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Merlin frowned. The King seemed... almost eager to help him. But why? He was just a servant, wasn't he? At least to Arthur. The warlock shook his head, a little put off by his friend's obvious concern. Alright, so the King wasn't a total idiot all of the time, but it was very rare that he showed concern quite so much as he was now. After a moment, Merlin spoke. "Why do you put up with me sire? It's quite clear you find me a hindrance, so why?"

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For a moment, Merlin's features fell. He was going to be sacked? Really? After everything? The young warlock may not have been the man that his master had originally hoped he'd be... but... with the words that Arthur was currently speaking, Merlin had hoped that his revealing his magic would not mean exile from Camelot. But then, the rest of the King's sentence caught up with the young man, and his face broke out into an incredulous smile. "Promoted?" he echoed. "What promotion could be higher than the manservant to the King of Camelot?" His tone might have sounded as though he were joking, but he was being utterly truthful. For him, there was no greater honour than the one he already possessed.

Looking up at the man who had somehow unexplicably become his best friend, Merlin wondered quite how to phrase what he should tell Arthur. "Do you remember that day we saw Mordred, when we were almost captured?" he asked, continuing before waiting for the King's response. "I... I can't explain it all to you," a shadow fell across his features. "But... I saw a vision, of you being felled by Mordred's blade - it was the reason why I could never trust him, the reason why I acted so... suspiciously around him." And now he was talking, now he was telling the King things, it seemed he could not stop. "And my reasoning for leaving you at the battle..." he paused. "Morgana had taken my powers... I couldn't help you at all, and we both know I'm useless with a blade. I had to recover them somehow. I... managed, again, it's hard to explain, but... that's why I had to go."

The young warlock took a deep breath, steadying himself once more. "Everything that has happened was foretold, Arthur. Everything." He bowed his head briefly in respect. "I'd be happy to show you, however... strange it would be," Merlin gave a slight smile. "I've wanted to share this with you for so long, Arthur. I wish I could have stopped lying to you long ago." He paused, hesitating. "It feels wrong not to call you Sire, Sire," he admitted. "But if you insist..." A cheeky grin crossed the young man's face. "I suppose clotpole is still an acceptable term, though?"

Merlin frowned as the King declined to send word to Camelot, about to protest, when the man continued with his reasoning. His features clearing a little, the warlock nodded. In truth, he should have figured. It made sense, after all. Too much too soon couldn't be a good thing, and Arthur and Guinevère would need time to themselves to recuperate and regroup after everything had happened. "No one knows, as far as I am aware," he admitted. "I didn't know, either. I.." he hesitated, a little unsure as to how the King would respond to this confession. "I've been coming here every day... since..." Since the battle. "I couldn't believe it when I saw you there." He smiled, joy clear in his features.

[[No apologies necessary!!!! And the same goes!! Apparently your muse is catching! LOL!!!! ]]

Merlin sighed softly, shaking his head. "You give me too much credit, sire," he said, respectfully, "you are a great King, and deserve every man's loyalty. I am honoured to be your servant.... and friend." he gave the man a quick smile, pausing, a slight shadow falling over his face. "I wish I could have been there for you, at the start of the battle... I... I know you were disappointed in me." the warlock swallowed, shaking off the words, unsure exactly what to say. "I just want you to know that I was not abandoning you. I never would, Arthur." He stared at the man earnestly for a moment, hoping that Arthur would understand the truth behind the words.

He chuckled lightly at the King's words, recognising them for the joke they were. "Well, if your boots ever go wandering off," the young man waggled his eyebrows suggestively. As the conversation turned serious once again, though, Merlin faltered, unsure what to say. He had never, in all his years, imagined such gratitude from Arthur. In truth, he wasn't sure what he had expected, but this... this had definately not been it. The young warlock smiled, shaking his head. "I am no guardian angel, sire. Just a friend, and a brother of heart."

Merlin stepped forward, ready to support his friend if needs be, as he watched the King test his own strength once more, feeling his heart rejoice at the return of the King to his lands. He paused at the question, working it out in his mind before answering. "A day or so walk," he admitted. "Might I suggest you take rest in a nearby inn or somewhere first? You will need to regain your strength fully... word can be sent to Camelot, if you wish."

She was scared... so was he, truth be told. Terrified. Heart-sick... yearning for the life he had once had in Ealdor, away from Kings and women who may or may not bring about the end of a Kingdom... away from all this deceit. But now he was here, in Ealdor - and Merlin knew that he could never, with any face of conscious, leave Arthur's side. The man had become a brother of heart; a soul in kind. There was a firm bond of trust there; no matter how Arthur sometimes tried to deny it... and Merlin would willingly give his life for the Prince.

But now, it was someone else's life that should be taken. A woman who had lied, who was possibly still lying... a woman who Merlin had almost trusted with everything. Could Morgana be trusted? Had it all been lies? And what of Morgause? His head was spinning; he couldn't think properly, but he knew that if something wasn't done soon, the whole Kingdom would suffer. Merlin swallowed, feeling the beginnings of a headache, and trying to ignore it. Somewhere out there, Arthur was possibly fighting for his life... and he was here, alone, with Morgana. But what path should he choose? He honestly hadn't a clue.

He turned to face her, his eyes speaking of the inner turmoil. "Morgana..." he paused. "If we can find out how this began, if we can... find a way to stop all this... then Camelot might yet be saved." He was trying; trying so desperately to give her a chance, to get her to tell him everything. To prove that she wasn't the backstabber he was beginning to feel she was.

The blunt question from the King had Merlin stiffening in shock for a moment; then cursing himself for Arthur being able to notice. Apparently his friend was a bit more observant than the warlock had given him credit for. He was about to respond when the clot mentioned his words in Longstead, causing Merlin to snort a bit. He rolled his eyes - perhaps Arthur really wasn't as observant as the warlock was giving him credit for. Unless Arthur was testing him. For what, the boy wasn't entirely sure, but there was a chance that was the case.

"I said what I meant, it felt better than being dead." He said back, though his voice held no teasing note as it once would have. He spoke flatly, though he was attempting to normalise things between them, it seemed he was unable. Standing back up, the warlock sighed, glancing at the rack he'd just sorted out. "Is that it, sire?"

Thanks to Guinevère, Merlin had been avoiding the royal chambers. Briefly, the warlock had entertained the idea that she had chosen the topic of his... lack of romantic interest... to personally spite him. The warlock sighed, shaking his head as he moved into the chambers, a bowl of fruit in his hands, a pitcher of wine in the other. Hopefully the subject would be dropped, and no more would be said. The warlock was still very much not over Freya yet; still missed her, even though they had only been together for a short while, and any mention of relationships - a topic Gaius had tried to broach once or twice - was off limits. Even to Arthur.

Unfortunately, Merlin had a feeling his King and best friend wasn't about to let him off so easily. He glanced over at him, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach at Arthur's smirk, knowing exactly what the King was referring too. "Morning, sire." he said, respectfully, ablet through gritted teeth. "No, not particuarly. Helping Gaius recatorgorise his library" - which was actually true, and he had Gaius as his witness if Arthur ever decided to check

Merlin rolled his eyes; in absolutely no mood for the King's teasing ways as the man promised him more to do. He silently knelt to pick up the scattered weapons, not even attempting to remark on what the King had done, feeling his heart drop into his shoes. PErhaps the knights had talked to Arthur after all. It wasn't like the man to be so... deomonstrative... in his refusal to help Merlin. Arthur could be a bully, but those times had become rarer and rarer in the last few years. Something must have changed to make him become so; and Merlin feared it was the Knights. For who held more weight with the King than the man's own, selected and trusted Knights? Compared to them, Merlin was nothing. No one.

The servant kept his head bowed as he reached about, collecting the weaponry, eventually standing up, weaponry in hand, and picking up the sword holder, before placing the weaponry as it had been once before. "All sorted, sire," he said, with none of his usual sarcasm or jest when it came to the King.

{{It looks like Arthur is having too much fun at the moment; wonder how he'll feel when he realises what's going on??}}

Merlin's smile faltered, but only for a second, at Arthur's words, as it took a moment for him to realise his friend was joking with him. He gave a grin; if Arthur were up to sparring with him verbally, then his best friend couldn't be feeling too bad. "Well, you know the saying Arthur," he jibed back. "Better the devil you know and all that..." The grin faltered properly at the mention of what had happened to Mordred, and to Morgana, and once again Merlin felt some amount of surprise that he felt no compassion towards those who had fallen; especially as they were, as some might say, of his kind. "We had to; they gave us no alternative, Arthur." he stated firmly, praying his friend would not condemn him for what he'd had to do.

He stilled a little as Arthur spoke, relief flooding through him. Being unable to use his magic; it would have been hard; Merlin had no idea how hard; but he would have at least tried for the King. But what Arthur was asking of him was... incredible. Once again his best friend showed just how much he had grown in the years that Merlin had known him; and just how little he was like Uther before him - willing to accept change, and embrace the truth in others. He wondered, though he didn't dare ask, whether Arthur would finally realise that not all magic was bad; whether his friend would acknowledge that magic in Camelot was not, necessarily, always a bad thing. He gave a shaky smile, nodding, his heart thumping fast in his chest.

"I would be honoured to," he said, honestly. Pausing for a moment, Merlin reached out, grasping Arthur's forearm in the old sign between them. "Thank-you, Arthur... you..." he swallowed, eyes a little bright with emotion. "You don't know what this means to me."

Merlin wasn't able to ignore the look his King gave him, but likewise, he couldn't apologise for his own emotions. He was still in deep shock from all that the vision had shown him, and he was desperate to avoid any truth of the vision. He narrowed his eyes at the man, shaking his head, ignoring the way his hands trembled slightly. "there was every need!" the warlock snapped back, for once not caring about etiquette or speaking to Arthur with respect - no, this wasn't about the Pendragon, but about Mordred. He shook his head again. "You should have killed him; nevermind how you felt about it!"

He only hoped that Arthur woudln't probe too deeply into why Merlin wanted Mordred out of the way and gone; he knew it was against his natural inclanation; but... surely Arthur would recognise that there was a reason, a rhyme for why he was acting like this? "Clotpole." he muttered, narrowing his eyes at his master before looking around, trying to see if he could light a fire - without using magic.