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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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Soulmate AU Part 4 (final part):

Uther continues to be very OOC and Merlin is presented to the Kingdom; luckily enough, everyone already loves him. The Future starts to come together...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The summer passed in much the same way the previous year had; awkwardly polite conversation between Merlin and Uther, Leon panicking at everything, Gwen being exasperated, Morgana and Merlin pissing about, and Arthur watching it all with exponentially growing fondness.

Eventually, it was Yuletide again. Yuletide meant Arthur’s 18th birthday. Arthur’s 18th birthday meant revealing Merlin to the Kingdom; announcing him as The Crown Prince’s Soulmate.

There was an odd mix of feelings surrounding the upcoming event. Both Arthur and Merlin were ecstatic at the idea of not having to hide and sneak around anymore, but Merlin was a foreign peasant boy. The common people would love him, Nobles and Foreign dignitaries? Not so much. Granted, Arthur had a powerfully intimidating presence, when he chose to display it, Morgana could glare anyone into submission, and even Leon was known to be passive aggressively threatening when it concerned Merlin’s safety and respect, but not all could be daunted into compliance. Merlin would surely face discrimination.

That, and the growing spotlight meant that it would become much harder to keep his magic a secret. With Uther’s insistence that Merlin be... part of the family, they’d already had a few close calls.

Thankfully, not much else had changed, or it had changed for the better. Arthur and Merlin still scared everyone else shitless when they popped up to each other, but Morgana’s visions seemed a lot less terrifying now. Leon still had heart palpitations when Merlin and The King were in the same room, but Gwen, Gaius, and Hunith relaxed more; the Physician especially could see the pride glowing in Uther’s eyes, and the awkward fondness he held for Merlin (even if that wouldn't protect him if Uther discovered his magic).

Nevertheless, no ones’ fears or aspirations stopped the passage of time (though Merlin, in his increasing power, had put it on his “List of Things to Try Before I Die”), and Arthur’s crowning ceremony crept closer, day by day.

Hunith, Merlin, Leon, Gwen, and Gaius were gifted front row seats to the event, and as annoyed as Uther was at having the front row taking by commoners, a servant, and a young knight, he didn’t dare argue; he’d learnt that it was pointless now. Morgana was stood behind Uther’s throne at her own seat, giving Arthur a rare smile, not a hint of teasing in her expression, and Arthur returned it easily, comforted by the dream she told him she had the previous night (of adoring crowds and a grinning Merlin) despite his nerves.

The ceremony of course went of without a hitch, a rare smile on Uther’s face, and tears on all the faces of Arthur’s front row.

After an uproarious round of applause and chants of “Long Live The King, Long Live The Prince!”, the room cleared, leaving only Uther, Arthur, Morgana, Merlin, and a few faceless guards.

(Gaius, Hunith, Gwen, and Leon rushed off, wanting to be at the front of the crowds in the courtyard when Arthur and Merlin were presented to the Kingdom.)

Merlin didn’t hesitate in rushing up the steps to Arthur, wrapping his soulmate in a tight hug and whispering his pride into his blushing ear. For once, Morgana didn’t roll her eyes at the display of affection; Arthur may have occasional spurts of arrogance, and the two of them still acted like immature children occasionally, but she loved them both dearly. Uther did roll his eyes, though he could not hide his fondness from Morgana, who raised (yet another) teasing eyebrow at him. He glared at her half-heartedly before clearing his throat, and the boys jumped apart with a start.

He wordlessly nodded towards the door of the Throne Room, and walked out regally, his steps fast and heavy and his cloak billowing behind him. Merlin and Arthur followed quickly, hand in hand, and Morgana walked closely behind them, the guards bringing up the rear. The group finally made it to the large double doors that opened out onto the balcony above the courtyard, though it was two corridors previously that they began to hear the cheering and festivities below.

Arthur could feel Merlin’s hand shaking in his own, and squeezes it comfortingly, giving him a reassuringly soft smile as he murmurs, so Uther can’t hear them:

“Don’t worry, it’ll only be a few minutes, then we’ll come back in. You’ll be introduced to nobles and such during the feast,-”

When Merlin begins to look even more distressed, Arthur rolls his eyes good-naturedly and continues before his Warlock can interrupt him:

“-yes, I know, we’ll have to mingle, but this evening, it’s just us and the others. We’ll take some food and wine back to yours, and we can have some fun and all fall asleep in front of the fire together. Alright?”

Merlin takes a deep breath and nods, but before he can say anything, Uther stops his conversation with one of the guards and abruptly turns around, his face tersely concerned.

He takes one look at the boys before tutting and stepping towards them. Arthur freezes in shock as Uther begins to run a gloved hand through his hair, neatening it out and flattening it properly under the newly placed crown before stepping back again with a satisfied nod of the head. Arthur’s wide eyes stare straight ahead, and Morgana (having snuck in front of them to watch the whole ordeal) has to stop herself from snorting at his face. If she thought that was funny... well.

Next, Uther’s eyes move to Merlin, where he gives an even more disapproving tut and steps forward once more. He removes one of his gloves quickly, wetting his thumb with his tongue before wiping it just a little too harshly along Merlin’s nose, muttering-

“How the hell are you always so Godamn grubby?”

-to himself. Morgana doesn’t manage to hold in her giggles at that, clamping a hand over her mouth as she dedicates this whole scene to memory forever. Arthur is staring at his father with not even an attempt to hide his bafflement, but at this point, Uther is too busy brushing invisible lint off of Merlin’s shoulders to notice the incredulous stares from the three teenagers (and all the guards).

He finally steps back, huffing out a sigh, and muttering-

“That will have to do, I suppose.”

-before turning back to the doors and gesturing to the guards. Morgana, and Arthur have only a moment to regain their composure before they are ushered out on the balcony; Merlin staying back as he had been informed to do that morning, though he can hear the cheers get impossibly louder as the three royals greet their people.

Arthur glances back, just quickly, giving him one last smile before facing his people and standing in support of his father’s kingly speech:

“My people! Today, on this year’s Winter Solstice, my son has come of age!-”

The crowds had quietened significantly when Uther began, but another cheer went up at his words, and he paused, holding a silencing hand up:

“-I now present him to you, as Crown Prince Arthur Pendragon, heir to the throne of Camelot, my successor!”

His hand moves to gesture at Arthur, and the Prince steps forward as The King steps back, a wide smile on the blonde's face as his people cheer for him. He waves back, eyes searching the crowd for Hunith, Gaius, Gwen, and Leon; they meet gazes just as Uther steps forward once more, holding his hand up again:

“There is other news! It is...-”

He looks to Arthur, settling a hand on his shoulder and giving him a small smile. His voice quietens a little, but it can still be heard by the crowd:

“-it is with great pride, that I announce-”

The moment ended as quickly as it had started as Uther turns back to the crowds below, raising his voice again:

“-that my son has found his soulmate!!-”

Arthur had been expecting loud cheers, but their audience grows quiet and still at the announcement, as if frozen in suspense. As he peers over the stone barrier, he can see almost everyone in the crowd pairing off slightly, pulling their soulmates closer as they wait with baited breath to see their Prince’s partner.

Inside, Merlin takes a deep breath, but relaxes slightly when he sees Arthur unclench his own nervous fist, holding it behind him in preparation, invitation, for Merlin to take it in just a few moments:

“-I present to you, a close family friend of the royals,-”

(Morgana scoffs and rolls her eyes, but thankfully no one is paying her any attention.)

“-a skilled physician in training, and a trusted citizen of this Great Kingdom,-”

He gestures towards the door behind him, and Merlin takes his first shaky step forward, coming into line with Arthur as Uther finishes:

“Merlin, of Ealdor!”

Arthur and Merlin walk to the front of the balcony, hand in hand, as the loudest cheers Merlin has ever heard explode from the crowd. Despite the thunderous noise, Merlin can still pick out the cheers of his mother, uncle, friend, and older brother, and the leisurely applause from Morgana behind him, and he smiles in spite of his nerves. Arthur squeezes his hand once more, and they raise their joined fists to the crowds as they grin, struggling to hold in their laughter at the sheer amount of joy on the faces of everyone (bar Uther, of course, he just looked marginally happy) present.

Merlin has become even more recognised around the kingdom; normally seen trailing Gaius (who is also well-known, and well-loved) or, as inappropriate as it might be (at least according to Uther’s council), hanging around with Morgana and Gwen during the day. The castle’s servants and the majority of the knights had guessed that Merlin was the soulmate of either Prince Arthur or the Lady Morgana, what with how often he was with them and the way King Uther was apparently ok with that, and gossip spread like wildfire. But the loud cheers just drive home how well-loved Merlin is, and he tears up in response.

Merlin and Arthur finally step away from the edge of the balcony, and Uther continues his address of the people, though it passes by in a bit of a blur for Merlin, and he tunes out fairly quickly. He’s vaguely aware of Arthur running a soft thumb over his knuckles, and Morgana stepping towards him to clutch the edge of his tunic (loud crowds had never been her thing), but the speech and the cheering are drowned out by his racing thoughts.

Uther’s speech finally came to an end and the crowd dissipated. The King rushed off immediately, after sending what could almost be described as a respectfully fond nod in Merlin’s direction, but Morgana, Arthur, and Merlin luckily had nothing pressing to attend to before the feast, and had around an hour of time to waste (read: relax).

Despite Leon escorting the three of them to Merlin and Hunith’s home dressed in full armour, sword strapped to his hip, the journey took twice as long as it normally did, with various nobles and citizens alike wanting to stop them in the street and congratulate them. Arthur and Merlin were endlessly polite and extremely grateful for the support of their (now shared) people, but Leon’s forceful insistence that they “have somewhere important to be, My Lords, My Lady” went quietly thanked.

Hunith, Gaius, and Gwen met them at the house, and a round of tight hugs was shared; all staring fondly when Hunith wouldn’t let Merlin go for love nor money, whispering tearful exclamations of pride in his ear.

The hour felt like it passed in mere minutes, but it was enough time at least for Merlin to relax a little. Morgana and Gwen helped Hunith get ready, and Merlin definitely did NOT tear up when she came out of her room dressed like royalty, a string of Morgana’s pearls around her neck. Arthur and Morgana had deliberately stored a spare set of clothes here so they didn’t have to go back to the castle to change, and the Prince just about managed to force Merlin into a new jacket and cloak (”Why?!” “Because you have to, it’s protocol, you have to be dressed differently.” “That’s fucking stu-” “Merlin, I love you, but shut up and get changed.” “...Prat.” ) .

The seating arrangements weren’t too terrible. As per normal, Uther sat at the head of the table, with Arthur around the corner on the King’s right and Morgana to his left. Merlin sat in between Arthur and his mother; Leon was, unfortunately, on guard duty, though thankfully he was being assigned to Prince Duty (training, hunts, patrols, bodyguard, etc) more and more, meaning he was stood at the wall behind the two boys.

Thankfully, the only stranger anywhere near Merlin was a respected Camelot noble seated opposite him, and he seemed far more interested in boasting about his son to the King in the hopes of winning him a knighthood than he was in Merlin, and payed barely any attention to him other than the occasional distasteful glare (they did not go unnoticed by Arthur, and simply guaranteed that his prick of a son wasn’t going to end up anywhere near a sword).

So all in all, the feast wasn’t too bad. Merlin’s stomach was turning a little, but Arthur’s hand on his thigh under the table and his mother’s shoulder occasionally brushing against his own calmed him right down, though he still kept well away from any alcohol or too-rich foods, worried about making a fool of himself or turning his stomach even more.

The Gang also had Gwen serving them. Morgana had given up on her pleas to have her join them at the table fairly quickly; she could argue with Uther endlessly on many things, but she knew she was never going to win this one. At Guinevere’s insistence that today wasn’t about her, and Morgana shouldn’t ruin Uther’s tenuous good mood on Arthur’s birthday AND coronation AND soulmate-reveal-day, she gave in. But Merlin appreciated the feeling of friendly eyes, both Leon’s and Gwen’s, on his back for the course of the feast.

Just like during the celebrations of Arthur’s knighting ceremony, the tables were cleared from the room to make way for music and dancing, though this time Arthur and Merlin didn’t have to hide their partnership.

Merlin’s stomach turned more at the mingling he was forced to do, answering awkward questions about the purity of his blood and where he came from and his education and his understanding of social etiquette, almost all of which were phrased in condescending and/or downright spiteful ways. But the way Arthur’s arm, looped through his, tensed, and the scowl the Prince sported when Merlin couldn’t bring himself to, partnered with Leon’s comforting shadow (and even Uther’s, when the question’s strayed into cruelty) made him feel at least justified in his discomfort.

Morgana, at the quiet request of Merlin, spent the entire night by Hunith’s side, shielding her from the malicious glaring of nobles who felt cheated by her accidental winning of a position in the royal family. She was granted at least a little respect due to her being a relation of Gaius, who was highly respected and close to the King, but that was about as far as her favour went, and she was eternally grateful for Morgana’s steadfast presence and silent-but-deadly brand of defence.

The night passed slowly, but not so unpleasantly that Merlin was too desperate for it to end, though that changed rather jarringly when he found himself without Arthur for the first time. The Prince and Merlin had been stood next to each other, though involved in different conversations; thankfully for Merlin, he had been having a rather lovely chat about country-life with the wife of a knight. It was when she was pulled away by her husband to converse with another that Merlin realised that Arthur had also been pulled away by whoever it was he had been talking to.

Merlin tensed when he couldn’t immediately spot his soulmate through the crowd, but took a calming breath when he did spot Leon stood dutifully against the opposite wall, Guinevere next to him. That was fine, it wasn’t Arthur, but it was better than nothing, and he allowed his anxiety to swirl in his lungs for only a moment before he began his soft-stepped journey across the hall.

He caught Leon’s eye, thankfully, and the knight frowned slightly at the empty space next to him before sending a reassuring smile his way, nodding in encouragement and understanding.

Alas, he only made it halfway when he was stopped by a rather harsh hand on his shoulder.

He turns around, barely swallowing a gasp and a flinch, only to come face to face with the noble he had been sat opposite during the feast. The hand was uncomfortably tight on his shoulder, and Merlin wanted more than anything to push it away, but instead he forced a smile on his face and bowed his head respectfully, hoping beyond hope that Arthur would make a reappearance or Leon would see his discomfort and be able to come up with an excuse to abandon his post:

“Lord Otto, a pleasure to see you again.”

The drunken Lord let out a huff of sarcastic laughter, pressing his thumb even more severely into Merlin’s collarbone:

“Hmm, a pleasure indeed. Tell me boy, how is it that you, a peasant, think yourself worthy of such a magnificent soulmate?”

Merlin’s eyes widen in shock. No one had been so obviously disdainful, but the over-indulgence in alcohol, the Lord’s privileged seat at the table, and Merlin's lack of any sort of protector had evidently given him a boost in confidence. Merlin stuttered for a few moments, not quite sure what to say, before quietly coming out with:

“Well... I... don’t really know, I-”

He’s interrupted by a far softer hand on his other shoulder, but is even more shocked when, instead of Leon or Arthur, he found The King stood by his side, flicking an incredibly scornful gaze between Lord Otto’s hand and face. It does nothing to dissuade the Lord, and Merlin can’t disguise his wince this time when the hand once again tightens it’s grip.

Merlin had hoped he’d been subtle, but the clenching of Uther’s jaw tells him he had not been; before he can worry about what social rule he had broken and how Uther was going to punish him for it, The King finally settled his glare on Otto’s face:

“I must insist that you remove your hand from my boy’s person, and refrain from making such improper inquiries.”

His cold tone almost sends a shiver down Merlin’s spine, but the confusion of having Uther being in defence of him (a Warlock) stops the reaction before it even starts. The Lord glances up at the crown sitting strongly on Uther’s head, seemingly reminding himself of his company, before dropping his hand from Merlin’s shoulder as if he’d been burned.

He bows his head shallowly, making himself look as subservient as his pride could manage, and Uther gives him a barely restrained look of disgust when he looks up again, interrupting any quivering apologies he might have made:

“It’s getting rather late, and you’ve indulged enough for one night, do you not think? I suggest you end your evening here, Lord Otto.”

All three knew that it was not a suggestion, and Otto bows once more before muttering a humiliated, red-faced “Right you are, Your Majesty” and waddling out of the hall, towards the guest chambers.

Merlin let out a breath, his face just a little flushed as Uther spares him a quick, concerned glance before pushing him gently towards an on-going conversation between Arthur and a group of knights on the other side of the band. Merlin lets out a relieved breath when he sees his partner, but quickly frowns in concern when he then sees the tense line of Arthur’s shoulders and the way his eyes were darting around the room. He’s obviously paying only the shallowest of attention to the conversation at hand; but then they meet gazes, and the tension drains out of him as he sends a relieved smile Merlin’s way.

Arthur politely excuses himself from the conversation, using the blinding smile that only made an appearance when he was manipulating courtiers and nobles, before making his way through the crowd towards Merlin, evidently trying to disguise his desperation. Merlin was absent-mindedly aware of Uther keeping pace with him, the supportive hand on his shoulder-blade not leaving even when Merlin sped up slightly.

(If Merlin had been thinking about anything other than just being at Arthur’s side again, he would’ve found the odd mix of disgust and gratitude for Uther’s presence very confusing.)

They finally reach each other and Arthur grabs Merlin’s hand gently, pulling him to his side and landing a soft kiss to his cheek. Uther finally removes his hand from Merlin’s back, and it’s the absence of touch that reminds Merlin of The King’s presence. He turns quickly, hand safely in Arthur’s grip, to give Uther a flushed, timid smile:

“I... uh... thank you, My Lord.”

Uther gives him a tight smile, though you’d have to be blind to miss the slight fondness in his expression as he shakes his head:

“Hmm, I’ve been looking for an excuse to get Otto out of here for at least an hour, the man is intolerable, his incessant rambling about his unremarkable son even more so.”

Merlin nodded awkwardly and tightened his hold on Arthur’s hand, but before either boy can say anything, Uther lets out a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders and settling hesitant hands on one of their shoulders each:

“I... am proud of you both, and I wish you all the happiness in the world. One day, this Kingdom shall be yours, and it will be golden under your rule.”

Merlin almost manages to forget the whole... unforgivable genocide thing, and gives The King a weak, though grateful smile, running his thumb over Arthur’s knuckles when he feels the blonde shake slightly. Arthur tears up at Uther’s words, but thankfully manages to keep his voice steady as he quietly replies:

“Thank you, father, we will do everything in our power to live up to your legacy.”

(An utter lie, considering they plan on undoing pretty much everything he’s known for the moment they come into power, but Uther doesn’t need to know that, and the sentiment remains.)

Uther gives Arthur one last gentle smile, before lowering his hands and straightening his posture, going from awkwardly doting father to detached mighty King within a second. He nods at each of them before turning and walking regally away, his cloak billowing behind him and his golden crown shining atop his head.

Arthur tilts his head in question and tugs Merlin’s hand slightly when he sees the small frown on the younger’s face:

“Merls? What did Otto do? He didn't hurt you, did he?!”

Merlin looked up at him in shock before blinking away the surprise and chuckling:

“Ah, no, nothing like that, just asked how a peasant ended up with such a magnificent soulmate.-”

Arthur looked like he wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended on Merlin’s behalf, so he settled for an odd mix of the two:

“-That didn’t bother me though, it was... Uther called me his boy.”

Arthur dropped his chin slightly in shock:

“He what?”

Merlin shrugged:

“He said “I must insist that you remove your hand from my boy”. It was very... disconcerting, and oddly endearing considering what he’d do if he knew what I was.”

He whispered the last part quietly, and Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise before chuckling quietly:

“Wow, never thought I’d see the day. My father being protective of a commoner and telling me how proud he is all in one evening, perhaps the world is ending.”

Merlin snorts, rolling his eyes and softly responding:

“Hmm. He may be a bit of a prat, but he does love you, and he has his moments.”

Arthur narrows his eyes at Merlin good-naturedly, a smirk dangerously close to breaking out on his face:

“You know Merlin, you may be right, but you’re still the only person I allow to say it aloud without sanction.”

Merlin just smirks and raises an eyebrow; Arthur laughs, and the world feels right.

It was late by the time Arthur and Merlin finally decided to call it quits. Morgana, Gaius, and Hunith had left around an hour ago, Gwen following them the moment her shift ended. Technically, someone had come to take over from Leon about halfway through the night, but he stuck around, patrolling the shadows of the room with one eye on Merlin always.

(The boys had insisted that he should go home and relax, but were quietly grateful when he stayed.)

They had been wanting to leave for hours, and normally they could easily get away with such an absence, but this particular celebration was in their honour, it wouldn't do to leave too early, so they finally made their way out of the hall when the crowds had halved and it was approaching midnight.

Uther gave them one last pat on the back when they said goodbye, and the tension practically melted off them when they stepped foot outside, despite the freezing temperatures of winter in the dead of night.

Leon stepped out just a moment after them, and the three of them make quick work of the journey to the house, not wanting to dally in the frigid air and just a little desperate to find themselves in the comforting presence on the family they had built.

They arrive just in time to find Hunith pouring out mugs of hot chocolate (a luxury that Merlin and Hunith never had in Ealdor), and Gwen adding another log to the fire. The next round of hugs was quicker than the last; everyone was tired and eager to settle down, to push the insensitive questions to the back of their minds and revel in the positive feeling of things moving forward.

Arthur had removed his cloak immediately upon entry, folding it precisely and leaving it on the table in the hall, his golden circlet following shortly after, cushioned by the soft fabric, but Merlin excused himself to their bedroom, changing into comfier clothes and washing his face. He had been looking forward to leaving all night, but now that he was home, he found all he wanted to do was collapse in bed and sleep, Arthur securely in his arms.

A knock at the door broke him out of his slow moving thoughts, and he frowned slightly, Arthur wouldn’t knock:

“Come in.”

It was Leon that opened the door, having rid himself of his sword and most of his armour (a pain in the arse, considering he’ll have to wake up early to put it all on again, but oh well), and he stepped into the room, quietly shutting the door again behind him. Merlin sent him a tired smile, but Leon saw through it and raised an eyebrow:

“You alright, Birdy? Anyone in particular you’d like me to embarrass during training or council meetings?”

Merlin laughed and shook his head:

“No, that definitely won’t endear me to people. Honestly, it was a lot better than I was expecting, and having Arthur scowling at people and Uther defending me was rather entertaining in the end.”

Leon snorted, muttering a quietly amused “yeah, I bet” before stepping forward and enveloping Merlin in a tight hug, one hand on his back, one in his hair, holding him close. Merlin melted into the embrace, clutching the back of Leon’s tunic tightly as the older man swayed on his feet slightly, murmuring:

“I’m proud of you, little brother. You handled everything just fine, the kingdom loves you; you’re doing great.”

Merlin lets out a deep breath and steps back, though was grateful to feel Leon’s hands still on his shoulders as he replies:

“Thank you. Honestly, I’m just exhausted, I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this for the rest of my life, and I... I don’t want to disappoint Arthur.”

Leon rolled his eyes good-naturedly and ruffled Merlin’s hair:

“You could never. He loves you more than anything in this world, Birdy, you’re made for each other, after all. He would abandon all of this in a heartbeat if he thought it would make you happy.”

Merlin frowns slightly, clenching his jaw:

“Yeah, I know, that’s what worries me. We’re meant to... bring about a golden age or whatever, and we can’t do that if we leave, but I’m not sure I’m going to be any good at the... politics, or the court manipulation or anything that comes with... with running a Kingdom. I know it’s a long way off but...-”

Leon nods in understanding and squeezes Merlin’s shoulder softly:

“You’ve got plenty of time to learn. And hey, if you want to stay away from the politics? Fine, Arthur and Morgana have plenty of expertise in that area. You’re a physician, Merls, not a courtier, and the kingdom already loves you, not because you’re a good politician or anything like that, but because you’re a good person, and you’re worth loving. Just keep being yourself and you’ll be absolutely fine. And besides, you’ll always have us lot to fall back on when you’re unsure; you’ll never be alone, little brother, I’ll make sure of it.”

Merlin nods and sniffles slightly at Leon’s words, giving him another tight hug. They step back into the hall, and Leon gives Merlin’s hand a gentle squeeze:

“Ready? I can tell them you headed to bed, if you just want some sleep?”

Merlin smiles and shakes his head, pulling Leon to the living room, where everyone is undoubtedly crowded around the fire surrounded by blankets and pillows.

From that day forth, Merlin’s life becomes a lot more... official.

He was officially given sword-fighting lessons by a few of the older knights, though thanks to the lessons Leon, Arthur, and Morgana had given him already, he held his own pretty well, and they were more than impressed with the skill level of someone they had assumed was a complete beginner.

He was officially invited to the occasional council meeting (at least the boring, everyday ones). He was always a silent spectator, his participation discouraged, though his presence expected; Arthur always made a point to ask his opinions afterwards though.

His new duties and lessons, on top of his pre-existing duties as the Physician’s Apprentice, AND having to keep his magic hidden and his reputation intact, was all somewhat overwhelming for Merlin, but the steadfast support of Arthur and Morgana when it concerns politics, and Gaius talking Uther down when The King wants Merlin to be more involved in court life, definitely help him in everyday life. Gwen’s hugs and Leon’s hair ruffling are certainly God-sends as well.

The oddest thing was the way people addressed Merlin now. He wasn’t even of age yet, but people were calling him Lord, and servants bowed at him in the corridor. There wasn’t much he could do about the nobles without making some incredible social faux pas, but he always flushed at the servants and insisted they stop bowing and just call him Merlin, at least when no one else is around.

Thankfully, both visitors to the Kingdom and local nobles tone down the snootiness, especially when Uther publicly shows Merlin respect and rumours (correct rumours) spread of Arthur and Morgana’s protectiveness.

Merlin’s birthday was celebrated minimally, though there was, once again, a mix of feelings upon the realisation that he was now only one year away from being of age, and things would surely get even more intense when that happened. But they all tried to push it from their minds, at least for the time being.

As winter broke and the sun came up on what was undoubtedly a Spring day, Merlin felt the most refreshed he had in a long time, though his mood dropped instantly when he, Arthur, and Morgana were summoned to Uther’s private study... only to be given another mini, awkward “I’m proud of you” speech, and given a week off.

Of course, Arthur was still somewhat expected to keep up with his training at least a little, but really, there was nothing forcing him to.

They exited the study flushed with pride and excitement at the prospect of doing whatever the hell they wanted for a week, and met Gwen in the hall. She was worrying her lip between her teeth when they saw her, but she instantly relaxed and raised a questioning eyebrow when she saw the grins on their faces, and Morgana explained what had happened.

It was that evening, whilst relaxing in Arthur’s chambers, that Merlin heard the dreaded echo of “Emrys...” in his head.

He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, out of both frustration and the pain of another’s voice unexpectedly materializing on the inside of one’s skull.

It was just Arthur and Merlin in the room, and the Prince immediately moved from his own chair to kneel in front of his soulmate, running his hands up and down Merlin’s arms as he shakily asks:

“Merls? What’s wrong?”

Merlin just looks up at him blearily, one hand taking Arthur’s and the other rubbing his temple:

“Fucking... scaly arsehole.”

Arthur tenses and frowns as he answers:

“I thought he had given up months ago? Why is he calling you now?”

Merlin shrugs, slumping back in his seat:

“Who knows, he didn’t say, he just-”

“It’s important, bring your little... friends, if it makes you feel any better.”

“-never mind. He just said it’s important, and I can bring my “little friends” if I want.-”

He snorted in dry amusement before continuing:

“-as if I would’ve listened if he told me to go alone anyway. I really thought that me thinking “Fuck Off” as loud as I could helped him get the hint. Apparently not.”

Arthur rolled his eyes before looking to Merlin in concern:

“Well... do you want to go? Or do you want to just hope he goes away again?”

Merlin sighs, but before he can answer, the voice echoes once again:

“I will not go away this time, young Warlock. This is important, and I have very little else to entertain myself with, other than being an annoyance to you. Come.”

He huffs in frustration, standing abruptly and taking Arthur’s hand, dragging him to where their swords are kept as he grumbles:

“He’s not going away this time. Let’s fetch Leon and head down.”

Arthur dutifully follows, strapping his sword to his hip and locking the chamber doors behind them, not speaking until they were approaching Leon’s door:

“No Morgana or Gwen?”

Merlin halts, clenching his hands tightly as he thinks for a moment:

“Hmm. No, I don’t want to freak them out. We can tell them what happens later, but I don’t want Morgana to have to face him again.”

Arthur nods, and knocks quietly on Leon’s door. He opens quickly, and Arthur and Merlin are thankful that they didn’t wake him, though quickly notice his panic when he sees their grave faces and swords.

The explanation is quick, and within a few minutes the trio are making a stealthy journey down to the Dragon’s Lair. There are no dramatic appearances this time, the great lizard is already perched regally on the edge of the platform, waiting for them.

He tilts his head when he sees their tense forms at the gate:

“I’m grateful that you did not bring the Witch.”

Arthur and Leon look to Merlin in confusion as he bristles, tightening his grip on the sword at his hip as he speaks:

“Yeah, well, I didn’t fancy you trying to kill my best friend again. What do you want?”

The dragon does what the trio guesses is the closest to an eye roll and dramatic sigh that his great form can manage, before lowering his head and speaking in English:

“If you won’t listen to me, I suggest you use your new found, though temporary freedom to meet with the Druids. They have all relevant information on the prophecies, you can learn of your destinies from them. The closest camp is a day’s ride from the Eastern border of Camelot.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, but Arthur beats him to it:

“And how would you know that? How did you know we had time off?”

The dragon tilts his head and huffs out a dry laugh, the hot air making the trio sweat under their thick cloaks (it may have been Spring, but it was still cold) :

“I know a great many things, young King.”

Merlin and Arthur can practically feel the way Leon tenses, even from a few paces away. The man, ever the knight, was obviously incredibly uncomfortable with the idea that this dragon knew the goings on of the world, could listen in on conversations, all while being chained in the basement. Before either knight can say anything, Merlin tilts his head, a challenging look on his face as he regards the dragon:

“You... you keep saying destiny, but destiny is pre-written, the whole point is that it’s going to happen no matter what anyone involved does, no matter the interference. So why are you so desperate to have us know it, and work towards it? Us knowing or not knowing won’t alter things either way, unless it’s all a pile of shit and you’re manipulating us.”

Arthur smirks at Merlin’s quick mind and Leon looks impressed, the two of them turning their own challenging gazes on the rather thoughtful looking reptile. He mutters something along the lines of “you weren’t so bloody clever last time,” before lowering himself even closer to the ground, closer to Merlin:

“If I were manipulating you, then I wouldn’t send you to a third party known for being pacifist and unbiased, would I? Destiny isn’t completely certain, it is simply one of many likelihoods, the most... benefitting likelihood, is the destiny of you and your soulmate.”

Merlin scowls:

“Benefitting for who? Something tells me that one day you’re going to ask us for something, and we’ll be powerless to say no, thanks to all this... help you’re giving us, and it’ll be a mistake. So, benefitting who?”

The dragon shifts his jaw in such a way that resembles a smirk, speaking once again in the rasping language that Leon and Arthur don’t understand:

“Do you not want magic, yourself, your people, to be free, Emrys?”

He raises himself to his full height, stalking towards the ledge and stretching his leathery wings out. The trio manage to hold their ground in his dauntingly large presence, but their hands do tighten around their weapons:

“Go to the Druids, tell them Kilgharrah sent you.”

With that, he tips himself over the edge, falling for a second before snapping his wings out once again and shooting upwards towards the shadow-bathed ceiling, thick chain clanging loudly with the sudden movement.

Merlin huffs and turns to ascend the steps without another word, grumbling to himself about “stupid fucking dragons” and “my one week off and I have to deal with this shit” . Leon and Arthur look to each other with a shrug and a mix of genuine concern and mild amusement on their faces, before hurriedly following Merlin back through the castle.

Thankfully, it took almost no effort for Arthur and Morgana to get Uther to allow them to leave the Kingdom on their little vacation. It being under the guise of “visiting Ealdor” meant that it was perfectly within the realm of reasonable requests to have Leon tag along as “protection” as well. Guinevere was coming because they of course would need a servant whilst they were out and about (though Uther was definitely beginning to suspect that something more was at play between Morgana and the serving girl).

Unfortunately, Hunith was unable to get the week off work at such short notice (mother of the Prince’s soulmate or not), and there was no way they’d be able to justify asking The King for Gaius to tag along, so they didn’t even try. But they set out the next afternoon, having filled Gwen and Morgana in on Kilgharrah’s rather vague and annoying directions.

Neither of them were particularly happy that they had gone to see the Dragon without them or that they were just... doing what he said, but destiny or no, consulting the Druids on Morgana’s visions and Merlin’s magic was still a good idea, and they’d never get a better chance.

Just like Kilgharrah said, they found the Druid camp two days into their journey from the city, almost a day’s ride beyond Camelot’s border. They had to be careful, wear disguises, but they were travelling through virtually untouched wood so they didn’t run into anyone, not even a pesky group of bandits made an appearance.

When the first tents came into sight through the trees, the group stopped to take a breath and prepare themselves, giving each other one last round of dubious looks before beginning to walk again.

They barely make it to their third step when Merlin pauses and takes a stuttering breath, clenching his fingers around Arthur’s sleeve in a white-knuckled grip. The others crowd around him worriedly, but relax (only slightly) when he looks more confused than anything else. Before they can ask what’s wrong, he peers between them towards the tents:

“Uh... how are you- are you Druid? Is this one of you?”

Arthur’s eyes widen as he realises:

“Someone’s in your head again?”

Merlin nods distractedly but doesn’t move his gaze, speaking louder:

“Hello??”

Finally, a middle-aged man steps out from the camp; he wears floor length, dark green robes, and his silver hair almost falls to his shoulders. He gives the group a kind smile before finally focusing in on Arthur and Merlin, bowing his head slightly:

“My Lords. Our seers saw you coming some days ago, and we felt your presence the moment you entered our wood, Emrys.”

Merlin clenches his jaw slightly:

“Please don’t call me that, my name is Merlin... and... Kilgharrah sent us?”

He says it as if it’s a question and the Druid gives Merlin an assessing gaze, before nodding slightly. Before he can verbally respond, Leon steps subtly in front of the others. Morgana rolls her eyes at his protectiveness and Arthur huffs, but before they can challenge him, he asks:

“What do you mean, you felt his presence?”

He tilts his head again and smiles slightly, as though amused:

“Em- Merlin is rather powerful; we can sense him from miles away, his magic is incredibly... distinctive.”

Merlin frowns, holding Arthur’s hand protectively in his own as he side-steps Leon:

“What does that even mean? I’m not that powerful.”

The man shakes his head slightly and gestures behind him:

“Come. I imagine you have many questions about many things. The camp awaits your presence, My Lord.”

Merlin frowns at the title, but the Druid turns his back and begins walking back into the centre of the camp before he can challenge it. He gives a small shrug and a quiet “well, here we go” to the others before following his trail, Arthur’s hand still clutched tightly in his.

They all receive peculiar looks as they walk through the camp. Life seems to stop as everyone pauses what they’re doing to stare at the intruding teenagers (and Leon), but they keep their heads down, all letting out a relieved sigh when the man leads them to a tent, gesturing for them to sit around a table, and closing the fabric gently behind him.

He turns around with relaxed shoulders and an easy smile, not acknowledging that none of them are sat down and are instead gathered in a huddle by the table:

“My name is Iseldir. Druids don’t have strict hierarchies, but I’m considered the chieftain here, welcome.”

He looks at Merlin as he speaks, and the young Warlock nods slightly. He opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it again with furrowed brows; Iseldir raises an eyebrow and Merlin hums thoughtfully before trying again:

“I was going to introduce everyone, but something tells me that you already know who we are.”

Iseldir smiles again and nods, the expression on his face looking something similar to pride:

“Yes, I know who you all are. I see that you are learning to trust your instincts, My Lord.”

Merlin grimaces:

“It’s just Merlin, please. It’s bad enough that everyone at the castle calls me Lord now, I’m not even of age yet.”

The Chieftain’s smile widens in amusement as he nods, and Morgana is the next to speak up, her hand clutched tightly in Gwen’s as her voice shakes only slightly:

“We were sent here to learn about our... destinies?”

Iseldir nods, politely ignoring the way Merlin reaches behind him to grab Morgana’s wrist comfortingly, and how Leon and Arthur rest their hands near their swords:

“I have everything we need laid out here; it isn’t too complicated and we should get through all of it by this evening.”

The teenagers finally move to the seats, but make no effort to hide the way they shuffle the furniture to be sat closer together. Morgana and Merlin are sat in the middle, Arthur and Gwen flanking them protectively; Leon remains standing, a hand on each of his magical kid’s shoulders and a blank, though slightly challenging look on his face. Iseldir raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment, moving to sit on the opposite side of the table and shuffling a few papers around before looking up with a smile:

“Let us begin.”

The general mood of the room could be judged accurately by how tense Leon was at any one moment. Though he remained standing, he was relaxed and curious when Iseldir told them about the extent of Merlin’s powers (which Merlin looked incredibly dubious at), and he smiled proudly when they were told of Merlin and Arthur’s intertwined destinies (the nature of their soul-bond means he already knew they had some sort of great future, and this only proved it).

It was when Iseldir hesitated slightly as he gave Morgana a pitying look that Leon tensed up, and tightened his grip on her shoulder.

“You must all remember that destinies are... tricky. They are incredibly difficult to avoid, but it isn’t impossible; the future is not set in stone.-”

Morgana takes a deep breath and straightens her back, taking Merlin’s hand in her own and settling her face into a determined grimace:

“Just come out with it. Just tell me.”

Iseldir gives her a comforting smile as he nods, turning a sheet of incredibly ancient looking paper over and pushing it across the table towards them. On the scroll is a old, rough charcoal drawing of a woman with long, dark hair, her clothes somehow elegant and tatty at the same time. Her face is covered by a hood, but her arms are outstretched and violent looking flames extend from her hands, burning and destroying all the foliage drawn around the edge of the paper.

Morgana reaches a shaking hand out to touch the drawing but withdraws her hand before she makes contact, ignoring the tears gathering in her eyes as she looks up at Iseldir again:

“That’s me, isn’t it? Burning things?”

Iseldir nods slowly before speaking, his voice low and gentle, understanding:

“It is said that if you come into your full power, you will unite with The Once and Future King’s Bane. Your heart will freeze over, you will become consumed by hatred and fear and bitterness, and you will work tirelessly to bring about the downfall of Camelot, the downfall of Albion.-”

Arthur interrupts:

“Albion?”

Iseldir moves his gaze to the Prince, giving him a tight smile as he explains:

“The Kingdoms to be united under one name, Albion, with yourself as King.-”

He looks back to Morgana, his smiles turning just a little encouraging:

“-Like I said, the future is not set in stone. Arthur’s Bane came into existence several years ago, we’re keeping close watch on him; he has yet to show any... troubling, signs, nor have you.”

Merlin scowls slightly in though, before slowly saying:

“Arthur’s Bane is... a person?”

Iseldir raises an eyebrow and nods, letting out a breath of subtle relief when Merlin seems more genuinely worried than murderous.

Gwen is the next to speak up, her voice strong and her face determined:

“None of that is happening,-”

She reaches forward and aggressively turns the scroll over, squeezing Morgana’s hand as she continues:

“-not ever.”

Leon’s gasp has everyone’s eyes drawn to the overturned sheet, only to see a colourful image appear on the paper. The first figure to materialize is clearly Morgana, though in this drawing she is grinning, hood down, eyes golden and flowers in her hair. Next, Merlin and Gwen appear either side of her, Merlin’s eyes also glowing as he summons matching flowers in Gwen’s hair, Gwen who is pressing a kiss to Morgana’s cheek. Leon and Arthur appear next, in full armour with bright grins, a golden crown on Arthur’s head.

Iseldir chuckles, looking up at Merlin who is giving himself a satisfied nod as the golden glow fades from his eyes:

“Trusting your instincts indeed; you didn’t even need an incantation, very impressive.”

Merlin shrugs before turning to Morgana with a grin. She returns it with a shaky one of her own, once again feeling not-quite-so-scared thanks to the ever-comforting presence of her family.

They slept that night in a large tent that had been prepared for them, and were woken up early the next morning. They were given a proper tour of the camp and introduced to a few people.

Leon had questions about how the camp was run, in terms of enforcing rules and staying safe, so he was quickly introduced to a few of the elders. Whilst he had been reluctant to leave the others at first, Arthur’s teasing laughter and Morgana’s rolled eyes convinced him to spend the day away from them, learning about as much of Druid politics as he could.

Merlin and Morgana were quickly introduced to the strongest magic users, and whilst Merlin was taken aside to be given some lessons on healing using magic, Morgana was taught meditation techniques and breathing exercises by the camp’s most respected Seer.

Gwen sticks mostly with Merlin; whilst she had no magic to heal with, the herbal knowledge that was being shared was fascinating and she was eager to memorise as much of it as possible. She of course wandered over to check on Morgana occasionally, at first out of concern, but then out of pride, out of a desperation to never forget how relaxed and happy and at-home her soulmate looks.

Arthur spends the morning with Merlin, but quickly grows bored. Perhaps he should take more interest in healing considering how often he and the knights get injured, but he’s already got Merlin, Gaius, and now Gwen, so why waste the effort? Instead, he finds Morgana and the Seer. The sense of relief he feels to see his sister looking so at ease with such an easy smile gracing her face is almost overwhelming, but he doesn’t disturb them, sitting a little way away and silently watching them.

The Prince didn’t even realise he had fallen asleep until the tell-tale pop and the sudden shadow of someone stood above him jolts him from his nap. He opens his eyes blearily to see Merlin crouching next to him, an amused smile on his face and his hand out-stretched:

“Come on sleepy head, the others are waiting for us, it’s time to eat.”

Arthur takes a deep breath, allowing Merlin to pull him up before he stretches and rubs the sleep from his eyes. The sun was only an hour or so away from touching the horizon and he could see no one else in the little patch of woods Morgana had previously been sat in:

“Morgana?”

Merlin smiles softly, taking Arthur’s hand and leading him back towards the tents:

“Happy. She joined me a couple hours ago and we were practicing some simple spells, turns out she has more magic than just visions-”

At Arthur’s slightly affronted expression, Merlin chuckles and rolls his eyes:

“-You were exhausted, Arthur, don’t deny it. You got this holiday because of how hard you’ve been working, we didn’t want to wake you. We’ll show you a few tricks tomorrow alright?”

Arthur pouts and huffs slightly, fighting the smile trying to appear on his face as he nodded his agreement. Merlin just laughed at him again as they entered the meal tent, finding spaces with the other three.

The next morning was just as relaxed, though this time the five of them stayed together.

Leon, Arthur, and Gwen sat against a fallen log as they watched Merlin and Morgana show their magic off. A small audience of Druids had gathered as well, on account of Lord Emrys’ presence, and whilst Morgana tired quickly, not used to having such free access to the magic that had been inside her for years, Merlin could go for hours. He used few actual incantations, manipulating water and flowers and floating lights with just a little concentration and some imprecise waving of his hands.

Noon, unfortunately, came rather quickly, at which point Leon sighed and stood up, giving Merlin a sad smile before looking to Arthur:

“If we want to be home with a day to spare, we should start the journey soon.”

Arthur nodded in agreement and the rest of the group joins Leon in standing. The Druids disperse fairly quickly, but Iseldir stays with them, giving Merlin a pat on the back and a wide smile:

“It was a pleasure to have you here My Lor- Merlin.”

Merlin snorts in amusements but nods his appreciation, and the five of them wander over to their tent to gather their belongings whilst Iseldir collects the horses.

It’s only half a candle mark before they’re riding back out into the forest in the direction of Camelot. The teachers and elders, including Iseldir, wave them off with proud smiles, and whilst Merlin and Morgana are sad to leave this sanctuary behind, they were grateful for the freedom and safety and lessons they’d had, even if it was less than two days. Their utter faith that things would change when Arthur took the crown, that one day Camelot would feel just as safe, gave them something beautiful to look forward to as well.

Their journey home was just as uneventful as the journey out. When they finally pulled up into the courtyard with a day and a half of their free week left, Leon took everyone’s horses to the stable and informed a servant to tell the King of their arrival, whilst the others headed straight to Merlin and Hunith’s house. They had to wait for Hunith and Gaius to finish their actual jobs, but soon enough the whole group was crowded around the kitchen table.

Arthur and Gwen (who, though no one else would admit it, has the best memory of all of them) re-tell the prophecies and destinies.

Both Hunith and Gaius were furious once again at Morgana’s so-called destiny, but smiled proudly at her determined disposition, and the obviously magical drawing (the flowers seemed to move and the golden eyes definitely glowed off of the page) that Merlin pulled from his pocket. The others hadn’t even realised he’d kept it, but are grateful.

Next, Merlin and Morgana talk about their lessons. Gaius was intrigued by the healing knowledge Merlin and Gwen had gained, and after double checking that the door was locked and the curtains were drawn, they even showed off a few spells to their captive audience.

(There were times that Merlin showing off even the slightest bit of magic would give Hunith a heart attack and nightmares for days; she finds it doesn’t bother her so much anymore. She knows that Arthur, Morgana, Leon, and Gwen would never let anything happen to him, and the new stories of his apparent great power certainly helped ease her mind as well.)

Finally, Leon spoke about what he had learned from the elders; all bout how they keep camps running, their democracy, and how knowledge is preserved and passed on. It was a little boring, if any of them are being honest, but the bright grin on the knight’s face kept them from interrupting him.

Eventually, it came time for everyone to head to their respective beds and sleep. There was no denying that they’d had an amazing few days, but it was also a few days of constant activity and sleeping rough... they were all exhausted.

As Arthur and Merlin curled up under the covers, grateful for the slightly chilled night making cuddling easier, they let out simultaneous breaths of relief.

Arthur ran a hand through Merlin’s hair softly as he quietly spoke, aware of Hunith asleep in the next room:

“You think we’ll be alright?”

Merlin sighs and Arthur tries not to let the anxiety in his stomach swirl too violently at the lengthening silence. Finally, Merlin turns over to face his soulmate, shuffling even impossibly closer and giving Arthur a small smile. Arthur doesn’t comment on the nerves in the younger man’s eyes:

“There’s all this pressure on us to fulfil our destinies, to save the world, it’s a little... overwhelming. My whole childhood I tried to forget the fact that being Prince Arthur Pendragon’s magical soulmate would mean... everything, in one way or another, some day. And now that day is fast approaching, I can feel it, and I still have no clue what I’m doing. And that’s not even considering Morgana.-”

Arthur’s hold around Merlin tenses at the mention of his sister, and Merlin presses a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw before continuing:

“-I would give up all of it, everything, to save her. To see her happy. But... do I really have the right to make that decision? My people are counting on me, but you and Morgana and Leon and Gwen, you come first, and you always will.-”

Merlin rolls onto his back again, staring at the ceiling with furrowed brows as Arthur watches him mournfully:

“-I’ve spent so long being terrified of the fact that I know you would give up your crown if I just asked you to, and now I’m close to making the same decision myself; giving up everything for one person, to the detriment of the world.-”

He turns his head to face Arthur again, tears in his eyes:

“-I don’t know what to do, Arthur.”

The Prince clenches his jaw, having to push down the swell of anger at... everyone really. Kilgharrah, the Druids, the Gods, whosever idea this whole destiny shit was. Arthur often thought of himself as a fully matured adult whose place in the world was clear, but at times like these, he’s reminded of how young he is, and how Merlin is even younger.

He pulls the Warlock into a tight embrace, tucking his dark hair under his chin and running a soft hand over his back:

“I will stand by you, always, and we’ll figure it out, we always do. The future is fluid, Merls, we just have to keep an open mind and push through. We’ve all been through a little bit of hell, but that day? That you can feel approaching? That’s the day we change the world. I’ll force my father from the throne if that’s what it takes,-”

Arthur feels Merlin tense to argue, but rushes on before he can say anything:

“-not just for you, but because it will be the right thing to do, one day. This Kingdom, and then the world, will be golden, and the five of us, and Gaius and your mum, will be together every single step of the way. Ok? You don’t have to do anything, Merlin, not alone, not ever.”

Merlin relaxes again, and Arthur can feel his sigh of relief across his collarbones. The room goes silent for a while, and Arthur only just hears Merlin’s quiet words before he slips into a sleep filled with peaceful dreams full of meadows and flower crowns and golden eyes:

“Yeah... I think we’ll be alright.”

THE END!!

After thinking about it for a few days, and re-reading the series, I’ve decided that I actually like the ending here!

I hope y’all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, thanks anon for sending the idea to me all those months ago! :)

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