How "The Last Dragonlord" Should've Ended:

Love when the twink goes twunk

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That was fun! I feel like this description is very fitting with my username. I approve! >:D

Thanks for tagging me @rainbowsmagicandshit!

Saw this going around twitter, looked like fun. What? I'm not procrastinating (I am, I really am)

Make this picrew of yourself

Take this uquiz

Post the results side-by-side. No pressure tags: @alypink, @revnah1406, @madefordvarka, @deadbranch, @welldonekhushi, @kaitaiga, @applbottmjeens, @froglights-and-pearls

And I'm back with Part 3 of the "Merlin accidentally conquers Camelot" au! Thank you all so much for your patience and continued support for this story! It makes me so happy to see people get excited by my silly (and occasionally delusional) au ideas!

NOTE: You can find part 1 here and part 2 here.

EDIT: And you can find part 4 here!

And without further ado, onto the new stuff!

It was rather drafty in the lesser furnished cells of the dungeons. Merlin knew this well, as he had spent many nights during his first couple of years in Camelot trying and failing to get any sleep on the cold stone floors of those cells, kept awake by the freezing chill that would sweep through the dungeons at any given moment.

Merlin also knew that Arthur had never been kept in one of those cells, even on the rare occasions that Uther had him locked up for going against his orders. Whenever Arthur had to be put in the dungeons, he had been put in the fully furnished cells, meant for prisoners who were members of noble families.

Even when they were held in the same dungeon, the nobles and the peasants were subjected to wildly different experiences.

With that in mind, Merlin stopped by Arthur's chambers (or... were they his chambers now? Merlin certainly didn't want to think about that.) to grab Arthur's favorite blanket off of his bed. It was a luxuriously soft blanket, dyed a rich Pendragon red. That blanket was fit for a king and a pain for a manservant to wash, but Merlin had always taken good care of the blanket, knowing how much Arthur liked it.

Merlin folded up the thick blanket with meticulous care, ignoring both his own trembling hands, rendered unsteady by the volatile emotions welling up in him, and Gwaine's presence behind him, silent for once. Despite Gwaine's undying loyalty and penchant for mischief landing Merlin in an even worse situation than before, he seemed to understand the solemnity of Merlin's actions and the profound sense of grief over the life he had lived once before that had been so suddenly torn away from him.

The motions of carefully folding up the blanket filled Merlin with both comforting familiarity and near-crippling sorrow. Would he ever do this again, ever provide support and comfort for Arthur again? As much as Merlin wished to stay optimistic, even if his plan to reinstate Arthur as the rightful king of Camelot succeeded, the darkest corners of his mind hissed that Arthur would never tolerate his presence again, let alone trust him, after usurping him and, in Arthur's eyes, proving everything Uther had ever said about sorcerers to be true.

Merlin's heart plummeted, nearly stopping him in his track towards the dungeon entirely, at the mere thought of what Arthur must think of him now: a treacherous, conniving sorcerer who had manipulated Arthur into becoming his friend only to betray him. Merlin blinked, banishing his tears before they could roll down his face and fall onto the blanket in his arms, and forced his feet to keep moving steadily forward. No matter what Arthur thought of him now, how deeply Merlin has unintentionally wounded his friend, or how catastrophically Merlin's world felt like it was crumbling down around him, he needed to set things right.

Merlin clung desperately to that conviction, the thrumming need to set things right again, as everything else in him wanted to curl up in a dark corner and never move again. After an eternity and yet all too soon, Merlin descended past the gates of the dungeon, where he forbade Gwaine from following him any further, down the noble cell blocks, which were filled with sleeping, but thankfully uninjured knights, and finally through the dark, damp, empty, and cold peasant cells.

He couldn't see Arthur at first, but his magic sensed that he was here. Like always, it jumped, tugging on Merlin to act, whenever Arthur was nearby, causing Merlin to pause his step in order to focus on whatever his magic was attempting to do. This time, it tugged his attention towards the unlit torches lining the walls of the cell block. Light them, his magic seemed to beg of him, our king is cold!

Merlin's immediate reaction was to stop his magic, to push it down so that no one would notice, and, after a deep breath, he did just that. As Merlin stood still, holding Arthur's blanket in his arms and cherishing what would likely be the last few seconds that he could ignore what had happened over the last day and pretend that everything was normal, he heard the voice that he'd been both yearning and dreading to hear for the past day coming from the cell at the very end of the dungeon.

"If you're waiting to sneak up on me, you'll have to try harder than that. I can hear that neither magic nor a crown have made you any more stealthy, Merlin."

Merlin flinched backwards, expecting but yet somehow still unprepared for how much vitriol and bitterness Arthur hissed out his name with. He had heard Arthur yell out his name in variety of tones over the years, ranging from annoyed to bemused to downright furious, but he had never heard his name pass from Arthur's lips like this, spat out from his mouth like it was poisonous and vile. It caused so much hurt to well up in Merlin's chest that he felt it like a bruising punch, causing him to wince in pain, still hiding where Arthur could not see him.

As Merlin stood silently, only a few steps away from Arthur's cell and facing Arthur's well-deserved fury, and tried to desperately blink away the tears gathering in his eyes, his magic abruptly tugged his attention towards the torches again, more insistent this time. Letting out a stuttering breath, Merlin obliged with his magic's request this time, and the torches lining the walls burst into bright, golden flames in an instant, filling the cells with a merry warmth that felt entirely out of place.

Merlin heard a sharp gasp coming from Arthur's cells as soon as the torches lit up by themselves and winced. Right, Arthur was fresh off of Merlin's betrayal, so he was probably pretty jumpy, especially around magic.

Merlin's guilt rose alongside his frustration. Everything he does with his magic, he does it for Arthur, and yet every single damned time it backfires on him and somehow hurt Arthur! A spell meant to heal his father kills the king instead. A battle waged to ensure his continued reign steals his sovereignty instead. And lit torches meant to provide him with warmth and comfort scares him instead!

But before even more guilt could build up inside of him, Merlin heard Arthur's voice once more.

"I won't be scared by a coward of a sorcerer who would steal everything from the man he claimed to serve! Or is the great Emrys too important to even face the fool he tricked into believing that he was his friend?"

Before Merlin's mind could even process Arthur's words, his feet were already carrying him to the end of the hallway, right to the front of Arthur's cell. He needed to prove Arthur wrong here, their years of friendship weren't a lie or a trick, Arthur needed to believe that! Too much of Merlin's life, his very soul, was woven into his bond with Arthur, he couldn't let Arthur have any doubt that their bond was even real!

As he finally arrived at the door to the cell that held Arthur, Merlin's heart stuttered again, this time with grief. Based on the ferocity in his voice, Merlin had expected to see Arthur pressed up against the bars, ready to battle his perceived opponent. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of Arthur, sitting alone on the dirty stone floor, his face wearing the same dejected and defeated look it had just days earlier, after Morgana had taken the citadel and Arthur doubted his own ability to rule his people. The only difference was that the lost look in Arthur's eyes from before was gone, replaced by a scornful glare that had Merlin feeling like he was the scum of the earth.

Merlin opened his mouth, ready to apologize, plead for forgiveness, whatever it took to just stop Arthur from looking at him like that, like Merlin was his enemy, but no words could form in his mouth, as too many emotions were welling up in his chest that it closed off his throat entirely. Merlin drew in a deep, fortifying breath, purposefully avoiding eye contact with a still-glaring Arthur the entire time. Once he felt like he had his feelings even marginally under some tenuous control, he finally met Arthur's gaze and held out the blanket like a pathetic peace offering.

"I brought you your blanket. I know it gets cold down here."

Merlin was rather proud that his voice only wavered slightly, not giving an indication of how disastrously close he was to breaking down into tears in the middle of the dungeons. Arthur merely stared at him for a moment, bewilderment appearing on his face for a few seconds before it was quickly wiped away by angry sneer.

"I don't accept gifts from the likes of you, sorcerer! It's probably cursed or enchanted to kill me so that you can finally get me out of your way for good!"

"No!"

The blanket fell to the floor as Merlin grasped the bars of the cell with both hands and pulled himself as close as he could to Arthur, who had flinched back at Merlin's outburst. His magic flared again, wanting to break down this barrier between them so that he could get closer to Arthur, but he denied its request, knowing that such an action would only agitate Arthur even more.

"Arthur, please, I never meant for any of this to happen! You must believe me! I only wanted to for Camelot to be safe from Morgana and for you to retake the throne! I only want to secure your reign, not end it!"

That, it seemed, finally got a reaction out of Arthur, but it wasn't the one Merlin was hoping for. Arthur finally stood up from the floor and stormed over to the cell door, getting close to Merlin, but just out of reach.

"And why on earth should I trust a word you say?! You've done nothing but lie to me for years, even when I gave you my complete trust! I thought you were my closest friend, the one person in my life who would never betray me, but as it turns out, I never even knew your real name, much less where your true loyalties lie!"

Merlin's face fell at Arthur's accusations, knowing that he was, in some ways, completely right in them. Still, he met Arthur's accusing glare with as much honesty as he could. After all that his own actions had taken from Arthur, he owed him the truth at the very least. Merlin spoke again, trying to muster up a calm, soothing tone despite his strong emotions.

"I know that you don't have much reason to trust what I say now, but I will do all that I can take make this right. I was born with magic, yes, but I was born this way for a purpose, and that purpose is you, Arthur. I am Emrys, destined to be the guardian of the Once and Future King, who will rule over the greatest kingdom history has ever known and bring peace the likes of which has never been seen throughout the land."

Merlin could see the moment of realization on Arthur's face as he put together who exactly the Once and Future King was, his eyes going wide with shock. Despite the situation, Merlin has just a bit of a smile on his face as he reminisced on fond memories.

"When I first met you, I just couldn't understand how such a prattish clotpole could ever be a king of legend, but the longer I stayed by your side, the more I could see the king that you were destined to become. A great man, a great leader, who will always stand up to protect his people, even if it means putting himself in danger."

Merlin's speech trailed off as he smiled gently at Arthur, trying desperately to give him reason to believe Merlin, to believe in the prophecy that tied them together, and, above all, to believe in himself.

To Merlin's surprise, he could see Arthur confusion melting into... something. It looked like something along the lines of hope or awe, which gave Merlin hope in return. But just as quickly as it was there, Arthur's expression shifted again to a frustrated anger.

"Even if what you're saying isn't some trick, your little bedtime story is wrong anyways! I can't be the Once and Future King if I'm not even a king in the first place!"

Merlin sighed deeply, knowing that they'd get to this point eventually. He had a plan, but would Arthur ever agree to it?

"I've tried! I tried to simply order the council to make you king again, but they won't do it! Geoffrey stopped me with some old laws that Bruta wrote! He said that I can't abdicate the throne to you because you're no longer legally a nobleman."

Arthur eyes widened frantically at the mention of Bruta's laws, his breathing picking up with panic. He backed up from the bars of the cell and began pacing around.

"Bruta's code, damn it, I forgot that they applied in these situations! Wait..."

His eyes snapped back to Merlin, looking red-rimmed and on the verge of tears. His voice, which was so full of fire mere seconds ago, now sounded hollow. Merlin's hope wilted upon seeing Arthur like this, and his magic flared again, still wanting to destroy the barrier between them.

"This means that the Pendragon house is no longer recognized, doesn't it?"

Merlin could only nod, unsure of what he could do to comfort Arthur. At Merlin's confirmation, Arthur took a shaky breath, trying to collect himself from the inner turmoil that he was surely experiencing.

"Everything... I've lost everything."

Merlin gave Arthur what he hoped was his most comforting smile, but it didn't do much for Arthur's hopeless disposition. After a small sigh, Merlin spoke again in a soft, comforting voice.

"Arthur, all is not lost. I have a way to make you king again! We just have to make you a noble again, and then I can abdicate the throne to you! And luckily for both of us, there's an easy way to make a peasant a nobleman quickly! And you should know, you wrote it into the laws yourself!"

Arthur blinked at him, not comprehending what Merlin had said for a couple seconds, before a sliver of hope showed on his face. However, as soon as it was there, it was gone again, once more replaced by anger and betrayal. Arthur quickly stormed over to the cell door, this time reaching the door itself and wrapping his hands around the bars so that he could yell in Merlin's face.

"I knew it! This was a trick!"

"What are you talking about? How would me knighting you and then giving you back your throne be a trick?!"

"You would have me swear on oath of fealty to you, which would legally, and for all I know magically, put me under your command! This was all just another plot to control me, wasn't it?!"

"Oh come on, you wouldn't have to mean it when you take the oath! You'd just have to say the words and then let me abdicate!"

"So now sacred oaths of loyalty are nothing but empty words to you?!"

"Gods, you really can't make anything easy for the both of us, can you, you prat! I'm just trying to give you your crown back!"

"You would have me disrespect the sacred oaths of knighthood! I would never swear an oath of fealty to you! It is a sacred bond of trust, which is apparently something that you know nothing about, Emrys!"

Merlin flinched back, still unused to Arthur saying the name given to him by the druids, much less hissed out in anger. Merlin backed away from the cell door and took a deep breath, trying to find some solution to this mess.

"So, I take it that you would not accept a knighthood from me?"

"Never."

Merlin sighed again, his eyes drifting around the dungeons as he tried to think of a different way to make Arthur a nobleman. Eventually, his eyes drifted back towards Arthur, who was still holding onto the bars of the cell door. As Merlin looked at Arthur, pondering any solution that he could possibly come up with, a metallic flash caught Merlin's eye, drawing it to Arthur's left hand.

There, the torchlight was reflecting off of Ygraine's ring, the one that Arthur rarely ever took off. Merlin was glad that Arthur still had it with him after everything that had just happened to provide some comfort, but it still didn't present Merlin with any solutions...

Wait.

Oh no.

Swallowing thickly, Merlin called out to Arthur again.

"Arthur, do you know of any, any other ways to elevate a peasant to the status of a noble?"

"I'm afraid not. Me granting knighthoods to peasants was the first legal opportunity for peasants to elevate their stations. There is no other way."

Merlin closed his eyes and tried to hold back his frustration. He wouldn't have to resort to that, surely?

"And you've really thought this through, Arthur? If you don't accept a knighthood, I don't think that there's any other way that I can legally make you a noble again, much less the king. Are you really prepared to go the rest of your life as a peasant with no title, no lands, no riches, nothing?"

Merlin could see that his words gave Arthur pause, forcing him to at least reconsider Merlin's offer. Merlin internally pleaded with Arthur to please don't be an idiot, just take the offer!

Finally, Arthur seemed to have reached his decision, as he glared at Merlin once again with conviction.

"I might be forced to live out my days as a peasant, but at least I'll be a peasant with my honor and integrity intact."

Merlin was, at this point, sorely tempted to bash his head into the stone wall behind him. Why, why did this clotpole have to make his life so difficult?!

Merlin gave a heavy sigh as he nodded, accepting Arthur's decision. Arthur looked rather smug about Merlin conceding to him, which he wouldn't be feeling if he knew exactly what Merlin had in mind as his contingency plan.

"Very well then. You've made it clear that you won't willingly take this one opportunity for me to give you your throne back. But make no mistake, you are the Once and Future King. This is your destiny, and I will see that it comes to pass, no matter what I have to do. I know that it might be unfair, but I only ask that you forgive me for what I do next. Please remember, everything I do, I do for you and the kingdom that you're destined to build."

Arthur's expression had gone from smug to confused to concerned very quickly, but Merlin didn't acknowledge the slight fear that had appeared on Arthur's face. Instead, he carefully pushed Arthur's blanket, which had been lying at the foot of the cell door, through the bars, ensuring that Arthur could grab it.

After that, Merlin turned on his heel and walked out of the now silent dungeons, his footsteps sounding authoritative and ominous as they echoed off of the stone walls.

Despite his measured footsteps, Merlin's mind was moving at sprinter's pace, trying to plan out everything that would need to be done in the coming days. The first thing that he definitely needed to do was let the steward know that he needed to plan a wedding on short notice.

After all, it wasn't uncommon for conquerors to marry their war prizes.

I hope you all enjoyed this continuation! Were you right in your guess as to what Merlin had in mind at the end of part 2? Please let me know if you'd like another part of this story!

I'll try to tag everyone who asked for a part 3 here. Thank you all for your support!

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And, as always, than you for reading through my ramblings! :D

You know, I didn't think that one of my most popular posts would be a joke about Arthur's troll stepmom, but I'll take it!

Now I definitely have to incorporate this into my next au!

You know what's one thing I'm disappointed we never got in Merlin? After the troll episodes, the entire event was never brought up again!

I mean, I understand if the people of Camelot would rather forget about the whole thing, but Arthur had a troll for a stepmother for like a week and Merlin never teased him about it later on?!

I would really like to write a fic or au some day set in the Golden Age where it's discovered that dragonlords got their powers from being descended from ancient powerful dragons that shapeshifted in humans and had half-human children.

And Arthur's reaction is to turn to Merlin and go "So what you're telling me is that one of your ancestors was deranged enough to sleep with a dragon? That certainly confirms my theory that your insanity is passed down through your blood."

And of course Merlin immediately fires back, "And remind me Sire, which of our family trees includes a troll?"

Arthur sputters for a moment before shouting that that doesn't count, she enchanted his father and the whole thing was a trick, before Geoffrey pipes up and says, "Actually sire, as it was an official wedding, Queen Catrina the Troll was officially added to the Pendragon family tree. And as the marriage was never formally annulled before her death, she cannot be removed from the record."

Arthur's left horrified by this, while Merlin's laughing his ass off.

I just think a scene like that would be neat!

"Why." It slips out of his lips before Arthur's dignity can catch up with his tongue and spare him, at least, this last shame.

Agravaine scoffs. "Your father bartered my sister's life for an heir. He was the mind behind her murder, but you were the hand." A shake of the head. "I'd sooner die than see you on her throne."

There is so much Arthur wants to scream at him. A defense for his father -he loved her-, defense for himself -I was a child-, but he's rendered speechless by the realization that all these months at his court, his uncle had not been on his side for a single day. He's followed plans of this man, he'd killed on his advice, he'd questioned the loyalty of friends who deserved better than that. On a traitor's word, he'd left his walls unprotected as the snake grew inside them.

"You will not get away with-" His heroic, if empty, threats are silenced by the gag that Cenred returns to his mouth, a bored expression on his face.

"We should just kill him and put his head on a spike on the inner wall. That will stop the peasant resistance quick enough."

On his knees in his own hall of ceremonies, Arthur has no idea of the state of the fight outside. He'd ordered his men to surrender, to spare their lives at least, but some refused the order and kept fighting in the streets. And for some forsaken reason the people of Camelot joined them.

When all he can see are streaks of smoke rising in the thin darkness of the evening, shades of orange painting pictures on the ceiling, Arthur can only imagine the carnage that is being consumed in his streets. The mere though pierces through his chest like a spear.

"Let the peasants die if they want," Agravaine waves a hand. "Believe me, I wouldn't mind killing my nephew right now either, but we need to secure this allegiance and his head might be our only way there."

"Yes, Morgause mentioned," Cenred stalks lazily to the long table of the feast he interrupted. He searches among the plates for a piece of dried fruit, then takes off one blood-soaked glove to toss the treat into his mouth. "Why is it that we need this wizard, exactly? I've seen what a single High Priestess can do; I can only imagine what a pair of sisters could achive." Agravaine looks pointedly at Arthur. Cenred rolls his eyes, and gathers for himself another sweet plum. "He's going to be dead in a few hours anyway. What does it matter what he hears?"

"You know it's not the magic that we lack, it's legitimacy," Agravaine seems, at least, as disgusted as Arthur feels. Except, he leans against the table to stare down at his bound and gagged nephew, so maybe not that disgusted.

As long as they're toying with him, at least, they are not toying with Guinevere. That is the one thought that keeps Arthur's spine straight through the humiliation: that his wife was sent to the dungeons with distracted orders, along with other prisoners of lower rank, men and women both, so maybe, just maybe, she could live through this ordeal. If it is Arthur's time, maybe it doesn't have to be hers as well.

"Legitimacy? They are blessed by the Goddess and I am the rightful king," Cenred scoffs.

"Not of Camelot. But fear not, Morgana has the claim to the throne, it is not the succession line that is in question." With the tip of the same dagger he'd used to cut the cape off of Arthur's shoulders, the clothes off his chest and back, leaving him in trousers and linen shirt, Agravaine points to the windows and the screams still rising beyond them, coming muffled into the air of the room. "The prophecies of old are the problem. They still have power over the Old Religion folks. You think the Catha were the only ones who turned on us? You think the druids will be the only to refuse the priestess' call? This is only the beginning."

"The Cathas are a dying breed and the druids have never seen a fight in their lives, who cares on whose side they choose to make their stand?" The fruit's seed is spat on the floor. It echoes against the tall walls and the broken bodies of the soldiers who died trying to save their king. "They will see that we cannot be stopped soon enough, and then-"

"Can we not?" Agravaine interrupts. "It is way too early to make such a bold claim, my lord."

Cenred meets Agravaine's eyes very slowly. He picks a small morsel of cheese, swallows it with lazy abandon and then picks at a piece of something left between his teeth with the nail of his little finger. "This wizard?"

"A fraud, most likely," Agravaine shakes his head. "Claims the throne of First of the Dragonlords, but everybody knows Uther put an end to that kind long ago. Still, rumours have spread and now many of the magical creature believe him to be the mythical Emrys. The greatest sorcerer to ever walk the Earth. The right hand to the king of prophecies."

"If you truly think him a fraud, then why do you suppose we need an allegiance with him? I cannot understand this. Why cannot Morgause and Morgana just kill him?"

"A fraud on our side is better than the true thing in hiding. So long as Emrys doesn't side with us, we will meet opposition from those who interpret it as his hostility. We need his support, if we are to turn all of magic against Camelot." Then, because Cenred arches a brow dauntly at him, Agravaine scoffs. "Furthermore, there is no hint as to who this person could be, or where. This is our chance for a meeting, and we must open it with a tempting offer, just in case."

"Ah," Cenred turns back to the table, taps his finger on the wood a couple times as he surveyed the spread of goods. He chooses a cup from a knight' seat - Gwaine's, Arthur's head scream, and good knows if the knight is still alive to reclaim it one day - and pours himself from a pitcher. Rich dark wine fills the goblet to the brim. Agravaine rolls his eyes at the big mouthful the king takes. "And how exactly are we supposed to recognise this great wizard?" Cenred says, licking his lips from stray drops.

Agravaine's face twists in barely contained disgust. "Well, he's going to walk in here and demand the prince of Camelot's head for himself, for one. Morgana sent word through the grapevine, that the prize is his to claime. How hard can it be to discern him, then?"

"I was merely thinking about all the times I've seen Morgana disfigure herself into an old crone, or Morgause turn her own appearance into someone else's." Cenred's steps are measured and quiet as he walks the table's edge from the sides to the center, to where Agravaine waits in front of the seats of honor. "It seems disingenuous to assume that, what, he's going to be old and decrepit and wear robes and a white beard? A staff, perhaps? Maybe a raven on his shoulder too, for flavour?"

When Cenred stops, he's just at Arthur's side and looks down on him with a pensive look. The goblet is still in his hand, and the king takes another sip. Arthur strains against his bonds, but he just as successful as another piece of cattle auctioned in the market.

"With all due respect, milord, what are you insinuating?" Agravaine asks, though there's not much respect in his tone of voice.

"Indulge me in a bit of thought." Cenred turns suddenly from Arthur, stands right in front of Agravaine. "Say this wizard is not a fraud at all. Say he is the Emrys of legends, and say that the Catha, the druids, the water sprites and the fae - all those who refused our call were right and he is not happy about this whole matter at all-," he gestures once, wide, with the arm holding the cup to the bloodied room, the scenery outside the windows, the kneeling king at last, "-how are we to know that he's not going to simply walk in here disguised as, say, a soldier? A servant? A noble, perhaps; someone above all suspicions?"

"How dare you." Agravaine has stiffened, clearly at the end of his rope, turning away from Arthur to face the other king instead, where Cenred has moved to his side now. "You accuse me of being an imposter?! I have the lady Morgana's protective sigil right here with me!"

It strikes Arthur all of a sudden, now that he stares at Cenred's calculating profile as he faces off his uncle, that he'd never seen a man of royal blood stepping into a room silently, much less unnoticed. When the attack was started, Agravaine had been sitting at his side, had waited for the perfect moment to point a dagger at Guinevere's throat and force Arthur into stillness; but Cenred, he must have been outside leading the charge, must have been with his men, and he must have entered from the main doors right at Arthur's back, right in Agravaine's face.

Yet, no matter how much he thinks about it, Arthur cannot remember the exact moment when Cenred joined them.

Agravaine has pulled out what looks like a twisted rendition of a druidic rune, and holds it dangling from his hand for the king to examine. It is made of three twigs from petrified trees, tied in a triangular shape with animal sinew and smeared with a thick, heavy substance of dark brown shade, crystalised.

Cenred looks at it with an arched brow and picks it delicately between two fingers to turn it this and that way. "So this is why nothing worked," he says.

"What-"

Arthur sees them both only by the side but that is still enough to see Cenred's eye glow gold, a brief second before Agravaine's talisman breaks off the leather string in his hand. It falls right into the cup and the wine explodes in burst of flames.

Agravaine shouts and falls back two steps. The cup is left to drop on the floor, and Arthur watches it clang against the stone floor only to spill nothing but dark, dry ashes.

The doors open to let inside an endless stream of soldiers in Essetir's colors. Cenred points to Agravaine, "Treason! The snake du Bois turns on us! Seize him!"

It is a useless endeavour, Agravaine's attempt at swaying the soldiers by turning the accusations on the men's king. Arthur watches that knowledge dawn quickly on his uncle's face, and soon the man has a sword in hand and is fighting for his life.

Just as soon, he feels a tug on his shirt and he chokes into coughs as he's dragged to his feet. "Cover me," Cenred orders his men as they let him through. "This prisoner belongs to the High Priestess. Don't let the traitor get him!"

Arthur tries to see - wants to see - the moment Agravaine is overcome by the enemies, but he can only be dragged backwards so far before he starts losing his balance. When he's forced to turn to follow after his captor, he tries to understand what's happening by hearing alone. There is a lot of screeches of metal and grunts of men, but nothing more.

They are in the hallway in a second.

Cenred doesn't take him to the end of it. Instead, halfway through, he pushes against a tapestry on the wall and all but tosses Arthur through the servants door hidden behind.

He should fight, Arthur thinks distractedly; try to get free, at the very least. For what, though? The castle is overrun, he doesn't know where his knights are, his wife is still a prisoner. This man, whoever he might be underneath the face of Essetir's king, has taken him from Agravaine's hands and that is more help than he'd expected to receive, so soon after this last betrayal.

He also seems to know the layout of his castle almost better than Arthur himself. He takes turns without hesitation, navigates the labyrinth of the easement passages with ease, knows when to tread quietly for they are passing by occupied rooms and when to hurry in a quick run to gain advantage on those who must be looking for them.

At one point, Arthur hears Cenred's voice, but it is beyond a wall and it souds absolutely enraged.

This Cenred doesn't seem to notice, too focused ahead of himself.

Arthur hasn't truly used this passages in a long time - ever since he was a boy trying to evade his tutors -, but he figures out their path with the landmarks he can, until Cenred stops by a door and turns to meet his eyes with a mistrustful look. "This will be much easier if you have your hands free," he says, and Arthur tenses all muscles when he hears a horse's neigh. "Can I trust you not to stab me in the back?"

As efficiently as he'd gagged him, this Cenred frees his mouth. Arthur spits dust and saliva at his feet, and glares, but nods stiffly.

"Very reassuring." Still, the man walks around him. A sound of blade against leather, then blade against rope, then suddenly Arthur is free.

The temptation to turn and punch is strong, but he holds himself back. Instead, he grabs Cenred by the wrist when the man reaches for the door. "I can't leave," he declares. "My people-"

"What, you really think it's just peasants fighting out there?" The sorcerer shakes his head somewhat pityingly. The urge to punch him grows stronger. "Your knights never made it to the dungeons. They should have ensured a safe route for you and your queen, by now."

"Camelot-"

"-is lost. There is nothing you can do now. Go, find shelter and regroup. You have allies that will help you retake your throne, but you need to live to save your people from the shadow of Morgana's tyranny."

The man - Arthur thinks, for a second, he sees the dark eyes of Cenred turn blue before they flare in gold - makes a quick gesture of the hand, and several thuds sound off from behind the door. When he pushes it open, brazenly, Arthur finds six soldiers of Agravaine lying on the ground. Their horses, saddled and ready, huff at the new arrivals but none screeches in alarm; they just stand meekly where they are.

Bridles are offered to him. Arthur takes them hesitantly. "Go," he hears, from the back he watches running to the door of the stables. "I will try and help as I can, but you must be quick."

There is not much to say to that, so he climbs on the horse. Cenred grabs the handle of the stable doors and meets his eyes for a confirmation. "Is it true?" Arthur cannot help but ask. "Are you Emrys, and do you oppose Morgana?"

"What is it that's so hard to understand about hurry-" Cenred glares at him. "That is what the druids call me, and I less oppose Morgana than I serve you."

Something tugs at Arthur's chest, a boiling in his blood that smells like a battlefield after victory. "Why," he asks, even though something in his bones screams that it's true and right and owed to him, yes.

Cenred's whole face softens lightly, years shaved off him for a second. "Because you will be the greatest king of all, and I will do anything in my power to see it happen."

"Must be a lot of power, if you're such a great wizard."

"Technically, a warlock."

"Yet you cannot give me back my castle right now, because-?"

A flash of disbelief runs across the man's face, then it's Cenred's face again, twisted in annoyed mask. "Oh, just get going, you-"

He pulls the door open mid-sentence. Arthur sees the soldiers outside that stop on their tracks at the gesture, sees the recognition on their faces, and instinct takes over.

His heels find the horse's flanks and they are running, flying past Cenred as he gets shrouded in shadows, and they are in the courtyard, then past the inner gates, then past the middle ones. He's in the lower town faster than any regular animal oughts to be able to run and then, in a second he's surrounded by red.

Bright, rich, powerful, familiar red.

"Sire!" Leon shouts as he brings his horse up to Arthur's side. "This way."

Percival closes ranks behind them, shielding Arthur from any possible stray arrows aimed at his back. At the last gates, Elyan and Gwaine are fighting tooth and nails to keep Cenred's men from reaching the argans and raise the bridge. When they see their companions arriving, Elyan manages to get on his horse, grab Gwaine by an arm to pull him up as well, and they are all off.

They are on safe ground outside of Camelot when, with a creak, the iron bars of the gate come crashing down on their own, and the elevating bridge lifts of its own accord, closing all the way up in spite of the voices ordering to lower it down again.

Arthur's blood keeps pumping into his ears, making rumbles of his knights' voices, until they reach the forest edge and he sees it. A single horse, with a single knight in crimson cape, and sitting astride, still in the blue dress of the feast, Guinevere.

She shakes in her seat, but Lancelot is quicker and, rather than letting her jump down and run their way, he pushes his horse in a gallop to meet them.

Arthur is freezing and in shame. He dares not imagine how many bruises and cuts, how much blood, is on his person to make Guinevere - who has seen many a terrible thing - sob that way. He reaches a hand out and finds hers and the world settles in his skin again.

Camelot is not lost, the wind sings as it ruffles his hair. The earth growls in every thud of hoof against the forest floor, your rule doesn't end today. There is fire in his chest and it promises vengeance. For some reason, his mind keeps picturing lake waters for a safe rest.

"Are we all-" he cannot find it in himself, to finish the question.

Leon is prompt to answer nonetheless. "No, Sire. When we were freed from the dungeons, so were many others. We left all wounded and simple soldiers under Gaius' charge, to find a safe place to hide in the forest. They wait for us at the caves by Lake Avalon."

"Let's go, then." For a moment, he hesitates. Decades old fear clumps his throat with mud. He thinks, truly with belief, that he's going to let it die.

Then, he meets Lancelot's eyes above Guinevere's hair, and many a memory of loyalty, care and friendship submerge him. "When you split-" he asks, to all of them but to him above others, "-did you see...?"

Leon's horse huffs nervously under his rider's command. "Sire, it was chaos. It all happened so quickly, and our priority was you-"

"I saw him," Lancelot says. "Merlin was just ahead of us, with the soldiers of the front line. He was among those that broke free first. He joined Gaius in evacuating as many as possible, I'm sure."

Too sure. Too quick to reply. His horse uneasy under the clenching of his thighs.

Arthur nods, though he doesn't relax much. "Good," he says. To a degree, he might even mean it.

He's still thinking about it, though, as they run through the forest, in spite of the dark, headed to the lake.

About how the warlock got into the castle unnoticed, when the real Cenred was out there for all his people to see. How demurely he'd moved in the Hall, almost unnoticed even in plain sight. How all the serving passages had been known to him like the back of his hand.

He thinks of words spoken in the chaos of fight, a promise of greatness that rang true and well-known, repeated and committed to memory. He thinks that the last word the man spoke his way, the last address he used after my lord, sire and king, might have been another, much-used title of his.

A Cenred who was younger, a Cenred with blue eyes, glowering and scoffing and uttering, "prat."

If he's to be found, miracolously, among the refugees when no one else caught sight of hide or tail of him during the fight, Merlin - technically, his servant - will have some explaining to do that Arthur has all intention of drawing out of him.

Hello everyone! Thank you so much for all the love you gave my most recent au! Here's a continuation of the Disir au! Enjoy!

Merlin caught on quickly that there was something... different about Arthur after his return from the Disir's cave.

He was jumpy, constantly on edge, and clearly losing sleep over something. And, worst of all, he was hiding something from Merlin.

Or, more like trying to hide something from Merlin. Because Merlin knew that something had happened at the Disir's cave, and he knew that it had something to do with the old religion.

Really, Arthur should know better than to hide a wooden worship effigy of one of the gods of the old religion in his wardrobe. The very same wardrobe that Merlin digs through every morning to find some outfit to dress his royal pratness in.

But Arthur's laughable attempts at hiding anything from his manservant aside, the crudely carved effigy in Merlin's hands raised the rather uncomfortable question: what was Arthur doing hiding an object of worship tied to the old religion in his wardrobe? If he was trying to learn more about druid customs or attempting to gain some advantage over Morgana, why hide it from Merlin of all people?

And it did seem like Merlin was the only one he was hiding this from, if the knights' shifty behavior and the unusual amount of time Arthur spent with Mordred over the past few weeks was any indication.

Even Gwen was in on it! The queen had started carving out time in the evenings for Arthur to be alone in his study, doing... something. Gwen had not told him what Arthur was doing during that time, only telling him that no one, not even Merlin, was to disturb him.

It felt like the entire castle was conspiring against Merlin! And given that it was mostly likely connected to the Old Religion based off of the presence of the worship effigy, the entire situation set Merlin on edge.

(Plus, there was a strange tingling in the back of Merlin's mind that had started the night after Arthur had returned from the Disir's cave. The odd sensation came and went at seemingly random times, but it didn't hurt. No, it felt more like something inside his mind was trying to get his attention, as strange as that sounded. Merlin wasn't sure what it was or what to make of it.)

The first question that popped into his mind was "do they know?", but something seemed too strange about this entire situation for the explanation to be as simple as his magic having been discovered, as disastrous as that would be. No, if his magic was truly discovered, the reaction would be loud, explosive, like Arthur's temper. There would not be this shifty, sneaking around behind Merlin's back if that were really the case. If Arthur felt betrayed by Merlin, he would not turn to conspiracy. That wasn't who Arthur was.

So no, Merlin's magic hadn't been discovered. Merlin's next guess was that Mordred's magic had been discovered, but that too seemed unlikely, since the king's prophesized killer was still alive and meeting with the king frequently.

Perhaps Arthur was planning on brokering peace with the druids and wanted to keep it hidden from the council to avoid the protests from Uther's lords? It seemed like something Arthur would do, and the thought of it filled Merlin with hope. But still, if that was truly what Arthur was doing, he would have told Merlin by now!

So then what could it be?! What reason did Arthur possibly have for possessing a handmade worship talisman and hiding it from Merlin?!

Merlin even tried to glean some information based on which god of the Old Religion the worship effigy was dedicated to, but the face was carved so crudely that there were no identifying features, and the base was plain, devoid of any symbols of worship that could point to the identity of the god in question.

With all of his other options having been exhausted, Merlin turned to the one method of getting answers that had yet to fail him: eavesdropping.

(Gaius could admonish him all he liked for not being able to mind his own business, but the old physician couldn't deny that Merlin seeing and overhearing things that he shouldn't have had saved the kingdom at least a dozen times over.)

Fortunately for Merlin, Arthur's newfound alone-time was at around the same time every evening, right after he had finished his dinner, and Merlin knew every nook and cranny of the king's chambers better than anyone.

It was almost laughably easy to sneak into the antechambers off of Arthur's bedroom through a hidden and rarely-used servant's passageway. These chambers would normally be where the king's manservant lived, but since Merlin lived with Gaius, they were just used for storage now, with the door between the antechambers and the king's chambers remaining locked for security purposes.

All Merlin had to climb over a few chests to get to the door and peer between a gap in the door's panels, and he now had a full view of the king's chambers without anyone even knowing that he was there.

... He probably should warn Arthur about this gap in his security at some point, since an assassin could easily make use of it, but that would have to come after Merlin had gotten the answers he needed.

Merlin sat and waited, watching Arthur's back as he stood up from his desk, stretched, and started sorting through his paperwork from the council meeting earlier that day. Merlin relaxed slightly at the sight, and as he watched Arthur do paperwork and other mundane tasks over the course of an hour, he began to wonder if he had gotten all of this wrong.

Maybe Arthur had started carving out time alone to fulfill his tasks as the king more independently? Arthur had done similar things in the past after all, pulling away from his friends and believing that he should shoulder all of his burdens by himself.

With his fears appeased by a familiar and plausible explanation for Arthur's strange behavior, Merlin considered leaving for the night, seeing as how nothing seemed to be amiss.

Well, Merlin was considering leaving for the night and dropping his suspicions there, up until Mordred silently snuck through the door and approached Arthur with a nervous smile. Merlin's body tensed at the sight, his anxiety skyrocketing at the sight of Mordred so close to Arthur with no one else present.

But Mordred didn't sneak up on Arthur with a weapon in hand, but instead greeted him warmly and led him over to the chairs in front of the fireplace. Arthur sat a bit stiffly, trying and failing to not let his discomfort show as Mordred ran around the room, gathering an odd assort of supplies from various hiding places around the room. Merlin narrowed his eyes at the sight, his jaw clenching with concern for Arthur and hatred for that little snake. What was Mordred doing to Arthur?

Merlin nearly threw stealth out the window and crashed through the door when he sensed the faint traces of magic on the supplies- ritual supplies, he finally recognized- that Mordred gathered. The only thing that made Merlin hesitate was the lack of magic on Arthur. If the king was already under some sort of spell or enchantment from that treacherous bane posing as a knight, Merlin would be able to sense it.

Then why was Arthur just sitting there and letting Mordred gather objects for a ritual?! Why would he-

"I'm glad that you're taking so well to the basics of the Old Religion, sire. I'm sure that the Disir would be pleased with your progress. Now that you've gotten the hang of the general worship rituals that druids perform to all the gods, we can start focusing more on the rituals and ceremonies specific to Emrys."

Merlin jumped at the mention of his druidic title, knocking over multiple pieces of furniture in his shock. It was only a quickly placed spell to dampen sound that saved him from revealing his presence.

What was Mordred thinking?! Why was he teaching Arthur about Emrys of all people?

Or... was he trying to sow a distrust of Emrys in Arthur? Yes, that was exactly what that nefarious puppet for Morgana was doing. Turning Arthur against his own protector would allow Mordred the opportunity to drive a wedge between them, leaving Arthur vulnerable and Merlin would not allow this!

Merlin called upon his power, the magic always swirling underneath his skin, and aimed it at that snake Mordred, ready to strike him down before his plans could come to fruition. But, before he could direct his magic to strike, Arthur finally spoke.

"Thank you, Mordred. I don't know how I'd do this without you. I cannot regret agreeing to the Disir's demands, of course, but never thought that the worship of the Old Religion was this complex."

Arthur's words made him pause, freezing in his cramped hiding place. So, it wasn't Mordred pushing Arthur into this?

Hm, shame. It looked like Arthur's prophesized killer was still waiting to play his hand. Merlin would smite him with all his might when Mordred finally revealed his true colors, but it seemed like that day was yet to come.

So, it was the Disir at fault for this? They were the ones responsible for this perversion of destiny's will?

Merlin's lips curled with disgust as he watched Mordred instruct Arthur on how to properly pray to Emrys using a talisman. His irritation only increased as that buzzing headache suddenly came back.

Because this?! This was never supposed to happen. Merlin- and by extension, Emrys- was made for Arthur, to guide and protect him as he fulfilled his destiny. The druids could worship him all they liked in the meanwhile, but Arthur was never supposed to kneel before Emrys, never meant to pray to him.

Emrys is Arthur's servant, not the other way around.

This had to stop. Now.

And that's all for now! I hope you all enjoyed this continuation! I'll probably do a part 3, since I have some ideas on where this will go next!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

A big thank you to everyone who requested this continuation! I'll try to tag you all here, my apologies if I missed anyone!

@rocks-d-xerxes, @lolazoel, @griffonskies, @error-username-not-available, @thesuperstitiousoldelf

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Thank you for updating a second chance. I read it now and i love it. Also i wanted to ask if someday you can update blood red robin and thomas wayne adventures in grandparenting?

Hi! I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Since I'm working on A Second Chance again, I'll probably update Thomas Wayne's Adventures in Grandparenting as well, since it's side stories from A Second Chance. As for Blood Red Robin, the truth is that I don't know if I'll come back to that fic. I'd like to work on it again some day, and the inspiration for it might come back, so I don't want to abandon it, but I honestly don't know if I'll finish that one. Thanks for the ask!

I am once again pushing my agenda that the druids could bypass the "Life for a Life" requirement with the cup of life if they had the power and support of a god for the ritual. I have two ideas about how this would go:

I would like to think that one of the gods of the old religion looked at Leon and said "Man, you know what would be even better than killing one of Uther's head knights? Forcing him to live for-fucking-ever and denying him the sweet release of death!" And then the god punished Leon by transferred all of the years that Leon's victim during the Purge should have lived (had their lives not been cut short) onto Leon. Needless to say, that's a LOT of years.

The Druids were like "Hey, isn't this guy chill with Emrys? Maybe we should call him in." And they called upon Emrys's power to keep Leon alive, unbeknownst to Merlin. So now, Merlin's endless magic is what keeps Leon alive, leading to his immortality.

Still wondering who died for Sir Leon when the druids saved him with the cup of life. 👀

In honor of Merlin reaching number one on trending today!

Hey, which one of you leaked my search history?!

sexy knights. sexy wounded knights. sexy wounded weary knights. sexy wounded weary knights in the rain. sexy wounded weary knights in the rain pledging their loyalty to you.