Author's Notes: The original version of this included lyrics from songs. If you'd like to read the version with lyrics, please go to my livejournal page (the link to which can be found on my profile.

Written for glenien 's prompt: Healing hands of the King. LOTR reference, Arthur is able to do magic, just once: to heal Merlin.

Not sure if it's what they wanted, but it's what the prompt inspired me to write. Also, I think it may be a little OOC for Arthur, but I think, considering the circumstance, that's alright. Also, he's alone. He doesn't have to be anything for anyone

Healing Hands of the King (or, What Merlin Never Knew)

Merlin lies on the bed, still and silent, unaware of Arthur's scrutiny.
("How can I save him? Please help, me!")

They are alone, he asked their friends to wait outside.
("You would take my advice, Arthur Pendragon?")

Arthur doesn't move anything but his eyes, taking in the sight of his lover desperately, as the night draws to a close.

(Arthur hesitates, lowers his head. "Yes." he admits quietly, and then louder "Yes. Anything. Anything, for him.")

The fire is burning low, but Arthur doesn't notice due to the numbness in his chest.
("Anything?" "Please," Arthur begs again. "Please. I have to save him.")

Arthur runs over his memory of the battle desperately, replaying the moments when he realized Merlin was no longer standing beside him, foolish and scared. But bright, infinitely bright, the physical manifestation of all that Arthur was fighting for.

("He cannot be saved by any normal means." "Magic," Arthur breathes. "It has to be magic, doesn't it?" "Indeed," the other voice intones. "And you will not find the help you need within Camelot." "We—we have Sorcerers. I—I'll find them." "It would do no good, young Pendragon.")

But Merlin, stupid, stupid Merlin, was hit by a spell before he had a chance to attempt to deflect it, too busy trying to protect Arthur. "Stupid, Merlin," Arthur now whispers affectionately to the man on the bed.

("Why? It would be magic." "But not from the correct wielder. The magic must come from the Healing Hands of the King." It takes a minute for this to sink in. Arthur turns white. "I, I have no magic." He is surveyed through large eyes. "Indeed," the being says impassively. "No!" Arthur shouts, suddenly angry. "That can't be it! Merlin can't die. I can't let Merlin die!")

Arthur walks toward the bed, knowing the risk he takes, knowing that if the spell is still unbroken when the sun has risen fully, Merlin will die. But he cannot stop himself.

Tenderly, more tenderly than Arthur has ever touched Merlin when the other man was awake, Arthur brushes the hair off Merlin's brow, runs a soothing hand across Merlin's forehead and down his cheek.

("There is one way. Just once, I could give you magic. If you could bring yourself to accept the thing you were taught to revile." "Magic?" Arthur asks. "I repealed the laws against magic, didn't I? Of course I accept it." Large eyes stare straight to his soul. "We both know that you only did that for Merlin, King Arthur." Arthur thinks for a minute, thinks of the crushing horror he felt when he realized Merlin would not wake, thinks of the desperation it took to come here. "I could do it. I will do it.")

Arthur bends and kisses Merlin gently on the lips. Merlin does not stir, but his eyelids flicker restlessly. Light is creeping into the world, illuminating Merlin's face angelically.

("Very well. There is just one more condition." "What?" Arthur snaps, angry that the conversation is taking so long. "You must give up the thing you cherish most." "What? My kingdom for Merlin's life? My life for Merlin's?" Arthur bends his head and stares at the ground once again. "I... I'll do it," he mumbles, ashamed of the depth of his love.

The being shifts in surprise, scales scraping harshly against the rock of the large cave. He bows his head in something like a nod, and Arthur feels a rush of something vaguely tingly and warm run through his body, making him feel as though he has not just fought a battle and then walked far from his home to find a Dragon in a cave.

"Now, Pendragon," the Great Dragon says with something like pity in his eyes, "has the magic illuminated you as to what you truly cherish most?")

Arthur stands up, away from the bed, letting go of Merlin's hand which he had grabbed without noticing. He walks toward the open window, leaning with his hands against the sill, surveying the courtyard where the dead and the grieving are congregated. Wearily, he closes the shutters and turns back toward Merlin. Even with the shutters closed the room is almost completely illuminated, and Arthur knows it is time.

(Arthur hadn't realized until the Dragon spoke.

What did he cherish most?

What was it that could fill him with more terror than anything he had ever fought, simply by being hurt?

What was it that could make him run miles, hoping desperately to find the Dragon, hoping, always hoping, that it wasn't too late, that there was something that could be done?

What could brighten his whole day simply by smiling?

What could inspire such love and devotion in him that he'd give up his own life, give up his kingdom, and desert his people, for it?

The Dragon nods again.

"Merlin." Arthur croaks, horror filling his chest. "But! You said. You said he'd live. You said he'd be fine!"

"Indeed I did, young Pendragon," the Dragon said. "And I did not lie. Merlin will live. You see, even more than Merlin himself, you cherish the love you share.")

Arthur looks at Merlin's face, thinking that if he could stop time now he would, and just looking at Merlin's face would be enough to get him through all eternity.

"I love you," he says, loudly, as though he wants everything in the room, from the walls to the clothes in the closet, to be imbued with his love, to carry it on when he can no longer show it. "And...I'm not sorry. Not if you get to live."

("You will be bound not to show Merlin that love. You may still feel it, but he will not believe you do. Marry, produce heirs. Magic will save Merlin, and magic will keep you apart.")

Arthur says the words of power. He says them, and immediately they and the rush of power that had filled him are gone.

"Goodbye," he says quietly to Merlin, who is already noticeably better, twisting and turning in his sleep as he normally does.

Arthur turns and walks out the door.

*** *** ***

Later, much, much later, when the world has grown over the ruins of Arthur's Albion
(After, after they have all fallen and the blood seeps into the earth)
And nothing concrete is remembered about the men who shaped the Golden Time of Albion
(When people are confused, minds addled by rumors and things no person wants to remember)
Tales are told about King Arthur and his Sorcerer Merlin, two mystical figures who may never have lived
(There are whisperings, stories told by the fire, of a beloved time past, of a better time)

They tell of courage, chivalry, of tournaments and quests
(They speak of the dark force of Love that destroyed King and kingdom alike)
They tell of great feats of magic, of Kings and Queens, of hope and prosperity
(Of prosecution and fear, death and betrayal, and the flash of blades against a backdrop of death)

They tell of the great Merlin, who counseled King Arthur and fought many battles for him
(Quietly, in reverent tones, they talk of the legendary Merlin, the last of the Sorcerers, who was King Arthur's friend until a battle that took place beside the sea)
They describe his battles, the people he killed for his King
(They grow confused, remarking on his eccentricities, his passions)

But then, they move on again to the more interesting subject of King Arthur and his Queen, Guinevere (Ever more quietly, they whisper in subdued voices about how Merlin was never attached to a woman. About his fierce loyalty to the King, despite how rarely they talked.

And, always, they whisper, "The Great Merlin was a solitary man...")

Fin