Merlin: the secret prince

Prince Merlin Emrys Ambroiusis of Deria and First Knight Percival

After the emotional weight and revelations of the previous day, Arthur found himself unsettled. The chamber was quiet—too quiet for a king burdened with the kind of choice that could reshape not just his kingdom, but his very identity as a ruler.

He stood in front of the great window of his chambers, watching as the morning sun spilled golden light over the towers of Camelot. The light reflected off the polished stone, bathing the room in a warm, almost divine glow. Behind him, a presence—familiar and grounding—waited patiently.

"Merls," Arthur said softly, his voice tinged with hesitation. "What do you think we should do?"

Merlin didn't answer right away. He watched Arthur carefully, taking in the worry etched across the young king's features. Arthur turned to face him, the weight of the crown evident in his eyes.

"I want to help them," Arthur admitted. "The knights of Deria, their prince... they're desperate. But helping them—supporting magic—it goes against everything I've ever known. Everything my father taught me."

Merlin stepped closer, his tone calm yet resolute. "I won't make this decision for you, Arthur. But let me tell you what I believe."

Arthur nodded, silent.

"This isn't about old friendships or hidden loyalties. This is about justice. About righting a wrong. The kingdom of Deria has fallen under a tyrant's rule. They need help. And I'm telling you now, not because I knew them once, but because I know what Deria stood for. What it could be again."

He paused, his eyes distant, filled with memory.

"Magic isn't evil. No more than a sword is. It's simply a tool. It reflects the heart of the one who wields it. A sword can defend the innocent or spill blood in hatred. Magic is no different. The danger lies not in the power, but in the purpose."

Arthur furrowed his brow. "So Nimueh... she uses magic to destroy because her heart was already lost?"

Merlin nodded slowly. "Exactly. When I was young, I visited Deria. It was a place of joy and harmony. Magic was life itself. It healed, it built, it brought prosperity. Magic users were respected, not hunted. They served in the army, in the council. Even the common folk practiced small magics to heal, to grow, to share. It was a golden age. And it can be again."

He looked directly into Arthur's eyes.

"Before you make your choice, think of your own past. Think of the times you should've died—when you were outnumbered, outmatched, poisoned. Remember those moments when you felt a presence guiding you, protecting you. That wasn't chance. It was someone who would give their life for you without a second thought."

Arthur fell into silence, his thoughts spiraling. He recalled the countless close calls, the narrow escapes that defied logic. And deep down, he had always known. There was something—someone—watching over him.

The doors creaked open, breaking his reverie. The Knights of the Round Table entered, followed closely by Morgana. They moved with purpose, though a tension lingered in the air.

Percival approached Merlin, and in an unexpected gesture, bowed deeply to him—a show of respect so profound it made Arthur blink in surprise. There was something in that bow, something ancient and sacred. Not loyalty to a servant. Loyalty to a leader.

Arthur's mind swam. He remembered their whispered conversations during hunts, the way Percival always shielded Merlin first when danger struck. He had never questioned it before. Merlin was like a brother to him. But now...

The respect Percival held for Merlin was something else entirely. It was deeper. Unspoken. And Arthur, for the first time, wondered if he had missed something right in front of him.

When all had gathered, Arthur stood.

"I spoke with Merlin before you arrived," he began. "And he showed me something I refused to see. That magic, like any force, is shaped by the one who holds it. I was raised to believe magic was evil. But I see now that was wrong."

He took a breath. "Despite everything I was taught, I have made my decision. I will help the knights of Deria reclaim their kingdom and find their prince and First Knight. And more than that... I will begin the process of legalizing magic in Camelot."

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the room.

Lancelot stepped forward. "You've made the right choice, Sire. I once visited Deria as a boy. Magic there was light, not darkness. I remember their prince—noble, kind, brave. He knew every villager by name. He helped where he could. He smiled like a man who carried the hopes of his people with pride. I haven't seen that smile in years. But I believe we may see it again."

Arthur gave him a grateful nod. "Then let's deliver news to Prince Noah and his men. Perhaps today we restore hope."

The knights of Deria waited in the throne room, their postures tense but hopeful. As Arthur entered with his knights, all eyes turned to the king.

Arthur seated himself on the throne and addressed them with regal clarity.

"I have come to a decision," he said.

Prince Noah stepped forward. "What is your will, Your Majesty?"

Arthur met his eyes. "Camelot will aid you in reclaiming Deria. We will help you find your missing prince and First Knight. I have long suspected something amiss in your kingdom. Now I see the truth."

Noah bowed his head. "Thank you, Sire. But... we have already found them. They are safe."

Arthur blinked. "Truly? Then I must have met your brother without realizing it. I would like to meet him now."

Not yet, Merlin said silently to Noah and the Derian knights. I will reveal myself when the time is right.

Morgana tilted her head, noticing Noah's hesitation. "This prince of yours... he must be remarkable, from what we've heard. I too wish to meet him."

Sir Elijah stepped forward. "Sire, with your permission, I would like to address the room."

Arthur nodded. "Go ahead, Sir Elijah."

The knight turned toward the crowd.

"Sire... I know you hoped to delay your reveal. But your kingdom needs you. Your friends need you. Your brother, your sister. We have waited so long. We want our prince back. And we want our First Knight. You are both more than leaders. You are family."

At the back of the room, Merlin exhaled slowly.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me 'Sire', Eli?" he said, his voice wry. "Even Percival's tired of hearing it."

A stunned silence fell. Heads turned.

Merlin stepped forward, drawing himself to full height. His steps were slow, deliberate—every stride filled with quiet authority. Percival joined him, shoulder to shoulder, the bond between them unbreakable.

Strength. Grace. Nobility.

Merlin's infamous smile returned, softer now, filled with pride and familiarity as his eyes met those of his knights.

At the foot of the throne, both men knelt.

Sir William stepped forward and declared:

"I, Sir William of Deria, present to you Crown Prince Merlin Emrys Ambrosius—our rightful heir, our leader, our brother. And beside him, Sir Percival—our First Knight, the most loyal warrior and steadfast friend."