Disclaimer: Not BBC, Johnny Capps, Julian Murphy.

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Chapter 6

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It took two days for Merlin and Arthur to reach Camelot–limping and helping each other walk in unbearable silence. After the storm that nearly drowned them in the well, it was two of the driest days that Merlin had experienced, as though all the water in the land had disappeared entirely onto the ground.

But Merlin felt cold.

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They met the rescue party on the second day. Aside from the facts that Arthur told his knights to give one of their horses for Merlin to ride and for them to help the brunet mount the stallion, there was no indication that the Prince of Camelot acknowledged his servant's presence.

When they reached the castle's paved front yard, Arthur dismounted his horse and proceeded to the throne room without looking back.

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Merlin hid in his room for three whole days.

The first time Gaius entered his room with a bowl of porridge, Merlin sprung to his feet in an almost inhuman speed and thrust out his hand, ready to blast anyone who came near him. To say that the old Physician was startled was an understatement. Dropping the bowl to the floor, Gaius's heart nearly failed him to see Merlin almost attacking him before he realized what happened.

The young sorcerer was terrified.

Realizing what he had done, Merlin widened his eyes and gasped, falling to his feet to collect the shattered bowl. "Oh gods, I'm so sorry, Gaius– I'm– gods, sorry, I thought–"

The old Physician recovered from his shock in a rather impressive speed as he gained his sense back and lowered himself to the ground as quickly as his old backbone allowed. "No, Merlin, it is I who should apologize, I should've known better than to enter unannounced when you're in this condition–"

Merlin gave a watery chuckle that twisted something on the older man's gut. "I gave you a fright, Gaius, you should've seen yourself–"

"Nonsense, Merlin, your ankle hasn't healed yet–" Gaius said, before the young brunet cut him as he rose to reach a towel on the bedside table to mop the slick porridge.

"I'm fine–" the brunet answered with shaky breath, sinking to his feet to collect the porcelain pieces. Gaius didn't miss the way he bent his injured foot and held it aloft to reduce the pain.

"Merlin–" Gaius started, but his remarks fell on deaf ears.

"Gaius, I'm fine– I'm just– still in shock, probably–"

"Merlin!"

Merlin looked up from his crouched position, his pupil still dilated like a terrified deer and his hands stopped mopping. It was then that it struck Gaius, truly, how young the great warlock in front of him was. He might love Arthur with all his heart, but it didn't mean he wasn't afraid to die. So he told him that he understood– that it was alright.

"Of course it's not alright," the warlock argued, his voice failing as he breathed shakily. He closed his eyes and a tear streamed down his cheeks. He didn't wipe it.

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Arthur didn't sleep on his bed for three whole days.

His back ached and he was tired for most of the day because of it, but he would still sit on his chair at nights for three days in a row until he fell asleep. Sometimes the wood in fireplace would crack, or the servants carrying sheets outside would cross his door too noisily, and Arthur would jolt awake, his hand flew to the handle of his sword in less than a fraction of a second and his eyes widened, with veins popping on its corners.

No sorcerer, he would tell himself breathlessly.

His father noticed his distress, which he decided must be obvious enough that his father came out of his helpless state to ask him if there was a princess out there who broke his heart.

Arthur laughed, careful not to sound too derisive in front of his father, but he walked back to his chamber that night thinking, if broken hearts were about broken trusts, then he supposed his father was right.

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Arthur dreamt of drowning that night.

On the other side of the castle, Merlin gasped as he jolted awake, gulping as many air as his lungs could contain, as though he was drowning.

Breathe, breathe– Merlin told himself as he calmed himself, returning his quick pulse to the normal pace. He was a sorcerer, his kind was hunted across the five kingdoms. Nightmares were something he'd learned to deal with for a long time.

He gulped, calming himself down. The air was cold and the summer crickets had ceased to chirping. Moving to his sides, careful not to move his ankle too much, all the hinges on the brunet's body cracked all over. He had fallen asleep on a very uncomfortable position with his neck resting on his shoulder and his back sliding down the wall on his back.

He wasn't planning on sleeping. He hadn't for the past three days.

Rolling out of his tiny bed and finding out that his night shirt had been soaked with sweats, Merlin went to his cupboard where he put some of his plain nightshirts and prepared to change.

He was scared to death, ready to blast off anyone who came into his room, fearing it would be Arthur's guards ready to escort him to his death sentence. He nearly gave Gaius a heart failure for doing so. But here he was, standing in the middle of his room in the Court Physician's wings, like he had been doing at this exact hour for the past few years, not running from Arthur as anyone with a common sense would have done.

And so, looking down at his feet and narrowing his eyes at the truth he didn't dare to face, Merlin finally gave in to the voice that had been whispering to him at the back of his mind.

Because you don't want to go, either.

It frightened the young warlock how true the thought rang.

He had all the chance to escape Camelot. It wouldn't be difficult for him to do so– he knew every inch of the castle by heart, knew his way with trap doors and tapestry and every guard, and he was Emrys. But Arthur– his place was at Arthur's side. He had promised not to let any harm come to him ever again. Arthur was his best friend, his destiny, and, gods– that clotpole was his home.

He reached for his sternum and caressed his itchy night shirt, underneath which his Soulpoetry sat.

Two sides.

He smiled ruefully as he remembered the first time he found out he had his Soulpoetry. He had called his mother from the turnips patches that summer, running through the muddy borders of the patches as quick as his tiny legs could manage. He might've made the memory up as he grew up, but he was quite sure it was the day after he learned that the bowl of porridge floating over him every morning didn't happen by chance.

That he had the power to command it. That he had magic.

Magic had been the part of him since the very beginning– he was nothing without it. He'd spent his life asking the higher powers what he had to do about it. He'd spent his late childhood struggling every day to hide who he really was, and his teenage years feeling more alone than ever because no one could ever come to understand how exhausting it was to wear a mask every time he had to come out of his cottage.

And then he arrived to Camelot and met Arthur, the most arrogant and impossible human being he had ever met. But then his magic was not so useless anymore.

At first, it was common sense. He had to save Arthur. What was the purpose of his magic if not to help those around him, even though it happened to be one of the most insufferable human being he'd ever met?

And so he did it. Again, and again, and again.

Until he realized that Kilgharrah was right– Arthur was indeed his destiny. Because over the course of his life on Arthur's side, something that he couldn't quite describe fell into place– as though Arthur was the purpose of his magic he had asked for all his life.

The brunet put his palm on his sternum, feeling his heart beating underneath his thin ribs.

Two sides.

He'd always have his two sides– him, and his magic. And this is where his magic belonged to. To Arthur's side, to Camelot, to the Albion he would help Arthur build. This was what he was born to do. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

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Gwen noticed too.

Arthur was sitting on his chair in the council room, papers strewn in front of him, most of them not in the correct orders. He didn't usually eat breakfast there, unless his father summoned him, but the new stupid manservant they got to serve him hadn't gotten used to his routine yet and actually roused him late that day. Filling in as the Regent on behalf of his father's unavailability, he had several documents to read before he could send a reply to the neighboring kingdoms about several bargains they had, but none of the sentences seemed to make sense to him.

Pushing his breakfast in front of him with worried face and telling him to eat for the sake of his health, she asked him if he was getting any sleep, and if he had a fallout with Merlin.

Arthur stared at her the moment the question left her lips and found himself silently repeating the name.

It felt strange on his lips–he hadn't heard Merlin's name in days. He hadn't thought of it. He realized he had been referring to him as a sorcerer in his head for the last three days. For three whole days he was terrified he would be killed in his sleep, poisoned stealthily or attacked on his way through the corridors by a sorcerer who had been lurking behind the walls of Camelot for–

Three years.

Arthur stood from his seat slowly and exited the council room. He needed– he didn't know what he needed– but his feet were carrying him to the Court Physician's wings.

Three years. Merlin had tended to his wounds, prepared his foods, and tidied his bed for three years. Kept his swords, marched beside him in battles, told him which course of action to take during crisis. For three years, Merlin's face had always been the first face he saw when he woke up from a comatose.

Merlin had all the chance to kill him for three whole years. But the more he tried to find a proof to his argument, the more he realized that all Merlin had done was the exact opposite.

He was running, dodging around knights, guards, servants–

Merlin.

It made sense now. All the oddities and all the disappearances, all the fortunate and otherwise impossible misses in battles he had that would've cost him his life. All the days he rode back to Camelot on horses, wondering why he was still alive. All the days he lied on his bed, waiting for certain death because Gaius said there was no antidote to the poison that was now circulating his body, or the times he half-dozed on the ground, a canopy of trees shading his eyes from sunlight as Merlin set him gently in a nice nook on a hidden spot in the woods because he had taken a poisoned arrow to his back and felt the heat slowly leaving his person. That night he failed to kill the Great Dragon, but he woke up and Merlin told him he defeated the beast. A wind, seemingly coming out of nowhere, saving him and the villagers of Ealdor when it looked like they stood no more chance against Kanen's men. That day he passed out, a pair of wyverns the last thing he saw, and Merlin's wide grin the first thing he laid eyes upon waking up.

Time slowed. A thousand visions seemed to cross his mind all at the same time, blinding him, deafening him– fires, swords clanging, winds howling, battle cries, until he reached that particular warm night.

The most beautiful tune, a lullaby, the night of the first time he met Merlin. A graceful lady, a sweet melody, and then, in a blink of an eye, a hag pressed underneath a fallen chandelier. A knife sailing towards him.

He gasped, and the pooling tears on his eyes spilled.

Merlin– all of it, Merlin.

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A/N: So, that's the conclusion of the sixth chapter! What do you guys think? Merlin and Arthur finally realized who the other really was to them. Arthur realized Merlin had been protecting him all the years he'd hidden his magic and Merlin finally came to a conclusion that his place had always been on Arthur's side. I thought this is how they would've reacted– both of them frightened in the face of the new revelation but deep inside, they'll come to the conclusion that they belong to each other.

But they still haven't found out they are each other's Soulmates–GAH! Hahahahaha, I know I'm sorry! I like working with feels and tension hahahaha, but not to worry, this means we've only got one more chapter and an epilogue! Thank you for those who have commented and voted! Stay tuned!