Hey, all! Hope you guys are nice and safe during this quarantine. I'm an extrovert so I've kind of been going out of my mind. I've literally painted my whole house during this. But anyway, here's an update for you! I hope you like it!

Arthur sat at the head of his table. It was beyond late, and he could feel the tiredness in his bones. But he couldn't get his mind off of the strange warlock who had suddenly entered his life and the villain who seemed intent on destroying them both. Arthur had had threats to his life before, but it was nothing like this. And he certainly hadn't had a warlock protecting him before…

Unless Merlin was to be believed.

And his dreams were true.

That was perhaps the hardest part. If it was just Merlin's word, it would be easier to refute. But it was him, too. And Gwaine. And Gwen.

Lovely, lovely Gwen who sat next to him at the table.

"Do you believe what Arken said?" she asked. Her eyes were worried, uncertain. He had just finished telling her everything about the conversation with Merlin and the other sorcerer. "Do you really believe that our memories of Merlin were stolen from us?"

"Yes, I do."

Something rang deep within him, and he knew it was the truth. Everything about Merlin screamed familiarity. Like there was something more to him that Arthur should know. He felt like a friend. And the dreams. Dreams where Merlin was his servant and they traveled to far off places together. Dangerous quests, hunting trips, far off journeys. He remembered such things, he just remembered them differently. But it was strange. He knew Merlin should be there. And having the warlock close seemed natural.

"Me too," Gwen sighed. There was a moment's pause, and then the maidservant broached a subject he had been carefully avoiding. "And what about the magic, Arthur?"

Pain filled his powder blue eyes as he suddenly became fixated with the woodgrain of his table. He felt nauseous just thinking about it. "I don't know. In the dreams… he doesn't have magic." Uncertainty filled his voice. "At least I don't think. And it feels… wrong."

"But doesn't it also feel right? Like suddenly everything makes sense."

"But what makes sense? I don't truly remember anything. I just know how I feel. And I feel terrible."

"Because of Merlin's magic… Or because of what's happened in the past?"

Arthur sighed. "I don't know. I know that Merlin's different. I've never met someone who uses magic for good; who's used it to protect me. I'm…" he rubbed his face. "It's all so foreign. I don't know what to do."

Guinevere reached over and folded her hand around the king's. "It seems there's little we can do. I trust Merlin, and if Arken and our dreams are to be believed, we were all close friends before all this happened. I think all we can do is believe in Merlin, and get to know him more. You have a rare opportunity to get to know your best friend a second time."

"My best friend wouldn't keep his magic a secret from me for years," Arthur said bitterly.

"Then learn why he did it. It hurts me too, but we have to believe that he had a good reason for keeping it a secret."

"He could have been killed," the king deadpanned. "If he had told anyone, he could have been killed. That's why. I understand why he couldn't tell just anyone, but if we were his closest friends… Why didn't you know? Were we really friends?"

"What do you mean?"

"Imagine having magic and being the king's manservant. Did he live in fear for his life everyday? Or did he trust that I wouldn't have him killed? Why wouldn't he just quit? I know he didn't choose magic, but why stay in Camelot? Why protect someone who could have him killed for just breathing?"

Gwen's fingers squeezed the king's hand. "These are questions for Merlin. The only way to learn the truth is to talk to him. I'm sure he'd be willing. I've seen the way he looks at you. Like a brother who misses his family. Be a friend to him. Learn from him."

Arthur sighed and straightened, running his free hand through his hair. "As usual, you're probably right."

"I know you can do this, Arthur."

The sun was setting the next day when Arthur finally worked up the courage to talk to the resident warlock. It had been a frankly boring day. No appearance from Arken. Training. Paperwork. A counsel meeting. And now the king was sitting at his desk, looking over even more paperwork in regards to border patrols, while Merlin sat in front of the hearth, tending to the fire.

The king took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "Merlin, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

He looked up from the crackling flames and just barely met Arthur's gaze. Every part of him seemed tense. "Yes?"

"Why Camelot?" Arthur asked. "I mean, other kingdoms are more tolerant of magic, but Camelot…" Both of them were well aware of the laws, of what could happen to Merlin if anyone had found out about his powers. And yet, if his dreams were to be believed, the warlock had been in Camelot for years, as his own manservant no less.

Merlin stood, stretching as he walked towards the king. He sat in the chair opposite. "My mother is friends…" Arthur saw the warlock's face pinch. "…is friends with Gaius. My magic is instinctual, and it was always getting me into trouble in my small village. I couldn't control it. People were starting to notice that I was different. My mother thought that maybe Gaius could help me control it."

"So Gaius uses magic as well?" he deadpanned. Another feeling of betrayal flashed through him, something he felt every morning after he'd dreamed about Merlin. So was Merlin not the only one who betrayed him?

Merlin quickly backtracked. "No, not anymore. He used to before the Purge, but Uther spared him if he promised not to practice anymore."

The king folded his arms across his chest, taking a deep breath. "Alright." He looked at Merlin: at his dark raven hair, his piercing blue eyes, and his silly red neckerchief. Everything reminiscent from his dreams. "And you were my servant?"

"Yes."

"But I didn't know about your magic?"

"No."

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" The lingering strain of hurt colored his tone. He didn't want it to. He was king after all; he was meant to be composed at all times. Perhaps especially now in front of a warlock. He was supposed to be regal. But that's far from what he was feeling. He already regretted asking. Nothing good could come from it, he knew. He would just be hurt even more.

Merlin closed his eyes, a deep frown pulling at his lips. A moment passed before he answered. "I… I wanted to. I really did. I just… At first, before we were close, I admit I was afraid. I didn't know what would happen to me if you knew. It wasn't that I didn't trust you, I… I guess I didn't trust anyone, not at first. And when we became friends, there was never a good time. You were always busy, or your life was always at risk-"

"-so it's my fault?"

"No, of course not. I… I was a coward. I know that. I got so used to being in hiding. It just seemed like the best option."

Arthur sighed, running a hand across his face. "Would you have ever told me?"

"I like to think so. I've imagined it so many times in my head."

"I don't really remember anything, per say, but in my dreams… we were good friends."

"We were. And we can be again, Arthur. I just need to figure out how to get that jewel from Arken. And then everything can go back to normal."

Arthur cracked a small smile. "I don't think 'normal' is exactly how I would describe us." He bit his lip., longing flooding him. He knew he shouldn't feel anything towards Merlin, it didn't make sense, but he missed him. Somehow. Somehow, he really missed his best friend. He wanted the past. He didn't even know what that entailed, but he wanted it back. "Merlin, is there any way you could retrieve my memories?"

The warlock looked startled. "I'd need to use magic to try," he said blandly.

He'd known it would be necessary, so Arthur just nodded, silently giving consent. Merlin carefully stood, making his way around the desk.

"Can you stand?" he asked.

Arthur did. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, so he just kept his arms at his sides, awaiting Merlin's orders. There was some part of him screaming at him that this was wrong, that magic was wrong, but a greater part said 'go for it. Merlin wouldn't harm you.' That's the part that Arthur chose to listen to.

The warlock lifted his hands towards Arthur's head. "May I?"

Arthur nodded, and Merlin placed two fingers just on his temples. His touch was cold, but he could immediately feel magic flooding within him as Merlin closed his eyes in concentration. It was warm, familiar, and comforting. Nothing like he thought magic would feel like. But again, this was Merlin.

He could imagine golden tendrils tenderly wrapping around his mind, calm and comforting. Arthur closed his eyes as he let his body relax into the warmth of Merlin's magic. Memories began ebbing through him. Slowly at first, but then gaining speed and depth as the magic continues to weave it's way through his mind.

"Clotpole"

"My word."

Arthur gasped at the memory, so clear and precise, and he knew it was truth. It was real. It was as true memory. Merlin was his best friend. How could he have ever forgotten him? Shame hit him like a trampling horse, and he suddenly felt so terrible he wanted to be sick.

And then pain exploded in his mind. His temples were pounding. Heat like no other swarmed his body. Nothing like the warmth of Merlin's magic. This was vile, threatening, and the king screamed.

Merlin jumped backwards, letting his grasp of Arthur slip as the king fell into his chair. Arthur doubled over, grasping his head as the pain passed. He tried to slow his breathing, to calm down, and after a few moments, he felt better. He looked at Merlin, who was staring at Arthur with resigned sadness, desperation, and grief.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," he gasped. His eyes were watering, but no tears were shed. "I'm sorry. Arken buried them too deep. If I went any further, you might suffer permanent memory loss."

"But… but I remember something. Clotpole. Does that mean anything to you?"

Then Merlin smiled and laughed, a single tear falling down his cheek. "Out of everything, you remember that?"

The king grinned broadly. "So it's real then? I have something real?"

"Yes," Merlin laughed. He grabbed the stitches on his side as his laugh deepened. "It happened. You have a real memory!"

"Merlin," the king said seriously. "Thank you."

"Of course. My magic has always been for you."