Word of Arthur’s newfound magic spread through Camelot like wildfire. The courtiers whispered in hushed tones, their eyes darting between the king and the warlock. Some feared the change, while others saw it as a sign of hope—a bridge between two worlds.
Merlin, now fully recovered, stood by Arthur’s side during council meetings. His eyes sparkled with mischief, knowing that the man who once scoffed at magic now wielded it. They shared secret glances, their bond stronger than ever.
One day, as they walked through the castle gardens, Merlin nudged Arthur. “You know, sire, you’re not half bad with magic.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Don’t get used to it. I’m still a warrior, not some sorcerer.”
“But you saved my life,” Merlin said. “And you’ve been practicing.”
Arthur hesitated. “I can’t control it like you can. It’s unpredictable.”
Merlin grinned. “That’s the beauty of magic. It defies rules.”
They reached the edge of the garden, where a wounded bird lay. Its wing was bent, feathers matted. Arthur knelt beside it, his hand glowing with golden light. The bird chirped, its wing straightening.
“You see?” Merlin said. “You’re a natural.”
Arthur scowled. “I’m not healing birds for fun.”
“But you could,” Merlin teased. “Imagine the possibilities. Healing the sick, mending broken bones, growing crops—”
“Enough,” Arthur said. “I won’t become some magical healer.”
But Merlin knew better. Arthur’s heart had softened. He saw the suffering in the eyes of the people—the farmers with ailing livestock, the children with fevers. Arthur’s magic could change their lives.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the castle walls, Arthur stood on the balcony, staring at the distant hills. Merlin joined him, the wind ruffling his hair.
“You’re meant for more than battles,” Merlin said. “Your magic is a gift.”
Arthur clenched the railing. “It’s a curse. My father—”
“Your father was wrong,” Merlin interrupted. “He feared magic because he didn’t understand it. But you—you have the chance to rewrite history.”
Arthur sighed. “What do you suggest?”
“Start small,” Merlin said. “Heal a child’s scraped knee. Ease a farmer’s pain. Show them that magic isn’t evil.”
And so, Arthur did. He visited the villages, disguised in a simple cloak. He healed bruises, mended fences, and whispered hope into the hearts of the people. Rumors spread—the Once and Future King, a secret sorcerer.
One day, a desperate mother brought her sick child to Arthur. The boy’s fever raged, and the healers were powerless. Arthur hesitated, then placed his hand on the child’s forehead. The magic flowed—a gentle warmth that eased the fever. The boy’s eyes fluttered open.
The mother wept. “Thank you, sire. You’re an angel.”
Arthur’s heart swelled. He returned to Camelot, knowing he couldn’t hide forever. The court awaited him—the nobles, the knights, and the council. They gathered in the Great Hall, their eyes on the throne.
Arthur stepped forward, Merlin at his side. “People of Camelot,” he began, “I have kept a secret—a truth that defies our history. I am a sorcerer.”
Gasps echoed through the hall. Arthur raised his hand, and golden light danced across his palm. “But magic isn’t evil. It’s a force that can heal, protect, and create.”
He told them of Merlin’s prophecy, of the hidden mirror, and of the healing flame that burned within him. The court listened, their fear giving way to curiosity.
“And so,” Arthur declared, “I decree that magic shall no longer be forbidden. Let it be studied, respected, and used for the betterment of our kingdom.”
The crowd erupted in cheers. Merlin grinned, and even Gaius wiped away tears. The Magic Accord was rewritten—the treaty that bound Camelot to its magical beings. Sorcerers stepped into the light, their abilities no longer hidden.
And Arthur? He became the greatest sorcerer Camelot had ever known—a king who wielded both sword and magic, a bridge between two worlds.
And so, the legend of Merthur continued—a tale of love, courage, and the healing flame that changed everything.
Tbc~
