Chapter Text
The sky is covered in rain clouds. Dark and heavy they hang from the heavens, promising muddy shoes and clammy skin.
Tonight is the night.
Merlin takes a deep breath and smells the life within the air. It won’t be long until this same breeze will smell of death and blood. Instead of laughter or silent anticipation, he will hear the screams of his slaughtered enemies and tend to the wounds of his men. It will smell like victory. It will be the end of a century-old war.
Magic is trickling down his veins, reminding him of the promise to his father. Tonight is the night that Camelot will fall. He clenches his fists. Tonight is the night that he will finally kill Arthur Pendragon.
From where Merlin stands on the small hill, he can look right into Camelot’s camp. Sure, their army is bigger in size, but Merlin’s men have magic. They are stronger, more alert. They can win this and they will. And they will put an end to the centuries-old witch hunts. He can see King Arthur standing in a similar place, watching Merlin in turn. Their eyes meet. Neither turns away. Merlin raises his head almost as if to threaten the king, but the man doesn’t take the provocation. And why would he? They are here for the same reason. He only has to wait a few more hours before they would start the war and fulfill the prophecy.
It is the Once and Future King and Emrys, the King of Magic whose fight will fill the history books. This war precedes an everlasting peace. This battle will decide whether it is magic users or the magicless who will rule the realm. For tonight is the night that has been foretold.
—---------------------------------------------------
Arthur blinks his eyes open. It is still dark outside and he can hear the rain trickling down the walls of the tent.
It had been merely a couple of hours ago, when he had been checking out the battlefield from atop the hill. He had seen Emrys for the very first time, surprised at how young he looked. Of course, Emrys was only a year or two younger than Arthur but he hadn’t expected him to look so … normal. Not that it matters now.
Arthur had decided to take a couple of hours of rest before the battle. He was sure that their enemies would do the same. An hour of rest could determine the results of this war and Arthur refuses to give his enemies an advantage.
As he sits up, he notices that something is off. His tent is empty. There are no guards here to protect or alert him of the enemy’s movements, there are no extra blankets and he honestly feels pretty cold. Arthur rubs his hands together and stands up warily. He intends to question his guards and approaches the opening of the tent slowly. This could be a trick or an attack. But before he even reaches the opening, he knows something is wrong. His chin doesn’t move as he’s used to, his balance is off and the voice that comes out isn’t his own.
“What the hell?”
He raises a hand to his face, only to notice that his fingers are longer than they should be. There are no rings on them either. No sigil, nothing that indicates his status, and he can tell from the sight of the bed he slept in that whoever owns this tent doesn’t care about earthly riches. He pales as he finally takes in the painted walls. Druid symbols decorate the thin leather like an enchantment.
He is in an enemy tent! Slowly and horrifyingly, it dawns on him what must have happened.
There is no mirror in his tent but there is a bowl of water and Arthur hurries to look at himself. To his horror, it is not only NOT his own face that stares back at him, it is the face of the magic King himself. He may have only seen it from afar once, but those sharp cheekbones and the fierce eyes was not something you could look at for half an hour and then just forget. Especially when it had been your intention to memorize the face of the man he was meant to hunt down on the battlefield!
“That motherfucker!”
Panic floods his veins. Almost hesitantly, he lifts his hand to cast a spell as if feared it would just pour out of him if he wasn’t careful enough. Nothing came out. It is as much a relief as it is scary. Arthur was powerless and stuck on the enemy side with the face of the man he’s meant to fight tonight!
Whatever is happening is definitely King Emry’s fault. That said, Arthur can’t exactly go back to his people with THAT face unless he wants to die. Additionally, he can’t tell the sorcerers who he is, or THEY will murder him. On top of that, there is meant to be war in a few hours, so he can’t exactly STAY here! Lest he wants to fight on the wrong side of this war, or worse, order the enemy to kill his own people.
Was this King Emrys’ plan? To force Arthur to surrender? But then, why would Emrys make Arthur surrender AS Emrys? That would paint the magic world as cowards! It would mean that Camelot won. Unless… His eyes widen.
Arthur dares a look outside the tent. It is dark now, the rain makes it even harder to see anything, but he can still make out the vague shape of a man heading toward their camp.
Anxiously, Emrys’ men, who were standing outside, turn to Arthur for orders. Arthur knows they think he’s HIM but it only makes him shudder. But he has more pressing matters to deal with, so he collects his Emrys-shaped limbs and runs towards the man whom he recognizes as himself. At this point, he isn’t even surprised. No one stops them. A few people shout useless warnings at him. Confusion settles on both sides of the field as only the kings walk towards one another. None of them armed, Emrys not even close to unleashing his magic.
From two steps away, Arthur shouts over the entire battlefield. The rain almost drowns him out, but the Arthur-shaped Emrys before him amplifies the sound. Perhaps he just looked through Arthur’s plan but they end up shouting it at the same time anyway:
“WE SURRENDER!”
For a moment, the sentence echoes over their heads, rendering everyone silent and confused.
Then, Chaos breaks loose but it is done. The war has been stopped. Arthur has never seen himself angry before but he knows that Emrys is just as mad as he is. Probably because Arthur’s quick thinking had prevented his plan to let Camelot surrender like a bunch of cowards. Arthur clenches his fist. This was all Emrys’ fault!
—-------------------------------------------------
When Merlin was a child, he had often asked his father why they didn’t negotiate with Camelot. To that, his father had always replied that Camelot was corrupt and needed to be eradicated. Uther Pendragon was persecuting their kind and there was no way they could forgive him for everything he had done. After years of this tirade, Merlin accepted his fate and started to believe in it.
And now, here he is, stuck in a tent with none other than Arthur Pendragon himself. Their bodies switched! And forced to negotiate peace with his own face.
Merlin wants to complain when Arthur beats him to it. “Turn us back right the fuck now!”
Merlin blinks at him. “Are you dumb? I have no clue how to do that! You think I want to be stuck in your body?”
“Very funny, MAGIC king. And whose plan was this? I don’t see any other sorcerer who would benefit from this situation!”
Merlin watches Arthur Pendragon shift in his body. He seems uncomfortable, unused to lanky limbs and a scrawny build in general. Merlin has to admit that Arthur’s broader shoulders and hips demand some getting used to as well. “I can assure you, it was not me. What would that even achieve? That you surrender? Had I wanted such a cheap win, I would have controlled your mind. Although that would have been impossible, seeing as I wasn’t anywhere near your tent! Whoever did this had it out for both of us.”
Arthur frowns at that. “Then change us back already!”
Merlin’s eye roll is probably the eye roll of the century. Such a waste that the records would have to feature a different face than his own. “Unless I know what was used to change us in the first place, I can’t do shit! I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not lose half my blood just because I picked the wrong counterspell! Also, I don’t have any books on me for a situation like this. Sorry to inform you, but I didn’t exactly expect to be facing a magical enemy tonight.” Merlin crosses his arms.
Arthur’s face changes from pale to red in a matter of seconds during Merlin’s explanation. Then, the man sighs. “Great. Now what?”
Merlin covers his new face and groans. “Well, unless we turn back, we can’t kill each other without very possibly killing ourselves. And with these faces, we can’t lead our own kingdoms.”
“People think we’re negotiating peace right now.” Arthur frowns and buries his hand in the sand. He grimaces at it… or probably the hand itself. Merlin understands the feeling. “We will need to use that as a disguise until this whole thing blows over.”
Merlin nods reluctantly. It was weird enough to have this discussion without any of his trusted Court members present. They both had to insist on their privacy, lest someone finds out about their predicament. “And once we’re back in our bodies, we can announce our attempts have failed and get back to ending this war!”
Arthur relaxes at the suggestion. “That’s going to be expensive as hell. Do you know what an army like this costs?”
Merlin gives him a look. “In case you haven’t noticed: yes. Yes, I do.”
Arthur frowns at him. “I hate you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
The pause that follows is awkward. If Merlin wasn’t in Arthur’s body right now, he’d think Arthur was checking him out. As it is, he is either a narcissist who spends all his time in front of the mirror, or worries that Merlin cut off some of his limbs. Merlin would complain about the wariness, but he can, unfortunately, relate. It feels like the other man has robbed him of something essential. They each have something of the other that they had never considered all that important. Now they realize the value of their own faces. Especially in this context. It is clear to both of them now that they can’t just leave the other on their own. Not when they could do all sorts of things to each other’s bodies.
Merlin sighs, eventually. “We will go to your kingdom first.”
Arthur looks up. “No.” He says it out of protest and principle, not sense. Merlin knows this because the Pendragon’s had never been sensible people.
Merlin takes a deep breath. This man would be the death of him… (It was supposed to be the other way around!) “We have to. I’m not letting you go back to Essetir with my face and mess up the kingdom. Besides, as Emrys, you have to PERFORM magic in front of people! As I still have my magic, I doubt this would go well. So, we’re going to Camelot. You should be thanking me! I’m putting myself at your mercy here.”
“I’m the one they will kill if you mess up. They’ll think I enchanted you or something.”
Merlin tries to imagine it. Himself messing up, saying something odd that King Arthur would NEVER say and the knights accusing the man before him of enchanting him. He imagines how they would lead Arthur to the pyre. Merlin’s own face staring back at him, begging for help, while simultaneously hating his guts. Merlin closes his eyes. “And why would I want your knights to kill my face?”
Arthur frowns, clearly not having thought of that. “Alright, shithead. You have a point.”
Merlin sighs. “Good. But you obviously can’t go alone. You should take two or three of my guards with you.”
“Two or three? What, and infiltrate my own court?”
Merlin glares back at him. “It would look weird if you go alone! Any more and it would look like you don’t trust me.”
“Which I don’t.”
“Which we can’t risk anyone knowing right now!” Merlin raises his voice, then clears his throat to calm back down.
Arthur groans. “Well, I don’t trust ANYONE in your court! I don’t even know them!”
Merlin prays to the gods for patience. “Take Freya and Mordred. Mordred is still a student of magic. He’s not as powerful as I, though obviously no one is. But he’s oblivious enough to not look through this whole thing. Freya is a shapeshifter. She can turn into a beast at will. I’d feel safer with her around. She doesn’t have the kind of magic I do. Plus, they are both open-minded, loyal and don’t leash out on a whim.”
Narrowed eyes meet Merlin’s and he knows that the man is thinking about his proposition carefully. “And you’re telling me that because it will make me feel safer?”
“Obviously. They will be protecting you. Even if you’re a prat.”
“Excuse you?”
“You’re excused.” Merlin kind of wishes he’d said that when Arthur wasn’t occupying his body. That look, the eyes wide, mouth twitching between disbelief and what Merlin was pretty sure was a grin, would have looked priceless on Arthur’s face. For some reason, the offense was lower than the amusement, or was Merlin imagining things?
“You can’t address me like that!”
Merlin raises a brow. “If you’re being a prat, I will treat you as such, your highness.” Merlin can’t hide his own grin as Arthur gapes at him. He had probably never been addressed in that tone. I worked fantastically.
“You’re lucky you’re inside my body right now, otherwise -”
“Otherwise you’d be dead.” Merlin smiles at him with the same condescending look he’s used before.
Arthur frowns, clearly annoyed. Then, he tires and lowers his arms from where he’s crossed them. “You know what? Fine. Let’s do this. I can’t wait to get back in my body. You realize that if we manage to change back while we’re in Camelot, I will have you hanged.”
Merlin nods seriously. “If it’s just a matter of whether we change back in Camelot or in Essetir, then you’ll regret those words once we cross the border to MY kingdom!”
Arthur growls. “Deal.” He holds out a hand, lets it dangle in front of Merlin’s face and the mage grimaces before shaking it.
—--------------------------------------------------------
This is not how Arthur had expected to return to Camelot. Sure, none of his men were dead, which was good. Most even celebrated the end of the war but Arthur was now accompanied by two people he’d never met and who bored him with questions about his choices like they were FRIENDS or something. Or like Arthur had any answers.
The woman Merlin had mentioned was pretty, though Arthur already feared the sharpness of her nails. If she could turn into a beast at a whim, then Arthur would be wise to keep his distance. Though it was odd that she kept referring to him as ‘Emrys’. Mordred at least called him ‘my lord,’ which was a lot less offputting.
The boy seemed rather plain. Almost like he was King Emrys’ younger brother. Pale skin, black hair, dark eyes. Arthur knew that King Emrys doesn’t have any siblings, so he gave up on the idea rather quickly. Still, with the number of questions the boy directed at him, Arthur felt himself wishing to distance himself from the boy even more than from the girl. It seemed that this reaction was a good idea as the boy seemed to have expected it. Arthur decided not to question it for now. It would make it seem like King Emrys was smart or planned ahead.
Arthur worried what the people were thinking. If they thought them both cowards.
So he did everything he could to make it seem like this had all been planned. It had to look like their intentions were genuine, the King before him was someone he was willing to trust, and this idea of peace wasn’t the stupidest thing he had ever heard of.
The absolute worst was that someone else was leading his people home, wearing Arthur’s face.
Arthur is riding on a horse that isn’t his own, behind the odd sight of himself before him. Annoyed and irritated, he kicks the unfamiliar horse in the flanks and hurries to get next to King Emrys. Arthur’s own face regards him with brief interest before his face turns back forward. Arthur huffs his displeasure. “If we’re meant to present as equals, I can’t be riding after you.” Also, Arthur doesn’t trust him. Or his ‘friends’.
Emrys rolls his eyes, or rather, Arthur’s eyes. This was getting confusing. Emrys watches him, seemingly just as irritated to see his own face mirrored in Arthur. “We are riding on horseback, your highness. The path is narrow enough as it is. I don’t want to spook the horses. You can ride ahead if that makes you feel any better.”
“Well, King ARTHUR, appearances matter in Camelot!” Arthur makes a point of addressing Emrys with the proper title of the one he was impersonating.
“That makes Camelot very shallow then, King MERLIN.”
Arthur is about to counter, when he closes his mouth again. He scrunches his eyes. Had he misheard? “Wait, who?”
Emrys blinks before turning back to him. “What?”
This is ridiculous, their horses brush against each other. Merlin is right, the path is narrow. “No. Not what, who.”
“Weren’t we talking about Camelot?”
“You called me MERlin, you idiot!”
King Emrys stares at Arthur. “You called me Arthur, I thought we were on first name basis now?”
“Your name is Emrys!”
For the very first time since Arthur met him, Emrys makes a face that is something between annoyed disbelief and actual amusement. Arthur was half certain that the man was about to halt his horse just to aggravate him. As it was, they kept riding on.“You thought my name was Emrys? That’s a TITLE, you clotpole!”
Arthur glares back at him, feeling somewhat embarrassed. It is? “How was I supposed to know that?” In fact, Arthur had been gravely irritated why everyone had been calling him ‘Emrys’ up until this point, as if he were on first name basis with his underlings.
Emrys, or rather Merlin, grunts before he hides his face in his hand. It sounds oddly like a barely concealed laugh. Arthur can’t help but feel slightly satisfied. So much for being a stoic and all powerful sorcerer. Even the almighty Emrys was only a man who could be tickled by superior humor. A man who was named after a bird, apparently. “Wait wait, hold on. All this time, have you been calling me KING Emrys?” Merlin’s eyes twinkle in the sunlight.
The satisfaction makes place for annoyance. Arthur growls.
“Oh, great KING KING, King of Kings, Arthur of the Arthur’s -”
“Shut up, Merlin.”
Merlin is scratching his nose as he snorts into Arthur’s new gloves. For a moment, Arthur muses how the mighty Emrys would look were he not in Arthur’s body at that moment. There isn’t much to go on, except for something in the eyes that gives him away. Or is that because Arthur knows this man is someone else? Either way, it wasn’t displeasing.
“They’ll notice I’m not you for sure,” Arthur eventually points out. “And my people will notice that you’re not me.”
“If you talk any louder, then yes.” Merlin straightens his back and directs his gaze forward. In fact, as Arthur looks around, he can tell that a few knights are curiously glancing their way. Especially HIS way. Of course they would, they have never seen a sorcerer who was welcomed to Camelot. It occurs to Arthur then that it had been centuries since Camelot and Essetir fell apart into two kingdoms.
Arthur shuts his mouth and tries to look angry and intimidating. He couldn’t let his people see Emrys as anything but their enemy, so he glares at them. They quickly turn away and he feels Merlin’s growl before he hears it. Just like that, the air between them thickens. Arthur pulls in the reins of the horse and falls back a few steps.
“What were you laughing about?” Mordred’s voice startles Arthur only little. He turns to him. “I wasn’t laughing.”
The boy blinks, eyes wide open. They make him look like an innocent dear. Perhaps Merlin hasn’t chosen the boy as protection, but rather as someone whom Arthur would struggle to kill. “Are you friends now?”
“What? NO!” Irritated, Arthur falls even further behind.
—---------------------------------------------------
The castle of Camelot is far bigger than Merlin has expected. It is, admittedly, intimidating. Large towers sticking out against the setting sun, painting grays in soft orange hues. Green grass sprouts beneath the horse’s hooves, bees swirr around them and from afar they can hear the villagers of Camelot cheer at their return. Curious minds lurk at the outer walls and grin at the sum of people who are returning. Not a single man is missing.
Merlin has expected Camelot to be a lot of things. From a powerful fortress to ruins like those in the perilous lands. Camelot turns out to be a home. And, and Merlin couldn’t believe that this is a thought he is having, it was magical . Merlin can sense it radiating from the cracks within the walls.
As Merlin halts his horse to simply bathe in the light of this radiant kingdom, so so different from the stories his father had told him, Arthur catches up with him. He pulls in the reins of his horse before he halts next to him and whispers. “Not as impressive as your home, is it?”
Merlin doesn’t turn to him. “The kingdom of Essetir doesn’t bathe in riches, your highness. The castle isn’t as … luxurious as yours.” That seemingly pleases the man. Merlin twists his facial muscles. And here he thought King Arthur was amusing. He was an arrogant prat is what he was!
Then, Arthur’s expression turns into a private smile. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Merlin has to admit that it is. Just not out loud. “Let’s go already.”
Arthur rolls his eyes, then they ride through the castle’s entrance, hundreds of faces turning from joyful to confused at the sight of Emrys. Arthur, who unfortunately looks like him, twists his head barely to Merlin. “You need to greet them.”
“What?”
“Just wave and announce that you’ve returned. Tell them our kingdoms have come to an agreement and that we’re now sorting out peace.”
“Why do I need to tell them that? We’re the last to arrive. Haven’t your knights already announced our return?”
Arthur gives him a strange look. “I don’t know how you do things in Essetir, but in Camelot, the people deserve to see their King and hear his word directly. It shows faith and trust and strong leadership.”
Merlin frowns. “I don’t need that where I’m from! I don’t have to prove myself! I am the most powerful sorcerer who ever lived -”
“Well, now you’re not. Now you’re just Arthur and you have to prove your worth.”
Merlin doesn’t like this conversation. Arthur makes that sound like Merlin doesn’t deserve his place on the throne of Essetir. Either way, he takes a deep breath and worries his lip before speaking up as loud as he dares with Arthur’s voice. “Dear citizens of Camelot!”
The crowd turns silent. Merlin almost chokes at the sight. Sure, whenever he NEEDS to hold a speech, whenever something like this is required, his people turn silent on his word, but usually, magic is involved. These people look up to him like presence alone warrants that reaction. It’s intimidating and impressive and it paints King Arthur in a completely different light. “I have returned from the battle at Camlann-”
“We,” Arthur caughs. Bright smiles beam up at him and make Merlin swallow. Arthur watches him carefully and Merlin knows he cannot mess this up, lest he reveal the truth.
Merlin regards Arthur with a panicked glance. For a second, the interruption irritates him. To his luck, the people seem to blame Arthur for distracting their King. “I mean, WE have returned and brought victory to Camelot! Emrys and I have decided that the blood of our people should not be shed over our disagreements. We have decided to talk about peace, and to find a better solution.”
Murmurs begin to spread throughout the people of Camelot. The knights behind them shift in their position, not yet sure what to make of this either.
And then Merlin hears the dreaded words. “Kill him! KILL KING EMRYS! It’s him!” A finger points at Arthur and the man’s eyes widen in surprise.
Merlin knows he has to deescalate the situation, but he is frozen in his seat. More voices rise up. “DOWN WITH MAGIC!”, “MAGIC CORRUPTS!”, “HE HAS ENCHANTED THE KING!” A wave of hatred tears at Merlin’s magic, making it itch underneath his skin, ready to leash out and attack.
And then, Arthur Pendragon saves him, as he jumps from the horse and raises both hands in front of him. Merlin has about a second to wonder why Arthur would threaten his own people when he remembers that in Camelot, raised hands are a sign of surrender. The people turn quiet and Arthur speaks in Merlin’s voice. “I understand your fear, but I have no intention of hurting Arthur Pendragon -”
It’s a smart move, Merlin thinks. Of course Arthur isn’t going to hurt himself.
“LIAR!”
Arthur remains calm. “I swear solemnly, that I will not use any magic within these walls or anywhere near your King. This is an offer of peace. I understand your mistrust, this decision was unexpected for us all. After all, it was -,” the smug bastard dares to grin, “King Arthur’s idea.”
Merlin’s eye twitches. The bastard really went out to collect all the glory while also cleaning up the mess Merlin has made.
“I have come here, trusting that your King will not harm us. I have come with only two of my followers. We are three against an entire army. Even I cannot hope to take over Camelot on my own. We have taken a leap of faith in your King. I am asking you only to endure my presence until after we have come to an agreement.”
All this time, Arthur looks smug and knowing, as if he knows his words will reach his people. And for the moment, Merlin believes it too. For a moment, he forgets where he is and it seems, Arthur as well has forgotten it.
“KILL THE SORCERER. He is vulnerable now, this is our chance!”
Arthur’s grin disappears so quickly, Merlin doesn’t see his lips move. Panic overwhelms Merlin and he speaks up himself. “SILENCE!”
Finally, the people listen again. They regard Arthur with nothing but hatred however, and the trapped King has the gall to look surprised.
“Emrys is under MY protection! As he said, he took a leap of faith in us and Camelot does not go back on their word!” Merlin goes so far as glare at them. “I understand that with our policy against magic, this decision looks hasty. But Emrys is reaching out to prove us wrong. I am willing to listen. If he chooses to betray that trust, he WILL pay the consequences.”
That finally calms the masses and Arthur and Merlin give each other troubled looks. Arthur is sporting a somewhat traumatized expression. He still leans over slightly to whisper in Merlin’s ear. “It’s ‘she’. Camelot is a ‘she’.”
Of course. Essetir, on the other hand, was the home of the diverse, the outcasts, the wilcarts. They never fit the binary as other kingdoms did.
—-----------------------------------------------------
Arthur leads Merlin towards the councilroom as subtly as he dares. Once inside, Merlin shoes everyone out.
“But Sire!”
“This discussion is confidential!” Merlin says this without a hint of doubt as if he is used to leading his people as a one man army. The way he talks about his own powers and how he became king, Arthur dares to believe he does.
“We cannot leave you alone with HIM!”
Merlin glares down at them, which makes Arthur cringe. “I can deal with him on my own. I promised him a private audience.”
That finally caused them all to leave, albeit reluctantly.
Arthur watches the whole scene until the doors shut close and they are alone at the round table in a room so empty, they might as well have been standing outside again. The stones echo the sound of their breaths, even somehow the sound of their silence. Arthur decides it’s better to explain things to Merlin now, rather than run into trouble later. “Camelot is not a dictatorship. This is a Kingdom and my knights and council members have a right to be a part of every decision I make.”
Merlin turns to him in surprise. “Yeah, well, this is not one of those discussions, your pratiness.” He walks around Arthur and sits down on a chair. Arthur hates the sight. Those seats belong to knights of the round table, not foreign sorcerers!
And yet… “You did a good job out there.” Arthur is willing to admit through gritted teeth. “They called out for my death! That was fucking terrifying! I was unarmed!” He couldn’t bring himself to thank him if he tried.
Merlin rolls his eyes. “You look like Emrys if you care to remember. Just promising not to use magic isn’t going to reassure them! Otherwise we wouldn’t be hunted by your kind. Especially the way you flaunted your hands about. Those are my WEAPONS, idiot!”
Arthur glares at him, slightly flushing as he realizes his mistake. “MY kind? How is it MY fault you guys choose to practice magic?”
Merlin raises a brow. “CHOOSE? Dude, I was BORN with magic! The first time I cut myself, I was bleeding GOLD. You think I CHOSE that? You think ANYONE would choose that if it gets you killed at the pyre?”
Arthur pauses, face scrunched up, arms crossing as he regards Merlin with one of his condescending glances. “That’s impossible.”
Merli’s shoulders sack and he raises a hand to steal a knife from Arthur’s pocket with his magic. Without preamble, and without caring about Arthur’s protests, Merlin cuts his wrist and just as he said, golden blood floods from his veins, drops down and only turns red after it already hit the floor. The wound heals up and Merlin swirls the knife around, holds it at the blade and presents the handle back to Arthur before the man could make a move to defend himself.
“You cast a spell so it would do that. That is MY body you’re in! I don’t bleed gold!”
Merlin blinks, then growls. “Arthur Pendragon, My magic is tied to my SOUL, not my body!”
Arthur frowns, and for a moment Merlin is sure they are going to fight but eventually Arthur relents and pulls out a chair for himself. Unceremoniously, he drops down and stares at Merlin. Before he knows it, he turns his head and stares at a wall. There is something on his mind but he doesn’t talk about it.
So, Merlin points out what he assumes it to be. “You’ve never been hated by your own people before, have you?”
Arthur just grunts.
Merlin continues. “You’re right, by the way. In Essetir, I am the most powerful being. Not because I was born a prince but because I was born as Emrys. Emrys is, as you probably don’t know, the title of the embodiment of magic. It took seers to figure that out. I rule on my own because the people trust that I’m the chosen one and do everything right. You, on the other hand -”
Arthur glares at him.
“I noticed that you have worked for your reputation. Took me one glance to figure that out. Must suck to suddenly be me.”
The glare turns to confusion. “What do you mean?”
Merlin shrugs. “I told you, I was born with magic. To YOUR kind, I am the epitome of evil and deserve to die. You yourself are planning to kill me, remember? Just yesterday, we planned to kill each other. In a WAR. And that’s not off the table, is it? That person you hate, me, is who you are to them now.”
Arthur stares at him then. Eyes slightly wide. “I’m not stupid, I KNOW what they think! I think the same thing when I look in the mirror and see your ugly face!”
Merlin averts his eyes, finally. He doesn’t argue with that. He leans against the table and directs his gaze towards the ceiling. “Likewise.” He thinks this is the end to that, but Arthur was full of surprises so it seems.
“Why do you magic users even fear us, huh? If you’re so powerful that you can bleed gold and all that stuff, why do you need to go to that length and fight a war with Camelot?”
Merlin turns back to Arthur and finds defiance there but also a strange kind of curiosity that hasn’t previously been there. “I bleed gold, Arthur Pendragon, but I still bleed. If you didn’t know I was vulnerable, you wouldn’t have tried to fight me at the front lines, right?”
Arthur then gives him an odd look that tells Merlin that his assumption was wrong.
“You can’t be telling me that you went there expecting to die.”
“I took my chances for the better of the kingdom.”
Merlin blinks. “You would die for your people?”
“Of course. That’s my job as king.”
Merlin laughs. He hasn’t expected this turn of events. It is impressive… and stupid. “Really? Wow.”
“What?”
“Essetir is small, you know? The majority of my people are sorcerers who grew up in Camelot and ran away to find safety. Because magic chooses the people, not the other way around. They used to be your people too. Where were you when they suffered under your hand?”
The look Merlin then receives is deeply satisfying. It’s one of pure shock.
Merlin is pissed. “I think I should go to sleep. Where are your chambers?”
—----------------------------------------------------
Arthur isn’t sleeping in his own room. In fact, he can’t sleep at all. It’s not because the bed he lays on is uncomfortable. Excluding his own, it’s probably the most comfortable mattress in the castle. No, what has Arthur turning is Merlin. For one, the man is currently sleeping in Arthur’s private chambers. He has access to everything Arthur owns. From old toys to trophies and jewelry. Heck, Arthur leaves his speeches and laws in the room to look at them in the evening!
It’s not only that though. It is also the sudden fear. When Arthur walks through the castle on his own, he sees mistrust in the eyes of people whom he considered his friends. He sees paranoia, wariness, hatred. And it takes root in his bones. Arthur doesn’t have magic but he knows now what it feels like to be a sorcerer.
What Merlin has said also bothers him. It has to be a lie! Arthur would never hunt his own people! Or would he? Right now, he isn’t so sure. His father had burned sorcerers on the pyre long before Arthur was made king. They were spies, monsters, liars, cheaters, assassins. That’s what Arthur knows.
But that is all Arthur knows.
He doesn’t know any spells. Except for one ancient prayer that his first maid had taught him. She had long been hanged for teaching him that. Arthur doesn’t remember her face, doesn’t even remember what she had died for. She must have deserved it, Arthur wants to believe it. But he also remembers a time when he had asked his father why Camelot and Essetir were even at war. He had asked why they couldn't negotiate with them. But Uther had said that sorcerers were corrupted to do evil. They were incapable of good and needed to be eradicated for their own good before they dragged other people down with them. At some point, Arthur had begun to believe him.
Arthur shakes his head. It’s not good to doubt himself and his kingdom and his father and his teachings. Arthur needs to be headstrong.
He jumps to his feet, eventually and walks out the hallway. His guards are looking at him the same way as they had all day. “I wish to speak with Arthur Pendragon.”
“It’s the middle of the night!”
Arthur glares at him. “I’m not blind!”
“We’re not letting you kill him in his sleep!”
Arthur growls. “I’m not going to!”
The guard raises a brow. “What is so urgent that you need to speak with him in the middle of the night, your highness?”
Arthur can’t believe this! Arthur or Emrys, he is still a king! A visiting king but normally, visitors aren’t treated like this! Or were they? “I will file a complaint if you won’t let me!”
The guard smirks. “A complaint? And you expect King Arthur to read that? Can you even write, magic sum?” He spits at Arthur’s feet. “You’re only here because King Arthur accepted your surrender. It was always clear that you guys never had a chance against our knights, but to think you’re so pathetic -”
It takes everything within Arthur not to punch him in the face. With a more leveled tone, he repeats himself. “Let me go to him, now.”
“And if I don’t? You swore not to use your magic, magic king! What? Want to go back on your word because of a meager guard? Risk the destruction of your own kingdom -”
In that moment, the man seems to stumble over his feet and his head hit the wall behind him. “Ow!,” He yells and glares at Arthur. “I warned you!” He jumps back on his feet. “Once the King hears -”
“He’s heard.” Merlin’s voice sounds like Arthur’s but it’s still different. Arthur swirls around to find the man slowly walking down the hallway. “Is this how you treat my personal guests?” He looks threatening, his presence far more than Arthur has ever seen in any man.
The guard quickly lifts himself up. “Your highness! King Emrys has used magic in my presence, he -”
“It looked to me like you were stumbling on your feet. Haven’t gotten enough sleep, soldier?” Merlin twitches a small smile when the guard stutters. Then, Merlin turns to Arthur. “You wanted to speak with me, King Merlin? Why don’t we take this to my chambers?” He sends the guard one more glance. “If the peace fails because of you, remember whom to blame once your brothers bleed out in your arms on the battlefield. Have I made myself clear?” The guard lowers his gaze, then nods quickly.
Merlin nods at Arthur to follow him and Arthur does, unsure what else he was supposed to do. This was similar to what Arthur had in mind, but he’s still surprised at how calm Merlin handled the situation. They walk in silence and Arthur is overcome with how quiet and nice their silence feels. Merlin doesn’t make fun of the guard, doesn’t complain. He acts like someone who has expected no less but still wants the situation to resolve itself without bloodshed.
Arthur, suddenly also noticing that Emrys had been wandering his halls unaccompanied, speaks up quietly. “Why were you wandering around my hallways?”
Merlin hums. “I needed to pee.”
Arthur blinks. “I have a chamber pot in my room…”
Merlin shrugs. “I prefer going outside to do it. I don’t like people cleaning up after me.”
Arthur nods slowly. “And… why are we heading to the kitchens?”
Merlin hums again. “I forgot where your room is.”
Arthur almost laughs. Merlin is grinning and Arthur has no doubt that there is a tad of embarrassment in his tone. Shaking his head, Arthur pulls at Merlin’s sleeve and leads him back into a different hallway and a couple of stairs higher up. Finally, Arthur gestures Merlin into the room.
Once inside, Merlin releases a deep breath. “Gosh, finally.” As soon as the door closes, Merlin’s eyes, or rather, Arthur’s eyes, turn gold. In a matter of moments, the banners and bedsheets turn into different colors. A wind whistles around them and Merlin sighs as the flowers on the windowsill begin to bloom.
Mildly terrified, Arthur grabs Merlin’s sleeve and shouts at him. “Are you serious? Cut that down! You PROMISED not to use magic in my castle -”
Merlin blinks and turns to him. The magic rush goes away somewhat and he shakes himself off. A second later, everything is back to normal. “No, YOU promised YOU wouldn’t use magic. Which is easy to say when you DON’T have magic!”
Arthur growls. “So what? You can just go and use it whenever you want?”
“Have you ever considered that I NEED to use my magic?”
Arthur pauses, then steps back a bit. Merlin’s fury looks truly frightening from here. “What?”
Merlin rolls his eyes and sits down on the bed. “I lied.”
Arthur exhales and is about to counter, when Merlin continues. “I didn’t go outside to pee. I went outside to let my magic loose. But there were so many people watching that I knew it wouldn’t work. And doing it here, when you have guards at every door, is impossible for me without risking being hanged or whatever they would do to their own king. Now that you’re here… I suppose it’s at least not as risky.”
Arthur can only stare. “What do you mean… you HAVE to use magic?”
Merlin raises a brow. “Yeah, obviously. Don’t you ever need to move your legs after sitting around all day at your desk?”
“Your magic is a limb?”
Merlin rolls his eyes. “For someone who kills my kind, you lack quite a lot of the basics!” He pauses then. “But you’re good at managing your kingdom, I give you that.” Merlin points vaguely in the direction of Arthur’s desk. His eyes drift off, somewhat deep in thought as he considers it.
Arthur chokes. “You READ it?”
Merlin dissociates for a moment. “I have to admit… I haven’t ever spent a second thinking about what happens to my kingdom if I lose… nor what to do with yours when we win.”
“Hey -,” Arthur is about to protest but Merlin isn’t done.
“You left behind your methods on how you run the kingdom for whoever succeeds you. You even drafted plans on how to include the villagers from my people in your society. Those who survive at least. I mean, sure, you think it’s fine to just forbid them from using magic, which is impossible… but still.” Merlin looks up, his eyes averted in thought. “It’s strange… how much you care for your people.”
Arthur frowns. “Don’t you care for yours?”
Merlin doesn’t move. “Of course I do. It’s just… how do I put it? When I think of myself as a leader, I see myself at the front, everyone I protect is behind my back while I deal with everything. You on the other hand… You turn around to face them. You’re still at the front but everyone stands next to you. Does that make sense?”
Arthur shakes his head. “I think it’s stupid of kings to believe they are more than human. That’s all. I make mistakes too.”
“I don’t.”
“You do. You just don’t admit to them.”
Merlin looks at him, eyes narrowing slightly, but there is something there that Arthur hasn’t seen before. Perhaps, Arthur wonders, they’ve both got it wrong. Perhaps they CAN negotiate.
Merlin shakes himself out of it. “Why did you wish to see me?”
Arthur stands more straight. “I don’t feel comfortable with you in my room, where all my stuff is.” Arthur blinks then and lets his eyes wander back to his desk. Is he really? The papers still lay where Arthur has left them. And he can see some of his jewels blinking at him from the shelves he put them on. It seems like Merlin has only read through the manuscripts and left everything else untouched. It reminds Arthur of how he had woken up in Emrys’ tent. It had been empty of any earthly riches. And Merlin had told him that Essetir’s castle wasn’t as rich as Camelot.
Arthur sits down beside Merlin on the bed. The mattress dibs beneath him and he wonders who the person beside him even is. “Can you show me?”
Merlin blinks. “Show you your stuff?”
Arthur turns back to him. “Wha-? No. Your magic.”
Whatever Merlin must have expected, this clearly wasn’t it. “What? Just now you didn’t want me to use my magic! And now you suddenly do?”
Arthur looks at him, his brows narrowed. “Well, clearly, I don’t know anything about you and your powers. So, while you’re here, why don’t you teach me?”
Merlin stares at him. “What?”
Arthur feels uncomfortable. He knows he’s asking a lot, he knows that it’s hardly believable, coming from him. But if there is a chance- “I told you, I can admit to it when I’m wrong. And I know for a fact that I don’t know enough about your kind. My father forbade me to educate myself on magic. He was scared it would corrupt me. But you have magic- are magic - and you haven’t killed anyone since we’ve arrived. Which, honestly, was my biggest fear. I want to know whom I am fighting against. I want -” Arthur’s voice drowns out as he sees Merlin’s mood darken.
“Oh… so that’s it.” It is mistrust. “You want to know how to defeat me.” His tone is angry and moves away from Arthur. Arthur doesn’t understand where the rage is coming from. “And here I thought we were both stuck in these bodies! But it was one of YOUR people, wasn’t it? YOU switched our bodies while using magic. NO ONE would think the king of Camelot would turn to MAGIC of all things. To think you almost had me fooled!”
It then suddenly hits Arthur how his proposition sounds to Merlin… and he feels like he’s talking with the guard all over again. Only this time, it’s different. While the guard had looked down on Arthur despite thinking he was a powerful sorcerer, Merlin looks… angry, yes, but also … afraid. Not afraid Arthur will kill him, no. Merlin looks terrified to trust Arthur and that was something Arthur hasn’t expected.
“What? I can’t use magic! I have no idea how it -”
“Your FATHER didn’t have magic either and he still used it for his own gains! Don’t think I don’t know about it!”
That came out of nowhere! “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Whenever you Pendragons see fit, you’ll get yourself a dumb little sorcerer and let them do the dirty work for you. And when it fails, you just cast them out again! I KNOW your kind, Pendragon!”
Arthur flinches into a stand. “My father would NEVER have used magic!”
Merlin laughs. “Oh yeah? Your entire castle is BUILD from it! Is that what your father banished mine for? Because it’s not as big and tall and POSH as he wanted it to be?”
Arthur’s mind is swirling in circles. “What on earth are you even talking about?”
Merlin’s eyes twitch only once with uncertainty. “You should go.”
“But-”
“Do I need to call the guards on you!”
Arthur opens his mouth, half expecting it to be a joke. If he got arrested now, then Merlin was risking his own life. That, however, only conveyed how serious Merlin was. Arthur raises his hands before remembering that that’s not a sign of surrender to sorcerers. So, he puts them back down. “Fine. I’m leaving.” He wants to say so many things right now but he hesitates. “Good night, Merlin.”
When the door shuts closed behind Arthur, he clenches his fists at his side. He shakes his head. What was he thinking? Negotiating with a sorcerer… It simply wasn’t possible. Arthur clenches his fist so hard he draws blood. When he looks down, it bleeds red.
‘Gold and red don’t mix,’ Arthur wants to think. Then looks up and finds himself faced with the Pendragon banner.