Chapter Text
Uniting Albion to create the kingdom Merlin had died for wasn’t as easy as Arthur had hoped.
A warlord called Lucius Tiberius had allied himself with Arthur’s enemies and now…
“We will get him back, sire” ser Leon vows.
Percival, ever a steady presence on Arthur’s other side, nods in firm agreement.
It’s not the first time that he's reminded that of the original knights of the round table, only the three of them are left.
And here the three of them stand, Percival on his left and Leon on his right, with an army behind them in front of the city gates and the enemy by the tree line on the other side of the field.
“They have Thomas,” Gwen had cried in anguish not even a full day ago with blood dripping from the headwound she got while trying to protect their son. “He’s only just turned three! I can’t lose him. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”
Arthur can’t, either, but he stayed strong and held her as Gwen cried hysterically until Alice gave her a tonic that calmed her down enough to treat the wound and then administer another tonic to help the despaired mother sleep.
Gwen is at the very back of the army, refusing to not be close to the what was to be the battlefield where their son had been dragged to.
Arthur, at the very front of the army, stared at the enemy.
He could make out the form of Lucius on the other side. The monster held the end of the rope that binds Thomas’ hands and tugs the boy forward.
Thomas is so small compared to the grown men surrounding him. He stumbles when Lucius pulls on the rope and the young prince is trembling.
Arthur wants to weep. Arthur wants to cry. He wants to scream and shout and demand Lucius fight him in a one on one and release his fucking son.
They are too far apart for Arthur to make out the look in his eyes or the expression on his face, but Arthur knows Lucius’ eyes are cruel and his face smug.
The man raises an arm, the one not holding the ropes that bind Thomas, and something in his hand glints in the sunlight. A knife.
Arthur nearly keels over when Lucius brings the knife down and-
The ropes binding Thomas’ hands fall to the ground, his son’s hands free.
Lucius leans down and says something to the boy, his hand on Thomas’ shoulder. Then he takes a step to the side and pushes Thomas forward.
Thomas stumbles again, looking back in confusion. Then he starts running. Running to Arthur, to his father who failed to protect him in the first place, to safety.
Arthur doesn’t understand what Lucius’s plan is until someone hands Lucius a bow an arrow.
“Sire-”
Arthur is moving. He doesn’t hesitate as he mounds Llamrei and he’s racing against time, against the very universe itself that is dangling the life of his son in front of him.
Thomas is running and Arthur urges Llamrei to go as fast as she can.
They’re all running and racing and the very world around them seems to hold their breath as Lucius takes aim with his bow and sends the arrow flying.
“Dad!” Thomas is crying as he runs.
No, no, no, please gods no, no, Arthur thinks desperately, not him, not my son, please-
“Thomas!” Arthur urges Llamrei on but he can’t do anything but as his son grows closer, so does the arrow. And Arthur can’t do anything but watch as it nears his son. Closer and closer and closer, until-
The world explodes into bright gold.
Llamrei halts so suddenly Arthur almost gets thrown off and he has to avert his eyes but as soon as the light fades he is looking back with dread only to see… only to see… it can’t be-
“Merlin?”
His voice is foggy, his ears still ringing from the explosion of golden light. Merlin is standing there. He is standing there holding Thomas in his arms and Thomas is panting and crying but he’s alive and so is Merlin-
Arthur jumps off Llamrei and approaches the two, hoping and praying and begging that this isn’t a daydream and that they’re really here.
Merlin faces Arthur fully, the gold of his eyes fading back to that breathtakingly beautiful blue. “Arthur,” he says sweetly, and the king’s legs almost buckle at the sound of his best friend’s voice.
Vaguely, Arthur’s mind processes the war cries from Lucius and the enemy army, but he pays it no mind as Merlin easily hands Thomas over to Arthur. His child is sobbing, his young face red and sweaty from exertion.
Arthur hold him tightly, no longer holding back his tears of fear and bone deep relief. He focuses on his child’s breathing, never taking his eyes off Merlin.
Merlin glances to his right, where Lucius’ army is mounting their horses and sounding the battle drums.
“The one in the front is the one who kidnapped your son?” Merlin asks almost casually, but Arthur can hear the danger in his voice. The air around them thickens so heavily with buzzing magic that Arthur practically taste it.
Arthur has missed this, them, him. He has missed Merlin and Merlin’s magic however short he had known about it. He feels like he’s floating.
He’s also very exhausted from stress of the days since Thomas was taken, running on adrenaline from what just happened, and he’s very angry at the enemy for their nerve of taking Thomas in the first place, so he lightly points out, “They also hit Gwen on the head.”
Because Merlin loves Gwen, almost as much as he loves Arthur. The pair of them were an absolute nightmare when Gwen was appointed queen because Gwen kept giving Merlin new clothes and new books and new animals and days off. The two took full advantage of Gwen’s newfound privileges as Queen and at the time it had driven Arthur mad.
Now, though, he would give anything to see the two friends reunite.
If he’s here to stay, a voice in the back of his mind whispers traitorously.
He blinks, brought back to the present time when Merlin makes a furious noise. “They hit Gwen?”
“Before they kidnapped my son, yes,” Arthur says and Thomas’ grip on him tightens.
As Arthur predicted, Merlin’s eyes narrow and he glares furiously at the enemy – their enemy.
He looks at Arthur, “Bring your son back to safety. We’ll handle this.”
Arthur’s brows furrow in confusion. “We?”
“Don’t sound so disappointed, princess.” A voice says from somewhere before a figure appears and slings his arm around Merlin’s shoulder casually.
Gwaine.
Another figure appears at Merlin’s other side. “Merlin might be a one-man army but during our time in Avalon I’d like to think he finally learned that letting others watch his back is not the end of the world.”
Lancelot.
Merlin rolls his eyes and Gwaine ruffles the warlock’s hair with a roguish grin. The three look just as they had that first time they stood around the round table. Young and full or righteous anger and determined and-
Arthur feels like crying again. In a very kingly manner, ofcourse. But if he stays here his legs will give out from grief or relief or what feels like a hundred different emotions hitting him all at once.
Merlin seems to know what Arthur is thinking, because of course he does he’s Merlin, and tells his king “Go bring him back to Gwen, she must be worried. We’ll deal with this.”
Lucius and his army are getting closer, letting out war shouts and raising their swords while Arthur’s own army is still standing in wait because Arthur hasn’t given the sign to attack yet.
Arthur looks at the three, and at the nearing army. He debates internally if this is a good idea and if he can leave them, but Thomas shivers in his arms and he has to prioritize his son. He nods and mounts Llamrei, holding Thomas who has calmed down and is watching the scene with genuine curiosity.
He rides back to his army where Gwen is still waiting at the back for her son’s return.
He doesn’t look back, but he can hear the clashing of swords and Merlin’s voice speaking the Ancient Language and the screams of his enemies, and he feels the magic in the air washing over the field in powerful waves.
He can also hear his own army cheering for the three figures that appeared out of nowhere, he can make out the gasps and the reverent shouts of “Emrys!” most likely from the magical folk in his army.
He doesn’t worry about the arrows, trusting he can safely make it back. He is right in his faith. Arrows are shot their way but there seems to be an invisible wall around Arthur, Thomas and Llamrei. Arrows land on the ground but always a certain distance away from the three.
He guides Llamrei into the direction where Leon and Percival still stand, their jaw dropped and their eyes hesitantly hopeful.
“Is that…” Leon manages to say before he gets too choked up to continue.
Percival lets out a strangled noise, hands clenching into fists.
Arthur doesn’t get to answer when a familiar figure pushes her way through their army until she’s running to her husband and son.
“Mama!”
“Thomas!” Gwen cries. Arthur doesn’t even get the time to unmount his horse before the harried mother is pulling their son into her arms, collapsing to the ground and shaking with relief.
She looks at Arthur through her tears and he smiles, before nodding his head at where the 3 against a few thousand battle is still going on. Occasionally he sees bright flashes of gold in his periphery and at some point there’s sudden bursts of lightning coming from a cloudless sky.
Gwen starts full on sobbing when she realizes who truly saved the day.
“When Camelot’s need is greatest,” she recites the dragon’s words they have both been clinging onto desperately these past years.
Arthur realized Merlin had exchanged their fates that day. Arthur was meant to die, and then rise again when Camelot needed him most. When Merlin died in his stead, Arthur had desperately hoped that he would rise again one day like Arthur would have done.
He had expected to have to wait decades, and he was willing to do it. He would have waited as long as he needed to. Merlin is worth the wait.
Gwen and Thomas sit there on the ground with Gwen caressing her son’s hair in a soothing way and he in turn clings to her with no intention to let go anytime soon.
Arthur addresses the men and women in his army, rejoices in his son’s safety and sends them all back home through the gates of Camelot.
The fighting is over not long after.
It’s quiet as the revived men? Ghosts? Spirits? Who cares. It’s quiet as their old friends make their way over, leaving their enemies broken or dead in their wake.
Lucius is lying there dead somewhere, Arthur thinks, and then happily realizes that he doesn’t care.
When they finally get close enough, no one seems to know what to say.
So, ofcourse, Merlin is the first to speak up.
“When I exchanged your fate for mine, I knew that when Albion’s need was greatest I would rise again,” the warlock says with a wry smile, looking at little Thomas in Gwen’s arms, “But I didn’t know it would be this adorable.”
“I’m just glad we only missed a couple of years,” Gwaine groans contently, stretching his arms above his head and taking in the blue sky. “It’s good to be back.”
Gwaine is then barreled over by Percival, who quite literally tackles the recently revived knight to the ground in a crushing hug.
Percival is smart, and levelheaded, and Arthur feels fully justified following his knight’s example. He flings himself at Merlin who welcomes him with open arms and hugs him back just as tightly.
“Merlin,” Arthur whispers, almost reverent and in absolute disbelief. He’s tearing up again as his hands make his way up the man’s neck and presses their foreheads together. The hole in his chest is gone, stitched back together as his other half breathes air once more.
“Arthur,” Merlin whispers back, just as reverently, and Arthur wants- Arthur wants. He wants so badly. He wants it all.
Arthur is slow and reluctant to pull back, never moving too far away but far enough to be able to look at the man. “Are you…” Arthur hesitates, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “Is this temporary?”
Please say you’re here to stay, Arthur wants to plead. I can’t do this without you a second time.
Merlin smiles, and oh, how Arthur had missed that smile. The way it lights up his eyes and brightens his whole face as his pink lips curve upwards.
Merlin takes a step back, and squeezes Arthur’s arm reassuringly when the king moves to protest.
“Well,” he says with a considerable amount of drama. “I’ve already missed, what, two birthdays?” he asks theatrically, looking at Thomas and pretending to think.
“Three!” Thomas, sweet, lovely, and delightfully alive Thomas exclaims, holding out a hand with three fingers up. He’s such a smart kid, Arthur thinks, feeling like he wants to weep for hours.
Merlin gasps. “Three whole birthdays? My, my.” He tuts. “Guess we have to stay and make up for lost time then.”
“Really?!” Thomas exclaims in childish delight, untangling himself from his mother’s arms and dress and jumping up, looking at Merlin wide-eyed.
“Really.” Gwaine says from his spot on the ground where Percival still has yet to let go of him.
“There’s nowhere else we’d rather be,” agrees Lancelot as he helps Gwen up from the ground.
Arthur watches them with mild curiosity. He sees the awe and longing in Gwen’s eyes, and he waits for the old and familiar pangs of jealousy but it never comes.
Merlin, who Arthur is still holding onto, rubs circles on his arm. Arthur’s heart starts racing, just a little.
Percival turns, still half laying on Gwaine but now able to look at the recently revived properly. “I thought it was fate for you to come back in Camelot’s hour of greatest need. Was this it?”
“Yeah, well,” Merlin shrugs, as if this is a shrugging matter. “I’m Emrys, and I think I’ve made my thoughts on fate very clear.”
Gwaine snorts at the understatement. He looks at Arthur, Percival, Gwen and Leon. “He’s been fighting with the sidhe and kind of strongarmed fate and a few other entities into letting us return. It was glorious.”
“You’ve been in Avalon then?” Percival inquires, looking conflicted. Arthur remembers then that the knight had a family of magic once, druids, before Cenred’s soldiers killed them when they were under Morgana’s control.
“Avalon’s peaceful,” Gwaine shrugs. “The sidhe are annoying but the other inhabitants make up for it.”
“They went to Avalon” Merlin nods at the other two. “Me, I’m not sure. Some part of me definitely was there, but I think when I died my magic returned to the earth and the sky a bit of my consciousness stayed. I remember spending time with my dad and some others but I also remember watching Gaius and Alice’s wedding, the announcement of Thomas’ birth, and the druids travelling to Camelot. It’s weird, like I was everywhere and nowhere at once.”
He turns to Gwen, mournful and apologetic. “I wanted to bring Elyan too but…”
Gwen looks back at him, her gaze steady and knowing. “He wanted to stay with mom and dad?”
Leon chokes up at that, shaking his head sideways with a sad smile.
Merlin nods and Gwen smiles understandingly. “Then he is happy, and that is all I can ask for. Oh, Merlin,” she sighs and hugs Merlin warmly “I’m so glad you’re back. It hasn’t been the same without you,” she looks at Gwaine and Lancelot over Merlin’s shoulders, “any of you. Don’t you dare die on me again. In fact, I demand I get to go first and I’m not planning on going until I’m old and grey and wrinkly.”
Merlin sniffles, and Gwaine barks out a laugh.
“Ofcourse, my lady. You may go first.” Lancelot agrees with a nod, gazing at her lovingly. Arthur wants to roll his eyes. The jealousy he expected may not be there but he could at least be a bit more subtle. She’s still his wife!
Thomas who had patiently watched the whole scene was growing less patient by the second. He tugs on Merlin’s arm, and Merlin easily crouches down so they’re on eyelevel.
“Are you really magic?” Thomas asks hopefully.
There’s something soft yet ruthlessly fierce in Merlin’s expression, like he’s ready to take out his heart and place it in Thomas’ hand and curl the boy’s fingers around it. Arthur isn’t surprised. Thomas has that effect on people.
“That I am.” Merlin nods.
“I’m magic too,” Thomas whispers, like he’s confessing a great secret.
Merlin’s smile grows so wide his cheeks must hurt. He glances at Gwen and Arthur with a raised eyebrow that would put Gaius to shame. “You don’t say,” he says, not even hiding his smugness.
Yep. He definitely had a say in it.
Thomas picks at his sleeves, a nervous habit he learned from his mother. “Can you teach me?”
“Definitely. I’ll even introduce you to my dragons. It’s in your last name afterall.”
“You will? Thank you!”
“Oh, and so polite too.” Merlin coos. “Definitely takes after Gwen then. Thank the gods.” He looks up at the sky as if actually thanking them.
Arthur kicks a bit of grass his way. “Idiot.”
“Prat,” Merlin shoots back.
Arthur almost falls for it. It would be so easy to return to that easy rhythm of banter. ‘Merlin’ he would say, and Merlin would look at him oh so very innocently despite being anything but and say ‘yes, sire?’ and Arthur would tell him to ‘shut up’ with fondness clear in every syllable.
He can’t bring himself to. He’s suffered through years of silences where Merlin’s inane chatter should have been, and the idea of even suggesting Merlin stop talking sends a pang of dread through him.
“Say, we could stay here all day if it were up to me, but I’d also like a warm bath and a cold drink.” Gwaine speaks up.
“That can be arranged.” Leon agrees easily. He and Percival seem to be sticking close to Lancelot and Gwaine as if the two are about to keel over any second.
Arthur glances at Merlin. He doesn’t look like he’s about to keel over, but Arthur also didn’t think he looked like a sorcerer and look how well that judgement worked out for him.
He subtly shuffles closer to the man. Merlin gives him a bemused look but doesn’t comment on it.
Instead he says, “About those two days off…”
The memory almost brings Arthur to tears, only this time they’re not from heartache anymore. “Three days tops,” he manages to joke. “After that-”
“Surely you’re not making him be your manservant again.” Gwaine says sharply.
Arthur takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he had missed the rebellious knight. “As I was saying,” he says through gritted teeth, glaring pointedly at Gwaine who looks undeterred, before looking at Merlin, “Three days, and after that there’s an opening at court for a court sorcerer. It’s yours if you want it.”
Merlin gapes, like an idiot because that’s just part of his charm just like he said, and nods wordlessly, eyes alight with an emotion Arthur can’t put a name to.
“That’s settled then,” Gwen smiles brightly. “Let’s head back.”
Arthur shouldn’t be surprised when Merlin bends down to pick Thomas up, but he is. Especially because Thomas is very much his father’s son and is always a bit hesitant when it comes to letting strangers touch him. But the boy seems very comfortable in Merlin’s arms, happily looping his arms around Merlin’s neck to stay upright as if he instinctively knows that he can trust Merlin and that he is safe.
Arthur fails to hide his amused smile. Thomas is his father’s son indeed.
Arthur also shouldn’t be surprised about the next words that leave the man’s mouth. “Have your parents told you about the greatest day in Camelot history?”
Thomas looks at him curiously. “When we won the war?”
“No,” Merlin smiles fondly, though it quickly turns mischievous. “The day your grandfather married a troll.”
“No way!” Thomas exclaims as Merlin leads the walk back to the castle with Gwaine and Lancelot on either side, grinning at the warlock and the prince.
“Yes,” Merlin nods with feigned solemnity. “It was a very public affair. Uther and Catrina were perfect for each other. It’s a tear-worthy love story, really. One that should be told as often as possible so it shall be remembered for generations to come.”
Arthur and Gwen share exasperated but fond looks, the joy in their eyes says it all.
Merlin is back.