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Chapter Text

He was trembling as he hung from the roof in the witch's cold, dark hovel, skin and clothes wet from the water she had thrown over him hours ago. Or maybe it was from a fever sweat. He'd likely been here long enough for an infection to set into the cut on his chest. He watched her pacing back and forth idly before the earthen altar in the middle of the room, for everything looking like a Queen in her throne room, about to deal out either gracious mercy or a punishment she found absolutely delicious. He wondered if it was warm by her altar, adorned with so many candles.

"Have you ever heard of a Fomorroh, Merlin?"

It was lucky her eyes were focused on the metal amulet she was stroking with her long, pale fingers. If they hadn't been, she may have glimpsed the way Merlin's body briefly stiffened, and the flash of fear in his eyes because yes, he had heard of a Fomorroh. The idea of Morgana possessing one of the creatures was not a pleasant one. The shelves standing haphazardly around the room were covered in strange jars and pots and Merlin's eyes flicked over them. Maybe one of those held the beast.

"Of course you haven't," she continued, smile dripping with mockery when she turned back to him. "Why would you? A lowly servant like you could never know of the wonders of the old religion."

"Perhaps you could enlighten me then? You do seem to enjoy the sound of your own voice." He really should have learned to stop antagonising her by now, after a day (or was it two?) spent hanging from her ceiling, the buckets of icy water, and the harsh presses against his already wounded chest. He gritted his teeth to hold back a hiss as she chose this as a way to chastise him again. The flail had left a long, deep, gouge in his skin, along with what he expected was an impressive bruise, and this time her finger found the centre of that cut.

"Then again," she went on as if he hadn't spoken, "perhaps Gaius has taught you a thing or two." She pushed him away hard as she stepped back, causing him to lose his footing and swing back and forth a few times. His arms had gone numb many hours ago, but the ache in his shoulders was approaching the pain in his chest now, and he couldn't hold back a gasp this time. Morgana snickered.

"It is a creature of dark magic. In the days of the Old Religion," she 'enlightened' him as she stalked away, "the High Priestesses would use the Fomorroh to enslave the minds of their enemies, and thanks to this little sweetheart" - she raised the amulet before her again - "You're going to kill Arthur for me."

Merlin gulped. Until now he had been willing to endure Morgana's torment. He couldn't risk revealing his magic to her, so had resigned himself to letting her toy with him until she left him alone long enough to escape. But now... now he wasn't so sure. She turned away from him, eyes fixed on the lit brazier, and began an incantation. "Astige ðu wyrm fah..."

The fire before her was growing higher and Merlin realised now the Fomorroh wasn't here with them, but that Morgana was preparing to summon it. He had to risk it, he couldn't let her do this, and with Morgana's attention elsewhere, this might be his only chance.

"Færblæd wawe," he whispered, eyes focused on one of the filthy windows. With a bang it flew open, glass shattering as it ricocheted off the wall, and a gust of wind whistled through the hut. Morgana jumped at the noise and stopped her chanting, the amulet in her hand falling to the floor. She spun to the window but was forced to turn back at once as the candles scattered across the altar were sent flying and though some went out as the wind blew past them, some did not. Morgana screamed as one landed on her sleeve and the fabric caught light at once. 

In the confusion, Merlin muttered another spell to sever the ropes around his wrists and summoned a large, weighty-looking water jug from the table to his hand. By the time Morgana had used her own magic to put out the flames, it was too late for her. She turned as Merlin swung, and he couldn't help but feel guilty when he saw the raw fear in her eyes. Fear had done this to Morgana, had driven her to this point. But he couldn't dwell on that right now. The jug smashed against her temple, and she crumpled to the floor.

Merlin's mind went blank as he stood over Morgana's body. 

There was a cut on her forehead oozing blood. His heart was beating painfully fast in his chest, and while he waited for it to calm he watched the blood as it trickled down the side of his old friends face, behind her ear, and into her hair. Her hair had always looked beautiful before she left Camelot, shining in the light and perfectly clean. But now it was matted, dull, and becoming filthier by the moment. He wondered, distantly, when she had last been able to bathe in anything other than an ice-cold forest stream. 

It was several minutes before it occurred to him to check if she was still alive. He wasn't sure if he was pleased or disappointed to see her chest rising and falling rhythmically. He wasn't sure if he felt anything at all. 

The sound of a candle stick falling to the floor shook him out of his trance and sent his heart racing again. He had to leave, had to escape, had to get out. Had to get out right now.

He fled into the night.

It was dawn when Morgana woke, cold and shivering on the hard stone floor of her hovel. A dull ache pulsed through her skull and when she reached her hand up she felt something sticky in her hair. She winced when her fingers found the edge of a gash on her forehead and a searing pain joined the headache. It was when she saw the remains of a rope hanging from the rafters that she remembered what had happened. Merlin had escaped.

She let out a scream of rage and thumped her fist against the ground. That bastard, how dare he strike her! How dare he ruin her plans AGAIN! She should have killed him when she had the chance. Seething, she pushed herself up, clutching the altar for support as the room spun, and wondered if maybe she should go after the boy. It had been such a brilliant chance to end Arthur's life, and to torture Merlin with guilt. 

But it must have been hours since he had attacked her. He would be long gone by now. There was no point, and besides... she smiled to herself. Merlin wouldn't survive out there anyway.

The wound on his chest would make it difficult for him to move quickly, and it had already been infected when she first strung him up. She'd been planning to heal it once the Fomorroh head had been planted in the boy's neck when she could be sure he was under its control. It was a good thing she had. The wound had become an unexpected and welcome piece of insurance. This far from Camelot, there was no chance a feeble peasant like Merlin would be able to make his way back. Not before the infection took him. Although, he had surprised her in the past...

But it was no matter. Even if he survived long enough to make it back to Camelot and was able to remember anything about her whereabouts, Agravaine would be keeping a close eye on the boy. The moment Arthur learned of her location and announced to his dear beloved uncle that he planned to attack, the traitor would intervene. He'd convince Arthur he was wrong or, if it came to the worst, ride to warn her before Arthur could strike. The man was hopelessly in love with her; he would not hesitate to come to her aid.

She raised a hand to her bruised face and muttered a spell. "Þurhhæle licsar min." The pain vanished and the swelling began to calm. Though lessened, the headache remained, and she hoped Merlin's death would be a painful one.

He'd been trekking through the woods all night and had tripped on more tree roots than he could count in the dark. He was tired. So goddamn tired, and the pain in his chest was making breathing close to unbearable. But he couldn't let himself stop. He had to get back to Camelot, or at least put as much distance between himself and Morgana's hut as possible. He doubted she'd wake up from a hit that bad anytime soon, but if she did she would surely be after him. Why hadn't he just killed her then? She had been completely at his mercy, he could have ended all this right then and there, and then Arthur would have been safe!

But he hadn't. He didn't know why, but the thought hadn't even occurred to him. All he could think was that he had to get out, had to get away from that place as fast as his damn legs could carry him. He cursed himself for it now, but if he was honest with himself, he didn't know if he could have done it. To kill her in cold blood like that... Thinking about her, still on the floor, unmoving and helpless. He felt sick at the thought.

Actually, he just felt plain sick. He considered stopping to rest for a while when the sun first came up but the moment he sat down he knew it was the wrong choice. If he stayed that way for long he wasn't sure he'd ever stand up again. And so he staggered on, weaving on his feet as he stumbled from tree to tree, hoping that he was at least going in a straight line, even if it wasn't in the direction of Camelot. He was utterly lost but all he had to do was find a road, a path, anything that might lead him to civilisation. 

By the time the sun was directly above him, he was beginning to lose hope. Then hooves. Horses. Someone was riding nearby. That meant two things. One, he must have finally found a path! Second, he was probably seconds away from another hoard of bandits. He did his best to dash to the nearest tree with a large enough trunk to conceal him, begging the crunching leaves not to give him away. But his heart sank, as the sound of hooves stopped, and he heard a pair of feet strike the earth. Then a voice, and he almost burst into tears.

Arthur raised a hand to Gwaine, abruptly pulling his horse to a halt. Something, or someone, was moving amongst the trees. He dropped from his horse, drawing his sword at once, and called out in the direction of the rustling.

"Declare yourself!"

A few moments silence, and then the crunching of leaves beneath boots began again. The steps sounded uneven and as Arthur watched the gap in the trees a figure emerged. They had one hand raised, supporting themselves against the trunk they had hidden behind, and the other clasped to their chest. They were caked in dirt, red shirt stained brown and leaves in their dark hair. Black hair. Black hair framing a pale face, with bright blue eyes. A faint word formed on the man's lips. "Arthur?"

 "MERLIN!" A smile burst across Arthur's face. He ran for him, laughing with joy as Merlin beamed back, staggering away from the tree towards him. "I thought we'd lost you!" Neither thinking of what they were doing, they threw their arms around each other and clung on tightly, each relieved beyond belief.

For the first time in days, Merlin felt safe. Arthur had escaped the bandits unharmed and then had come for him. He'd be alright now. They were both alright. He was too relieved to even notice the pain of his chest being pressed against Arthur's chainmail. Arthur didn't think he'd ever felt so happy to hold someone in his arms. He'd missed his friend so much, begun to doubt he'd ever see him again, but now he was here. He'd found him.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, still beaming like an idiot as he let go. Merlin, who had been smiling just as widely when they broke apart, was gazing at him with unfocussed eyes and as Arthur watched him his face began to fall. Merlin was holding on to his shoulder tightly, as though without it he wouldn't be able to stay standing. Arthur's worry returned. In the rush of seeing Merlin alive, he'd completely forgotten he was hurt. He reached out and patted Merlin's arm. "Let's get you out of here."

"Arthur," Merlin rasped, eyes suddenly desperate. "Wait-" Arthur wasn't waiting though and cut him off.

"Come on, we have to get you to-"

"No, Arthur wait! She's here!"

Arthur frowned. "Who? Merlin, you need-"

"Morgana!" 

That stopped him.

"What?"

"She's... she's here..." 

It stopped Arthur for only a moment though, as Merlin swayed. There was a wild, feverish look in his eyes that put Arthur on edge, and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. "We can worry about that later. Right now we need to get you to Gaius." He tried to move an arm around Merlin's waist, intending to guide him back to the horses, but Merlin pushed him away.

"No, she's weak right now, hurt, we... we have to..."

"What we have to do is get you medical attention, come on." Merlin didn't move, he just stared at Arthur looking confused and frantic. He didn't understand, didn't Arthur realise what an opportunity this was? What if she fled? She was hurt right now, if ever there was a time to strike this was it. Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it in an attempt to calm him. "Morgana can wait."

Merlin had started trembling. He must be getting delirious because Arthur wouldn't want to miss this chance for anything, would he? "But-"

"I don't care!" Arthur yelled. He was going to give Merlin one last chance to come quietly before he threw him over his shoulder and dragged him home. He would have done it already if he wasn't afraid of hurting him more. "Merlin please! I want you safe first."

His eyes bored into Merlin's, as concerned as they were commanding. Merlin thought he looked almost scared. That look seemed to be the final permission he needed to let the last of his adrenaline go. "OK..." He gave Arthur a nod, and then his legs gave way.

Arthur got his arms beneath Merlin's just in time and lowered them both carefully to the ground. "Gwaine!" Arthur yelled over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the top of Merlin's head where it had come to rest against his chest. He could feel the fever emanating from his manservant's skin as he held him up. He needn't have bothered calling, as Gwaine was dropping down beside them already. He looked as frantic as Arthur felt. 

"Merlin?" Gwaine placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "You still with us mate?" He got an irritated groan in response and grinned. "Good to have you back."

"Can't get rid 'me that easy," he mumbled into Arthur's chest, and both the other men chuckled. Carefully Arthur pushed Merlin back to lean against Gwaine and reached for his collar.

"I need to check your wound," he explained as he pulled the material back. Arthur had suspected a broken sternum when he'd first checked the wound, on that night in the forest that felt like far longer than a few days ago now. Judging by the dark purple and blue that had spread across Merlin's chest he was sure he'd been right. 

The large scar on Merlin's chest that he had glimpsed two days ago was far more difficult to make out now, the discolouration overtaken by bruising. It looked like it was from a burn, and a bad one at that. Arthur had almost forgotten about it. He still had no idea what caused it. Just like before he swallowed his questions. There would be time for that later, when Merlin was safe and well. The bruising and the damage to Merlin's bones wasn't what worried him right now; it was the inflamed gouges the flail had left behind. "Definitely infected," he reported somberly. "Nothing we can do about that out here though, are you hurt anywhere else, Merlin?" He shook his head.

"Apart from these?" Gwaine asked with a grimace, and Arthur looked down to where Gwaine had picked up Merlin's arm. An angry red mark encircled his wrist. Arthur pulled his sleeve back, revealing more grazes wrapped around his forearm.

"Is jus' rope burn," he murmured. Arthur and Gwaine shared a look.

"Why the hell do you have rope burn around your wrists?" Arthur demanded.

"Morgana... tied up, but got away." The slur in Merlin's voice had become more pronounced, and his eyes were glazed. He looked exhausted. Arthur was furious, hating Morgana for doing this. Her quarrel was with him, Merlin didn't deserve to be dragged into it, he didn't deserve any of this. He'd have to get the full story out of Merlin when he could (how on earth he'd managed to escape was something he definitely needed to hear) but the first priority was getting his manservant back to Gaius.

Arthur hooked an arm beneath Merlin's and jerked his head at Gwaine, gesturing to the horses. "Help me get him up." Together they managed to help Merlin up to sit in front of the King on his horse. Arthur cursed himself silently for not thinking to bring a third for Merlin; now with one of the horses having to take the weight of two men the trip back would be slower. 

Merlin's body tensed the moment they broke into a trot, clearly in pain. After a few moments he relaxed and slumped back with a groan. Arthur hesitated, then put an arm around his servant's waist. He pulled him closer as he held him steady, and they began the journey home.

Chapter Text

They began the several hours long trip back to Camelot in relative silence, horses trotting side by side. Gwaine seemed unable to stop himself from glancing over at Merlin every few seconds, likely ensuring Merlin still had his eyes open. Arthur was surprised when the knight didn't immediately launch into one of his many tales of tavern adventures and instead kept his mouth shut tight. He wondered if maybe Gwaine was finding the lack of Merlin's usual idle chit-chat as jarring as he was. 

Aside from the occasional grunt of pain, Merlin didn't make a sound. Arthur hated it. He'd be happy even to hear him complain because when Merlin was quiet it always meant something was wrong. Right now it just compounded his and Gwaine's worry; a constant reminder that their friend was in such a bad way. After a few hours of riding, they came to the edge of the woods and Arthur signalled for Gwaine to stop. As the horses came to a sudden halt, Merlin let out a gasp of pain at the unexpected movement. He curled forward, clutching his chest, and Arthur let go of his waist, moving a hand to rub his arm instead. 

"You alright Merlin?" Gwaine asked, reaching out a hand to his shoulder as well.

"Just terrific, maybe give me some warning next time," Merlin muttered, but there was no bite in his voice. 

"Sorry," Arthur said and gave his arm a squeeze. "Gwaine, scout ahead, I don't want anyone taking us by surprise once we're out in the open." Gwaine looked reluctant, his eyes still on Merlin. "We can't risk being attacked right now," Arthur said, nodding pointedly at Merlin's hunched shoulders, and Gwaine relented.

"You better look after him princess," he said in a way that sounded far too much like an order. He was gone before Arthur could snap at him. He turned back to Merlin, studying him in an effort to assess his condition. The hand Merlin didn't have pressed to his chest was resting on his thigh, and the sleeve was pushed up just far enough for Arthur to see the grazes surrounding his wrist. 

"What happened to you after the rock slide?" He asked. Merlin didn't respond, and Arthur felt a rush of fear. "Merlin!" He prodded him in the side, eliciting an angry grunt and a wince. Arthur gave a whistle of relief. "Stay awake you lazy oaf."

"I'm tired," Merlin whined, but forced himself to slowly sit up straight.

"You can sleep when we're back in Camelot." Arthur prodded him again, but gently this time, and softened his tone. "Stay awake till then and I'll consider giving you a day off."

"I deserve at least two."

"Don't be greedy," Arthur said with a snort. Merlin was getting at least a week after this; Arthur hoped he knew that. "So, what happened after we were separated?"

"Passed out... They must have taken me to Morgana..." Merlin's sentences came out slow and stilted, as though they each took more mental effort than they should. "Next thing I knew, was waking up in her hut."

"Her hut?" Imagining Morgana living anywhere other than a castle was strange to Arthur, let alone in a hut in the middle of the woods.

"Yeah, she..." Merlin paused, frowning. "No, actually before that, someone else was there... From Camelot, recognised his voice." Arthur's heart skipped a beat. "Think they were working with the bandits, and her."

"Who was it, Merlin?"

"Can't remember... It's fuzzy."

"You need to remember Merlin! There's a traitor in Camelot, it must have been them."

"Traitor?"

"Someone gave away our route." Gwaine was too far ahead to hear them, but Arthur lowered his voice anyway. "Was it one of the knights?"

"No," Merlin said without hesitation.

"You're certain?"

"I'd know their voices anywhere. You clotpoles... boss me around enough." Arthur could hear the smile in his voice, something he was extremely pleased to hear at a time like this. He sighed with relief. The idea of one of his knights, his brothers-in-arms, betraying him was painful just to consider. The alternative was only slightly less upsetting though. 

"That just leaves a few of the councillors..." Merlin gave a faint hum but didn't say anything. "Merlin you have to remember."

"Trying..." he moaned. "Ask later... Head hurts..."

Arthur felt a wave of guilt. Merlin was exhausted and in pain, and after two days alone with Morgana who knows what she might have done to him. And yet here he was, interrogating him.  He reluctantly pushed the guilt back. There would be time for that later, he'd make it up to Merlin. Right now this couldn't wait. He didn't even know why Morgana had taken him yet.

"Well tough, I need to know now."

"Arthur..."

"I'll give you two days if you just keep trying, then you can never say I'm not nice to you."

"No, Arthur..." Merlin's body convulsed and he suddenly clapped a hand to his mouth. Arthur swore and took hold of Merlin's shoulders as he leant sideways, and emptied the meagre contents of his stomach. As Merlin heaved, Arthur felt another, much larger wave of guilt. When Merlin was done he fell back against him, panting hard, and Arthur rubbed his arm. He reached back for his waterskin and brought it to Merlin's lips. As his friend drank he squeezed his arm in what he hoped was a comforting manner. 

"OK, no more questions," he said as he stowed the water skin, and Merlin made a faint sound of agreement.

Of course, Gwaine chose that exact moment to reappear, galloping back with a look that made it clear he had seen Merlin being sick and had decided it was definitely Arthur's fault. "What'd you do to him?"

"Nothing!" Arthur glared at the knight but didn't bother chastising him. He had other more pressing worries, namely the man who was now shivering in his arms. An involuntary glance at the small puddle Merlin had left on the path confirmed his suspicions that it had been far too long since Merlin had eaten. "Let's get moving if the way is clear." Gwaine gave him a nod and turned to continue on, riding further ahead now to keep a lookout. As Arthur encouraged his horse into a trot again Merlin groaned. 

"Can I pass out now?"

"Definitely not." I won't risk you not waking up again.

Merlin huffed his annoyance. "Prat..." 

"You can't call me that Merlin."

"Sorry, royal prat..." Merlin's voice was weaker than before, and he still hadn't sat back up. "I'm tired Arthur..."

"Well tough, you need to stay awake."

"Not bleeding, or cold... Safe to sleep." 

Oh right, physician's apprentice. "No head injuries either?" Arthur asked suspiciously.

"No, 'mm fine."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You are definitely not fine Merlin." Then again, Merlin did know more about these things than him, and it had likely been a long time since he was able to rest. Arthur sighed in resignation. "But I guess I'll let you have your day off even if you do fall asleep." 

Merlin laughed, doing his best not to wince at the pain in his ribs. He sank further back against Arthur, letting his head loll onto his shoulder. Arthur felt a strange squeeze in his chest. He slowed their pace briefly, took his hand from Merlin's waist and carefully guided his friend's head over until it was nestled beneath his chin, where it wouldn't flop back and forth with the movement of the horse. Merlin didn't resist and just mumbled something Arthur couldn't make out. Arthur wrapped a securing arm back around Merlin's waist and hurried his horse on. 

For a few minutes, they rode in silence. Arthur had assumed Merlin had fallen asleep at once and was startled when he spoke up. "Arthur?"

"I'm here Merlin."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Comin' back." Arthur opened his mouth, intending to inform Merlin that under no circumstances was he to think he came back for any reason other than not being able to stand George. But then Merlin mumbled again, and he thought better of it. "Thought you would but... wasn' sure..."

Merlin trailed off but didn't need to finish the sentence. He hadn't been sure if Arthur would come for him. He'd actually thought it was possible that Arthur would abandon him. That he wouldn't search every inch of these woods if he had to. Suddenly Arthur felt like he was the one who had taken a flail to the chest. Like that first night after they were attacked, he found himself favouring honesty in his answer. Merlin deserved that. "You're my friend Merlin, I'll always come back for you." Well, he probably shouldn't be too nice. "Even if you are the most useless servant in the five kingdoms."

"Liar... said I'm great," Merlin murmured softly.

Arthur smiled to himself. "Rest, we'll be home soon."

Merlin was dragged unwillingly back to consciousness by a voice speaking far too loudly in his ear and a firm prod in his side. "Come on Merlin." He groaned, the pain in his chest and head flooding back into him at once. An ache in his back and lower body had joined them now as well, and dear god he was tired. "We're back, time to wake up." So tired...

Something squeezed him around the middle and he realised now it was an arm, and rather than giving him another sharp prod a hand was now rubbing his side. "Merlin? Can you hear me?" The urgency in Arthur's voice was what convinced him to give up on falling back asleep.

"Mmhmm..." 

"Good, we're back in Camelot." Merlin blinked his eyes open slowly and registered the sights and sounds of the courtyard for the first time. He didn't have much time to take it in though, as Arthur's arm disappeared from his waist and all of a sudden there were other hands on him, taking hold, pulling him away from the warmth of Arthur pressed against his back. He was being lowered down, arms were holding him up, and more people were speaking to him. The movement sent the world spinning and seemed to flood his ears with water, garbling the voices around him. For a moment he thought he might be sick again. 

His knees buckled and the hands beneath his arms were suddenly taking all his weight, scooping him up. A stabbing in his chest. He didn't want to be awake anymore. He wanted to sleep. His eyes fell shut and to his great relief, Arthur didn't jab him in the side this time. 

Arthur would have been much too far away to try and wake Merlin again, even if he had wanted to. He was standing at the base of the steps in the courtyard, feeling a little bereft as he watched Merlin being carried away by Gwaine, seemingly unconscious again. He wanted to follow, knowing the burning fear in his gut wouldn't disappear until he knew if Merlin would recover, but Leon and Agravaine were already hurrying down the steps towards him.

"You found him," Leon sighed with relief. His relief was mainly due to knowing Merlin was safe, but the knight also hadn't been looking forward to dealing with a Merlin-less Arthur again. The King had been a mess and more than a little... difficult in his manservant's absence.

"Good, it is excellent to have you back," Agravaine said, smiling contentedly at his nephew. "How is the boy?" Arthur was taken aback by the question about Merlin.

"Injured and tired, but thankfully still in one piece," he said as he handed the reins of his horse over to a stable boy. Leon looked a little more worried at these words.

"I'm surprised we didn't find him on our patrols, was he hiding somewhere?"

"No, he was just stumbling through the trees, making a racket as he usually does," Arthur said with a snort. He knew perfectly well why that hadn't found Merlin sooner. He had been hidden, not the one doing the hiding. Mentioning that he had in fact been kidnapped by one of Camelot's mortal enemies in the middle of a busy courtyard did not seem a good idea. "He doesn't remember a thing after we were separated." 

"Interesting..." His uncle's shoulders sagged ever so slightly at Arthur's words and a smile ghosted across his face. A smile that looked somewhat relieved. Arthur frowned.

"You seem pleased by this uncle?" Agravaine had been staring up the castle steps the same way Arthur had before, towards the door Merlin had disappeared through. He turned back to Arthur now though. 

"Well, the past few days have probably been quite an ordeal for the boy. I expect it is a blessing he doesn't have to remember it." Arthur studied Agravaine's face a moment longer still feeling confused. Any interest in Merlin's wellbeing, after his uncle's past actions and words, was out of character. Then again, he knew the Merlin was important to Arthur, perhaps his concern was simply for Arthur's own sake? 

"Indeed, I expect you are right." Arthur wanted nothing more than to excuse himself and make for Gaius's chambers at once, needing confirmation that his friend really was going to be all right. But duty called, the way it always did. He turned back to Agravaine and Leon and gestured for them to follow him to the throne room. "I would like an update on all happenings in my absence."

For a time Merlin drifted, distantly aware of the presence of others around him. His body was moving, but not of its own accord. At some point it stopped, and he felt himself sinking down into something soft. He didn't fully come back to himself until he felt a damp cloth land on his forehead. He sighed with relief at the blissful cold. "Merlin?" Gaius's voice. He must be home. "Can you hear me, my boy?"

"Yes..." He breathed and opened his eyes to find the elderly man leaning over him. He seemed to relax a little when Merlin smiled at him, but his brow was pinched with worry. "I'm OK Gaius, jus' tired."

"You are also unwell Merlin," Gaius told him firmly. "Though you were lucky. The infection is not yet serious." Merlin let out a hiss of pain as Gaius began dabbing a salve on the weeping wounds on his chest. Someone had removed his shirt. "A few days of rest and you'll be fine, although that broken sternum will take several weeks to heal." Merlin closed his eyes and sighed. Broken ribs were definitely the most annoying type of injury he ended up with thanks to the never-ending demands of his stupid destiny. They hurt less than the stab wounds, but they tended to linger and made doing his duties a nightmare. He had a feeling a sternum break wouldn't be much easier.

"You scared me Merlin," Gaius said, stern voice tinged with sadness. "Don't disappear like that again, I don't think my old heart could take it." Without opening his eyes, Merlin cracked another small smile. 

"I'll try." Gaius gazed down at his ward's pale face. He wished Merlin would promise more than that. Or more accurately, had the option to promise it. He turned his attention now to wiping the dirt away from Merlin's battered body. His heart sank as more grazes and bruises were revealed.

"Can you tell me what happened to you?" Merlin recounted his story, beginning with the vague voices he remembered before he passed out a second time, and was then rudely awoken by a bucket of water in Morgana's hut. He kept his eyes closed as he spoke. It seemed putting coherent sentences together took enough energy without him having to hold his eyes open as well. 

Gaius let him finish his story, ending with his conversation with Arthur about the traitor, with minimal interruptions. He was unable to hold in his shock at the mention of the Fomorroh. Thank goodness Merlin hadn't been victim to that. Arthur's manservant would certainly be the perfect choice of assassin. Although, if by chance Merlin hadn't been able to use his magic Gaius wasn't sure how talented an assassin he would be...

He was almost as interested in the news of the traitor as Arthur was. "And you're sure the voice was someone from Camelot?"

"Positive, and it definitely wasn't one of the knights." Gaius had his own suspicions about who the traitor in their midst might be but was prevented from sharing his theory by a knock at the door. The two men looked up to see an extremely anxious Gwen already pushing it open, a tray of food in her hands.

"Oh Merlin!" She beamed at him, though the underlying anxiety in her face remained. She rushed to Gaius's side, placing the tray on the table nearby before dropping down beside Merlin's cot. "Thank goodness you're safe! I heard they found you but- when they got back- you weren't-" There were tears in her eyes as she stuttered.

"It's alright, I'm fine Gwen," Merlin said, trying to calm her. He definitely didn't look or sound fine to her, and she gave Gaius a look of exasperation.

"Is he Gaius? Alright, I mean?"

"He will be," Gaius said, sharing her look. He turned back to Merlin, who was grinning at them both sheepishly. "Can you sit up for me my boy? I need to bandage your chest."

With some assistance from Gwen, Merlin managed to drag himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. His vision swam at once and he clenched his eyes shut. A comforting hand appeared on his back, and Gwen rubbed it gently to help keep him steady. With his wounds dressed, as much food as he could manage in his stomach, and one of Gaius's unpleasant but effective pain-relieving concoctions forced down his throat, Merlin looked about ready to pass out where he sat.

"Now it's time for you to get some rest, that's what you need more than anything right now." Merlin nodded groggily, and let Gwen guide him back to his own room. They made it just in time for him to collapse into his bed. Gwen pulled a blanket over him, smiling down affectionately. Merlin mumbled his thanks, and was quietly snoring within seconds.

It wasn't until George had finished cleaning away the plates from the king's hurriedly eaten dinner that Arthur was finally able to escape and make his way to Gaius's chambers. He wasn't sure if he would have made it through his meetings and seemingly unending duties if Gwen, bless her, had not come to deliver the news barely an hour after they returned, that Gaius was sure Merlin would be alright.

Despite knowing his advisors would be horrified, he'd been on the verge of cancelling both the knights' and guards' training. He wouldn't have blamed them. With all the recent events it would be the epitome of irresponsible to neglect Camelot's defences simply for the sake of checking in on his sickly servant. Still, he had been considering it, until Gwen had come knocking on the throne room door, smiling widely. He did turn a blind eye when several of his knights left training early though. He knew where they were going. He was well aware that they cared for Merlin as well, and were almost as worried as he was.

Even so, he was anxious to make it to Gaius's chambers now that he finally had the chance, and was too preoccupied to notice how Gwaine and Elyan smirked when they passed him in the hall, presumably on their way back from visiting Merlin as well. 

It was one of the rare occasions when he knocked on the physician's door, rather than throwing it open and bellowing his manservant's name. Gaius seemed to approve of this because when he opened the door he smiled at him. "Good evening Sire, I expect you're here to see Merlin?" He stepped aside and let Arthur in. The first thing Arthur noticed was that the cot in the middle of the room usually reserved for patients was empty, and the door to Merlin's room was half-open. That was a good sign. It meant Gaius didn't feel Merlin needed constant monitoring. 

"How is he?" Gaius gave Arthur a quick rundown of Merlin's condition, and assured him, as he had with all of Merlin's visitors that day, that their friend would recover in time.

"He is asleep right now." Arthur's shoulders fully relaxed for what was probably the first time that day. He noticed Gaius eyeing the bundle beneath his arm quizzically. 

"Oh, I, ahh..." He'd forgotten about the rather luxurious blanket he had snatched from his chambers before he left. "Gwen was worried about how cold it can get down here, so she asked if I could bring something for him." It wasn't a lie, not really. Not entirely. Alright, mostly, but she had commented that there was a chill in the air today. Yesterday. Gaius smiled at him in a way Arthur would have preferred to be a tad less knowing.

"That's very kind of you Sire, I'm sure Merlin will be grateful."

"Right." Arthur cleared his throat, then gestured to Merlin's room. "May I...?"

"Of course, but don't wake him, he needs rest." 

Arthur, unbothered by the fact that his court physician seemed to have just issued him an order, gave Gaius a grateful nod and made his way quietly into Merlin's room. He was pleased with his decision to bring the thick blanket with him. Merlin's room wasn't freezing, but it certainly wasn't warm, and the throw draped over Merlin's body looked far too thin. He made a mental note to request replacements for both Merlin and Gaius, maybe some better beds as well.

Merlin was lying on his back, propped up a little on his pillows, and still looking ill. It was hard to tell in the low light, but there seemed to be more colour in his cheeks now, and he was sleeping soundly. Arthur noticed he was shivering as he threw the blanket over him, and hoped the extra warmth would put a stop to that. 

He'd been hoping to talk to Merlin, to find out what happened to him and get his thoughts on the matter of the unknown traitor. He honestly would have been surprised if Merlin had been awake, and seeing him resting was a relief, but he was still a little disappointed. He hadn't realised until he'd been left without him, just how often he came to Merlin for advice. He hadn't noticed how much he found himself seeking his thoughts on matters that really should not concern a servant, and that he seemed to make very few important decisions without first telling Merlin. He didn't tend to wait for his approval, but he couldn't deny getting it always gave him confidence in his choices.

Even if Merlin hadn't potentially encountered the person who had betrayed Arthur, he would still be the one person Arthur would want to discuss it with. Sometimes he felt like Merlin was the only person he could really, completely trust, another thing he hadn't truly realised before he went missing. On top of all those things though, above all he had just missed him, far more than he would have ever predicted. He had missed talking to him.

Right now though, he would not be bothering Merlin with any of this. Merlin needed to get better, and he needed to find out if his friend had told Gaius anything about the ordeal he had been through. He tucked the blanket in a little closer around Merlin's shoulders, stood quietly for a few more moments, and then left him to sleep.

A sharp pain in his shoulder. Rolling. Head, swimming. Eyes, won't open

"Arthur was within our grasp."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

Morgana. Not her. Not her again.

But he can't move. Why can't he move

"The rockfall was hardly our fault."

Rockfall... he remembers that. Rocks falling. Arthur screaming his name. Then gone. Safe. 

Tired.

"... my presence in Camelot."

He knows that voice.

"Your physician always suspects me."

"Well Gaius is shrewd, you should take care..."

He knows that voice. Who? His ears are ringing. Why can't he hear them properly? 

"After all, if your true nature is revealed I really don't know what use I'll have for you."

Morgana. Allies. Stupid ears, why won't you work.

"Morgana..."

Agravaine.

He woke early the next morning with a yell, chest burning as he bolted upright.
He remembered.

Chapter Text

He sat on the edge of his bed, hands clasped and forearms resting on his legs as he furiously drummed his heel against the ground. Why the hell did he go and tell Arthur everything yesterday! His fever must have been messing with his head more than he thought because he should never have told him anything. He should have told him he'd been stumbling through woods, fallen in a hole, gotten himself stuck up a damn tree, anything stupid enough for Arthur to believe. Then he could have just dealt with this mess himself. But no, he had to go and tell Arthur about Morgana, he'd told Arthur he'd managed to escape her for god's sake. Explaining that without making him suspicious was going to be a challenge...

But worst of all, he'd told him about the other person with Morgana. Agravaine. The one person Arthur was least likely to suspect if Merlin accused them.

It just had to be him didn't it, one of the people Arthur trusted most. Hell, he was the person Arthur trusted above anyone else if the king's past actions were anything to go by. Arthur always seemed to listen to Agravaine over him, so how could he possibly convince Arthur that his uncle was the traitor? At least he hadn't remembered who it was yesterday when he was too feverish and drained to realise when he should have shut his big mouth. 

He could have just dealt with this all quietly, Arthur never would have had to know anything! But Arthur was definitely going to ask him if he remembered, and Merlin wasn't sure if he would be able to lie to him or not. There were too many things he had to lie to Arthur about already. He didn't want to add this to the list, not when it was something so important. Not when keeping it secret would mean not only had Arthur been betrayed by his uncle, but by Merlin as well. 

But if Arthur didn't believe him, how would he react? What if he went to Agravaine, or he got word of it some other way?

Merlin abruptly stopped his jittering. Agravaine probably knew he was back, which meant he must know he had escaped from Morgana. Shit, what if Arthur had already told his uncle what he had said? He got to his feet and started pacing, worrying at his fingernails as he tried to think. If Agravaine knew then he'd either be halfway to Morgana's hut by now or planning how he was going to deal with Merlin. Actually, shouldn't he have already done that?

"Merlin?" He jumped and spun around looking for a threat. "Are you up my boy?" He sighed. It was just Gaius calling from the other room, phew. Surely he'd have some advice on how to fix this mess. He pulled on a fresh tunic, opened his bedroom door, and Gaius smiled widely at him as he came down the stairs. "How are you feeling?" He smiled back as he dropped down at the table.

"Better," he said honestly, though he still felt far from fully recovered. "Thanks for patching me up." Gaius promptly launched into an examination, checking his heart rate, eyes, and temperature. He seemed pleased by what he found.

"Good, and your fever is almost gone. I'll need to check on your wounds and redress them, but first" - Merlin was briefly distracted from his worries by the bowl of porridge Gaius placed before him - "you need to eat." His stomach growled loudly and Gaius raised an amused eyebrow. Starving, and anxious to talk about what he remembered, he wolfed down the meal, chugged a glass of water, then fixed Gaius with a serious look. 

"It was Agravaine."

Gaius's eyes widened. "You remembered?" Merlin nodded and Gaius gave a resigned sigh. "I suspected as much." Neither he or Merlin had ever particularly trusted the man. "To my knowledge, he is the only other person on the council, aside from me, who knew which route you were taking." Merlin felt a glimmer of hope. If that was true then Arthur may be more likely to listen to him.

"Do you think I should tell Arthur?" Gaius didn't answer at once. He frowned down at his clasped hands on the table, looking pensive.

"I don't know," he said eventually. "If it was anyone else I would say yes, but accusing his uncle..." He trailed off and Merlin suspected he was thinking along the same lines as him. 

"I don't understand though, Agravaine must know I'm here and that I escaped, why hasn't he come after me or done something?"

"I'm afraid I have no idea, let us hope he doesn't decide to," Gaius replied. Merlin stared down at his empty bowl, glowering at it as though it should have the answers for him. Maybe if he snuck into Agravaine's chambers he'd find something to link him to Morgana or the bandits. It seemed like a long shot though. "Merlin?" He looked up and was taken aback by how worried Gaius suddenly looked. "Don't go off by yourself and do anything dangerous, you're hurt and if you don't rest you're not going to get better."

Damn Gaius and his mind reading. He smiled at him though and nodded. He'd do what Gaius asked unless he had no other choice. Which meant there really was only one course of action from here. "I have to tell Arthur," he said and pushed himself up from the table. His burst of determination had made him too eager though, and he winced as the quick movement triggered a wave of pain. He pressed a hand to his chest and Gaius stood up as well.

"Not until I've had a look at that." He took Merlin's arm to guide him to his workbench, and, seeing the stern look on the old man's face, Merlin didn't resist.

Gods he couldn't wait to have Merlin back. If George made one more joke about brass he was going to drag Merlin out of his sick bed and make him sit in here all day pretending to work, just so he had a reason to dismiss George and have his best friend there to talk to. He'd get his own damn bathwater if he had to, and surely fetching meals and polishing armour wouldn't be too tiring for Merlin. He tried to push down the thought. Merlin would tell him just how much of an entitled brat he was if he did that right now. Then he'd probably do what Arthur asked anyway. Even more of a reason for Arthur to pull his head out of his ass before he went to go see him that morning.

He dismissed George and left him with the task of informing his councillors he would be late for the planned meeting. With his theories about who the traitor might be weighing heavily on him, he was intent on speaking to Merlin before anything else that day. He had to admit, George's immediate acceptance of his task was somewhat preferable to Merlin's predictable wingeing about having to come up with excuses for Arthur all the time, but it was also far less entertaining. 

When he arrived at the physician's chambers he could hear familiar voices from inside. Gaius and Merlin must both be awake and in, so he didn't bother knocking. The others didn't seem to hear the squeak of the door opening as they chatted, giving Arthur a moment to observe. He hadn't meant to spy and would have declared himself at once, but instead, he froze. Gaius must have just finished bandaging Merlin's chest because he was busy packing up his supplies and clearing away the soiled bandages he had removed. 

It was Merlin that Arthur's eyes were drawn to though because despite how often his manservant saw him undressed, this was the only time Arthur could remember seeing Merlin without a shirt. Even with the bandages obscuring half his torso, it was clear his back was littered with scars. Not just his back but his arms as well, and his side. If Arthur could see his chest he guessed he'd find more there as well. They were not the type of scars a servant should have. They were the kind left behind by weapons. They would have been far more at home on the body of a seasoned soldier, one who had seen more battles than most.

The burn on Merlin's chest had been a shock, but Arthur had assumed there was a simple story behind it. An unfortunate incident with boiling water, or maybe a shirt caught alight on a torch. At worst, maybe a tavern quarrel gone badly wrong. Now he wasn't so sure. That number of scars couldn't be the result of bumps and scrapes over the years. They were a web. A chain of events and memories all bound together by something. There was a mystery written on Merlin's skin. He'd been planning on asking about the burn some time, so maybe once all this was over Arthur would take the time to unpick those mysteries. He cleared his throat and the two men looked up. 

"Sire," Gaius greeted him, while Merlin scrambled for his shirt and pulled it on quickly.

"Gaius," he acknowledged him with a nod as he joined them, and clapped a hand onto Merlin's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," he told Arthur as well and grinned at him. "Thanks for saving my life, again." 

Arthur gave him a warm smile, then lightly cuffed the back of his head. "Don't make me need to do it again, I can't keep wasting my time chasing after you." It hadn't hurt, but Merlin made a show of rubbing the back of his head anyway.  Gaius chuckled, then stood up and began gathering some of the tinctures on his desk, assuming Arthur was here to speak to Merlin in private. 

"I have some errands to run, unless you have need of me sire?" 

"No, I'm just here to check on this clout."

Gaius gave him a small bow before turning back to Merlin, eyebrow back in a threatening place. "And Merlin, you are not to leave this room, back to bed until you're feeling better." Merlin gave him a sheepish smile.

"Alright, I swear."

Satisfied, or as satisfied as he could be at least, Gaius left the two to talk. As the door swung closed behind him, Merlin felt an unpleasant wave of apprehension sweep through his stomach. He'd decided to tell Arthur but still... this wouldn't be easy.

"So," Arthur sat down across from him on the bench. "Have you remembered?" He didn't need to explain what he was referring to. Merlin's eyes dropped to the table. He was fiddling with his sleeve and Arthur was surprised to see him suddenly looking so uncomfortable. "Merlin?" His eyes didn't move. Arthur made a sound of exasperation and gave Merlin's foot a light kick under the table. "Merlin, look at me." Merlin raised his eyes and Arthur was taken aback by just how dark they looked.

"Yes." When he didn't elaborate Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"Aaaaaand...?" Merlin looked away as Arthur rolled his eyes. "For god's sake Merlin out with it!"

"You're not going to like it..." 

Arthur frowned and took a moment to push his anger down. Merlin wasn't doing this to be annoying, and it didn't seem like he was trying to work up to some dramatic reveal. He was afraid, though Arthur couldn't possibly understand why. Maybe he was trying to protect someone? His stomach clenched at the thought, because Gaius had been one of the few who knew their route through the valley. Or maybe he was scared of Arthur's reaction? He sighed and reached out to place a hand on Merlin's arm.

"Merlin, I trust you. Whatever it is you have to tell me, you won't be in trouble." Merlin's eyes widened in obvious surprise. If it hadn't been such a serious situation Arthur probably would have laughed at his dumb face. But right now he just stared back silently, waiting for Merlin to make the next move.

He waited.
And waited.

Merlin took a deep breath.
"It was Agravaine."

Now it was Arthur's turn to be shocked. "What?"

"The man with Morgana. It was Agravaine." 

"You're certain?"

"I'm certain." Merlin looked away again, his face pained. "I'm sorry but… he's the traitor."

Merlin's hesitation made a lot more sense now.  For his uncle to have been the one who betrayed them… it seemed impossible. And yet, he'd had his own suspicions already, no matter how much he hadn't wanted to suspect his uncle. Aside from Merlin, Gaius, and the knights, his uncle was the only person who knew the route they were taking. There had also been that look on Agravaine's face the day before, and his dismissal of Arthur's worries... 

"I believe you."

Merlin's face snapped back, his mouth open and eyes still wide. "Really?" Arthur flashed him a smile, the one he gave when despite his exasperation with Merlin he couldn't help but feel affection.

"Yes you idiot." Merlin beamed at him and Arthur was happy to see the fear gone from his face. But then the gravity of the situation began to dawn on him, and he glowered down at the table. "Maybe that's why he didn't want us to keep searching for you..."

"I'm sorry Arthur." 

He frowned up at Merlin, who looked suddenly downcast. "What are you sorry for?"

"I know you trusted him, and he's your uncle… this must be upsetting."

"No need to rub it in," Arthur said with a crooked smile. "It's not your fault, thank you for telling me." Merlin grinned at him again. Arthur did feel hurt though, deeply hurt. Another betrayal by someone he thought would always be there for him. Another family member stabbing him in the back. It cut him far deeper than he cared to admit. But right now he would just have to push that pain back, and the dumb smile on Merlin's face helped him do just that. There would be time for him to grieve the loss of another person he had trusted later. There were still other people he could trust. He still had Merlin, and they had a job to do. "Now we just have to figure out what to do about this." Merlin tilted his head, looking confused.

"Won't you just arrest him?" He noticed Arthur's face harden a fraction more. He hesitated before replying, and Merlin could tell he was thinking hard about his next words.

"Look, Merlin, you were almost delirious when we found you," he ran a hand through his hair restlessly, "so I can't dismiss the chance you're mistaken. I believe you're telling me the truth, and that this is what you remember, but... I need to be absolutely sure. I don't want this to be true. I can't condemn my uncle unless I've seen proof with my own eyes." The punishment for this level of treason was execution. He had to be certain before he made his final judgement. 

Merlin's knee-jerk reaction to the words was disappointment. He'd been preparing himself for Arthur to dismiss his account and call him an idiot, and for a moment he felt the pain of it. But on second thought, Arthur had a point. He couldn't blame him for needing this, even if he wished he didn't. He gave him a half-hearted smile. "Fair enough." Arthur returned the smile with an equal lack of cheer, but then it became smug.

"And if I arrest him," he raised a finger to point at Merlin, "we lose our chance of finding Morgana." Merlin's eyebrows shot up.

"You've got a plan?"

"Not yet, but I'm going to do something." He gave Merlin an appraising look. "How did you escape from her by the way?"

"Oh," Merlin blushed and immediately looked sheepish. "You know, just got lucky I suppose."

"Got lucky?" 

"The ropes she used must have been pretty old. I managed to break one of them and then just had to wait till she was distracted." Arthur stared blankly.

"Seriously? She just used old ropes?"

"Yeah...?"

"And she didn't follow you?"

"I, uh.... managed to knock her out before I ran." Arthur blinked a few times, lost for words. Then he burst out laughing. After several moments Merlin joined him. The whole thing sounded preposterous to him as well. When the laughter faded it left a warmth behind. But Merlin's shoulders sagged a little, and he stared down at the table again.

"Gaius told me about what Morgana did," Arthur said more softly, seeing that Merlin was troubled. "That can't have been an easy experience. If you need some time or anything..." Merlin seemed confused for a moment, but then grinned.

"I'm fine Arthur, don't worry about me." Arthur raised an eyebrow at him looking doubtful. "All she did was chuck a few buckets of water on me." Arthur snorted.

"And string you up from the roof. And starve you, sleep deprive you," he raised a finger each time he reeled off another of Morgana's crimes. "Probably didn't give you anything to drink, all while you were injured and sick." Merlin just kept smiling awkwardly, and Arthur shook his head in disbelief. "You really are a puzzle Merlin. I don't think half the knights would be able to bounce back that fast after what happened." Merlin's grin widened.

"Are you actually complimenting me?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far." Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin chuckled, but then looked down at the table. To Arthur, he still seemed tense. "What's bothering you then?"

"It's just..." Merlin paused, fiddling with his sleeve again. "I could have just ended it there... I could have ended all of this but I just ran." He wasn't sure why exactly he was telling Arthur this, but it had been eating away at him, and when he and Arthur sat together like this it seemed the walls came down easier. Some of the walls at least. "I could have killed her. I don't understand why I didn't."

"You couldn't have done it." Merlin peered up at him and found Arthur gazing directly into his eyes, painfully earnest. "And I'm glad you didn't."

"What?" Merlin frowned at him. "Why?"

"You're not a killer Merlin. Someone like you should never have to be a killer." 

Merlin stared back at him for a while, the silence between them deep. Then Merlin tore his eyes away, and Arthur pretended not to see his tears.

"For the last time Merlin, NO!"

"I'm not letting you go up against her alone!"

"For god's sake Merlin, stop being stupid!"

Arthur was furious. They'd been at this for almost an hour now, alternating between discussing the plan and Merlin's increasingly insistent and aggravating attempts to convince Arthur to let him come along. Why Merlin wanted to follow him and the knights was beyond him, but Merlin wasn't backing down. The autumn sun had begun to set outside the window, and at this rate, they'd still be at each other's throats when George arrived with the King's evening meal.

"Even if you had recovered, which you very obviously have not-" Arthur gestured pointedly at the hand Merlin had pressed to the injury still causing him pain. Merlin dropped it at once, causing Arthur to snort before he continued his tirade. "How do you even expect to help!?"

"I know where she is! I-"

"You were stumbling through the forest all night before we found you, do you seriously think you could guide us back?" Merlin bit his lip. Arthur made a good point there, he had no idea how to get back there. "That's the whole point of this plan anyway!"

Arthur was rather pleased with the plan he had hatched and surreptitiously conveyed to his inner circle of knights during training. Merlin had, unsurprisingly, been a bit miffed to be left out of those discussions. Gaius had returned so soon after Arthur left that morning that Merlin was sure he'd been waiting for him, and had then proceeded to spend the entire day monitoring Merlin's every move. He clearly hadn't trusted him to stay put and rest, expecting him to do something reckless. The fact that he was right, and Merlin had been planning on snooping around Agravaine's chambers, didn't lessen Merlin's frustration at Gaius's coddling. He'd only managed to escape now because Arthur had sent for him.

He had actually been quite impressed with Arthur's plan when he explained it. Arthur had been keeping tabs on his uncle all day, having Leon and Gwaine working to make sure there were eyes on him at all times, and Gwen conveniently seeing to chores nearby his room whenever the knights were otherwise engaged. For her own safety, she hadn't been told the details of why Agravaine was being observed. She was more than willing to help though, and Arthur suspected she had put two and two together, and come to her own conclusions.

The result of this spying was that, as far as they could tell, Agravaine was still unaware of his nephew's suspicions, or Merlin's knowledge of his betrayal. They wouldn't be keeping it this way though. The following morning Arthur would be informing his uncle that he had a theory about the identity of the traitor and that Merlin was claiming to know who it was. He intended to leave his uncle with the very clear impression that he was the one he suspected, before conveniently leaving him to his own devices.

Their prediction was that Agravaine would flee at once to inform Morgana. If all went according to plan they would follow, catch him in the act of betrayal, and if luck was on their side they would find Morgana, and deal with her in whatever way they had to. Arthur couldn't help but entertain the hope that maybe they could capture her and make her see reason. He wanted his sister back, or the person his sister used to be at least. He had hope, but not much. If it came down to it, he would do what he had to.

"Agravaine is going to lead us right to her!"

The flash of pain in Arthur's eyes when he mentioned his uncle's name didn't go unnoticed by Merlin. Guilt twisted in the warlock's gut. He hated that one day it might be his lies that put that look in Arthur's eyes. He hated that after Morgana's betrayal, Arthur was going through this again, and that he would have to go through it at least once more in the future. 

Because he was certain now that Arthur would have to feel the bite of betrayal again. For years he'd wondered if he would ever confess his secret to Arthur, but now it was a question of when, not if. 
Arthur trusted him. He trusted Merlin. Truly trusted him. He owed his king the truth. He just had to wait for the right moment, and hope Arthur understood then.

"Merlin!" He jerked his head up, not realising Arthur had been yelling while he was distracted by his worries. "I hope you've shut up because you've seen reason."

Merlin glared at him. "No, I'm coming." Arthur strode forward and raised a finger before Merlin's face, a gesture that reminded him horribly of Uther. The fury in Arthur's face was tempered with concern though, a look Merlin doubted Uther had given many people in his hateful life. 

"You will stay here," he growled through gritted teeth before striding away again. "If you come you'll just get yourself killed, and the rest of us in the process too." Ouch, that one stung. If only Arthur knew how many times they would have gotten themselves killed without him. 

His body stiffened. If only Arthur knew then maybe…

When Arthur reached the window on the opposite side of the room he leaned against it, pressing his forehead to the cold glass and breathing hard as he tried to control his frustration. "I almost lost you once, I'm not risking it again," Arthur muttered. He flushed at once. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. With his back to Merlin, he didn't realise the man was lost in his thoughts and not listening. He hoped Merlin's silence was because he hadn't heard what he said. 

The room was quiet for a long few minutes, as Arthur forced himself to calm down, and a million different scenarios went through Merlin's mind. Maybe he didn't need to do this? He could just follow in secret the next day as well! But no, he couldn't. The knights couldn't get there before him, or Morgana might kill them all. Maybe there was some argument he hadn't come up with yet, some reason Arthur would accept for him to accompany them? But no, that wouldn't work either. Arthur wasn't going to stand down on this. Even if he did, the chances of Merlin slipping away from the knights unnoticed were slim to nothing.

It really was going to come down to this then.

He took a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully. "Morgana has magic Arthur." His voice seemed far too loud in the room after such a long silence.

"Yes, I am aware of that Merlin," Arthur snapped. 

"You won't stand a chance against her without magic." Arthur turned, giving Merlin a bewildered look. Merlin took another breath and powered on. "You'll need magic to win."

Arthur's expression became even more confused, before slipping back to anger. "Are you seriously suggesting-"

"Yes."

If the silence before had been painful, this one was perfectly agonising. Arthur looked away, glaring at the ground and Merlin could almost hear the thoughts flying through the king's head. He prayed Arthur would continue the Pendragon tradition of hypocrisy when it came to using magic in desperate times. It was a hypocrisy that infuriated him, but at times like this it also gave him hope. 

"Even if I would consider what you're suggesting," Arthur said slowly when he broke the quiet and looked back up at Merlin. "Which is treason by the way... Unless you happened to know a sorcerer friendly to Camelot then there's no point even considering it."

Merlin felt lightheaded. He wasn't ready for this. But maybe he would never be ready. This was the moment. He stared directly into Arthur's eyes and, dreading the pain he knew would appear there soon, he nodded.

"I do."

Arthur snorted. Not the reaction he'd been expecting.

"If you mean Gaius then-"

Oh

"No, not Gaius."

Arthur frowned, then rolled his eyes. "Oh god, not that bloody Dragoon, he is no ally-"

"Not him." Merlin knew Arthur would never trust Dragoon again, not after he'd made such a mess with Uther. There was nothing for it.

Arthur's frown deepened. "Then who?"

Don't cry, don't make this worse with tears. 

"Just... please promise you'll let me explain?" The look on Merlin's face gave Arthur pause. He looked so desperate. So afraid. Now Arthur was afraid as well. But he nodded.

"Alright. Now tell me, who?"

Merlin swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He could do this. He had to. This was the moment. Arthur trusted him. He was about to either earn that trust, or lose it forever.

When he opened his eyes and looked at his friend again he felt the sting of tears waiting to fall.

"Me."

Chapter Text

Merlin was born an outsider. A bastard. A warlock. A child of magic.

Maybe it was because of this that he had always had a strange relationship with the notion of trust. 

Trust could be given. That was easy enough to understand. There were many people whom he generally trusted, but very few he trusted fully. His mother was one of them. Gaius another. But that was where the list came to an end, unless he were to count the dead. Lancelot. Freya. Will. The father he had known so briefly. The people he trusted always seemed to suffer. It made him wonder sometimes if magic really was a curse. If this gift of his was in truth a stain on his soul that seeped out and tainted those he dared share his whole self with.

Because that was the crux of it. If he didn't share that secret with someone and see what they did once they held that knowledge in their hands, how could he ever fully trust them?

He also understood that trust could be received. That it was something others were able to give to him. There were many people he believed trusted him, but very few whose complete trust he deserved. The list was the same. His mother, Gaius, and his ghosts. There were many people he would go to the ends of the earth to protect, people he would gladly lay down his life for. None more so than Arthur. He had their trust, he knew that in his heart, and it meant everything to him.

But trust is demanding. To be trusted wholly demands your whole self. The Merlin those people trusted was only half a person. He was an open book, with half the pages missing and the cover torn away. He didn't know if any of those people would trust him if they saw all of who he was. If they saw what he was.

He wanted them to. He wanted Arthur to. He wanted to trust Arthur so badly.

And so he held his breath and waited for Arthur to speak.

Arthur gave a snort of laughter. "This is hardly the time for jokes Merlin."

"I have magic Arthur."

"No you don't." 

In the long pause that followed Merlin took a shuddering breath and felt the first tear escape. Arthur's face slowly fell.

"I'm a sorcerer."

"Merlin, you are not a sorcerer." Arthur's expression was becoming more frantic. "You can't be, I would know if you..."

He trailed off as Merlin lifted a hand before him, palm facing the ceiling. 

"Léoht."

Eyes that should have been blue became a shining gold and in Merlin's hand an orb of light blossomed. It was small, a globe of blue not quite the size of a plum, but the bright orange light of the sunset slanting across the room seemed dim in comparison to its luminance. Arthur was transfixed. 

"Swa sceal geong guma gode gewyrcean." 

Another flash of gold and the orb grew, swelling until it filled Merlin's palm, a swirling mass of ethereal light that left the chainmail and sword lying on the table glinting. Arthur felt sick. He dragged his eyes from the glowing ball and up to Merlin's face. The light the man had conjured lit his pale skin, making it almost glow where it was not starkly shadowed. His eyes were blue again and filled with tears. The light faded and Merlin dropped his hand. "Arthur..."

"You're not... Who..." Arthur took a step back. Then, all of Merlin's nightmares came true at once, as Arthur lunged for his sword. "Who are you!?"

What?" He raised his hands before him defensively as Arthur advanced with fury in his eyes Merlin had rarely seen. The terror of his nightmares paled in comparison to this. 

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM!"

"Arthur-" Merlin stumbled back, entire body trembling as Arthur drew closer, sword still raised. "Please-"

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MERLIN?!"

What?

"Arthur, it's me!" He was tripping over himself as he backed away and his back slammed into stone as he hit the wall. Arthur's hand found his collar and Merlin felt himself being forced back even harder, pinned to the wall as Arthur scrunched his shirt up in his hand and pressed a fist to his shoulder. The tip of a sword was hovering directly over his heart. Arthur looked rabid.

"Tell me who you are, NOW!" This wasn't possible. Arthur knew this wasn't possible. This thing wasn't Merlin, this couldn't possibly be Merlin. Morgana had done something, conjured this fiend, that was the only explanation, it had to be.

"Merlin! Arthur, it's me, please-"

"Prove it!" 

Merlin was lost for words, more afraid than he had ever been in his life. He was trembling. He couldn't speak. He just stared back at Arthur, begging him silently. He didn't understand what was happening. Arthur wasn't accepting his silence though. 

"Prove to me you're him or I swear I will run you through." Arthur pressed a little harder against his collarbone and he winced. "If you've hurt him..."

Understanding dawned on Merlin. He swallowed hard, searching for his voice, while Arthur held his sword steady. His eyes flew around the room over Arthur's shoulder and came to land on the new inkpot on the King's desk.

"Three... three days ago, before we left, you threw your inkpot at me-" He took a sharp breath as his lungs struggled to get enough air. Speaking through the panic felt like being strangled. A hint of confusion had come over Arthur's face.

"I made fun of your handwriting," How can anyone read that chicken scratch? "so you threw it." Stop, breathe, keep going. "But you missed me on purpose because a year ago you did the same thing."

Tears were pouring down his face now, and he hated how his voice sounded so pathetic and choked. Arthur was shaking.

"It spilt ink all over my jacket and when it stained you felt bad about it." A wet laugh inexplicably escaped him. It was hard to tell with his own eyes streaming, but Arthur's eyes seemed to be shining as well, and the fingers clenching Merlin's shirt had started loosening. "It didn't occur to a princely prat like you that it might be my only one, so when I couldn't get the stain out you felt guilty, and you gave me this." 

Arthur's eyes dropped to the sleeve of the jacket Merlin was wearing. The one he always wore. It was almost indistinguishable from the old one Arthur had unintentionally ruined. A slightly warmer fabric and finer stitching, but otherwise the same. He remembered how anxious the seamstress had been when he was abnormally particular about how it was to be made.

Maybe an imposter could have gathered that information, someone unbelievably close and thorough could have observed such a thing. Maybe they had been impersonating Merlin for days, were here when he threw that inkpot at him.

But he had missed him on purpose. He had missed him for that exact reason. He hadn't even realised that was why he did it. Only one person could possibly know him well enough to know that, and they were standing right in front of him.

The silence was broken by the clang of the sword falling to the stone floor. Arthur staggered back and Merlin slid to the ground, a fist no longer pinning him to the wall. He looked utterly terrified and Arthur turned away. The room was spinning, and he grasped the back of a chair to hold himself up. He should have felt relieved that the man wasn't an imposter, because it meant Merlin was safe. But it also meant that his friend was telling him the truth, and he didn't want that to be the case. It meant Merlin had been lying to him all these years. For a while, the only sound in the room were Merlin's shallow hasty breaths. Eventually, they calmed, and the quiet felt deafening.

"Why?" When Arthur didn't get a reply he closed his eyes and clenched his fists, trying to stay in control. "Why would you choose to practice magic Merlin?"

"I didn't choose it." Merlin's voice was small and shaking. "I was born with it."

More lies. He couldn't do this. He couldn't think. His world was falling apart around him.

"Get out."

Merlin hadn't thought he could hurt more right now, until he heard those words. Arthur still had his back to him. "You said you'd let me explain, Arthur please-"

"Get. Out."

"But tomorrow-"

"I will inform you of my decision later. Until then, leave me."

There was nothing else Merlin could do. He pushed himself slowly to his feet and tried to wipe the tears from his face as he made his way to the door. He paused as he reached for the handle. "I use it for you Arthur." He glanced back, saw Arthur still turned away, and left. The door clicked shut behind him.

Arthur snatched the inkpot from his desk, and hurled it against the wall.

Merlin navigated his way towards his room in a daze, thankful most of the staff were busy with dinner preparations and that Arthur had dismissed his guards earlier, for fear they would overhear their planning.

He'd told him. Arthur knew. Arthur knew he had magic. He'd told Arthur he was a sorcerer, and his friend's first thought had been to raise his sword.

In a deserted corridor halfway to the safety of Gaius's chambers he stopped and placed a hand on the wall, clutching his throat, unable to walk any further. He couldn't breathe with the phantom blade still pressed to his chest. He couldn't get enough air, why was there no air?

"Merlin!" A jovial voice from behind him echoed down the hall. 

Oh god please no.
He couldn't let anyone see him like this.

"Just the man I was looking for!" A hand clapped down on his shoulder and he dropped his hand from his neck, desperately trying to control his body as he looked up at Gwaine's grinning face. He obviously was failing though because Gwaine immediately looked worried. Very worried. "What's wrong?" 

"It's-" He took a rasping gasp and tried to smile. "Nothing- I'm fine!" His voice was trembling as much as he was but somehow he was still hoping Gwaine would believe him.

"It's obviously not mate, what's going on?" He placed a hand on Merlin's other shoulder but he tried to pull away, shaking his head and still wheezing just as badly. Gwaine's expression softened a little and he rubbed Merlin's arm. "OK, you don't have to tell me what's wrong, alright?" Merlin stopped pulling away and stared at him. "You don't have to tell me anything, but I am going to stand here until you take some deep breaths for me."

Merlin was still gasping, with stars beginning to appear in his vision. He closed his eyes and tried to do what Gwaine asked, but his lungs were burning. "It's alright Merlin, just breathe with me." Merlin took hold of Gwaine's arms, squeezing hard, and listened to his friend's steady, exaggerated breaths. "That's it. You'll be fine soon."

Gradually, second by horribly long second, he felt his lungs beginning to expand again. The air was coming back. The spots in his vision were fading. When his breaths finally fell into rhythm with Gwaine's, his friend patted his shoulder. "You with me?" Merlin nodded and opened his eyes again. Gwaine beamed at him. "Good." Merlin was still trembling from the adrenaline, but managed a small smile.

"Thanks Gwaine"

"No problem at all." He took his hand from Merlin's shoulder and opened his arms wide."And now I'm going to hug you, alright?" He winked and Merlin smiled a tiny bit more before Gwaine wrapped him in a bear hug that he returned. He hated that someone had seen him in such a state, but he was glad it was Gwaine who had found him. When they broke apart Merlin turned away to scrub away his tears, but Gwaine stayed close to him. He still seemed a little unsteady on his feet.

"Is this something to do with tomorrow?" Merlin looked at him sideways, wondering how much he wanted to say. When he was silent for a little too long Gwaine raised his hands in front of him. "Again, you don't have to say if you don't want to, but I just thought I'd ask." Merlin sighed and nodded, then stared down at his boots.

"Gwaine... If I come with you and the knights tomorrow..." He trailed off, leaving Gwaine confused by his use of the word if. Surely not even rampaging griffons could stop Merlin from chasing after them all on their dangerous quest the way he always did. He'd never let Arthur leave without him. Merlin gave his head a small shake before continuing. "Whatever happens, I just want you to know, I would never want to betray you, any of you." Gwaine's confusion continued rising.

"Merlin mate, I don't think you'd know how to betray us even if you wanted to." He waited, hoping Merlin was going to explain himself. But he didn't, and Gwaine decided to respect his choice. "Well, I'm here if you do decide you want to talk about it or need any more breathing lessons." Merlin gave him a small, sad smile.

"Thank you, for being such a good friend." Gwaine grinned and slapped his arm.

"Takes one to know one." 

"I'll see you tomorrow." 

Merlin walked away quickly, trying to hide how his smile faded, leaving Gwaine no less worried than when he found him.

It was late when Arthur entered the physician's chambers for the second time that day, his head aching from thinking so hard for so long. The place was empty, but the door to Merlin's room was ajar, and the light of a candle shone through it. Arthur braced himself, crossed the room, and pushed the door open. He found both Merlin and Gaius sitting in silence together, Merlin hunched over on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, and Gaius beside him with a hand on his back. Arthur had been wondering if Gaius had been keeping Merlin's secret from him as well, and from the scene before him he gathered he had been right.

The two men turned to him at once, faces stony. Gaius's expression was cold but otherwise unreadable. Merlin's eyes were swollen and red. A myriad of emotions passed over his face at the sight of the King, too many for Arthur to interpret, before the sorcerer's face turned to stone again.

"Leave us Gaius." Gaius stared at Arthur for a few moments, before turning to Merlin. His ward gave him a nod and Arthur realised with a pang that Gaius was probably afraid to leave Merlin alone with him. He probably shouldn't be surprised. He watched Gaius give Merlin's shoulder a pat, stand, and then leave, his eyes never meeting Arthur's. When the door closed behind him Arthur turned back to Merlin and found him looking away from him as well, staring intently at the hands clasped between his knees. 

"I thought you might have fled."

"Sorry to disappoint."

Delivered in a different tone, those words could have just been Merlin's usual sass, but right now the man just sounded weary. As though there was no fight left in him. Arthur had come with something to say, but he couldn't bring himself to say it yet. He had too many questions, he didn't even know where to begin. Half of them he didn't truly want the answer to, not right now at least, so he started with what seemed to be a simple one.

"Why didn't you heal yourself?" Merlin wasn't sure if it was irritation or curiosity that he heard faintly through Arthur's monotone. He hoped it was the latter.

"Healing magic's hard," he said with a shrug. "And by the time I got away from Morgana I was too weak to try." And before that, I was with you. The corner of his mouth lifted into a half-hearted smile. "Besides, if I'd turned up with all my injuries healed you'd have been suspicious." He was still staring at his hands, avoiding Arthur's harsh stare. One question answered at least, Arthur thought. 

"Morgana is powerful, just what do you expect to be able to do against her? Your little light trick," Arthur held his hand up the way Merlin had before and wiggled his fingers, "won't do much." 

"I can protect you." Arthur scoffed and crossed his arms.

"I've seen you try and fight Merlin, you-"

"Not with a sword," Merlin interrupted. Arthur frowned. 

"You seriously think you're powerful enough to do that?" Sure Merlin had magic, but to protect someone from Morgana was surely more than a little beyond him.

"Yes." Merlin hadn't missed the scepticism in his voice, and he honestly would have been surprised if it hadn't been there. He risked giving Arthur a look and a half smile. "It wouldn't be the first time." He dropped his gaze again quickly when Arthur's eyes stayed hard. Arthur didn't know how to react to those words. He didn't want to try comprehending the implications of them right now. His world had already been turned upside down more than once that day. If he thought about what Merlin was saying too much he might lose what little grip he still had on his wits.

"You said you were born with it," he stated bluntly after a long pause.

"I was."

The rage smouldered in his chest again, and he clenched his fists. "Stop lying to me."

Merlin shrugged a second time. "It's the truth."

"I don't believe you," Arthur spat back, and Merlin almost winced from the venom in his voice. "No one is born with magic." Merlin made a small sound of amusement. 

"Heh, my mum would beg to differ." Despite everything, he felt a tiny warmth in his chest. "I was making things fly around before I could walk, must have been a nightmare of a kid."

"Stop it."

Merlin turned to him, a sort of detached confusion on his face. "What?"

Being him. 

Arthur was the one to look away this time. He closed his eyes and blew a long, controlled breath from his nose, calming the storm the way he had practised through all those arguments with his father, and the most frustrating of court meetings. The ones where Merlin would make faces at him or mutter jokes to help him through the boredom. He had more questions, but he no longer had the strength or desire to ask. He just didn't want this to be real. 

"I thought I knew you Merlin." He turned back and wasn't sure if he'd ever seen Merlin sit so still. He had dropped his eyes again and was just staring down at the hands on his knees. The stony expression he had been holding in place suddenly melted away, leaving the truth behind. His face was utterly desolate. 

Arthur had seen Merlin sad before. He'd heard the way his voice flattened, seen how his face would become tense. He'd seen him cry and curl in on himself, turn away to try and hide his downturned mouth and tears, seen how his shoulders would sag as he walked, as though the weight of the world rested on them. The weight of secrets and lies. But he'd never seen him look like this. As though he simply had nothing left. Empty.

That was what magic did. It poisoned whatever it touched. He was lying about being born with it because the Merlin that arrived in Camelot had never looked like this. How many years had Arthur stood there blissfully unaware as as the light and joy in his friend's soul was worn away. Why did magic continue to take everything he loved. Why did it hurt the people he loved again and again?

He hated it when Merlin was sad and right now he felt, like he always did, a desperate need to bring his smile back. He couldn't though. That Merlin, his Merlin, the one he always wanted by his side and wanted so badly to comfort, was gone. Maybe he had never truly existed.

"I've wanted to tell you for-" Merlin began, but Arthur cut him off. He didn't want to hear anything else the person wearing Merlin's face had to say.

"If what you have said about my uncle is true and he flees tomorrow, then you will ride out with us." Merlin felt a wave of relief. At least something good had come out of this mess. He nodded, then looked up hurriedly as Arthur shifted, uncrossing his arms and raising a finger. "But let me be clear Merlin," Merlin forced himself to stay where he was, fighting the urge to cringe away as Arthur pointed at him so threateningly, " no magic without my express order. You are my servant, and you will follow my every command." Merlin frowned for a moment, confused by the sheer peculiarity of Arthur giving any order related to his magic. Arthur glared at him ferociously. "Swear it to me Merlin."

Merlin nodded slowly and held the king's gaze.

"I swear."

"Good." Arthur lowered his hand, and the uncomfortable silence returned. 

Merlin thought Arthur looked as tired as he felt. He often looked tired recently, despite shouldering the burdens of being a new king well. He was a good king already in Merlin's eyes and was growing more into the role every day. Merlin was proud of him, in awe of the ruler he was and would be. He wished he could have made this struggle easier for Arthur, the way he always tried to and often did, but instead, he had just added another weight to his shoulders. As time went on it seemed he did harm more often, and helped less, no matter what he tried.

Their conversation seemed to be over, so Merlin reached out to pick up the blanket folded at the end of his bed. "Here." He held it out to Arthur, who recognised it as the one he had brought from his chambers the day before. "Thank you for letting me use it." Arthur stared at the Pendragon red fabric, then shook his head.

"Keep it for tonight. I need everyone well rested on the 'morrow." Merlin's face briefly became less empty. "And I want it washed before you return it." His face turned empty once more, and Arthur regretted how harshly he had spoken the words. He was ready to leave though, he didn't want to be here anymore. "I will decide your-" fate? The word caught in his throat, but Merlin heard it regardless. He hesitated. "When we return, you will tell me everything, and then I will make my decision."

"I will, I swear it." The earnesty in his eyes was piercing, but then he dropped his gaze. "Arthur just... If you decide to..." Merlin gulped, and Arthur pretended not to notice he had started crying again. "Please just don't make it the pyre, anything but that."

Arthur froze. If his Merlin had spoken those words then he knew exactly what he would say.

You won't burn Merlin. You'll never burn.
I would never let that happen.
I won't let anyone hurt you.
I could never hurt you.
I will protect you.
Always.

Instead, he said

"Alright."

Because even though the man before him wasn't his Merlin, he still couldn't bear the thought of watching him burn. The very suggestion of it made him sick. He watched Merlin close his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. The relief conveyed by that small action was a stab in Arthur's already punctured heart.

"Be ready at dawn. We ride the moment my uncle does." He pulled the door closed as he left, and told himself he imagined the sound of a choked sob as it shut behind him.

Chapter Text

Merlin emerged from his room just before sunrise and was surprised to find Gaius already awake and bent over the fireplace. He must have woken early to make sure he ate before seeing him off. How he would have survived his years in Camelot without the man, Merlin didn't know. He wished he could think of some way to repay him for it. Gaius placed a bowl of their usual porridge before him as he dropped down at the table. He mumbled his thanks, and then Gaius took a step back to take in his shattered appearance. "Oh Merlin, did you sleep at all last night?"

"A little," Merlin lied. As he attempted to eat, Gaius placed a hand on his forehead and gave a disapproving hum, clearly feeling the return of his fever. Merlin had expected he'd notice that at once; they both knew the havoc stress and lack of sleep could wreck on illness.

"There's no point trying to convince you to stay behind, is there?"

"You know I have to go Gaius." Gaius shook his head resignedly. There was a lot of feeling behind the single action. He sat down opposite Merlin, brows pulled together in worry.

"I would ask you to be careful, but I know that won't make a difference."

"As long as Arthur gets back safe, that's all that matters," Merlin said quietly in to his bowl.

"It is not all that matters Merlin!" Gaius burst out, startling the warlock. "There are people here who care about you! If you won't be careful for your own sake, do it for us." Merlin slammed his hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet, startling Gaius in return.

"And how many of them do you think would still care if they knew the truth! How many of them would think I'm a monster as well?" He hadn't meant to raise his voice, but after spending so many hours staring at his bedroom ceiling, unable to escape the feeling of Arthur's fist pressed into his shoulder and sword tip against his chest, it was hard to keep his emotions in check anymore. Gaius looked horrified. 

"Arthur doesn't think you're a monster!"

"Oh you didn't see him," Merlin said with a horrible humourless chuckle in his voice. He turned away, beginning to pace in his agitation. "I've seen Arthur angry before but this was more than that. His first reaction to a sorcerer revealing themselves peacefully was to raise his sword!"

"And then he lowered it," Gaius pointed out. "He didn't harm you!"

"But he would've. He would have killed me if I was a stranger! That's what he thinks people like me deserve." He halted his pacing and stared at Gaius, and the old man's heart broke at the utter misery in his ward's eyes. It had been many years since he first heard Merlin question if he was a monster or not, barely a day or so after their first meeting.

     I'm not a monster, am I?
     Don't ever think that.

He had hoped what he said to the young warlock then would help keep those thoughts away, but it seemed maybe they hadn't been enough. After all, when you're told every day that people like you are monsters, something to be despised and hunted down like beasts, it must be hard not to end up believing it yourself. He didn't say anything and just stared at Merlin sadly. 

Merlin felt guilty at once. He shouldn't be taking his feelings out of anyone, least of all Gaius, the one person he knew wouldn't abandon him. He hung his head. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright Merlin, here," he gestured to the table, "you need to eat before you leave." Merlin dropped back into his seat, and they finished their breakfast in silence.

Afterwards Gaius cleared away their plates and Merlin gathered his belongings, mostly basic medical supplies, then slung his bag over his shoulder. "I better go." Gaius stopped him before he could leave, and hugged him tightly. Merlin returned it, trying to put as much gratitude into the hug as possible.

"I'll have supper ready for you when you get back," he said when they broke apart. Merlin wanted to, but couldn't bring himself to smile. He nodded and left. He had a plan to ensure Arthur and the knights made it back unscathed, but there was a chance he wouldn't be so lucky. 

Arthur strode towards his uncle's chambers, rehearsing what he planned to say in his head. He just needed Agravaine to think he was suspicious, and that he would take Merlin's word as proof if it confirmed those suspicions. He would have preferred to confront his uncle directly, but there would be time for him to rage and demand answers later. Right now he needed to focus on the plan.

So focussed on it was he, that he didn't notice the approaching sound of hurried footsteps. As he rounded a corner someone collided hard with his shoulder, and Arthur's larger frame knocked them to the floor. "Watch where you're going," he snapped, assuming, based on their clothing, that it was a servant he'd just unintentionally sent sprawling to the ground. Usually, he wouldn't have been harsh, but his nerves were stretched tight already. His stomach lurched as he looked down though, and realised which servant it was.

"Sorry," Merlin mumbled as he snatched up the bag he had dropped. His voice was strained and Arthur thought of the terrible bruise that must still be beneath his shirt. He hoped he had caught Merlin's shoulder and not his chest when they collided. Merlin stumbled as he pushed himself to his feet, and something about the sheer familiarity of that clumsiness stoked Arthur's anger.

"Good to see you weren't lying about being an idiot as well." 

"Nope," Merlin sighed as he dusted himself off. "That's just part of my charm." 

When he looked up from his clothes Arthur was shocked; Merlin looked like he'd had no sleep at all. Arthur hadn't had much either, but the faint dark circles he had seen under his eyes in the mirror that morning were nothing compared to the ones beneath the sorcerer's. He looked far worse even than he had on that morning when Arthur found him sitting on the floor outside the throne room after he had spent the night there, while Arthur remained on the other side of the door mourning his father. He'd called him a loyal friend that day. They stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds.

"Hurry up and get to the armoury," Arthur ordered as he turned away, marching again in the direction of his uncle's room. He paused when Merlin called after him though.

"Arthur?" He turned and tried to ignore how fast his heart was racing. Merlin was smiling at him, but the smile was small and sad. Terribly sad. "I'm still the same person." Arthur felt his whole body stiffen and his stomach clenched. Merlin's eyes were pleading. "The parts of me you know... they're still me." Arthur swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump from his throat. 

"Go, I need to speak with my uncle."

He turned on his heels, and didn't look back.

"I will expect you this afternoon uncle. Do not keep me waiting." Arthur's cold tone during the conversation seemed not to have gone unnoticed by Agravaine. The man wasn't exactly easy to read, his body language giving nothing away, but he had failed to mask his shocked panic when it briefly flickered through his eyes.

"Of course sire. I look forward to it."

Arthur left his uncle's chambers and shut the door a little too firmly behind him, a final full stop on the subtle accusations he had made. In difference to what he had told Agravaine, he didn't head in the direction of Gaius's chambers, instead making for the armoury closest to the stables.

When he arrived there he found Leon and Elyan standing together, fully armoured and hands resting on the hilts of their swords. They were looking on edge, far more so than Arthur would have expected, even for a mission as critical as this. Then he followed their eyes and understood. To the side of the room stood Gwaine, also looking fully prepared to leave, with his arms crossed, and his eyes fixed on the top of Merlin's head, where he sat hunched over on a bench. Gwaine seemed to have been speaking to him, but at the sound of the door swinging closed behind Arthur both he and Merlin looked up.

It was obvious from Gwaine's demeanour that he was worried, and his expression immediately turned harsh at the sight of Arthur. That, and the way he moved a little closer to Merlin made it clear who he was worried about, and who he thought was to blame for their problems. Arthur wondered if he might not be the only one in the room Merlin had told his secret to. He quickly broke eye contact with the knight. He would not let Gwaine make him feel guilty, not when Merlin was the one who had betrayed him. He couldn't help glancing at the other man as well though.

He hadn't noticed before how there wasn't a trace of light in Merlin's eyes, a stark contrast to both the bright gold Arthur had seen there the day before, and the life that usually shone in them. The man wearing Merlin's face no longer looked desolate and broken though. He looked resolute. Determined. With that expression, Arthur half expected him to start off on one of those abnormally wise and effective pep talks he always gave when Arthur needed them most, and tell him he would proudly follow him into battle until the day he died. Arthur wasn't sure how to reconcile those talks with what he knew about the man now. Arthur turned away, refocusing on the task at hand. "The horses are ready?"

"Yes sire," Elyan answered. "Percival is keeping watch over your uncle's horse, and Gwen is watching the kitchens, in case he tries to sneak out through the servants' quarters." 

"Good, and our supplies?" 

Much to Arthur's irritation, he heard Gwaine begin muttering in the corner, as he, Leon, and Elyan discussed their situation and plans. Rather than listening intently as they should be, Gwaine and Arthur's former best friend were apparently continuing their conversation, though Gwaine seemed to be doing most of the talking. He couldn't hear what they were saying while only half listening, but Merlin's quiet voice sounded hoarse.

"Sire?" Leon stepped a little closer to Arthur, eyes flicking from Merlin, to him, and back. In a lowered voice he asked, "You aren't really bringing Merlin, are you?" Arthur didn't bother keeping his voice down. If Gwaine and the sorcerer decided to bother paying attention it would be fairly obvious what they were discussing anyway.

"He insisted."

"He looks like death though," Elyan murmured, eyes also moving back and forth between the king and his manservant. "Surely he should be with Gaius." Reluctantly Arthur stole another glance at Merlin. His face was unnaturally pale, further emphasising the terrible shadows beneath his eyes. He looked ill, and as Arthur studied him more closely he recognised the tell-tale clammy skin of a fever. He frowned and felt a flicker of worry. He'd thought Merlin was getting better, and surely Gaius wouldn't have let him leave if he was still sick? He must be fine.

"Like I said, he insisted." Leon and Elyan stared at him, unsatisfied with this answer. "We may also need him to tend to injuries," was the excuse he settled on. This seemed enough for the knights, though they looked no less concerned. The three of them lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, as they waited for news of Agravaine. The silence was made all the more uncomfortable by Gwaine's increasingly frustrated attempts to convince Merlin not to come. As the minutes wore on he seemed to stop caring about keeping his voice down. When Merlin stopped responding to him his anger boiled over. He whirled around and began striding towards Arthur, clearly ready to give him a piece of his mind but, before he had a chance to start yelling, Percival burst through the door.

"Sire!"

Arthur's stomach lurched. He'd half been hoping Percival would never come get them because if he was here with that look of urgency on his face it could mean only one thing. 

"He fled?"

Percival gave a sharp nod. The whole room sprang into action, and they ran for their horses.

Agravaine pushed his horse as hard as he dared once out of the gates of Camelot. Morgana's hut was less than a half-day ride out of the citadel, hidden well by her magic from those who didn't know exactly where to look. He could make it there faster, but if he rode too hard his horse would tire, and then he and Morgana would never be able to put enough distance between them and Camelot by nightfall. He slowed only to turn occasionally and ensure he wasn't being followed.

It was hard to tell in the thicker areas of the woods, but as he crossed the wide plains between two of the larger stretches of forest he saw no sign of pursuers. By the time he reached the forest where Morgana was hidden, he was confident he had left without being noticed. There had been one horrible moment when he was certain he glimpsed a flash of red capes in the distance. When he looked back though he saw nothing but a haze of light mist, catching the light in ways that played tricks on the eye in the grey and and overcast day.

He was livid, and more than a little afraid. How had he lost Arthur's trust so easily? The boy was fickle, something he must have inherited from his demon of a father, but he'd been sure by now that Arthur would never turn on him. But like Morgana had said, the king was abnormally fond of his manservant. To think their best-laid plans were to be foiled by a peasant who'd grown too big for his boots. Maybe he'd charmed Arthur in other, unsavoury ways. If only Morgana had let him kill the boy when he had a chance. 

What could have possibly gone wrong though? When Merlin had turned up with no memory of what had happened he had assumed that meant Morgana's plan, whatever it was, had been successful. She hadn't told him exactly how she planned to do it, but her intention had been to control the boy somehow. Surely if it had failed then the bastard would have spilled his guts to Arthur at once? And wouldn't his lady have contacted him if something had gone wrong?

Unless Merlin had done something to Morgana. A drop of icy dread fell into his stomach and he hurried his horse a little more. 

When he finally grew near the dell the witch had made her home he tied up his horse and hastened to her door. "Morgana! Morgana!" He yelled for her as he hammered on the door and she pulled it open almost at once, eyes wide and irate at his rudeness. 

"What is the mean-"

"It's the boy, Merlin." Her eyes grew even more fearsome at the mention of the name and he suspected he knew the answer to his next question. "He escaped from you didn't he?" She looked offended by this, but also fearful. She nodded.

"He made it back to the castle?"

"Yes, Arthur found him wandering the woods." He took a step closer to her, trying to impress on her the urgency of the situation. "He remembers everything, and he knows I am the one who betrayed Arthur."

"What?" Morgana hissed. "If he remembered then why didn't you inform me the moment he returned!"

"I assumed your plan for him had been successful. Arthur said he remembered nothing of what happened to him."

"And you believed him?" She looked disgusted, but Agravaine let out a short sigh and ignored the insult.

"I wouldn't have expected Arthur to believe him, but I am certain now that he suspects me."

"Don't you think fleeing will make your guilt clear?" She threw a hand in the air in frustration and turned away. "Arthur will see that as an admission."

"With all due respect my lady, I did not wish to risk staying to find out and besides, I was concerned for your safety." Morgana stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder. Even in her ruffled and wild state, her sultry beauty still struck him. He tried not to stare too closely at her lips. "If he remembers that much, then he may lead Arthur straight here." The witch looked away but Agravaine still saw the panic building behind her eyes. "Morgana, we must leave!"

She didn't seem to hear him though. She was staring at the wall with an unfocussed gaze and shaking her head very slowly from side to side. "I don't... I don't want to run again." Agravaine's heart ached for her. This place wasn't much, nothing as luxurious as she deserved, but it was the only home she currently had, and she'd lost so many homes already.

"My lady." He stepped forward and placed his hand gently on her shoulder. She jerked her head around at once and stared at him with the look of a cornered animal in her eyes. "A cohort of my men are stationed further up the river, if the knights come then they will intercept them. I promise you will be safe." He smiled at her warmly. "Let us away from this kingdom, I will find you a place far more fitting of your status, and then we can plan our return."

Once they sunk in his words seemed to calm her a little and she nodded, though her eyes were still unfocused. "Yes. Yes, of course."

"Good," he squeezed her shoulder and then took a step back, gesturing to the door. "Please my lady, we must make haste. Gather only what you need."

Riding with the injury to his chest was awful, as the horse's pace jostled him and his heavier-than-usual breathing made his chest ache. He kept quiet though. He didn't want to draw any more attention to himself from Arthur or the knights. His brain may be a little blurry around the edges with the fever and lack of sleep, but he'd have to be blind not to notice the concerned glances his friends kept throwing him. He rode at the front of the group alongside Arthur. He didn't do it out of a desire to stay close to the king though. 

It was partially an attempt to convince the others everything was fine; that his and Arthurs's relationship hadn't been irreversibly altered in the last 24 hours. But mainly, it was in preparation for what he was going to have to do. Up here he wouldn't risk anyone other than Arthur witnessing his eyes turn gold as he surveyed the path farther ahead than any of the others could see, or if he had to raise a hand and whisper a few words to soften the sound of their approaching hooves. He wasn't taking any chances. He needed to keep them hidden, and he needed to see ahead so he knew when to make his move.

They rode at a consistent pace, not wanting to give Agravaine too much of a lead, but not wanting to risk arousing his suspicions either. It was hard to gauge in the forest when they had nothing but his tracks and a rough idea of his speed to go on. As luck would have it though, the trail Agravaine was following cut across a large area of open land, the same one Arthur and Gwaine had ridden across two days before, while Merlin slept with his head resting against Arthur's neck. It seemed like a very long time ago now, Merlin thought to himself, when they reached the edge of the woods. 

Arthur raised his hand to bring them all to a halt when he glimpsed a dark figure on a horse in the distance. It was undoubtedly Agravaine, and they would be forced to wait until he crossed the border into the thicket of woods on the other side. It was irksome having to wait and watch their quarry. Maybe if he and Arthur had been on better terms Merlin could have taken the time earlier to tell him he could provide some extra camouflage, and they could have continued without worrying about being seen. But Arthur hadn't given him a chance to talk about much. It still stung that he hadn't let Merlin explain, the way he had promised.

Merlin was pulled from his thoughts at a sharp intake of breath from the men around him, and he looked up to see Agravaine had halted and was peering over his shoulder, back the way he had come. Merlin raised a hand and whispered.

"Genip bedyrne ús"

Arthur gave no sign he had heard him or seen his eyes change colour, but as a faint mist swept across the field, directly between them and Agravaine Leon let out a soft whistle. "That was some lucky timing, I thought he'd seen us for a moment." At this, Arthur's head twisted at once to Merlin. The warlock glanced at him sideways and saw his brows were furrowed. He looked away quickly, and Arthur didn't say anything to him. The other knights made sounds of agreement with Leon. The conjured mist cleared a few seconds later and Agravaine was once more riding away from them. He disappeared into the trees, and they began their chase again.

By the time they entered the woodlands in the same spot Agravaine had they had been riding for several hours, and Merlin was exhausted. Arthur had been throwing him the occasional stare as they crossed the field, but he hadn't looked up to check if it was anger or concern the king was directing his way. He wished he'd stop. He didn't want him to see his eyes flash each time he surveyed the path ahead. To his enormous relief though, when he sent his sight out along the path before him this time, he saw his opportunity.

Agravaine's trail continued along the same muddy path they were currently following, but a partially overgrown trail led off the side of it. The undergrowth there was thick. Not so thick that a single rider couldn't get through, but thick enough that navigating through it would be no faster on horseback than on foot.

As they approached the point he had chosen he muttered beneath his breath, "ahreran," and the imprints left by Agravaine's horse shifted before the knights could see them, now leading off the main path.

"Woah," Arthur brought the group to a halt. He studied the trail his Uncle had clearly taken, debating what to do next.

"Arthur?" He turned and Merlin gulped, hoping his trepidation didn't leak into his voice. "We're close, her hut isn't far down that path, I think-"

"How do you know?" he snapped, narrowing his eyes. "It was night when-"

"I just know." Arthur stared intensely back at him, considering him. The other knights exchanged looks. Then Arthur pursed his lips and gave Merlin a curt nod, permission to continue. "I think we should go on foot, the forest gets denser up ahead and we're almost there." Arthur stared at him a little longer, before conceding.

"Fine." He turned away and Merlin let out a shaky breath. "Tie up the horses," Arthur instructed the knights as he dismounted. "We continue on foot."

As the knights followed Arthur's lead, Merlin made a show of fiddling with his packs and climbing down from his horse, knowing none of them would be suspicious of him taking longer to do this than them. They all called him clumsy almost as often as Arthur did. By the time his feet were on the ground, the knights all had their backs to him and had almost finished tying up their own horses. 

He stood silently and watched them for a moment. The group of men who were brothers to each other, and friends to him. He watched Arthur slip into his role of commander with the graceful ease he always did, with strategies easily formed in his mind and detailed to his men. Arthur was explaining to them all how he wanted them to make every possible effort to take both his uncle and Morgana in alive. If their own lives were in danger they had his blessing to strike with intent to kill, but if it was possible he wanted them to take prisoners, not lives. He may have been a prat, but he was a good man. A better man than he was, Merlin thought.

He knew he had made the right choice. He would not let these good men die. And if he never made it back to them then so be it. He would never have to know which of his friends would now see him as a monster, or if any of them would remain by his side. Arthur would not have to make any decision about his fate, and Merlin would never have to know what his decision would have been.

He turned away from them and remounted his horse as quietly as he could. Unfortunately, his steed whinied as he hauled himself up and he winced when Arthur called out.

"Merlin, what do you think you are doing?" His voice was exasperated and Merlin forced himself to face him. Arthur's eyes narrowed, expression of annoyance morphing at once to suspicion. All the knights were staring now as well, with mildly puzzled looks. Merlin tried to ignore the familiar sting in the corner of his eyes. 

"None of you will stand a chance against Morgana."

     Let me be clear Merlin, no magic without my express order.

"I can't let you fight her, but don't worry, I'll stop her."
The colour drained from Arthur's face. Merlin closed his eyes for a moment.

     You are my servant, and you will follow my every command.

"Abrecan." He muttered the spell softly and when he opened his eyes again he knew everything was about to change. With a flash of gold and a sharp snap, the ropes securing the rest of the horses were severed. The packs on Merlin's own horse dropped to the ground as well their straps snapped. The knights spun around to their horses but Arthur couldn't tear his eyes from Merlin's face.

"Merlin..." the King growled. It was a warning and a plea. 

"Merlin, what the hell is going on!" Gwaine burst out, and Merlin couldn't bring himself to look at him. He could hear the worry in his voice.

      Swear it to me, Merlin.

"Please, don't follow me." Another flash of gold in his eyes, an earsplitting crack, and a cacophony of cries from both the horses and knights, as the dirt around the animal's hooves was blasted into the air. The horses took off at once before anyone had a chance to catch their reins. 

     I swear.

What was one more broken promise now?

Arthur, distracted by the spell, now spun back to Merlin and for a split second their eyes met. "I'm sorry."

"MERLIN!"

Arthur bellowed after him, but he was already galloping away.

Chapter Text

He couldn't move. Why wouldn't his legs move.

"Merlin..."

Don't do this, please dear god don't do this.

Gwaine was yelling at Merlin now but he and the rest of the knights seemed just as rooted to the spot as Arthur was. 

"Please, don't follow me."

Arthur wanted to scream at Merlin, command him to stop right this instant, but then Merlin's eyes flashed gold again and he spun around at the sound of a crack and hooves as the horses scattered. No, no, this couldn't be happening. Merlin wouldn't do this, he'd sworn to do what he said, sworn not to use his magic unless Arthur told him to. This wasn't simple disobedience. He'd given him his word. He was betraying him again. He'd trusted him. How could he do this to him again? He turned back, eyes begging for an explanation, begging Merlin not to betray him, the same way everyone else had.

And then their eyes met, and he understood.

There was no betrayal in Merlin's actions. No malice or anger or defiance or dissent. Just regret, and a silent goodbye.
Merlin was doing this for them. For him. Always for him.

"I'm sorry."

The warlock turned his horse, and sped away.

"MERLIN!"

The path curved up ahead, and Merlin was soon out of sight. 

As the hoofbeats faded into the distance the knights were left in a state of shock. Had they just seen what they thought they had seen? Elyan was the first to regain his voice. "What just happened?"

"Merlin's a..." Leon trailed off.

Arthur wheeled around to them, fury winning out against the shock. "I'm going after him. All of you, find the horses!" None of the knights took notice of him, each still staring after Merlin. "OI!" They all jumped and turned. "I'm going after him. The moment you catch a single horse you bring it to me, am I clear?"

"Arthur!" Gwaine stepped forward, voice and eyes desperate. "He's not a traitor! He'd never betray us, don't-"

"I bloody know that Gwaine and if we don't catch up he'll get himself killed!" Arthur started running before Gwaine could reply and bellowed back over his shoulder. "SO FIND ME A FUCKING HORSE!"

Gwaine gaped for a moment, then grinned. "At once, sire!"

Arthur didn't pay attention to his, or any of the other knights yells. He was livid, angrier even than when Merlin had confessed, and he was absolutely terrified.

"IDIOT!"

Why did the moron do this! Why would he insist on throwing himself into danger again? Merlin wasn't meant to protect him. His kind and bumbling servant wasn't meant to risk his life for him. This was the Dorocha all over again, he was watching Merlin being carried away again, with no way of knowing if he'd ever see him alive again, and he couldn't lose him, he couldn't. 

Of all the times for him to have taken his eyes off Merlin it had to have been now. He'd been watching him all day, angry at himself for being worried about him but worrying nonetheless. Merlin was sick, it had been obvious, and no matter how hard he was trying to hide it he'd been in pain. Why the hell had he let him come? Merlin shouldn't even have been out here! He should have been at home. Safe, warm, and curled up in bed. He shouldn't be out here in the cold, riding into a battle he couldn't possibly win.

Arthur was puffing heavily already. It didn't matter how fit you were, running and armour were an exhausting combination. Still, he found himself wasting his breath on yelling. "Fucking IDIOT!" It was directed as much at his useless, irreplaceable manservant, as his utterly, utterly useless self. It didn't matter about the magic, he didn't care, why the hell had he turned on Merlin? His best friend, the most important person to him. After everything they'd been through, after everything Merlin had done for him, every time he'd stood by his side so endlessly, unfairly loyal... He should never have doubted him.

If there was even the slimmest chance that his Merlin was still in there then he had to save him. And he was. He knew he was. Seeing that look in Merlin's eyes before he turned away, it had been his Merlin. Always his Merlin. He was going to spend hours screaming at him for breaking his word and running off like this, and then a few more begging him never to risk his life again because Arthur couldn't lose him. His life had been cruelly lonely before Merlin fell into it. A life having lost him would be so much worse.

This was all his fault. If he'd just let Merlin explain maybe this wouldn't be happening, maybe he wouldn't have run. They could have fought together, they should be fighting together! Yesterday Merlin had bared his soul, he'd trusted Arthur with his secret, one that could kill him, and before that, he'd promised he'd let Merlin explain. But instead, he had sent him away, yelled at him, let him believe he would actually consider executing him. No wonder Merlin hadn't trusted him enough to stay today. Because of that, because of his own damn stupidity, Merlin was alone, charging off into danger without him. Why was the moron even trying to protect him?

"It wouldn't be the first time."

Oh god.

He wouldn't have given a second thought to the mist across the moor today if he hadn't known the truth about Merlin. What else had he missed? 

The rockfall. Enemies thrown from their steeds. Branches and ceilings falling at exactly the right time. The wounds that had somehow taken him down, but that Merlin told him had been minor when he woke. How many other things had he missed?

For years he had wondered if someone was watching over him. He'd said it himself to his father after he awoke from the near-death coma the Questing Beast had put him into. "On your long journey to become King, you will need a guardian angel." His father had told him that, and he'd hoped that maybe he had one.

It was a thought he had never dared voice because of just how nonsensically childish it seemed, but he had thought, sometimes, that his mother really was still out there somewhere, taking care of him. Hell, that was why he'd given Merlin his mother's seal that night before they faced the Dorocha, in a desperate hope that it would protect him somehow. He'd thought it really had when Merlin survived the Dorocha's touch. He'd truly thought that his mother had somehow reached out to save Merlin. To save someone Arthur loved dearly when he could not protect them himself. Maybe she had, or maybe it had been Merlin's magic. Maybe it had been both. 

Regardless of whether his mother was still with him somehow, he really had had a guardian angel all along. Someone had been watching over him all this time. Fighting for him, while they stood quietly by his side.

And now they were running away from him as fast as they could, off to save him once more.

"If you die on me Merlin I will KILL YOU!!"

Merlin slowed his horse's pace once he was well out of sight of Arthur. He needed to keep a decent distance from Agravaine until he knew the man was with Morgana. His horse would probably appreciate it too. He gave the mare's neck a grateful pat and vowed to do what he could to ensure she was not caught up in the crossfire when he eventually faced Morgana. He'd rather not add an innocent animal to the list of lives he would be ending today.

He continued on the way he had all day so far, occasionally surveying the path ahead as he followed Agravaine's trail. He may not be a trained tracker like the knights, but it was an easy enough one to follow. It eventually branched off into the woods though and he grew anxious. Even after years of watching Arthur tracking every shape and size of creature through the forest, there was a chance he would lose this trail. But then he noticed tracks a little further ahead leading back out of the trees. Hoofprints joining back up with the path, and not just one set but two. He didn't need to venture into the woods to know that he must be close to Morgana's hovel and that he wouldn't find either her or Agravaine there. Perhaps that was a good thing. Morgana would have had an advantage in an area she knew well. He started his pursuit again, hoping the knights' horses had begun making their way back to Camelot, and Arthur wouldn't be able to find one anytime soon.

Maybe it was the effect of the fever, but it took him a while to realise where the trail was leading him. It wasn't until he recognised the stretch of road where he had been injured less than a week ago that he realised where Morgana and Agravaine were going. Right through the Valley of Fallen Kings. He hated this place. Nothing good ever happened in this place. A wave of dizziness came over him and he was forced to bring his horse to a stop, cursing under his breath. He took a moment to gather himself, pushing back the haze of exhaustion and sickness threatening to overwhelm him. This really wouldn't be a good time to go and fall off his horse.

It was only because of this that he noticed the change in the tracks he had been following. Footprints had appeared amongst the hoofprints. His heart sank. Agravaine must have still had men stationed nearby. More people he would have to force his way through. Once his head had cleared, or cleared as much as could be expected right now, he continued on. It wasn't long before he recognised another sight, an old stone archway over the path, and the ruins of what must have once been tall walls. He slowed his pace. Something about those ruins was giving him a bad feeling.

He sent his sight forward and it was a lucky thing he had because crouched behind the archway, hidden from sight, were at least a dozen armed men lying in wait. An ambush, likely left for any knights who may have followed their trail. Thank goodness he'd gotten here before Arthur and the others. He gulped, knowing and hating what he was about to do. He stopped partway down the path, well out of range of the arch and called out. 

"I know you're there. If you flee now I will not harm you." No response. He knew it was hopeless, but would never forgive himself if he didn't try. "Please go!" He called, desperate rather than commanding this time. "Agravaine is not worth dying for, and I don't want to kill you." He didn't need his magic to know that behind those stones they were laughing at him. So be it then. His face hardened, and he raised his hand. 

"Stanas ahreosaþ. Gebrecan hie."

A rumble was the only warning the mercenaries had before the ruins came crashing down on them. The air was briefly filled with the sounds of thundering stones and screams. It was over quickly, and Merlin hoped their deaths had been swift.

He didn't lower his hand though, as a few of the men had dived out from behind the stones and rolled away just in time. He saw them take a moment to gawk at the scene; the place that had in seconds become their comrades' grave, before they were on their feet and sprinting towards him, swords raised and cursing at him with all their strength. 

"Ástryce"

With a word he threw them aside, knowing the strength of the force they had hit the earth with would have killed each one. They had been dead before they even knew they had lost.

Merlin lowered his hand and rode on. He could feel Morgana's magic nearby. He was closing in, and the closer he drew the more his own magic seemed to shift beneath his skin. He felt it beginning to tingle in his palms, a heat building in his chest that had nothing to do with the fever ravaging him. Maybe it was because of that and the desperate adrenaline that a faint rumble of thunder had begun overhead. His magic was leaking out into the air, filling it with static, preparing him for the coming battle. He had struck one high priestess down with lightning before. It had been instinctual that time. His magic was telling him once again that it was the only way.

"Arthur!"

There could have been no sweeter sound at that moment than Leon's voice, and the pounding of hooves behind him. He skidded to a stop, panting hard and watched impatiently as Leon sped towards him. The man had barely pulled the horse to a halt before he was out of the saddle and hurrying out of the king's way so he could mount the steed. It wasn't Arthur's own horse but that couldn't matter less. Right now it was his favourite animal in the world.

"Looks like they're heading for the Valley of Fallen Kings," Arthur puffed out, still a tad out of breath.

"Right, we'll be with you soon Sire," Leon said, sure the King had no desire to dwell and talk any longer. Arthur gave him a brief nod of thanks and took off at once.

It made sense for their quarry to take this route. It was the fastest way out of Camelot from this position and unknown to most people. That was one of the reasons Arthur and his knights had been riding this path in the opposite direction less than a week ago. It could have been that Merlin modified the tracks he left, the same way Arthur had expected he had done to trick him and the knights earlier, but now that he knew where the trail was leading he was sure he was going the right way.

He sped on but soon came across yet more tracks. Footprints had joined the horses, and judging by the spread of hoofprints a couple more riders had appeared as well. He wouldn't have thought it possible, but now he was even more worried than before. The tracks led him down a road he immediately recognised. Or at least he thought he did. He was sure this was the same place, but he was equally certain an old archway and ruins had still been standing over when he had escaped, with Merlin draped limply over his shoulders. Now they were scattered across the ground.

As he approached the crumbling structure he was struck with a momentary panic. Three bodies lay before it. He calmed when he grew closer and saw there was no familiar brown jacket or red neckerchief among the dead men. Their garbs marked them clearly as bandits- no, as Agravaine's mercenaries, who had attacked them when they were last here. He was surprised to see the bodies still there, had their comrades been so uncaring that they had simply left them behind to rot? When he drew close he slowed, curious, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. These men had not been dead long. Far less than the multiple days it had been since that battle. 

Equally strange was the fact that there was not a drop of blood on them, save for the remnants of what looked to be a nosebleed on one. They looked unharmed, save for the fact they were dead. He pulled his eyes away, inspecting the ruins before him for a way through. Instead of a path though, he saw more bodies. Limbs sticking out at odd angles beneath the slabs of stone, and pools of recently shed blood.

There looked to be at least a dozen men who had been crushed beneath the old ruins, and it seemed none of them had survived. Had they been waiting in ambush? The ruins had been old but not close to collapse. They had been brought down by something. Arthur could feel his heart in his throat.

Had Merlin done this?

That didn't seem possible, but he saw no other explanation. Just how strong was he? 

Arthur shook himself mentally. There was no time to dwell on this, he had to find him. He pulled his eyes away from the broken bodies, guided his horse through the fallen stones, and hurried on.

Morgana was on edge. It made sense of course, why shouldn't she be? She'd just been forced yet again from her home and lost what little stability there had been left in her life. But something else was wrong. She could sense it. Something in the air was wrong, and a deep sense of foreboding had settled over her, made worse by the gathering clouds above. 

She, Agravaine, and the three riders he had brought with them as guards had been forced to slow their pace, as they made their way through a narrow stretch of the path, lined on each side by cliffs several times taller than their steeds. The slower pace only added to her agitation, and she found herself glancing repeatedly over her shoulder. 

"My lady?" Startled, she jumped in the saddle, and her horse huffed at the unexpected movement. She looked forward to Agravaine, who had paused to wait for her at the exit of the ravine. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," she told him, a little breathlessly. She looked back once more but saw no one but Agravaine's mercenaries. It was strange, there was no real reason for her to be afraid. She was powerful enough to dispatch any knights who might somehow have followed them this far. She was a high priestess of the old religion. Above any of these lowly mortal men. She had nothing to fear here. And yet...

She turned back, composing herself again, and gave Agravaine a curt jerk of the head. "Well, shall we not continue?" He gave her the closest thing to a bow he could manage while saddled and did as she said. The ravine had led them deeper into the valley, opening up into a wide trail that led downwards. The area was much more open now, but still framed with low rocky cliffs. Morgana was greatly looking forward to escaping this claustrophobic place and making it to the open moors beyond. She tried to blame her growing feeling of dread on the atmosphere of the valley.

It was when an unexpected clap of thunder caused the horses to start that the rain began, soft at first but rapidly building. The group was forced to pause to calm their steeds. The horses seemed as agitated as Morgana. Another crack rang out and, as one, the horses reared, braying loudly and hurling each of their riders to the ground. Morgana screamed as she tumbled back, and her fall was broken by a wet mush of leaves. She curled up as the horses stampeded away, barely avoiding being crushed under their hooves and heard the men begin yelling. She heard swords being unsheathed and then screams of pain, the sound of bodies crashing against rocks, and metal hitting stone.

When she finally managed to twist around in the dirt and stare in the direction of the screams her blood ran cold at the sight of a man atop a horse at the crest of the path behind them. The familiarity of his features was what flooded her with rage, but it was his raised hand, and the unmistakable glow of gold in Merlin's eyes, that filled her with fear.

They were close now, less than a minute ahead. He softened the sound of his horse's hooves as he slowly made his way through the ravine, and, sending his sight forward again, waited until they had made their way just far enough down into the valley for him to have the high ground. If he could sense Morgana then there was a good chance she could feel another magic user nearby as well. He would have to make his move quickly.

He urged his mare forward as fast as he could, praising her deft movements and bravery when she paid no notice to the clap of thunder that rang through the air. He heard whinnies from up ahead, the other horses clearly startled. That would make this next step easier. He came to the end of the narrow path and pulled hard on the reins, bringing his horse to a stop. The small group before him had come to a halt, and he raised his hand.

"Wyrp éower ridere!"

Immediately the five horses reared, and each rider was thrown to the ground. He heard Morgana screaming as the horses stumbled back and forth in their confusion, before running for either end of the path and vanishing. Morgana was still prone but the mercenaries were already on their feet and drawing their swords, apparently better trained than the average bandit. They charged. "Ástryce." With a word and a wave Merlin tossed the three men against the rocks and they went limp at once.

"Morgana, run!" Agravaine was standing now as well though and was drawing his sword. Morgana stumbled to her feet and Merlin leapt from his horse, ready to pursue on foot. She turned and ran, while Agravaine advanced. Merlin's head was swimming from the combination of illness and the effort of casting so many spells in such a short space of time and he stumbled when his feet hit the ground. Agravaine was almost upon him by the time he straightened up, but he threw him aside with barely a thought, tired brain focused on nothing but Morgana. She had already disappeared around a bend in the path and, cursing his spinning head, Merlin sped after her.

When he rounded the corner he barely had a moment to take in his surroundings before he heard a cry of "Forbaerne!" and a ball of flame was flying at his head. He dived to the ground, and felt the rolling heat pass by, so close it singed his sleeve. He gasped for breath as he pushed himself to his knees and heard the witch laughing. Morgana stood barely 10 meters from him, drenched dress and hair clinging to her and an aura of pure power emanating from her slender frame. She was sneering at him, a manic gleam in her eyes.

"You continue to surprise me, Merlin," she called out loudly over the sound of the rain. He staggered to his feet and her sneer grew wider when she saw how much he was shaking. She tilted her head mockingly. "Of all people, I never would have imagined you had any power."

Before Merlin had a chance to gather his wits and choose an incantation, she had raised her hand again. "Forbaerne ácwele!" A fireball, twice the size of the previous, shot from her hand. He reacted on instinct.

"Scildan!" He raised a silvery shield and deflected the fireball away, sending it crashing to the ground where it burned so hot it set the soaked leaves alight for a moment before the pouring rain smothered them. The force of it made him stagger a few steps back, but he stayed standing. When the smoke cleared Morgana's mad smile had vanished.

Before her fear had been gone, confidence in her own strength pushing away the shock of Merlin's attack. But now she was scared. Now she was terrified. No ordinary sorcerer could have blocked her magic like that. It wasn't possible that Merlin, Merlin, the simple peasant turned simple castle servant, could be standing against her like this. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

"No..." She took a step back. "This isn't real."

Merlin glowered at her, taking two steps forward for every one she took away. "You should never have threatened my friends, Morgana." The storm above them seemed to be strengthening. As the thunder clapped a cold wind gusted through the valley and now Morgana was the one trembling. She shook her head slowly.

"My mind's playing tricks on me... you're not real!"

Merlin frowned and hesitated. This wasn't a reaction he would have predicted from her. In that short moment of distraction, Morgana took her chance. She threw both her hands up and an invisible force smashed into his chest, throwing him onto his back. The pain in his sternum turned his vision white for a moment as he once again found himself struggling for air. He raised his head and saw her sprinting away, towards a narrow gap in the cliffs at the other end of the path. 

"Gewican ge stanas," he gasped. For the second time, he triggered a rockfall in the valley. Stones came crashing down from the tops of the cliffs to block Morgana's way, and she was forced to stop as she suddenly found her escape route gone. She was trapped. Pushing down the pain and drawing on strength he didn't know he had left, Merlin stood again and this time wasted none. As he ran for her he cast another stunning spell but she countered him. The force of the two spells colliding was almost enough to knock them both off their feet.

They traded a few more blows the same way as they circled each other. With each one Morgana's fury grew and her actions became more desperate. Merlin was gaining the upper hand, he was sure, he may have been exhausted but Morgana was too frantic, confused and scared beyond her wits. He could win this. He had to.

"Forþ fleoge!" 

This time he was too fast. Morgana was thrown back against the cliff and cried out in pain as she crumpled at the base, heaving and panting but unable to move. Merlin's shoulders sagged as he staggered forward. One more strike and this would all be done. Morgana raised her head as he stopped a few meters away, and lifted his hand one last time. 

"You traitor," she spat, revulsion in her voice. "You have magic, yet you serve Arthur? The son of the man who murdered our kin!" She was cradling her arm to her chest as though it were broken and a trail of blood was running down her forehead. Her eyes were still clear though, and the hatred in them was unmatched. "You have power, yet you obey his orders like a pathetic servant!"

Merlin almost laughed. He didn't see any point trying to explain to her just how terrible a servant he was, how few of Arthur's orders he obeyed, or why he had dedicated his life to his king. He needed this to be over. There was one thing he wanted Morgana to know before she died though. 

"Arthur still cares for you Morgana, his orders are for you to be captured unharmed." Confusion flickered across her face. He doubted she could even comprehend that level of forgiveness. "He thinks you can still be saved." Thunder echoed overhead and she flinched at the sound. "I won't risk that though." Merlin ignored the guilt he already felt, as he watched her shivering in the rain. The Morgana he knew was gone. "I'm ending this."

Everything had been leading up to this.

"MERLIN!"

There was only one thing that could have pulled his attention away at that moment. Only one thing in the world that could have stayed his hand. It was Arthur's voice, and the pure desperation in it.

Without meaning to, without a second thought, he turned. Just in time to witness a flash of steel, as a sword buried itself in his gut.

Chapter Text

He'd been too late. 

Just a second earlier, if he'd gotten there a second sooner, seen the figure creeping towards Merlin just a second sooner, cried out his name just a moment sooner, maybe he would have been in time. But he hadn't, and now the world was standing still.

The sound of the rain had ceased in an instant, the air around suddenly empty. The storm had stopped. There was no sun though, just dark clouds and silence, as Arthur was forced to watch Agravaine twist his sword, wrench it free, and Merlin's blood pour to the ground. He'd been too late. There was sound in the world again, and it was the sound of himself screaming.

A bloodlust he had never felt before pulsed through him. His vision tunneled until all he could see was Agravaine, and the blood dripping from his blade. He charged and Agravaine turned. His uncle was smirking at him, long hair rain wet and clinging to his face, and triumph in his eyes. Morgana was yelling something now but Arthur didn't care, all he knew was Merlin was hurt and Agravaine was standing between them. He'd trusted this man, this one person who was the closest thing to a connection to his mother he could ever have, and he'd been a traitor to him all along. 

Agravaine raised his sword. He ran to meet Arthur, the same rabid look in his eyes. Arthur may have been the most formidable knight in all of Camelot but it seemed right now Agravaine didn't care. He was as thirsty for Arthur's blood as he was for his. Arthur swung his blade. 

The clang of their swords meeting battered Arthur's eardrums, and a few drops of blood flew from his uncle's blade, splattering his face and armour. Merlin's blood. Arthur had never hated someone so much in his life. "Why!?" He bellowed as they clashed blades again. Agravaine was no match for him, and the man knew it. This fight wouldn't last long. Still, he gave Arthur a cold sneer.

"Simple, you killed my sister." Arthur roared and brought his sword down in an overhead sweep. Agravaine blocked it just in time and held back Arthur's blade, but was forced to his knees by the strength of the blow. He sneered up at Arthur, pleased he would at least be able to spend his final breath crushing the boy's heart. "Were you really arrogant enough to think I would ally myself with you?" Agravaine panted out, making sure to rub salt into Arthur's wounded heart. "You truly are your father's son."

Behind Agravaine, Merlin had fallen to his knees, hands clasped over his stomach. His breath was coming sharply, each one rattling in his chest. The blood flowing over his cold fingers felt unnaturally hot, and he could feel warmth trickling down his back.

Well, that was that then. He didn't have time to waste. 

With one hand still trying to staunch the flow of blood from his belly, he pushed himself to his feet and turned away from the men and their fight. Agravaine was no threat to Arthur, but only he could protect his king from Morgana. She was still sprawled on the ground clutching her right arm. Maybe it had been broken when she had been thrown against the cliff. She stared back at him, full of anger but more than that she simply looked small, and horribly afraid. He hated that he had to do this. He wished he could save her. But destiny was cruel. If there was one thing he knew, it was that. And he had to hurry because she had begun chanting another incantation. 

He raised his hand but found his body abnormally slow to respond. The movement threw off his balance and he staggered a few steps back. The ground seemed to be shifting back and forth beneath his feet, and his stomach was lurching with it. As he tried to stabilise himself he heard Morgana's chanting grow louder. He blinked furiously, trying to keep his vision focussed, and saw wind whistling past the witch's form, gathering into a whirlwind around her. She was trying to flee. 

He managed to raise his hand without tipping back this time and gritted his teeth as pain throbbed through him. His strength was almost spent and more was leaking from him every moment but he called on the last of it to summon the lightning once more. 

As Morgana worked at her spell Arthur bore down on Agravaine, preventing him from standing up to face him. He shoved down against his uncle's sword, took a step back, and swung his weapon upwards, deftly disarming the man. Arthur had no words left for his uncle. No retorts. He didn't care about Agravaine's reasoning or what he had to say anymore. He drove his blade directly through his heart and as he watched the life leave the man's eyes he felt nothing for him. 

He let go of his sword, leaving Agravaine's limp body to slump unceremoniously to the ground. There was no room in his heart to grieve for the family he had lost. Only one thing mattered right now as he lifted his eyes to stare at Merlin. His friend was facing away from him, with a sword-shaped hole in the back of his jacket, his clothes stained with blood, and a tempest roaring around him. Morgana was slumped on the ground before him, and her eyes were glowing gold. Arthur called out, but his voice was lost in the wind.

Merlin braced himself against the force of the gale, and let the magic building beneath his skin free. Morgana would not survive this

"Liegetsliht"

A crack cut through the air and a bolt crashed to the earth. Arthur threw an arm up to cover his eyes, staggering back from the shockwave the spell sent out. For a moment Merlin's vision went white, and the release of magic left his body feeling wrung out and empty. But he'd done it. He'd done it.

In disbelief, he stared, waiting for the stars to fade from his vision and reveal the body of his former friend and enemy.

It was over! He'd slain her, he'd saved Arthur, the flickering lights in his eyes were clearing and it was over. 

It was over.
It was over.
It was...

The forest floor came back into view. Before him, he saw not a body, but an empty patch of ground, and a few smouldering leaves. Morgana had escaped. He'd failed. He'd failed again.

With the wind and rain both gone an unnatural stillness had fallen over the world. All was silent. Until

"Merlin!"

He turned at the sound of his name, stumbling a little as he did so. A thin trail of blood ran from the corner of his mouth as he opened it to speak. "Arthur..."

Arthur broke into a run but, before he could reach him, Merlin's eyes rolled back, and he fell to the ground.

Their horses all started and whinnied as another peal of thunder rolled across the sky. The lightning must have struck incredibly close because it was unnaturally loud and though they hadn't seen the bolt the trees and stones of the collapsed archway lit up as it flashed. The congealing pools of blood from Agravaine's men turned momentarily white.

"What the hell was that!?" Gwaine yelled but, before the others could answer, they were taken by surprise by more sounds. Hooves approaching. The four knights drew their swords, preparing to meet more mercenaries. But instead of another group of bandits, three horses came galloping down the road towards them. As they passed by the knights were confused. Each horse wore a saddle and bridle, but all were riderless. The four men exchanged looks.

"I have a feeling we're close," Leon said darkly. "We have to hurry."

A patch of blood already stained the earth beneath Merlin's body, and Arthur skidded in the discoloured mud as he dropped down beside him. He turned Merlin over, keeping one hand beneath him, clamped over the awful puncture in his back. His friend's eyes were closed but when Arthur shoved down hard on the wound in his front Merlin's eyes flew open as he spasmed and let out a gasp of pain. Arthur leant over him, trying to ignore how much they were both trembling.

"Merlin? Hey Merlin, look at me!" Merlin blinked a few times before his eyes found Arthur's. He was panting shallowly, and there was blood dripping from his lips.

"Arthur, you have to-" he was cut off for a moment as his breath hitched painfully, "-go, she could come back." Merlin lifted a hand and pushed weakly against Arthur's chest. Arthur gaped at him.

"I'm not leaving you!"

"She escaped..." He could feel his brain becoming hazier, the blood loss already taking its toll. "I'm sorry..."

"Shut up!" Ignoring his words, Arthur pulled Merlin's hand from his own chest and pressed it against the stab wound, hard. "You've got to heal yourself, alright?" Merlin furrowed his brow in confusion. When he didn't follow his orders Arthur shook his hand. "Heal yourself dammit Merlin!"

"What?" Merlin's voice came out faint and wet. He didn't understand. He couldn't take this in, was Arthur commanding him to use magic? "But-"

"I don't care about the magic, alright!" Arthur's voice cracked as he yelled but he didn't give a damn. He didn't give a damn about the stinging in his eyes. He didn't give a damn about anything right now but the idiotic man bleeding out on the ground before him who wouldn't do as he was damn well told. "I don't care! Just don't die on me, Merlin. Don't you dare."

"Arthur-"

"Heal yourself!" Merlin hesitated, but Arthur's eyes were boring into his and he squeezed his hand hard. "Come on!"

Merlin mumbled a few words that Arthur doubted he would have understood even if blood wasn't dripping from the sorcerer's lips and his heart leapt as he saw gold in Merlin's eyes. But the light lasted only an instant. A weak flicker, then Merlin's eyes fell shut and he groaned. Arthur shifted both their hands and risked a look at the cut. The wound looked unchanged, blood flowing just as freely as before and he clamped their hands back to it at once. 

"Try again." He gave Merlin a small shake as he encouraged him, and thank god the man's eyes opened again. They looked more unfocussed than before but he was still trying to hold Arthur's gaze. "You can do this Merlin, please just..." he trailed off and took a sharp breath as Merlin shook his head weakly. "You can do it, come on Merlin!"

"Arthur..."

"No, you're not dying here Merlin, alright? Just heal yourself! I know you can do this!" You have to do this, please, you have to. Merlin stared at him without speaking, eyes searching Arthur's face. The king had never felt so helpless before in his life. All he could do was beg and plead and hope beyond hope Merlin could save himself because he was useless and couldn't do it for him. "TRY AGAIN!"

"Þurhhæle licsar min!" 

Merlin's eyes turned gold, this time a true blaze in them rather than a tiny spark. He gasped and scrunched his golden eyes shut, clenching his teeth in pain. Arthur tore his eyes from Merlin's agonised face, praying it had worked this time. Beneath their hands blood was still seeping, but it was slower than before. Far slower, he was sure! It was working, it had to be working. The bleeding was stopping. The relief flooding through him was so powerful it made his body feel weak.

"That's it! Come on Merlin, keep-" The words caught in his throat as he looked up and found Merlin's eyes still closed, and his features lax. "No... no no no Merlin, hey!" Merlin didn't respond as he yelled and the momentary joy Arthur had felt was draining away. What if he'd lost too much blood already?

He shifted the hand pressed to Merlin's back to wrap around his shoulders, pulling his upper body into his lap, putting pressure on the bunched-up material on his back with his knee instead. "Merlin wake up!" he yelled and shook him. Merlin's head lolled sickeningly over his arm and Arthur couldn't keep himself from crying anymore. This couldn't be happening. 

He leant forward and pressed an ear to Merlin's chest, and heard the blessed sound of thumping. It was racing and weak but his heart was still beating, and Arthur felt the movement of shallow breaths. He was still alive. He pulled back and saw movement behind Merlin's eyelids. "Merlin! Come on! Hey!" Another rough shake finally roused him, and his eyes fluttered open. They were far away though, hazier than before and looking through Arthur instead of at him. 

"Merlin, look at me, look at me." The tears were coming thickly now. Arthur hadn't realised just how much he was crying until he saw drops splashing Merlin's cheek. Merlin blinked heavily a few times, gradually focussing again. Arthur tried to smile at him. He gave Merlin's hand a squeeze. "You can do this Merlin, just one more time OK? You can heal it." Merlin shook his head and Arthur wanted to scream at him but his voice came out choked and begging. "Yes you can, do it!."

" 'm sorry Arthur..."

"If you can summon fucking lightning then you can heal this!"

Merlin gave him a bemused look, then chuckled. "Lightning's..." his breath hitched again, but somehow he kept smiling faintly, "... lot easier." If his best friend hadn't been dying in his arms Arthur would have laughed as well. 

But his best friend was dying in his arms.

"I'll get you to Gaius." He took his hand away, meaning to slide it beneath Merlin's legs. He'd carry him all the way back to Camelot if he had to. But the moment he moved blood began leaking from Merlin's stomach. He cursed and pressed Merlin's hand to his belly. "Just keep the pressure on that, OK?" he said, but when he let go of it Merlin's hand slipped and fell limply to the ground. There was no strength left in him. Arthur swore again and replaced it with his own hand. He couldn't move him like this and had no medical supplies. They were all in Merlin's pack. He could try shredding his cloak but if he took his hands away for too long Merlin would...

"Arthur, stop." Arthur turned back and found Merlin staring at him, a look of sombre calm on his face. " 's OK Arthur." Arthur shook his head angrily. 

"Merlin please, just hold on, you'll be fine." Merlin wasn't saying anything though, he was just staring at Arthur with a look he couldn't bear because he could see in Merlin's eyes that he didn't believe him. What if he was right? The knights would surely be on their way by now though. They'd be here soon, they'd help, they could save him. "The others will be here soon Merlin, just hold on a little longer, please." Merlin blinked heavily at him, and Arthur wasn't sure he had understood what he said. "Do you hear me? I'm not letting you die Merlin!" 

"Arthur?" 

"I'm here Merlin, I'm here."

"Please stay." 

For the first time, Arthur glimpsed fear in Merlin's eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you!"

Was this how they had all felt at the end Merlin wondered. Freya? Will?

"Arthur..."

He didn't want to die. He'd accepted the possibility, known things would probably end this way. But he was scared. Was this how Lancelot had felt? His father? He didn't want to die.

Arthur pressed his forehead to his and clung to him tightly. 

"You're going to be OK Merlin."

"Stay..."

"I will, I promise." 

"Please stay..."

A sob escaped Arthur, and he hugged Merlin to his chest. "I'm here Merlin, I've got you."

That was how the knights found them, Arthur curled around Merlin as he clung desperately to life. His hold on it was weak, and growing weaker every moment. But Arthur wouldn't allow him to let go. At the sound of hooves, Arthur jerked his head up. He could hear the knights yelling for them as they searched and he bellowed out at them. "GET OVER HERE AND HELP ME!"

They were thundering into sight a moment later, leaping from their horses, and sprinting to Arthur's side. Arthur was going to throw a feast for whomever it was who had thought to grab Merlin's pack full of bandages and herbs. 

Arthur let the others take charge for a while. He couldn't think far enough past how Merlin's eyelids seemed to be growing heavier with every moment that slipped by, and how the colour was continuing to drain from his skin.

He held his friend steady, as the others tore away the remains of Merlin's shirt and jacket. He squeezed his hand and spoke comforting words in his ear as Merlin cried out in pain, while Percival packed the wound in his front with yarrow and clean cloth. He lifted him up and hugged him close as the knight moved on to treating the puncture in his back the same way, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding. 

Arthur wasn't sure when Merlin lost consciousness. He just knew that eventually the man was wrapped up in someone's cloak, and he was lifting his limp body in his arms, and he was still breathing. Merlin was still breathing and Arthur wasn't going to let that change.

"He needs Gaius," he said to the others as he carried Merlin to his horse. 

Leon braced himself to speak. "Sire-"

"We can make it," Arthur cut him off without looking back. Leon pushed on though.

"We should make camp, we'll never make it back before nightfall."

"Yes we will," Gwaine snapped, holding out his arms to take Merlin from Arthur while he mounted his horse. 

Leon, Elyan, and Percival exchanged looks. There was clearly no arguing in this situation, and all of them wanted Gwaine and Arthur to be right. They moved quickly to their own horses. Merlin's had thankfully remained nearby and stayed when the knights arrived. Leon attached a lead rope to her saddle. Maybe if they could share the load between enough horses they really could make it back in time. That's what he tried to tell himself at least.

Gwaine carefully lifted Merlin and helped Arthur settle him in front of him on his horse. For the second time in just a few days, Arthur tucked Merlin's head against his neck and wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him securely against him. Last time Merlin had been whining at him that he was tired, and his forehead had felt unnaturally hot against Arthur's skin. This time he was silent and far too cold. As Arthur kicked his horse into a run he murmured in Merlin's ear. "Just hold on." 

Chapter Text

This must be the final stages he thought to himself. He wasn't sure if his brain was doing him a kindness or just being cruel, showing him hallucinations of what he wanted more than anything right now. Of Arthur holding on to him like he didn't want to ever let him go. Because it didn't make sense for this to be real. The Arthur he knew, who had held a sword to his chest, sent him away, looked at him with such a look of hurt and disgust... that Arthur wouldn't look at him like this now would he? He wouldn't speak to him like this. Like he still cared for him. Like he didn't think he was a monster. 

But he was. And when Merlin asked him to stay with him he said

"I'm here Merlin, I've got you."

He was hugging him. Crying. That didn't make sense. Arthur never cried. It didn't make sense but Merlin hoped his fading mind would let him keep this moment. If he had to die at least he could imagine dying in a world where Arthur didn't hate him. 

And now he could imagine one where his friends didn't hate him either because other faces were appearing. Gwaine. Percival. He was so happy they were here, even if they probably weren't real. He wanted his friends to be here, and now Leon and Elyan's faces were floating in and out of his vision too. He'd never want them to look so sad though. They looked afraid. That wasn't how any of them should ever look. He wanted to say something to them, though he wasn't sure what. Comforting words? Something to make them stop looking so afraid. Or maybe goodbye would be better.

He realised it didn't matter though, as he tried to move his mouth and found it wouldn't respond. Maybe that was for the best, he doubted he would have come up with anything worth saying right now anyway. They'd seen his magic. They might not want to hear him say anything. They knew the truth. Maybe that was why they looked so sad. So afraid. He was still glad they were here with him though.

They were still talking. He couldn't hear them very well, but he could see their mouths moving. Their words were distant, but he caught his name. He was tired.

The world came into sharp focus again as agony overtook him. His stomach was on fire, as though the blade were being forced back into him again. He could tell he was crying out, but only because of the way it tore at his throat. Something was being pressed into his stomach, and dear god it hurt. A hand grasped his own and he held on to it tightly. He managed to swallow his scream, gritting his teeth and squeezing the hand as the pain continued. "Just hold on, it'll stop soon." Arthur? "I'm sorry, just hold on Merlin." He tried to do what he said, but he didn't think he could much longer. He didn't want to anymore. "Merlin? Merlin keep your eyes open!"

He hadn't realised they were closed. He didn't want to open them though, it seemed since they'd fallen shut the pain had started to lessen. Fading just a little. Fading a little more. Maybe he could finally sleep now. 

     Merlin?

He wasn't sure if he'd really heard the voice or not. It sounded scared though. His eyes blinked open briefly. Something, someone, was hovering above him. Someone with golden hair.

     Please, just hold on

The voice sounded familiar. He couldn't place it though. His brain seemed to be moving slowly. The pain was almost gone. His eyes flickered a few times. The face still hovered over him.

     Stay with me

He couldn't keep his eyes open. He was moving, being pulled up and leant against something. That was good, he probably wouldn't have been able to stay up by himself. The hand was still holding his. He squeezed it as a dull ache pressed into his back.

     It's OK

A hand had started running through his hair, back and forth. He sighed as the fingers traced along his scalp soothingly. His grip was failing. The hand in his was still holding on tight.

     Merlin?

There was no pain anymore, just the hand holding his and the one resting in his hair. He liked the feeling of whoever's hand this was in his. The grip was firm, but their touch felt caring and warm. He hoped they wouldn't let go. 

     I'm sorry, just...

The rest of the voice's words were lost, as he let himself slip away.

Every hour or so they carefully passed Merlin between them like precious cargo, as each horse began to tire. It seemed their battle-field first aid had been enough to staunch the bleeding, with only a few small patches blooming through the bandages, but Merlin remained unresponsive. No matter how much each knight talked to him, he didn't make a sound once. They rode quickly, faster than was wise to push their horses over this distance, not to mention with a wounded man, but no one bothered trying to tell Arthur or Gwaine that. They would not be swayed. Leon had been right though, and as darkness began to fall they found themselves still well over an hour short of Camelot.

Arthur knew riding through the forest in the dead of night would be a terrible decision. Even if they avoided getting lost or attacked by wolves a horse was sure to stumble soon, risking Merlin being thrown to the ground. But the idea of stopping was unacceptable, they were just too close. If they made camp the chances of Merlin making it through the night seemed slim to none. Maybe the weak moonlight filtering through the trees would be enough?

They slowed their pace, Arthur and Leon staying ahead of the others to test the path before Gwaine led his horse along it, Merlin hugged tight to his chest. With Elyan and Percival taking the rear, Arthur thought they seemed to form a sort of morbid honour guard. It was when a howl came in the distance that the knights decided they could no longer hold their tongues.

"Arthur-"

"We can make it Leon."

"Sire it's too dark, if we-"

Too dark

"I did not give you permission to speak Sir Elyan!" Arthur snapped, but even Gwaine was beginning to have doubts.

"Arthur the wolves will get us at this rate!" 

Wolves
Not safe

Arthur was seething, trying to hold in his anger because he knew yelling would just attract more danger and that they were right. He had a terrible feeling they were off course already. It was too damn dark and if he didn't accept it and give the order to stop soon he'd probably get them all killed.

Arthur
It's too dark

"Too dark..."

"Merlin?"

Arthur jerked his head back at once. Gwaine had pulled his horse to a stop and his eyes were wide. Arthur's questions caught in his throat at the sound of Merlin's quiet voice. 

"Léoht..."

Arthur only just made out the word. It sounded nothing like any language he knew, but he was sure he'd heard it before.

"I think he's..." Gwaine trailed off. They had all stopped now, each with their eyes fixed on Merlin's face. His eyes were closed but he kept speaking, voice growing stronger. 

"Lære us, forþbrenge us, ætlæde us."

A sudden brightness pulled their attention away and both Arthur and Leon wheeled around. Before them on the path, hovering unsupported in the air, a glowing orb had appeared. Arthur recognised it at once. It was identical to the one Merlin had summoned in his room just a day and a half ago and he realised now he had seen it before then even. Years and years ago, floating high above him in a cave beyond the forests of Balor, as he clung onto a cliff face for dear life, and spiders crept towards him in the dark. "You've got to be kidding me..."

All those years ago, when Merlin was sick and dying from poison meant for Arthur, he had charged of to retrieve the flower that would cure him. He'd encountered many dangers on that mission and had been sure he had bested them all when he finally glimpsed the mortaeus flower. But, as he made his way across the rocky outcrop towards the plant, the witch who had tricked him sent the rocks beneath his feet plummeting, and left him hanging by the tips of his fingers above a bottomless fissure. 

He had come terrifyingly close to death in that cave. In that pitch black the spiders would have eaten him alive. Either that, or their bites would have broken his grip on the ledge and sent him falling to his doom. But then a light had appeared. It had scared away the spiders and guided him to safety. Then, without any explanation, it had floated away into the night. He had almost forgotten about it. How had he not recognised it before?

"Arthur!" He turned and saw Gwaine had partially pulled back the cloak wrapped around Merlin. He was staring down at Merlin's limp hand, in the palm of which a matching ball of light was swirling.

"Follow it..." Merlin murmured, eyes still closed and head flopped back on Gwaine's shoulder. "Follow the light..." He took a sharp breath like he was in pain before falling quiet again.

Gwaine looked up at Arthur. "Better do what he says then!"

With a nod and an involuntary smile Arthur turned, and followed the guiding light Merlin had created for them. Maybe the idiot did have some self-preservation instincts after all.

As the burning torches atop the city walls began peaking through the trees the ball of magical light shrank and winked out of existence, before there was a risk of any guards glimpsing it. Arthur felt its absence keenly, as though Merlin had just slipped a little further away. But they were almost there. He was still alive and they were almost there.

"The rest of you go on ahead, warn Gaius we're coming!" As the three knights galloped past them into the lower town Arthur stayed at Gwaine's side, glancing anxiously over at Merlin, limp and silent in the man's arms.

"He's still alive Arthur," Gwaine called out, though Arthur already knew it. If Merlin hadn't been then Gwaine would have likely been screaming at him. He suspected the knight just wanted to hear the words said out loud. Arthur was grateful to hear them too.

When they reached the courtyard Leon was waiting for them, with guards ready to take care of the horses. Arthur was off his horse and stumbling towards Gwaine the moment they screeched to a halt by the steps, arms out for Merlin as Gwaine carefully lowered him down. He all but snatched him away and, ignoring the offers of Leon and the guards to help carry him, was sprinting for Gaius's at once. The seconds seemed to drag on impossibly as he ran, skidding around corners, taking stairs far too many steps at a time, and all the while listening desperately for Merlin's ragged breaths. For a fully grown man, Merlin felt too light in his arms. Arthur knew it didn't make sense but all he could think was maybe Merlin's body had so little blood left in it there might simply be no weight left to him. Like he might float away or vanish from his arms at any moment.

When he arrived at Gaius's chambers the door was open, ready for him to burst through it and rush Merlin to the empty bed in the center of the room. Gaius was already laying out surgical-looking tools and bottles of who knows what kind of potions, while Elyan was busy shredding cloth into extra bandages. Arthur laid Merlin down, and he and Gwaine went to work carefully removing the cloak they had wrapped around him in a desperate attempt to preserve some body heat. Judging by Merlin's cold and clammy skin, it hadn't been enough, and the blood loss had already put him into a state of shock. Arthur and the knights were well aware of how deadly such a condition could be. Merlin didn't make a sound the whole time.

When Gaius appeared on the other side of the cot his face was stoic and focussed. Arthur had no idea how he was so calm right now. Maybe the short amount of time between the knights' arrival and now had been enough for him to prepare himself for seeing Merlin in this state. Percival and Leon came rushing in a moment later, buckets of water in their hands, and Gaius gestured for them to bring one to him.

"Thank you, I'm afraid I must now ask most of you to leave." The knights exchanged looks. "Two of you should stay, in case he needs to be held down, but the rest of you should go." There was no need for debate on who was going to remain with Merlin. Reluctantly, but without complaint, Leon, Elyan, and Percival left, shutting the door behind them. Gaius went to work carefully cutting the bandages from Merlin's body. "They said he was pierced by a sword," Gaius said as he removed the fabric and revealed the horror beneath. Arthur and Gwaine had seen many a wound in their time, but seeing them on a friend was different to a soldier on the battlefield. Especially Merlin.

"Yes, Agravaine's." Gaius jerked his head up in shock. "It went the whole way through." Arthur felt ill saying it out loud. Wounds like that were almost always fatal, something all three of them were keenly aware of. Gaius pressed two fingers to Merlin's wrist.

"The bleeding seems to have stopped but his pulse is very weak."

"Can you save him?" Arthur couldn't stop himself from asking. Gaius didn't respond, and Arthur's fear began turning to anger. "Gaius, answer me!"

"I do not know yet sire, I need to establish the extent of the damage first," Gaius told him, in a tone that convinced Arthur to hold his tongue, despite how much he wanted to demand more answers. With the bandages cleared away Gaius gave the two men a look. "Be ready to hold him down, if he wakes he will likely be disorientated and struggle." 

They nodded and Gwaine took hold of Merlin's legs, while Arthur moved to the head of the bed and placed his hands on his friend's arms, ready to grip them should he have to. When Gaius set to work cleaning the entry wound though, Merlin stayed perfectly still. After several minutes it became clear he would not wake.

As Gaius continued the furrow in his brow grew deeper. "How strange..."

"What?" Arthur demanded at once. "What is it?"

"Thankfully there does not appear to be any damage to his organs." Arthur's heart leapt. Surely that meant there was hope! Gaius continued. "But this is surprising... You said the sword pierced him fully, yet the wound does not penetrate the whole way through." 

"That may be because he tried to heal himself," Arthur explained. Gaius shot him a look, then glanced meaningfully at Gwaine. "They all know now Gaius, the idiot did magic in front of them." 

"I see..." Gaius dropped his eyes back down to focus on the task at hand. Merlin still hadn't reacted once. He just lay there, breathing shallowly.

"Quite the way to find out your best mate is a sorcerer," Gwaine said with a wry smile. Arthur couldn't help feeling a little relieved to hear Gwaine say that. He'd wondered, briefly, if Merlin might have trusted the knight with his secret before telling him. The idea had made him feel oddly bitter. 

"You're not angry?"

Gwaine laughed humourlessly. "I'm furious, not about the magic though. About him running off to do this by himself." He turned to Gaius, who he had deduced was already well acquainted with Merlin's magic. "I'm assuming this isn't the first time he's done that?" 

Gaius considered whether or not he should answer for a moment, and then spent another deciding whether or not to lie. It seemed much of the truth had already come out though. What was the point of lying now? 

"No, it isn't," he said without looking up. Gwaine dropped his gaze, looking morose. 

"Wish he'd told me. Would've thought he'd know by now that it wouldn't have changed anything. Maybe he would have let me help him..." Arthur felt a twist of guilt in his chest. Maybe Gwaine should've been the one Merlin had put his trust in.

"I wouldn't take it personally Sir Gwaine," Gaius said, and the other men both looked at him curiously. "Merlin has spent his whole life hiding. Before now I believe the only living people who knew were myself and his mother."

"How long have you known?" Arthur asked. Earlier he'd been angry with Gaius for not telling him, feeling almost as betrayed by him as he had by Merlin. Now he felt no anger at all. Gaius had witnessed the great purge after all. He would never have risked losing Merlin.

"Since the day I met him." Gaius smiled despite himself. "He didn't actually tell me either. I fell off that balcony above your heads," Arthur and Gwaine both glanced up at the walkway above them, that snaked around the room like a second story. "And he moved the bed underneath me with his magic, without a thought in his head of the consequences of someone catching him. Hadn't even introduced himself and he was already causing me trouble."

"Sounds like our Merlin," Gwaine said and patted his unconscious friend on the leg.

The three fell silent for a while, Arthur and Gwaine doing their best to control themselves and let Gaius work without bombarding him with more questions. Merlin's pale face stayed lax throughout, even when he had to be manhandled onto his side to allow Gaius to stitch his back. Arthur knew he hadn't reacted even once, because his eyes had been fixed on his face the entire time.

Eventually, with Merlin bandaged, propped on his side, and wrapped in the same blanket Arthur had brought him three days ago, Gaius announced that there was nothing more he could do. He couldn't give them any guarantees. Merlin's chances were slim. If he made it through the next 24 hours then he was out of danger of death from shock, but the infection in his chest wound had worsened and there was a chance the other cuts would soon follow suit. Illness and fever would likely continue ravaging his weakened body. If the infection spread to his blood there would be no saving him. There was little to do now but wait, and hope.

Gaius first suggested Gwaine and Arthur should leave for the night and get some rest, then clarified it as a request when they remained in their seats. Gwaine relented at once but Arthur considered ignoring what Gaius wanted. As king he had every right to stay exactly where he was, no one could command him to leave. But common sense won out. If Gaius wanted them gone it was because he felt it was the best thing for Merlin right now, or maybe he wanted privacy, to be alone with the boy he saw as a son in what could be some of his final moments. Maybe it was both. Whatever the reason, Arthur knew it would be wrong of him to stay.

Outside the door, they found three men asleep and slumped against the wall. The knights must have been sleeping lightly though, as they woke and scrambled to their feet the moment Arthur closed the door behind him.

"He's still alive, Gaius doesn't know if he will make it though," Arthur said before they could ask. He was surprised by how steady his voice was. An awful silence settled over the group, and the knights' shoulders all slumped. "I want to thank you all for what you did today, without your combined efforts Merlin wouldn't... We likely would not have made it back in time. I believe it goes without saying that none of you are to speak a word of what happened."

With a rumble of yes sire's the knights all nodded. 

"Good." Arthur rolled his shoulders back and straightened up. Having orders to give was somewhat calming. At least there were some things he could still control. "I want guards and one of you stationed here at all hours as well. I'm sure you are all tired, but I'm afraid I will need to ask one of you to stay for the first watch." 

After Elyan volunteered the rest of them departed, but partway down the corridor Gwaine called Arthur back.

"Arthur?" He turned to find Gwaine looking uncharacteristically nervous. "Look, I'm almost certain I know the answer to this, but for my sanity, I have to ask." Arthur had an awful feeling he knew where this was going. Gwaine took a step closer and lowered his voice. "Magic is still illegal, is he in any danger here?" 

Arthur had expected he'd feel fury at the question. That he'd be so offended by Gwaine's implication he might raise his fists. But instead, all he felt was guilt. Guilt, and regret. He raised a hand and placed it on Gwaine's shoulder. "I will let no harm come to Merlin."

"And you're not going to banish him?"

"No." Gwaine grinned at him with relief and clapped him on the arm. Arthur found himself unable to return the smile though. He sighed. "Although I won't blame him if he wants to leave." Gwaine gave a snort of laughter and shook his head despairingly. 

"Arthur this is Merlin we're talking about, he would never leave your side willingly, trust me." Gwaine gave him another friendly slap on the arm, but the man's jovial mask slipped a little as he bade Arthur goodnight though. Arthur wondered if the knight was off to the tavern to drown his sorrows. He wouldn't hold it against him if he was. In truth, he would have liked to do something similar. But now was not the time. The next few days would be long ones. He needed to be ready for them.

As he watched Gwaine's retreating back the knight's words replayed themselves in his mind. He would never leave your side willingly. "He tried to," Arthur murmured to himself.

It was only when he caught sight of himself in the mirror that Arthur realised why the guards outside his door had been so concerned when he arrived. His chainmail looked closer to bronze than silver now, stained the way it was with so much blood. Merlin's blood. He'd washed the worst of it from his hands in the physician's chambers but hadn't thought to scrub his face. There was dried blood on his cheeks and flecked across his eyelids. He expected he'd smeared it around his eyes when he attempted to wipe away his tears and hide his crying from the knights.

He burned with shame at the thought of the knights witnessing him like that. A king shouldn't cry. A king shouldn't sob and fall to pieces like that. 

If his father saw him cry like that he would have had him put in the stocks. It was unacceptable for him to have let himself be seen like that. It was weak. Pathetic. If his father were here that's what he would tell him. He would tell him it was pitiful that he had cried in such a way, let alone to cry like that for a sorcerer. 

"No man is worth your tears." How many times had he told his own men that? Those words his father had once told him. Arthur should not have cried. Kings weren't allowed to cry. 

Although, there were some exceptions to that rule he supposed. 

The last time he had cried had been for his father himself. That most surely had to be an exception. Even a king was allowed to cry at a time like that. To cry over a man that had meant so much to you. A great man. A man who had shaped who you were. A man that you loved. 

But, wasn't that exactly who Merlin was?

He turned away and shouted for the guards, snapping orders for a bath and food to be prepared for him. He hadn't eaten since before they left that morning, maybe that was why he was feeling so faint and unsteady on his feet.

He knew it would be George and not Merlin who was called to attend to him, but that didn't lessen the feelings of bitterness. He tried not to take it out on George, but everything he did just seemed wrong. Not because he made a single mistake but just because he wasn't Merlin.

Merlin wouldn't knock politely and serve him food without a single complaint that it was the middle of the damn night Arthur, did you really have to wake me up? He wouldn't remove his armour quietly without demanding an explanation for why he was covered in blood and fussing over him, asking are you sure you're not hurt? over and over again. He wouldn't carry it away saying he'd have it polished by morning because ugh, this is going to take forever to clean!

George did his duties flawlessly, and Arthur hated it.

That's what he had thought at least, until he stepped into his bath and found the temperature only a touch above lukewarm. This seemed odd when it had been filled so recently. How was it that George had messed up something as impossibly simple as drawing him a hot bath? Even Merlin could get that right.

"George!" he barked, and George turned away from the bedclothes he was laying out.

"Yes Sire?"

Arthur opened his mouth, prepared to unleash his full fury on the man, and then stopped himself at a sudden thought. He'd had many a manservant in his life. Far more than most nobles had. None of the ones before Merlin lasted all that long. And before Merlin, his bathwater had always been lukewarm.

Like George, those other men had been proper manservants, doing their tasks to the best of their ability every time. Their expected tasks. Despite his unconventional and clumsy methods, there were a few tasks Merlin had always surpassed them at. He'd never given much thought before to how Merlin somehow got this one, a hot bath, so right.

"Nothing." He turned away, leaving George politely confused. 

George had done this task to the best of his ability. Merlin had done it to the best of his. He always had.

He let George continue his duties and went back to scrubbing the blood from his skin.

Chapter Text

Arthur only managed to stay away for an hour or so, before he made his way back to Gaius's chambers. He hadn't bothered trying to sleep. He knew rest wouldn't come right now, no matter how exhausted he was. Though it wasn't surprising that he was tired, he felt far wearier than he should have. The pain of the day seemed to have taken its toll on his body as well as his mind. Despite this, he had managed to change himself out of his bedclothes on his own because yes, I am in fact capable of dressing myself, Merlin.

He pushed the door to the physician's chambers open, unsure if Gaius would answer it if he knocked. Gaius himself was sitting at his workbench, an array of herbs and tinctures laid out in front of him. Merlin lay in the bed in the middle of the room, looking just as near death as he had when Arthur left. Gaius looked up from his work and didn't seem surprised that it was Arthur who had entered unannounced. 

"There has been no change."

Arthur had expected as much. He nodded and took the seat closest to Merlin's face. He was reminded horribly of the last time he had seen Merlin lying here and struggling to breathe, when he was fighting to stay alive as poison pulsed through his veins. That must have been the first time he had summoned Arthur a guiding light. He wondered if the same light had appeared in his hand here, the same way it had earlier that night. 

He studied Merlin's blank face. He didn't look like he was in pain at least, but Arthur wished he would move just a little. His hands lay by his face, poking out above the blanket, and Arthur carefully pressed two fingers to his wrist. The beat he felt was faint. Gaius had taken care to clean the blood and muck from Merlin's body, but his hair was a damp mess, sticking up at odd angles the way it did whenever Arthur ruffled it to annoy him. Arthur reached out without thinking and ran his fingers through the black strands to smooth it back. He snatched his hand away when Gaius suddenly spoke.

"May I ask what happened of Lord Agravaine, Sire?" Arthur was impressed Gaius had managed to use the title Lord without a hint of disdain in his voice. He knew that must be what he felt right now. Arthur certainly did.

"He is dead," he told him. "At my hand." 

"I see. It is a relief to know he will not be a danger to anyone again." He was again impressed at how Gaius managed to keep so little emotion in his voice right now, as professional as always. But then the old man gave a sigh and Arthur looked up in time to catch that professional demeanour slip as they made eye contact. "Thank you."

Arthur clenched his jaw involuntarily and turned back to Merlin's impassive face. "I only wish I had done it sooner." Gaius seemed to understand the meaning behind those words.

"This is not your fault Arthur."

"Then whose is it?" Arthur demanded, voice rising. "I told him not to use magic without my permission! If I hadn't... Maybe he wouldn't have tried to do this by himself." 

Gaius sighed, stood up from his bench, and took the stool opposite Arthur on the other side of Merlin's bed.

"I don't know if there is anything you could have done to stop him Arthur. You need to understand, there is nothing Merlin wouldn't do to protect you, and he is very accustomed to doing so on his own."

"It's not his bloody responsibility to protect me," Arthur muttered. He was meant to protect his subjects, not the other way around. People like Merlin weren't meant to suffer for him. Not like this. Mucking out the stables was the most 'suffering' Merlin was ever meant to go through for him. 

"He believes it is his destiny to protect you."

Destiny. He'd heard Merlin say things about destiny before. That he was destined to serve him. That he was destined to protect him. If this was what destiny did to Merlin though then Arthur wanted no part of it.

"He said he was born with magic." He wasn't sure if he was asking Gaius a question or not. He never would have believed such a thing was possible, but doubting Merlin no longer felt like an option. Gaius nodded.

"Yes, he was."

"I didn't know that could happen."

"I wouldn't have expected you would."

"I don't understand though." Arthur ran his hand through his hair, trying to keep his emotions in check. "I thought magic was something people chose? All those people my father condemned, they chose it didn't they?" 

"Some did." He decided against reminding the king that he himself was one of those people. "But not all of them, Arthur." 

"Why the hell did no one tell me? If people- if I had known that then..." 

Then what?
Would he have changed things? Would his father have seen any of this differently?

He went quiet, so Gaius continued. If Arthur was open to learning right now he had to make the most of it. "Not everyone can learn magic, but some can if they seek out the knowledge. They aren't born with it, but they can learn to use it." Arthur was gazing at him with frantic eyes. He looked exhausted, but seemed to be hanging on his every word. Gaius wondered if Arthur had noticed that when he lowered his hand from his hair that he had laid it on Merlin's wrist. 

"Others, however, are born with a sort of... natural aptitude for magic and it is a part of who they are. It is fairly common amongst the druids." He took a deep breath and looked down at Merlin, who hadn't stirred once. "Merlin's magic is unlike anyone else's though." If he'd still been watching Arthur then Gaius would have seen his brow furrow. Instead, he noticed Arthur's fingers tighten ever so slightly around Merlin's wrist. "He is not the only person to have it innately, but in others, it does not manifest until they are older. It is very rare for it to emerge before puberty, and for some, it doesn't manifest until even later in life. Merlin on the other hand has had it since the day he entered the world."

Arthur was now gripping Merlin's wrist tightly, and when Gaius looked up at him his already pale skin had turned ghostly. "He doesn't just have magic Arthur, he is magic incarnate. Magic is his very essence." Arthur raised his eyebrows. "There are many who believe he is the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth." 

There was a long silence, and Arthur blinked at Gaius several times.

"Merlin?" 

"Yes."

"This Merlin?"

Gaius raised his own eyebrow. "Yes, Arthur." 

"The most powerful warlock ever? Merlin?"

Gaius didn't bother answering this time.

Arthur dropped his eyes back to Merlin. He looked so weak and small right now. Although he was stronger than Arthur gave him credit for, Merlin wasn't all that physically capable in comparison to the knights. But he wasn't weak. He was far from weak. He was the bravest man Arthur knew, strong in so many ways. But the world's most powerful sorcerer? That wasn't something he could reconcile with the image of his kind and clumsy manservant.

The image of a man standing tall before Morgana and summoning lightning down to smite her though... Maybe what Gaius said wasn't so insane after all.

"But magic corrupts, how could Merlin have had it his whole life without it doing that to him?"

"Perhaps you should consider Arthur, that it is not magic which corrupts."

Arthur let go of Merlin's arm and ran his hands through his hair again, leaving it messy and standing on end. "I don't know what to think anymore Gaius."

That's progress at least... Gaius thought to himself. Questioning his father's dogma was a step forward for Arthur. They sat in silence for a while, Gaius unsure whether to continue pushing Arthur or what else to talk to him about. It was Arthur who broke the quiet though.

"Could magic help him?" 

Gaius's shoulders stiffened. He didn't answer, keeping his gaze resolutely fixed on Merlin.

"Gaius?" He continued avoiding Arthur's eye and the king became more frantic. "Because with what I know now, you would have my protection-"

"I am afraid I have already tried," Gaius interrupted him. Arthur's stomach dropped. "And while I appreciate the permission, Sire, I was not going to wait for it to try and save him."

"You used magic? Behind my back?" A heat had begun bubbling in Arthur's chest.

"Yes." Gaius looked up at him and Arthur wasn't sure exactly what it was he saw in his face. Disappointment? Reproach?

"Have you done that before? Defied the laws against magic?" Arthur's rage was building. How many times was he going to be betrayed by the people he thought he could trust most?

Gauis stared at him resolutely. "Yes."

"Why?! You committed treason! How could you-"

For the first time, anger crept into Gaius's voice. "Merlin is like a son to me, I would do whatever it took to save him, Arthur!" He wasn't going to sit back and hold his tongue on this issue anymore now that Merlin's secret was out in the open and there was no point in hiding. He owed it to Merlin to stand up for this for once, and the hypocrisy of Arthur's words had stamped on his final nerve. Merlin often ranted to him about how illogical Arthur became when angered, and Gaius had never sympathised with the king's manservant more. "You have done the same before Arthur!" 

Arthur was seething. Again and again. Deceived and defied by the people he trusted again and again and again...

But what Gaius had said brought down a wave of shame as well. He jerked his face away, clenching his fists. There was a battle happening in his mind, fought between his own cursed short temper, the truth in Gaius's words, and his father's voice. Gods what would his father think of him now. Gaius had started yelling, angrier than Arthur had seen him in years.

"Why is it different for you to ask me to do it for Merlin? Or for your father to ask me to do the same for Morgana?"  What?   Arthur's face snapped back to Gaius's. "Why was it acceptable for you to seek a sorcerer's help to try and save your father, but not for others to heal their loved ones?"

Arthur had turned pale again. "What do you mean he asked you to do it for Morgana?" Gaius glared at him.

"When she was dying from the injury to her skull your father asked me to use magic to heal her." Arthur shook his head and shot to his feet. This didn't make sense. But, why would Gaius lie about something like that?

"No, he wouldn't..." Gaius didn't reply, turning his gaze back to Merlin instead. Their shouting hadn't disturbed him, but Gaius wished it had.

Arthur had started pacing the room, mind reeling. He'd thought the foundations of his world had already been shattered that day. Now they were crumbling away beneath his feet and he was slipping through the sand, free-falling through an uncertainty he had never known before. He was drifting. Stars were appearing in his vision. The room had disappeared and the remaining world was spinning. 

"Arthur!" 

Hands caught him by the arms as he swayed and he suddenly found himself being forced into a seat, a hand moving to his back and pushing him forward to lean his head down between his knees. The twinkling lights in his vision began to fade at once, but it took a few minutes of sitting slumped over with Gaius rubbing his shoulders for the lightheadedness to fully recede. Gaius said nothing the whole time. He just sat with him until the dizzy spell passed. When Arthur sat shakily up the physician reached out to check him for a fever. He felt nothing, bringing his diagnosis to plain and simple exhaustion. Arthur had been through a lot today himself, although he couldn't say when he'd last seen the king looking quite so tired.

"Sire, I must insist you rest." Gaius's tone was calm and kind now. Arthur was shaking his head before the words were fully out of his mouth though. "Merlin wouldn't want you running yourself ragged like this." 

That gave Arthur pause, maybe Gaius had a point. He glanced back at Merlin. "Is there really nothing else that can be done for him?"

"I'm afraid I can think of nothing, all we can do right now is wait." Gaius sighed and turned back to Merlin as well. "And make sure he knows he's not alone." Arthur felt a squeeze in his chest and clenched his fists a little.

'I didn't want you to feel that you were alone.' He thought of that morning when Merlin had said those words to him. He had opened the doors to leave the throne room, after spending the night beside his father's body, and found Merlin sitting on the floor waiting for him. He'd been sitting there all night. For him.

Arthur knew what it was like to feel alone. Merlin had spent his whole life hiding who he was, that was what Gaius had told him and Gwaine just a handful of hours ago. He must have been so lonely all this time. Arthur had been lonely for most of his life. Until Merlin. He'd never had a real friend before him. Every friend he'd gained since then he probably never would have made without Merlin around, to teach him what a deeper connection to others felt like. 

He'd had plenty of people around him before then of course, knights and children of other nobles, but they'd never truly been his friends. They'd simply been companions to the prince, not friends to Arthur. Even his relationship with Leon had been different then. They'd grown up together but that wall of royalty separating them from actual friendship hadn't come down for a long time. There had also been Morgana he supposed. She was probably the closest he'd had to a friend, as much as a younger him would have hated to admit his closest friend was a girl. Maybe if he'd been able to connect to her a little more back then things would have been different...

For so long there had been no one who saw him as anything other than a prince. There had been no one who seemed to see him.

But then Merlin had appeared. This grinning, lanky, insubordinate nobody who had stood up to Arthur and returned his insults like he thought they were somehow equals within seconds of their first meeting. It hadn't even been a lack of knowledge of who Arthur was either, because just a day later he had been doing the same thing, acting like Arthur wasn't the crown prince he should have been treating with absolute respect. Merlin had never done that. He'd never treated him like a prince or as a king, despite how many times he had told him what a truly great king he really was. No one believed in him the way Merlin did. He still didn't understand why.

"Arthur?" He was pulled from his reverie by a pat on the arm from Gaius. "You need to sleep."

Arthur stared at Merlin and shook his head again. "I need-" he paused, swallowing the rising lump in his throat, and in a rare moment of vulnerability he told Gaius the truth. "I want to stay close to him." The last of the anger Gaius had felt towards the king that night faded. He smiled and patted his arm again. 

"Why don't you use Merlin's room? You'll be much closer then." Arthur glanced at the door, just a few metres away from Merlin's bedside. Maybe that would be close enough. 

"Alright," he sighed. He turned back to Gaius and found the old man smiling kindly at him, as though they hadn't been bellowing at each other mere moments ago. "Thank you, Gaius." With one last look at Merlin, Arthur stood and made his way to his manservant's room.

Once he was alone in the room with the door closed and candles lit he took the time to survey Merlin's bedroom. He'd been in here plenty of times before, almost always while demanding where his useless manservant was or why he was still asleep instead of doing his job. He'd never bothered to really look around it before though. Why would he have? There was no need for him to be concerned with it. But now he couldn't stop himself. A decent amount of the room was taken up with barrels, presumably containing supplies for Gaius's work. The rest of the room was full of Merlin though.

The desk was a mess, with diagrams of plants stuck to the wall above it, pots and bottles of who knows what stacked everywhere, and a notebook open with the quill resting on the paper instead of in a pot. There was a dry patch of ink sticking the tip of it to the page. Maybe Merlin had been partway through making notes when someone, probably Arthur, demanded he drop what he was doing and attend to another job.

There was a rope attached to the walls in one corner with clothes draped over it, a pair of trousers and a tunic that Arthur knew well, and a small dresser beneath it. Aside from this makeshift clothesline and the desk, the room was relatively tidy. A little dusty maybe, but there weren't possessions strewn across the floor the way they were in Arthur's chambers when Merlin hadn't had a chance to clean yet. Above the bed, a small set of shelves stuck out from the wall. A couple of books and candles stood on it, along with a small bottle of liquid labelled 'St John's wort', and a tiny carved dragon. He noticed a few spools of thread as well and when he looked down found one of his own shirts folded on the bedside cabinet. It was one he had torn last week. The image of Merlin sitting on his bed dutifully repairing his clothes made the back of his throat burn.

He kicked off his shoes angrily and lay down in a bed much harder than his own. Well accustomed to sleeping on the cold forest floor this didn't bother him all that much, but it irritated him that the heels of his feet touched the frame at the end when he lay flat. Merlin was a little taller than him. This bed must surely be too small for him. His throat stung a little more. He tugged the blankets over himself and, though he'd expected he wouldn't be able to rest despite the exhaustion, fell almost at once into a deep sleep.

When he woke the next morning Arthur was confused. His back and muscles felt unpleasantly stiff, as though he had slept on the cold ground in his chainmail, rather than his soft bed. Then again, his bed didn't feel particularly soft right now. If anything he'd just call it lumpy. How the hell had that happened? He opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling and his heart sank. This wasn't his bed or his room. It was Merlin's, and instead of being here, Merlin was lying in the physician's cot in the next room, fighting for his life. Presumably. Gaius would have woken him if anything changed. 

Wouldn't he?

He got up quickly, pulled on his boots, and opened the door to the other room a little more forcefully than necessary, startling Gaius. He was sitting at Merlin's bedside, holding his ward's hand in both of his. He looked dejected and as though he hadn't slept in weeks, but he wasn't distraught the way Arthur would have expected if Merlin hadn't made it through the night.

"How is he?" Arthur asked as he made his way over to stand beside Gaius and stare down at Merlin. He looked as pale and drained as he had when Arthur last saw him. His face hadn't regained a drop of colour.

"Much the same I am afraid," Gaius said. "His pulse is a little stronger, but I haven't been able to wake him. It's still too soon to say how things will progress." Arthur sighed, then took a moment to really take in Gaius's exhausted appearance. The man must have been sitting here all night. 

"I'll watch over him now Gaius, you get some sleep."

"Thank you sire," He gave Arthur an appreciative nod. "Although there was something I wished to speak with you about first."

"Oh?" Arthur took a seat at Gaius's workbench. "Alright, what is it?" Gaius was quiet for a moment, as he considered his next words. Arthur waited, then gave an exaggerated gesture inviting him to start. 

"You said Merlin tried to heal himself yesterday," he said eventually, and Arthur nodded. "Were you with him when he did that?"

"Yes, why?"

"Did he have any assistance?"

Arthur frowned at him. "Who on earth would have been able to help him?"

"I'll take that as a no," Gaius said, turning back to his ward. "It seemed unlikely, but the alternative... seemed even more improbable."

Arthur tried not to let his frustration with the physician's vagueness bubble up. "Gaius, what are you getting at?"

Gaius had spent much of the night pondering this. He'd been concerned by how physically worn out Arthur had seemed when he first arrived in the room, and doubly so when he proceeded to almost pass out on his floor. After a few hours of considering his own knowledge of healing spells, he had come up with a theory. 

"Even though it didn't heal the wound entirely, the amount of damage that particular healing spell was able to undo is very impressive," he began explaining. "There are very few who could manage such a spell and while Merlin's magic is powerful, he has always had trouble with healing magic." He paused and affectionately brushed his fingers through Merlin's hair. "Considering that, and how weak he must have been at the time, it seems impossible for him to have done that." 

"He said causing lightning to strike was easier," Arthur muttered, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. He wasn't sure if Gaius heard what he said though because he didn't acknowledge it when he turned back to him.

"It's possible you had something to do with this Arthur."

"Me?"

"Yes."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. "You think I did magic?" Maybe the lack of sleep had driven Gaius mad.

Gaius gave him a crooked smile and shook his head. "No, I don't. But I think you may have helped Merlin do it." Arthur was still giving him an incredulous look. "You two have a connection, Arthur. Knowingly or not, I think maybe he managed to draw on your strength to help him heal himself, though if he did then I highly doubt he did it intentionally."

"How is that possible?"

"I'm afraid I have no idea sire, it's just a theory. Perhaps Merlin can enlighten us when he wakes up." He turned back and ran his hand through Merlin's hair again.

Arthur was too stunned to speak. After a few minutes of sitting silently trying, and utterly failing, to gather his thoughts Arthur gave up. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and went back to familiar ground. "Let me take over now Gaius, then-"

As if on cue, he was interrupted by a knock at the door. Gaius called that it was open and Leon stepped into the room. Arthur groaned internally. He suspected Leon was about to inform him, reluctantly, that duty called. "I apologise, sire," he began, confirming Arthur's suspicions. "But the council wish to speak with you urgently."

Arthur groaned audibly this time and ran a hand down his face. The bloody council. Of course, they were demanding his attention at a time like this, needy bastards. Then again, he had just rather gruesomely killed one of said councillors. If ever there was time for a meeting this was probably it. "Alright, thank you Leon, I'll be on my way soon." Leon gave him a nod but didn't leave. He hesitated, looking awkward.

"I was wondering sire, should we dispatch a group to retrieve Agravaine's body?" Arthur's stomach clenched at the name. He hadn't given a thought to his uncle's corpse, still lying out there in the forest, with a sword skewered through his chest. He shook his head.

"No, Morgana may still be out there. I won't risk lives for the sake of his body." Leon nodded, glanced sadly at Merlin, and left. Arthur stood up, wanting nothing more than to take the seat on the opposite side of Merlin's bed. Instead, he made his way to the door, then called back to Gaius. "I will keep guards and one of the knights stationed here at all times. Now that Morgana knows about his magic I think there is a chance she may come for him. And I'll have someone sent to watch over him, perhaps Guinevere?"

Gaius smiled. "That would be good, thank you sire."

"Good, I'll be back as soon as I can." He turned back to Merlin and did his best to put on the exasperated voice he used with him so often. "And I expect you to be here when I return, Merlin." He stole one last look at his best friend, and left.

Please Arthur, don't do this

The hand on his shoulder was gripping too hard, fingers biting into his skin, bruising the bones beneath.

I thought I knew you

The blade was pressed to his chest. To his heart. He could feel the nip of steel.

Arthur please, I'm sorry

The hatred in Arthur's eyes was burning him.

You're not him

He screamed, as the sword plunged through his chest.

Arthur wasn't able to return until late evening, by which time Merlin's fever had overtaken the chill of blood loss. 

All day he'd struggled to stay away, to focus on his duties, but there had been a tug in his chest that just wouldn't go away. A constant pull, telling him that he needed to get back to Merlin's side as soon as possible. It had felt more like a physical force than simple worry, like a coil of rope bound tight around his chest and drawn taught, pulling him towards his friend. The closer he drew to Gaius's chambers the less painful the tug became, though his anxiety remained just as strong.

The scene he was greeted with when he entered the room was very different this time. Gaius was nowhere to be seen, and instead, Gwen was perched on the stool beside the bed. A bucket of water sat on the floor beside her and right now she was gently dabbing a damp cloth against Merlin's face. His condition must have changed since Arthur was last here because he was now lying on his back with the blanket drawn down, leaving his bandaged upper body uncovered. He was breathing hard and twitching in his sleep. As Arthur watched, Gwen squeezed his hand and hushed him.

"It's alright Merlin, it's alright."

"What's wrong with him?" Arthur demanded, striding across the room in a second and dropping down on the opposite side of the bed. Gwen jumped, attention having been entirely focused on Merlin, but Arthur was too frantic to notice he'd startled her.

"Fever dreams," she told him sadly, and Arthur laid a hand on Merlin's forehead. His skin was far too hot, the same way it had been when he and Gwaine had found him stumbling through the woods. His panic was obvious and Gwen reached out a hand to touch his arm. "It's alright Arthur, Gaius said he expected the fever to return, and it means he's not in shock anymore."

"Where is Gaius?"

"He's just gone to collect some more supplies, he'll be back soon." Arthur calmed a little upon hearing that, but he didn't take his eyes off Merlin's agitated face.

Gwen was burning to question Arthur about the previous day's events. She was desperate to know how this had happened, and why her dear friend had returned so horrendously injured. But seeing Arthur now she knew this wasn't the right time. She'd have to try and drag it out of her brother later. 

Merlin was still restless, mumbling incoherently and jerking occasionally in his sleep. Arthur tried not to think about the scars decorating his abdomen and arms. "Any idea what he's dreaming about?" he asked. Gwen shook her head. The dreams had come and gone, but Merlin hadn't uttered a single word to hint at what was tormenting him. This current one seemed particularly bad though. She dabbed at his forehead with the cold cloth again but this time he twisted his head away and gave a faint moan. The sound cut Arthur to his core.

Without thinking, he reached out and took Merlin's free hand in both of his. Merlin continued mumbling for awhile, face contorted in pain and who knows what other miserable feelings, but as Arthur rubbed his thumb back and forth across his knuckles, he gradually calmed, and his ragged breathing settled. Arthur didn't notice how Gwen looked up at him and smiled. It was the first time she'd seen Merlin truly calm since the fever set in several hours ago.

"Could you stay with him until Gaius is back?" 

He glanced up at her looking confused. He hadn't been expecting her to leave, although seeing Merlin like this was difficult; maybe she had reached her limit for the day. Or maybe she felt uncomfortable with him there. Things had been a little awkward between the two of them ever since they lost Lancelot. There were too many unspoken things between them for them to feel completely at ease in each other's company anymore. He wasn't sure if there would ever be more than friendship between the two of them again, but he did hope at least that the friendship part of their relationship would return soon. He missed that.

"Of course." They smiled at each other as she stood up, and Arthur was glad her smile was genuine. She paused to kiss Merlin's forehead before leaving. She turned back to Arthur briefly in the doorway and there was something in her smile now that he couldn't quite interpret. A knowing look that puzzled him. A moment later the door was shut, and he found himself alone with Merlin once again.

Chapter Text

Merlin's hands were rough and calloused. Not in the same way as Arthur's, which had been moulded over the years by sword hilts and shields. Merlin's hands weren't like those of a knight, but of someone who had worked hard their whole life. Someone who had worked the fields as a youth and scrubbed Arthur's floors a thousand times. But Arthur was realising now they were as much the hands of a warrior as his own were. The hands of someone who had been forced to take lives. It was something he was struggling to wrap his head around.

He was well aware that Merlin had been forced to strike down a few men in self-defence over the years, it was an unsavoury consequence of hanging around the crown prince, now king, for so long. Half the reason he forced Merlin to train with him so often was so he could learn the basics of defending himself with a sword. But until now he would never have described Merlin as a killer. He wasn't a knight or a soldier. He shouldn't be a killer. In Arthur's eyes, Merlin had always been an innocent.

But Merlin had killed every single one of Agravaine's mercenaries, and as far as Arthur could tell he had done it with ease. He'd done it before they'd had a chance to attack. Were they the first people he had killed with his magic? Arthur doubted they were. 

Merlin had taken lives, and he'd done it using magic. 

If it had been anyone else Arthur would have probably called them evil, and condemned them for being a magic user and for doing such things with it. But if he had been in Merlin's position, wouldn't he have done the same thing? He would have used a sword to strike those men down, not magic, but they would have died just the same. He would have done it with identical intentions.

He'd had doubts in the past about whether every user of magic could be evil. They'd come and gone throughout his life, and nagged at him strongly almost every time his father sent someone to the pyre or the gallows. Admittedly those doubts had come far less often since Morgana's betrayal. His father's death had all but chased the last of them from his mind. But now they were all coming back. His father had put people to death for using magic for far smaller crimes, and even for arguably innocent purposes. As he sat there, holding Merlin's hand, all those proclamations his father had made about magic being evil regardless of circumstance seemed more hollow than ever before. Evil was not something he could ever connect with Merlin.

An uncomfortable heat rose in his stomach as he realised just how intently he was studying the hand in his. He'd grabbed hold of Merlin without a second thought before and now the sheer horror of the fact he had done so in someone else's presence dawned on him. He let go of Merlin's hand at once and sat back a little from the bed. He shouldn't be sitting here holding Merlin's hand. He shouldn't be holding another man's hand so gently and keeping a vigil at his bedside. It was wrong. Improper. Unkingly. Letting someone grip it to cope with pain was different. Holding his servant's hand in his like he would that of a family member or lover wasn't something he should be doing.

But he wanted to. The tug in his chest briefly returned.

The fire in the grate behind him was burning low, yet Merlin's breaths were so weak they couldn't be heard over the soft crackling of the flames. The sound of a fire was one Arthur often found comforting. It reminded him of sitting together with Merlin and the knights when they were out on a hunt, and of calm evenings sitting at his desk, while Merlin pottered around his room doing chores or nosily peering over his shoulder at court documents. If Merlin didn't make it he expected he would learn to hate the sound. He sighed and slumped forward, arms resting on his legs and hands clasped between them.

"This really won't do you know," he said into the quiet. If he couldn't hold Merlin's hand he had to let him know some other way that he wasn't alone. Scolding him seemed an appropriate way. "I knew you were lazy but honestly, you can't expect to keep getting out of your chores this way." He glanced up at Merlin's face with a half-hearted smile. He was almost expecting to find Merlin gawking at him, the way he did whenever Arthur chastised him despite being well aware that he was acting like a demanding ass. But his friend's face was blank. Pale, aside from the fevered flush across his cheekbones. Arthur wondered when Merlin had last had anything to eat or drink.

"I'm sorry I didn't let you explain before, like I promised. I wish I had." He doubted Merlin could hear his apologies right now, but he couldn't help hoping. "You can yell at me all you want if you just get better. Although, there are a fair few things I'll be yelling at you about as well." He raised a hand to his face and massaged the bridge of his nose, in a vain attempt to push down the headache sitting behind his eyes. Merlin always seemed to be causing him headaches. "I should give you a month in the stocks for scaring everyone like this..." 

Scared was an understatement for what Arthur felt right now, and what he expected many other people in the castle were feeling. Word had already spread amongst the servants that Merlin was injured or ill in some way, if the whispers and anxious looks they had been casting Arthur all day were anything to go by. It seemed they weren't aware of the circumstances that led to this thankfully, but they knew Merlin was unwell. Possibly fatally so. Arthur knew Merlin was well-liked among the staff and that Merlin cared for them all as well. The same way he cared for the knights, and so many of the people in the lower town. The same way they cared for him. The fear of losing him was hanging heavily over them all. A dark cloud of fear over Camelot.

"I never would have executed you, you know, or banished you," he murmured, looking up again at Merlin's face. Gods he hoped he could hear him somehow. "And not just because Gwen and the knights would have had my head." He cringed at his own choice of words.

    Please don't make it the pyre, anything but that.

Arthur hung his head. Merlin had been scared of him. He couldn't believe he'd let Merlin think, even for just a moment, that there was a chance he would ever hurt him. Arthur had so many things he needed to say to him now.

He sat with Merlin for the rest of the evening, occasionally getting up to tend to the fire, though with Merlin now feverish he wasn't sure if the room should be kept warm or cold. Despite what Gwen had said Gaius didn't return so he couldn't ask him. Merlin became agitated a few more times, murmuring and pressing a hand to the wound on his stomach. Arthur resisted the urge to take his hand again, instead holding on to his wrist and carefully drawing it away from the bandages, then rubbing his shoulder and talking to him until he calmed again. There was one heart-stopping moment when he was sure Merlin had mumbled his name and he'd thought he might be awake, but his friend's eyes stayed closed, and his words remained incoherent.

It was long past sunset when the door to the physician's chambers opened again, and Gaius himself entered. Arthur had been nodding off in his seat, and considering sending for someone to find out where the hell Gaius had disappeared to. He was relieved to see him back. If Gaius had been surprised to find Arthur there instead of Gwen he didn't show it. He gave Arthur a nod and made his way straight to his table, where he dropped the basket of herbs and jars he was carrying.

"Apologies sire," he said, assuming Arthur must have taken over for Gwen at somepoint and been expecting him to return. "I didn't mean to be away for long, but a young woman in town has taken ill while she's expecting a baby in just a few weeks, so I was delayed returning."

"It's fine Gaius," Arthur dismissed his apologies with a wave of his hand, then turned back to Merlin as Gaius hurried to his bedside. He laid a hand on his ward's forehead, took his pulse, and hummed in a way that Arthur did not find reassuring.

"His fever has worsened."

"What does that mean?"

"His body is attempting to fight off the infection."

"So it's a good thing?" Arthur asked hopefully. Gaius gave him a serious look.

"Yes and no. It depends on how high his temperature rises and how long it lasts. There is only so long the human body can withstand a high fever and while his is not dangerous yet it is likely to progress."

Arthur's heart had briefly leapt, and now it thudded back down into his gut. Gaius stood and moved back to his workbench, preparing to make use of the supplies he had gathered. Arthur hesitated for a moment, wondering if he dared ask the question that had been burning in the back of his mind for much of that day. After learning that his father had been willing to turn to magic for Morgana's sake, he had begun to wonder if the man had done the same thing for his other child.

"You said my father asked you to heal Morgana."

Gaius looked up from the book he had just opened. "Yes, he did."

"That wasn't the first time my father sought out magical assistance, was it?" Gaius peered quizzically at Arthur over his reading glasses. Arthur's heart was rising again, lodging itself uncomfortably in his throat. "Was what Morgause said about my birth true? My father really did trade my mother's life for mine?" Gaius's eyes widened in shock. He didn't answer for a while and Arthur was about to demand he speak when the man bowed his head and sighed.

"He did not intend for your mother to die Arthur." Arthur's fists clenched. "If he had known that would be the price paid he never would have done it. But yes, he went to the sorceress Nimueh and asked for her help." Arthur was shaking now, barely managing to stay in control. But the anger in his chest was building. "You were born of magic, Arthur. I'm afraid your father lied to you."

"And you knew?" he spat, rising from his seat. "All this time?" His whole life this secret had been kept from him. It was all he could do to stop himself screaming. He wanted to rage, throw things, bellow at Gaius until the whole damn castle knew what a liar he was, but then Gaius gave a deep, weary sigh.

"Arthur," Gaius turned to him and Arthur wasn't sure when he'd last seen the man look so worn out. So old. "I'm sorry, I know you are angry, and rightfully so. You deserve to be angry, and you deserve answers but it... it's been a long day." 

Arthur's fury died as quickly as it had come. At least the part directed at Gaius did. Gaius wasn't the one who deserved his ire. He stared back at him for a while, then gave the physician a nod of understanding.

"Of course, I'm sorry Gaius." He dropped back down onto the stool beside Merlin's bed and glared at his own clasped hands. In truth, he wasn't seeing them. What he was seeing now was his father's face as he lied to him. Uther had told him again and again and again that magic was the reason his mother was gone. That magic was the thing that killed her. That it was the reason he had grown up without her there. That all magic and all those who dared practice it were monsters who wanted good people like his mother dead. All he could see now was the image of his father lying to his face in a desperate attempt to save his own skin. His eyes had started stinging again. 

The shame he had felt for shedding tears in front of the knights was yet to fade. But, he was starting to wonder (or maybe just hope for the sake of his pride) if that shame he had felt was misplaced.

He had cried for his father when he died. A man he could no longer convince himself had been a good person. A cruel man. A liar. A murderous, monstrous man.

And then there was Merlin. A man without a cruel bone in his body. A good person. A kind person. Someone who made Arthur a better man.
He hadn't cried for a servant or a sorcerer when he held Merlin in his arms. He had cried for his best friend. For Merlin, the best man he knew.

But, even if that shame was misplaced, he still baulked at the idea of crying in front of Gaius right now. The man had enough to cope with without witnessing that sorry sight, and the sting in Arthur's eyes was getting worse. He swallowed and did his best to clear his throat before speaking. "I'll stay in his room again tonight if that's alright Gaius?" The tug in his chest would just return if he left. Gaius gave him a sad smile.

"Of course."

"Is there anything I can help you with first?" Arthur gestured vaguely to the scattered herbs before Gaius, the question a peace offering as much as a genuine offer. He didn't want animosity between the two of them right now. Gaius shook his head.

"No. You get some rest Arthur, you look dead on your feet." The warmth in his voice told Arthur the peace offering had been accepted anyway. He gave the old man a nod, then turned back to Merlin.

He had only meant to give Merlin's arm a quick pat, just to reassure himself his friend really was still there and breathing, but after placing a hand on his arm he found himself hesitating to take that hand away. He paused, wondering if Merlin's face really was looking thinner than usual, or if the gauntness was a trick of his own worried mind. He squeezed Merlin's shoulder, then ran his hand slowly through his dark hair. The last time he'd done that he'd been clutching Merlin's trembling body to his chest, letting him grip his hand to help him cope with the pain of Percival packing the wound on his back. Running a hand through his hair like this seemed to have soothed him a little back then. Maybe it could help soothe the nightmares that seemed to be plaguing him now as well.

He stood up abruptly and left the room. Gaius watched the door close behind him, before turning back to his books, praying there was something in there he'd overlooked, that might bring Merlin back to them.

The blade burned. A pyre in his chest. Arthur forcing the blade through him again

You lied to me

No...

You're just like all of them

I'm not, please...

Betrayed me like all of them

I didn't want...

Murdered my father

I wanted to help...

Murderer

I'm sorry...

Traitor

No...

Leave

The water was so cold. Too cold.

He was sinking.

Not sinking. Being pulled down, hands grasping at his clothes, clasping the blade still embedded in him.

The surface was just out of reach, the sunlight so tantalising close. He stretched out his hand but the hands around him were tugging at him,

pulling at the sword,

sending agony through his chest,

dragging him away.

Something brushed the tips of his fingers, before he felt himself hauled down into the depths.

Arthur ensured a new bed was procured before Merlin was shifted from the physician's cot to his own room the next day. Gaius had deemed it safe to move him, and it would give Merlin's visitors a degree of privacy when they wished to sit with him. There was always a chance of other patients requiring the sickbed, and Gaius hoped being in his own room, a quieter and more familiar place for him to sleep, might help keep Merlin's fever dreams at bay. They had continued tormenting him intermittently through the night.

With a great deal of effort Gaius had been able to drag Merlin into a half-conscious state a handful of times overnight. He'd managed to wake the boy enough to coax him into drinking a little broth and medicine, but Merlin had been unable to speak or eat. It was all Gaius would be able to do to try and keep him nourished. He'd decided to do his best to only attempt waking Merlin when they were alone. He didn't dare give any of the others false hope.

As much as he wanted to spend his days at Merlin's bedside, Arthur could only spare so much time. Kings did not get to ignore their duties forever. Not for a sickly servant. Not even if that servant was a loved one who may be drawing their final breaths. 

Gwen and the knights were able to ensure Merlin was never wanting for company, nor Gaius for assistance, and Arthur was able to continue his duties with the knowledge that at the times he couldn't be there some of the people he and Merlin trusted most were. He and Gwen often found themselves sitting together with Merlin, and they took comfort in talking to each other. Reviving their friendship was something both were grateful for, especially at a time like this.

The short hours Arthur could snatch throughout the day and the final few of his evenings were enough to sustain him. For two days.

For two days he tried his best. But with every hour the tug in his chest grew more painful. It eased whenever he returned to Merlin's side, but the time he spent there never seemed enough to fully ease it. The moment he was forced to leave, the wrenching, tearing sensation would return, as though part of himself was unable to leave Merlin's room with him. It was that pain, and the agony of witnessing the fever dreams, that convinced him he would have to be a disappointment to the kingdom for a while, and his duties could wait.

Because despite Gaius's hopes, Merlin's nightmares did not fade. Instead, they worsened alongside his fever. Arthur would have expected the sound of Merlin's voice would bring him comfort at a time like this, maybe even a spark of hope. But it didn't. Merlin would murmur miserable apologies and repeat Arthur's name. He would moan in pain and try to press a hand to the wound in his stomach or clutch at his heart, a movement which confused them as there was no wound in that area. The flail had left gouges across his sternum and the right side of his chest. There were none over his heart. Gaius feared maybe there was another injury he had not yet recognised but after witnessing one too many of the nightmares Arthur realised, to his utter horror, what Merlin was being tormented by. 

"Sorry... 'm sorry Arthur..."

Arthur had never thought he could hate the sound of his own name in Merlin's voice so much.

"...thur, please... it's me..." 

It was the memory of that evening before everything went so wrong. Or more accurately the one when, thanks to him, everything began to go wrong. Merlin was reliving that moment after he shared his secret, and Arthur had responded by holding the tip of a sword to his heart.

He'd done it because he hadn't believed it was Merlin he was threatening, if he'd known it was him then he never would have touched his sword. But Merlin hadn't known that when Arthur first advanced on him with hatred in his eyes. Of all Arthur's possible reactions, that surely would have been the one Merlin feared most. To have his friend turn on him without a moment's hesitation. Even though he never cut Merlin with the blade, he would have to be a fool to think his actions hadn't left him with a different kind of scar. And Merlin already had too many scars.

On the fourth day after Merlin first fell unconscious, Arthur informed George he planned on delegating all possible responsibilities to Sir Leon and the council, handed him a list of orders to give out on his behalf, and instructed him to bring all documents he was required to review to the physician's chambers. He would be carrying out his remaining duties from there from now on. Considering how distracted he was, the kingdom was probably in better hands this way. When he opened the door to Merlin's room shortly after, he found both Gwen and Gwaine there already.

Gaius had been snoring in his bed in the main room when he arrived so he had expected someone to be there. Gwen was perched on the edge of the bed beside Merlin, holding his hand, while Gwaine had pulled a chair up next to them. He was fiddling with something, rolling and passing it back and forth between his hands. Arthur tried not to let his frustration at the seat beside Merlin being taken show. They appeared to have been talking and stopped when he entered. 

"Speak of the devil," Gwaine said, placing the jar he'd been playing with down on the bedside cabinet. His friendly smirk was in place but Arthur frowned at him.

"You'll be explaining what you mean by that after you tell me if anything has changed." He made his way across the small room and took in Merlin's appearance. He was lying on his side and dreaming again, judging from the tension in his face and the way his eyes were twitching beneath his lids. Like the last few times Arthur had been here, there were no blankets draped over the man despite his shivering. His fever had stopped rising thankfully, but it was still dangerously high. The scars scattered across his torso had been left on display for all to see. Arthur wondered if they would have seen more on his legs if they were uncovered.

"No," Gwen told him with a sigh, turning back to Merlin's pained face. "Gaius says he's just the same." Arthur took a moment to absorb the expected, but miserable news. Then he looked pointedly at Gwaine.

"We were just wondering how much trouble Elyan-"

"Gwaine!" The knight stopped as Gwen hissed at him, but the damage was already done. Arthur crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows.

"No, please, continue." Gwaine gave Gwen a guilty smile. She rolled her eyes at him and then turned to Arthur with a look of resignation. 

"Elyan told me."

"Told you what?" She bit her lip hesitantly and Arthur had a feeling he knew what she was going to say. 

"About Merlin's magic." 

He groaned and put his face in his hand. "Damnit Elyan."

"I won't tell anyone!" Gwen said quickly, standing and placing a hand on his arm. "I promise, his secret is safe with me!" Arthur sighed and glanced up at her anxious face. If it had been anyone else he would have been panicking, afraid the news would spread at once and a witch hunt would be on them by nightfall. But this was Gwen. He trusted her. He was still angry though.

"Thank you, Gwen, but it wasn't Elyan's secret to tell..." He sighed as he stared down at Merlin, then turned to Gwaine. "Leon's taking over training for now, tell him Elyan's been looking sloppy and needs extra practice." Gwaine chuckled and Gwen smiled at Arthur, relieved that was the worst her brother was going to get. He gave her an appraising look though. She and Morgana had been very close, and he knew Morgana's betrayal had hurt her deeply. He wasn't sure how to expect her to react to another friend having such a secret. "How are you taking the news?"

"It was... a shock." She sat back down in the same spot and began twisting her hands in her lap. "I'm still struggling to believe it. At first, I was scared, because I blamed the magic for how Morgana changed, but now..." Her face softened as she turned back to Merlin. "It's Merlin. I don't know how I feel about magic now, but he's still Merlin." She unexpectedly broke into a wide smile. "Do you remember when there was a plague in the town and my father got sick? But someone cured him with magic?" Arthur nodded. His father had accused Gwen of sorcery as a result of that and she had narrowly avoided execution. Not a particularly happy memory, but Gwen was still smiling. "And then Merlin tried to clear my name by confessing to being the one who did it?" 

"He gave me a damn heart attack when he did that," he snorted. She raised her eyebrows at him. Oh. He blinked a few times, then gaped at her. "Are you telling me the idiot was telling the truth?" Gwen pursed her lips as though trying to hold back a laugh, and nodded. Arthur placed his hands together and held them in front of his face as if praying for strength, and massaged his brow with his thumbs. Another Merlin-induced headache.

Gwaine chuckled and picked up the small jar he'd been playing with. "I can't believe he got away with it all these years."

Arthur watched as Gwaine began rolling the jar back and forth from one hand to the other again, apparently needing something to fidget with in his anxiety. Arthur recognised it now as the one he had seen on the shelf above Merlin's bed. He glanced up at the cupboard to confirm and saw indeed that there was no longer a bottle sitting beside the carved dragon. He wondered why Gwaine had picked it up. 

A faint moan escaped Merlin in his sleep, and they all watched miserably as he curled in on himself a little further. Gwen hushed him and Arthur felt a twinge in his chest as she took hold of one of Merlin's hands. 

"He'll have a mighty impressive scar to boast about," Gwaine said with a sad smile. "Though I guess he didn't really need any more." Gwen hummed in agreement. Arthur found his eyes drawn, yet again, to the edges of the old burn poking out from beneath Merlin's bandages. They were all becoming well acquainted with Merlin's scars.

"Do either of you have any idea what they're from?" Gwaine shook his head, but Gwen looked surprised at the question.

"No, but don't you?" 

Arthur frowned at her, puzzled. "No, why would I?"

"I guess, I just always assumed they were from fights when he was out on hunting trips, or things like that with you." She glanced at Gwaine, who was looking as confused as Arthur.

"So you knew about them before now?" Gwaine asked. She nodded, then glanced sadly back at Merlin. His chest was rising and falling regularly, but the breaths he took were far too shallow, the same way they had been for the last three days.

"I came in here once when he was tending to a bad cut on his side. He said it was just from an accident during training and I believed him, I didn't see any reason not to, but now..." She bit her lip as she paused, thinking back. "I'm sure he had fewer scars then, it must have been a few years ago."

"You didn't ask what they were from?" Arthur asked.

"No, it was obvious he wasn't happy I'd seen him like that- I should've knocked but I thought no one was there- and I didn't want to upset him more so I just didn't say anything." Arthur couldn't help smiling at her. Of course she hadn't wanted to push it if it would have upset Merlin. He probably wouldn't have let him rest until he told him what the hell had happened, without any consideration for how that would make him feel or if he wanted to keep that private.

"Maybe we'll ask him about them when he wakes up," Gwaine said, placing the jar back down. He'd noticed Arthur eyeing his seat. He reached out to give Merlin's free hand a squeeze, then slapped his own knees and stood. "I best be off then, knightly duties and all."

"I wasn't aware you knew what those were Sir Gwaine," Arthur quipped, but gladly took the vacated seat. Gwen took this as an opportune time to leave as well, far behind on her own duties, though the steward had been remarkably understanding about the reason.

"We'll see you later Arthur." She placed a hand on his arm briefly and followed Gwaine out. In the corridor outside Gwaine fell in to step beside her and she gave him a sideways glance. "I thought the knights' training wasn't till midday?"

"And you'd be correct my dear Gwen."

"You're not staying with Merlin until then?"

"No, I figure those two need each other more right now than anyone else." He looked back over his shoulder, and Gwen could tell he would rather not have left. She glanced back as well.

"Yes, I think you're right." 

While Arthur was grateful to be alone with Merlin again, he felt a certain degree of awkwardness sitting there. It was something he'd been struggling with every time he found himself sitting alone with his best friend. Maybe it was just the sheer absurdity that was Merlin being silent. Merlin was only ever quiet around him when he was angry with Arthur, or something else was bothering him terribly. Not that Arthur often managed to get the truth out of him when he was upset about something. Something other than Arthur being a prat that is.

He frowned to himself as he watched Merlin's tense face. There would always be an imbalance in their friendship due to their stations (even if Merlin did seem completely oblivious to the fact that Arthur was, in fact, the king) but he realised now there was another way in which things were unequal. A way he hadn't ever given much thought before. Merlin was there for him through every hardship. He was always the one Arthur talked to about his struggles, particularly the personal ones. Many of those he would never dream of sharing with anyone else. Arthur was well aware talking about feelings was not his forte. He was perfectly happy with the walls he had constructed around his heart. His father had made it clear to him a long time ago that he must be stoic in every aspect of his life, and he had dutifully built those walls up, brick by well-placed brick. It was part of his duty as king to maintain those walls and let no one through.

But somehow Merlin had become the exception. 

With absolutely no permission from Arthur, Merlin seemed to have knocked down those bricks in Arthur's walls and built himself his own little private gateway in. Arthur would sometimes let others venture a little way past the walls, people like Gwen, Gaius, and Leon. But they couldn't slip freely past them the way Merlin did.

But Merlin had his own walls. Ones that kept the very depths of his heart guarded, even from Arthur. Walls Arthur never realised were even there. Merlin seemed like such an open book but now Arthur knew there were chapters still hidden away.

In those times when Merlin's smile disappeared for days and his chatter ceased Arthur had often found ways to cheer him up, and his Merlin would eventually come back to him, goofy grins and all. But he very rarely discovered the reason why Merlin descended into melancholy like that. Arthur would be lying to himself if he said Merlin was just as lighthearted as he had been when they first met. Those times when he turned sullen happened more often these days. Arthur knew because whenever Merlin clammed up and wouldn't talk to him he tended to panic. 

When Merlin first revealed his magic Arthur had blamed its influence for those changes in Merlin but he'd been wrong. He suspected it had been because of the magic, but the magic itself hadn't done this to him. 

He stewed in his thoughts for a long while, checking in every now and then with that tugging in his chest to see if it had lessened, and holding Merlin's wrist to feel his pulse. While Merlin's heartbeat remained weak, the pain in Arthur's own chest seemed to ease slightly each time he touched him. That nagging in the back of his head, of how improper it was for him to want that contact was still there, but the image of Gwaine doing the same, of reaching out and taking Merlin's hand in his for no reason other than wanting to, was now there as well. It was a strange juxtaposition.

When Merlin began murmuring his pleas for forgiveness again the nagging vanished. Arthur snatched up his hands and held them firmly between his own, until the nightmare passed. 

Arthur only left the physician's chambers to sleep, and only because Gaius ordered him to. 'The last thing we need right now is for you to fall ill because you refuse to sleep, Arthur."  Every other moment he spent in Merlin's room, or occasionally sitting on the steps in Gaius's chambers staring out the window when Merlin had other visitors and Arthur couldn't bear being in the same room as them. Witnessing anyone else's grief and worry was something he couldn't live with right now. His own was too overwhelming. People seemed to understand though and he was mostly left alone with Merlin. It was selfish of him he knew to want to keep him to himself right now, but the ache in his chest gave him little choice.

George delivered him all of the reports and documents that couldn't be ignored and Arthur laid claim to Merlin's desk. He used it mostly as a dumping ground for the stacks of paper, only sitting there when he needed to write more than his signature. He preferred to sit beside the bed while reading and often caught himself with his hand laid on top of Merlin's shoulder, arm, or hand. After a while, he stopped pulling his hand away when he noticed. It seemed the contact helped ease Merlin's nightmares the same way it eased the ache in his chest. The dreams seemed to come less often every day, and Arthur hoped desperately it was a sign Merlin was recovering. 

But the fever continued to burn through him, and the infection refused to release him. Merlin had always healed faster than most people, from both illness and injury. Both he and Gaius assumed it was a result of his magic. It helped his body recover, even though it didn't seem to do much to prevent wounds from leaving behind scars. But now he wasn't healing. Gaius wondered if maybe he had used so much magic trying to heal himself that he was simply too drained for it to help now. 

After three days Gaius found that not even his strongest smelling salts were enough to wake Merlin. He was no longer able to help Merlin drink, and there was no sign of his fever lowering. Merlin was losing strength, and Gaius informed Arthur that if the fever didn't break in the next few days they should prepare themselves for the worst. That night Arthur fell asleep in his chair beside Merlin's bed, and Gaius decided to let him stay a little longer.

How he escaped the depth of those waters, Merlin wasn't sure. He'd been suffocating, freezing, and then something had taken his hand, hauled him upwards, and now he was lying on hard ground beneath a blue sky. His clothes were remarkably dry considering the last thing he remembered was drowning with Arthur's sword still piercing his chest.

He pushed himself to a seat and peered down at his body. No blood, no tears in his clothing. He patted his torso, searching for wounds but found none. Strange.

He turned his attention to his surroundings and at once recognised where he was. He was sitting on the edge of a perfectly smooth, crystal-clear lake, surrounded by tall evergreens. The tiny section of shore he had woken on was the only clear spot in sight, the forest framing the water was so thick and beyond the tips of the trees he saw a range of snowy mountains gleaming in the sun. A silent world of deep blues and greens and white.

"Lake Avalon..."

He stood slowly, breathing in the cold fresh air. How had he ended up here?

The crunch of stones beneath boots caused him to wheel around and he froze. A tall man with dark, shoulder-length hair stood on the edge of the tree line. His thick moustache and beard were flecked with grey and his clothes earthen colour and rough. His hair and face looked far cleaner than when Merlin had last seen him but in every other way, he was identical to how he remembered him. Merlin had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could speak.

"Father?"

The man's dark brown eyes shone as he smiled at him.

"Hello, son."

Chapter Text

His magic felt different here. More free. Larger, as though it spread far further than ever before. Or maybe it wasn't his magic. The very air here was brimming with it and it felt wonderful against his skin. Like warm sunlight and cool water at once. He'd never felt anything like it before.

He could sense his father's magic beside him as they stood together, staring out across the lake. It felt different to his own, yet achingly familiar. He wondered if Balinor could feel his as well, what it might feel like to him. Could he sense any traces of his own magic, of himself, within his son? Merlin hoped so. It seemed strange that he couldn't sense Freya as well. Perhaps she was simply too far beneath the lake's surface.

"I take it you know where we are then?" Balinor asked. Merlin nodded, staring out at the water.

"The Lake of Avalon."

"Yes and no," his father said and Merlin looked at him, confused. Maybe this was why he couldn't feel Freya? "It's not the same Lake of Avalon you know, it's a sort of reflection of it."

"A reflection?"

"Yes. You've probably noticed you're not in the real world anymore."

"Oh." He had, though he'd been hoping he was wrong. "So I really am dead then." 

His father smiled and turned to him. The man hesitated, as though unsure if he should do what he was about to do, then placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. Merlin felt a warmth spread from where he touched him. It was the same kind he felt in his chest when his mother hugged him close. He'd had so little contact with his father before he lost him.

"No. If you were we'd be on our way across the lake right now, towards the Gates of Avalon." 

"But then... How are you here? What am I doing here?" Balinor gave a small chuckle, and Merlin's heart soared hearing his father laugh like that for the first time. 

"I think I'm here to answer that question. You're on the edge between life and death, my son, but something is holding you back from crossing that line." Merlin furrowed his brow.

"I don't understand." 

"Something is tethering you to life, otherwise you would have passed on by now." Balinor took a step towards him, still smiling warmly but Merlin simply stared at him, just as confused as before. He was still struggling to process the news that he wasn't, in fact, dead. His father seemed to understand and patted his arm. "Come, let's sit for a while."

Arthur jolted awake several hours later when he started tipping sideways out of his chair. His limbs flailed as he stopped himself falling and he heard a stiffled laugh. Looking up he found Gwen sitting on the other side of Merlin's bed with her lips pressed together, and a spark of amusement in her eye. "Sorry," she blurted out as Arthur blinked at her indignantly. He rubbed his aching eyes and sighed. It probably had been rather funny to watch. He glanced out the window behind her and saw the sky was still dark. 

"What time is it?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"An hour or so before dawn I think." He must have been slumped over in his chair for a while then. He stood up and stretched, trying to work out some of the aches and pains. He expected his neck would be unhappy with him for a long time after this week. Gwen watched him with an intent look in her eyes and he prepared himself for the incoming pleas for him to go sleep in a proper bed. But they didn't come. "It's good of you to stay here with him like this," she said, taking him by surprise. He sat back down and gave her a half-hearted smile.

"Yeah, well, he'd do the same for me." His smile widened a little as he turned to Merlin. "He harasses me enough when I'm awake, I doubt he'd leave me alone if the situation was reversed."

"Yes, I think you're probably right," Gwen agreed. Merlin's nightmares seemed to have come to an end, despite his fever remaining. He almost looked peaceful, even with his face so gaunt. "I think he can sense when you're with him." Arthur looked at her quizzically and she blushed. "Because the dreams stop when you're here, I mean. When you held his hand the other day it calmed him down." It was Arthur's turn to blush this time, and he turned scarlet.

"Maybe," he mumbled, and cleared his throat awkwardly. He wasn't sure what else to say to that, and they lapsed into silence. It was a tense one at first, but after a few minutes, Arthur cleared his throat again. "Do you really think it helps him?" Gwen smiled at him warmly and nodded. He gave a huffing sigh, as though what he was about to do was a great inconvenience, then took hold of Merlin's hand. "You're such a girl, Merlin." He smirked, knowing Gwen was rolling her eyes without needing to look at her.

Gwen left after Gaius woke that morning, by which point all positive emotions had left Arthur. He wasn't sure when he had last felt quite so miserable. It was different to the acute agony of losing his father. It was a feeling of soul-numbing misery, and it worsened with each weak breath Merlin took and each doubt about magic that drifted through Arthur's tired mind. 

Merlin's breathing had become more laboured as his body grew wearier, so Arthur had assisted Gaius in propping him upright in the hope it would alleviate any pressure on his lungs. When Arthur lowered him back onto the pillows Merlin's head had fallen into the crook of his neck. He'd waited a few unnecessary moments before shifting away; the urge to stay sitting on the side of the bed with his arm around Merlin's shoulders was powerful. He might have stayed there all day if it weren't for how Merlin's skin had burned so hot against his own. He would have happily endured that discomfort, but was afraid of worsening Merlin's fever. 

Arthur's melancholy deepened when Leon reluctantly informed him that his council had entirely run out of patience now and several of the nobles were beginning to question his ability to rule in times of strife. Arthur doubted it would lead to anything, but both Leon and Gaius were clearly concerned so, begrudgingly, Arthur agreed to attend the next morning. He wouldn't have made it through the last few days without Leon's support, and there was no one in the castle less deserving of additional stress than Gaius. No one conscious at least.

But perhaps it wasn't such bad timing. Perhaps it was time to test the waters and see which of his councillors may be open to change in Camelot.

Once Gaius had given up on his second attempt to wake Merlin up that day Arthur decided it was time to broach the subject with him. He gazed up at the physician from where he sat slumped forward in his chair, with his hands clasped between his legs. "Gaius, can I ask you something?"

"Of course Arthur," he said without looking at him, as he re-corked his small tinctures of smelling salts.

"About magic."

Gaius jerked his head up at once. He paused and placed his supplies on Merlin's desk before replying. "Yes."

"Does it always come with a price?" 

Gaius was puzzled by this. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean sire."

"You said the price for my life was my mothers, that there had to be a trade. Is that what all magic is like?" 

Gaius hesitated to answer, though he appeared to be because he was thinking rather than reluctant to answer. "There are many types of magic," he began slowly. "While all spells require a certain amount of energy from the caster, they do not necessarily come with any other costs." 

"So healing spells, for example, if someone heals a wound is there a cost?" A small spark of emotion had returned to Arthur's previously flat voice and though he sounded frustrated he seemed to be hanging on Gaius's every word. The old sorcerer wasn't sure when he'd last felt so hopeful.

"Not for small wounds or simple ailments. Sorcerers draw on the natural magic in the world around them to perform those spells," he did his best to explain. "For more severe cases certain objects or ingredients may be required. If someone has magic innately, like Merlin, they may channel their own energy into the spell to strengthen it, so it can be tiring for the person performing it." Arthur was gazing at him with wide eyes.

"But it doesn't cause harm to anyone?"

"No, it is completely different to the type of magic that gives the power over life and death."

He stared at him for a few moments and Gaius watched with concern as the king's face fell, and his expression of awe turned dark. He closed his eyes briefly and clenched his fists. When he looked up at Gaius again there was anguish and anger in his eyes. 

"I think my father was wrong about magic."

Oh how Gaius wished Merlin could have been awake to hear those words.

"I don't mean I trust all magic," Arthur clarified. "But some parts... I don't see how it could be evil."

"Neither do I, sire." Gaius blinked away a few tears. He could see how the realisation was tearing at Arthur, but a joyful smile was still spreading across his own face. This all felt a little like a dream after hoping for a moment like this for so long. Arthur glanced at Merlin, and his resolve grew.

"Do you have any books on magic I could read?" The physician beamed at him. Rather than answering he walked to the side of Merlin's bed and Arthur peered at him, puzzled, as the old man knelt down. He lifted a loose floorboard Arthur hadn't noticed. Gaius pulled an old leather-bound book out from beneath it, and held it out. Arthur gaped at him. "Please tell me he hasn't been hiding something that dangerous this whole time?" Gaius simply raised an eyebrow at him, and Arthur rolled his eyes. He took the book and held it in his hands gingerly.

As Gaius watched Arthur carefully draw back the cover he thought of the first time he had watched Merlin open that same book. Arthur was so hesitant, moving as though he expected the book to bite him at any moment, while Merlin had all but torn the book open and flipped from page to page desperately, like it might be his one and only chance to read it. Gaius had hardly ever seen Merlin smile that widely. Arthur's brow was furrowed and mouth set, utterly serious and the complete opposite of Merlin's boundless joy. Yet he gave off that same aura of fascination that Merlin had back then. Gaius wiped his eyes quickly while Arthur wasn't looking and excused himself.

"Thank you, Gaius," Arthur called after him as he left. Grateful to have something to distract him from the endless waiting, Arthur pulled his chair a little closer to the bed, put his feet on Merlin's bedside cabinet, and settled in for an afternoon of reading. With the book propped up against his legs he had a free hand, and without thinking about it this time, placed it on top of Merlin's.

Ripples lapped ever so slightly against the rocky beach, despite the apparent stillness of the lake. Merlin's mind was slowly adjusting to the whole on the edge of life and death thing. "So, there's something keeping me from dying?"

"Yes."

"Must be another perk of destiny," he intoned with a crooked smile.

"No, I don't think so."

Merlin frowned at him. "Then what?"

"I don't know," Balinor said, shaking his head slowly. "But if you try maybe you'll be able to feel it."

Still frowning, Merlin turned and dropped his gaze to the lake edge before them. He watched the ripples for a while, thinking. How was he meant to figure this out? All he could feel right now was this strange place around him. He could sense the overwhelming presence of magic, of his, his father's, and the eternal magic of the earth. He closed his eyes and reached out with his magic, sending it through the ground and air. But there was nothing else there.

"You won't find it out there," his father stated simply. He must have been able to sense Merlin's magic after all. 

Merlin pondered those words, then tried again. This time he pulled his awareness back though, drawing his magic back into himself until he could sense nothing but his own body and the ground beneath him. He kept pulling it in, letting the magic flow through his veins, feeling it spreading through each limb. When the sounds of the water finally faded he felt it. A weight on his hand. A tug in his chest. He knew at once he was somewhere different because he was lying back now, though he couldn't feel a surface beneath him. It was as if he was floating. He tried to open his eyes but he wasn't sure if he had succeeded or not because the world around him seemed dark.  

He could feel nothing but the warm weight resting on his hand. He couldn't tell what it was though. He turned his hand over so his palm was facing up and felt fingers brush against his own. He tried to squeeze the hand in his.

     Merlin?

    Arthur?

He couldn't see him, but he could feel him there. He could feel Arthur there, holding on to him.

    Merlin? Can you hear me? Merlin!

Something was moving beneath his hand, squeezing his fingers. Arthur dragged his eyes open, unsure when he had fallen asleep. The spellbook seemed to have slipped from his lap to the floor before he made it more than three pages in. Drowsy and disorientated, his eyes slid down to his hand, looking for whatever it was that had woken him.

It was Merlin's hand, wrapped around his. 

"Merlin?"

He held his breath and gently squeezed. Merlin's fingers curled around his and returned the pressure.

"Arthur?" 

He was dreaming. He must still be dreaming because that had that sounded like Merlin's voice. He lifted his head and there they were. Those painfully familiar blue eyes. Merlin's eyes were open. They were open and gazing back at him. 

"Merlin..." 

He stared for a moment, frozen in place. Then he lurched forward and grasped Merlin's upper arms. "Can you hear me? Merlin!" He hadn't meant to grab him and speak so forcefully but his heart was racing. Merlin blinked up at him lazily through half-closed eyes, but his face was blank and he didn't speak. Now sitting on the bed beside him, Arthur moved a hand to his cheek, begging him to react. "Hey, can you hear me?" Merlin gazed at him, but his eyes were far away, clouded and unseeing. "Merlin?"

And then they were gone. His eyes fluttered shut, and he was gone again. 

With a jolt he found himself back on the shore, breathing quickly and hands clenched around the stones beneath him. 

"Arthur..."

He jumped as his father spoke, having forgotten he was there. "I thought it might have been him," Balinor said, sounding amused. Merlin didn't understand. 

"But that makes no sense. Why would he..." He trailed off, eyes unfocusing. Why would Arthur be trying to hold on to him like that?

He'd thought he'd imagined those last moments, Arthur telling him he didn't care that he had magic, clinging to him and begging him not to die. But had they been real? He closed his eyes again and felt the weight back on his hand. He could feel Arthur's desperate grip.

When he opened his eyes a small smile was playing on his face and his eyes were stinging. "It's Arthur." It really was him. Arthur didn't hate him. He still cared for him. He was the one holding on to him.

He turned to Balinor, puzzled. "How did you know it was him?" Balinor chuckled again. 

"I may have only spent a day or so with you both, but it was clear how much you mean to each other." Merlin felt his cheeks warm and hoped his father wouldn't notice as he continued talking. "It seems impossible considering he is Uther's son, but in a way the two of you..." A pensive look came over the man's face. "It's as if you're two halves of a whole." Balinor seemed slightly taken aback at his own words, then confused when Merlin laughed. He smiled at seeing his son happy though.

"Like two sides of the same coin," Merlin said, a contented grin on his face.

"Poetic."

"It's what Kilgharrah called us," Merlin explained, turning and beaming at him. "And mum." His father's eyes widened with surprise.

"Your mother?"

"Yeah." Merlin nodded, still smiling widely.

"How-" Balinor's voice came out croaky and he paused to clear his throat. "How is she?"

"She's well, and happy I think," Merlin was pleased to be able to tell him. "It's been a while since I saw her but we write to each other." Merlin's smile became a little wistful and he dropped his gaze to the ground between them. "The last time I visited her, I went so I could tell her about you." Balinor's whole body tensed but he didn't say anything, and Merlin knew what he wanted to ask. "She was really sad, and she cried for a long time." He raised his head and saw his father's eyes were shining when he met his gaze. "She was so happy we were able to meet though." Balinor smiled back at him.

"As am I."

Merlin had only had a glimpse of this warmer side of his father before he lost him. Balinor had been harsh, and a man of few words when they first met, understandably distrustful towards strangers. But that had changed at once when he learned who Merlin was. It was all Merlin could have ever dreamed of to be able to talk to him more like this, despite the less-than-ideal circumstances that had given him this chance.

"I wanted more time," Merlin burst out, and he heard the small crack in his own voice. "It wasn't fair. I wanted to know you, actually know you." Balinor reached out again and took hold of Merlin's shoulder.

"I felt the same," he said, voice somehow both woeful and content at once. He sighed and looked out across the lake, towards that strange place called Avalon. "I've met many people now who have known you, Merlin, from Ealdor and Camelot. They've told me a lot. I met your friend Will." He paused, and Merlin could feel the sorrow in his father's heart as clearly as he could feel his magic. "It sounded like growing up with your gift made things difficult for you and your mother. I... I would give anything to have been able to be there for you both." Tears were running down Merlin's face now, but he felt no shame in them when Balinor turned to him. 

"Speaking with all those people... it's not the same, but I feel as though I know you." He gripped Merlin's shoulder a little tighter. "I'm proud to be able to call you my son." 

Merlin beamed at him. "And I to call you my father."

They stared at each other for a moment, before Balinor took his hand away and sniffed a few times, while Merlin hastily wiped his eyes. They sat in companionable silence for a long time after that, watching the still waters. The lake reflected the mountains so perfectly it was almost as if it was a mirror that stretched out before them. A second sky surrounded by trees.

"No, no, no, Merlin? MERLIN!" Arthur shook his arm. "Stay awake! Merlin!" No response. He patted his cheek gently, and then a little harder. "Wake up! WAKE UP!" But Merlin's eyes stayed stubbornly closed, and his face was as corpse-like as it had been for days. Arthur took a sharp, shuddering breath, dropped his face onto Merlin's shoulder, and let out a sob.

He'd been so sure, for just a moment, that everything was going to be alright. He'd thought Merlin had come back to him. That he wasn't slipping away from him once and for all. Now the reality was crashing back down. He shook Merlin's arm again without lifting his head. "Wake up, please wake up..."

He felt a hand on his back. "Arthur stop!" His yells may not have roused Merlin, but they had reached Gaius. He dragged his face up and turned to the old man, who was looking terribly concerned.

"He was awake Gaius," he rasped. His throat felt tight and the words were a struggle to get out. Gaius moved to the other side of the bed quickly and Arthur took his hands away to let the physician examine Merlin. Gaius gave Merlin's collarbone a firm pinch, lifted his eyelids, and sighed when Merlin didn't react. Arthur sensed his sympathy before he spoke.

"Arthur-"

"I'm telling you, he was awake!" 

"Are you sure?"

"I'm certain!" His face and voice were resolute, but Gaius could see the frantic desperation in his red eyes as clearly as the dark marks beneath them. He laid a hand on Merlin's forehead and checked his pulse. 

"Arthur," he began again, voice softer than before. "Stress and tiredness can play tricks on your mind, and nothing seems to have changed." Arthur stared at him pleadingly for a few moments, before clenching his eyes shut and dropping his head into his hands. His fingers curled into his hair, gripping and tugging at the strands. Gaius tried to place a hand on his shoulder but at his touch, Arthur shot to his feet and turned away. It took him two furious strides to reach the wall and when he did Gaius thought maybe he was about to bury his fist in it. But though Arthur raised his hand he stopped himself before his knuckles hit the stone. He slumped forward against it instead, letting his hand and forehead rest against the cold stone.

While Arthur took the time to steady himself Gaius turned his attention back to Merlin. The man was still breathing steadily, but neither those breaths nor his pulse were any stronger than when Gaius last checked. He looked like he had lost weight, his cheekbones even more prominent than usual. If they couldn't wake him enough to give him more water soon then this really would be the end for him.

With a twist of guilt, Gaius realised Hunith had no idea what had happened to her son. She was completely unaware of the ever-increasing likelihood that Merlin had entered the final few days of his life. Neither he, nor Arthur, had thought to send a rider to inform her, although considering the state Arthur had been in since Merlin was injured he supposed that responsibility really should have fallen to himself. The sun was already setting outside; It was too late to send a rider today. Perhaps he'd request one of the knights prepare to leave first thing in the morning. He hated the thought of Merlin's mother having to hear such news.

Arthur was feeling ill. He knew he hadn't been eating enough, and that it had been almost a week since he last had a full night's sleep. Perhaps Gaius was right and his miserable brain really was playing tricks on him. His body was certainly displeased with the way he had been treating it, that much was obvious from how faint and shakey he felt. His mind was likely just as, if not more, run down. 

When he was sure he could make the journey without being sick, he made his way back to his chair and slumped heavily into it. Gaius raised an eyebrow at him, equal parts concerned and questioning. Arthur was sure he must look in an absolute state right now. He knew Gaius was dying to tell him he should leave for the night, eat a proper meal, and get a good night's sleep before the council meeting he would have to face in the morning. Arthur sighed. "I'll stay just a little longer Gaius, then I'll retire to my chambers." It seemed enough to appease the man.

"I'll have a sleeping draught sent to your room, a mild one, just in case you need it." Arthur gave him a small smile and nod of gratitude, and Gaius took his leave. He'd let Arthur have this last bit of time for the day alone with Merlin.

When the door closed behind the old man Arthur reached out at once for Merlin's hand and squeezed it with both of his. Maybe he had imagined Merlin's voice and bleary eyes. Maybe he hadn't. Either way, Gaius seemed to think he was no closer to recovery than before. Arthur pressed his lips together, determined not to cry again.

"Dammit Merlin, wake up. I miss you," he muttered, because there really didn't seem to be anything else he could do right now but talk and be honest and once he started the words didn't seem to want to stop. "I don't care about the magic, you're my best friend and I love you and... I need you. I need you, you clotpole, so just listen to me for once and get better. I'm ordering you to wake up and If there was ever a time for you to start obeying orders this is it, because I know you think I'll be this great king and all but I can't bloody well do that without you..."

If he lost Merlin he wasn't sure he'd have the strength to shoulder the burdens of the throne anymore. He knew he should be stronger than this. He should be able to do this on his own, take on these challenges and have the grit to weather them all. But if Merlin died then part of Arthur would die with him. He knew that now with absolute certainty. 

After the sun set Arthur dragged himself back to his own room he found a luxurious dinner left for him by George. The man had become quite adept at remaining invisible when not needed, and reappearing the moment he was; likely a result of Arthur's cold demeanour to him. He really was very good at his job. It wasn't his fault he wasn't Merlin. Arthur didn't have it in him to feel guilty about how he had been treating the man right now, but he'd have to apologise eventually. Merlin would probably be annoyed with him if he didn't. Arthur did his best to eat.

After George had prepared him for bed (having returned at the precise moment Arthur finished his meal) he gestured to a small vial of blue liquid on the bedside table. "Courtesy of the court physician, my lord." Arthur glared down at the sleeping draught, thinking of the council meeting in the morning. It was going to be a torturous experience, made worse by how early he had scheduled it. The sooner it was over though the sooner he could return to Merlin's room. He looked up again at the sound of a door opening and saw George on the other side of the room already, standing in the doorway with a pile of dishes in each hand. "If you have no more need of me, I will take my leave, Your Majesty." 

"Yes, that will be all George." The servant bowed, dishes remaining perfectly balanced in his hands, but after he straightened up he didn't leave at once the way he normally would. His expression shifted the slightest degree, only noticeable because of how consistently proper it usually was. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, before eventually finding his voice. 

"We- Myself and the other servants- we are all hoping for Merlin's swift recovery." Arthur stared at him, taken aback. George blushed and Arthur wondered if he regretted saying what he had. But the man cleared his throat and continued. "So I believe I speak for many when I say if there is any way in which I may be of additional assistance in the matter then..." He trailed off and cleared his throat again awkwardly.

Arthur's stunned state continued for a few seconds. When he found his voice it came out slightly gruff. He tried to put as much of his true gratitude into the words as he could. "Thank you, George. I appreciate it." He gave the man a sincere, if sad, smile. George blushed a little deeper. Then, with another deep bow, he was gone. Arthur's smile remained as the door swung shut behind the servant. He wondered if Merlin realised just how much people cared for him. It must be a wonderful thing to have so many people care deeply for you like that, purely for who you are. Someone like Merlin deserved that.

He glanced back at the sleeping draught beside his bed. Come on Arthur, you're tired, and you're even more of an ass when you haven't had enough sleep. His mind conjured Merlin far too easily. It did a good job of imitating that fretful note Merlin always got in his voice when he was worried about him. He hesitated, then snatched the vial up, pulled out the cork, and downed it before he had a chance to change his mind. All he had to do was get through the night and the next morning, and then he could return to Merlin's side.

"You have a choice to make Merlin."

Merlin sighed. He'd been enjoying the quiet contentment of being together with his father in this place.

"I have to choose whether to go back or stay here, don't I?"

"Not right here," Balinor replied. "This is somewhere in between. But yes, you have to choose whether to go back," he nodded his head towards the forest behind them and the small dirt pathway leading into it. "Or whether to pass on." He raised a hand and gestured out to the lake. 

Merlin stared at his feet as he considered the choice placed before him. To return to Camelot, or pass through the gates of Avalon. 

Back in what he had assumed were the final moments of his life, he would have found the choice easy. He hadn't wanted to die, he'd wanted to cling on to life as tightly as he could. But sitting here now, here in this beautiful, peaceful place, here with his father, a world brimming with magic and relief and so far away from the pain and loss and failure and constant, gnawing, endless fear... now that choice seemed far more difficult. 

"I don't know what to do," he said after a long time. "If I stay here I could be with you, and everyone else I've lost, and I'm tired... I'm really, really tired." Balinor didn't say anything and watched his son intently as he pondered whether to live or die. Merlin did look terribly weary. Far more weary than a man so young should. But then a spark seemed to appear in his eye and he raised his head a little.

"But then I'd never see mum again. Or Gaius and my friends." He looked back up at his father with bright eyes and a grin spread across his face. "And Arthur needs me."

Balinor smiled at him. "Seems to me that you've made your choice then."

"Yeah, I have." He turned back to the water and closed his eyes. If he listened hard enough with his magic he could just make out that voice.

    I need you, you clotpole

He smiled to himself, and allowed himself a few more moments to listen, and then to open his eyes and savour the warm feeling of this other world. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was a beautiful place, and he would give almost anything for more time like this with his father. But it was time.

He pushed himself to his feet and Balinor did the same. Now with the prospect of a final goodbye hanging over their heads, they both felt a little unsure of themselves. They stood and looked at each other awkwardly for a few seconds, neither seeming quite sure what to do or say. Eventually, Merlin held out his hand hesitantly. "It- It was good to see you."

Balinor looked at the outstretched hand for a moment. Then he pushed it aside and pulled his son into a hug. Merlin froze for a second, fairly sure his heart was about to explode. Then he wrapped his arms around him tightly and hugged his father for the first time. 

When they broke apart he had to wipe his eyes again, and his father did the same. Balinor probably didn't cry anywhere near as easily as he did, but Merlin felt happy knowing it was something his father let himself do as well. They parted, and Merlin began making his way towards the forest, where he knew he would find the pathway home. The closer he got the mistier the world around him became, and once he passed the tree line he knew he would be leaving this place for good.

He stopped before he reached it though, a thought occurring to him. He turned back and could just make out his father standing at the shoreline, the lake behind him almost entirely hidden in the mist. He called back to him. "Could you tell Lancelot I finally told Arthur? I want him to know." 

Balinor looked down, as though thinking. "Lancelot... Don't think I've met a Lancelot," he called back, to Merlin's disappointment. Balinor looked up and smiled at him though. "But if I do, I'll be sure to tell him." Merlin beamed.

"Thank you." 

He gave his father a final wave, and made his way into the mist. He'd be home soon.

Chapter Text

It was midnight when Gaius realised Merlin would live. 

At first Gwen thought, with a sinking heart, that Arthur leaving had brought Merlin's nightmares back, as her friend stirred and murmured in his sleep. But as she ran her hand through his hair to calm him her breath caught. His skin felt warm against her hand. Warm. No longer blazing. 

She shook Gaius awake and dragged him to Merlin's bedside. Gaius tried to hold back his hope; it could be that the fever had passed simply because Merlin's body had run out of strength to fan the furnace of it and fight the infection. But, as he examined him he found a weak but strengthening pulse. The final test was to try and wake him, and when the smelling salts passed beneath his nose Gwen held her hands to her mouth and sobbed, as Merlin's eyes flickered open.

"Merlin!" He blinked up at her with bleary eyes, and then at Gaius when he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Can you hear me, my boy?" Merlin nodded and tried to speak but only a faint rasp came out as his voice caught on his parched throat. Gwen had a glass of water held to his lips a moment later. He stayed conscious just long enough to take one glorious sip, but before she could coax him into taking a second his eyelids fell.

"Gaius?" She asked in a strained voice, staring pleadingly at the physician. "Is he going to be alright now?" The man's eyes were shining when he turned to her and smiled.

"Yes, he's going to live." She beamed tearfully at him and got to her feet.

"I'll go tell Arthur."

"Actually Gwen," he said quickly before she could reach the door. She turned back looking confused. "I think it would be better to wait until he has fully regained consciousness, or until morning at least. I would prefer not to disturb him." He glanced back at Merlin and patted his sleeping ward's hand. "And I would prefer Merlin had more rest before they spoke." Gwen smiled at Gaius staring at Merlin with such great affection. 

"Of course," she said as she returned to her seat. She expected Gaius was also wary of the high chance Arthur would try and shake Merlin awake in his impatience to see him again. 

The first thing Merlin became conscious of when he woke a second time in the early hours of the morning was a desperate, torturous thirst. His throat hadn't felt this much like sand since the curse that dried the wells of Camelot. The second thing he noticed was pain. He let out a deep groan and pressed a hand to the spot in his middle where the pain was worst. "Oh Merlin..." That sounded like Gwen? A hand took hold of his and pulled it gently away from his stomach. "It's OK." The voice came again, hushing him, and he felt a second hand run through his hair. "I know it hurts, but you're going to be OK. Everything will be alright."  

He opened his eyes and found it really was Gwen speaking to him, staring down at him and looking deeply concerned. "Gwen?" His voice was a faint croak, but she beamed at the sound.

"Yes, I'm here." Merlin tried to speak again but the words scraped at his dry throat. He started coughing and Gwen seemed to understand at once. "Here." She held a glass of water up to his lips and he drank, wishing he had the strength to sit up fully and snatch it from her hand so he could gulp it all down at once. 

"Thanks," he managed to say once when he had finally drained the glass. He gazed around the room and recognised it as his own. He turned back to Gwen and frowned. Tears were running down her face, despite her bright smile. Why was she in his room taking care of him? And why was his stomach now rolling unpleasantly? "Did I drink poison again?"

Gwen laughed, the sound a little wet as she continued crying. "No, but you did something equally stupid."

Merlin blinked slowly at her, prodding at his memories. A mist seemed to hang over them, preventing him from piecing them together. He'd been dreaming of a lake, but what about before that? He'd been with Arthur and the knights, riding out after Agravaine...

Using magic. The knights staring at him in horror, then their faces hanging over him no longer showing shock but concern. There had been lightning, a sword, stones crashing down. Arthur, holding him close. Arthur crying, saying he wouldn't leave him. Morgana escaping. Fire and pain.

"Merlin! Merlin what's wrong?" There was a hand on his face and he came back to himself with a start, suddenly aware of his heart racing and the rapid breaths he was taking. He looked up at Gwen, who was hovering over him looking scared. She twisted around and called out. "Gaius!"

"Arthur?" Gwen looked back, her hand still on Merlin's cheek.

"It's OK Merlin, just breathe." Merlin paid no attention and to her horror began pushing himself up, pain apparently forgotten.

"Arthur," he repeated, looking around wildly. "Where's Arthur?" Gwen moved a hand to his upper arm and rubbed it, trying to calm him.

"He's in his room, he's alright Merlin, everything is alright."

"Merlin!" Gaius was suddenly on his other side, looking equal parts worried and joyful. Merlin's frantic gaze flicked straight back to Gwen though. He was still breathing far too quickly.

"Arthur? The Knights?" 

"They're fine Merlin, please just take a few breaths!"

"She's right my boy, you need to calm yourself." Gaius reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.

"They're... we're all safe?"

"Yes," Gaius told him smiling warmly. "Everything is going to be just fine."

Merlin gazed at him, drinking in the news. As the thundering in his heart calmed and his gasping slowed he smiled at them. "Oh. That's good." They beamed back at him for a second, before he promptly slumped back, and he fainted.

Merlin wasn't sure how long it had been since he was last awake when a tapping on his cheek brought him back to his senses. Judging by Gaius and Gwen's unchanged positions though it probably hadn't been long. They were calling out to him, and both looked pale and scared. 

"Hi," he managed to murmur and saw the two of them relax. He smiled up at them, despite the agony that had taken root in his gut and chest again. That pain wasn't enough to smother his relief, because now he remembered sitting beside the lake and talking with his father. And Balinor had been right. He was alive. He sighed happily and his eyes started to flicker shut at once, but Gaius gave his shoulder a small shake.

"I know you're tired my boy, but I need you to stay awake a little longer." Merlin grunted his disapproval but did as Gaius said. He had a thousand questions but no energy to ask them. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open as potions and broth were forced upon him. Gaius refused to let him sleep until he had managed a small bowl of soup, no matter how loudly Merlin's stomach seemed to be protesting.

Every now and then a particularly bad spasm would shoot through his torso and he would wince. Gwen slipped her hand into his the first time and he was grateful that she let him squeeze it when the pain gripped him. When Gaius was finally satisfied that Merlin wasn't going to fade away from hunger or thirst before morning he forced one final potion on him. "Here, if you can manage to drink this too it will help with the pain." Even with his stomach turning he definitely wasn't going to turn that offer down. He drank it and Gaius gave him a satisfied smile.

"Alright, you can rest now Merlin, and we'll talk about all this when you're feeling better." Merlin gave him a small nod, then rolled his head across the pillow to smile at Gwen.

"Not going to... kiss me this time?" She looked bemused until he chuckled and she realised he was teasing her. She'd almost forgotten that moment when he woke up after being poisoned. She blushed, laughed through some more tears, and placed a kiss on his forehead. 

"Happy now?"

"Mmhmm..." He gave them both one last smile before he drifted off, unable to stay awake a moment longer, and no longer afraid he would never wake up again.

All George had to do was open the curtains and Arthur was groaning and cursing himself for deciding this early morning meeting was a good idea. He should have put it off until the afternoon when he would feel a little less like death, and spent the morning with Merlin instead. Although once it was done maybe he'd be grateful to his past self. Then the council might leave him alone for the rest of the day. He wanted nothing more right now than to wallow in his misery for five more minutes, but his stand-in manservant appeared to have other ideas.

George must have been in a mood as well because he was acting very un-George-like. He was bustling around the room much faster than usual, and if Arthur didn't know better he would have suspected he was intentionally making more noise than usual. George's preferred method of waking Arthur was to hover by his bed and loom over him, hoping his presence would somehow rouse him and inspire him to get up for the day, despite it being well known that Arthur was decidedly not a morning person. But today it was his abnormally loud footsteps that had woken the king.

Arthur's bemusement turned to suspicion when George greeted him with an overly enthusiastic "Ah, you're awake sire! May I dress you before breakfast?" He was approaching with clothes already picked out before Arthur had managed to swing his legs out of bed. Perhaps he'd overslept and the council meeting was sooner than he thought.

With some grumbling Arthur allowed George to dress him, and became yet more irritated as George did so at break-neck speed, forcing Arthur's shirt over his head so quickly his head almost caught in the sleeves. The last straw was when he stumbled his way sleepily to his table and saw that the usually lavish breakfast George insisted on providing was absent. He turned to the man, anger spilling over. "What has gotten into you George! I'm meeting with my council this morning, do you expect me to fetch my own breakfast on the way, or am I going to have to go about my duties hungry because you can't do your own?"

George's face went pink and he cleared his throat as Arthur crossed his arms, demanding an explanation with a glare. "Actually sire, I took the liberty of moving the meeting to this afternoon." Arthur glowered at him.

"And is there a reason you took it upon yourself to do this?"

George steeled himself for the King's reaction. "Because the court physician has sent word. Merlin's fever has broken, and Gaius has requested your presence." He half expected to burst into flames at the look Arthur gave him.

"Why the HELL didn't you tell me sooner!!" he bellowed as he sprinted for the door.

"I apologise, sire, I felt it would be prudent..." He paused as the door slammed closed behind the king. "...to ensure you were dressed first." George had a terrible feeling he'd be spending the afternoon in the stocks for that, but it seemed an acceptable sacrifice. It simply would not do to have the King running around the castle in his bedclothes.

When the door was thrown open and ricocheted loudly off the wall Gaius barely jumped at the sound. He'd left the door half open so that Arthur wouldn't smash it off its hinges when he arrived that morning just like this, beside himself with anxiety. He looked up from the pot he was stirring over the fire and made eye contact with the king standing in the doorway, red-faced and panting.

"Gaius...?" He croaked. Gaius didn't reply. Instead, he gave Arthur a warm smile and nodded towards Merlin's bedroom door.

Arthur stared at him for a moment, frozen apart from the heaving of his chest. Then he sagged where he stood, relief almost dragging his body to the ground. He dropped his head into his hands and heaved a few more desperate breaths, urging his lungs to start cooperating before he passed out. Once he could breathe again he ran to Merlin's door and threw it open. Gaius chuckled to himself and went back to his cooking.

Arthur braced himself against the doorframe as he looked into the room, unsure if he could trust his legs anymore regardless of what scene he was met with. What he saw, was Merlin. Curled up and huddled beneath a thick blanket, was his Merlin. His face was ashen and the dark marks around his eyes remained, but as Arthur stood trembling in the doorway, Merlin turned to him, his eyes open once again. Beautiful eyes Arthur had thought he might never see again. He'd been so afraid he'd never see them again. But now they were blinking up at him, and crinkling as Merlin smiled.

"Hi Arthur."

"Merlin..."

A smile exploded across Arthur's face and he stumbled over to sit beside the bed, overwhelmed by the fact that this was real, that Merlin really was awake, no longer on death's door. He and Merlin were both too busy drinking in the sight of each other to notice Gaius quietly closing the door.

Arthur gingerly placed a hand on Merlin's wrist, holding him as tightly as he dared. He was really here, awake and with him again. Tears were already welling in his eyes but he couldn't care less. He didn't speak - wasn't even sure he could speak - and for a while, the two men just smiled at each other. Then Merlin's tired face fell. "Are you OK?" he murmured. His voice was weak and rough from so many days of disuse.

Arthur dropped his gaze to the floor and almost laughed. He dragged his free hand down his face in exasperation, then looked back up at Merlin. "I'm fine you dollophead."

"My word," Merlin mumbled back, smiling a little again. "You look awful though."

"I look a hell of a lot better than you." Merlin chuckled, then winced and Arthur rubbed his arm gently. "How are you feeling?" he asked once Merlin relaxed and opened his eyes again. 

"Like someone stabbed me with a sword," he said with a pained smile. "Gaius says I'll be alright though."

"Good, that- that's good." Arthur swallowed, trying to clear the lump in his throat. He tried to keep his tone casual, not ready for Merlin to hear the pain and terror beneath his words, but the small crack in his voice gave him away. "I thought we'd lost you for a moment there, again."

"Well... surprise, still here." Arthur snorted with amusement as Merlin smiled at him sheepishly. "Gaius said you got me back here, you saved my life again." 

"And I distinctly remember telling you not to make me do that again." Arthur's smile slipped away and his tone turned serious. Merlin's stomach clenched in a way that had nothing to do with his injuries as Arthur sighed. "Why did you do that Merlin? You could've- you almost got yourself killed..."

"I couldn't let you fight her," he said, as though it was the simplest answer in the world.

"Merlin-" Arthur cut himself off before he could launch into a rant about how it wasn't up to Merlin to decide who the king should and shouldn't be fighting. He gave another sigh. That wasn't what mattered right now. "Look, I'm just glad you're alright." He smiled but Merlin still looked tense. 

"I guess we've got a lot to talk about..."

Arthur shook his head. "Not right now." 

"Arthur-"

"I don't think Gaius will be pleased about me interrogating his patient." He raised his eyebrow to show exactly how he thought Gaius would react and felt a warmth in his heart when it got a smile out of Merlin. Gods he'd missed that smile.

"Heh, probably not... He said you've been here a lot." Arthur felt his cheeks turn pink and Merlin's smile turned smug. "It's almost like you were worried about me or something." Arthur rolled his eyes. Of course, Merlin would be trying to tease him right now.

"Not at all, I just needed somewhere to hide from George." He gave Merlin a soft smile, making it abundantly clear it had, most definitely, been because he was worried about him. Merlin made a small sound of amusement and suppressed another wince. Laughing hurt a lot right now. His grin stayed in place though.

"Thank you, Arthur, for staying with me." Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it when he couldn't think of another quip. He paused for a few seconds, thinking as he stared at his hand sitting on Merlin's wrist.

"I didn't want you to feel you were alone."

Merlin's heart soared. "It worked." Arthur looked back up at him, confused. "I could tell you were with me." Merlin only just managed to hold back a laugh when Arthur ran his hand through his hair and looked away, obviously flustered. It reminded him of how Arthur used to act when Merlin caught and teased him for staring at Gwen with a lovesick look on his face. He hadn't had a chance to tease him and get that reaction in a while. It took Arthur a moment to reply.

"I'm glad," he said, voice a little gruff. Merlin smiled at him, but there was a pit in his stomach that had been there since he woke up and was yet to fade. He braced himself.

"Arthur, does this mean we're OK? You and me?"

Even after knowing everything that had happened, he was afraid. He had to know for sure.

"Well," Arthur leant back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest and trying to look stern. "You've got a lot of explaining to do, and you're really getting behind on your chores. I'm rather furious that you've left me stuck with George." Merlin didn't smile or laugh the way Arthur had hoped he would. Instead, he just kept staring. There was desperation in his gaze. A faint fear. 

Arthur sat forward and gripped Merlin's shoulder. "Of course we're OK Merlin." He smiled as his friend's eyes lit up. "We do have a lot to talk about once you've recovered, but yes, you and me are OK." Merlin blinked at him a few times, apparently struggling to take in those words. 

"You don't think I'm a monster?" Arthur gave him a bewildered look. There was a look of utter desperation on Merlin's face that was painful to see.

"Of course not, why would I think that?"

"Because when... When I told you about the magic you drew your sword, " Merlin mumbled, and Arthur's stomach clenched. "I know you wouldn't have hurt me, but if it had been a stranger you'd have thought they were evil and killed them for having magic." Arthur let go of his shoulder and sat back slowly. He looked so utterly shattered by those words that Merlin couldn't stop himself from trying to comfort him. He reached out and clumsily tried to pat Arthur's knee. "It's not your fault though. It's what you've been taught, that sorcerers are monsters, and-"

"Merlin," Arthur interrupted him. "I didn't do that because of the magic." Merlin frowned at him, confused, and withdrew his hand. 

"But, why else would you do that?"

"I thought you were an imposter, and if you were then that meant I had no idea where the real you was. I thought maybe..." He trailed off, looking equal parts embarrassed and devastated. Merlin's frown disappeared.

"Oh."

Arthur had been scared. He hadn't done it out of hatred for magic users or because he thought people like Merlin were inhuman monsters. Arthur had been worried about him.

"Yeah, oh," Arthur repeated. The nightmares made even more sense now. "Was that not obvious?"

"Uh, I guess I was a bit... preoccupied? Might not have been thinking all that clearly." Arthur chuckled humourlessly. He leant forward and returned his hand to Merlin's shoulder

"Well, I'll make it clear this time. I don't think you're a monster. Definitely a moron, but definitely not a monster." Arthur noticed tears beginning to well in Merlin's eyes, and the way he gulped before speaking again.

"And... the others?"

"They don't either," Arthur said with absolute surety. If there was anything he could deduce from the last week it was that not one of the people who had learned of Merlin's powers loved him any less because of it. He gave him a soft smile, trying to reassure him. "You'll be having a fair few visitors I expect, they'll be glad you're awake again."

Merlin gazed at Arthur, feeling a little dazed. He'd been so afraid, but they didn't hate him. His friends didn't hate him, didn't think he was a monster, didn't despise him or want him dead and gone. He raised a hand to his face and covered his eyes as the tears came thickly and as he gave a sob he sensed Arthur shifting a little closer to the bed.

Merlin cried quietly as Arthur kept a steady hand on his shoulder. They were tears of joy, but to Arthur the sight of them was bittersweet. He was grateful for the happiness and the overwhelming relief Melin was able to feel right now. But the strength of those feelings betrayed the pain that had preceded them. Relief came after pain. Merlin had been suffering for far too long, and Arthur had had no idea. He couldn't let that happen again.

When the tears began to thin Merlin gave a watery smile. He was thrown off guard though when rather than returning the smile Arthur dropped his gaze. He leaned forward until his head came to rest on top of Merlin's, so his forehead was pressed to the warlock's temple, and his nose just grazed his forehead. Merlin was so taken aback he didn't understand what was happening for a moment, but then he let his eyes fall shut and smiled, appreciating the closeness. 

Physical affection wasn't something Arthur often showed him, or many people for that matter. The hug when they were reunited in the woods was the first one he'd ever received from him. He got the occasional arm around his shoulders, shoulder bump, or hair ruffle (of varying levels of aggression) but nothing else, and most of the time those actions were as much about dominance as they were about affection. But this, this was something new. This was care. If there was any final confirmation he needed that Arthur didn't hate him, this was it. 

"Don't do that again," Arthur murmured, and the warm breath Merlin felt on his face sent a shiver down his spine.

"Do what?" he asked, a little breathlessly.

"Be an idiot and almost get yourself killed."

Merlin gave a small chuckle, but then he felt something wet land in his hair. Arthur was crying now too. He placed a hand on Arthur's arm. "I had to protect you." Arthur's possessive grip on his shoulder tightened, almost to the point of discomfort.

"No, not if it's going to get you hurt."

"Your life is more-"

"Shut up Merlin," and he did because Arthur sounded so miserable.

Arthur relaxed his grip on Merlin's shoulder a little and they sat in silence for a few seconds as he searched for the right words. He couldn't think of anything better than the pleas he'd made already, Merlin hadn't accepted them yet and he wanted him to so badly. "Don't risk your life like that again." Merlin considered his response for a while. 

"I'll do my best." It was Arthur's turn to chuckle, but Merlin felt the tears continue. 

"I couldn't bear it if I lost you." Arthur's voice was a whisper, and he gave Merlin's shoulder another squeeze.

Merlin was starting to wonder if his fever was back. "Really?" 

Arthur laughed again and answered by wrapping his arms around him. It was a rather awkward position, with one arm around Merlin's back and the other cradling his head, but it was the closest Arthur could get to giving him a proper hug. 

Merlin was now fairly certain he was having another dream, though a markedly more pleasant one than the others he'd recently had about Arthur. After a few moments, he realised Arthur hadn't drawn back and wrapped a tentative arm around his waist. As he did his best to return the hug he started crying harder. None of his nightmares had felt as real as this. No dream had ever felt this real. This was real. He gave a muffled sob, and the arms around him tightened. 

They hugged each other for a long while, needing that closeness. There was so much to talk about, so much more for them to work through but at that moment it didn't matter. All that mattered to Merlin was Arthur holding on to him, and all that mattered to Arthur was holding Merlin safely in his arms.

Arthur was the first to release his grip, and he cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat up and scrubbed at his eyes. "Now, stop crying like a girl Merlin." Merlin wiped his own red eyes and grinned at him.

"You're crying too."

Arthur sat back and crossed his arms, smirking. "I'm not an ugly crier like you though."

"Only 'cause you're ugly all the time."

"I am not!" Merlin burst out laughing at how truly offended Arthur looked as he glared at him, then stopped abruptly and gasped as the wound in his stomach pulsed badly. He curled further in on himself and groaned as he scrunched his eyes shut. A hand squeezed his arm. "Do you need Gaius?" Arthur's worried voice came from close to his face again. Merlin shook his head, that movement easier than summoning words at the moment. 

As they waited for the pain to pass Arthur found himself brushing his hand through Merlin's hair to soothe him. It had been such an instinctual action he hadn't realised he was doing it at first. His cheeks felt warm and he thought about stopping. But the tension in Merlin's face seemed to fade a little more each time his fingers passed through the strands, so he didn't take his hand away.

Eventually Merlin sighed and dragged his eyes back open. They felt heavy from crying, and the hand running through his hair was making him sleepy. He looked up at Arthur and gave him a small smile. His vision was a little hazy, but he was fairly sure Arthur was smiling back at him. He would have liked to stay awake longer and talk, or maybe just sit in comfortable silence with his friend, but it seemed his energy was spent for the morning. His eyes flickered shut of their own accord and he heard Arthur chuckle. The hand in his hair stilled and he felt Arthur running his thumb back and forth across his forehead. 

"Get some more sleep, Merlin," Arthur said softly. Merlin opened his eyes once more so that he could reach out for Arthur's free hand. He looked to Arthur like he was barely conscious anymore and he wondered how aware of his actions Merlin really was right now. He smiled and let Merlin take his hand, and pull it from his knee onto the bed beside him. He closed his eyes, a content smile on his face.

"Stay a bit." Arthur gave a small snort. Merlin made it sound much more like a demand than a request.

"You know you're not the one who gives the orders here Merlin." He took his other hand away from Merlin's hair though, and laid it on top of his. "But I will if you want me to." Merlin nodded and gave him a contented smile.

"Need you too, clotpole..." 

As Merlin murmured Arthur's heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth to say something, not that he was sure what it might be, but stopped himself when he realised sleep had already claimed his friend. Had his choice of words simply been a coincidence? Arthur wasn't sure if he was happy or terrified that Merlin might have heard those things he said to him. As he watched Merlin sleeping peacefully though those worries melted away. He sighed and leaned down again, touching his forehead gently to Merlin's. The two of them had a lot to talk about, and he was sure much of what Merlin had to say would be difficult to hear. But he was alive. He was alive and safe and here with Arthur. Right now, that was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

For four days Merlin slept almost constantly, and Gaius refused to allow visitors during that time. Merlin was still in a great deal of pain, had next to no energy, and was so drained that there were times Gaius had to resort to smelling salts to wake him. His body was dangerously weak and, though he was regaining strength, he was doing so at a snail's pace. Healing required energy, and Merlin had little. The man had effectively been starved for a week, and a sword wound to the stomach was making getting used to eating again awfully difficult for him.

Gaius did his best to reassure everyone that Merlin would be alright, but even he couldn't help worrying he might be wrong, as his ward failed to regain any colour in his face and his weight continued to fall. His cheeks remained as sunken as the day he woke up, though a smile at least graced his face once again. Gaius didn't particularly want to make an exception to the no-visitors rule for Arthur but didn't try to keep him away. He couldn't have stopped Arthur if he tried. He was the king after all.

To Arthur's great frustration though, he wasn't able to spend much time with Merlin anyway. The chores of running the kingdom had been piling up, which he really should have expected after neglecting his duties for so long. Most days he wasn't able to return to the physician's chambers until evening, by which point Merlin was so tired he barely opened his eyes, let alone spoke. The handful of hours Arthur spent there was better than nothing though, and infinitely better than the past awful week.

Merlin was more than grateful for that stolen time, those evenings of short talks and dozing while Arthur read reports or continued making his way through the book on magic that Merlin had spent so many years hiding. Arthur had developed a habit of propping his feet up on Merlin's side table as he read. It was a habit Merlin considered rather rude and he would have snapped at Arthur to knock it off at once if it weren't for the fact it brought him closer to his side. Most of the time Arthur would sit so close that if Merlin shifted his arm subtly and ever so slightly he could press it against Arthur's leg. He assumed it was a side effect of how he had managed to draw strength from Arthur to heal himself, and… whatever it was that had kept him from passing through the gates of Avalon, but that extra touch made him feel better every time. It felt healing. 

Their hands hadn't touched since the day Merlin first regained consciousness. Neither felt daring enough to approach that frontier, both questioning why they wanted to. One missing the reassurance of care, the other unsure if there may be more depths to his feelings than before. They each tucked the memory and knowledge of those touches away. A treasure, both too hesitant to examine the reasons they would always hold that treasure dear.

Arthur wondered if Merlin found it strange just how close he sat to his bedside and if he had noticed the way the tension in his body ebbed away whenever Merlin seemed to unintentionally press his arm against his leg. 

It was late one of these evenings, with the warm presence of Merlin's arm against his calf, when Arthur snapped the tip from the quill he had been using to sign off on yet another grain report. He swore quietly to himself. Merlin's quill had been flimsy compared to his own, so he supposed this was what he got for trying to write with the paper on his knee.

He picked the inkpot up from its spot on the ground beside him and resigned himself to moving away from his sleeping friend to sit at the desk instead. Merlin would surely keep some spare quills around. Not wanting to wake him to ask, Arthur began searching the desk drawers. They were as messy as Merlin's desk had been before Arthur cleared a space. No doubt Merlin had his own unique organisation system, based on how he liked to arrange Arthur's belongings. 

Arthur rustled through nicknacks and collections of papers and found a bundle of battered quills buried beneath them. He was about to close the drawer when one of the many notes stuffed in there caught his eye. One with his name amongst the words. There was a piece of string looped around it and when he reached for it discovered it was tied to a small fabric pouch, and there was more written on it. It was undoubtedly Merlin's handwriting. He'd read enough of the speeches Merlin drafted for him to recognise his penmanship. He took it from the drawer and as he read the note his pulse quickened.

Gaius,
If I don't make it back, could you give this to Arthur for me? 
I'm sure he'll want it back, and please tell him thank you, I'll forever be grateful for it.

- Merlin

When he pulled the paper away Arthur recognised the little fabric bag at once. With shaking hands, he opened it and took out the sigil bearing his mother's family crest, the one he had given to Merlin so many months ago. He ran his fingers over the familiar engraved bird. Its edges had become smoothed over the years because of how often he used to do this. He'd watched Merlin make the same motion twice before as well. Once, in those precious few moments of clarity and candour between them after Arthur had insisted his idiot manservant accept the gift, and once later that night after Arthur had settled himself on his bedroll and glanced back at Merlin, crouched by the camp fire. 

He'd been staring down at the sigil cupped in his hand, his fingers moving back and forth across it slowly as he gazed at it. His face had been pensive and hard to read, with any emotion in his eyes hidden by the flickering flames they reflected. Arthur had smiled to himself as rolled over and closed his eyes, content in his decision. The sigil had been one of, nay, his most precious possession. He had not gifted it on a whim. He was expecting to die the next day and if he had to leave the world then he couldn't bear the thought of leaving Merlin unprotected. He had hoped his mother might watch over Merlin for him. There was no one he would rather leave the seal with.

He tucked the letter away in his pocket, placed the sigil back in the bag with care, and returned it to the drawer. He'd leave it there for Merlin to find later. 

Grain reports forgotten, Arthur propped his elbows on the desk, sighed, and dropped his head into his hands. His world had been in such a state of flux since Merlin revealed his magic to him, it felt as though there were very few things in his life now that he could still be sure of. So much had changed in such an impossibly short time. It was hard not to feel adrift. The sight of the sigil and Merlin's scrawl speaking of the possibility of his own death in such casual words had sent Arthur reeling again. He hated feeling so lost.

He needed something to ground himself with, something to cling to until he could talk to Merlin again because the only thing he knew that would truly bring his world back into balance right now was Merlin. His council and company had always been what he sought when he needed help. Whenever he felt lost. So stupid that it had taken Merlin's absence to make him see that. 

But he couldn't have him right now. Merlin couldn't be there to steady him and stand by his side right now. He had to find something else until then.

He raised his head and stared down at the scattered papers requiring the attention of the king. Perhaps that was his answer then. Perhaps if he focussed his mind on that and that alone he could hold himself together for a few more days. One of the few remaining truths with which he could ground himself was duty. If there was to be one constant in his life, from his first to his very final breath, it was the duty he held to Camelot and all its people, not only to lead them but to take care of them. To protect them. He would put his mind to that then, and the changes he must make to do that.

Because there were those in his kingdom who had not only been denied that protection, but constantly threatened and deemed lesser. He may not have begun this war on magic, that onus belonged to his father, but he had not ended it either. There were many among his subjects who had suffered at the hands of those who should have been safeguarding their lives. He clenched his fist, nails biting into his palm. Not anymore. Never again. He would change these brutal laws. He would do his duty for them all, and when Merlin recovered he could help him.

He snorted and shook his head despairingly. Of course, even now he found himself immediately circling back to Merlin.

Protecting his people was more than a duty to him. It was more than a simple pillar of his identity. To be a protector was a vow and a purpose carved into his very soul, not just as a prince or a king, but as Arthur. As king, he would strive to be his people's sword and shield and treat each of their lives as equally precious and worthy of safeguarding. It was yet another way he wished to rule differently from his father. The life of a noble would from now on be of equal value to servants and farmers, along with peasants and beggars in the streets. He wished to do his duty to all of them. As Arthur though, there were some whose lives were more precious. 

To Arthur, Merlin's was infinitely more so, even if it shouldn't be to a king. He'd cared for Merlin for a long time, as much as if he were family, but the intensity of this was something new. Something different. Coming so close to losing him had shifted things. He would fight for his people until the last drop of strength left him and he was too spent to draw another breath. For Merlin, he would fight long past his death. Until his soul faded into oblivion, and Merlin's along with it. He shivered as the realisation hit him. 

He hadn't thought Merlin exactly defenceless before, but he'd definitely considered him close to. How was it that now Arthur knew he wasn't he was even more terrified of Merlin being in harm's way? He'd never felt the need to safeguard someone so keenly before.

Though he was unwilling to accept it at times, Merlin's insistence on trying to protect Arthur as well was endearing, and knowing that he cared brought Arthur far more warmth and comfort than he would cared to admit. But he still wished he didn't feel that way. Merlin's safety was a constant on his mind, and his reckless disregard for his own safety in exchange for Arthur's was an unending source of stress for the king. Was this what it felt like to Merlin as well? Was that urge to keep Arthur safe the same as what he was feeling now? That all-encompassing need to protect each other; another thing for him and Merlin to share.

He started and turned as Merlin mumbled and rolled over in his sleep. He was facing away from Arthur, and his blankets had slipped down as he moved. Arthur could clearly see the edge of his shoulder blades against the baggy sleep shirt. They jutted out more than they should from Merlin's too-skinny frame. Giving up on his reports for the evening he gathered the documents together, moved quietly across the room to pull the bedspread back up over Merlin's shoulders, and left.

Gaius was, unsurprisingly, still awake and working at his bench, and he looked up as Arthur closed the door to Merlin's bedroom. Arthur paused, pressing his lips together as he thought. He had an endless list of questions he wanted to ask Merlin, none of which he was planning on asking him while he was still so frail and in pain. There were other things he desperately needed to know though. He needed explanations. He was not a man with ample patience, and the little he had was focused entirely on not interrogating Merlin mercilessly. The sight of his mother's sigil had pushed one question to the front of his mind again. He'd been staring intently at Gaius while he thought and the physician seemed to be growing concerned.

"Is something wrong Arthur?"

"No. I mean, maybe, it's just..." He looked to the window and frowned as he stared at nothing in particular. "Merlin has said many times that it's his destiny to protect me."

It sounded like a statement, but Gaius was getting used to the frequency of Arthur's questioning by now so he waited for one to come. Their last conversation about the sorcerer Arthur believed murdered his father had been a rather tense one, and Gaius hadn't even divulged Dragoon's true identity. The king had been immensely frustrated that he hadn't told him about the amulet that had been the real cause of Uther's death. He hoped this wasn't about to become a conversation as strained as that one.

After a few ponderous moments, Arthur turned back to him. "Why does he think that?"

"He cares for you, and believes in you as his king."

"But why his destiny?" Gaius had the poker face of a man who had successfully kept his knowledge of a warlock within the walls of Camelot hidden from Uther himself, but even so, Arthur saw the crack in it. He took a seat opposite Gaius at the workbench. "There's more to this isn't there?" Gaius stared at Arthur searchingly for a moment.

"Yes, there is."

Gaius left out a few of the finer details, specifically the Great Dragon, but told Arthur no more lies. He told him of the prophecy and the future that had been foretold. That there was a purpose for Merlin's magic, and it was him, the Once and Future King. That Arthur was to unite the land of Albion and bring peace, and that Merlin would stand by his side to protect and aid him through all.

Destiny had apparently decided on his fate, and bound Merlin to him. Set Arthur on an impossibly intimidating path. Commanded that Merlin live his life only for him. It left the king equal parts shocked, enthralled, and enraged. He stayed silent for several long minutes after Gaius finished. 

"Did it never occur to either of you," he began in a quietly deadly voice, "that this was maybe something I should know?" He clenched his fists as he glared at Gaius, who seemed to be struggling to answer him. "Why would you both hide this from me?!"

"Merlin would have had to reveal his magic-"

"I had a right to know about this damn prophecy!" 

"Arthur, what do you think would have happened if-"

"How many times has Merlin saved my life?" Gaius looked confused for a moment at the abrupt change in Arthur's line of questioning. Then he sighed.

"I lost count a long time ago sire... and I suspect there are plenty of times I know nothing of." Arthur glowered at him, feeling sick. He got to his feet, and stormed from the room without another word. 

When Gaius eventually decided Merlin had regained enough strength to allow him visitors, Merlin found himself hardly ever wanting for company. Plenty of people came to see him, helpfully keeping him occupied during the day and distracting him from the persistent pain. Arthur's visits had lessened though. In fact, Arthur hadn't come to see him at all since Gaius had begun letting other people in.

He told himself it was because Arthur was busy, what with being the king and all. He worried though that it was because Arthur had been sitting with him out of a sense of obligation, and the reason he hadn't been back was simply because he no longer felt he had to do that. There were other people could take on that burden responsibility now. 

Merlin asked people how Arthur was, as casually as he could. Apparently, the king had thrown himself back into work and training with enthusiasm, though he tended to shut himself alone in his room whenever he had a break in his duties. Several of the knights were surprised that Merlin was asking after him and remarked that they'd thought he was with Merlin during those times he disappeared. Leon had seen him following Geoffrey through the library at one point, looking agitated, but apart from that no one had seen Arthur outside of training and court meetings.

Merlin was fairly sure someone had forbade the knights from asking him too many questions. Actually, he was certain. The only thing he wasn't sure of was whether it had been Arthur, Gaius, or both who had given the order. No one asked him to explain what he had done, or just how much he had been hiding from them all these years. Gwaine asked about his scars once. He told him that he'd been using his magic to protect Arthur and the rest of Camelot since the day he arrived in the citadel. Gwaine had seen the pained battle-weary looks in the eyes of enough soldiers and knights to recognise it now in Merlin's eyes and he didn't need to ask any more. How he had never seen that look in Merlin's eyes before was beyond him. His friend must have hidden it well.

While Merlin was grateful he wasn't constantly being asked to bare his soul it did make talking to his friends awkward at times. All of them skirted around the whole 'so, you're a sorcerer' thing, and he was not particularly keen to bring it up. They treated him with kindness, and their concern was apparent, but they also seemed hesitant in all of their actions and words. They were treating him as though he were made of glass. Or maybe more like a cornered animal, that might lash out in fear at any moment. He wondered at times if they were afraid, and maybe Arthur had been wrong about none of them believing him a monster.

Until Gwen became the first to broach the topic, and the world became brighter at once.

"Could you maybe... would it be alright if you showed me some magic?" He stared at her, eyes wide and mouth forming a perfect 'o' of surprise. They'd been sitting together talking for the better part of an hour, Gwen catching him up on the most recent castle gossip, at least the gossip that didn't involve him. Seeing his shock she quickly raised her hands and waved them dismissively. "You don't have to! It's just, I've never seen..." She paused, searching for the right word. With a shrug, she settled on "good magic before." Merlin's eyes sparkled and he grinned. Gwen almost laughed at the childlike joy on his face, a look she hadn't seen in a long time.

Merlin glanced around the room, thinking fast. If he was going to show Gwen magic for the first time he wanted it to be something special. He wanted to do something that would make her happy. His eyes landed on the vase of flowers on his desk, white daisies that she had bought him just that morning. He raised a hand and she followed his gaze curiously. With her eyes on the flowers, she missed the flash of gold in Merlin's eyes. She took a sharp breath as several of the daisies were lifted from the vase and floated slowly towards them. As they came to a stop and floated before her she glanced at Merlin. He smiled and nodded at the flowers. Face flushed and hand shaking slightly, she tentatively plucked them from the air. 

"Blóstmá geiecan. Fagettan."

Before Gwen's eyes, a rainbow of colours swirled across the petals as they grew, expanding to the size of roses in her hands. She watched as colour after colour flowed slowly out from the centre of each flower, passing across each petal like a wave, tiny sparks like jewels following each one, as though the waves were breaking and scattering a sea spray into the air. 

"Purple is your favourite colour, right?" She looked back up at Merlin and nodded. The wonder on her face made Merlin's heart swell as he whispered the spell. "Purpur."

Gwen saw the brilliant gold light in his eyes this time. She'd seen Morgana's do the same, flashing brightly when she muttered her dark spells, and it had scared her. She felt no fear this time though. Merlin glanced pointedly back down and when she did the same she beamed at the bouquet of different purple shades in her hands. "It's beautiful Merlin." She looked up at the warlock with shining eyes. "I never imagined that magic could be beautiful."

"I never thought I'd have a chance to show you just how beautiful it could be." His eyes flashed gold as he lifted one of the flowers from Gwen's hand with magic, and she laughed happily as the stem tucked itself behind her ear. He was having too much fun to stop now. There was a candle sitting on his bedside table and he lit it with a word. He raised his hand and summoned the small stream of smoke it gave off to his hand.

"Hors, beride þá heofonum"

The smoke swirled in his hand and as he twisted his fingers through the air it morphed smoothly into the shape of a horse. Gwen held out her free hand at once and Merlin's face now ached from smiling. The mare cantered through the air to her palm of its own accord, leaving trails of smoke behind it. Merlin watched her gaze down at it and felt overjoyed. It felt wonderful, letting his magic flow, letting it be free to express itself and bring happiness to someone for once instead of pain. Pain seemed to have been its main purpose for so long.

"It's strange, having people know about it," he said softly, as the horse leapt from Gwen's palm and began trotting circles around his hand. "I forgot how good it felt to share it."

"Forgot?" 

Merlin's hand stilled and the smoken mare faded. He hesitated. "There have been other people who've known about it, apart from Gaius and my mum." His eyes became far away and wistful and he stared at the roof. "But they're all gone now." Gwen watched him curiously.

"Gone?"

"Dead."

"Oh." Gwen's eyes fell and she rested her hands on her knees, still holding the flowers. "I'm so sorry," she said softly." Do you mean your friend from Ealdor?" He nodded, a sad smile on his face.

"Will, yeah." He paused for a moment, unsure if he should say more. He didn't want to keep secrets anymore though. "And Lancelot." She looked up quickly and found him staring back, that mournful smile still in place. "He knew for a long time."

"Really?"

He nodded and turned back to the ceiling. "Yeah. When he slayed the Griffin I had to enchant his lance with magic, otherwise, the weapon wouldn't have been able to hurt it, and he heard me cast the spell." He smiled, less sadly this time. "He always kept my secret though. He was a good friend." A number of unsaid things between them hung in the air.

"I miss him too," Gwen said softly. Merlin turned back to her and immediately missed the smile she'd worn before. He pointed a finger at the flowers in her hand and his eyes flashed gold again. One of them slipped itself from her grasp and he floated it upwards again. Her smile returned and he felt content, as the flower tucked itself behind her other ear.

"Oi!" Gwen and Merlin both jumped and Gwen dropped the remaining flowers. Gaius was standing in the doorway, hands on his hips. "What did I tell you about using magic!"

"That... it's OK in small doses?" Merlin gave him a guilty smile but shrank a little under Gaius's glare.

"No, what I said was absolutely no magic," he snapped, striding over and glaring at Merlin. He jabbed a furious finger at him. "You need your magic to help you recover, so don't go wasting it on anything else!"

"It's my fault, Gaius," Gwen tried to defend him as she retrieved the flowers from the floor and got up to place them back in the vase. "I asked him to show me."

"No Gwen," he replied sternly. "It's his fault for not waiting until he was at least able to walk before saying yes." He turned his glower back on Merlin, who couldn't bring himself to regret his actions. Seeing magic make Gwen smile was worth enduring Gaius's wrath a hundred times over.

"I can walk," he protested meekly.

"Says the boy who fell over walking to the chamber pot yesterday." Merlin turned scarlet and Gwen giggled. Gaius really was on the warpath. "You need to conserve your magic, Merlin, if you don't it won't help you heal, and you need all the help you can get." Worry had eclipsed the anger in his voice by the time he finished, and Merlin felt guilty. Gaius had been correct as well. Even that small amount of magic had worn him out. 

"Sorry Gaius..." The apology seemed to appease the physician and his expression softened as he held out the bottle he had brought with him. Merlin recognised it as a pain relief potion, one he was now well acquainted with, and took it without question or protest. He wrinkled his nose at the taste though, he still wasn't used to that. Gwen tilted her head at Gaius as she finished rearranging the daisies, puzzled.

"I thought sorcerers had to cast spells to heal someone, how can just knowing magic make you heal?"

"It can't," Gaius answered. Merlin was grateful he wasn't the one who had to explain. The potion was making him sleepy already, or maybe it was just from expending magic when he shouldn't have. "Sorcerers can learn to cast healing spells, but they don't have innate magic that heals them. That is something only warlocks, like Merlin, have."  Gwen looked just as confused as before.

"I don't understand?"

"It's a bit complicated," Merlin mumbled. His eyelids were feeling heavy. Gaius seemed to notice this because he smiled at him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Let me help you lie back down my boy." Merlin did as he was told, wincing a little as he moved but far less than he would have without Gaius supporting him. He murmured a thanks and yawned as he pulled the blanket back up and burrowed beneath it. Gaius patted his head, then turned back to Gwen and began trying to explain the enigma that was a warlock's magic. Merlin drifted off long before they finished talking.

"When was the last time you went to see Merlin?"

Arthur looked up from his plate and frowned at Gwen. He'd been surprised when she'd been the one who delivered his lunch that day, but now suspected she'd swiped the tray from George just so she could ask that question. She was clearly playing innocent, eyes fixed on the small vase she had just filled and placed in the centre of the table. He watched as she tucked a flower into it, a large purple one just like the one behind her ear. He'd never seen flowers quite like them before, not that he generally paid much attention to flowers.

"Oh, maybe a day or so ago," he answered evasively, dropping his gaze back to his food. He pushed the meat around with his fork absentmindedly. "How is he?"

Gwen smiled to herself. Despite not visiting himself Arthur seemed completely aware that she had seen Merlin. "He's still very tired, but he's much better." Arthur nodded, eyes still on his plate.

"Good." He took a sip of his wine.

"You should go see him." The wine caught in his throat and he put the goblet down a little more forcefully than he should have. He cleared his throat to try and cover his cough. Gwen bit her lip tempted both to giggle and clap him over the head. "He was asking about you, worrying as usual. He misses you." 

A bitter heat stirred in Arthur's chest. The same one that had roared after his conversation with Gaius, and smouldered ever since. 

"That will be all Guinevere, George can clear these away." 

She was taken aback by the sudden dismissal. She stared at the king, waiting in vain for him to look up at her. A statement like the one she had made wasn't the type that she would have expected to anger him, but there had been a clear bite in his voice. "Of course..." 

She curtsied and made to leave. She glanced back at Arthur before closing the door, and wondered how what she had said could have made him look so sad.

Chapter Text

Arthur brooded for the rest of the day and the next. 

Gwen's words had cut at him. It was through no fault of her own, and he made a gruff apology to her for his curtness when he passed her in the hall the next afternoon on his way to training. He hurried on before she had a chance to question what had precipitated it though. If he said more than two words to anyone he expected he'd snap and just spread the dark cloud of his mood to others. 

His inner circle of knights had been considering bringing up his blatant avoidance of Merlin, but their will to do so wavered at the look on his face when he stamped onto the field through drizzling rain. It died entirely when the first sparing match began, and they saw Arthur throw his full rage into the fight. Everyone was grateful when training ended. They all but ran from the king's presence and despite having no desire to speak with any of them this infuriated Arthur yet more. They scurried back to the armoury in a way most unbefitting brave knights of Camelot. But then again, who was he to judge his men for cowardice, whilst he hid away from Merlin out of fear.

He brooded for the rest of the day.

When afternoon training came around the next day it brought with it a sense of deja vu for them all. Arthur stormed onto the field through the rain that continued to spit, and each knight felt their determination to speak with him fizzle out. The king remained outside a while longer after his rain-drenched men hurried away, running through extra routines he didn't need to practice and then dragging his feet to the armoury. 

He'd told George that he wouldn't require his assistance again until dinner, something he hoped the man had recognised as an indirect apology for snapping at him so often the day before, rather than a punishment. The result of this was he had to deal with returning his own equipment to the armoury. He deeply regretted this decision when he found a solitary knight still there, waiting for him. Leon had discarded his armour already and was standing straight backed and determined by the weapons rack when Arthur entered the room. 

The king momentarily froze in the doorway, before striding purposefully past Leon to toss his shield onto its rack. A small puddle had gathered beneath the knight's feet. He'd clearly been waiting a while. "Sire, I have a request." Leon's voice was steady, but his stiff shoulders betrayed his nerves. It only added to Arthur's bitter mood.

"Yes?"

Leon gulped as Arthur stared at him, tight-jawed. His resolve didn't waver this time though. He and the knights had talked for a long while the night before after Gwaine declared a trip to the tavern was needed. Leon had resisted until Gwaine, deciding there was no need for a pretext, had told him they needed to talk about Merlin. Despite his continuing physical improvement, they had all observed the obvious decline in his mood.

And so, for the sake of his friend, Leon steeled himself. "I was thinking of going to see Merlin."

"Training is over Sir Leon," Arthur replied tersely, turning away. "You are free to do with the rest of your day as you wish."

"Arthur-" He winced as the king tossed his gauntlets down and they clattered across the floor. "I think you should come with me."

"I'm afraid I have duties to attend to."

Leon took a few steps forward. "Sire, I'm sure you have your reasons for staying away and I'm not going to pry, but you need to know that Merlin is going to come to his own conclusions about those reasons." Arthur turned and looked more confused than angry now.

"You have permission to speak plainly Leon, now tell me what you have come to say." Emboldened, Leon came to stand right in front of him.

"He's going to think you've changed your mind at this rate, about accepting him." Leon glanced over his shoulder at the door before continuing in a lower voice. "And his magic." Arthur gave him an incredulous look.

"Don't be ridiculous, I've already told him-"

"You've told him once, but how many times has he heard you condemn magic and the people who use it?" Arthur's expression hardened as he felt an unpleasant twist in his gut. "You're everything to him Arthur, and after hearing you say those things so many times... I think it's going to take telling him more than once to really make him believe it." Arthur shook his head dismissively and turned away again.

"I know the man's an idiot Leon, but in case you haven't noticed, he does have ears, massive ones at that. I've told him how I- what I think already. There's nothing more that needs to be said." He began tugging at the straps on his pauldron. Leon watched quietly as Arthur struggled angrily with buckles he should have been asking for help with, thinking.

"Sometimes mistakes are made and knights injure each other severely in training." Arthur's hands slowed in his task and Leon could tell he was listening. "Even though those wounds were unintentional and those two knights have each other's trust, it isn't unreasonable for one man to flinch the next time he fights the other. I've seen it before. You have too."

Arthur lowered his hands and looked back over his shoulder at Leon, who took the opportunity to reach out and place a hand on his back. "Go see him, Arthur, before he hurts himself trying to come find you." As his king stared back at him Leon saw the darkness in his eyes turn sad, and his body seemed to sag a little beneath his hand. Arthur gave a sigh and dropped his gaze to the floor.

"I will think on what you have said. You are dismissed." Taking this as a victory, Leon nodded, and did as he commanded.

Alone with his thoughts now, Arthur clenched his fists. Even when wounds were caused unintentionally, it took time for the pain of them to fade. He'd hurt Merlin. He felt guilty.

But Merlin had hurt him too, and those unintended wounds still burned.

Not bothering to replace his gloves or gauntlets, he snatched up the nearest weapon and strode back outside. The rain was still drizzling as miserably as before but he was soaked already and didn't give a shit about it or the dampness of the wooden staff clenched in his hand. He reached the training dummies and began beating one of the straw men, begging his anger to abate, hoping that striking something would lessen the pain gnawing in his chest. But every hit just made it worse. Hit after hit, the pain grew worse.

        'He cares for you, and believes in you as his King.'

Arthur let out a roar of frustration as he struck the dummy with such force it vibrated through his tired body. Ever since he had spoken with Gaius about this fucking prophecy the man's words had been repeating. Those words, and so many that Merlin had said to him over the years. So many words that had meant so much to him, and had given him the strength to push through.

How long had Merlin known about this so-called prophecy? From his conversation with Gaius, he suspected it had been a while.

Had he known that day when he rode into battle beside him against the great dragon? When he'd told him he would be proud to be his servant till the day he died? Had he known all this time? Every time he had told Arthur he would make a great king one day, every time he had put himself in harm's way for Arthur, supported him, and been his friend. What if he'd always known? How many of those times had Arthur been  Arthur  to Merlin, or had he always been nothing but some kind of promise of a brighter future, this so-called 'once and future king'?

Merlin's unwavering loyalty. His belief in him. His devotion and the faith he had that Arthur had become so infuriatingly dependent on. Those things he could not question. But now he no longer knew who all of that had been for. How much of that had been for Arthur, and how much for destiny? Had Arthur earned any of it himself?

Merlin was meant to be the one person who saw him. The one who saw Arthur, not just a king. The one who cared about him because he was Arthur, not because he was king. His best friend. His other half. He'd never admitted it to himself before but Arthur couldn't deny anymore that that was who Merlin had become to him. But maybe the once and future fucking king was all he was to Merlin. This was why Merlin cared, wasn't it. 

He lost his balance and staggered forward as the wooden staff snapped beneath his hands. His arms flew through the air without meeting more resistance and he landed on his knees in the mud beside the straw dummy. He had no idea how long he'd been beating the damn thing but his lungs were on fire, breaths coming in heaving gasps that stung his raw throat. He hadn't realised he'd been yelling. 

When he eventually caught his breath he noticed the pain in his hands for the first time. He wiped the mud from his palms on his wet trousers and stared down at them. His fingers were a mess of bloody blisters, and there were splinters buried in his palms. The rain pattered onto them, washing away the remaining grime. Despite the unchanged weather, the sky was darker than before. He must not have noticed the sun setting either.

He heaved himself to his feet with a groan, arms numb and shaking. At least he had tired himself out he guessed. He would have been too angry to sleep otherwise.

He returned to his room without stopping to dry himself, trailing rainwater and mud behind him all the way to his chambers. George was already there, with dinner ready and the fire lit. He'd dragged the bathtub into the room as well, correctly predicting Arthur would need one after exhausting himself outside in such wretched weather. 

Arthur gave him a nod of thanks as the man went to work removing his armour, and for once was grateful for the man's lack of conversation. George suggested calling for the court physician to tend to his hands, but Arthur dismissed it. He didn't want to see anyone else right now. He ate his meal in silence while George filled the bath, and stewed in the lukewarm water until it went cold.

He woke the next morning with his hands aching and swollen and Leon's advice stuck in his head. He'd done his best to remove the worst of the splinters from his hands the night before but holding his cutlery as he finished breakfast in sullen silence was still painful. At least he didn't have training today.

By evening the unblistered skin on his right hand had turned a nasty red beneath the bandage he'd wound around it. Holding his sword the next day would likely be agonising, and the lecture he'd get from Gaius would be more so. He couldn't stubbornly refuse treatment any longer, the same way he couldn't keep avoiding Merlin. 

Half hoping Merlin would be asleep when he got there, he made his way to Gaius's chambers.

After so many days of Arthur avoiding him Merlin had progressed from concern, to anxiety, to frustration and anger, and finally to miserable certainty. He should have been expecting the other foot to drop at some point. For a few days he'd really thought things were going to change, but now he just felt foolish.

He added a few more sprigs of lavender to the mortar and ground the pestle down again. Now that he was able to, Gaius had been encouraging him to move around more and allowed him to resume some of his usual duties as a trainee physician. True, Gaius had suggested tasks that didn't involve physical exertion, but Merlin was restless. He'd been hoping pounding herbs to mush would be cathartic, and that the smell of lavender would calm him, just the way Gaius's books claimed it would. He'd had no luck so far though. He felt just as dejected and worried as he had when he sat down at the workbench that afternoon, and his arm was growing tired.

He knew Arthur would never go back on his promises and hurt or banish him. He was too honourable for that, and even now Merlin was sure Arthur cared for him at least enough to never wish him harm. But he wanted so much more than that.

Arthur's acceptance had felt like a sunrise. Like hope and freedom. A balm for his tired, aching soul. It was all he had wanted for so long. Like a golden sun, Arthur had cast a light into his life that had been missing for so long. He had been living again, not just surviving.

The weight of his destiny on his shoulders had grown steadily over the years, pushing him ever further down. Since Lancelot's death, it had been almost too much, forcing his spine to curve further and further until he began to curl in on himself, doing all he could to hold himself together as he staggered forward each day. The tinctures of Wort had helped. They kept the bad days bearable, but they could never truly lessen his burdens. He would never wish those burdens of his destiny on anyone else. He would never want to share that load. 

But just knowing he wouldn't have to hide from his friends anymore had made everything feel so much lighter. For a few days, he'd felt that weight on his shoulders lift. He wasn't going to be alone anymore. He wouldn't have to hide who he was from Arthur because now he knew and he accepted him. He'd thought that dream of standing side by side through these battles was coming- had already come true.

But now it seemed he'd been wrong.

He sniffed and threw another handful of herbs into the mortar. Maybe he should move on to ginger root, make something to help with the nausea and pain that came on each time he ate. If he managed to eat breakfast the next morning he'd probably have enough strength to venture out into the castle. He could walk fine now. It was just the passing out when he did it for too long that was the problem...

"Merlin!"

He jumped in his seat and turned to find Arthur standing in the doorway. He seemed taken aback to see him sitting there. Merlin supposed that made sense though, the last time Arthur had seen him he'd still been bed-bound.

"Hi." 

"You're... up."

"I am." Merlin wasn't really sure what else to say. Arthur looked like a deer caught in a crossbow sight. 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Better." 

"Good." The king looked away from him, glanced around the room, and cleared his throat awkwardly. "I... was looking for Gaius." Merlin didn't miss the way Arthur flexed his right hand as he said it. He zeroed in on the sight of hastily applied bandages.

"He's in town, what happened to your hand?" Arthur hid his hand behind his back at once and Merlin almost rolled his eyes. "Arthur, let me look at it." He held out his own hand, expecting Arthur to cave and let him examine what was obviously an injury.

Arthur didn't move though. His chest felt suddenly tight. He'd come here to speak with Merlin, but the air had abruptly vanished from the room. Merlin immediately wanting to help him was too much. Merlin worrying for him, and holding out a hand for his was too much. He lost his nerve.

"It's nothing, it can wait until Gaius is back." A flash of what might have been hurt passed through Merlin's eyes and Arthur cursed himself for his cowardice. The bravery he had when his sword was in hand was nowhere to be found right now. "Good to see you're recovering," he said stiffly and turned.

"Wait, Arth-"

A loud scrape of chair legs followed by a gasp of pain had Arthur wheeling back around and all emotions but panic vanished from him at once. Merlin had tried to come after him but barely made it two steps from the bench before stopping. He had a hand clasped to his stomach, face screwed up in pain, and Arthur watched in horror as he fell heavily to his knees.

"Merlin!" Arthur dashed back as Merlin teetered. He skidded to his knees and got an arm around Merlin in time to save him from slumping sideways and cracking his head against the hard stone. Instead of the ground, his head fell against Arthur's arm. His skin had turned deathly pale and his eyes were closed. "Merlin? Merlin!" Arthur patted his cheek and felt a wave of relief when Merlin frowned weakly and groaned. Gods, for a moment he'd thought he might be unconscious again and never wake up. Merlin still hadn't opened his eyes though. Arthur gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Hey, talk to me?"

"Dizzy..." Merlin mumbled. Dizzy, and embarrassed. He felt himself being pulled gently upright, as Arthur shifted them both to a more comfortable position. He was practically lying in Arthur's arms now, with his head in the crook of his neck as they sat on the cold stone together.

Yep, definitely embarrassed. 

At least he hadn't fully passed out. He wished his head would stop spinning though so he could lift his head, he hated feeling so helpless. Without being able to see Arthur's face he was left to the mercy of his imagination as he wondered what emotions were written there right now. He suspected an expression of exasperation, maybe annoyance. Or far worse, pity. When his friend's voice came again though it just sounded tense.

"I'll have someone send for Gaius."

"No," Merlin said quickly, taking hold of Arthur's sleeve so he wouldn't move. The last thing he wanted right now was being fussed over for no reason, or for Arthur to stand up. "I'm alright, just stood up too fast."

He forced his eyes open and blinked a few times, trying to clear the haze. Arthur's chest and the red of his tunic filled a decent amount of his vision and didn't think he'd ever felt more self-conscious. Well, maybe that time Gwen and then Arthur had both caught him with Morgana's dress. This was a close second though. But, despite the squirming shame in his stomach, he couldn't deny it felt nice to sit like this. It reminded him of when Arthur hugged him the morning after he woke up. If he hadn't been so embarrassed he might have even felt happy to find himself in this position.

"You're sure?" Arthur sounded far more worried than he needed to be in Merlin's opinion. Merlin sighed in mild exasperation.

"Yes, I'm fine Arthur." The man could fuss as badly as Gaius when he wanted to. Merlin allowed himself another ten seconds to pull himself together before lifting his head and straightening up. He gave Arthur a sideways look and a half-hearted smile. "Sorry, I just get woozy easily at the moment." From the tightness of Arthur's jaw and the hand firmly pressed to his back he took it his attempts at reassurance had been unsuccessful. Joking it was then. "Although it did get you to stay, maybe I'll do it on purpose next time." The tension faded from Arthur's face as he shook his head despairingly and Merlin grinned. 

"So what, you're going to start swooning like a maiden every time I leave a room without your permission?"

"Maybe not every time, I'll save it for special occasions. Can you help me up?" Arthur snorted at the quip, then pulled Merlin's arm over his shoulder and hauled him to his feet.

"Don't expect me to keep catching you."

"Chivalry not part of the knight's code anymore then?" 

Arthur didn't snipe back this time. Beneath the hand he had pressed to Merlin's side he could feel each of his ribs far too easily. "Bloody hell Merlin, you're skin and bone." He helped Merlin sit back down on the bench and took in his pallid appearance. He'd regained some colour in his cheeks, but not much. "When was the last time you ate?" Merlin grimaced.

"Tried this morning."

"What do you mean tried?"

"Didn't stay down." 

Oh. No wonder Merlin was still as skinny as the day he woke up.

"What's easiest for you to eat right now?"

Merlin looked up, surprised by the softness in Arthur's voice. "Bread and soup seem OK, not meat though." 

Arthur strode to the door and called for the guards stationed just down the hall. He was no longer insisting on a knight standing sentry at the door but still preferred to have a guard or two in yelling distance of Gaius's chambers.

Merlin watched as Arthur muttered a request for a servant to bring food up from the kitchens, before closing the door and coming to sit with him again. "Thank you," he said sincerely. They sat in silence for a while, long enough for Merlin to be sure Arthur wasn't planning on leaving, and to spy the second set of bandages on Arthur's hands. "Will you let me check your hands now?"

"Hmm? Oh." Arthur glanced down at the injuries he'd forgotten about. "Right, that would be good." He held both hands out and allowed Merlin to unwrap the bandages. Merlin's fingers were careful, and moved with a deftness that only came with experience. He prodded at the skin a few times, then gave Arthur a disapproving look.

"These cuts are at least a day old."

"I didn't have time to come yesterday," he lied and scowled indignantly. "This may come as a shock to you Merlin, but I am the king and a busy man." Merlin dropped his eyes to Arthur's hands at once.

"I know." His face had hardened at Arthur's words, and he felt a sinking in his stomach. He wasn't sure what he'd said wrong, but he'd definitely said something. Merlin didn't say anything about it though. He directed Arthur to gather a few supplies from around the room, not wanting to risk standing again just yet, before they settled on opposite sides of the table and Arthur laid his right hand down to let him see to it. 

The silence was tense, and Arthur tried to ignore the heat rising in his chest as Merlin cradled his hand in his. It reminded him far too much of the warm flutter in his chest Gwen's smiles used to inspire. There were still too many unknowns in his and Merlin's relationship for him to consider what those feelings might mean. He pushed them down, and refused to let himself be distracted by his intense awareness of every brush of Merlin's skin against his.

Merlin looked as though he felt just as tense as he did. Arthur tried not to flinch as the splinters he had missed were pulled from his hand. He imagined if Merlin was feeling better he would be giving him a lecture about the dangers of foreign objects being left in injuries. Left alone, those pieces of wood could have festered beneath his skin. A wound that refused to heal, until the splinters that caused it were dragged out into the open.

"Gaius told me about the prophecy." 

The words fell from his lips clumsily as he tried to get them out before he lost his nerve and Merlin stiffened, his fingers freezing in their work. When it became clear he wasn't going to speak, Arthur continued. "That I'm to be the one to unite Albion. That you'll help me... That you- that your magic, is meant to protect me."

Slowly, Merlin's hands began moving again, though they seemed less sure than before. "I was going to tell you," he said quietly, peering up at Arthur through dark lashes. "When we got around to talking, I was going to tell you."

"I know, I'm not angry Merlin." Not about that. He chuckled darkly to himself. "I never gave you a chance to explain. Although I wish you hadn't kept it a secret from me."

Merlin dropped his eyes, looking dejected. "For what it's worth, I wish I hadn't either."

"Why did you?"

A dragon told me to. Merlin wasn't ready for that conversation yet. Besides, that wasn't the whole reason. He shrugged. "Same as the magic I guess. I couldn't tell you about it without revealing my magic, so at first, it was because of that. Then the longer I kept it a secret the harder it felt to tell you."

Arthur sighed. He wished Merlin had trusted him with these secrets sooner, but in his position, he supposed he might have done the same thing. "How long have you known? About this so-called..." Arthur waved his fingers in front of him, as though trying to pluck the words out of the air. "... Destiny of ours?"

Merlin gave him a small smile and raised his eyebrows, the wide-eyed look he gave Arthur when he was trying to both play innocent and admit guilt at the same time. "I found out a few days after I came to Camelot." He paused to unfurl a roll of bandages, satisfied that the wound was clean.

"So this entire time?" Merlin nodded and Arthur wished he'd hurry up and let go of his hand. "Is that why you stayed?"

"Why do you think I put up with a prat like you all this time?" Merlin grinned at him before returning to his work, seemingly oblivious to how Arthur's heart was shattering. "I would have quit being your manservant first week otherwise." Arthur felt a strong urge to snatch his hand away, sprint from the room, and never return. Before he could act on the urge though, Merlin's smile softened and he went on. "At first it was why I stayed, but it's not anymore. It hasn't been for a long time."

Arthur gazed at him. "Then why?"

"Because I believe in you, and the king you will be. I stay for you, Arthur." He said it with such simple surety that Arthur wondered if the man had understood the true meaning and fear behind his questions. "Every druid alive could show up right now and tell me the prophecy wasn't real and it wouldn't change anything. I will be by your side and serve you till the day I die." Merlin considered saying more, but the words 'if you'll have me' got stuck in his throat. He'd managed to briefly forget his fears as he spoke. Now he remembered the doubts that had been swirling through his mind ever since Arthur stopped visiting.

"Thank you." Merlin looked up, wide-eyed and surprised. Arthur was staring down at their hands. His jaw was set and expression tense, but when he looked back up he gave him a smile. It appeared strained, but when Arthur spoke his voice was thick with emotion. "I appreciate it Merlin, really."

Merlin blinked at him dumbly a few times, blank-faced. Then he beamed and dropped his gaze back to the bandages, hiding the wetness of his eyes. "I think we'd probably be friends if you weren't king. If we were, that would be a good reason to stay too." The quiet between the two of them felt comfortable now, as he moved on to Arthur's left hand. When his task was finished he tied off the end of the bandage with a satisfied look on his face. "You really should have come yesterday, they'll heal up fine but you should wait a few extra days before you do any training again."

Arthur began protesting at once, questioning Merlin's competency as a physician, to which Merlin snapped that it was his own damn fault for not coming sooner. After the food arrived Arthur declared he wasn't leaving until it was gone, and it would therefore be Merlin's fault if the king had to go hungry. It was his fault when one bite in Merlin choked though.

"All this blather about you being the greatest sorcerer, yet you can't heal a few blisters," he teased, flexing his fingers against the bandages. "I expect you to start practicing more once the new law goes through." Merlin's heart almost stopped. Arthur held a glass of water out to him as he coughed, and raised an amused eyebrow as Merlin tried to control himself.

"The new what?" he rasped out eventually.

"The new laws legalising healing magic." Arthur smirked as Merlin's jaw dropped a little further. "I'll be needing your help to finalise the details before I take it to the council, oh, and a speech written for when I announce it of course. So, you best hurry up and get well, I've got plenty of work for you to do after this little holiday." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and giving Merlin the most infuriatingly smug grin the warlock had ever seen. Merlin's face ached from the size of the smile he gave back.

"You, Arthur Pendragon, are an absolute prat."

"Shut up Merlin, just because I won't execute you for magic don't expect I won't do it for insubordination."

Merlin started laughing. He felt even more joyful at that moment than he had when Gwen gasped in wonder at the flowers in her hands, enough joy to make his heart burst. Arthur was joking with him about his magic. About his magic. He knew, and they were still them. 

Chapter Text

He'd been skirting around the topic ever since speaking to Arthur that first time after he woke. Arthur seemed to have been all too happy to avoid it as well. Despite their talk the day before about this taxing destiny of theirs, they still hadn't broached the topic of the things Merlin had done in service of it. There were plenty of things he had done that he would rather take to his grave. So many regrets that tormented him in his dreams. But he knew secrets were something that could no longer exist between him and Arthur.

He couldn't keep putting this off. His fear of discovery had been replaced with a fear of how Arthur would react to the other things he had kept from him. To all of the sacrifices Merlin had made. To all of the suffering Merlin had inflicted. He didn't want to live in fear anymore. 

But fuck, he was scared right now. 

He wished for the thousandth time that Lancelot was still here. He'd give anything for some advice and reassurance from Lance right now. He repeated to himself the words of encouragement Gaius had given him that morning before he left, and knocked on the king's door.

Arthur had finally come to the conclusion that he actually didn't dislike George. He wouldn't go so far as to say he liked the man, but as far as manservants went he was certainly the most tolerable he'd had, aside from Merlin. This, of course, had nothing to do with the opulent meals the man served him each day. It had absolutely nothing to do with the perfectly cooked meat, freshly baked bread, and the vast collection of fruit. As George laid down the final platter of cheese Arthur made a mental note to himself to inform the steward that George would henceforth be his preferred stand-in manservant whenever one was needed.

As George finished dressing him for the day, there was a soft knock at the door. "Enter," Arthur called, glancing over his shoulder to see who it was. He did a double take when he saw Merlin himself already pushing it open. "Merlin! What are you doing here?"

"Good morning to you too sire," Merlin replied cheerily, as though it were just any other day and he was bustling in to wake Arthur with an irritatingly perky morning greeting.

"You shouldn't be back here yet?"

"Gaius said I can't come back to work, he didn't say anything about walking around though." Arthur gave a sharp sigh and pointed from Merlin to the nearest seat. 

"Sit down you idiot, you look like you're about to pass out." Merlin smiled sheepishly and did as Arthur suggested. He'd taken the trip slowly, but in truth walking this far had left him a tad woozy. He surveyed the feast laid out on the table before him. 

"What is all this?" 

"My breakfast, obviously," Arthur replied, as if talking to a particularly bothersome child. Merlin gaped at him. 

"ALL of this for breakfast?" 

"Yes Merlin, this is what a proper servant does." He placed particular emphasis on the word proper. Merlin felt an unexpected twinge of annoyance as behind Arthur George puffed out his chest, looking pleased. 

"Not one who wants the king to fit into his armour," Merlin muttered. Arthur threw a grape at him. 

He ducked just in time and grinned smugly. Arthur glared at him but Merlin could tell from the way his lip twitched that he was fighting back a smile. He raised his eyebrows, trying to look innocent, and glanced meaningfully between Arthur and the platter of bread and cheese sitting in front of him. Arthur rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively, as if to say go on then. He was secretly pleased when Merlin began picking at his breakfast. The sight of his manservant's thin wrists made his stomach clench and he had to remind himself, yet again, that Merlin was getting better. Every day he was getting a little bit better.

"Will that be all for now sire?" Merlin glanced over at George and his eyes narrowed as he eyed the basket of washing he was holding. George was a perfectly nice person, and he was sure he was doing a good job as Arthur's temporary servant, but seriously, what was the point of folding those clothes so precisely when he was about to take them to the laundry? 

"Yes, that's all for now George,"

"Your Majesty." He gave Arthur a low sweeping bow and left. Once the door had swung shut behind him Merlin gave Arthur a look.

He raised his eyebrows. "Your Majesty."

"Shut up Merlin," Arthur scoffed. "You know it's been rather nice having a competent manservant for a change."

"If he's that good maybe you should keep him on then," Merlin replied, trying not to sound too petulant. Arthur hurled another grape at him and snickered when Merlin didn't dodge fast enough and it bounced off his temple. 

"How are you feeling?" Arthur asked as he took the seat at the head of the table.

"Better today," he said honestly. Managing dinner the night before seemed to have made a world of difference, which was lucky. He needed that extra strength for the conversation he'd come here to have.

"Excellent, then you can get started helping me finish off these new laws."

"Actually Arthur..." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and forced himself to meet his friend's gaze. "I wanted to talk to you about something else."

I'm the one who decides what we discuss Merlin, was what Arthur considered saying. But Merlin's eyes were resolute, and if Merlin meant what he thought he meant, then Arthur wanted to talk about it too. He'd been fighting the urge to ask Merlin about the things he'd kept secret from him all these years while he was ill, not wanting to push him while he recovered, but it seemed Merlin was ready for those questions now. It was a strange feeling, being both terrified of what his friend was going to tell him and also desperate to hear it. He knew these things were going to be hard for Merlin to talk about, and maybe just as hard for him to hear. A part of him didn't want to know. But a much larger part did, and not only because he wanted to be aware of the specific events.

When Merlin first told him about his magic Arthur had felt crushed. He'd been so hurt and sickened to learn that there was a whole part of Merlin that the man had intentionally concealed from him, but it had been because he'd thought that hidden side was all there was. He'd thought the Merlin he knew was a lie and now a stranger was wearing his skin. He'd been so hurt to think the one person who knew him better than anyone else was in truth someone he had never known at all. But Merlin was still the same person. Still his Merlin. He felt far from sickened now. 

If he had to choose a word for what he felt about that side of Merlin now, it would have to be enthralled. 

It still hurt that Merlin hadn't trusted him with his whole self before, but then again, how could he have? Gaius had told him and Gwaine that Merlin had been hiding his entire life. But now, he didn't have to hide. There was more of Merlin to know, and now, if Merlin let him, Arthur would be able to know all of him. He expected the things Merlin had to tell him would hurt, but he hoped that pain would be worth it. So he nodded. "Alright then."

Merlin had practised in his head how he would start this conversation a hundred times these past few days, and ten more times as he stood outside Arthur's door. But now every word of every carefully constructed sentence seemed wrong. He had no idea what to say. He opened his mouth in the hope the words would come to him if he just forced himself to speak, but only a small croak came out, and he dropped his eyes to his lap. He stared at his clasped hands. He felt nauseous and begged his brain to think of something to say. 

"Merlin." 

Arthur's expression was tense when Merlin looked up. He wondered if the king was as afraid of what he was going to say as he was. 

"Before you told me about your magic I said I'd let you explain, and I'm sorry that I didn't. This time I promise I will." He gave Merlin's arm a brief squeeze as he said it before withdrawing his hand. Merlin took a shuddering breath.

"I've done things Arthur... Made bad choices, some of them have gotten people killed-" His throat felt horribly constricted still. He swallowed, trying to clear it enough to keep speaking. "I've gotten innocent people killed. I never wanted to but I did... I think you'll hate me if I tell you everything."

"Despite all your flaws Merlin, I highly doubt I could bring myself to hate you." Arthur was smiling warmly at him, but Merlin looked away.

"You only know half of me Arthur." Arthur's smile faded. He wished that wasn't true. "You might hate the rest." 

"Is the other half where you keep your brain? That would explain a lot." Merlin didn't smile the way Arthur had hoped he would. He sighed. "Well, I'd like to know that other half." Merlin eyed him cautiously, and Arthur gave him an encouraging nod. "I need to know what you've done for me. What you've done for Camelot." For a long moment of heavy silence, Merlin hesitated.

"It's hard to know where to start..."

Arthur thought for a moment, then did something Merlin never would have expected. 

He pulled his chair a little closer, put his hands behind Merlin's neck, and began untying his neckerchief. Merlin found himself unconsciously holding his breath as he stared at the face so near to his own. Even though he dressed Arthur every day, it was rare for their faces to be this close. Arthur kept his eyes fixed on the material around Merlin's neck. His movements were careful, just hesitant enough to make it clear Merlin could stop him at once if he wanted to. But he didn't stop him. When Arthur pulled the fabric away a yellowing bruise still peaked from between the ties of Merlin's tunic, along with the edge of the old burn. 

Arthur took him by surprise again, as he reached out, nudged his collar down a little, and pressed two fingertips to the scar. "You could start with this." Merlin stared at him with wide eyes. He wondered if Arthur had felt the way his heart stuttered at his touch. "When you first came to Camelot you didn't have it, did you?"

Merlin had to swallow again before speaking, and his voice came out hoarse. "No, I didn't." Arthur withdrew his hand and Merlin took a deep breath. "Remember when you were bitten by the Questing Beast?" Arthur gave him a crooked smile.

"It's not exactly an easy thing to forget." Merlin didn't smile back. Instead, he dropped his gaze to the table.

"Its bite is fatal."

It took Arthur a few seconds to click. "There's a reason I survived it, isn't there?"

"Yes."

And so Merlin told Arthur a story. The full story. A story he never would have thought he'd tell him. Arthur's face hardened as the tale went on, but he never once interrupted, and he hung on every word. The depths of Merlin's care and loyalty meant everything to him, and yet it burned him inside to hear of another time Merlin had tried to die for him. 

When Merlin reached the point of his mother arriving in Camelot in such terrible pain Arthur had to close his eyes for a few seconds as the horror threatened to overwhelm him. He knew people suffered on his behalf, that it was an unavoidable part of being king. He hated it, but accepted it when it came to his knights, soldiers, or advisors, because they willingly made that choice, knowing the risks. But for his people to suffer on his behalf... Innocent people who had no choice. Good, kind people like Hunith had no choice but to suffer pain that should have been his... That was unacceptable. It had happened because of his own stupidity and pride before, but he'd at least known about that and had the chance to fix it.

Merlin sniffed and wiped his eyes quickly as the memory of his mother, sick and dying, was forced to the surface. But he went on, avoiding Arthur's eyes as much as possible.

The closer he drew to the end of the story the deeper the pit of guilt in his belly grew. That time had hardly been the first time he used his magic to harm others in his attempts to protect Arthur. But that day, that moment when he called down the lightning from above and struck Nimueh, ending the life of another yet magic user seeking vengence because they themselves had suffered so much... That had marked a turning point. A twist in the road that had set him on a path he could never turn back from. A path of violence and vengeance, murder and so many mistakes. 

"When I arrived there the second time, Gaius was already dead. We fought. She hit me with a ball of fire," he gestured briefly at the scar, "and she nearly beat me. But then I..." He trailed off and blinked a few times. He was shaking, and Arthur was finding it increasingly difficult not to reach out for him. 

"I killed her. I killed her and used the cup to trade her life for Gaius's. She wasn't the first person I killed, but... she was the first person I murdered. Before that, it was always in defence, I hated it but it was different that time. I killed her because I wanted to." Arthur stared at him in disbelief. Merlin's voice was dripping with remorse and he didn't understand why. 

"She tried to kill your mother Merlin, she murdered Gaius for god's sake, you were justified!"

"No." Merlin shook his head slowly, a look of abject misery on his face. "I was the one who chose to make a trade. It should've been me!"

"You did it to save-"

"It's not just her Arthur, I've- there have been so many, I've killed-"

His breathing was speeding up, growing shallow and sharp. Arthur reached for his shoulder, needing to calm him, but he pulled away.

"Merlin, it's-"

"So many people have died! Not just people like her, innocent people!" 

"Merlin-"

"I've messed up so many times. The dragon, Morganna, it was my fault!"

"What? Merlin, you're not making sense?"

"It was all my fault, I- I-"

He couldn't take this, he couldn't take any of this anymore. He choked out an apology as he pushed himself up from the table and made quickly for the door. Before he took two steps a strong hand wrapped around his forearm. 

"Merlin, stop!" 

He tried to tug his arm away but Arthur's grip was too firm. Why wouldn't he just let him leave! He wanted to tell him to let him go, leave him alone, just get away from him, that Arthur should stay the hell away from a monster like him, but now he was sobbing and he couldn't speak. He could barely breathe and Arthur still wasn't letting him go. 

"Merlin, please don't leave." 

Arthur's voice was so soft that Merlin couldn't stop himself from turning back. Their eyes met and Arthur's were shining, as he stared beseechingly at him. Merlin raised his free hand to his mouth to hold in his sobbing, trying to control himself, he had to calm down, he had to catch his breath. But he couldn't. 

He stopped struggling. Arthur pulled him into a hug, and something in him broke. 

He threw his arms around Arthur as the world came crashing down on top of him. He clung fiercely to his back, fingers digging in so hard it caused Arthur pain but Merlin didn't realise and Arthur didn't care. All Arthur cared about was that right now Merlin needed something to hold on to, and Arthur wanted to be that for him more than anything. 

"I'm sorry," Merlin murmured as he wept into Arthur's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry." Arthur rubbed his back and tried to hush him but Merlin just choked out more apologies each time he spoke. So he stayed quiet, and let Merlin cry.

Arthur hated this. Who the hell had decided this for them? Who had the right to tell Merlin that he had to live his life like this? Who the hell thought they had the right to tell Merlin he was supposed to throw his own wants and desires and goddamn happiness away like this? To make him think his only purpose was to risk his own safety for Arthur's, again and again and again. Make him believe he was nothing but a tool and a weapon to be used.

The preachers of destiny had given Merlin his scars. Preachers of a destiny Arthur wasn't sure he even believed in. But Merlin believed in it. He had dedicated his entire being to it and to Arthur, no matter the costs. No wonder the Merlin who had first arrived in Camelot had been fading over the years. He'd been worn away by this ball and chain around his ankle. Arthur wanted nothing more than to find whoever it was that had convinced Merlin of all this and inflict the same pain on them that his friend had been forced to endure.

But that wasn't what mattered today. He couldn't leap into action and do that right now, no matter how much he wanted to. All he could do was stay where he was and hold Merlin through this moment. He would do whatever he could to ensure Merlin never suffered like this for him again.

When Merlin's legs grew weak Arthur lowered them both back to their seats and did his best to soothe him, running his hand back and forth across the nape of his neck as he hugged him. He cried with Merlin as he clung to him, never once letting go.

Arthur didn't ask Merlin for more stories that day. One seemed enough for now. After Merlin had cried himself out they had sat together and talked about something less upsetting - the new laws on healing magic.

Not only were there the laws themselves to write, but plans would need to be made for approaching the council, and then informing the people. They weren't sure how Camelot's citizens would respond to such an enormous change, but they were certain opinions would be somewhat... divided. Arthur was yet to accept many forms of magic, for which Merlin could not blame him. Overturning every law against it at once did not seem wise to either of them. So, they would take it one step at a time. 

After everything Arthur had witnessed in the last few weeks, healing magic seemed like a worthwhile place to start. Persecuting people for something that had saved the life of his best friend, himself, and likely many other people he cared for was an unbearable thought. He had always thought it wrong to execute people for such a thing and had pleaded with his father to consider banishment or lesser punishments. Now it disgusted him to think of it being punished in any form.

His father had been the most monstrous of hypocrites, and he himself had fallen victim to that same hypocrisy. Never again though. He would atone for his mistakes. Legalising this type of magic would likely be the first step of many in Arthur's journey to right his father's wrongs.

Several hours after they began their work, and an abnormally long amount of time since Merlin last spoke, Arthur looked up from the old documents Geoffrey had retrieved from the deepest depths of the library and found Merlin slumped over on the table. His head was resting on his crossed arms, and he was fast asleep. Arthur smiled to himself. After seeing Merlin so distraught earlier it was nice to see him looking so peaceful. He expected the man would have an ache in his neck if he slept like that for too long but didn't think he could bring himself to wake him. He must have been exhausted, drained from talking for so long on top of still recovering from his injuries. Moving quietly, he fetched a blanket from the cupboards and draped it over Merlin's shoulders. 

Arthur retook his seat, intending to continue his research, but couldn't seem to focus on the text. Instead, he found himself watching Merlin as he slept. That warmth was creeping into his chest again, the one he had been trying to ignore and suppress. He didn't this time. He let it wash through him, and ran a hand lightly through his best friend's hair. He felt a little guilty, using this opportunity to admire Merlin's face as he slept. Not quite guilty enough to look away though. He'd always been peripherally aware that Merlin wasn't unattractive. Probably handsome to some people. He'd never stopped to think before about just how striking his features really were.

He felt his cheeks burn and was grateful no one was there to see how flushed he was. He brushed his fingers through Merlin's hair again, and let his hand fall to rest on his shoulder. His father had always made it clear excessive signs of affection for anyone other than wives, mothers, or daughters, was a sign of weakness in any man, let alone a king. Even in those circumstances, there were limits to how emotional a royal should be. A slap on the back between knights was more than enough affectionate touch between two men. Sitting here though, he wondered if that was yet another thing his father had been wrong about.

Chapter Text

Many similar conversations followed over the next several weeks, some far more difficult than others. There had been some truly awful moments for them both. Merlin's confessions to releasing the dragon and poisoning Morgana had led to a few days of painful silence between the two of them when Arthur needed time and space to work through the anger and grief. On those days Merlin had feared Arthur would never forgive him. But Arthur had come back to him each time. It didn't seem to matter whether Merlin felt he deserved forgiveness or not, it came again and again. 

Arthur's hatred of Kilgharrah was something to behold though. 

Discussing all the guidance and instructions the great dragon had given him over the years had allowed Merlin to see them in a new light. Gaius had never questioned a word Kilgharrah had said, treating the magical beast of legend as practically all-knowing. Merlin had frequently done the same, out of awe of the creature, following his father figure's example in trusting it, and because he had desperately needed to believe in the prophecy. He'd needed an answer for why he was different. A purpose for his magic. A reason for it to be a gift rather than a curse.

And besides all that, he was just a peasant from the countryside with no knowledge of the wider world or the long history of the old religion. Who was he to question a learned man like Gaius and a thousand-and-something-year-old dragon?

Arthur, on the other hand, questioned everything. Initially, Merlin put this down to the fact it was impossible to trust a being that had inflicted pain and suffering on your own people. But now, Merlin was beginning to question things as well. He was grateful Arthur hadn't called him a moron for ever trusting a word Kilgharrah said, though he had a bad feeling he'd thought it many times. He'd been thinking it as well. If he'd been more willing to question Kilgharrah, how much of the suffering he had inflicted would have been avoided?

He was caught between his innate feelings of kinship with the dragon, Arthur's furious scepticism, and his own growing doubts. That was why today was important.

The knights had not come with them when they left camp that morning, instructed by Arthur to entertain themselves and hunt down some game for dinner. They'd been confused at first, had the king really pulled all of them away from their duties just to mill around in the forest? But the serious expressions he and Merlin had worn when they mounted their horses and departed left them suspecting this wasn't simply a camping trip. The king and the warlock had something important to do, and none of them questioned it.

The two of them rode for an hour before deciding they were far enough away from the knights. Merlin's aimless chatter wore increasingly on Arthur's nerves, but he gave up snapping at him to shut up quickly. Merlin was anxious, and Arthur couldn't blame him for that. He was anxious as well, and impatient for what was waiting for them at the end of the ride. Now that he knew Kilgharrah was still alive, he had a few things he would very much like to say to him.

The identity of Merlin's father had been one of the most shocking of his friend's secrets. He hated to think how unintentionally cruel he had been to Merlin in the aftermath of Balinor's death. So much worse than that though had been the realisation that it was his own father's fault that Merlin had never known his. He was glad Merlin told him before he proposed changing the laws on magic to the council. Arthur would have the final say on all of this, but the politics surrounding his decision mattered. The more of his council he had on his side in this the better. 

The reactions of some had been unexpectedly positive, while others did not know what to think. Predictably, there had been those who were vehemently opposed. One of them in particular, a holdover from his father's time who had witnessed the Great Purge, had argued ferociously and slammed his fist on the table as discussions became heated.

He had yelled, "Magic has torn families apart!" with a look that made it clear he thought Arthur would never be half the man Uther was. 

Arthur in turn had shot to his feet, placed his hands on the table and bellowed back. "And my father's war on it tore apart more!"

From behind him, he had heard Merlin take a sharp breath, and when Arthur next caught his eyes they were shining, and full of fierce pride. In that moment it felt as though bringing magic back to the kingdom would all be worth it, if he got to see that look on Merlin's face again.

Arthur would have preferred Merlin was sitting at the table with him, able to take part in the discussions. However, Merlin had been resistant to the idea when Arthur first hinted at it. It seemed all Merlin wanted right now was to remain as his manservant, though George had taken over some of those responsibilities now that Merlin was assisting Arthur with the magic reform. Having him as an unofficial advisor would have to do for now.

Arthur wasn't sure why Merlin had baulked at the suggestion of a change in his position, but he'd wondered if it was the same reason he himself was relieved Merlin didn't want it. There was a selfish part of him that had been glad Merlin didn't want things to change. It meant Merlin was still by his side most hours of the day. Things would change eventually though. He would need Merlin on the council with him at some point, so he would be giving him a title, whether the idiot wanted it or not. The only downside was it would not do to have a member of the court as his personal servant. 

On Merlin's side, he was hesitant at the idea of change, or at least a change of that type. As much as he complained about Arthur overworking him, and as much as that was often true, Merlin liked his job. He liked being close to Arthur in such a way. He was happy being a source of support, advice, and friendship. Higher social standing didn't matter to him. Yes, it would be nice to have his thoughts and opinions taken seriously, but if Arthur did that then it really didn't bother him if no one else did. If Arthur listened to him and wanted his help with the law changes, that was enough for him.
Although a pay rise wouldn't go amiss...

When Merlin pulled his horse to a stop and said they should tie them up before going further Arthur felt a hum beneath his skin. It felt similar to the tense high that came on before battle, despite there being no plans for a fight that day. Not a physical one at least. Merlin glanced at him as they made their way through the trees and seemed to sense the change. "Don't worry, he won't be able to hurt you." He smiled, then made a face like he was considering a difficult decision. "Well, not unless I tell him he can."

"And what about you?" Arthur's voice was tense and Merlin looked confused. "How do you know he won't hurt you?"

"He won't, even if he wanted to he couldn't," Merlin assured him. Arthur watched his back as Merlin turned away, ambling towards the edge of the trees up ahead, and noted how different his posture was at that moment. In the castle, Merlin usually kept his shoulders a little hunched and head slightly bent down, or stood with his hands clasped subserviently behind his back. He didn't walk with the calm confidence of this Merlin, his shoulders relaxed and head held high. He knew Merlin was still nervous, but it no longer showed. This was Merlin in his element. Arthur's first peak into the man's other life.

Arthur followed him into the forest clearing, wondering how many times Merlin had visited this place, and stopped a few paces behind the warlock. Merlin glanced back at him over his shoulder. "Ready?" Face resolute, Arthur gave him a nod. He took a breath, let it out slowly, and faced the sky.

Arthur never would have believed Merlin capable of such a sound if he hadn't heard it with his own ears, as a guttural roar erupted from him. Merlin held his arms wide as he called for the dragon in a language Arthur knew no other human could possibly understand. His voice seemed to echo through the clearing, reverberating through Arthur's chest and shifting the air around them.

"O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"

Then all was quiet, and they waited.

Half a minute or so passed and Arthur realised he hadn't actually asked Merlin how long it would take the overgrown lizard to come. Merlin hadn't moved, his eyes still fixed on the sky. "So, does he usually-"

He blanched and almost drew his sword when the sound of beating wings and trees quaking in the wind reached his ears. A shadow passed over them and Arthur jerked his head up to watch the enormous dragon circle. The last time he'd seen that silhouette in the sky it had been night, and he'd been sure he was mere minutes away from meeting his death. How jarring it was to see the dragon again, and have his manservant standing before him, unfazed.

As Kilgharrah descended Arthur took a hurried step forward, instinct screaming at him to place his body between the beast and Merlin. He held himself back though, trusting what Merlin had said. He stood strong and did not flinch as the ground shook beneath the great dragon's feet. Arthur still kept one hand firmly on the hilt of his sword though, and he glared at the beast warily. If he was surprised by Arthur's presence, the dragon hid it well.

"It seems there had been some changes in Camelot since we last spoke young warlock."

Arthur had been prepared to hear the creature speak, but the reality of it was still somewhat... disconcerting.

"You could say that," Merlin said, a nervous note in his voice. The dragon huffed and turned its eyes on Arthur. He thought it looked wary of him as well. 

"Arthur Pendragon. We meet again."

"Under somewhat different circumstances this time." The two eyed each other. Kilgharrah looked to be appraising Arthur, while Arthur's gaze was full of distrust. He put aside his desire to spit in the creature's face and order Merlin to enchant his sword and strike. He'd chosen vengence before in his time as king and it was not a mistake he wished to repeat. "I have some questions for you."

"Oh you do, do you." Arthur bristled at the condescending tone. "Go on then young king, I will answer if I am able."

"Merlin has told me about this destiny you claim to have foretold we have."

"I claim no such thing Arthur Pendragon, I am the conveyor of your destiny, not the foreteller of it." Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"Then where did this prophecy come from?"

"That is not for you to know."

"Like hell it is!" 

Merlin stood between the two of them, feeling far more awkward than he had predicted he would as Arthur yelled at the dragon. He hadn't expected these two to get on exactly, but he hadn't quite expected this much tension so soon. Kilgharrah glared at Arthur, and Merlin was sure he was about to give them a cryptic and mildly insulting speech. But to his amazement, it was with a look of begrudging respect that Kilgharrah continued, and Merlin hung on the dragon's words as much as Arthur did. He wanted these answers as well.

"In the early days of the old religion, long before my birth, the great seers foresaw it. Their words have been passed down from generation to generation by those who practice magic."

"So, you've never actually spoken to the people who had this," Arthur twisted his hand in the air, the way Merlin had noticed he often did when he was unimpressed by a concept, "vision?"

The dragon raised his chin, looking slightly haughty. "No."

"And you haven't seen it yourself?"

"No, but why does that matter Pendragon? Seers are the ones who are capable of seeing the future, not I." Arthur stood a little taller.

"Because a story passed down for centuries is unlikely to have stayed the same, how can you possibly know what you have heard is really what they saw?" Kilgharrah huffed again, clearly irritated by Arthur's implications about his knowledge.

"It has been passed down amongst the druids, the same way it was by my kind before Uther slaughtered them, the prophecy remained the same between us all."

"Exactly the same?" 

Kilgharrah hesitated.

"Wait, hold on." Merlin was staring at the dragon with a mortified look on his face. "Are you telling me you didn't know all this for certain?" Kilgharrah paused again before continuing.

"There are parts of the prophecy which are more certain than others. Some of the predictions are considered more... conditional."

Merlin felt sick.

"Know that the two of you are destined to unite the land of Albion and return magic to the world. That is beyond question."

Merlin's gaze fell to his feet, and Arthur noticed his hands were now trembling. 

"I don't believe in destiny," Arthur told Kilgharrah resolutely. "We will bring peace to Albion, but we will do it by choosing our own path." He was looking at the dragon but his words were meant for Merlin as well, and the warlock raised his head again, watching Arthut now instead of his own feet. The dragon made a small sound of amusement.

"If that is how you wish to view it, young king, you are free to do so."

Arthur was getting fed up with the dragon. He was glad there was just one other thing he wanted to ask before he and Merlin could leave. "Merlin says you are an ally of ours. However, considering both your past actions and what my father did to you and your kind, I find this hard to believe." Merlin glanced from one to the other, with a 'please don't fight' look on his face but Arthur ignored him. "So tell me Kilgharrah, are you an ally of Camelot?"

The dragon narrowed its eyes coldly. "I care only for Merlin and the fulfilment of the prophecy. I have no allegiance to Camelot." Arthur gave a derisive snort.

"You have a strange way of showing you care for Merlin. You should work on that." Merlin was taken aback, even more so when Arthur turned and smiled at him. It was a somewhat patronising smile, but there was a warmth in it too. The dragon considered the warlock and his king for several moments as the two watched each other. Then he chuckled. 

"My my, how things have changed since we first met young warlock." Merlin turned his confused stare on Kilgharrah. "What was it you said when I told you of your destiny to help Arthur? You were fairly certain I must have had the wrong prince." Merlin's jaw dropped and he raised his hands pleadingly.

"Hey, just hold on there-"

"I believe it was something along the lines of, this Arthur's an idiot, if anyone wants to kill him I'll give them a hand."

"Is that so." Merlin turned back to Arthur as he growled at him. 

"Uh, well," he stuttered. "I don't think those were my exact words." He gave Arthur a sheepish smile. Arthur glared at him, and the dragon laughed raucously. Merlin gave him a glare as well and muttered, "Traitor..."

When Kilgharrah was done enjoying Merlin's misery he fixed his gaze on Arthur once again. "All I wish for is for the two of you to fulfil your destiny. I am an ally to Merlin and you Arthur. If that means I am also an ally to Camelot, then so be it."

"Good," Arthur said, satisfied.

The dragon rustled his wings restlessly. "If that is all then," he drawled, turning his gaze on Merlin, "I shall take me leave." 

Merlin glanced briefly at Arthur, then nodded. "Yes, it is."

"Good, then farewell Merlin, Arthur. I wish you well." His tone wasn't what the two men would call friendly, but the dragon seemed sincere in what he said. Without another word, Kilgharrah spread his great wings, sailed into the sky, and soon disappeared.

Arthur eventually broke the silence with a huff. "Well, that was enlightening." Merlin turned and grinned at him, but the smile dropped when he saw Arthur's expression and his crossed arms. "I'll give them a hand?" Merlin gaped at him.

"That's what you took away from that conversation?" Arthur continued to glower at him. Merlin rolled his eyes. "Look, to be fair, you didn't make the best first impression... Or second." Arthur bit his lip and considered that.

"I guess I did try and take your head off with a mace."

"And I stopped you with magic." It was Arthur's turn to gape.

"You cheated!"

"Yep."

Merlin grinned as he tried not to laugh. The king shook his head despairingly, chuckled, and made his way over to clap Merlin on the shoulder. "Come on then, let's head back before the knights cause too much trouble." He started making his way towards the tree line, but Merlin didn't follow. 

"Actually Arthur..." Merlin sounded hesitant and Arthur turned back, immediately suspicious. "There's someone else I need to introduce you to." Arthur narrowed his eyes at him.

"You haven't got a pet griffon have you?"

"God no," Merlin laughed. "A griffon would be an awful pet."

"A unicorn then?"

"Not a unicorn, and you shouldn't keep magical beasts as pets Arthur!"

Arthur snickered. "Alright, then who?" Merlin looked sheepish again.

"Just, uhh, don't freak out OK?" Without waiting for an answer Merlin turned away and directed his attention to the sky. Another dragon call definitely wasn't what Arthur had been expecting and his stomach dropped. Oh no. Another one.

The sound Merlin made was the same thunderous roar as before, but there was something a little different about it this time. It seemed less forceful. More of a call than a command. The silence that followed was longer than before, and Arthur braced himself for the resounding beating of wings. But this time it didn't come. Instead what he heard was far softer, and the shadow that passed over the grass could have easily been mistaken for a hawk's. 

The second dragon didn't cause the earth to quake beneath them when it landed. It didn't even land on the ground. Instead, it landed on Merlin's shoulder. His damn shoulder. Merlin turned to him, smiling nervously, with a damn dragon on his shoulder. 

"This is Aithusa." 

Aithusa was nothing like Kilgharrah. It was tiny, the size of a large cat, and its scales shone an opaline white. It trilled a happy greeting to Merlin as he reached a hand up to stroke its neck. Arthur was focussing hard on not passing out.

"He doesn't talk like Kilgharrah, I only hatched him a few months ago so I think he might be a bit too young, I don't know much about baby dragons to be honest, Kilgharrah looked after him until he could fly and apparently dragons are pretty independent after that so I haven't seen him much." 

As he rambled Arthur stared at the creature with its tail curled loosely around Merlin's neck and wondered just how much more of this his mind could take. Maybe it had already imploded and this was all a hallucination. That felt much more probable than what he was seeing and hearing. Merlin hatched this thing?

Merlin paused in his babbling and scratched his head, staring at the ground as he thought out loud. "Actually, I'm not even sure if he's a he, could be a she or a they..." He looked up at Arthur. His eyes were flitting between Aithusa and Merlin so fast Merlin was sure he'd be making himself dizzy. Feeling almost as nervous as when he called for Kilgharrah, Merlin turned to the dragon on his shoulder and gestured to the petrified king.

"Aithusa, meet Arthur."

The little dragon tilted its head as it peered at the stranger and didn't move. "It's alright, he's a friend," Merlin soothed. Aithusa hesitated, before jumping to the ground and taking a few tentative steps towards Arthur. Arthur immediately took a step back and threw Merlin a terrified look.

Merlin was tempted to laugh. Arthur had stood confidently before Kilgharrah, not a trace of fear on his face. Aithusa on the other hand seemed to have thrown him into a state of utter shock. He smiled at Arthur and nodded encouragingly. 

Heart in his throat, Arthur turned back to the creature, who had halted its approach at once. Its eyes were curious rather than cautious now. It tilted its head at him again and made a sound like an inquisitive hum. It seemed to be waiting for him to make the next move. 

Arthur couldn't remember a time in his life when he hadn't felt contempt towards these creatures. He'd been brought up to hate and fear them, just like all magical beasts. He'd been told tales of their evil ways and their innate desire for destruction since he was a child. Kilgharrah's attack had only solidified those feelings. He'd been trying to confront those beliefs for Merlin's sake. Merlin called them his kin, and Arthur knew an entire people (or maybe species in this case?) shouldn't be judged by the actions of one individual. He hadn't had any success though. He still felt little other than contempt towards the beasts.

That is, he had, until now.

Summoning his courage, he took a knee and held out his hand, the same way he would greet an unfamiliar hound. He wasn't sure if that was a particularly appropriate greeting. The intelligence in the dragon's behaviour was nothing like that of any animal Arthur had ever encountered. It seemed practically human, but he couldn't exactly shake its hand. He gulped. "Hello, Aithusa."

The dragon chirruped at him, and trotted forward, curiosity winning out over fear. They stopped to sniff at Arthur's hand. 

As he watched a small smile appear on Arthur's face, Merlin's heart began to swell. It was a smile he had seen gradually more and more over the past few years. When they'd first met most of Arthur's smiles could only be described as smug or cocky. Sneers used to mock, or given when laughing at another's expense. They were far from endearing, but those smiles had at least been real. 

The others Arthur gave back then were meticulously designed and calculated. They were the smiles a representative of the crown was meant to wear when in public and at the appropriate moments in court. He used them to form strategic alliances, to hide behind, to deflect and lie without words. Merlin had never liked the look of those smiles on Arthur's face.

But this smile - the one now growing wider as Arthur watched Aithusa inspecting the dragon crest on his cloak, the one Arthur had directed towards him occasionally at first, and then more with each year of friendship that passed - this smile brought a warmth to his chest and made his heart soar. Because it was more than just real. It was open and natural. The kind of smile a person was meant to wear when they were happy. It was involuntary. Truly joyful. Beautiful, and just Arthur. This smile he loved, and as Arthur raised his head and turned that warm smile on him Merlin didn't care if he saw that he was crying.

The knights had been successful in their hunt, and several hours after he and Arthur bade farewell to Aithusa, Merlin was to be found sitting by the campfire, preparing supper for the knights as he always did. Unlike any previous time though, he could now do it with his magic. 

Setting up camp was a much easier and quicker process now that he could use his magic freely. It felt impossibly strange, lighting a fire in front of Arthur and the knights with simply a word and a wave of his hand. He doubted he'd ever get used to it, and he couldn't help feeling a tad smug when he caught the others watching with wide eyes as the pot of stew hanging over the fire stirred itself, and a knife sliced vegetables into it in midair.

He huddled close to the fire as the stew simmered, shivering in the chilly evening air. The days had been growing shorter and colder lately as the end of Autumn approached. Samhein and the beginning of winter would be upon them in less than a week. While most of his strength had returned, he was yet to regain all the weight he had lost while injured and was thinner than he used to be (too thin based on Gaius's nagging and Gwen's fretting). He should have expected the chill in the forest to affect him more than it used to and thought to wrap up warmer.

He tasted the stew, savouring its heat, and scooped a generous portion into a bowl. Only then did he announce the food was ready and moved quickly away as the other men stampeded over. He'd learned by now to serve himself first before letting them near the pot and chuckled as he dropped down onto a log to eat. The bowl was wonderfully hot against his cold hands, but his shaking must have been obvious because a few moments after he took his seat he felt a warm weight settle on his shoulders, and when he looked around his vision was full of Pendaragon red. 

"You looked a little cold there," Leon said, and Merlin looked up in surprise because it wasn't a spare blanket Leon had draped over him, it was his cape. The cape only a knight of Camelot was allowed to wear. "It suits you." Leon smiled and ruffled his hair before following the others.

"Looks like someone's usurped Percy's position of second most attractive knight," Gwaine announced to the group loudly. "If you were a tad less scrawny maybe you'd rival me." He winked at Merlin as he made his way over to join him. Merlin responded with a glow of gold in his eyes and a flick of his hand. 

Gwaine's cloak flipped itself up over his head, and the knights roared with laughter as he stumbled and landed hard on his backside. When Gwaine yanked the cloak away from his face and found his bowl hovering before him without a drop of stew spilt and Merlin smiling he joined in with the guffaws.

"I hope that means you'll stop spilling wine on me every time you fill my goblet," Arthur remarked, pointing to Gwaine's bowl as he sat down next to Merlin.

"I would sire, but then I'm fairly sure you'd have to execute me." He gave Arthur a nervous smile, joking about such things still new to them, but Arthur chuckled. They both knew as soon as they got back to Camelot the next day they would be back at work on the next round of law changes. Soon using spells for innocent tasks like cooking and cleaning would be just as legal as doing them without magic. Merlin expected it wouldn't be long before interest in learning such spells grew amongst the other servants. Gaius would probably be the one to help them with that though. He had no idea how to teach others something that was, to him, as innate as breathing.

The knights chatted away as they ate, and watched with interest when Merlin cleared away and cleaned their bowls with a couple of quiet words. The few occasions when his friends had asked him to show them some magic had been some of the most joyful moments he'd had in a long time, but tonight he was thankful no one made any requests. Maybe it was obvious to them just how exhausted he was. He wasn't used to days this long and full of so much riding anymore.

He gave a jaw-cracking yawn and shivered again, still chilly despite the cloak. Arthur snickered from beside him. "Come here." He lifted an arm up and gestured for Merlin to move closer. Merlin blinked at him, taken aback. He hoped anyone noticing how pink his cheeks had turned would put it down to the heat of the fire as he shuffled over. Arthur wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer so he could lean against him. Merlin was extremely grateful he could now set up protective wards around their camps at night because it meant Arthur had removed his chainmail, and he could feel his warmth against his side.

Leon looked away so that no one would hear his long-suffering sigh, while the rest of the knights shared a few subtle looks and smug smiles. Neither Merlin nor Arthur noticed. The knights continued their relaxed conversation and Merlin let his head fall into the crook of Arthur's neck, too sleepy and worn out to join in with them. He was content to just sit and let his friends' voices wash over him, as Arthur rubbed his arm gently through the cloak. Merlin smiled and closed his eyes, feeling happier and more at peace than he had in years. 

Arthur stayed sitting by the fire long after the others had left to sleep. It had taken Merlin just minutes to dooze off on his shoulder and Arthur hated the thought of moving. Standing up would mean waking Merlin. It would mean lying down on their own separate bed rolls, no longer having their sides pressed together and the comforting weight of Merlin leaning against him. No longer having an arm wrapped around him and his messy hair tickling his cheek. In these past few weeks, he had learned many things about Merlin. He'd learned a few things about himself as well. It had taken him a while to accept the reason he wanted Merlin close to him like this all the time. 

What to do about that reason... that was something he was still working on. He knew that nothing could ever come of it, and yet he found himself still hoping. Still wondering. He spent too much of his time these days wondering about what was going on inside Merlin's mind. Inside his heart. Wondering if he felt anything like this as well. Wondering if it would even matter if he did. A king had many duties; marrying a 'suitable woman' and producing an heir was one of them. He did not have the freedom to love whomever he wanted the way other men did.

And yet he found himself still hoping.

With no one there to see, he pressed a kiss into Merlin's hair. Then he sighed. "Merlin?" He shook him gently. Merlin gave a sleepy hum as he woke but didn't move. "Come on, you can't sleep there all night." 

"Why not," Merlin grumbled but sat back up. He blinked at Arthur blearily, and Arthur snickered and mussed his hair.

"Because I need to sleep too."

Reluctantly, they both got to their feet, Arthur steadying Merlin as he stumbled in his sleepy haze. Arthur tried to hide his disappointment by turning his back to Merlin as he set up and lay down on his bedroll. He was taken by surprise though when he heard a thump by his ear and found Merlin had dropped his own bedroll next to his. Right next to it. Merlin flopped down, tugged a blanket over himself, and shuffled a little closer to Arthur. It seemed the warlock was asleep the moment he settled down. 

Arthur smiled and, unable to resist, reached a hand beneath the edge of Merlin's blanket. He laid it lightly on top of his upturned palm and smiled when Merlin's fingers instinctively moved to intertwine with his. Hopefully, Merlin wouldn't wake up and wonder why on earth they were holding hands, because Arthur didn't want to move away. If this was all he could have, then it would have to be enough for now. 

He hadn't been entirely truthful when he told the dragon he didn't believe in destiny. If destiny dictated he and Merlin would stay at each other's side, he could certainly believe that part.

He'd been dreaming of soft curly hair and dark brown eyes. Of scattered freckles and a warm, welcoming smile. It had been a pleasant dream, but he'd been cold. So very cold.

Now, as his feet seemed to find solid ground and he stumbled forward he felt a sensation he hadn't realised he'd forgotten. Air on his skin. The feeling of it filling his lungs, and of light entering his eyes when he opened them. He heaved in a breath, deep and hurried, and then another, as though it had been years since he'd last been able to take one and he had so many to catch up on.

What had happened to him?

The last thing he remembered was Arthur being thrown aside by Merlin's magic before he had a chance to give his life, smiling over his shoulder at Merlin himself as his friend's eyes begged him not to do what he was about to do, and stepping through the tear in the veil. The rift that had to be closed. 

And then he had been cold. So very cold.

He panted as he stared down at his gloved hands and fully intact body. He was alive? Why was he-

"You have been returned to the mortal world, Sir Lancelot."

He lifted his head and gazed at the old woman before him. She held a staff in her wizened hand and was clothed in a dark hooded gown. He recognised her at once. 

"And you are here for a reason," she continued, her voice echoing in the stone hall. His breath now caught, Lancelot spoke for the first time in a long while.

"And what is that reason?" 

The woman's eyes bored into his.

"To deliver a message. A warning to Emrys, and the Once and Future King."