Chapter Text
It was two years post the defeat of Morgana and her allies that Arthur began to hear the name Emrys everywhere.
His first thought: oh no. Not another all-powerful, prophesied sorcerer- they had dealt with far beyond their fair share of those already, and Arthur had no desire to face another.
It wasn’t that word of a godlike magic-user somewhere in Albion sparked fear in Arthur, not like it once would have. If a sorcerer had quarrel with Camelot it was because of old wounds; no new vengeance was necessary these days, not since Arthur had gone about the equal parts tedious and rewarding process of lifting his father’s ban on magic.
It was all Merlin’s fault, as most things tended to be.
Turns out, the idiot was keeping a certain secret; that he was still an idiot, but also a magical one. Turns out, Merlin’s magic (-Merlin’s magic!-) was something Arthur owed his life to a thousand times over in the many years they had known each other.
To say that Merlin’s admission or the conversation that came after was ‘difficult’ would be the biggest understatement in Camelot’s long history. But it happened, and Arthur was so damn glad that it happened- was so glad that Merlin trusted Arthur enough to tell him his greatest secret despite all the years the Warlock (-the Warlock!-) had lived in desperate fear for his life should his magic be revealed.
Magic had hurt Arthur in more ways than he cared to count. He had been raised knowing the unequivocal truth that magic was evil, that it was a choice, that it corrupted the user’s very soul and that after a single spell there was no hope left for them. But Merlin had been born with magic, had used it as often as breathing, and he was still Merlin, so if that didn’t prove everything Uther ever claimed about sorcery wrong, nothing possibly could.
The conclusion from there was simple; the atrocities committed in the Purge were wrong, and if Arthur was to be the King he wanted to be, he needed to go about fixing it.
It was not an overnight process. First was breaking the news to his council, who took the King’s new plan far worse than his knights had (whose reactions ranged from ‘gods, I knew it!’ to ‘wait- that was your secret? I thought you were- never mind.’).
The first council session had involved a great deal of yes, I’m serious, and no, I’m not under a spell, and no, I don’t care what Uther would have thought, I am King now, and no, I’m really not bewitched, yes I know that for certain, and yes, I am set on this, I will take your council but my word on this matter is final.
Gods.
What came second was a whole analysis of what they did know of magic: to decriminalize magic was the very same thing as allowing its limitless use, and Arthur insisted he would be prepared. What spells would be legalised? What spells should be banned? Should who is allowed to use magic be limited? How can magic users be educated? How could misuse of magic be proved in court? What ways should magic be utilised militarily and what was the limit of magic Arthur was willing to employ against other kingdoms? How should magic be used to protect Camelot? And Merlin, how would you go about warding Camelot against enemy magic? … I have not asked you a hundred questions in the last fifteen minutes, shut up Merlin. … Magic or not you can’t speak to me that way, I’m still your King! … That’s it, I've changed my mind, I’ll have you burnt at the stake for this- stop laughing, you moron.
Undoubtedly, Arthur’s favourite part of having lifted the ban on magic was seeing how drastically it had changed his closest friend. Merlin with magic was still Merlin, always had been, but a near-tangible weight seemed to have disappeared from him that Arthur had never known him without. Merlin with no secret to hide was clearly healthier, laughed louder, sassed even harder, and seemed so bright in the day-to-day that Arthur occasionally wondered if subconscious magic was making him luminescent. Arthur loved to see it.
It didn’t mean that the manservant was any less tired than usual however, with his usual servant duties plus his apprenticeship to Gaius plus his regularly-save-both-Arthur’s-hide-and-the-entiretry-of-Camelot duties that Arthur only now truly knew about, plus the unofficial advisor role he always held but had since increased tenfold since Arthur needed a trusted source on magical information, damn it. The one other person who had been allowed magic usage pre the ban being officially lifted was Gaius, given permission to employ whatever healing magic he deemed necessary to aid his physician duties. But even Gaius, who had studied the Old Religion before the Purge, had admitted readily that his knowledge of magic was no match for Merlin’s.
The third step in the process of lifting the ban on magic was convincing the hard-assed buffoon that was Merlin to relinquish his role as Arthur’s manservant. Gods above, for all Merlin complained about his servant duties, Arthur couldn’t believe how convicted the man was to stay.
It took a lot of negotiating. Perhaps even more than it took to convince his council that Camelot would not be instantaneously overthrown by malevolent sorcerers the moment the ban was lifted.
It took days: He wasn’t being fired, idiot, it was a promotion. … If he was so obsessed with protecting Arthur, surely that could be done better from an official position by the King’s side? One where he was legally supposed to use magic to do the protecting? Although surely Arthur didn’t need quite as much protection as Merlin says he- … okay, okay fine, he got the picture.
But Merlin would also get to train other sorcerers, how great was that? And he could make sure they don’t turn into vindictive psychopaths, and maybe then one day Camelot might have a sorcerer who is actually competent- ow! Throwing things with magic was cheating!
Arthur could find another manservant, Merlin, he was the King. Yes, they’ll probably be better than him, he really was a terrible servant. Gaius would be fine, they’d both still live in the same castle, Merlin, this isn’t a banishment. Of course he could still train under him, but Gaius would probably appreciate another apprentice that is actually around to learn medicine, don’t give Arthur that look. Fine, Merlin could approve them personally beforehand, but if he insulted Gaius in doing so, Arthur was not protecting Merlin from his wrath.
Yes Merlin, obviously you would be paid, it’s a job. Yes Merlin, the pay would be more than a servant’s. No Merlin, that’s not discriminatory, that’s how occupations work. Sure Merlin, you won’t have any servants of your own if you don’t want them. Yes Merlin, you have to wear the proper formal robes. Fine, Merlin, you can keep the damned neckerchief.
Finally, finally, Merlin conceded. Which was how Arthur instated a new official seat at the Round Table; Leon as Head Knight seated to Arthur’s left, Gwen to his right, and Merlin as Court Sorcerer to her’s. The King and Queen, protected from both sides. Though Arthur knew Merlin and Gwen liked sitting next to each other the best because it allowed them to snicker back and forth behind their hands while Arthur was trying to be a proper King in a council session.
Merlin wasn’t laughing now, Arthur noticed idly, as one knight continued his report on the increasing levels of rumours sneaking all through Camelot about the great sorcerer Emrys and his inevitable appearance. Arthur liked knowing the various plights or stories that his people thought important, and based on how much word-of-mouth surrounded the name Emrys, this was important indeed.
The rumours- many that they were- were riddled with inconsistencies that gave Arthur some relief. It was when every story said the same thing that one could begin to worry. For now, though, Emrys was clearly some mythical figure that became more powerful from one wives-tale to the next. One moment he was a Dragonlord (as if that were possible), the next the King of the Druids (surely they had none), after that he was the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth- ‘a god in human form’.
The knight finished his report and sat a little awkwardly. There was a distinct level of unease amongst many seated at the table- wounds from previous powerful sorcerers that Camelot faced were still fresh, magic still an untrustworthy variable despite more than a year since Arthur declared it legal.
Arthur turned to his sorcerer (his sorcerer!), very glad not to be the one with the burden of expertise on this particular subject. “Merlin, what do you know of these Emrys tales? Is it something we need to take heed of?”
Merlin tilted his head, face pinching minutely in thought. “I have heard the name Emrys before- the druids spoke of him. They have many prophecies that foretell how he will aid the Once and Future King in uniting all of Albion and ushering in a Golden Age.”
Huh. That didn’t sound as terrible as it could be.
“When you say Once and Future King to unite Albion…” Gwen mused, “does that mean a single king ruling over all five kingdoms? Does this pertain to a threat of one kingdom attempting to overthrow the others- overthrow us- and using a powerful sorcerer to do so?”
There it was. That sounded more like their kind of average Tiwsday.
“Possibly,” Merlin replied, which was not at all reassuring. “I’m afraid prophecies are not known for being succinct, I’d have to find out more.”
There was one other thing the knight had said that had caught Arthur’s attention. “If we were to seek out this Emrys to gauge the threat, I would assume we’re looking for a magical being.” He began. “But one rumor said god in human form. If that has any credibility whatsoever, would we be looking for the appearance of just a man, instead?” That would be… dangerous. Emrys could be anybody.
Merlin shrugged one shoulder. “It could be anything, really. It’s too soon for me to say. Should these rumors continue, I can go to the druids to see if they know more.”
Arthur nodded. “See that you do.” There were other matters they needed to address this meeting, the topic should be resolved… but there was something else. Magic might allow one to take an infinite number of appearances, but if Emrys began as just a civilian somewhere, it was a start. Arthur caught his sorcerer’s eye again. “If Emrys did have a simple, human identity, you wouldn’t have any suspicion who it could be, at all?”
“I wouldn't, I’m afraid.” Merlin shrugged one shoulder, seeming somewhat defeated. “I’ll look into it.”
Once, years ago, Arthur had been sure he could tell when Merlin was lying through his teeth. How frustrating it was to know that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Ah well. If Merlin knew something truly important to the safety of Camelot and her people, Arthur trusted he would reveal it. Or better yet, maybe nothing would come of this Emrys business at all.
By now, Arthur knew better than to hope for that. What joy.
x+x+x
Arthur was stressed, and Merlin was laughing.
Arthur was pacing his quarters, wracking his brain with tearing-his-hair-out levels of stress, and Merlin had his head down on the table, laughing.
“I do not see what about this is so funny.” Arthur seethed, flapping at him the letter that was the root of his great distress.
“He thinks- he thinks-” Merlin was wheezing, the ability to breathe apparently having escaped him. He lifted his head to track Arthur back and forth across the room. “Lot thinks what?”
“King Lot-” Arthur rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Believes Emrys was sighted in Essetir. He's taking it as a sign that he is to be the Once and Future King!” Arthur flapped the letter vaguely eastwards towards the offending kingdom to emphasise his point, to which Merlin let out an undignified snort and dropped his forehead back to rest on his arms.
“I was just in Essetir,” Merlin informed the timber surface, still sounding vaguely hysterical. “Didn't see anyone special.”
“That's because you clearly spent the entire time there drunk out of your mind with the Druids.” Arthur marched to the centre of the room to accuse the slumped puddle of a sorcerer directly. “There probably was a god or something there at their camp and you missed him entirely, too interested in the bottom of your tankard!"
Merlin groaned, attempting to hide his head beneath arms. “Must you shout?”
“You got back yesterday!” Arthur raised his voice, just to be antagonising. “How are you still hungover?”
Merlin raised his head once again to give Arthur a grin that was far too self-satisfied, eyes squinted. “I don't know what we were drinking, but it was great. I really should visit more often if they throw a celebration like that for me every time.”
“Why the hell do you get a celebration for visiting?”
“Some people appreciate my presence,” Merlin scoffed, avoiding answering as he was frustratingly wont to do. “I talked plenty to them about Emrys like you wanted, though. And I can tell you for sure that Lot is not the Once and Future King.” He snickered again, as if the very idea was ludicrous.
Arthur sighed, raising his hand to massage the pressure building in his temples, like a perverse invisible circlet fitted too tight. “Well he seems to think he is. I was hoping this whole Emrys debacle would remain nothing but rumours, or at least be some simple god we would need to ride out and appease or kill, like we're good at.”
Merlin frowned, befuddled amusement softening the expression. “As opposed to…?”
“A diplomatic disaster!” Arthur exclaimed, causing Merlin to groan again and go back to his attempts to become one with the table. “Merlin, if the Kings of the realms begin to get it in their heads that this Emrys holds the power of all of Albion, we are on the precipice of war. A war waged because of perceived entitlement, which can be even harder-fought for than a battle born of vengeance or anything else of the like.”
“And what if Emrys does hold the power to choose the King of all of Albion?” Merlin asked carefully.
“I'm not sure if that's better or worse.” Arthur exhaled in a rush, mind racing. “Emrys is a complete unknown- we were not sure he even existed until King Lot sent his proclamation. In fact, he could still be a fiction that Lot is attempting to use in order to gain power. And if Emrys is real, we have no telling what his motives could be.” He went back to pacing, and Merlin watched him with a flat look while Arthur continued thinking aloud. “I do not see how even a great sorcerer could hold such power- but it wouldn’t matter if he does.”
“It wouldn’t?”
“No! It would simply matter whether or not the Kingdoms of Albion believe he does or not. Because if they believe he does, suddenly this all becomes a fight for Emrys’ approval, and Lot seems to have already started the chase.”
Merlin frowned again, as if miffed. “How do they know Emrys hasn't already decided on a King?”
“Well, he's done a bang-up job letting the rest of us Kings know that he has, then,” Arthur scowled.
Merlin was silent for a long moment, watching Arthur erode a path across the room. Sometimes Arthur felt as if Merlin's scrutiny could see right into the very depths of him, and it made Arthur want to hunch away like a pouting child so Merlin couldn't see in and be left wanting.
It was a frivolous thing to worry about. Merlin was nowhere near as observant as that.
“Arthur,” Merlin began, amicably. “If I can assure you of anything, it is that you need not worry yourself.”
“Why’s that?” Arthur whirled on Merlin, unsure if he said it with sarcasm or desperation. “I do not trust any of the other rulers of Albion with Camelot’s people- I will not stand for their freedom to be taken if my rule is usurped, but how can I fight a King that is led by a god?”
Merlin laced his fingers together, watching Arthur in return with something wry in his expression that gave the clear impression he knew far more than Arthur did, which he detested. “I would say that the fact you are more worried for your people than you are holding to your own power is alone one of many reasons you should be King of all of Albion.”
The casual, immovable certainty that Merlin said it with warmed something in Arthur, a reprieve from the tension warring within him. Not that he let it show, of course. “Well I hardly think what I want is going to cross Emrys' mind,” he snapped.
Merlin rolled his eyes, exasperated in a way he had no right to be. “Why are you so certain that-”
“Why do you think?” Arthur slammed one fist onto the table, making Merlin startle. “I don’t think I need remind you of all people what this kingdom did to those with magic until very recently? No great sorcerer is ever going to look upon Camelot with favour. My actions have ensured that, and because of it I have likely doomed all my people to the rule of whichever King a god deems greater than I-”
“Arthur.” Merlin stood. He didn’t raise his voice, nor did gold grace his eyes. But something in the cadence of his voice, in the stirring of the air sparked something primal within Arthur to shut his mouth and listen. “You are not your father. You are the one who brought magic back from its forbiddance and trusted me to do it alongside you, and you are the greatest king Albion will ever know. To hell with whatever forces in the world or within yourself that claim otherwise.”
He huffed a little, satisfied, before ungracefully returning to his seat. “I’m serious, though- don’t worry yourself over it. You do your job in protecting your people from this ‘diplomatic disaster’, and let me do the job you trusted me to do, and I will take care of this Emrys business.” He crossed his arms, and finished with a terrible attempt at propriety: “Your Majesty.”
It took Arthur a good few breaths, jaw working, before he was able to find his words again. It should have unnerved him, the rolling waves of unconscious power that Merlin seemed to exude when he forgot himself. Oddly enough, it didn’t. “Fine,” Arthur bit out with temper he didn’t feel. Merlin’s words were… reassuring. Touching, even. “I’ll still throw you in the stocks for speaking to your King in the way you do.”
Merlin snorted, the tension in the room thoroughly dissolved. “You do that and I’ll curse you to croak like the toad you are until you let me out,” he scoffed, humoring Arthur’s pretense that the stocks could ever hold him if he didn’t want them to. “Really- I should be offended. I look on Camelot with favour.”
Arthur broke out of his musings over whether Merlin was bluffing or not and unfortunate memories of donkey brays to realise which of his own previous words Merlin was referring to. “Exactly.” He smirked. “I said no great sorcerer would ever look upon Camelot with favour.”
“Hey!”
“When you find Emrys, do report back as to what a great sorcerer looks like, would you? I’m afraid I’ve never seen one before.”
“Hey!”