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Chapter Text

"No."

Merlin knew before he turned around, just from that single broken word, that he'd been seen. He did turn around, because while he'd been a coward to not confess to his secrets of his own free will, he'd long ago decided not to be a coward when the consequences inevitably found him.

Arthur's expression was hard to read, which was enough to make tears prick at the corner of Merlin's eyes. He blinked, fighting back the moisture. He couldn't allow Arthur to think he was trying to weaponize his emotions, even while Arthur was burying his. Merlin rarely struggled to read Arthur. They'd lived in close quarters for far too many years for the king to be much of a secret to his servant, and that was without factoring in all Merlin understood about Arthur as the king's lover, though he hadn't held that role for quite as long.

The outside world began, very slowly, to make itself known once more, and Merlin blinked, distracted as a groaning sound came from behind him. He turned, just enough to ensure the bandit he'd thrown through the air was not about to shoot him in the back, then turned back to face Arthur.

Arthur's gaze darted to the man too, seemingly assessing the lack of imminent danger Merlin had also noted. "You didn't kill him," Arthur observed, the words devoid of any clues as to how Arthur was feeling. The king looked Merlin in the eyes then, with a question he didn't voice.

"If I don't have to kill, I don't," Merlin said simply. And he hadn't needed to here. He'd only intervened at all because Arthur had been distracted felling the two bandits that lay behind him now, both clearly not breathing. Merlin's target had pointed a crossbow at Arthur's back. Reacting on instinct had sent the man flying. If he'd had a second more to think, he might have simply redirected the bolt, but Arthur's back had been turned, and perhaps, deep down, Merlin had been tired of carrying this secret still.

Arthur nodded, seemingly accepting Merlin's words at face value. "How long?" he asked after another long pause.

"My whole life." Merlin struggled not to fidget under the weight of Arthur's scrutiny. "I was born with it."

Something in Arthur's eyes flashed. "I have been taught that such a thing is not possible."

"You've been taught a lot of horseshite," Merlin muttered, before clearing his throat and straightening, wincing at the words he'd allowed to escape.

Arthur's lips twitched, just for a second, before his expression firmed and he nodded to Merlin to explain.

"I'm the only magic-user I've ever heard of to have magical control from birth," Merlin admitted, a fact which still made him feel distressingly other when he thought about it too long, "but being born with an affinity for magic is not uncommon at all. There are those who choose to study sorcery, and those who must learn in order to better control magic they already have. I fall into the latter category." After a brief second of consideration, Merlin reluctantly added, "as does your sister."

Staggering backwards, Arthur gaped at him for a moment, his face suddenly open in a way it hadn't been since before the bandit attack. "What?!" the king demanded, horror taking over his features.

Maybe mentioning Morgana so soon into this conversation had been a mistake, but Merlin was running mostly off instinct. "I regret not being more honest with her earlier. I knew she was afraid." Merlin licked his lips, considering his words carefully. "But so was I. And I let that fear keep me from letting her know she wasn't alone. And in her loneliness, she went to Morgause, an expert in twisting Morgana's fear and anger."

Arthur's expression remained open enough for Merlin to clearly see the way his king was connecting new facts to old memories, and attaching context to questions he'd likely had for quite some time. Merlin kept quiet and let him do so, doing his best to breathe deeply and evenly.

"So you knew, all along." Arthur's face had closed off once more, but it didn't matter. Merlin heard the hurt in his lover's voice loud and clear.

He couldn't run from this truth though. Arthur deserved it. "That she was magic, and when she had turned against us. Yes. I knew."

The king's eyes slid shut, and another quiet beat passed before Arthur opened them again. "Is that why she hates you? I've always found it odd, that she hates you as much as she hates me."

Merlin winced. "I'd argue she hates me more. And no, she doesn't know about my magic, Arthur. No one does. Any friend I've ever had who came to hold that knowledge died, either for me or because of me. It is not something I share lightly. I've declared who I am to more of your enemies than I ever have to any of my friends." Merlin could see the question in Arthur's eyes, so he pressed on, preferring not to address that for the moment. "Morgana hates me because, while she still considered herself loyal to Camelot, I poisoned her. Her hatred only grows with each time I stand between her and your life. She views me as a nuisance, which I'm quite proud of."

Arthur studied his face, and Merlin stood still and let him, unsure both what Arthur was looking for and what he was finding.

"You had a good reason," Arthur finally said. It was a statement, not a guess. "I may not know you as well as I believed, but the Merlin I knew would not have harmed Morgana without cause. What was your reason?"

Merlin repressed a flinch at his king's use of the past tense, but answered the question. "The sleeping curse. She was the anchor. I've never known if she was aware, or if Morgause involved her without her knowledge. Regardless, I tricked her into drinking poison, then bargained with Morgause. If she lifted the sleeping curse, I would give her the name of the poison I used so she could cure Morgana. It worked. And I've regretted it ever since, even as I know I would do it all over again to keep you alive."

Arthur inhaled sharply, but said nothing. He allowed the silence to stretch for several moments before nodding. "I believe you. And I'm sure you have many more such stories to tell me."

Unable to stop himself, Merlin perked up, certain the hope bubbling in his chest was visible on his face. "And I'll have the chance? To tell you, I mean. Everything."

In an instant, Arthur's mask was cracked in too, and a stricken look took over his face. "How could you fear death at my hand and share my bed?" he asked, so quietly the pain was nearly louder than his words.

Merlin moved toward his king for the first time, taking comfort in the fact that Arthur didn't flinch from him. He rested a hand on Arthur's shoulder, shaking his head. "No, Arthur, that's not what I meant. I haven't believed you could have me killed, on your own order or by your father before you, since the first few weeks of my service to you. I've known since you faced Valiant and his enchanted shield that you were a better man than your father had ever been capable of being, and that no matter how you reacted when you inevitably learned my secrets, you would not kill me."

The stricken expression didn't fade from Arthur's face. If anything, it grew more pronounced. "You've trusted me with your life for that long, but not with the truth?"

Merlin squeezed Arthur's shoulder where his hand still sat, thinking over how the words to use. "There has been no time where having that knowledge would not have forced you into a decision I did not want to rest on your shoulders, Arthur. You don't trust magic. You never have. You do not demonize it as your father once did, but it has never been a thing you trust. Knowing that, coming clean would have you either pardoning me as an exception to the law, banishing me for my own safety, banishing me in punishment, or changing the law. The first would be unfair in a way I know you to be too good for. The last I've never been given any reason to assume you are ready to consider. And I am far more afraid of being banished from your side than I have ever been of death."

Arthur reached up to rest his hand on top of Merlin's, though he did not look Merlin in the eyes as he asked, "How could you agree to be courted by me, knowing this massive untruth lay between us?"

Merlin sighed, leaning forward to rest his forehead on top of Arthur's hand, and squeezing his own hand on Arthur's shoulder once more. "You asked," he replied, a little desperately. "You put your heart out, taking that risk. And turning you away, even if it might have been the noble thing to do, knowing I was lying, was not another lie I could subject you to. Because I do love you, Arthur. More than anything. And it would have been cruel of me to deny you that truth, even if there were others you were owed that I chose not to give." He sighed once more, then lifted his head, surprised to find Arthur looking at him once more. "Is it unforgivable?" The words were nearly a breath.

Arthur gripped Merlin's hand, pulling it from his shoulder, giving it a short squeeze, then letting it go. "I don't know," he said simply.

Had Merlin taken the bandit's crossbow bolt to his heart, it would have hurt less, but he did his best not to let it show. "I understand. I will tell you anything you want to know, whatever you need to know in order to make a decision. Every secret I have ever kept from you ties back to my magic. Now that you know that, there is nothing I would keep from you, Arthur."

"In time." Arthur sighed now, looking around to take stock of the clearing. "I suppose it's luck we didn't have an entire hunting party to deal with. We should go home. I am no longer in the mood for..." he trailed off.

Merlin could easily finish the thought. It was meant to be a short adventure, a romantic walk together on a lovely day. They were barely an hour from Camelot's walls. Of course Arthur didn't want to continue.

Ensuring all their meagre supplies were accounted for, Merlin set pace after Arthur in the direction of Camelot.

They walked in silence, and Merlin struggled to suppress every instinct he had to fill the air. To make Arthur smile. To make things feel normal for just a moment.

When they were nearly upon the castle, Arthur came to a stop, turning to face Merlin. "Before we return, I need to make something clear."

"Of course." Merlin straightened, giving his king his full attention.

Arthur pursed his lips, then launched into words he'd clearly been preparing as they walked. "I no longer trust you. I will need time to decide how I want to move forward. I do not want you gone from Camelot, and I do trust that you mean Camelot and myself no physical harm. You may remain with Gaius for the time being. The story shall be that you are dedicating more time to your studies as his apprentice, and in the meantime, George will handle any of your usual tasks in my service."

While unsurprised by this declaration, Merlin found it distasteful to hear in a way that made him feel physically sick. "I understand," he said, the words sounding strained as he forced them out.

"I will call for you when I am ready to see you again and speak further," Arthur concluded. "Please do not force the issue by coming to me before I call for you."

"I promise."

"Good."

Arthur turned back and continued forward, seemingly trusting Merlin to continue following as he had been.

Merlin trailed his king, slightly slower than before, and ran over Arthur's words in his head. Distance he could handle, especially if it was temporary, as it sounded like this would be. It was the lack of care in Arthur's voice that was wounding him. This morning, he'd been more confident in Arthur's love for him than anything else. Had that love been lost alongside Arthur's trust? Merlin didn't know, and the uncertainty was unsettling in a way that made him unsteady on his feet.

The pair made it through the lower town and to the castle without incident. Merlin's heart caught in his throat as Arthur turned from him, heading toward his chambers and intending to leave Merlin alone on the steps.

"I love you," Merlin dared to say, watching Arthur's back as he came to a halt, tension visible in his strong shoulders.

Arthur held himself like he might turn back for a second, then straightened, and continued walking.

A wave hit Merlin, nearly forcing him to his knees. If he hadn't known better, he might have attributed it to a magical attack, but there was no enemy here. Only the reality of a situation of his own making. He'd lied to the man he loved, and now his king could no longer trust or love him.

Unwilling to be questioned by any passers by, Merlin forced himself to move, to head toward the physician's quarters. As he pushed himself forward, a hacking cough attacked him without warning, and he had to lean a hand against the stone wall of the castle until it passed. Something was tickling at his lungs, and he groaned as he heaved himself upright and began moving toward his first home in Camelot once more.

First he'd lost Arthur, now he was sick.

He could only pray to the triple goddess that things would not continue to get worse.

Chapter Text

While Merlin knew it was optimistic to hope that a summons would come the very next day, he still found himself weighed down by disappointment as the hours passed without a knock at the door. He must have been a sorry sight, because Gaius hadn't attempted to pull him into any physician's tasks. He'd avoided having to explain what had happened the previous day, as Gaius had been out when Merlin made it home, but he'd had to inform his uncle this morning when Gaius had been concerned that Merlin would be late for his duties.

They weren't his duties anymore.

He was not going to lay in bed forever. But in this moment, Merlin couldn't bring himself to rise up and go about his day. How could he pretend everything was normal? He was lucky none of the knights, or, goddess forbid, Gwen, had come to find him already. He didn't want to have to explain to any of his friends until Arthur had made a decision, and, while by necessity he was fairly competent at obscuring the truth, he was a truly awful liar. Any of his friends, especially Gwen, would see right through any of his excuses. He needed to get himself together before he attempted to face anyone other than Gaius.

It was moments like these that he most missed Lancelot. As usual, the thought of his friend sent a pang through Merlin's chest. He'd lost so much when he'd lost Lancelot. They all had, but Merlin had needed to conceal a grief so much more expansive than any of his friends, except for Gwen, who, though they'd not wed yet, had essentially become a widow that day.

Merlin groaned and threw an arm across his face, covering his eyes. This thought path was not helpful.

A cough wracked his chest, and Merlin grimaced as he was forced to sit up a little, trying to expel whatever was irritating his lungs. Come to think of it, it was perhaps this ugly cough that had kept Gaius from demanding anything of him today, rather than the old man's sympathies. He certainly sounded awful, even if he didn't feel the other tell-tale symptoms that would indicate a cold.

Something clung to Merlin's tongue as he finished coughing, and he reached into his mouth to pull free some soft, small blue fragment. It looked and felt like a piece of a plant, perhaps an herb, but he hadn't eaten anything in hours. Merlin squinted at it, puzzled, then brushed the offending object from his hand and lay back against his bed.

Today, he would wallow. Tomorrow, he would make himself get up and keep going. He owed it himself and to Arthur to not let this situation break him.

Though the promise had only been to himself, Merlin kept his word and got up the next morning. He got dressed, made an effort to look as presentable as he ever did, and headed into the main room to assist Gaius.

The old man looked surprised to see him for a brief moment, but his face returned to neutrality quickly enough, and he nodded toward their small table. "I have some porridge for you, if you like."

"Thanks, Gaius." Merlin took a seat. He wasn't actually hungry, but he knew from experience what failing to nourish his body could do, so he ate when prompted anyway. "I'd like to assist you today."

Showing the wisdom that had so many seeking him for advice, Gaius didn't press, instead merely nodding once more. "Of course, I'd be glad of your help. I have quite a bit to do today, as it happens."

Merlin swallowed some porridge and looked up at his mentor. "Like what?"

Gaius sighed. "Quite a bit of ingredient preparation and potion brewing, I'm afraid. It will take me most of the day, but should keep me in stock for the rest of the week. There are a few ingredients from the forest I could use, but that's not urgent. I also have rounds to make in the castle and the lower town."

"What's easier on you? If I do the chopping and stirring or if I do the deliveries?" Merlin scrapped up the last of the porridge and got to his feet to wash the dish. As he did so, the hacking cough returned, and he was forced to steady himself against the table for a brief moment.

Gaius eyed him. "I'm not sure it will do my patients any good to be visited by someone with a cough like that, Merlin."

Merlin winced. "You're probably right. I know I sound bad, but I still don't feel sick, for whatever that's worth."

A speculative expression on his face, Gaius moved toward Merlin, stretching out a hand to feel his ward's forehead, then examining his eyes closely. "Aside from attempting to cough up your own lungs, you don't seem ill to me either. Perhaps you inhaled some sort of irritant yesterday. If so, it should pass soon. Please let me know the minute anything changes. You know how quickly illness can turn."

Merlin nodded fervently. "Yes, of course, Gaius. I promise." Gesturing toward his uncle's workstation, he added, "Come on, show me what you need me to do today. If I finish, I'll go into the woods for you to get whatever you're missing, and you can get on with your rounds."

Though in his time as Gaius's apprentice Merlin had been, on the whole, far too busy to be much of a proper apprentice, he had managed to pick up quite a bit of knowledge. He was a quick study, especially when it was due to necessity. And, since he found healing magic to be, by and large, irritatingly difficult, he'd compensated by picking up as much of the traditional healing arts as possible. All of the ingredients Gaius needed chopped, stripped, ground, and otherwise prepped, as well as the potions he needed brewed to restore his stores, were well within Merlin's skillset.

It was comforting to do the work, even alone once Gaius had left with a satchel full of treatments. Merlin had goals to accomplish, and finished work he could show for his efforts. It was satisfying, and required just enough of his attention to keep his mind from focusing solely on Arthur. His only interruption was the occasional return of his cough, sometimes with another small unidentifiable fragment ending up in his mouth as a result. He chocked it up to the herbs he was working with, assuming something had flown up in the air as he worked.

All too soon, the work was complete, so Merlin turned his attentions to cleaning, then went beyond Gaius's work bench and tiding the rest of the room. He even scrubbed up some of the dirt on the floors, an effort he and Gaius rarely ever bothered with, preferring to simply sweep. Once all of that was done, he still found himself at loose ends. Well, he'd promised Gaius to collect the missing ingredients, hadn't he? Now was as good a time as ever.

With a bag for his quarry on his hip, Merlin grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. Roaming the woods wouldn't be quite as good as taking his mind off things, but it was better than sitting in his room. He made it out of the castle without incident, only passing those he knew just well enough to owe a nod of greeting, not a conversation. Rather than traveling through the whole lower town to exit through the main gate, he detoured to one of the smaller gates, acknowledging the guards with a smile as he left the city.

It was a comfort, in some ways, to be back in the woods, but Merlin had underestimated the extent to which returning to the scene of his confrontation with Arthur would send his mind hurtling back to that moment. It might not have occurred within sight of these exact trees, but it didn't seem to matter to his subconscious.

How long would it take Arthur to decide what to do next? Would he want to speak with him first, to find out what other secrets Merlin still held? Would his judgement involve Merlin being banished from his side forever?

Another cough had Merlin leaning up against a tree to catch his breath, and he gasped a little, finding it hard to draw a deep breath. Whatever had irritated his lungs was an adequate distraction from his thought spiral, and he allowed himself a few moments to focus on coughing until he felt like he could breathe again. Though his breathing still felt and sounded stilted to him. Perhaps he should ask Gaius about something to suppress the cough. He might not be properly ill, but a severe cough could cause other maladies over time if left untreated, and Merlin feared his cough sounded worse than when it had first appeared.

He refocused on his ingredient hunt, and managed to while away several hours. It was the slow fading of the light that finally sent him back in the direction of the castle, though he was reluctant to return to his new existence of having only Gaius for company, much as he loved his uncle.

When Merlin reached the gate, the guard he'd passed on his way out had been replaced. This wasn't surprising, as Merlin had definitely been gone long enough for a shift change to have occurred, but what was surprising was the way the guard's eyes went wide when he spotted Merlin.

"What's wrong?" Merlin asked before he could think better of it.

"Nothing!" The guard assured him, relaxing a little and giving Merlin a more natural smile. "It's only, His Majesty has been looking for you. My predecessor only knew you'd left the walls, so we've all been instructed to keep an eye out. You'll probably be wanting to go find the king. It seemed important."

Merlin had absolutely no idea how to react, so he didn't. He did his best to mumble out a thank you to the guard, but when he blinked and realized he was already in the corridor outside Arthur's chambers, he realized he'd been moving as if in a fog. What did Arthur want with him? Was it good news? Bad news? Time for him to be questioned?

With more trepidation than he'd ever approached Arthur's door, Merlin squared his shoulders and knocked.

"Come," Arthur called out.

Merlin opened the door, entering and shutting it behind him. When he turned back to face the king, Arthur was glowering at him. Merlin stepped back on instinct. Arthur had told him to stay away unless he was called for, but hadn't the guard said Arthur wanted him? Had he misunderstood? "I was told you needed to see me," he explained, tentative.

Arthur nodded, a short stiff jerk of his head. "I was told you left the city." His tone was just shy of accusatory.

Gesturing to the bag at his hip, Merlin explained, "for Gaius. I finished the work he assigned me, and he needed some herbs and plants collected, so I decided to go out before it got dark and just take care of it." He didn't reiterate that he would never willingly leave. Arthur knew that.

"I see. Well, if Gaius has no further need of you this evening, I was hoping we could discuss some of the things I still don't know." Arthur paced for a moment, hands behind his back, then stopped, as if he hadn't meant to move at all.

"Of course." Merlin glanced around, feeling wrongfooted. He'd felt as comfortable in these chambers as in his own just two days ago. Now, he felt like a trespasser.

Seeming to understand Merlin's hesitation, Arthur gestured to his table. "I'm having George bring up dinner. I'm certain it will be enough to share, as he doesn't eat off my tray on his way up." This last was said wryly, but without the tone of amusement it would've been before. "Have a seat."

Merlin obeyed, taking his bag off and setting it off to the side on the table, then folding his hands to keep from nervously tapping his fingers.

As Arthur approached, a knock came from the door. A sharp, professional sounding knock. Definitely George, then.

"Come," Arthur repeated.

Merlin's replacement entered, gave a short bow, then placed the tray of food on the table, backing up without commentary.

"Thank you, George. You're excused for the evening. I'll see you tomorrow." Arthur waved the man away, ignoring the second bow before George left the room.

Finally, Arthur took his seat, and looked Merlin in the eyes. His expression was still somewhat closed off, but he was a little easier to read than he had been that day in the woods. There was hurt, and curiosity, but whatever else the king may have been feeling was under lock and key.

"All right, Merlin. Tell me something I don't know about you. Tell me something real."

Chapter Text

Merlin took a deep, steadying breath. Almost immediately, his cough struck with a vengeance. Turning to the side so as not to cough in the direction of the food, he did his best to power through the coughing fit without sounding like he was dying. With things as they stood, there was the chance Arthur might see it as a plea for sympathy, and Merlin wanted to do whatever he could to avoid Arthur thinking ill of him.

When he turned back, Arthur was giving him a wary look, but at least the king didn't look angry. "Are you sick?" The question was blunt, with no audible concern, though a flicker of it was there and gone in Arthur's eyes before Merlin could really appreciate it.

Reaching up to rub at his mouth and discretely dispose of the herb or petal or whatever it was that had dislodged itself into his mouth, Merlin shook his head and returned his hands to his lap. "No, sire, I believe I've just breathed in something that's agitated my lungs. It should pass. I'm all right to continue."

Arthur's eyes tightened, ever so slightly, at Merlin's use of the honorific, but he didn't comment on it, nor did his expression falter, which led Merlin to believe it had been the right choice to use it. Everything was so uncertain right now. He was running on instinct, and he just had to hope that instinct wouldn't make things worse.

"Well?" Arthur prompted. "Tell me something real." He repeated his original command with a near-impatience that, in any other circumstance, would have made Merlin smile.

Real. It was all real. All important. What was the most real thing Merlin could say?

"I wish I'd told you myself," he finally said, the words quieter than he'd intended, but all the more real for it.

Arthur's mask of impassivity cracked, just for a moment, then he schooled his expression once more. "So do I," he admitted. "Have you ever come close?"

Merlin nodded before Arthur had even finished speaking. "So many times. And inevitably something would happen that would make me reconsider. Not because of you, but sometimes out of consideration for you."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at that. "Give me an example."

Merlin pursed his lips. "It became abundantly clear very quickly that it would have been a bad idea to reveal myself to you while your uncle held the sway he did."

As Merlin had expected, Arthur tensed at the reminder of Agravaine, a look of intense anger clear on his face before he could wrestle his emotions into submission. "How do you mean?" Arthur asked stiffly.

Perhaps mentioning Agravaine had been a mistake, but it was the most recent example, and had been a significant source of tension in their relationship even without Merlin's secrets coming to light. "You showed me early on that you trusted Agravaine's word over mine," Merlin said quietly. It still hurt to think about, even though he'd understood why Arthur had been so swayed. "I didn't have proof of his duplicity, though I knew it to be true, and my word was not good enough. I don't bring this up to retread a fight. But I knew he had your ear, and should my secrets come to light and you were too angry to speak with me, you would turn to him, and things would not go well for either of us. Morgana does not know me to have magic, but she is familiar with the name the druids call me by, and that name appears in a prophecy about her doom. She has been seeking me out for some time, without knowing it is me she seeks. Agravaine was seeking on her behalf. If he'd come to know I had magic, regardless of the context in which you confided the information, he would have brought it straight to Morgana, she would have understood who I am, and would have stopped at nothing to tear me and my protection from you so she could take Camelot."

To his credit, Arthur appeared to be listening carefully, and he did not contradict Merlin's assessment. If anything, he looked understanding, which had a small portion of the unease in Merlin's chest loosening.

Arthur reached forward to pick at some of the meats from the tray George had brought, gesturing Merlin to do the same, and chewed thoughtfully, watching Merlin's face.

Eating was the last thing Merlin was interested in doing. His stomach was tied up in knots more often than it wasn't, and eating and drinking had lately been simply triggering more coughing fits, so he'd been sparing in what he consumed. He didn't want Arthur to assume he was being petty though, so he reached for a soft cheese, picking at it carefully.

"Why," Arthur began, reaching for his goblet, "do the druids have a different name for you?"

Merlin sighed. He should have anticipated that, but he'd actually hoped to put off this part of the conversation a little longer. "There's a prophecy." He paused, but Arthur merely lifted and eyebrow and picked up some more meat from the plate. "About me...and about you."

Arthur froze, his eyes narrowing. "If that's true, why have I never heard it?"

"You've heard pieces of it," Merlin admitted. "Or do you not remember being addressed as the Once and Future King?"

The king's eyes flashed with recognition, and he tilted his head slightly, studying Merlin's face. "Is that my title in this prophecy?" When Merlin nodded, he added, "What does it mean?"

A cough interrupted Merlin, but it was short, and he powered through to answer the question. "I don't know all of what it means. But the prophecy is that you are to be the greatest king that has ever been, and that you will unite the land of Albion in a golden age."

Arthur's eyes went wide, but he didn't contradict the assertion. "And what is your role in this grand future?"

Merlin smiled, a little wistful. "I'm at your side. I'm known in the prophecies as Emrys...the greatest sorcerer to ever live. We're meant to bring about that golden age together. It's our destiny."

The king's expression closed off a little as he studied Merlin. "When did you learn of this prophecy? If it's about us both, why would you never share it with me?"

"To explain the prophecy would have meant explaining who I was." Merlin tried to smile, though it felt forced. "I thought we weren't ready, but perhaps I was just a coward. I was first told of the prophecy when I arrived in Camelot."

Something in Arthur's expression became pinched at that. "All this time," he murmured. The king gazed into the distance for a moment, then blinked, drawing his focus back to Merlin. "Are you going to eat any more?"

Merlin startled a little, having not expected the question. "Er, no, probably not."

Arthur nodded with finality. "All right then. I think that's quite enough for one evening. I'll call for you when I'm ready to continue this conversation."

Merlin got to his feet, but hesitated, feeling wrongfooted. Taking a stab at what he thought might be troubling Arthur, he blurted, "I didn't stay in Camelot because of the prophecy."

The king raised an eyebrow at him again. "Didn't you?"

Merlin felt the frown crease his face. "Well, sort of, at first, but-"

"Enough, Merlin. We'll continue this discussion another time. Go back to Gaius." Arthur's expression was unreadable.

It was physically painful not to be able to read Arthur's face. Or maybe that was the pain in his lungs, which was forcing itself more and more to the forefront of his mind.

"All right," Merlin finally allowed, turning toward the door. "Goodnight, sire."

Arthur said nothing at all.

The moment the doors to the king's chambers were closed behind him, Merlin succumbed to the coughing fit he'd been suppressing, holding himself against the castle wall for balance. Several fragments of the unknown plant he kept finding in his mouth were expelled as he coughed, and a stabbing sensation overwhelmed his lungs.

When the coughing fit finally passed, Merlin carefully collected the odd evidence from the stone floors and looked it over. He couldn't make sense of it, but he knew who could.

It was time to talk to Gaius.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Merlin didn't have to say anything to Gaius, because the force with which he was coughing when he re-entered the physician's chambers resulted the old man fussing over him instantly.

"Merlin! You sound so much worse already. How long has it been this bad?" Gaius manhandled him into place in the spot typically reserved for the wounded or dying. Merlin may be all too familiar with needing Gaius's assistance from this position, but it's still not something he enjoys, and a prick of anxiety made itself known deep in his gut.

Ridiculous. It was just a cough.

He would be fine.

Merlin managed to finish out his current coughing fit so he could actually answer Gaius, though his voice sounds weak when he speaks. "It's been getting a little worse ever since that night in the forest," he admitted. "Worse still today. But I don't feel sick. It's just the cough, and a pain in my lungs, but I think I must have inhaled something and it's agitating them." Carefully, Merlin opened his hand to show to collected bits he'd expelled from his lungs outside of Arthur's chambers. "See? I expel a little bit of some kind of plant or herb when I cough hard enough. So, I must have inhaled it and my body is trying to expel it. Not sure how I managed that without noticing, but." Merlin shrugged, glancing back up at Gaius to assess the physician's reaction. He did a double take at the look on Gaius's face.

"Gaius?" Merlin prompted, a little alarmed. "Are you all right?"

Gaius shook himself, refocusing on Merlin. "I'm sorry, you merely surprised me, and sent my poor old mind down a path of worst case scenarios. Let me see what we can do for your lungs, and hopefully they'll be feeling better by the morning." He turned away to putter at his stores, leaving Merlin to stare at him.

"Gaius," Merlin said again, his voice low and filled with dread. "What did you think was the problem?"

"Of no matter," Gaius dismissed, not turning around.

"It could be," Merlin countered, unwilling to let it go. "And if you're wrong, what harm is there in telling me? Am I not training to be a physician? Knowledge is valuable."

At that, Gaius did turn, though only to shoot Merlin an exasperated expression that Merlin suspected his mentor reserved just for him.

"Please, Gaius. What do you suspect? And why do you think it can't be the case?" Merlin leaned forward a little, almost unconsciously. His heart was pounding, like his body knew something important was coming.

Gaius sighed heavily and turned back to face Merlin fully, meeting his gaze with an even stare. "There are legends of a magical illness," he finally said. "I have not seen it in many, many years, though I have seen it enough to know it is not mere legend. Only those with magic can be afflicted, and it is a somewhat unique ailment." He paused, exhaling, then shook his head slightly and began again. "There's no one name for it, and I confess that I find the names I have heard to be overromanticized, given the pain of the nearly inevitable death."

Fascinated in spite of himself, Merlin asked, "What does it actually do? What causes it?"

"When someone with magic falls in love, but they are certain that love is not returned, the pain takes root in the lungs. It then begins to grow, blossoming as a real plant would do, and tormenting the lungs until the plant grows into the throat and suffocates the afflicted." Gaius stared Merlin down, a challenge and query in his eyes.

Merlin stared back, lost for words. Unconsciously, his hand drifted to his chest, resting over the source of the pain in his lungs. "People, or at least magical people, can be killed by their own love?" He asked, aghast. "That's awful! Why does such a thing happen?"

Gaius sighed, taking a seat in one of the chairs at their meal table. "I don't know, Merlin. It may have been some sort of curse, long ago, that took on a life of its own, or perhaps it has always existed. I cannot answer that. I do know, or at least suspect, that it is as much an illness of the brain as of the lungs. I have heard of cases where, when presented with proof that their love was not unrequited, the patient recovered almost instantly, the plant withering on its own. So, whatever magic causes this illness, it is not so all-knowing as to be aware of what is in the hearts of others."

"Fascinating," Merlin murmured, his gaze unfocused as he mentally reviewed all the information Gaius had just given him. He could not bring himself to wonder if he could be experiencing such a thing. Even the mere idea brought to mind questions he was not yet willing to face the answers to.

Gaius, however, had no such reservations. "When last I checked, Merlin, you were in a very mutually affectionate relationship, much as the way in which you two show affection confounds me." The old man's voice was a little wry, almost amused. "So, while you appear to be expelling the petals of a primrose flower, surely this illness should not be possible for you to contract." Gaius's eyes narrowed. "Or has something happened?"

Merlin laughed a little desperately, his eyes snapped back to Gaius. "You know what happened."

The physician's gaze sharpened. "Arthur knows of your gifts. But, Merlin, surely you know he could never hate you."

Merlin dragged a hand down his face and slumped, shaking his head. "He doesn't have to hate me, Gaius. If anything, apathy is worse. He doesn't trust me anymore. And you can't love what you don't trust. I may not be in mortal danger from his hand, but apparently I can be in mortal damage from his heart." Abruptly frustrated, Merlin got to his feet to pace, rubbing at the ache in his chest that was becoming more present with each passing moment.

Gaius watched Merlin pace, shaking his head the moment Merlin stopped talking. "You cannot have this illness, Merlin! I have never once heard of it being contracted as the result of a relationship ending. It's not supposed to work like that."

Merlin paused, facing Gaius, and threw his arms out. "You said unrequited love, Gaius. Perhaps that's more common when a relationship has never been given the opportunity to start, but surely the loss of one's love is a similar pain. What else could it be? I had convinced myself I'd somehow inhaled herbs, or a flower, and that's what I was coughing up, but I would've noticed. It didn't make sense. This is coming from within me." His words were punctuated by another coughing fit, small white petal fragments falling from his mouth to the floor as he made no attempt to stop them.

"You need to talk to Arthur," Gaius said firmly. "No matter how hurt he is by the revelation of your secrets, Merlin, there is no world in which the king would stop loving you. Even if there were, it would not happen so abruptly."

Merlin sagged for a moment, worn out from the coughing, then forced himself to straighten and look Gaius in the eye. "I just came from his chambers," Merlin informed him. "He wants information from me, but nothing else. There's no warmth there. Everything he was to me, he's hidden away. I told you, Gaius, he doesn't hate me, he just doesn't trust or love me anymore."

Ignoring that, Gaius got to his feet with a sigh. "I'll talk to the king."

"No!" Merlin lurched forward, grabbing Gaius's arm. "If there is to be a world where Arthur and I ever work side by side again, I will not have it come because he felt forced into that position or manipulated."

"I don't care how angry he is with you, Merlin." Gaius gently pried his arm out of Merlin's grasp with a disapproving look. "He would want to know that you're ill, especially if it's due to a misunderstanding."

Merlin shook his head and moved quickly, jumping in front of Gaius to stand between the older man and the door. "Please, Gaius, give it time. If you're right, then the truth of Arthur's heart will come to light in time. I'm in no danger of dying today. If things get truly dire, I will allow you to tell him."

Gaius studied him for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "I will agree, as long as you allow me to decide what constitutes a dire situation. This illness is unpredictable, and you may find that you have weeks ahead with the pain, or mere days before flowers are tickling your throat. I will not allow you to suffer if it is within my power to stop it."

His expression softening, Merlin relaxed a little and moved forward, guiding Gaius back toward his seat. "I wouldn't ask that of you. I just want to handle this in my own way, for now. Arthur needs to make his own choices about what comes next, and it can't be influenced by whatever he does or doesn't feel for me. Do you understand?"

"I understand where you are coming from," Gaius corrected. "I do not agree, but I will not interfere. For now."

"For now." Merlin squeezed his mentor's arm, then reached for the bag he was still wearing at his hip, pulling it over his shoulder and passing it to Gaius. "I got the stuff you needed from the woods before I saw Arthur."

Allowing the subject change, Gaius accepted the bag and immediately began puttering around his stores, pulling out bottles and jars that needed to be filled. "I'll take care of this. You should get some rest. And take one of the cough suppressant potions, please. For my peace of mind. It won't help much, but should soothe some of the pain." Gaius's eyes tightened as he looked at Merlin, but he did not argue any further.

Stepping forward, Merlin picked up a vial of the potion in question and held it up with a nod. "I will," he said gently. It was the last thing he wanted, to cause Gaius any unnecessary pain, but he would not have this burden laid at Arthur's feet either. He wasn't sure yet what the next days or weeks would bring, but he saw the way Arthur was holding himself now, in Merlin's presence. The way he was hiding his true expressions, and the horror in his voice when they'd been in the woods.

If all of that added up to a flower blooming in Merlin's lungs, he was just going to have to accept that.

To satisfy Gaius, he downed the cough suppressant, then nodded to his mentor and retreated to his room, stepping on the flower fragments he'd left on the floor as he went.

Chapter Text

Merlin had expected another summons from the king to come, if not the following day, then maybe the next, but when a third day passed with no word, he stopped looking to the door at every echo of footsteps. He'd had quick conversations with his friends when they stopped by to check on him, assuring them everything was fine. The fact that he'd managed to hid his cough during those conversations had been a minor miracle. They trusted him enough not to question his word, which was both a relief and the source of another pang in his heart. Merlin had no doubt that he would not be able to sustain the lie that all was well for long. His cough had continued to grow worse, though Merlin did his best to disguise that fact from Gaius's concerned attentions.

So he couldn't eat or drink without practically coughing it all up. What could Gaius do? Knowing what was plaguing him had given Merlin a confident certainty. He would not worry Gaius beyond what was absolutely necessary, seeing as how he couldn't alter the fact that Gaius already knew he was dying. With the way his lungs scratched at a near constant rate, so soon after contracting this illness, Merlin suspected he would succumb to his fate sooner rather than later.

It was a shame. Before this, he'd always thought primrose was a pretty flower. Now the sight of it made it hard to repress a wave of emotion strong enough to bring tears to his eyes.

A week had passed since Arthur's discovery of the magic, and they'd only spoken once. Merlin was unsure what hurt the most. Being unofficially banished from his king's side, or the fact that Arthur didn't even seem to want to have his questions answered. He must have questions, surely? Yet he'd barely asked Merlin anything the one time he'd been summoned.

If they'd been fighting about anything else, anything at all, Merlin would not have allowed Arthur to get away with shutting him out for so long. But he knew that Arthur deserved to feel anger over this. He'd long since owed his king this secret, and he could not begrudge Arthur's anger, nor the loss of his king's love.

Even if it killed him.

Merlin's cough distracted him from his thoughts, as it had taken to doing often, and the young man bent in half as he tried in vain to expel the plant growing in his longs. Petals fell freely, which he was certain was not a good sign, and it took nearly a minute for the cough to subside.

Reaching for one of Gaius's cough remedies, Merlin quickly swigged the potion down with a wince. It was barely helpful, but barely was better than not at all.

As he set the bottle down, a knock sounded from the door, and it began to open without the knocker waiting for an answer.

Merlin glanced up, only to straighten abruptly when he caught sight of Arthur. "Sire," he blurted, surprised. He shifted slightly, moving forward to stand over the petals still on the floor, though there was no reason Arthur should think anything of them.

The king met his eyes evenly, betraying nothing, but not looking angry either. "Are you busy?"

Warily, Merlin shook his head. "Gaius is attending a birth, and had no need of me, and I've done any time sensitive chores already."

Pursing his lips, Arthur gave a short, sharp nod. "I'd like us to go for a ride. Not far, just out of the castle." He exhaled, rubbing a hand across his face in an unusually casual gesture. "We need to talk, really talk, and I feel I might go mad if I'm forced to continue thinking over all this within the castle walls."

Merlin's eyebrows flew up. Somehow, it surprised him that Arthur was willing to leave the castle with him and only him.

While Merlin may not have been able to read Arthur anymore, it seemed that Arthur had no such issues reading him. "I already told you that I trust you mean me no physical harm, Merlin. I'd rather we have it out among trees than among the gossiping court and cold walls. Surely you understand that."

He did understand, and nodded to show it. "Of course. Do you want to leave now?"

Arthur's expression was pinched. "The sooner, the better. I already told the stable boys to ready our horses. Are you coming?"

A beat passed, the Merlin moved forward. "Of course."

He fell into step behind Arthur as they made their way to the stables, then mounted their steeds as if it were any other adventure about to begin. Merlin had to hide a few coughs, but only received a single, assessing look from the king, so hopefully he had successfully avoided causing concern.

Being atop his horse, and even more so being outside the castle walls again, was a relief, even though Merlin had been out to gather herbs. It was different being for a ride, especially a ride for the sake of enjoyment, though this was not exactly that. Merlin guided his horse to walk a step behind Arthur's, a mimicry of how they walked on foot, and simply followed his king's lead into the forest.

They didn't go far, and Arthur seemed to be steering clear of typical patrol areas, likely to avoid running into anyone. Merlin could handle a bandit or two, should the need arise, but the woods around them were quiet, with only the soft sounds of nature keeping them company.

Eventually, Arthur stopped in an unassuming clearing, dismounting without a word and securing his horse's reigns. Merlin followed his lead, giving his own horse a comforting pat as he followed Arthur to the center of the green space.

The king rubbed his gloved hands together, like he might have done if there'd been a chill in the air, then lowered his hands to his waist, taking on one of the stances he thought made him look kingly.

It was pang to Merlin's heart to see that Arthur felt the need to put on any kind of performance, especially when Merlin knew his king well enough to see right through it.

"I was taught," Arthur began, his voice even and measured, "that magic was something learned, and that to learn it was to succumb to a corruption that could not be reversed."

Merlin felt his face wrinkle in response to the ridiculous assertation before he could stop it, and he worked to quickly school his expression. His reaction hadn't been missed, if the slight twitch to Arthur's lips meant anything, but the king's expression remained impassive.

"While I object to your lack of honesty with me," Arthur said, his voice turning stern, "it is my primary objection to this whole affair. I do trust that enough of what I know of you is true, Merlin. And with that being the case, magic cannot be a corrupting force, at least not in the way I was taught."

Unable to contain himself, and with his typical lack of self-preservation skills, Merlin blurted, "You've barely asked me anything, and you're just suddenly undoing years of magic-hating indoctrination?"

Arthur glared at him, and Merlin shrunk back a little, biting his lips to keep his mouth shut.

"Geoffrey," Arthur said, his tone as even as before, "did not burn all of the books he was ordered to. After being promised a rather extensive pardon," at this, there was a slight tightening in Arthur's eyes, "he allowed me to use his secret library for a rather extensive amount of research."

For some reason, Merlin was genuinely surprised, and he didn't think he was hiding it very well.

Arthur's lips thinned a little as he studied Merlin's face. "My conclusion is that either my father was a very, very sick man operating under a delusion, or he was evil. I am not encouraged by either prospect."

Merlin flinched, aware now that he was going to be forced to reveal another secret. "It's, erm, it's sort of both, and neither."

The king's eyes narrowed. "How would you know the content of my father's mind or heart, Merlin?"

Inhaling deeply, then exhaling all in a rush, Merlin forced the words out before he could convince himself not to say them. "Because I lied to you about Morgause. It might even be the lie I regret telling the most, although I still think you would've hated yourself if you'd killed your father out of anger, so I don't exactly regret that, but you deserved to know."

Arthur's face went on a journey that was entirely too easy for Merlin to read. It was the clearest he'd understood his king's emotions since his magic had come to light. First there was pure shock, an incredulity that would have been funny in any other context. It was immediately followed by a seething rage that made Merlin want to cower, though he stood his ground. After that was melancholy that threatened to drag Arthur down to the earth, before it gave way to anger once more, this time simmering and showing no sign of dissipating.

Merlin's cough returned with a vengeance, his lungs seizing with pain. He tried to suppress it, but the growth of his illness had given way to the sensation of thorns pricking his lungs. Clumps of petals came up his throat, and he did his best to cough them into his hand, disguising the evidence swiftly.

"You can't make a play for my sympathy to get out of this conversation," Arthur said, his voice hard.

Carefully hiding the primrose petals in his pocket, Merlin quickly shook his head with one last cough to clear his throat again. "I'm not, I'm sorry. It's just my lungs, like I told you before." That conversation seemed years ago, rather than mere days. "I'm not trying to get out of anything, I swear."

Arthur eyed him carefully, but seemed to accept that with a sharp nod. "How do you know Morgause was telling the truth?"

Merlin considered his words with care before speaking. "At first, I didn't know for sure. But I suspected. It made sense immediately. And I'd met Nimueh before, your father's old Court Sorceress." Arthur's eyebrows flew up at that, but Merlin kept talking, and the king did not interrupt. "I knew that Nimueh was furious with your father because of his betrayal, but I did not know what caused him to turn from magic...until Morgause. I don't know for certain if she truly brought your mother back. That's complicated magic. But whether that part was real or not, her motivation was obviously to manipulate you into killing your father in a fit of rage. That's why I lied. I believed the revelation to be true, but I knew you would hate yourself if you killed your father in anger, even if he deserved it. Once it was all over...I asked Gaius. And he confirmed it was true."

Arthur's expression contorted. "Gaius knew? How could he support my father if he knew it was all based on a lie? That the entire purge was simply a way of alleviating my father's guilt?"

"I don't know," Merlin admitted with a heavy sigh. "I know he considered your father a friend, but he also had to renounce magic to avoid being executed by Uther in the first place, so I've never truly understood their relationship."

The king began to pace, his expression unreadable once more. He was muttering under his breath, words Merlin couldn't quite catch, before he abruptly came to a stop and leveled a glare at Merlin. "I cannot believe you didn't tell me this. You're magic yourself, you absolute idiot. What advantage did you possibly see arising from convincing me even more completely that magic was evil? Because that's what you did, you realize that, don't you?"

Merlin winced. "I know. Your father thanked me after that for my aid in the fight against the evils of magic."

Arthur stared at him, his face completely blank. Then, he started laughing. Long, hard, and harsh. "He must be rolling in his grave," Arthur muttered as his laughter trailed off, dragging a hand across his face. Fixing his attention back on Merlin, he prompted, "You didn't answer my question. Why wouldn't you have told me this?"

Merlin coughed into the crook of his arm, cringing at the wave of pain, then looked Arthur in the face. "I wasn't thinking about myself, or about magic. In that moment, all I was worried about was you. And then after that...I don't know. I don't have a good excuse. I knew it would hurt you, to know I lied, and to know the truth, and it never seemed like the right time to cause you that pain. I'm sorry."

It was in moments like this that Merlin was most overcome with love for his king. Even when Arthur was angry with him, as he clearly still was, he had the bearing of a king, Merlin's king, and it all seemed worth it. He also loved Arthur's unguarded moments, when they were together in the king's chambers, but he feared those days were gone. He would have to be satisfied with what little he could have now, for whatever time he had left. His lungs and throat pickled at the reminder, and he wondered helplessly exactly how much time remained for him.

"I don't think this changes my decision," Arthur finally said aloud.

"Your decision?" Merlin asked blankly before he could think better of it.

"I've made decisions regarding the next steps for Camelot," Arthur clarified, his voice even. "I will be reintroducing magic to Camelot in stages. First, I intend to end the punishment of magic at the next council meeting. Legalization will be more complicated, but no one will be punished for magic any longer. Making magic legal will come next, but I expect it to take a while, and I intend to have the druids involved, both as a gesture of goodwill and because I expect their insight to be helpful."

Merlin held his breath, though his lungs protested.

"Eventually, I hope to have a segment of the knights who are trained magic users. We will need those with magic serving the crown out in the kingdom at large, ensuring that if magic related crimes are occurring, or purported to be occurring, that someone carrying my standard can speak to the situation." Arthur stood a little straighter. "And as for you, Merlin. I intend to keep meeting, either like this, or within the castle, to get more answers. It is my hope, one day, to have regained enough trust in you that I can count you as an advisor."

For all the good, hopeful things in Arthur's speech, those last words still struck Merlin's heart like a lance. An advisor. Not a lover, nor even a friend. He truly had lost Arthur. He'd known that, but to have it confirmed...

"It would be my honor," Merlin said, his voice little more than a rasping whisper.

There was the slightest tightening in Arthur's eyes, but he just offered a short, sharp nod, then gestured to their horses. "We should be getting back, but we can talk again in a few days. I will let you know the outcome of the council meeting, of course."

Other than a nod of gratitude, Merlin was quiet as they mounted their horses once more. They took off toward the castle, riding in silence, and the lack of easy comradery was a palpable consequence. Merlin felt tears prick the corner of his eyes, but he blinked them away. He had only himself to blame for hiding the truth for so long, and what Arthur was doing now, in spite of his lies, was incredible. Worthy of celebration, even. Just then, Merlin's cough took him over once more, wracking his chest with pain. He did his best to keep quiet, but he could feel the king's eyes on him.

Arthur's horse slowed, the king pulling parallel with Merlin's heaving body atop his own horse. "Merlin? Are you sure it's just your lungs? That cough doesn't sound good."

The concern, mild though it was, in the king's voice was another prick of pain in Merlin's chest. He shook his head, hiding the petals with a perceived swipe of his hands across his mouth, then shoving them into his pocket. "I'm all right." He glanced up to see a skeptical look on Arthur's face. He coughed again, feeling yet another petal enter his mouth. "Really, I'm—"

Merlin's words were lost as his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slid from his saddle.

Chapter Text

"...the matter with him?!"

"Sire, please, I..."

"...he able to hear..."

"I didn't know it was this bad, I..."

"...honest with me, Gaius!"

"...magical illness with no name..."

"...week ago, he was..."

"He didn't want you to feel..."

"...he's an idiot..."

"...of the mind and heart..."

"...ridiculous, obviously I still..."

Snatches of conversation filtered in to Merlin's still foggy brain. Gaius. And Arthur. He'd know both their voices anywhere. What had happened? He remembered being in the woods, talking to Arthur, and then...ah, yes. He'd passed out.

A groan filtered out of his lips, and the conversation around him halted instantly.

"Merlin, can you hear me?" That was Gaius's voice.

Merlin inhaled carefully, and felt the twinge of pain in his throat that made it clear the plant that was slowly killing him was still there. He felt a little light headed, but could breathe in and out cleanly enough laying down as he was. Still, death felt closer at hand than it had in years.

Slowly, Merlin blinked his eyes open, blearily peering at Gaius. "I'm awake," he murmured, the words coming out garbled, but still understandable.

Gaius's expression was relieved, but stern. "I told Arthur everything. This has gone far enough, Merlin. Listen to him, I beg of you." Gaius stood, backing up enough to allow the king to take his place at Merlin's bedside.

They were in the main room, Merlin noticed, so he was not in his own bed. He dragged his gaze back to Arthur, who was looking down at him with a pinched expression.

"I want to say I can't believe you would keep something like this from me, but that honestly doesn't surprise me," Arthur began, looking both frustrated and fond, though Merlin wasn't sure he was reading him right.

Merlin inhaled shakily, the sound wheezy in his chest.

Arthur's eyes narrowed at the sound of Merlin's breathing. "Gaius explained. I'm furious with you Merlin, and I'm struggling to trust you, but how can you possibly believe any of that means that I don't still love you with all that I am?"

There it was. Exactly what Merlin had feared. He allowed his eyes to drift closed, hiding the pricking of moisture in them. He tried to focus on his breathing, ignoring the tickle of petals in his throat. It had gotten so much worse, so quickly. And now, out of guilt, or duty, or who knows what else, his beloved king was trying to save his life. Arthur wanted him alive, for answers, or maybe for his eventual guidance in dealing with the return of magic to the kingdom. But it had been so clear for the past week that Arthur no longer saw a future with Merlin at his side the way he always had been. This was nothing but a ploy to keep Merlin alive.

And it wasn't enough.

"No, no, Merlin, look at me." Arthur's voice was stern and frantic in equal measure, his grip tight on Merlin's shoulder. "Open your eyes, Merlin!"

Reluctantly, and with great effort, Merlin forced his eyes back open. His breath wheezed, a petal fluttering from his lips on the exhale. He looked at his king, his eyes drawn to Arthur automatically. Arthur's expression was frustrated, that was easy enough to read, but his eyes looked pained.

"Merlin," Arthur said firmly, "You need to stay alive. We have many, many years ahead of us. To talk, for me to learn more of who you truly are, for you to help me with the laws, all of it. But you have to live. You are the only person I've ever felt this way toward, and nothing could change that, even if I'm furious with you. Please believe me, Merlin. You have to believe me." A tinge of desperation colored those last words.

Merlin studied his king's face. He, more than anyone, was intimately familiar with how Arthur looked when he was being honest and when he was lying. But could he trust that instinct any longer? Arthur had successfully hidden so much of what he'd been feeling this past week, even as Merlin had grown weaker and less capable of spending the extra energy to decode his king's guarded facade.

Another raspy, pained breath rattled through Merlin's chest, and he choked on the flower petals forcing themself up his throat. It felt like entire blossoms, but he made a point of not looking as Gaius fussed over him, freeing his mouth of the offending plants and adjusting his head on the pillow to give his airway a bit more space for clean breathing, such as he was able to achieve at the moment.

"Please, Merlin," Arthur whispered, reaching for Merlin's hand, limp at his side, and grasping it tightly. "You have to believe me."

The trouble was, Merlin knew his king too well. No matter how hurt he was, or how certain he was that he no longer wanted or needed his lying servant, lover, and friend at his side, there was little that would stop Arthur from trying to save someone's life. Even when they didn't deserve it.

"It's not your fault," Merlin croaked. "It's mine. It's okay. You're going to be great, sire."

Merlin caught sight of Arthur's face contorting in a flinch before his body was wracked with a violent cough once more. It was the worst pain he'd yet felt, and he turned on his side instinctually, trying to expel the petals clogging his throat.

"Merlin!" Gaius cried, helping him sit up and lean over as petals cascaded from his mouth. "You can fight this! Listen to Arthur, I beg of you!"

The petals were still coming, but Merlin collapsed back onto the bed, exhausted. "I'm sorry," he murmured, unable to say much else as his breathing grew more and more shallow.

Dimly, he heard Arthur calling on Gaius to do something. There was nothing for Gaius to do though, he knew that. He hadn't expected this illness to take him quite so quickly, but maybe that was just a mark of how deeply he'd loved Arthur. He smiled slightly at the thought. That would be a good cause to die for. It was a sacrifice. His life, Arthur's trust in him, Arthur's love for him, all gone for the sake of the return of magic to the land. That was a noble cause.

He could barely breathe at all, his eyes drifting shut. Arthur's panicked cadence was still audible, but Merlin could no longer make out the words. He was so tired. More than ever, he was aware of the pain in his chest and throat, and the erratic thumping of his heartbeat. Was it getting louder? Thump. Thump. Thump. It was a slow rhythm, though it stuttered a bit. He tried to inhale, and found he couldn't.

His chest ached. The pounding of his heart continued to slow. It felt as if his senses were winking out, one by one. He could no longer hear anything but his heartbeat. The typical smells of the physician's chambers were lost on him. He couldn't focus on touch, so if Arthur still held his hand, or if Gaius was trying to help him, he couldn't tell.

Merlin knew he was supposed to breathe. It was an essential function of the body. He was a decent physician's apprentice. He knew the risks when a body stopped breathing.

He couldn't breathe. Perhaps he should be panicking, but he simply didn't have the energy.

His heartbeat seemed far, far too slow. Thump. Thump. Thump.

At first, the pain ceased to bother him, then Merlin realized that it was because he could no longer feel anything at all.

Thump.

Thump.

...

Chapter Text

Sensation returned to Merlin slowly, in a way he all too easily associated with waking up after battling for his life due to injury or illness. It was much too familiar a sensation, even if it was more intense this time.

He became aware of his heartbeat first, and recognized how weak it sounded. That wasn't a good sign.

His lungs made themselves known next, still in pain he'd grown quite familiar with of late. So, the flowers still grew. He wished that surprised him.

Merlin's awareness of his surroundings took the longest to return, and did so in pieces. The smell of Gaius's workshop, followed by the soundscape Merlin associated with home, the hustle and bustle of a busy castle right outside the door. Next, he became aware that something was covering him. He could feel fabric in places that clothes would not cover—his hands, his forehead.

He put the pieces together just as he gained the strength to open his eyes and confirm for himself that he was indeed covered with a sheet.

Oh.

He wasn't just waking up.

For Gaius to have covered him like this, his mentor must have been convinced he was dead.

Merlin frowned a little, to himself, otherwise remaining unmoving. No, Gaius was not easily fooled. For the old man to truly believe Merlin dead, enough to cover his body—

He'd been dead.

Merlin had died.

His ears weren't picking up the sound of anyone's breathing beyond his own, which was growing more rapid by the second, so Merlin tentatively lifted his arms, pulling the sheet from his upper body and blinking at the softly lit room.

It was evening, not quite dark yet, but there was otherwise no clear way for him to tell how much time had passed since he'd—

Died. He needed to get used to that fact. Or not, if his magic was going to bring him back to life.

Merlin had at least been right that he was alone in the room. No Gaius, and no Arthur either, though he remembered both being at his bedside as breathing had become harder and harder.

Carefully, Merlin inhaled, cursing to himself at the tell-tale feeling of flowers tickling his throat. As if the pain in his lungs hadn't been enough of a clue that death had failed to cure his illness.

A cough overtook him, and he sat up, bending over to cough the petals free and try and force air into his lungs. At least it wasn't as bad as it had been right before he died. Death might come for him again, but it would likely take a few days.

Abruptly the door burst open, and Gaius strode in, eyes wide with alarm.

Merlin's head snapped up to meet his mentor's eyes, startled by the banging of the door hitting the wall. "Gaius—"

"How?!" Gaius cried out, interrupting Merlin and barreling into him with outstretched arms, pulling Merlin close and nearly dragging him from the cot. "I heard the coughing, no one was supposed to be in here, but I never dreamed—!"

Merlin hugged Gaius back without hesitation, gripping the older man tightly. "I don't know, Gaius," he said, the words coming out softer than he'd intended. "I just...woke up. How long—" He cut himself off, unsure if he even wanted an answer to that question.

Gaius finally pulled back, his eyes raking over Merlin's face and body, looking for signs of wear. Seemingly satisfied Merlin was no longer in immediate mortal peril, he wearily fell into a chair, gesturing for Merlin to sit as well, which he did.

"Three days have passed, Merlin," Gaius said gravely.

Merlin flinched. He had no idea what answer he'd been hoping for. Hours, perhaps, but to hear days was a blow. If nothing else, it would be impossible to keep his magic secret now. People would have been told of his death. There was no way to mistake a lack of life in someone for so long. There would be no other explanation, save for magic.

"I'll have to leave," Merlin realized aloud, his heart sinking.

Gaius drew back, affronted. "You most certainly will not!"

Merlin squinted at him. "Gaius, I'm alive. It's obviously magic. Even if Arthur wanted to hide it, it would be impossible. I can't stay, not without putting you in danger." Another cough overtook him, and he bent over once more, expelling the petals to the floor. Once he'd recovered, he gestured to the evidence of his illness. "To say nothing of my obvious magical disease," he added wryly.

Gaius's face collapsed into a weary sadness. "You're still ill. I heard you cough before, but—" He broke off, and shook his head. "No matter. Once you speak with Arthur, all will be made right."

Merlin wrinkled his nose. That hadn't been true before. Why on earth would it be true now?

Gaius tutted at him. "All your concerns are for naught, my boy. Arthur's failure to convince you that he still loved you has haunted him. So much so, that even if I did not already believe it, his love for you would be undeniable."

By the goddess did he want to believe that. But... "Arthur's a good man," Merlin countered. "You underestimate the degree to which guilt plagues him."

"I'm not underestimating anything." Gaius scowled, his eyebrows drawing into the most stern expression Merlin knew him to be capable of. "You must go to him, Merlin. Before you are on death's door once more. Neither of us can stand to lose you again."

Gaius was many things, but a fool was not one of them. Merlin studied his face, then nodded once. "I'll speak with him. But I still can't just go swanning off into a castle whose residents think me dead."

"You can when the death penalty for magic was revoked this morning," Gaius declared, triumphant with the confidence of one who knows they've won an argument.

Merlin blinked. "He did it." The words escaped him unintentionally, faint and a little awed. "He said...but I thought it would take longer."

"Much of the council remembers what the land was like before the Purge," Gaius said quietly. "And those that do not, are, by and large, willing to defer to the experience of their elders. The only objections were regarding the possibility of anarchy. You would have liked how the king handled such objections." Gaius chuckled softly. "He stared down each council member who voiced concerns, and asked them to consider whether they truly believed it was the law that had prevented Camelot from being reduced to rubble all this time."

Merlin surprised himself as a small laugh escaped. That did sound like Arthur.

"They were all forced to confront the fact that they have no true power, not over magic, and to pretend otherwise is futile." Gaius smiled, a wry expression. "I've never been more proud of Arthur."

Making a decision, Merlin stood once more, wringing his hands briefly before fisting them at his sides. "Where is he?"

Gaius glanced toward the window. "This time of day? In his chambers, I should think."

"All right." Merlin inhaled deeply, then exhaled with a nod. "All right," he said again. "I'll go talk to him."

"Listen to him this time." Gaius's tone was sharp, though his expression was kind. "Arthur would not lie to you, not about anything important, and never about something like this."

Merlin's answering nod was hesitant, but he nodded all the same. Making for the door, he took another steadying breath before he set out into the hall. No matter what Gaius believed about the ramifications of him suddenly coming back to life, Merlin had no intention of causing a stir before he'd so much as laid eyes on his king. Rather than take the fastest or most direct route to Arthur's chambers, he stuck to the shadows, taking every precaution to avoid being seen.

It was only as he approached the king's chambers that he realized he couldn't avoid the guards seeing him. Rumors would fly no matter what, it would seem.

Steeling himself, Merlin walked up to Arthur's door as if it were any other day, and he hadn't been dead for the last few, opening the door and nodding to the guards as casually as he would have the week before.

Both guards nodded back, then immediately did a double take, their jaws dropping. Not waiting for any further reaction, Merlin slipped into the king's chambers and closed the door behind him with a grimace.

A loud clang rang out, and Merlin whirled to face the room.

Arthur stood by the fire, on his feet, with his jaw hanging open and undisguised hope blooming across his face. His goblet clattered against the stone floor, wine seeping out into the cracks between stones.

"Merlin?"