tristan’s, and after a moment of weighing her chances, she eventually retreated to the tub behind the screen.
Merlin supposed that was why Isolde and Tristan were here and not Gwen or Gwaine, and he could admire Arthur’s thinking. Isolde and Tristan were formidable opponents who Morgana would not try to overpower, but they were also the most neutral people in the castle. Morgana wouldn’t feel comfortable with them exactly, but it avoided a fair amount of awkwardness.
Isolde followed Morgana to the screen, but true to her word, she stayed close but gave Morgana the privacy she could.
While Morgana bathed, Merlin and Tristan made idle chatter to also offer what little courtesy they could given the circumstances. Tristan gave him an update on the rebuilding efforts and the logistics of restoring a kingdom after a hostile takeover. Like Gwaine, he and Isolde had been helping in the Lower Town.
“They’re saying you're some kind of god,” Tristan said.
Heat bloomed across Merlin’s cheeks. “Well, that’s not true,” he hastened to say. “At most, the Druids believe I’m Emrys, but they also believe Arthur is the Once and Future King.”
“I’ve seen a lot of magic in my travels, but I’ve never seen anything like what you did. Arthur’s lucky you’re on his side”
“I’m on his side because of the person he is.”
“Even after he’s thrown you in a dungeon?” Tristan challenged.
“Well, he is letting me have a bath, so all’s forgiven,” Merlin deadpanned.
Tristan laughed, and Merlin was grateful that he let the conversation move on to other topics. He had faith in Arthur, but he didn’t want to speculate on what would happen next. He didn’t think his heart could take it if he was wrong.
Eventually, Morgana emerged from the screen in her fresh clothes, hair damp, and Merlin’s breath caught in his throat. She was wearing simple trousers and a gray tunic with a leather belt, the same as she’d worn when she’d traveled with him to Ealdor to defend his mother and his village.
Realistically, Merlin understood that they’d probably just found what clothes of Morgana’s had been left in the castle. Most of her things had been put into storage, and he could imagine Gwen searching for clothes that would be comfortable and warm in a prison cell. Still, the image reminded Merlin that they had been friends once.
Not that he could ever forget.
Once Morgana was returned to her cell, Merlin took his turn in the bath. Tristan didn’t even bother pretending to stand guard, but Merlin supposed he wasn’t the one who’d invaded the castle recently.
He thoroughly washed every inch of skin and ran his fingers through his hair. He was so relieved to feel clean, and he wanted to stay in the water, cool or not, for hours, but he didn’t want to keep Tristan and Isolde waiting on him. He emerged and toweled off, and he was grateful to find that someone had fetched him a fresh set of clothes, too.
He pulled on his other set of trousers and his blue tunic. Someone had even thought to bring his red neckerchief, which he immediately tied around his neck.
He returned to his cell, and Tristan and Isolde offered their goodbyes.
“Good luck in knight training,” Merlin called, and Isolde’s laughter followed them out of the cell.
When the door shut behind them, Morgana asked, “Were they really smugglers?”
“Yeah, Arthur and I met them when we were fleeing Camelot.”
“Why would they fight alongside Arthur then?”
“They believed in him,” Merlin said. “And Arthur believes in them. Apparently enough to knight them.”
“Apparently,” Morgana repeated, but she sounded more confused than anything.
…
They fell into an odd routine.
At least twice a day, a guard brought them food, water, and fresh blankets. Gwaine and Gwen visited when they could, and Gwen brought books and extra lanterns to occupy them.
Merlin and Morgana did not speak much, but the active hostility had evaporated. Merlin did not know where the two of them stood, but neither of them seemed to have the energy to maintain the constant hatred. They sometimes traded the books between the bars and talked about them in a way that could even be called civil.
Merlin wished Arthur would summon him again — he understood why Arthur hadn’t come to visit him here — but he also understood from Gwen and Gwaine that Arthur was being tugged in a thousand directions at the moment. Beyond the logistics of repair, Arthur also needed to deal with the two sorcerers in his dungeon.
Apparently rumors of Merlin’s identity were spreading, and while some revered him as their savior from Morgana’s tyranny, others saw him as no better than her. Similarly, some expressed sympathy from Morgana — particularly those who remembered her as a little girl brought to the castle as Uther’s ward — but most despised her and called for her blood.
Whatever Arthur did, he needed to act carefully. Honestly, Merlin did not envy his position.
He was a little tired of his prison cell though.
The door opened, and Merlin perked up, hoping to see Gwen or Gwaine or even Tristan and Isolde, but instead, a Camelot guard brought in a basket of food. The guard shut the door behind him, and that was the first moment a touch of unease trickled down his spine. The other guards left the door open, discarded the food, and left quickly.
Now that Merlin looked closer, he didn’t recognize this guard. That wasn’t entirely unusual — Camelot had hundreds — but the same four or five had been bringing them supplies.
The guard approached Morgana’s cell first, and he dropped the basket on the ground.
Merlin slowly rose to his feet, and he approached the bars with a guarded expression. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Morgana also stand with a wary look on her face. She sensed something wrong as well.
“I’m supposed to slide the food through the bars,” the guard said. “Imagine my surprise to see so much of the castle’s rations being served to vermin like you. While Camelot’s citizens starve.”
He kicked the basket, and two loaves of bread, cheese, and apples skidded across the ground.
Merlin knew from Gwen and Gwaine that Arthur was distributing food from the castle stores to make sure none of his citizens went without, but of course, that wasn’t the point.
The guard learned against the bars of Morgana’s cell, his arms resting in the spaces between. He grinned, revealing far too many teeth.
Morgana made a show of standing firm, but Merlin noticed how she was as far away from him as the cell allowed.
“I remember when you were a lady,” he mused. “Prettiest in the castle. You’re still pretty, I’ll give you that, but you’re lower than dirt now, aren’t you?”
“How dare you,” Morgana sneered. “I’m a High Priestess.”
The guard theatrically looked around the dungeon. “From what I hear, you don’t have any power down here. In fact, seems like I have all the power here.”
He lifted a key in one hand and a dagger in the other, and Merlin saw fear in Morgana’s eyes.
Merlin didn’t know what the guard was planning, but he wasn’t about to let this go any further.
“Leave now, or you’re going to regret it,” Merlin warned, his voice low.
The guard laughed. “What are you going to do? You’re worth less than she is. I don’t care what they’re saying — you’re just a servant. I’ll gut you next and save the king the trouble.”
The guard inserted the key into the door of Morgana’s cell, and that was as far as he got. Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and the guard’s body slammed into the wall. The stone behind him cracked.
The gold faded from Merlin’s eyes, and he slumped to the ground, breathing hard. His vision swam, and he had no sense of time passing. He clutched at his head until the pounding stopped, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Morgana crouched as close to him as possible from her cell.
“Merlin,” she snapped. It clearly wasn’t the first time she’d called his name. “Merlin, can you hear me?”
“Yeah,” he slurred. He tried to sit up, but his body didn’t cooperate. Instead, he leaned back against the bars and moved his head so he could meet her eyes. “Yeah.”
The moment he focused on her, she compressed the worry in her expression into a neutral facade. “I think you killed him,” she said.
“I didn’t mean to,” he admitted. “I couldn’t really grasp my magic. It was harder to control.”
“But you can use magic down here,” she said.
“I guess so.”
“Then why are you still here?”
Merlin shrugged. “Arthur hasn’t released me.”
The exasperation that immediately washed over her would have been funny under different circumstances.
“You’re pathetic,” she sneered.
“Thanks,” Merlin said, but it was half-hearted at best. He was still trying to regain control of his body. The muffling effects of the dungeon didn’t cut him off from his magic, but the hold was tenuous, and his body was paying the price.
“No,” Morgana said after a moment. “Thank you. For doing that.”
She looked down at her hands, and Merlin softened. “I wasn’t going to let him hurt you,” he said.
Neither of them had to point out the irony. Merlin had not held back in his battle against her, and he had poisoned her. But this was different. And maybe they were a little different now, too.
“Arthur’s going to be so mad,” Merlin realized.
That startled a laugh out of Morgana, and whatever happened next, Merlin did not regret what he had done.
…
Eventually, another guard realized one was missing, and the moment he saw the dead body in the dungeon, he scrambled back upstairs. Not long after, Tristan, Isolde, and Gwaine arrived. Gwaine escorted Merlin out of the dungeon, practically bearing half his weight, and Tristan and Isolde stayed with Morgana.
This time, Merlin was escorted all the way to Arthur’s chambers. Gwaine helped him sit at the table, and Merlin wanted to take in his surroundings, but mostly, he was struggling to catch his breath.
Gwaine sat with him and encouraged him by rubbing small circles on his back.
Arthur arrived with a slam of his door and a shouted, “Are you kidding me, Merlin?”
Merlin winced, and Gwaine squeezed his arm in support. Arthur appeared before them both with his hands on his hips.
“I am fighting for my life to prove that you’re on our side, and you go and kill someone,” Arthur exclaimed.
Merlin perked up. “You’ve been saying I’m on your side?”
“I was, but see if I keep doing it,” Arthur snapped, but then he sighed and joined Merlin and Gwaine at the table. “What happened?”
Merlin did his best to explain what had led to the gruesome murder. When he relayed what the guard had said to Morgana, Arthur gritted his teeth, and Merlin could see his hands clenching for a sword. At last, Merlin finished, and Arthur nodded.
“Fine,” Arthur said. “I’m glad you did what you did, but this does not help negotiations. Have you been able to use your magic the entire time?”
“This was the first time I tried, and the dungeon does impact my control. I didn’t actually mean to kill him, but I had to grasp my magic harder to make it work.”
It wasn’t a perfect analogy, but Merlin didn’t know how to explain it better to someone without magic. Honestly, he barely understood it.
“Most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, huh? No match for the Pendragon anti-magic dungeons?” Gwaine teased.
Merlin blushed and shrugged.
Arthur folded his hands on the table, and Merlin knew him well enough to recognize that he had an idea. Apprehension grew in his stomach as Arthur clearly reached a decision.
“Well, that settles it,” Arthur said. “There’s no point in keeping you in the dungeon in the first place, and you can clearly handle yourself. Besides, I need someone to start drafting my speeches. I’m certainly going to have to make plenty of them if I’m bringing back magic to the kingdom.”
“Fantastic,” Gwaine exclaimed, clapping Merlin on the back.
Merlin barely felt it. His eyes were wide, and he stared at Arthur as if he’d never seen the man before. “What?” he sputtered.
“Really, Merlin, keep up,” Arthur chided. “You must have known I was working on repealing the law. My father had good intentions, but clearly, magic is not what he thought.”
Merlin actually wasn’t sure Uther had good intentions, but that was far from the most important thing about what Arthur had said.
Arthur was bringing back magic. And releasing him from the dungeon. Distantly, he recognized that he should be happy — ecstatic even — but his body seemed so overwhelmed with emotion that he couldn’t quite feel any of it. Then he realized his cheeks were wet with tears, and when had that happened?
Gwaine’s hand was rubbing his back again, and Arthur’s face softened. Another time, he would have teased Merlin for the display, but not now, and Merlin was grateful for it.
However, as happy as he was, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What about Morgana?”
The smile dropped from Arthur’s face. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I can’t bear to see her executed, but I can’t release her. She invaded Camelot twice, and she’s powerful. I can’t trust her.”
Merlin nodded, and he could see Arthur’s reasoning, but he also hadn’t shared a dungeon with her for the past couple of weeks.
“I know she’s done terrible things,” Merlin said. “I do. But I— I think there might be hope for her.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
Merlin couldn’t believe he was about to say this, but when had he ever made the smart decision in his life?
“Put me back in the prison with her. If I have a bit more time, I think I can convince her to come around. Especially now that you’re repealing the ban on magic.”
“Merlin, mate, that’s a nice idea, but she’s too far gone. You don’t know all that she did when she was queen,” Gwaine said as gently as he could.
Merlin swallowed. “I know,” he said. “But I’ve made bad decisions, too. She was raised to hate and fear what she was, and she didn’t have anyone except Morgause. That would corrupt anyone.”
“It’s going to take all my political power to pardon you,” Arthur reminded him. “And you’re the one that saved Camelot.”
Merlin’s heart warmed at the acknowledgement, and once again, he wished he could just enjoy this moment for what it was. Arthur knew him and accepted him, and he was finally in reach of the Albion of his dreams.
Nevertheless, Merlin knew he could never forgive himself if he didn’t at least try to bring Morgana into this Albion with him.
“Just give me some time. I’ll still write your speeches and help you in any way I can, but let me try with Morgana.”
Arthur sighed deeply, but when he glared at him, Merlin knew he had won.
“How are you more trouble than you were as a servant?” Arthur grumped.
Merlin grinned. “Maybe it’s the magic.”
“No it’s definitely just you,” Arthur said. “You have two weeks. Then whether you like it or not, you’re leaving the dungeon and coming to council meetings with me.”