Chapter Text
The physician’s chambers smelled of crushed herbs. Gaius was brewing a potion for Merlin; he knew the boy had trouble sleeping lately. He wanted to help however he could, sensing the turmoil in his ward’s heart. He had noticed the shift between Merlin and Arthur, and in truth, he wasn’t that surprised. Gaius always suspected that their bond could be deeper than it seemed. He was happy for Merlin—he had seen the boy yearn for his King for years, perhaps even before Merlin himself had acknowledged it. But, Gaius was worried. He sensed a new shadow in Arthur, something he suspected the king buried far away for too long. The physician wished to sit with Merlin and talk to him, but the boy seemed lost in a fog of thoughts.
Gaius threw the last ingredient into the cauldron and jumped as he heard a knock on his door. A man stood there, his hair so pale it was almost white, and eyes dark as a moonless night.
“Are you the court physician?’’ The stranger seemed cold, out of this world.
Gaius lifted an eyebrow, suspicious. “Yes, I am.’’
Immediately, the man’s face softened into a smile of relief, and Gaius understood he meant no harm. His presence grew warm and cheerful.
“Thank the Triple Goddess!’’
“Who might you be young man?’’
“Forgive my manners! I am Helmar, a Druid. I was told you knew of Emrys—the one you call Merlin. I have made a long journey in the hope of finding him.’’
“Why must you find him?’’ Gaius' voice was cautious; he had many experiences of people looking for Merlin, and that didn’t always mean good.
“I have something urgent to tell him.’’ His expression was grave. “ It concerns a prophecy involving him and the King.’’ Seeing Gaius hesitate, he added, “I assure you, I have the safety of the great Emrys at heart.’’
After looking around to see if anyone saw them, he let Helmar enter the chambers.
*************
Merlin finally emerged from the Round Table chambers an hour later. King Lot’s response had been exactly what Arthur had hoped for; he had agreed to come to Camelot in a week’s time. It gave Arthur and Gwen enough time to plan a perfect reception, but Merlin remained skeptical. From what he knew of the King of Essetir, this felt too easy—too good to be true. He made a mental note to discuss his suspicions with Arthur tonight.
Thinking of visiting Arthur’s chambers later that evening made him blush. After their interrupted kiss that morning, the King hadn’t exactly settled down. On the way to the meeting, Arthur had kept his arm draped over Merlin’s shoulders, which was a common thing among friends, just enough to be surprising for the servants or guards passing by, but not enough for it to be totally inappropriate. Throughout the entire meeting, Arthur’s eyes had lingered on him. He felt the burn of Arthur’s eyes on his throat as he served him, sensing the urge of the king to touch him lightly without reason. Maybe it had always been there, but Merlin was only just starting to notice, and his clumsiness was at its peak. It was even more nerve-wracking knowing that Gwen was there.
For the rest of the day, Merlin threw himself into his duties: polishing armor (with a heavy assist from magic), coordinating the staff, and snatching scraps of food in the kitchens. He didn’t see Arthur; the King was buried in meetings with advisors, desperate to learn everything there was to know about King Lot. By the time Merlin finished, he had only an hour before serving the King’s dinner. The sky had started to darken into a bruised purple. All Merlin wanted was to retreat to his room, crawl under his bedsheets, and deny his responsibilities for at least five minutes.
That hope was cut short the moment he opened the door to the physician's chambers. A stranger was sitting with Gaius, chatting casually, but they both stopped the second Merlin entered.
“Merlin!” Gaius stood up slowly. “This is—”
Before he could finish, Helmar was on his knees. “Helmar. It is an honor to finally meet you, Emrys.”
Merlin’s cheeks heated. He always felt a wave of shy discomfort at that kind of gesture. He didn’t feel better than anyone else; he certainly didn’t feel like he was the one they should bow to. “Please, rise.”
Helmar stood and took a moment to truly look at the greatest sorcerer of all time. Emrys was much younger than he had expected, perhaps only a year or two older than Helmar himself. His hair was as dark as night, slightly long, in a way that was common among the Druids. He had a striking, particular face. It wasn't displeasing; quite the contrary. Beneath that lean figure, Helmar could sense a strong well of power. But then, something shifted within Helmar. He had expected to be intimidated and impressed—which he was—but he had not expected to find himself mesmerized.
Merlin realized that his moment alone was not to be. “What is it you seek of me by coming here?”
Helmar took two steps forward, advancing toward Merlin. “I was tasked to understand the shift of the universe—the way the prophecy changed the moment you brought King Arthur back from the dead. As you must know, I cannot give you a direct answer. Some things change when named and the Crystal cave didn’t let me see or feel everything."
Merlin couldn't help but exhale, hand to his temple. He thought he was done with it all. Arthur had returned from the veil of death; he was the Great King destined to unite Albion. What more could the universe possibly demand? “And what does that… revelation.. tell you?’’
Helmar explained how the Druids felt a shift when Arthur came back from death, and why he had decided to visit the Crystal Cave. “The prophecy changed. Or rather, it did not—it was this one all along, and we were blind to it.’’
“What do you know, tell me.’’ Merlin was nervous, but he reached for a quick, commanding tone.
“By dying, Arthur crossed a veil and touched a part of him that was deeply sealed. That is what the prophecy is truly about: his doom, or his greatest strength.’’
Merlin's heart was hammering. He took a seat at the table, and Helmar and Gaius followed him and lit a candle. Merlin frowned while looking at the flame. Helmar, seeing his confusion, asked; “Tell me Emrys, when you think of the night, what comes to mind?’’
“I’m not sure I understand. And please, I beg you, stop speaking in riddles.’’ Merlin looked done.
Helmar smiled fondly at the warlock. “Deepest desire, every craving, hidden shadows; they all gripped his soul as he came back. This is his punishment for a borrowed life, Emrys. He now must stare at the abyss, and the abyss looks back at him.’’
Gaius spoke to Merlin’s rescue. “What does that mean? It sounds entirely cryptic.’’
No shit, Merlin thought, desperate.
Helmar looked directly at Merlin, understanding that he had to be more direct “ ’As much as you can help him bring peace to the realm, you can also trigger the darkest part of him. Should you be torn from his side, he will retaliate in the worst way possible. Pull away, and he will burn trying to master the storm within him. Stay close, and he will always crave more, beyond reason.’’
“That is not...Arthur. It is not who he is. He is good, fair, always putting his people first.“ Merlin stammered, shaking his head.
“It is, as much as it isn’t.’’ Helmar's voice was soft, surprised at the vulnerability of the great warlock. “The fair king is still there, and though his heart is fierce, he has just discovered the depths of himself. You are more than the other side of a coin. Destiny may have had a role in your bond, Emrys, but the two of you chose the shape it took. And this… visceral bond, all those emotions that come from it — they no longer whisper. They demand to be felt, and that intensity feeds something in him like fuel.’’
Merlin struggled to find air. It felt surreal, impossible. His skin was tingling, magic and shock taking hold. With a soft voice and eyes staring down, Merlin dared to finally whisper, “How is it… that it feels like a punishment for me also?’’
“A life for a life. Destiny could not take either of yours. The gods took away a blessing as they offered you a gift by stripping away your blinders.’’
Panic flared in Merlin's chest.“What did I do wrong?! What did I mess up?’’
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, my boy. You did good; you did your best. I’m sure you did nothing wrong,” said Gaius, caring, then shooting a look at Helmar, hoping he would back him up.
Helmar reached out, touching Merlin's arm firmly. “You did nothing wrong. It was always meant to be. Until now, we all missed a piece of the prophecy. You know when you hear a melody and it sounds beautiful, but once the missing note takes place, you finally understand how perfect it is?’’
“It feels like a nightmare.’’ Merlin whispered, words tasting like ash. He had trouble hearing and understanding all the words the druid said, as if they were far away.
“Nightmares are meaningful—the truth of our hurt and the path to our tainted souls. They are raw. Unfiltered.’’ Helmar added, slowly, “So now, try to answer me Emrys: when you think of the night, of yourself and the king, what do you see?’’
Merlin’s anxious thoughts went quiet. His mind went blank, guided only by raw emotion. “The stars are out…’’ he whispered, sounding far away, as if dreaming. “We are.. alive in the night. Blooming as we trust our meeting under the sky. It may be frightening, but also magnificent.’’*
“Yes, Emrys. It can be beautiful, powerful, but you have to believe and never stop being what lights up the sky. You can either both fall, or rise even stronger than was ever thought. He is to Albion the greatest strength ever seen in a king, but you are the one who balances it all. You are Arthur’s anchor.’’
This was easily one of the most confusing days of Merlin’s life—first the conversation with Gwen, and now this. It was all too much to process. It still felt like a riddle, and his head was spinning. Suddenly, he jumped to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor.
“I need to go.”
“Where?” Gaius asked, startled.
“The forest. Anywhere. It’s too much,” Merlin said, his breath coming in short. “I just want an hour of peace and quiet.”
“What must I tell Arthur?’’
For the first time in his life, Merlin sounded truly desperate as he suggested the oldest lie in his repertoire. “The tavern?’’
“He’ll know it’s a lie, Merlin. It isn’t like before“ Gaius warned.
The warlock felt overwhelmed; he needed to breathe air that didn't smell of prophecy, boiling herbs or duty. “Then I’ll deal with the consequences. As always.”
“The consequences are different now, Emrys. They are bare of any filter.“ Helmar reminded him, voice low
“I don’t care.’’Merlin whispered to himself, as he reached the door and fled.
*********
Merlin didn't know how much time he had spent staring at the sun setting behind the green of the trees, the moon taking its place. He threw a few magic tricks into the air, creating glowing shapes of wolves and deer that danced in front of him. Magic was allowed now, yet he still felt a lingering fear. He missed the symbiosis of it as he didn’t do much in the past weeks. It was as if he were waiting for permission, fearing he could lose Arthur for good.
Resting in the softness of the moss, half the time he spent simply emptying his mind, letting nature connect with his senses. The other half he spent trying to understand the madness of the past weeks.
On one hand, Gwen claimed Arthur wanted him. On the other hand, Helmar warned that Arthur could lose himself and the realm in that want. Arthur isn’t dark; he’s not so intensely focused on me like Helmar insinuated, Merlin thought. He was just… Arthur.
Flashes from the past came flooding back; He remembered Arthur surprising him with the guards, choking him against the stone wall—holding the grip a second too long for it to be mere suspicion. The memories piled up, shaped with a new vision. He remembered Arthur’s confession about Gwen years ago, how he had said he and she could never happen, yet he had hoped he was talking about Merlin. His urge to know if he wanted a woman when he saw Merlin hide flowers. Arthur coming to Ealdor, the warmth of them sleeping way to close on quests. Their first encounter when he asked Merlin if he knew how to walk on his knees. The echoes of him losing his mind to Agravaine when he couldn't find him. When Arthur gave him his mother’s sigil. The looks, the touches, the sacrifices… how he had always come back for him, chosen him. But Merlin also saw his own hurt; all those times Arthur had insulted him, rejected him or reminded him he was beneath him.
Again, it was so much to bear. Maybe he just needed to let go and take responsibility for whatever came up. Merlin wasn’t just a shadow anymore. Was he ready for that? As he wrestled with the truth, Merlin felt his eyes grow heavy. Exhausted by the intense emotions, he looked at the sky as sleep claimed him, a deep rest like he had long missed. The night really did feel beautiful under the stars and moonlight—not scary or lonely, but unique.
*************
The King burst into the physician’s chambers, hesitating between angry or worried after waiting almost an hour for his servant to come. He could have sent a servant or a guard to summon Merlin, but he wasn't thinking clearly. He needed to feel Merlin’s presence within his reach again and find the proper punishment. When he threw open the door, he saw neither Merlin nor Gaius. He found a man with white hair, ancient looking but with a young face.
“Where is Merlin?’’ he demanded.
“Resting.’’ Helmar remained calm, speaking with a familiarity that annoyed the hell out of the king who stepped further into the chambers.
“And who might you be?’’ The eyes of the king were suspicious, his tone arrogant.
“A friend of Emrys,’’ said Helmar, calm, knowing why and what he was facing. That wouldn't stop him from being himself. The king didn’t need pampering.
“That name again.’’ Arthur scoffed, but hurt lingered behind it, like so many knew a side of Merlin he didn’t. “Tell me where he is.’’
Gaius emerged from his room. “He went to the forest, my lord. He needed space.’’
“Space from what? From whom?’’ He was imperious, shaken, and provoked.
Gaius remained quiet; he did not know what he could say to ease the king.
“So no tavern as an excuse?’’Arthur let out a bitter laugh, untrusting.
“He should be back soon enough.’’ Gaius reassured.
Calmly, hoping for a direct answer, the king asked: “Who is this man Gaius, really, what does he want?’’
“A druid, he came to see Merlin.’’
“Why?’’
Helmar approached him. “That is for Emrys to say. I owe no explanation for seeking him out.’’
“You actually do.’’ He was now closer to the druid, dominating him with his presence “I am the king, and he is my servant.’’
“He is much more. The light to your reign, the soul of your strength; the most powerful sorcerer that you seem intent on keeping at your will, as a servant.’’
Then again, Arthur was reminded of the role Merlin had in his life, how it changed him and his path. Like he wasn’t thinking about that every hour—how stupidly blind and ungrateful he had been. He didn’t know what to do with it. His aura shifted, more menacing, as his voice lowered as a warning. “Do not assume I ignore Merlin’s worth,’’
Arthur turned to Gaius, sounding defeated as he sensed the seriousness of the situation, but unbelieving that he was letting Merlin slip away like this. “Tell him to come to me the moment he returns. If he is not back within the hour, I will fetch him myself.’’
“So will I.’’ Helmar added firmly, like a vow for the great warlock.
Arthur resisted the urge to turn back and land a solid punch on the Druid’s face, or throw him in the dungeons. But he had no excuse for it to be fair, so he stormed out the door, but was immediately faced with his desire.
Merlin stopped short as he bumped into Arthur and immediately met his piercing gaze.
“Merlin!’’ Relief shot through his voice, but he was quickly reminded of the situation. Hands on his hips, he gave a look of defiance. “Can you tell me why I am missing my dinner, and where were you?’’
“I-’’ Arthur stopped him.
“Don’t say the tavern. I’m sure your real explanation involves the druid hanging out in your chambers.’’
“Can I talk to you about that later? Alone’’ Merlin pleaded.
“Don’t forget you are my servant Merlin, I say when we talk.’’ Arthur sounded playful for a second, always refreshed by Merlin's boldness and complete disregard of their titles. But then he saw Merlin look past his shoulder, eyes on Helmar. Arthur took Merlin’s jaw in his hand, guiding his face back to his, grip firmer than he intended; “Don’t look at him, look at me, Merlin’’
Merlin withdrew from the burning grip, as aroused as he was humiliated. “Arthur, can you stop being a prat and let me serve you dinner. I know I am late, and I will tell you all about it while you eat your delicious meal.’’
Arthur turned around to look at the druid and Gaius, a defiant, proud, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know what Merlin,’’ he turned back, sliding his hand from Merlin’s jaw to the back of his neck, “I am in fact, starving.’’ The king began to leave, steering Merlin along with him, as Gaius and Helmar looked at each other with concern at the clear message Arthur was sending.