Fate Itself Unravelled

Epilogue

Six months later.

A jubilant air had descended upon Camelot as the day the magic ban was formally going to be repealed dawned bright and cloudless, the golden glow of the early morning spring sun, bathing and blessing the citadel and the Kingdom in a shower of warmth and light.

The same golden sunlight streamed into a certain set of chambers in one of the highest levels of the castle, where two figures shifted comfortably and drowsily in the massive bed as the sun's rays nudged them both awake.

A mop of black hair popped outside the cocoon of blankets that had swaddled them both, soon followed by a pair of blue eyes, blinking vigorously against the light as faint bustling sounds of the city waking up crept in through the window.

After a whole minute of grunting unhappily, the raven man kicked away the blankets from his body, only to find his earlier cacophony of discontented noises at being woken up were now being taken up by his partner, whose own blond hair had been forced out of the blankets by his bedmate's movements. He grunted unhappily, a singular had snaking out from under the blankets to bat around for the edge so he could pull them over his head again.

The bedmate smiled down at the scene, heart filling with a simple joy for a minute before being rapidly replaced by a streak of mischief. Grabbing the shared blankets with both hands, he pulled, revealing a half-naked body attached to the head.

It was high time both of them got up. Owing to the fact that it was the conclusion of a very stressful time for both of them, the two men had allowed themselves a short lie-in, but, in the end, a kingdom did need its sovereign, and the sovereign his destiny—especially on a day as momentous as this one.

The action elicited a very annoyed groan from the aforementioned sovereign sprawled on the bed, followed by a flip onto the stomach and the opening of a single eye, as he proceeded to level his partner with an exceedingly vexed gaze.

"Give back my blankets, Merlin , before I decree a Royal issue that dictates you to sleep outside my chambers for the foreseeable future." Arthur's voice came out highly muffled, due to the fact that his mouth was mushed against the pillow below his head, but it wasn't very difficult to discern for someone who had known him for over a decade and was intimately familiar with his prattish ways exactly what he was saying.

Merlin mock-gaped. "You wouldn't ."

Arthur lifted his head and levelled both of his eyes at his lover. "Want to try me? Remember, I am still the King of this land, so think carefully about what you are going to say before you speak."

Merlin dumped the blankets onto the foot of the bed. "You know that won't make a difference. I would still say the same thing." Then, "Prat."

"Idiot," Arthur countered, wiggling on his bed as he stretched out a hand to grab the blankets once again. It was a comical sight, but not enough to distract Merlin from what he was attempting to do.

"Nuh uh," he said, and with a flash of golden in his eyes the blankets picked themselves up from the bed, shooting across the room and dropping neatly folded onto an armchair near the fireplace. "Today's an important day, Arthur, you need to get up."

"I don't want to." Arthur turned onto his side away from Merlin, arms tucked around his chest as he made to sleep again. "And I am King, so no one tells me what to do."

"Except for me," Merlin quipped, rounding across the bed and proceeding to poke the King in the hip. "Arthur," he said, punctuating the address with another poke. "Arthur." Poke. "Arthur, wake up." Poke, poke.

Poke.

Arthur opened a single disgruntled eye and stared at him.

"Stop it."

"No."

Arthur closed his eyes again.

"Arthur, get up before I tickle you."

Arthur opened both his eyes to stare at him in horror. "You wouldn't ," he said, repeating Merlin's own words from earlier.

"Want to try me? I am the most powerful sorcerer in the land, so think carefully about what you are going to say before you speak."

Arthur's eyes narrowed at having his own words parroted back at him. Merlin's grin widened.

"Fine." Arthur sighed, flipping onto his back. "I won't be able to sleep anymore anyway." Merlin shifted away as Arthur sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Merlin picked up and pulled on a linen tunic discarded to the floor, turning around to only see that Arthur had been following his movements, his eyes glancing up towards his from where they were trained onto his torso.

Right where a scar from his days in the forest six months ago arced over his breastbone, one of the largest ones he had received during that experience.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, his formerly drowsy voice filled with sadness.

Merlin sighed, fingers dropping the laces he was attempting to tie, before moving towards Arthur and cradling his face with both of his hands.

"You've nothing to be sorry for," Merlin told him, enunciating every word.

Arthur's gaze skittered away from him.

"I banished you."

"And then you brought me back. It was a mistake, and you fixed it."

"You're still hurt." Arthur's hand ghosted over the scar on his chest, before moving downwards and settling on his hip, where a broken bone was still healing, the skin coloured a pale yellow of a bruise spanning a handspan on his skin.

"It was a mistake." Merlin emphasised, shaking him a little. "You realised it as such, and you fixed it."

Both of them stared at each other, and eventually Arthur's eyes softened. "Yes, I did."

Merlin's face broke out in a smile. " Yes, you did . Now, come on, Albion awaits The Once and Future King."

"And Emrys." Arthur pointed out.

"And Emrys," Merlin agreed, dropping his hands and threading his fingers through Arthur's own.

Yes, Albion did.

FIN