Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mohammed only had this job because his father owned the store. His father paid him well though - better than his friend made at the Gas’n’Sip off the highway. “Smith & Sons Corner Store” happened to be the only convenience store within a ten block radius. There was the Whole Foods up on 9th, that most people drove to - but thanks to the low-income housing about a block and a half away, not everyone in the neighbourhood had cars - and the fact that Corner Store sold fresh-ish produce and a few meats saved them from going out of business.

His father had bought Smith & Sons when Mr. Smith retired, after working there for the entire ten years their family had been in the US. Mohammed figured that his father was just terrified of trying to find any other job and so had jumped at the offer. Smith, being one of the original sons, hadn’t had any sons himself - probably partially to do with the fact that he was gay and his long-time lover had died tragically in the early 90s. He’d never really recovered. It was horribly sad, so Mohammed tried not to think of it too often; but it was what caused Mr. Smith to leave the business to Mohammed’s family when he decided it was time to retire to some place where there wasn’t snow to shovel every year.

The point of all this was that Mohammed was thankful for his job - he was - his father paid him well. He was saving up to help with school. If he got into one of the local schools, then he could keep the job, and stay living at home. And while Mohammed wasn’t too thrilled with the idea, he had to admit that it made financial sense, and he knew it would make his parents happy.

But the job was also really weird, and a little stressful - there was a gun behind the counter, 911 was available at the press of a button, and there was a key to the bathroom that Mohammed had strict instructions not to give to anyone who looked like they needed a place to shoot-up.

Luckily, the junkies usually didn’t wake up until noon. In the morning, Mohammed’s most frequent customers were rich assholes who had come to jog on the trails in the woods - they came in to buy energy drinks sometimes, sweating all over the place.

...and then, one day, in a mid-morning lull, a medieval european knight walked into the store with a sword.

The knight placed a pile of change on the counter in front of Mohammed and asked, “How much food can I buy with this?”

It was maybe two buck fifty - that was the saddest part. No, maybe the saddest part was the fact that the guy looked beat to hell, had a bloody bandage on his arm, and was clearly both insane and starving.

Mohammed should have hit the button to call 911, and told them that there was a dude walking around with a sword who might be insane. But... the guy clearly needed some food first, and Mohammed wasn’t particularly religious - but he was raised with certain teachings, and he felt that if he turned this guy in to the cops, he would be hurting, not helping. Also, this guy had walked in when the store was completely empty, and there were no witnesses to how stupid Mohammed was about to be.

“It’s not going to get you much.” Mohammed was honest. “But, uh, let me see what I can do… you’ll need protein, keep the energy up. You’ll want some carbs... and something green, you always gotta have something green.”

“An apple?” the guy looked so hopeful.

“Yeah, man, go pick out an apple. I’ll set you up with the rest,” Mohammed replied. He got a small jar of peanut butter off the shelf. “You aren’t allergic to peanuts, are you?”

“I don’t know what those are,” the guy answered. “Are they good?”

Okay, so, everyone knew what peanuts were, so this guy was really far gone. Probably, instead of the cops, Mohammed should be calling the local psychiatric hospital to see if they were missing anyone.

Though, with the state of mental healthcare in the country, Mohammed doubted they even knew this guy existed. Also, it just confirmed the fact that calling the cops would be a disaster.

He added a loaf of bread to the peanut butter, and wrote a note for his dad, slipping it into the register under the five dollar bills.

The guy came back up to the counter with an apple.

“Do you have water?” Mohammed asked.

“There’s a stream in the woods,” the guy replied.

Mohammed closed his eyes, pretended the answer had been ‘no,’ and reached under the counter for his own bottle of water. If the guy was drinking out of streams, he probably didn’t care about drinking from other people’s water bottles.

“There’s a tap behind the store,” Mohammed said. “When you drink all this, just fill it up from the tap, do you understand?”

“Tap,” the guy said. “Yes, I’ve seen one of those before.”

“Great. Okay, this is peanut butter,” Mohammed said, showing the jar. He grabbed a plastic knife from the bin of plastic cutlery that his dad kept behind the counter. “Use this, put it on the bread, okay?

If you’re allergic… fuck, call 911, yeah?”

“I don’t know what that is,” the guy replied.

“Of course you don’t,” Mohammed replied. “Okay, okay… last thing - You can’t walk around with a damn sword. I mean, you’re white - but you’re obviously not all there man, and I’m worried that the cops are going to shoot you.”

The guy paled a little and glanced at the bandage on his arm.

“You already been shot?” Mohammed guessed.

The guy nodded.

“You go to the hospital?”

“I don’t know wh-”

“-what that is, got it,” Mohammed sighed. “Okay, listen - do you have anyone looking after you? Do you have a friend or family member who might be looking for you right now that I could call, tell ‘em where you are?”

“I’m looking for someone,” the guy replied. “Maybe - maybe you know them?”

“It’s possible, I know a lot of people,” Mohammed said. “What’s their name?”

“Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester,” the guy replied. “They’re legendary warriors. They may be traveling with a dragon.”

Mohammed breathed deeply, and shook his head.

“No, sorry, I don’t know them.”

The guy didn’t just look disappointed, he looked crushed.

“They might be… far away,” the guy admitted.

“Listen, I’ll keep an eye out, okay - two guys and a dragon - but you gotta promise me something.”

“What would you have me promise?”

“Don’t wear the sword where people can see you. And if you need more food, if you need anything, you wait until you see me working and you come in and tell me, okay? My name is Mohammed. You think you can remember all that?”

“Yes,” the guy replied. “Thank you.”

Mohammed quickly bagged his groceries and handed them over.

“Thank you again, Mohammed, this kindness will not be forgotten.”

“No problem, just, stay-safe, okay dude?”

The knight beamed at him.

“You as well, dude.”

And then he walked back out onto the street, the morning sun glinting off his chainmail.

Mohammed didn’t know what the heck was up with this neighbourhood; but he was starting to think that his dad wasn’t paying him nearly enough.

Chapter Text

Merlin was walking through the hallways on his way back to Gaius’ chambers for the night. Gwaine was a step behind him, chatting. It had become a pretty common occurrence for Gwaine to follow him around whenever Merlin wasn’t with Arthur. Merlin didn’t mind. It was usually during these walks that Gwaine related all the gossip from town, and it helped Merlin keep an eye on possible brewing threats to the kingdom. Gwaine was skilled at picking out conversations about magic that were more than just paranoid nonsense - but he still reported the paranoid nonsense too, just in case he was wrong. Merlin was even better at picking out the paranoid nonsense, after all.

“...overall, nothing new,” Gwaine was concluding. “I think even ol’ Shelby is warming up to the druids, and there hasn’t been any incidents in the market with vendors refusing to sell to- wha- MERLIN!”

Merlin spun around, his hand immediately coming up to counter whatever attack was coming, but he was not prepared for the sight of Gwaine, wide-eyed and reaching for Merlin, being swallowed up by a bright golden light. It was so bright that Merlin eyes slammed closed to protect themselves. When Merlin blinked them open again not even a second later, the light was gone and so was Gwaine.

Nearly nightblind, Merlin careened clumsily through the dark halls, back to Arthur’s room. He threw himself inside without knocking, causing Arthur and Gwen to give a start. Arthur leapt off the bed immediately, still, thankfully dressed.

“Gwaine’s been taken!” Merlin yelled, and then gulped in deep breaths.

Arthur picked up his sword. “By whom?! Where?!”  

“It was magic!” Merlin reported. “I think… a summoning,” and as he said it, he knew that’s what it had to be. The only time he had seen light of that sort was when he had summoned the Warriors, Sam and Dean.

“A what? Who would summon Gwaine?” Arthur asked, still standing in his sleep pants, holding a sword, as though he planned to charge into a battle in his bare feet. 

“I don’t know - I… it just happened,” Merlin replied. He wrung his hands. 

“What happened? Describe it exactly,” Arthur ordered. Merlin did, complete with the glow of the light, and that Gwaine had been reaching for him when he was taken.

Arthur stared at him and then took a deep breath. Behind him, Gwen had gathered her robe around her and hefted herself off the bed. 

“Very well,” Arthur nodded. He put down his sword. “Here is what we’re going to do. Merlin, you are going to talk to Gaius and… whoever else… and find out if there is a way to summon Gwaine back to us.”

Merlin nodded.

“Don’t worry, Merlin,” Gwen offered. “I’m certain that if they wanted Gwaine, they wouldn’t hurt him. Wherever he is, he’s probably safe.”

Merlin nodded, but his heart was still thudding in his chest.

“Yes,” Arthur said in agreement, and he smiled, but it was a small weak thing that Merlin didn’t believe.

“In the meantime, though, Percival will be taking over Gwaine’s duties,” Arthur declared. “I’ll send word to him with a guard. Go, Merlin, knowing you, as I do, I’ll expect your report in the morning.”

Merlin nodded, thankful that Arthur already knew that Merlin did not intend to rest until he knew Gwaine was safe.

*

Gwaine landed on a hard stone floor, inside of a circle with strange writing. Overhead, lamps burned in steady glow that was not fire. To his back was a wall, but surrounding him on all other sides were men dressed in strange garments. They were blinking their eyes and cringing from the bright light that had swept Gwaine here.

He steadied his feet and put his hand to the hilt of his sword. The men didn’t appear to be armed, but if they had already used magic, then they wouldn’t need weapons. Gwaine knew that the sword was little good against a magic user unless you took them by surprise, but he did not intend to perish without a fight.

“King Arthur?” one of the men asked. Gwaine raised his chin and look to the speaker. He was young, fair skinned, his hair the colour of browned wheat. 

“Who asks?” Gwaine replied.

“Are you King Arthur?” the young man pressed. Gwaine knew that if it was Arthur they were hoping for, they would have no use for Gwaine and surely just dispatch him before trying their spell again. 

“Yes,” Gwaine answered. “What is the meaning of this?”

Whispers and frenzied conversation broke out among the men, as they all spoke over each other, but none answered his question.

“It worked!”

“How can we be sure-”

“I told you!”

“Shhh!”

“King Arthur,” Wheat-head addressed him. “We’ve… summoned you to the future. We need your help in… restoring order to society.”

“The future?” Gwaine asked, looking around. It was a very strange large room and Gwaine did not recognize the building methods, nor many of the objects in the room - well, besides the large cages in the corner, which did not bode well. Gwaine had been placed in cages before, usually to fight to the death while rich slave lords placed their bets.

“Dude, you’ll confuse him,” one of the other men said, and Gwaine’s head snapped to him. Dude. 

“Uh, right,” Wheat-Head continued. “It’s not important. What is important, is that we need… we need some of your blood in order to do a spell. It will benefit mankind.”

Gwaine paled. “You haven’t even told me your name, and you expect me to surrender my blood for magic?” He did not know much about magic, but he knew that you should never give your blood to a sorcerer - not unless you trust them with your life. Gwaine did not trust Wheat-Head.

“My name is Cameron,” Wheat-Head replied.

“Nice to know,” Gwaine replied. “I’ll still have to refuse.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t an option,” Cameron countered.

“I am the King of Camelot,” Gwaine postured. “If you think I’ll let you-”

A loud noise erupted suddenly, something hit the wall behind him. Gwaine had his sword half drawn when a non-Cameron said, “Don’t move!”

Gwaine froze and looked to the one who had spoken. He was holding something dark and metal in his hand. Gwaine didn’t know what it was, but he knew that it was pointing at him.

“You don’t have these, do you?” the man with the weapon said. “It’s called a gun. It fires a bullet- a small metal ball, that kills people better than… well, better than a crossbow, I’d guess. You have those, don’t you?”

Gwaine nodded. 

“Perhaps another demonstration?” 

This time, Gwaine saw the gun go off. He could not see the bullet as it travelled, but once again, something impacted the wall behind him and plaster fell to the floor. Gwaine turned only enough to see the two holes in the wall - holes… not straight through, but deep enough that Gwaine could not see any trace of the metal ball that had been fired from the weapon.

“We’ll get that blood one way or another,” Cameron spoke then. “Wouldn’t it be better if you cooperated?”

Gwaine weighed his options. If they required Arthur’s blood, then surely Gwaine’s blood would not work, and they would discover his deceit and kill him before attempting to summon Arthur. If he let them kill him now… the same would happen. The only thing he could do was choose whichever plan was more likely to buy him more time - for rescue, for a plan, or simply to live. But what would they do once they had his blood?

“If I give you my blood, will you return me to Camelot?” Gwaine asked.

“Yeah, sure, we will,” Cameron said. He was, quite possibly, the worst liar that Gwaine had ever met.

Gwaine took a deep breath and congratulated himself on the good life he had led and the friends that he had made. He wasn’t even being sarcastic about that last bit, really.

“I don’t believe you,” Gwaine said. “My answer is no.” He drew his sword and charged. Cameron fled. The gun went off again, and Gwaine’s left arm jerked, as something struck and broke through the chainmail, leaving a hot slice through his arm. It was enough for him to lose momentum for the swing - it was enough for him to tackled from the side, a burlier youth quickly locking Gwaine’s limbs in place. Another stepped on his hand until he dropped the sword. Still another bound his feet, and then his arms were wrenched back and bound as well. His arm hurt like fire and it was perhaps the most pathetic fight of Gwaine’s life - but he was alive, so that had to count for something.

They used his wound to collect the blood. He glared at them while they did so, but did not speak. They bandaged it roughly, and then they dragged him, unsurprisingly, to one of the cages.  He stared at the bars, then glared at the stragglers as they left the room. Some didn’t give him another glance, but at least two looked at him wide-eyed and scared. Good.

Gwaine leaned back and counted his blessings. He was alive. Merlin had seen him get taken, so Camelot might find a way to rescue him - and, perhaps even more importantly, someone had used the word ‘dude’.

*

Percival was standing guard outside Gauis’ chambers the next morning. Usually, Merlin’s first instinct was to roll his eyes at Arthur’s illogical overprotectiveness - Arthur found out Merlin can defend himself and only THEN assigned him a guard. But Merlin was too sleep deprived and worried to be anything other than thankful for the extra pair of hands to help carry the books and papers up to Arthur’s chambers. Arthur and Gwen were both awake when they got there, already eating breakfast. 

“Oh, I forgot about breakfast,” Merlin muttered, as he let his magic book thunk down on the table. 

“Don’t worry about it, Merlin,” Arthur said gently. “I assumed you would, so I had George bring it this morning. We have a third plate here as well, since I’m certain that by saying that you forgot breakfast, you didn’t mean mine, but rather-”

“I forgot my own, yeah,” Merlin tried for a smile.

Percival’s strong hand gripped his shoulder firmly and steered Merlin into a chair, while Arthur placed the third plate in front of him. 

“This is all I have on summonings,” Merlin said. “Including my notes on the summoning I used for Sam and Dean and the… the strange symbols it used. Sam could read them, I wish I had asked him what they were - but I… I had other things to worry about, and I didn’t think I’d need to summon them again. And when I sent them home, it was a different spell entirely that Kilgharrah had to help me with, so I don’t know- I don’t think I can work with that one, because Gwaine would need a dragon on his end, and we don’t even know where he is, so there’s no telling-”

“Merlin!” Arthur interrupted. “Eat. Guinevere and I will read over your notes, and then we can discuss your theories. Right now, I just want you to eat.”

Merlin nodded and managed to pick up his fork before another thought stuck him. 

“Percival? Can you go to the lower town and find out if Gwaine has been speaking with anyone new lately?” Merlin asked. “He didn’t mention anything in his last report, but maybe it’s… maybe it’s personal?” 

“Right away, Merlin,” Percival replied, giving the same formal nod he gave the King when receiving an order. He gave a quick head-tilt of a bow to Arthur and Gwen and turned to leave. He paused by where Merlin sat though, and petted him from the crown of his head to the base of his neck, where he then gave a little squeeze. Merlin felt some of the tension leave him, if only briefly.

“Thank you, Percival,” Merlin said.

“I’ll report back at lunch,” Percival replied. “I’ll expect to find you eating.”

“He’ll be with me,” Arthur offered, before Merlin could say anything. Percival nodded, gave a small smile, and left.

“Eat, Merlin,” Arthur ordered. So, Merlin ate, while he watched Arthur and Gwen divide up the books and papers between them to read. Sometimes Merlin couldn’t quite believe this was now his reality, after so many years of hiding and being alone. Arthur and Gwen most likely didn’t understand half of what they read about magic, but they were always determined to help Merlin as much as possible. It was more than Merlin could have ever wished for, and, as much as he was not a fan of summonings at the moment, he had to admit that he owed all his recent good fortune to the fact that he had once summoned two legendary warriors to Camelot.

*

They would bring Gwaine meals and, when requested, his guards would escort him - their guns drawn - to a tiled room where he could relieve himself. It was actually quite interesting technology, albeit extremely wasteful of water. His hands were unbound for these activities and he knew that they were his only chance of escape. However, if Merlin and Arthur found a way to reach him, he needed to stay in order to be rescued. Still, he plotted - for the day when he gave up hope of rescue or the day where his life depended on escape.

They did not tell him of the plans - of whether the spell, for which they had used his blood, had worked or not - but his guards seemed no happier the second day of his captivity, nor the third, and then seemed angrier on the fourth. Either it was unrelated, or Gwaine’s blood had failed to please them.

On the fifth day, they began to make preparations in the corner of the room. The circle was redrawn, Gwaine was certain it seemed more elaborate than before. The men seemed more skittish, more scared. They also drew an intricate pattern around the floor of the second cage. This was when Cameron returned, he smiled at Gwaine as he walked by his cage.

“You’ll have a friend soon,” Cameron teased, and Gwaine’s stomach plummeted. He watched as they finished preparing the second cage, and then went to the far side of the room, where they would do their summoning.

There were more preparations. Gwaine pressed himself against the side of the cage, straining to hear what was being said.

“I don’t think this is a good idea-” one of the skittish men said.

“The spell still isn’t strong enough, and this is the best time of the month to do it,” Cameron answered. “If it’s not the blood, then it’s the magic - obviously, we’re not powerful enough, even together.”

“He’ll kill us-”

“We have leverage,” Cameron argued, then he turned to two of his men. “Get the leverage.” They came towards the cage. Gwaine knew, then, that he was going to be used to coerce his friend into being obedient.

*

It had been several days since Gwaine’s disappearance, and they had yet to find a way to locate him. 

Arthur had George attend him, as Merlin commandeered the long table as a place to spread out whatever magic books he had amassed, along with his own notebooks and old random scraps of paper that had constituted his research from the Time Before.

Arthur could not think of it any other way. His life would forever be divided into two - the Time Before and the Time After. 

In the Time Before, he was Arthur of Camelot, a prince and a king alone in his struggle against the enemies of Camelot, who were many and varied - but magic was chief among those threats. At that time, Arthur had taken comfort in his gracious and supportive wife, Guinevere, and his clumsy, ridiculous, peasant manservant, who was far braver than he had any right to be.

In the Time After, everything was different  - yet, Arthur still had Guinevere, his gracious and supportive wife, and he still had Merlin, his clumsy, ridiculous, peasant… greatest sorcerer who ever lived, who was far more loyal than Arthur deserved.

Said sorcerer was currently bent over a notebook, cursing at himself in what Arthur could only assume was the language of dragons. Merlin had bruised eyes from not sleeping, and Arthur was beginning to fear for the integrity of his spine, should he not straighten up now and then to stretch.

“That’s no way to talk about my manservant,” Arthur said, wagering a guess.

“Sorry,” Merlin replied, genuinely.

“Merlin,” Arthur said softly. “You should get some rest. I’m sure it will all look clearer in the morning.”

“Nothing about the morning is going to clear this up,” Merlin grumbled, pushing the papers towards Arthur. “I should have asked Sam while he was here - I… no matter how many books I consult, I cannot find a match for this language. I thought if I could… “ Merlin trailed off and rubbed a hand through his already disheveled hair. 

“You could what?” Arthur replied. He had long since waved away George for the evening. Guinevere was already in bed, though she too was reading, rather than sleeping - the curtains were still open, and Arthur threw her a small smile as he sat at the table across from Merlin and drew the papers towards himself. “What is it that you were thinking, Merlin? Perhaps I could help you reason it out.”

Merlin took a deep breath and pointed to the intricate circular diagrams on the page. 

“These are the summonings that were used for… well, the one on the right is for the monsters that were summoned to our world. The one on the left is the one that I used to summon Sam and Dean. I thought if I could understand the writing, I might understand how to summon other things… but all I know is that the initials in the centre are Sam and Dean’s.”

“They have a surname?” Arthur found himself asking. He had never considered it, because the stories never had one. But there, in the centre of the diagram, were two sets of initials with the same last letter. 

“Winchester,” Merlin said. The word meant nothing to him and seemed too normal for such legendary men. “It’s a reference to an encampment,” Merlin continued gesturing to one of the language books. 

“Fitting,” Arthur nodded. He pulled the diagrams closer to himself and looked them over. “Have you considered summoning Sam and Dean to help?” Arthur asked. “You said Sam knew the writing-”

Merlin shook his head. “You need blood of innocence destroyed.”

“What?” Arthur asked. Across the room, Gwen sat up in bed, putting her own book down in favour of listening to their conversation.

“The summoning has two parts,” Merlin explained. “The drawing - and the summoning bowl. In the case of the monsters, you can simply draw the summoning circle with whatever drawing implement you choose and the summoning bowl has simple ingredients - mostly animal parts. For Sam and Dean, you need to draw the symbol in the blood of… well, a victim that might have been saved had Sam and Dean been there. An innocent person who has been killed by those beings in the world that we shield our children from so they will continue to sleep soundly at night.”

“Ah,” Arthur said. 

“You can only summon them if there’s been a death,” Gwen concluded, startling Merlin, who hadn’t realized that she had been listening.

Merlin nodded. “Exactly.”

“But you can summon the monsters whenever you please?” Arthur asked, looking then at the summoning for the monsters - the diagram was not unlike that of the summoning for the brothers.

“Indeed, and isn’t that always the way?” Merlin huffed an unamused laugh. “Evil is always so much simpler to perform than good.”

“I wonder what ingredients they used to summon Gwaine,” Arthur said aloud, as he compared the two diagrams carefully - circling with a spare bit of coloured chalk where the diagrams differed. 

“If I knew…” Merlin sighed, then he smiled a half smile, bittersweet. “Apples, perhaps.”

Arthur offered him a teasing smile in return. “Ale, I would think. The blood of someone’s split lip after a tavern brawl.”

Merlin laughed, but it was short-lived and more sad than happy.

“How about you?” Arthur asked. “Old books.” Arthur picked up a book and then let it thud back onto the table. “Ink… washing water.”

“Dragonblood,” Merlin argued. “Fire.”

“Butterflies,” Arthur countered, shaking his head at Merlin’s suggestions.

Merlin laughed and blushed. Arthur smiled in pride that he had, for the moment, distracted Merlin from his frustrations.  

It was in that moment that Merlin’s eyes went wide and a bright gold light formed around him.

“ARTHUR!” Merlin cried, leaping out of his chair and reached his hand across the table. Arthur grabbed it - but even though he put all his strength into pulling Merlin towards him, the hand in his simply vanished with the rest of Merlin in the blink of an eye.

“MERLIN!” Arthur shouted at the empty air where Merlin had once been. The only sign he had been there was the chair, now knocked over. 

Percival burst into the room, his sword drawn. Arthur stared at him. 

“Merlin’s been taken,” Gwen announced from the bed, her voice breaking. It was enough to knock Arthur out of his shocked state. He immediately went to Guinevere and knelt beside the bed. He tore off his ring and pressed it into her hands.

“If they come for me, you have the throne until I return,” Arthur declared. 

“Arthur…” Gwen started, her eyes wide.

“We must take every precaution,” Arthur stated. He rose and kissed Guinevere’s brow, placing a hand gently on her belly as he did so. There was a kick to his palm. 

“Percival,” Arthur stated. “Tell Leon that he is to organize a protection detail for the Queen first thing tomorrow morning. Inform Gaius and Elyan that they are to ride out with you and I at first light.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Percival replied. “May I ask where we are going?”

“To find The Great Dragon,” Arthur stated. “Whether it’s by the dragon’s magic or his blood, I will have Merlin returned to me.”

Chapter Text

They had Gwaine on his knees already, his hands bound behind him, with a gun to his head, when they summoned Merlin. Merlin landed in an ungainly sprawl on the flat stone floor. The magic sigils around him burning out under his fingertips. 

“Don’t move,” Cameron commanded. Merlin lifted his head and pushed himself onto his knees - his eyes wide and assessing. He and Gwaine were eye-level, and Gwaine tried to will Merlin to understand the situation.

“Gw-”

“Merlin, it’s me, Arthur,” Gwaine interrupted quickly, his voice overly loud in the cavernous room. “Don’t-”

“We’ll do the talking!” Cameron said. The man who held the gun to Gwaine’s head pressed it harder against him, as though Gwaine could forget it was there.

“I thought he was supposed to be an old guy,” someone spoke. Merlin’s eyes darted towards the speaker. 

“We could have summoned him from any point in his life,” Cameron said. “And besides, Arthur just confirmed it for us. Now shut-up.”

“What’s going on?” Merlin asked. 

“We need you for a spell,” Cameron answered. “Believe me, I didn’t mean to be so rude about it, but King Arthur has been a bit of a disappointment when it comes to cooperating with us - and we can’t afford to have you follow his lead. So, we’re doing it this way - now, I know you don’t recognize the weapon pointing at your beloved King’s head, but let me assure you that it is very deadly.”

Merlin met Gwaine’s eyes, and Gwaine nodded, only slightly, once, then moved his eyes as though he were trying to look at his own arm.

“He’s wounded,” Merlin stated, following Gwaine’s eyes to the crude bandage on his arm. 

“Like I said,” Cameron stated, “Disappointingly non-cooperative.”

“Merlin, just leave,” Gwaine tried to command. Willing his voice to stay steady. Merlin was too powerful to be held against his will and Camelot had no need for Gwaine. “Find a way home. Forget me. Look after… the princess.”

“What’s the spell?” Merlin asked, instead of immediately obeying. Gwaine hadn’t expected differently, but he still closed his eyes and cursed.

“Nothing sinister,” Cameron replied with a smile. “We just want to clear up some confusion about who’s in charge around here.” He motioned to one of his followers, who passed him a book, already open to a particular page, then he stepped forward and held it out so Merlin could see.

Gwaine watched as Merlin’s eyes flew across the page quickly. 

“A loyalty spell?” Merlin asked, as though there were some kind of hidden trick they had not yet revealed.

“That’s right,” Cameron smiled. “You’d do us a great honour, Merlin - if you’d help us. The greatest wizard of all time behind this spell and… well, the power beyond that spell would last us a whole lifetime, rather than a few hours or days.”

“You’ve already tried it then?” Merlin guessed. 

“We’re… not as advanced as you in our magic practices,” Cameron said, and Gwaine at least could appreciate that he sounded pained to admit it. “We tried the spell with our own blood and magic, but they were only obedient for an hour or two, nothing… sustainable. With Arthur’s blood, we got a day, nearly two, but even then, the spell was weak.”

“It’s a powerful spell,” Merlin said. “An interesting… selection. Are you… the rulers of this land?”

Cameron huffed a laugh. “Not yet.”

Merlin smirked. “I see.”

“You’ll do the spell then,” Cameron stated.

“If I do, will you let us leave. Will you send us back to Camelot?” Merlin asked.

“Of course,” Cameron replied.

“Merlin-” Gwaine tried to command. 

“Arthur,” Merlin interrupted. “I will not let them harm you.”

Gwaine sighed. 

“Get the stuff,” Cameron commanded, and his men scrambled to obey. 

The man with the gun stepped back and lowered the weapon, but he didn’t move away. Another man knelt beside Gwaine. He was younger than the others, still somewhat babyfaced. He tore the bandage off Gwaine’s arm, which only revealed what Gwaine has suspected - the bandage had become stuck to the wound, and it came away with new flesh attached and the wound reopened. Gwaine yelled out in pain, causing Merlin to step towards him - as soon as he did, the man with the gun aimed the weapon at Merlin.

“Don’t move!” he shouted. 

“Don’t hurt him!” Merlin commanded. 

“We need Merlin alive, you idiot,” Cameron chastised. “Lower the damn gun.”

“It was an accident,” the young one beside Gwaine exclaimed. But even as he said it, he pressed a vial to the wound, pressing into it to make it bleed more, so that he could capture the blood for the spell. Gwaine was pleased by the way the boy’s hands shook, but that was all the satisfaction that he could find.

Gwaine grit his teeth.

“You’re hurting him,” Merlin all but growled.

“I’m done!” the guy exclaimed and scrambled away, just as the others brought forward a bowl and a knife - approaching Merlin. Gwaine scrowled. He knew from experience that the bowl would already have blood in it - Merlin was just meant to add his and Gwaine’s.

“Sorry, none of us had access to the right kind of needle, so-”

“I’ll do it myself,” Merlin said, snatching up the knife and holding his arm over the bowl. He made a neat slice on his left forearm, let blood drop into the bowl, and then his eyes flashed and the knife was clean. He transferred it to his other hand and then clapped his right hand over the cut. His eyes flashed again, and when he pulled his hand away the cut was sealed and his hands were clean.

“Holy-” someone muttered. Then the young guy came forward, cautiously, with Gwaine’s blood in the vial. Merlin gave him a blank look and help his hand out. 

Then Cameron took the gun and held it to Gwaine’s head himself. 

“Say the spell exactly,” Cameron ordered. “I’ll know if you don’t.”

Merlin scowled and took the vial from the extremely frightened young guy, who scrambled back immediately to the far side of the room. Merlin added Gwaine’s blood to the bowl.

“Let me see the book again,” Merlin commanded, and the book was passed back to him. Merlin sat down on the floor and put the bowl and the book in front of him. Gwaine wanted to tell him not to do it, just to flee somehow - but he knew it was pointless. Merlin would never leave Gwaine to die, even if Gwaine wanted him to.

Merlin began a droning chant, in the rich language of magic, as his eyes glowed. Merlin lifted his eyes from the book as he held his hand over the bowl, locking eyes with Gwaine - and simultaneously Gwaine was both terrified and comforted. Trusting Merlin completely, even as he felt the hair on his arms stand up and a cold shiver race down his spine - whatever this magic was, Gwaine didn’t like it. There was nothing of the warmth of Merlin’s healing spells, or the playfulness of his illusions.

The gun was lowered away from Gwaine’s head, as Cameron let out a joyful woop.

“Awesome! Throw them in the cells!” Cameron exclaimed. And then two of the bigger silent brutes were hawling Gwaine off the floor, and pushing him roughly over to his cell - not caring about the wound on his arm, but rather seeming to delight in the way the flares of pain weakened his meagre struggle. He could hear Merlin yelling about promises, but the fact that Cameron had been lying was not news to Gwaine. 

They were slammed into their cages in short succession, and then Merlin started yelling about something else entirely. Gwaine looked over to see the markings on the floor around Merlin’s cage flaw golden, with each muttered word and flash of eyes that Merlin attempted with increased desperation.

“Merlin, stop,” Gwaine ordered, realizing what they had done. Merlin, thankfully obeyed. In the silence that followed, Cameron stepped to the outer markings outside Merline’s cage, and placed his hand down on one of the strange glyphs. He took a deep breath as the markings flared gold again, then, a moment later, gold flared in Cameron’s eyes for the first time since Gwaine had been there - and Gwaine had watched them do the loyalty spell before.

“That works a charm,” Cameron said, in a breathy voice that made Gwaine’s skin crawl. “Thank you.”

Merlin was looking at Cameron in horror, but Cameron just smirked at him and then walked away - he and his followers talking about their celebratory plans for the evening.

When the outer door slammed closed, and Gwaine and Merlin were alone in their large drafty dungeon. Gwaine sighed.

“You should have fled.”

“Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do,” Merlin snapped, then he cursed and hit the cell door with his open palm, then cursed again.

“Those markings block your magic?” Gwaine asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Worse,” Merlin replied. “They absorb it… and feed it to…  to whoever puts their hand there.” Merlin pointed to the spot that Cameron had touched.

“Oh,” Gwaine replied. “That is worse. But, if you don’t do magic, there will be nothing for him to take, so, it’s just as though they’ve blocked it, not taken it and-” Gwaine cut himself off as the marks glowed golden again, only for a moment. He looked at Merlin, who was just standing there with a resigned look on his face. “Did you-”

“It siphons magic regardless,” Merlin said softly.

“I’ll get us out of here, Merlin,” Gwaine promised, because it was all he knew how to do. “The way they speak - I think I know where we are. I can find help.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “How can you possibly know-”

“One of them called the other ‘dude’,” Gwaine explained. “You must have noticed it too, the… manner of speech, while not exactly the same is-”

Merlin was looking around the room in renewed interest, the marks glowed again, but only for a moment.

“They had a dragon,” Merlin said, then quickly clarified at Gwaine’s look of confusion. “Sam and Dean - it was how I got them back home. It’s name was Cas - uh, Castiel, If I can call to it-”

“Wait,” Gwaine said. “We don’t know what their defenses are like - you could be calling the creature to its death - that was what the dragonlords did in Uther’s reign, and the dragons-”

“The dragons died,” Merlin finished. “I know. I... you’re right.”

The marks glowed again.

“Are they weakening you?” Gwaine asked.

Merlin shook his head, but then shrugged, which Gwaine knew meant that he had no idea.

“We need a plan,” Gwaine said, and they got to work.

*

At daybreak, Arthur set forth with his plan - haphazard though it was. He, Percival, Elyan, and Gaius rode out, through the woods, and far away from Camelot and any village nearby. They had no dragonlord with them, but Arthur was hoping that the very absence of a dragonlord would be enough to call the dragon. The dragonlords and the dragons were linked - he must have felt the moment that Merlin vanished from the world, like the empty yawning pit that Arthur felt now at the very core of himself.

They came to an open meadow, populated only by low brush and grasses. Gaius pulled his horse to a stop. Arthur and the knights  stopped a moment after, and turned back to look at him.

“This matches his description, Your Highness,” Gaius said. He dismounted his horse carefully. Arthur felt guilty for making such an old man ride out so far and fast from the city, but Gaius had not complained. 

Gaius bent down to grab a handful of earth, sifting it through his fingers for them to see. It fell from his hand like sand.

“Yes, I believe this is the place,” Gaius spoke again. 

“Very well,” Arthur looked around - realizing only then that he had been hoping the dragon would simply be waiting for them. “How do we call for it?”

Gaius gave Arthur a look that clearly communicated what they all knew already - that only a dragonlord could call for a dragon. Thankfully, Gaius knew well enough not to give voice to the thought. Instead, he pulled a book from his saddlebag.

“When the ban on magic was lifted, I had Merlin begin to record his experiences and knowledge,” Gaius said, and suddenly Arthur found his eyes riveted to the book in Gaius’ hands. “He wrote down the draconic summoning. It shouldn’t work without the voice of a dragonlord behind it, but, it is all we have.”

“Try it,” Arthur ordered.

“Me, Sir?” Gaius asked. 

“You are the only one among us who has magic,” Arthur replied. “I know it’s not the same as being a dragonlord, but… dragons are creatures of magic - it may help.”

“Very well,” Gaius nodded. Then he looked down at the book, and then up at the sky.

“ O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes! ” Gaius shouted. Arthur’s heart sank at how awkward it felt - like a showman, putting on a play for children, rather than a powerful warlock. 

“How long does it take?” Arthur asked.

“Merlin has said that the longest he ever had to wait was two hours, Sire,” Gaius replied. “Though, usually Kilgharrah arrived within thirty minutes. As Merlin often only summoned him when he was dying. I suspect that Kilgharrah may have felt Merlin’s need and already been on his way. No where in the Albion should be more than two or so hours away by dragon flight, however.”

“Then we wait for two hours - if the Dragon doesn’t arrive…” Arthur trailed off.

“We’ll try something else,” Gaius finished. “Now, how about the knights get a fire going, and I will cook us some supper while we wait. We may be here overnight, and I for one would like some food in my stomach if I’m to sleep on the ground at my age.”

*

The next morning, Gwaine and Merlin initiated their plan. Their captors, Gwaine had observed, were always a little useless in the mornings - their reflexes and thoughts slowed and still clinging to sleep. That morning, it was even more so. As Gwaine predicted, they had obviously gone to a tavern to celebrate capturing Merlin, and now they were hungover, if not still a little drunk.

It was also clear, both from the differences between their two cages, and their experience overnight, that Gwaine would still be walked to the separate room to relieve himself - while Merlin’s cage was equipped with a chamber pot. Their captors had no intention of ever unlocking Merlin’s cage, or allowing him to set foot outside of the magical bindings drawn on the floor. 

Gwaine waited until he’d finished in the tiled room, firstly, because he really did need to piss; secondly, because it gave him a chance to see how many of them were in the building; and finally, because it split them up a little. There were two escorting Gwaine about his business, one of which held a gun - and then there was a third, who apparently had the task of emptying Merlin’s chamberpot. He passed them in the hallway, as Gwaine and his guards made their way back down the corridor. He seemed very annoyed to be tasked with something so lowly, which confirmed Gwaine’s and Merlin’s guesses as to what social class their captors belonged.

As soon as the one carrying the chamberpot disappeared into the tiled room, Gwaine began his escape. 

It was a seconds work to drop down suddenly, sweep his legs around quickly, and take the one who was armed out at the knee. He fell backwards with a short cry, landing on his fully on his back. Thankfully the gun didn’t go off. Gwaine tripped the second guard forward, then leapt to his feet and kicking the gun out of the hand of the first guard. The device clattered down the hallway, sliding a good number of feet. Gwaine gave a quick thought that he should run and pick it up - but it was the opposite direction of Merlin, and Gwaine did not know how to use it anyway. So, Gwaine finished the guards off with a fist fight - the guards got a few good shots in, one on his cheek, and another right to his mouth, but Gwaine was able to leave them groaning on the floor in short-order, it would take them a minute to get their breath back, hopefully.

Shouts came from behind him, but Gwaine managed to return to the room before anyone had picked themselves up off the floor. There was nothing to bar the door properly, so Gwaine hastily shoved a small metal shelf against it - it would only delay entry for only a moment, but it would have to be enough. 

“Gwaine!” Merlin said, unnecessarily, as Gwaine ran across the magic markings to inspect the lock on his cage. He tried not to let the despair show on his face - but he had never seen such a lock, and did not think that he would be able to spring the mechanism quickly, like they had planned. 

“It’s all right,” Merlin said softly, as though he had known the whole time that the plan wasn’t going to work - and maybe he had. The shouts in the hallway grew closer, more numerous. 

“My sword, I can-” Gwaine didn’t bother finishing as he turned and began to run across the room in order to fetch the sword. 

“There’s no time,” Merlin said. “You have to use the magic before they can. Please!”

The door banged, shifting the shelf a little. Gwaine wanted to run back to Merlin, desperately, if only just to touch his hand one more time - to put their foreheads together - to weep apologies in the air between them - but there was no time. Gwaine bent down and put his hand on the glyph that Cameron had used just the night before. 

And then it was as though he was touching Merlin - the warmth of Merlin’s skin was sweeping into him from the glyph. It was both comforting and overwhelming all at once. Gwaine’s heart races with terror, even as he trusted the power completely.

Your sword, Merlin’s voice came in his head.  And Gwaine held out his free hand, with a thought, the sword flew from its resting place across the room and into Gwaine’s grip.

The Window , Merlin’s voice came again. And Gwaine only had to look towards the window over the tall metal shelf and the glass blew outwards, shattered from the frame.

Speed, agility, strength, Merlin chanted - and Gwaine realized that it wasn’t even a language he knew this whole time, and yet, he had known the words. He had known their meaning. Gwaine felt his body shift, he felt powerful, ABLE  - it was a rush of the senses. 

He looked back at Merlin - Merlin, who clung to the bars, while the markings on the cage and the floor glowed brightly. Merlin, who looked pale, his eyes glowing and fading like a heartbeat.

Can I open the lock like this? Gwaine wondered.

No, Merlin replied. It is warded - any magic that crosses the markings is absorbed. Please, Gwaine - take it, take as much as you can and go. Find the brothers. Find the dragon Castiel. Go now.

The glow of the markings faded, as Gwaine absorbed the last of the magic that Merlin had poured into the trap. Then several things seemed to happen at once - The door shoved open, one of their captors shooting a gun directly at Gwaine, and Merlin yelled “ Scildan! Run, Gwaine!” as the trigger was pulled, the bullet that should have pieced Gwaine’s heart stopped before it hit him, falling useless to the floor, and as Merlin collapsed against the bars, the trap around him bright gold again.

Gwaine used everyone’s surprise to his advantage, the coiled strength in his legs springing into movement - and Gwaine was across the room, scaling a tall shelf, and rolling out of the window in one breath, moving faster than should have been possible. He could still hear the shouting coming from the window behind him as he sprang to his feet, careful not to press his hands too harshly into the shattered glass on the ground beneath him. He was outside the building, surrounded by flat stone. There were more buildings, wheeled carriage-like contraptions that he had never seen before,  and then beyond them he could see a forest. 

He ran towards the forest, while he still had the gift of speed - he had slipped through the first trees by the time he heard the bang of a door and distant shouting behind him - he didn’t pause, and ran only deeper into the woods. There were trails, but he stayed away from them. There was a large expanse of empty meadow that held towering skeletal towers that were all tied together by ropes at the top - but Gwaine simply ran past them and deeper into the forest still. Then, when he knew he had put enough distance between himself and the prison, he fell to his knees. He couldn’t remember the words Merlin had given him exactly, and he was no dragonlord, but he did his best - 

“O drakon, Castiel,  e Sam k’ Dean, so chriazomas’te ti vo’thia!” 

*

In a bunker in Kansas, a phone rang with an unknown number.

“Hello,” Dean answered.

“Hello, Dean. Are you in Connecticut?”

“Hey Cas. No, we’re not in Connecticut,” Dean replied, casting a look towards his brother - who had lifted his head from the book he’d be reading. “Should we be?”

“I do not know. I thought I felt- perhaps I was mistaken. My apologies.”

“No, hold on - we talked about this - tell me what you felt?”

“Something unnatural, and then my name and then… a longing.”

“A longing for what?” 

“For you?” Cas asked. “Only… why would I hear prayers not addressed to me? This is most unusual.”

“Wait, are you saying there’s someone in Connecticut that’s praying to me ?” 

Now Sam’s attention was fully on Dean, with his eyebrows raised.

“And Sam.”

“And Sam! ” Dean repeated, staring at his brother - trying to convey the message ‘What the hell?’

Sam shrugged.

“Perhaps I was mistaken,” Cas replied. 

“Where are you?” Dean asked. “Are you in Connecticut?”

“No, I’m in Russia,” Castiel replied.

“What are you doing in Russia?” Dean asked.

“There is a plan afoot to open a hell gate,” Castiel replied. “There are many demons involved.”

“Shit,” Dean replied. 

“I have it under control,” Castiel replied. “Yuri says hello.”

“Who the hell is Yuri?” Dean replied.

“He is a local hunter,” Castiel replied. “He is very angry.”

There was a voice in the background that Dean could faintly hear that said something brisk, followed by odd cooing words in a completely different tone..

“What’d he just say?” Dean asked.

“We have to go,” Castiel replied. “Also, he has found a cat.”

“Uh, okay,” Dean replied.

“Goodbye, Dean,” Castiel said, and then the line went dead. Dean laid his phone back on the table.

Sam was staring at him,

“So… feel like a drive to Connecticut?” Dean asked.

“I’ll pack us some snacks.” Sam said, and got to his feet.

Dean sighed, and looked back to his paused movie - he exited the streaming site and pulled up a search. He hoped there was some unusual news out of Connecticut, because it’d help if they could figure out where exactly they were going.

Chapter Text

Hours passed and no dragon came to their meadow. They sat in silence around the fire, and Arthur wondered who would be the first to voice it - if it was on his shoulders as King to acknowledge the truth, or if, as King, he should stay stubborn in his silence. If Merlin were there, Arthur would not have to say anything, Merlin would have commented already, in passing, on the situation, as though it weren’t grave at all, and instead merely an annoyance to be overcome. 

“I am sorry, Sire,” Gaius finally said. “It appears my magic was not enough.”

“There is no need for apologies.” Arthur sighed. “Thank you for trying, Gaius.” 

“Are there really no other Dragonlords?” Percival asked. “If Merlin’s father was able to escape, then perhaps-”

“No,” Gaius interrupted. “Balinor was the only survivor of the purge, and Merlin… Merlin is truly the last in all of Albion. Perhaps, in some distant land, there may be others - other dragons, other dragonlords. But none close by, none that I have heard word of - Uther made sure of that. The fact that Balinor survived long enough to… long enough to make a difference. That was a miracle. I only just managed to hide Balinor, and by then it was too late to save- perhaps I could have- but it is too late now.”

“It is not your fault, Gaius,” Arthur said softly. “You have Camelot’s thanks for saving Balinor alone, given the circumstances, it was, as you say, a miracle you were able to do so much. That Balinor was able to go to Hunith, that Merlin could be born.”

The pain of Merlin’s absence, Arthur thought, was all the stronger for that reason alone. If Uther had gotten what he truly wished, Merlin would have never been born - there would be no magic in Camelot, nor all of Albion - and Arthur’s life would be all the emptier for it. Arthur couldn’t help but think of all those years that he took Merlin’s presence for granted, how unfathomable it was to him now. Even when Merlin was playing the part of a simple serving boy, he had been more than that - he had been a salve for wounds that Arthur had not even been aware he had until the aches of them were soothed. 

“I never deserved him,” Arthur muttered out loud.

There was a silence, in which Arthur stared into the fire and pointedly ignored the looks that Gaius and his knights were trading.

“It’s in moments like this that I remember that Merlin is the optimistic one,” Elyan stated. “Let’s see - what would he say if he were here… Gaius?”

“Hm, something like, ‘Arthur - there has to be a way.’” Gaius said, his impression not so much in the mimic of a voice, but in the determination that he put into what he was saying.

“‘We’ll sort it out - we always do, one way or the other,’” Percival joined in, his impression so horrible, Arthur couldn’t help the small smile that he felt tugging at his lips. 

No doubt emboldened by his reaction, Elyan continued, “‘Now think! How would you summon a dragon without me? I’m too busy polishing your sword to do it myself, My Lord .’”

“Elyan…” Arthur warned, but it was ruined by his smile, so he just shook his head and didn’t bother with the rest of the sentence.

“An interesting problem,” Gaius spoke, as though he was indeed in a conversation with Merlin. “Obviously, getting just any other magic user didn’t work. So, we either need someone with greater magic than I possess, or we need an alternative way to find a dragon.”

“Right,” Percival spoke. “We could speak the local hunters and farmers, see if they’ve seen traces of the beast. If Merlin met him here often, then they may see which direction he flew whenever he left.”

“We could also speak with the druids,” Gaius offered. “Perhaps many magic users, attempting the summoning at once, could equal the strength of a dragonlord.”

“How about the help of a single druid and a different dragon?” A voice called out from the darkness beyond their camp. 

Arthur and the knights sprang to their feet, before the words even really registered, their hands finding the hilts of their swords.

“Peace, King Arthur,” the voice came again, and a figure stepped into the light. It was a young man with curly midnight-black hair and bright sky-blue eyes. “I am a friend, though it’s been some time since you’ve seen me last and I understand you may not recognize-”

“Mordred?” Arthur asked, suddenly seeing the young boy that was before him instead of a stranger - his mind mapping how the jaw would have widened, how the voice would have changed, but how the colour of the eyes was just as striking.

Mordred smiled and gave a deep bow.

“Please, forgive my eavesdropping,” Mordred said. “At first, it was merely because we were traveling alone, and did not know if the camp in our path was friend or foe - but then, well, your conversation answered a few questions that I did not think I’d be able to pose to you until we made it to Camelot tomorrow.”

“We?” Percival asked, eyeing the darkness behind Mordred. 

“Do you have other druids with you?” Arthur asked, doing the same.

“No, I-” Mordred looked uncertain for the first time since he arrived. “You mustn’t be afraid. She has come to help.”

Arthur felt a wash of cold dread. It was the opposite reaction to what Mordred had just asked of him, but he couldn’t help the fear that arose when he considered who Mordred might be traveling with - afterall, it had been Morgana who had hid Mordred in her rooms all those years ago.

But, instead of a human figure, the shape that slowly approached them through the darkness was massive, white, and animalistic. Arthur felt nothing but relief as he realized who Mordred’s companion was - he felt his body sag with it, so much that he nearly fell to his knees.

“Aithusa,” Arthur all but breathed.

Aithusa said nothing, but studied him almost shyly as she came to sit next to the young druid. Mordred’s eyes, meanwhile, had gone wider - as impossible as that seemed.

“You know her?” he asked, then seemed to shake himself out of his shock. “Of course, you know her, so much has changed.”

“Merlin told me, yes,” Arthur confirmed. “He worried about her. He tried to find her once, but she didn’t come when he called - and Kilgharrah said that he did not know where she was either - Merlin was… angry, as he had assumed Kilgharrah would ensure her safety, but he had not.” Arthur turned back to the dragon itself, now that his relief at not having to face his sister during this trying time was fading, he realized that he was standing before a dragon - a young one, but a dragon nonetheless - and he remembered what Merlin had taught him of their intelligence. “Forgive me, Aithusa. Are you well?”

The dragon did not speak, but glanced at Mordred and then walked forward. Arthur stepped towards it as well, putting distance between the dragon, his tense knights, and a silent Gaius.

“She can’t talk,” Mordred said, as Aithusa paused in front of Arthur, looking into his eyes. “She can communicate silently - through magic - in the manner of the druids, though it is sometimes hard to translate, I will do my best to convey her thoughts to you.”

“Is it because she’s young?” Arthur asked, then realized he was being rude, and turned his attention back to Aithusa, repeating the question. “Is it because you are young?”

Aithusa ducked her head down, nudged it under Arthur’s hand, as though she were a dog seeking affection. Arthur pet her in response, but cast a quick frantic glance at Mordred to make sure he was not misinterpreting. Mordred gave him a quick nod, to reassure him, as Aithusa wiggled herself below Arthur’s hand, controlling which part of her body it touched.

“We do not know,” Mordred said. “She was captured, and mistreated, it has caused her some deformities.” Arthur’s hand came then upon raised skin, and he looked down at the dragon to see the scars that criss-crossed her body in the firelight. It was then that he realized the other difference in her appearance - she had no strong protective scales, like the great dragon - Kilgharrah - that protected him from the weapons of men. Her body was softer, the scales she did have, while glinting prettily in the fire, were weak and offered very little protection.

“Who did this?” Arthur asked. He hoped that the lack of strong scales was only a product of her youth, that as she grew, she would gain them. Her skin was thick, but apparently not thick enough - or at least, it had not been thick enough - to prevent these wounds already sustained.

“They are dead,” Mordred stated. “After they captured Aithusa, they captured Morgana - they threw Morgana into the same cage - perhaps in the hopes that Aithusa would kill her. Instead, they escaped together, inflicting much violence against their captors. Aithusa was - pleased - in her vengeance, and remained Morgana’s companion thereafter.”

Arthur’s hand stilled, as the old fear crept back over him. 

“And now? Is Morgana…”

“Morgana is alive and… uninjured,” Mordred said. “I too was with her for a time.” 

Aithusa broke away from Arthur then, and sat down in front of him. Arthur regretted not having anything to do with his hands, which now felt awkward - but at the same time, part of him couldn’t quite comprehend that he had just pet a dragon, as though it weren’t a ferocious beast that could end him painfully in a single breath. He wondered if this is how Merlin felt, the first time he spoke with Kilgharrah.

“Does she still…” Arthur wasn’t sure how to end his question, though he knew what he wanted to know.

“Morgana still plans your destruction, yes,” Mordred answered, simply, as though it weren’t twisting a dagger in Arthur’s heart.

“I had hoped…” Arthur shook his head. “When I began to restore magic to Camelot - I thought, perhaps…” Arthur could remember the pitying looks that Merlin had given him the one time he had admitted it to the man, but Arthur had quietly hoped that maybe all was not lost - that maybe his childhood best friend, his sister, would return to him.

“Aithusa sees your heart, and is pleased by what she finds there,” Mordred announced. “She is… sad… that we do not bring better news of your kin - but instead must tell you that Morgana grows more irrational in her hatred of you. Despite all evidence of your good intentions, your reform and good works, despite the coming of Emrys and the new age, she clings to her hatred and allows it to overwhelm her reason.”

Arthur couldn’t help the humourless chuckle that escaped him. Both Aithusa and Mordred cocked their heads at him, and Arthur marveled for a moment at how they moved as one being, before he satiated their curiosity.

“I just… she sounds like our father,” Arthur explained.

Mordred eyebrows raised, but then he nodded, as though the thought really wasn’t too disparate from what he had seen himself.

“Aithusa, in her own quest for revenge against those who harmed her,” Mordred continued,  “and her own bitterness at being abandoned, did not see the darkness in Morgana’s heart at first - but when I arrived, I began conversations that Aithusa and Morgana had never had - as Morgana cannot speak as well to the mind as a druid can. Her power lies elsewhere. Morgana is an enemy of Emrys, and yet, it was Emrys who called Aithusa from the Waiting, and named her purpose as bringing light, not darkness. Even if he then abandoned her, for his own reasons, Aithusa owes him a debt - and as he is the last Dragonlord, she could never harm him.”

“He didn’t want to abandon you,” Arthur said, urgently willing Aithusa to understand. “That was my fault - he was protecting you, because I did not yet understand magic, and would have seen you as an enemy, and he thought that-”

“She understands this now,” Mordred interrupted, an indulgent quality to his voice that Arthur saw reflected in the dragon’s eyes. “When we felt Emrys leave this world, we departed Morgana’s company immediately. Our efforts to reason with her were proving futile and there was greater need for us here, as Aithusa knew that Kilgharrah would not help you.”

“He won’t?” Arthur asked, hope leaving him for a moment. Merlin had said the spell was too powerful for him alone - and he needed the help of a Great Dragon. How were they to find Merlin now?

“May we sit by your fire?” Mordred asked, frowning. “I will explain all we know.”

“Yes, of course, my apologies for leaving you standing in the cold,” Arthur stepped back and turned to welcome them to their little group. Percival immediately began adjusting the bedrolls and logs that they had been sitting on, so that there was room for both Mordred and a small dragon, who was the height of one bear and the length of two. 

 Mordred settled in, while Aithusa curled her great body around him, then lay only her head towards the fire. She kept her head low, and non-threatening, but her shrewd eyes seemed to bore into Arthur. He wondered what she saw there.

“It seems Emrys has been protecting you again, if only a little,” Mordred said. Arthur could no longer tell if he was speaking from the knowledge of the druids, or still speaking the thoughts of the dragon that curled around him.

“Lying, you mean?” Arthur realized. 

“Withholding,” Mordred countered. “I know Emrys, only a little, and Aithusa has only met him once - but it is easy to understand that he may not yet be in the habit of sharing his problems. AIthusa does not know why, but she knows that Kilgharrah now refuses to help, unless the power of the dragonlord compels him.”

“If you’ll forgive me, My Lord,” Gaius spoke up. “I know what the young boy speaks of. I had hoped… given the circumstances, that the dragon would see reason-”

“What do you know?” Arthur asked, and tried to keep his frustration from his voice. He had believed, over the past year, that Merlin trusted him. But it appeared that Gaius still remained his closest confidant. Perhaps it was foolish to be jealous, but Arthur found that he was - though it was far more outweighed by the hurt that this revelation caused. Things were supposed to be different now - Arthur trusted Merlin with his life, and yet, Merlin still withheld his own from Arthur.

“When Merlin told you of his magic, it was against the wishes of Kilgharrah, who insisted that it was not yet the destined time,” Gaius explained. “He was offended that Merlin would follow the advice of others, over his own counsel. He saw it as disloyalty. He claimed that, in so doing, Merlin had altered his path too much, that the future was now uncertain.”

“The future is always uncertain,” Arthur countered.

Both Gaius and Mordred shook their heads. Aithusa showed her teeth, in what Arthur realized was a smile.

“Not to all,” Mordred said. “Kilgharrah, and the seers amidst the druids, they could see the path - even in the midst of your father’s rampage. They saw the coming of Emrys, they saw that magic would one day be restored, though they were not sure how. Only that it involved Emrys and you, Arthur. Some, including Kilgharrah, saw your death as well, though they refused to tell me of it, so please do not ask.”

Arthur closed his mouth, though his heart beat strongly in his chest. 

“That has now apparently changed, the seers cannot see the future of Albion as well as they once did. Your destiny has either altered, or is now... uncertain, as Gaius says,” Mordred finished.

Arthur stared into the fire as he considered this. He still wanted to seek out those who knew his destiny and demand answered, but if they did not know anymore, what good would that do. If his path was no longer written in stone, did it matter what it once said? Arthur found himself wishing, suddenly, that there were monsters about, so that he could summon the two warriors and ask them these questions - he couldn’t help but chuckle as he made the connection.

“Sire?” Percival asked, softly.

Arthur looked up to see everyone regarding him curiously.

“The brothers, Dean and Sam, were here for so short a time, and yet they were able to do for us, what took them years to accomplish in their legend - that they should be free to make their own choices,” Arthur explained. 

“You speak of Sawyl and Delwyn?” Mordred asked, wide-eyed. “They are real?”

“Merlin summoned them for help,” Gaius explained. “It was they who encouraged Merlin to tell Arthur the truth of his magic. Until then, Merlin only had myself and Kilgharrah for council on such matters, and I am sorry to admit that I urged him to keep his silence, as I… was afraid for him.”

“It’s alright, Gaius,” Arthur repeated, because he had long forgiven the old physician. After all, Arthur loved Merlin too, and would have also urged caution where his safety was concerned.

“It was the brothers who put the first wedge between Merlin and Kilgharrah,” Gaius explained. “They made Merlin realize the ways in which Kilgharrah had used Merlin for his own ends before - for instance, when Kilgharrah forced his hand in agreeing to free him, so that he could attack Camelot in his rage. Merlin and the dragon argued about Morgana a great deal as well, Merlin believed that he could have better helped her, Kilgharrah insisted that her destiny was set, and that Merlin would best keep both his secrets and his distance.”

“Then, finally, there were two legendary warriors who agreed with Merlin,” Arthur smiled. 

“And yourself, Sire,” Gaius spoke up. “When he asked you for advice, you told him the same - for years he’d been following Kilgharrah’s advice, because it was the easiest, and it ensured his safety - but, the easiest path is not always the correct one, and Merlin had denied himself much in following it. I can see that now.”

Gaius gave Arthur a soft smile, and Arthur felt warmth blossom in his chest, as he realized that Gaius spoke of Arthur and Merlin’s closeness now that Merlin trusted Arthur completely.

“But why did he not tell me about Kilgarrah’s displeasure?” Arthur frowned. “I thought that we had no more secrets between us.”

“I believe he did not want to make you feel guilty, Sire,” Gaius explained. “That telling you had lost him… well, his greatest source of knowledge, quite frankly.”

“Of course, Merlin must always protect my feelings, ” Arthur rolled his eyes.

Gaius and Elyan laughed. Percival shook his head, a small fond smile on his face. Mordred and Aithusa just looked between them in curiosity.

“Enough talk of the past,” Arthur decided. “We must consider our future - I need Merlin returned to me, of that I am certain.”

“Yes, the magic of our world aches for him,” Mordred said. “He was not meant to be gone from us. It is… as though we lie unprotected before the enemy. A dragon too young for strong scales.”

Arthur realized that Mordred was speaking for Aithusa, and he turned to her.

“He has not abandoned us,” he repeated. “I was there when he was taken - he reached for me, his will was to stay - I could not hold him.”

“I know,” Mordred said, his eyes on Aithusa, whose own eyes had closed - she tilted her head to the left, as though listening carefully. “I can feel him still - alive, but weakened - he is behind a wall, and across the water, far away, in another world - caged, and every time he reaches out…” a shudder ran through the young dragon, “... they drink of him.”

Arthur’s stomach turned, he could think only of finding Merlin limp and unconscious, while a monster drank his life blood. The terror that had flooded Arthur at the sight, the fear that Merlin was dead, or changed...

“Monsters,” Arthur heard his own voice say. 

The dragon opened her eyes.

“I do not know,” Mordred said.

“Can you see Gwaine?” Percival asked, his voice timid.

“Do you know how to get him back?” Gaius asked. “Merlin, and his knight, Gwaine - they were both taken in the same manner.”

The dragon looked at Percival. 

“I share no connection with any but the Dragonlord,” Mordred spoke. Then the dragon turned to Gaius. “In order to return, Merlin must first be freed from his cage. They must cease feasting upon him.”

Arthur took a deep breath, and tried to quell the panic in his heart. Was Gwaine captured with Merlin? Had they feasted on him too? Did they drink all of Gwaine and summon Merlin as a replacement? 

“I cannot bring him back, but we can thin the wall between our worlds,” Aithusa, in Mordred’s voice, continued. “Enough for a voice to travel through.”

“A voice?” Arthur said. What could he do with a voice? A voice couldn’t break locks, or undo whatever bindings kept Merlin from freeing himself. And then he remembered Merlin mumbling the past few weeks about the brothers, and how the dragon had sent them back to their own world… “The dragon Castiel - is it the same world?”

Aithusa tilted her head and furrowed her brow, while Mordred mirrored the action, his gaze still unfocused.

“It doesn’t matter,” Arthur realized. ”If you can thin the wall between us and Merlin - enough for a voice, I can call to Castiel - if he answers, then we know that it’s the same world. The world of the Two Brothers. When Merlin sent them back, Kilgharrah thinned the wall enough for Sam and Dean to call on their dragon, and then their dragon opened the wall enough for them to walk through. If Castiel does not answer, then… then we’ll try something else.”

Aithusa and Mordred both nodded as one. 

“In the morning,” Aithusa spoke through Mordred. “Tonight, we must prepare. I release you, young druid. Sleep well everyone.”

Aithusa turned away, as Mordred blinked rapidly, seemingly coming out of a fog - Arthur wasn’t entirely sure when the boy had slipped into one.

“Mordred, do you understand what we discussed just now,” Arthur asked.

Mordred nodded, his eyes wide. “Yes, I am to help Aithusa with the spell in the morning - I have seen it in her mind. Now I must sleep, as the spell will take all our strength - we are both still young, and neither of us are Emrys.”

“I bid you to sleep by our fire. Percival, Elyan, and I will keep a watch in the night,” Arthur said. “If you or Aithusa need anything, let us know.”

Mordred nodded shortly, and then turned to his pack, no doubt to get settled for the night.

Arthur turned to the knights and Gaius.

“You will all stay for the spell in the morning.” Arthur ordered. “If… if I can get through the wall, I’m going to do so.” Arthur studied their reactions, but they did not seem surprised, only resigned to this course of action already. Arthur continued, “If I go, return to Camelot, bring Aithusa and Mordred with you, make it known they are under my protection.”

“Arthur, I should go with you,” Percival said. 

Arthur shook his head. “I need knights to escort them back with my orders - and you must report back to the Queen, keep her safe until my return. You are one of my most trusted knights, and I need you to protect… the future of Camelot.”

“Elyan can-”

“Perci-”

“Arthur, please,” Percival pleaded, and it was so unlike him that Arthur stopped short. “I swore that I would protect Merlin in Lancelot’s absence, let me go with you, let me fulfill my oath.”

“You also have an oath to Camelot,” Arthur said, though it was a numb statement of fact, while his heart and mind reeled after the mention of his fallen first knight. He couldn’t help but also remember looking down into a darkened courtyard and watching Gwaine swear his loyalty to a sorcerer.

“The two oaths do not conflict,” Percival replied, his tone brokering no argument.

“Gwaine may disagree,” Arthur said. “Tell me, are all my knights secretly only loyal to Merlin? Or just my most trusted?”

Elyan raised his hand, drawing Arthur’s attention.

“I’m loyal to the Queen.”

Arthur chuckled.

“Very well, Percival will come with me, if we are able to cross to the other world,” Arthur ordered. “Elyan, you are to return to your Queen, protect Camelot and Mordred and Aithusa.”

Percival nodded. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“Don’t forget,” Arthur forced a smile. “If we go to the other world, we will have Gwaine there to help us as well - I am sure of it.”

Percival returned the smile, though Arthur knew that it was as tenuous as his own. 

“And you trust the dragon and the druid?” Percival asked, wincing as he did.

“I have to,” Arthur replied. “And I do - If the magic of our world aches for Merlin as much as my own heart, then they will do everything in their power to help us bring him back.” Arthur waited for Percival to nod, and then he stood. “I’ll take first watch.”

Arthur couldn’t fathom how he’d get any sleep. He had a manservant to save.

Chapter Text

Gwaine did not like it here. The city was larger than any he had ever seen, and he had traveled nearly all of Albion between his father’s death under Caerleon and his own knighthood in Camelot. The ground was made of stone most everywhere, such that his feet ached more quickly than usual from walking. People controlled carts of metal, that moved without horses at great speeds. And most importantly, no one was in armour or chainmail, but rather only peasant clothes - and from the few looks he got when he ventured out of the forest, his own attire made him extremely suspicious.

No one of seemingly any rank came through the woods, or at least not alone. There were families with children, who Gwaine watched from afar. There were men and women who wore very little and ran down the forest paths at a steady run, things lodged in their ears that seemed to deafen them somewhat to the world around them. If Gwaine grew desperate, he’d use that to his advantage. For now, he explored the woods, and their edges, making sure he knew how to find his way back to Merlin. 

All Gwaine could think of was Merlin’s final shout - he had given the game away, they would know now, that Gwaine wasn’t Arthur. It was good that they found out when he escaped, because they would have surely killed him if he was still their captive. They had no use for him - but it meant that Merlin remained in danger. What’s more, he knew that it meant that they would soon try their summoning spell again - and there would be no telling who they might get. If they got Gwaine instead of Arthur last time, would they get Leon this time - would Leon be cunning and deceitful enough to do as Gwaine had, and impersonate his King for his own sake? Gwaine wasn’t sure, and the thought sat ill with him. He needed to rescue Merlin as soon as possible and destroy their spell book, so they could not try again - but he wasn’t sure that he could do it alone, not when they had both superior numbers, weapons, and sorcery on their side.

Gwaine tried, a few times, to call again to the dragon - under his breath, for fear his shouts would give away his location. No dragon descended from the sky, so Gwaine started to move on to the next plan - if he could not find the warriors though their dragon, then he would find them through other means - and, in the process, perhaps find himself coin enough to visit the small market stand he had found at the southern edge of the woods.

*

“So, what you’re saying is that a ghost… rolled you?” Dean asked the victim. 

“It wasn’t a ghost, the police say it was probably a crazy homeless man, or… some… weird role-playing person from one of those renaissance fairs. I don’t know, I just - he seemed like a ghost to me, coming out of nowhere like that and… asking weird things,” the guy said. He was a middle-aged dude, some business guy who had apparently taken up running before work, because it was recommended in a TEDTalk. That had been the lead-up conversation. Dean hadn’t been very interested, but Sam had made the appropriate responses so that they could get to the good stuff.

“What kind of questions?” Sam asked, all big eyes and innocence. Dean wasn’t sure how a grown man could still pull that look off, but Sam managed it.

“Who’s the King? By what town does the forest lie? In what town does the King reside? Do I know of any warriors of reputation? Word for word, I’m telling you,” the guy shook his head. “All while pointing a goddamn sword at my throat.”

“What did you tell him?” 

“I told him the city’s name, said we didn’t have a goddamn king, and that I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him but that he should probably go back on whatever meds he was supposed to be taking,” the man answered. “Then he took my protein bar and wallet - though he called it a purse - but he only took the change and gave everything else back.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like a ghost,” Dean muttered.

“Thanks for your time,” Sam told the guy, and then quickly pulled Dean away.

“Listen, it might not be a ghost, but it’s definitely something - he’s the third jogger to report being accosted by a guy in medieval clothing with a sword,” Sam said.

“It’s probably just some stupid local college kid - taking latin or whatever at the university and getting a little too into it,” Dean grumbled.

“Well, then let’s scare him enough to get him to cut it out,” Sam argued. “Come on, Cas didn’t give us anything to go on, and this is the only weirdness in town. It’s either our thing or a chance to scare the shit out of a stupid kid, either way, win win, right?”

Dean shrugged. It was a compelling argument. “Yeah, alright.”

They waited until early the next morning, well before sunrise, since all the attacks had occurred before the morning fog had lifted. Then they set out for the path through the woods, armed with their sawed-off salt guns (just in case) and flashlights, plus a few back-up pieces on the off chance that it was something else entirely. Dean thought it might be a trap, but usually their enemies went with far more noticable and elaborate traps, and there was literally nothing of note in the area except for whoever this kid was who was taking medieval studies a little too far.

It was quiet in the woods, they walked a good distance in, keeping their ears open. It wasn’t long until they heard what they were looking for - a section of the woods that was just a little too quiet, and a rustle in the trees that was just a little too slow to be an animal. Sam gave Dean a nod and they split up, both venturing off the path and into the woods in different directions. They moved slowly and methodically, sweeping wide of where they thought their mystery ‘ghost’ was currently hiding.

Dean went to intercept first, hoping that Sam’s path, which went slightly closer to their targets hiding spot, might have drawn his attention and left Dean able to sneak up behind him.

When he got to where the ‘ghost’ should have been though, there was nothing except for a depression in the dirt where someone had obviously been only a short time before. Dean crouched down in order to inspect the footprint with his flashlight. If it was a running shoe, or even a hiking boot, then he’d definitely win the bet with Sam.

It wasn’t a tread Dean recognized, but it was definitely some sort of footwear. Dean frowned and went to stand, only to suddenly have the blade of a sword beside his face. Whoever Dean was dealing with, they were standing right behind him, and cleverly keeping him from standing.

“Declare yourself,” a voice commanded. 

“You first,” Dean replied evenly, but he kept still.

“Drop the sword,” Sam’s voice suddenly rang out clearly. Not even Dean had heard him approach, and it seemed the swordsman hadn’t either, given the surprised twitch of the blade next to Dean’s face. Dean heard the safety come off Sam’s gun. Not a ghost then, or at least, didn’t appear to be, or else Sam would have just shot it with rock salt.

“Sam?” the not-ghost asked. “Dean?”

“How- Gwaine?! ”

The sword disappeared as Dean quickly spun around and stood, flicking his flashlight on and pointing it close enough to illuminate the swordsman. He had a deep bruise on the left side of his face, but it was unmistakably the knight from Camelot.

“Gwaine! What the hell, man!?”

“Holy crap!” Sam echoed.

“Am I ever glad to see you fellas,” Gwaine declared, dropping his sword completely so that he could embrace Dean. “You have no idea.”

“What the hell are you doing here?! How is this even possible?” Sam asked, his gun now tucked back into his pocket, he also pulled Gwaine into an embrace.

Gwaine pulled back from the hug and the smile dropped off his face.

“Merlin needs your help.”

Dean nodded, feeling the familiar snap of his focus narrowing down to the hunt. Beside him, Sam glanced around the forest.

“He’s not here,” Gwaine explained, his voice gathering a frantic edge. “I escaped. We have to go back for him.”

Dean’s eyes were adjusting to the night now, and he eyed the Knight - besides his bruised face, he had a split lip, and a bandaged wrapped around his arm, where the chainmail was twisted and split open.

“Is that a bullet wound?” Sam asked, obviously seeing the same thing. 

“Yeah, that it would be,” Gwaine nodded, gingerly moving the arm to look down on it. “Are they poisoned? Bullets? I don’t think it’s healing well.”

“Let’s get you back to the motel, and cleaned up, and then you can tell us everything you know about Merlin,”  Dean suggested.

“No, I’m perfectly fine really,” Gwaine replied. “We should go now. I’ve already been away too long - it’s my duty to protect him and-”

“I think Merlin can protect himself,” Dean said gently. 

“They have him trapped,” Gwaine argued. “There’s a spell. He’s unable to use his magic.”

“You know about his magic?” Sam asked.

Gwaine paused, and then finally his lips curved up into a small smile.

“A lot has changed since you left Camelot.”

*

While Gwaine brought Dean and Sam up to date with news from Camelot, they managed to corral him out of the woods and into the car. 

“So then Arthur made me Merlin’s dedicated knight,” Gwaine concluded. “Is this Impala?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied with a smile. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

“Hm,” Gwaine replied. “I’m disappointed she’s not a horse.”

“More comfortable this way,” Dean replied. “Also, bit more cargo room.”

Gwaine fell silent as they drove, looking at the town passing by and the other cars on the road. His eyes were a little glassy, and Dean wondered how long he had been in the woods with an infected arm. He shot a quick look towards Sam, who nodded. Dean drove to the motel.

“No, wait, where are we? I need to lead you back to Merlin- I know how to find him from the woods-”

“We’ll find him soon, Gwaine,” Sam said. “First, you gotta tell us what’s going on, so we know what to arm ourselves with - and you might as well do that while we patch you up.”

Gwaine grumbled, but got out of the car and followed them into their room. 

“Bathing first,” Dean said. Gwaine glared at him. “Come on, I’ll show you how a shower works.” 

Dean turned the shower on for Gwaine and got him a washcloth and a towel. He helped Gwaine out of the heavy chainmail, but left him to his own devices after that. In the other room, Sam had already laid out the first aid kit and the small collection of stolen pharmaceuticals that they carried with them.

“How in the hell did he get here?” Dean asked.

“I’m guessing magic,” Sam replied, deadpan.

“But who?”

“He’ll tell us in a moment, I’m sure,” Sam replied. “If his brain isn’t too cooked from that fever. You should go pick up some chicken or something.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “There’s a place down the street. I’ll be back in ten.”

By the time Dean got back with a bucket of chicken, Gwaine was out of the shower and was sitting shirtless on the end of one of the beds, while Sam pretended to be a doctor. Mostly, Sam’s medical care consisted of bandaging the wound properly and then plying Gwaine with painkillers and antibiotics. 

“So, how did you get from Camelot to here?” Dean asked, handing a chicken leg out to Gwaine.

“Gwaine was just telling me that,” Sam said. “Apparently, he was summoned.”

“Well damn, is everyone summonable?”

Sam and Gwaine both shrugged.

“Merlin, Arthur, and I are, apparently,” Gwaine answered.

“Arthur’s here too?” Sam asked. “You didn’t-”

“Not yet,” Gwaine shook his head. “But he might be soon - if they feel the need to replace me. They thought I was him, but from what I overheard, it sounds like they have a spell for each of us, the problem is, ‘cept for Merlin, they don’t know which spell summons whom.”

Dean pulled up a chair. “Okay, sounds like you should start from the beginning.”

“I was walking with Merlin through the castle one night,” Gwaine began. “I was giving him my report from town - I keep track of the rumours for him, mostly, since he can protect himself just fine if he knows what’s coming. It was just an ordinary evening, and then suddenly there was a light… consuming me. I had time to call out to Merlin, and I know he turned and saw it too - but then the light took me, and suddenly I was here. Or, rather, I was in large room… and that’s where I met Cameron.”

“And who is Cameron?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at the innocuous name.

“A right bastard,” Gwaine replied, his face twisting in disgust.

*

Merlin waited. When the day bled into night, and bled into day again, Merlin knew that Gwaine hadn’t been able to summon the dragon, or whatever it had been. He hoped his friend was safe, and able to find the brothers some other way - if this was indeed their world - but he also knew that without being able to call their creature, the wait would be longer. 

Cameron and his men were angry - but they were too afraid to touch Merlin, so there would be no punishment. They now knew that Gwaine was not Arthur, that they had gotten the summoning wrong. That, Merlin knew, was his own fault, He had been so terrified that Gwaine would die in front of him, that he had spoken without thinking - first the shield charm, that he had called out even though Gwaine had already broken the connection. He seemed to have been close enough for it to still work somehow - Perhaps the magic had been strong enough in him that Gwaine’s mind only needed to know the words of the spell for Gwaine to cast it himself with a thought. 

Besides expressing their rage - Merlin’s captors rarely talked when they were in the room with him, but if Merlin lay on his cot and closed his eyes, he could stretch his hearing just enough to listen to conversations had in the hallway as the guards changed shift, or when Cameron came to leech Merlin’s magic from his bindings. Magically enhancing his hearing drained his magic faster - but Merlin needed to know all he could, in case he could affect his own escape - or, at least help when Gwaine returned with aide, and Merlin had the utmost faith that he would. He had discovered that they planned to perform the summoning again, but needed to wait a few days for the moon to be in the correct position, in the meantime, they delayed and argued about which were the correct words to summon Arthur - they had a fair number to choose from, and only knew now that it was not the word “Strength”. Merlin knew the answer himself, he realized, but only because the guardian of a bridge had once said it to him and Gwaine. They did not ask Merlin, though, and Merlin wondered what he would answer if they did.

When he actually slept, his magic seemed to restore just a little and at first Merlin thought that perhaps that meant there was a hole somewhere in the pattern of magical runes - but as he magically poked every inch of his cage, he could find none. Moreover, he found that despite the little his magic restored itself, Merlin still felt weaker by the day, exhausted, as though Cameron wasn’t just taking his magic, but his very life.

He also knew, and was not surprised, that Cameron and his men were once again disappointed with the results of the spell. They wished to try it again. They were arguing about whether they needed Gwaine back or not to do it, or if they should wait for the next attempt at summoning. Some were suggesting that it just needed to be refreshed, and since they had Merlin now, they could redo the spell every three days, and it would constantly stay at its strongest. Most, of course, were dissatisfied, as that meant giving a drop of their blood each time, and limited their ability to travel and do things with the power the spell gave them. They wanted the spell to be permanent and believed that summoning the actual King Arthur was the answer, rather than his knight.

On the second night, Merlin waited until his guard fell asleep, and then he tried to call the Winchester’s dragon. He could only hope that the magic of the dragonlord was different than the magic that the writing around his cage seeped from him. At first, it felt like it was, as he felt the power rumble his voice, even though he kept his call to whisper as much as he could - but then, as soon as he had spoken the words, the writing flared brightly, as though the cage had stolen the words from the air, and Merlin felt weaker than before.

He sagged onto the bed, despair rising up briefly, before he forced himself to remember that Gwaine had escaped and was trying to find help.

“I’m sorry, Gwaine,” Merlin whispered, empty as the well of magic inside of him. “I hope you have better luck out there than I’m having in here.”

*

Arthur was surprised that he had slept at all, and yet, Percival still had to wake him in the morning. The others were awake already, with Gaius stirring porridge over a low fire. Mordred and the knights were patiently waiting, but Aithusa was nowhere to be seen. 

“She’s hunting,” Mordred explained, in response to Arthur frantically searching the area for her. “She’ll return after breakfast.”

A flock of birds flew into the air from the woods a little bit away from them, in a great flapping of wings and cacophony of sound. Arthur and Percival both tensed, but Mordred just chuckled and shook his head. Arthur took his hand off the hilt of his sword, and tried not to question how much of his life had changed to make him relax when he had proof that a dragon was nearby.

Gaius served up breakfast, with not one complaint about having to sleep on the ground at his age, nor mentioning the fact that making the meal was beneath his station as Court Physician. Arthur missed Merlin.

In an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, Arthur engaged Mordred in conversation about where life had taken him since they’re last meeting and before he came to stay with Morgana. This led to a conversation on how the Druids were faring - it ended up being a very distracting conversation as Arthur and Mordred, with commentary from Gaius, got into a rather intense discussion about how Camelot might better support communities with nomadic lifestyles. Percival and Elyan watched on, silent, but eyes intelligent and considering - but Arthur couldn’t help but wish Gwaine were there, as he was familiar with both nomadism and life in Camelot, and would have been able to bridge the gap between Arthur’s experiences and Mordred’s.

As if sensing that his thoughts had returned to his missing men, Aithusa came loping across the field towards them. Arthur looked her over - there was nothing to suggest it visually, but he had the feeling that she had just enjoyed a hearty breakfast.  The dragon seemed to smile at his regard, and then she sat, almost dog-like, next to Mordred. 

“Whenever you are ready, King Arthur,” Mordred said in an even voice. 

Arthur nodded at Aithusa, and stood. He handed his empty porridge bowl to Gaius and began to gather his things. He put only the most basic of supplies in a shoulder bag, and put his cape on overtop of it. He nodded to Gaius and Elyan, and then Percival, who all returned the acknowledgement that they already knew their orders. 

Mordred and the dragon had walked to the centre of the clearing. Mordred stood with the dragon behind him, watching Arthur approach.

“Once we start the spell, we will not be able to speak,” Mordred explained. “We will keep the wall as thin as we can for as long as we are able, but you must use your voice to call through.”

“I understand,” Arthur said.

Mordred nodded, and then raised his hands, bracing his feet as though he was attempting to push something very large, though there was only air in front of him. Behind him, the dragon drew a deep breath, and Arthur had a momentary panic that the dragon was about to incinerate the druid boy - but instead, when Aithusa breathed out, the air only shimmered, and did not burn. Mordred’s eyes glowed with the bright glow of magic and he began to mumble words under his breath.

The air in front of them rippled once, as though someone had thrown a pebble into a vertical pound. Then it stilled for a moment, and Mordred scowled and pushed harder at the invisible thing in front of him, his mumbling of magic words growing louder. The air rippled again, and then again - and Arthur realized that this was the wall thinning and that Mordred might not be able to sustain it long.

“Castiel!” Arthur called. “Castiel, can you hear me? If you are there, answer.”

In the silence that followed, Arthur’s stomach sank like a rock. But then a booming voice echoed across the meadow - rumbling so low that Arthur could feel it shake his bones.

“Who calls me?”

“King Arthur of Camelot,” Arthur replied, keeping his own voice as firm as he could. “Two of my men have been taken from me and are being held in your world. I wish to retrieve them.” Arthur glanced at Mordred, who now had sweat pouring down his temples and visible strain on his face. “If you can help me open a door, I can come through with one of my knights and seek them.”

“Mm, interesting,” the voice rumbled. 

Mordred’s chanting was getting shakey. Arthur felt a small measure of panic.

“Will you-” 

‘Close your eyes,” the voice commanded. “Everyone. Everyone must close their eyes. Walk towards the light, but do not open your eyes until it is dark again.”

“As you command,” Arthur replied - and cast a quick look at everyone to make sure they followed the instruction. Mordred was crying, but at least his eyes were closed.

Arthur faced the rippling air and closed his eyes. He felt Percival’s hand come up and grasp his elbow in a tight grip, just as a bright light blossomed in its centre. It was as though a sun was being born in the meadow. Arthur took a deep breath and walked forward, seeing nothing but the red blood pulse in his eyelids. He felt panic rise as he thought that perhaps this light would blind him even with his eyes closed. 

It was then that his foot fell not on soft meadow grass, but onto hard stone. A shimmer of something brushed his skin, and he knew he had stepped through a barrier of some kind. As soon as he heard Percival’s footsteps on the stone behind him, the light disappeared and Arthur was plunged into darkness.

Where there had once been bright warm sun on his face, it was now cold, the air stale damp and musty. Arthur opened his eyes and was met with complete darkness - though he could tell by the quality of his vision that it was more than likely because his eyes had not adjusted. There was a sound like wings to his right, and Arthur’s hand flew to his sword out of reflex - but he did not draw it.

“It’s me,” the voice said, though now it didn’t echo with otherworldliness, but sounded like only the voice of a man. “Castiel,” he clarified. Arthur saw only a shadow of movement, as someone poked him briefly on the forehead. Suddenly, his vision was cleared and he saw a man, not much older than the two brothers. “I have corrected your vision. We don’t have time to wait. Draw your swords and follow me.”

“But you’re a man,” Arthur said. “The dragon referred to you as a winged creature”

Castiel paused, and then the lamp light around them flashed, illuminating Castiel and throwing his shadow large on wall behind him - there, Arthur could see the great expanse of wings that stretched out on either side of his shadow.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Castiel replied. “Now come, I have already been delayed too long. This building is crawling with demons and Yuri is only a man.”

Arthur had many questions, but despite them, he recognized Castiel’s words for what they were - the commands of someone leading an army, who needed strict obedience from his men, not confusion. Arthur drew his sword, nodded to Percival who did the same, and Castiel turned and began leading them through the building without another word. Until whatever fight they were in was over, Arthur knew that his role was simply to obey Castiel and stay alive.

Chapter Text

Arthur and Percival followed Castiel as silently as they could through the cavernous building. Distantly, they heard shouted words, and Castiel picked up his pace - pausing at a corner to peek around it. He turned back to Arthur and Percival  immediately after doing so. Arthur couldn’t understand the words that were being said in the next room, but they sounded like they might be threats.

“They’ve got Yuri cornered, but he is safe for now,” Castiel reported. “Follow me, we’ll try to take them by surprise.” A weapon the shape of a lance, but the size of a dagger appeared in Castiel’s hand, seemingly from nowhere - and then Castiel rounded the corner. Arthur followed.

Arthur’s fear of not knowing their ally from their enemy was assuaged, when he laid eyes on the room himself. There was a blond man standing in the corner, seemingly behind protective sigils, yelling threats at five creatures who spat and jeered at him from behind the barrier. Whatever magic Yuri used, it meant that the beasts could not approach him, but he was indeed cornered and seemingly weaponless. One of the demons held the same type of weapon as Castiel, and Arthur guessed that it must have previously belonged to Yuri. 

On another day, Arthur would hope he had the time to actually watch Castiel fight - as it was, he only saw his first few hits, before the element of surprise was gone, and the creatures they faced turned towards them.  Castiel’s movements were swift and concise. One demon had been felled by the time the remaining four had their wits about them to attack. One turned towards Arthur, one towards Percival, and the other two towards Castiel. 

Arthur raised his sword, and the creature before him laughed, and didn’t bother raising a weapon. Arthur didn’t know if their attack would be with claw or tooth, like the werewolves or the vampires from this world that he had encountered before, but he readied himself and decided that either way, a beheading should be his goal. 

“You’re supposed to be in America, English King,” the creature said, it’s eyes blinked into complete black for a moment. Arthur struck out with his sword instead of responding. The demon ducked out of the way, but Arthur feinted a dropped swing, before quickly pulling the sword upward, catching the demon in the chest with the tip of his blade when they foolishly believed that it was safe to return to a stronger stance. They wore no armour, and where Arthur cut, the skin sparked rather than bled. The demon’s eyes went wide - frightened - and Arthur realized that they had not expected him to be able to hurt them. “How?”

Arthur didn’t have time to answer, even if he could - as two things happened at once - the first was that Percival’s blade also pierced a demon, but the demon just laughed, and then Arthur watched helpless as Percival was thrown across the room by magic, then pinned to a wall; Simultaneously, Yuri suddenly doused the demon in front of Arthur in what seemed to be boiling water, if the screams were anything to go by - Arthur didn’t pause to prolong the suffering, and drove his blade forward into the chest again. The demon skin crackled, seemingly lit-up from the inside with lightning, and then it fell off the blade to the floor.

The slim blond man who was Yuri looked at Arthur in surprise, and then they both turned the others. Arthur moved towards the demon who stood with its hand outstretched towards Percival, and Yuri went to help Castiel, who still fought against two. Castiel narrowly avoided a strike from the stolen blade - Yuri cursed, but still seemingly unarmed and now without even the boiling water - Arthur still didn’t know where he had gotten the water - there was little he could do. Arthur, who at least had a sword, rushed forward to take on the one restricting Percival, before he could make contact though, he found himself airborne, flying backwards and hitting the wall, his sword clattering to the ground. Instead of falling, however, Arthur stayed pinned. He saw Yuri had been treated the same, though he posed little threat. Whatever these creatures were, they were obviously sorcerers, not beasts, like Arthur had guessed.

The one who had thrown them with magic returned to the fight, but seemingly they did not need to maintain the spell to have it hold. They could only watch, as Castiel continued fighting. He threw them a look, however, and then he reached out his hand and grabbed the demon who had pinned them by the forehead - suddenly light erupted from its eyes and mouth, and Arthur, Yuri, and Percival fell to the floor. Castiel pivoted, narrowly avoiding a stab to the back by the remaining demon. Castiel brought his own blade out on the follow-through and caught the creature in the side - on a man, it would have meant a slow painful death, but the creature sparked light and fell dead immediately.

Arthur picked up his sword again and ran forward, Yuri and Percival at his heels, the remaining demon stood wide-eyed, cornered, and then tilted up his head - black smoke began to rush out of his mouth - until suddenly Castiel chanted something and the smoke reverse, flowing back into the body - the delay had been enough for Arthur to reach them, and before the demon could speak, Arthur drove his sword into his chest. The demon lit-up like the others, before falling dead.

“You get knight?” Yuri questioned Castiel, his accent heavy. “This is who prayed to you?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied. 

“What manner of sorcerer was that? How did they know who I am?” Arthur asked, as he picked up his sword.

“What?” Castiel questioned.

“You do not know demons?” Yuri asked. “They are demons, from Hell.”

“What do you mean they knew who you were?” Castiel questioned.

“That one,” Arthur gestured to a corpse with his sword, “called me a King - said I was supposed to be in… er… Amarika? I don’t even know where that is.”

Yuri and Castiel shared a look.

“Interesting,” Castiel said flatly. “You say two of your men were stolen from you?”

“Yes,” Arthur replied, then he looked back at the corpses. “Do you think these creatures did it? Do you think they’re in Amarika?” 

“Possibly,” Castiel replied. “I felt a disturbance in part of America not long ago. I sent Sam and Dean there - it could be connected.”

“Where is that? How long will it take us to follow?” Arthur wiped the blood off his blade on the bottom of his cape, and resheathed it. 

“Better question - what is sword? How does it kill demons? Where did you get?” Yuri asked.

“I pulled it from a stone,” Arthur answered.

Yuri stared blankly at him for a moment and then looked to Castiel. Arthur had thought the man’s grasp on the language good enough to understand his sentence, but perhaps given the unusual context of the words, he was confused and awaiting translation.

“I have to take King Arthur to America,” Castiel said to the man, instead of explaining the apparent confusion. “Would you be averse to returning to your hotel and waiting for me there, before we investigate the third location? I should only be a half hour.”

“This,” the man declared, obviously annoyed, “is nonsense! But yes, you take King Arthur to America. I sleep. Third location after full sleep, not half hour.”

“Very well,” Castiel agreed. 

“You drop me at car,” Yuri ordered.

Castiel nodded. 

“Hand tight on my shoulder, Yuri.” Castiel ordered, and Yuri stepped to Castiel’s side, reaching up and gripping his shoulder tightly. Castiel then reached out towards Arthur and Percival. His silver dagger had disappeared someplace. Arthur hadn’t even seen him put it away. Castiel clasped both Arthur and Percival by the shoulder and suddenly Arthur felt the weirdest sensation - as though he had experienced a muscle twitch, the kind that one has while half-asleep that causes one to dream of tripping, yet, instead of tripping, it was as though the whole world blinked. They landed outside of a large building, on a dull grey day. Beside them was an oddly shaped carriage wagon that had been painted a bright green. 

Yuri grumbled something, then opened the carriage door.

“Pleasure to meet you, King Arthur,” the man said. “Even if you interrupt demon hunt. Good luck with American idiots.” Then he got into the carriage, even though there weren’t horses, or a driver, and slammed the door. 

“What-” Arthur asked, but cut himself off when he turned to find Castiel not paying him any mind, but instead holding a smooth glowing stone in his hand. “What’s th-” but Castiel held up a hand to cut him off, while he held the stone to his ear.

Beside them, the carriage let out a great sound, and parts of it lit up, and then it rolled forward and away with Yuri inside looking as though he had expected it to do so.

“Dean,” Castiel spoke. “Where are you?”

Arthur’s head whipped back around to look at Castiel, wondering how it was he was talking to Dean when Dean had not been there but a second ago.

“No, where exactly - Motel and room number.” 

It had to be some sort of scrying device - Merlin had spoken of such things before. Then Castiel tucked the stone against his shoulder, and his hands clamped down on Arthur and Percival’s shoulders again and the world blinked-twitched even longer than before.

This time, Arthur found himself in bedchambers, with Sam and Dean, and Gwaine , before him.

He knew it would have been better manners to greet the brothers, and he registered their surprise at seeing him when he appeared - as well as the fact that Dean also had some sort of scrying stone raised to his ear - but instead all he really noticed were the bruises on Gwaine’s face, the cut lip, his state of undress, the bandage around his arm and the sickly quality to his skin. Gwaine had not risen from where he sat at the end of the bed, he did not have time before Arthur had closed the distance between them. He placed his hand gently through Gwaine’s hair to the back of his head, and brought their foreheads together.

“Whoa, okay,” one of the brothers said somewhere behind him, followed by, “What the hell, Cas?”

Arthur assumed the rest of the conversation did not need to involve him.

“Arthur,” Gwaine said, pulling his head back, Arthur let him, removing his hand, as Percival approached to draw Gwaine into a gentle embrace.

“It is good to see you alive, my friend,” Percival said.

“Gwaine, where is Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“A prisoner, Sire,” Gwaine would not meet his eyes. “I escaped - to find the brothers - I tried to free him too, but he-”

“He made you go on alone,” Arthur guessed, the memories of carrying a wounded Merlin through the woods sprang so strong in his mind, and his gut twisted just the same as if it had been only hours before: Merlin, severely wounded, insisting Arthur carrying on without him, leave him there in the woods for dead. “His injuries?” Arthur asked, while stepping back further and taking stock of Gwaine’s - Merlin would never have allowed his knight to get so injured.

“They have not touched him, nor will they, I don’t think,” Gwaine reported, and Arthur took solace in that, at least. “They have him caged, Sire. In magic that prevents him from… well, using magic. As a result, I don’t think they can approach him. More than that, they need him - his blood, and his magic. It is why he was taken. They won’t kill him until they are satisfied.”

“His blood?” Arthur asked, and he eyed the bandage on Gwaine’s arm, the only place where the skin appeared broken besides his split lip. 

“Aye,” Gwaine nodded. “Only, they have Merlin do it himself when they take his - me, they were willing to kill - even when they thought I was you. They kept me alive only to control Merlin.”

Arthur nodded, it was a good tactic, and despite the cruelty of it, Arthur found himself thankful that they had used it, as it now meant that both his men were alive. Arthur turned then to the brothers, finding that they’re own conversation was finished and they were now standing in silence watching them.

“My apologies, Sam, Dean,” Arthur greeted. “It is good to see you.”

“Don’t worry about it, we know how it is,” Dean greeted, holding out his hand and clasping Arthur’s forearm when he offered it in return. “It’s good to see you both. Wish it was under better circumstances, but could be worse, yeah?”

“Indeed. Gwaine has been missing for quite some time, I am relieved to find him in your company, and his injuries tended,” Arthur replied. It was only then that Arthur really looked at the brothers’ appearance - instead of their mercenary armour, they wore soft shirts, of fine material, left open even though they had buttons, with another shirt underneath. They looked foreign, yet otherwise unremarkable. They were still tall, but far less imposing without their rough and well-used chainmail.

Cas made a small grunting noise beside Dean and then walked to where Gwaine still sat at the end of the bed.

“Hello?” Gwaine said in confusion, as Castiel reached out too fingers and touched his forehead. “Wha-” and then Gwaine just stared at Cas with wide eyes.

“I have healed your injuries,” Castiel announced.

“Man, why do I even waste medical supplies…” Sam muttered.

“I don’t know,” Castiel replied, turning back to them.

On the bed, Gwaine raised a hand to feel his formerly bruised face and cut lip, finding them healthy and whole again. Arthur was staring in wonder too, but seemed to find his words first.

“Gwaine, this is Castiel - he’s like a dragon, only in the shape of a man,” Arthur explained.

“I’m an angel,” Castiel clarified. “This is a vessel. My true form is too powerful for you to behold.”

“Alright, stop bragging,” Dean said. “We’ve gotta talk about what happens next - because apparently this just got even more complicated than we thought.”

“What do you mean?” Gwaine argued. “Now that Arthur and Castiel are here, rescuing Merlin should be even easier than just the three of us.”

“Yeah, but that was when we were just dealing with a bunch of college kids playing witch,” Dean explained, “which, is actually bad enough, by the way, but apparently when Arthur and Percy came through they helped Castiel out with some demons and the demons knew that Arthur was supposed to have been summoned here. And that means that it’s not just dumb kids playing with stuff they should leave alone, it’s possible demons running the show.”

“And we don’t know which kids are kids and which are demons - could be that the kids don’t even know that some of their friends aren’t actually their friends anymore,” Sam continued, a bitter tone to his voice.

“What matter of beasts are demons? That they take the shape of friends?” Arthur asked.

“Demons possess people,” Sam explained. “They take over your body and do what they want with it - sometimes the human they’re possessing lives through the experience, most of the time they don’t.”

“Can you show us where you and Merlin were being held?” Castiel asked Gwaine. “I may be able to tell how many demons are involved.”

“Yes,” Gwaine stood, reaching for his discarded shirt.

“Hold up,” Dean said. “Let’s get you into some less conspicuous clothes.” Then he moved over to a bag that was open on one of the beds. “I think Arthur and Gwaine would be better with my stuff, but Perce here might be better with Sam’s. If the jeans don’t fit, we’ll swing by target or something.”

“What are jeans?” Arthur asked.

Dean patted his leg, drawing Arthur’s attention to the unique blue fabric - which Arthur realized Sam was also wearing, but Castiel was not. 

Then Dean was handing Arthur a loose pile of clothes. While Sam was still rummaging through his bag.

“Gwaine?” Arthur called.

“Here, Sire,” and then the clothes were lifted out of his arms and placed to the side, while Gwaine - still mostly undressed himself, began helping Arthur out of his armour. Arthur simply stood still, his hands to the side and out of the way. He looked at Dean and Sam to find them staring at them with their eyebrows raised.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“Nothing,” Sam said quickly, turning away, and giving a bundle of clothes to Percival, before snatching up something from the table. “I’ll get some jackets from the trunk,” 

Dean just shrugged and went back to making a second pile of clothes next to Arthur’s.

“Get them those amulets too,” Dean said to Sam, as Sam opened the door of the room. Arthur was surprised to see that the door led directly to the outside, rather than a hallway inside a building, but he didn’t get to see much more, as it was at that point that Gwaine helped him out of the chainmail. 

The rest, Arthur could do on his own, and he nodded Gwaine towards his own borrowed clothes. Merlin often dressed Arthur completely, but that was the job of a manservant, not a knight - and Arthur knew that Gwaine only had so much patience for the etiquette of nobles. Percival had already pulled off his own chainmail, having years of practice of getting his own armour off with little trouble.

Dean was busying himself with something on the table across the room. Castiel had gone to speak to him, and Arthur couldn’t help but overhear the conversation, although it was said in low-tones. Castiel had to return to Russia, which was, Arthur guessed, where they had been before when Arthur and Percival had crossed over. Apparently, demon activity was high there and Castiel was working closely with Yuri to investigate - they had already lost the element of surprise, and so now time was crucial, and Castiel could not abandon Yuri to face it alone.

“I’ve never even heard of this guy, Cas,” Dean complained.

“Do you know every hunter in the world?” Castiel asked.

“No, but you’re working with him - I gotta know if he has your back,” Dean explained, looking disgruntled. “Since when do you work with different hunters anyway-”

“Since it became necessary,” Castiel replied. “If you want to abandon Merlin and come to Russia-”

Arthur felt his stomach drop, but even as his head turned, Dean was replying.

“You know I won’t,” Dean said. “I’m just saying - I don’t like it.”

“In that case, your concern is noted,” Castiel replied. “But I would like to remind you that I can see his soul and I trust his intentions.”

“Well, alright then,” Dean muttered, just as Sam came back into the room. Arthur was glad that he had at least pulled up the new trousers, before the door to the outside was opened. 

“What’d I miss?” Sam asked, catching Dean’s expression.

“We’ve only got Cas for a limited time,” Dean told him. Rather than protest, as Dean had, Sam simply nodded. Then he approached Arthur and his knights, who were pulling on their second shirts - Arthur’s was a deep rich blue, Gwaine’s was a patterned shirt of wealthy reddish-purple, and Percival wore a tartan blue shirt - Arthur took his cue from the brothers and left his shirt open, ignoring the buttons. The clothes fit fairly well, considering both Gwaine and Arthur were shorter than Dean, luckily, their builds seemed similar enough that height mattered little.

“Jackets and amulets,” Sam announced, handing first Arthur a jacket and a necklace, and then Gwaine and Percival. “The amulets will keep you safe from demon possession. Tuck it under your shirt so it rests on your skin.”

“Thank you,” Arthur replied. He put the necklace on first, then pulled the coat on. It was a deep brown, the weave ridged to the touch. Gwaine was given a charcoal grey jacket, and Percival a blue coat to match his shirt.

Once they had the jackets on, Arthur and the knights looked at each other.

The clothes were softer on the skin and not nearly as heavy as his armour, yet somehow Arthur felt more uncomfortable. 

“You look stupid, Sire,” Gwaine smiled.

“Likewise, Sir Gwaine,” Arthur nodded.

“Dude, we look like this all the time, watch your mouth,” Dean said, but Arthur knew from his tone that he was not offended.

*

Dean caught Sam’s eye and tried to communicate what he wanted to say. Arthur and the knights looked young - far too young. He had thought they looked young in Camelot, but taking them out of armour, seeing Arthur and Gwaine in shirts with the cuffs sitting just a little too long over their wrists, the jeans just a little too long - they looked like kids. Sam’s clothes fit Percival better, but it hardly made much difference, the guy looked like they’d just picked him up from a frat house. They all did, really.

Sam shrugged in reply, and he had a point - there wasn’t much they could do about it. 

“Biggest problem I see is that we can’t fit this many people in the car,” Sam said. 

“I’ll fly,” Castiel offered. “Where are we going?”

Dean and Sam turned towards Gwaine. 

“I can lead you there from where you found me,” Gwaine answered. 

“Eastern Rec Trails,” Dean said to Castiel. “Meet us in the parking lot.”

There was a flutter of wings and Cas was gone. Gwaine eyes went wide, but it seemed like Arthur and Percival had already accepted Cas for what he was. 

“Thought I had dreamed your entrance in my fever,” Gwaine said to Percival, who shook his head.

“You should see his wings - then you’d really think you’d lost it, I know I did,” Percival muttered in reply.

“Alright, let’s get going,” Sam announced. “Follow me, gentlemen.”

Dean trailed behind everyone else as he locked up the hotel room - they’d have to get a second one now, especially if they were about to have Merlin with them too. Dean hoped the knights didn’t mind doubling up. 

“This is Impala?” he heard Arthur say incredulously. 

“Hey, don’t diss my baby,” Dean warned. “She’s amazing.”

“Not a horse though,” Gwaine said. Arthur was frowning at the car.

“Faster, requires less hay, no shit to clean up,” Sam listed, as he opened the back door. “And we don’t get rained on. Get in.”

Percival climbed in first, then Gwaine, then Arthur, like it was a carriage with one door. Sam closed the door, raised his eyebrows at Dean, and then got in the passenger side. Dean couldn’t help but think that their guests were lucky - their first ride in a car was in the best car in the universe.

He got in and started up the engine, ignoring the curiosity that seemed palpable.

“Ah, this contraption is similar to what Yuri had,” Arthur said

“Car,” Dean corrected, then clocked the rest of the sentence. “Wait, you’ve been in a car before? With Yuri?!” 

“No, he left in one,” Arthur replied.

“Don’t be jealous,” Sam muttered beside him.

“I don’t even know that guy,” Dean replied. He wasn’t sure if it was a dismissal or a reason, and he’d prefer not to think about it.

It was only a short drive to where they’d found Gwaine, and their Camelot guests seemed to spend the time looking out of every window they possibly could.

They pulled up to the rec trails. Castiel was already waiting for them, looking like a creeper. Dean parked and they all climbed out of the car.

They fell in step behind Gwaine, and quickly exited the marked trails to follow their own path through the woods - it was just as well, Castiel, in his suit and trench coat, stood out from the other people using the park.

They walked for twenty minutes or more, before Gwaine motioned them to keep quiet and began to stalk forward slowly, rather than hike at a pace, and that was the only indication that they were finally getting close. They crested a hill, and Dean could see glimpses of buildings and pavement and a few cars parked at the treeline. 

Instead of leading them straight down the hill, Gwaine had them walk on a diagonal, seemingly counter to where Merlin was, given how often his gaze looked sideways rather than ahead. Finally, Dean saw why, there was a bank - no, a blind - Gwaine had built a hunter's blind. There were stones stacked carefully, and thick cedar boughs woven in, so that if one were to glance up the slope, it would look like singular cedar bush. And someone actually could glance up the slope, because where the blind was located there was a clear line of sight, down to a non-descript grey warehouse. The only thing that stood out in the parking lot below was where glass still glittered on the pavement in front of a basement window that had been boarded up.

There was no one that Dean could see in the parking lot outside, but they could be just around the corner. They could not think Gwaine a big enough threat - with just a sword - to break back in on his own. Dean shot a questioning look to Cas, who was squinting at the building and looking personally offended for some reason.

“Cas? You getting anything?” Dean finally asked.

“The building is heavily warded,” Castiel replied, “I cannot see inside, nor would I be able to enter.

“What?” Dean and Arthur said at the same time. 

“It is as we feared - whatever witches have kidnapped your friend are in league with demons,” Castiel said. “Only demons would have this much warding knowledge, and would be able to hide the warding from human eyes so well.”

“Listen, I never saw more than maybe ten in there, unless they were doing a summoning,” Gwaine said, “There’s five of us, even without Cas,” Gwaine looked at Cas and added a “sorry”, before continuing. “We can go in now-”

“And how do you know they’re not getting ready for a summoning right now?” Sam asked.

“When was the guard the thinnest? When did they tend to do their rituals?” Arthur added his own questions.

“Guard’s thinnest in the early hours of the morning, or if they’ve gone out to the tavern to celebrate a successful summoning - that’s what they did after Merlin arrived. It was how I escaped,” Gwaine explained. “It was night the last two times they did the summoning.”

“Okay, it’s already well after 10am now,” Sam pointed out. “If we’re going in blind, our best bet is to wait until tomorrow morning. So, I say we do a little research. Cas, do a loop, tell us if there’s anyone watching the parking lot.”

There was a flutter of wings, and Castiel disappeared. 

“It’s already been a number of days since I left him,” Gwaine argued. “We don’t know how they’re treating him - we don’t even know-”

“You said yourself that they couldn’t touch him without breaking their own warding, right?” Dean pointed out. 

“A guessed!” Gwaine hissed. “I could be wrong and-”

“There is a youth sitting outside on the loading dock smoking marijuana,” Castiel announced as he suddenly appeared beside Gwaine. “He’s on the south side of the building. The east, north, and west are clear - though the west borders on the road, so you would have little warning if a car were to approach the building.”

“How many cars in the parking lot?” Dean asked.

“Twenty-five, though some seem derelict,” Castiel stated. 

“What’s the plan?” Arthur asked, and Dean blinked stupidly for a moment as he realized that Arthur was deferring to them. Gwaine who was looking mutinous, but Arthur seemed to be trusting them completely.

“Assignments,” Sam said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small notebook and a battered ballpoint pen. He motioned to Dean, and Dean reached for his notebook too - though he had to hunt around a bit before he found a stubby pencil from the last time he had played mini-putt. He looked up in triumph to find Arthur patting the pockets of his borrowed jacket and finding an old receipt and a pen that said “Sioux Falls Sheriff's Department” on it. Sam and Dean handed their notebooks and writing utensils to Gwaine and Percival, who took them without comment.

“Flip to a blank page,” Sam instructed. “We’re going to go down to the parking lot and take down license plate numbers.” 

At the Knights blank looks, Dean cut in. “Every car - like the Impala - has a metal sign on it that has a combination of letters and numbers listed. It’ll most likely be white and blue - easy to see. We need you to write them down. Don’t let anyone see you, five cars each, meet back here when you’re done.”

“Cas, you want to take point on the road and call if anyone is coming?” Sam asked.

Castiel nodded and disappeared. 

Dean motioned everyone to their corners, keeping the south side of the building for he and Sam to handle - it’d probably be easy to sneak around some stoner kid, but they’d be able to play an authority figure if they were spotted better than the young Knights.

Chapter Text

Percival and Gwaine gave each other a nod and outpaced Arthur, so that the cars closest to the wooded area were his assignment. Arthur rolled his eyes at them, but didn’t argue - Percival caught the King staring at the building often, and wondered how much it must be paining him to not charge in and rescue Merlin immediately.

It pained Percival too, but he wasn’t as bold as Gwaine, nor as mad, and he recognized that in this strange world it was better to trust Sam and Dean’s knowledge, as Arthur seemed to be doing. Percival had heard the stories too, of course, and once word had gotten to the knights that they had fought alongside Deinol and Sawyl - well, it certainly eased the sting of knowing that their friend was secretly a sorcerer the whole time. Percival wanted so much to tell his long dead parents, to brag to his grandfather who used to sit him on his knee and tell him stories of love and monsters, but, more than anything, Percival had wanted to tell Lancelot. 

Even now, moving to the far side of the building, so that he could write down the license plate of the car parked closest to the road, he wished that he could tell Lancelot - ‘look where protecting your little sorcerer has taken me. Did you know it would lead to this, my friend?’

Percival finished writing down the licence plate, crouching down to rest the notebook on his knee. The contained quill was amazing and wrote smoothly, but seemed to need a hard surface to write on for it to work at all. Thankfully, it was before he stood that he heard the low hum of noise coming closer to him - percival didn’t bother peeking around the car - he knew the road was there, he had heard the sound that car wheels made on the stone roads. Carefully, and quickly, Percival darted to hide behind a hedge. He looked towards the woods, only to see Gwaine at it’s edge staring at him with wide-eyes, just as Arthur’s arm came out of nowhere and pulled Gwaine into the darkness of the forest. It was really amazing how quickly they disappeared.

He lay quiet and as low as possible as the car came to a stop on the other side of the hedge. He turned his head slowly, but otherwise stayed still - peering through the leaves at the red vehicle. From his low vantage point, he could see the license plate. He still held his notebook and pen in hand, but he didn’t move. 

The doors opened and two people got out, mid conversation.

“-doesn’t make sense why it’s stronger on some people than others,” one of them said.

“Maybe your stupid girlfriend is a witch or something,” the other shot back. “All I’m saying is I still got a free coffee this morning. I don’t see why we gotta keep-”

“It’s not up to you!” the first one shouted back, slamming the door closed. “We’re trying again for Arthur with or without you, so you decide what you think is more important, your stupid football game or everything you could possibly want on a platter. We’re running out of time to get this right.”

“Right, yeah, of course, Cam, whatever you want,” the second guy immediately acquiesced. “Just - are you sure you picked the right word this time, because he wasn’t-”

“If he’s not Strength then he’s Courage,” Cam said. Percival realized that this was the Cameron that Gwaine had told them about - the leader.

“I just thought - I mean, there’s Nobility…”

“Too obvious,” Cameron argued.

“Well, if he ends up being fucking Fortitude, you gotta break it to Jimmy - because he’s sick of having to empty Merlin’s piss pot,” the other guy argued. 

“He can suck it - should be goddamn thankful for what I’m doing for you all,” Cameron argued back. They started walking away then, and Cam’s voice grew distant, “I’m going to be sad to pass him on though, you have no idea how amazing his magic feels - like I could command armies, or like, kill them - just kill armies where they stand, turn ‘em inside out before they even knew I…”

Percival tried to concentrate on the relief of knowing that Merlin still lived, rather than the horror of Cameron using Merlin’s magic for his own violent ends. He took a deep breath as he heard a distant door shut. It was only then that he moved, still slowly, he raised himself enough that he could pull the notebook to his knee again and write down the new license plate, and then - staying as low as possible, and moving as fast as possible - he darted towards the woods. 

He had expected to meet them up by the bluff, but instead he was not more than two feet inside the cover of trees, before he nearly ran straight into Arthur - who was standing strong and still as a tree.

“Report.”

“Merlin still lives,” Percival said, because he knew his King’s priorities. “One of the two was Cameron-”

“Gwaine confirmed.” Arthur interjected.

“Cameron feels the spell is failing,” Percival continued. “They intend to summon you next. They need the right word to do so, Cameron has decided on Courage, his man was uncertain, saying you might be Nobility or Fortitude.”

“Cameron’s right,” Gwaine announced from behind Arthur, where Percival realized Sam and Dean and their angel also stood. “I was Strength, Merlin was Magic, unsurprisingly. They’ll get Arthur with Courage. I don’t know who they’d get with Nobility.”

“Leon”

“Lancelot” 

Percival and Arthur both answered at the same time. 

“Lancelot wasn’t a noble, Sire,” Percival felt the need to point out.

Arthur waved the words away as if they were an annoying fly. 

“What about Fortitude?” Sam asked.

“Elyan”

“That’d be Percy here”

“Er, I was going to say Elyan, but thank you, Sire,” Percival responded.

Sam let out a soft laugh.

“Did they say when they were going to summon Arthur?” Dean asked.

“No, but - whenever it is, it’s on the same night as some event that the other guy wanted to go to - a...football game?”

“Okay, that gives us a few days, if it’s a televised one,” Dean said, 

Percival didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t bother to ask. Instead he handed over the notebook. “I got all the numbers.”

“Good job, man,” Dean said. “Okay, let’s get out of here. Sorry about the failure of our look-out, by the way,” Dean nodded towards Castiel. “Cas called me, but you were too far away to relay the message. And Cas couldn’t swoop in and pick you up without being suspicious. We’ll give ya’ll phones once we get back to the motel.”

Percival nodded, again, not bothering to ask what anything meant. He’d find out what a phone was when he was given one. 

“Alright, time to find out who’s working for who, and who might have black eyes, and then start planning a jailbreak,” Dean declared. Together, they moved back through the woods.   

*

“...of course, Merlin predicted that they’d start thinking that the spell was wearing off,” Gwaine was saying as they walked through the woods. “I think he was hoping it might take a bit longer, but it sounds like Cameron’s already got it in his head that they need to do it again- they’re using it wrong, you see, or at least, that’s what Merlin said, and I figure Merlin knows what he’s talking about, given that he’s the only magic user I know, or well, besides Gaius I suppose, but the way I understand it, Merlin’s finished his apprenticeship at this point and- oh hey, do you mind if we make a stop?”

The silence was really the only thing that clued Sam into the fact that Gwaine had stopped his rambling, 

“Is it far?” Arthur asked, and Sam was impressed that Arthur’s mind hadn’t been wandering in the slightest and he had actually been listening.

“No, just over that rise there,” Gwaine motioned. 

The group changed directions without Sam or Dean really agreeing or disagreeing, Arthur just started moving towards where Gwaine had indicated without further discussion. Sam shot a look to Dean, who shrugged. Castiel was bringing up the rear and seemed to have gotten distracted by a beetle, so he obviously didn’t care.

When they crested the hill, they found a campsite nestled in a hollow caused by a fallen tree. There was a nest of branches on the ground with a ratty blanket. Gwaine didn’t pause though, instead he took a running leap at a nearby tree and monkeyed his way up the branches - it was then that Sam saw the cheap drawstring knapsack that hung from one of the branches. 

“Home sweet home?” Dean asked.

“I’ve had worse,” Gwaine called down, reaching carefully for the bag and unhooking it from the tree. 

“Where’d you get the gear?” Sam asked, watching Gwaine shimmy down the tree again.

“My friend, Mohammed - at the market,” Gwaine answered, jumping the last few feet with a grunt. “Do you want some water?” Gwaine opened the bag to pull out a sturdy water bottle, three quarters full, passing it to Percival, who had moved closer and held out his hand. “Mohammed was a big help. He told me what to buy from him - Peanut butter.” Gwaine held up a half used jar. “Bread,” Gwaine pulled out what had been a full loaf of bread, but now appeared to be just the heels. ‘Ugh, that’s gone off.” 

Sam shared a look with Dean, as Gwaine upended the bread bag and scattered the moldy bread for the forest creatures to enjoy.

“This why you were playing highway robber?” Dean asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Gwaine looked a little abashed, casting a look at Arthur. “Didn’t know you knew about that  - I was in the castle when they summoned me, it’s not like I had my purse. So, had to find some coin somehow once I escaped.”

“Understandable,” Arthur declared, but Gwaine just frowned. 

“So, yeah, I went to the market, met Mohammed,” Gwaine continued. “His help was much appreciated, even if… well, like I said, spell doesn’t work like they think, according to Merlin, and I’m inclined to believe Merlin.”

Sam wasn’t quite sure why Gwaine was trying to change the topic. 

“Hey, Cas, you mind taking Arthur and Percival back to the motel room for us?” Dean called out. “Sam and I want Gwaine to introduce us to Mohammed so we can thank him for looking out for our buddy here. That alright with you two?”

Arthur and Percival seemed confused but Percival nodded.

“As his King, perhaps I should be the one to offer-”

“Yeah, but you aren’t local; we are. He’s like our guest,” Dean interrupted.

“Of course, very well then,” Arthur acquiesced.

“We’ll be back soon,” Sam reassured him. Castiel gave them a nod and then he, Arthur, and Percival vanished in a flutter of wings.

“Lead the way,” Dean gestured, and Gwaine nodded, pausing only to put the blanket into the bag along with the peanut butter and water bottle, so that all that was left of his campsite was a few scattered pieces of moldy bread on the ground.

“So, the spell,” Dean started as they followed Gwaine through the woods, not back towards the car, but instead towards another part of the city. “I’m to take it that because they used your blood, you’re also the beneficiary of the effects?”

“Aye,” Gwaine answered. “I’ve been trying to take that into account - but, like I said, Mohammed was a great help.”

Suddenly Sam put together what Dean obviously already had. Gwaine talking about the spell and Mohammed in the same breath hadn’t been a subject change at all. And then something else occurred to Sam, and he glanced at Dean and saw that although he had come to the conclusion that Mohammed had been under the spell, he was only just now realizing the other implications.

“We’re also under the spell then,” Dean confirmed. 

“Everyone is,” Gwaine grimaced. “The Princess too. It’s against the knights code to steal. I should have hunted - eaten rats, before being reduced to theft. He forgave me far too easily back there.”

“Gross,” Dean muttered. 

“So, technically, even if we didn’t want to help you, we’d be forced to,” Sam said, trying to wrap his head around it. 

“I mean, you’re a friend, so of course we want to help,” Dean threw in. “We’re just wondering how this works, now that we realize you’re enchanting us all or whatever.”

“I know,” Gwaine smiled. “It’s important for you to know, because Merlin and I aren’t the only ones enchanting you all - don’t forget who kidnapped us in the first place.”

“Holy shit,” Dean exclaimed, echoing Sam’s thoughts.

“Cameron,” Sam confirmed. 

“And the others,” Gwaine confirmed.

“So, how are we supposed to fight them if - with a word, they could just-”

“You aren’t listening,” Gwaine interrupted. “The spell doesn’t work how they think.”

“What do you mean?”

Gwaine stopped walking. They had come to the edge of the forest, and just beyond the treeline, across a small parking lot, was the back of a white clapboard building, a couple of produce boxes and empty crates stacked out back marked it as a grocery store even without seeing the front. Gwaine turned to them.

“What would you do if I asked you to kill Cameron?”

“He’s a witch, right? So, odds are, we kill him,” Dean answered, looking resigned.

“He’s just a kid though, he could still turn things around - maybe we just have to scare him a little,” Sam argued. “We also don’t know if he’s human or if there’s a demon pulling his strings or what.”

“Cas said he was human when we saw him earlier,” Dean replied. “But yeah, could be being blackmailed or something - we gotta get in that building and talk to him in person, before we make any decisions. I guess technically he hasn’t killed anyone that we know of, just summoned some people from Camelot, so, maybe yeah, maybe we just need to scare him.”

“Did almost kill Gwaine though,” Sam pointed out, gesturing to the knight. “I don’t know if just letting him back out in the world is best.”

“You know, if he’s done a demon deal of some sort, might not matter what we decide,” Dean added. “Shooting him would probably be a mercy compared to death by Hounds.”

Sam felt a little sick at the memory and couldn’t, for a second, believe that Dean had willingly brought it up in such a cavalier manner.

“Well, there you go then, that’s the spell,” Gwaine announced. “You’re loyal to me, you want to kill him. You’re loyal to Cameron, you want to stop him, but show mercy. You’ll probably argue about this until the moment I run him through with my sword.”

Sam and Dean both mulled over the words. Sam couldn’t argue with Gwaine, but at the same time, his thoughts had felt like his own. They hadn’t felt out of character, and he believed in them. From the furrow in Dean’s brow, Sam was betting that Dean felt much the same.

“Aren’t you worried that once you get us all in there, we’ll side with Cameron and not you?” Dean asked. 

“No, you still don’t get it,” Gwaine huffed, then gestured to the building.“Do you want to test it out on Mohammed? I can wait here.”

 *

After a brief discussion, Dean went into the store first. The kid behind the counter was just finishing up with a customer, but other than that the place was empty, which was good. There might be someone in a back room somewhere, but that hardly mattered. Dean just needed a chance to talk to Mohammed, who, Gwaine assured him, was the teenager at the counter.

Once the customer left, Dean walked up. 

“Hey, uh, this is going to sound weird...” Dean opened with - they had decided that he wouldn’t use a badge, seeing as how he didn’t have a suit anyway, and Gwaine told them about how Mohammed had been nervous about police encounters already. The kid looked nervous enough with Dean’s opener, and Dean had to suppress a wince at already messing this up. “... have you seen a medieval knight around here?”

The kid had a tell, they all did, but what came out of his mouth was a very innocent sounding return question.

“A knight? Like…?”

“Like sword, chainmail, practically no knowledge of the modern world,” Dean answered.

Mohammed shook his head. 

“No, why?”

Which… yeah, the kid really needed to learn how to lie better, but then again, he was probably all of seventeen.

“He’s a friend, I’m just worried about him,” Dean answered. 

“You’re friends with a medieval knight?” Mohammed countered, with a cock of an eyebrow that clearly meant to communicate that Dean was full of shit and wasting his time.

“Yeah, it’s kinda a weird situation.”

At that moment, Sam walked into the shop.

“Dean? Anything?” he called over.

Dean turned and shook his head. 

“No,” Dean answered, then paused for only a moment before gesturing to the store and asking, “You want anything while we’re here, Sammy?”

“Yeah, we should pick up some chips,” Sam replied, and walked over to the rack. 

“Wait,” Mohammed said. “Dean? And Sam?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, and it was like a switch flipped in the teen.

“I lied before,” Mohammed confessed in a rush. “I’ve seen Gwaine. He’s living in the woods out back - he comes here at least once a day to refill his water bottle. I’m sorry I lied, but you kind of have this sketchy vibe to you, and Gwaine’s a good guy, you know? I didn’t want to get him into trouble. But you’re his friends  - I mean, he told me he was looking for you. I’m so glad you showed up!”

Sam plunked three bags of chips down on the counter and gave a look to Dean.

“Go on, I’ll settle up here and join you,” Dean told him.

“Thanks kid!” Sam said, as he left the store at a jog.

Dean paid for the chips as Mohammed told him all his concerns about Gwaine, and the last couple days of trying to look after him as best he could. Dean acted like he was hearing it all for the first time - and part of him was, as Mohammed painted a picture of a clearly confused mental patient who needed to be protected from trigger-happy cops and people who might take advantage of him. Dean made sure to hand Mohammed an extra twenty to cover the expense of the food he’d given Gwaine, but Mohammed waved him off, and they ended up arguing a bit about that for a few minutes before Dean gave up. Dean couldn’t tell if that was the loyalty spell or just the kid’s personality, but either way, Dean knew he wasn’t going to win.

He met up with Sam and Gwaine at the treeline out back and they made their way to the car. They visited Mohammed again about twenty minutes later, this time, by driving up in the Impala, letting Gwaine jump out and watching him as he went inside and let Mohammed know that his friends had found him.

All the while, Sam and Dean strategized about what the spell meant for investigating the case.

They were still talking about it by the time they got back to the hotel. 

Chapter Text

“Listen, I’m just saying,” Arthur heard Dean say, as Dean walked into the room at the inn. “There’s no way we can go in there as Feds. College kids already hate The Man, that and a loyalty spell? It’s not happening, we need a different tactic.”

“You don’t know that for sure though, if we play it sympathetic enough-” Sam countered.

“Wait, where’s Cas?” Dean asked Arthur, after his gaze had bounced around the room. Percival and Arthur were clearly the only ones there, both sitting at the small table - the door to the lavatory, clearly empty, left open.

“He had to go,” Arthur replied. “He got a… call… on his… “

“Phone,” Percival offered. 

“...from Yuri,” Arthur continued after a grateful nod. “And he had to return to aid him,”

“Goddamn Yuri,” Dean muttered. “Okay, who needs food?” he asked in a brighter tone. “I’ll order us up some grub and we can figure out our plan of attack here.”

“So, we are to go to battle?” Arthur asked. 

“Uh, well, we’ll discuss it,” Dean said dismissively. “First, I’m going to introduce you all to pizza.”

“And who is Pizza?”

Dean laughed.

“Delicious,” he answered, then turned to Sam. “You wanna set us up with a second room?”

Sam nodded and left, while Dean pulled out his own ‘phone’, which glowed at his touch. 

“Anyone have any food allergies? Bad reactions to certain vegetables or cheese?” 

Arthur and the knights all shook their heads, and then Dean placed the ‘phone’ against his ear and started talking to some unseen and unheard person. Arthur turned to Gwaine, who pulled out the third chair at the table and had a seat.

“Did the meeting with the shopkeeper go well?”

“Yes, Arthur,” Gwaine answered, albeit too gravely. “Though, I feel like I should tell you - because it was a surprise to Sam and Dean, that because of the spell, I and my captors technically enchant everyone around us - including yourself, Sire.”

“Enchant how?” Arthur asked as he tried to quell his panic.

“The loyalty spell,” Percival answered. “We’re loyal to you.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Percival’s answer. “Of course I’m loyal to him, he’s a knight and citizen of Camelot.”

“Thank you, Sire,” Gwaine smiled, and Arthur felt warmed by his smile. And then he paused to wonder if he always felt warmed by Gwaine’s smile - Gwaine was a good friend though, and a loyal knight, so Arthur decided that most likely he did - of course, Gwaine’s loyalty was actually to Merlin, not Arthur, but Merlin was loyal to Arthur, and Merlin deserved Gwaine’s loyalty, so the particularities didn’t matter all that much, though it was true that Arthur had found himself jealous of Gwaine’s easy rapport with his manservant in the past….

“Don’t hurt yourself there, Princess,” Gwaine interrupted. “Perhaps it is better to ignore the bit about me enchanting you, and focus instead on the fact that our enemies can also enchant you, and - as Dean and Sam have pointed out - anyone that our enemies talk with may side with them and not us. Which may make gathering information about them difficult.”

“I see,” Arthur replied, turning to Dean who had now completed his ‘call’, “So, your plan was to first talk to the villagers and assess the strength of our enemy, but now you are worried the villagers will not be cooperative.”

“That’s pretty much the gist, yeah,” Dean agreed, sitting down at the table with Arthur and Percival, just as Sam returned to the room.

“Room next to ours, number 5,” Sam said, as he threw a key at Arthur. Arthur easily caught it out of the air. It was a complex but small key attached to hard blue material with the number 5 pressed onto it.

“Thank you,” Arthur replied, then he realized the odd way that Sam just continued to hover by the window rather than sitting down. 

There weren’t enough chairs in this room, Arthur realized, and passed the key to Percival. 

“Go get us another chair, so we can convene a proper round table.”

“So cool,” Dean smiled, as Percival nodded and left.

“Pretty sure the one in Camelot was way cooler, Dean,” Sam said with a laugh. Arthur didn’t know what the temperature of the table had to do with anything, so he got the sense that it was standing in for some other sentiment. Perhaps a minor form of awe, as Dean often referred to even mundane things as awesome.

“You’ll find, of course, that it is I who is honoured to work with you, the Brothers, Sam and Dean,” Arthur answered. “And I am grateful for the hospitality and aid you are giving me, in this time of crisis for Camelot.”

“Hey, anything for you and Merlin, man, you know that,” Dean answered.

Percival soon returned with an extra chair, so that they could all sit around the small table meant for four. 

“Alright, first things first, let’s look up those license plate numbers and see who we’re dealing with,” Sam said, and he opened his bag to pull out a flat black square. It turned out that it was hinged like a book, with stiff bindings, and Sam opened it in front of himself on the table, resting it not like one would read a book at all. One side was flat on the table, the other stood in the air facing Sam. Arthur, and the two knights peered over. The side that was flat on the table, had raised portions with letters, numbers and symbols, one of which Sam struck neatly with a single finger - making a clicking noise, and then there was a soft whirr, and the half that sat in the air, which had been black and reflective, alit just like the magic black stones that the brothers kept in their pockets.

“Guys? The numbers?” Sam asked. “You still have them right?”

Both the knights scrambled for their pockets, perhaps embarrassed at being caught out at their staring, but Arthur didn’t let it bother him. He wanted to know what magic they were using, and his heart ached with how much he wished Merlin were there, so that he could observe and tell Arthur all about it. 

“It’s called a computer,” Dean said, catching Arthur’s eye as Arthur handed over the small piece of paper to Sam. 

“Oh,” Sam said, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, yeah, I… I guess it must look a little strange.”

“Like a book,” Arthur said, but he wasn’t sure why he said it - perhaps, he wanted to let them know that he was not put off by strange magics, or perhaps prove he wasn’t ignorant of all things - but more than likely it just exposed his ignorance instead. 

But Sam only shifted the computer so that it was easy for Arthur to see. He began hitting the letters again, too fast for Arthur to follow, but he saw words appear on the page - only some appeared in rhythm with Sam’s strikes, other’s appeared on their own.

“It is a little like a book, yeah,” Sam said. “It’s like a book that’s linked to a bunch of books, and you can ask it questions about those other books - about what’s in them - you can go to those other books and read them.”

“Like, you can see who owns the cars,” Dean continued when Sam fell silent, “by accessing the...records - you see, the state, uh, the government here, it likes to know who owns which car, so that if they’re involved in a crime, they know who they belong to - or, if they’re stolen, law enforcement knows to keep a look out for that particular car, and they know it doesn’t belong to the person currently driving it.”

Arthur nodded. It was an interesting idea - though it seemed a ridiculously cumbersome task, when he put it in the context of recording every cart and horse in Camelot. Though, he supposed some farmers already did something similar with the brands on their animals.

“So, yeah, I can access the files to see who owns those cars, get their names and where they are living - so we know who the enemy is,” Sam finished.

“Is it magic?” Arthur asked, because he had to. “Like the flat stones in your pocket that also...light with internal glow.”

“It’s technology,” Dean said. “It’s science - we’re a bit more… advanced than Camelot.”

Arthur furrowed his brow, because that sounded like an insult to Camelot, though, it was true they did not have such things, he wasn’t sure if it should be a measure of advancement.

“What he means is, you’ll figure this stuff out eventually - and you have stuff we don’t have too, we’re just… different,” Sam quickly said, no doubt catching Arthur’s reaction.

“And what do we have that you do not?” Arthur asked, because beyond the language and etiquette of the court, he did not remember Sam and Dean being as off balance in his world as he currently was in theirs.

“Uh, fresh air?” Dean said with a laugh. “A society built on fairly sustainable resources… hmm, proper awesome dragons? Merlin?”

“We don’t currently have Merlin, my friend,” Gwaine said.

“And the Great Dragon will no longer speak with him, because he revealed his magic,” Percival added.

“And both those things were things that my father tried to destroy,” Arthur concluded. 

“Well… but you didn’t,” Dean said. “So, that’s another thing that you have that we don’t - a great king.”

Arthur tried to take the compliment graciously, though he felt his cheeks heat a little at the thought of one of the legendary brothers calling him a great king.

There was a knock on the door then, and Dean stood to answer, with an excited exclamation of “Pizza!” The youth at the door carried many shallow boxes stacked on top of one another. Dean grabbed them out of his hands in exchange for paper notes, telling the youth to “keep the change.” 

The smell of food permeated the room as Dean stacked the boxes on the part of the table not taken up by Sam’s computer. He opened the lid to discover a large circular bread with cheese and meats baked on top of it. Arthur was ravenous and wondered where they were to get their plates and cutlery, but Dean just reached into the box, easily pulled out a triangle of bread, and began to eat it with his hands.

“Dig in, boys,” Dean commanded. Percival and Gwaine both looked to Arthur. Their host had begun the meal, and now Arthur must also eat before the Knights could - so, Arthur picked up a triangle and mimicked Dean in both his hold and eating method.

He may have moaned, and was glad all the etiquette teachers of his youth were not in this world to have heard it. 

Percival and Gwaine tried it next, and seemed to share his appreciation, and Dean laughed at them all, but Arthur didn’t mind.

Sam just smiled, then held out one hand in Dean’s direction without taking his eyes off the work he was doing with the computer. Dean rolled his eyes and placed a piece of the pizza in Sam’s waiting hand.

Arthur missed Merlin.

*

There were many things the brother’s could do. Once Sam had looked up the files, they set up another small machine that reproduced, on paper, the documents that Sam viewed on the computer. Dean pinned them to the wall, so that Arthur, Gwaine, and Percival could read along with Sam’s research.

The cars, those that were not derelict, all belonged to what Dean called “college students” - for the most part, they all looked very similar to one another, though in Arthur’s mind, Cameron was easily recognizable due to the animosity that Arthur already felt towards him.

“Loyalty spell makes sense, with this lot,” Dean muttered. 

“Explain,” Arthur commanded, as he stared at the profiles.

“Uh,” Dean started, drawing out the syllable. It seemed Dean and Merlin shared a similar capacity to be completely incapable of articulating thoughts - if Dean were to say ‘it’s just a feeling,’ Arthur may have to hit him, though he didn’t imagine that going well for him.

“They’re sort of like… the children of the old nobility,” Sam said from where he still sat at the computer.

“Yeah!” Dean said. “I bet, when you made Gwaine and Percival knights, there were some old nobles that were not at all pleased.”

“Indeed,” Arthur replied. “Some committed treason and had to be killed.”

“Right,” Dean said slowly, and then added, “Exactly!  And it’s because, back in the day, they only had to compete with other nobles for knighthood, right? But now, someone like Percival could show up, be better than all of them, and he’d get an equal shot at it, even though his father was...uh, whatever his father was.”

“Farmer,” Percival said. “We had a few pigs and a small dairy.”

“Right, just - your average peasant, only, you know, tall and strong, knows his way around a sword - and suddenly it doesn’t matter if Cameron’s dad is the Earl of Gloucester or whatever - if he can’t beat Percy in tryouts, he’s not getting knighted,” Dean continued. “Now, you and I both know that it makes sense to choose the most skilled people to be knights - no matter who their parents are; but I bet some of the nobles accused you of charity, right? Like, they got it into their heads that the only reason Percival made it in was because you felt sorry for him or… it was about taking power away from the nobility and giving it to the peasants, rather than about having the best man for the job.”

“Your bet is a good one, I had many a similar conversation with the nobles after the change,” Arthur nodded. “But it wasn’t about taking or giving power, it was about everyone having an equal chance to work to improve their station. Basing knighthood on skill strengthens the kingdom. If we awarded it solely on birthright, we may end up with a weak and useless army, relying on their lineage to advance rather than their skill.”

“Right, but these types of guys,” Dean tapped the wall of faces. “They see losing the advantage of birthright not as equality, but as oppression - because it means they have to work as hard as everyone else to get ahead in life. They ultimately want to be like you - born to a throne whether they deserve it or not.”

“Ah,” Arthur said, Dean’s last sentence hitting him uncomfortably in the gut. “I… did work to deserve this burden, Dean? I hope that-”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dean waved off Arthur’s words. “I know you work hard to be a great king, and you are - but you still didn’t have to… I don’t know, convince the people to make you king instead of… Gwaine, or… someone else.”

“I did have to wrest the kingdom away from Morgana once,” Arthur replied. “But that was a decision I made without first consulting the people - perhaps they would have preferred her.”

Gwaine and Percival both laughed, Dean smiled. 

“I doubt it,” Sam said. “But, just… out of curiosity, if you had to choose someone else to be King, instead of you? How would you go about doing it?”

“I suppose much the same as I choose my knights,” Arthur considered. “Only, instead of a test of combat, I would test them in their ability to settle disputes, to rule fairly, to form battle and defence strategies, and to negotiate peace.”

“And would you restrict it only to the nobility?” Sam pressed.

“I already have not,” Arthur replied. “I’ve instructed Guinevere to rule, should I not return - and she is a blacksmith’s daughter. Even if she weren’t already my queen, I’d still prefer her over anyone else. She would be a just queen, one loyal to the people, not her own ends.”

“Well, that’s basically what our society has tried to do recently,” Dean continued to explain. “Make sure that everyone has a fair shot, that no one is restricted from being queen, just because she’s a blacksmith’s daughter. But it means that people who would have just gotten the job because the king was their father have to compete against someone as amazing as Gwen - and when they fall short, instead of acknowledging that they aren’t the best one for the job, they get angry and try to take it by force.” 

“They’re Morgana,” Arthur realized.

“Yahtzee,” Dean replied. Arthur didn’t know what that meant, but the way Dean said it indicated that it was a form of agreement.

“The loyalty spell does indeed make sense,” Arthur replied. “If Morgana had the opportunity to turn my own knights to her favour - she would certainly take it, as it is only through their strength, and Merlin’s aid, that I’ve been able to thwart her attempts to usurp the throne.”

“Exactly, and in our world, it’s the people who support and defend the king - or, well - the way things are run, the laws, and the amount of equality we have,” Sam continued. “If you were able to change the minds of the people, to support only you and your agenda, instead of the idea of a just society-”

“They don’t just want it for that,” Gwaine interrupted. “The loyalty might even work for that - but the reason they’re disappointed in the spell so far - even though it IS working, is because they want it stronger. They want it so that their lovers never argue with them, their superiors never call their work into question, nor find any fault with them. They want everyone not just to support them, but to agree to everything they say regardless of its intelligence or stupidity.”

“Surely, the quickest way to run a kingdom into the ground,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “People were often too afraid to speak against my father, and it only lead to misery for all involved. If I had not had Merlin…” 

Arthur couldn’t finish. The yawning emptiness at his side all the more pronounced as he contemplated a life without his most trusted friend and advisor. 

“We’ll get him back,” Dean promised. 

*

Sam researched while listening to Dean run Arthur and the Knights through a very quick motel-room appropriate form of weapons training - Gwaine’s report about the witches having access to at least one handgun, meant that Dean wanted to make sure Arthur and Percival knew how to recognize one and how they operated - though much to Arthur and the Knights disappointment, Dean refused to allow them to carry the weapon. Instead, he gave them easy to conceal knives, so that they didn’t feel weaponless moving forward (the swords were far too conspicuous, and it was agreed by all that they should be left in the motel room). 

Dean also gave them a quick rundown on demons - why they were a bit more complicated than vampires and werewolves; how sometimes the possessed people could be saved; and how that was done. There was some talk about the demons Arthur had encountered with Castiel, and how he his sword was capable of killing them, but not Percival’s sword - this led to ten minute tale of pulling the sword from the stone and everything that Merlin had told Arthur made the sword special - including that it was forged in the fire of the Great Dragon. 

Once Sam got back to his work, he discovered that most of their would-be witches and possible-demons went to the local university - and belonged to the same frat house, which further explained the lack of gender diversity and also meant that they roughly knew where they could find them. Dean agreed to Sam’s plan to just go in as FBI.

Gwaine couldn’t come with them, but Sam was surprised when Arthur declined to come as well. Instead, he assigned Percival to the job, in a move that very much indicated he had forgotten that Sam and Dean were supposed to be running the case. Sam and Dean just shared a smile and let him. 

“Gwaine and I will keep a watch on the building from the bluff, and report back the movements of any guards or activity we see,” Arthur went on to strategize. “This will divide our resources best, but also position Gwaine and myself close to Merlin, in case he is mounting an escape as we speak and requires assistance.”

Gwaine nodded enthusiastically, which told Sam that it was well within the realm of possibility for Merlin to figure out how to escape from a locked and warded cage that for all intents and purposes was draining his greatest strength daily.

“Percival will accompany you as your guard. He’ll remain at a distance while you work, and only step in if needed. This way, he needn’t worry about having to impersonate the authority of your world as well as you do,” Arthur continued. 

“Smart,” Dean nodded. “Agreed. But, there is something else we’re going to have to train all of you on, before we can go anywhere.”

Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket, and Sam stood up to get their spares from the car, knowing exactly where this was going.

“This is called a phone...” Dean began, as Sam left the motel room. 

He got as far as pulling the old flip phones out of the glovebox when his own phone rang. Caller ID said it was Dean.

“Hello, this is Sam,” Sam answered.

“Amazing,” Arthur said.

Sam laughed.  He stuffed the other phones in his pockets.

“I’m bringing some phones in for you guys,” Sam told Arthur. “They’re going to look  a little different, but we’ll show you how to use them.”

“Very good,” Arthur declared. 

Sam slammed the car door.

“Oh, like an echo,” Arthur said.

“Let me hear!” Gwaine demanded on Arthur’s end. Sam leaned against the car, as the line was muffled. 

“You have to say something, so he knows you have the phone.” Dean’s voice was tinny.

“This is Gwaine now,” Gwaine immediately said.

“Hi Gwaine, this is still Sam - Does Percival want a turn or can I come in now?” Sam asked.

“But it’s really interesting, you should try,” Gwaine’s voice came distantly after a pause, and Sam realized that he was trying to pass the phone to Percival.

“Hi Sam?” Percival’s voice came a moment later. “We must seem foolish to you.”

“Nah,” Sam said. “It’s pretty great. I’m the first person ever to have Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table call him up. You know, you were one of my favourite stories as a kid. I always wanted to be big and strong like Sir Percival, and go on quests with King Arthur.”

There was a moment of silence on the line, before Gwaine’s voice came back.

“What’d you say to make him blush?”

“Gwaine!” Percival chastised, while in the background Dean and Arthur laughed. And Sam did just want to stay in that parking lot five feet from the motel room door forever if it would be like this. But they had work to do.

“I’m hanging up now, Gwaine,” Sam said. And did so, walking to the door and letting himself back in.

“...means that he’s ending the call,” Dean was saying, as Sam walked in. Percival was looking at the wall of suspects, his back to the room. Sam felt a little sorry for inadvertently embarrassing him.

They distributed the phones, and Percival returned to the table to follow along with the instructions on how to use them. They each got slightly personalized tutorials, as they all had different models. Dean made sure all the numbers were programmed in, and then relabeled them to make it clear who they were calling when they selected a contact. They had a few trial runs, which felt even more ridiculous when they were all in the same room and looking directly at each other - but it confirmed that everyone knew how to call each other.

And then finally, Sam and Dean changed into their suits, which caused some raised eyebrows from Arthur and the Knights,  and then it was time to put their reconnaissance plan into action.

Chapter Text

Percival watched from a bench just inside the entrance to what Sam and Dean had called “the quad” - he saw them approach the group of men that Percival recognized from the pictures in the motel room. Cameron wasn’t there, but some of the others were. 

The brothers had changed into different clothes, but left Percival as he was. Instead of the loose colourful shirts and thick jackets, they now wore matching outfits - black and sombre, but with white shirts underneath, and a long thin decorative piece of silk tied in a knot at the base of their throats. It was an odd fashion, but Percival had to admit that it made them look authoritative. They had explained that they were pretending to be law officials.

Percival found himself wishing that he had gone with Gwaine and Arthur to keep a watch on Merlin’s prison. The brothers had taken Arthur and Gwaine back to the woods on their way to this university - which, Percival now knew to be an institution of learning - “school” Sam had called it. When that meant little to Percival, they’d explained it in terms of apprenticeship and mastery - and gone into quite a bit of an explanation, for the rest of the journey. Percival felt a little bad, because perhaps they should have spoken about strategy instead, but on the other hand he was interested in learning more about Sam and Dean’s world and it had made a nice distraction for the time being. Now, though, he felt a little out of depth - how would he be able to tell if Sam and Dean needed him? Was he meant to only interfere if there was a physical fight? He did not have a sword, only a small knife - though, as he eyed the men Dean and Sam were talking to, he realized his fists would just as easily do the trick. 

Perhaps he was meant to observe their behaviour and then report his findings to the brothers afterwards. Percival tried to pay closer attention, while also keeping an eye on who else was in the area - just in case some outside threat presented itself.

The men were not dressed like Sam and Dean, or even Percival, their clothes were similar, yet somehow finer - simple, but better tailored. They carried themselves as nobles, which Percival had expected - but young nobles out on the town, not as apprentices in the houses of their masters, but as sons of lords, in a tavern, or on the training field, one moment away from causing trouble and knowing they could get away with it. Percival knew their type well.

It made him think of Merlin’s story of meeting Arthur, and he set his jaw against the pang of worry that raced through him at the thought of his friend. But he couldn’t picture Arthur as similar to these boys, and yet, according to what Merlin had told some of the knights over a pint not long after they had met, Merlin calling Arthur ‘prat’ used to be well deserved. Arthur had not been like that when Percival had met him, and Lancelot too, had reported that Arthur was a good prince. But certainly, the Arthur in Merlin’s account had existed, though it was hard for Percival to fathom. He wondered, idly, if these men too had the capacity for greatness that Arthur did and it was only being squandered - regardless, he could not forgive them for the capture and injury of his friends.

It appeared that Sam and Dean were having little success in their endeavours. They came away from the group looking frustrated. Percival stood up before they got to him, and exited the quad first - so that they were not seen as being together. He only stopped walking when they had finished weaving through the many other cars and came to stop at Impala, which they had stowed at the far end of the designated car area.

“No luck then,” Percival said, once Sam and Dean finished their own walk and joined him.

“Nah, it’s just like I figured, they only trust each other - no authority but their own.”

Percival nodded. It was often the case with nobles that they felt themselves above even knights, even when they were there on the King’s bidding. It didn’t help that it was well known that Percival was formerly a peasant and of no noble blood.

“We can still go after the girlfriends,” Sam said. “They’re more likely to crack anyway, given that they don’t know the stakes - and they’ll have an accurate view of who may or may not have gone through a personality change recently.”

“Tracking them down is going to be harder though,” Dean grumbled. “Maybe Arthur was right and we should have just stormed the castle.”

“No,” Percival found himself saying. “Arthur and I fought demons briefly when we first arrived. They were a formidable enemy, it would be better to know their numbers, and we know that we have the time - they need Merlin to recite the spell, and do not plan to summon Arthur for another day at least.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just frustrating,” Dean said, rubbing a hand over his face. For the first time since they had arrived, Percival remembered that these were the brothers that he laughed and drank with for a week in Camelot - and not just legends. 

They had trained together, drank together, and Percival had told them of his promise to Lancelot - and they had not treated him any differently. At the time, Percival had thought it was because they were mercenaries and therefore former peasants like himself, but now he realized it was because they saw no difference of rank between them… and even sometimes treated him as though he were the stuff of legends and not themselves.

“Sam, give me your shirt,” Percival said. And he took the phone out of his jacket pocket, and slid it into the pocket of his trousers - his jeans. 

“What?” Sam and Dean were both looking at him oddly.

“Your white shirt. Take it off and give it to me,” Percival repeated. “I have an idea.” Percival took off his own jacket and threw it into the backseat of the car. It was warm enough outside that he didn’t need it, which suited his purposes well.

Sam looked at Dean, but then took off his fine black jacket. He glanced around before taking off the silk tie at his throat, and then unbuttoning his shirt. Thankfully, the area they were in was somewhat secluded. Percival took off his own overshirt, and passed it to Sam.  

Sam’s shirt was finer - simple, and better tailored. 

“Can you lend me some currency?” Percival asked. “I can have Arthur reimburse you for any I spend - I believe he has brought a small purse.”

Dean handed him a stack of small bits of paper, held with a silver clip.

“Thanks,” Percival said, instead of telling them that paper money seemed a foolish idea on many levels. “If I’m not back in a moment, carry on with your day. I’ll contact you when I get lost.”

Percival nodded at them both, and walked back towards the quad. He may not know this world at all, but he knew what nobles were like. Now all he had to do was pretend to be one.

*

“... when he gets lost,” Sam repeated. “What exactly do you think-”

“I say we give him twenty minutes,” Dean replied. “Guy’s sort of a fish out of water, and I’m not sure he can pull this off.”

Sam put on the shirt that Percival had been wearing. He threw his suit jacket in the trunk, as it really didn’t make sense now that he was wearing a plaid shirt again. He hoped that he could at least pull off a poor backwards attempt at business casual, because he hadn’t brought extra white shirts.

They spent about ten minutes of their wait time slowly making their way to a different parking spot - still somewhat out of the way, but in view of the entrance to the quad. They discussed their next move - namely, how they would go about approaching whatever girlfriends they’d managed to pinpoint through Sam’s social media research. At the twenty minute mark, Percival still hadn’t shown back up. Dean seemed reluctant to leave. 

“Five more minutes?” Sam asked, turning to Dean when it was clear that he wasn’t about to start the car any time soon.

“He said a ‘moment’, so really, we might just have to trust him on this one,” Dean said, though it definitely sounded like that was the last thing he wanted to do. “Maybe I should have gone over how texting works a bit more… son of a bitch, he’s done it.”

Sam quickly turned to look back towards the college - and sure enough, there was a group of guys leaving the quad, and walking in the direction of the athletics complex. Among them, was Percival, seemingly no different than any of the others. He was laughing along to a joke, and accepting a pat on the back by one of the others - two of the boys were passing a basketball back and forth, and they tossed it back towards Percival and he plucked it out of the air as though it was a common object to him, and not something brand new. 

“Did Arthur ever mention that Percival had a talent for acting or….?” Sam asked.

“I would have placed my money on Gwaine, if any of them, but, then again...” Dean trailed off with a shrug. “Alright, let’s go talk to some sorority girls,” Dean said. “See just how far that loyalty spell extends.”

The Impala roared to life, and Sam saw Percival’s head begin to turn at the sound, but he seemed to catch himself, and he turned back to the others before the movement was completed. Though he deliberately reached up and tugged twice on his ear-lobe - perhaps just to tell them that he could hear them, or perhaps instructing them to keep an ear out for his call - Sam would have to ask Arthur if there were specific hand signals that Knights used in the field.

*

Gwaine and Arthur sat silently behind Gwaine hunter’s bluff. The day was warm, but tolerable in the sheltering shade of the forest. The trees also deadened the constant noise that came from the city, though not completely - there was a low hum, the likes of which Arthur had never heard before. It was different than the noise of Camelot, though Arthur couldn’t put words to exactly how.

They hadn’t spoken much since they’d arrived. Arthur had used the notebook in his pocket to record the comings and goings. There had been no indication of unrest within, so wherever they had Merlin, he did not seem to be creating any trouble for them - a fact that disturbed Arthur more than anything else. If Merlin was anything, he was a bother.

“I thought it’d be different here,” Gwaine admitted. “When I imagined…”

“We always imagine the worlds of stories to be similar to our own,” Arthur replied, when it was clear that Gwaine was not going to finish his thought. “This is… quite different than anything we have known. It isn’t surprising that our imaginations failed in their accuracy.”

“But it’s not just that,” Gwaine said. “It feels different here… it’s as though… it’s as though we’re all smaller, helpless, and alone.”

Arthur swallowed and said nothing. Gwaine had been through an ordeal, and Arthur could put it down to that, but he also couldn’t lie to his men. Arthur had thought it was because, here, he was not King, and had only his two knights and the Brothers’ favour as his resources - but perhaps he had been a fool to think that was the only reason that he felt unmoored in this world.

His pocket vibrated and it startled Arthur to a slightly embarrassing degree, until he remembered that he had the phone contraption in his coat.

Gwaine perked up beside him when Arthur drew the phone out and answered the call as Dean had shown him.

“This is Arthur,” he said.

“Hey, Arthur - it’s Sam,” Sam’s voice greeted him. Arthur smiled at the casualness of Sam addressing him. He hadn’t remarked on it, for fear of accidentally changing it, but it seemed that in their time away from Camelot, Sam and Dean had forgotten the manners of Court, and the result - The Brothers of Legend addressing Arthur as a friend and equal - was something that Arthur treasured deeply. “I’m just calling to give you an update. Dean and I didn’t have any luck in interviewing our suspects, but, uh… Percival has managed to infiltrate their group by posing as a fellow college student. So, we’ve parted ways - he’s got his phone still, but we thought we should tell you in case you call him - he might not be able to talk, depending if he’s still with them or not. Uh, we hope that it’s okay that we left him to it - he told us to, and he seemed to be… blending in well… so-”

“You did well, Sam,” Arthur replied. “Percival is a skilled knight, and I trust him to perform his duty well.”

“Right, good, yeah, he’s a great guy, for sure,” Sam continued, in obvious relief. Arthur smiled. Maybe there was still a little formality there after-all, but he was pleased that Sam remembered that the knights were Arthur’s men. Beside him, Gwaine leaned in with interest, obviously wanting to know what duty Percival had been given. Sam continued speaking in Arthur’s ear, as Arthur directed Gwaine to continue watching the building. “Dean and I are going to interview the suspects' girlfriends - see if any of them have noticed a change in behaviour that might indicate possession. We’ll call you when we’re done, and meet you for pick up where we dropped you off. How are things going there?”

“It’s quiet,” Arthur replied. “Gwaine and I have recorded the comings and goings, but there has been no sign of… trouble from within.”

“And you’re worried,” Sam concluded. 

“Yes,” Arthur replied simply, not wanting to voice exactly why out loud - if nothing else, he had to keep Gwaine’s spirits up, but really, Arthur didn’t want to acknowledge the heavy feeling of dread that weighed down his own heart.

“Well, call if anything changes - and… and try to hang in there,” Sam concluded the call. “Remember, they need him alive for the spell. We’ll get him back for you, we will.”

“I know,” Arthur said. “Thank you, Sam.” And then he ended the call.

“What news?” Gwaine asked.

“Percival has infiltrated the enemy in disguise,” Arthur reported. “It is best we leave it to him to make contact with us, as to not jeopardize his position.”

Gwaine smiled widely, then smirked as he said, “Percy, you devil” to the air. “Putting our games to good use.”

“Do I want to know?” Arthur asked, but found that he really did - because Gwaine was smiling in a way that Arthur hadn’t seen since they’d arrived in this strange place, and Arthur desperately wanted to know what light Gwaine had found in Percival’s espionage. “Tell me,” Arthur said, with a smile to make it less of an order.

Gwaine eyed him, Arthur kept his smile in place - he wished he could do that thing Merlin did, when he made his eyes so wide and innocent and suddenly you found yourself trusting him with your life. Gwaine seemed to come to a decision, as he shrugged, like what he was about to say was not all that important, and perhaps it wasn’t.

“It was a joke, er - I taught him how to act like a nobleman,” Gwaine replied. Arthur raised his eyebrow, and Gwaine rolled his eyes. “Don’t go saying noblemen don’t act any different than anyone else - we make a game of it when we go somewhere new on patrol, or when the tavern is full of merchants from out of town.” Gwaine fidgeted with his shirt-cuff and didn’t meet Arthur’s eyes for a moment.  “Percival and I pretend like we’re noble-born. And we see who falls for it and starts calling us My Lord.”

Arthur laughed. It seemed an innocent enough game. He wasn’t sure why Gwaine was being so odd about it.

“You’re knights, though,” Arthur said. “I would be surprised if people didn’t assume based on that alone.”

“The fact that you have peasant-born knights is well known, Sire,” Gwaine replied. “It’s what makes the game possible - if we went in without our mail or our court clothes, our social standing would be obvious.”

Arthur thought back to borrowing Merlin’s clothes, so that he could compete in a tournament without revealing his identity, and realized that Gwaine had the right of it. It was only because of the clothes that Arthur could hide in Guinevere’s house in the lower town for a week and a farmer could wave to the crowd after a joust like he was a minor Lord.

“So, how does one act like a nobleman then?” Arthur asked. Gwaine’s eyes went a little wide, so Arthur continued. “I know Merlin’s instructions already - what was it? Arrogance! Yes, I believe his exact words were ‘knights think they’re so much better than everyone else.’” Arthur rolled his eyes, with a small laugh. “I told him it was about honour and nobility! This was, of course, before there were peasant knights, when my father still lived.”

Gwaine laughed. “He said that to your face, did he? When Uther still lived no less! Oh Merlin,” Gwaine gazed back at the silent building down the hill from them. “He’s one of a kind.”

“He is,” Arthur agreed. “I… perhaps didn’t quite appreciate just how much back then. But come - tell me, were your instructions different?”

“Not much,” Gwaine replied. “I just explained to Percival the Knight’s Code, and why it exists - and how… well, to be a nobleman, all you had to do was… uh, ignore it.”

Arthur stared at Gwaine in shock. 

“Well, not actually… but to be the kind of person who WOULD ignore it - it’s all talk, of course,” Gwaine clarified.

“Explain,” Arthur demanded, and Gwaine winced.

“Well, it’s just… er, Sire....”

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“... codes of conduct are only placed on those who would otherwise not conduct themselves that way,” Gwaine finally said. “You don’t need a law telling people to… I don’t know… feed their children - until the day when someone doesn’t.”

“Why would someone not feed their children?” Arthur asked. 

“Why wouldn’t someone treat women with respect?” Gwaine asked in return. “And yet, knights are specifically told to do so - even though Percival and I would never ordinarily question doing otherwise - but we’ve all seen those who need to be told, for some reason or another.”

“So, to act like a noble, you act… ignoble,” Arthur concluded.

Gwaine cringed, but nodded. “Like I said, it’s all bluffing. We would never harm anyone, nor actually break the Knights Code.”

“And so that’s what Percival is doing right now,” Arthur concluded. 

“Yes,” Gwaine said. “From what Sam and Dean said about the enemy - it sounds like noblemen here aren’t that different from back home.”

“I feel like I should take great offense to that,” Arthur admitted. Gwaine once again seemed overly preoccupied with the cuffs of his borrowed jacket.

“Well, if you did, I’d have to as well,” Gwaine finally said, then he looked back down to the building as if he hadn’t spoken. “So let’s both of us be better than that.”

Arthur stared at Gwaine. But Gwaine did not turn his gaze to Arthur again. Arthur tried to recount all he knew of Gwaine, but the truth was that Arthur had never questioned the idea that he was anything other than a title-less drifter, albeit a skilled one. But hadn’t Gwaine only just said that a simple change of clothes was enough to give away the game - and hadn’t Arthur not only done the same before, but had fantasized about doing it again, permanently - how he could don Merlin’s old ragged shirts, and run off and live as a farmer, maybe even to Ealdor itself,  get out from under his father’s expectations, or the burden of rule in Camelot. And there was another truth, because Arthur had never questioned Merlin as being anything other than a simple peasant, because Merlin had never given him reason to, until one day when he had conjured a butterfly in Arthur’s bedchambers and upended Arthur’s whole world.

Arthur reached over and placed his hand, gently, on Gwaine shoulder. He had questions, of course he did, what title had Gwaine held, where did he come from, why and when did he flee from whatever life he had before - but under his hand, he felt Gwaine’s tense muscles relax, just a little, and Arthur knew he had to choose his next words carefully. It was Merlin that had taught Arthur that sometimes telling someone about your past was not about changing the present, but was simply a show of trust.

“As usual, you seem to have the right of it,” Arthur finally said, giving Gwaine’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “But don’t you dare let it go to your head - Merlin would not be happy if I turned his tavern-brawler of a best friend into some arrogant noble knight.”

Gwaine’s smile returned, and he even glanced again towards Arthur. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Gwaine replied. “I do have a reputation to uphold, after all.”

*

The trick with lying, Percival had learned, indirectly, from both Gwaine and Merlin, was to give what little true information you could, let people make assumptions, and then agree to those assumptions. So, Percival didn’t need to know how the educational institution worked, or even what the countries of the world were, because he had only spoken a few words before someone had said, “Where’s your accent from? Britain?” And Percival had said yes. This was followed up by, “I don’t remember seeing you before, did you just transfer or something?” And Percival had replied with yes. He told them his name was Piers, because it was close enough to his real name that he may turn his head if called it. And really, much like anywhere, people liked it when they felt smart and people agreed with them - and so Percival kept laughing at jokes he didn’t quite understand, and he kept saying yes, until it was several hours later and he seemingly had six new ‘friends.’ 

And when agreement didn’t work, spending money did. Percival felt a little badly for Dean’s purse, but knew that Arthur would reimburse him tenfold if it meant getting information on Merlin’s captors so that they could effectively stage a rescue. Percival had no idea what an “eyedee” was, but he knew he did not have one - but he found that giving the person asking for it money instead, seemed to do the trick - and also made all his new friends even more impressed with him somehow.

That was how Percival found himself in the strangest tavern he had ever been in. It was all painted black on the inside, with the magic fireless lights that illuminated the barkeeper, and also hung from the ceiling and rotated across an open area where people danced to something that vaguely resembled music. The music was coming from everywhere and nowhere, as Percival could not see any musicians. It seemed that the others had come here only to look at and make rude comments about women, while getting inebriated. Percival’s first sip of the beer he ordered told him just how much alcohol was included in the beverage - and when it came time to order another one, Percival pulled the bartender aside and explained that he needed to appear he was drinking, but not actually do so. The bartender nodded and Percival was presented with a large clear drink, which the bartender announced loudly as something Percival didn’t recognize, but made his ‘friends’ around him seem impressed. Percival took a large sip and tasted only water, with the bitter tang of whatever strange fruit floated in the glass.

So, by the time his new ‘friends’ grew tired of the bar, and their speech and movements, and most importantly, judgement, were affected - Percival’s were not, though he mimicked their behaviour in order to continue the lie.  They exited the tavern, Percival was sure it was to the delight of everyone else in the establishment - and made their way to a brightly lit restaurant where they ordered something called ‘fries’ which were delicious. 

It was here, that one of the men, whose name was Chet, leaned over to Percival, and said “Piers, you know anything about Arthurian legends?”

“Arthurian…” Percival repeated, and he didn’t have to feign the confusion he felt for a moment, before the change to Arthur’s name registered. “You mean Arthur? King Arthur and Merlin and all that?”

“Yeah, yeah… they’re like, your history, aren’t they?”

Percival smiled, because that was surprisingly accurate, but aloud he simply said. “Er, they’re stories, mate.”

Chet smiled widely. “Do you want to meet ‘em?”

Chapter Text

Merlin had to admit that he was more than a little terrified. As the days passed, and there was no rescue attempt by Gwaine, or the Brothers, or anyone - Merlin began to suspect that Gwaine hadn’t survived the escape. Perhaps, he managed to call the dragon, but the dragon did not recognize him as a friend, and killed him where he stood - in which case, Merlin had sent him to his death. Or, perhaps there was some other manner of beast that protected this fortress, and Gwaine had been swallowed up before he could make any sort of call for help. Or, perhaps Gwaine had found no help, and had wandered the countryside injured and alone, hungry and in need of help. 

Merlin tried to think of something else, lest he begin to weep. But there was little else to think about. Merlin could think on his own plight, growing weaker by the day, his magic slowly draining from him, until he felt empty and Cameron coming by daily to drink of it - to taunt him; or he could think of Camelot, of how worried Arthur must be, of Gwen, of the time passing and how Merlin might not be able to return in time, or at all, and how much he would miss them. He knew they planned to summon Arthur, but he also knew that he must stop them from doing so. If it was the last thing Merlin did, it must be that. Camelot needed its king, but Gaius could function as Court Sorcerer perhaps, or perhaps Arthur could hire one of the druids - with Merlin gone, that might be best for maintaining the peace.

He spent most of his time sleeping, there was little else to do. When he slept, he dreamt of voices calling him from far away - and sometimes he heard his father, telling him to remember who he was, what he was. What am I? Merlin asked in return, and he’d remember - he’d remember sitting across from his mother, in their little house, his mother mending socks, and Merlin, young, legs too small to reach the floor, asking “what am I?” and Hunith had replied. “You’re Merlin. My child of magic.”

“My son,” his father called. “You are-”

“What are you doing here, Cam’s gonna be pissed, man,” Merlin’s guard announced from near the door, and Merlin jolted awake.

“It’s cool man, we just wanted to show Piers-”

“Dude, you can’t just bring randos in! What the hell?! Are you drunk?” 

“I can leave if it’s a problem,” a deep voice said, a gentle kindness to the voice that had Merlin sitting up immediately. He knew that voice, and it wasn’t one he had heard in the past few days.

“Nah, man, it’s cool. Blake don’t be such a narc, we’ll only be a sec - it’s like, part of Piers’ heritage or whatever.”

“Fine, but if he finds out, I told you so.” Blake relented, and the group entered the room and finally came into Merlin’s sight. They’d obviously been drinking, the colour high on their cheeks - all except for one, and it was that one that Merlin’s eyes flew too immediately. He was a head taller than everyone else, broad shouldered, and, except for the strange clothes, looked exactly like Percival. Then he winked at Merlin, and quickly pressed a finger to his lips before anyone could see. Merlin heart did something rather alarming in his chest - half like terror and half like elation - Merlin could only describe it as hope .

“Looks like a guy in a cage,” Percival said, sounding unimpressed. “What exactly are you… er... doing with him?”

“Gross man,” another answered. Merlin called him Chives, but knew his name was something else. Cheese? It didn’t matter. “No, I swear, this dude’s Merlin - we summoned him. Check it out.”

Then Cheese or Chives or whoever he was, leaned down and put his hand on the glyph pulling the magic into himself - he reached out a hand and a candle on a nearby table lit. 

“A trick, surely?” Percival replied. 

“It’s legit. Try it for yourself!”

Cheese went over to blow out the candle, which Merlin rolled his eyes at, because he could have just used the same magic to extinguish it as he had to light it.

Percival knelt down and put his hand on the glyph.

“Does it hurt him?” he asked, looking at Merlin.

“Nah, he’s fine,” Chives replied, as if he knew.

It weakens me, Merlin replied for himself, solely to Percival. Constantly, regardless of whether someone uses the magic or not.

Percival’s widened. Can I talk back to you?

Yes, raise your hand, and look at the candle, so we’re not suspicious. Merlin replied. Percival did so. Think of what you want to happen.

I want to save you, Percival replied.

Merlin carefully didn’t laugh, though he wanted to. I meant think of what you want the candle to do.

Oh , Percival said, disappointed. HIs eyes flashed gold and the candle lit. Cheese let out a whoop of triumph, like it was some impressive feat.

Pretend that’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen or done, Merlin instructed.

“Amazing!” Percival exclaimed. We will rescue you, Merlin. I’m on reconnasense. The brothers believe demons are involved - have you seen anyone with black eyes? 

No, Merlin replied. Best stand up now. Please get me out of here. 

Before Percival broke contact, Merlin wished him all the fortitude he may need to accomplish whatever tasks lay ahead of him.

“What are you going to do with him?” Percival asked, his voice perhaps a little too hard. Merlin shot him a warning look, and Percival quickly corrected. “With power like that - you could… think of what you could do! You could have the world eating out of your hand.”

The others smiled, Cheese most of all.

“That’s the plan, my man,” he said. “We’ve got this spell - it’s going to give us the easy life. You’d be smart to see if you could get in on-”

The door banged open and Cheese cut himself off, as someone else ran into the room.

“Cameron just parked, you gotta get this guy out of here before he sees!” the newcomer said. Merlin recognized him as one of the younger ones, Cameron usually kept him away from Merlin’s cage, maybe because the first day, he’d given Merlin a pretty obvious look of sympathy. He’d thought for two seconds of possibly exploiting that before Cameron cut him off at the pass - called the boy a bleeding-heart and sent him to guard the door to whatever a parking lot was.

There were multiple chimes heard, and all the men in the room, except for Merlin and Percival reached for their pockets, pulling out the rectangular glowing devices that seemed to be able to entertain Merlin’s guards at all hours of the day. They all looked at them at once, and then their eyes went wide.

“Fuck, I thought we were waiting until Friday!” Cheese said, then seemed to collect himself. “Wait - Piers could join - he’s like, from their country, maybe it’ll make the magic even stronger.”

“Are you kidding me! Cameron said no one but us - I shouldn’t have even let you in, you drunken-”

“Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” Percival interrupted. “Show me to the back door, I’ll slip out, no harm done.”

“Thank god,” the guard said. “Come on!”

“Dude, just wait in the car - I’ll talk to Cameron and see if I can cut you in,” Cheese said, handing Percival a set of keys.

“Thanks, man!” Percival said, and then followed the jittier guard to the door, throwing one last purposeful glance towards Merlin. It was enough to tell Merlin that Percival was only leaving because he had to warn the others. Whatever was about to happen, Percival too had believed there would be more time.

The guard paused at the door, stuck his head out - looked both ways, and then quickly pulled Percival into the hallway after him. Merlin let out a breath of relief. It was Cameron who usually carried the gun, and Percival wasn’t even wearing any armour.

*

Sam worried about finding something to talk about while left alone with the King - and Arthur no doubt worried about his men. Percival hadn’t checked in yet, and it was well after sunset. Meanwhile, Gwaine had refused to leave the hunter’s blind on the hillside. Claiming he spent most of his nights there, and didn’t need a bed. Dean had stayed with him, Sam wasn’t sure why, but he knew that Dean and Gwaine had spent a little time with each other in Camelot, and maybe Dean felt Gwaine needed an ear that didn’t belong to his boss.

That, of course, left Sam driving Arthur back to the motel, while Arthur frowned. It wasn’t as though Sam and Dean had spent a great deal of time with Arthur when they were in Camelot. He was the King. He came and oversaw the knights training. They saw him at feasts, and in passing, and they talked with him briefly before they left, but they hadn’t… hung out. 

“If we were in Camelot, or anywhere in Albion, I would have gone in and rescued him already,” Arthur finally said. “There was one time - one time Merlin and I had to rescue Guinevere. She had been mistaken, you see, for my sister - the Lady Morgana - at the time, of course, Morgana was my father’s ward, and it was well known that he loved her.”

Sam had nodded, and carefully said nothing. When Sam and Dean had been in Camelot, they’d been told not to speak her name - and they’d quickly picked up that it was the unspoken rule of the entire city.

“They’d captured Guinevere thinking they had Morgana, and it allowed Morgana to escape with her life - but when she came to my father to plead for Guinevere’s rescue, he refused.” Arthur continued. “She was, of course, only a serving girl.”

“Really?” Sam asked. “I didn’t… I didn’t know that. I mean, I know you said her father was a blacksmith… but I didn’t realize she was a servant.”

“Yes.” Arthur smiled. “Her father was a blacksmith in the lower town. A good man, much like his children. Loyal to Camelot, devoted to his family. My father had him falsely executed for aiding a sorcerer several years ago.”

“Holy… and she still married you?” Sam asked, knowing full well she had. “Guess it helped that your dad must have been dead by then.”

“Indeed,” Arthur answered. “I am fortunate. It was Elyan who held a grudge, but, luckily, he was raised by the same good man and he has forgiven me, and become a fine knight.”

Sam nodded and silence fell in the car again.

“My father tried to execute Guinevere on more than one occassion,” Arthur offered, with, of all things, a laugh. The kind of laugh someone can have when the horrible thing they were saying was actually one of the better memories, and Sam felt his stomach drop a little.

“Jeez, and I thought my dad was bad,” Sam offered. 

“Yes, your father just wanted your brother to kill you .” Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Uh, maybe let’s not talk about that,” Sam said softly.

“My apologies,” Arthur offered immediately. “I mean no harm nor offense, and surely speak out of ignorance.”

“How did Gwen survive?” Sam prompted, changing the subject, hoping to dispel the awkwardness.  Sam knew his dad had loved him. But, stories got jumbled on the retellings, let alone the retellings in other worlds, times, and cultures. Sam wasn’t sure Arthur would have understood that Sam’s father could love Sam and still tell Dean that he might have to kill him. Of course, maybe of all people, Arthur would understand the best about how complicated fathers could be.

“The first time, I don’t even...“ Arthur started. “It was before her and I became… friends. Back then she was only my sister’s maid - albeit she was lovely to look at, but I never entertained the idea of her being anything to me beyond her station. As I recall, there had been a sickness in town, and when Gwen’s father was the only one to recover, it was investigated and we found evidence of sorcery. Then... “ Arthur suddenly started laughing. “I’d forgotten! I can’t believe I’d forgotten! Merlin confessed!” Arthur dissolved into giggles.

Sam laughed too, even though he didn’t know the story, because there was King Arthur, in the passenger seat of the Impala, giggling .

“Merlin…” Arthur said, after trying to collect himself. “He walked right into my father’s council room and confessed to being a sorcerer. Oh, that idiot .” Arthur smiled wide, his tone nothing but pure affection. “And then I convinced them all that he was in love with Gwen and trying to be noble, and I dragged him out of there - by the gods, I can’t believe… I wish he were here, I’d-” 

Arthur cut himself off, suddenly sobering. When he continued the story, his amusement gone. “In the end, we found the source of the sickness before she was executed and it was the work of a well-known sorcerer, so Guinevere was set free.”

“That’s good,” Sam offered, as they pulled up to the motel. He put the Impala in park, but Arthur made no move to exit the car, so Sam just sat back into the seat and looked over at him.

“I need him back, Sam,” Arthur said. “I can’t lose Merlin. I can’t.”

“You won’t,” Sam promised. “We’ll get him back.”

Arthur nodded.

They went inside and Sam ordered food. The plan was that he and Arthur would go over the intel they had and wait for Percival to get in touch. If they didn’t hear from him by the time the bars closed, Sam would do a trace on his phone.

Sam introduced King Arthur to Chinese food. They discovered that beef and broccoli was his favourite. Sam wondered if it was just because the pieces were easier to pick up with his chopsticks. Sam had felt like an idiot for the first few minutes after ordering the food and realizing the place hadn’t sent forks. But, within a few minutes, he realized that trying to teach Arthur how to use chopsticks was just what they needed. It cut through the anxiety in the room and led to Arthur smiling again. 

Sam was just about to explain what fortune cookies were when his phone rang.

“Hey,” Sam answered, putting it on speaker.

“Hey, just a heads-up, we had eyes on Percy for all of 30 seconds,” Dean’s tinny voice came through. “He’s inside now.”

“Of his own will or…” Sam asked, darting a glance towards Arthur.

“Looks like whatever cover he’s used is a good one,” Dean answered. “Didn’t look coerced, seemed like maybe he’s gotten some of his new drunk friends to show off a little.”

Arthur looked extremely pleased.

“Great,” Sam replied. “Do you want us to head back? We were just finishing up dinner - we could bring you the leftovers if you think you’ll be there-”

“Nah, stick ‘em in the mini-fridge. According to Gwaine, they’ve skeleton crew on after midnight, if Perce can get us intel on the inside, we might be able to infiltrate.”

“Then we should return,” Arthur replied.

“Wait until we see Percy leave, he may need you to pick him up from another location if his friends give him a ride home,” Dean replied.

“I thought you said they were drunk,” Sam stated.

“Yeah, well, they’re also fuckheads,” Dean replied. 

“Alright, let us know if you need us sooner,” Sam said.

“Will do,” Dean replied and then the line went dead.

“I only understood some of that,” Arthur admitted immediately. “What is a skeleton crew? Necromancy? Why would it make it easier to infiltrate. What does our enemy being drunk have to do with whether Percival will need ‘a ride’?” 

Sam smiled. “Skeleton crew just means that they’ve got very few guards awake - the bare minimum of what you need to keep an eye on things. As for being drunk - it means that they shouldn’t be driving. I know in the stories, our cars are talked about like they’re horses - but, as you’ve seen, they aren’t. Dean might talk about the Impala like she’s a person - but… there’s only one brain controlling a whole bunch of steel and fuel - if that brain has impaired judgement, you could get into a pretty bad accident. I don’t like the idea of them driving Percival around like that. It’s irresponsible.”

Arthur frowned. “They are definitely misguided in all their endeavours it appears.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. It was sad how astray these college kids had gone when they had their whole lives ahead of them.

“Percival shouldn’t even be in there,” Arthur said. “If this were Albion, I would have already-”

Sam’s phone beeped with a text and Arthur cut himself off. Sam found himself annoyed, even as he looked down at the message - it felt like there was something important here that Sam was missing. Maybe he needed to look over the research again.

Ringleader and more minions just showed up  

“Looks like there are more people arriving - Cameron and some of his men,” Sam related to Arthur.

“Do you think they’ve captured Percival and are fortifying their guard?” Arthur asked, sitting up straight and looking like he very much did not want Sam to answer in the affirmative.

“We’ll have to wait for-”

Percival just slipped out a side door

Alone

Can’t call him over. Other people arriving.

He’s getting in a car

I don’t think anyone saw him

Sam repeated the messages to Arthur, who simply stood up and walked over to where his sword was laying across a bed. Despite the knives they’d given both him and Gwaine earlier in the day that could be concealed in their pockets, Arthur obviously preferred the sword. 

And then Arthur’s phone rang.

Arthur stared at Sam with wide eyes as he went through the steps to answer it, clumsy and uncertain. Sam bit his lip hoping that Arthur wouldn’t accidentally hang up. But Arthur remembered their lesson well and not only correctly answered, but also put the phone on speaker just as Sam had done with Dean’s call.

“Hello.”

“Sire. It’s Percival,” Percival said in a whisper. “I was able to infiltrate the fort and see Merlin. His condition is still as Gwaine described.”

“Good work,” Arthur replied. “Gwaine and Dean are-”

‘Forgive me for interrupting, Sire,” Percival suddenly said. “I don’t know how long I have to speak - you must get ready. They’re summoning you tonight.”

“What?” Sam said. “No, they said-”

Sam’s phone chimed with a message.

Looks like the whole crew is showing up. This doesn’t look good Sammy.

“They’ve changed plans,” Percival interrupted. “Chet is going to try to get me involved. I was thinking that we could surprise them, Sire. They will believe that you have been summoned from Camelot.”

“Good work, Percival,” Arthur replied. “If they don’t let you back in the fort, join Dean and Gwaine at the bluff. Stay safe. I’ll see you shortly.”

“Yes Sire,” Percival replied. “I have to go,” and then the line went dead.

Someone heading to Percival’s car - one of his drinking buddies

Sam quickly typed out a response. Percival just called Arthur - summoning Arthur tonight!! And managed to hit send just as Dean’s next message came in.

Drunk friend taking Percival back inside. Looks friendly.

It was followed immediately by a message that meant Dean had read Sam’s text.

Holy shit

“Sam,” Arthur called, and Sam looked up to see Arthur laying out his old clothes and armour on the bed. “I know it may be below your station, but my manservant is currently a prisoner, and I request your help.”

“What?” Sam asked, still mentally scrambling to adjust to the new circumstances.

Arthur looked up at him as he took off his overshirt. “I need you to dress the King.”

“Right,” Sam said for lack of any other response. “Uh, right.”

Sam’s phone dinged and he glanced down at it.

Fuck.

Sam agreed.

“Time is limited, Sam,” Arthur called, and Sam looked up to find him half naked and taking off his boots.

Sam pocketed his phone without responding to Dean’s text.

*

“I told you we should have gone in today! Immediately!” Gwaine whispered angrily. “Now they’ve called in their army - and are going to have Arthur at gunpoint imminently and all we have is Percival - without even a weapon - and what? I don’t even have my armour, just this bloody knife and-”

“Sam will bring gear,” Dean cut Gwaine’s rant off. Furiously typing to Sam even though Sam had obviously stopped answering him, Maybe he was driving. Hopefully Sam was driving. 

“I told you-”

“Yes, you told us,” Dean hissed. “I heard you the first time, man. It’s not going to change what’s happening now no matter how many times you say it. So just shut-up! It wasn’t like I could predict the future now could I?”

Gwaine stood up and walked away and looked like he wanted to scream, but they both know that he couldn’t. Dean genuinely felt bad. The guy had obviously been through hell and had a few more days worth of worry built up than Sam and Dean did.

Sam? You better be driving out here. Gwaine’s pissed at us and may just launch an attack on his own.

“Dean?” Gwaine suddenly asked quietly. For a moment, Dean was just thankful that there was no longer anger in his voice, and then he realized that overly cautious and worried wasn’t necessarily an improvement. He looked up and found Gwaine gazing not towards the parking lot, where cars were still pulling in, but towards the roof of the building. “Dean, do you have the Dorocha in your world?”

“The what?” Dean asked, as he followed Gwaine’s gaze to see thick clumps of black smoke circling, waiting. “Shit.”

*

“Some friends are going to be joining us after the ceremony,” Cameron explained to Percival. “I’ll make you a deal, since I don’t know you - and Chet here should have cleared it with me before he showed you any of this shit,” Cameron cut a glare towards Chet who looked suitably sheepish. “I’ll cut you in, and all you gotta do for me is when I give the word, you and Chet go open the main doors and tell my friends you’re there to...escort them.”

Percival answered with a carefully nonchalant shrug and a nod. “Deal.”

He did not like the way that Cameron smiled back at him. Whatever happened, Percival had to make sure that he didn’t go near those doors or those friends, and maybe figure out a way to save Chet too - because the drunken idiot might be a drunken idiot, but didn’t deserve whatever Cameron was planning.

*

Sam had never really considered how intimate Merlin’s job was. And now he felt doubly stupid for believing, as he had in the beginning, that Arthur didn’t care about his manservant. As Sam carefully buckled Arthur’s shoulder-thing, he couldn’t imagine having someone this physically close to him every day without there being a solid relationship of trust somewhere there.

“Is that good?” Sam asked, as he did whenever he completed any of Arthur’s instructions. Arthur tested his arm movement and nodded.

“It’ll do,” Arthur said. “You’re not quite as hopeless as Merlin first was. You’ve at least remembered the sword.”

Sam laughed. The sword was the first thing that Sam tried to do, before Arthur had rolled his eyes and reminded him that chainmail might be helpful.

“Okay, cape?”

“I do need to look like the King of Camelot,” Arthur nodded, and Sam moved to pick it up.

“Dean and I didn’t wear these, so just… bear with me while I figure this out,” Sam said, as he lifted the expanse of red material over Arthur’s shoulders. It was heavier than Sam expected, given how often the capes were worn. When Sam had been in Camelot, he’d gotten used to the weight of the chainmail, but Arthur’s armour all felt so much heavier than the old items that Sam had borrowed.

“You’re always welcome to come back with us,” Arthur said. “Try them out, perhaps.”

Sam smiled, and then his phone buzzed again in his pocket again just as he did up the clasp at Arthur’s throat. Sam stepped back and pulled the phone out to read the text.

Demon smoke circling. I don’t think we’ve been spotted, but it’s going to be hard to get to the door.

“Fuck,” Sam said aloud.

“What is it?” Arthur asked. 

“Demons are circling… the sky, they aren’t in vessels, it means it’ll be hard for us to get to the door without being seen.” Sam reported.

“We should have gone in immediately,” Arthur shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t trust you and Dean, but this method of waiting that you have seems to have left us at a disadvantage in this instance and-”

“We don’t usually wait either,” Sam sighed. “Dean and I actually have the opposite problem - charging into places with little planning. Figures the one time we try to- son of a bitch!” Sam cut himself off, staring at Arthur. As Arthur furrowed his brow in confusion, before his eyes widened in understanding.

“The enchantment,” Arthur stated.

“We were so focused on whether it would make the rescue mission harder that we didn’t even realize that we were delaying the rescue mission,” Sam said. “We could have gone in when everyone was in class this afternoon - we could have… we could have gone in as soon as we found Gwaine in the woods, and he wanted to bring us straight there, only he was feverish and bleeding, and-”

“And your loyalty meant that you prioritized his health over his wishes,” Arthur replied. “And the enchantment also caused you to understand WHY our foes would do what they did, because your forced loyalty to them caused you to-”

“To try to see their perspective,” Sam concluded. “Damn it. Gwaine tried to warn us all day, didn’t he? And we shut him down.”

Sam cursed himself, as he fell into an angry silence.

“Merlin once spent several days in the stocks because I was under a love spell,” Arthur offered.

“Obviously it wasn’t cast by Merlin,” Sam stated. 

Arthur laughed. “I think that would have been even more dangerous to his well being, given that my father ruled at the time. What I meant, Sam - was that we cannot blame ourselves for being compelled by magic. The blame lies with those who have captured our friend and bent our own wills against us.”

Sam nodded. 

“Now,” Arthur said, and he drew himself up and became King with only a shift in his stance and a tilt of his head. “While I recognize that this is not my world, and although I am also under an enchantment, I believe my loyalty to Merlin is stronger than your own - and so, I am assuming command of our forces.”

“Yes, Sire,” Sam replied.

“Bring Gwaine his armour and sword,” Arthur commanded. “And any other weapons from your armoury that you deem fitting. As they have gathered their full force, our aim is now to defeat them in full - our attack will be three-fold….”

Chapter Text

Merlin’s heart would have been racing if it had enough energy to race - but as it was, all he felt was lethargic after being drained of his magic for days. He had previously feared that perhaps he might waste away in the cage, but now feared worse things happening.

First, there was the argument between Cameron and Cheese-Chives-Chet, whose name was also apparently Chester, though he appeared to not like that one very much. Merlin didn’t think Chet was much better, and wondered how he would react to Cheese. Merlin would have tested, but he was more interested in hearing the outcome of the argument - because they were arguing about Percival - and whether or not he could take part in their spell.

While Cameron was initially incensed that Chester had brought a stranger to view Merlin - Merlin, too, would have been angry about that had the stranger not turned out to be a friend. Merlin wasn’t some exotic animal in a traveling show - Cameron soon seemed to make a decision, based not on what Chet was saying, but rather, something he had himself thought of. Merlin could tell by the look in his eye that whatever it was, it did not bode well for Percival. 

Still, when they eventually brought Percival back inside, Merlin could say nothing to warn him, as that would only ensure that they killed him. Merlin tried to warn him with his eyes, but Percival avoided his gaze for the most part, and the only time he caught it, he disregarded Merlin’s concern and just gave him the hand-sign for “all clear” carefully disguised as a random movement.

The plan, Merlin found out, was for Cameron to use Merlin’s magic for the summoning spell - the added power would, theoretically, compensate for being two days off from the new moon. 

Merlin watched as they drew the summoning circle, and Cameron and his men got into position around the room - similar to when Merlin had arrived, only this time, Percival was placing himself carefully among them. Merlin didn’t know what Percival’s plan was. He didn’t even know how it was that Percival was here - he could do nothing but trust his friend.

Finally, the part that Merlin was dreading. He sat on his cot in preparation, knowing that this would probably bring him to his knees if he tried to stand. Cameron came and knelt by the glowing sigil and the magic coursed from Merlin into him. He pulled and pulled, and Merlin could do nothing to stop him, even as his stomach twisted and he felt ill with the knowledge of his magic in Cameron’s hands. It seemed to go on forever, with Cameron’s eyes glowing steadily yellow as he smiled at Merlin… until suddenly it stopped.  Cameron seemed just as surprised as Merlin - he pulled harder, but there was nothing to pull on, just a yawning emptiness that now sat in Merlin’s chest.

His magic was gone.

“I didn’t realize that was possible.” Cameron laughed. “Well, the amount I have will have to do,” he said as he stood back up. Then he considered Merlin for a moment, and added. “Pull him out. We’ll use him as leverage same as we did the other.”

“Cam?” one of the others said. “You sure th-”

“He’s empty. He can’t do anything to us anymore,” Cameron said. In his peripheral vision, Merlin could see Percival’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look over - if Percival’s plan was the only one they had, Merlin was not going to jeopardize it only to serve his own comfort.

Merlin thought he might be sick. He wasn’t sure he’s be able to stand, he felt so weak. They unlocked his cell and Merlin tried to walk on his own accord, but he stumbled, and two of the taller men ended up grabbing his arms and dragging him over to the edge of the summoning circle. They didn’t have to force him to his knees, he collapsed to them once they released him. 

“Pity your friend didn’t leave his sword,” Cameron said. “Arthur would understand a sword to your throat more than a gun, but we’ll explain it soon enough - maybe we’ll just demonstrate.”

A few of the men shifted on their feet. Merlin didn’t look up from where he stared at the stone floor, and tried to keep himself from falling into despair. Instead, he wondered what was in the summoning bowl for Arthur - the morning sunshine, the bones of ancient kings, breakfast, a sharp sword, ink and parchment from his desk, the little sound he made in the morning when he knew Merlin was there to wake him but he did not want to be woken, the way he said Merlin’s name differently than anyone else. Merlin didn’t know how you would put those things in a summoning bowl, but they were all he could think of as options.

The summoning wasn’t in the strange language that Sam and Dean’s summoning had been in, but in the language of the old religion. The words felt wrong and twisted coming from Cameron’s lips, but the summoning worked just the same - Merlin shut his eyes as the circle glowed bright gold, and Arthur appeared before them - in his full armour and formal cape, his sword already in his hand. No, not Athur’s sword, Merlin realized. It was a different one. Arthur’s sword was still in the scabbard at his hip. Why did Arthur have two swords? That was strange.

“What is the meaning of this?” Arthur demanded. The sword still held in front of him. Merlin wondered who Percival had meant when he said “we,” because it seemed Arthur had not expected to be summoned. Perhaps Arthur had sent Percival to help Gwaine somehow, in an effort to avoid this very situation.

“Welcome. I apologize for the rude method of getting in touch with you,” Cameron said. “Also, just for our own protection, you should know that if you should attack us, we won’t hesitate to shoot your friend, Merlin, here - we don’t want to, of course, but we need you to listen, the knight - Gawain, I believe it was - gave us the impression that you might not be willing to listen without a little incentive. Please know that the weapon we are holding to his head is deadlier than a crossbow.”

“I have to say that your ‘welcome’ so far has done little to ingratiate yourself to me,” Arthur said. “Why have you brought me here?”

“We need your help with a spell,” Cameron said. “Just a little of your blood, so that we can restore rightful rule to this land.”

“ And who would you have rule? Me? I’m flattered, but I decline,” Arthur replied, smiling as he finished. Merlin stared up at him. Arthur had not spared him more than a cursory glance this whole time, and Merlin wondered why - had he not been gone as long as he felt he had? Had Arthur somehow forgotten him? But Arthur wasn’t confused about who Merlin was, so that wasn’t the case. He had expected Arthur to address him, to say something .

“Us, we would have ourselves rule - as it should be.” Cameron replied, his tone cutting. “Once you help, you’ll be free to go home, we promise.”

“What sort of spell is it?” Arthur asked. 

“A simple loyalty spell,” Cameron answered. “To make the populace obedient to their rulers.”

“I see. Loyalty is a true gift, I agree,” Arthur said, lowering the sword he carried casually, as though he were more willing to listen. Merlin frowned. Was the spell they had done the other day still so strong as to ensnare Arthur?

“Cam, how do we know it’s him this time?” one of the men spoke up in a whisper, that nonetheless carried. 

“I’m King Arthur of Camerlot,” Arthur replied. “Who were you expecting? Though, I’m to understand you recently kidnapped one of my knights, as well as my sorcerer. Perhaps I understand the confusion. Where you looking for Lancelot, because I’m afraid you’ll be out of luck there.”

“It’s him,” Cameron concluded.

“Prove it,” the man behind Cameron got bolder, though Cameron hissed at him to shut up.

Arthur eyed the crowd slowly.

“Merlin, you serve at the command of your King, do you not?” Arthur finally said, though he barely glanced at Merlin. 

“I do, My Lord,” Merlin replied.

“You are loyal to me, and no other, are you not?” Arthur continued.

“I am, Sire,” Merlin replied. 

“Then a party trick,” Arthur said. “Make us a butterfly, Merlin.”

“I can’t, My Lord,” Merlin admitted, trying to keep the emotion from his voice, though the emptiness inside threatened to consume him. “I don’t have magic. They’ve taken it.”

Arthur tutted, shaking his head. “Well, a few mistakes are being made here then. First, you,” Arthur pointed to Cameron, “what is your name?” Arthur asked as though it had only just occurred to him that he didn’t know. This was also strange behaviour, since ordinarily Arthur wouldn’t deal with anyone who didn’t first declare their name and intentions. Cameron had only done one of those things.

“Cameron, Sire,” Cameron replied.

“Cameron,” Arthur sounded out. “Very well. Taking a sorcerers magic doesn’t seem like a smart thing to do if you intend to do a spell.”

“I have the magic, Sire, enough for the spell,” Cameron replied. 

“Then the mistake lies with you, Merlin,” Arthur said, and finally, Arthur looked directly at Merlin, holding his gaze. “For believing that anyone could take away what you are.”

“Sire?” Merlin asked, almost as a whisper, because now that Arthur was looking at him, it was almost too much. Because there was, indeed, the Arthur that Merlin knew and loved. Trying to tell him something, but Merlin wasn’t quite sure what it was.

Arthur suddenly broke their eye contact and smiled, falsely. 

“Luckily for you, I have that amulet of yours that will help.” Arthur finally lowered his sword and approached Merlin, revealing a simple metal pendant on a thin rope chain. The man holding a gun to Merlin seemed unsure what to do with this development, but Merlin used that confusion to reach forward and accept the amulet from Arthur’s outstretched hand, before Arthur held up his hand in apology and stepped backwards - easing the sudden tension in the room only a little. 

Merlin looked down at the amulet. He had never been seen it before in his life. It was an odd star imprinted in the center of a flaming sun. Merlin looked up at Arthur, and Arthur glanced at him quickly. Enough for Merlin to at least understand this message - put it on. So Merlin did.

“Merlin, you don’t have magic,” Arthur said slowly, once he’d secured the pendant under his neckerchief. “You are magic. Now, the butterfly.”

Merlin stared at Arthur, his words echoing those from his dreams - had Arthur been talking to his father somehow? 

Merlin closed his hands and blew gently into them, while staring at Arthur, who caught his eye and winked - the arrogant prat. Where did he get off telling Merlin how his own magic worked. And yet, Merlin felt the spark of magic alight inside him. When he opened his hand, a butterfly flew out.

“See, even when you’ve drained him, I can command him with a word, are you still not convinced?” Arthur commanded.

The men seemed very nervous now, as well they should, because Merlin was unbound and he still had magic. Merlin wanted to laugh, but he settled for the drawing on his magic just to hold it in his breath, in his blood, in his eyes, in every part of his body - he drew it into himself like they had drawn it out of him.

“Don’t worry, lads,” Arthur said. “Merlin is loyal to me, and therefore, according to you, I have his obedience as well. Perhap another demonstration of your loyalty, Merlin - so that these men can understand what it means.”

“That’s not necess-” Cameron started.

“Which one of these men has treated you with the most kindness since your imprisonment here?” Arthur asked, ignoring Cameron completely. 

Merlin eyed Arthur and then turned his head to look over the faces behind him. He picked out the guard who had seemed the most disturbed and reluctant to be there. “That one,” he pointed.

“What’s your name?” Arthur called to him.

“Tom?”

“Tom, excellent - my wife’s father was named Tom, did you know that already?” Arthur asked.

“Uh, no, sir,” Tom replied. 

“You really don’t have to-” Cameron tried again.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, there seems to be a lot that you don’t know - for instance - let’s have that demonstration of loyalty, shall we?” Arthur commanded the room the way he was capable of commanding any room - but Merlin was confused - what was he doing? Why was he acting so odd? This was so very unlike Arthur. “Merlin,” Arthur continued. “Kill Tom.”

“ What?! ” Tom and Merlin both said, in very different tones of voice.

“You’re loyal to me, aren’t you?” Arthur repeated. “So, do as I say and kill Tom.”

Merlin looked over at Tom to see him wide-eyed and terrified… those around him stepped away from him. Tom flinched when he met Merlin’s gaze and then eyed the exit. Cameron was oddly silent. Merlin didn’t turn to look at him - but he wondered where the protests were now. Did the promise of bloodshed stifle his protests of the needless second demonstration. 

“No,” Merlin said. 

“What was that?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Merlin repeated. “What’s wrong with you?” 

Arthur smiled. “Thank you, Merlin.” And then addressing Cameron once again, he continued, “Now, what have we learned?” 

“What?” Cameron asked, clearly caught wrong footed.

“Nothing?” Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Ah, such a shame. I had hoped to stall you just a little longer. Percival, if you would.”

Percival, who was suddenly a lot closer than when Merlin had last seen him, took a step to the right and disarmed the man holding the gun, it was fairly easy, given the man’s inexperience and confusion. As he stepped to Arthur’s side, Percival raised the gun and pointed it at Cameron.

“What?!” Cameron repeated, panicked now.

“You left your sword in the motel room,” Arthur said, passing the sword he carried over to Percival’s free hand. “Take it, I need to make a call.”

“ What?! ” Cameron said again. Merlin would have echoed him, but he was too busy staring up at Arthur, as he pulled a small shiny device from his belt, opened it on a hinge, and then pressed something that made it light up.

“You stole two of my men, Cameron,” Arthur said calmly, as he held the device up to the side of his face. “Did you honestly think I’d come on a rescue mission with only one knight.” 

Percival smirked. 

“But we summoned you here-” Cameron sputtered.

“Yes, all the way from just outside,” Arthur said, so unamused that he almost sounded like Uther. 

From the device, a voice could be heard as though from a distance. “Sire?”

“Attack,” Arthur said, then closed the device again and drew his own sword. “Anyone who wishes to flee may do so now, and we will consider mercy.” 

Several things happened at once. Arthur motioned for Merlin to get behind him, so Merlin scrambled forward nearly on all fours to do so. Cameron yelled, “open the doors,” even as some of his men were already moving behind him, and then Cameron held up a hand and the gun that Percival had been holding flew through the air and back to him. Merlin turned just in time to see Cameron’s eyes flash gold - he was still using Merlin’s magic, and Merlin hated him for it.

Percival was not to be intimidated, and struck forward immediately with his sword - Cameron was not quick enough to fire the gun, and Percival’s blow landed - the flat of the sword coming down so hard on Cameron’s forearm, that the break, and Cameron’s subsequent scream echoed through the room, the gun went flying from the suddenly weakened grip. Merlin wondered if Cameron knew that even that blow had been a mercy - if Percival had used the edge of the sword, Cameron’s hand would have been severed.

Some of Cameron’s men rushed forward then, they had no weapons, but seemed to be confident enough in hand-to-hand combat. Arthur and Percival moved forward as well, meeting those attacking with blows to incapacitate rather than kill. 

Then, there was black smoke swirling into the room.

*

“God, I wish I could have seen that,” Dean said, as he pocketed his phone. He gave a nod to Gwaine, and he and Sam walked brazenly out of the tree line, towards the building. Sam had been able to park the Impala in the parking lot of the neighbouring warehouse and had only just arrived with what they needed. He had told them the plan over the phone as he drove over - one that he and Arthur had come up with together. 

The parking lot was full of cars, but quiet - they didn’t even have a man on the door. They were probably all gathered in the room for the spell, assuming their demon friends circling above would keep guard.

And the demons did, only they couldn’t do anything to Sam and Dean without vessels - so Dean knew the moment they were spotted, because the demons stopped circling the roof and instead traveled through the crack under the door ahead of Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean turned their walk into a jog - they had to get there in time to save whatever kid was about to possessed before Arthur saw fit to kill them.

They were nearly bowled over by the first of the fleeing kids - the nice thing was that Dean didn’t have to worry about them being demons - because if the demons had some stake in Arthur or Merlin, they’d hardly be leaving without them.

Unfortunately, once they got a little way down the hall - running towards where the screams were coming from, that was when they ran into some douchebags who, at the sight of someone as big or bigger than them, decided it was time to fight. 

Dean really didn’t want to have to shoot a stupid human kid - but if he had to beat the shit out of them in order to get them to stay down, then that’s what he was going to do. Sam too. 

“We’re trying to help!” Sam said, as he punched some quarterback-looking kid in the face. Dean wondered if that was really the best strategy, but it seemed to cause at least some confusion, and hesitancy in the next attacker, so maybe it was. 

“Stay down, if you know what’s good for you,” Dean told the next guy that he laid out. 

Another guy managed to clock Dean in the jaw, but then just looked confused as to what to do next. It was quite clear that he had never been in a fight that lasted longer than the initial blow. Kids.

By the time they got to the main room, it was clear that the demons had found vessels - because Percival was magically pinned to a wall, while a demon was yelling at Cameron, who was cowering on the floor holding a clearly broken arm to his chest and crying. Around the room, in various states of consciousness, lay the bodies of other college kids, some cradling similarly broken limbs or noses.

“-you sloppy idiot. Don’t LIE TO US! We only needed Arthur, and you were to contact us immediately - you should not have disobeyed!”

The demon raised a hand and Cameron went flying into a wall, making him scream as his broken arm was jostled.

“Exor-”

“Shut-up!” A second kid turned to them, eyes black and hand raised - Dean found him and Sam also flying back to meet the wall behind them. Dean hated when they did that.

“What’s going on?” another guy - Blake, Dean remembered from the research - the guy’s name was Blake. Supposedly Cameron’s best friend. His girlfriend had spent the afternoon spilling all the beans to Sam and Dean about how she didn’t think Cameron was a good influence. 

 “Did your friend not tell you that he was in league with demons?” Arthur asked, casually, swinging his sword in a circle as he eyed the two demons. “That hardly seems to be the actions of someone worth your loyalty.”

“I said SHUT-UP!” The second demon raised their hand again towards Arthur-

“NO!” Merlin yelled, and his eyes flared gold as the demon flew backwards instead, landing in a heap at the far wall. Dean managed to turn his head and raise his eyebrows at Sam - good to know that Merlin could do that. Slightly annoying that he hadn’t bothered to help them out before they got pinned - but Dean was comforted by the fact that he obviously hadn’t been quick enough to help Percival either.

“Thank you, Merlin,” Arthur said.

“Yes, thank you, Merlin,” the first demon who had been berating Cameron said, saccharinely sweet - it reminded Dean of Meg - only, this demon was wearing the body of some dude-bro. “We certainly wouldn’t want to damage such a useful tool.”

“Ah, so was that the nature of your deal with Cameron?” Arthur asked. “He summons me, and you use me? What does he get out of this bargain?”

“His powers, of course,” the first demon explained. “I am a fan of the classics - swear allegiance to a demon, and you get to be a witch - or, a ‘warlock’, as Cameron insists - he’s so very sexist,” The demon rolled his eyes.

“In that case, maybe I should ask what’s so special about me? Because honestly, I’m not sure what you get out of having the allegiance of someone who’s clearly an idiot.” Arthur continued. 

“We just need you to do what you do best-”

“Rule Camelot?” Arthur asked with a raised eyebrow.

“-pull a little sword out of a little bit of stone,” the demon continued, as though Arthur hadn’t spoken.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Nothing bad-”

Dean snorted.

“Have anything to do with a hell gate?” Sam asked.

The demon glared at them, narrowing his eyes, and then smiled slowly.

“Well, you always were a smart one, Sam Winchester - pity you bucked your destiny, this matter would have been long settled. Instead, we’ve had to call in outside help-”

“Let me guess, the sword is a key and that key opens-”

“If you hadn’t TAKEN LUCIFER FROM US! WE WOULDN’T NEED TO GO TO SUCH LENGTHS-”

“ARTHUR LOOK OUT!” Percival called and Dean’s attention whipped from the demon to Percival, who was staring at Cameron. Cameron was still on the floor, but had managed to recover the gun and it was now aimed at the king or maybe Merlin, his finger already pulling the trigger-

*

Merlin’s head was swimming. He wasn’t sure what was going on - Sam and Dean were here, but where was Gwaine? 

Percival had been pinned before Merlin could react, Sam and Dean the same - this was magic unlike Merlin had ever seen, but when the creature inhabiting Chet raised his hand to do the same for Arthur, Merlin pushed all he had into his intent to prevent whatever spell this was from hitting Arthur, and instead returning to its caster - it had worked, much to Merlin’s surprise.

Instead of pressing his advantage, however, Arthur had begun to talk. Merlin was dizzy with adrenaline, but he listened. He soon realized what was happening - he knew the Legend of the Two Brothers well - and now he understood what these dark spirits wanted with Arthur. They wanted him to take Sam’s place, to lead their evil army to take over the world. Merlin would have laughed at the thought, if he hadn’t seen the way the black smoke had swarmed Arthur first, trying to enter him as it had entered Chet and the one that Merlin had only ever heard referred to by his profession as a mason. They hadn’t meant for Arthur to still have his own will, and yet somehow they hadn’t been able to take him the way they had Chet and the mason.

“ARTHUR LOOK OUT!” Percival yelled, and Merlin only just caught the movement of the gun in Cameron’s hands before he realized it was going to be too late, so he did what came naturally.

Merlin stopped time.

*

An unnatural sudden silence fell, as Arthur turned to see smoke rising from the gun - only, it wasn’t rising. It sat in the air, perfectly framing a glint of metal that also sat still supported by nothing.

“Two paces forward, Arthur.” Merlin voice came from behind him. And Arthur turned to look at him, even as he obeyed and took two paces towards the demons in front of him. 

Merlin was standing with his hand outstretched, his eyes the bright gold of swirling magic. 

Behind Merlin, stuck to the wall, was Percival, his face frozen with his eyes-wide and the end of his warning still leaving his lips. It was as though Arthur and Merlin were in their own world, here, in this frozen moment, surrounded by chaos and danger, but perfectly safe as long as they stayed here. 

“Merlin, this is amazing.”. 

“I’ve never done it with someone else before,” Merlin said with a smile. “I didn’t know I could.”

Arthur nearly suggested that he keep them there longer - that they, together, walk from the room or at least stay in this moment long enough for Arthur to explain the plan; but Arthur could see how Merlin’s feet were planted, this was no magic done like an archer shooting a sparrow from the sky - this was Merlin with a sword firmly planted in the river of time, his own strength on the hilt the only thing keeping them from being washed away. Then Arthur spotted a flash of blue on the cold floor by Merlin’s feet, and he felt a fissure of fear.

“Thank you,” Arthur replied, carefully keeping his expression calm. He turned and faced the enemy, lifting Excalibur. The time for talking was over. “Now stop it, Merlin.”

Arthur was launching himself forward even as time restarted - the demon’s eyes jumping to his new position in confusion, not quick enough to raise a hand. Behind Arthur, there was a bang and a scream. 

Arthur didn’t turn around to see where the gun had fired. He drove his sword into the demon’s shoulder, and watched as the arm went limp, the demon crackling orange, the boy inside screamed, and his screams turned to smoke as the demon fled Arthur’s attack. He heard Percival’s boots hit the floor. It had been enough - the brothers would have to wait a moment for their release, but the plan would still work.

Arthur didn’t pause, he used the momentum of his strike to launch himself towards the door.

“Percival, protect Merlin!” he yelled over his shoulder, as the second demon followed him out. He was the quarry here, not Merlin, he could lead it away and protect his friend. He glanced back only long enough to see that the disembodied smoke was stalking a new host in Cameron, who was screaming and firing the gun into the black smoke above him, as though that would keep the demon away. Arthur didn’t have time to see more, he had to outrun the demon already chasing him.

Chapter Text

It was unlike the King to run from a battle - but Percival obeyed his orders. He watched as one demon followed Arthur out of the room, the other entered Cameron. While Cameron was distracted by the smoke pouring into his mouth, Percival ran over and ripped the gun from his grip - and then returned to stand between the demon and Merlin with his sword raised - his sword would do nothing against the demon, but Percival could only hope that he could protect Merlin long enough for Merlin to defend them.

Across the room, Blake screamed as blood gushed from his wound. Percival didn’t know how Arthur had been one place one moment and another the next, but without his body between Cameron and Blake, the shot meant for Arthur had hit Blake instead. 

As soon as Cameron’s eyes turned black, he scrambled to his feet and then his scream was one of rage instead of terror. Beside Percival, Merlin planted his feet and lifted a hand. The demon snarled and then turned and ran after the King, rather than launch any sort of attack that Merlin would have to defend against. 

No sooner had the demon left the room, then Sam and Dean fell from where they had been pinned to the wall. 

Sam ran towards the screaming Blake, while Dean ordered, “Percy, Merlin, you’re with me!” and left the room. 

Around the room, the remnant of Cameron’s men were unconscious or cowering in corners. Percival thought nothing of them, as he followed Merlin, who stumbled after Dean. Percival realized then why Arthur was leading the demons away from them - Merlin was walking as though drunk, or ill. Percival put a hand to his arm - he wished he could spare the other hand as well; but, useless against demons or not, his sword might still be the difference between life and death. 

As they exited the room, he could hear Sam barking orders at Cameron’s men - how to treat Blake’s wound, what to say when they called for help. Pecival marveled at his mercy.

In the corridor, after rounding a corner, Percival finally glimpsed the rest of Arthur’s plan.

*

Arthur ran. Though he was at a disadvantage with his heavy armour, he seemed to be fast enough. He ran in the direction he saw the most unconscious bodies. He rounded a corner and saw people still limping towards the exits, some were trying to rouse their friends whose unconscious bodies were strewn about so much that it was hard to see the floor, let alone know where to place your foot. Those still awake whimpered and sunk to the ground as they saw Arthur coming, their arms coming up to protect their heads, or to show surrender. He paid them no mind, he had to run - and he could see the doors just ahead - if he could make it to the doors, it would be far enough.

A magic force slammed into his back and sent him flying, he lost his grip on Excalibur, as it skittered across the floor ahead of him. He slammed hard into the stone. Luckily, he saw the black and grey beneath his face and then there were hands on his shoulders, pulling him up and forward. 

“My sword,” Arthur ordered Gwaine, once he had his feet under him and could run the last few feet - Gwaine quickly diverted to fetch it. He knew Gwaine wouldn’t be quick enough. Arthur turned and faced the approaching demon weaponless. Behind that demon, the other demon rounded the corner as well, now inside of Cameron.  He knew that his face showered fear, because the black-eyed creature smiled as it began to stalk towards him... and promptly smacked into an invisible wall.

“I did that job right then,” Gwaine said, as he came back to stand next to Arthur. He grabbed the arm of one of the unconscious enemy, with fingertips stained black with paint, and dragged the body to the side, revealing more of what lay below the demon’s feet - spanning the entire width of the corridor, was a painted diagram - a Devil’s Trap, Sam had called it.

“You fool!” the demon-in-Cameron yelled. That demon was still free, but Arthur saw Dean round the corridor at a run, which at least meant that Arthur had managed to cancel out the demon’s magic by trapping it. “Don’t you look where you’re going?!”

The demon in the trap snarled. “Get me out of here!”

Arthur watched Dean’s approaching run, and the demons between them - one trapped, and one free, but out of Arthur’s reach. 

The demon-in-Cameron turned and lifted a hand towards Dean, just as Percival and Merlin came around the corner as well.

“No!” Merlin said, lifting his own hand, and suddenly the demon was flying through the air towards Arthur - the force of his own spell used against him -  he landed in the same devil’s trap that his friend had run straight into.

“Your sword, Sire,” Gwaine said, handing Excalibur over to Arthur. Arthur swung it carefully in his hand, relishing, just for a moment, the weight of it. Sam appeared at the end of the hall and began walking to join Dean who was firmly planted between Merlin and the demons. Sam had a large book tucked under his arm, and he gave Arthur a quick nod.

“Now, I could kill you,” Arthur said, returning his gaze to the demons. “You’ve seen that already - but my friends here would like to send you back to your own realm instead, in an act of mercy towards the misguided idiots you’re currently wearing. Trust me, as those same idiots kidnapped two of my men - I’ve half a mind to kill them anyway. Harming my manservant in anyway would result in their death were we in Camelot.”

“Oh sure, let’s not even mention the fact that they shot me ,” Gwaine muttered. 

“You also shot Gwaine, which is, in general, frowned upon,” Arthur added. “Merlin is quite fond of him.”

“Let us out!” The demon inside Cameron snarled. “Or we’ll kill these vessels!”

“That would only give me permission to kill you,” Arthur countered. “I thought we just went over this. Sam, if you would.”

Sam started speaking as he came to stand beside Dean, and as he spoke, the demons hissed and spat, and eventually fell to their knees and writhed while the men they were wearing began to vomit up black smoke, which sunk into the ground below them.

“What the fuck, what the fuck?” one of them said while nearly weeping. Arthur paid him no mind, He strode forward and yanked Cameron’s head back by his hair, placing his sword at his throat.

“And what have we learned here today?” Arthur asked.

“I don’t… I’m sorry, I don’t-” Cameron wept.

“Your spell was working the whole time, you idiot, which is the only reason you still live,” Arthur answered. “What you’ve failed to grasp, what you continue to fail to grasp - is that true loyalty contains an amazing amount of disobedience, as people will act in your best interests rather than on your orders. How do you think Camelot has prospered? Hm?”

“I don’t-”

“You felt yourself clever enough to use a spell book, but not clever enough to do any sort of research,” Arthur tsked. “Merlin only ever disobeys me - but you were correct that he is the most loyal to me in all of Camelot. My friends here, whom I hold in high regard and am loyal to, have asked me not to kill you for your crimes -  do you think I’ll obey?”

Cameron looked at him in terror.

“Now you understand, don’t you?” Arthur spoke slowly. “Loyalty is not obedience.”

A knife suddenly embedded itself in Cameron’s arm, and he screamed, jerking out of Arthur’s grasp. Arthur whipped his head around to stare at Gwaine.

“Well, I was upset about being shot,” Gwaine said. “And you just said-”

Arthur laughed.

“Good work, Gwaine,” Arthur announced. “Merlin? What’s your say? Alive or dead.”

“Leave him to his fate,” Merlin said. “He disgusts me, but I wish him to realize his folly before death.”

“Okay, if we’re doing that, we should get out of here,” Sam replied. “I told one of them to call the cops in fifteen. But first, Merlin - you did the spell last, yeah?” 

Merlin nodded, and Sam flipped through the book he carried and then passed it over to Merlin. Merlin smiled, and began to chant in the language of the Old Religion. 

“No!” Cameron cried. Arthur knocked him out.  It would probably have been more satisfying if he was awake to witness the destruction of the loyalty spell - the spell that had worked well and would have helped him in whatever trial might be ahead - but on the other hand, Arthur was sick of his whining.

The other recently-possessed man was cowering against the wall, tear tracked down his checks and his eyes wide and terrified. Arthur considered his fate - there were a few others who weren’t unconscious in similar positions down the corridor - cowards, but it was to Camelot’s advantage that they were, so Arthur wasn’t about to chastise them.

There was little fanfare when Merlin stopped his chant. Arthur expected there to be a marked difference in the way he felt, but there was only a subtle increase in Arthur’s disappointment that they hadn’t killed Cameron outright.

“Percy, hand me the gun,” Sam ordered, and Percival handed the gun in the method that Sam and Dean had trained them to use.

Sam took it using the sleeve of his shirt. Arthur wasn’t sure why he held it in such an odd fashion. Sam simply placed the gun on the ground by the wall, half hidden behind an unconscious boy. 

“Fingerprints,” Sam explained, catching Arthur’s look.

“Hm,” Arthur said, he’d never thought of that before - but of course, he knew just how easy it was to leave a fingerprint behind on shiney new metal. Behind Sam, Merlin was flipping through the magic book. Meanwhile, Dean yanked the knife out of Cameron’s arm, making the wound bleed at a greater speed.

“‘Is one of my good knives,” Dean muttered, wiping it quickly on a dark cloth that he pulled from his pocket, before closing the blade into its sheath handle.  Then he glanced at the cowering man by the wall and the others down the hall and his voice boomed as he continued. “LISTEN UP! Your boy Cameron here went crazy with some occult nonsense, lured you all here, where a fight broke out and shit went down - you never saw Merlin, or Arthur, or any of us. Cam’s the one who shot your buddy back there - so that’s on him - you hear me? Someone stabbed Cameron and knocked him out to end the rampage - you can fight amongst yourselves who it was. Capiche?”

There was no response.

“CAPICHE?!” Dean yelled again. Arthur didn’t even know what that word meant, but that was usually the case with things Dean said so he paid it no mind.

“C-capiche,” “‘Piche,” “Yes, sir,” A few responses came.

“Great. If anyone tries to rat us out - please know that we have information on all of you - your parents, your girlfriends… we will fuck you up more than you’ve already fucked yourselves.” Dean waited a moment and when no one said anything, he nodded. “Alright team, move out!”

“Merlin with me!” Arthur called out and held out his hand for Merlin, but Merlin went straight for Cameron - the book still open in his hands. 

Arthur watched as Merlin dipped his fingers in Cameron’s open wound and drew a symbol on his face.

“ Pairo magia .” Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and then he drew another symbol on the other cheek and muttered “ adeaso magia .”

“Merlin?” Arthur questioned, but Dean cut him off.

“Questions later - if you’re done, let’s go!”

Merlin nodded and ran forward then, stumbling over his own feet as he wiped his fingers on his pants before taking Arthur’s outstretched hand.

Gwaine was already holding the door open for them when Arthur turned, and he led them on. Percival, Sam and Dean, brought up the rear. Arthur pulled Merlin along, feeling his hand almost tug away from him as Merlin stumbled again. Arthur’s heart was in his throat by the time they reached the Impala, which was hidden in a nearly empty courtyard behind a neighbouring building.

Merlin practically barrelled into Arthur as he hadn’t been expecting Arthur to come to a stop. Arthur caught him and turned it into an embrace. Pressing Merlin’s too thin frame against his chainmail. 

“Why are we stopping? Where are your men?” Merlin asked, out of breath and frantic in Arthur’s ear, while trying to get his hands between them so that he could push himself out of the hug. Arthur took pity on Merlin and stepped back, moving his hands to his shoulders instead, so that he could properly look at him.

“The men are in Camelot,” Arthur said. “I actually did only bring Percival - I was going to come alone, but he insisted. Really, Merlin, as if you’d warrant a whole army.”

Merlin stared at him and then broke into a smile so wide that Arthur couldn’t help but smile back.

“I missed you,” Merlin said. So, Arthur pulled Merlin back into a hug.

In the distance, a droning sort of claxon could be heard, it seemed to be getting louder. 

*

Sam was once again impressed with how fast Arthur could run in full chainmail, a cape, and tugging a stumbling wizard behind him. Granted, Sam was delayed by making sure they grabbed the duffle that Gwaine had brought in with the paint and back-up supplies. By the time the rest of them reached the car, Arthur and Merlin were already hugging, and Gwaine was fumbling with the trunk latch. Dean and Sam, by a quick glance of mutual agreement, gave them a moment and helped Gwaine open the trunk first to throw the gear and swords in. Sam could hear the sirens already - they had less than five minutes to get out of this parking lot without being seen.

“Alright, break it up and get in the car!” Dean called, heading for the driver’s seat. Percival and Gwaine flung open the back doors and climbed in.Sam shut the trunk and glanced over towards Arthur and Merlin to find them looking like a Klimt painting, with Arthur almost completely bent over Merlin in the embrace - one arm braced across is back, the other cradling the back of his head. Sam heard Arthur’s voice repeatedly saying Merlin’s name, and it was only then that he realized that the hug was one-sided and Merlin’s arms hung limp at his sides, his knees buckling, and the only thing keeping him upright was how tightly Arthur was clinging to him.

“Shit,” Sam said, running over, even as Gwaine and Percival scrambled back out of the car. “I got him, I got him - get in the car.” Sam eased Merlin away from the king, who, given more freedom of movement, only used it to gently tap Merlin’s face in an attempt to get him to wake up.

“Sire-” Percival started.

“What happ-” Gwaine tried to ask. All Sam could hear was the approaching sirens.

“Get in the car!” Sam ordered. 

The knights and their king all scrambled into the back seat, the knights pushing Arthur in first so that he ended up pressed behind Dean on the far side. Arthur was saying something, but Sam could no longer hear him. He lugged the unconscious body of Merlin over to where Percival sat by the open door.

“Pull him in,” Sam said. “He’ll lay across your laps.”

They thankfully made quick work of it, and Percival made sure that Merlin’s feet were out of the way before Sam shut the door and jumped in the passenger seat.

No sooner did his door shut, then Dean pulled out, keeping the headlights off. 

“What happened?” Dean asked. They slipped out the back of the lot, just as the flashing lights surrounded the neighbouring building, Sam could only hope that the sirens drowned out the noise of the Impala’s engine. 

“He was fine and then he just- Merlin? Merlin?” Arthur interrupted himself, shaking the man in question a little. Merlin had ended up mostly in his lap, with his legs stretched out across Gwaine and Percival. Arthur continued, his voice distressed. “His butterfly died.”

Dean in the rearview mirror and then at Sam. Sam had no idea and shrugged.  

“Is he breathing?” Sam asked. Dean kept the lights off as he crept down a short alley and then pulled onto a back road, they’d have to loop around the outside of the city in order to get back to the motel, but this route worked in their favour, as all the cops were pouring in from the other direction. 

“Yes,” Arthur replied.

“Pulse? Heartbeat?” Dean questioned further. Gwaine leaned right over and put his ear to Merlin’s chest. 

“Yes,” he said.

“Okay,” Dean said. “We get him back to the hotel then - maybe he just fainted.”

“Right,” Arthur said, but it sounded hollow. Sam glanced back to find Arthur tucking Merlin further against him as the car went over a few rough potholes. “But the butterfly died.”

Sam turned further to look at Gwaine - but Gwaine just shook his head. Whatever butterfly was code for either Gwaine didn’t know, or he wasn’t telling. Sam couldn’t turn far enough in the passenger seat to see Percival, at least, not without possibly drawing attention to them if they passed a police car. The last thing Sam wanted was for them to get pulled over for not wearing seatbelts and have to explain an unconscious peasant and medieval knights.

“Merlin performed a great deal of magic before we left, Sire,” Percival stated. 

“Does anyone know what that spell was that he put on Cameron?” Sam asked, when Arthur didn’t respond. 

“He found it in the book,” Percival said. 

“Shit the book, I-”

“I have it here,” Percival interrupted Sam, and Sam found a book thrust over his shoulder. Sam opened it and flipped through. He had expected Arthur and Percival to resume talking behind him, but instead silence descended on the vehicle while Dean drove through the city, carefully obeying the speed limits for once.

The language in the book was unlike any Sam had seen before. He had found a page with the pattern Merlin had drawn on Cameron’s cheek by the time they reached the motel, but he hadn’t yet deciphered what it’s purpose was. He dog-eared the page for lack of a bookmark and helped make sure the coast was clear as Percival carried Merlin carefully into Room 5. 

Sam could only hope that their rescue hadn’t been too late after all.

Chapter Text

Dean checked Merlin over for the basics - dehydration, brain-injury. There was nothing to explain why he was unconscious. Arthur and Gwaine were looking more than a little worried, so Dean called Cas’ number… and promptly got sent to voicemail.

“Okay, old fashioned way then,” Dean muttered, hanging up without leaving a message. He sat on the edge of the other bed and closed his eyes. “Castiel - either you’re out of cell range or busy, but if you’re hearing this, we could use your skills. We’ve got Merlin, but he’s not exactly in peak condition - if you could stop by the motel when you get a chance-”

“Dean?” a muffled low voice called, sounding like Cas but at an odd distance.

Dean opened his eyes to find the other (conscious) occupants in the room staring at him, except Sam, who didn’t bother glancing up from the book in his hands as he walked to the wall of the motel room and rapped on it in a short rhythm. 

“We’re in Room 5, Cas!” Sam said.

There was a flutter of wings and Cas appeared in the room.

“You could have said,” Cas complained to Dean, ignoring the startled looks from everyone but the Winchesters.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“The battery is dead,” Cas replied, but his gaze wasn’t on Dean anymore - instead he was staring at Merlin. “Fascinating.”

“Okay, Spock,” Dean raised his eyebrows. “Since you’re already interested - do you mind taking a closer look and making sure the kid’s alright?  He passed out after we got him out of that building, but he doesn’t seem to be injured or dehydrated or anything - so we can’t figure out why-”

“His butterfly died,” Arthur suddenly spoke up.

“That too, though I’m still not sure what that means,” Dean said, eyeing Arthur.

Cas’s attention briefly jumped from Merlin to Arthur. 

“In- in the fortress- the prison- I needed to stall for time,” Arthur hastily explained. “I also - he claimed they had drained him of his magic, but that shouldn’t be possible, because Gauis said- well, it doesn’t matter - the point is that I asked Merlin to perform a trick that he’s done before, in order to see if he was truly without magic, something harmless but impressive - a butterfly. And it worked, only - only the butterfly died after only a short time. Before, when he made a butterfly in Camelot, it lived a night and a day at least, I fed it strawberries and… that is to say, perhaps I was wrong to ask it of him - perhaps it was too much?”

Cas hadn’t seemed to blink through Arthur’s explanation, and Dean couldn’t blame the king for suddenly stammering like the young twenty-whatever year-old he was. Cas didn’t answer, instead, he gazed back at Merlin in concentration. Arthur seemed to be bracing himself against whatever Castiel’s next words might be as the silence stretched on.

“Uh, Cas?” Dean’s voice felt awkward in the room and he wished that he hadn’t spoken, but it was a little late now. 

“May I touch him?” Cas asked.

“Yes,” Arthur replied, stepping away from the bed so that Castiel could take his place.

Cas hovered a hand tentatively over Merlin, as though he couldn’t decide where to put it, and Dean was surprised to realize that this is the first time he’d seen Castiel act uncertain when healing someone. He carefully schooled his expression when Arthur and the knights glanced over at him, but he probably blew it by meeting Sam’s eye and confirming that Sam saw it too.

Finally, Cas placed one hand on Merlin’s chest and the other on his forehead. “Amazing.”

“Care to share with the class?” Dean asked, because he was sure that he wasn’t the only one growing impatient.

Cas, as he tended to do, ignored Dean, but he did pull his hands away and stand straight again. Dean sometimes wondered if Cas delayed responding in moments like these just to remind Dean that he couldn’t be bossed around if he didn’t want to be. On the other hand, it seemed cruel to leave the knights in suspense like this, and Castiel was hardly ever intentionally cruel.

“Merlin has been drained,” Cas finally announced. “It is as you say - he has exhausted himself, and must now recover, but there is something else - you said he made a butterfly, did he do anything else before he fell unconscious?”

“Yes, and I found it!” Sam  announced, gesturing with the book of magic.

“What is it?” Arthur asked.

“Does it involve taking another’s magic?” Castiel asked before Sam could answer. There was visible surprise on Arthur and the knight’s faces. 

 “I haven’t been able to read it,” Sam admitted. “It’s a language I haven’t seen before.” Sam passed the book over to Cas. “He used this spell, and the one on the next page as well, on the ringleader of the witches, Cameron”

Cas took the book and read, his brow furrowed. 

“My translation may be imperfect, as this language is clearly that of another world, but the basic structure and etymology appears to remain Indo-European,” Castiel explained. “It is likely he combined two spells in this book.  He took all the magic that the person possessed and then sealed him afterwards, so that he’d never be able to access magic again.”

“A fitting punishment,” Arthur nodded in approval.

“Indeed -  and it also explains the poison,” Cas stated, closing the book again and handing it back to a dumbfounded Sam.

“What?!” several people said at once, while Arthur suddenly had his hand back on his sword.

“What poison? Is there an antidote? I thought you said he would recover. Explain!” Arthur demanded. 

“My apologies, there’s no need for alarm,” Castiel said calmly. “When Merlin drew out the magic, he took both the magic that had been taken from him - but also the magic that the demon had bestowed upon the witch when the witch first made his deal. The magics are not of the same quality, Merlin was meant to possess one but not the other. It’s like… giving a blood transfusion with the wrong blood type.”

“Blood type?” Gwaine asked. “There are types of blood?”

Castiel hesitated for a moment and looked somewhat wildly towards Sam.

“Uh,” Sam said. “Maybe a better example would be… getting a sliver deep under the skin?” Sam tried. “The body sees something as not belonging, so it tries to get rid of it… it fights it like it would a sickness...”

“An infection,” Arthur concluded. “He’s been infected with bad magic while trying to reclaim his own.”

“Yes,” Castiel said.

“Can we draw it out of him, as we would if it were a sliver?” Percival asked.

“No,” Cas replied. “Merlin is rejecting it on his own, but the act of doing so seems to have exhausted him and put him into a deep sleep. Just as one must sleep more when they are ill.”

“But he will recover?” Arthur asked.

“Yes,” Cas confirmed. “He is also, naturally, reclaiming what was taken from him beyond the one man, but he is doing so slowly. It will help him recover and sustain him enough to wake, I believe.”

Dean let out a breath along with the rest of the room. 

“Thank you,” Arthur said.

“No, I… that is, it was no trouble, thank you for… it was an honour to meet him,” Castiel floundered, suddenly his full awkward self again.

Dean took pity on him and turned the conversation towards what they had learned about the demons’ plans. This had the added benefit of distracting Arthur from the fact that his best-friend was unconscious, at least for the time it took for Arthur to contributed his side of the encounter with the witches. Castiel seemed to listen to them intently, but his gaze often shifted to Merlin for long periods of time, before returning to Arthur and Dean again.

“This indicates that the demon activity in Russia may have been a distraction meant specifically for me, so that I would not suspect activity at a completely different hell gate,” Castiel concluded. “Clever, if their intent was to open a gate in Great Britain, but summon Arthur in America, that would mean that local hunters would not be able to understand the fullness of their plan.”

Dean nodded. “We sent them back to hell, because we were being too nice to those kids, probably - I’m not sure how long that’s going to keep them. We’ll move out in the morning and head to the Bunker just in case they make another grab for our friends here.”

“That would be wise,” Castiel agreed. “I will inform Yuri, he is surprisingly well connected with several international hunters.”

“Right, Yuri,” Dean muttered. Cas actually rolled his eyes, and Dean felt an odd sense of victory at seeing it. 

“Before I go,” Cas said. “I need to speak with you and Sam outside for a moment.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Dean replied, he gave a nod to Arthur and the knights. “We’ll be right back.”

Arthur eyed them leaving, but he didn’t say anything and he didn’t budge from Merlin’s side. Dean figured that Arthur’s priorities were solely with Merlin now, and that he trusted Dean and Sam to handle any details about international hunter cooperation or whatever the hell Cas wanted to talk to them about.

Instead of walking to the next room, or even just going to stand by the car. Castiel walked them down the row of motel rooms and around the corner to stand next to the ice machine.

“What’s this about Cas?” Sam asked. “‘Cause you know Dean’s not actually jealous of Yuri, right? He’s just a control freak”

“Hey!”

“You need to return Merlin to Camelot,” Cas interrupted.

“Uh, okay, I’m pretty sure that’s the plan,” Dean replied. 

“Why are you telling us this, Cas?” Sam asked, and yeah, come to think of it, maybe that was the better reply - why was Cas telling them this, and also why was he telling them away from the rest of the Camelot crew. Cameltonians? No, that sounded wrong even in Dean’s head - Cameloters?

“Merlin wasn’t meant to be gone from his world,” Cas explained. “I’m not sure how to explain it in ways you’ll be able to understand - let alone in a way that King Arthur would understand. Never before have I wished that you could see as I do then at this moment, but Merlin is… unlike any being or creature I have ever seen.”

“Okay,” Dean said slowly. “So, what do you see? What does he look like to you?”

“Words cannot…” Cas heaved a sigh and cut himself off. 

“What’s something we can see that might be similar?” Sam tried.

Castiel just stared into the middle distance for a moment and then seemed to get an idea.

“The water cycle?” he asked.

“Okay, not something we can see completely - but we certainly understand it,” Sam said hopefully.

“Yeah, it rains, water gathers on the ground, water evaporates,water gathers in the sky,  it rains again,” Dean summarized. “What part has to do with Merlin?”

“Every part and any part,” Castiel said. “What would happen if you removed a part of the water cycle?”

“Uh, the cycle stops,” Sam said. “You can’t just remove a part and still have- oh.”

“Yes, exactly,” Castiel replied. “Merlin was not meant to be gone from his world.”

“So, it’s not so much that Merlin is in danger here, it’s that-”

“Camelot is in danger, yes,” Castiel replied. “The longer Merlin is here, the more his absence will be felt in Camelot, and they will fall into… I suppose this metaphor lends itself best to the description of a type of magical drought.”

“How much time are we talking?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What if you opened a door now?” Sam asked. “We could send them back and have Merlin recover at home - if he’s part of the natural order there, it might be a speedier recovery.”

Cas shook his head. “I can’t open a door on my own. I need Merlin awake to guide me. The only reason I’ve been able to help with the doors until now is because they were already opened on the other side.”

“So, plan remains the same then,” Dean concluded. “We get everyone to the Bunker, and chill out until Merlin wakes.”

“Not just wakes, recovers,” Cas said, looking stern about it. “He has to be strong enough to help me open the door. And if he tries before he is ready, it could delay his return to a dangerous degree.”

“Got it,” Dean nodded. 

“Why tell us alone, and not tell Arthur and his men?” Sam asked then, and yeah - Sam was all over the good questions tonight. 

“It is not my place,” Castiel replied.

“What?” Dean inquired eloquently.

“I do not know the extent to which King Arthur knows about Merlin’s nature. Furthermore, there is the possibility that given the danger to Camelot, Arthur may grow impatient with Merlin’s recovery and force an early return - injuring Merlin further -  I don’t think I could- that is to say, I am not sure if it would be possible for me to… allow that.”

“You’re worried you might have to kick King Arthur’s ass?” Dean raised his eyebrows.

Castiel let out an exasperated sigh. “In a manner of speaking - Merlin is… unlike anything I have seen before… it also appears that Merlin might not be aware of his importance to his world, and I do not want to be the one to place that burden of knowledge on him. I have already… been there and done that, as you say, and it was not enjoyable.” Castiel gave Dean a significant look.

“Oh,” Dean said. “It… it can’t be as bad as that though.”

“Bad is relative,” Castiel shrugged. “I should leave for Europe and find this devil’s gate. Call me when you feel Merlin has recovered. I will return and confirm if that is the case before an attempt is made.”

“Sure thing, Cas,” Sam said. 

Cas left in a brief flutter of invisible wings. 

“So, do we tell them?” Sam asked in the ensuing silence.

“Hm,” Dean considered. “I hate to say it, but I think Cas has a point - knowing won’t change anything except make ‘em worry - and you know how much Merlin is willing to sacrifice for Camelot, if he thinks he can speed things along-”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “As much as I don’t want to keep anything from them, I could totally see him pulling something like that. We’ll have to tell them something, though.”

“We’ll tell them the truth about them not being able to get home until Merlin’s better - I mean, they’re bound to ask why we’re keeping them around anyway.”

Sam nodded and motioned for them to return. They rounded the corner to head back towards the rooms. Percival was standing guard outside of Room 5. He gave them a small wave when he saw them.

“What’s up, man?” Dean asked. 

“I’m standing guard,” Percival explained.

“You don’t have to-”

“Gwaine and Arthur are fighting to see which of them can dote on Merlin the most,” Percival continued. “I volunteered for sentry.”

“Ah,” Dean smiled. “Well, you can come hang out with us if you’d prefer.”

“Help me get the salt from the car,” Sam said. “We’ll line the door and windows and they’ll be just as safe as if you were standing out here.”

“Very well,” Percival agreed with a small shrug.

“Alright, feel free to stop by when you’re done,” Dean clapped Percival on the shoulder and headed for his own room. He’d be awake for a few hours more, just waiting for the adrenaline to come down enough to sleep. 

*

Sam popped open the trunk and unzipped the duffle that they’d used earlier. There was still a quarter bag of salt in there, and that’d be more than enough. 

“So, how much of that did you hear?” Sam asked.

“Hm?” Percival’s brow furrowed in confusion. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Alright, well, you just let me know if we’re going to have any problems,” Sam offered. 

“No problems,” Percival shrugged. “Much like Arthur and Gwaine, I am far too preoccupied with Merlin’s current ill-health to concern myself with other affairs.”

*

With Gwaine’s help, Arthur had shed his armour and was back to just a shirt and trousers. He was now debating how to get an unresponsive Merlin into some cleaner clothes - or if he even should. Merlin had been wearing the same thing for several days, and while that wasn’t unusual when they were out on a hunting trip, or other travel, Arthur was aware that, when one was ill, it was far better to be clean. He had the clothes that Dean had lent him, and those could easily be used for Merlin - except that Arthur felt that the trousers - jeans - while durable, were hardly something one would want to sleep in.

He decided that he would ask Dean for another change of clothes - perhaps see if they had something soft, that would be better suited to sleeping. Voices outside the room indicated that the brothers had returned from their private conversation. Across the room, Gwaine was changing out of his own armour and inspecting the swords for damage from the fight, but he turned his attention as soon as the door opened and Percival poked his head in.

“Sire, Sam’s here to lay some salt for protection,” Percival announced.

“Very well,” Arthur said, and Perival and Sam both entered the room. Sam offered a quiet smile, as was his nature, and set about the task without comment. “Percival, I must commend you on your exemplary work today,” Arthur addressed his knight. “Your infiltration of the enemy was crucial in securing our victory and Merlin’s safety. Once we’re back in Camelot, I’ll make your commendation official - but I just wanted to express my gratitude to you now as well. You’re a fine knight, and I’m glad that you insisted on coming with me.”

“Thank you, Sire,” Percival replied, blushing. 

Gwaine bounded over and threw an arm around Percival, squeezing him and giving him a proud smile. “You’re the best, Percy!”

“Thanks-

“You’re sleeping with me tonight,” Gwaine continued. “Arthur pulled the whole ‘I’m the King and what I say goes.’”

“I thought I was to be commended, not punished,” Percival replied, deadpan. Sam let out a small snort of a laugh, that he quickly looked embarrassed about when Arthur looked over at him.

Gwaine huffed and pushed Percy away from himself. “You kick a guy in your sleep one time!”

“Uh, I’m all done here,” Sam announced from the doorway. “There’s no window in the bathroom in this place, so this wall is the only way a demon could enter. You should be good now, no need for a guard at the door.”

“Right,” Arthur said, quickly. “Thank you, Sam. If you don’t mind me troubling you for one other thing - I wonder if it might be possible to get a change of clothes for Merlin, something he might be able to sleep in? It’s for my own benefit, of course, I’m to share a bed with him, and he smells like he’s been kept in a very small cage for several days next to a bucket of his own urine.”

Sam laughed again. “Sure thing, Arthur, I’ll be right back.”

Once Sam had closed the door, Arthur turned to Percival and raised an eyebrow.

“Castiel explained that he could not open the door to Camelot without Merlin,” Percival said quickly and quietly. “But that if we were to push Merlin to open the door before he is recovered, the consequences could be dire.”

Arthur considered this - it hardly seemed a conversation that needed to be held away from him. 

“The creature, Castiel, does not know your character, Sire,” Percival continued, picking up on Arthur’s thoughts. “He feared your wish to return to Camelot would override your concern for Merlin’s health. He warned that when they summon him to help with our return, he will not do so unless he deems Merlin healthy. It was also implied that if we were to try to force Merlin to return us before he is recovered, Castiel would defend Merlin’s health with his sword if needed.”

Arthur frowned. Were this Castiel not a stranger to him, he would take insult, but he could hardly fault the creature for protecting Merlin.

“Very well, good work,” Arthur said.

“What would the consequences be?” Gwaine asked. Arthur was grateful that Gwaine had seen past the insult to the more important matter, and waited for Percival’s response.

Percival paused for a brief moment, and then said, “He did not go into detail - but he repeated the young Druid’s words before we parted Camelot - that Merlin was not meant to be gone from our world.”

“It aches for him,” Arthur repeated - remembering Mordred’s words as well.

Sam knocked once and then entered, carrying a large bundle of soft clothes. He stepped over the salt line.

“I realized we also only gave you guys day wear, so to speak,” Sam explained. “So I’ve brought a few extra pairs of uh… underwear… just in case you want to, you know… freshen up. Gwaine already knows how to use the shower, so he can show you.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Arthur replied, walking over to take the pile of clothes.

“Dean’s stuff will probably be a bit too big on Merlin,” Sam continued, “but it’ll do for tonight, he’s only sleeping anyway. We can stop by a store… uh, a shop?… tomorrow, and buy him some better stuff for while he’s here.”

“Oh, I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Arthur smiled. “We won’t be here that long, after all. We must return to Camelot.”

“Uh, right - about that,” Sam said. “We were going to fill you in tomorrow, but apparently Cas can’t open the door to Camelot without Merlin - and, Merlin has to be fully recovered before it can be done, or else it won’t work.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, as though surprised. “Did he say how long he thought that might be?” 

Sam shook his head.

“Very well,” Arthur replied. “I can reimburse you for any money you must spend to equip us, of course.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sam smiled. “You gave Dean and me room and board, loaned us weapons and all, when we were in Camelot - the least we can do is repay you now that we get a chance to be hosts.”

“Thank you,” Arthur smiled in return.

“Have a good night, if you need anything - Dean and I will be right next door, just knock on the wall.”

There was a chorus of goodnights, including Arthur’s and then they were alone once more. Gwaine took Percival to show him how the shower-apparatus worked, while Arthur carefully began to strip Merlin down.

He picked up one of the soft shirts that Sam had brought, and pulled Merlin up to sitting, and working the material over his floppy head. Sam had repeated the same message as Percival - only, without the warning about dire consequences - which meant that it was those consequences that were being kept from Arthur, rather than the fact that Merlin needed time to recover. Arthur wrestled Merlin’s skinny arms into the short sleeves and smoothed the material down his back. He held Merlin there for a moment and closed his eyes. He could understand why Camelot would ache for Merlin, but he did not know what it meant. 

“Sire?” Gwaine said quietly.

Arthur opened his eyes and lay Merlin back down, as though there had been no pause in his duty.

“Yes, Gwaine?”

“Would you like some help?” Gwaine asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Arthur replied. 

They worked in silence, listening to the sound of water in the other room, and by the time Percival finished bathing and it was Arthur’s turn to wash up, Merlin was tucked neatly into bed, having not stirred once. Arthur tried not to let it worry him.

Chapter Text

Merlin woke up to a dark room. He hadn’t fallen asleep in this room. His last memory was hugging Arthur, and then someone calling his name from a great distance away - had that been Arthur too? How could Arthur have been so close but also far away? 

His body felt both hollow and heavy, but he was comfortable. There was a warm blanket over him and someone had put him in very soft clothes. There was a warm body next to him in the bed. He could feel their warmth, and hear their steady deep breaths.

“Arthur?” Merlin whispered, because he knew that breathing - or at least, the fact that he wasn’t fearful at all gave him hope that he did. The comfortable mattress was the only thing that made this different than waking up on his bedroll in the forest, the horses tucked away and sleeping, the fire burning low, and Arthur sleeping across from him in the firelight.

When no response came, Merlin turned his head with some effort and confirmed his guess. Arthur was asleep beside him, his hair askew and his body turned towards Merlin. His breathing was more shallow now.

“Arthur?” Merlin whispered again.

Arthur’s brow furrowed and he made a little huff of annoyance. Merlin smiled. It was silly, the things you missed about someone.

Merlin was just about to try for a third time, when Arthur’s sleepy brain must have caught up with itself, because his eyes flew open.

“Merlin!” Arthur breathed out, and immediately propped himself up on his elbow so that he could lean over Merlin. It had the unfortunate consequence of blocking the unnatural moonlight that was flooding into the room from the thin curtains over the window, so Merlin could no longer see Arthur’s expression. He frowned. “Are you alright? Is something wrong?” Arthur fussed, still whispering, and then shifted up onto his knees, taking the blanket with him, but that was okay, because Merlin could see him again.

“Where are we?” Merlin asked. The room was warm, the bed comfortable, the blankets thick. There were curtains on the window. 

“An inn,” Arthur replied. “Just for tonight - tomorrow we travel with the brothers to their fortress.”

Merlin turned his head the other way and saw the second bed, with Percival awake and looking over at him, but Gwaine fast asleep, practically on top of Percival with the amount he was clinging. Percival caught Merlin’s eyes, looked down at Gwaine, and sighed in the way one does when they’ve resigned themselves to something.

“Gwaine cuddles,” Merlin mumbled.

“I know,” Percival said, and of course he would - Merlin wasn’t sure why he had said that, really, besides that he was happy to see Gwaine safe and being cuddled. Though he realized he had seen him at the fortress, standing beside Arthur while Arthur taunted the monsters - was that what happened? Merlin remembered the book and wanting his magic back, and then the gross feeling of actually getting it. 

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, putting a hand Merlin’s face and drawing his attention back. “How do you feel?”

“Did he do something to my magic?” Merlin asked. “I don’t feel well.”

Arthur took a deep breath and brushed his hand through Merlin’s hair. Merlin wrinkled his nose, because he hadn’t been able to bathe in days, and surely his hair must be disgusting by now - but Arthur didn’t seem to care. 

“When you took your magic back, you took his too,” Arthur explained. “And his magic was… of an inferior quality.”

Merlin blinked up at Arthur. “Are you being a snob on behalf of my magic?”

“Yes,” Arthur replied. “Your magic is wonderful. His magic has made you ill.”

Merlin smiled. “You like my magic,” he teased.

“You’re delirious,” Arthur replied.

“MmHmm,” Merlin nodded, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling. “‘Is alright. I won’t tell.”

“No?” Arthur asked. Merlin opened his eyes again, to find Arthur smiling at him. That was nice. “You’ll keep my secret safe, will you?”

“Mm,” Merlin agreed. He’d meant to say more, but just the one noise had come out - and now his eyes had closed again even though he hadn’t meant for them to do so. 

“Go back to sleep, Merlin,” Arthur ordered, and that was a rare order that Merlin wanted to follow. He couldn’t remember why he had woken up in the first place. He felt Arthur lay back down beside him and put the covers to right, and then an arm came to lay gently across his chest. It must be cold in the woods, even though Merlin felt quite warm. Or maybe Arthur was just jealous of Gwaine, getting all the sleep cuddles and then claiming ignorance in the morning. Merlin wouldn’t tell on him though, he was good at keeping secrets.

*

Merlin dreamt that he was napping in a field of flowers, and Arthur came along and made him open his eyes to bright sun and stand up, and follow him.

“My flowers,” Merlin protested. 

“Uh huh,” Arthur said to him, and then turned to a tree and, in an apologetic tone, told it, “He was much more lucid last night.”

The wind made the tree’s leaves sound like it was laughing. Merlin patted its warm trunk on his way by. 

“Good tree,” he said. 

“Come along, Merlin,” Arthur’s voice was laughing and joyful. “We’re going to get you washed up before we take a long ride together,” Arthur said, leading Merlin into a little limestone cave, shining with magic. Merlin ran his hand over the wall, until Arthur surprised him by leaning over and turning a shiny gem that made water fall into a pool. 

“You shouldn’t do magic in front of the king,” Merlin chastised. 

“I am the King, Merlin,” Arthur said softly.

“Oh, that’s alright then,” Merlin replied. Then he got distracted by something in the air shimmering, and the next thing he knew he was naked in a warm bath.

“How’d this happen?” he asked.

“How’d what happen?” his mother asked, her voice soft and deep with morning, as she scrubbed a rag through his hair.

“I was just with Arthur,” Merlin said.

“Mmhmm,” his mother hummed. “And who are you with now?”

“You,” Merlin replied.

“And am I a horrible person?” his mother asked.

“No!” Merlin laughed.

“Then everything is alright,” his mother replied. Merlin thought that made sense. He wondered when they had gotten a stone tub though… Merlin closed his eyes and tried to remember.

Something smacked him in the face, and he was with Arthur again, this time in the royal chambers.

“What was that for?” Merlin asked, because he didn’t like getting hit.

“I need you to stay with me for a little bit longer,” Arthur told him, and then lifted him out of the tub and put his feet on the ground, wrapping him in a fluffy towel. “Don’t fall over, I’ve got clothes right here for you.”

Merlin furrowed his brow as Arthur dressed him.

“This is backwards.”

Arthur frowned and checked Merlin’s shirt.

“No, I’ve got it right.”

“Am I the king?” Merlin asked. “Are you my manservant?”

Arthur laughed. “Maybe just for today, Merlin.”

“Bring me sausages,” Merlin ordered.

Arthur laughed again and opened a door behind him. Leading Merlin into a meadow, where he could see his bed of flowers. He went to go back and lie in them, but Arthur grabbed his hand.

“My flowers!” Merlin protested.

“No flowers,” Arthur replied. “Carriage ride.”

They walked through the meadow and onto a hard packed road, and Gwaine was there! Merlin hugged him. 

“I’m the king,” Merlin told him in a whisper, closing his eyes and burrowing into Gwaine’s shoulder. “Arthur is getting me sausages.”

Gwaine laughed, and Merlin was happy. The sausages were going to be delicious.

*

Merlin woke up to the sound of music, which only just drowned out a growling rumble and a low unfamiliar drone of noise. He was surprised to find himself not in an inn, but sitting squished against another person with his head on their shoulder. Whatever they were sitting in was being gently jostled about, not enough to be an annoyance, but enough to be noticed.

He opened his eyes to see a patterned shirt in rich dyes that he didn’t recognize - he startled and glanced towards the person’s face only to find that it was Gwaine, looking at Merlin with his eyebrows lifted. 

“Alright, Merlin?” Gwaine said softly, his arm not leaving Merlin’s shoulders.

“Merlin?” Arthur’s voice came from somewhere, and the music quieted.

Merlin looked down at Gwaine’s clothes again, only to glimpse his own clothes.

“We’re not wearing our clothes,” Merlin explained.

Gwaine laughed.

“Still delirious then,” Arthur’s voice said, and Merlin shook his head and looked back at Gwaine.

“I don’t think he is,” Gwaine said to wherever Arthur was, then he gentled his voice for Merlin. “We borrowed clothes from Sam and Dean; ours needed a wash. Arthur dressed you this morning, do you remember?”

Merlin shook his head again, but then a weird vague memory surfaced and he furrowed his brow. “Breakfast?”

Gwaine smiled broadly. “That’s right, we saved some for you.” Gwaine then looked past Merlin and raised his voice. “The king has asked for his sausages!”

Merlin was very confused, but it sounded like Gwaine was teasing - so things were probably alright.

“Don’t go confusing him,” Arthur chastised, and then there was some shuffling around behind him. Merlin decided that it was probably time to look around. He found himself squished onto a bench seat with Arthur, Percival and Gwaine, which went a long way to explaining why he was practically sitting on top of Gwaine, though he was also pressed against Arthur along all one side.. In front of their bench was another with Sam and Dean sitting in it. Sam was passing a white box back towards Percival who in turn was handing it to Gwaine, and then a bottle of water followed. Dean was sitting with his hands resting on a wheel, his gaze, for the most part, was forward - but he turned his head and gave Merlin a smile.

“Good sleep?” he asked. Merlin nodded, and then his gaze fell to what was outside the inclosed carriage they seemed to be in. At first, Merlin just registered that it was a vast landscape, but then he saw trees pass them by at speeds so fast Merlin couldn’t actually focus on them for more than a second. He felt is stomach swoop uncomfortably. “Whoa,” Dean said, as though quieting a horse, but they didn’t seem to be slowing. “Look out the front! Merlin! Look out the front!”

Gwaine was suddenly manhandling him so that he had no choice but to turn his gaze. He looked past Sam’s head out the front of the carriage. There were no horses - no wonder they hadn’t slowed down!

“Look at the road ahead,” Gwaine said calmly. “Look at the car in front of us. See?”

Merlin responded to his voice more than anything. No one but Merlin seemed at all concerned about being in a runaway carriage. He felt the panic start to subside, his stomach start to unknot itself.

“There, doesn’t seem so fast now, does it?” Gwaine asked. 

“If you think you’re going to barf, you tell me and I’ll pull over,” Dean said. “No puking in the car.”

Merlin didn’t know what those words meant, but by the general unpleasant way they sounded, he could hazard a good guess. 

“I won’t,” Merlin said.

“We’re in Impala,” Gwaine explained in his ear. 

“I thought Impala was a horse.”

“It’s a carriage that has the power of many horses,” Gwaine continued. “We’re traveling to Sam and Dean’s fortress.”

Merlin was disappointed that it wasn’t a horse.

“Do you think you can eat?” Gwaine asked, opening the white box that had been handed to him and showing Merlin that it held a small breakfast. At the sight of it, Merlin was ravenous and before he had even really registered the decision, he found himself chewing. Gwaine just laughed. “Slow down, it’s not going anywhere and we can get more.”

“What was that music?” Merlin asked, after he had swallowed. “I thought I heard music-”

Dean smiled widely. “That was Led Zeppelin! I’ll put it back in, hold on.”

Merlin turned and glanced at Arthur, as the music started again.

“It’s a band of musicians that Dean enjoys,” Arthur explained. “In this world, they have found a way to preserve musical performances so that one can listen to the same performance again - Sam tried to explain, but Dean doesn’t think it’s important for us to know how, just that they can. So we’ve been listening to Dean’s favourite musicians.”

Merlin nodded, and leaned back, listening to the music, eating his breakfast. All too soon, he looked down to find his breakfast finished and a bottle of crystal clear water being held out to him. He took a sip, marveling at the weird glass that was not glass. Gwaine’s hand, stayed on the bottle, to help steady it, as Merlin drank.

...How years ago in days of old
When magic filled the air
'T was in the darkest depths of Mordor...

“What’s Mordor?” Merlin asked.

He hadn’t thought it was very loud, but he heard Dean exclaim, “Oh my god, we get to show them movies, Sam!”

“I don’t know, they should probably read the books to really-”

“No one has time for that! Come on, I’m not talking about the Hobbit, the Lord of the Rings is a fairly faithful adaptation…”

Merlin looked at Gwaine, confused and just a little concerned.

“They argue every time Dean wants to show us something,” Gwaine explained, while Dean and Sam continued their debate, no longer aware of their audience. 

Merlin turned back to look out the front window, letting the conversation and the music wash over him, snug between Gwaine and Arthur, while the vast landscape outside the carriage flew by at an amazing speed. It was a surprisingly comfortable way to travel. 

“If you fall asleep again, try to aim for Arthur,” Gwaine said. “It’s his turn next.”

“Mm,” Merlin agreed, not really registering the words. 

*

The next time Merlin woke, it was neither Gwaine nor Arthur that he was resting against, but rather a smooth leather cushioned bench. Someone had lain him flat across it. The air was hot, but there was a breeze through the open windows. Merlin lifted his head and saw Percival leaning against the outside of the carriage. 

It was quieter, with no music playing and no talking - but there was still a lot of noise. There was the wind, but there was also an odd sort of distant irregular swishing sound. Merlin sat up. There were a lot of other carriages around them, and the swishing sound seemed to be coming from a road just over an embankment, where other carriages rode back and forth at great speeds. 

“Afternoon Merlin,” Percival greeted, and Merlin turned back to see him now crouched down so that he could look through the window. “How are you feeling?”

Merlin rubbed his face, tried to assess himself. 

“Still sleepy?” Percival guessed.

“Have to pee,” Merlin realised. “And I’m thirsty.” These two things must have been what woke him. 

“That’s probably a good sign,” Percival declared. He opened the carriage door and motioned for Merlin to exit. “Just give me a moment - I have to close the windows and lock up the car. Dean showed me how, just in case this happened.”

Merlin nodded and shuffled off the bench. His legs felt oddly weak when he stood, and the world seemed overly bright and dizzying. There sun was reflecting off the other carriages, there were people in brightly coloured clothing, there were large signs on the building that the carriages surrounded - and it was all very loud all of a sudden.

“Just lean here, there’s a good lad,” Percival said softly, as he guided Merlin to rest against Impala. Merlin looked down at the black paint - it was a welcome calming comfort. Percival was jogging around the carriage - opening various doors and turning cranks, that caused the windows to rise, and pressing buttons before slamming the car doors closed again. Then, suddenly he was at Merlin’s side, taking him gently by the arm. 

“Where are the others?” Merlin asked, as they walked towards the loud building.

“They’re already inside,” Percival said. “They didn’t want to wake you - or well, couldn’t, really - and so I was left to stand guard until they returned or you woke.”

Merlin nodded, and concentrated on getting his feet to land properly. The ground was exceedingly even, and yet still Merlin’s feet seemed to want to drag and trip over themselves. They finally got to the door, and Percival opened it to reveal a large indoor court to the right  - with many tables - no, not a court, a large tavern. To the left, looked to be a vast storeroom - where people walked through the stock and selected what they needed. 

“What is this place?” Merlin asked. 

“They called it a rest stop - or a truck stop. It’s a waystation on the high road - a place for travelers to stop and get supplies and a meal,” Percival explained. “Come - these symbols that look like people lead us to where you can relieve yourself.”

Merlin nodded as Percival led him down a narrow hallway and into a tiled room. It was like Gwaine described back at the fortress - how he was able to escape, because they brought him to a room like this whenever he requested. 

They got some weird looks as Percival walked him through how to use the room, and how the taps functioned. Percival just returned the looks with a glare, and given Percival’s size, no one was willing to start any trouble or openly question why Merlin needed someone to make sure he didn’t fall over as he peed. 

By the time they shuffled back down the hallway towards the entrance again, Merlin was exhausted, but he still wanted a little bit of water and, catching the smell of food coming from the tavern, his stomach suddenly felt all too hollow. 

“There you are,” Sam said, appearing as if out of nowhere. “We got a seat by the window, and looked out and couldn’t see you-”

“And Arthur panicked,” Percival finished. “We’re fine, Merlin had to pee - and now that’s done, I believe next on the list is water.”

“‘N food,” Merlin contributed, because he was proud of himself for following the conversation.

Sam smiled at him. “That’s great - that’s a good sign, come on - we got extra for you anyway,  you can come sit with us.”

Sam led them to a table by the window, where Arthur and Gwaine had already been tracking their arrival. They glowed in the sunshine, and Merlin smiled at them. Sam pulled another chair from a neighbouring table so that Merlin could squeeze in between Arthur and Percival when they sat down. It was good to be off his feet, and Merlin closed his eyes in relief for a moment.

“Whoa,” someone said, and Merlin felt an arm come across his chest, even as he opened his eyes and felt his head snap back up straight. 

“‘M’awake,” Merlin reassured them. He looked down to see that a small meal had been set before him. Water and soup. He reached for the spoon and concentrated on eating. He just needed to stay awake long enough to eat.

Around him, the conversation picked back up - but Merlin couldn’t follow it. He caught information here and there, that they were still a day away from Sam and Dean’s ‘Bunker’ - that they would stay at another inn tonight. Beyond that, there was talk about demons and Castiel, and Merlin heard his name mentioned - but it seemed to be in context with his current sickness rather than anything required of him, so he didn’t pay it any mind. He still felt useless, hollowed out and weak - ill, like he had eaten rotten meat, and had spent the night vomiting - only, he didn’t remember vomiting at all. He hoped he hadn’t.

The soup was salty and good, and Merlin hoped it would stay in his stomach. He sipped at the water slowly, though mainly that was because his hands weren’t steady. He had someone reach over and help him a few times - either Percival or Arthur. Without a word, they’d help steady either the cup or spoon, or they’d reach over with a napkin and tidy where he had spilled.

Merlin couldn’t track the passage of time. It seemed between one blink and the next, Arthur’s plate beside him was full and then empty. Or between one sip of water, and one spoonful of soup, the person serving them at the tavern had been and gone having had a conversation that Merlin hadn’t been able to follow. The world and movement around him got more and more distorted, people moving in blurs, words becoming indecipherable sounds - Merlin’s limbs and head becoming heavier and harder to use or keep lifted.

“ Mer lin, Mer lin,” Arthur called from a great distance away, in a gentle sing-songy voice. 

“Jus’ a minute, Sire,” Merlin mumbled. “‘M coming…”

Arthur chuckled, or maybe that was Gwaine. But the voice that followed was Arthur’s. “It’s alright, you’ve done very well, we have to go back to the car now - can you stand or do you need someone to carry you?”

That was a hard question. Merlin thought maybe the first thing to do would be to open his eyes, which were closed for some reason. It was harder than it should have been - but when he opened his eyes, he discovered that he was laying on the table with his head resting on his arm, clutching a spoon in his other hand. Arthur was smiling at him in amusement, the air around him shimmering golden in the light.

Merlin let go of the spoon in order to reach towards the shimmering thing.

“Tha’s mine,” Merlin mumbled. Arthur caught his hand, gently, while somewhere behind Merlin someone started to chuckle.

“I think we’ve lost him again,” a voice said. The shimmering thing was better than soup. 

There were hands on Merlin then, strong hands, lifting him up from the table and then bracing him against a body - like a father picking up a child.

“My father’s dead,” Merlin told Arthur, confused. Arthur’s smile fell.

“I know, Merlin,” Arthur replied, his eyes gentle and sympathetic. Only, maybe he wasn’t dead - because Merlin had dreamed of him when he was in prison - dreamed of him telling him that he hadn’t lost his magic, because you couldn’t lose what you are - and Arthur had said the same thing. 

“Did you speak with him?” Merlin asked, as the person who was not his father pulled him off the chair and up to standing. Merlin tried to brace his feet, like a good toddler.

“Not recently,” Arthur replied, standing as well. 

Merlin furrowed his brow. “But I have,” he said. “I thought maybe you had too.”

“You’ve been dreaming, Merlin,” Arthur said. He glanced over Merlin’s shoulder, and nodded. 

The world tilt-twirled as Merlin was suddenly lifted, an arm braced against his back and behind his knees. He looked up to see Percival’s chin.

“Oh,” Merlin said. Percival was also shimmering around the edges. Merlin wondered if all of his friends shimmered. Merlin leaned into Percival’s chest and sighed.

“Narcoleptic,” Dean said, and Merlin opened his eyes again to see that the non-shimmering strangers were looking at him and Percival, when they saw him looking at them, they quickly returned to their meals, embarrassed. Merlin was drawing attention.

“I can walk,” Merlin offered.

“King’s orders,” Percival told him, apologetically. Merlin didn’t remember Arthur giving any sort of order, but he might have missed it. He was missing a lot - like why they were suddenly outside, and now he couldn’t remember if he had finished his soup. It wasn’t good to waste food.

*

“Soup?” Merlin asked, only to discover that he was in a bed, with Gwaine’s arms flung over his chest and Gwaine’s face tucked into his shoulder.

They were in an inn, probably. It was like the inn that Merlin had woken up in the first time. Did he dream that they had traveled? He remembered traveling in Impala, and going to a tavern. Had that been a dream?

Only, last time, Merlin had been sharing a bed with Arthur - and now it was Gwaine. Merlin looked towards the other bed in the room and found Percival and Arthur sleeping with their backs towards one another.

Merlin carefully extricate himself from Gwaine, replacing his body with a pillow that Gwaine could cling to instead. He stood and tried to peer around the dark room. Without really even thinking about it, he opened his hand and released a blue glowing ball into the air above him, so that he could see his way to a chamber pot. Had he done that spell before?

Instead of a chamber pot, Merlin found a tiled room - and that reminded him of the dream - or, the day? He used the room the way Percival had shown him. Shutting the door carefully beforehand in an attempt to keep the noise from waking the others. In the blue glow of the room, Merlin saw himself in the mirror above the wash basin. It was probably just the blue light making him look as pale as he did. His eyes glowed with the held spell, the gold shimmering in them unevenly. Merlin had never looked in a mirror while doing magic before - it was fascinating.  Only, there wasn’t just gold in his eyes, there was something else too - something that didn’t belong. Merlin held up a finger and held it gently to his eye, as though trying to remove an errant eyelash - that’s all this was - something that had fallen into his eye that he needed to remove. 

His vision blurred, and darkened, and his eye-stung where he touched it - and then a soft knock came at the door and Merlin dropped his hand, startled, and blinked into the blue of the room.

“Merlin?” Arthur’s voice came through the door.

Merlin blinked hard and wiped away the tears around his eyes, and opened the door a crack. The blue ball that still hovered near Merlin’s shoulder illuminating Arthur in the doorway - he looked sleep mussed and soft. Merlin watched his eyes widen as he looked between the glowing blue ball and Merlin’s swirling eyes. Then Arthur shook his head, as though dismissing his own thoughts.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” he mumbled. “Of course, it was you.”

Merlin just blinked at him, his eye still irritated. 

“Are you alright? You look like you… it’s hard to tell in this light, but your eye looks a little red.”

“‘Something in it,” Merlin answered. “Was trying to get it out.”

Arthur frowned. “Let me see.” And then he shouldered his way into the small room and shut the door behind him. He titled Merlin’s eyes up to the light, and had him look up and then down, and then to the side, and he pulled at his eyelid and lower lashes, and then pronounced. “Looks fine to me.”

Merlin batted Arthur’s hands away and looked in the mirror again, to the golden magic swirling in his eyes. It still didn’t seem right. 

“No, it’s still there - see,” Merlin went to put a finger to his eye again, but Arthur caught his hand.

“It’s just your magic, Merlin,” he said. “It always looks like that when you do a spell.”

“No, there’s something wrong,” Merlin insisted. “I’ve seen other people do spells, I know that’s what it looks like - but there’s something wrong-”

“Close your eyes,” Arthur ordered. So Merlin closed his eyes. “Stop the spell.” Merlin took a deep breath and felt the blue glowing ball disappear, leaving them in the pitch dark. There was a click, and suddenly the insides of Merlin’s eyelids lit up. “Open your eyes again.” 

Merlin blinked his eyes open, the small room now floored with light from a source above the mirror that shone more brightly than any firelight. 

“Look in the mirror, do you see anything wrong with your eyes?” Arthur asked. Merlin turned towards the mirror and blinked at his reflection. He did look pale and dawn, but his eyes were their normal blue now, and nothing seemed amiss except that the white of one of his eyes was irritated and bloodshot, and both eyes were teary.

“No,” Merlin admitted.

“You know,” Arthur said, and Merlin looked from his own reflection to Arthur’s. “The last time I saw that blue glowing ball, you were also poisoned. I think, maybe that’s what you’re seeing in the mirror”

“Poisoned?” Merlin asked, because he didn’t remember being poisoned. 

“Yes, remember - you took Cameron’s magic, but his magic was bad. It’s poisoned you,” Arthur explained. “It’s why you’ve been sleeping so much. Your magic is healing you, but it makes you very tired.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, which meant that he hadn’t been dreaming all those times. 

“So, leave your eyes alone - I don’t think they appreciated the poking,” Arthur ordered. “And let’s get you back in bed while you’re still somewhat coherent.”

Arthur opened the door to the main chamber, where Gwaine and Percival were both sitting up in bed. Gwaine was still clutching the pillow Merlin had left him with. The lamp between their beds was lit.

“Everything alright?” Gwaine asked.

“Yes,” Arthur replied. “Time for everyone to go back to bed.”

“Sorry,” Merlin muttered.   

“You’re giving me abandonment issues,” Gwaine said, placing Merlin’s pillow back up at the headboard. “Get back here.”

Percival and Arthur both chuckled, as Merlin slipped back into bed.  He wondered how long he was going to lay there awake - because he didn’t feel all that tired really. But then Arthur put out the lamp, and the room was plunged into darkness, and Gwaine was warm and sleepy beside him, and Merlin could hear Arthur and Percival breathing not far away - and Merlin was so content, that the only thing left to do was to relax into the mattress and fall asleep on purpose for the first time in more than a day.

Chapter Text

It was late when they arrived at Sam and Dean’s fortress. Its silhouette was imposing in the dark - especially after so many hours driving across wide plains of farmland. They entered first a small wood, and then finally the fortress came into view - a dark outline against the light of the moon. Dean let them out of the car, telling Sam to take them through the “front door” while he returned Impala to a place he called “the garage”.

Sam led them into a single door, not at the top of a  grand staircase, but rather down a small one. It was almost like a cellar door, which led to a small passageway- and then finally through another door and out onto a balcony overlooking a large room. Light flooded the hall, as Arthur and the knights followed Sam down metal stairs. 

Arthur found himself awash in a feeling of comfort and realized that it was because this Fortress was not so much a fortress inside, but a palace - its construction ornate and warm. If it was a garrison, it was one built to not only be a defense, but also a home, not unlike Arthur’s own home in the castle of Camelot. 

“Map,” Merlin said, laying his hand on glowing table before them. He was doing better, staying awake for longer - but at times his mind still seamed slowed, his words long to come to him. 

“Yeah, that’s the world,” Sam said.

“The whole world?” Merlin asked, and Arthur came to stand next to him - looking down at the map on the table, and also at a similar one - slightly more detailed, that hung on the wall. It was amazing what knowledge Sam and Dean had - the whole world. 

“I’ll show you more tomorrow,” Sam said. “We should probably get you settled into a room for the night.”

“Hm,” Merlin agreed, and Arthur moved to walk beside him - just in case he should fall asleep before they reached their beds.

Sam led them through hallways of fine marble, He showed them where his room was, and then four of the possible guest rooms that lay between his room and Dean’s. And also where the nearest toilets were. Dean met them in the hallway, dropping his own bag off in his bedroom and handing another to Sam. 

They could each have their own room now, and Arthur knew that Percival would be thankful, as he was a bit too large to share the small inn beds comfortably with another. Arthur was concerned about leaving Merlin alone. Afraid that he’d wake up in the night disoriented and delusional once more, and cause himself harm again by poking at his eyes. So, while Arthur placed his sword and armour in his own designated room - he returned to Merlin’s room after, rolled him over in his sleep, and lay down beside him.

When he woke up, Merlin was gone.

Arthur stumbled out of the room, still half asleep. The hallways, which had seemed orderly the previous night, now seemed labyrinthine. He ran, making  a couple of random turns and then thankfully heard voices that he could follow - and that’s how he came to run into the kitchen. 

Dean was at the stove with several pans, while Merlin hovered beside him - looking over his shoulder and occasionally poking some sausages with a fork. They both turned when Arthur stumbled in.

“Merlin!”

“Arthur, I was going to bring you breakfast,” Merlin said. “You could have stayed in bed.”

“You were gone,” Arthur explained. 

“I’ll be right back to help you get dressed, don’t worry,” Merlin assured him. “The sausages are nearly done, and Dean’s making pancakes - they sound good. He says they’re served with some sort of sweet syrup that comes from trees.”

“Sap?” Arthur asked, confused. Then shook his head, that wasn’t the important part. “You don’t have to tend to me, you’re meant to be recovering. I can dress myself.”

“Arthur, you’re in your underthings.”

Arthur glanced down to realize that in his rush to find where Merlin had wandered off to, he had not even pulled on a shirt.

“Right, well, I’ll just go - change that,” he stated, with as much dignity as he could muster. Behind Merlin, Dean was biting his lip, obviously suppressing a  laugh.. Arthur felt the heat rush to his cheeks. “Carry on, then.”

Arthur left the room, only to realize that he wasn’t quite sure how to return to his chambers. 

He turned back to the kitchen, and with as much command as he could muster, added, “Merlin! Let Dean finish the sausages and come with me!”

He heard Merlin mutter something to Dean, and Dean respond with a chuckle, and then Merlin was entering the hall, already rolling his eyes and passing Arthur so that he could lead him back to the bedchamber.

“Since you’re awake, Dean says we should eat with everyone in the great room.”

Once Arthur was dressed - had adequately memorized the route back to the sleeping quarters - and felt slightly less of a sting to his pride - they entered the great room to find everyone else seated around the great glowing map table. 

Merlin had yawned once or twice while he had been dressing Arthur, but Arthur was pleased that he didn’t appear in danger of falling asleep standing up. Not only that, but Merlin sat down and began eating with enthusiasm - all good signs for him being on the path to recovery. 

“I still can’t believe you have a map of your entire world,” Merlin stated, midway through the meal, as he gazed at the table.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I mean - don’t get me wrong, it took humanity a while to… map it all out. But technology has progressed a great deal since our world was like yours.”

“Do you think it’s the same world?” Merlin asked. “Rather, do you think it looks the same? Do you know where Camelot is?”

Sam made a considering face. Arthur and the knights had all quieted their conversation in favour of following this one. Arthur’s eyes roamed the map before him to see if he could recognize any features.

“Well, I’m not sure if we know for certain - there’s probably a book somewhere in the library that hazards a guess,” Sam waved his hand towards the extension of the room. Arthur glanced over while Sam continued to speak, and saw glimpses of tables and books.  “But, the legends originate from this island. Around here.” 

Arthur’s attention shifted back to the table, where Sam had shifted his plate to the side in order to put a finger on a small island in the north. 

A small island in the north.

Arthur looked at the vastness of the rest of the map, and thought of all the lands of Camelot and the surrounding kingdoms. He knew, of course, that Albion was surrounded by the sea - but he had, apparently, been deluded in his conception just how vast the rest of the world seemed in comparison.

“And where are we now?” Gwaine asked.

Dean put his finger in the centre of an entirely different landmass - one vastly larger, and across a vast ocean from Camelot.

“And this is where you were summoned,” Sam added. Reaching over to indicate another place, closer to the ocean. “So, the last two days we’ve been driving from there to here. It’s why it took so long.”

“Well,” Gwaine said, his tone light. “I suppose I can forgive you for not answering my summons sooner.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, and Cas was somewhere over here,” he indicated a further land on the map. “So, that’s where Percival and Arthur actually crossed over.” 

“Speaking of, I should check in with him,” Dean said, as he stood from the table. It was only then that Arthur realized Dean’s plate was empty and he had already finished his breakfast. “Be right back.”

 “I should finish unloading the car,” Sam said. “You guys okay for a minute?”

“Of course,” Arthur replied. Sam gave them a wave and disappeared into the corridors of the fortress.

Merlin stood, with a great yawn, and a little tired sway to his stance, and started gathering the empty plates. Arthur shot a panicked look towards Percival and Gwaine, and thankfully they understood perfectly, as they both immediately leapt to their feet. Gwaine taking the plates from Merlin, setting them back on the table, and ushering Merlin back towards his bedchambers, while Percival finished stacking the plates and cutlery.

“Percival, I’m sure you don’t have to-”

“It’s alright, Arthur,” Perival interrupted. “ I grew up on a farm, remember? It won’t be the first time I’ve done the washing up.” 

Arthur was dumbfounded for a moment, and just watched in silence as Percival stacked the plates and then left for the kitchen. And it was only when Arthur was left behind in an empty great room that he realized just what was amiss.

There were no servants. 

Arthur stood from the table and wandered to the nearest corridor, peering down the long hallway it led to. It was empty. He stepped into the hall and wandered down a few corridors, purposefully away from the ones that led to either the kitchen or the bedchambers - they were quiet, and empty. Arthur opened the doors into rooms that were equally devoid of people - some were other bedchambers, some were rooms stacked with books, another had panels with lights and dials. Arthur went back towards the great room, and across to the more familiar corridor. To the left was a room that was clearly a physician’s workshop, but without a physician, then there was the kitchen, where Percival stood at a great sink with a stack of plates beside him. Arthur walked further down the corridor, towards the bedchambers, but before he got to them, Dean reappeared.

“Hey man,” Dean greeted. “Sorry to abandon you like that - everything good?”

“Yes,” Arthur answered, allowing Dean to steer him back the way he had come. “Dean, this fortress-”

“Pretty sweet, isn’t it?” Dean replied. “We found it. I mean, it was sort of like - our inheritance? But we didn’t know about it until our grandfather traveled through time and led us to the key. It had just been sitting here empty for sixty years.”

“You are… nobles then?” Arthur asked.

Dean laughed, his smile bright. “Far from it. But I can see why you’d think that, place as nice as this. Nah, working class, if anything, though I never did much of that beyond an odd job here and there, mostly it was hustling pool and credit card fraud, but you don’t know what those are and that’s probably for the best.” Dean’s attention was suddenly on Percival as they came around the corner past the kitchen. “Percy, you don’t gotta do that - here, let me at least help - where’d Sammy take off to? Letting guests do the dishes… I do not remember raising that kid in a barn - well, except that one time.”

“He went to unload your belongings from the car, I believe,” Percival told Dean. “I don’t mind helping. It’s the least I could do for your hospitality while Merlin recovers.”

“Indeed,” Arthur chimed in, but he found himself standing back and just watching as Dean and Percival continued the washing. In the stories, he’d always pictured Sam and Dean as at least minor lords - they were so powerful, they owned a horse and carriage - or Arthur thought they had. But no, they had found their castle, empty and abandoned, and they had simply moved in.

In that respect, the disguises they had used in Camelot had been more honest than Arthur had thought - travelers, mercenaries. For the second time in his life, Arthur found that the lies he had been told weren’t actually as great as he initially believed. 

Sam appeared in the doorway, spotted Arthur and smiled. He held up a thick leather-bound book that Arthur recognized immediately.

“Want to help me read a book?” Sam asked. 

Arthur nodded, and Sam indicated that Arthur should follow him with a gesture. When they were in the corridor, Arthur spoke up.

“Why do you want to read it?” Arthur asked.

“I just want to make sure we’re not missing some spell that Dean and I could do to send you back - if there’s a chance that we could take the burden off Merlin a little, then-”

“Then we would not have to wait for his recovery,” Arthur finished.

“It’s not that we want to get rid of you,” Sam hastened to explain. “It’s just that Merlin might recover quicker at home - you know? But… right now, at least, he can’t go home until he’s recovered, so...”

“I understand, Sam,” Arthur replied. “We’re thankful for your hospitality and it is amazing to see another world, but I also would prioritize Merlin’s health over my desire for adventure.”

Sam lead them to the library, where he placed the book on the table and drew out a chair for Arthur.

“I am not able to understand the language of the old religion as Merlin does,” Arthur admitted. “So, I may not be of much help.”

“You’ll probably still be better than I am,” Sam said. “In any case, Cas said it was Indo-European, and we’ve got some linguistic books that might be able to give us the roots of the words.”

Sam went to the shelves to search for the additional books they might need. Arthur drew the spell book towards himself and opened it. It was obvious which page that the witches had used to summon them, as it was dog-earred with faint grey charcoal like writing in the margins where portions had been translated. Arthur looked down at the page, skimming the spell, when his eyes came to a particular word in a list and he found himself wondering....

Arthur jumped as a book thumped down on the table next to him.

“Sorry man, you okay?” Sam asked, apologetically.

“Yes,” Arthur said. “I was just… uh… they’ve translated a bit here, maybe we can use it.”

“Oh cool,” Sam said, and dragged the book over to read for himself. 

Arthur put his other thoughts out of his mind and instead focused on the task in front of him. It was better to focus on those he could help now, rather than those he had failed in the past. 

*

After Dean and Percival finished the dishes, they joined Sam and Arthur in the library. Gwaine showed up again shortly after, reporting that Merlin was once again asleep. They all made an attempt, non-magical beings that they were, in understanding the magic book that those bastards in Connecticut had used, but it was fairly slow going… and in the end, they really only got the gist of a few of the spells, and none of them seemed to be “how to send your friends home.”

It was obvious that Arthur and the knights were getting a little stir-crazy, or maybe that was just Dean projecting - he really couldn’t sit around as long as Sam could deciphering old languages and doing research.

“I think I promised people a Lord of the Rings Marathon!” Dean said, clapping his hands together. “Plus, it’s time for lunch - so, how about we take a break from work, I make us some sandwiches and we pop in the Fellowship of the Ring? Whatta ya say, Sammy?”

Sam looked ready to protest, but then seemed to catch the interested looks that Gwaine and Percival were sporting - Arthur just looked conflicted, but that was probably due to a heightened sense of duty or whatever.

“Yeah, okay,” Sam said.

“We should check on Merlin,” Arthur said. “If we’re to… experience part of your culture, he’ll be disappointed to miss it.”

Dean nodded. Remembering the second day of car travel, where Merlin had woken up, realized they were listening to different music then when he fell asleep, and then had sounded close to tears when he complained that he was missing everything. They had had to promise to stop having fun without him in order to get him to calm down enough to fall back asleep. Dean figured it was an easy promise to make, given that having the three knights and one comatose Merlin crammed into the backseat for a two day drive was hardly fun - but it appeared Arthur was taking the promise seriously.

“I’ll go get him,” Dean offered. “You guys can drag some more comfy chairs into the den.”

Arthur nodded his approval of the plan, and Dean went off to see if he could wake Merlin. If he couldn’t, he’d probably have to think of something else they could do while they waited for Merlin to regain consciousness. Maybe the shooting range.

Dean rounded the corner to head towards Merlin’s room, only to find that Merlin was already awake, and standing in the hallway running his hand slowly over the wall.

“Everything okay?” Dean asked.

Merlin looked over at him and gave him the smile of someone about to say that everything was fine when it wasn’t. Dean decided to let him, the guy still looked too exhausted to press for answers. But Merlin surprised him.

“It’s strange,” Merlin said. “I can feel the magic in this place, but it’s like… like i can’t touch it the same way I can at home. I know it’s there, I can feel it enough to know it’s there - but it’s… it’s strange.”

“Hm,” Dean said. “I guess… it’s… different? Different types of magic?”

“Yeah,” Merlin said. “And… I want so much to explore this world - it seems so vast and amazing. But, at the same time, there’s just…” Merlin pressed a fist to his sternum. “There’s just this… I suppose it’s a longing…”

“You’re homesick,” Dean concluded. “Who could blame you - you haven’t exactly had the best introduction to here.”

“It’s not just that - I DO want to stay and explore, in my head at least - but I also… I can’t expect anyone to understand, I suppose - I’m sorry. I’m not making sense.”

“No, hey, it makes sense,” Dean replied. “Cas said - well, he implied that you might end up feeling that way.”

“He did?” Merlin asked, suddenly perking up with interest. Dean hid a wince, because he did not know how to talk about this stuff, and also Sam and him had decided not to terrify their guests with fears about what was happening to Camelot without them. 

“I can’t say I really understood it all,” Dean said, carefully apologetic. “But, uh, something about how - you know, you were meant to be in Camelot, so things might be feel off now, because you’re separated from where you’re supposed to be.”

“Did you feel like this when you were in Camelot?” Merlin asked, his eyes wide. 

“Can’t say that I did,” Dean replied. “But, I’m not a wizard - uh, warlock. You know? So, you’re probably just more sensitive to this sort of thing. Plus, you aren’t feeling too great at the moment - everyone wants to go home when they’re not feeling well.”

“I suppose,” Merlin replied. 

“Come on, I want to  introduce ya’ll to movies, but it’s no fun without you,” Dean said, changing the topic. “You want to help me make lunch first?”

Merlin just nodded, and walked with Dean back to the kitchen. Dean was grateful that the conversation ended there. He hoped that whatever Merlin was feeling, it didn’t hinder his healing or cause him to force a premature return to Camelot.

They talked about food as they made the sandwiches, and then Dean led Merlin to the media room that he had set-up, complete with big screen TV.

Sam flashed him a questioning look, checking in. Dean shrugged, and mouthed the word “homesick” - Sam nodded. Dean knew he understood. Homesick could mean a lot of things at this point - it could be as innocent as Dean suggested, that Merlin just wanted the comfort of his own room and bed to sleep this thing off - or, it could be that Merlin could sense that his home was just as sick for him as he was for it.

*

Gwen wanted to pace. She wanted to stand by the window and watch the gates, as though the very act would hasten her loved ones’ return, rather than make it seem even more of an age. It had only been a few days, but Gwen already felt a great foreboding. She gripped Arthur’s ring tightly in her fist, but did not wear it - nor did she show any of her misgivings to the people of the court. A queen had to be strong and steady. So instead of pacing, Guinevere sat perfectly still on the throne, and faced her court with a confidence that she did not feel.

At her right, Leon stood calm and still, a pace back, where Merlin would usually stand if Arthur were the one to occupy the seat. Leon had adjusted well to the circumstances of the past two days, better perhaps than Gwen had - because to Gwen’s left, sat a white dragon.

When Gaius and Elyan had returned without Arthur, Gwen hadn’t been surprised - she knew that if Arthur was able to find a way to where Merlin had been taken, he would send word back to her of his continued absence. But, Gwen had not been expecting Elyan and Gaius to be accompanied by a druid and a white dragon. Elyan and Gaius had at first left Mordred and Aithusa in the Darkling Wood, outside the gates of Camelot - bidding Gwen for their safe entrance. Mordred, wisely, had feared that without direct orders from the Queen, the guards and knights of Camelot might attack the dragon in their fear, even with Elyan and Gaius at its side.

The problem, or perhaps, it was not a problem - the new situation - had occurred once Mordred and Aithusa entered the court. Gwen had gone to greet them properly at the entrance to the castle - it was a sight that drew the eye, as Mordred rode in on the dragon’s back. Gwen hardly recognized him as the young boy she had met all those years ago - but she remembered how both Arthur and Morgana had aided his escape from Uther’s men, and she trusted Elyan and Gaius’ account that he had been nothing but helpful. 

It also appeared that their account of his exhaustion was also accurate - as the young man that arrived atop the dragon had dark circles under his eyes, and his smile when he saw her was wan. Then his eyes widened when he took in her figure, and it seemed the dragon noticed her at the same time, as it stopped and lifted its head in interest, staring at her intensely. Modred had slid off the dragon’s back and distracted her with formal greetings - but that had been, in fact, a small warning for what was to come - because after she had guided them into hall and spoken with them further, Aithusa had refused to leave her side.

“Aithusa must protect you until Merlin returns to call your child from the waiting,” Mordred had explained - or rather, Aithusa had, because Mordred’s measured speech suddenly shifted with a shake of his head - and he clarified, “Uh, she means until the child is born - er, which… probably has nothing to do with Merlin?”

Before Gwen could respond, Aithusa had bumped her head against Mordred’s shoulder in chastisement, causing him to stumble a little, before recovering and translating Aithusa’s words once more instead of adding his own. 

However, Mordred was too tired to continue for much longer, and under Gwen’s orders was made a room in the guest wing, to be further attended to by Gaius. According to Elyan and Gaius’ report, Mordred had collapsed after performing the spell to send Arthur and Percival through to the other world, and it was obvious just looking at the boy that he had not yet recovered. And so, Gwen had been left with a dragon that she could no longer speak to, and who refused to be more than ten paces from her at all times.

On the one hand, it made everyone far less willing to argue with her in court. On the other hand, those still wary of magic may lose faith that the crowns decisions were devoid of nefarious enfluence. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time Gwen was accused of being bewitched - but it was hardly an experience that she wished to repeat.

Today, though, the notions of the nobles were the last thing on Guinevere’s mind as their newest visitor was escorted into the hall. The man was older, with a bald head, wearing robes, and carrying a distinctive staff. Beside her, Aithusa lifted her head and took an active interest in him. Gwen did not need to hear him speak to know why he had come - and that alone had her stomach sinking. The man knelt in a bow, one deeper than Gwen had been expecting any magic user to bestow upon her - but she had seen his eyes widen at the sight of Aithusa at her side, so perhaps the bow was not for her.

“Arise and state your name and business for the court,” Gwen ordered, keeping her voice steady, no different than it would be for any other visitor seeking an audience.

“Gracious Queen,” the man began. “I am Alator. May I ask why King Arthur is not in attendance, I had hoped to speak with him.”  

“You ask me to confirm what you have most likely already suspect,” Gwen replied. “Someone has tried to steal from Camelot, and Arthur has gone to retrieve what was taken. Is that not why you have come? To warn us of what we were missing?”

Alator took a deep breath and nodded. “It is.” His eyes darted again to the dragon.

“Aithusa has come to court for the same reasons.” Gwen gestured to the dragon. At Alator’s look, Gwen added. “You seemed curious.”

“Forgive any imprudence,” Alator replied, bowing his head briefly once more. “I knew things had been changing in the land, but I had not expected… I feared the change would be slower than this - to have the blessings of a dragon once again upon the throne is a sight I did not think I would live to see, nor would be possible after the Purge.”

“We are indeed grateful to Aithusa for her assistance at this time,” Gwen said, because it seemed the safest truth to say aloud without offending any present. 

“I once pledged my loyalty and service to Emrys,” Alator said. “In his absence, and knowing that his protection lies with you and Camelot, I extend that same vow to you, Queen Guinevere.” With this, Alator knelt once more.

Gwen was a little unsure how to proceed. She knew little about the man. She looked to Aithusa, who nodded her great head very softly. Yes, right, potential allies should always be welcomed - whether they be stranger or beast.

“You honour us,” Gwen said. “Please, arise.”

“There is other news, I bring,” Alator said, as he stood once more. “Possibly far graver news, given the circumstances - but also, perhaps to be expected…” Alator visibly steeled himself. “Morgana has been hunting me for some time now, and-”

Gwen interrupted, because her stomach now seemed to be in her shoes, which was quite an impressive feat, considering there was a whole person in the way. “And why does Morgana hunt you?”

“Because I know who Emrys is and she does not,” Alator reported.

“And how long have you known?” Gwen asked.

“Years,” Alator replied. “When Morgana was in league with Agravaine, she had me kidnap Gaius from these very halls-”

Gwen held up a hand, stopping him.

“Alator of the Catha,” Gwen spoke. “My apologies, we were told of your allegiance to Emrys already, but I did not at first place the name. Please, continue with present the business concerning Morgana.” Though, in truth, Gwen would probably prefer not to hear it.

“As I said, Morgana has been hunting me and so I often scry on her location, her actions, in order to stay one step ahead of her traps,” Alator continued. “I have been on the run for some time now, only I believe the reason she hunted me has now been satisfied, and she has now moved on to the next step in her plan.”

“You believe she knows who Emrys is? Do you believe she is behind the recent kidnapping of two of our men?” 

“No, and.. No, Your Majesty,” Alator hesitated, Gwen waited patiently for him to continue. She knew all ears in the court were now focused solely on his word. There was not even the sound of shuffling feet. “Morgana saw Emrys as Camelot’s only defence against her - now that he is… away, I believe she seeks to take advantage. She does not have to know his identity to know that he is not here. All those strong enough in the Old Religion felt it the moment he left. It… like an itch in our throats, a portent of illness to come.”

Gwen thought about the ache in her own heart, the uneasy feeling that had taken root deep inside her since she saw Merlin slip through Arthur’s hands in a flash of light. She resisted the urge to put a hand to her stomach. She must not show her unease in court.

“You believe Morgana will move against us?”

“I know she will, My Queen,” Alator said. “I have been to the Crystal Cave. I have seen her. She gathers Saxon forces in the North. She may have already begun her march on Camelot.”

Aithusa sat up and snarled. Without thinking, Gwen put a hand on the Dragon’s shoulder, as though she was nothing more than an overly large family dog that needed comfort. Astonishingly, it seemed to work, so Gwen kept her hand there as though it was every day that she touched a dragon, rather than the first time in her life.

“Sir Leon,” Gwen ordered. Leon immediately stepped forward to her side. “Gather the Round Table and War Council. Send warning to Stowell.” 

“Yes, Sire,” Leon turned on his heel and left through the servants passage behind the throne. Sir Bran stepped forward to take Leon’s place as guard. 

“Court is adjourned until further notice,” Gwen announced to the room. “Alator, I may call on you for further information when I meet with my men. Sir Elyan, please escort our honoured visitor and ally to the guest chambers, I am sure he has had a long journey and a desire to refresh himself.”

Gwen’s orders were carried out immediately, with the guards sweeping everyone from the hall, so that they could convert the chamber into a meeting room. Gwen was thankful they did so, because now was the hard part of having to get out of the chair, and she was no longer sure that her legs had the strength to do so. Beside her, Aithusa shifted. Gwen lifted her hand, but Aithusa turned her great head and nuzzled at Guinevere’s palm before she could draw it away completely. Gwen found herself smiling.

“Thank you,” she said, softly. “I had hoped I would not need your protection, but I find myself all the more grateful that you have offered it.”

Chapter Text

Dean finished getting the laundry into the ancient machine, and then grabbed the laptop, and walked into the war room to enjoy a show and a beer. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he caught sight of someone sitting quietly by a single lamp in the library.

“Uh, hey man, I mean - Your Highness,” Dean greeted. “It was so quiet, I thought everyone had gone to bed early.”

Arthur glanced up at him, blinking. “Oh, er - no. Well, Merlin has,” Arthur waved a hand. “But Sam has taken Gwaine and Percival into town to have a night at the tavern.” 

“Without me?” Dean asked, glancing up at the closed door. “Son of a bitch!”

“Don’t you have the same mother?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, what does - oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” Dean said, then he clued into the fact that Arthur had probably been given the choice to go to the bar and had instead decided that he’d prefer to sit in the near-dark and stare moodily at a book. “Um… you alright there?”

“Mm,” Arthur hummed, smiling so fleetingly at Dean that it hardly counted, before looking back to the book. Which, Dean thought, wasn’t really an answer.

“Hookay,” Dean muttered, and redirected his plans, putting the laptop down on the table in the war room, before making his way up into the library to pull out the chair across from Arthur and see if he could crack this thing. Really, how dare Sam leave - this was his gig, not Dean’s.

Dean studied Arthur, who looked back at him and raised an eyebrow at whatever look Dean was giving him.

“Is this about Boromir?” Dean asked.

Arthur huffed a humourless laugh. “No.”

“Gandalf then,” Dean concluded. “Look, I know it wasn’t… I realized after that it might not have been the best move - showing you a movie where the fellowships’ wizard snuffs it. But I swear, this is why it’d have been better to watch the Two Towers right away instead of waiting for Merlin to wake up again. We could just lie and say we didn’t see it yet, he’s not gonna know the difference! And I swear y’all will feel better once you see what happens next.”

“You were closer with Boromir.” Arthur was now at least smiling a little as he teased. But Dean started putting it together. 

“Sudden interest in summonings?” he asked, glancing at the page Arthur had open. “I thought we already worked out that those things only go one way.”

Arthur bit his lip and looked away. Yahtzee. Dean could wait him out if he had to. No one liked a long silence, and a lie would be pretty easy to spot.

“What do you think would…” Arthur started. Then stopped. His eyes returning to the page in front of him. “I know my men well, Dean,” Arthur started again, putting a hand gently to the list of virtues at the bottom of the spell. “I… these words. I know exactly who they’re for. This might as well be a list of names. And… it’s like he’s right here. He’s right here at my fingertips.” Arthur’s breath hitched on the word, and he had to swallow before he continued. “What do you think would happen if we… if we tried?”

“What do you think?” Dean asked, keeping his voice as judgement free as possible.

Arthur pursed his lips and stared down at the page again, as though he hadn’t been sitting in the dark thinking of the answer to this question already - even though that’s probably all he had been doing.

“I see three possibilities,” Arthur replied. His voice stronger than before as he admitted to the amount of thought he’d given it. “I do this spell, and I get Lancelot back, alive and well, with no consequence other than happiness at our reunion. The second possibility is that he returns alive and well, but as a consequence his sacrifice is undone - The Veil is torn anew, and I release the Dorocha back into Camelot to the ruin of us all.

“The third possibility - I’m ashamed to admit is the one I fear most,” Arthur said, his voice once again fragile. “The third possibility is that I summon only a corpse.” Arthur’s voice broke on the word, and he had to take a breath. “It’s an awful word, that. We didn’t even have one to burn when he…”

Arthur didn’t finish his sentence and Dean didn’t make him. Instead he thought of what he really needed to ask. 

“Can I ask - why Lancelot? You must have lost other good men.”

“I have. I will,” Arthur replied. “It… it’s the nature of being a knight, of leading Camelot. My father used to tell me, ‘no man is worth your tears.’  And yet… everything I treasure - Gwen’s love, Merlin’s trust - first belonged to Lancelot. And then he sacrificed himself to save my kingdom, and I feel as though… I have taken everything from him, including his life . How can I ever… how can I just sit here and let him be dead?”

“So… I’m not saying that Lancelot doesn’t deserve to live - but, I gotta point out a flaw in your argument here,” Dean said. “Those aren’t things that you listed… those aren’t the kind of things you can take. Those are things that you’re given. And maybe it took you a little bit longer to earn the right to be given those things… maybe they’re things that you have to continually earn the right to have, but you didn’t take anything from Lancelot, man. Not anything people weren’t willing to give you.”

When Arthur didn’t interrupt, Dean figured it was safe to continue. 

“And listen, I don’t know how it went down with Lancelot really - but I’m willing to bet that a guy like that, he doesn’t sacrifice himself by accident. He made a choice - and, and as much as you don’t like that choice, sometimes you just have to… let people choose. And I’m probably either the last person you should be asking about that - given how many times I’ve fought tooth and nail over losing Sammy - or, maybe after all these years, I actually know a thing or two. But, whatever you decide to do with that spell book, I don’t want you thinking that you didn’t earn Merlin and Gwen’s loyalty, because I… I may not know Gwen that well, but if she’s anything like Merlin, she’s put her love and trust right where it belongs, and whether that’s to you or a dead man, or the far more likely scenario of both at once - I don’t think it’s our place to question that.”

Arthur looked down at the book and nodded. 

“Thank you for your council,” he finally said. 

“Anytime, man,” Dean replied, feeling the tension in his muscles relax. “So, how about we put that book away for now, and think of something more fun to do.”

Arthur closing the book felt like a victory to Dean. Though, Dean was at a complete loss as to how to entertain the guy now. It wasn’t like he could stick him in front of the Two Towers, they had all promised Merlin to wait. 

“I still can’t believe Sam went to the bar without me,” Dean muttered, then louder, realized the other problem with the situation. “And why didn’t you go?”

“I didn’t want to leave Merlin alone - he’s sometimes disoriented,” Arthur explained. 

“Oh, man, I could stay with him if you wanted to join the others,” Dean offered. “Is that why you and Gwaine have been… uh… taking turns? Sorry, that sounds bad - but, uh, couldn’t help but notice that you seemed to be both be… looking after him.”

“Er, yes,” Arthur cleared his throat. “Gwaine is Merlin’s knight. He’s sworn an oath to him over Camelot - he said… well, that you were the one that approved of him swearing loyalty to Merlin over me.”

Dean winced, remembering the conversation that Arthur must be referring to.

“Uh, I hope I didn’t offend with that - it’s just - at the time, I didn’t know you that well, and it didn’t look good, you know?”

“Because Merlin was afraid of me,” Arthur concluded. “I understand. We’ve worked it out. To all others, Gwaine is just another knight of Camelot. Only he, Merlin, and I know the truth. It hardly matters, however, as I would never try to force Merlin to leave Camelot, and I should hope that he would never choose to leave.”

“I doubt it,” Dean repeated. 

The heavy metal door opened then and Sam came in. Dean stood to go see what was up.

“You abandon our guests at some dive in Kansas, Sam?” Dean asked.

“Oh hey,” Sam smiled. “Nah, figured you’d want to take over. Also, the guys insist that I volunteer for Merlin watch so that their King can join them.” Sam looked over at Arthur pointedly.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Seriously,” Sam said, looking at Dean again. “I expected an angry phone call as soon as you finished with the laundry.”

“Yeah, I was getting to it,” Dean muttered, then turned to Arthur. “Alright, Arthur - hate to do this to you, but technically you’re in my country now, and here it’s rule by popular vote, not monarchy. And it looks like the popular vote is that you and I go to the bar.”

“I’m not sure that you and two of my knights constitute a government, and furthermore, that said government should make rulings in the matter of my personal autonomy-”

“Yeah, you definitely need a drink, come on,” Dean insisted, but only because Arthur was already standing up, and already smiling slightly.

Dean checked in with Sam, making sure it looked like he was legitimately cool with spending the night with a sleepy Merlin. Sam nodded.

“If Merlin wakes-”

“I’ll bring him out to the bar if you aren’t back yet,” Sam replied.

“Very well, I surrender to the people’s will,” Arthur replied. 

Dean smiled and clapped Sam on the shoulder, and led the King of Camelot off to see if he could teach him how to play pool.

*

Gwen stood next to her top generals and looked over a map of Camelot. Her feet were sore, but she tried not to shift her weight or otherwise let it show. She was used to it. Her feet had been sore for several months now.

“If we can arrive at Stowell before her forces, we can reinforce the garrison,” Leon was saying. “It should be enough to repel her advance.”

“Alastor has confirmed that her forces are hastily gathered,” Gwen added. 

“It’s obvious that some spy has informed her of Arthur’s current absence,” Sir Cadwyn concluded. “She seeks to take advantage before his return.”

“This will be to our advantage,” Gwen nodded. “She underestimates the strength of Camelot without our King.”

“And if she takes Stowell before we can reach it?” Sir Cadwyn asked.

Gwen looked at the map, following the landscape between Camelot and the northern border.

“Here, this canyon,” Gwen said. “If we can gain the high ground, we can force them through a funnel. We’ll leave a reserved of archers there as we march to Stowell, and if should find the garrison fallen, it will be our point of temporary retreat so that we can relaunch our defense on favourable ground.”

“Very well, Your Highness.”

“Does anyone know if the canyon is named?” Gwen asked. “Perhaps some of our men are familiar with the terrain there and may have additional recommendations?”

Elyan stepped forward to look over the map.

“I’ve travelled that area,” Elyan said. “I believe the locals refer to that area as Camlann.”

“Inform the men,” Gwen ordered. “Our main forces will travel to Stowell, but if we need it, Camlann will be there for us. We ride out at morning light.”

There was a silence in the hall, and Gwen wondered if she actually had to order them to be dismissed or if there was some other protocol that she was forgetting. The men before her all shifted on their feet and cast looks at each other, and then finally Leon cleared his throat.

“My Queen,” he began, and already Gwen knew she was not going to like this. “You are… with child, and-”

“Quite,” came a whisper from another general. “Quite with child-”

“Right,” Leon pressed on. “I… surely Gaius would agree that you should not be riding a horse, or-”

“Then hitch a wagon,” Gwen stated.

Leon winced. “It’s not so much the transportation as the fact that we are riding to war and-”

Gwen held up her hand and Leon cut himself off. 

“I thank you all for your concern,” Gwen stated, as calmly as she could manage. “But I will ride out with my men as any ruler should.”

“If we can’t withstand Morgana’s forces, you’ll be safer-”

“If our men fall, I am just as lost at Camlann as if I stay within these walls,” Gwen stated. “If I am to die, I will die on a battlefield with a sword in my hand.”

“Gwen-”

“Hitch a wagon suitable for your Queen,” Gwen ground out, cutting Leon off once more. She reached a hand to the corner of the room. “Aithusa,” she commanded, and the dragon emerged from the shadows, coming immediately to her side, where Gwen placed her outstretched hand on the soft scaled head, before turning back to her men. “You’re all dismissed.”

“Yes, Sire,” chorused Leon and the generals. Gwen walked out of the room with Aithusa at her side. She heard Elyan fall into step beside her, and glanced over at him once they were in the corridor and there was no one to see. He was smiling and gave her a wink. Gwen bit down her own smile. 

“Elyan, when you get a chance, could you please get me a sword,” Gwen ordered.

“Yes, Sister,” Elyan replied.

 *

There was a flash of golden light behind his eyelids and Merlin woke. He stared up at the grey ceiling of his bedroom in the Brothers’ fortress. Hadn’t he fallen asleep in a soft chair? There’d been pretty music playing and everyone had been talking about Hobbits. Hobbits weren’t real, that’s what Dean and Sam had said - a story, like Dean and Sam, who were real, even though Hobbits were not.

It was all very disorienting, to be in a story, but not in a story - to fall asleep in a chair and wake up in a bed. Who had carried him? 

Someone was breathing in the room. That didn’t make any sense either. Gwaine and Arthur always sat in bed with him. Merlin lifted his head and looked towards the sound - Sam was asleep at the desk, his head resting on his arm and an open book beside him. 

Merlin got out of bed slowly, keeping an eye on Sam’s breathing. He’d snuck past Gaius enough times that he muffled his footsteps on instinct. It caused the room to spin a little, and Merlin had to quickly catch himself on the door frame. Sam hadn’t woken though - so Merlin slipped into the hall and made his way through the empty corridors.

Arthur had obviously assigned Sam to look after him - but why? What were Arthur and Gwaine doing? Merlin couldn’t tell what time of day it was in the windowless fortress. He closed his eyes and tried to feel the earth below him, the sky outside - but it was as though this world was speaking a language Merlin did not understand. It was there. He knew the world was there - and yet he could not feel it. He thought about the ‘movie’ they had watched - the Brothers had explained that it wasn’t real, it was actors playing the part of storybook characters - Merlin wondered if perhaps Sam and Dean weren’t real either, and Merlin was inside of a book, a story in a story in a story.

The kitchen was empty, and so was the map room, and so was the library. 

Other stories within a story, Merlin thought. Then he remembered that what Sam had told him all that time ago - Merlin was in one of these books. 

*

There were ten swords laid out on the table by the time Gwen had finished her supper. Apparently, she was to choose. It was a good thing she was a blacksmith’s daughter. Not that her father had ever had much call to make swords - but she knew the principles of metal work well. Between Arthur and Morgana, Gwen had learned the basics of sword-fighting when she was still only a maid - but she hadn’t had much call to use those skills in the past few years, for which she was thankful. It helped to have Elyan and Leon there for a second opinion as she carefully went through each one.

Finally, she felt that she had made her decision. Just as she gave Elyan the nod to return the rest to the armoury, there were voices from outside and then one of the guards knocked before opening the door.

“Your Highness, the young Druid is here to see you.”

“Send him in,” Gwen ordered. Mordred entered the room with his hair tousled from sleep and pillow-lines still on his face. “Mordred, what is it? I’m not sure you should be out of bed-”

“Hm,” Mordred nodded. “Aithusa called me?”

Gwen went to gesture to the dragon, which until that moment, been curled up on the bed. Gwen hadn’t particularly wanted a dragon in her bed, but was unsure how one went about explaining that to a dragon and so had just allowed her to stay there. Really, that summarized nearly every aspect of Gwen’s relationship with Aithusa’s company thus far.

Now though, Aithusa was already climbing down, staring at Mordred.

“Oh,” Mordred said, blinking at the swords that sat in a heap on the table and the one in Gwen’s hand. And then Gwen was treated to viewing a silent conversation between Mordred and the dragon, in which the dragon stared at him, and Mordred made a series of facial expressions - ranging from alarmed, to understanding, to alarmed again, to an accepting nod, the sleepy expression returning to his face.

“Mordred….?” Gwen tried, when Mordred looked as though he might be about to fall asleep on his feet before he enlightened anyone as to what he and Aithusa were discussing.

The blank sleepy look on Mordred face remained, but he turned to Gwen and spoke in a soft measured voice.

“I offer you a sword forged in dragon’s breath,” Mordred said. “Allow the Druid boy to bring the sword you have chosen to me. In this way, even if we are separated, my strength and magic will be with you.”

Gwen looked over to see Aithusa looking at her. She tilted her head to the side, and beside her Mordred mimicked the movement. It was eerie, but not the first time Gwen had seen them this way. She wondered if Mordred actually had fallen asleep on his feet after all.

Leon shifted beside her, but Gwen didn’t point out how silly it was to be afraid of a dragon only if it acquired a sword. She lifted the one she had chosen and walked around the table and towards Mordred, who blinked at her rapidly again as he lifted his hand to take it.

“It doesn’t hurt you to do that, does it?” Gwen asked in a whisper. 

Mordred shook his head and offered a smile. For the room, however, he raised his voice to say, “If you three would kindly stand by the bed, Aithusa and I will do this by the fireplace, where it is the safest.”

Gwen nodded and allowed Elyan and Leon to stand between her and whatever was about to happen. Peering over her brother’s shoulder, she watched as Mordred, crouched by the fireplace, and then held the sword behind him, tucking his face away into his other arm and bracing himself.

Aithusa took a great breath of air and then spat red hot fire, bathing the sword in flames. Gwen gripped Elyan’s shoulder, not so much to hold him back, but rather to hold herself back from running to see if Mordred still had a hand. But when the fire ceased, Mordred just unburied his face and pulled the sword back to him. 

He traded it to his other hand and shook out the one that had been holding the hilt, but he seemed unharmed - the only evidence of what had happened was the sweat that beaded on his brow and dripped from his temple. 

“Your sword, Queen Guinevere,” Morded offered it back to her, laid flat in his arms with a small bow, as she pushed passed her two knights and approached him. 

Gwen reached out tentatively and touched the handle, it held only the heat of the druid’s palm and nothing more. She held the sword up to the lamp light, and saw the way it glited with a new sheen, the likes of which she had only seen on one other sword in her life.

“Excalibur,” Gwen whispered.

“No,” Mordred replied. “A worthy partner.”

Chapter Text

Sam woke up to an empty room. He blinked at it for a quiet second until the panic set in as he remembered why the room shouldn’t have been empty. 

“Merlin!?” Sam jogged through the corridors, checking the knights bedrooms as he ran past - but it didn’t appear that they were back from the bar yet. There was still time for Sam to find Merlin and hide the fact that he had fallen asleep on guard duty - guard duty given to him by King Arthur, no less.

He ran into the empty war room and glanced into the still darkened library. He was just about to turn away and search the other floors when he realized that the library wasn’t quite as dark as usual. There was a soft glow coming from the back corner. 

Sam walked in slowly, until a foot came into view, and then a stack of books, and then finally Merlin behind them all, sitting on the floor, reading. Beside him was one of the table lamps, giving off a low-light. The sight of unplugged electrical cord trailing after it was only a little jarring.

“Hey Merlin,” Sam said, softly. Merlin looked up from his book, only a little startled. “What are you reading?”

“None of these stories make any sense,” Merlin said. “They’re useless. This one has Mordred as Arthur’s son - and Arthur having a child with Morgana - which… is a thought I’d rather not have seen written down, thank you very much.”

“I told you before,” Sam said. “You asked when we were in Camelot - the stories aren’t the same as reality. Like how we thought you’d be old. We’re different than you thought too. This world is, isn’t it? You thought the Impala was a horse - but it’s a car. Things are different.”

“And what’s with all this...these religious things. I don’t know this god-”

“Yeah, that was probably added to the stories later, as religion changed in our history…”

“How am I supposed to use any of this?” Merlin interrupted, frustrated, as he slammed a book closed. The light beside him flared brighter for a moment - and Sam was briefly concerned about how the lightbulb was dealing with magic.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to,” Sam said. “You aren’t supposed to be here at all, Merlin.”

Merlin huffed out a sigh and rubbed his temples with his fingers.

“But I need to know what happens next!” Merlin said. “I need to… you don’t understand. There has to be something here that will tell me…” he trailed off, wincing as the light beside him flickered. 

“Hey, how about we get off the floor and go sit at the table,” Sam said, hoping that Merlin listened. “Here, I’ll show you how lights work - that’ll be fun…” Sam grabbed the lamp as Merlin opened his eyes and squinted at him in confusion. Seeing that he had Merlin’s attention, Sam continued. “You see - they work on electricity, so - you plug them into the outlet in the wall, like so,” Sam plugged back in the lamp. “There’s always electricity flowing through the wires in the wall - and now they can go into the lamp. Then, uh - then you stop whatever magic is currently keeping it lit so that I can show you, okay?” 

Merlin blinked at Sam, but then cast a quick glance at the lamp - Sam saw only a flicker of gold in Merlin’s eye as the lamp went out, plunging them into darkness.

“There’s a switch on the lamp here,” Sam said, feeling for the switch, and clicking it on. The lamp light was bright, the lightbulb thankfully undamaged by whatever magic Merlin had been using to make it glow before. 

“Oh,” Merlin said. 

“Here, I’ll show you the one at the table,” Sam pressed, and reached down and hauled Merlin off the floor by his arms. He swiftly guided Merlin into a chair and pushed it into the table and then jogged around and sat across from him. He clicked on the desk lamp. “See!”

“E-trice…” Merlin mumbled.

“Yup, electricity,” Sam nodded, studying Merlin who looked a little less distressed then a minute ago, though perhaps a little confused. Sam had distraction it seemed, which meant it might be safe to circle back. “Now, how about you tell me what information you’re looking for - and I’ll help you find it - I know the library pretty well.” 

“Right,” Merlin said, nodding. “I need to know what happens next.”

“What happens next after what?”

“Well,” Merlin furrowed his brow, and Sam let him take a second to gather his thoughts. “When I first came to Camelot, the Great Dragon told me that it was my destiny to protect Arthur, so that Arthur could restore magic to Camelot and unite the kingdoms of Albion - and achieve his great destiny.”

“Mm-hm,” Sam nodded, and waited for Merlin to continue - but Merlin just looked at him expectantly. “So…” Sam said, “how’s that going?”

“Arthur is restoring magic to Camelot,” Merlin replied. “There haven’t been any wars as of late, Arthur’s been able to settle everything with neighbouring kingdoms through negotiations and peace talks - there’s… there’s quite a bit of support for him as a sort of… High King. There are some Saxons to the north, but with the combined strength of Camelot and our allies, they’d only pose a threat if we were hindered in our defenses in some way.”

“So, everything is going well then,” Sam concluded.

“Yes, but…” Merlin said, only he didn’t finish, instead looking down to wring his hands together.

“But?”

“But… what happens… next?” Merlin asked. And then Sam understood.

“Oh,” Sam said, eloquently. “Uh…” he added, even more eloquently. He looked over at the bookshelf and tried to think of how he was going to put this. “So… do you remember… do you remember when you told me about how Dean and I are stories in your world?”

Merlin nodded.

“Okay, well - remember, you told me… there were two endings you told me about… after we completed our destiny, or didn’t complete it, actually. One ending where I die, and one where I get to live and Dean and I just… continue… living.”

Merlin blinked at him.

“So, um, it sounds like you’re well on the way to completing your destiny,” Sam reiterated. “Good job, man! You did it!”

“Thank you?” Merlin said.

“And now, since you and Arthur aren’t dead - you get to continue living,” Sam concluded.

“But what about Mordred-”

“Oh! Shit. You were asleep for that discussion,” Sam realized. “Arthur can fill you in on the details, but basically Mordred was the one who helped him and Percival get here to rescue you. According to Mordred, since you revealed your magic, uh… ahead of schedule, I guess? Apparently all that… prophecy stuff is… undecided now. Like… no one is sure what’s going to happen anymore.”

Merlin stared at Sam with wide eyes, looking a bit more panicked than relaxed.

“But what does that mean for Arthur? Does he still die in battle? Is magic still restored to Camelot? Does-”

“Merlin!” Sam cut in. “You just said that Arthur was restoring magic to Camelot. Hell, for half the car-ride here, it was all Arthur would tell us about - how he’s been introducing it slowly, how he’s making sure you don’t become a target… he’s told us all about it. I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“But I’ve got to worry about something! ” Merlin exclaimed. “There’s always SOMETHING! ”

“Sure, but sometimes that something is… like… ‘do I need new boots?’”

“What?”

“Merlin… “ Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. How do you explain to someone who has devoted his life to achieving something that it’s possible to live without devoting yourself to a single purpose. “There’s always something for Dean and I to hunt - but… the thing we set out to do, it’s been done. We got the thing that killed our mom. Then we… we screwed destiny right in the face, as Dean likes to say… and we did all that, and now we just… continue. You can just… continue… you can make sure Arthur doesn’t get himself killed. You can fold his laundry, or whatever the hell you do for him. You can spend time with your friends… you can… talk to the druids, or help Arthur understand magic… and it doesn’t have to be part of an inescapable destiny anymore. And there’s going to be at least one day in there, where your biggest concern is whether or not you need new boots - and that’s going to be a good fucking day, Merlin.”

“But will Arthur still die?”

“Eventually,” Sam replied. “But hopefully when he’s a lot older and it’s his time to go…”

Merlin nodded, and Sam really hoped the conversation was over. Then Merlin winced and the light flickered a little.

“Hey, what are you trying to do?” Sam said.

“Nothing, I was only... “ Merlin trailed off again. “The magic in your world… it feels... off.”

“I know,” Sam said. “Cas warned us that you might… feel that way. It’s… different, and you weren’t necessarily made to use it, just like this world wasn’t meant to have your magic.”

“It feels as though I’m thirsty, but every time I try to drink, someone has salted the water,” Merlin said. 

“That sounds… unpleasant.”

“I can use it,” Merlin replied, and in a blink, there was a glowing blue orb floating next to them over the table, Merlin’s eyes swirling with gold flecks. “I can feel the wards in this place… I can feel the way everything is connected… but… Sam… it’s worse than the time that our well water turned to sand - because it still looks and feels like water, but it does nothing to quench my thirst.”

“I can call Castiel,” Sam offered. “And see if you’re well enough to send home yet. In the meantime, maybe… maybe try not to drink from the well here, if it… if it’s only going to make it worse.”

The sound of the door opening, and four boisterous men coming down the metal stairs cut off anything that Merlin was going to say. The glowing orb by the table blinked out of existence, and Merlin stood up, said a quick thank you to Sam, and then took off to greet Arthur and knights.

Sam followed at a more sedate pace. When he was in sight of the group, it was easy to catch Dean’s eye and share a silent conversation as Merlin threw himself into a hug with the nearest of his comrades. They’d have to send Merlin home soon - one way or another. He was getting better and worse in opposite directions - the more Merlin was well enough to stay awake, the more time he had to realize that he was a magical creature in a world with the wrong kind of magic. Merlin’s water metaphor had been apt - those stupid frat-boys had taken a fresh water fish and thrown it in an ocean. 

*

Gwen traveled in the most opulent wagon she had ever seen. Although she would have preferred to ride out on a horse, the way a proper Queen should when leading her men into battle - she couldn’t help but concede that the wagon was a better idea. The back of the wagon had been filled with perhaps every spare cushion and blanket in Citadel, and a sturdy cover added, to keep Gwen out of whatever whether they may encounter on their march north. At first, Gwen had  sat in the mountain of cushions, facing backwards - but there was something about watching Camelot slowly get further away that set her ill at ease, so she turned and rested her arms against the back of the driving seats instead - facing forward, towards the battle ahead, and chatting with Leon, who drove the horses. 

Elyan and Mordred both flanked the wagon, while Aithusa spent her time walking circles around the entire company. Luckily, enough days had passed that news of Aithusa’s presence by the Queens side had spread, and the men knew that she was no threat to them. Gwen was surprised when she was informed by Leon that the men actually thought of Aithusa as an extension of the Queens presence now - and he had witnessed them stand straighter at attention when the dragon looked their way, as though the Queen herself were inspecting them.

They were near to where they were to make first camp when Mordred steered his horse closer to the wagon and informed Gwen, by way of Leon, that the druids sought an audience with her - and intended to approach the camp after they had settled. Gwen had Elyan ride off to tell the guard to expect the druids approach - while Mordred just looked distantly off to the left with a somewhat vacant stare and nodded once or twice.

“Do you ever grow tired of people talking directly into your head?” Gwen asked him, when the conversation seemed to be over.

“It is what I know,” Mordred shrugged. “It would be like me asking you if you tire of Camelot.”

Gwen smiled and dismissed him again, while ahead of them, the forward march came to a stop as they found a meadow large enough to fit the army comfortably.

The tents were erected and the fires were high when a guardsman announced the druids had arrived. Gwen stayed seated by the fire, with Aithusa curled around her chair, and Gaius and Elyan sitting to her left and right, as Leon escorted their guests into the camp. There were three of them, wearing long hooded robes of simple travelers, but there was undoubtedly something in the way they carried themselves, something in the way their eyes shone in the firelight, that spoke of their connection and command of magic. They did not seem surprised to see Aithusa, so Gwen assumed that this information had already been passed to them by Mordred.

Gwen went to stand in greeting, but they quickly waved her down. She had been riding in a wagon all day, so standing was hardly an issue - however, she appreciated the gesture and smiled at them to indicate it, telling them to sit as well, as they introduced themselves - or, one of them did, anyway, Dilwyn - the others were perhaps serving as guards, by their demeanor. Dilwyn introduced them, but they made no move to speak to Gwen, which was usually the behaviour of guards or knights escorting a nobleman.

“How may Camelot be of service to you?” Gwen asked, once the introductions were over.

“We have come to lend you our aid, Queen Guinevere,” Dilwyn told her. “You leave to defend Camelot from Morgana, but Morgana is a magical enemy - and without Emrys by your side, we felt… we felt it would be best if we strengthened your forces.”

AIthusa lifted her head from her paws beside Gwen’s chair and surveyed the guests. It was second nature now, for Gwen to reach over and rest a hand on the top of her head - it always made it look like Gwen was calming her, but really, it was Gwen’s way of telling the dragon that she was not sure what the dragon was thinking.

“Thank you for your concern in this matter,” Gwen said. “The druids are a peaceful people, however, and I would not want you to act in discordance with your beliefs. Camelot has faced magical enemies before without the aid of a sorcerer, and - as you can see, we have Aithusa with us now - and also Mordred, another druid who has come to our aid, and Alator of The Catha - and of course Gaius is a practicing sorcerer now as well, albeit in the healing arts rather than skills of war.”

The druids nodded, but Dilwyn pressed on.

“Thank you for your consideration,” he said. “But we would not offer if we had not already agreed that the circumstances warranted it. Morgana is a High Priestess of the Old Religion - and while Morgeuse trained her well, she is… mistaken in her current pursuits, blinded by her personal vendetta against Camelot. She falsely believes that the current - imbalance - can be healed without the return of Emrys. But this is not the case - Emrys must return.”

“Emrys will return, my husband has gone to fetch him,” Guinevere reassured them. “They will both return to us.”

“Not if Morgana wins this battle, Queen Guinevere,” Dilwyn said. “This is what has caused her hasty attack - the idea that she might prevent Emrys from returning. He is the only one who can outmatch her capacity for magic. The only one who can defeat her in magical combat.”

Gwen swallowed, and wished that Dilwyn had not spoken so in front of the guards and knights in her camp. It would not be good for them to lose confidence against the enemy. 

“Emrys must return,” Dilwyn repeated. “Without him… there will only be chaos and suffering.”

“I know Emrys well,” Gwen smiled, despite the sinking feeling in her chest. “I am certain he would argue that you have placed too much importance on him.”

Dilwyn smiled in return, “Emrys also has the capacity to be wrong, it seems. Surely, you have felt it too - the way the magic of the world searches for him, while also… words cannot adequately describe it - this feeling of shoring yourself up against an unseen and persistent foe. You must feel it - how the heart of all things aches for its missing piece...”

“I know only that I miss my friend,” Gwen stated simply. “But I believe your words.”

Dilwyn nodded. “Your kinship with Emrys provides a mask for the ache, just as Morgana’s hatred of him clouds her own vision.”

“A comparison I’m not sure I appreciate,” Gwen replied. “But, I believe your words - Emrys has told us about his position among the druids, and as our own King is currently also absent, Camelot understands your desire to ensure his return. You may ride with us in the morning, and we will accept your aid in the battle ahead.”

“Thank you, Queen Guinevere,” Dilwyn said, leaning forward to bow in his chair, touching his nose to his knees. 

“You may consult with Sir Leon on the plan for our defense of Stowell,” Gwen stated, gesturing towards the knight who nodded. “You are dismissed at your leisure to make what arrangements you must for the morning.”

Dilwyn and the two flanking him both made stood and made sweeping bows, before following Leon from the fire.

“Um, is Emrys who I think it is?” Elyan asked in a low whisper.

“Well, he’s certainly not Gwaine,” Gwen returned, and Elyan laughed, though Gwen knew full well from his experession that he was busy putting puzzles together in his head. Gwen was too. She put her hand on the hilt of the sword at her hip, and looked over at Aithusa, who had already turned to meet her gaze. Gwen knew that Morgana was - formidable - but she trusted the strength of Camelot - and Merlin’s unique ability to show up just when needed. It was only now that she really felt the significance of AIthusa gifting her with her own dragon-forged sword - and she had to admit that she did feel the ache then, not just an ache for her missing husband and closest friend, but also the ache of deep foreboding of what might come overmorrow if they were not to return.

*

Merlin breathed deeply as he greeted Arthur and the knights. They smelled like a tavern, but at the same time, it was like they had brought fresh air with them. The next thing he knew, he was burrowed into someone’s chest. 

This is mine, Merlin thought. His, where everything else in this world wasn’t. This body belonged to his friend. He didn’t care which one. They were his.

“Merlin?” Arthur called, and Merlin lifted his head to discover that the person he was cuddling was actually Percival, who was patting him awkwardly on the back.

“Are you alright?” Percival asked.

“Yes, I'm just pleased to see you,” Merlin smiled. “And you smell so much like ale, I think just the fumes have gone to my head.”

“You’ve always been a lightweight,” Arthur agreed, pulling Merlin away from Percival by wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Sam was supposed to bring you to the tavern when you woke up-”

“Oh?” 

“Sorry, Arthur,” Sam said. “We got a little distracted - I was filling Merlin in about how Mordred helped you get over here.”

“Yes, he’s grown up to be a fine young man,” Arthur exclaimed. “I can’t wait for you to see him - if all went well, he should be waiting for us in Camelot when we return. I may make him a knight for service to Camelot…”

“Oh,” Merlin said. His mind dizzy with the thought - Mordred, even as a boy, had seemed a menacing figure to Merlin. The thought of seeing him every day, having him be a presence in the court… Merlin wasn’t sure how he would feel about it.

“Of course, the Druids being a peaceful people, he may turn down the offer - but I thought it might go further to strengthen the bonds between Camelot and the magical community, and-”

“Alright, alright, policy talk later!” Dean interrupted. “I’m seeing an awake Merlin, so how about I make us some coffee and we watch The Two Towers.”

“Coffee is horrid,” Arthur stated. “But I’ll agree to watch another piece of theatre.”

“It’s a deal,” Dean said. “Sam! Get the snacks!”

“Get them yourself!”

“You won’t fall asleep again will you?” Arthur asked Merlin, distracting him from the brothers’ bickering.

“You should ask your men that, I’m not the one whose been drinking-” Merlin eyed Gwaine.

“Ah, we’ll get some water in me - I’ll stay awake for Frodo,” Gwaine said, catching Merlin’s look. “Can’t resist those big blue eyes.”

“Stop flirting with my manservant, you vagabond!” Arthur pushed Gwaine away.

Merlin laughed as Arthur dragged him from the room, while Gwaine followed after them, calling Arthur every disrespectful name that he could think of. 

It was almost enough to take Merlin’s mind off his worries. Really, he wasn’t even sure what he was worrying about any more. Arthur was safe beside him after all. Perhaps it was just as Sam said - Merlin was only homesick for the familiar magic of Camelot.

Chapter Text

They’d stayed up half the night watching Lord of the Rings movies, so Sam just mumbled out the answer when Dean came into his room in what felt like the early hours of the morning and asked him for his computer password. Well, he mumbled out the password and then said “If it’s for porn, use your own damn computer-” but Dean just muttered too quiet for Sam to make sense of, and the next thing he knew he was falling back asleep. When he woke up for real, he wondered if he’d actually dreamt the event. 

He found Merlin washing pots and pans in the kitchen. There was a whole platter of food on the table and two empty places set.

“Good Day, Sam!” Merlin greeted. “Breakfast is on the table - well, I suppose it’s lunch now, but the food is fresh! Arthur has already eaten, so serve yourself.”

Sam nodded, wondering if this whole time they were supposed to have been feeding Arthur first. No one had said anything, so Sam shrugged to himself and then went to the table to eat. There was some other thought niggling at him though, he glanced over at Merlin, whose back was now to him as he stood at the sink.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Sam said. “How is it that you’re awake before me?”

Merlin laughed, shook the soap from his hands, and turned to face Sam. “I guess I finally got enough sleep after that whole ordeal. Arthur and I slept for a few hours, but then Arthur got restless and woke me up. I may nap later though, so don’t hold me to some sort of new standard.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “Sleep whenever you want, it’s not like we’re in any hurry.”

Merlin smiled, but it was really more of a wince - it was clear to Sam that Merlin may very well be in a hurry, given what he had told Sam about this world feeling like drinking saltwater.

“Sorry,” Sam said. “I just meant that there’s nothing more we have to do here besides make sure that you’re well enough to travel home - and part of that is you being well-rested.”

Merlin nodded, but anything he was about to say was cut off by a blurry-eyed Dean walking into the room.

“Mmm, is there bacon?”

“Yes, Dean,” Merlin said. “I made it special.”

“Hm, you’re my new favourite,” Dean replied with a smile, and sat down across from Sam. Then Sam remembered the morning.

“Wait, weren’t you already awake?”

“Mm? What are you talking about?”

“And why were using my computer this morning?” 

Dean stared at Sam blankly. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You came into my room, and asked for my password...wait, you know my password…” Sam turned to look over at Merlin, only to find him gone. The dishes still half-done in the sink. Sam turned back to stare wide-eyed at Dean, who had both his eyebrows raised.

“At least take a plate of food with you before you storm off to reclaim your property,” Dean said, but Sam was already out of his seat and heading towards the library. “Fine,” he heard Dean mutter behind him. “More for me.”

It was the second time in 24 hours that Sam entered the library to find someone surrounded by books - only this time, it was Arthur, and he also had Sam’s computer open in front of him. Merlin had obviously run ahead to warn Arthur that the jig was up, but to his credit, Arthur just chose to meet Sam’s eyes, completely unapologetic.

“I thought you were Dean this morning,” Sam said.

“I know, I put on a voice,” Arthur smiled. Merlin smacked him softly in the back of the head. “And Merlin helped.”

“You could have just asked,” Sam said. “What are you even doing? I could have helped.”

“Also, don’t you guys need to sleep?” Dean asked as he entered the room, carrying two breakfast plates. He handed one over to Sam and added, “Don’t say I never do nothing for ya.”

“Merlin mentioned last night that you were going to call Castiel,” Arthur explained. “It means that our time here is most likely coming to an end, and I wanted to learn as much as I could about your world before I returned. There are many things here that could be of a benefit to Camelot.”

Dean set his plate down on the table and walked behind Arthur so he could see what Arthur was researching.

“Hm, like municipal sanitation?” Dean said. “Of all the-”

“Makes sense,” Sam nodded. “I feel like we’re… I don’t know, changing the future of Camelot or something, with you knowing things ahead of your time.”

“I don’t think sewage systems are going to change the course of history, Sam,” Dean replied. But Merlin gave Sam an understanding smile.

“You changed things long before we were brought here,” Merlin said. “It was because of your words that I decided to tell Arthur about my magic. And it was your story that gave me hope that… that it was possible to change fate, even when… even when my previous attempts failed.”

“I can’t see it as a bad influence,” Arthur added. “Indeed, without you encouraging both Merlin and myself to consider actions outside of what we thought possible… I’m not sure that I can put into words, how Camelot has grown stronger, and how that has been mirrored in the strength of my friendship with Merlin, now that there are no secrets between us.”

Merlin gave a small smile and looked down, Sam wasn’t sure if it was out of embarrassment, or over the reminder of how long he had kept secrets from Arthur. Sam knew full well how much you could regret keeping things from people, even years after you told them the truth - even if you felt you had no other choice at the time.

“Alright, enough of the mushy stuff,” Dean cut in. “I get it - can’t unring that bell, might as well hit it a few more times. But sewage, really? I’d have thought you’d be looking up politics.”

“Oh, I have,” Arthur replied, his demeanor shifting. “And I have a few questions about your current leadership-”

“Oh god, forget I asked!” Dean exclaimed. “Sewage is a better topic.”

Sam laughed, and added. “Seriously though, if you want to stay a few more days just to do some research, you can - we’re not trying to rush you out of here. Cas just told us that Merlin would recover better back home - as soon as he’s strong enough to make the trip. But, I mean, we don’t necessarily have to send you all back at once, if you’d like to stay longer.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Arthur replied. “But it would be better if I returned to Camelot with Merlin.”

“I guess it must be a hard, not knowing how things are going there, huh?” Dean sympathized.

“Well, yes, but I trust Guinevere to have everything well in hand,” Arthur replied. “I’m more concerned about missing the baby’s birth.”

Sam and Dean stared wide-eyed at Arthur.

“The what!?”

*

Stowell stood strong. They’d arrived before Morgana’s forces, though only just. Still there was enough time to re-enforce the defenses and position their men. Gwen assigned herself to the inner fortress, where she would assist Gaius with the injured. It was a post she had held many times before, and had the added benefit of reassuring everyone that she was kept as safe as possible from the battle.

She assigned Leon to oversee the actual battle that may occur. He was the best choice, both from strategic and political viewpoint. Leon had a keen military mind, but also had the benefit of being of noble birth, knighted under Uther, and known to be beloved by Arthur - no matter who one asked in the Kingdom, Leon was trusted the most out of everyone in court. The trust was not misplaced. Leon would lead the men just as confidently as Arthur.

The druids divided themselves according to their own desires. Some volunteered to heal the wounded along with Gaius and Gwen, others presented themselves to Leon and asked to stand next to the archers on the battlements.

When Morgan’s Saxon army finally arrived on the horizon, they were prepared - Morgana rode forward first, coming to a halt a distance from the wall of the fort. This was the only time in which Gwen would leave the inner fortress - if there was a chance at all that they could avoid bloodshed, it would be accomplished at that moment. 

Gwen still didn’t mount a horse - she walked, Leon, Elyan, Mordred, and Aithusa by her side. Still, even her knights and Mordred stopped ten paces away, as Morgana dismounted her horse, and Gwen walked forward to meet her with only Aithusa. Gwen couldn’t help but see Morgana eye the dragon, her jaw clenched. Aithusa - through Mordred - had told Gwen of her previous friendship with Morgana, and how it had soured. Gwen understood - she too had once been Morgana’s friend, after all.

“Gwen,” Morgana greeted with a hollow smile. “I had expected Arthur. Where is he?”

“Something irreplaceable was taken from Camelot, as you know,” Gwen said. “Arthur is retrieving it.”

“Emrys,” Morgana said, hissing the final syllable.

“Morgana,” Gwen said. “Call off your attack - the world is out of balance, this is no time for war.”

“You only say that because I have the advantage,” Morgana smiled. Then Morgana looked Gwen up and down. “I suppose I should offer you congratulations - is it Arthur’s, or have you had yet another secret lover?”

“Morgana…” Gwen warned.

“Or did Arthur take after his father in this matter as well?” Morgana continued. “Seems a pity to spend your final days at war, hm?”

“What happened to you, Morgana?” Gwen asked, ignoring Morgana’s words entirely. “You used to be so kind and compassionate-”

“Please, spare the reminiscing.” Morgana rolled her eyes. “Appealing to my mercy is not a good tactic - you know I’ll stop at nothing until I have my revenge.”

“Revenge?!” Gwen exclaimed. “On who? Your brother? For what? Arthur has only ever loved you. We understand why you didn’t come to us all those years ago - no matter how much it pains us - we understand that you were afraid.”

“I was not-”

“But Arthur has since changed the law - you must have heard,” Gwen put her hand on Aithusa’s head beside her, out of habit now more than anything - but the dragon’s existence by Gwen’s side should have been more than enough proof of how Camelot had changed. 

“Changed for who? Emrys? Not his own sister-” 

“Emrys told him,” Gwen replied. “As I said, we understand why you didn’t - maybe things would be different if you had - but your crimes are too great now for you to return, Morgana. However, Arthur would be more than happy to allow you to live unpursued in exile - you could return to Saxony with your army. I am sure they would welcome such a powerful ally-”

“No, I will not rest until Camelot is mine - and my revenge on Uther is com-”

“ Uther? ” Gwen replied. “You’ve already taken his life! Surely that should satisfy you.”

“No! I will take everything from him, just as he took everything from me.”

“Morgana,” Gwen said and shook her head. “You have lost far more through your own hate than Uther has ever taken from you.”

Morgana set her jaw and glared at Gwen. Gwen held her ground, though Aithusa planted her claws into the ground beside her and shifted her weight. Gwen wondered if the dragon could feel Morgana drawing on the magic of the world.

“I am a High Priestess of the Triple Goddess,” Morgana declared. “I am powerful beyond your imagination. You will not defeat me - it would be better for you to surrender now.”

“There were High Priestesses before you,” Gwen said. “There will be others after.”

This, of all things, brought a genuine smile to Morgana’s face. “Are you threatening me, Guinevere? I didn’t think you had it in you - whatever happened to appealing to my sentimentality over our friendship?”

“I have long since mourned the loss of my friend,” Gwen replied. “You are nothing but a Shade of her, built to suit some evil purpose - a trick that I will not fall for again. Goodbye, Morgana.”

Gwen turned and walked away, putting her back to Morgana. She trusted that Aithusa would protect her, should Morgana lash out. But, it was more likely that Morgana would want to prove her worth in battle - in that respect, she was not unlike her brother. 

Behind her, she heard Morgana mount her horse and ride away - it was only then that the knights, Mordred, and Aithusa turned from their posts and followed Gwen back into the fortress. It was time for war.

*

Apparently, in Sam and Dean’s world, it was customary to have celebratory drinks when a friend was expecting a child. So, that night found them drinking yet again - though this time in their fortress - the Bunker, as they called it - with purchased alcohol and a feast of pizza. Even though, for Arthur, the news was well over half a year old now.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Dean asked Arthur, as they feasted.

“The child isn’t born yet,” Arthur laughed.

“Oh, right,” Dean said, after a confused pause.

“Wait, why did you think I would know?” Arthur asked.

“Uh, magic?” Dean shrugged. “We have tests that we run here that can tell - I forgot you guys were different.” 

Arthur looked over at Merlin, who had managed to make it through most of the day with only a brief impromptu nap in the afternoon. Merlin looked as surprised at this news as Arthur was.

“I didn’t even think to try,” Merlin admitted with a shrug. “I only ever checked that both the babe and Gwen were in good health.”

“That’s all that matters, really,” Sam interjected. Arthur agreed.

“Have you thought of names?” Dean asked next. “I like the name Dean, personally. Samantha only if it’s a girl.”

Sam rolled his eyes and explained, “Dean was named after our grandmother.”

“Hey! Don’t tell-”

Sam laughed loudly, cutting off the rest of Dean’s sentence. 

“ Have you thought of names though, Sire?” Gwaine asked.

“Ygraine, possibly - after my mother,” Arthur said, trying to shrug to keep the conversation light - though really only Merlin knew the details of how Arthur had lost his mother. “Perhaps Thomas for a boy, after Gwen’s father.” That was also a heavy choice, as everyone knew full well the circumstances of Gwen’s father’s death. It seemed Arthur’s destiny was to sloppily try to repair the damage his father had caused.

“Good names,” Dean nodded. 

“We briefly considered Lancelot, but-” Arthur saw Percival wince, and he cut himself off. 

“Too soon, huh,” Sam concluded.

Arthur nodded.

“Well, Ygraine is a beautiful name - and you can call her Iggy for short! Ooo man, I should play you some Iggy Pop - now granted, it’s a dude, but he’s an awesome dude….”

Arthur smiled at Dean’s ability to bring them back around to lightness, even though he understood very few words from the following rant about whatever “Glamrock” meant. 

They were sated on pizza and well into being tipsy with drink, when the outer door of the fortress opened. Arthur’s hand went to his empty side - as they’d taken to wearing their comfortable borrowed clothes, rather than the armour they’d arrived in. Neither Dean nor Sam seemed concerned that someone was letting themselves into their fortress, however- if anything, they just smiled brighter.

“Cas!” Dean greeted, and Arthur shook his head and blamed the drink for him forgetting that Sam had called Castiel earlier.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replied from the balcony, but Arthur realized that Cas wasn’t looking at Dean, but at Merlin - who was gazing in fascination back up at him.

“Oh right,” Arthur realized. “You probably don’t remember-”

“Castiel,” Merlin said without shifting his stare; and then his eyes swirled gold and his voice changed completely. “Drakon, Elaedo! E’chomai nasedo.”

Cas turned and descended the stairs as Merlin slowly stood from his chair and approached to meet him. 

“I am not a dragon,” Castiel spoke in his low voice, as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He did not seem annoyed at the false address though, merely informing. “I am what is known here as an angel.”

Merlin made a hum of acknowledgement as the two came to stand before each other in the space between the stairs and the table. Merlin paused only briefly, and then proceeded to walk a slow circle around Castiel, his eyes still swirly. Castiel stood like a soldier under inspection, only his gaze never left Merlin, save for when Merlin disappeared behind him. Even then, Castiel’s eyes merely shifted to the other side in anticipation of Merlin’s return to his field of vision.

“T’a me ypakouset? ” Merlin said after he had finished his circling. 

Castiel’s eyes darted over to the table, sweeping over the knights and Arthur and meeting Sam and Dean’s eyes before looking back to answer Merlin.

“I would choose to,” Castiel replied.

Merlin smile was slow and pleased and he hummed his approval at the response - Arthur had never wanted to know the language of dragons more in his entire life. It seemed Gwaine felt the same, because he was the one who interrupted Merlin’s continued investigation.

“Merlin, it’s rude to speak a language not everyone can understand.”

Merlin blinked, and his eyes returned to their bright blue, and he turned to look over at the table in surprise. It was as though he had forgotten either where he was or that there were other people in the room.

“He’s fascinating,” Merlin explained, pointing at Castiel. 

“As are you,” Castiel replied.

Merlin seemed surprised.

“I know full well you have warlocks in your world - but I have never seen a dragon so large before,” Merlin replied. 

“Er, Merl-” Gwaine tried to interrupt.

“I’d ask you how you appear so small, but I could see - before, I could see the way you fill the space inside this body. Is it not uncomfortable?”

“I’ve grown accustomed to it.”

“Hm,” Merlin nodded. And then reached out and pressed a hand to Castiel’s chest. Behind the angel, the room suddenly darkened, as two massive shadow wings erupted from the angel’s back. The air around them shimmering. “Is that better?”

Castiel only gasped.

“Holy shit,” Dean muttered beside Arthur, and Arthur glanced over to see Dean and Sam’s eyes were as wide as Arthur’s felt. The knights were no different.

“Merlin!” Arthur called. “Stop!”

Merlin immediately removed his hand, and the dark shadow disappeared from the wall behind the angel. Castiel still stared at Merlin, his jaw agape.

“I believe it would have been proper etiquette to ask first,” Arthur intoned. “Castiel isn’t one of your conjured creatures to do with as you will.”

Merlin’s eyes went wide and he immediately fell into apologies for overstepping. This seemed to fluster Castiel even more, but at the very least Dean and Sam seemed mollified and the knights less on edge.

“Really, you just caught me by surprise...” Castiel was saying, while Merlin raked a nervous hand through his hair and looked pleadingly at him for forgiveness. Arthur knew from experience that that look was just another form of torture, so once again he’d have to rescue him.

“Let the rest of us greet the man-... er, angel, Merlin. Come sit down and have some water, you’ve obviously been too far into your cups,” Arthur ordered, and Merlin immediately obeyed. Arthur turned back to the angel. “Castiel! Thank you for answering Sam’s summons here. Please, have a seat. Were you able to bring a close to the demon disturbances abroad?”

“I was,” Castiel answered, as he moved towards the table. “The plan to reopen the cage appears to have been the undertaking of a small subset of demons, and not one from Hell as a whole - as such, it was easier to squash in its entirety, as they had limited resources.” 

“Excellent,” Arthur nodded, because he knew good news when he heard it, whether or not he understood every aspect of what was said.

“Let me get you a beer,” Dean said, standing up. “We’re celebrating - Arthur here is going to be a dad.”

Castiel looked sharply back at Arthur. “Congratulations.” And then his eyes cut back to Merlin, briefly before flitting back over to where Dean was walking towards the kitchen. “Dean - I don’t… beer doesn’t-” but Dean waved his words away and kept walking.

“You don’t have to drink it,” Sam replied instead. “He just wants to get another for himself. Do you want a whiskey instead? Water?”

“I suppose social protocol dictates that I should accept a whiskey,” Castiel said. Sam smiled and stood, making his way to the library where Arthur knew they kept a bottle of spirits.

“As you can see, Merlin is feeling better,” Arthur said. “He’s able to stay awake most of the day now.”

Castiel nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“We were told that we needed your approval on Merlin’s health before any attempt was made to return to Camelot,” Arthur prompted. “Merlin is willing to have you examine him, if needed - but it’s his wish to return home as soon as possible.”

“I’d imagine so,” Castiel replied, as Sam came back into the room and placed a cup of whiskey in front of the angel. “I can do it now, if you’d like.” 

“Now?” Merlin said, surprised. “Uh, what- what would you need to do?”

“I simply need to lay my hands on you, if I’m permitted,” Castiel replied, just as Dean stepped back in the room.

“I leave for a minute and you already get to the kinky stuff,” Dean muttered. He eyed the whiskey glass in front of Castiel, shrugged, and then handed the second beer he was carrying over to Sam. 

“Er, alright,” Merlin said. “Should I-” he made to stand up.

“No, stay seated,” Castiel replied, and then he stood and walked around the table to stand next to Merlin. 

He hovered his hands in the air over Merlin for a moment, as though he were waiting for something. Arthur saw Merlin nod once, and then Castiel placed one hand on his forehead and the other on his chest. Both Merlin and Castiel closed their eyes and the room fell silent, waiting - they all watched as Merlin took a deep breath in. He held it for so long that Arthur was about to speak up, when Castiel suddenly dropped his hands and stepped back, and Merlin let the air out in a gust and opened his eyes as well.

Arthur waited for Castiel to speak, but instead he just returned to his seat and picked up his drinking glass and took a sip, while continuing to stare at Merlin. It was the awkward first greeting all over again.

“And?” Dean finally said.

Castiel nodded. “You’re recovering well, all things considered.”

“So… good news then,” Sam replied.

“Do you know the spell to open the door between worlds?” Castiel asked Merlin. 

“Yes,” Merlin replied. “I remember the spell from last time - I can at least thin the wall between our worlds enough to call for Aithusa - if she can open it the rest of the way from the other side, as you did when Arthur called for you, then that should work.”

“And how much magic did you require to perform that spell?” Castiel asked.

Merlin blinked at him for a moment. “I drew on the magic of Kilgharrah, the Great Dragon.”

Castiel simply nodded. And then turned his attention to Arthur. “How far along is your wife’s pregnancy?”

“Why?” Arthur raised an eyebrow.

Castiel shrugged, which seemed an awkward gesture on him. “I interrupted the celebration - it was perhaps rude of me.”

“We asked you here,” Arthur waved the comment away. “If you’re implying that I’m perhaps rushing things, I admit that she’s part of the reason that I’d prefer to return to Camelot soon - as interesting as it has been to explore this world. Merlin has been serving as her primary physician. He assures me that we still have time - and Gaius is there should we be late, of course - but I’d very much prefer to be there for the birth, and I do… worry, despite Merlin’s reassurances.”

Predictably, Merlin scoffed beside Arthur, though it was more affectionate than condescending.

“Nothing bad is going to happen to Gwen as long as I’m around, Arthur,” Merlin repeated, for perhaps the thousandth time since the conception. Arthur was sure to smile at him and make sure that he knew his words were appreciated. 

When Arthur turned back to the rest of the table, he found Castiel’s eyes quickly cutting away from Sam and Dean and focusing on his drink once more. Arthur glanced at the brothers to catch them also share a brief glance before they busied themselves with their own drinks. He glanced over at his two knights, who had been remarkably quiet during the conversation - They quickly smiled at him when he met their eyes. 

“One more night,” Castiel said from the end of the table. “Get as much rest as you can, Merlin - and we’ll attempt the spell tomorrow.”

Merlin smiled wide, obviously relieved.

“Well, then, let’s keep the party going,” Dean said with a wink. “We’ve gotta give you a proper farewell party, after all.”

“Merlin should-” Castiel started to say.

“We’ll wrap up by bedtime, Cas - come on, it’s not like these fellas can just pop by whenever they like,” Dean insisted, giving Cas a significant look. 

“As you wish,” Castiel replied, glancing at Merlin again, his face serious.

Arthur smiled, and let Dean bring him another drink.  But when Gwaine leaned over and whispered in Arthur’s ear, Arthur already knew what he was going to say - what it was that the brothers were trying to keep from him, what Merlin seemingly had not yet realized.

As long as Merlin was away from Camelot, Guinevere was in danger.

Chapter Text

Leon stood on the battlements, next to the archers, overseeing the battle. If Arthur had been here, Leon would have been down on the ground with the foot soldiers, next to Arthur, who was still as reckless with his own life as Uther had taught him to be. They would have been in the second line, because that was the compromise that Arthur had been willing to make with the generals, with Leon desperately trying to keep his King alive. It would have been Merlin standing up here, overseeing the battle - though, Leon thought back to the times when Merlin had inexplicably still been beside Arthur - clad in his ragged shirt and old coat amidst the fully armoured friends and foes.

But now both Arthur and Merlin were absent, and so, yet another compromise - Leon on the battlements, halfway between the men he’d been assigned to lead, and the Queen that he’d sworn to protect. 

The clash of swords, the thwack of arrows against the wall, against shields, the bursts of magic that flung whole bodies backwards through the air, the white dragon that flew overheard with it’s strangled cry and fiery breath, it all created a cacophonous din over which Leon had to shout to be heard - as he sent messengers down to the front line to readjust to positions, as the injured were pulled into the temporary safety of the fortress walls.

The Druids were a gift from the gods, as Leon watched how they were able to work together to deflect the brunt of Morgana’s magic, as she threw her hands towards Stowell’s defenses, and the ground itself shook with her strength. But the walls held, as did most of the men, though not all, and Leon tried not to dwell on those who did not get up again - there would be time later to count and name their dead. 

When the first druid collapsed Leon felt the first true fissure of fear pierce his resolve. He saw the druid from the corner of his eye, and rushed down the line of archers to the man’s side, wondering if some enemy arrow had struck true - but when he arrived, he found the man uninjured, but blinking up at the sky as though struggling against the pull of sleep. 

“He’s fine!” a druid woman yelled at Leon, even as she cast her hands out and muttered some other tongue under her breath. Leon did not look over the wall to see what she had done, but he heard the distant shouts of surprise and pain. She turned back to Leon. “He’s only exhausted. It will happen to all of us, one by one - Morgana will be last. It would be better if someone could kill her, but…” the druid shook her head, and didn’t continue - instead she focused on the fight before her, and began throwing her hands out again. 

Leon looked down at the fallen druid, who had somehow fallen asleep amidst a battle. 

“Will he wake?” 

The druid woman shrugged. “Not before this battle is over, and perhaps not until Emrys returns to the world.”

Leon nodded. This meant that their time with magic users was limited - and more than that, the woman had said that Morgana would outlast them. 

He could send people out to murder Morgana specifically, but he knew full well that likely everyone in the battle was already trying to do just that. No, the strategy had to be different - not purely defense, and not focused on Morgana’s complete defeat either. Instead, they needed to have her retreat until Arthur and Merlin returned - there were too many unknowns, there was too much at stake. Morgana may be weakened by whatever was wrong with the magic of the world, but it was not enough to have it be to their advantage.

Leon waved one of the young soldiers over to pull the sleeping druid into the safety of the fort, and to inform those treating the injured that he needed no extra care rather than to be out of the hail of arrows.

“Focus your attack on repelling the Saxons,” Leon told the druid. “Tell your fellows - we need Morgana’s army to abandon her, if we are to force her retreat - if we cannot kill her, that is the only option.”

“Yessir,” the druid replied easily, and fell silent - at least to Leon’s ears. He watched as the druids stationed down the battlements all turned or cocked their head in her direction - as though listening - before they nodded as one and resumed their magic. He waved to another messenger to carry the message to the footsoldiers, to the other archers. They had to decimate the Saxon’s to the point where either they broke ranks with Morgana to save themselves or were small enough in number that Morgana either lost confidence or could possibly be reached by sword or dagger.

Below in the battlefield, a fire burst to life, and a great dragon rose took shape in the smoke to fly into and through the enemy, who flinched and coughed, and staggered as it engulfed and passed by them. Leon looked to the druid, who smiled and gave him a shrug.

“We’re pacifists,” she explained. “But we do know how to frighten those who may harm us.”

Leon nodded his approval. Even if the illusions only left the enemy wrong footed, it would still give them the advantage. 

*

Gwen tended to the wounded alongside Gaius and some of the druids. It was busy work, and she was thankful for the distraction. It wasn’t that she didn’t worry about the battle raging outside - it would have been impossible not to, given the amount of injured, and the way the ground seemed to shake every so often, no matter how dampened it was, or how strong the walls held - but at the very least, she had the option to only focus on the task before her, rather than fret.

She sat on a stool next to a cot, on which they laid whomever needed bandaging, then took them away again when she was done, only to lay someone else in his place. If the patient was awake, she would be greeted with wide-eyes and stumbled reverent greetings - insistence that she shouldn’t trouble herself for their sake, no matter how much they were bled. Gwen simply smiled and continued her work, praising the soldier’s bravery, strength, and endurance for pain - even if he whimpered and cried in a way that tore at her heart.

The druid helping with the worst of the bleeding yawned widely between patients, and Gwen gave her a sympathetic look.

“It’s tiring work,” Gwen commiserated. “And I’ve even been sitting this whole time - if you need a break, please don’t push yourself for our sake.”

“Are you tired, my lady?” the druid asked, returning Gwen’s smile gently.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Gwen reassured her. “It’s nothing new - I swear when this baby isn’t giving me heartburn, I’m gifted with the desire for long naps, and I have indulged enough in the past to carry me through today without complaint. I actually managed to fall asleep in that wagon on the journey here.”

The druid’s smile didn’t falter, but she cocked her head to the side strangely and her eyes grew distant - Gwen would have been more alarmed if she hadn’t grown accustomed to this particular look recently. 

“Aithusa is returning to you,” the druid finally spoke. 

“Is the battle over?” Gwen asked, because Aithusa was supposed to be helping Leon, but the druid shook her head.

“She wishes only to be by your side at this time,” the druid said slowly.

“Is she injured?” Gwen worried now - perhaps some stray arrow had successfully landed on the dragon - Aithusa’s scales were still soft to the touch. Mordred had told Gwen that this was a sign of youth, and now Gwen fretted over such a young dragon having been out in battle to begin with - perhaps Gwen was making parenting mistakes even before she had given birth.

“No,” the druid replied. “She only loves you.”

“Oh,” Gwen said, not helping the smile that she felt alight on her face. She thought of how fumbling she was with the dragon - they could barely communicate - but Gwen too had grown fond of her. 

A noise from the entryway of people scrambling out of the way signaled Aithusa’s return, and Gwen looked up and smiled, opening her arm in greeting as the dragon bounded over to her like an overly large dog and placed her massive head in Gwen’s lap. Gwen patted her head, and the dragon sighed - or, as close as a dragon could come to a sigh, as it gently nuzzled Gwen.

“It’ll be hard to bandage anyone with a dragon in my lap,” Gwen said, but she didn’t force Aithusa to move. Perhaps it was a good time for a small break after all.

*

Dean sat back with a glass of whiskey while he watched Sam set up the printer, while the knights took pictures on their cellphones and Merlin clicked around Wikipedia bookmarking pages that he wanted. They’d already sent Cas out with a book order - Dean protested at first, that they were meant to be enjoying their last evening together, not researching - but then he realized that sending Cas on a book run meant that the angel wouldn’t be sitting around reminding Merlin that he should get some sleep. In fairness, the guy hadn’t been around the last few days, so he didn’t know that if Merlin needed to sleep, that’s exactly what Merlin would do - no matter what was going on around him. 

Arthur thumped down beside him in the other chair and helped himself to a drink. Dean smiled - if someone had told him, when he was reading those comic books to Sam as a kid, that one day he’d not only meet King Arthur, but have him over for a drink… well, Dean definitely wouldn’t have believed it, to say the least.

“They’re having fun,” Dean said, gesturing towards the knights - who were now talking Sam into putting on Percival’s armour again, so that they could take more pictures. Sam wasn’t too hard to convince - the kid loved those comics. 

“Indeed, I’m glad of it,” Arthur said. “I have such little time in Camelot to join in on the revelry among the knights.”

“I suppose less time soon!” Dean said with a smile. “Unless Camelot is the type of place that leaves all the child care to the mom and you can just-”

“No,” Arthur shook his head. “Certainly, in the early years, a good deal of child rearing can only be done by the mother or wet nurses - but, I intend to be a greater part of my child’s life than… well, that other fathers may be. I want to…” 

“I getcha,” Dean said when Arthur trailed off. “I’d be the same,” he added with a smile.

“Have you ever considered having children?” Arthur asked. Dean couldn’t help the way his eyebrows rows. No one had ever really asked him before - it just wasn’t something most hunters considered a possibility. “I don’t mean to offend,” Arthur quickly said, no doubt catching Dean’s surprise at the question. “It’s only that… you have a fine residence here with a strong defence, but it is rather empty. Certainly, there’s room for more, if you desired.”

Dean laughed, which seemed to put Arthur at ease without Dean having to tell him not to worry.

“We’ve had groups of hunters come through before, some staying longer than others - but, it’s never really worked out long term, for one reason or another,” Dean winced at some of those reasons, but didn’t want to bring the party down. It was better to focus on those that survived. “Truth is, we’ve got a fair number of friends and family - out there in the world. They drop by or call when they need us - and we try to be… there for them, or here for them, whichever. And… some of them, well, they are sort of our kids. Maybe not by blood, and maybe we met them when they were fairly grown - neither Sam or I have ever done the baby thing - but… as one of my dads once said, ‘family don’t end in blood’.”

Arthur smiled at him, and looked over at the knights, who were now pulling chainmail over Sam’s head, and at Merlin, who was laughing at something Gwaine had said.

“Wise words.”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, just as Gwaine yelled from across the room that they needed Dean in the armour too for the picture to work.  “Well go get me some then!” Dean yelled back at him, and Gwaine whooped and ran out of the room.

“Thanks for indulging them,” Arthur said.

“Are you kidding? If I didn’t have responsibilities here, I’d totally just come back to Camelot with you,” Dean smiled. “Sir Dean Winchester - you got any monsters you need killing, I’m the knight for you.”

Arthur laughed, his smile bright and wide, and it made him look as young as he was. Dean had half a mind to go back to Camelot just to make sure Arthur lived forever, monsters be damned - the kid had grown on him.

“It would be an honour to have you,” Arthur said. “As I believe I’ve told you and your brother before.”

“Stop trying to recruit them,” Merlin’s voice interjected, as he stepped to Arthur’s side. “You’ll destabilize whole worlds.”

“Will I?” Arthur asked, his eyebrow raised. “Funny how that wasn’t a concern when you summoned them the first time.”

“As usual, it’s fine when I do it,” Merlin intoned, his hand pressed to his chest. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Please forgive me, oh wise one,” Arthur teased. “It’s so easy to forget, seeing as how you frequently forget how to polish my boots.”

“Ugh,” Gwaine said, appearing beside Dean. “They’ll be at this for a bit - come on, Percival and I will help you get the chainmail on, then we can take more pictures.”

Dean let himself be led towards the other side of the room, while Arthur and Merlin continued bickering behind him. He was going to miss them, even if he still didn’t quite understand how their relationship worked.

*

Leon could see the break in the Saxon ranks from the battlements. He ordered an increased attack. The druids were tiring, their attacks just as strong, but their movements lethargic and the times between spectacles were getting longer. 

It was enough - not ten minutes later, he could see the fight between the Saxon General and Morgana - his bid to her that they retreat, her refusal. She stood a pillar of madness in the centre of their attack. She needed them to keep the Camelot forces at bay and she knew it.  She killed the General, but rather than make the troops follow her orders in fear, as Leon was sure she had intended, another simply stood in the General’s place, called the retreat to his men, and the Saxon army followed the command, ignoring Morgana’s screams that they stay and fight. 

Leon gave the order to go after Morgana alone, even before a messenger from the Saxon’s would reach him. He had the advantage of high ground and a keen sight, but even he lost sight of Morgana - so he was disappointed, but not surprised, when his men returned with the Saxon negotiator and told him that Morgana had evaded them yet again - vanishing, by magic, just before anyone could get in range of a strike.

When Leon went into the hall to fetch the Queen, he found her curled around the white dragon, fast asleep in a chair. The dragon too seemed to be sleeping, but as Leon neared, it opened one eye and regarded him with a sharp gaze. It did not move as he continued to approach, so he assumed that he had it’s blessing to wake Guinivere. Still, his hand shook a little as he reached forward and gently shook her shoulder.

“Arthur?” Gwen mumbled, as she blinked awake.

“Sir Leon, my Queen,” Leon replied, even though he could see her awareness return to her as she looked at him.

“Oh! Oh! I’ve fallen asleep during a battle!” Gwen exclaimed, her face falling into despair, as she frantically looked around. “I didn’t mean to-  Oh what sort of queen-”

“Gwen, it’s alright,” Leon reassured her quickly. “It’s alright, don’t fret - we have it well in hand, and you need your rest. Your health is more important than-”

“Than Camelot?” Gwen said, incredulously. 

“Camelot is safe, My Queen,” Leon reported. “The Saxons have surrendered. They’ve sent a negotiator to ensure their safe retreat to their own lands,”

Gwen looked at him stunned for a moment.

“And Morgana?”

“Fled,” Leon said with a wince, but Gwen only nodded, as though it was what she had expected. 

“Very well, take me to the Saxon,” Gwen said, as Aithusa finally lifted her head from Gwen’s lap, and offered her shoulder for Gwen to brace herself against while she stood. “We’ll question him about Morgana’s activities and intentions - and then allow him and his men to leave unpursued.”

“Yes, My Queen,” Leon replied, just as Gwen put a hand to her hip and winced. “Gwen?”

“I’m fine, Leon,” Gwen replied. “I’ve just been sitting too long.”

Leon nodded and took Gwen’s arms when she held it out for him.

*

“Okay, bag number one,” Sam said, as he helped Percival get the straps over his shoulders. “I tried to keep it under 60 pounds, but-”

“Please tell me bag number 2 is lighter,” Gwaine muttered from beside them.

“Maybe?”

“Brilliant.”

“I also took the liberty of purchasing some child care items,” Cas said, holding up another duffle bag. “Keeping in mind that they would have to blend in with your world, of course.”

“That’s so kind of you!” Merlin beamed, and Sam raised his eyebrows when Cas blushed. 

“Yes, thank you, Castiel,” Arthur intoned. “I can carry that one if it’s too heavy for Merlin.”

“This is new,” Merlin said, his eyebrows raised. “‘Merlin, don’t carry the books’ - ‘Merlin, let me take that from you’ - you should be careful, Sire, I could get used to this.”

“It’s only because you’re needed to open the door,” Arthur replied. “From what I understand - that’s actually the ‘heavy lifting’ of this journey.”

Merlin waved the words away. 

“Does everyone have everything?” Dean asked, from the steps up to the library. “I’ve cleared away the tables, so we should have a spot big enough for this interdimensional whatsamacallit.”

“Interdimensional quantum-”

“Yeah yeah, magic spell thing, we all know what I mean,” Dean cut Castiel off. “I’m going to miss you guys.”

“And us you, dude,” Arthur replied with a serious nod. Dean laughed brightly, and Sam couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. Arthur beamed at them.

“You do that on purpose,” Sam muttered. Arthur winked.

They all followed Dean back into the library and stood in a semi circle at one end. Merlin braced his feet and gave them a nod, and the room fell silent as they watched him raise his hand towards the empty hair in front of him. His eyes swirled gold as he muttered under his breath, but the air didn’t shimmer like it had in the meadow. Sam took a breath and tried to think positively - maybe it would just take a moment longer, since Merlin didn’t have a dragon with him.

Merlin pursed his lips and his hand shook, and he pulled it towards him and then thrust it forward stronger than before, and yelled something unintelligible to Sam - and then he was panting into the quiet nothingness that followed. 

Arthur quickly placed a hand on Merlin’s arm and lowered it.

“Deep breaths, Merlin,” Arthur said. “It’s alright.”

“No! I can’t- I should be able to do it - there’s no reason I can’t do it,” Merlin exclaimed, stomping his foot. “I can feel the magic, it just won’t… it just won’t come to me the way I need it.”

“Perhaps I can help,” Castiel offered. “You said you had dragon the last time - and you… perceive me as a similar being - Can I be of assistance?”

This question, at the very least, seemed to get Merlin to calm down as he thought.

“We can try,” Merlin finally said. “Can you kneel with your back to me?”

Castiel nodded, and did so. Merlin, of all things, reached out and petted him.

“Uh...” Dean said, but didn’t follow it up with anything. Castiel didn’t seem to care what Merlin was doing. Arthur and the knights were just looking on curiously. Finally, Merlin’s hand reached the base of Castiel’s neck and Merlin nodded.

“Here,” Merlin said, and then lifted his other hand towards the empty space in front of him and took a deep breath - Castiel gasped, and then lighting shot out of Merlin’s palm, cracking through the air, causing Sam’s eyes to instinctively slam shut.

He cracked them open when he heard Dean’s whispered “Holy Shit!” that followed.

In the air in front of Merlin was suspended lightening in the shape of cracked glass - as though he had shattered an invisible window pane between them and a world of light.

“Aithusa!” Merlin called, and Sam blinked away the after-image in his eyes enough to see that Merlin’s eyes were swirling gold again. Cas had his eyes closed, but stayed motionless where he was. “ Kretsomai na ano’ksis tin porta! ”

There was a pause and Merlin’s brow furrowed, and Sam was worried that he hadn’t gotten answer, then Merlin nodded and twisted his hand in the air, and the suspended lightening twisted with the motion and then flew back towards him, through him, and into Castiel - who fell forward, catching himself on his palms at the last moment.

“Well, that was different,” Gwaine announced, as Dean ran forward to check on Castiel, and Arthur caught Merlin around the middle as his knees briefly gave out.

“Cas?”

“Merlin?”

“Everyone okay?” Sam asked.

Cas was already waving Dean away, even though he stayed where he was on the ground. Merlin similarly got his feet back under him and pushed a little at Arthur’s hold on him - though Arthur didn’t step very far away and kept a hand on Merlin’s elbow.

“Sorry,” Merlin said, to no one in particular at first - and then added. “I didn’t know that would happen.”

Castiel shook his head. “It’s alright,” but unless Sam was mistaken, Castiel actually reached up and brushed tears out of his eyes. 

“Did it work?” Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded. “I could talk to her - but…”

“But?”

“It’s up to Mordred. She won’t force him,” Merlin replied.

“I’m sure he’ll come through for us - he’s a fine lad,” Arthur said confidently.

“I’m sure he is,” Merlin replied. “It’s only that there’s a very good chance that it might kill him.”

Chapter Text

The covered wagon rattled down the uneven road through the canyon. Gwen cursed quietly to herself and tried to readjust the pillows beneath her.  If she repeated it to herself enough times, she would certainly convince herself that the return journey was not even more uncomfortable, nor inexplicably slower. They were making good progress, and would be back in Camelot soon, and Gwen only had to endure the jostling of the cart a little longer. Aithusa snored softly at her side. Gwen found that although the pillows no longer felt thick enough, Aithusa was still comfortable to lean against - so she pressed further into the dragon and hoped that the new position would remain pleasant longer than the last.

Suddenly, a loud crack sounded outside - like a bolt of lighting. The horses jolted and whinnied, and Gwen could hear the exclamations of the men. Her mind immediately went to the worst scenario - that Morgana had returned and attacked. Gwen and Aithusa moved as one towards the back of the wagon - but she didn’t have to exit to see what had happened.

Above them, the sky was split in a jagged tear, like frozen lightening. It pulsed.

“Aithusa!” a deep voice rang out, unlike any that Gwen had ever heard. Their caravan drew to a halt, as the horses shifted nervously on their feet and the men looked around frantically, their hands on their swords. “ Kretsomai na ano’ksis tin porta! ”

Beside her, Aithusa looked up towards the tear in the sky, but whatever this voice was, it was clearly not anything that frightened her - she seemed eager, excited, her ears forward as though listening to something intently, even though no other sound could be heard. It was as though everyone held their breath for a moment, and then the lightning twisted in on itself and disappeared just as suddenly as it had come.

One horse out of their army was coming towards her wagon at a trot, and as Gwen saw the rider, she understood.

“Merlin?” She asked, as Mordred approached. 

“Emrys,” Mordred replied with a nod. 

Gwen understood the distinction now. The reason why the Druids called him that name, while Merlin himself shied away from it. It wasn’t a name, not really, it was a title. It was the difference between King Arthur in court, and Arthur at their dinner table. It was the difference between the Gwen that missed her husband and her friend, and Queen Guinevere who had just led an army to defend their borders. That hadn’t been Merlin, Arthur’s severent, Gaius’s dogsbody, and Gwen’s friend - that had been Emrys, who commanded dragons across worlds, who the druids needed to keep the magical world in balance, who Camelot and Gwen needed more than ever.

*

Above the canyon, Morgana gazed at the split sky. She knew immediately that it meant her window of opportunity was closing. The voice that called to Aithusa could only be Emrys, ready to return - Morgana didn’t recognize the spoken voice, but the voice that followed… the voice that spoke in the way of the druids… the voice that Morgana could hear in her mind, as it was all but yelled across the distance to speak with the dragon, to speak with Mordred… that voice Morgana knew all too well. The betrayal pierced her heart anew as soon as she recognized it.

This wasn't the end of her opportunity after all, it was the beginning of an even greater one. She could defeat Camelot, have her revenge, and destroy Emrys all in one blow - she just needed to time her strike well.

*

In the Bunker, they waited. They used the time to say their goodbyes. If Mordred came through for them, then the door would open in the manner that they’d done before, using Castiel’s true form to bolster it on their side, so that Merlin would be free to pass through. Doing so would mean that their final moments would be spent in blindness, so they shared brief embraces and words now, while they could still see each other.

“Merlin, can I have a word?” Sam asked softly, and drew Merlin slightly to the side, and away from the sight of Dean trying to fit another bottle of liquor into Gwaine’s bag. Merlin followed him.

“What is it?” Merlin wondered in a whisper.

“I just wanted to say… if Mordred comes though, and I'm pretty sure he will - when you go back… ” Sam said carefully. “In my experience, punishing people for things they only MIGHT do - it never leads anywhere good.”

Merlin bit his lip against the reply he wanted to make - because what Mordred was destined to do wasn’t just anything, it was the very worst thing - it would end not only everything Merlin had worked for, but also destroy his whole world.

“I know you don’t think I understand, but I do,” Sam said. “And you have to trust me - no destiny is written in stone, you’ve already proven that. I’m not asking you to be his best friend, but maybe give the kid a chance - I don’t think you’ll regret it.”

“Everything alright?” Arthur asked, stepping over to them.

“Yes, Sire,” Merlin said automatically, even as Sam answered.

“Just telling Merlin that I wish he could stick around longer, so I could introduce him to our kid, Jack,” Sam explained. “I don’t think we had the chance to tell you about him.”

“Dean showed me a picture,” Arthur said with a smile. “He seems a fine lad. I’m sorry to have missed him.”

“From what I’ve heard about Mordred, he reminds me of him,” Sam said. Merlin’s head felt like it was spinning just a little trying to follow both the conversation as it appeared, and also what Sam was trying to tell him.

“Really?” Arthur said, surprised. “I must confess, I don’t actually know that much about Mordred, and I didn’t think Merlin did either  - How would you know-”

“Just a hunch,” Sam shrugged. “Young, uh, magical and has a tendency to put others before his own safety. A good kid.”

Arthur smiled. Merlin mirrored it.

“Thank you, Sam.”  

*

The army marched on towards Camelot. Gwen watched them leave, from where she stood next to Aithusa. Gaius, Elyan, and Leon were the only others to stay behind - besides Mordred, of course. Gwen rubbed at her sore back as the pain subsided a little. Their small party would catch up quickly to Camelot’s forces, once Arthur and Merlin returned.

Once the last of the men had disappeared from view, Mordred deemed it safe to begin the spell. According to his words, the way the dragon on the other side helped open the door, the light would be brighter than the sun - brighter even than the frozen lightning from the crack Merlin had made to speak to them. They were all to close their eyes as soon as he began, lest they be blinded.

Mordred knelt on the pebbled ground in front of Aithusa. As Gwen stepped forward to stand next to him, he looked up at her with a small smile.

“Not as far to fall this time,” he said. Gwen smiled back, before she grasped what he was saying. She knew his condition had been poor when he had arrived in Camelot, but she hadn’t asked about what to expect for him after the spell - she should have asked, so that she knew how best to care for him. But it was too late now, as he closed his eyes to begin. She saw him raise his hand towards the open air in front of him, and his voice took on the rich quality of those who spoke the old religion.

In front of Mordred, the open air rippled, distorting the view of the canyon before them. 

“Castiel!” Gwen called, as Mordred continued to chant. “I am Queen Guinevere of Camelot. Can you hear me? We need you to open the door-”

“I hear you,” a deep voice sounded - deeper than any voice Gwen had heard. “Close your eyes.”

Guinvere quickly checked Gaius, Leon, and Elyan. Mordred already had his eyes closed. The first fissure of light spilled from the air in front of them, just as Gwen thought to check that Aithusa had also obeyed the command. 

She turned to look back at the dragon, and it was only then that she saw the dark figure with a sword held high - intended to strike either her or Mordred, Gwen didn’t know - her hand was already on the hilt of her own sword without thought - drawing it and swinging. The blade striking the unprotected flesh of the assailant’s belly through the dark robe. Gwen met her eyes, as more light spilled from the air at her back.

“You should have accepted my mercy, Morgana,” Gwen whispered, as Morgana gasped and dropped her blade, her strength draining as fast the blood from her wound. 

“Gwen…” 

Gwen closed her eyes, as Morgana’s own eyes dulled and the world around her got brighter. It was only when she could no longer see that she pulled her sword from the body and heard it crumple lifeless to the ground. 

*

Arthur and Merlin stepped through the doorway together, with Percival and Gwaine following them with their hands placed on their backs to guide them forward. Arthur felt the ground beneath him change from the polished hardwood of Sam and Dean’s Bunker fortress to uneven pebbled ground. The air change from the smell of a library, to a fresh summer’s breeze. The warmth not from unseen furnaces, but from the sun shining on the side of Arthur’s face. Arthur took a breath and swore that he could feel all of Camelot breath with him.

The light that surrounded them vanished and Arthur opened his eyes to home. 

He immediately saw his very pregnant wife, her eyes closed, holding a bloody sword and standing over a body. She had never looked more beautiful. 

Beside her, Mordred lowered his hand and fell lifelessly to the side. 

Arthur and Merlin dropped the bags they were carrying and  darted forward at the same time, with two different destinations.

“Gwen!” Arthur called as Gwen’s eyes opened and blinked repeatedly. 

“Arthur!” Gwen smiled and held out her arms, then remembered the sword and put that arm back down. “Arthur…” Gwen repeated as he pulled her into as gentle a hug as he could manage, given how tightly he wanted to hold her. It was only as he hooked his chin over her shoulder that he recognized the body that lay at her feet. “Arthur, I’ve killed your sister. I’m sorry.” Gwen’s voice continued in a tremble. “She snuck up behind me as you were coming through the door, and I-”

“Hush, my love, it’s alright, you’re alright - you did well,” Arthur said, rubbing her back. Morgana’s eyes were still open, dull and lifeless, partially burnt, and Arthur knew the last thing she had seen was the light of his return.

*

Mordred opened his eyes and found himself looking into someone else’s. 

“There you are!” Emrys told him with a bright smile. “I was worried for a moment.”

“Emrys?”

“You can call me, Merlin,” Emrys- Merlin, replied.

“I thought…” Mordred couldn’t finish the thought. He had felt the magic draining from him into the spell, the only magic he had, the way it pained him - the way the whole world seemed to ache. It felt like it was enough to kill him. Aithusa had said it was enough to kill him. Magic was too much a part of his body to go without it.

“I know,” Merlin said, his smile softer. “You weren’t wrong, really - but… where would be the fun in that? Hm? Whatever you do with your life, whether good or bad… well, I’m sure it will be interesting. And I’ve never been good at making this sort of decision.”

Merlin looked at something to the side, his smile turning sad. Mordred didn’t turn his head to see what he was looking at. He still felt dizzy with disbelief. He could feel the ground below him, the birds flying through the air, the magic on the breeze. 

“It would seem to me that you just did make that decision,” Gaius’s voice sounded, as he appeared in Mordred’s field of vision. 

“Mordred’s a good lad,” Merlin said. Then turned back to Mordred and gave him a wink. “Aren’t you?”

Mordred nodded out of reflex more than anything, then actually registered the words. “I try?”

Merlin smiled.

*

“Aithusa!”Merlin’s cheerful voice sounded, as Arthur pulled back from his embrace with Gwen to watch Merlin nearly skip away from Mordred over to embrace the dragon with both arms thrown around her neck. Mordred propped himself up on his elbows looking somewhat bemused.

“You are certainly my absolute favourite dragon at the moment, don’t tell the old guy,” Merlin said as he hugged her.

“If you’re done talking with Aithusa, Merlin, I’d like a hug too,” Gwen piped up from beside Arthur.

Merlin bounded over to Gwen and embraced her. Gwen grunted oddly into the hug, and Arthur smacked Merlin’s arm. “Don’t hold her too tightly, she’s with child-”

“I don’t think that was my fault,” Merlin said, as he pulled back and stared at Gwen with wide-eyes.

Gwen laughed even more oddly than she had grunted and Arthur felt his heart do a strange somersault in his chest.

“Did Morgana harm-”

“Gwen are you about to-”

Gwen clapped her hands, cutting them both off. “Shall we get back to Camelot?” 

Arthur looked down at Morgana’s body. 

“I… we should um… build a pyre, I think. I can’t just-”

“Gwen…” Merlin said.

“I just need to get back to Camelot, that’s all,” Gwen replied. “It was a long battle and-”

“Battle? What-” Arthur tried to ask.

“Gwen,” Merlin said sternly.

“Fine! Yes! It started bloody yesterday - but the middle of battle, or the middle of negotiating with the Saxons is hardly the time or the place, so I’ve been doing my best to wait - which is why I’d like to get back to Camelot…”

“Gaius!” Merlin called, as Arthur was still trying to follow the conversation.

“Wait, what’s going on? What battle? Saxons? What started yesterday? Wait, what do you mean back to Camelot? Where are we now?” Arthur tried to recognize the canyon they were in. He knew there were some to the east and some to the north - but..

“Gwen, get in the wagon,” Merlin ordered, as Gaius appeared, caught Merlin’s eyes, immediately raised his eyebrow and then turned  to the knights and issuing his own orders. 

“Would someone please tell me what is going on?” Arthur commanded.

Merlin turned to him and put his hands on both shoulders, and stared into his eyes. Arthur found himself taking a deep breath and holding it without even really thinking.

“Arthur,” Merlin began. “You are going to obey my every word, understood?”

“Yes,” Arthur agreed.

“Good,” Merlin smiled at him proudly. “Because you’re about to be a father.”

“I know tha- wait, what?”

*

A few bewildering hours later, Arthur was sitting in the back of a wagon, shirtless, gently clutching a baby to his chest, while Merlin helped a tired Gwen into fresh clothes beside him. Gwaine and Percival had left to take care of Morgana, while Elyan and Leon stood guard, and Mordred helped Gaius clean-up. Aithusa stood at the base of the wagon, with her head resting quizzically inside, as she had been for the entire process. 

“Arthur’s going to name him, actually,” Merlin suddenly said from beside him, throwing a look towards Aithusa, as he pulled a nightgown over Gwen’s head and helped her find the sleeves. “Officially, anyway - I doubt Gwen would let him pick anything she didn’t approve of.”

Arthur stared down at his son again. He was pink and perfect- curled up a little like he didn’t know yet that he now had room to stretch.

“Arthur?” Gwen said, and Arthur looked over at her to find her smiling softly at him, as Merlin adjusted the pillows at her back. “Merlin just said that you can give him back now.”

Arthur didn’t really want to, but admittedly Gwen deserved to hold the child more than he did - so he shuffled closer and carefully transferred the baby to her arms. Merlin’s hands fluttered around them, as he supervised. It wasn’t intrusive - to have Merlin steadying his elbow or laying a gentle hand on the babies head, or shifting the neckline of Gwen’s loose clothing. Merlin presence, more than ever, was something that Arthur was thankful for every second. It had been Merlin’s hands that welcomed Arthur’s child into the world. Arthur didn’t need to think about the decision to pull Merlin down to cuddle up against Gwen’s other side, as Arthur rested his forehead to her temple and breathed in the smell of her sweat.

“What IS his name, if I can ask?” Merlin said softly. “Are you sticking to the plan, or did Dean sway you?”

Arthur smiled, and looked down at his son again. The baby opened his eyes and stared back at Arthur as if to ask him the same.

“Hello little one,” Arthur said softly. “You don’t mind not being named Dean, do you - although he is a mighty warrior, I quite like the name we’d already chosen - hm? What say you, Thomas Balinor Pendragon?”

Arthur smiled at the tiny gasp that Merlin let out. Thomas continued to stare at Arthur with his impossibly blue eyes. 

“We thought we would name you after the two men who fathered the finest people I know,” Arthur continued to explain. “Surely, you are the greatest gift of their legacy.”

“Arthur….” Merlin whispered softly. 

“You don’t mind, do you Merlin?” Arthur asked. “I know your mother was the one who raised you, but I could hardly call my son Hunith.”

“No, I… I don’t mind,” Merlin said.

“We put it as a second name, in case you wanted to use it for your own children someday,” Gwen explained. “But we… we wanted to… we wanted to…”

“I know, I- I understand,” Merlin replied, and he ran one of his slender fingers down the side of Thomas’ little face. The baby turned slightly towards the touch. “I don’t think I’ll have my own children - not when I’ll obviously have my hands full with yours! As if one of you weren’t bad enough” Merlin finished with a laugh, but Arthur could hear the emotion threatening to spill over in his voice.

“Oy! What’s that supposed to mean!” Arthur played along. “I’ll have you know that your station is a privilege and-”

“Really, to think I missed this,” Gwen cut them off with a laugh. “Really, Aithusa is much more peaceful company and quite a bit warmer in bed, I might add.” Arthur narrowed his eyes at the dragon who tilted her head in a way that seemed to indicate amusement. “Not to mention her help in battle - if you hadn’t returned, perhaps she could have handily replaced you both completely.”

Then Arthur’s brain caught up with Gwen’s words, and the distraction of his son’s birth was no longer enough to push down his curiosity.

“Right, battle…. What battle? You mentioned Saxons, and Morgana is obviously… was obviously involved. Tell me everything, my love.”

“Oh, right, well,” Gwen started. “With your absence, Morgana pressed an attack using her alliance with the Saxons - she thought Camelot weak without you or Merlin. We had warning though, thanks to an ally of Merlin’s, and we rode out to Stowell to defend our border. We were successful and the Saxons’ surrendered, abandoning Morgana. Morgana fled the battle, but she obviously followed us in our journey home… and, right, that brings us to when you returned.”

“Stowell?” Merlin asked on Gwen’s other side. He was looking out at the canyon, just as Mordred walked up to Aithusa and patted her head, peeking in to where the three of them lay and giving them a smile and a wave. “Where does that put us now?” Merlin asked. “I’m not sure I recognize it.”

“This is Camlann,” Mordred answered before Guinvere could, and then continued with the report he had obviously come to deliver. “Gwaine and Percival just got back from Morgana’s pyre. She’s been put to rest, Sire. I found a good place to camp just outside the canyon. If I have your leave, I can begin now and have everything set-up before supper.”

“Thank you, Mordred,” Arthur replied. “That will do nicely.”

“Are you alright, Emr- er, Merlin?” Mordred asked. “You’re looking at me oddly again.”

“I’m fine,” Merlin said, a little too quickly. “Well done, Mordred. Could you ask Gwaine to look through the bags for the baby clothes that we were gifted? And… uh, tell him I may want a drink with him later.”

Mordred nodded and smiled at them again, and then turned and disappeared from view. Aithusa did that weird head tilt that made it seem like she was laughing - but this time her gaze was on Merlin. Then she snorted and left as well.

“Merlin?” Gwen asked, but Merlin just started laughing a little hysterically. 

“Oh great, you’ve gone insane,” Arthur deadpanned.

“No, I just… I hadn’t expected…” Merlin trailed off, and then shook his head. He leaned over and wrapped his arms around Gwen and Thomas, reaching far enough to include Arthur in the embrace. “Sam tried to tell me that destiny could be changed, but I don’t think I was listening as well as I thought I was - and I never thought I would like Camlann as much as I do right now.”

Thomas let out a little noise, not necessarily discontent, but perhaps wondering what the fuss was about. Arthur reached his hand up and ran his fingers through Merlin’s hair. The events of the day were indeed overwhelming, and so was the feeling of having his family safe in his arms again. It must have only just caught up with Merlin.

Gaius was the next one to appear at the end of the wagon.

“Merlin, my boy,” he greeted. “Several wildflowers that shouldn’t be able to grow in these rocky conditions just bloomed.” 

“Sorry Gaius,” Merlin intoned, though he didn’t sound like it. Gaius raised an eyebrow and left again.

Arthur smiled. “You love us that much?” 

“I think this might be the best day of my life.”

“It’s a good thing I went and rescued you then.”

Merlin laughed. Thomas made another little noise at the sound, and Gwen cooed over his bright blue eyes, and the dark hair that already covered his perfect little head. Elsewhere, Arthur knew that Gwaine was going through a bag that contained books with enough knowledge to make Camelot more prosperous than it had ever been, but Arthur’s mind wasn’t on that thought - instead, he was thinking about how he had everything he needed in this life safe in his arms.

It was the best day of his life too.

THE END.