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Unmatched III [Soulmate Au] [Angst with a happy ending] [No beta]

[Act.I] [Act.II] [Act.III.1]

Act.III: Emrys (Part 2)

Arthur leaned against the wall next to his window, hidden in the shadows created by the heavy curtains that for so long had decorated his chambers.

He just wanted to watch the knights' training, that's all. The fact that he hadn't bothered to do so for months until now had nothing to do with how his former manservant usually took a break from his rounds to hang around the training grounds and chat for a while.

He was definitely not waiting for him to show up.

Because he didn't care.

Merlin was nothing but a nuisance and a disrespecting fool.

One that Arthur did not miss in the slightest.

He was just checking his knights' trainingas the competent king that he was, and nothing more. Just waiting for lunchtime and for his— he choked on his thoughts for a second — his soulmate to show up and accompany him. His soulmate who was polite, beautiful, and smart. The soulmate who was good company, that only gave him her honest opinion and who was great with advice; who was kind and got along with his uncle, whom the council adored and approved of.

The soulmate that the fates deemed to be right for him and whom he was definitely in love with, and not just constantly trying to trick himself that he was. Because he wasn't doing that. Because he just didn't know what true love felt like in real life and only had stories as a reference, stories that fantasised feelings.

Merlin's distant figure suddenly emerged, slowly striding to his usual place near the knights — the place where once upon a time he would take to wait for Arthur to finish — and the king's heart made sure to alert him to the boy's arrival.

Arthur followed him with his eyes. How he raised a hand in greeting and smiled at the knights, how Gwaine fell out of formation to greet him and how Merlin laughed, trowing his head back at something Gwaine said.

The king sighed and forced himself away from the window, taking his place back at his desk where a pile of plaintiffs lay waiting to be read.

Picking up the first one from the pile, he tried to focus on reading, but the memory of that blinding smile shone through his head just as clear as the sound of Merlin's laugh, ringing its melody in his mind at the same beat as his heart.

There was a knock on his door that stole him away from his treacherous head, and through it waltzed in Emily followed by George and their lunch tray.

With the smile he had mastered while still a prince, Arthur moved to greet her, exchanging the usual pleasantries while George finished settling their table. It was mindless conversation, one that Arthur only paid half attention to, his heart longing to be elsewhere.

It didn't used to be like that, though. Emrys — or rather, Emily, as she insisted to be called— had been there for little over two months and until not really that long ago, Arthur still felt eager to spend time with her, his soulmate. He remembers feeling like a cloud, drinking in her every word and just basking in her company as if she were the sun.

Perhaps it had been the thrill of having found her that made him so blind to his own feelings, but eventually Arthur realised how shallowly they ran.

She was nice, yes, beautiful and polite as a princess should be, but her smile didn't light up Arthur's world and her presence didn't make his heart flutter in his chest. He wondered if there was something wrong with him.

He was starting to accept it, to see all of it as a normal reaction after the first encounter with one's soulmate had passed — as if his body had grown used to her presence and his feelings acclimatised with having her around, enough to dim his reactions to nearly nonexistent.

But then Merlin barged in through his door and his heart had betrayed him.

He couldn't help his treacherous mind as it sneaked inappropriate comparisons between his soulmate and Merlin, and one particular unwarranted thought that had become more insistent as the time passed, a faint murmur of what name lay scrawled across Merlin's shoulder.

It made him angry. To whom, he wasn't sure, but Merlin usually was the targeted victim for his fits of anger. If anything, for being responsible for his doubts and for riling up his treacherous heart.

"You seem to be far away," Em startled him away from his Merlin-shaped thoughts, "do I bore you, my lord?"

"Of course not, my lady," he answered automatically, "forgive me."

She smiled —wrong— and reached for his arm, "you work too hard, my lord, can I help you with anything?"

And that was another thing.

"Well… Lord Belemy has requested formal permission to temporary raise his land's taxes for a restoration project that he says, and I quote: 'are of utmost importance for the proper functioning of the state and the well being of his subjects."

"What's the problem, then?"

"His estate was the one most affected by the flood we had earlier this year…" he stopped and waited for her reaction.

Understanding dawned in her eyes along with a small frown of her eyebrows, considering his words with a quiet hum. "Well… that's just more reason to raise the taxes, then. If his estate was the most affected then, surely, the restorations must be terribly needed."

Arthur frowned in thought. It wasn't that he didn't see the need for it, but the real question had been about the urgency of which said restorations were needed, and if higher taxes would be the viable solution for his people's needs.

He sighed, "I suppose you are right."

Later he would make his uncle the same question and, with Agravaine's eager agreement of Lord Belemy's request, he would sign the papers allowing a higher taxation — that would not be claimed by the crown— for the duration of the estate's repairs.

But as the quill scratched his signature through the parchment, a faint voice protested in the background of his thoughts, one that scoffed at the request and complained about the greediness of nobility. 'Coddled arseholes that never had to feel the pain of hunger or wonder if they would make it through a harsh winter,' it said, outraged.

Then, that same night, he would dine with Emily and Agravaine, participating in rather dull conversation that couldn't compare with whatever might be spreading through the castle's gossip mill. Still, he forced himself to listen and actively engage in whatever the subject was, and after a few hours he had managed to convince himself that it wasn't so bad.

It wouldn't be until he was alone in his chambers again — later than he should be awake, long after George had retired for the night — that he would sit by his fireplace and stare at the burning embers in wonder, one hand fidgeting with his mother's ring and the other slowly tracing his soulmate's name as it haven't done in a while.

He remembers how happy he felt when Emily agreed to give him a chance, how eager he was —and in a way still were — to please her, to prove her beliefs about him wrong and show her that Camelot could welcome her and her kind if only she gave him time.

They haven't talked much about it yet, but Arthur had hoped to lift the ban on magic as soon as he had been crowned. Reality had shown him how much harder it was, and with his currently strained relationship with Morgana and a soulmate that — he realized — he didn't feel comfortable enough to ask the questions he needed, the drafting of the magic laws had been delayed.

Perhaps he should try to speak with Morgana about it, after all.

Arthur sighed deeply and ran a hand through his face, wondering when his life had become so difficult.

He stood up and softly walked to his bed, well aware of the busy day that waited him come morning— and how little sleep he would have if he kept losing himself into his thoughts—pulling at the covers and settling in on his favourite side, tucking himself in as well as he comfortable could, bringing his covers up to his ears and letting only his head poking out.

The position brought forth a set of memories that hadn't crossed his mind in a while now. Memories of a quiet night from calmer days, where he didn't have to worry about running a kingdom, nor question what went through his heart. A night where the feeling of fleeting fingers ghosted across his body as a pair of hands settled him into bed.

'What's your soulmate like?'

It had been an intense couple of weeks where his father nearly forced him to marry some random princess, and he had spent a better part of those days quietly lamenting the soulmate he would never get to love. Once everything was over, and he could finally allow himself to simply feel, he had been overcome with an extreme curiosity of what would be like to know who your soulmate was.

And so, he had turned to Merlin, asking him about the boy's soulmate whom he now knew, was himself.

“Brave,” he had said “kind, strong, annoying,” the boy had laughed, “smart, and very, very beautiful.”

Arthur felt heat spread through his face as he slowly recalled Merlin's words from that night.

“I didn't like them at the beginning, you know? I thought the Fates had made a mistake by making them my soulmate." Arthur remembers turning back at that, surprised by Merlin's words. "I was actually glad that we weren't a match.”

He remembers Merlin turning to face him, smiling softly at his own words, “that didn't last very long, by the end of the week I changed my opinion about them; and within the month there was nothing I wouldn't have done for them.”

And then Merlin had said the words that still lingered in his head, the ones that made him blush harder and tuck his head deeper under his covers, closing his eyes tightly as if trying to keep them in.

"I love them," he had said, staring deep into Arthur's eyes as if it were both a fact and the easiest thing in the world to do.

He wonders if Merlin misses him.

Heat burned hotter in his cheeks at the thought, and he buried his face deeper in his pillow. What the hell was he thinking? Arthur didn't care if Merlin missed him or not. And the king, sure as hell, did not miss him.

Still, he remembers the sound of whetstone running on his sword and quiet hums coming from somewhere behind him while he sat on his desk; he remembers unending chatter and half-eaten plates; but most of all, Arthur remembers the way the world seemed happier, brighter, with only a simple smile.

Guilt washed through him when he put both Merlin's and Emily's image side by side in his mind, and found out that Merlin, even with all his flaws, seemed to always win.

But Merlin wasn't his soulmate.

Arthur sighed and forced his thoughts away, focusing hard on falling asleep despite the running of his mind. If only he had someone to talk to about this kind of subject. Someone who was kind and wouldn't judge him, who could listen to him with an open mind and advise him properly. Someone that wouldn't hold his feelings against him, someone…

He falls asleep with Merlin's encouraging smile engraved behind his eyelids.

Come next morning, Arthur's day passes much like every other ordinary day. He has breakfast with Emily and then a meeting with Agravaine before they join the rest of the council where Arthur hands lord Belemy his permit for the taxes increase, as well as a handful different ones for the other lords. In the early afternoon he avoids his window and works on a rather difficult land dispute between two of his lords located on the far-south of the kingdom until Emily comes in with lunch.

It isn't until later afternoon that a knock on his door, innocent and unimportant given its scheduled consistency, spurs something new within the King of Camelot.

He had been going over the finances of the lands located in the east of Camelot when it happened, startling him away from his thoughts. "Come in."

Through the door, a mop of bronze hair and a flash of red cape emerged before Arthur's eyes in the shape of Sir Leon.

"Your Majesty," Leon bowed before fully entering the room, keeping a respectful distance from the King.

It was nothing new to have Leon show such deference, the knight had always been nothing but respectful of his betters — and after Arthur's fallout with the knights, that respect had grown in its formality — but this time, something inside Arthur made his guts twist at the scene.

"Ah! Sir Leon!" Arthur greeted him with a smile, something he hadn't done in a while now, "Come in, come in. How are my knights doing?"

Leon stood there a second too long, staring at the King's suddenly strange behaviour. Though his expression remained the same, Arthur saw the way one of the man's eyebrows twisted in surprise. "Sire…"

Arthur raised his own eyebrows, amused, which seemed to startle the knight back in action.

Leon took two steps closer — something he hadn't dare to do for a while before today — and with another — unnecessary, if you asked Arthur — bow, began his report.

He spoke for a while, a detailed rundown of Arthur's main knights — namely, Gwaine, Elyan, Percival and Lancelot — and a briefer one of the rest, as well as the status of the newer knights and that of the knight-to-be recruits that have been showing great progress in training. "Some of them might be ready for the final challenge, my lord."

Arthur raised his eyes from the papers Leon had handed him with a — even more — detailed report of each knight, surprised to hear about the final challenge.

In the past, anyone that could last a full minute in combat with Arthur — or, preferably, defeat him — would officially become a Knight of Camelot, but it had been so long since Arthur had done that — since he was a prince, at least — and even longer since he'd had any training with his knights, that Arthur had forgotten about it.

He considered it for a minute, staring at Leon's waiting face.

It had been a while since he fought one of his own men — his training as of lately had purely included Agravaine's men —and Arthur wondered if he was still up to the challenge. Besides, he had had so little free time nowadays that he debated if there would even have time left on the day for such a duty.

Resigned, Arthur made his decision, "have Sir Gwaine do it."

This time, Leon failed to hide his surprise. "Sire?"

"In fact," Arthur considered, "we'll be changing the final challenge entirely. Any men who wishes to become a Knight of Camelot must defeat Camelot's best in combat," he nodded to himself. "You, Sir Gwaine and Sir Lancelot will be the new challengers. If they can survive a minute with each of you, then they can be knighted."

It was quiet for a while, Leon stared into Arthur's eyes as if measuring his king. "I always thought you were looking for something more than skill when doing those challenges, My Lord."

Arthur smiled at his friend.

"I am," he picked up his quill and turned his focus back to his papers, "I trust you five to make a wise choice."

The room went quiet again, only the scratching sound of Arthur's quill scribbling through the paper keeping them company.

"By your leave, sire?"

Arthur nodded his dismissal without looking up nor stopping his writing.

Leon's footsteps grew quieter as he turned to leave the room, and Arthur reviewed his decision in his head quietly, finding that — for the first time in months — he felt it was the right thing to do.

After all, there was no one else he trusted more than Leon and his knights.

The knights that Merlin chose.

The thought startled him for a second and he stared at Leon's retreating back as the man walked towards the door.

All of a sudden his mind sparkled to life, thoughts jumping from one to the other faster than he could keep up with.

Arthur trusted Merlin with his life. It was a fact; so unwavering that it might as well be written in stone. No matter how strained their relationship got, how worse it could turn out to be, Arthur's trust in Merlin would never change, not in a million years.

With this kind of trust, Arthur had naturally trusted Merlin — and his annoying excellent judge of character — when he had placed his faith on what today were his most loyal men.

Leon, however, had been there from the beginning— even before Merlin — and had once been the closest thing Arthur had ever had for a friend.

And Leon, who once had been his closest friend, had a soulmate.

He remembers being very young — a child, really—and being extremely annoyed that his favorite knight friend had fallen victim of Morgana's presence just like the rest of the court had. The poor orphaned child made Uther's ward overnight that had been the center of everyone's attention from day one.

He remembers catching them sneaking around the castle or even in secret strolls in the forest — nothing disrespectful, of course, it was Leon — and how they had one day told him they were soulmates, how he used to tease Morgana about it. "Wait until you find yours," she would say, "I won't let you forget about any of this when you do."

Leon had a soulmate — It was Morgana, but still, it kind of counted, he thinks — and he was someone who Arthur always had trusted, and who Merlin approved of.

Before he could second guess himself, Arthur forced the words out of his mouth, "Wait a second, Leon."

The knight stopped mid step and closed the door he had just opened, turning around to his king. "Sire?"

"Have you ever thought — I don't know, sometimes a person does wonder — if the fates are really always right?"

Leon looked at him for a while, his mouth opening and closing again many times as if the words failed to come out of his mouth and he had to start over.

Arthur felt heat start gathering on his cheeks and he moved his head down to his table, putting a bunch of papers in a pile and fixing things up to disguise his embarrassment. "I mean," he cleared his throat, "are your feelings for… Morgana… the same as they were when you first met her?"

The knight's features softened as he watched the embarrassed king fidgeting with his belongings. It's not often his majesty asked Leon about his soulmatch with the princess, and though he's usually weirded out by speaking about such a thing with his own future brother-in-law, he understands why it is being brought up now.

"Well, no… of course not."

Arthur's head springs up with Leon's words and he can feel relief running through him. He nodded his understanding and stared back to the neat mess he had made of his papers — he had mixed so many different documents that it would probably take him the rest of the day to sort it all out— deep in thought. He was relieved, but also disappointed. He thought it would be different, but it seemed stories were just that, after all.

Arthur was almost ready to accept what the Fates had chosen for him, if it weren't for Leon's next words.

"Everyday that I wake up, I find myself loving her more than the day before."

Arthur looked at him wide-eyed, the red-head's words making him froze in place and his heart beat faster.

Leon smiled softly at the king's face, he looked like both a lost puppy and a surprised child, with a tender expression that reminded him of the boy Arthur once was. The first knight knew, of course, what this was all about. He had seen the king struggling with the same conundrum ever since they had found Merlin where the blonde's soulmate was supposed to be.

Arthur had a tendency to push away everything feeling-related rather than dealing with it, and the whole Merlin-Emily situation was meant to bite the king in the arse eventually.

"I don't mean to pry, your majesty, but if you'd allow me a piece of advice?" Arthur nodded, relief washing through his face like a wave, giving him an almost desperate expression.

"This whole soulmate thing we all have going on in our lives…" He paused, making sure the king was listening. He didn't have to, though, Arthur was so hung up on his words that Leon wondered how thirsty he might have been for an outsider's perspective on the matter. "What matters most is how you feel about it, my lord, not how the others expect you to."

The king seemed confused, frowning slightly at the knight's words. Leon cleared his throat and looked away for a second, trying to come up with a better explanation for the emotional-immature king. "What I'm trying to say is… well, what do we know about the soulmarks, really? We know that two people who have each other's names are likely to fall in love and spend their lives together, but we don't really know how it works exactly, do we?"

"Do I love Morgana because I have her name or because she does? Or is it the other way around? Is the name on our skin that of the person who is meant to love us, or is it the name of the one we are meant to love?" Understanding passes through Arthur's eyes for a second before more panicked confusion makes its way through.

Leon winces slightly at what he may have caused and tries to finish his though process before he accidentally commits regicide by fluster. "My point is, your majesty, that since we don't know, it doesn't really matter, does it? What's written on our skin becomes just a suggestion, one that pales in comparison to what our feelings truly are."

Arthur looked downright miserable and at the verge of tears, Leon tried not to panic himself.

"Unmatched people are so rare," Arthur visibly winced at the mention of his bound with Merlin — or was it Merlin's bound with him? "That we never really bothered to understand how it all works. As far as I know, I might have fallen in love with Morgana just because I bothered to put on the effort to do so in the first place."

The king's eyes had a new shine to it that were —thankfully — not caused by tears, but by what Leon prayed was hope.

"So, what you're saying is… I should analyse my… feelings," the blonde shivered internally at the thought alone, "and see what they are about my… situation… and then act upon what I find there?" He looked up at his knight, begging for a positive answer.

Leon smiled at Arthur's constipated face at the mention of feelings, he knew how Uther had raised him and seeing the blond struggle to break away from the old king's doctrine was both hurtful and optimistic. "You could say that that's what I meant, yes." He gave the king a toothy smile that he hoped looked encouraging.

Arthur starts nodding again, fidgeting with his documents one more time, clearly trying to avoid eye contact with Leon. "So, you're saying that they could be wrong?" He whispered.

The first knight fought the pity out of his face, Arthur seemed so vulnerable like this, he wondered if that's the type of conversation the king would've had with Merlin once upon a time, and it brought a new understanding about their relationship.

If this is what Arthur used to speak with Merlin about, no wonder his absence caused such a disturbance in the king's life. "I'm saying that we don't know how it works. It could be that we literally share the same soul with the person whose name we have, that we are actually made for each other."

Arthur's face started to fall, so Leon hurried up a little. "But it could also be the person we have the most affinity with, the one we are most likely to trust, or least inclined to hate. It could be just a suggestion of someone we could actually like very much if we try. We don't know for sure, we just know that it works for soulmatched."

There was a sudden itch in Leon's hand that begged for him to go forward and settle it on the king's shoulder, but he restrained the thought. Arthur didn't need to feel more vulnerable than he already did. "With unmatched, though, is a different story, isn't it?"

Arthur looked up, lips tightly shut and a deep thinking frown on his face.

Leon took the king's silence in stride and continued his speech. "If you're an unmatched, or are the match of an unmatched," Arthur winced again, "you can't know for sure, can you? Because it doesn't work. Is the unmatched supposed to be alone? Then what's the point of having a name at all?" Leon shook his head.

"What of the broken matches, then? If my soulmate dies today, does that mean I'm to spend the rest of my life alone?"

Arthur thought about his father, how loosing his mother broke him beyond repair, would a broken match even be able of feeling love after loosing their soulmate? Uther was his only reference, so he never even considered the thought. His father made it clear to the whole kingdom that a piece of him died with the queen, and he made sure to show that that was everybody's problem.

The king swallowed dry, "So you're saying… what? That the names don't matter?"

Leon shook his head and risked a couple of steps closer, looking right at his king's — his brother, really— eyes. "I'm saying that the only reason why the names matter are because we feel it. I love Morgana and I know she loves me too, and we happen to have each other's names, but would the names be so important if we didn't love each other at all?"

"What are you saying, really, Leon? You keep saying that the soulmarks matter, but not really. Which is it?"

"I'm saying that, mark or no mark, what matters is what you actually feel. The marks do help and are very, very often right, but if they don't seem to be working with you, then maybe you shouldn't be so fixated on them after all."

They fall quiet again, the room charges with Arthur's restlessness as thoughts clearly dance behind his eyes. Leon waited in silence, letting the king process their conversation without interruption.

After what it felt like a lifetime, Arthur opened his mouth again, "You are dismissed, Sir Leon."

The knight bowed, and once again turned around to leave.

"Leon," Arthur stopped him once more, "just… thank you."

"You are welcome, Arthur." And with one last bow and a small smile, he left.

Behind the closed door, though, away from Arthur's smart eyes and conflicted heart, Leon let his smile fall as the weight of what he said —or rather, what he didn't say— falls upon his shoulder. As a soulmatched, Leon knew the reason why nobody ever bothered to question the soulmarks. It was because there is no reason to do so at all. The way he feels at the bare sight of Morgana, even when yards away from her, there's no questioning that feeling.

Arthur sat on his thoughts, staring at the pile of mismatched documents he had created without really seeing them. Leon had given him a lot to think, but was what he said really helpful?

He sighed, resting his face in his palms. His feelings for Merlin had been continuously shoved down to the deepest corners of his mind throughout the years — never allowed to come to the surface, being completely ignored and disregarded —and now he wondered if there was really anything there other than a rather strong affection.

No. He knew he felt something. He remembers the frustration and pain he felt when he saw his name on Merlin's skin, how angry he had been with the fates. Arthur knew he loved Merlin, he was his best friend, after all. But… did he love, love Merlin?

Did it even matter now that he had found Emrys?

He did like Emrys. Promise! He did.

Is it even fair to compare both feelings like this? To him? To them?

Arthur grunted and let his arms fall on the table with a thump. He knew he had to make a decision about all this, one that apparently he should rely on his feelings to make. But how was he supposed to know how he felt? Nobody ever taught him how to do that.

He frowned at his papers again, why did Merlin have to come back? Everything had been fine when he was gone.

His frown deepened. Where the hell did that come from?

Although — he sighed and raked his fingers through his hair in frustration— it wasn't that far from the truth. His relationship with Emily had been better, for one. No tempting servants with dazzling smiles running around the castle seemed to be crucial for a happy relationship, it seemed.

And there has been so much yelling. Arthur can't really remember the last time he had to argue with someone about the decisions he took as king and still feel in the wrong by the end. Merlin had the rather frustrating ability to make Arthur feel… wrong. Makes him question the decisions he made and borderline makes him feel like a bad ruler, an inconsiderate one who neglected the need of the many for the demands of the few.

But wasn't that why he liked Merlin in the first place? He pushed him to be better, demanded it, even.

And Emily — he stared at his papers — he liked Emily.

Arthur's memory was pulled back to one of the first feasts he had attended in the company of his soulmate. It had been the first day of celebration of the harvest season and the kingdom vibrated with happiness. And so did Arthur.

Emily had been stunning, wearing a dress gifted by Arthur's own uncle — he had ordered it especially as a future-niece-in-law gift, his uncle had said before winking — that made her blue eyes shine with the light of the chandelier. They had danced many songs and eaten the best food Camelot had to offer.

Arthur had felt awkward at first, but she smiled at his clumsiness and constantly touched his arms in reassurance. They had talked at length about many subjects, the conversation flowing naturally the whole night.

She had felt so real, so familiar —like coming back to his chambers to a lit fire and a steaming bath after a long day— and Arthur had felt like he was glowing with the happiness that had suddenly taken over his heart.

He placed down the paper that he had been holding for a ridiculous amount of time and leaned back on the chair, frowning down at his messy pile. He should be sorting that before his meeting with Agravaine, not daydreaming about what-ifs and what-has-beens.

Going through each paper as fast as his eyes could bear, he quickly sorted out the documents back into the six piles they had once been. It was boring work and his mind couldn't stop trying to wander again. Wondering at what point his relationship with Emrys had gone wrong for it to be more awkward now then at the beginning.

'She was going to kill you at the beginning, though.' Arthur smiled at the loose thought. It was true, nothing could ever get worse than the beginning, the real one, at least.

"As far as I know, I might have fallen in love with Morgana just because I bothered to put on the effort to do so in the first place." Leon's words floated back to the forefront of his mind as he finished with his piles.

Could it be his fault, after all? Maybe that's what Leon meant. He had been taking his relationship for granted just because a birth mark assured him it would work, but without him putting on the effort for it, how could it work? Maybe that's why he had been feeling so disconnected from Emily for a while now, he had been taking her for granted.

And with Merlin back, well, he had always been fond of the man, and their friendship had always come so easily, Arthur never had to put any conscious effort towards it. It just was, because they just were.

Arthur had been comparing the easy flow of what he had with Merlin with what he hoped to have with Emrys, and that was simply not fair.

The sound of knocking shook him out of his thoughts just as he finished sorting all the papers out, and through it waltzed in Agravaine, not bothering to wait for Arthur's answer since he had been expected.

"Uncle," greeted Arthur.

Agravaine made his way to Arthur's desk with lazy steps, reaching for the chair closest to the king with the ease of someone who was used to do so, settling down with the confidence that came with his title.

In the king's chambers, Agravaine felt at ease, as much as if they were their own.

It was not often that he would have more than one meeting with his uncle a day, but considering all the new reports, plaintiffs, and petitions gathered in the morning meeting alone, they had both agreed that it was necessary.

"I have taken the liberty of collecting your correspondence, nephew."

He handed Arthur the stack of papers, some of them had their seal broken. Arthur raised his eyebrows at the sight.

"Sorted out by me for your convenience, my lord." Agravaine smiled.

A muscle twitched in Arthur's jaw at his uncle's impudence. It was the one thing that he disliked about Agravaine, his tendency to go over the line.

"I appreciate the sentiment, uncle, but I must ask you to refrain to do so in the future."

Agravaine smiled, unbothered. "Just trying to save us some time, your grace."

"Why do you have it, anyway? Geoffrey usually tends to it."

His smile grew. "Ah yes, the record keeper. I fear he finds himself in a rather disastrous book-related catastrophe," he shook his head and gestured with his hands as if brushing the subject aside. "Damaged records, and so on and so forth. It's being handled, though, so nothing to worry there."

"Very well then," Arthur nodded. "shall we start with—"

"If I may, your majesty, there is a rather interesting letter that should be prioritized."

Arthur looked down his uncle's eyes — the man was still smiling — with a raised eyebrow before switching his gaze to the pile of opened letters, back to his uncle. "Right…"

Reaching for the first envelope, he was greeted with the sight of the broken seal of the king of Mercia. The letter caught his attention immediately, and soon enough all thoughts of Agravaine's improper behaviour left his brain in favour of king Bayard's words.

It was a standard letter —standard for them, at least, who have been corresponding about the situation at the borders for months now — with the expected news from his side along with another discreet apology about what happened last time they tried to meet.

With the bandit attack, the loss of two knights, and the first-meeting with his soulmate, Arthur had decided to make his way back to Camelot, considering that the trip would take the same amount of time either way.

The kings of Camelot and Mercia had yet to meet up to discuss the whole disappearance matter.

"I don't see why a new report from Bayard would be relevant right now, uncle, at least not over everything else." Arthur said after skimming through the letter once.

"Read closer, third paragraph from the bottom."

Arthur raised an eyebrow to his uncle again, but did as he said.

After reading where Agravaine indicated, Arthur had to go over the whole letter, only to put the papers down right after finishing the same paragraph he had read before, in shock. "They've lost somebody from his lower town."

"Exactly!" His uncle smile seemed to grow bigger and excitement seemed to emanate from him in waves. "Isn't that good news?"

"How's that good news?"

The older man leaned forward and tapped the letter with a finger. "Can't you see, nephew of mine? He's desperate."

Arthur frowned, Bayard didn't sound desperate to him. Concerned, yes, but desperate? "What makes you think that, uncle?"

Agravaine fell back in his seat, still smiling wide. "The fact that he told us, of course."

Arthur didn't react, and Agravaine's smile finally faded in a small frown of his own.

The brunet crossed his arms, "Arthur, that's a weakness. Bayard is letting us know that he didn't have the resources to stop whoever is doing this to get inside his walls."

He smirked, "add this to the shameful mishap inside his borders last autumn, and we have him exactly where and how we want him."

The king shook his head. "I don't see why—"

"Invite him over."

"What?"

"He wanted to meet to discuss this problem, and he failed to provide your party the warranted security, he won't dare to ask you for a meeting again anytime soon."

Agravaine leaned forward again, eyes glinting. "Invite him over to speak like he wanted to. Use the yuletide as excuse, we can give him a feast and show him how a great kingdom welcomes a guest."

"Hold on, I can't invite him to yule in such short notice, certainly—

"He won't deny us, Arthur," his voice went down an octave, speaking with the same certainty he did in court, "the man is desperate."

Arthur still had his doubts about that. Bayard had agreed to disclose any relevant information to the king of Camelot, as did Arthur to the king of Mercia. Their goal had always been to be transparent and find a solution for their mutual problem as quickly as possible.

Still, he couldn't let go of the nagging feeling that he had missed something. Something that clearly, his uncle, with all his years of experience, had seen.

With a sigh, Arthur nodded and reached for a clear sheet of paper. "Very well, uncle, I'll send the order for the yuletide preparations to the steward and a urgent letter to the King Bayard will be sent tomorrow at first light."

Agravaine reached for his nephew's shoulder, and with an enthusiastic tap, he said: "wonderful decision, your majesty."

Arthur grimaced, trying not to flinch at his uncle's eagerness.

"If that's all uncle, we have a lot of documents to go through before dinner is upon us."

"Right, of course, your majesty."

Arthur reached for the first pile of papers, neatly stacked after his careful sorting of the mess he had made while talking with Leon.

They managed to go over two documents — Agravaine always had something to say, an opinion for every subject — when they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of the door of the king's private chambers banging against the wall.

Merlin.

He marched in, only to step dead on his track in the middle of the room, eyes jumping from Arthur to Agravaine, mouth tightly shut and hands balled into fists by his sides. He was clearly fuming but knew better than to yell at Arthur when they weren't alone.

"What is the meaning of this?" Bellowed Agravaine, standing up.

Merlin pursed his lips and scowled at Agravaine before turning back to Arthur, waiting.

Arthur knew he wouldn't leave, they've been fighting enough lately for Arthur to know that as a fact. So he kept his gaze fixed on the paper he and Agravaine had just finished and calmly set it over with the other, ignoring Merlin for as long as he could.

After what seemed like an eternity but couldn't have been more than two seconds, the king sighed and finally turned his attention to the angry servant. "What do you want now, Merlin?"

Merlin's eyes seemed to harden even more and his blue eyes glinted almost black in his anger. "You raised the taxes of Crooked Nose's lands."

"Who do you think you are to—" Arthur raised a hand interrupting his uncle.

"I don't see how that's any of your concern, Merlin."

Merlin's nostrils flared and he swallowed hard, then he bit on his lips as if trying to hold back the words that might spill unfiltered.

"Was it not his state that got destroyed by the flood earlier this year?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "again, Merlin, Camelot's taxes have nothing to do with you."

"They lost everything, Arthur!" Merlin raised his voice — a hair's breadth from shouting — no longer able to hold himself back. "Houses were either damaged or completely destroyed, only half a quarter of their crops survived and people died, Arthur!"

The King looked at his no longer servant — jaw locked, fists clenched and eyes burning with contained rage — and felt an anger of his own building inside. This was what their relationship looked like now. Merlin, always complaining; always questioning him; always demanding answers Arthur didn't always have. And Arthur, pushing Merlin and his opinions away as if they burned him from the insides. Because they did.

Could they ever recover from this?

"Lord Belemy has expressed his concern for his people and the council acted according with said concerns. Not that any of that is… of your concern."

Something flickered at Merlin's eyes, and Arthur finally knew why their fighting hurt him so much. More than losing a friend, more than having his authority questioned, it was the sight of that — fleeting, passing, and quickly hidden — feeling in Merlin's eyes directed at Arthur that always left the king feeling wrong.

Disappointment. Merlin was disappointed with him.

"Did you at least send someone there to check—"

"If you are implying what I think you are, Merlin, I suggest you leave. Lord Belemy is an asset to Camelot and his loyalty will not be questioned."

There it was again, the disappointment. And with it came the guilt and shame that always consumed Arthur on the aftermath of these fights. Sending someone over was a good idea. If anything, so that the king had a report of the remaining damage written by unbiased eyes. But, alas, a king does not go back on his word.

Still, Arthur had to fight the heat of shame from showing on his cheeks, burning him from inside as Merlin pinned him down with his devastating gaze. Merlin's eyes seemed to be looking at Arthur's very soul, searching for something that the king fought hard to conceal — even though he didn't know what the brunet was looking for.

After a while, Merlin looked away. He looked down and shook his head, frowning to the floor as if offended by it.

"I—" he sighed, "I don't know who you are anymore, Your Majesty." He brought his eyes back to the king. Still cold, still disappointed. Arthur nearly flinched at the honorific, the resentment dripping from it. "You wear my king's clothes, and you share his face, his voice, his chambers, but everytime we talk you are nothing but that arrogant—"

"Careful, boy," Agravaine interrupted, "he's still your king, whether you like it or not. And as his right hand, I have half a mind to arrest you for treason."

Arthur had completely forgotten about his uncle's presence, and quickly raised his hand again to stop him and avoid a new argument with Merlin who — by the looks of it — was getting ready to say something stupid that would for sure grant him a nigh in the dungeons.

"Was there anything you wanted to say that actually pertains to you, Merlin? Or did you come to my chambers only to meddle in court business?"

"No, My Lord."

"Then you are dismissed."

Merlin nodded and turned his eyes away. Then, he gave two steps back before bowing. When he rose again he directed his eyes to Arthur's one last time.

For the third time that day, Arthur saw something flicker in Merlin's eyes. This time, though, is wasn't directed at the king, It was something that Merlin would never want Arthur to see. Something that should never — in Arthur's personal opinion — shine in Merlin's eyes; something that broke the king's insides more than the disappointment, for even though it was not directed at him, it was still there because of him.

Sorrow.

Arthur swallowed around the bitter taste of his own hurt and averted his eyes from the sight of Merlin leaving his chambers, heart beating fast against his ears. The same thought ran through his mind for a second time: Could they ever recover from this? Was there ever going back to what they were?

Pain raced across his body, filling his stomach — where his heart now took residence — with cold dread. He clenched his teeth tightly trying to keep his feelings in check. The fates must be laughing at him. On one hand, a soulmate whom he didn't know if he could ever truly love, and on the other, a broken relationship with his own unmatch whom he had pushed away himself for the sake of — you guessed — his soulmate. Hilarious, indeed.

"Such insolence. In all my years in court I have yet to see higher disrespect."

His uncle's voice startled him from his spiralling haze of sadness and brought his mind back to the present. He was in his chambers, going over some documents, and Agravaine was here. Right.

"I know you must've had the best intentions, nephew, but I fear you have been too lenient with the boy in the years he served under you. He's clearly out of control."

Arthur snorted. "That was actually rather respectful coming from him."

Agravaine raised his eyes "Arthur!" He gasped. "Can't you see how this might look like to an outsider? It's bad enough that I had to bear witness of such disrespect. Something must be done about it!"

Arthur wanted to whine, except kings did not whine, and so he didn't. "what do you suggest, then?"

His uncle hummed in thought while reclining back against his chair and after a while of consideration he said "I might need some time to come up with a plan, but fear not, dear nephew, I shall have an answer to you plight soon enough."

Arthur nodded his agreement before turning his uncle's attention back to the work they still had to get through. Eager to put this Merlin discussion to rest before his feelings on the matter jumped out of his control again.

Later that day, Arthur dined with Emily and tried very hard to be the perfect soulmate she deserved, paying full attention to her every word and letting himself get lost in her eyes — even if they were the wrong shade of blue — and smiling as sincerely as he could.

She noticed that the king was acting off, and for a lack of better excuse, Arthur brought up the fight he had with Merlin earlier, and Agravaine's comment of discipline.

"I don't know, Arthur, maybe you should listen to Agravaine. It might be good for the lad too, I'm sure your uncle wouldn't think of something that wouldn't be beneficial to everybody."

Arthur sighed and sunk back on his chair, he wondered if he was too close to the subject to know better. Maybe Merlin's attitude should be something to pay attention to, It was true that he had been lenient, but he also had never been bothered by it either. Not until the fighting started, anyway.

"What's his problem, anyway? I've only heard good things about him before, but since he got here I've seen none of the qualities the others spoke so loudly about."

That gave Arthur pause.

Merlin was an idiot, and his tongue was as sharp as a sword, but he's never unleashed it on someone who wasn't deserving. Other than their verbal sparring matches — and the current disagreement they had with each other — Merlin was nothing but kind with him and, well, with everyone. "What do you mean?"

Em seemed to hesitate. Her eyes skimmed through the contents of the table and her hands started folding her napkin. "Well…"

"What? Has he done something to you?" Arthur asked, spine straighter than the arrows in the armoury.

"Oh, no, nothing like that," she hurried to calm him, "it's just that… well I don't think he likes me very much."

Arthur sat quietly for a moment, munching on his bottom lip. It made sense, of course it did, that Merlin wouldn't get along with his soulmate no matter who they were, but it was a thought that never crossed his mind before. That Merlin might dislike someone enough for them to notice, especially someone as nice as Em was.

Still, he understood, it was nothing personal in the sense that was so personal that had nothing to do with Em herself. It was just the way that things were.

But Em didn't know that. "Maybe I offended him in some way—"

"No! It's nothing like that, I assure you."

"Oh?" She waited.

Arthur pondered what to say. A person's soulmark was sacred — one doesn't simple walk around announcing other people's matches to the wind — but Arthur couldn't just let Em think it's her doing, that Merlin dislikes her for something wrong she might have said.

He also wouldn't have her thinking that Merlin was some sort of disrespectful arsehole — no more than what she might think already.

Still, Arthur hesitated, which prompted Emily to speak again. "I know how close you two were," she bit her lip "I just worry he might say something… well… I just worry you might distance yourself over something you heard."

"No," Arthur panicked again, "He wouldn't— I wouldn't— Merlin is— Merlin is an unmatched."

The room turned quiet, both of them staring at each other intensely, Emily shocked, and Arthur ashamed. He hadn't meant to say it, but if it helped to solve that problem, then he would deal with his conscience later.

"An unmatched?" She breathed out. "You think he's jealous of us?"

Arthur held his breath and swallowed dry. There was no way she figured out. She couldn't. Just because Merlin was an unmatched it didn't automatically mean that it was Arthur's name.

"Jealous?" He played dumb, praying.

"Yes, well… You were his closest friend weren't you?" She said, starting to get agitated. "What if he's jealous because he'll never have what we have? Or if he blames me for losing his friend?"

"Merlin wouldn—" She turned suddenly and gripped his hand tightly, interrupting him with wide eyes and a gasp.

"You don't think he would try to break us apart, would he?"

"Why would he do that?"

She whined. "Come on, Arthur, he doesn't like me. I see it in his eyes everytime we cross upon each other in the hallways."

She leaned closer to whisper in fear, as if they were being watched "He looks at me like I took something from him that he wants back."

Arthur paled. She figured it out. She must have. Arthur let her words sink down upon him like a heavy blanket. He hated to admit, but it made sense.

"You've been friends for so long, and with him being an unmatched… you're probably the closest thing he had of a relationship before. What if he thinks I'm on the way? What if he tries to put you against me?"

No. Arthur stopped his thoughts and tried to push this new fear aside. Merlin would never. He knew Merlin better than he knew himself, and Merlin would never do something like that.

He took a deep breath and turned to his soulmate with a serious expression, picking up both her hands with his and looking deep within her eyes when he said: "Merlin wouldn't do that."

She frowned and whined again, "but.."

"Trust me." Arthur said, squeezing her hands. "He wouldn't do something like that and even if he did, it wouldn't work."

Emrys bit her lips and sagged down, then, she looked back up at Arthur's eyes with a serious frown. "Promise me."

"I promise." He squeezed harder.

"And if he tries?" She whispered.

"I promise you, Em. Nothing Merlin says will ever come between us, and if he even tries... then he isn't the man I thought he was."

Once Em had settled down and Arthur reassured her that, no, Merlin wouldn't try to break them apart a few more times, the rest of the evening faded away around him and soon enough Arthur was once again lying awake on his bed after hours, fighting a whole new whirlwind of thoughts that wouldn't let him rest in peace.

He stared up at his ceiling and cursed every name that came to the forefront of his mind. He cursed Agravaine and Leon, he cursed Morgana, Gaius, and George. He cursed Emily and Merlin, the fates, and every deity that could have been slightly responsible for his current situation.

But most of all, he cursed himself.

He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the voices in his head and the painful beating of his heart, taking deep breaths and willing himself into letting it go.

His feelings, his thoughts, the sound of his heart, the feeling of his sheets, and of the nightshirt that grazed his skin.

He blocked it all out and forced himself into a fretful sleep, letting the problems and consequences of today be something to be dealt with in the morning.

°•°§°•°

"Gwaine! Stop stalling and get you arse back in formation." Leon's voice interrupted the knight mid-sentence, who simply turned around with a smile and fingers running through his hair.

"I was just telling Merlin about…" He didn't finish, instead turning back to the boy beside him with a smirk and a quick "shit, gotta go!" Before running back to where the rest of the knights were training.

Merlin frowned at the weird reaction until he saw trouble in the shape of Leon making his way towards where they stood. Not wanting to fall victim of Leon's speech about responsibility, Merlin too, rushed away from the training grounds back to the physician's tower where he was supposed to be.

He let himself smile as his feet carry him across the familiar path through the castle's grounds. Visiting the knights always managed to lift his spirits — even when he didn't get to speak with his friends. The sight of them pushing themselves and their bodies to their limits come sun or rain — or snow, as it were now — always managed to warm his heart and put a smile on his face.

Watching Gwaine slipping on the snow when they ran laps also helped, of course.

Seeing that they still believed and were willing to fight for their kingdom despite the weather that currently permeated in Camelot gave him hope and the strength to keep pushing himself to do the same.

He rode his happy cloud away from the cold back to the safe walls of the castle, humming a tune known to none but himself as the familiar hallways passed him by on his way back to his uncle.

It wasn't often that something could bring him down so early in the day — not when he had just spent some time around his friends — but as always, the fates didn't favour Merlin that much.

He wasn't even supposed to be there, a long, mostly unused hallway that — even though could take him back to the physician's tower — forced him through the longest possible path to his final destination. But with his mind elsewhere and trusting his feet to guide him, he didn't even noticed where he was until the distinct sound of hushed voices caught his attention.

On instinct he jumped out of the way, hiding himself behind a storeroom that was conveniently right beside him, his body moving before his mind could follow.

Once his mind catch up, Merlin frowned. Why was he hiding? He might not be The King's Manservant anymore, but he's still part of the household, and even if uncommon this path did take him to Gaius eventually. He wasn't doing anything wrong.

Hand reaching to the doorknob, he froze. He knew better than to dismiss his instincts by now, and after a second of thought he crouched down, pressing his ear against a tiny hole on the door that Merlin only noticed because it was the only light source — beside the keyhole — inside the tiny room.

Soon, the voices came close enough for Merlin to make sense of who they belonged to.

Emily and Agravaine.

Merlin shuddered and felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise in attention.

Agravaine was a problem all by himself, the king's uncle that conveniently only came to Camelot when Uther was on his death bed and Arthur was acting regent.

Merlin's alarm bells started ringing the moment his eyes met the older man's, and ever since he'd been looking for anything incriminating against the arrogant arsehole that could justify complaining to Arthur about. Sadly, his kidnapping and 'vacation' had gotten in the way before he found anything.

Still, the feeling that the man was a slimy snake that should not be trusted lingered, and if anything, the way he now could easily make Arthur do his bidding only served to prove his instincts right.

Emily was a whole other deal.

Arthur's soulmate. Merlin's worst nightmare come to life with a ridiculous packaging of pretty face and dazzling smile.

Merlin wasn't that sure he could trust his instincts with this one.

On the one hand, he knew he would dislike Arthur's soulmate no matter who they turned out to be, both his magic and his heart strongly protested the idea that Arthur could belong beside anyone else but him.

Therefore, it was highly likely that his animosity towards the young lady came from a place of instinct and natural jealousy and as such, it should be fought off and ignored.

On the other hand though…

Merlin pressed closer to the door trying to make sense of what they were discussing, but as they got closer and closer to his hiding spot he couldn't refrain himself from being distracted by the prickly feeling that tingled through his skin everytime he found himself close to Emily.

It took him a while to notice — though once it happened he didn't know how that was even possible— how weirdly his body, his magic, reacted to the woman's presence.

It hurt. Enough to make him lose focus for a few seconds. Few uncomfortable seconds where he had to adjust his body and mind to the prickly sensation that suddenly overcame him.

Then, after the never-ending seconds of discomfort, it would stop.

Not completely, no. Right there at the back of his mind a constant feeling of uneasiness pushed him into high alert, his instincts working overtime to let him know that there was danger around and he should be ready to fight it at any second.

He opened the door quietly and watched as Emily's and Agravaine's shadows disappeared around the corner.

On the other hand though, Emily's presence alone could bring him pain.

And sure, the fact that she could bring him physical pain besides the expected emotional one could possibly be something alarming enough to be taken as a serious warning… if Merlin didn't have a theory that made sense.

Merlin had long ago accepted the fact that his magic and him were one and the same, a fact that was only confirmed with how much his magic loved Arthur. It was annoying, really, and embarrassing. One of the reasons why this whole unmatched thing hurt so much was because his magic didn't understand it and still thought Arthur belonged right within its reach.

In theory, Emily was the enemy — at least according to his magic — and so it would warn him about the danger just as it would a regular ambush.

Jealousy, longing, anger, and self destruction.

That's why he couldn't stand to be near the king's soulmate, why it hurt so much. His magic was being a baby about the situation and Merlin was the one who had to suffer through it.

And yet, the feeling that something was wrong still lingered.

Later that day, after finishing helping Gaius prepare a few potions and their much-deserved lunch, he had been sent to the library to collect some new books his uncle wanted to go through with him.

Without his manservant's duties, Gaius had revisited his original plan of teaching Merlin his practice, and with the extra pair of hands helping him keep the place, his uncle could dedicate their afternoons to intense study of his trade, going through piles of books that Merlin would never have had time to study before.

Thick tomes about outdated and unorthodox methods, rare diseases and poisons, and specialized instructions that Merlin wouldn't have needed to know to treat the usual sword wound or regular injury one might come across when following the king around, but that were important knowledge for a full-time physician to have.

It was while carrying the heavy pile back to their tower — arms so full of piled up books that he could barely see where he was going — that Merlin was greeted by the Princess Morgana. A soft "Well, hello, Merlin" that nearly had him sent his carefully constructed tower flying to the ground.

"Morgana!" He turned around trying to see where exactly she was, balancing the books against his cheek. "Hi!"

There she was, a long-sleeved green gown that matched her eyes and a small smile that spelled out trouble. "What can I do for you, my lady?"

Her smile grew, "spare me the formalities Merlin, it doesn't suit you." She came closer and took the top two books from Merlin's hands — the smaller ones that were the main source of his viewing problem. "Mind if I tag along? I feel it's been ages since we've chatted."

A pang of guilt hit Merlin's chest, it's not as if he was avoiding Morgana, per se, but between Agravaine, Emily, and Arthur, Merlin tried to spent the least amount of time roaming the hallways, taking the servants passages as often as possible.

But avoiding the nightmare trio meant that he would, regrettably, avoid his friends as well. And while he could always find the knights during training without running with the other three, Gwen and Morgana were a little harder to find alone. Especially since he— ironically— didn't have the free time he used to anymore.

"That's an awful lot of books you're carrying."

Merlin smiled and they started making their way back to Gaius. "Oh, yes, you know how it is. Gaius wants me to know as much as he can teach me if I'm to replace him someday."

She hummed, uncommitted. "And how's the new position fitting you? You seem busy as ever."

"Well…" Merlin frowned in thought, "it's the usual — grabbing herbs, making and delivering potions, helping Gaius with the sick — but I guess it's just… more of it? Without my… other duties I have more time to learn and Gaius has more time to teach, so I just end up doing more of what I already knew and some that I didn't before."

He looked at Morgana to check if she understood what he meant and found her with a measuring frown. "You're happy, then? With the way things are?"

Merlin licked his lips, "it's not like I have anything to complain. At the end of the day, I did come to Camelot to study under Gaius in the first place."

They walked in silence for a while, a weird heaviness between them that Merlin couldn't place.

"And how has Camelot been treating you since you've been back?"

Merlin frowned, "the… castle?"

Morgana's head snapped in his direction and she started to laugh while looking at him in disbelief, "I forgot subtly isn't your strong suit."

He let out a little offended gasp and prepared to protest, but was cut short with a shake of Morgana's head as her laugh died down. She cleared her throat and the amusement fell from her eyes. "What I meant was…"

The princess' eyebrows did a little dance as she struggle with her thoughts. "To be honest, Merlin, I am… worried about the king."

Merlin's heart stuttered and he pressed his lips closed, forcing himself to wait until Morgana was done.

"My relationship with Arthur is not what it once were, to put it lightly, and from what I've heard…" She trailed off and waited for Merlin to answer the implied question. He didn't. Instead, he looked down the hallway and avoided eye contact, once again walking in silence as an uncomfortable atmosphere set between them.

This time, though, Merlin was the one to speak first. "Why are you worried about him?"

Morgana hummed again. "You know, since Arthur signed my legitimacy and made me princess I've had some duties I didn't when I was just the late King's ward." Merlin nodded encouragingly. "One of those duties include a place in the King's council, which is where I was earlier this morning."

"What does that have to do with your concerns?"

"You know Arthur better than anyone ever could — you're the closest person he's ever had— and I'm sure you of all people, know how much he doubts himself sometimes."

Merlin bit his lip as his heart jumped around with the implication. He sometimes forgot that Morgana knew the reason why he left, the reason why he came back. 'How has Camelot been treating you?' Yes, subtly indeed.

With the lack of answer, she continued. "A council is made of not only the lords whose lands belong within the limits of our kingdom, but of the people of the household chosen by the king, who are meant to share their knowledge and opinions in order to help the king with his decisions."

"Morgana, what the hell are you talking about?"

"There is nothing wrong with a king who listens to his subjects," she continued, ignoring his question. "The problem emerges when the king's ears become biased."

She let silence fall between them once again, leaving Merlin to his thoughts.

Meanwhile, Merlin wondered if she meant what he thought she did. Once upon a time Arthur would listen to him — consider what he had to say before making a decision of his own — but since Merlin came back they hadn't been able to disagree about anything without starting an argument.

He had a feeling he knew whose counsel Arthur favoured, and the thought of it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

With the lack of a comment and the lingering silence, Morgana decided to start the conversation again. "Arthur passed Lord Belemy's request for higher taxes."

Merlin looked at her in confusion, that was an interesting change of subject. "Oh?"

Morgana kept looking at him as if what she said was supposed to mean something to him. "Lord Belemy? Which one is that?"

Amusement flashed in her eyes as she seemed to remember that Merlin didn't know any of the Lords names. Not really, anyway.

"Lord crooked nose. Arthur gave him the go-ahead to raise his taxes with no increase on his land's charges duty to the crown."

Crooked Nose. Yes Merlin remembers something about him, he was sure he had been discussed earlier this year — before everything that went down, back when Arthur still trusted him with the affairs of the kingdom.

He tossed the name around his brain for a minute until a sliver of information came loose. "Wasn't his land that had the flood?"

She nodded and Merlin sighed, disappointed. "I could go scream at him, but it's too late if he already signed it. Arthur would not go back on his word. Not when Uther taught him not to show weakness by doing so, and with Agravaine… well… being Agravaine."

"There was a time I think he would, though." She pinned him with her eyes.

Merlin tried to ignore the pointed look by avoiding it, looking at anything else but her. He shook his head and sighed again. "That was before, Morgana. Arthur fired me, he doesn't want me around anymore, and my advice even less."

"I think you are well aware, Merlin, as well as I am, that Arthur not often knows what is best for him."

"Even if he doesn't, I can't change the way things are now, can't change how he… feels about me." He said, resigned. His voice cracking at the end.

She looked at him with the same measuring stare she had when she asked about his new position. "You know," she looked away with a neutral expression. "Emily and Agravaine were the ones who suggested it was a wise decision. Lord Belemy's taxes, that is."

Merlin stops in his track biting his lip.

"What do you think of her?" She asked.

He shook his head, "It is not my place to think anything of her," and restarted his strolling, trying to avoid her.

"That's where you're wrong, Merlin, it's your place more than anyone else."

And there it was again. Morgana knowing. He didn't actually mind it that much — she knows better than to keep bringing it up all the time — but there are times like these where he wonders if it wasn't actually a bad thing.

Times where she tried to convince him that it should mean something more than it does.

"I've accepted my fate, Morgana."

"Did you, now?" She stopped and rest a hand on his shoulder, making him stop again and face her. "Funny, I think the Fates might disagree with you."

She directed her pointed look to where she knew his soulmark was, letting the clear implication set in his brain. Then she looked back in his eyes and continued. "What fate you might possibly think you have that isn't by his side?"

"I am by his side." He protested.

"Are you?"

Merlin gave her an offended look until Morgana let go of his shoulder, shaking her head with a sigh. She carefully placed the books back on Merlin's pile and turned to leave, head still slightly hanging down with disappointment.

When Merlin thought there's nothing left for her to say and he's free to move on with his day — and his life — she turned her head around and looked at him one last time.

"She's quite friends with Agravaine," she said over her shoulder. "They get along quite well and are always keeping each other company."

Merlin's hair raised from his arms and a nagging feeling of worry was planted in his chest, the earlier encounter with the hushed voices from this morning — Agravaine's and Emily's voices — flashed across his mind. He could feel his magic reacting as if it stood in front of him, staring at him with a pointed look as strong as Morgana's had been.

He looked around him only to realise he was alone.

After long minutes of consideration, he reached his uncle's tower only to drop off the books and sneak out before Gaius noticed he had been back, making his way back to the royal library.

Once there, he sneaked his way around Geoffrey of Monmouth until he reached the archives where the legal documents were kept.

He rummaged through the many files until he found the one he was looking for.

"Belemy" He whispered to himself.

He had a vague memory of what had happened back then, but the timestamp had been too close to his kidnapping for his memory not to fail him. Merlin remembers that it had been bad, that Arthur had to negotiate housing with other lords as well as re-arrange grain distribution.

Going through the many documents connected with the subject, he found that it had been worse than he thought. Crooked Nose's lands were responsible for over a fifth of the grain produced across the entire kingdom, and with most of it lost to the flood, Arthur had to make some serious cuts on the distribution this year so that people didn't starve.

Apparently, the saving grace had been no other than Lord Agravaine, whose personal stock had been full and ready to share across the kingdom, especially with Lord Belemy himself, who would otherwise get the biggest cut on his share due to the incident.

But the worst part had not been the nearly starvation that Agravaine somehow could solve, it was the amount of names he saw assembled on both the obituary list and the homeless ones.

Merlin leaned back on his chair — when had he sit down?— and sighed in grief. Arthur had approved a tax increase on those people, the homeless and the mourning people that wouldn't have the strength to properly do their work because they wouldn't get as much food as usual.

He looked over the documents again — the ones that had a summary of the deceased and the destruction — and stood up in rage letting the chair hit the floor with a loud sound that would definitely catch Geoffrey's attention.

How could he?

Arthur knew better. Merlin knows that Arthur knew better than approve that because Merlin had always been clear how heavy every tax increase was on peasant's pockets. How many starved to death while trying to pay a greedy noble that only cared about how much gold they could provide him, how much richer they could make him.

He stormed out of the archives straight to Arthur chambers with fire in his eyes.

It wasn't until he was inside the king's chambers, until he barged through the heavy doors to find Arthur and Agravaine in front of a pile of documents, until Arthur dismissed him again and again, that reality truly and finally hit him. And he understood what he couldn't before, what his soulmate-addled brain didn't let him see before, not when he was too busy pitying himself.

His king was lost and there was a weird man sitting on his throne. One that had Agravaine's hand resting upon his shoulder with a tight grip.

"Gaius!" He belled out, barging through the door to their tower just to lock it shut right behind him.

His uncle turns around startled, dropping whatever book he had in his hands. "By the heavens, Merlin! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Gaius." He said again, going straight to his uncle and resting his hands on the old man's shoulders.

"I don't know what to do." Merlin whispered with a breathy voice that cracked at the end. His wide eyes jumped between his uncle's own, searching in them a desperate answer for his plight.

"Well, why don't you tell me what happened and we will figure it out together?" Gaius pushed his nephew to the nearest bench and watched as Merlin dropped upon it with a faraway look, his whole body sagging down in defeat.

"Why don't you start from the beginning?"

"Lord Belemy." Merlin muttered.

Gaius looked at the boy taken aback. He knew that even though Merlin knew some names of the nobles of the court, he never called them by their given names on principle. Gaius had to go through a plethora of nicknames that were extremely inappropriate and just as amusing.

The old man nodded, "yes, I take it you sneaked up on today's meeting?"

Merlin let out a started laugh and hastily brought one of his hands to cover his eyes. "That's what I should've been doing, isn't it?"

Gaius raised both his eyebrows at the suffering tone and opened his mouth to ask again, but a series of calm knocks cut him short and brought both men's attention to the door.

With Merlin sulking on his chair, Gaius took the initiative and opened it, only to find a calm-looking Geoffrey of Monmouth with both hands behind his back. "Is your assistant here?"

Gaius looked back at Merlin — who still sat in the same position — before turning his eyes back to their visitor. "What has he done now?"

"May I?" Geoffrey asked with a little nod to the door.

Used to his nephew's antics and knowing better than to let the whole castle hear them, Gaius let the older man in and closed the door again before they all settled inside.

"Of all the people in this castle, there is only a few who are stupid enough to make a mess of my documents," Geoffrey started. "There is, however, only one who is also skilled enough to sneak his way into the archives' room without me noticing."

Merlin lowered his hand, revealing a scarlet face with white finger-shaped marks on his temples. He crossed his arms on his chest and took a deep breath, "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't've been there."

"That is not why I came."

Merlin frowned a little and looked at Gaius — who stood close by— in confusion before realization hit him, making him blush. "I am sorry for the mess I made, I should've at least put the papers back."

Geoffrey nodded, "yes. Yes, you should have — and I appreciate the apology. That is, however, still not why I came here today."

Silence filled the room, confusion seeping from both residents of the physician's tower as the archivist's words settled.

"Merlin," Geoffrey started again, "you have been the king's servant for a good amount of years. Would you be able to tell me what kind of documents compels the signature of a king?"

"Huh…"

The archivist nodded at the boy's confused face and lack of response. "A king," he continued, "signs a plethora of different documents, some of which — requests, permits, contracts — I am sure you must be familiar with."

Merlin nodded, still not understanding what was the old man's point.

"Yes, there are plenty of papers coming and going from the palace everyday, most of them bearing a signature. With that many papers going around it is not uncommon for the reigning monarch to delegate some of them to a person of trust."

Merlin's brain lit up like the candles of the grand chandelier during a ball and was suddenly overcome by a deep concern. He stopped slouching.

"Usually, that duty falls on another monarch such as a queen, but it could go to a prince or even a regent. Someone whom the reigning monarch deems trustful enough to be responsible for." He nodded to himself, "I assume you would not be able to tell me what kind of document is the first one to be relieved from a king's duty when he has someone to delegate it to?"

Merlin shook his head, still concerned but weirdly intrigued by the sudden class.

"The first type of documents that are delegated are the ones that need not a permission of any kind, but an acknowledgement." He nodded again. "Say there is something of importance happening on the outskirts of the kingdom, something that needs to be on record so it can be remembered on a later date. The crown of Camelot needs to be informed of such occurrence, and a document is sent to the palace to inform the king."

"So, a missive? A letter of sorts?" Merlin asked with a frown. He's seen Arthur signing his fair share of documents since the beginning, but surely it couldn't have been as many as all letters.

"Not quite." Geoffrey walked closer, stopping right in front of the still sitting boy and looking down at him with an amused little smile.

"Of course, the king must be informed about all that might be important — that is what letters are for — but when something big unfolds, something that could have permanent consequences or even later effects, that is when an official document is sent."

He leaned forward, his expression going from amused to serious. "If such a thing happens within the lands of a noble, two copies are made, and both of them must be signed. One goes to the noble's personal records, so his family has proof that the crown has been informed. The other, as I am sure you must have figured out by now, stays in the castle's own archives so the monarch can consult it if needed."

Geoffrey of Monmouth straightened back up and nodded again. Then, he looked back at Merlin, waiting for a response.

Meanwhile, Merlin's brain was struggling. He wasn't an idiot, he could see that Geoffrey had a point with his lecture, the problem was that as much as he tried to come up with an explanation, he couldn't find one.

"Not that all of this isn't fascinating," he said, looking Geoffrey in the eyes, "but I don't see why you'd be telling me all this. I assume there's a reason."

Geoffrey nodded enthusiastically. "You are a clever man, Merlin. I had never met a servant of humble birth such as yourself, that arrived at the castle not only knowing how to read and write — in several languages, of all things — but that was also a fast learner with a quick-thinking mind."

Merlin blinked at the sudden compliment.

"Now, for someone as clever as yourself, it surprised me to notice that while going through the archives earlier you missed a — in my humble opinion — rather interesting piece of information."

Geoffrey then, for the first time since entering the room, brought his arms from his back to reveal a piece of paper bearing the royal seal of Camelot.

He handed the document to Merlin who stared at it in confusion. Geoffrey seemed to be rather proud of himself, and the unusual happy aura around the old man made Merlin hesitate.

Once he got over his fear of the suddenly-full-of-joy archivist, he reached for it and took his time to read through the paper. He could feel his eyes bulging wider and his eyebrows rising with every word.

Barren.

The flood that hit Lord Belemy's lands had left most of the their plots barren.

And as if that knowledge wasn't enough to make his heart-rate spike up, his eyes fell to the bottom of the report where next no the royal seal a fancy signature lay, reading to no one's surprise a fat Agravaine de Bois that took over all of the bottom line.

Merlin felt sick, his magic once again running under his skin in warning, reacting both to the information and to the name.

He looked up at Geoffrey, "why would you show me this?"

Geoffrey chuckles, "you might think that because of your peasantry and your servant status you would be invisible to the members of the court. But I assure you, Merlin, that there is not a noble in the royal household who doesn't know you by name.

We all got to see through the years how much your presence affects the king, and while a lot of the lords are displeased by it, there are those of us that are grateful to you for the man Arthur turned out to be."

Merlin looked back down at the paper, hiding his rosy cheeks behind it. The room fell to a peaceful silence that lasted for a few heartbeats until Geoffrey spoke again.

"Now, I believe I have overstayed my welcome." He grabbed around the sleeves of his robes before nodding once more. "I'll be needing to take that back with me, though, lest someone notices it is missing."

Merlin watched, fascinated, as Geoffrey tried and failed to give him Gaius' signature look. Nevertheless, Merlin got the message and handed the paper back to the archivist who smiled a little smile at him.

"Without further ado, I bid you, gentleman, a good night."

Submerged in silence again, his mind began to spin. A lot had happened that day and Merlin felt suddenly overwhelmed with the amount of information thrown at him in the span of a few hours.

It felt as if he had, on the same breath, learned about exactly how much influence Agravaine had on Arthur; that Emily and the king's uncle were friends; found out that Arthur had been being an idiot with his kingdom — surely influenced by said uncle— yelled at the king, only to be completely dismissed; and now, that Agravaine was possibly keeping vital information from the king — not mentioning the sudden revelation that there were people in the household that liked him.

"I think I need to lay down."

"Not before supper," Gaius' voice said from somewhere behind him. Merlin had honestly forgotten that his uncle had been around for the hole thing. "You could use the time to tell me what had you so nervous earlier."

Merlin sighed wondering if he had it in him to tell his uncle about his emotionally exhausting day.

In the end he decided that he did, and shared with the physician everything he found out over their bowls of porridge — Gaius' speciality.

"I don't know what to do, Gaius, where to start. It's not like I didn't try to get rid of Agravaine before, it seems even more impossible to do it now."

"Give yourself time to rest, Merlin. I'm sure the answer will come eventually."

Oh, how he wished Gaius was right.

He fell down on his mattress that night only to stare up at his ceiling, guilt eating him out.

He had been so focused on not letting his unmatch with Arthur hurt anymore — especially now that the king had his real soulmate around — that he shut down from everything else.

Merlin closed his eyes, trying to sleep and to find some comfort in the thought that he had been calling Arthur out on his bullshit, at least the ones he heard about through the gossip mill.

But with Agravaine's claws closed tight around his king, he realized now that antagonizing Arthur only worked on the snake's favour.

Could his actions have cost him Arthur?

He fell asleep feeling miserable, unconsciously hugging himself as if his body was trying to protect him from his own unfortunate mind.

Just as Gaius had implied, with morning came clarity, and after another long discussion with Gaius, the beginnings of a plan began to form.

First, he would need to talk with his friends again, and this time he would listen closer. He needed to understand exactly what went down between Arthur and Agravaine during his absence. When had the old man gained Arthur's blind trust? Were the others able to tell?

Then, he would need to do some heavy research on what else Agravaine could possibly be hiding. That meant going through a lot of documents that he should not have access to, but that he was sure Geoffrey wouldn't mind 'forgetting to put away' for a while.

Evidence was the key. Arthur would never believe Merlin over his own uncle if he didn't have anything to back him up.

Merlin sighed, suddenly saddened. There was a time, though, that maybe Arthur would have at least considered his words. A time where he could sit on top of the prince's desk and nag him about anything that crossed his mind.

With his mind fixed with what to do next, Merlin set out to do his morning rounds with a new goal in mind. To find his friends and finally talk with them the way he should have when he first came back.

But while Merlin walked through the castle looking for his friends — Gwen and Morgana specifically— he realized that the fates were against him in more ways than he first thought they were.

He was suddenly faced with a busy castle, with servants buzzing up and down the hallways with their hands full, no time to spare even a look away from their path.

After wasting several minutes trying to stop someone who could possibly tell him what was happening and where he could find Gwen — since Morgana's chambers had been empty when he visited — he decided to make his way to the steward, hoping for some answers.

The steward's office had been, to his surprise and terror, empty. Which meant that whatever was happening in this castle, they needed all servants to be busy and engaged, even the high-ranking ones.

Defeated after wasting almost all morning wandering about with no answers to be found, Merlin returned to his tower with a crease between his eyebrows, nibbling on his bottom lip.

Turns out that it had been a good choice. Once he got there he found Gaius, freshly returned from a quick meeting, and bearing all the answers Merlin could possibly need.

"He surprised all of us," the old man said while grinding a few flowers. "Arthur hadn't mentioned anything about King Bayard or yule until today. It got the whole castle in a whirl, I don't think I've ever seen the steward looking so pale."

"So my chances of finding Gwen or Morgana for a discussion are…"

"I don't think you'll have one so soon." Gaius shook his head, "what was Arthur thinking? Making a decision such as this a week from yuletide." He sighed, still working on his grinding.

Merlin snorted, "I'll bet you all my savings how the idea didn't come from him."

"May be so, but don't go around betting on what you can't be certain. Arthur's decisions have been a lot more impulsive lately, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Right," Merlin stood up, stretching his arms up until something cracked. "I should go see the knights' training, then. Maybe Leon won't mind me stealing them for a minute or two."

"You go do that, I'll be here if you need me."

Merlin made his way down to the training grounds, passing through the busy hallways, dodging from the people hurrying about. He could already see some decorations in place for the celebrations, the steward probably working the servants to their death in order to get everything ready on time.

Once he made it outside he was once again hit with disappointment. Though the knights were clearly in mid training, none of them were the ones Merlin was looking for, not even Leon was left to be found.

He stared at the armour-laded men in front of him, hoping he had missed at least one in the crowd.

"Merlin!" He heard from somewhere in the middle of the field and his heart jumped with hope, but as soon as his eyes zeroed on the voice's owner, he couldn't help his face from showing the disappointment.

"Sir Kay," he said when the knight came closer, trying to be polite. "What can I do for you?"

Kay laughed, "actually, I was hoping I could help you."

Merlin stared at the tall knight in confusion until he smiled again and continued. "You're looking for your friends, aren't you?"

Merlin nodded, surprised.

"His Majesty sent them to Mercia to help escort King Bayard's entourage, they shan't be back until at least four days from now, if they're fast."

Merlin frowned, "all of them? At once?"

Kay nodded, "surprised us as well, usually he always leaves one of them in charge of training. Even if he sends Sir Leon away, one of them always stays behind. Unless, of course, his Majesty goes with them, but you already knew that."

Merlin stopped listening at some point, trying to figure out what Agravaine could gain from convincing Arthur to send all of them away at once. "Thank you, Kay. You saved me from wasting my evening looking for them."

Kay smiled and answered with something that Merlin didn't stay behind to hear, mind still working.

With his friends all unavailable for that much-needed discussion, Merlin had to adjust his plan. His options suddenly limited from the circumstances.

In the end, he turned to Geoffrey of Monmouth, hoping that he would have any more 'interesting' documents that he'd like to share.

"I fear I would not know, Merlin. As it is, nothing has caught my attention such as the one I showed you, but you are welcome to search through the archives yourself if you would like."

Merlin spent his afternoon buried in papers, looking for anything that could clue him in on what Agravaine's plan would be.

After hours of looking, he ended up with a bunch of papers — other than the one Geoffrey showed him — that were signed by Agravaine, but because Merlin had been absent from council meetings since he came back, he had no way of telling which of those papers could mean something wicked was at play.

With a defeated sigh and a wasted afternoon, Merlin put the documents back, letting Geoffrey know to inform him of any new document signed by Agravaine before leaving the library.

With a view of the sun setting beyond the great windows of one of the main hallways, Merlin fought the urge to mope his way back to bed. Another wasted day to add to his already month-old debt.

Quietly strolling back to the physicians' tower where he could finally end that frustrating day, Merlin got startled out of his thoughts by the image of Emily and Agravaine passing through a hallway to the left, coming from the direction of the royal wing.

Curious, Merlin prepared to follow them.

After taking a few steps in their direction, a sudden realization dawned on him. He considered for a moment and decided he might not have another opportunity to go through with his idea, and decided to change his course towards the royal wing.

It didn't take long to reach the fancy doors that once upon a time Merlin wouldn't hesitate to open as if they were his own.

Ever since he came back, it was rare for Merlin to find Arthur alone. Usually, the man would be accompanied either by Agravaine or Emily, if not both. There was even the occasional George or knight, but generally, the times Merlin got to find Arthur by his own were rare— even if they did happen.

Not only that, but Merlin couldn't remember the last time he went to the king's chambers to do anything but complain or yell. Recently, the only time he would go there would be to call Arthur out on the absurd decision of the week.

Maybe, just maybe, his king still lived somewhere behind the awful mask he now wore, and maybe, Merlin would get to see him like he used to.

Maybe all he needed was to be away from the terrible influence of those around him.

After staring at the door for a good amount of seconds and taking a deep breath, Merlin knocked.

"Come." Said the king's voice from inside.

Arthur stood near his desk facing away from the door, he seemed to have some papers in hand, looking busy. But somehow, Merlin suspected Arthur grabbed the first thing at hand. Probably to cover up the day-dreaming he knew the prince was usually prone to.

"You're ahead of schedule, George. I don't expect Em to be here for another hour, at least." The blonde said while shuffling some papers around.

"It's not George." Merlin said. His heart beating.

The room stays silent for a fraction of a second before Arthur turned around to face Merlin, "ah," he started, "Merlin. What have I done now?"

Arthur's tone was tired and Merlin could see the resignation in his face.

"Actually," Merlin took a couple of hesitant steps closer. "I was hoping we could… talk? For a while."

Two blond eyebrows rose at the same time the king crossed his arms, "talk?"

"Yes. I was hoping— I mean, maybe we could… talk."

Arthur pursed his lips. "You are here. to talk?"

"Yes."

"And you won't… yell?"

"I don't…" Merlin bit his lip, "plan? to?"

The king sighed heavily and dropped the papers he still held on his desk, they hit the wood with a wet slap sound that seemed too loud in the quiet room. "All right," he said, "what do you want to talk about?" He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms again, waiting.

"Uh… I was hoping— I mean, we used— I… I wanted to…" Right, so, Merlin didn't actually plan anything further than knocking on the door and hoping for the best. The boy looked around searching for an answer, praying that a subject would pop in his head out of nowhere, flaying his hands around nervously. "How… was your day?" He settled.

"My day?" Arthur said, unimpressed

"Yes."

Bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, Arthur sighed again, closing his eyes. "Merlin, why are you here?"

"I… I saw your uncle and… Emily." Merlin pressed his lips. "I was hoping I would catch you alone."

"Why?"

Not for the first time since entering the king's chambers, Merlin wondered if it had been a good idea. His nerves were consuming him in a way he could barely stand to keep still for more than two seconds, and his heart beat so loudly in his ears that he could hardly think.

"You don't like her very much, do you." Arthur said, interrupting Merlin's rambling thoughts.

"What?"

"Em… you dislike her." It hadn't been a question this time.

Merlin licked his lips and frowned a little in thought.

That was an interesting change of subject — not that the conversation had been going anywhere before— and an unexpected one to begin with.

It's not as if Merlin had spent much of his time trying to speak with his soulmate's soulmate, and Merlin did feel some questionably non-positive ways about her, but… did Merlin not like her? He wasn't sure.

He wasn't a hypocrite, though.

"It's not like that, really. Honestly, I don't think I've even been around her enough to judge her character, it's just—"

"Are you saying you don't dislike her, then?" Arthur raised one eyebrow Gaius-style.

"Arthur… Listen, I'm not saying anything, alright? It's just that—"

"It's because she's my soulmate, isn't it?" The blonde interrupted, throwing Merlin off-guard.

"I… No? Maybe? I don't think—"

"Honestly, Merlin," Arthur sighed. "Look, I cannot begin to imagine how you're feeling right now… how you've been feeling" He waved his hand casually.

"I'm not feeling anything." Merlin stated, trying to interrupt.

"…but I though that we could all be adults about it." Arthur nodded with a frown.

Merlin swallowed dry. What was happening? When had that conversation turned on him? He could feel his heartbeat increase, pounding in his throat and taking his breath away.

"You're not listening, I—"

"I Understand. Really, I might not know how you're feeling but I can understand it at least to a degree."

"Arthur, you bloody idiot! I'm trying to tell you that the only reason I dislike her is because something's wrong with her!"

Once the words left his mouth and reached his ears, Merlin knew he had fucked up. His desperation had him yell out what he was thinking before his filter could sugar-coat his words for him.

As a result, Arthur had finally shut up and stared at Merlin intensely.

"What?" The king said in a breathy voice, a crease surging between his eyebrows.

"I don't know, I just… I can't bring myself to trust her. There's something about her that seems unnatural, I just can't figure out what. It's…unnerving"

Merlin didn't know what led him to speak his mind— if it was despair or maybe his subconscious trying to fix things— but he found that whatever it was, he couldn't hold it back once he started.

"Have you never felt something strange when you were with her? Or seen something… I don't know… weird?" "Something… wrong?"

The king stood silently, dropping his head to frown at the ground, seemingly deep in thought.

"I see." Arthur said after a long while.

The blond had stood exactly where he had been since Merlin entered his room, his arms crossed nearly the whole time, leaving Merlin with no other way to tell what went on the king's mind than the man's eyebrows.

Even his eyes, which Merlin knew better than his own, remained a secret to the boy.

"You… do?"

Arthur sighed again, looking away for a second before turning his gaze back to Merlin's "Tell me Merlin, why did you come here tonight?"

"Why did—what?"

"Where did you expect this conversation to go? What did you think you'd accomplish with it?"

Merlin frowned, feeling more confused by the second. He hadn't planned anything by coming to Arthur, nothing other than genuinely talking with him to see if his friend was still buried somewhere inside.

"I…don't understand."

"The play is over, Merlin, you can drop the act." Arthur raised his voice a little, staring down at Merlin with heated eyes.

"Play? What are you—"

"Enough!" Arthur said, firmly, before leaving his place at the desk. Pacing about with his hands crossed behind his back. "I don't know what you thought you could get out of trying to put me against my soulmate, Merlin—"

"What!?"

"Don't pretend!" He stopped, staring Merlin down again with an angry frown "I understand it now, you came here because you thought you could get me alone, so we could talk. Talk we did, Merlin, and all it seems is that you are trying to put me against her so you could get rid of her."

"Arthur!" Merlin begged.

"Gods! Is that why you came back? It is, isn't it. But she was here and now she's on your way."

To Merlins ears, Arthur sounded crazed. He couldn't figure out what in their conversation could have led the king to that conclusion. The blonde turned around and moved away, leaning both hands against the wall on each side of the window, looking away from Merlin.

"You can't be serious." Merlin murmured.

"I'm glad it's her and not you."

The world stopped and Merlin's veins turned into ice.

"W-What?"

"Don't you understand it, Merlin? You were right! I could never love you!"

Merlin felt weak. His body seemed to float around in a cold, empty, space where the only sound he could hear was that of his own heart, overwhelming him with fast thumps that seemed keen to deafen him.

He felt lost and alone; felt like suddenly all his breath had been forced out of him, like all the joy in the world flickered away like a candle, dying away with a simple blow. Like a flying bird that suddenly fell from the sky.

He didn't know if he felt pain, he didn't know if tears were running down his cheeks like waterfalls. All he felt was the cold; the hopelessness that consumed him completely with a simple phrase.

After what could have been centuries or milliseconds, Merlin fell down into his body, once again aware of his surroundings even if still a little dazed in confusion.

"I don't remember…" he whispered, "I don't remember saying anything about—" His throat closed, and he could feel the tears in his eyes.

"I didn't ask you for anything!" Merlin yelled somewhat angrily, but with his heart still in his throat and vision blurred. "Fuck! I didn't…" he stopped to hold down an unexpected sob, "I wasn't even the one to tell you, you saw it before I could even wake up!"

Merlin still remembered clearly the day he woke up in Gaius chambers after so long trapped in the dark. Arthur hadn't been the first to visit, and he had been waiting expectantly to see his king once again.

They didn't have much time for a reunion, though. One look at his exposed shoulder, and Merlin's secret had been out.

"They sent me your soulmark." Arthur murmured.

Merlin was struck with a flash of a memory he'd rather forget, the feeling of a cold knife slicing his skin while two big hands held him in place.

"Oh…" For some reason, Merlin had forgotten all about that; about the pain he felt then, and about the reason why his soulmark had switched places. Somehow he hadn't given much thought about what they might've done with the piece of skin that had been cut from his body, even when he still had a scar to remind him of it.

"I see." Merlin felt himself smile despite the tears that ran free, a thought hitting him as soon as his brain finished putting things together. "You weren't— you thought it was her." He swallowed a sob, his smile flickering on and off his face like a dying light "you didn't find me, you thought— you went after your soulmate" Merlin stopped a little so he could take a shaky breath in "and you found me instead."

A startled laugh escaped Merlin's hold and his vision blurred with more tears, "my… how disappointed you might've been" he brought a hand up to his mouth — like a lady would when faced with something scandalous— before he dragged it across his face, cleaning a few tears off only so more could replace them. "Or maybe not," he sobbed another laugh, "maybe you were relieved that it was no one important."

"Merlin…" Arthur turned around again, his voice bringing Merlin slightly out of his spiralling.

"No… you know what, Arthur?" A sudden thought crossed his mind, something he had never considered before, but that right now seemed to be the most reasonable thing he had ever thought. "You should've left me there."

"What?" Arthur paled.

"You should have left me in that dungeon."

The room held its breath, waiting to see who would be the first one to break the heavy silence that took over.

Merlin didn't care much anymore, he didn't understand what had happened, exactly. Not what had turned what should've been a simple conversation into whatever this was, nor why he felt so empty. All he knew now was the sudden urge to make things stop.

"Merlin… you know that I—" Arthur tried, but Merlin was too tired to listen.

"Actually, Arthur, I'm not sure if I know much of anything anymore." He smiled with his lips closed, eyes still teared, "but this conversation… I think it's about time we end it."

Merlin made his way to the door not bothering to wait for any kind of reply Arthur might've tried to give him. "For what's worth, I'm sorry. I…" He shook his head, stopping at the door for a brief second, not really knowing what to say "I'm just sorry."

Merlin doesn't remember the sound of the door closing behind him, nor the walk from the royal wing to the physician's tower. He doesn't remember walking past Gaius nor going to bed.

All he remembered afterwards was falling down from the skies and a voice echoing in the dark.

'I'm glad it's not you'

'I could never love you'

Merlin doesn't remember crying himself to sleep.

°•°§°•°

With the sun fully set and the moon shining bright in Albion's sky, a room sat quietly within the castle's walls. Dimming embers cast a low yellowy light in the otherwise dark room, bright enough to create softly highlighted contours on the inhabitant furniture, but not quite enough to rid the chambers of its dark, shadowy, corners.

The peace of the room was broken by the sound of the door opening, the hallway light suddenly flooding the room and —for a second— casting the shadows away.

A man dressed fully in black waltzed in, closing the door behind him and humming a happy tune while making himself comfortable, lighting a few more candles on his way in.

"You sound positively happy," a voice said from the dark, unbothered.

Agravaine startled, snapping his body around and nearly toppling over an end table, "Morgause!"

"Agravaine," the voice answered, the sound of heeled footsteps echoed through the room. Morgause walked closer, slowly leaving the dark corner and letting the room's dim light hit her, lighting her from the bottom up the closer she got.

She stopped a few steps away, close enough for the fireplace light to lit her fully, revealing her bright blue eyes and her dark hair, "how many times do I have to remind you to not address me like that?"

Agravaine smiled, chastised. "Right, my apologies, Emily."

"Tell me, what is it that's making you so happy all of a sudden?" She moved towards Agravaine's table, pouring herself a glass of his wine.

Agravaine walked closer, settling on a chair next to where Emily stood, "why wouldn't I be?" He smiled, "King Bayard was invited to Camelot, which will open the way for our plans in Mercia; we have Arthur tightly wrapped around our fingers and half of the council in our pockets; and when spring comes, I'll start pushing for your wedding to be scheduled."

He poured some wine for himself and raised it towards Morgause in a toast. "From where I'm standing, we have nothing but reasons to be happy."

She stared at the raised glass unimpressed, ignoring Agravaine and walking past it, making her way to the window. Emily pushed away one of the curtains just enough so that a sliver of the outside could be seen. "What about the boy?"

"The boy?" Agravaine frowned.

"Merlin." Keeping her eyes set on the horizon, she answered. "He's been meddling again."

With the lack of an answer, she continued, "what do you think of him?"

Agravaine finished his glass of wine and smiled, "I'm sure he won't be a problem for long. We've both implied Merlin could do with a vacation from the castle, surely it won't take long before Arthur sends him away."

"He's an unmatched."

Agravaine raised his eyebrows, "oh?"

"I've been wondering… He might still be of use to us, after all." She turned her head around, letting the curtain fall closed again and staring at Agravaine with mischief in her eyes, "that is, if we can have him placed somewhere we can control."

Agravaine smiled, pouring another glass and saluting her again, "that, my dear, is definitely something we can arrange."

The corner of her lips twitched into a fleeting smile, and she made her way back to Agravaine.

"To the future queen of Camelot!" He said, Emily's smile grew.

"To the end of the Pendragon lineage and the start of the golden age." She said, toasting Agravaine with what was left of her own wine glass.

End of Act.III

Hello? ~ shouts to the darkness ~ Is anyone there? Hey guys, I'm sorry it took so freaking long to finish this act, but life came up. Not trying to overshare or anything, but it was a very delicate family situation that had me flying back to my home country for a few months and then left me exhausted and very unmotivated to write much of anything. Everybody is fine now, and as healthy as they can be, but it was worrying for a while there. Author's block also hit me hard everytime I tried to write two specific scenes and that lasted for at least two months until The Gods of Writing decided to bless me with something passable enough. 🙌 Anyway, I am sorry it took me almost a year to update, it won't happen again. 🤞 That being said, I should warn you. I recently decided to get rid of a entire chapter — next one, to be exact — that was supposed to be focused on Morgause and her backstory, but I decided that I won't use it. (might post it as an outtake later once main is done) Thing is, what was supposed to be act five is not nearly as close to be done. I will try my best to post next chapter by the end of November but so far I have 4k words on my pc and about 10 pages of handwritten stuff and I'm still on the first pov. [pacing? what's that?] So lets all hold hands and pray that I don't get stuck anywhere. I am hoping to finish it all up in time so I can post the epilogue around Christmas, but once again, PRAY. Worst case scenario I'll just split next one it in two or post ir by pov so you guys don't have to wait much.

Something else I wanted to address was the plot. I don't know if anybody remembers this but I had been trying to make this fic as merthur-soulmates-centred as possible, avoiding any secondary plot-lines. However I got to a point where they kind of meshed together so, if you feel like I've been info-dumping a little, It's because I am. 🤭 Had I not held back on the plot last chapter, maybe things would be clearer and I wouldn't have to come up with explanations for everything ( I've been thinking about a full re-write — the first part, especially, deserves a little bit of love now that I'm actually writing this — but I doubt it.) Anyways, I wanna thank everyone that took the time to read this chapter even after all the time it took me to post it. And to everyone that left a comment on the last one, you guys helped me go through some shit you have no idea ❤️ thank you all. I hope this chapter was worth the wait and I hope to see you all again on the next one 💞 Quick reminders: English is not my first language. Please, leave a "tag me" comment if you'd like to be tagged in the next update. (or a 'please don't if you changed your mind) Tagging: @luflorysblog @valewright67 @schweetheart @funkiemoon @xs-crit-hit @awealthofailments @jellytamalies @shana-rosee @saladscream @princess-of-morkva @orliththedragon @clairebonnefoy @enjaami @hakka84 @evedaser @tabbycat105 @guiltyscarlet @just-wandering-in-my-mind @percyspencer @tonystarkdeservesthewholeworld @thedollopheadofcamelot @amostunpleasantpeasant @toomanyfanficsbruh @braziiis @lottelorelei @acey-lacey @leana316 @solisitude @styxhuntress @rem-the-moth @caraspud @gothic-cryptid @beebsnas @221b-bitch-st @eat-a-handful-of-bees @swords-andstones @maymo0 @0happyeverafter0 @lab-trash @oikawano1kinnie @rapunzelspan @ultramorganuniverse-blog @wispeth @lusayna-blog @desathos @imsecretlyawesome @adeceasedtulip @excerptsfromthebrick @electricbones @clydethevehicle @notsecretlymisha @swingfromthegallery

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