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Morgana didn't know how much time had passed in utter darkness. She'd been helpless, watching as Morgause did nothing but weaken, her slow death agonising her every moment. Trapped, lost in a cell with no sunlight, her magic shackled to the cold stone, she seethed, stewed in misery. Never before had she felt so utterly alone. So useless. The time had changed her, the harshness of reality destroying her compassion, twisting her desire for revenge. She had watched her sister dying, and even after their escape, her soul remained cracked, shattered by the lost hope of salvation. Some part of her had believed that bright, blue eyes would appear in her hazy vision, followed by a bright smile and a flash of steel. But no saviours had ever found them; it hadn't taken long to realise that there was no one left to help her. How could Merlyn, could Arthur, save her when they didn't know she was in need of saving? And why would they? In their eyes, she had stolen from them, thrown them from their home, become everything they couldn't hope to love. They were heroes of their own story, certain in their morals. But Morgana knew they were so terribly wrong. Despite the horrors of abandoned despair, she could still remember the colours of the sky on her last night as queen, a reminder of the people she wanted to save. She'd had time to plot with her dear sister, to find some way to weaken her enemies. Morgause didn't have long left, her injuries far too great, but her death would not be in vain. She had to act to save the lives of those who needed her most; still, she wished that there was some other way. Her people would get caught in the crossfire, but their sacrifice would pave the way to freedom.

As she pulled her heavy cart up the rocky slopes of some long-forgotten pathway, she squinted through the dust, wishing that the wind would fade. She trundled upwards, her thick cloak doing nothing to cool the unusually warm sun, but she knew that dropping it was no option. Winter would be coming soon.

From behind her, she could hear the thundering of horses quickly closing in. She sighed, knowing her luck had to run out eventually. She'd spent far too much time in Camelot's lands; without a horse, she'd had no choice. Her path was clear, at least, in her mind; she wouldn't let a few pesky knights deter her journey.

"Halt!" she head the voice of Sir Leon, the first familiar echo for a very long time. "Stay where you are."

Morgana stopped, glad that her cloak obscured her features. Carefully, she dropped her wagon, smiling at the sudden relief she felt rush into her arms. Perhaps she could survive this encounter without revealing her true identity, allow the men to run off back to their false king. It didn't seem likely.

"Where are you headed?" Sir Leon asked, his footsteps nearing her. Still, she didn't turn around.

"The Seas of Meredor." she replied, disguising her voice with an ease that only came from necessity.

"What's in the cart?"

Morgana frowned. This had gone too far. She couldn't reveal her sister's weakness.

Turning so that her pale face was revealed to the errant knights, she was glad to see that their numbers were far less than she'd expected. It took a moment before recognition widened Leon's eyes, his surprise hardly shocking. She'd been lost for a long time.

"Lady Morgana!" he exclaimed, edging backwards, but he was far too late. With a wave of her hand, the knights were all sent sprawling backwards, collapsing onto the ground without enough time to even draw their swords. Morgana waited, her gazing washing over each man, but none of them moved. Clearly her spell had been more powerful than she'd thought.

Removing the hood of her cloak, she peered into the cart, ignoring the twinge in her heart at the sight of her sister. She'd wasted away, a feeble candle to the bonfire she'd once been, so very close to being snuffed out.

"Are you alright?" she murmured gently, hating now Morgause's skin had paled, her greasy hair straggly and dull.

She turned her head towards the witch, smiling at her weakly. "Yes. Thank you, Sister. But we must hurry. Night is nearly upon us, and we still have far to go."

Morgana gently traced the scars of the sorceress' face with her forefinger, a surge of anger running through her veins. Morgause could have survived this, could've lived and hoped and not been forced to abandon Morgana, but the past had not been pleasant to the two of them. They deserved so much better than this.

~

It had been over two years since Morgana and Morgause had disappeared, but Merlyn had heard little more than rumours about their whereabouts. She hadn't changed much, running around after Arthur like her life depended on it, occasionally saving the city from some minor attack, but she was freer than she'd been in a long time. Granted, her magic was still a secret, but now she had Lancelot to confide in. Percival had made it clear that he didn't approve of how openly they spoke to one another about sorcery, but she could hardly blame him for that. Just knowing that there were people in the citadel that knew of her secret and didn't hate her for it was enough. For now.

Arthur still didn't know, but she was close to telling him everything. With magical attacks becoming far less frequent, she could only hope that some opportunity might present itself in which she could prove to Arthur that there was good in magic. That time would come; she would prefer it to be soon.

But she didn't want to dwell on that. Racing up the steps to the castle, she beamed at the new decorations, dodging through the crowd of servants with a strange finesse. She ducked under a long, green banner, careful to avoid the holly leaves sticking out from the entwined branches as she span into the kitchens.

It wasn't often that Camelot was decorated in such a way, but this was a very special occasion. After two, rather long, years of courting, Gwen and Lancelot were finally getting married, much to the relief of noblemen and servants alike. In Uther's time, such celebrations certainly wouldn't take up the entire city, but seeing as he was practically confined to his chambers and she'd asked Arthur really nicely, their wedding would certainly be a grand affair. To placate the snobbiest of nobles, the feast was also technically tied to Samhain, a festival which celebrated the start of winter and, according to Gaius' vast knowledge, was the time where the veil between the living and the dead was at its thinnest.

Dancing around more servants, deciding that she didn't really want to ruin Gwen and Lancelot's banquet, she stole an apple from the larder, heading towards the fireplace.

Before she could get there, however, the head cook appeared out of nowhere, brandishing a rather threatening ladel. "What are you doing in my kitchen?"

"Uh, the prince's shirt." Merlyn replied, waving vaguely in the direction she'd been heading. For someone who regularly trained in lethal weaponry, she felt that she shouldn't be so scared of the portly woman. She took a step back, her eyes glued to the ladel hovering far too close to her nose for her liking.

"Keep your dirty fingers off my food. You understand?" the cook glared, but Merlyn was already gone, sidestepping a tray of tarts. She tore Arthur's shirt down from the rafters, glancing up to see Gwaine and a grinning Percival dangling a string from a grate above her head. Gwaine put a finger to his lips; Merlyn's gaze travelled the length of the string to find a metal hook resting on top of an entire roast chicken.

She laughed, pushing the hook into the meat and tugging the rope twice to signal that it was secure. Glancing around the kitchen to check that she hadn't been caught, she hurried away from the scene, grinning stupidly as she heard the cook's shouts coming loudly from somewhere behind her.

Merlyn sailed through the corridors, careful to avoid any servants heading her way. As much as Arthur loved her, she doubted that he would accept a shirt covered in unusual stains to wear to Lancelot and Gwen's evening ceremony. She was a little late, but in her defence, she thought that the prince was perfectly capable of getting his own damn shirt. That sentiment had sent a shoe flying at her head, so apparently she'd been wrong.

Just as she'd manoeuvred a set of three servants, each of them carrying some kind of delicacy Merlyn was willing to bet that Gwen had never sampled in her entire lifetime, she glanced backwards completely missing the fourth woman, who was carrying a pitcher of wine. They collided, the crimson liquid splattering Arthur's white shirt with red stains.

Merlyn cursed, lifting the shirt up to inspect the damage.

"You could try a bit of salt." Lancelot's unsympathetic voice sprang from somewhere behind the spoiled linen.

Merlyn pulled the shirt from in front of her face, revealing her friend, who had a crossbow slung over his shoulder, dressed in what she hoped to be his hunting gear. Gwen would not be happy if her groom turned up in muddy trousers and a faded jacket. Returning to her own problems, she ran her hand through her hair. "Arthur's going to kill me."

"Let's see." Lancelot beckoned for her to hand him the shirt. He looked at it, his lips twitching upwards. "You've faced far worse, Merlyn."

Lancelot started to walk away, but the servant stopped him. "He needs it for your wedding!"

Surprisingly, her friend just shrugged, his eyes alighting at the reminder. "I'm sure a woman of your talents can think of something."

Sometimes, Merlyn really thought that she was an idiot.

"Fordwin wamm."

When Lancelot next looked back, Merlyn held up the shirt, the stain completely gone. She continued to hurry through the passageways, keeping a careful eye out for any more hindering pitchers.

Luckily, she managed the journey without another incident, not that it mattered: when she burst through the doors to Arthur's chambers, he was perched on his desk, a red shirt contrasting rather nicely with his blonde hair.

"You're dressed." Merlyn gasped, not bothering to hide her surprise.

Arthur looked up from the piece of parchment he'd previously been scribbling on, waving his quill in the air.

"Yes, Merlyn. I'm not an idiot." he chided, pushing himself away from the table so that he could sit more comfortably on the chair behind it. Merlyn bit her lip, trying not to laugh as she stared at his back, where his shirt had become tangled, revealing a rather large portion of his back.

"Are you sure about that?" she chucked, contemplating whether she should let him spend the rest of the day looking so daft.

"I beg your pardon?" Arthur hissed, but he didn't look up from his parchment. Gwen had asked him to do some kind of speech over the banquet, seeing as he was the prince and obviously was used to writing eloquently all of the time. Evidently he'd waited until the last moment to concoct something passable.

"It's just..." Merlyn gestured to where Arthur's shirt wasn't hanging properly, but the prince wasn't listening.

"Merlyn, I'm trying to write a speech." Arthur said rather sternly. His servant gave up on trying to fix his appearance. If he wanted to look like a prat, that was his choice.

"Do you want help?" she asked instead, taking her own role of parchment out of her pocket.

"No."

"So you won't want this, then." she held the parchment aloft, smirking as Arthur finally looked at her. "I spent all night working on it."

The prince stared at her for a long moment before extending his hand, snatching the speech away from his servant. He unfurled it, scanning the page with an arrogant air before handing it back to her.

"It needs a polish." he stated.

Merlyn rolled her eyes. Two of her best friends were getting married that day. She was meant to be having fun. "I'll add it to the list."

She started to pick up some of Arthur's errant clothes, deciding to head down the laundry before she went to check the final preperations in the great hall. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the prince throw away his own parchment, fixing her with an amused stare.

"Merlyn, there aren't many servants who get the chance to write a prince's speech. Obviously it would be too much to say thank you."

Merlyn gave him a look of utter disdain, picking up her laundry basket and walked out of the room. She wondered how long it would take for him to realise that he looked like some kind of simpleton. Hopefully a while.

~

Morgana helped her sister out of her cart, wary as the sorceress staggered forwards, squinting into the mist.

"The Isle of the Blessed." Morgause murmured, looking out to the grim shape of some broken fortress shrouded in clouds and fog. It looked almost supernatural, magical, flying above calm waters, hovering in the pale light. Morgana felt something spark in her chest, able to feel such power humming in the air. She felt like she was home.

Carefully, the witch helped her sister stagger forwards, approaching a short, shoddy pier. A ferryman stood on the end of the slab of rotting wood, his boat hardly a thing of luxury.

Morgause stumbled towards him, his muddy, green cloak doing nothing to hide his grey hair, his face aged with so many lifetimes. No mortal man could live to have a face so marred, but Morgana was hardly going to say that aloud. He held his hand outstretched, expectantly, awaiting his payment. Morgause pressed a gold coin into his hand; the witch was reminded of the stories her father, Gorlois, used to tell her, of Charon, who would take deceased souls over the Styx and into the underworld. She supposed that, ironically, this was what Morgause was truly paying for. Her demise and doom.

"You know where we wish to go." the sorceress croaked, her voice weakening. She had stayed alive through nothing more than will over the past many moons; she didn't have much time left.

The sisters stepped into the back of the boat, huddled closely as they approached the ruins. Morgana could feel tears brimming in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Not yet.

Morgause was slumped upon her now, her strength fading as they closed in on the isle, even as Morgana felt her own power strengthen. There was a chill in the air, the sound of a wyvern screeching in the distance. Looking up at the ruined castle, she pleaded with the gods, praying that this perilous journey had been for something more than death.

~

Ever since Morgana's betrayal, Arthur had watched his father grow weaker, barely eating as he stared out of the window in his chambers, hardly acknowledging anyone who wandered into the room. The years had not been kind to him, his hair the colour of old snow, his frame so very slim, wine his only comfort. Gwen had been looking after him, and had promised to continue even after her marriage, but there was little she could do to save a man slowly drifting into eternal slumber. His heart was broken, his spirit shattered by his daughter's loss. For a while, Arthur had been so angry, hating his father for falling into such a state, wondering if it was all a ruse, a plot to stop him from asking his questions. But now he could do nothing but dwell in sorrow, to rule in his stead, hoping he was doing the right thing.

It was still slightly odd to be standing in front of his father's throne, looking out into the crowd of knights standing solemnly in front of him. There had been nothing but rumours about Morgana for over two years; he still sent patrols after snippets of information, unsure what he would do if his sister was brought to him alive. None of them had come back with any substantial trace of either her or Morgause's survival, but judging by the urgency in Leon's expression, they'd finally found some sort of sign.

"The reports are true, sire." he declared with unwavering certainty. "We caught up with Morgana on the Plains of Denaria."

Arthur swallowed. He'd known that he'd have to face her eventually. "Was she alone?"

Elyan, standing tall next to Leon, shook his head. "There was someone else."

"Morgause?" the regent asked, frankly surprised that nobody had died. The pair were hardly known for their mercy.

Elyan shrugged. "Couldn't be sure."

"Where was Morgana heading?" Agravaine inquired gravely, stepping out of the shadowy corner of the throne room, his greasy hair shining in the sunlight. After hearing of the king's illness, the man had appeared in Camelot, guiding Arthur through his new duties as regent. He was an invaluable advisor; the prince had grown to trust him with many of the most important matters of the court. Alongside Merlyn, who had some strange dislike for his uncle, Agravaine was the only true family he had left.

"The Seas of Meredor." Leon replied hesitantly.

"The Isle of the Blessed." Gaius frowned, the name sending shivers down Arthur's spine. He didn't quite know what lay on the isle, but he was fairly sure that it couldn't be good.

"I'll send out patrols tomorrow, at first light." his uncle announced, looking towards his regent for approval.

Arthur nodded. "Thank you, Agravaine."

"Sire." Leon spoke up, his expression a mixture of dread and fear. "You should know, her powers have grown. Sir Bertrand and Sir Montague are both dead."

Well, so much for everyone returning alive. This was not the news that Arthur needed. He bowed his head, allowing a moment of silence for his fallen men.

"Keep me informed of any developments." he ordered, barely noticing as his council left the room. Agravaine stayed by his side, his face grim.

"For years, nothing. Why now?" Arthur muttered, mostly to himself, but wasn't surprised when his uncle had an answer. He always did.

"We knew she couldn't stay hidden forever. Today, tomorrow... What does it matter? We mustn't live in fear, Arthur. Camelot is strong. If Morgana were to act, we'd be ready for her."

The prince couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go desperately wrong, but Agravaine spoke sense. "You're right, of course. I don't know how I would have got through these last few years without you."

Agravaine gave him a pleased smile, and as the prince patted him on the shoulder, he was glad that he had such an honourable man at his side.

"Thank you, uncle."

He began to walk away, remembering that he needed to pick up his speech from Merlyn, when Agravaine's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"I made a promise to your mother." he said, a wistful smile twitching at his lips. "I'll always be there for you."

Arthur didn't know what to say. He gave his uncle a stiff smile, hoping that his gratitude could be shown through something other than words. He turned, heading through the large, oak doors, warmth spreading through his heart.

~

The screeches of a wyvern seemed to close in on Morgana as she approached the isle, a sense of foreboding tingling in her fingertips. She watched the creature fly above her heads, swooping through the ruins of what had once been something magnificent. A castle, which could have once rivaled the beauty of Camelot, lay as rubble, crumbling into disrepair. The boat floated through the wreckage, haunted by the former ghosts of sorcerers, shivering in the humid air.

~

The ceremony had been beautiful, candlelight twinkling above their heads as Gwen made her way down the aisle, the jewels on her crimson gown sparkling like twinkling stars. In the evening light her hair sparkled, molten fire tangled in her curls. She'd looked beautiful, a true lady; Arthur could hardly blame Lancelot's gormless look of awe. He wore a jacket to match his bride, although he'd forgone the sequins and diamonds, refusing to take any eyes away from Gwen.

Arthur and Merlyn had stood at the front of a crowd of servants and noblemen alike, their hands interlaced, watching as Geoffrey performed the handfasting. The hall was decorated for nothing less than royalty, but Lancelot and Guinevere deserved it all, the pair of them a beacon of love and hope and courage for the lost. They had spent years loving only through letters, but now, finally, they had made their way into each others arms. A sea of red cloaks swamped the newly wedded after they said their vows, quickly followed by the tattered servants, but Arthur and Merlyn refrained. They would have their chance for congratulations soon enough.

Merlyn wasn't meant to be serving at the feast, but one of the other servants had suddenly taken ill, so she'd offered to step in for a while, just until a replacement could be found. Agravaine, who had been firmly against such a large celebration for a minor nobleman, had taken her seat, but she didn't seem to mind. After the third time she'd mistakenly spilt wine on his uncle, however, the prince felt the need to move her away from his table, so instead she spent her time joking with the knights, pouring copious amounts of liquor in their goblets as she bet Arthur's coins on their various antics. He didn't mind: she always won her bets.

Watching the candles starting to dwindle, Arthur realised that it was probably time for the speech that Merlyn had prepared. He stood, glad to see that his men weren't far enough into their goblets as to ignore his presence, the ruckus quieting almost instantly. He stood tall, smiling warmly at the newly married couple.

"Some love can be so fleeting, a candlelight snuffed out by the calmest of breezes, a moment which dies as quickly as it flickers into life. Others can last heartbeats, a torch burning bright against the dark, but even those dwindle over time. But your love, Lancelot and Guinevere, your love is nothing like these loves. It's an eternal bonfire raging in an effort to light up the sky, beautiful to watch as it entwines your very souls. Your past has not been easy, this love bound by letters for far too long, but I hope that, now, together, your love will soar. You deserve to spend the rest of your days together, a beacon of hope to us all. If, in a thousand years, bards are still singing of your hearts, then I, for one, shall not be surprised.
Samhain is the time of year that we feel closest to the spirits of our ancestors. It's a time to remember those we have lost, and I am sure I can speak for all of us when I say that there are many souls we wish were still with us tonight. Gwen, your father was taken before his time, but I know that if he were here today, he would be so very proud. You and Lancelot love each other so very purely. No matter how far apart you are, you will never truly be alone. You give hope to us all; I couldn't ask for better friends. You are brave, honourable and belong together for as long as the gods will allow."

Arthur raised his goblet in a salute to the married couple. "Now, I invite you all to raise a glass, to Lancelot and Guinevere!"

A tear-streaked chorus of cheers rose up from around the hall, punctuated by the tolling of bells. Arthur found Merlyn's gaze; he wondered how long it would be before they too could be joined in happy union. But then he watched her grimace, her head turning to stare at something he couldn't see. She stiffened; if he didn't know better, he would've said that she looked almost terrified. Something was wrong.

~

Morgana could feel her sister weakening in her grasp as she hobbled to the alter, the cold, stone floor beneath her feet sending shivers up her spine. The room was vast and empty, decorated only by rubble and shattered tiles dropped from the ceiling.

"Samhain is almost upon us." Morgause croaked, wincing as she stumbled slowly through the room. "We must hurry."

Morgana stopped, her eyes fixed on the alter. She had already lost so much; for her sister to be unwillingly ripped from her grasp seemed almost impossible. "I can't do this."

Morgause turned to look at her, the scars on her face suddenly more prominent, blue lines bulging from her cheek.

"Sister." she murmured, her tone so very calm. She must have been in so much pain. "Remember what I've told you. It is the only way."

Morgana nodded slowly, continuing her journey towards the alter, cursing her own weakness. Morgause was dying; at least, this way, her death would mean something.

"What you are about to do will affect everyone, even you. But most importantly, it will bring our enemies to their knees. You must be strong and remember that." Morgause whispered, her voice barely audible against the horrible silence. Morgana knew she was right; she looked down to where her sister's hands were outstretched, a silver dagger running across both gloved palms. It was thin, almost needle-like, but Morgana could feel the power radiating from the weapon. It took a rather powerful knife to kill a high priestess, after all.

"Do not be scared." Morgause hissed; the witch realised that she hadn't taken the dagger from her grasp. Delicately, she lifted the weapon, holding it tightly by the hilt, but said nothing. She could feel her sister's nervousness, the pain shooting through her tone.

"I am not long for this world. There is nothing left for me here now."

Morgause eased herself onto the altar, gasping in agony as she lay upon it. Morgana wanted to scream, to swear at the heavens, to order the gods to help her sister. She needed her so very much. The witch didn't want to be alone. There were things that the sorceress had done which were, perhaps, a little unsavoury, but she could hardly be blamed for her actions. What else could she have done? Morgause had magic in a world where such a thing meant certain death, and now, it seemed that the fates had caught up with her. She had fought for freedom; Morgana would never forget her devotion to the cause. If killing a thousand men could save her sister's life, she would snap their necks in an instant, but she would have to settle for revenge. Her hands would soon be washed in the blood of her enemies. She would make certain of that.

"Please, Sister. Let my parting be my final gift to you." Morgause pleaded, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes. Morgana wanted to refuse, but she could see her sister's suffering. This was not the time to deny such a request.

Raising her dagger above Morgause's body, she sighed deeply, beginning to chant.

"Eala leofu sweostor þæm gastum befæste ic þe. Alynne þa þeostre þe inne onwunaþ; onginn dwolma."

Her eyes glowing gold, Morgana brought her dagger down into Morgause's heart, eliciting a gasp from her poor sister. The sorceress smiled, content in her final moments of despair.

It was done.

Morgana didn't know what had happened, but the next thing she knew she was flying through the air, her head hitting the stone floor just as everything faded into black.

~

Screams. So many terrible screams. Merlyn felt the world slow around her, time moving as if it were stuck in honey. She felt like her lungs were full of the horrible shrieks, her ears crowded by the noise of death, of pain and suffering and such awful hatred. She couldn't hear the noise of the banquet hall , not anymore. She was consumed by screams.

And then, just as her vision began to return, she saw a lone figure dressed in a ragged, black cloak, her staff like nothing she had ever seen. Her face was so very old, hollow, almost, her skin so white that it was almost translucent, eyes bloodshot, like sleep was nothing more than a dream. She looked like a ghost.

"Emrys." the woman hissed, repeating the name over and over again above the terrifying screams. It was too much. Merlyn didn't notice the fact that she'd dropped her pitcher onto the floor. She didn't even know she was falling until she hit the ground, shivering from a sudden cold. Something was so desperately wrong.

~

Morgana awoke to the feeling of a hand gently stroking her cheek. For a moment, she thought it might have been Morgause, but when she opened her eyes, she found that there was nobody by her side. Sitting up, she saw what appeared to be the rift, a darkness marring the ghostly walls. There was a woman standing in front of the gateway, her black cloak shrouding most of her features. She had a distinctive staff, unlike anything Morgana had ever seen before.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling a little.

The woman looked at her with blank eyes, her pale face devoid of any emotion. "I am the Cailleach. The gatekeeper to the spirit world. You have torn the veil between the worlds."

Morgana wasn't sure what to feel. It had worked; her sister hadn't sacrificed herself in vain. But as she turned to the rift, she could hear endless, incessant screaming. She winced. The sound seemed to suck any shred of happiness from her very soul.

"The Dorocha." the Cailleach answered the question Morgana was yet to ask. "They are the voices of the dead, my child. And like the dead, they are numberless."

Morgana felt a spike of fear in her heart, but tried to suppress it. She was a high priestess, the last of her kind. This was what she had been trying to do; her terror was unjustified.

"You're right to be afraid, Morgana." the Cailleach stated, apparently able to read her thoughts. She stared down at the witch with an odd sense of pity. "Your enemies will rue this day and all the destruction it brings, but you must beware. Tearing the veil between the realms has created a new world. And you will not walk through it alone. The one they call Emrys will walk in your shadow. She is your destiny and she is your doom."

~

Merlyn wasn't sure how she made it to her room, wrapped in one of Arthur's blankets, but she was certainly thankful for it. She was still cold, but didn't feel quite so frozen, thawing in the vague warmth of her bed.

But she needed answers. Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, comforted by Arthur's scent, she made her way into the the main part of the chambers, glad to see that Gaius was still awake. She sat beside him, hoping that he might know something about the pale woman.

"When she spoke... Her voice... It was as though it came from the depths of the earth. And her eyes... They were so sad. So much pain in them." she tried to erase the memory from her mind, the screams threatening to overwhelm her once again. "Who is she?"

"The Cailleach. The gatekeeper to the spirit world." Gaius said in a hushed whisper, his eyes filled with dread.

"Why was she there?"

Gaius paused, the colour draining from his face. "It was on the stroke of midnight on Samhain's eve, the very moment when the veil between the world's is at its thinnest. It cannot be a coincidence."

Merlyn absorbed the information, but didn't question it further. She was in no state to worry about that potential threat, not at that moment.

"Why was I the only one to see her?" she inquired instead, clutching her blanket tightly around her body.

Gaius shrugged. "You have great power, Merlyn. For someone so gifted, such visions are not uncommon."

"But you don't understand. It wasn't a vision. She knew who I was. She called me Emrys."

The physician looked away from her, his expression grave. Merlyn squinted at him curiously.

"What is it? What does it mean?"

"I'm not sure. But if someone has torn the veil between the worlds, then may the gods help us all."

Merlyn sighed. This was meant to be two of her best friend's wedding day. She was meant to be happy. But it had been too long since a real threat, years since anything had truly hurt Camelot. Apparently her luck had run out. Something terrible was about to happen. She could feel it.

Death was a foul odor in the air.

~

Arthur was rather rudely awoken to the loud sound of his breakfast tray clattering on the table, the object of his dreams apparently in no mood to be gentle. Briefly, the prince wondered if she should be working, considering her sudden illness the night before. Arthur himself had carried her to her chambers, allowing the feast to continue in his wake. He wasn't very hungry anyway. But he was neither brave nor stupid enough to argue with his servant, and besides, he enjoyed her company.

"Merlyn!" he moaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He turned to face her, but she had her back to him, jerking open the curtains to allow the morning light to temporarily blind him.

"Merlyn!" he shouted again, thoroughly annoyed. She wasn't being herself today. He held a pillow over his head, relying on the comfort of darkness. His brief respite was interrupted, however, by a strange banging sound reverberating through his room.

"Merlyn!" he cried once again, unable to fathom what she could possibly be doing.

"That's not me." she replied. Arthur lifted his pillow away from his face, hoping that whomever was being so loud would just leave him be.

Naturally, that was never going to happen.

"Excuse me, sire." Sir Leon burst through the doors, his expression grave. The prince sighed, throwing his pillow off the bed and sat up, trying to maintain a certain regal appearance despite his undressed state.

"You're needed in the council chambers as a matter of urgency." the knight reported, worry lacing his tone.

Arthur closed his eyes for a brief moment, realising the relative peace of the past years had finally come to an end. He could only hope that another immortal army wasn't on the horizon: they were far too much trouble to contend.

~

The prince couldn't say he was surprised to see the number of knights gathered in the council chambers, a lone woman, a peasant judging by her clothing, sobbing in the closed circle of men. Gaius was there, comforting her, though he didn't seem to be having much luck. Agravaine walked solemnly towards him, his serious frown doing nothing to placate Arthur's nerves.

"What's happened to her?"

"Her village was attacked." his uncle reported, shuffling back towards the girl.

That was odd. There hadn't been any major attacks on any of the outlying villages since Morgana disappeared. Yes, a few bandits had slaughtered some errant cattle, but none had dared to truly defy a kingdom which had defeated an immortal army. It would, in theory, be suicide.

"By who?" he inquired, wondering if his beloved sister had stooped to destroying the lives of innocents in the hope of creating unrest amongst his people. It hurt him, sometimes, to realise how much she'd changed. She wasn't the Morgana he knew, not anymore.

Agravaine shrugged, mystified. "It's not entirely clear, sire."

Arthur nodded absentmindedly, slowly approaching the sobbing girl. Her head was bowed, her clothes ragged, but when she slowly lifted her head, there was something so very fearful in her eyes. She had seen something terrible. He had seen enough of war to be sure of that.

"What's your name?" the prince asked, looking kindly down upon the poor girl. He bent his knees, crouching to her height, hoping he appeared a little less threatening.

"Drea." she answered timidly, clearly overwhelmed by the sudden attention. Her gaze flitted across the faces of his men, their imposing, red cloaks doing nothing to calm her anxious fidgeting.

"Drea, I'm Arthur. Don't be frightened." he murmured calmly, watching as the girl's face crumbled, sobs wracking her thin frame. He wished that he didn't have to do this, but they needed to know what they were facing. "Tell me what happened."

When she met his gaze, Arthur couldn't help but compare her to a wounded deer, her sad eyes staring at him unblinkingly.

"My mother, my father, my little sister, they're..."

"It's all right." the prince whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's all right. Someone attacked them."

Drea nodded, her gaze falling to the floor, tears running down her flushed cheeks.

"Who?"

"There was no one. Just... shapes." she explained, her breath quickening, as if she were recalling something so very terrifying. But then, Arthur supposed, to a village girl, any sort of warrior would be a threat, no matter their skills.

"You didn't see their faces?" he asked, realising that this may be a little more tricky than he'd first thought. If Drea couldn't identify her attackers, there was little chance of his knights catching them.

But the girl shook her head frantically, squeezing her eyes shut, seeming to relive some terrible memory. "They had no faces. I-I keep telling you. They were there, but... they weren't there. They moved so quickly. It was as if they weren't real, but... they must have been. I-I could hear the people screaming... and then... silence. They were all... dead."

Drea began to cry again, hiding her face in her hands. Arthur took her by the shoulders, hoping his gentle touch would soothe her.

"Hey, thank you." he whispered, pushing her into Gaius' awaiting arms. He would be best suited to deal with her trauma.

Arthur turned back to his uncle, trying to make sense of what he'd heard. "Where is this village?"

"Howden. It's to the east of the White Mountains. No more than half a day's hard ride."

"Ready the men." the regent ordered realising that, if he was to understand what Drea was describing, he would have to see it himself.

~

Arthur had taken his best knights, alongside Merlyn, of course, on the excursion to Howden, racing amongst the trees towards the village. The servant lagged behind them, the whispers of the Cailleach still crawling under her skin. She shivered, on edge, spooked by every sudden movement. Something was so very wrong with the world, a ghostly murmur of broken magic, a tear in the very fabric of reality. It felt as if there had been a shift in her very destiny, in her soul.

In the distance, she could hear what sounded like a woodpecker, the sudden noise startling her in her unnerved state. She gasped, trying to pull herself together. It may have been a while since she'd faced a major threat, but that was no excuse for her sudden jumpiness.

"Merlyn, do you need your comfort blanket?" Arthur sneered, evidently oblivious to the complete wrongness of the world.

She grimaced, in no mood for such jests. "What do you mean?"

"You're making me edgy." the prince stated, glancing at her worriedly.

Merlyn was about to reply when a sudden movement caught her eye. She turned, only to see Lancelot's horse whinny, shaking its head with pompous displeasure. Why the knight had been chosen for this mission, the servant didn't know. He was meant to be spending his time with Gwen, not risking his life.

"That's a horse." Arthur sighed.

Merlyn looked out into the trees, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of her stomach. "Maybe it sensed something."

"Yes, that you're a clotpole." the prince smirked, annoyingly triumphant.

Merlyn scowled. "That's my word."

"Yeah, and it suits you perfectly."

Merlyn had nothing to say to that, listening to the loud squawk of birds echoing in the distance.

~

Arthur looked out at the village just below the lip of the valley, smoke streaming from the nearby houses, a cold gloom settling over the land. Silence reigned, as if all sound had been sucked from the landscape, a cloak of shadows feeding on unnerving fate. The prince didn't know what to make of it. Death was barely tangible in the air.

"It's too quiet." he muttered to himself, dismounting from his horse. Their was a certain wrongness surrounding the village; he didn't want to put the animals in any unnecessary risk.

His knights followed him, approaching the village with weary disquiet. It seemed deserted, like everyone had simply disappeared, vanished by the cool air. Washing hung from lines, the wind blowing the dried fabric, whistling through the cracked buildings, a domestic omen.

They continued down the pathway, looking out for any sort of movement. A squeaking wheel from an overturned cart caught Arthur's eye, its ghostly presence doing nothing to calm his beating heart. He felt as if there had been a shift in the fabric of reality, as if this was a remnant of some forgotten suffering.

A door creaked loudly, almost stopping his frozen heart. His eyes fell on the culprit, the wood moving out of time with the wind. He held his breath, clutching his sword tightly, but before he moved towards it, a goat appeared, bleating as it wriggled through the gap between the door and the wall, the first sign of life in this deserted slice of hell. Arthur breathed again, beckoning for his men to explore the village, unable to speak. It seemed wrong to do so, to break the spell of silence tingling through his mind.

A loud crunch stopped him. He turned, raising his sword once again, only to see that it was Gwaine, eating one of the apples abandoned in the middle of the road. The prince glared at him, shaken at how easily frightened he had become. Clearly it wasn't just Merlyn who could see foes where there were only ghosts, monsters where there were friends.

"Sorry." Gwaine said through a mouthful of apple, looking rather sheepish. Arthur watched as his men simply shook their heads, faintly amused. There was no point in scolding him, not when there appeared to be no immediate danger.

"Here!" Elyan called, tearing Arthur from his mirth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gwaine drop his apple, Merlyn and his men hurrying towards the sound of Elyan's voice. They made it to one of the huts, where his knight was leaning over a body. Elyan stood, giving Arthur a better view.

It was a man, maybe a village elder, his eyes open, staring lifelessly up at the ceiling. His mouth was open, as if he had died screaming, his skin so pale that it was almost translucent. Frost covered his face, weaving through his orange beard, almost as if he'd been frozen alive. Suddenly, Arthur could hear a faint shrieking, the sound of something otherworldly, dangerous.

He turned, looking back at nothing more than shadows. He didn't know what it was, but before he could register what he was seeing, it disappeared. If his knights hadn't been staring in the same place that he'd seen the ghostly thing, he would've believed he was imagining things.

"You saw it?" he questioned, trying to stop his fear from showing.

For a moment there was no reply, his men not quite able to believe their eyes. They had glimpsed something supernatural, maybe even terrible.

"We are literally chasing shadows." Gwaine murmured, chuckling nervously. This wasn't the kind of thing Arthur could hit with a sword. If whatever they'd seen had caused such death, there was nothing the prince could do to stop it.

"Come on." he mumbled, hating the way his voice trembled.

Darkness had fallen quickly, so Arthur ordered Merlyn to build a fire, using its flames to make torches as they continued to explore the village. The orange light seemed abstract, peculiar against the harsh chill of the homes, but the prince ignored it, savouring the little warmth he could muster before heading out into the night.

He could still hear the screaming, but this time, saw no wisp of strange mist, following Leon as they divided into smaller groups. Merlyn, he knew, was with Lancelot. He felt terrible for bringing the man on this mission, especially now, with his impending sense of doom, but he knew that he would keep his servant safe. Well, it wasn't like Merlyn couldn't take care of herself, but the knight's presence comforted him as he disappeared into the mystical gloom.

~

Merlyn hated the village with every fibre of her being. It was wrong. Cold. So very cold. Death a thick presence in the air. It was almost unfathomable how very wrong she felt, like even her magic wanted to escape, to hide away in the deepest recesses of the earth, to never touch any of this place ever again. It was wrong. So wrong. They needed to go.

And the screaming, almost constant now; she wasn't sure if it was still in her mind. It sounded like a thousand lost souls trapped in the darkness, pleading for a mercy that she wasn't ready to give. She'd lost Lancelot, but that didn't seem to matter now. She was running, but she didn't remember why. She stopped. The screaming stopped. Only the name of the wind fluttered past her ears; she knew she was so desperately alone.

"Léoht."

Light. She needed light. A ball of white lightning crackled in her hand, but it only last long enough for her to see her empty surroundings before it extinguished, leaving her alone and in the dark once more. Her breathing had quickened; she felt like she was going to be sick.

"Léoht."

No. No. Her magic had never failed her before, not so utterly. It was there, she could still feel it, but it refused her command, refused to touch the wrongness of the world around her.

"Léoht."

Nothing. She was really alone, without even magic to guide her. She drew her sword, Excalibur, unsure what it would do against something intangible.

And then she heard the shrieking, the sound of agonising torture. It was getting louder, as if it was closing in on her, a predator of unknown proportions.

She saw it before it got to her, shrill, a white, ghostly presence barrelling through the air.

"Flíeh nu on moras."

Her eyes glowed, she could feel it, but her magic still swirled just beyond her reach. Frozen with fear, she could do nothing but repeat her mutterings, praying that it would be enough.

"Merlyn!" Lancelot shouted, ripping her from her trance. He swiped his torch at the creature, vanquishing it from sight, its screams fading into the midnight air.

"What happened?" the knight asked, still staring at the spot where the creature had been.

"My magic.. I couldn't use it." Merlyn gasped, struck by utter terror. She felt like crying, but the tears wouldn't come.

She allowed herself one moment to drown in her cold see of panic before taking a deep breath, turning to the direction of the footsteps fast approaching them.

"There's something out there." Lancelot shouted towards the approaching knights, sounding almost composed.

"You saw it?" Arthur questioned, his eyes fixed on Merlyn.

"When it saw the light, it fled." Lancelot reported.

"Let's get the horses." Gwaine piped up, oblivious to the turmoil in Merlyn's heart.

"It's not something y-you can chase or something you can kill." she said hoarsely, her words punctuated by another chilling scream.

Arthur seemed to see something on her face that convinced him of her truth. "We need to get out of here."

Nobody argued.

~

When Merlyn returned to Camelot, she didn't know why she was surprised that everything was falling apart. Chaos burned through the town, a contrast to the cool air, the people panicking as they ran from shapeless monsters, some of them joining the dead in a restless slumber. She found Gwen fighting amongst the knights, carrying her torch as if it were a sword, but raced passed her, needing to find Gaius. He was in the great hall, surrounded by frozen bodies, with his back to the door.

"Gaius." she called quietly, doing her best not to shatter into fear. She could feel her magic, now, weak, but at least she could call upon it. Her powers had returned, at least, for now.

"Merlyn." the physician smiled thinly, but even that little happiness faded when he saw the look upon her face. "You saw them?"

She nodded, scanning the room, hating the number of bodies she saw there.

"Here, help me." Gaius beckoned. "Bring me some more sheets."

He walked away, but Merlyn stayed put, dwelling in her fears, shaken by how useless she'd been. If Lancelot hadn't been near her, she would be another one of these bodies, a frozen statue, a beacon of ruin.

"Merlyn?" he called, but the witch was too lost in her thoughts to register his voice.

"My magic is useless against them." she said, almost to herself. "I've tried. I have never felt so powerless. When it came for me, I felt this... emptiness. I couldn't breathe. I'm scared."

"Merlyn." Gaius sounded far more calm than the witch could even pretend to be. "It's all right. It's not your fault."

Wasn't it? Was it not she who pushed Morgana into the arms of Morgause? Was it not she who refused to help her when she felt so horribly alone? For someone who wasn't to blame, she couldn't help but feel that everything was her fault.

~

"We've suffered fifty dead, maybe more, mostly in the lower town." Agravaine reported, the numbers safe in Arthur's private chambers. Only the prince, his uncle, Gaius and Merlyn were privy to the conversation, Camelot's next steps to be decided by only those Arthur trusted completely.

"And there's no way of fighting them?" he questioned, hoping that, miraculously, perhaps the physician had found some enlightened method for destroying the creatures.

Agravaine shook his head grimly. "No. Our only weapons are torches. And the light doesn't kill them. It only repels them."

What brilliant news.

"What are they?"

"The Dorocha, sire. The spirits of the dead." Gaius replied, his omniscience impressive. The physician stepped into the middle of the room, resting wary eyes on the prince. "On Samhain's eve, in the time of the old religion, the high priestesses would perform a blood sacrifice and realease them."

"But who would do such a thing now?" Agravaine inquired, as if they all didn't already know the answer.

Gaius turned to him, obviously resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Even Arthur thought it was a stupid question. "Morgana. We know that she was travelling to the Isle of the Blessed."

The prince walked aimlessly around his room, restless. "How do we defeat these creatures?"

"I don't know, sire. No mortal has ever survived their touch."

How promising.

~

Merlyn felt her hands shaking as she lit the candles in Arthur's room, their little warmth doing nothing to help the constant chill that seemed to crawl up her spine. The screams od the Dorocha disturbed her work; as she turned towards the direction of the sound, she knocked a candle onto the floor, watching it skid towards the prince's curtain.

She glanced back at Arthur, who gave her a look of surprise, worry flickering through his eyes.

"I thought I saw something." she muttered, blowing out her match as she looked down at the fallen candle. It had only been a shadow, and the Dorocha had no reason to hide, but reason didn't seem to slow her heart.

"What was it, a spider?" Arthur questioned, looking back towards his paperwork. A gust of wind toyed with the curtains; it took a moment for Merlyn to notice the open window behind them. She stepped towards the candle, but stopped, her fear overriding any form of logic.

"Just pick it up." Arthur ordered from behind her, his footsteps hesitant as he strode to her side. Together, they stared at the candlestick, as if it were some magical artifact, a thing of wonder. "Do you want me to get one of the maids to do it? Or why don't I just ask the cook?"

Personally, Merlyn thought that in a battle between the cook and the Dorocha, the cook would win, but she didn't think that it was exactly the time to express such a sentiment.

"It's not a joke." Merlyn murmured, but didn't move forward to fetch the candlestick. Arthur seemed to sober himself up and, ever the knight in shining armour, marched forward, drawing his sword and pointing it at the curtain. He paused for a moment, before using his blade to swipe the curtain out of the way, revealing nothing but a brick wall.

Merlyn sighed in relief, so very glad to be proved wrong. Of course, this meant that Arthur had to gloat.

"You see, Merlyn, I could never be like you." he stated, bending down to fetch the candlestick and, in the process, giving the servant a good view of his lovely arse. He threw it in the air, catching it effortlessly; the servant realised that she'd like nothing better than to punch him in his smug face. "I could never let myself look so spineless."

"Oh, you see, I'm different. I could never let myself look heartless."

Arthur frowned. "What?"

"Well, all right, thoughtless." Merlyn shrugged, doing her best not to grin as the prince walked towards her.

"Never."

"Definitely humourless." Merlyn decided, barely managing to keep a straight face.

"That's because you're not funny." Arthur grinned, handing the candle back to his servant, his fingers lingering a little too long in contact with her skin.

Merlyn chuckled, but her mirth was cut short by the screams of the Dorocha. She and Arthur looked towards the window, wondering what poor soul had faced such a creature.

"You're not scared?" she asked, wondering if the prince would bother lying to her.

"Oh, I am, Merlyn." he turned to face her, his expression almost hollow. "Maybe more than you."

He made to move past her, but she grabbed his arm, kissing him on the cheek. "I love you. You know that, right?"

Arthur smiled warmly, looking intently into her eyes. "Of course I do."

~

Percival still felt a little out of place working alongside the knights rather than with the guards, used to being part of the furniture rather than someone worthy of an opinion. He wasn't the only one struggling with the change: he could see that both Elyan and Lancelot seemed troubled by their new status, although Gwaine seemed to take it in his stride. Then again, he'd always had a sort of noble aura about him. Maybe it was the hair.

Merlyn, at least, had helped guide him through his new duties. She'd become a good friend, though he could tell that she was a little disappointed of his hesitance when it came to magic. He had spent too long walking the corridors of Camelot; even a whisper of sorcery was enough to make his skin crawl. It wasn't that he disliked it, quite to the contrary, but he was used to having to hide his emotions, his notions; it seemed strange that Merlyn would talk about such things at all. He often saw her and Lancelot huddled in corners, conspiring together about whatever monster was most recently attacking Camelot. Part of him wanted to join them, but he was a coward, fearful of what might happen if they were caught.

One day, magic would be free, and he would be glad for it, but for now, he was content to wait.

He followed a group of knights, torch in hand, through the dusk, unnerved by the darkened streets. He glanced around the looming buildings, listening for anything remotely terrible, pausing when a faint whimpering replaced the whistling wind. He turned to a narrow pathway, using the light of his torch to see through the gloom, only to find a fearful child concealed behind a small barrel.

"Hey, hey, hey. Its all right." he said calmly, knowing it would do no good to show even an ounce of his own fear. "It's all right. You're safe now."

He slowly approached the small boy, peering around the barrel, only to find two more children huddled in the dark. In the distance, he could hear the faint scream of the Dorocha. He sighed. There was no way that he could leave them alone out here; he was a knight of Camelot after all.

He looked back at the street, but the other knights had already faded into the mist. He'd have to risk it.

Dropping his torch, Percival picked up the three children and ran for his life, sure that the nearest safe house couldn't be too far. He barely made it a few meters, however, before a dorocha came at him, its shrieks resounding through the fog. He flinched, turning to shield the children, when out of nowhere, a torch swung at the creature, dispersing it into the gloom. Percival grinned: he'd never been so glad to see Elyan's stupid face.

The pair of them ran to the nearest lit home, letting the children free to find their parents amongst the candles. They'd be safe there, at least until dawn.

"Thanks." Percival managed between heavy breaths, patting Elyan on the shoulder.

His fellow knight winced, but grinned up at him. "Couldn't let you have all the glory, could I?"

Percival chuckled, realising that, for all the power amonisity had brought him, this, being seen, being thanked, even loved, was so much better.

~

Arthur watched the steady stream of his people plodding through the gates to the city, their numbers increasing with every moment. In the light of day, they were jovial, laughter springing from the children, dancing around the courtyard with a wonder the prince had never truly felt. They seemed so free.

"They're coming from across the kingdom. They're looking to Camelot for protection." Gaius, who had helped him so much over the last two years, reported; Arthur knew that it wasn't in his heart to turn them away.

"And we'll give it to them." he assured the physician.

Agravaine frowned, as if the regent's declaration meant something other than housing those he'd sworn to protect. He may be a good advisor, but his uncle would be a terrible king.

"We cannot house them all!" he exclaimed, as if something so simple was utterly impossible. They could do it. Arthur was certain.

"We have to try." he murmured, expecting it to be the end of the matter.

But Agravaine was nothing if not persistent. "How? We cannot live like this forever, Arthur. We must find a way to vanquish these creatures."

He was right. They couldn't live in fear of the dark, not when there was such beauty in the moon and stars. Arthur had hoped and prayed and loved in the dark, had found comfort staring up at the inky sky, wishing on the heavens, entranced by ashen thunderstorms. No. His people wouldn't live like this forever. They couldn't.

"Somewhere in all your books, Gaius, there must be something. All I'm asking for is a way to fight them." he pleaded, sure that they weren't completely hopeless.

Gaius shuffled from foot to foot, his gaze shifting around the room. "I fear the Dorocha cannot be defeated by swords and arrows, sire. If I am right and the veil between the worlds is torn, then there's only one path open to us. We must travel to the Isle of the Blessed and repair it."

Arthur nodded, dreading the answer to his next question. "And how do I do that?"

"I'm not sure, but for the tear to be created, it would require a blood sacrifice. To seal it will require another." Gaius explained, his tone so very dire.

Arthur swallowed, trying to process what the physician was implying. A death was the cost, a single man to save a kingdom. There was no other choice.

"We ride before nightfall." he stated, gesturing for his small council to disperse, but each of them stayed in place, Merlyn silent as she leant back against the wall.

"And who will be the sacrifice?" Gaius inquired, but the prince was sure that he already knew the answer.

Arthur turned towards him, his mind at peace. "If laying down my life will spare the people of Camelot, then that is what I must do."

~

Morgana hadn't quite accounted for the utter loneliness she had to face without Morgause. Even after only a few days had passed, she missed her sister desperately, her presence one of the few comforts the witch had in her new life. After the pair had escaped, they had sheltered in a rather remote part of the forest, secluded by the ancient trees. Despite her crippled state, Morgause had set to work, sending ravens to potential allies, her strength only weakening as Morgana watched her shrink in despair. There had been nothing to be done. And yet, the witch cursed herself for refusing to fight, for accepting her sister's fate. She was so alone.

She had never been good at waiting. Fearing discovery, Morgana hadn't visited Camelot, knowing her traitor would update her soon enough. There was no use killing innocents if their deaths meant nothing. She refused to die by her own careless hand, frozen by a dorocha.

The sound of her front door opening disturbed Morgana from her thoughts. She barely had time to hide, silently drawing her dagger. If it was a simple intruder, then they would feel cold, remorseless steel before they even saw her coming. Perhaps it was the Cailleach's prophecy, the thought of Emrys heightening her paranoia.

A cloaked figure slipped into her hovel, a far cry from her lavish chambers back in Camelot. Still, she could hardly complain.

The man was stooped slightly so not to hit his head on the ceiling, his shoulders broad, but not from muscle. Morgana would recognise the greasy, slicked-back hair anywhere. Carefully touching the point of her blade to Agravaine's back, she sneered, unimpressed at how easily she could have killed him. Unfortunately, she still needed him, even if he was little more than a snivelling coward.

"My lady?" he questioned, his voice an octave or so higher than usual. Morgana couldn't hide her smirk: she held little respect for the man. If only she could convince Merlyn to become her traitor, or maybe Gwen. Then, at least, she'd have some relatively pleasant company.

"My lord." she managed through gritted teeth. He certainly hadn't earned that title. "I trust you bring me good news. Tell me."

She sheathed her dagger, fairly sure that Agravaine wasn't about to stab her in her back. He was simply too weak and, admittedly, cunning to try such a thing. She walked further into her home, a candle lighting the dingy room with little more than a thought. The witch frowned, surveying her meager possessions. The rightful Queen of Camelot shouldn't be living in such squalor. She'd have to rectify that soon, perhaps build an extension. Camelot castle aught to do it.

"The kingdom is on its knees." Agravaine reported, a gleeful smile ugly on his pug-like face. Morgana did her best not to wince: even she couldn't speak of innocent deaths as something to be celebrated. Her brethren were just as vulnerable.

"How terrible." she murmured, contemplating whether she'd truly done the right thing. Part of her wondered if her fight for freedom was worth the loss of life. Maybe Arthur would've listened to her, would still listen to her if she just tried.

Agravaine didn't quite seem to catch her tone, chuckling merrily. "Indeed."

"What of the poor people?" Morgana asked, wishing there had been some way to target only those who deserved her wrath.

"More fall every night." the traitor said, sounding almost smug. This was not his victory. He didn't feel her responsibility, her loss.

She frowned deeply, doing her best not to lose her composure. "Such a shame."

"You should know that Arthur intends to vanquish these creatures. He makes ready to go to the Isle of the Blessed as we speak." Agravaine warned, catching Morgana's attention once more. Morgause had told her that few things could reverse the spell; the witch had been intending the curse to continue until she was on the throne.

"How?"

"Well, if the Dorocha don't kill him on the way, our brave little lamb intends to sacrifice himself to repair the veil."

Morgana wished she could feel joy at the news, knew that she should, but Emrys was still a shadow stalking her mind. She turned away from her uncle, trying to gather her thoughts, to purge her deepest notions of her doom. Prophecy was a fickle thing; she knew that the future could be changed. She just didn't know how.

"Morgana?" Agravaine exclaimed, sounding rather annoyed. Perhaps he'd been talking before. The witch hadn't been listening.

"Something the Cailleach said." she muttered, mostly to herself. "She spoke of someone called Emrys and... called her my doom."

"Your doom!" Agravaine sounded puzzled. Then again, he always did. "What does she mean?"

"I don't know." Morgana hated the way that her voice shook, her fear a weakness she thought far behind her. Clearly, she'd been wrong.

"Morgana, we should be celebrating. Arthur will be dead within the week, leaving the throne open for Camelot's rightful heir."

The witch smiled thinly. This was what she wanted, what she craved, what she was owed. If she wanted to be free, this was what she had to do.

~

Arthur could barely look at his father anymore. He was a shell of the man he once was, constantly drunk on rich wine, unable to even think about leaving his room. He sat with him most days, sometimes with Merlyn by his side, telling him about the flourishing kingdom, the warmth of summer, the beauty of spring. Even as the weather changed, his father remained the same, wrapped up in an old, brown blanket, the faded material draped around his thin shoulders, almost like a cape, a terrible symbol for all that he had lost. He was a broken man, Arthur knew that. Maybe he wouldn't even notice that he was gone.

"There are many things I have to thank you for." Arthur croaked, his eyes watering. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't. "You've taught me so much. Most of all, you have taught me... what it is to be a prince. I hope that this time, you'll be proud of me."

He stood, kissing his father on the forehead. It was an action he never would have considered three years ago, but now, it felt right. Brushing away a forbidden tear, he began to move away, only to be stopped by a surprisingly strong hand. He looked down, his father's hand clutching his wrist tightly.

"Don't leave me." he whispered, sounding so very hoarse. His father's eyes were filled with despair, as if Arthur was taking everything away from him. He would be alone, but alive. The prince wouldn't do anything to change that.

"I have to, father." he said gently, letting his tears run free. This was no time for appearances, not when there was so little hope.

"Please." his father gasped, looking up at him desperately. The word almost broke Arthur, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to do his duty, no matter the cost. The king had taught him that much.

He took his father's hand in his, squeezing it gently. Even when his tears had dried, when his blood had been spilt and the kingdom saved, Camelot would still have a ruler, a king. When he... died, leaving behind a world he would never know, maybe he would be remembered, not just as a regent, as a warrior, as the last hope of desperate salvation, but as a son, someone who loved his people, as a man rather than a hero. If he was lucky, maybe he'd even be missed.

~

Merlyn had taken her time packing, unsure what one was meant to bring to one's own death. She wouldn't let Arthur sacrifice himself. She couldn't. The kingdom needed him, his people needed him more than they could ever express. She needed him to live, to become the king she knew he could be. If she could save his life, Merlyn would never choose to let her love die, even if it meant taking his place.

Perhaps this was what her destiny was, what it was always meant to be. Maybe her death could set it motion everything that Arthur was meant to build. She wanted to tell him about her magic, but she had written a letter long ago explaining everything to him in the event that she died before she revealed herself. It would have to do. She couldn't do anything which might prevent her from coming with him, even if it would break her heart.

Besides, she couldn't spend her last moments seeing hate in the eyes of the one man she truly loved. After sacrificing so much, she deserved this much.

Her door creaked as Gaius walked through it, his expression grave. He knew her better than anyone; there wasn't a doubt in her mind that he knew what she was planning.

"Merlyn, what are you doing?" he asked, as if he didn't already know, watching her cram a shirt into her small rucksack. She didn't need to pack much: it would only be a one-way trip.

"It's my destiny to protect Arthur." she replied, fiddling with the straps to her bag. She didn't see Gaius approach her, but when she looked up, she could see the sadness etched into every line of his melancholy face.

"Your magic is powerless against the Dorocha." he warned, causing Merlyn to shiver. She had no desire to feel the same sense of powerlessness that had frozen her in the village, but she didn't have a choice. Part of her wondered if she ever really did, if her life was nothing more than the path she had been set upon since arriving in Camelot. But she doubted even the gods could force her to love Arthur as much as she did.

"Then I must sacrifice myself in his place." Merlyn said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Gaius stared at her, tears glimmering in his eyes. "No."

"My life has always been marked out by destiny. If this is meant to be... I'm not- I'm not afraid." she managed, swinging her bag over her shoulder. Excalibur was safely tucked away in her belt; after two years, she could sense that, finally, its time had come. "I will gladly die, Gaius, knowing that one day... Albion will live."

Merlyn could see the acceptance shining in the physician's eyes, but she doubted she'd ever see him smile again. He hugged her tightly, wrapping his arms around her as if he would never let go. Merlyn wasn't sure she ever wanted him to.

~

Gwen knew who she had married, that Lancelot was a knight, a man of honour and duty, and yet, she wished that she could force him to stay behind, to keep him safe in her arms and away from the horrors of the world. But then, she supposed, if Lancelot was a man that cared so little about his people that he would indulge her, she wouldn't love him so greatly. She had to let him go so that he would return to her. He would come back, if only she believed enough.

Watching the knights climb onto their horses, she knew this was her last chance to say goodbye. She crossed the courtyard, glad to see that Lancelot had noticed her, doing her best not to cry. She didn't want her tears to be his last memory, not with such a terrible journey ahead.

"Gwen." he beamed, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. She tried to smile back at him, but she only managed a grimace, worried for the fate of her husband.

"I wish you didn't have to go." she sighed, cupping his face with her hand. "I'd hoped we'd have more time together."

Lancelot took her hand from his cheek, rubbing her fingers gently. "As did I."

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Gwen, letting her relax into his embrace. It wasn't fair; she could hardly blame Lancelot. The rumours were that Morgana had caused this chaos, had chosen to slaughter innocent people for her own desires. She was twisted, though the maid privately thought that her fear may have played a larger part in her change than magic itself. It saddened her to see such a good friend lost in her own bitter hatred, even if part of her wanted the witch to come home.

She broke apart from Lancelot; out of the corner of her eye, she saw Merlyn guiding her own horse towards the others. For a moment, she watched her, the carefree, lazy smile usually prominent on her face now gone, replaced by a sense of grim determination. Gwen wasn't certain what her friend was planning, but she very much doubted that she would let Arthur sacrifice himself. She loved him too much.

"Look after her." she murmured, turning back to her husband. "She's up to something. I can feel it."

Lancelot, who had followed her gaze to Merlyn, nodded slowly, sending his wife a small smile.

"I'll protect her with my life."

Gwen didn't doubt it, but she certainly didn't want it to come to that. She didn't want to lose either her friend or her husband, but if she had to choose, she'd rather Lancelot returned to her arms.

Unsure how to express the sentiment, she stared intently into her husband’s eyes, trying to convey everything with only three words.

"I love you."

Lancelot smiled warmly. "I love you too, my wife."

Gwen's cheeks reddened as she reached up, bringing her lips to his. The kiss wasn't anywhere near long enough, but it contained all the love Gwen could ever hope to possess. Lancelot would return to her, just as he had whenever she'd needed him most. He was everything to her. Everything.

~

Merlyn and the knights had been riding hard since Camelot had disappeared from sight, Arthur apparently eager to reach, what he thought to be, his inevitable doom. The sun was dipping under the horizon when they finally stopped to rest, hues of red and orange filling the sky. They left their horses tied within the forest, descending down a small valley to a cave, the entrance concealed by moss and ivy. It wasn't much, but it would give them a little more warmth than sleeping under the stars.

"Elyan, look after the horses. They need watering." the prince ordered, looking up to where the knight was still standing on top of the narrow ridge. Merlyn did her best to hide her surprise: normally when she accompanied them on these missions, she was left to do almost all the work whilst the knights drank the night away.

"I need someone to volunteer to get wood." Arthur continued, staring pointedly at Merlyn. She raised her eyebrow, clearly not getting out of work so easily, wondering what the prince would do if she refused.

"I'll do it." she muttered, speaking just loud enough for the others to hear. She dropped her bags, jogging away from the relative safety of the cave, sure to find some dried branches amongst the trees. She heard a set of familiar footsteps following her, but Lancelot remained silent until the pair were out of earshot.

"You shouldn't be here." he called out after her as she bent down to retrieve another stick. "You have no powers."

"Neither should you. You should be with Gwen." Merlyn replied, eying a few twigs, wondering if they would be any good as kindling.

"I'm a knight, Merlyn. Unlike you. It's my duty to protect the citizens of Camelot and, as a citizen and friend, I don't want to see you hurt."

Merlyn didn't bother to reply, his excuses sounding rather weak. Perhaps her magic wasn't exactly behaving as it should be, but it wasn't her only skill. She could wield a sword just as well as the knights; she didn't see why she shouldn't choose to accompany Arthur: she hadn't married the love of her life less than a week ago. It was her decision to make.

When met with her silence, Lancelot continued his pleading, staring at her imploringly. "If you leave in the morning, I'll cover with Arthur."

Merlyn stood up straight, balancing an uneven stack of wood in her arms. She didn't see why Lancelot had bothered to follow her if he wasn't actually going to help.

"It's your duty to protect Camelot, no matter what the cost." she stated, watching the knight nod uneasily. "Well, it's my duty to protect Arthur. Surely, you can understand that?"

A ghost of a smile haunted Lancelot's worried lips.

"I can understand that very well." he said, finally accepting her decision. He slapped another branch onto her pile; she could feel his wary eyes upon her retreating back as she ducked through the forest, a deep sadness encroaching on her mind. Even Lancelot, a man who knew of all she had accomplished, didn't seem to believe in her abilities. What if she hadn't done enough to convince Arthur that magic wasn't evil? What if, despite everything she'd been through, he didn't believe her words? She wouldn't be there to defend herself. She couldn't prove him wrong. If Lancelot, who had seen her fight, was fooled by her lowly rank, who was to say that the prince, the one man she cared about above all others, wouldn't question her too?

~

Thunder rattled the red sky, fog turned crimson, the stench of blood thick in the air. Black, tattered banners stood proudly against utter carnage, wading through a sea of dead men, a mixture of cloaks and armour, broken arrows stuck into the ground. She could hear the sound of fighting, grunting men screaming in the mud, the clash of steel leaving a tang in the air. Death overpowered her senses, magic but a memory. It was like some apocalyptic nightmare, a shadow of her worst dreams.

She saw a raven, its black feathers stretched, filling her vision, its caw so sinister amongst the dead. She couldn't see any faces, but she was glad for it. Even if she were to see Arthur fallen, dead in the heat of battle, she would feel no better for it. There was no life here, not anymore. Only the sour taste of ash and dust.

Despite her utter weakness, she managed to move her head, a lone, standing figure coming into view. She wore red, her clothes matching the horror around her, a wrinkled face staring soullessly into Morgana's eyes. For a moment, she thought it was the Cailleach, but the woman in front of her had seen far more atrocities, had lost so much. She looked like she could break at any moment, leaning heavily on a wooden staff, but still, sheer power lingered behind her eyes.

"Help me, Emrys. Please."

It was her voice, but she didn't remember parting her lips. She reached out a hand, her tongue heavy in her mouth as she looked up at the woman, at Emrys, her face contorted in a mixture of pity and horrible anger.

"Is this really what you wanted, Morgana?" she spat, the hatred in her tone almost tangible. Morgana couldn't reply, couldn't do anything but stare up at the picture of misery, the face etched into her mind.

She awoke with a gasp, sitting upright in her bed, trying to find her bearings. No. The battlefield had been a vision. She wasn't there. She would never be there. She would stop it from ever coming to pass.

"Emrys." Morgana whispered, cursing the woman's very existance. She would find her if it was the last thing she'd ever do.

~

Arthur didn't know how long he had spent riding towards his fate, but the sun had begun to sink once more, its shine doing little to clear the heavy fog. They had travelled through silent villages, the dead sprawled over the dirt, their homes fallen into disarray. Any living souls were long gone, probably hoping to seek asylum inside Camelot, leaving their children and family and friends without so much as a burial. It was a chilling sight, but the prince didn't have time to pay his respects. If he didn't want his city to meet the same fate, they had to continue on their way.

"We need to reach Daelbeth by nightfall." he declared, glancing back over his shoulder to see his sullen knights. Even Gwaine seemed dulled, his stories cut short long ago. Arthur led the gallop, eager to leave the village. At least where they were going, the bodies would be few and far between. He didn't think he could take much more of his complete failures.

~

Daelbeth's castle wasn't quite as beautiful as Camelot's, but it was just as grand. Cracked with age, it could be mistaken for some sort of haunted fantasy, the grey stone crumbling, bleached by the fading sun. It would be good shelter, at least, from the wind. Merlyn doubted its walls would do much about the Dorocha.

"Pair off. Find any wood you can. Get the fires burning." Arthur ordered as they made their way into the circular courtyard, the cobbles uneven under her feet. They'd left the horses outside; at the familiar sound of the Dorocha's shrieks, she envied them. She doubted they would be safe here for long.

She and Lancelot had paired off, doing their best to ignore the incessant screaming, but there was only so much wood they could carry. Before long, she heard Arthur's fearful voice bellowing from the other side of the castle; in her torchlight, she was just about able to see the other knights sprinting through the darkness, running away from the most terrible of ghosts. She looked down at the small pile of wood in her arms. They didn't have enough. Still, there was little she could do about that now. She motioned for Lancelot to follow her, jogging in the direction that the others had gone. She really didn't want to be left behind.

~

They gathered in the courtyard, throwing their meagre wood in a pile in the centre, leaving Merlyn to get the fire started. She rolled her eyes, gathering the flint and steel from her bag, and knelt next to the few sticks, placing them into a rough pyramid.

"Bæl on bryne."

The fire came alive, golden flames reaching up to the heavens, like tendrils of golden stardust. She stood, sharing an amused look with Lancelot, the warmth a small comfort against the terrors of the night.

"It won't get us through the night." Percival murmured, ever the optimist. Merlyn frowned, knowing he was right.

"It'll keep the area safe for a while." Arthur replied, but Merlyn didn't need to be a genius to hear the worry in his tone.

~

The moon hung high in the sky by the time the fire started to dwindle, Gwaine throwing a piece of wood up into the cold air, watching it fall back into his hand, the weight a small comfort against the dark.

"Last one." he sighed. "Maybe we should draw lots, see who gets some more."

"I'll go." Arthur volunteered, standing from the edge of the firepit. Merlyn had thought that he'd been planning to sacrifice himself at the end of the journey, but apparently the creepy castle was good enough for him.

"You'll need help." Lancelot stated, causing Merlyn to jump to her feet.

"I'll go with him." she decided. "Since when has Arthur known how to collect firewood?"

The knights laughed as the prince rolled his eyes, but he didn't protest. With the protection of a single torch, the pair ventured off into the harsh night.

~

Merlyn had ended up doing most of the actual work, a number of sticks under one arm whilst Arthur held the torch, on lookout for any evil spirits. He felt a little guilty, but as he heard the, now familiar, shrill screams, he realised he had no time to dwell on the fairness of his actions.

"Merlyn, look out!" he exclaimed, launching himself at her. They both fell to the ground, the wood Merlyn had collected scattering over the floor. The prince cursed, realising he'd lost his torch, their only protection against the Dorocha.

"Let's go!" he shouted, pushing Merlyn through the closest doorway. They ran up the stairs, barring a wooden door behind them, as if the barrier would stop the formless ghosts.

They crouched behind a wall, a sudden chill overcoming Arthur's senses. He felt frozen, shivering despite his layers of armour. Merlyn gave him a curious look, her thin jacket far less insulated than the prince's own clothing, and yet, she didn't seem particularly bothered by the low temperature.

"It's cold." he shivered, wishing he could remember the taste of warmth.

"Right." she shrugged, peering out from their hiding place.

Arthur squinted at her. "You're not feeling it?"

She shook her head, perhaps too scared to feel the chill in the air.

"You know, Merlyn, you're braver than I give you credit for." he murmured, shifting into a more comfortable position against the wall. He could still hear the screaming, but the room seemed entirely empty, their only company the cobwebs that covered the stone.

"Really? Was that a compliment?" Merlyn exclaimed in mock astonishment, her words punctuated by more screams.

Arthur chuckled. "Don't be stupid."

They stayed in silence for a long moment, the prince wishing that he was anywhere but in that grey room. He had never been so scared, unable to fight his enemy, letting them close in on him, defenceless despite all his training. Nothing could prepare him for this, not even Merlyn.

"All the things I've faced, I've never worried about dying." he managed, the cold creeping into his very bones. He couldn't quite read the expression on Merlyn's face, but she didn't exactly seem surprised by his declaration.

"I don't think you should now." she said, determination unwavering in her gaze. She truly believed it.

Arthur wasn't so sure. "Sometimes you puzzle me."

"You never fathomed me out?" Merlyn grinned, her eyes sparkling. Arthur was reminded of their first meeting, how foolish she had been. If he was a different man, she wouldn't have lived to see the next sunrise. What a terrible mistake that would have been.

"No."

Merlyn leaned back against the wall, pondering his answer. "I think that's probably a good thing."

Arthur didn't know what to say to that.

"Of course, I've had you figured out from the start." she continued. "An arrogant, pompous dollop-head."

The prince chuckled, but even that was becoming difficult, cold thawing through his heart.

"We'll defeat the Dorocha. We will, Arthur. Together. Just like we always do."

The prince grabbed her by the arm, hauling her sideways so that they were facing each other. It was an awkward position, but neither of them cared as Arthur pulled her lips to his, the heat of her skin incredible in the cold. When they broke apart, she stroked a hand through his hair, the touch a small comfort against the night.

"You're a brave woman, Merlyn." he whispered in her ear.

She laughed, kissing him on the cheek. "You don't know how many times I've saved your life."

Arthur grinned. "If I ever become king, I'm going to have you made court jester."

"Not queen?" Merlyn smirked, causing the prince to lean in again, kissing her with everything he had.

Unfortunately, the moment was cut short by the shrieks of the Dorocha. The pair jerked apart, looking around the room for any hint of the spirits.

"They say the darkest hour is just before the dawn." Arthur stated, not entirely sure where the thought had come from.

Merlyn gave him a wry smile. "It's pretty dark right now."

"It can't be long, then."

As if listening to his words, a dorocha charged through the door, wailing like a newborn child, heading straight towards Arthur. He was too cold to move, willing to accept his fate, knowing that Merlyn would be safe for a little longer.

No.

He noticed a moment too late.

No.

Merlyn was already up, jumping between him and his death. He screamed, unable to do anything as Merlyn was flung against the wall, the creature disappearing in her wake. No human had survived the touch of the Dorocha. Vaguely, Arthur was aware of a torch, Lancelot leading the knights, vanquishing another spirit, but it was too late. He ran towards Merlyn, turning her over, her face covered in frost. It looked so wrong, like snowflakes against her raven hair, her eyes glassy and so very cold. In nothing but a moment, an entire life had been wiped out in front of his eyes, his lover as good as dead. He didn't want to live much longer, for a life without her would be like living without a heart. He had no words. She felt like ice, her warmth and joy and love so terribly lost.

No.

~

Cold.

Merlyn could barely think, her thoughts moving so very slowly, as if they fought through sticky treacle. Numbly, she was aware that Arthur had wrapped a number of blankets around her frozen form, but they did little against the cold filling her lungs, burrowing to her very core. She could only thank her magic for prolonging her life, but it did little to clear her mind. Vaguely, she was aware of Arthur's voice, but concentrating on his words proved almost impossible. She let her gaze fall unfocused, the world blurring around her, using all of her energy to listen to her prince.

"We need to take her back to Gaius." he stated; Merlyn had just enough presence of mind to know that she didn't want to head back to Camelot. She was dying; she could feel it with every fibre of her being. There was no point in sacrificing anyone else, not with her in such a state. She tried to turn, to communicate this to Arthur, who stood behind her, on the other side of their makeshift fire pit, but her lips wouldn't move.

"And abandon the quest?" another voice, Leon, perhaps, questioned.

"She saved my life. I won't... I can't let her die."

"Sire." Sir Leon said gently. "If we don't get to the Isle of the Blessed, hundreds more will perish."

Yes. Merlyn wanted to cry out, to order them to take her with them. She didn't need to go back, there was no point. They had to use her as the sacrifice.

"Let me take her."

No. She should've seen Lancelot's interference, should've expected him to intervene. He was too noble for his own good.

"Carrying a wounded woman alone... It would take you two, three days to reach Camelot." Arthur murmured, the clarity of his voice fading as Merlyn's strength battled against the cold.

"Not if I go through the Valley of the Fallen Kings." Lancelot said gravely. "You cannot give up on the quest."

No. They couldn't leave her. She wouldn't let Arthur sacrifice himself.

"Sire, he's right." Leon piped up irritatingly. Gaius couldn't help her now. If only she could express herself, then maybe, they would let her die in a way that would mean something.

She barely felt Percival pick her up, hardly heard the druidic prayer whispered in her ear as he lifted her onto her horse. Her vision faded, the cold seeping all energy from her veins.

"This is my fault. I'm sorry." Arthur muttered in her ear, stroking a stray lock of hair from her face. He winced, apparently feeling her icy skin through his gloves.

"Take me with you. Please." Merlyn croaked, doing her best to express everything she wanted to say in her few words. It had taken all her strength to muster her last plea, but she knew that Arthur would ignore her.

"You'd die, Merlyn." he said, adjusting the ropes that secured her to the horse.

"I will anyway. Please, Arthur."

He sighed deeply; if her sight wasn't failing, Merlyn would've said that there were tears on his cheeks. "Do you ever do as you're told?"

"You need a blood sacrifice. Please, Arthur." she managed, but she knew what answer she would recieve.

The prince paused his fussing. "Merlyn..."

"We need to go." Lancelot spoke from upon his horse, effectively ending the pitiful argument.

Arthur looked at her with an expression she couldn't see, but by the way he gripped her shoulder, she could guess his emotion.

"I love you, Merlyn. Never forget that."

With that, he signaled for Lancelot to start moving, Merlyn's horse following slowly. She cursed her weakness, wishing to find something more comforting than death's merciless embrace.

~

The journey was long, and Merlyn only seemed to be worsening, breath coming out in pants as she lay, slumped over her horse. Lancelot had promised Gwen that he would take care of her, but as he ventured into the Valley of the Fallen Kings, he couldn't help the shiver crept up his spine. He wasn't a superstitious man, but even he could see that there was something wrong about this place, something to do with the eerie silence that floated maliciously through the valley. Steeling himself, he guided Merlyn's horse forward, praying that the numerous bandits which usually lurked behind stone walls had decided to take the day off. It was unlikely, but with the Dorocha screaming through the forest, he could only hope that the thugs were more concerned by their own survival than a couple of pitiful travelers.

~

Arthur missed Merlyn's steady presence, her funny feelings, her chatter at his side. It wasn't that he didn't like his knights, but when he was with her, their stupidity seemed a lot more tolerable. For some of the best knights in the land, their lack of common sense was rather staggering. Merlyn would've said that he hardly set the standard, but without her voice in his ear, the woods seemed strangely empty.

"Can you here that?" Gwaine asked from behind the prince, his voice accompanied by a loud buzzing. They had taken the time to rest the horses, so trudged ahead on foot, hardly wanting to break the animals from exhaustion.

"Bees?" Percival answered uncertainly. It seemed so strange to Arthur that, after seeing Merlyn, their friend, on the brink of death, his knights didn't appear more solemn. He felt as if his heart had been shattered, pounded to dust. Part of him was glad that he was going to his death. He wouldn't have to live without his love for much longer.

"Food." Gwaine corrected; Arthur could hear the smile in his voice. The prince stopped, realising that he was a little ahead of the group, turning around to watch his knights curiously. He saw Gwaine insanely take his glove off, reaching towards a fallen bee hive buried in the roots of a spindly tree.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" Leon questioned, joining the fray of worried amusement. Gwaine simply plastered on his usual charming smile, as if it would make up for his idiocy.

"We're riding to our deaths anyway." he shrugged, displaying about as much faith as Arthur had in the mission. Merlyn should have been next to him, muttering something comforting in his ear.

Instead, he had Sir Leon.

"It's good to give the horses a rest." the knight tried, his attempt in engaging the prince in conversation falling flat. "You're quiet."

At that moment, all Arthur wanted to do was shout and scream and cry. He wanted to say that all of them should be silent, should feel just as broken as he did, should realise just what they stood to lose. He knew it wasn't fair. Gwaine easily considered Merlyn his best friend, only equal, perhaps, to Percival. Leon had joined him so very long ago on his rescue attempt of his servant and Gwen; Arthur knew that the man thought the world of Merlyn. Elyan had always been grateful of her protective nature, especially when it came to Gwen and Percival seemed to almost revere her. But he could hardly blame them for handling their grief differently. They would survive without Merlyn's smile. He wouldn't.

"That's what happens after three days listening to Gwaine." he lied, trying to appear almost cheerful, but Leon had known him long enough to see through his deceit.

"You did the right thing, you know. Merlyn couldn't have continued with us." he stated, his comfort easing the prince's mind. He wished he could have taken his love with him, selfishly watch over her in her final moments, but she would only slow them down. They needed to reach the isle as quickly as possible; perhaps Gaius had found a cure for the deathly cold. He shivered, remembering Merlyn's frozen skin. It was unnatural. Cold.

"I should've saved her." he murmured, but his moping was interrupted by a loud groan. He looked over his shoulder to see Gwaine covered in bees, his cloak buzzing as he ran back towards the horses, failing miserably to shake them off. Leon snorted next to him, but Arthur couldn't find it in himself to even smile.

"If anyone can get Merlyn back to Camelot, Lancelot can." Leon assured his prince, patting him on the shoulder before continuing forward. Arthur looked down at the muddy ground, leaves pressed into the mush. He could only hope that Leon was right.

~

Lancelot watched the sun hover just above the horizon, as if some magical force was struggling to hold it there, giving him enough daylight to travel just a little further. Knowing Merlyn, he wouldn't be surprised. Finally, as twilight made its presence known, Lancelot dismounted, lifting Merlyn from her horse and settling her down next to a thin stream, the sound of running water filling his ears. He covered her body with his cloak, knowing that it would be of little use. She was too cold. Her skin the colour of frost.

He crouched next to her, watching the water flow for a tranquil moment. Even the wind seemed to still, the tall trees surrounding him growing quiet in the absent breeze. He turned to look at Merlyn, her trembling hand finding its way to the water, as if it were some source of strength. He reached over her body, ready to carefully move it away, sure that the cool stream would do little to help the dying witch, but something stopped him. Her hand glowed silver, as if slivers of moonlight were running through her veins.

"Lancelot."

"Lancelot."

A woman's voice echoed through his mind.

"Lancelot."

He turned, expecting to see someone behind him, but instead he watched as a droplet of transparent water lifted from the surface of the stream, leaving ripples of tingling starlight marring the surface. Mystified, he could only stare as more and more droplets lifted into the sky, the shadow of a woman's face visible in each one.

"We mean you no harm. We wish only to help." the woman said softly, as if her words meant anything to the weary knight.

"What are you?" he questioned curiously, his voice hoarse. He was unsure whether to trust the mystical creatures. The knight wished that Merlyn was conscious. Somehow, she always knew what to do.

"We are Vilia. Spirits of the brooks and streams." the voice explained. "The tear in the veil has upset the balance of the world. Good spirits as well as bad roam freely. But this perilous state cannot continue for long."

Lancelot did his best to digest this information, but wasn't sure what to do with it. He looked at the Vilia, enamoured by their simple beauty, the subtle power radiation from the hanging droplets. He glanced down to Merlyn, realising that, if there was even the slimmest chance that they could help her, then he would have to trust them.

"Prince Arthur is riding to the Isle of the Blessed. He intends to heal the veil."

The Vilia didn't seem particularly surprised. "He will need help from both of you."

Lancelot shook his head, gesturing to Merlyn. "My friend is sick. I need to get her to Camelot."

"Merlyn is stronger than you give her credit for. The young witch has great power and a future that has been written since the dawn of time. Do not worry. Even now my sisters begin to heal her."

Lancelot, though slightly awed, had the sense to look down at Merlyn, who almost seemed to tangibly glow, as if blessed by some forgotten god. He smiled, glad to see that he could still fulfil his promise to Gwen.

"You are tired." the voice caught his attention, the sound of hope ringing in the dark. "You must rest."

The knight became suddenly aware of how exhausted he felt, his very bones aching with fatigue. But he couldn't stop yet.

"I need to find shelter." he stated forcefully, well aware of the dangers between the trees. "The Dorocha-"

"You are safe here." the Vilia said. "We will stay with you and protect you through the night."

Lancelot could only watch as light shone over the stream, encompassing him in its golden glow, shimmering pinprick of what seemed to be white flame dancing over his head. Swirls of molten amber, the colour of Merlyn's eyes when she performed some vague miracle, floated gracefully around his head, filling him with unmistakable joy. He chuckled, finally letting his guard down. Nothing this beautiful could ever be evil. He was lucky to see that.

~

Arthur had dragged his men through the hellish forest, the mundane scenery doing little to distract his brooding. Finally, after another long stretch of green trees, they made it to a familiar set of caves, the dingy rocks bringing the prince a strange sense of relief. He dismounted, his knights following his lead, and warily approached the dark tunnels running under the mountains. They'd have to leave their horses here, but with the time they'd save cutting through the caverns, it was worth the risk.

"By dawn we will be on the other side of the mountains." he called out to his men, beginning the descent down the steep slope that led to the mouth of the caves.

"You can't be serious." Leon said exasperatedly. Arthur glanced behind him to see the knight still standing at the top of the slope, his arms folded, making no effort to move.

Ah.

The prince had forgotten where he had seen these caves before. By the expression on Leon's face, he certainly hadn't.

"Princess, these tunnels are crawling with wilddeoren." Gwaine piped up, as if he thought that Arthur wasn't aware of that fact. He saw the look shared between Percival and Elyan, their reluctance hardly useful, especially with the setting sun. Soon, the Dorocha would start to appear; the prince had hoped that the caves would provide them with a little shelter from the spirits.

"These tunnels will take days off our journey." Arthur said firmly, watching as his knights started to descend slowly towards him.

"If we make it out alive." Gwaine sighed.

"We'll cover ourselves in gaja berries." Arthur shrugged, acting as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Gwaine scoffed. "Sounds great."

"It's your choice, Gwaine. Wilddeoren or Dorocha."

"I know which I'd rather go for." Elyan murmured from somewhere near the back of the group, causing Percival to chuckle under his breath.

"Me too." Leon shivered. Evidently his last encounter with the Wilddeoren wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat. Arthur couldn't really blame him. But with the faint shrieks of the Dorocha beginning to reach their ears, he feared that they had no choice.

The prince reached the mouth of the tunnels, turning around to ensure that his men were still following him, only to realise that Gwaine had stopped, looking around the forest for any sign of the Dorocha. Arthur winced as another scream filled the air; this time, the sound was much louder than the first. He opened his mouth to shout for Gwaine to come into the relative safety of the tunnels, but before he could, a dorocha appeared, hurtling straight towards his knight. Arthur wanted to run towards him, but found himself frozen in place. Besides, he was too far away. He would never make it in time.

Just as the spirit was about to hit Gwaine, Percival came out of nowhere. He threw the drunk to the ground, landing on top of him, their faces inches from one another. For a strange moment, Arthur thought that they might kiss, neither of them making any move to get up from the muddy floor.

"Never knew you cared." Gwaine quipped, effectively ruining the moment. Arthur found himself frowning, but had the good sense to take the torch Leon was holding out to him, running to his two vulnerable knights.

"Quick!" he shouted, swinging his torch like a sword, warding the creature away with his flames. Gwaine and Percival disentangled themselves from one another, sprinting into the tunnels, a place where not even the Dorocha dared to tread.

Luckily, a couple of gaja bushes had sprung from between the cracks in the rock; none of the men had to venture out into the darkness in an attempt to find the berries. On Arthur's orders, the knights smeared themselves in the juices, the smell making their noses wrinkle. Merlyn would have had something funny to say about their predicament. She always had a line or two to make Arthur smile.

"Remind me again why we're wearing this disgusting paste." Percival grimaced, his face only visible through the light of the torches.

"Wilddeoren are completely blind. They rely totally on their sense of smell. Gaja berries will mask our scent."

"What are the chances of us getting through here without seeing a wilddeoren?" Gwaine inquired, his usual lighthearted humour dimmed in the darkness.

Arthur winced. "None."

Gwaine looked like he was about to reply, but at that moment he tripped, leaning on Percival to right himself. Leon waved his torch at the floor, revealing what were clearly human bones littering the ground. Arthur could've sworn that Gwaine turned pale, rushing past the other knights to get just behind the prince. So much for the bravest men in the land.

The sound of a wilddeoren snorting filled the caves, silencing the knights. They stopped walking, listening to the sound getting closer. Arthur swore, smothering his torch on the ground, glad to see Leon doing the same. Feeling down the wall in the blackness, the prince dragged his men behind a large wall of rock, ducking behind it as if the stone would protect him from the creatures in the tunnels. He could hear the sound of feet scraping against the floor, the snorting sounds getting closer towards them. Arthur took a deep breath. He peered over the ridge of rock, his eyes adjusting slowly to the terrible light. He could just about make out a creature in the tunnels ahead, the ugly thing approaching them rather quickly for Arthur's liking. He ducked down behind the rock again, sensing his knights doing the same, feeling his breathing quicken. This was not how he died. He wouldn't let tales of Arthur Pendragon end with his death at the hands of an overgrown mole.

"Keep still." he muttered, listening to the sound of sniffing coming from above their heads. "Don't even breathe."

His men didn't need to be told twice. The only sound was that of the creature lurking so very close to them. Arthur's fingers itched for his sword, but he stopped himself, knowing that even the slightest movement could give them away.

With a strangled shriek, the wilddeoren continued down the tunnel, the sniffing fading as it disappeared.

Arthur almost sighed in relief. Almost. He looked along at his knights, glad to see that they were all still there, when suddenly, another wilddeoren came around the corner and into their verge. He stared at it, willing it to leave, but it started towards them, sniffing curiously. Gwaine didn't spot it until it was too late; it dug a claw into his chainmail, its snout very close to his head. The knight stared at it, terrified as it licked at his face, his hand inching towards his sword. He stabbed upwards, catching it in its soft belly, the creature screeching before collapsing to the ground.

"You fool." Arthur hissed, wishing he was close enough to Gwaine to hit him.

The drunk scrunched up his face in confusion. "It's dead."

"That one is, yes." Arthur cursed. "They hunt in packs."

At the sound of more wilddeoren approaching, there was only one thing they could do.

"Run!"

~

Lancelot awoke to sunlight streaming through the canopy of leaves above his head, the memories of the night before lingering somewhere at the front of his mind. He was still alive, meaning that the Vilia seemed to have kept to the word. The knight smiled, glad to see that Merlyn wasn't the only source of good magic. It was a nice thought.

He opened his eyes, rolling onto his side, expecting to see Merlyn where he had left her. But in her place, there was only his cloak discarded on the ground.

"Merlyn?" he murmured in alarm, sitting up as he searched the woods for her presence.

"Merlyn?!" he shouted once more, listening for the rustling of trees, footsteps, anything that proved he wasn't alone.

"Shh."

Lancelot turned, surprised to find his friend on her feet, a crudely made spear held tightly between her hands. She was balanced on two stepping stones in the middle of the stream, a couple of fish already hanging from her arm. He watched as she stabbed her sharpened stick into the water, listening to the calm splashing sound the stream made as she speared another fish with relative ease. Merlyn was certainly a woman of many surprises.

Lancelot got to his feet warily, surprised to see his friend standing on two feet. He'd assumed that, even if she was healed by the water spirits, that she'd still be weak. Clearly, he'd been wrong.

"Breakfast?" Merlyn jumped onto dry land, trudging towards him, her boots squelching in the mud. She held up her fish; Lancelot wondered how long she'd been awake before he'd risen.

"Merlyn, what... Why, you..."

"What?" his friend asked in confusion, apparently unfazed from returning from the brink of death.

"You're meant to be... dying." Lancelot managed, completely stunned. Even for Merlyn, this was rather impressive.

"Sorry." Merlyn grinned, giving him a curious look. She passed her spear over to him. "Here."

Lancelot examined the stick, uncertainty crossing his face. "What's this for?"

"You look like you're going to fall over." Merlyn chuckled, her eyes sparkling with humour.

Lancelot narrowed his eyes, swinging the stick at her head. She ducked, as he had expected her to, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, you're not as quick as Arthur." she teased, taking half a step back, just enough to stay out of his reach.

Lancelot shook his head, amazed. He stepped forward, pulling Merlyn into a hug, relieved to find her safe. Gwen never would have forgiven him if their friend had died in his care.

Merlyn pulled back, a tight smile lingering on her lips. She snatched her stick back, heading towards the horses. "Come on. We need to catch up with the others."

"No. You're going back to Camelot." Lancelot shouted after her, but he knew his arguments would be of no use. Merlyn was too stubborn for her own good; unfortunately, he couldn't force her to follow him towards safety.

"You might be." she called over her shoulder.

"Merlyn."

"Say hello to Gaius for me. And Gwen." Lancelot could tell she was smirking.

"Merlyn!" Lancelot shouted. This time, she stopped, turning to face him. Reaching for his cloak and sword, the knight reluctantly followed her. He sure as hell wasn't being left behind.

"Arthur can't finish this without us." Merlyn said earnestly.

Lancelot sighed. "Arthur's right about you. You don't ever do as you're told."

His friend seemed to mull the words over, a faint smile twitching at her lips. "No."

Merlyn was the kindest, most determined, most loyal person Lancelot had ever met. Arthur was lucky to have her. The knight could only hope that, when the time came, he understood her choices, that he wouldn't fault her for her secrets. She deserved that much.

~

Arthur wasn't quite sure how he and his knights had managed to get out of the tunnels alive, but he was hardly going to complain about it. Splashing cold water onto his face from the stream running around the caves, Leon crouched beside him, he experienced a potent sense of deja-vu. It seemed strange to see the parallel, especially considering how much had changed in the past few years. Still, here he was, squatting in front of a stream, fighting for something he loved, the loyalest of men by his side. He wasn't sure if the thought was refreshing, or incredibly depressing.

"They need to rest, sire." Leon broke him away from his thoughts, jerking his head towards the others. "Even Gwaine's gone quiet."

Personally, Arthur thought that it was an improvement.

"Sounds like a good reason to keep going." he smirked, wiping his hands on his trousers. With more effort than he was willing to admit, he stood, ignoring his aching muscles and the annoyed huffs of his men as he stepped over the stream. As much as he himself would like to rest, he knew that his people were dying. Merlyn may have given up her life for this mission; it killed him to realise that he wouldn't survive to know if she had lived.

~

Merlyn had never felt so alive. Her magic hummed, oddly content considering her close brush with death. Lancelot had explained how she survived; the witch couldn't quite believe her luck. As she rode through the forest, following the billowing, crimson cloak of the knight in front of her, she longed to let her magic spring free, flowing through the endless parade of trees, a golden light amongst the greenery. Still, she held back, knowing that, no matter how she may feel, her body must still be healing. It would be unwise to waste such energy, especially with the trying time ahead.

She had no intention of letting Arthur down, especially knowing exactly what he was planning. Merlyn wouldn't let him die, not when the crown had finally started to rest easily upon his head. Still, her enthusiasm didn't extend to the horses; if she wanted any chance of catching her prince before he did something stupid, dying being the first thing that came to mind, they would need to be rested if they were to be pushed hard the next day.

Finally, they arrived at a small hut, the clearing rather silent compared to the rest of the forest. Merlyn shivered despite the warm air, a feeling of dread sitting in the pit of her stomach. There was something off about this place, something wrong.

"Hello?" Lancelot raised his voice as he opened the creaking door, pushing his sword out in front of him. Merlyn shuffled uneasily behind him, biting her lip, doing her best not to voice her nerves. The knight used his blade to brush away a piece of hanging fabric, the facade of a wall separating the area of the small hut. There, sitting at the table, was a man, his back to the pair of intruders. Merlyn frowned, transfixed by the hollow soul frozen in place, alone in the middle of the woods. She tried to ignore the fact that this could have been her, that if she was without magic, without a destiny, her fate wouldn't be dissimilar to the peasant man before her.

Lancelot lay him on the floor, placing a blanket over his terrified face. He'd have died so very scared, uncertain of the true dangers that lurked in the night. Merlyn couldn't get his face out of her head, wondering how long it had taken for his blood to crystallise, freezing in his veins, stopping his heart. She wondered how long it would have taken for her to meet the same fate.

"We can't stay here." she murmured, eying the covered body of the dead man.

Lancelot sighed, likely just as uncomfortable with the idea as she was, although, he tried not to show it. "There's nowhere else, Merlyn."

He took off his cloak, walking through the wall of cloth and throwing it over the table. "We'll make a fire. It'll keep us safe and dry."

Merlyn almost laughed when the knight picked up a few logs from a small pile next to the door. It seemed so strange, to have such an abundant supply when they didn't even need it.

"And there's more than enough fuel to get us through the night." Lancelot remarked, apparently forgetting who exactly who his travelling partner was meant to be.

Merlyn raised an eyebrow, walking over to the firepit.

"Bæl on bryne."

Fire erupted from nothing; the witch realised that she was glad for the sudden warmth of the flames. She hadn't realised how cold she had become.

"I'm not entirely useless, you know." she muttered, sounding far more bitter than she'd originally intended. But then, with her current failures outweighing her past success, it was hard to think of herself as much more than a self-sacrificing fool.

~

A heavy mist had fallen over Arthur's camp, their fire little more than an orange smudge against a ghostly landscape. He had never understood Merlyn's gift with the flames, the way they seemed to burn so much hotter, so much brighter than he could ever manage. He'd put it down to some kind of trick she'd learned in Ealdor, but he supposed that now, he would never know. Standing a few metres away from the fire, listening to the quiet of his subdued men, he missed her more than anything. He would give anything just to see her smile one more time; he wished, as he stood guard in the dwindling light, that the shadows would reshape themselves into a mirage of her face. He should've made her smile before she left him. Just once.

"Seen anything?" Elyan questioned from beside him, startling the prince. He hadn't even noticed his knight sneak up on him, lost in the untold wishes of his past.

"No." he whispered, shaking his head almost absentmindedly, still staring straight ahead, hoping to see some familiar figure in the mist. It was a fruitless prayer, he knew that, but Merlyn was nothing if not ridiculously unpredictable.

"Do you know what we're going to face on the Isle of the Blessed?" Elyan asked, his curiosity overriding any sense of decorum. Then again, Arthur could hardly complain. He wasn't acting much like a prince in that moment.

He nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak.

Elyan almost seemed faintly amused. "Do you want to tell me?"

Arthur had almost forgotten that his knights thought that this was just another quest. They didn't realise the truth, didn't know that, this time, they wouldn't all make it back alive. Of course, they had defeated an immortal army together, defied the worst odds, saved his people without so much as a second thought. To them, the odds they were facing may be great, but nothing like what they had defeated before. Arthur wasn't going to be the person to tell them otherwise. They didn't need to know that he wouldn't be making the return trip.

"The burden is mine, and mine to bear alone." he stated, forcing his face to remain expressionless.

Elyan, to his surprise, scoffed. "Look around, Arthur. We would fight a thousand armies with our bare hands for you. You're never alone. We stand together."

Arthur turned to look at his men. Leon stood a little away from the fire, watching as Gwaine and Percival played a rather deadly game of catch with a sword, an amused smile faint upon his face. Gwaine may have quietened down over the past few hours, but he and Percival didn't seem to need to speak as they passed the blade between them, their comradery rather touching. Perhaps in his guilt, Arthur had forgotten what it was like to stand with his men, not as a superior, but as an equal. A friend. He had forgotten what he had felt when first fighting with them only a couple of years ago, what he had felt every day since. These were people that he would trust with his life, with his kingdom, if it ever came to it. They were good men. They deserved his respect.

"Come on. I'll take over." Elyan reached out for the prince's torch, a strange glint in his eye. "You need some rest."

Startled, Arthur handed over his torch, patting Elyan on the shoulder, sending him a sincere smile.

"Thank you."

As the shrieks of the Dorocha rang through his ears, the prince felt somewhat more certain, knowing that his men wouldn't fail him. They would survive the night, and once he was gone, they would ensure that Camelot lived for many more to come.

~

Merlyn sat next to the firepit, basking in the warm glow of relative safety.
She held a cup of wine loosely in her hand, enjoying the warm feeling of alcohol burning down her throat. She looked towards Lancelot, who sat on the other side of the fire, fidgeting uncomfortably in his chainmail. She could only imagine the pain he must've been going through, the heavy metal digging into the skin. As she traced the leather padding beneath her clothes, she winced. It must be quite hard to be a knight.

"You don't have to continue on this journey with me, you know. You could return to Camelot. To Gwen." she said seriously, picking at her fingernails in an attempt to appear indifferent. Part of her liked having the company, someone with the knowledge of all that she could accomplish.

Lancelot chuckled loudly, reaching out to refill her cup. "Try and stop me."

"Why? Because you're a knight, you feel honour bound?"

Lancelot stared at her for a moment, before shaking his head softly. "You wouldn't understand. It doesn't make any sense to me either."

Merlyn frowned. Whenever she'd heard a man talk like that, love always had something to do with it. "Gwen?"

He smiled sheepishly. "I made her a vow to keep you safe." he confessed, shuffling uneasily in his seat.

Merlyn wasn't sure what to say. Maybe she should've been angry, but the idea that her friends would care so much made what she had to do just fractionally more difficult. She felt tears sting in her eyes, but forced them away, hoping that her smile was enough.

"You don't have to worry about me." she lied easily. "I know how to stay out of trouble."

"I made a vow, Merlyn." Lancelot met her gaze, the sincerity in his eyes rather daunting, his honesty unparalleled by any man she'd ever met. But the witch could understand his position. In a way, she had her own promise, a vow to save Arthur and complete her destiny. As Merlyn's gaze fell to the fire, the pair sat in comfortable silence for a long moment, neither of them quite brave enough to break their uncertain peace.

"You must miss her." the witch finally spoke, listening to the cracking of the fire. She could feel her palpable longing for Arthur sparking in her heart, even as she closed the gap between them. She could only imagine what Lancelot was going through, racing away from his love and into imminent danger.

The knight smiled shyly, leaning back in his chair in contemplation. "I do. Sometimes, I think that she deserves a better man than me, someone who can always be there for her."

Merlyn knew that pity was an atrocious motion, but she couldn't help the saddened look she gave him. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Lancelot questioned, a wistful smile upon his face. "I promised her that I would look after you; she wouldn't love me as much if I were to break my word."

Merlyn didn't know what to say to that.

~

Merlyn awoke to coldness, the sensation almost numbing her mind. For a moment, she thought that her salvation had been a dream, that she was still on her way to Camelot, still frozen on the brink of death. But with the realisation that she could feel panic, could feel something more than the cold seeping through her skin, she bolted upright, gathering her bearings.

"Lancelot!" she shouted, struck by the shrieks of the Dorocha. She ducked the monster, shaking the knight awake, pouring her leftover wine on the embers of the fire. The flames shot upwards, freeing them from danger for just enough time to gather their meagre belongings, running out of the door as fast as they could.

Merlyn knew that they weren't safe here anymore. Ignoring the horses, she knew that there was only one creature that could help them now; if they were to survive, she would need to call upon all her powers and pray.

"O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes."

Her commands were punctuated by the Dorocha's screams; Merlyn barely had time to check that Lancelot was still following her before another spirit hurtled towards them. She braced for impact, but when none came, she looked up at the sky to see her saviour.

Kilgharrah's face was contorted to show his large fangs, breathing fire at any spirit that dared to near them. Illuminated by the moon, he looked like a golden god, a creature to strike terror into the very hearts of men. Merlyn grinned: it was times like these that she was rather thankful for her powers.

Lancelot, meanwhile, looked scared witless. He raised his sword, running forward as if to strike the dragon, but Merlyn put her hand out, effectively stopping him.

"It's all right. It's all right." she breathed, trying to sound somewhat reassuring. She doubted she'd done much to quench his fear, but the knight lowered his blade uncertainly, gripping the hilt like his life depended on it.

Merlyn returned her gaze to the dragon, bowing reverently. "Thank you."

"Who is your friend?" Kilgharrah demanded, ignoring her gratitude. He turned his large head towards the knight, his sharp, yellow eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I'm Lancelot." the knight croaked, barely managing to get the words out of his mouth. He stared up at the looming figure of the dragon with a sense of tentative fascination. Merlyn could understand why: the dragon could be rather overwhelming.

Kilgharrah nodded, speaking almost to himself. "Of course, Sir Lancelot. The bravest and most noble of them all."

Merlyn thought that the other knights might have something to say on that matter, but she didn't think this was the time to question the dragon.

"I'm not sure that's true." Lancelot said with curious modesty, shuffling on his feet with understandable nerves.

Kilgharrah's eyes twinkled, but he simply shook his head at the knight. "We shall see. For now, there are more pressing things at hand. The Dorocha cannot be allowed to remain in this world. The sundered veil must be restored."

"We're on our way to the Isle of the Blessed to help Arthur heal it." Lancelot stated with a newfound courage. Apparently he'd decided the dragon wasn't going to eat him.

"Indeed." Kilgharrah nodded gravely. "But at what price?"

"I know that the spirit world demands a sacrifice." Merlyn said, ignoring the worried look Lancelot gave her.

The Great Dragon scoffed. "It demands nothing. It is the Cailleach, the gatekeeper to the spirit world, who asks such a price."

Merlyn ran her fingers down the hilt of Excalibur, finding comfort in the familiar blade as she faced the reminder of what was to come. "And there's no other way?"

"There is not." the dragon shook his head, sounding almost sad. Merlyn cursed inwardly, wishing that there was something she could do.

"Arthur intends to sacrifice himself to heal the veil. It is my destiny to protect him. You taught me that." she said, trying not to sound too broken. She didn't want to die.

"Merlyn," Kilgharrah murmured. "You must not do this."

"I have no choice." she closed her eyes, knowing there was no use crying over her own fate. Destiny had been cruel to her; she'd hoped that she would be able to see Albion, watch how it became something magical, but clearly it was not to be. "I must take his place."

Kilgharrah stared at her intently for a long moment, the gold in his eyes only heightened by the darkness. "From the moment I met you, I saw something that was invisible. Now, it is there for all to see."

Merlyn chuckled, setting a bright smile upon her face as she looked up at the dragon. In an odd way, he was the first friend she'd made in Camelot. "A lot of what you see, old friend, is what you taught me."

"It will be an empty world without you, young witch." Kilgharrah looked at her with deep sorrow; part of Merlyn was glad that she'd be missed, even if the dragon was the only thing that would remember her. But as long as Albion came to fruition, her sacrifice would be worth it. After all, what was one woman when the happiness of everyone she loved was at stake?

~

Merlyn wished that she'd asked Kilgharrah for a ride, knowing that she would find Arthur far faster from the night sky. As much as she loved the forest, the greenery was dulling her senses, Lancelot's cloak standing out against the leaves. In the early morning, mist rose from the ground, eerily obscuring the path ahead. Still, it was a pale change from the green and brown of the last few days.

"When we get to the Isle of the Blessed, do you really intend to sacrifice yourself?" Lancelot asked, his mind clearly not on the scenery. Merlyn nudged her horse a little faster so that she rode beside him, not quite sure how to answer his question.

"What do you want me to say?" she sighed, knowing that her friend wasn't going to like her answer.

She dared to glance towards him, worried by the spark of admiration twinkling in his eyes. Merlyn was a lot of things, but she certainly wasn't someone to be admired.

"I look at you, and I wonder about myself. Could I knowingly give up my life for anything?"

Merlyn shrugged. "You have to have a reason. Something you care about, that is more important than anything. Wouldn't you do it for Gwen?"

"In a heartbeat." Lancelot replied instinctively. He looked almost surprised at his own answer, sudden realisation flitting through his eyes.

Merlyn smiled sadly. "Then you know how I feel."

She kicked her horse forward, racing away from Lancelot, the cool wind whipping her hair behind her. She would give up her life a thousand times to save Arthur. He was worth so much more than her pitiful existence.

~

Lancelot looked ahead to the ruined castle in the distance, smoke floating into the sky from its broken walls. He and Merlyn had been riding hard all day; he'd hoped to seek refuge within the fortress. Apparently, it wasn't to be.

"Looks like someone beat us to it." he said despondently.

"Bandits?" Merlyn guessed, but Lancelot wasn't paying attention. They were still a long way off; the sky was darkening with every moment that they watched the wisps of smoke escape into the air.

"Do you think we'll make it by nightfall?" he asked, giving Merlyn a worried look. She'd been acting strangely, her determination unshakable. She had never meant to return to Camelot, he realised. She had always known that this was the price.

"There's only one way to find out." she grinned, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Charging forward, she galloped off without him, leaving the brave knight to wonder how exactly he could protect someone who had no interest in being saved.

~

Arthur watched Gwaine remove his socks in morbid fascination, wrinkling his nose as the smell of the knight's feet wafted over the fire. He watched his fellow men contorting their faces in disgust, Leon groaning in horror.

"Has something died?" Elyan moaned, edging further away from smelly knight.

Gwaine gave him a withering look. "Why am I always the butt?"

"Can't think." Leon said with increasingly characteristic sarcasm. Arthur made a mental note to keep him away from Merlyn in the future, not that it would matter much to him anymore. He smirked as Leon and Elyan, who had previously been sitting next to Gwaine, came to sit on his side of the fire, leaving the poor drunk alone with his socks.

"Pick on Percival." Gwaine complained half-heartedly, gesturing towards the giant with his horrible socks.

Percival raised a large eyebrow. "Why me?"

"He washes." Elyan piped up, causing Percival to look oddly smug, as if basic cleanliness was something of which to be proud.

"And he doesn't set fire to his socks." Leon chucked, pointing to where Gwaine's were currently going up in flames.

"No!" Gwaine whined, retrieving his burnt socks and shaking them theatrically, smoke rising, the smell of burning wafting through the air. The others snorted with laughter, but in that moment, Arthur heard footsteps approaching their fire.

"Quiet." he ordered, glad to see that his men could still follow his orders. In the distance, they heard the clattering of metal, followed by a loud clang, as if someone was fiddling with the doors to the fortress. Lancelot had pointed it out for the prince when they had organised this journey, muttering something about it being an old bandits hideout. Clearly, it wasn't quite as abandoned as the knight had been led to believe.

The knights drew their swords, doing their best to see through the gloom. A dark shadow was making their way towards them rather casually, but with the absence of light, Arthur couldn't make out a face. As the light of the fire cast amber light upon the figure however, the prince realised that he recognised the features.

"Lancelot?" he inquired, edging forwards slowly. "How's Merlyn?"

Lancelot took a deep breath, avoiding Arthur's gaze. "Bad news."

No. The prince felt his life shatter around him, the tiny, fluttering hope that, just maybe, Merlyn would survive, so rudely smothered, snuffed out by nothing but words.

"She's still alive."

Arthur's gaze found the shadows behind Lancelot, searching for the familiar figure stumbling into sight. He chucked in relief, listening to the cries of joy from the knights around him. He sheathed his sword, letting his men have a moment with his surviving servant, too overwhelmed with relief to do anything more than watch as they engulfed her in hugs, Leon messing with her hair in an affectionate manner. But finally, she was there, standing right in front of him, so incredibly alive.

He didn't have any words, his guilt and worry and shame fading, if only briefly, from his mind. She smiled at him expectantly, faintly amused as he patted her shoulder, a gesture he usually reserved for his knights.

"It's good to see you, Merlyn." he stated, cursing himself for his own ridiculous awkwardness. But, fortunately for him, Merlyn was a little better at expressing her emotions.

"Oh, come here you ridiculous dollophead." she grinned, pulling on the front of his chainmail, their kiss nothing short of brilliant. It was messy, a clash of lips and teeth, but so very human. So very alive.

~

Later, when the rest of the knights had found solace in some sense of sleep, Merlyn lay with Arthur, the pair of them watching the molten ashes of the fire light up the darkened sky. The prince turned to look at her, mystified by the fact that she'd survived, only to find her staring back, the same disbelief etched across her face.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, want and anguish shining through their eyes, like pinpricks of shining horror, a symbol of their dying love. Then, as if she couldn't take anymore from her prince, Merlyn turned back to the fire, her expression grim.

"Of all the things I've faced, I've never been worried about dying." he murmured, shifting his gaze to the orange flames, unable to look his lover in the eye. If he were honest, with her by his side, he never thought that death could ever touch his soul, but it appeared that there were some things that even she couldn't save him from.

Merlyn scoffed. "I don't think you should do now."

Arthur felt some warm glow in his heart, a spark of hope in his despair. Even now, she believed in him. Even with dawn so very far away, she believed he would find some way to survive. "Sometimes, you do puzzle me."

Merlyn raised an eyebrow, amusement glinting in her eyes. "You still haven't fathomed me out?"

"No." Arthur replied immediately, his honesty surprising even himself.

"Well," Merlyn shrugged, offering little explanation. "I always thought that, if things had been different, we would have been good friends."

Arthur smirked, throwing a piece of kindling in the direction of his lover. "I think we crossed that boundary a long time ago."

Merlyn grinned, repositioning herself on her log so that she fully faced her prince. "I suppose. It's a shame that you're still such an arrogant, pompous dollophead."

Arthur laughed, covering his mouth with his hand so to muffle his chuckles. His knights deserved some rest, even if it eluded him.

"That's what you have to remember. Things never turn out how you expect. You'll see." Merlyn murmured reassuringly, her stare fixated on the fire. "We will defeat the Dorocha. We will. Together."

And wasn't that everything? It had always come down to the pair of them, a force of powerful good, fighting against the evils of this world. Sometimes, Arthur wondered why there were so many who fought to hurt him, to hurt his friends, his family. Sometimes, he wondered if Camelot would be happier with Morgana on the throne, with something more than his uncertainty. But then he'd look at Merlyn, and all his insecurities would fade away. He loved her more than he loved a clear night sky, more than he loved his father, his kingdom. Her name would be his last whisper, his dying breath; he would always wonder why she chose him, why such perfection would lower herself to the role of a simple servant. If he could, he would elevate her, pull her up to the pedestal she deserved, knowing that she would never let him down. Never. He would love her for her steely optimism, for her devotion and her love. He needed her; he would always need her, even in his last moments.

"I appreciate that." he managed, unsure how to express everything he truly felt, knowing that his words would never be enough. Instead, he reached down into his rucksack, searching for a small, worn bag, hoping that its contents would signal everything he wished to say. He emptied the sigil onto his hand, thumbing the dragon enscrived into the centre. It had to be enough.

"This belonged to my mother." he stated hollowly, trying to keep his voice void of emotion. "This is her sigil. Here."

He extended the seal to Merlyn, watching her thin fingers grasp the metal. It suited her, oddly. But then, in Arthur's eyes, most things did.

Merlyn stared at him, searching for something in his gaze. "Arthur-"

"Just..." Arthur breathed, clearing his mind. She deserved this. "Take it."

Merlyn looked down at the sigil, tracing the edge of the cool metal, deep in thought. Part of the prince had to wonder what his mother would have thought of him for taking a servant as a lover, whether she would have approved. It would be the final gift he would ever bestow upon her, the symbol enough for her to live as a noblewoman, perhaps, if his uncle would allow it, even a queen. There was no one he would trust to run his kingdom better than Merlyn. Camelot needed her.

"It's going to be fine. Everything will be all right." Merlyn smiled reassuringly, pocketing the sigil. Arthur hadn't realised that tears had sprung to his eyes, the thought of leaving her behind almost too much to bear.

"I'm just tired." the prince mumbled, trying to subtly wipe away a tear.

"You don't have to sacrifice yourself." Merlyn said, looking at him with what could only be described as complete despair.

"I have to save my people." Arthur spoke with conviction, trying to sound more certain than he felt. He was a coward, facing death, not as a warrior, but as a fool.

Merlyn seemed to see the weakness in his face. "I will take your place."

No. The grief Arthur had felt when Merlyn had sacrificed herself for him was unbearable; the prince knew that, if she truly died, he would never recover. He would rather kill himself than live another moment in that agony.

Arthur shook his head vigorously. "Merlyn-"

"What is the life of a servant compared to that of a prince?" she asked; Arthur realised that she truly meant it. She would die for him. She would die to save them all, even without the responsibility of a kingdom on her shoulders. And Arthur realised that, if he had to make a choice, he would die for her without a second thought. She was everything to him.

Everything.

And yet, he knew that she wouldn't believe him.

"A good servant's hard to come by." he managed a grin, watching as Merlyn leaned in, as if to tell him some terrible secret.

"I'm not that good." she whispered, smirking knowingly.

"True." he agreed, throwing another piece of kindling on the fire. "Just promise me one thing. Live for me, Merlyn. I want you to be happy in your life. You deserve that."

"Oh, Arthur." Merlyn blinked away her tears. "You must know that I'll never be truly happy without you."

Arthur could have cried then, cursing the gods for their terrible games. Just as everything seemed to be falling into place, it was taken from them, ripped away by necessity and hope. It was cruel. Spiteful. Unkind.

He took Merlyn's hand in his, bringing it to his lips and then just held it, glad to feel her next to him, a comfort for the day ahead. She would survive, he knew it. She'd never needed him as much as he needed her.

"Try, Merlyn. Please. Just try."

~

Arthur looked out over the water, the ruins in the distance almost hidden by the gloomy mist. He could barely see the waves washing against the shore, his vision clouded by a vague sense of mystery, magic tingling in the air. The hair on the back of his hands stood on end, his uneasiness making him shiver. There was something wrong with this place, a broken fragment of something brilliant long ago. He thought that it could almost be beautiful, if it wasn't for the eerie sense of wrongness that shifted his view.

"The Isle of the Blessed." he breathed, the air billowing white in front of him. He had arrived at his destiny. At his doom.

~

The journey across the lake was silent, the sound of some foreign creature screaming in their ears doing nothing to settle their nerves. As they vacated the boat, stumbling through the ruins, the shrieks only grew louder, a feeling of dread sitting in the pit of the prince's stomach.

"What is that?" Leon asked, drawing his sword. Arthur barely heard him, staring at the sky as if he expected the thing to simply disappear.

"I really hope I'm wrong." Gwaine murmured, drawing his own blade. Arthur cursed, realising where he'd heard the screaches before. Finally unsheathing his sword, he stared at the sky, waiting.

Just as they made their way into a relatively open courtyard, the creature revealed itself, plummeting down towards them.

"Wyvern!" he shouted in alarm, swiping his blade in warning as it came for him, forcing it to alter its descent. The wyvern attacked again, this time aiming for Percival, who didn't quite manage to dodge its claw. He fell to the ground, blood oozing from his arm.

And then, they stopped, suspended in the air like puppets. With a final hiss in their direction, the wyverns disappeared over the ruin walls, vanishing from sight.

"See? That's how you deal with them." Gwaine smiled widely, as if their swords had truly warded off the terrible creatures. But Arthur didn't have time to question their incredible stroke of luck. There wasn't time.

"We need to keep moving." he stated, jogging further into the ruins. Unfortunately, Arthur hadn't paid attention to the direction in which he was running; soon, he saw the wyverns once again overhead, circling him and his knights as if they were prey.

"Sire, you have to go on. We'll fend them off." Leon bellowed rather bravely, motioning for his fellow knights to point their swords at the sky. They followed his commands, leaving Arthur with no choice.

"Good luck." he muttered, not bothering to see if anyone had heard him, returning to running through the stone archways, hoping to find what he was looking for. He could feel the rift calling to him, knew that his time was coming to an end.

~

Merlyn hadn't been entirely sure what she'd been expecting when she found the rift between the worlds, but it certainly wasn't a physical rip, the shadows of souls colouring the darkness. Gwaine stood next to her, the golden light of his torch a brilliant contrast against the gloom. It gave her hope that she could succeed. As they walked forward, she wondered if it would be better for her to just knock her friends out with a wave of her hand, but decided against it. It may have been selfish, but she wanted as long as she could in company. It would be horrible to walk through alone.

"It is not often we have visitors." an ancient voice croaked from somewhere just before the veil, her dark cloak blending in with her surroundings.

Arthur stepped forward, straightening his posture, standing with an impressive regal air.

"I demand that you heal the tear between the two worlds." he commanded, staring at the Caileach with as much courage as he could muster. Merlyn was proud of him. He'd be fine without her.

"It was not I who created this horror. Why should it be I who stops it?" the woman asked, her eyes so very dull, soulless.

"Because innocent people are dying." Merlyn hissed, letting a flicker of her power radiate towards the inhuman creature.

"Indeed." the Caileach had the audacity to smirk, beginning to cackle with hateful glee. It was too much for Gwaine who, with a roar, charged forward, raising his sword. But the woman just lifted her staff, her eyes glowing gold as the knight was pushed backwards, flying through the air and landing on the ground. His torch was snuffed out.

"Is this the best you can do?" the Caileach inquired, her voice full of mirth. She looked terribly smug; Merlyn felt herself beginning to hate the woman. This was why magic was considered so evil. This was why she had never seen Albion come to fruition.

"I know what you want." Arthur stated, his determination in the face of such power admirable.

"Do you?" the Caileach asked, arching an eyebrow in a rather sinister manner. "And are you willing to let me have it?"

Arthur hesitated; for a moment, Merlyn thought she may still be able to convince him of something a little less lethal, but before she could reach out to him, he nodded, stuck in his own sense of grandeur.

"I'm prepared to pay whatever price is necessary." he said evenly, as if he hadn't agreed to simply give up his life. The Caileach lifted her hand, gesturing for him to come closer with one, cruel finger. Arthur turned to her, the sorrow in his eyes almost too much to bear.

"I love you." he mouthed, taking another resolute step forward.

"And I love you." Merlyn whispered, concentrating on her powers.

"Forþ fleoge."

Arthur flew to the side, crashing to the ground, falling unconscious. Merlyn hoped that, one day, he would forgive her.

With a nod to Lancelot, Merlyn slowly started to walk towards the Caileach, her expression grave as she stared down at her feet, refusing to meet the creature's gaze. Excalibur glinted at her hip, shining despite the darkness. It had been at her side for a long, almost as a comfort, a force so strong that it could kill what was already dead. As she approached the Caileach, her thumb found the hilt, tracing the intricate carvings found in the wood. It would be her solace on the other side.

"So, Emrys, you choose to challenge me after all." the creature spoke with a respect she hadn't bothered to show to neither Arthur nor Gwaine. The pair of them walked around the sacrificial altar, Merlyn finding the strength to eye her wearily.

"Will you give yourself to the spirits to save your prince?" the Caileach asked, sounding almost surprised.

Merlyn nodded. "It is my destiny."

The Caileach didn't seem particularly satisfied by her answer. "Perhaps. But your time among men isn't over, Emrys, even if you want it to be."

The Caileach looked towards the veil; when Merlyn followed its gaze, she saw Lancelot standing there, a sorry smile etched on his face. He met her eyes; in that moment, Merlyn knew what he was willing to do.

"No!" she screamed, her eyes flaring gold. Time seemed to slow around her, but she could do nothing but stare, watching as Lancelot tried to die for her. She couldn't let this happen. Subconsciously, she felt for her sword, gripping it tightly, as if the blade would hold all the answers she needed.

And then, everything clicked into place.

"Lancelot! Stop! Nobody has to die." she shouted urgently as time resumed its usual pace. The knight paused, his eyes widening as she drew her sword. He would recognise it, even from this distance. It had been the blade to save Camelot, after all.

Kilgharrah had told her. He may not have known it, but he had given her the key.

"Don't you remember what the dragon said? He told us that it was the Caileach that demanded the sacrifice, not the Dorocha."

"No." the Caileach hissed, raising her staff threateningly. "I am the only one who can mend the veil. You must give me a blood sacrifice: otherwise, you all will perish."

Merlyn laughed, glad to see panic in the creature's eyes. "You're wrong. I am Emrys. I have the power to kill the walking dead. I have survived a serket sting and I have saved Camelot more times than I can count. We don't need you."

Her eyes flashed gold as she launched herself over the altar, Excalibur seemed to glow as she thrust it forward, aiming towards the Caileach. The creature pointed her staff at the witch, but she was too late. Merlyn's sword split her cloak, embedding itself in her very heart.

She found Lancelot's gaze, almost chuckling at the way he looked at her in utter awe. She smiled, relieved to have defeated one vile creature, to have destroyed something twisted between the worlds. The Cailleach may not have started this terror, but the way she reveled in it sickened the witch to her very core. This, she realised was what she was fighting against. If she could strip the world of this terrible magic, it would be a better place.

She started forward, ready to berate Lancelot for his foolishness, but before she could reach him, she saw his face pale. His eyes widened once again, but this time, his astonishment wasn't filled with hope, but with terror. Without warning, she was blasted forward by a powerful burst of energy, hitting the ground hard. Groaning in pain, she looked up just in time for Lancelot to be knocked back, flailing at the edge of the veil.

"No!" she screamed, her eyes flashing gold once again, but her actions were useless. With one last look of something akin to acceptance, Lancelot fell into the void, the bravest of knights vanishing before her eyes. She turned to see the Cailleach slump to the floor, able to rest now she had her final act of vengeance. Lancelot was gone. A husband, a knight, her confidant. Gone.

"No." she whispered, clawing her way to her knees. She tried to reach out for his soul, praying that it was still within her grasp, but it was no use. He wasn't coming back.

Merlyn almost broke down in that moment, wishing that she had more time, that she didn't have to give up on her friend. But people were still dying in Camelot. She had to save them, even if it cost her every bit of happiness she'd accumulated over the past years. Concentrating on her magic, she watched the veil close, her instincts mending the gap as she lost herself in sorrow. Even as thunder rumbled around her, she could only focus on one thought. He didn't have to die. She'd saved him, saved them all. That was the hardest thing to accept. He didn't have to die.

"No."

How would she tell Gwen?

~

There wasn't a body to bury. That was probably the hardest part for Gwen, uncertain as to where her husband had gone. She was a widow, now, lost without the one man who she'd thought would always stand by her side. This wasn't how their love story was meant to go, cut off long before their happy ending. They were meant to raise children together, grow old together. He wasn't meant to die. It was selfish of him, to leave her alone in this world.

No. That wasn't fair. He was only doing his duty, only following what she'd told him to do. Merlyn had told her that he'd died fixing the veil, sacrificing himself to the Cailleach. He'd died a hero, the bravest knight she'd ever known. Sometimes, she wondered if he was scared in his final moments, if he'd thought of her. She hoped he had, that his last memories would be of love, not fear. He was owed that much.

Arthur spoke at his funeral, a speech that she'd watched Merlyn write, but she could hardly listen to the words. They didn't matter to her, not really. All she could see was his cloak and sword burning on the pyre, the flames leaping in the air, the last testament to her fallen love. He had died for her words, for the oath he had made to her. She saw the guilt in Merlyn's eyes, but could hardly blame her for her own husband's decision. Lancelot wouldn't want that, no matter how easy it would be to loathe the woman he had died for. He'd always been too noble for this world. At least she had the comfort that he had saved Camelot with his sacrifice; Gwen could live with that. It would be hard, but she would live.

For him.

~

Merlyn could feel it, the wrongness as she picked up Excalibur; she knew it was time. The blade didn't belong to her anymore. Kilgharrah had once warned her of the consequences if the sword fell into the wrong hands; now, she felt it was time. Raising Excalibur above her head, she thrust it downwards, impaling the stone in front of her. It would be safe here, lost in the forest. With a sparkle of magic, she knew nobody would be able to retrieve it. For now, it was safe, a weapon with too much power for Camelot's good. One day, she was sure that she would see it wielded again. But for now, it was safe.

~

Morgana screeched, pushing an array of objects from a long table, listening to the satisfying clatter of pottery smashing onto the floor. She couldn't believe she had failed. Camelot had been in her grasp, but still, Arthur somehow managed to survive.

"Arthur was lucky." Agravaine tried to placate her, edging towards the door to her hovel. The fear in his eyes gave her more satisfaction than she wished to admit, calming her from her rage.

"No." she shook her head violently, trying to make sense of the events that had led to this moment. "You're wrong. We weren't thwarted by luck. It was Emrys."

Her traitor frowned, confused. "Emrys?"

Morgana took some slow breaths, closing her hands into fists, trying to slow the beating of her heart. She had suffered from awful panic attacks before; she had no desire to break down in front of the Agravaine of all people.

"The Cailleach warned me about her. She said she was my destiny and my doom. It was she who thwarted us. I'm sure of it."

Agravaine stepped forward, suddenly eager for action. "So what's to be done?"

"As long as she exists, I will never gain what is rightfully mine." Morgana realised, staring into her uncle's soulless eyes. "You must help me find this Emrys. You must help me destroy her."

~

Merlyn had returned from the woods, sitting in her room silently, trying to comprehend what had happened on the isle. She'd lied to Gwen, knowing that it was the right thing to do. Lancelot had died a hero; she would ensure that he was remembered the way he deserved. Besides, she doubted she could face her friends if they knew the truth, that it was her fault, that she'd become too arrogant, had tried to save the lives of all of those she held dear. It had been foolish to turn her back on an enemy. Her father would be disappointed.

"Gaius." Agravaine's voice rang out from the other room, disturbing the servant from her thoughts. Curious, she turned her head towards the door, content to listen from her concealed spot.

"How can I be of assistance?" the physician asked, sounding rather impatient. Gaius had never liked Agravaine, always striking him as opportunistic and a bit of a prick. Merlyn had to agree: he was hardly the most likeable man in the world.

"You're a man of great knowledge and wisdom." Agravaine flattered; Merlyn had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. Gaius never took kindly to such blandishments.

As predicted, the physician scoffed. "Knowledge perhaps."

Agravaine didn't deem the comment worthy for a reply, seeming to realise he was more likely to find answers in bluntness.

"Have you ever come across a sorceress called Emrys?"

Merlyn almost felt her heart still. Quietly, she stood from her chair, creeping towards her door so that she could peer through the slats in the wood. There, she saw Gaius turned towards Agravaine, his hands paused over his pestle.

"No." Gaius shrugged unconvincingly. "Doesn't sound familiar."

Unsurprisingly, Agravaine didn't look particularly satisfied. "Well, if you do hear the name..."

"I'll be sure to tell you." Gaius lied, resuming his work.

"It will not go unrewarded." Agravaine stated as he walked back towards the door to the physician's chambers, his nervous chuckle doing nothing to quell Merlyn's nerves. She waited for him to leave, hurrying down the few steps towards Gaius, who frowned at her grimly.

"There's only one person that could have heard that name." he murmured worriedly. "Morgana."

Merlyn sighed. This wasn't the news she wanted to hear.

"We know her powers are growing. She, too, must have seen the Cailleach."

Merlyn ran a hand through her hair, wondering if Gaius knew what he was implying. "But Agravaine..."

"I suspect he's not as virtuous as he seems." Gaius sighed. "And don't forget, he has every reason to despise Uther. We must beware, Merlyn. Morgana can never know the truth. She must never know who you really are."

Merlyn knew that her truth was a dangerous thing. If only there were those that she could trust, that Arthur could trust, to save them from their fate.

Chapter Text

Arthur's birthday had never really seemed like much to celebrate. Of course, the king would ensure it was a spectacular event, entertainers from across the land coming to perform for the young prince, filling the city walls with light and colour. But behind closed doors, Arthur's father was always withdrawn, silently mourning the anniversary of his late wife, seeming to forget his child's existence as he dwelled in sorrow. When he was younger, Arthur had resented the steely eyes, the sadness that he found lurking in the corners of the king's gaze; it was this shame that had taught him, from a very young age, how to put on a brave face in front of the court, gasping and cheering at appropriate moments, pretending to be lost in his spoilt celebrations. Internally, however, he found himself silently resenting his father, wishing that he could spare just one kind smile, just a look of genuine pride on his special day.

And then Merlyn had come, bringing him gifts of swords and pendants and honeyed wine, stealing sweet kisses in the short moment that they found themselves alone. He found himself longing for the time where he could reasonably excuse himself, where his servant would sit with him by the fire, holding hands as they talked about nothing in particular, pretending to be some sort of old, married couple, something more than they dared to believe. Even then, he felt as if he were part of some odd performance, forgetting his duties for the night, acting as if they were lovers, equals, not a servant and her master. He wanted to find the pride in her eyes, now, growing almost dependent on her happiness, his father fading in his mind.

He could tell that she had been saddened these past few weeks: ever since Lancelot's death, the mood around the castle had been rather sombre. The prince had found her in some dark recess of the palace more than once, murmuring comfort to Gwen, the pair huddled together, finding solace in their memories. He always left them there, finding some other servant to complete his meaningless tasks, knowing that there was no force in the world that could separate the two friends, not when they had lost so much. He had never spoken to Merlyn about what had happened on the Isle of the Blessed, how it had come to be that Lancelot had sacrificed himself in his place, having a feeling that he didn't want to know. She would have told him if it was important. She would have told Gwen.

The festivities had been his uncle's idea, a way to lift the mood of everyone in the castle, to give them a night to forget about their troubles. For the most part, it seemed to have worked: most of the townspeople took pleasure in watching the colourful spectacles, gathering in the courtyard where acrobats and jugglers were performing below.

"Oh! Did you see that?" Merlyn gasped, pointing out of the window and towards the ground. Arthur smiled fondly for a brief moment, watching the morning light shine through his servant's hair, before fixing his face in a glower. He couldn't be seen finding amusement in such trivial antics.

Standing over Merlyn, resting his head on top of hers, he wrapped his arms around her waist, watching one of the acrobats perform a vaguely impressive backflip, the juggler behind him smiling widely at the crowd of children around him.

"It's a man throwing sticks in the air." Arthur observed with fake disdain, moving back to his papers. He had more important work to do.

Merlyn, sensing his strange mood, pulled herself away from the performers, closing the window behind her.

"What's wrong? It's your birthday. A huge feast is being held in your honour. You've got dancers, jugglers and acrobats to entertain you." Merlyn sighed dramatically, following Arthur through the room as he tried to escape her strange humour. "It must be a terrible burden."

"Perhaps I'm less easily impressed than you." the prince shrugged with mock nonchalance, but Merlyn was never one to back down.

She scoffed, her eyes raking over his body pointedly. "I hardly think that that's true."

Arthur turned to look at her, his eyes bulging in shock. He opened his mouth to say something appropriately witty, but Merlyn cut him off.

"Besides, I'm really looking forward to it."

"That, Merlyn, is because you have the mind of a child." the prince sneered, but there was no bite to his words.

"And yet I'm still more intelligent than you." Merlyn muttered, clearly not intending for Arthur to hear. The prince turned around, swotting her over the back of the head.

"I heard that!" he cried indignantly, but his tone only made his lover smile.

~

Arthur sat with his father, the king still so very pale, his skin sallow, almost the same colour as his white shirt. His cloak seemed to engulf him, the rich fabric doing nothing to hide his true condition, lost in sorrow, staring at nothing. The prince still reported to him, talking of matters of court, wishing that he could elicit some kind of response. But his father didn't seem to care anymore. He was a king wearing a hollow crown.

"The court discussed the annual levy this morning." Arthur announced, fiddling with his hands. "The council suggested we raise it, but I feel the people are already overburdened."

"We should not talk about matters of court today." the king croaked, managing to lift his head, looking directly into Arthur's eyes. It was more than he'd managed in months.

Arthur raised his eyebrows, wondering if his father even had the presence of mind to know the date. "Father?"

"You think that I would ever forget that today is the anniversary of your birth?"

The prince chose not to answer, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion. Even in his fragile state, his father still cared, still loved, still remembered.

"I take it there are plans for suitable celebrations this evening?" the king inquired, his stilted words meaning so much to Arthur. Strangely, in that moment, he felt closer to the man than he'd felt in years.

"Yes." he replied eagerly. "A feast and, um, some entertainment. I'll tell you about it tomorrow."

"Nonsense." his father scoffed, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You think I would miss my son's anniversary?"

Arthur chuckled, refraining from mentioning the fact that his father had certainly missed a few of his most recent successes, astounded by this turn of events. Perhaps the king would recover, after all.

~

A man breathed fire, the flames reaching the tallest of arches, the act punctuated by obscenely merry music, dancers swirling around the performers. There were jugglers, acrobats and fools, the crowd gasping and cheering as they filled the hall with something more than hollow suffering. Merlyn hadn't had much to take her mind off Lancelot's demise in the past few weeks, not quite realising how much her happiness had relied on her confidant, but in that moment, she could believe in something more than death. Even Arthur had put aside his brooding, toasting his father's health; she found herself unable to resent his joy. They needed this, she realised, watching as a rather portly man stood on the shoulders of another, his rat-like face scrunched up in concentration. Camelot needed a break from the hate festering through the castle. This would do them some good.

"I need a volunteer." the acrobat announced, returning to the floor with an elegance Merlyn was surprised to admire. His beady eyes were fixed on the prince, stepping forward with a casual air which suddenly made the witch feel rather nervous. "Prince Arthur, what better or more fitting occasion for you to demonstrate your legendary bravery? Do you accept my challenge?"

Merlyn watched Arthur put his goblet down, an amused smirk making his way onto his face. He patted his father's shoulder, standing on shaking legs as he rose from his chair, quite evidently pleasantly drunk.

"Of course." he slurred, gesturing flamboyantly with his arms. Merlyn made a mental note to switch his wine for water the next chance she got. The court laughed and cheered alongside the troopsmen as the acrobat brought out three knives, their long blades glittering dangerously in the candlelight. The servant stepped forward, taking Arthur's cloak in her hands, glancing worriedly at the acrobat's dark expression.

"Is this safe?" she murmured in the prince's ear, fairly sure that there was nothing she could say which would stop him accepting such a blatant challenge. Still, she had to try.

"It's knife throwing, Merlyn. Of course it's not safe, but I could hardly refuse his challenge." Arthur pushed his cloak into her arms, his expression quickly morphing into a drunken smile. Out of the corner of her eye, the servant saw the king laughing with a lack of worry that she hadn't seen in his eyes since Morgana's betrayal; she found her own features contorting into something far more merry than her dark thoughts. She wondered when she had become so good at this, playing the charade the court expected of her, hiding her true emotions under a layer of toothy grimaces and copious amounts of wine.

As Arthur was tied to the large, brightly coloured wheel that had been brought into the center of the hall, Merlyn supposed that she had saved Arthur from things far worse than a few knives. In fact, it almost reminded her of the first time she'd saved his life, knocking him out of the way of a deadly blade. She'd become a little more subtle with her acts of magic now; if the trouper tried anything too risky, it wouldn't take much for her to divert the path of the dagger. The thought was comforting enough that, when the knife thrower stuffed an apple in the prince's mouth, she was able to laugh along freely with the rest of the crowd, allowing herself to relax again into their jovial spirits.

But then, as the trouper gestured for another man to spin the wheel, the hall quietened, a deathly silence sending a shiver up Merlyn's spine. Nobody would dare to try to kill Arthur here, in the middle of his, admittedly fairly useless, guards, but that didn't stop Merlyn from worrying.

The first dagger landed next to Arthur's arm, impaling itself into the wood just above his right shoulder. Arthur looked rather concerned, especially when the second landed on the other side of his face, but to his credit, he didn't cry out or flinch. Then again, that may have had something to do with the apple in his mouth. Uther was clapping from his position of relative safety, but even he appeared to be worried as the trouper lifted his third and final dagger.

Time slowed as the knife shot through the air, Arthur's eyes widening almost comically as it headed towards him. Merlyn could feel her magic buzzing inside her, ready to nudge the dagger off course, but as it neared the prince, the servant realised what the trouper had been planning to do.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd as the knife hit something that certainly didn't sound like wood, but as Arthur was righted once more, the golden dagger could be seen, its point buried inside the apple. The court cheered, music returning to the hall as the prince was helped off the wheel, incredulous chatter starting amongst the nobles. Merlyn helped the prince back into his cloak, finally releasing the breath she didn't quite remember holding.

"See, Merlyn? Nothing to worry about." Arthur said smugly, taking a bite of his apple as he rejoined his father. Merlyn could only laugh, realising that she needed a break from the most terrible evils of the world. She couldn't continue to act like death itself had walked over her grave; she needed to learn to see that there were people in the world without a thousand ulterior motives. Not everyone was inherently terrible.

~

Arthur didn't know at what point exactly the wine had hit him, but he found that he didn't remember leaving the feast, nor the journey back to his room. Merlyn, naturally, was only a couple of steps behind him, faintly amused by his drunken antics. He loved her so much. The prince wasn't sure that he told her that enough.

"You're telling me you weren't even a little bit scared?" Merlyn asked, her words breaking through the fog in his brain. Arthur barely noticed her taking his jacket off for him, concentrating on not slurring his words.

"Of course I wasn't. I'm a warrior. You learn to control your fear, to channel it." the prince managed, walking directly into his bed post. Merlyn caught him just in time, leading him to his bed, a flash of humour in her beautiful eyes. He could stare into them forever if he had the time, watching the golden flecks sparkle within the midnight blue, like some sort of starry sky.

"You looked scared." Merlyn teased, leaning against the wall. Arthur would never admit such a thing, not even in his drunken state, so he chose to change the subject, knowing that he couldn't fool his lover.

"It was good to see my father enjoying himself." he remarked, standing slowly from his bed. "He looked a little quiet towards the end there. Perhaps I should go and see him."

Merlyn raised her eyebrow, new amusement shining through her expression. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Arthur smirked, staggering towards her with what he hoped to be some sort of handsome charm. "Why? Do you have any better ideas as to how I should spend my time?"

Merlyn laughed in his face. "Arthur, you can barely stand up. As much as the idea of you falling asleep on top of me sounds incredibly appealing, I don't think you're in any state for sex."

Arthur did his best to look affronted. "Are you saying I'm drunk?"

Merlyn shrugged as the prince moved past her, heading towards the door. "No. I'm just saying I don't think you should be wandering around the palace."

"And why is that?" Arthur inquired, turning annoyedly towards the back of his servant.

"You're not wearing any trousers." Merlyn stated; although the prince couldn't see her face, he knew exactly what her expression would be. He looked down at himself, realising that his trousers had fallen around his feet, his tunic the only thing allowing him any form of decency.

"Good point." he murmured, struggling to pull his trousers back to his waist. He was surprised to see that Merlyn didn't follow him to his father's chambers, but then it was hardly her job to pick up after him all the time. He relied on her too much, at least, that's what Agravaine said. But he trusted her more than anyone he knew, including his father, his uncle. She was more than family to him, more than a lover. She was home.

He didn't really remember entering his father's chambers, nor collapsing in a chair next to him. He took a goblet out of the king's hand, gently placing it on the table so not to disturb the sleeping ghost. The room was barely lit, a couple of candles burning merrily away, but even they couldn't subdue the eerie dark. He fell lazily back in his chair, content to fall into a drunken stupor, gazing at the shadows in the dim light. But then, just as he was about to close his eyes, he saw something change, a fraction of a reflection in the silver pot which stood on his father's table. A glint of a sword, a familiar face.

He stood, drawing his own blade just in time to stop the trouper's sword cutting through his skin.

"Guards!" he shouted feebly, but the buzzing in his head only seemed to increase. Vaguely, he wondered if he had been drugged; he heard no new footsteps heading towards the door.

"Guards!" he tried again, sloppily parrying the assassin's next strikes. If he were sober, he would have been able to kill the man in moments, but as he felt his strength failing him, he realised that he'd let his grip loosen on his sword. The weapon fell from his hands as he ducked to the floor.

He couldn't believe this was how he was going to die. He should've told Merlyn that he loved her, just one more time. He should have told her what the sigil he had given her meant, should have made sure his uncle understood what he had wanted. When his father died, the Pendragon line would end, but he'd hoped that Camelot would be left in safe hands. He wished she could be with him in his final moments, but their love story had never been quite perfect. They never would get to say goodbye.

He heard the assassin's blade whistle through the air, but the strike never hit him. He looked up, surprised to see his father standing over him, his own sword clutched in his hands.

"It will take more than a coward like you to kill my son." the king growled; it was all Arthur could do to roll out of the way so that the two men could battle above him. If this fight had happened in his father's youth, even if it had occurred two years ago, then the trouper would already be dead, his blood staining the carpet. But the king was frail, his swordsmanship failing against the force of the trouper; it didn't take long before Arthur's father was lying on the ground, his sword discarded.

"Have you anything to say to your son before I kill him?" the assassin hissed, advancing once again on the prince. Arthur managed to crawl further away, supporting himself on his hands and knees, knowing that, if he tried to stand, he would only fall. The king didn't say anything, grabbing his sword once again and engaging the trouper in battle, this time, managing to knock the sword out of the man's hands, hitting him in the face with the hilt of his sword. With the assassin disarmed, the king raised his sword, sending the point through the man's chest.

"Father?" Arthur asked worriedly, his heart almost stopping when the king collapsed into his arms, crimson staining white shirt. He put his hand to the wound, staring at his stained fingers, shock wracking through his body.

"No." he whispered, wishing that this was all some sort of bad dream. But he knew, even with the drugs in his system, that this was no fantasy. He'd tried calling the guards, but it was clear to him that they were certainly unable to help. He needed someone, anyone to find them, to rewind time and take the trouper's dagger from his hands, to save the king. He put pressure on his father's wound, using his knowledge of battlefield medicine as he choked on a sob, knowing that it would soon be too late.

"I'll go and get help." Arthur whispered to his receding father, placing the king's palm on his wound.

His father shook his head ever so slightly, looking up at his son with calming eyes. "Stay with me."

No. He wouldn't die. Arthur wouldn't let him. He could feel hot tears on his cheeks now, his uselessness quelling any sense of pride or anguish. He needed help.

"Someone, please." he called out, knowing that no one would come. "We need help."

"It's my time." the king croaked, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"No." Arthur shook his head stubbornly. "You can't die."

"I know you will make me proud, as you always have. You will be a great king."

"I'm not ready." the prince murmured, hating the way that blood still poured from his pale father, like water oozing from a fountain.

His father smiled weakly. "Y-you've been ready for some time now, Arthur."

"No." the prince refused to let this happen. "I need you."

"I know I've not been a good father. I-I've put my duty to Camelot first. I'm sorry."

"Don't say that." Arthur let his tears slide down his cheeks, unable to believe that this could be his last goodbye.

"But know this, Arthur. I've always loved you." the king muttered, closing his eyes with a peaceful smile.

Arthur choked on a sob, praying that it wasn't too late. He still needed help. His father could still live, he knew it. The prince needed someone he could depend on, someone who always came through. He needed to call for someone who would always stand by his side. Lifting his head, he prayed to every god in existence that she would hear him call her name.

"Merlyn!"

~

Merlyn would never be able to explain how she knew that something was wrong, but it hadn't taken much to convince Gaius to follow her to Arthur's chambers. When she'd found them empty, the pair had almost flown through the corridors, worried by the bodies of guards littering the halls. She'd found Arthur in his father's rooms, cradling the king's bleeding body, sitting on the floor, all of the candles blown out. Gaius had worked through the night, but the king had already lost a lot of blood, most of which had soaked Arthur's clothing.

Merlyn didn't have as much experience as Gaius, but she knew a lost cause when she saw one. She listened to the physician explain Uther's predicament to the prince, the fact that the blade had touched his heart, that Uther would only fade. Part of her worried for Arthur, but she couldn't say that she was sad for the king's demise. It would be the start of a new era; perhaps Albion was closer than she'd thought.

~

Arthur didn't quite remember how exactly he came to be standing in the council chambers, dressed in chainmail and listening to Agravaine's reports, but he reckoned that Merlyn probably had something to do with it. He stood next to his father's throne, the empty seat a dark shadow in his mind, his arms folded, doing his best not to descend into a deep depression. Agravaine stood on the other side of the long table, seeming to realise that Arthur needed space, an understanding that the prince was thankful for. He steadied himself, knowing that he couldn't fail his father. Not now.

"We traced the assassin to the town of Wenham. It's in Odin's land. It seems he hired him to kill you to avenge the death of his son." Agravaine reported, stepping forward, closing a little of the distance between them. The gesture was meant to be comforting, but every single one of Arthur's instincts told him to run, to get as far away from his uncle as possible. If he was alone, perhaps those he loved would stop getting hurt.

"Camelot's thoughts are with you, Arthur. But, uh, if there's anything I can do..." Agravaine trailed off, staring grimly at the prince.

Arthur nodded, not quite sure what to say. "Your support means a great deal to me. Thank you."

Agravaine bowed, understanding the dismissal for what it was. He left through the large, oak doors, but was quickly replaced by Merlyn, who eyed the retreating figure with what almost seemed to be suspicion. If Arthur didn't have much more pressing matters at hand, perhaps he would've questioned that look, but his father was dying. Matters of court could rest, at least, for now.

"What news of my father?" Arthur asked, approaching his servant with something akin to hope.

Merlyn gave him a grim look, shaking her head sadly. She was wearing purple today, but the bright colour did nothing to alleviate the gloomy shadows under her eyes. "There is no change.

A sudden rage ran through Arthur's veins as he turned away for a moment, his hands clenching into fists. He had never seen his servant so helpless; her lack of hope only hurt his heart.

"Why hasn't Gaius done something, then?" he shouted, regretting his tone the moment he saw pity in Merlyn's face.

"Because..." she swallowed, meeting his gaze with characteristic stubbornness. "There's nothing he can do."

~

Morgana never really appreciated Agravaine's unscheduled visits, but she could hardly complain that he brought her news of her kingdom. He was always very discreet; she doubted even Merlyn had an inkling of his true alliances. Still, the look on his greasy face when she threatened him with a long, sharp dagger was far too enjoyable to ignore. He was scared of her, there was no denying that, but that fear kept him in line. As long as he thought he could manipulate her, he would be in her pocket.

"Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?" Agravaine asked, eying her knife pointedly.

Morgana just shrugged, not exactly feeling like she had to explain herself. "I wasn't expecting you today."

"I had to see you." her traitor said, a slimy smirk prominent on his face. "I bring good news. Better than we could have hoped for."

Seeing as the man still didn't seem to have worked out how to wash his hair, Morgana found this unlikely.

"What is it?" she questioned, moving forward in a vaguely threatening manner. Her small hovel seemed rather crowded with Agravaine in it; she would rather he left as quickly as possible.

"Uther has been mortally wounded. He's on his deathbed. Gaius says he only has a few days to live." Agravaine declared triumphantly, standing to his full height, as if expecting her to praise him for relaying the news.

"I hope the image of my face haunts him." Morgana sneered, but even to her, the words sounded hollow. She hated Uther with a passion she had never known before the revelation of her magic, and yet, a small part of her didn't hate the king quite as much as she felt she should. He had looked after her, even sired her, apparently. She hated Uther and thought the world would be a better place without him in it, but there was still a part of her which remembered her time as his loving ward, who saw him as something more than a tyrant king on a bloody throne. Still, this would make her life far easier.

"How's Arthur?" she asked, trying not to show her genuine concern. Sometimes, she found herself unable to hate her dear brother, trapped in the cold, lonely nights in the forest, wishing for some small comfort of love and hope. She knew what kind of person he was, what kind of person he could be, but she couldn't wait for him to realise his father's mistakes. Kindness was no gift when it was met by such horror.

"Devistated." Agravaine smiled, his lack of compassion repulsing even Morgana. "The poor boy can't think straight."

"Then we must strike while he's vulnerable." Morgana nodded to herself, starting towards her cauldron. Before she could take more than a single step, however, Agravaine grabbed her arm, forcing her to face him.

"When Uther dies, the kingdom will be weak." he implored, before suddenly realising what he'd done. He unclasped her arm, a flash of fear sparkling in his eyes before he continued to speak. "We must choose our moment carefully. Who knows what opportunities the coming weeks could hold?"

Morgana smiled thinly. She had known that there was a reason that she still kept Agravaine around. Camelot would soon be within her reach. She could feel it.

~

Merlyn wasn't sure what to feel about the townspeople gathering in the square, lighting candles as an offering to Uther's health. He had killed so many, hurt and murdered and slaughtered for greed, anguish and power. She thought she understood him, perhaps occasionally respect him, but she couldn't love him. She couldn't hold a candle and pray for his health. The sight was rather beautiful, each individual, flickering flame a small warmth against the cold, dark sky. It had happened once before, when Arthur had been bitten by the questing beast, but Merlyn had been to busy to appreciate the beauty of wishing for miracles. It had been a long time since she'd believed in anything more than magic and prophecy; in that moment, she could understand why the people had turned to grief. It was easier to accept than hope. Nobody liked change, even when it brought them hope.

She was distracted from her thoughts by the sound of the door to Arthur's chambers opening and closing, the prince staggering into the room on shaky legs. He looked so very tired, as if the world had come crashing down upon him. In a way, Merlyn supposed, it almost had.

"What's going on?" Arthur inquired, striding to her side. He looked down at the candles, although Merlyn doubted it was to admire their beauty.

"It's a vigil for your father." she said softly. "The people wish to share their grief."

"Why are they behaving like he's already dead when there's still life in his body?" the prince mumbled, suffering so horribly clear in his tone.

Merlyn could barely think of an answer to that. "They're preparing themselves for the worst."

"Well they can give up hope, but I won't." Arthur said resolutely, staring at the candles as if he expected them to be extinguished by his disgust.

"I know." Merlyn smiled softly, taking his hand in hers. "It's hard to accept and I wish it wasn't so, but there really is nothing that can be done."

Arthur took his hand back, glancing at his people below before meeting Merlyn's gaze. His serious face was illuminated by the firelight, something mysterious shining through his eyes.

"There is a way to heal my father." he said slowly, as if contemplating something truly terrible. By the expression on his face, Merlyn was sure that, whatever he was thinking, it certainly wouldn't be good.

"How?" she asked, knowing that Arthur's answer would be relatively concerning.

There was a long silence where Arthur seemed to lose all of his words, his lips parted, as if he wasn't quite sure if he dared to voice his suggestion. He swallowed thickly, finally building up the courage to speak in little more than a whisper.

"With magic."

~

Merlyn sat next to Gaius in their chambers, her hands clasped on her lap, doing her best to ignore the physician's incredulous expression. She'd explained to him what Arthur had told her, watched his face contort in flurry of emotions, her gaze flickering around the messy room. She tried to focus on something, anything, even the hard, wooden bench she sat on, but her magic had put her on edge. This was her moment. Albion could be achieved if she just reached out to meet it.

"Arthur's planning on using magic?" Gaius exclaimed, not quite seeming to comprehend the prince's mind.

Merlyn shrugged earnestly, trying to keep her hope from twinkling in her eyes. "He's desperate. He knows its his only hope of healing Uther."

Gaius' eyes widened in comprehension, apparently finally grasping what she was considering. "Merlyn, please tell me you're not going to do this."

"I'd be lying if I said no." she grimaced, knowing that the truth was a dangerous thing. Gaius wouldn't approve, but then, he rarely saw the world the same way that she did. He was too old for change.

"You can't risk exposing yourself like this. It's too dangerous." Gaius warned, his obvious worry almost touching. Merlun squeezed her hands together, trying to keep her expression neutral. Living in Camelot was dangerous for her; she couldn't say that what she planned to do would certainly turn out well, but she had to try. For Arthur.

"Arthur didn't recognise me last time I was eighty years old." she pointed out, knowing that there was too much risk in revealing herself in that moment. Her lover was already hurting; she didn't want to break him now. "There's no reason why he should this time."

Gaius didn't look convinced. "Need I remind you, the last time you used an aging spell, you nearly had yourself burnt at the stake."

"It's worth the risk." Merlyn stated forcefully, staring intently at the physician.

"Do you think Uther is going to thank you for healing him with magic? He's more likely to have you hanged." Gaius spat, his lack of faith in the witch tearing at her heartstrings. She didn't need this. Not now. She needed him to tell her that she was doing the right thing that, whatever happened, he wouldn't abandon her as Lancelot had.

No. That wasn't fair to the memory of her fallen friend. He shouldn't have died, but if she dwelled on her own failings for much longer, there was no way she would be able to save anyone. Uther may not deserve it, but Arthur thought he did; to her, that was all that mattered.

"Uther will never change his attitudes towards magic. I know that. But if Arthur allows it to be used to heal his father, his attitude would be changed forever. He'll see that magic can be a force for good."

Merlyn could see that she was winning, that acceptance was dawning in Gaius' eyes, but the physician wasn't quite finished with his worries. It was heartwarming, but part of the witch would rather he didn't push against her, even when his advice was sound. Still, she knew she should listen to him; he had done more to keep her safe than anyone she knew, barring, of course, her mother.

"You of all people should know that the use of powerful magic is fraught with danger." Gaius hissed, his face a picture of concern.

Of course she knew, but the prize was too great to ignore. "If it works, I won't have to hide anymore."

"And if it doesn't?" Merlyn had no answer for that. "I can't stand by and watch you do this, Merlyn."

"Well don't try and stop me, because... you can't." Merlyn murmured, doing her best to ignore the look of hurt that passed over Gaius' face. She was doing the right thing. She was doing the right thing.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Merlyn." Gaius sighed, pointedly ignoring the thousands of moments in which she'd fought for something more than freedom. She had done far riskier things: using magic to free the snakes from Valiant's shield, turned a dragon away from her home, ventured into a castle full of immortal men with nothing but a sword. This, in comparison, seemed almost trivial.

"I've been playing a dangerous game since the first time I've set foot in Camelot." she said with all the sincerity she could muster. "Maybe this is my chance to change that."

Gaius seemed conflicted by a mixture of horror and worry and acceptance, realising that there was nothing he could do. Maybe Merlyn wouldn't succeed. Maybe she would end up on the pyre. But it was worth a try.

~

Merlyn almost knocked when she walked into Arthur's chambers, but this was hardly the time to change their own set of formalities, the rules they had changed over the years. Arthur was standing by his bedpost, but looked up at the creak of the door, anguish written over his face. All Merlyn wanted to do was hug him, to wrap her arms around him and never let go, but her lover had never been one for pity. He needed to be strong, to work towards a solution and no number of hugs and kisses would take his mind off of his father's doom.

"Well? What did Gaius say? Did he have any information?" Arthur questioned, his eyes flitting over her face, as if trying to find an answer in her features.

"He didn't know much, but he has heard of a sorceress, an old woman." Merlyn said slowly, her gravely voice grating on her own ears. "She lives in the Forest of Glaestig. Gaius thinks that she may be able to help you."

Arthur nodded brokenly. "Will he lead me to her?"

"He has told me all that he knows. We will have to find her ourselves." Merlyn looked away with what she hoped appeared to be regret, unwilling to let the prince see the reluctant guilt in her eyes. She wondered when exactly she had started lying to him so much, how it had become so easy. She wished it hadn't, that they could live without these half truths and sacrifices, but this wasn't the moment to dwell on her fears.

Finally, after a long beat of silence, she looked up, meeting Arthur's desperate eyes. He stared at her like she was the only thing that mattered; part of her wished that she was worth his reliance.

"If you were me..." he whispered, as if not trusting himself to speak. "And it was your father, would you use magic to save his life?"

The question tore through Merlyn's heart like hot fire. Twice, she'd seen her own father die. Twice, despite all the magic she possessed, she had failed. She knew what it was like to lose a father; despite her reservations towards Uther, she didn't want Arthur to go through such misery.

"Yes, I would. I would do whatever it took." she stated with more honesty than she had felt since Lancelot's demise. She missed her friend. He would know what to do.

Arthur looked to the floor as if his carpet held all the answers he sought, or perhaps he hoped that it would swallow him whole, but when he looked up, meeting her gaze, there was a new determination burning through his gaze.

"Prepare the horses." he ordered softly. "Gather supplies. We ride at first light."

Merlyn nodded, ignoring the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. This would work. It had to.

~

Arthur didn't know if he was doing the right thing, but quite frankly, he no longer cared. It wasn't his father's time to die. Not for him. This was no natural illness, no victorious battle wound, no death worthy of a king. Arthur should've been the one on his deathbed, the one struggling for life. He was glad that Merlyn hadn't challenged him, but then, perhaps he'd never expected her to. She'd never held the same hatred towards magic, the same distrust. She hadn't grown up in Camelot, surrounded by evil, watching every beheading, the smell of burning flesh in the air. Merlyn was lucky to see beauty in something so evil; perhaps he needed to understand her perspective, to trust it. If she could see good in magic, maybe he could look past his hatred, could believe in her hope.

Arthur didn't bother to knock before opening his uncle's door, knowing of Agravaine's fondness for reading in the evenings. He wasn't surprised to find the chamber lit by candles, his uncle sat at his desk, a leather tome heavy in his plump hands.

"Arthur." Agravaine greeted the prince with a thin smile, closing his book and setting it on the table in front of him. "What news of your father's health?"

The prince closed the door behind him, turning back to his uncle, who now stood, staring at him gravely. He hated the pity in the man's eyes, but Arthur suppressed the urge to look away, knowing that what he had to say was too important to be directed at the horrible purple curtains lining the dingy room.

"No improvement, I'm afraid." he swallowed, suddenly overtaken by the desire to cry.

"Then what's on your mind?" Agravaine asked, furrowing his eyebrows in mild confusion.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair before letting it drop, striding further into the room.

"I didn't want to go behind your back." he started, not quite sure how to broach the subject. When his uncle remained silent, he opened his mouth, trying to find the words.

"I have decided to use magic to heal my father."

Agravaine blinked, startled, but recovered quickly. "I would strongly advise against such a course of action."

"There is no other way." Arthur stated firmly, shaking his head with sorrow.

His uncle didn't look convinced. "Magic caused your mother's death, Arthur. If you respect her memory, you cannot do this."

Arthur felt like a dagger had sliced through his heart.

"Would you see my father die?"

Agravaine seemed taken aback, but resigned acceptance crossed his face. "Perhaps it is his time."

There was a moment of silence where the prince tried to suppress his sudden conflict, wondering if his father would really want this.

"I know we've both suffered because of magic, but I can't stand by and let my father die." he stated with all the certainty he could muster. "My mind's made up."

Agravaine nodded, giving him a weak smile. It was all Arthur could've hoped for.

~

The last time Merlyn's eyes had locked onto the shack in front of her, Lancelot had been at her side, his countenance rather similar to Arthur's grim mood. No screams accompanied them as they dismounted, the prince staring at the cracked brickwork dubiously. Moss crawled up the walls, the wooden door barely its hinges. It was understandable, really, that the prince was having doubts.

"Are you sure this is the right place? It looks like a charcoal maker's hut." Arthur asked, handing Merlyn the reigns to his horse.

Merlyn did her best to appear affronted. "The old woman can hardly make a living practicing magic. I think that a lot of sorcerers are in the charcoal business."

The look Arthur gave her implied that he very much saw through her bullshit, but in her defence, he had put her on the spot. He strode forward, heading for the battered door of the hut, just in time for Merlyn to realise that she had no excuse for why she couldn't follow. The prince turned, giving her a bewildered look.

"Are you joining me?"

She shook her head, staring at Arthur as if he were the one acting strangely. "We don't want to overwhelm her. Probably doesn't get many visitors. I'll stay out here and watch the horses."

"I've never met anyone who is so scared so often." Arthur sighed, his words punctuated by the sound of a pebble hitting his armour. Admittedly, kicking rocks as the prince wasn't the most civilised retaliation to his insult, but the sound was vaguely satisfying.

"Scream like a big girl if there's any trouble." Arthur frowned, turning back towards the shack.

"Don't worry. You'll hear me." Merlyn murmured, watching the prince head into the hut before sprinting away, her bag of elderly clothes strapped tightly to her back.

"There's no one here. Are you sure it's the right place?" Arthur questioned, coming back out of the hut. Merlyn tried to look inconspicuous, as if she hadn't just sprinted away the moment the prince had headed through the door.

"I'm absolutely certain of it. I'm sure she'll be back soon."

"How do you know when she'll be back?" Arthur questioned, squinting at her as if she were a madwoman. Merlyn couldn't believe that this was the moment that the prince had chosen to use his brain.

She smiled with mock amusement, hoping the prince wouldn't see through her facade. "She's a doddery old woman. She can't have got very far. If you want her help, you'll just have to wait for her... Inside."

Arthur nodded absentmindedly, scanning the countryside for a moment before returning his gaze to her, squinting in confusion.

"Where are you sneaking off to?"

"I have to pee." Merlyn stated, sending him a coy smile. "So unless you want to come and watch me..."

"Why would I want to watch you?" Arthur scrunched up his nose, focusing far too much on the wrong notion.

Merlyn rolled her eyes, gesturing to the shack. "There's the hut. I have to..."

Arthur opened his mouth as if to question her further, but Merlyn had had enough.

"Make yourself at home." she shouted over her shoulder, descending into a cluster of trees.

She listened for the creak of the door as Arthur headed inside, crouching down behind a log so not to be seen.

"Miht dagan, beþecce me. Adeadaþ þisne gast min freondum ond min feondum."

~

"You." Arthur glared at Merlyn, or Dragoon as he saw her, his hand itching towards his sword.

"So we meet again, Arthur Pendragon." she sneered, doing her best to ignore the ache in her ancient knees. She stared pointedly at the prince's sword, faintly amused. "You have come to kill me?"

"No. That wasn't my intention." the prince mumbled, dropping his hand back to his side. Merlyn closed the door behind her, hobbling into the room, her boot crunching some sort of crockery. She looked down, narrowing her eyes at the shattered pot beneath her feet.

"I broke a pot." Arthur admitted a little sheepishly; Merlyn had the sudden urge to swot him over the head.

"You always were a clumsy fool." she spat, brushing past the prince, handing him a broom.

"Excuse me?" Arthur asked a little awkwardly, forcing Merlyn to hide her chuckle behind a sniff.

"So if you haven't come all this way to kill me, why have you come here? I take it your aim wasn't just to smash my favourite pot?"

Arthur put down the broom, his half-hearted attempt at cleaning rather pitiful. "If I'd known who you were, I wouldn't have come at all."

He started towards the door, but Merlyn hadn't used this aging spell for nothing. Her back would be sore for days; she at least wanted to get a little magic out of it.

"I thought you might've come to ask me to use magic to heal your father." she blurted, watching Arthur's footsteps come to a hault. He turned, giving her a curious look.

"How did you know?" he asked, startled.

Merlyn almost rolled her eyes, tapping her nose with a frustrating sense of mystery. "I know more than you could possibly comprehend."

"Given your hatred for my father and everything he stands for, I've clearly had a wasted journey." Arthur stated, the anguish in his voice breaking her heart.

"Do not suppose that you know my mind." Merlyn barked, almost smiling at the hope shining through his eyes.

"Will you help me?" he questioned, clearly astonished that she was even considering it.

Merlyn leant heavily on the table in front of her, doing her best to seem conflicted. "You are asking me to save the life of a man that would have me executed?"

"I know that I'm asking a lot from you, but you're my father's only hope. I'll give you anything you ask for- land, gold. Name your price." Arthur pleaded with renewed energy, almost making Merlyn smile.

"I don't want your gold." she said wearily, surprising even herself at how old she sounded. "All I have ever wanted is that people like me can live in peace, that those who practice magic are accepted rather than hunted. That is all I ask. That is the price for your father's life."

Merlyn would have given anything to know what went through Arthur's mind at that moment.

"I give you my solemn word." he murmured honestly, meeting her wishful gaze. "When I'm king, things will be different. You won't have to live in fear."

The witch strode forward, wrapping Arthur in a tight, slightly awkward, hug.

"I will help you." she smiled, releasing him from her grasp. The prince chuckled, stunned, gripping her hand in a firm handshake.

"Then there's no time to waste. We must ride to Camelot immediately."

Merlyn frowned, taken aback. "Now?"

"My father weakens by the hour."

"But..." Merlyn searched frantically for an excuse. "I have no horse."

"You can use Merlyn's." Arthur shrugged. "She can share mine, or she'll just have to walk back."

"You would make your servant walk back to Camelot?" Merlyn hissed with genuine outrage. "I have a good mind not to help you."

"No, I was joking, I -" Arthur stopped as Merlyn turned her back on him, sighing loudly. "I don't care who's horse you use. We have to get to Camelot before it's too late."

Merlyn nodded, strutting through the hut with an air of authority Uther would be proud of. "First, I must gather some rare herbs. They are an essential part of the cure. I will come to Camelot at nightfall. If you want my help, that is how it needs to be."

Arthur seemed to accept this, realising there was no point arguing with the witch. "I will meet you at the lower gate outside the town. Give me your word you'll be there."

Merlyn nodded, sobered by Arthur's renewed desperation. "You have my word."

Arthur turned to leave; Merlyn realised that she hadn't planned her escape. She could hardly walk out the hut as her younger self, especially since she'd left her youthful clothes outside.

"Now just wait here a moment!" she shouted, thoroughly amused by the bewildered prince.

"Why?" he asked, fairly reasonably.

"Questions. So many questions. For once in your life, would you just do as you're told?" Merlyn cried out with a feeling she'd buried deep in her soul. She slammed the door behind her rushing out of sight, unsure as to how long she had before Arthur got tired of waiting.

~

After almost breaking another pot, Arthur decided it was time to leave. He headed back into the field, looking around for his servant.

"Merlyn?" he called out, listening for her presence. From somewhere in front of him, he heard a rustling in the bushes, the sound too loud to be a small animal. He drew his sword, advancing wearily on the greenery, only to see his servant burst from them.

"What were you doing?" Arthur asked, suddenly wondering if he really wanted to know.

Merlyn did her best to appear innocent. "Peeing."

"You mean to say you were peeing all the time I was in there?" the prince exclaimed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Perhaps I was dealing with some womanly issues." Merlyn shrugged, smiling at the way Arthur's face suddenly grew hot.

"Well I think we should... we should go." the prince nodded to himself, turning towards his horse, doing his best to ignore Merlyn's muffled laughter behind him.

~

Merlyn sprinted into her chambers, almost knocking Gaius over in the process.

"Merlyn! I was worried!" he called after her, bewildered as she bounded up the steps to his dustier tomes. "I thought something had happened."

"Well, apart from having to deal with Arthur's awkwardness, everything went to plan." she spoke over her shoulder, pulling down the books that caught her eye. Descending the stairs in a slightly calmer manner, she met Gaius' concerned gaze. "If I can heal Uther, Arthur has given me his word that when he is king, magic will no longer be outlawed. This could change everything."

"What if something goes wrong?" Gaius exclaimed, ever the pessimist. He didn't look quite as excited as she'd hoped. "What of Arthur's attitude to magic then?"

Merlyn really didn't understand. What if she were to get find out now? A week ago? A year? What would Arthur have done for her, knowing that she'd lied all this time? She wanted to think that he would have spared her, saved her even, but there wasn't a single fibre of her being that believed he would simply forgive her. She hated herself for her lies; if there was a chance to look Arthur in the eye and tell him the truth, she would do it.

"I live with the risk of being exposed every day." she said quietly. "If I don't take this opportunity, maybe I'll spend the rest of my life hiding who I really am. Everyone's always telling me I have this great destiny. Maybe this is it. I have to try."

She disappeared into her room before she could say any more.

This was for something she had to do, not just for herself, but for Arthur.

For Arthur.

~

Morgana didn't expect Agravaine back to her hovel so soon, but by the grim look upon his face, he didn't bring news of Uther's demise. It was a shame really. She'd been looking forward to toasting the man who had put the vile king in the ground.

"Arthur has gone to consult with a sorcerer. He intends to use magic to heal Uther." her traitor reported as soon as he had made his way through her door, fiddling with his riding gloves. Morgana could hardly believe the news, her brother's hypocrisy poisoning her very soul. How dare he kill and torture and maim in the name of his father, only to turn his back on his beliefs in order to fulfil his own selfish needs. How many could have been saved with a touch of magic?

She turned away from Agravaine, doing her best to contain her rage. "Then we must see to it that he fails."

Fetching a druidic necklace from the pack of magical objects Morgause had given her before she'd... left, she sat by her fire, only mildly irritated by Agravaine's presence. He looked at her curiously, but she ignored it, tossing the pendant in the flames as she recalled her sister's teachings.

"Seolfor þræd aþring winstre, aþring yfele, aþring wiþ ealle gode cræfte."

She picked up her tongs, plucking the necklace out the fire and dropping it in Agravaine's outreached hand. He stared at it, astonished, as if she would be foolish enough to burn him.

"It's cold." he stated, as if Morgana should share his surprise.

"I have bound it to the left hand path." she explained knowing he wouldn't understand. "You must place the charm around Uther's neck."

Agravaine nodded stupidly. "What will it do to him?"

"The force of the healing magic will be reversed and magnified tenfold. By trying to cure his father, Arthur will seal his fate."

If Morgana didn't know better, Agravaine almost looked sorrowful.

"Arthur will never forgive himself. He'll be destroyed."

Morgana's lip curled upwards. "And a broken prince will make a terrible king."

Of course, with Merlyn by his side, Arthur wouldn't be completely broken. But Morgana already had a few ideas regarding that... problem. Merlyn wouldn't be his for much longer.

~

Merlyn had to admit, she thought that the magic part of her plan would be the easy bit. She'd poured over what seemed like a thousand pages, but she could find nothing that could help Uther's wound.

"I promised Arthur I could heal Uther, and I can't even find the right spell." she bemoaned to Gaius, who just frowned at her, unimpressed.

"That's because you're reading the wrong books." he sniffed, flicking through a small, brown tome between his hands. "Here. Gwillem of Cambria was as mad as a coot, but there was never a better healer."

Merlyn scanned the page, listing in her head the herbs the physician was missing. She beamed at him as she rushed out of her room. "Gaius, thank you."

~

"You must only use four drops." Gaius warned as Merlyn looked over the potion once more. "Any more could be dangerous."

"I just hope I can remember the spell." Merlyn muttered, running the words through her head.

"You must trust your abilities." Gaius said with a warm sense of encouragement. Before Merlyn could reply, however, a shout came from somewhere in the castle.

"Merlyn!"

Oh, Arthur.

"You need to get rid of him." she hissed, flattening herself behind the door just in time to be missed by the prattish prince.

"Arthur." she heard Gaius address the prince, probably trying to look inconspicuous.

"Gaius, have you seen my useless toad of a servant?" Arthur questioned, rather rudely, Merlyn would add. She'd kick him later, if she saved his father.

There was a long pause. "I'm afraid not."

"Where on earth is she?"

Merlyn knew what was coming.

"Have you tried the tavern?"

Ah, yes. The tavern. In that moment, she'd have rather Gaius just told the prince that she was hiding behind the door, that she was a witch and was planning to heal his father using magic. It would be far easier to explain.

"The tavern. Of course." Arthur sighed. "I'm going to make her wish that she was never born."

Merlyn sincerely hoped that the prince would keep that promise, but as he slammed the door shut, she realised that she had bigger problems on her mind.

"Why did you tell him I was in the tavern?" she huffed.

Gaius shrugged. "It was the first thing that popped into my head."

"Next time, go for the second or third thing that pops into your head. Anywhere but the tavern." she grumbled, checking behind the door to make sure that Arthur was truly gone.

"Good luck, Merlyn." Gaius smiled weakly. She was glad that he knew that she was just taking her nerves out on him, that her foul mood wasn't his fault.

After all, she would need all the luck she could get.

~

Arthur tapped his foot impatiently, leaning against the hard, stone wall of the lower gate, doing his best not to shiver in the cold. He'd popped his head round the door of the crowded Rising Sun, but had failed to spot a familiar mop of raven hair, only Gwaine's drunken smile as he chatted to one of the barmaids. Apparently he'd be meeting the witch alone, not that he was scared, of course, despite the eerie fog whistling through the lower town. He'd forgotten how strange Camelot looked in the dark, hardly having time to examine it when he'd snuck out in the past. Standing there, so alone, everything seemed distorted, like a parody of the world he knew, the navy light only acting to hide his shadows. His guards had passed him more than once, but hadn't come close to spotting him, too focused on the warmth of their torches. Merlyn found solace under the moon and stars, found their light comforting. Arthur wasn't sure if he agreed, but there was something in the way they danced above his head that seemed so pure.

His thoughts drifted away from the deities in the sky, wondering whether the sorceress had lost herself in the maze of homes scattered across the lower town. Dragoon wasn't exactly his typical, murderous sorceress, treating him as more of an inconvenience than the son of a man who had purged her kind. There was something familiar about her, in fact, something in her eyes that made him trust her. Still, he wished Merlyn was by his side. She'd been strangely absent since Lancelot's passing.

Just before he lost all hope, he heard laboured breathing behind him, turning to see Dragoon stumbling over the ground. She spotted him a moment later, sending a crooked smile in his direction as she righted herself, acting as if there was nothing wrong in the world.

"I'd started to think you weren't coming." Arthur hissed, glaring at the sorcerer, annoyed by her arrogance. He supposed that this night could only go well for her: either she had the promise of freedom or the death of a brutal king. She wasn't putting her father's life in the hands of chaotic evil.

Dragoon sniffed, but seemed to settle into her sincerity. "I gave you my word. And here I am."

"Good." Arthur spoke firmly, edging into the mist. "We must hurry."

Arthur managed a couple of steps before Dragoon thought to interrupt his urgency.

"Hey!" she called hoarsely, staying rooted to the spot.

"I am led to believe that the king's palace is that way." she pointed at the castle, its towers just visible above the city walls.

Arthur did his best not to roll his eyes, but had to admit that he was fairly sure he failed. "I can hardly be seen walking through the main gate with a known sorcerer."

Dragoon looked affronted, glaring at him with a familiar disappointment. "So you are already going back on your word. You promised that I would no longer have to live in fear."

"You're forgetting that you have yet to heal my father." Arthur said earnestly, his feet itching to move towards the tunnel. "When you have, I'll give you everything I promised."

There was a moment where the prince thought that Dragoon was going to refuse, but then she nodded, gesturing for him to lead the way.

~

They made it into a dingy, unlit siege tunnel before Arthur's patience ran out, Dragoon's pace far slower than his own.

"Is this really as fast as you can walk?" he snapped, twisting to see that she was already a good few metres behind him.

"When you are as old as I, we will see how fast you can walk." she spat, leaning against a couple of abandoned crates. "I need to rest a moment."

"There's no time." Arthur sighed, hardly wanting to be caught smuggling a sorcerer into the castle. It would be an awkward conversation to have with the guards.

Dragoon gave him a wry look. "Then perhaps you should carry me."

Arthur looked back along the corridor, judging how far he had to go. It wasn't an impossible suggestion, just uncomfortable in his armour.

"Fine." he stood in front of her, bending his legs so that she could scramble onto his back. "If it means we get there quicker, I'll carry you."

Arthur could've sworn he heard a chuckle as she awkwardly manouvered herself onto his back; he managed to take a couple of steps before he felt a dull thud on the side of his thigh.

"Did you just kick me?" he exclaimed, unable to believe the sheer attitude of the sorcerer. No one treated him like this. Well, almost no one.

"Now who's wasting time?" she sneered gruffly. "Hyah!"

Arthur ignored her as she kicked him again, taunting him to speed up, treating the Crowned Prince of Camelot as nothing more than her own lame horse. She was having too much fun with this, he thought. For someone who had never met Merlyn, Dragoon and she seemed to have quite a lot in common.

Not that Merlyn would use him as a horse. She respected him far too much for that.

~

They made it to the corridor of his father's chambers, where two guards stood either side of the entrance. Arthur left Dragoon in an alcove, ordering her to stay silent as he approached his two guards, the pair eying him as curiously as they could without moving their heads. The prince's hand dropped to his sword as he straightened his back, trying to summon all the kingliness he could muster.

"You're dismissed." he stated, cursing at the confusion passing across the faces of the two men. He'd hoped they wouldn't challenge him, but the taller of the two opened his mouth, ready to protest.

"But, sire, we were instructed not to leave our post." he exclaimed, astonishment shining from his eyes in the candlelight.

Arthur just fixed him with his most royal stare. "And I just said you're dismissed."

"Yes, my lord." said the other, clearly more intelligent guard. If all went well, he would be getting a raise. The two turned on their heels and left, silence returning to the passageway.

When their footsteps had faded far enough for Arthur to be sure of his safety, he coughed, as if clearing his throat. Dragoon appeared, ducking out from behind a column, motioning for Arthur to lead the way to his father's rooms. The prince followed her instructions mindlessly, wondering when he'd grown so trusting of the sorceress.

~

Merlyn was sick of her ancient body, the way her muscles hurt whenever she strained them, but knew that she could return to herself soon. Leaning over Uther's pale face, she prayed to every god in the heavens that this would work. It had to. It was her destiny.

She opened the king's mouth gently, a drop of her potion spilling between his lips. There was an odd necklace around his neck, but she paid it no heed, hardly one to note the king's usual accessories.

Taking a deep breath, she collected her bundle of herbs, fiddling with the twine that held them together. She held them over Uther, closing her eyes to focus on her magic.

"Wait." Arthur murmured, reaching out his hand to push the herbs away from the bed. Merlyn saw that his face was conflicted; she would have given anything to comfort him in that moment, but she couldn't. She couldn't reveal herself, not at that moment.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"My father has taught me never to trust magic. Now I'm using it to save him."

A selfless part of Merlyn wanted to sit Arthur down, to tell him that, truthfully, she thought that Uther would rather die than have magic used on him in such a way. But in that moment, she had to choose to be selfish. The king never had to know the truth; she needed to do this for her people.

"Your own life has been saved using magic more times than you can possibly imagine." she said, shielded by her air of mystery. Behind her mask of Dragoon, she always liked the way the truth could spill from her lips.

Arthur frowned, lines creasing his forehead. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Merlyn wished she could tell him. "I merely mean to say that magic is all around you, woven into the very fabric of the world. Is it really so hard to believe that it has saved your life?"

"How can I be sure that this is the right thing to do?" Arthur asked, so very confused, although Merlyn wasn't quite sure what the prince meant by the statement.

"I know you have suffered because of magic, as many have. But not all magic and not all sorcery are the same. I wish only to show you that not all magic must be used for evil. I hope, one day, you will see me in a different light, that Camelot will see the beauty in magic once more. "

Arthur seemed to process the words, nodding slowly before stepping back from the bed. Merlyn took that as permission to continue, looking down at Uther's bitter face with a mixture of pain and sorrow. It would be so easy to kill him. But she wouldn't, not when Arthur was so desperate, so hopeful.

The herbs caught on fire with a brightness to her eyes, smoke billowing from between their green leaves. She held them over Uther's body, slowly moving them along him, feeling her eyes glow gold once more.

"Efencume. ætgædre, eala gastas cræft ige: gestrice þis lic forod."

There was a long moment where nothing happened, but then Uther gasped, his eyes opening, looking confusedly up at the ceiling, as if he never expected to see such a thing again.

"Father?" Arthur questioned, shaking his shoulder gently. Merlyn stayed at the other end of the bed, silently watching on, praying that she had succeeded.

"Arthur." Uther croaked, a glimmer of a smile upon his face. He lifted his head a little to see his son, watching as the prince laughed in disbelief. Merlyn smiled. She almost couldn't believe it. She'd succeeded.

As soon as the thought ran through her mind, Uther's expression changed. He grimaced, groaning as his head returned to the pillow, seeming to choke on air.

"What's happening?" Arthur stared at Merlyn in disbelief, worry lacing his tone. She looked back in horror, her heart pounding in her chest.

"I don't know." she whispered, watching Uther gasp for air.

"Well do something!" Arthur ordered, as if she had any more idea than he of what had happened. She felt for any kind of magical signatures, trying desperately to understand what had gone so terribly wrong, when she remembered the pendant hanging around Uther's neck.

"The necklace!" she shouted, pointing frantically to the strange object, shivering at its dark aura. Arthur grabbed it unquestioningly, trying to break the chain, but the metal held fast. He pulled it over his father's head, but by the time it was free, it was too late. Uther slumped back on the pillow, his eyes glazed over.

Merlyn put her fingers to his neck, praying for a pulse, but found none. "He's dead."

"No. He can't be." Arthur sounded broken, his voice cracking, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he leant over the body. "Father? Father!"

The necklace dropped from his hand as he looked up at Merlyn, so much terrible hatred in his eyes.

"What have you done?" he asked, his face morphing into an anger Merlyn had never seen on her lover's face.

"This wasn't supposed to happen." she stuttered, trying to stop herself from shaking.

"You gave me your word. You- You have killed him." Arthur roared, his hand going to his sword.

"No! The necklace-" she tried, but the prince was no longer listening.

"You killed him!" he shouted again, now brandishing his sword as he flung himself towards her. "You'll die for what you've done."

"Hleap on bæc."

Arthur fell backwards, knocked out cold on the floor. Merlyn wasn't sure how long she had, but at the sound of warning bells tolling in the distance, she knew that someone had heard Arthur's shouts. Disappearing into a shadowy alcove, she pressed herself against the wall, ignoring the sound of passing guards as she drank her potion, doing her best not to grieve for all that she could have achieved.

~

Merlyn returned to Uther's chamber the moment that she had changed her clothes, bursting through the doors just in time to see Gaius close the dead king's eyes. Neither man even glanced at her as she surveyed the scene, Arthur's eyes rimmed with red. He'd been crying.

"I'm sorry, Arthur." Gaius said softly, lifting his head to meet the prince's brave gaze. "The king is dead."

~

The physician's chamber seemed rather gloomy as Merlyn followed Gaius into the room, not a single candle lit. It seemed fitting, really. Mourning the death of a broken king. Mourning Merlyn's lost chance to bring magic back to Camelot.

"The spell was working. I'm sure of it." Merlyn said, her voice echoing through the room. Gaius stood with his back to her; she couldn't tell what he was thinking. "There was a necklace, something embedded with dark magic."

"This?" Gaius held the identical necklace aloft. "I found it next to Uther's bed. It's been enchanted. Such an enchantment would reverse the effects of your healing spell. Uther didn't stand a chance."

Merlyn walked forward, taking the necklace in the palm of her hand, sighing inwardly. She knew who was responsible for this.

"Morgana." she hissed, pocketing the necklace.

Gaius nodded gravely. "I believe so."

Merlyn could only guess at what the physician was implying. There was something more important than a magical necklace to be found from this, she was sure of it.

~

Morgana was laying in her bed, her head filled with waking nightmares, when she heard the latch of her door opening, not even bothering to see who had entered. She only ever had one visitor.

"Uther's dead, isn't he?" she asked, wondering why she felt so hollow.

Agravaine paused for a moment, evidently surprised. "How did you know?"

Morgana sat up, wondering how she could explain the feeling in her chest, as if some dark part of her had been ripped out, replaced by a confusion of lost sorrow and heavy dreams.

"I felt it." she said softly, wiping away an odd tear from her cheek. "I felt his pain."

Agravaine looked taken aback, obviously expecting her to be in a happier mood. "I thought Uther's death would be a cause for celebration."

"Arthur will replace him." the witch shrugged, not entirely sure how she felt about her dear brother becoming king. "There'll be no celebration until I take my place upon the throne."

Agravaine smiled at her in a way that made her feel almost dirty. "That may be sooner than you think. Arthur is young, untested. He will look to his trusted uncle for counsel, and I will ensure that he fails."

Morgana looked Agravaine over, trying to decide if she'd underestimated him, or if he really was the pompous idiot that stood before her. He hadn't accounted for Merlyn yet, that was for sure, but then, no one really did. If her uncle had any chance of ruining Arthur's reign, she would have to be dealt with first. Merlyn was a threat; Morgana was ready to deal with her.

At least, she hoped she was.

~

Merlyn found Arthur sitting in his chambers, a goblet standing on the table in front of him. He seemed to be staring into nothing, reflecting on his own emptiness, drowning his sorrows in whatever strong wine he'd convinced Gwen to bring him. He wouldn't ask her. She'd always told him that drinking wasn't the right way to deal with sorrow, but she'd never seen Arthur so brokenhearted. He was shattered; it would take everything she had to piece him back together.

"I'm so sorry." she murmured, stepping forward to take his cup out of reach. He didn't stop her, which was a good thing, letting her pace around the table, fiddling with her hands.

"I- I just wish there was something I could've done." she sighed, the words settling heavily in her chest.

"Merlyn, no one but me is to blame for this." Arthur stated, clasping his hands together on top of the dining table.

"You are not to blame, Arthur." the servant stared at him with all the sincerity she could muster. "This isn't your fault."

The prince shook his head, his gaze fixed on the oak table. He didn't dare look at her, less he betray one of his many emotions.

"I'm entirely to blame." he said, guilt bleeding through his voice. "My father spent twenty years fighting magic. To think I knew better."

"Arthur-"

"I was so arrogant." the prince spoke over her, lost in self loathing. "And that arrogance cost my father his life."

Merlyn reached into her pocket, feeling cold metal press against her hand. She didn't know if this was the right time, but she couldn't stand Arthur talking to her like he'd personally murdered Uther. He couldn't live like this. She placed the necklace on the table in front of her, the clatter of metal against wood bringing the prince's attention back to her. A look of recognition passed over his face; for the first time, his eyes found their way to her face.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, his voice so very monotone.

"Gaius found it next to the king's bed." she said gently. "Arthur, I know this might not be easy to hear, but I think that the old sorcerer meant no harm. This necklace is enchanted to reverse any healing magic that was cast upon your father. He was dying, Arthur. Nothing that you could've done would've saved him."

Merlyn could see the conflict behind Arthur's eyes, but watched his face turn stony, a shade of grief prominent in his gaze.

"Perhaps you're right." Arthur shrugged, staring at the necklace. "All I know is that I've lost both my parents to magic. It is pure evil. I'll never lose sight of that again."

Merlyn listened to thunder rumble in the distance. She let out a shaky breath, bottling all the emotions threatening to burst from her soul. Now was not the time to deal with her own misery, knowing that her failures meant nothing compared to Arthur's loss. She had to focus on him, even as she wished to scream at the top of her lungs, to shatter every window pane in the castle. The thunder rumbled again, a little louder than before. A flash of lighting fell down from the sky. It sounded like a storm was coming.

~

Merlyn and Gaius closed the doors behind Arthur, leaving him alone in the great hall with the body of his father, a strange tradition that seemed to pass through generations of Pendragons. He would be left until all his tears had dried; the servant wished she could be there to comfort him. But there wasn't much she could do, not now. Merlyn was good at saving people, never staying around long enough to grieve. Lancelot had been the first person she'd been allowed to mourn publicly, she and Gwen living in memories, fighting the knights with just a little less form, using her emotions rather than her head. She fought like Gwaine when she was angry or guilty or sad, at least, that's what Leon said, and he was someone who tended to know about such things, full of passionate intensity.

"We must let him mourn." Gaius said from beside her, his words almost breaching her distorted thoughts. She sat outside the hall, her mentor at her side, a couple of guards protecting Arthur from harm. She wasn't carrying her sword that day, the feeling alien, but it made her feel lighter. She didn't need to be weighed down, not with Arthur so full of anguish.

"Merlyn?"

"This is all my fault." she said, doing her best to reign in the thoughts she'd carefully bottled up. "I killed him."

"You did not kill Uther. Morgana did." Gaius insisted, turning to try and meet her eyes. Merlyn stared straight ahead, watching the rain fall. "Uther's spirit died when she broke his heart. We must look to the future. Uther's death will allow Arthur's progression to the throne. We must hope it brings peace and stability to the land."

"But magic will still be outlawed." Merlyn frowned. "I have turned Arthur against it forever. He'll never know who I really am, and if he does find out, he'll kill me."

Gaius was silent for a long while, listening to the sound of water hitting the castle, the sound oddly calming despite Merlyn's darkest fears.

"That time will come. I'm sure of it." the physician said at last. "Arthur will be under even more pressure now that he is king. He will need you more than ever."

"I'm going to have to kill Morgana one day, aren't I?" Merlyn finally voiced what had been playing on her mind since she'd understood the truth of the necklace, facing Gaius' tortured expression. He looked at her for a moment, but whatever he saw in her face was too much, for he looked away, standing on aching legs without answering her question.

"For now, there's nothing more to be done. Let's go and have some supper." he said kindly, but Merlyn shook her head.

"I think I'll wait here." she said, leaning against the wall as she turned back to the rain.

She didn't even hear Gaius leave.

~

Arthur kissed his father's forehead, wiping the last tears from his eyes. He took a metal necklace from the sleeve of his chainmail, watching it sparkle in the morning sun. It seemed so silly, that something so harmless could wipe away the life of such a strong king, but the prince could see the irony. Merlyn hadn't needed to tell him that it was Morgana's magic embued within the necklace. It was his sisters final gift to their father; it seemed oddly sentimental, but Arthur felt that his father would want to keep it, even if it had been the cause of his death. Morgana had meant so much to him once upon a time. She still did, even after her betrayal.

He placed it in his father's hand, finally finding the courage to make the long journey to the doors at the end of the hall. He wasn't sure why he was surprised to open them to see Merlyn still waiting for him, her face turned away from him, as if asleep.

"Merlyn?" he murmured gently, glad that hers was the first face he saw as she turned towards him. "It's a new day."

She blinked, as if she hadn't realised how much time had passed, standing on her stiff legs.

"Have you been here all night?" he asked, not quite sure how to feel.

She shrugged, smiling weakly. "I didn't want you to feel that you were alone."

Arthur didn't know what to say to that. He stepped towards her, circling his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her cheek, before wrapping his arms around her properly, glad to feel her soothing hand on his back.

"I love you, Merlyn." he whispered in her ear, allowing himself to hold her for a moment before pulling away.

He cleared his throat, staring at her awkwardly. "You must be hungry."

"Starving." she replied, awarding him with a crooked grin.

"Me too." Arthur almost smiled, closing the doors to the great hall behind him. "Come on. You can make us some breakfast."

~

Merlyn watched Arthur kneel in front of his throne, his red cloak billowing behind him, looking every bit the young, handsome king. Geoffrey stood next to him, dressed in ceremonial red, the crown grasped tightly in his hands. The crowd was a sea of crimson, Merlyn and Gwen standing together, dressed in the kind of finery that could only be afforded by a widowed noblewoman, watching with proud eyes as the knights and nobles filed into the room, townspeople filling the balconies above their heads. There was a fanfare in the distance, a celebration of everything Arthur was meant to be.

"Will you solemnly promise to govern the peoples of Camelot according to their respective laws and customs?" Geoffrey asked, his voice booming through the hall.

"I solemnly swear so to do." Arthur replied, as if he could respond any other way.

"Will you, to your power, cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgements?"

"I will."

Geoffrey lifted the crown over Arthur head, the crowd suddenly so very still beside her.

With a touch of pride in his voice, Merlyn watched Geoffrey place the crown on Arthur's head. "Then by the sacred law vested in me, I crown you, Arthur, King of Camelot."

Merlyn listened to the chants around her, hope blooming in her chest. Perhaps she had failed with Uther, but maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. There would be other chances, other moments to convince Arthur of magic's place in Camelot. She would succeed: it was her destiny.

Meeting Arthur's eyes, she beamed, listening to the cheers in the air as she raised her head high, opening her mouth.

"Long live the King!"

Chapter Text

Merlyn had always loved thunderstorms. Back in Ealdor, she remembered sitting beside her father in their small, wooden hut, listening to the howling of the wind as it blew through the cracks in their flimsy walls. The rain pounded down on them, but never seemed to seep through the flimsy roof, probably due to some kind of unnatural intervention. They'd keep warm by the fire, her father casting shapes in the glow of the flames, his dragons' roars punctuated by thunder. When she'd come to Camelot, safe within the castle walls, she often admired the way that lightning lit up the night sky, illuminating the lower town despite the dreary rain. It was a small comfort, a reminder of home.

Since Uther's death, however, the weather had become an almost constant accompaniment to her fatigue. Arthur seemed to be faring as well as he could be taking on his new responsibilities as king, especially with Agravaine's greasy presence by his side. He was a good man, and so far, a just ruler, even calling off the guards he'd sent after Dragoon, hardly one to lose himself entirely to revenge. He spent his days surrounded by the council, finding brief respite upon the muddy training field or in the arms of his lover, but it didn't take long for Merlyn to notice that his new duties were threatening to overwhelm him. He needed a break; perhaps she could drag him on one of the hunting trips he liked so much when the weather cleared.

The servant had found herself almost dead on her feet, running around the castle after the king and the knights and some visiting nobles and, for one interesting afternoon, Gwen. What job her friend actually held in the palace, Merlyn wasn't exactly sure, but she always seemed rather purposeful, keeping herself busy to forget, even just for a moment, that she was alone. Merlyn could understand the feeling; perhaps it was this kinship that had drawn the two of them together, Gwen, mourning the loss of her husband and Merlyn, the deaths of her friends and father and lover. Sometimes, she wondered if Lancelot had told his wife of Merlyn's gifts, noticing the occasional glance she recieved whenever anything went awry, but Gwen never brought it up in the evenings they shared, where Arthur was either brooding or asleep or in a late council meeting, leaving Merlyn with her stolen moments of liberty. It reminded her of the nights she'd spent with Morgana, whispering secrets and gossip whilst magic twisted through the air, turning bright colours in the firelight. It seemed like years since those lessons had started; Merlyn supposed that she hadn't seen Morgana so free in a long time. She forgot, sometimes, that it had been over half a decade since she'd stepped through the city gates for the first time. She'd been so innocent then. Blissfully ignorant.

The night that Merlyn was awoken by loud knocking was after one of her visits to Gwen's old home, not that the noblewoman lived there anymore. She had an early start in the morning, Arthur wanting to join drills before his first council meeting, so had reveled in the chance to get some proper sleep. But apparently it wasn't to be. As she listened to the urgent knocking for a second time, she sat up in bed, rubbing her tired eyes. If Gaius had a visitor this late, she expected that she would want to hear what they had to say.

"Why are you here?" she heard Gaius question sternly, clearly not pleased to be woken at such an hour. Merlyn stood from her bed, avoiding the creaky floorboards as she approached her door, curious of the stranger standing beyond it.

"Please." the low voice of a man responded, the rain lashing harder against her windowpane. "I could do with drying myself by your fire."

Merlyn peered through the gap in her door, spying a man maybe just under twice her age, his brown hair plastered to his forehead. His clothes weren't fitted, like that of a nobleman, but, though old, didn't appear frayed or ripped. She frowned, unsure of how to place him.

"You have a nerve coming back here." Gaius glared with obvious dislike. "You left me in a lot of trouble."

"Yeah. Sorry about that." the man shrugged, not appearing even remotely sincere. "What can I say? Execution didn't really appeal to me."

He turned back to Gaius; Merlyn could no longer read his expression. "Don't tell me that you really supported Uther."

"Tell me why you're here." Gaius instructed, staring pointedly at the stranger. It didn't take a genius to see that whatever had happened between the pair hadn't ended well; the witch could only guess as to what the reasons may be. She had a feeling it had something to do with magic.

The man looked around the room, as if to ensure that they were alone, putting his hand in his pocket to pull out a small bundle of cloth. When he unfolded it, Merlyn couldn't see what he held, but by the look of reluctant astonishment on Gaius' face, she assumed it had to be impressive. The physician took a step forward, entranced by whatever it was that he saw.

"Save your eyesight, Gaius. It's the triskelion of Ashkanar." the stranger spoke with a peculiar triumph.

"You're sure?" Gaius breathed, still staring at the triskelion.

"I'm certain." the man nodded, letting the physician rip the artifact from his hands, only watching as Gaius examined it under a magnifying glass. Merlyn had to edge sideways quietly, keeping the two men in vision.

"This is a druid tongue." Gaius murmured in awe, his previous resentment completely forgotten. "The bind runes are in threes. That's rare."

"I can save you the trouble." the man said. They guide the bearer to the tomb of Ashkanar."

Gaius looked up, facing the stranger with a mixture of horror and pride.

"Yes." the man smirked. "We both know the legend. We both know what he hid there."

For a moment, Merlyn saw the man look up, staring at her door. She thought she'd been caught, but a moment later, his gaze returned to Gaius, staring intently at the physician.

"A dragon's egg." Gaius muttered to himself, barely audible for Merlyn to hear. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest, the very thought of such a thing still in existence racing through her mind. She'd never thought, never dreamed that there could be hope for the dragons. She didn't dare believe it.

"And you have come to steal it?" Gaius spat, bringing Merlyn's thoughts to focus.

The stranger looked away, his gaze flickering to the floor. "I wouldn't say steal."

"You're forgetting one thing." the physician hissed, his old anominity back in full force. "You're missing a part of the triskelion."

"Oh, no." the stranger grinned maliciously. "I know where that bit is."

"Where?"

The man looked down again, Gaius following his gaze. "In the vaults beneath your feet."

"In Camelot?" Gaius gasped, evidently just as surprised as Merlyn at the thought of something so obviously magical remaining untouched by Uther's terrible purge.

The stranger nodded slowly. "Where it has remained safe and secure for the last 400 years."

"And you want me to help you get it." Gaius sighed, the realisation finally washing over him.

"We could bring this noble creature back to life." the man pleaded, but Gaius just sniffed, handing back the incomplete triskelion.

"I want no part of your plan." he stated, taking a short step back.

The stranger frowned, bewildered. Merlyn had to admit that she shared the sentiment, confused by the physician's reluctance. "You don't want to release the last living dragon?"

"The old ways should be left to die." Gaius stated, a flicker of rage building in Merlyn's chest. She was the last Dragonlord, kin with the last of their kind, a symbol of the old religion. She wouldn't let it fade, not as long as she lived.

"Well that's not what you taught me!" the stranger exclaimed, clearly sharing Merlyn's surprise.

"It's what I feel now." Gaius said calmly, as if he hadn't just gone back on everything he'd ever taught the witch, everything he'd claimed to believe. "I believe in the king that Arthur will become and the future he will build."

There was a moment of silence where the stranger simply stared at Gaius, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Think about it." he asked, not even flinching as thunder rumbled in the darkness.

Gaius shook his head. "I've given you my answer. Now I think you should leave Camelot- sooner rather than later. Arthur may not be his father, but he is no friend to the old ways."

The physician opened the door, staring dangerously at the stranger until he reluctantly stepped towards it, pocketing the triskelion.

"You'll find me in the tavern in the lower town. Take your time." he said, stopping just short of the door's threshold. "Gaius, I know I caused you trouble before, but I'm a changed man. Believe me."

With another bout of thunder he left, Gaius locking the door behind him.

Merlyn waited for a moment before descending the few stairs to the main chamber, ensuring that the stranger wouldn't return. Gaius looked pensive, returning his magnifying glass to its proper place thoughtlessly.

"Who was that?" the witch questioned, almost smiling at the resigned look the physician gave her. He'd clearly hoped that she'd slept through the conversation, but Merlyn was nothing if not curious.

"Oh, it doesn't matter." he said flippantly, as if he hadn't been discussing the potential existence of dragons a moment before.

"Gaius." Merlyn spoke sharply, refusing to let the matter rest. She found herself at her mentor's side, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

Gaius sighed, realising that she wouldn't accept his vague answers. "He was a pupil. His name is Julius Borden."

"Why won't you help him?" Merlyn questioned quickly, her confusion getting the better of her. "This is our one chance of saving the dragons, of helping Kilgharrah preserve his kind."

"Borden is not a man to be trusted." Gaius said sternly, fixing her with a disapproving stare.

Merlyn furrowed her eyebrows, not quite sure what to make of the physician's shifty attitude. "You don't think that the triskelion is real?"

"That I have no doubt." Gaius shook his head, suddenly avoiding her gaze.

She frowned. "Then what?"

"His motives, Merlyn. Even as a young man, he was prone to dishonesty. Who knows what path he is on now."

The excuse simply didn't make any sense. Gaius had helped Merlyn when she'd arrived in Camelot, despite not knowing anything about her. He'd healed Mordred, defied Uther for Alice. Even if Borden was so untrustworthy, what he was offering, the last dragon egg known to mankind, was worth more than she knew. Gaius had to know that.

"You want the egg to remain lost forever." she accused the physician, her eyes narrowing.

"I don't want it to get into Borden's hands." Gaius exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "The tomb of Ashkanar has lain untouched for more than 400 years. It is my belief that it should remain that way."

He seemed to calm down considerably, walking around Merlyn in time to the beat of thunder. "We should get some sleep. We've got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."

~

Sleep didn't come easily to Merlyn, even after the rain stopped. Staring up at her ceiling, she considered Gaius' warnings, pondering the risks of trusting someone like Borden. She could understand why Gaius was so cautious: the last tomb they had broken into had resulted in an evil sorcerer being unleashed on the world, almost bringing Camelot to its knees with grotesque gargoyles of mindless destruction, taking the form of a snivelling thief in order to unleash his powers upon the world. But that had been years ago; Merlyn had grown more powerful since then. Besides, if she could overpower Cornelius Sigan, surely Borden stood no chance against her.

With that thought in mind, Merlyn dressed, creeping past Gaius and out into the forest. Using moonlight as a guide, she flew through the trees, trying to ignore the way her boots sank into the muddy floor. When she reached the clearing, Kilgharrah was already there, as if sensing the conundrum spread before her.

"I never dared dream of such a moment, Merlyn." the dragon said after the witch had explained what Gaius had told her, seeming to smile, his teeth shining against the night sky. "Until now, I believed the egg would never be found, that I would be the last of my kind."

"So the legend is true." Merlyn smiled in relief, hope warm in her chest.

Kilgharrah nodded, his eyes twinkling. "This is a chance in a thousand, Merlyn. You must retrieve the egg."

She sighed, her smile fading. "I know."

"Then what is the matter?" the dragon asked, sounding almost impatient. She could hardly blame him: human matters must seem so trivial to a creature as old as he.

"Gaius has forbidden it." she stated, pulling her jacket closer, trying to protect herself from the cold.

If Kilgharrah could roll his eyes, then that was what he did. "Merlyn, you are a Dragonlord. It is a gift passed down from your father. He gave up everything in his life to save me. What do you think he would say?"

Merlyn wished she knew the answer to that.

"The egg harbours the last of my kind." Kilgharrah implored, looking down at the witch. "I beg you, Merlyn, in your father's name, promise me that you will do everything in your power to rescue it."

Merlyn hated being manipulated, but looking up into the dragon's old, sad eyes, she didn't think she could refuse.

"You have my promise."

~

There was more than one tavern in the lower town, so how Borden had expected Gaius to find him, Merlyn didn't know, but with a sparkle of magic and an educated guess, she arrived outside the Rising Sun at dawn, creeping up the stairs without anyone giving her so much as a second glance. It didn't take long to find the room she was looking for, recognising the shirt draped across the end of the bed. It looked as if Borden was still asleep, but the figure in the bed was oddly motionless, like a parody of a man, a fake. She crept towards the bed, only to be grabbed by the shoulder and twisted towards the wall. Reacting without a thought, she shoved her attacker back into the door, ducking the glint of his knife, pulling her own from her shoe. She threw it in front of her, stepping back to gather her bearings, only to recognise the face of the person on the other side of her knife.

"No!" she shouted, sheathing her dagger in her belt. Borden gave her a curious look, but didn't drop his own.

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly, advancing forward slowly.

"To help you." Merlyn answered, taking a careful step back, not trusting herself to remain upright on the splintered floor.

Borden lowered his knife a fraction, seeming to take her in for the first time. "Who are you?"

"A friend of Gaius." she explained, glad to see that Borden appeared to have transitioned from anger to confusion. "I heard what you told him. I want to see a dragon's egg. I want to come with you."

She admitted that she didn't sound particularly clever, but if Borden really was as untrustworthy as Gaius said he was, she didn't want to reveal too much about herself. If she said she was a Dragonlord, she had no doubt that the man would find a way to use the information.

"Did he send you?" Borden questioned.

She shook her head. "No."

"No?"he seemed surprised by the answer, backing towards the door and opening it, his eyes not leaving her face for a second. "Then get out."

Merlyn hadn't quite expected this. "Please. I know everything about dragons. I've read everything."

"Not interested. Go away." Borden tapped his foot impatiently gesturing for her to leave, but made no motion to physically throw her out.

"All right." she shrugged, walking out of the room, turning for a moment in the threshold. "But you won't get into the vaults without me."

Borden grinned at her, leaning against the doorframe, suddenly amused. "And how's a girl like you gonna help?"

Merlyn smirked. "Because I'm the personal servant of King Arthur."

She enjoyed the way that the smug look was wiped straight off Borden's face.

~

Arthur was still asleep when Merlyn entered his chambers, the sun breaking through his curtains, the light landing on his face, bathing him in its golden glow. The servant was surprised that he hadn't already woken, but allowed herself a moment to just stare at his relaxed features. He hadn't looked so carefree in years. Tearing her eyes away from her handsome king, she spotted the sets of keys he kept next to his bed, crouching to examine each of the keys in turn. Next to her, Arthur fidgeted in his sleep, rolling over on the bed until he was right next to her, his eyes screwed firmly shut. Absentmindedly, she reached out to stroke his hair, only realising her mistake when his eyes started to open; she retracted her hand from his head, staring at him sheepishly.

"What on earth are you doing?" he inquired; Merlyn realised that she still had her other hand on one of the keys. She pulled it back quickly, wondering why she hadn't bothered to come up with a proper excuse before walking into the room.

There was a brief pause whilst Merlyn considered her options.

"Looking for woodworm." she decided, knocking the wood of the cabinet above her head. She put her ear to it, trying to ignore the strange look Arthur was giving her.

"Before breakfast?" the king asked, as if that was the only issue with what she was doing. Merlyn wished she'd gone with her backup plan: kiss Arthur senseless until he forgot all about what she'd been doing when he opened his eyes. She wondered if it was really too late to go back to that plan.

"That is when the worms are most active." she said instead, tapping the wood again, just to be sure.

Arthur looked like he was about to throw a pillow at her. "Get out."

Merlyn had to admit that the king's reaction was understandable. She turned to go when she spotted the very key she was looking for attached to Arthur's discarded belt.

"These need washing." she remarked, picking up the pile of dirty clothes.

"As do these." Arthur murmured, throwing a pair of trousers at her head. For someone who was meant to be unquestioningly in love with her, the king was hardly treating his beloved with much care that morning. Then again, their relationship had hardly ever been traditional.

Merlyn turned to leave, resisting the urge to retaliate, unfortunately having better things to do than start a minor war within the bedroom. Besides, the king was overseeing some kind of training or drills before his council meeting; Merlyn very much doubted he would like any bruises before he ventured onto the training field.

"Oh, and, Merlyn, before you go, I need that belt." Arthur mumbled, turning back over in his bed. The servant sighed, throwing it back where she found it, annoyed that the one time the king had taken any interest in her washing in six years was the only moment that she would rather he didn't. He was infuriating.

~

Arthur had barely made it to the training field in time to work with his men, borrowing a passing servant to help him into his armour. He'd had to miss far too many drills since becoming king, his time filled with council sessions and meetings, but his uncle had promised that the workload would soon die down. He was a new king, after all. In time, it would get easier. At least, he hoped it would.

Not that he would ever tell her this, but Merlyn had been the only thing to get him through the past few weeks, dragging him onto the training field after a bad day, sitting down opposite him to shift some of the mountain of paperwork always strewn across his desk. He could swear she got through it faster than him, pouring them each a goblet of wine when they'd finished, sitting by the fireplace whilst they reminisced of their earlier days, tapping chess pieces across a board or simply talking, dreaming of the Camelot they would someday build. The nights where they tumbled into bed were his favourite, tasting honeyed wine on her lips, hiding beneath the covers from the cold outside world. The days she disappeared were always his worst, watching her leave the castle to visit Gwen or working with Gaius on one potion or another, leaving him alone to bury himself in too many glasses of the same wine. Sometimes he'd read, filling his head with stories until the words blurred together, or venture out with the knights to the tavern, listening to roaring laughter, remembering what it was like to have friends who cared, friends who knew him as more than royalty. Morgana used to see him as more than a crown, but she seemed to have forgotten, lost in her fantasy of divine right. Sometimes, after a few too many drinks, when he missed his father so very much, he'd wonder when the others would betray him too, when he'd be left as lonely as his father. He didn't want to rule alone. He didn't think he could. Still, as his thoughts returned to the council meeting, his uncle's voice ringing through the chamber, he knew that, at least for now, he had friends and family who loved him, who needed him. He wouldn't let them down.

"We need to strengthen all our outlying defences, as Odin's raids only go to prove. But it's the northern borders that are particularly vulnerable." Agravaine declared, pointing to specific points on the map in front of him. The other lords nodded absently, his father's men. Arthur would be getting rid of them soon: they didn't appear capable of, well, anything.

"It's always been so, and the reason's obvious. If you look at the terrain here -"

Arthur went to point at the map, but at that moment, his trousers, which he had thought tied around his waist, fell to the floor. The king's cheeks flushed; he bent down, just at the moment that a new voice came from just behind him.

"Allow me to help you, sire!" Merlyn beamed, trying to pull his trousers up his legs.

"No. No!" Arthur tried to push her off, but to no avail. "Merlyn."

"Your Majesty." Merlyn acknowledged. Arthur hated that he could hear the mirth in her voice.

"Merlyn!" he tried again, tripping over his servant's feet, the pair of them landing in a heap on the floor.

"Your Majesty!" she shouted, matching his tone.

Arthur was sure his face must've resembled something akin to a beetroot. "Get off me!"

"I'm trying to help you, sire." Merlyn explained innocently. "If you can't do your trousers up properly in the privacy of your own chambers, I don't know how you expect to be able to do so here."

Finally, Arthur broke from her hold, putting as much distance between himself and his servant as he possibly could within the room. Usually when the two of them tumbled together, the results were far more satisfactory.

"Will there be anything else, sire?" Arthur couldn't believe that Merlyn had the audacity to ask such a question.

"No!" he hissed, glaring daggers at his servant, shooing her out the door. She would pay for that later.

He looked up at the lords, none of whom seemed particularly surprised by the altercation, but then, there wasn't exactly any reason for them to be. His uncle had forced a smile, looking about as pained as Arthur felt. The king cleared his throat, leaning back over the map, wondering how long he could stand to be in this meeting before he dismissed the stupid lords. Whatever he decided, he'd talk through with Merlyn anyway. She owed him, especially after this debacle.

~

Climbing the stairs of a narrow corridor, her only light radiating from a dim torch, Merlyn wondered how she managed to get herself into these situations. For a simple maidservant, she spent far too much of her time twisting through underground tunnels, visiting dragons, smuggling herself through castles or slaughtering some foul beast. It was above her pay grade, really. Admittedly, this time, she was acting for no one but herself, her cloak of darkness a familiar friend.

She found Borden waiting for her outside of the narrow tunnel, pacing anxiously, unable to phase through the locked door. She coughed, getting his attention, gesturing for him to move quickly. After the amount of effort it had taken for her to get the key, she was hardly going to fail this mission due to the man's sluggishness.

"I'm beginning to like you, Merlyn." he grinned, following her back through the tunnel. She took him down the steps, but stopped, knowing that her presence would mean too much trouble if they were spotted. She couldn't risk everything she'd worked for on this, no matter how much she wanted to ensure everything went smoothly.

"This as far as I go." she murmured, scouring the night for a glimmer of the guards. She pointed him in the right direction, handing him the stolen key. "Now, this key opens the last gate, but you have to get past the guards."

She wasn't sure if she liked the twinkle in Borden's eye. "That won't be a problem."

~

Merlyn was uncomfortable with how long this was taking. She glanced nervously down the passageway, listening for the light footsteps of the thief, praying that Borden was as skilled as he seemed to believe. Finally, as the distant shouts of guards began to rise from somewhere along the tunnel, Borden appeared, a tinge of panic across his features.

"Have you got it?" she whispered, refusing to attract any unwanted attention. He nodded; Merlyn felt herself relax, jerking her head towards another passage. "Follow me."

They left the way they came, pressing themselves close to the wall at the sound of shouting guards above them. Their footsteps were so close, but Merlyn barely let herself breathe, her heart only slowing as all noise slowly faded away.

"Thanks." Borden murmured, smiling at her with genuine appreciation.

"Anytime." Merlyn shrugged, keeping her eyes trained on the ramparts above them.

Borden handed her the key for the vaults; Merlyn pulled the door of the tunnel back to its frame, not particularly in the mood to be caught just as she thought she was in the clear.

"Tell me, Merlyn, would you say that you're a good liar?" Borden questioned suddenly, setting off every alarm bell in the witch's brain. She stepped back, managing to hit the slimy git in the face, but she was too late. A blunt object hit her in the back of the head hard, sending her falling forward, only to bash her forehead on the top step. She wished she could've said that she managed to put up some kind of fight, but she'd been taken by surprise. In the back of her mind, she vaguely registered the sound of footsteps fading away as her world spun into black.

~

It was really a testament to how terrible the guards truly were that Merlyn awoke exactly where she had blacked out, evidently unfound. She'd always known that Percival had been the only useful man in their ranks. Groaning, she sat up, trying to remember what had happened the night before, only for a key to fall next to her, clattering onto the floor. Her eyes widened as her memory returned; she stood quickly, locking the door of the passageway, amazed to find that morning had already arrived. To say that she sprinted to the king's chambers would be entirely accurate, replacing the key on his belt, glad to see that he was yet to wake.

Naturally, not everything went exactly to plan. The servant managed to flick the goblet that sat beside Arthur's bed, luckily empty, into the air and across the bed, a flash of magic the only thing that stopped it loudly hitting the floor. Merlin gasped, diving across Arthur to grasp the cup, returning it to its rightful place. Unfortunately, that also woke up the king, who stared at her as if she were mad.

"Merlyn?" he gasped, flinching away from her for a moment. He seemed to take her in, staring at her with the upmost confusion. "What are you doing?"

"Shh." she hushed him, picking up the goblet and placing the mouth to the headboard of the bed, pressing her ear against the base. She knocked the wood, shaking her head and moving a little further down, knocking again, trying to act as if she hadn't gone completely mental. By the look on Arthur's face, he wasn't convinced.

"I'm listening for woodworm." she explained, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"I'm getting slightly concerned about you." the prince murmured, edging further away from her. Merlyn grinned, putting the goblet down and sliding into bed next to the king, pressing her lips to his for a moment before snuggling next to him, smiling into his skin as he wrapped an arm around her, the pair allowing themselves a moment of comfortable silence before they faced the realities of the cruel world. But it couldn't last. Just as Merlyn felt her eyes close, the bells rang out, the sound breaching their peaceful cocoon. The servant wanted to be annoyed, but the bells were her fault. Besides, she should probably face her own failures, however unappealing the thought may be. She'd been tricked; she didn't like the feeling.

"What the hell is that?" Arthur hissed into her ear, evidently just as upset for their moment to be ruined as she was.

~

"The lock hasn't been damaged, which would suggest whoever it was had a key." Agravaine prattled on, opening the vault door to allow Gaius into the dusty room. Nothing seemed particularly disturbed, cobwebs hanging ominously from the ancient shelves, artifacts still in place. Arthur frowned, examining the room for some kind of inconsistency.

"Strange." Gaius muttered; the king could've sworn that his eyes lingered on Merlyn for a moment before travelling around the room, as if she may have something to do with this. Then again, perhaps the look was nothing but habit: his servant was often too nosy for her own good.

"With all these treasures, this is all they were interested in. What was in here?" Arthur questioned the physician, lifting the lid of a rather ornate box. It was lined with blue velvet; the king was sure that whatever artifact it had once held was one of significant value.

"I believe, sire, one third of a triskelion. A type of key, one that, according to legend opens the ancient tomb of Ashkanar." Gaius reported wearily. Arthur stared at the box, searching his memories for any thought of recognition.

"I remember my father talking of such a tomb." he realised, grasping at the notion. "It contained a dragon's egg."

Gaius nodded gravely. "It has been said."

Arthur found himself concerned by the note of hesitance in the physician's voice. "You don't believe it to be true?"

"Well, it's possible, sire. The wealth and wisdom of Ashkanar are without equal."

"Is the egg still there?" Agravaine questioned from behind Arthur a deep frown wrinkling his features.

"To my knowledge, nobody has disturbed the tomb for more than 400 years." Gaius shrugged, clearly uncertain.

Arthur found himself staring at the empty box, not sure why he was so sick with worry. The last Dragonlord was dead; even if the egg was found, it couldn't possibly be hatched. Still, he was concerned.

"But with this triskelion, someone could?" he asked, not really needing an answer.

"Sire, a dragon's egg can live for a thousand years. Even today, it could still hatch, and another dragon can be born into this world." Agravaine warned, his expertise in this subject surprising. Arthur wasn't sure how, exactly, the egg would hatch: from what he remembered, a Dragonlord was needed for the process. But he supposed he couldn't be too careful. His father had worked too hard to rid the world of such monsters for his work to be undone by a common thief.

"We have no choice." he declared. "We must hunt down this intruder and destroy the egg."

~

Merlyn barely had time to close the door before Gaius started shouting, her mentor apparently too angry to care who heard their mildly treasonous conversation. The witch, however, wasn't exactly in the mood to be brutally murdered, casting a spell that would stop any noise from breaking through the thin, wooden door. If she was going to die, it would be because of some heroic magical act, not one of Gaius' lectures.

"How could you be so stupid?" the man spat, whirling around to face her. "What were you thinking?"

Merlyn hadn't really expected him to understand. "I am a Dragonlord. It's my sacred duty to protect the last of the dragons."

"The tomb could've remained closed for another 400 years, and the egg would've been completely safe." Gaius continued to yell, as if forgetting that Merlyn was only a few feet away. "Now Arthur's riding out, intent on destroying it."

"We have to hope that Borden gets there first." Merlyn sighed, certain that, in a proper fight between herself and the coward, she would easily rip the egg from his clutches. He seemed like the person who valued his life significantly more than any notion of loyalty, riches or courage.

"Oh! You trust Borden? You really think he's going to release the dragon?" Gaius stared at her, startled. Merlyn opened her mouth, ready to say that she didn't believe it for a second, that Borden was missing the powers that would allow him to hatch such a creature, but apparently the physician wasn't finished, scoffing at her as if she were a bumbling fool.

"I dread to think what he intends for the poor creature. Why couldn't you leave things alone?" the physician stormed off, his rage so powerful, that Merlyn knew that her logic wouldn't cut through his mood. Perhaps the dragon egg would be safe for another 400 years, but she would be nothing but dust by that point. There was no guarantee that she would ever have children; she just couldn't risk her legacy. It wasn't fair on the dragon.

~

Merlyn was glad to see that Arthur was getting out the castle, but didn't exactly appreciate all the extra work that had suddenly been pressed onto her shoulders, as if she didn't have enough on her plate. Still, as she entered the sunny courtyard, she supposed her life could've been worse. It wasn't raining.

"Hurry up, Merlyn!" Arthur shouted from his horse, the sound of hooves breaking the relative quiet of the castle. The servant was quick to jump onto her horse, catching up with the knights as they entered the forest, following whatever trail the king, apparently on a whim. With the number of horses heading in and out of Camelot, what with the market trade and parade of noblemen competing to shove their noses deep into Arthur's backside, there was an array of prints left in the dirt. But the king seemed to think he knew what he was doing, so Merlyn was content to let her mind wonder, wishing that Borden wasn't as slimy as he appeared.

The servant was the one, however, to spot the smoke of a campsite between the trees, the warm coals indicating that Borden wasn't too far ahead of them. Elyan declared the gap to only be a few hours, but as the sun began to set, there was still no sign of the thief.

Arthur dismounted, sliding down a small ditch as if he'd seen something. Merlyn wasn't sure if she felt dread or relief when the king looked up at them, shaking his head.

"Deer tracks." he called up, causing the knights to share a look.

"Have we lost him?" Leon asked, concern etched over every one of his features.

Arthur shrugged, scratching behind his ear in worry.

"It's getting too dark to see." he said, retreating back to his horse. "We'll have to find somewhere to hole up for the night."

"But we're so close to him." Merlyn exclaimed, doing her best to sound disappointed. If she could reach Borden just after he retrieved the egg, she would have the best chance of stealing it away.

"Unless you can see in the dark, Merlyn, there's not much else we can do." Arthur smirked up at her, completely unaware of the fact that, with a little research, Merlyn was almost certain that seeing through the night would become almost instinctual. It was moments like these where she needed Lancelot by her side, ready to share a wry smile. Instead, she met Percival's gaze, who just raised his eyebrows at her, the most reaction she could ever really get out of him. It wasn't quite the same, but it was a moment of kinship.

~

They set up camp as the sun began to sink just under the horizon, the sky turning ashen as the light dwindled, time seeming to fade. Merlyn, naturally, had to set up camp by herself, because apparently chivalry had been dead for a very long time. Still, she liked the work, lost in her own thoughts, keeping warm by the fire whilst she cooked their stew, listening to the knights as they chatted among themselves, Arthur looking far freer than he'd allowed himself to be in a long time. She'd been right: a hunt had done him good, even if it wasn't exactly the kind she'd been expecting.

As the cook, Merlyn always thought that she should really be the one to eat first, but clearly lazing around on the ground had made Merlyn's friends rather hungry. Doing her best to conceal her annoyance, she stood, serving fair portions into each man's bowl, trying to ignore the rumbling of her own stomach. Once she'd finished with the knights, she turned to get her own bowl, only to find brave Sir Leon's shoved under her nose, miraculously empty.

"Whoa. I'm famished." he grinned mischievously; Merlyn, not in the mood to argue, spooned another helping into his bowl.

"Thank you." the knight said boldly, a knowing twinkle in his eye. Merlyn nodded, trying to turn back to her own possessions, only for a strong hand to pull her back towards the knights.

"I'm as hungry as a horse." Gwaine complained, taking the spoon from Merlyn and serving himself. It was probably a good thing he'd taken the weapon out of her reach: she had the sudden urge to hit him around the head.

Finally, she made it back to the fire, so close to managing to serve herself, but apparently destiny had other ideas.

"That's a point, Merlyn. Have you fed them?" Arthur, her supposedly true love, questioned, pointing towards the horses. The servant sighed, wondering if it was too late to take Morgana's side. Or perhaps Kilgharrah had been wrong and her destiny with a far more handsome prince in a distant land, one who wouldn't withhold her food or tease her relentlessly. Really, she should probably check that Arthur was destined for greatness. Sometimes, she found herself doubting it.

"Come on, they must be starving." the king said with an air of sincerity that was completely ruined by the fact that his mouth was full. Evidently courtly manners had failed him in that regard.

"But-" Merlyn tried; Arthur wasn't having any of it.

"On your toes."

Begrudgingly, Merlyn stood, noting the wary glances the knights gave their king. He'd taken their jokes a little too far; on another day, the servant was sure that she would argue. But maybe Gaius' words had got to her. She didn't want another fight, not that day.

Slowly, she ambled to the horses, enjoying her moment away from the group. She may be hungry, but with no sounds but the rustling trees, she contented herself in her work, doing her best to ignore the way that her hair stood on end. Something was wrong, she could feel it.

When nothing immediately jumped out to attack her, the servant returned to the knights, shaking away her nerves. She was just hungry, that was all. Surprisingly, all five men were standing, bowls in hands, laughing among themselves with suspicious mirth.

"Mm. That was lovely, Merlyn. Thanks." Gwaine smirked, patting her back as he gave her his empty bowl.

"I loved it." Percival was next, adding to her small pile; Merlyn realised that her skepticism had been completely right.

"Me too." Leon handed her his bowl; Merlyn couldn't help but scowl, knowing that something was off.

"If you're going to wash those, wash this too." Arthur shoved his bowl at her, adding the pot to the pile.

"Thanks." Merlyn murmured, thoroughly unamused, wondering what exactly why starving her was some kind of joke. She was hungry, exhausted, and quite frankly, in no mood to deal with the knights' antics. Just because they outranked her didn't mean that they could steal from her.

"Ooh, there's still a bit left." Arthur exclaimed, taking the spoon and finishing the last mouthful in front of her very eyes.

"Good, was it?" Merlyn questioned, thoroughly unamused.

"Mm." Arthur shrugged, never one to actually compliment her. "A little bit salty though."

The servant rolled her eyes, heading towards the stream with tears in her eyes. It had been a bad day.

"Merlyn." Leon called for her just as she was about to leave his sight; the servant swore that if he asked her to do one more thing, destiny be damned, she would blast him to smithereens. She turned, only to see another bowl in his hands.

"There's another plate here." he chuckled; Merlyn stared at him for a moment, sending the knights a tight smile as they laughed, not quite managing to feel anything close to mirth. Still, at least she wouldn't starve that night.

~

Sensing her mood, Arthur had let his lover sleep by the fire, likely realising that he and his men had pushed her slightly too far, the warmth soothing her aching bones. Unfortunately, she didn't sleep long: some mysterious voice began to call out to her a whisper hushed by the night.

"Emrys." it murmured, awaking her from thoughtless dreams. She considered ignoring it, hoping that it wouldn't persist, but some things just aren't meant to be.

"Emrys." it spoke again. She stood, eying her surroundings, leaving the knights as she headed towards the voice.

"Emrys."

"Where are you?" she croaked, stumbling through the forest. Listening to the whispers, she climbed up into a small clearing, the trees lined with hooded figures, druids, if she had to guess.

One stood in the centre, pulling down his hood to reveal a familiar face. She'd seen him before, once, with Arthur when they'd searched for the Cup of Life. He'd warned them, then; she doubted his presence could mean anything good.

"Don't be afraid. We know your quest." he stated; Merlyn could see, even in the darkness, that his hair was tinged with grey. He looked far older than he had those couple of years ago. She wondered what had changed for him.

"How?" the witch frowned, confused. The druids were clever but they weren't psychic.

"The man you seek also stole from us." the druid explained, his expression so very serious. "He passed through these woods not three hours before you."

Merlyn supposed that made sense. She wouldn't have been surprised if Borden had taken part of the triskelion from the druids. "Which way did he go?"

"To the east." the druid pointed eerily in the direction of the rising sun. "But you must be wary, Emrys. The legends tell a tale that only the druids know."

Merlyn expected him to continue, but apparently the druid needed some prompting. "What do they say?"

"Ashkanar was a wise man. He knew one day that men would come seeking to disturb his rest. The triskelion is not just a key. It is also a trap."

The witch rather thought that if Ashkanar didn't want his resting place disturbed, then rather than setting all these traps, he could have just not kept a dragon egg within his tomb. Wise man, indeed. She didn't say this out loud, of course. That would be disrespectful.

"What do you mean? What kind of trap?" she asked instead, her questions far more suitable than the intricacies of a half-forgotten myth.

The druid stared at her with haunted eyes. "I do not know. But the legends are very clear. You must beware, Emrys."

She nodded, glancing at the other gathered druids, before turning to leave, but the first man stopped her.

"There is one other thing the legends say." he stated, waiting for her to turn back to face him. "Only when the way ahead seems impossible will you have found it."

Well, that was about as vague and unhelpful as anything Kilgharrah would say, so Merlyn decided there was probably some truth to it. Nodding her thanks, she turned away from the clearing, hoping for a dreamless sleep.

~

The forestry had become too dense for the horses, so the group were forced to leave them, ducking under branches on foot, following whatever trail was left between the leaves. Silence surrounded the subdued knights, not even Merlyn bothering to speak. Arthur felt a little guilty for his actions the night before, knowing from his servant's strained smile that she was just as tired as the rest of them, perhaps even more so. He didn't know what had come over him: he'd hardly treated her as an equal in that moment, let alone his lover, his Merlyn. He'd make it up to her when they returned to Camelot, he promised himself. The mission came first.

After far too much walking, they found the remains of the fire, but it was cold to the touch, the ashes dark against the green around them.

"He must've left in the night." Arthur declared, scouring the landscape as if he was going to simply spot the thief hanging from a tree. Cursing himself for his own stupidity, he turned back to his knights, who all looked worryingly puzzled.

"There's no tracks." Gwaine frowned, running his hand through his wild hair.

"He's covered them." Leon agreed, seemingly at a loss. This wasn't good.

Merlyn, who had barely said a word all morning, chose this moment to pipe up. "We had him. We were so close."

She started walking, her negative attitude so strange with the harsh look upon her face. Something was torturing her, but for the life of him, Arthur couldn't understand what it could be.

"Where are you going? We don't even know which way he went." the king asked, what he thought was a fairly intelligent question.

By the look on Merlyn's face, you would think he was nothing more than an idiot.

"He's heading east." she stated without any sort of explanation, walking further away.

"How do you know that?" Arthur inquired to her retreating figure, fighting the urge to follow her. As much as he hated to admit it, she was usually right about these things.

His servant stopped, turning to stare at him incredulously. "Woman's intuition."

"Don't be ridiculous. That's not a real thing." Arthur sighed, turning back to his knights, most of whom had been watching the exchange with thinly veiled amusement. Elyan, on the other hand, had been doing something useful.

"Hang on." he shouted, kneeling next to what appeared to be faint footprints in the mud. "She's right."

"She can't be." Arthur hissed, heading to inspect the prints for himself. But Elyan was right. Somehow, Merlyn was right.

"Well done, Merlyn." Leon cheered, hardly helping matters. The servant almost looked smug, folding her arms as she waited for the others to catch up, falling into place next to Arthur.

"You ever heard of the word 'sorry'?" she inquired, new humour dancing through her eyes.

Arthur glared at her, almost tripping over a root as he dwelled in his servant's moment of glory.

"No. Is that another word you made up?" he questioned, ready when she punched him in the shoulder, sending her a sideways grin.

~

They walked for some time through more forest, eventually joining a stream, finding more footprints left uncovered by the mud. It gave Arthur hope, that perhaps they were heading in the right direction after all, trampling through the shrubbery until they arrived at a sheer cliff, nothing ahead but the small mouth of a cave.

"It's a dead end." he announced reluctantly, realising that the trail they'd been following wasn't necessarily that of the thief. "Let's go back."

He turned to leave, not quite sure what their next steps would be, but it didn't take long for him to realise that not everyone was following his lead.

"What about the cave?" Merlyn suggested, staring ahead with a strange desperation Arthur couldn't attribute to fear of the consequences of their failure. She was hiding something.

"We're wasting our time." Arthur shook his head, stumbling back over the rocky path.

"Arthur." Percival, who to the king's surprise, had remained by the shoreline, spoke up, pointing to a point in the dirt. There, between the pebbles, heading into the water, was another footprint.

The king sighed. Perhaps he should listen to Merlyn more often.

~

Arthur drew his sword as he entered the cave, doing his best not to slip on the wet rocks. He heard the sound of blades being drawn behind him, their familiarity a comfort as he headed into the darkness.

"Merlyn, this is ridiculous. Where's he heading?" the king questioned, glancing back at his servant. Either Merlyn didn't want to tell Arthur, or didn't know herself, for she ignored his question, staring at the fragments of morning reflecting over her sword.

"There's light ahead." she mumbled, listening to what appeared to be plummeting water somewhere at the end of the tunnel.

When the darkness receded, Arthur found himself standing behind a tall waterfall; he sheathed his sword as he watched the light fracture through the water, reaching out to feel the cold droplets against his skin. Cautiously, he stepped through, glad to feel the sun on his face once again. He'd never admit it, but he absolutely hated the dinginess of caves.

Soon, Merlyn and his men had joined the king outside the waterfall, admiring its sheer beauty as they continued on their journey, shaking water from their skin.

"No wonder no one's ever found it." Gwaine chuckled, stopping Merlyn from falling as she turned to smirk at him. Silently, Arthur agreed. He'd never have thought to go through the cave, not without his servant.

Soon, they found themselves on grassy planes, cresting a hill to finally set their eyes on the tomb. It was rather ornate for Arthur's liking, tall, like some old belltower, standing up from the landscape with a rustic beauty the king could admire. His men were silent as they took it in, lost in their awe. It was straight out of a gothic fairytale, hardly picturesque, but still noble, tinged with magic.

Merlyn stood in front of him, staring at the tomb, entranced by its aura. Oddly, she seemed to suit the strange tower, her raven hair fluttering in the breeze. Arthur had always sensed that there was something missing when it came to his lover, a part of her stolen away, hidden behind clever eyes. Strangely, whatever surrounded that tower seemed to almost fit.

~

Merlyn could just sense that something was about to go wrong. It was too quiet. She stood next to Arthur, listening for some kind of movement as they traversed the valley, uncomfortable in the openess. The walls of rock stood tall, reaching far above their heads, covered in a thick layer of wet moss. It would be a brilliant place for an ambush, that, she could be sure of, but it was the fastest route to the dragon egg. Borden couldn't be too far ahead of them now, she was sure of it.

Her certainty wasn't unwarranted; just as she thought they might make it out of the valley alive, she heard a cry from behind her. Spinning around, she saw Percival clutching his leg, an arrow protruding out of his thigh.

"Take cover!" Arthur shouted, pulling Merlyn against a face of stone. The knights followed, Gwaine grabbing Percival's arm and practically threw him out of range of the shooter just as another arrow landed in the ground between Arthur's feet. It took a moment for Merlyn to realise that, through the commotion, Gwaine's hand never left Percival's arm.

But that didn't exactly matter when they were all so close to getting themselves killed. There was a moment where all Merlyn could hear was Leon's deep breathing and the blood rushing through her ears.

"Are you alright?" the king asked Percival, who had eased himself onto the ground, taking pressure off his wounded leg. Merlyn could've sworn she saw Gwaine's hand brush across his cheek, before reaching for his own sword, staring upwards, waiting for another arrow.

"Yeah." the knight groaned, wincing as a bolt stuck fast in the rock just above his head.

Merlyn searched the treeline, trying to spot Borden between the leaves.

"Where's he firing from?" Arthur murmured, obviously having the same idea. He glanced worriedly towards Percival, who was no shape to sprint for cover. Tapping Leon's armour with the flat of his blade, the king leaned over Merlyn, gesturing pointedly at Percival.

"I'll draw the fire. Get him to safety." he ordered, pushing himself into range before Merlyn could protest. Leon and Gwaine grabbed Percival as an arrow flew passed Arthur's head, missing him by inches.

Once again, silence reigned over them, only this time, Merlyn managed to truly concentrate. Watching the shrubbery, she found Borden sprinting towards cover, pinpointing his position amongst the foliage.

"Arthur." she hissed, just about gaining his attention. She looked from him up to where Borden was hiding, doing her best to communicate what she'd seen. The king, thank god, seemed to understand, ducking his head around a piece of rock in order to see Borden, even for just a second. He signalled something Merlyn didn't understand, before taking off in a sprint, putting himself directly in Borden's sight.

Merlyn sighed. What an idiot. Her eyes burned gold; Borden's crossbow mysteriously flew out of his hands, breaking against a tree. He was left weaponless; Arthur survived his ridiculous mission. She saw Borden run, escaping just before the king reached him, disappearing into the green.

"What happened? Where's he gone?" Arthur shouted down to them, causing the knights to slowly retreat from hiding.

Merlyn looked up at the king, realising he would probably like an explanation. "Perhaps he ran out of bolts."

The king didn't seem satisfied. Merlyn followed his lead, running around the stones, climbing up to where Arthur had ventured off, apparently in a world of his own.

"Careful!" Arthur called as she narrowly avoided running into a spiky tree branch, pulling her back towards him. "Who knows what he's left lying in wait for us."

"We can go round that." Merlyn swiped his hand from her, pointing at the branch.

Arthur shook his head grimly. "No. He knows we're coming. We'll make camp, continue at dawn."

By 'we', Merlyn very much doubted that the king would have much to do with it.

~

Merlyn had spent countless winters hungry in Ealdor, sneaking whatever food she could onto her mother's plate, using small sparks of magic to make the crops grow just a little bit taller, vegetables that little bit bigger. She had never starved, she was lucky in that regard, but compared to the regular, hot meals she was handed in Camelot, it wasn't quite the same. Still, it had meant that she'd learned a couple of ways to sneak herself some food; as the knights sharpened their swords, she took her own portion of her warm stew, bringing the spoon to her lips, only for Arthur to take the bowl out of her hands, smiling at her devilishly.

"Merlyn, can you get some more firewood?" he asked, taking a mouthful of her dinner. "Mmm."

"But I was just gonna-" she tried, but Arthur obviously wasn't listening.

"This is good." he nodded, turning to the other knights. "Guys, you've got to try this."

Each man came and ate over her, even Percival, whose wound she had just dressed. It was a sour thought, but perhaps she should have left him limping. Frowning, she stood up, wandering into the forest to do what her master had asked. She wouldn't want to disappoint the king, after all.

~

When Merlyn returned, a pile of sticks in hand, she was surprised to see the knights lying down, as if asleep. It had been a long day, what with being shot at, and she supposed that they'd all had a nice, warm meal. Still, the sun was yet to set. The sky was still a pale blue; it wasn't like Arthur to waste time.

"All right. Don't tell me... It was too salty." she shouted out to them, only to be met by Gwaine's snoring. "Typical."

She threw the logs down by Arthur's head, but still, she got no reply. She really wasn't appreciated enough.

"Well, if you think I'm doing the washing up..." she muttered to herself, amused by the thought of Arthur scrubbing the pot. She picked up her own bowl, about to scrape at the remnants of the stew, when she saw a small bag at the very bottom of the pot. Fishing it out, she smelt it, not recognising it as any of her ingredients. It looked almost like a poultice.

Arthur started groaning from behind her, as if in pain. Merlyn's eyes widened as he began to choke, rushing over to him, checking his pulse. The other knights seemed to have trouble breathing, gasping for air, evidently poisoned.

This, Merlyn should not have been thinking, was what they got for being twats about their food.

Placing her hand on Arthur's chest, she closed her eyes, struggling for the right spell.

"Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare."

Arthur's breathing evened; Merlyn rushed over to Leon, whispering ancient words as her heart calmed in her chest. They would be okay.

~

Once all the knights were healed, Merlyn staggered in the direction of the tomb. She had underestimated Borden, thought him greedy, but relatively harmless. She couldn't let him get his hands on the dragon egg, not even for a second.

Sprinting through the trees, she finally found herself in a clearing, the dark tower looming down on her, its old brickwork impressive. She spotted Borden scaling a wall, reminding her that she wasn't here for an architectural study. If she didn't reach the dragon egg before him, she couldn't be certain of its safety.

Following dark tunnels that very much reminded the witch of those under Camelot, she let her intuition guide her, refusing to get lost in the brick maze. She listened for any sign of Borden, but only found the terrible man the moment her eyes fell upon him. He was standing in front of a heavy door, twisting the triskelion in a wooden panel, so focused that he didn't even realise Merlyn's presence.

"No!" she exclaimed, only able to watch as Borden turned to give her a smug smile, heading through the doorway. He didn't get very far, however, for the moment he stepped through the threshold, he was overcome by some kind of poisonous gas. He coughed, gasping, and fell to the floor before he disappeared behind white smoke, the haze heading straight for the witch.

Merlyn covered her mouth and nose with her jacket, pushing her arm out towards the fog.

"Þrosm tohweorfe."

The gas cleared, as if sucked away by some magical force.

Merlyn walked straight past Borden's body, barely wondering if he was still alive, only stopping to steal his flaming torch.

Ambling slowly through the passageways, careful to stop herself falling into any more traps, Merlyn ascended a narrow staircase, eventually finding herself in a large, imposing hall. Light shone through some high windows, the room lined with ancient columns forming a pathway towards the dragon egg. She smiled, staring at it fondly. It was beautiful, white and smooth, almost in the shape of a dragon's tooth. Merlyn was unsure what she had expected, but it certainly wasn't this.

Approaching it slowly, she placed down her torch, admiring the egg in its natural glow. Now she was close to it, she could see blue flecks tarnishing its shell, speckles of darkness within such brilliant light. She traced the shell with her fingertips, about to lift it from its pedestal, when she heard the sound of footsteps coming towards her.

"Give it to me." Borden demanded, as if Merlyn would ever do such a thing.

"It's not yours to take." she sneered, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from the egg.

Borden didn't seem to understand. "You give it to me, and I will grant you a half share, Merlyn."

"No." Merlyn spat. "It must go free."

"Don't be a fool. Think of the power it could bring us, the lands we can rule over, the riches." Borden tried, edging closer to the witch.

She took an unconscious step back, shaking her head softly. "I'm not interested in that."

"With this dragon at our command, we will live like kings. We will have the freedom and power to do as we wish." Borden continued as if Merlyn hadn't spoken, as if she was simply foolish. She was tired of this.

"Dragons cannot be used like that!" she roared. "They must be left unshackled, free to roam the earth."

Kilgharrah had taught her that.

"But this is your chance, Merlyn. Your chance to escape your meaningless life, your worthless existence."

Merlyn could only wish that her life didn't have meaning, a destiny.

"It's not my life that's pitiable. It's yours." she said quietly, surprised to know she meant it. "You've wasted it, and for nothing."

Merlyn hadn't quite realised how close Borden had managed to get to her, but now, as he picked up her discarded torch, she knew she had to be careful. She thought about drawing her sword, but decided against it. She didn't want to risk the egg being broken when she'd managed to get this far.

"I pieced together the triskelion. I found the path that led us here. The dragon belongs to me." he bellowed, as if the sheer emotion in his voice would convince the witch. "Now, hand it over."

Merlyn met his gaze. She hadn't backed down from far stronger men than Borden. "No."

"You are not going to stop me, girl!" the man exclaimed, waving his torch at her. She ducked, eying the egg with worry as the fire came dangerously close to its shell. Her nervousness meant that she was caught off guard, falling to the floor without a thought for her blades.

"Dragons are magical creatures. They belong to no man!" she declared, amazed at how much power she fed into those words. "They are for the benefit of all."

Borden scoffed. "What do you know? You're nothing but a serving girl."

"I am the last Dragonlord, and I am warning you. Leave this egg alone."

The way Borden's face dropped was priceless. He glanced towards the egg, raising his torch in the air, and brought it back towards Merlyn. She pushed him back, her eyes glowing golden as he flew through the air, landing with a sickening thud against one of the great columns in the room. He didn't get up.

Merlyn, however, just about managed it. She walked over to the egg, taking a deep breath as she lifted it from its resting place, marveling in its weight.

But she could only concentrate for a moment before a loud rumbling came from behind her. She saw the walls caving in; without a second thought, she began to sprint back the way she came, tucking the egg under her jacket. Rubble and dust filled her vision; she could barely remember the way out of the tower without her sight. And then, finally, fresh air greeted her, the only troubles those of the rocks raining down upon her head.

She made it to her rucksack just in time to deposit the egg before the knights were upon her, their swords glinting in the dwindling light.

"What happened?" Arthur questioned her as she stood to greet them, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "We thought we'd lost you."

"I'm fine." she whispered, kissing him on the cheek before falling into the arms of the other knights, all of whom seemed surprisingly worried.

"The tomb was a trap." she explained. "He set it off. He never got out."

"What about the egg?" Leon asked, watching the tower fall.

Merlyn shrugged, aware that Arthur was still staring at her, as if not quite believing that something horrible hadn't happened to her.

"It would've perished with him." she stated, tearing her thoughts away from the worried king.

"Nothing's going to survive under all that." Elyan murmured, almost in awe. Strangely, Arthur no longer seemed to care.

~

Merlyn sat opposite Gaius, a bowl of soup and a hunk of bread in front of her, cosy in the warm glow of their chambers. It was nice, to be cooked for, even if her food could do with a little more salt. But looking into the wise physician's eyes, she knew that, despite his facade of quiet politeness, he was eager to see what she had discovered. The official report said that the egg had been destroyed, but Gaius wasn't stupid enough to think that Merlyn, with all of her powers, had failed in her duty. She was a Dragonlord, after all.

"Shame about the egg." he commented, putting his empty bowl to the side.

Merlyn did the same, stretching her arms across the table, trying to contain her excitement. "Yeah."

"You weren't able to save it?" Gaius asked, as if he didn't already know the answer.

"No." Merlyn sighed dramatically, brushing the crumbs off the wooden table. She avoided the physician's gaze, but when she finally met his eyes, she couldn't help the chuckle that slipped from her lips.

Standing quickly, she strode to her rucksack, trying to find the words for what she had found.

"All the jewels, all the treasures, Gaius, they don't compare." she said enthusiastically, crouching to retrieve the egg from her bag. Turning to face the physician, she held it in both hands, the pale shell just as beautiful in the dim candlelight. Carefully, she walked over, handing it to Gaius, who stared at it in utter awe.

"And it was almost lost because of you." Gaius murmured, rather rudely, Merlyn thought, but she couldn't deny that he was right.

"I'm sorry, Gaius. I was to quick to act. I just thought..." she trailed off, still staring at the egg. It gave her something that often failed her, especially on cold, lonely nights, or when she watched another helpless man kneeling in front of the chopping block. The killings were happening far less frequently, but still, Merlyn couldn't save everyone.

And yet, that egg... Seeing it preserved despite all of the horrors she'd seen... It gave her hope.

"You have to think things through. Ashkanar did exactly that. He had the foresight to conceal this for more than 400 years." Gaius looked back down at the fragile egg, almost as if he didn't want to let go, but eventually he handed it back, folding his hands together in his lap.

"And now it's down to you, Merlyn. For you must now decide what you intend to do with it."

Part of Merlyn knew that her plans were risky. If the dragon was captured, if it was stolen or sold, then she would never forgive herself. But she'd meant what she'd said to Borden. She had no rights over it, not even as a Dragonlord. The dragon needed to go free.

"I've thought about it. I'm going to make sure that it goes back to where it belongs." she said, her voice filled with a quiet determination. Kilgharrah would be overjoyed.

~

As Merlyn stumbled through yet another forest, wishing she had more to see than trees, Lancelot suddenly crossed her mind. If he'd still been alive, he would have walked beside her, questioning her about dragons, full of childlike amazement as she told him what she knew, admiring the egg like it was some exotic treasure. She missed him. She didn't think she'd ever stop. He was the best friend she'd ever had, the best person she'd ever known. Lancelot deserved so much more; she'd give almost anything to bring him back to life.

"Merlyn!" a familiar voice cried out behind her; the witch turned, clutching her rucksack to her chest as she squinted in the darkness, surprised to see a figure limping towards her.

"Percival?" she smiled in greeting, trying to act as if it was completely normal for her to be wandering around the forest in the night. "How's the leg?"

"Good, thanks." he huffed, a little out of breath. Evidently he'd been following her for a while. "Let's see it then."

"See what?" Merlyn asked innocently, but her act wasn't enough to convince Percival.

"The egg." he gestured to her bag. "Come on, you're the almighty Emrys. There's no way that you let it be crushed."

Merlyn paused. Sometimes, she forgot that the knight knew of her true identity. She could trust him, she thought, but she didn't understand his presence in the woods.

"How did you find me?" she asked, making no move to show him the egg.

Percival shrugged, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "I've sort of been on lookout. When I saw you go into the forest, I thought..."

Merlyn furrowed her eyebrows. "You thought what?"

"That you might be going to hatch it." Percival looked incredibly awkward, shifting from foot to foot.

The witch couldn't help but giggle, shaking her head in amusement. "So you came here to watch me hatch a dragon?"

"Yeah?" Percival seemed surprised that she was laughing, as if expecting her to push him away, usher him back to Camelot with his tail between his legs.

Merlyn arched an eyebrow, but turned back in the direction of the clearing, gesturing for Percival to follow. "Come on, then. You can see the egg when we find him."

"Find who?" Percival asked, evidently confused.

Merlyn smirked, glad that the knight couldn't see her face.

"You'll see."

~

Percival's gasp was audible when Merlyn lifted the egg into his line of sight, placing it on a handy tree stump as they awaited Kilgharrah's arrival.

"It's beautiful." he murmured, so entranced by the egg that he almost missed the fully grown dragon landing on the grass in front of him. To his credit, he didn't draw his sword, but did regard Kilgharrah with a suspicious eye.

The Great Dragon ignored him, turning his large head to address Merlyn. "I see you brought a friend."

Merlyn stared up at him, realising that his true magnificence had never truly faded from the moment she'd first seen him. "He wanted to watch."

"Yeah." Percival piped up nervously, his voice a little higher than normal. Kilgharrah turned to regard him, looking him up and down, but quickly returned his gaze to Merlyn, his expression unreadable.

"Is it still alive?" she asked, worried that all her efforts would have been for nothing.

Kilgharrah nodded proudly, looking down at the egg with a soft expression she'd never seen on the face of the dragon. "It can live for more than a thousand years."

Merlyn smiled, glad to see that the dragon was just as excited as she. "So you are no longer the last of your kind."

"It would seem not." Kilgharrah chuckled, a crooked smile upon his face.

"When will it hatch?" Merlyn questioned, unsure as to what was expected of her. She glanced at Percival, who had silently watched their conversation incredulously. The witch supposed that it wasn't every day that one saw a woman of her stature conversing with a big, fearsome dragon.

"Young dragons were called into the world by the Dragonlords. Only they had the power to summon them from the egg. As the last Dragonlord, this solemn duty falls to you, Merlyn."

The witch looked down at the egg, finding her new burden heavy on her shoulders. "How do I summon it?"

"You must give the dragon a name." Kilgharrah said, looking down upon the Dragonlord with heavy expectation.

Merlyn's eyes flickered up to the Great Dragon, and then down to the egg. It seemed incredible that such a small thing could grow to something the size of Kilgharrah. Closing her eyes, Merlyn looked within herself, calling upon all of her knowledge to find something fitting, a name carved into the edges of her very soul. All sound seemed to fade as she looked within herself, her beating heart drumming in her mind. And then, she found it, the light of the fool moon in a darkened cavern, the first glimpse of the sun on a cold night.

"Aithusa." she hissed, her voice but a deep whisper. Next to her, she heard a gasp from Percival, followed by the sound of cracking. She opened her eyes just in time to see the head of a dragon, of Aithusa, poke out of the shell, looking up at the starry sky.

"A white dragon." Kilgharrah breathed. "It's indeed a rare thing... and fitting. For in the dragon tongue, you named him after the light of the sun. No dragon birth is without meaning. Sometimes, the meaning is hard to see, but this time, I believe it is clear. The white dragon bodes well for Albion, for you and Arthur and for the land you will build together."

Merlyn laughed, feeling tears stream down her cheeks. Percival, beside her, hadn't taken his eyes off Aithusa, disbelief shining through his eyes. She was glad he was with her, sharing this moment. It would've been oddly sad to do this on her own.

But she'd been right. Aithusa was a symbol for her hope, for what she had the capability to bring. Perhaps Albion was on the horizon. Maybe, one day soon, she would be free.

Chapter Text

It wasn't often that Agravaine chose to accompany Leon on his nightly patrols of the lower town. In fact, in all the time the greasy royal had resided within the city, the knight had never known him to have any interest in the guarding of the people, nor anything that didn't directly concern himself, for that matter.

Still, Leon could hardly complain to Arthur. What would he say? For a reason unknown to him and the rest of Camelot, the king actually seemed to like his uncle, to trust his opinion. Although the knight was uneasy of how much Arthur relied on the man's word, it didn't change the fact that Agravaine was somehow superior to him, and therefore, not to be questioned. Briefly, he'd considered taking a page out of Merlyn's book, simply disappearing before Agravaine had a chance to argue, or perhaps even annoying him so ruthlessly, that the man gave up on his newfound interest entirely. Unfortunately, however, he doubted Agravaine had the same temperament as Arthur when it came to such deviances. Further, as far as Leon knew, Agravaine had no interest in sleeping with him, which, in all honesty, appeared to be the primary reason Merlyn seemed to get away with most of her trespasses. Well, that and the numerous times she'd saved all of their arses.

And so, there he was, wrapping his warm cloak around himself on a cold, winter eve, peering through the darkness with little to help his sight but the light of two dim torches, Agravaine silent at his side. The lower town was quiet, as it usually was at this time, most people locked away in the warmth of their homes, less they be caught by a couple of guards breaking curfew.

And then, much to Leon's surprise, a cloaked figure appeared in front of him, his stature almost concealed by the mist. It was ethereal, a tangible spirit disappearing into the night. But luckily for the knight, there was no magic in the ghost in front of him.

"Stop!" he shouted, waking his fellow guards from their drowsy bordom. He unsheathed his sword, pointing it at the figure. "Show yourself."

The cloak fell, revealing the face of a boy, no older than sixteen. He didn't look much, rather skinny, with wide, innocent eyes that kept glancing nervously at Leon's sword. However, the knight had met Merlyn, and knew that such looks could be deceiving. Perhaps it was the chilly gloom that surrounded him, but something about the boy made him suspicious, unnerved.

"Oh, he's just a boy." Agravaine spoke up for the first time since they'd entered the lower town, his dismissive attitude doing nothing to placate Leon's disquiet.

"Out here in the middle of the night?" he furrowed his eyebrows, confused at Agravaine's compassion. He didn't seem like the type to care about such an insignificant matter.

The royal put his hand on Leon's arm, gesturing for him to lower his blade. "There is no need for your sword."

He turned to fix his steely eyes on the boy, who seemed uncertain as to whether he should bow, sending him what Leon thought was meant to be a smile. "Where are you going?"

"I've been catching frogs." the boy stuttered, keeping his head down.

Leon frowned. "Frogs?"

Agravaine chuckled, turning to the knight. "It's a full moon, Leon. I used to do it as a boy."

The knight had to admit that he and Gwen used to do the same, but the practice was long out of fashion. The excuse was plausible enough, he supposed, but something still didn't sit quite right with him. Before he could choose a course of action, however, Agravaine decided for him.

"Come on, you should be in bed. Off you go." he said with another slimy smile, ushering the boy away. Leon could hardly deny the word of a royal, no matter how much he was suspicious of it.

"Thank you, my lord." the boy murmured with a short bow, scampering off into the night. Leon knew that he was probably nothing, that all of this was probably nothing, but still, he couldn't help the strong sense of dread pounding in his heart.

~

Merlyn had been having a rather peculiar day. She'd awoken Arthur in the morning, surprised to see that he let her blatantly steal from his plate, before being shooed off to do a thousand different chores, chatting occasionally to an errant knight or kindly servant. She'd spent an hour with Gwen, picking some of her favourite flowers from the palace garden, curious to see a mysterious twinkle in her friend's eye as she absentmindedly cut thorns from a dozen roses, admiring their sweet scent. Gwaine had almost tripped her when she'd trained with the knights, but she'd caught his strike just in time to send him stumbling backwards, crashing into Percival with a rather high-pitched shriek.

Arthur, as far as she knew, had been in meetings most of the day, so when she opened the door to his chambers, ready for a long night gasping sweet nothings into his ear, she was surprised to see the room lit only by candlelight, her flowers laced with ribbons, tied elegantly across bed, their crimson hue bright in the amber glow.

"Oh, Arthur, this is so sweet." she gushed, fingerings the soft petals. "You've gone to all this trouble. And roses, my favourite. How strange it is that I was picking these earlier today."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, arching an eyebrow as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Strange indeed." he smirked, moving a hand to twirl a strand of her hair around his finger. "Gwen said you enjoyed it, and besides, I was busy getting this ready."

He gestured to a platter of Merlyn's favourites, picking a fresh raspberry from a plate and feeding it between her lips. How he'd managed to get fresh fruit in the middle of winter, the servant didn't know, but she was hardly going to complain as she bit into the berry.

"What's the occasion?" she murmured, kissing under his jaw. Arthur could be as romantic as Lancelot if he had enough help, but he wasn't one to act unprompted.

He simply shrugged, smiling down at her. "No reason. It's just that, sometimes, I don't think I show you how much I appreciate you."

Merlyn smiled. She knew she was meant to disagree, but couldn't quite bring herself to do so. The king pinched her when she didn't reply, chuckling quietly into her ear.

They stood there for a moment, Arthur nuzzling her neck breathing in her scent. Then, he paused.

"Have you bathed since rolling around in the manure in the rose garden?" he questioned, wrinkling his nose. Merlyn squinted up at him, wondering when exactly she was meant to have had the time to bathe.

"No, sire. Unfortunately, I was running around after an arrogant prat all day, training his knights seeing as he didn't bother to show up. I haven't had the time."

"That explains the sweat..." Arthur muttered, but only grinned when Merlyn slapped his shoulder. "Go on, get yourself a hot bath. If you bring it up here, I'm sure we could share..."

Merlyn folded her arms in front of her, plastering mock irritation on her face. It was far too late for other servants to be scarpering around, so she could hardly delegate the task to someone else. She would be more annoyed if it wasn't for the fact that she did indeed smell of the stables, although it wasn't very nice for Arthur to point it out. She hadn't exactly expected to be, well, pampered when she'd arrived at his rooms.

"What makes you think I would want to share a bath with you?" she pouted, already edging towards the door.

Arthur could only smile. "I'll let you use some of my soaps."

For a man who seemed to think self care involved dunking his head in a bowl of water every so often, the king did have a rather large collection of fine soaps. Merlyn stole them fairly often, but she supposed Arthur wasn't supposed to know that.

"I'll see what I can do." she said, eying the platters of fine cheeses set out for her. She could wait a little longer: she was sure that it would be worth it.

~

If Merlyn used magic to speed the process of heating her bathwater, there was no one around to see it. Standing in the kitchens, she tried not to eye the fresh bread, knowing what awaited her in Arthur's chambers. She rolled up her sleeves, pouring another bucket of water into the basin, glad for its heat in the chilly night. She closed her eyes, but paused, sure she'd heard something akin to the creak of a floorboard, a sign of a presence just beyond the doorway.

Turning, she found a boy, young, but old enough to know that he didn't belong in the castle. He had a mop of unruly brown hair which partially hid his pale skin, his weak stature hardly threatening, but Merlyn knew better than to dismiss him. He reminded her of Gilli.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her hand finding the hilt of her sword. She wouldn't use it if she didn't have to, but the familiar weight was comforting.

"My name is Daegal." he croaked, stepping through the doorway. Merlyn left the water, approaching him sternly. Part of her knew that she should be kind to the poor boy, but the feeling that he was going to take her mind away from whatever pleasures Arthur had chosen was creeping through her nerves. She suddenly had a feeling that the grapes she'd seen would be left terribly untouched.

"How'd you get in here?" she questioned a little impatiently, wondering why her destiny always seemed to interrupt everything that she desired. Even a worryless night seemed impossible.

Daegal looked almost proud. "It wasn't difficult."

Merlyn knew that. She'd pointed out on numerous occasions that any assassin could poison the king's food due to the reckless security around the castle. Agravaine had dismissed her worries; it took all of Merlyn's strength not to poison his tea out of spite. She didn't like that greasy man.

"Really?" she gestured for him to move back through the door. "Get out."

"Please, it's my sister. She's sick. She needs a physician." Daegal pleaded, his wide eyes shining with fear.

Merlyn knew that she shouldn't be so unfeeling, but she didn't really want to keep Arthur waiting. "Well, bring her to Gaius."

She moved to close the door, but Daegal shook his head roughly, rolling up his sleeve. "I can't. It's too dangerous for our kind."

On his wrist was a symbol of the druids; though Arthur didn't actively hunt magic users, if he were to find one in his citadel, they would surely perish. Daegal was taking a large risk coming here.

"I need you to come with me. She needs your help or she will die." the boy said matter-of-factly, swallowing hard.

Merlyn admired him; he'd risked everything coming here. Even if he had ruined her evening, she couldn't leave a child to die in the woods.

"I'm not a physician." she warned, pulling Daegal into the kitchen at the sound of footsteps walking past the door. The guards didn't even bother to check on them, the sound of them fading into the darkness.

"She has the sweating sickness. She's only six. I'm begging you. You are her only chance." Daegal cried out, his lips trembling in something close to fear.

Merlyn nodded, placing her hands on her hips as she realised that she'd have to help the boy. He was right, after all. Who else could he turn to?

"How far is she?" Merlyn inquired, plotting her excuses in her head. Arthur couldn't know of this. He wouldn't allow her to go.

"The Valley of the Fallen Kings." Daegal admitted, his gaze barely leaving the floor.

Merlyn pursed her lips. "That's more than half a day away."

"She won't last much longer. You must come now. Please, I have risked my life to save her. Tell me that it was not in vain." Daegal begged her, his eyes filled with so much torture, so much genuine agony that Merlyn knew what she had to do.

"Go. Get out of here. Go." she ordered, pushing the boy out the door.

"Will you help her?" he asked, his green eyes infested with hope.

Merlyn sighed, resigned to her fate. "Meet me at the entrance to the Darkling Woods at first light."

If she was going to risk her life saving this child, nothing could stop her spending her last night with the man she loved.

~

As predicted, Merlyn had spent her night worrying about Daegal, barely distracted by the honey she sucked from Arthur's fingers, his touches just enough to carry her away from her endless peril. She had still enjoyed the flowers and whispered promises, but she couldn't enjoy the wine nor food, promising herself that upon her return, she would set up her own picnic with her beloved, perhaps getting Arthur to pick some of his own flowers. As the sun just started to poke above the horizon, however, she found herself disentangling from the king's limbs, leaving the comfort of his bed to the physician's quarters. Gaius was awake, and after she explained her current predicament, he wasted no time in telling her what a terrible idea it was to help Daegal.

"You don't even know who this boy is." the physician protested, sitting up in his bed to watch Merlyn scurry around, wracking her mind for all that she knew about the sweating sickness.

"He's a druid." Merlyn said unthinkingly, as if it made a difference.

"Who broke into the castle like a thief." Gaius reminded her, as if she hadn't done the same a thousand times before.

She gave him an odd look, packing a bundle of herbs she was fairly sure might help Daegal's sister. "How else was he going to reach me?"

Gaius didn't have an answer for that. "A journey to the Valley of the Fallen Kings, Merlyn? It's a den of murderers and cutthroats."

As far as many people were concerned, Merlyn was sure that she was branded a murderer. She had killed more times than she wished to admit.

"It's dangerous." she admitted, running a hand through her hair.

"It's a long way north of dangerous." Gaius scoffed, acting as if she'd pitched the place as an idea for a picnic.

She just stared at him, fiddling with the buckles on her satchel, unable to believe that Gaius really wanted her to stay. "What am I supposed to do? Let this girl die?"

Gaius didn't have an answer for that either. "The journey there and back is going to take you the best part of a day. How are you going to keep it from Arthur?"

Merlyn disappeared into her room, fetching her blue neckerchief.

"I'm sure you'll think of something?" she shouted over her shoulder, stuffing a couple of potions into her bag.

"Me?" Gaius shrieked, as if outraged by the prospect.

Merlyn shrugged. "The Sarrum of Amata is arriving today. Arthur will be too busy to notice where I am."

That was a lie, but it was one that would hold until she was far out of the door.

"Merlyn." Gaius sighed, but when she turned to him, there was something akin to pride upon his face.

"I've promised the boy and I can't go back on it now." she stated, scouring her medical book one last time. Swinging her satchel over her shoulder, she headed towards the door. "I'll be back by nightfall."

~

Merlyn disappeared through the gates before anyone saw her, barely a soul stirring in the early morning. She made it into the woods, trampling through a field of brambles to reach Daegal, who was sitting on a log, staring anxiously into the distance.

"Sorry I'm late." she spoke up, startling him from his daydreams he stood to greet her, as if surprised she had arrived.

"I thought you weren't coming." he stated, catching the roll she threw at him. It was filled with the leftover cheese from the night before, a sandwich fit for a king.

"I was getting you some breakfast." she explained, walking past him in the vague direction of the valley. "It's fresh."

"It's good of you to do this." Daegal mumbled, his mouth half full. He followed behind her, his midnight cloak muddied by his heels.

Merlyn was hardly going to deny that. "I only hope I can help your sister."

"Won't you get in trouble?" Daegal asked, his priorities evidently distorted by his despair.

The servant smiled at him over her shoulder. "With a bit of luck, nope."

"But you're the king's servant." the boy remarked, as if she wasn't quite aware of that fact.

"Arthur won't even notice I'm gone." Merlyn waved away his worries, not entirely sure if that was exactly true. The king had shown himself rather lost without her support, especially when it came to getting ready without her. She could only hope that he'd put his shirt on the right way round this time, or at least done his belt up properly. He'd be fine, she was sure. He'd lived twenty years without her, surely he could manage a day.

~

"Merlyn?" Arthur called into the empty room, struggling through an oak draw, his comb mysteriously vanished. His servant hadn't been lying next to him that morning when he'd eventually awoken, leaving only a vague note about helping Gaius next to a half-eaten apple. Granted, he had his leftovers from the night before, but her absence lingered on his heart. She should have been lying next to him, her hair smelling like lavender soap, but alas, once again, she was missing.

"Merlyn?" he shouted again, running a hand through his own untamed hair. He'd wanted her standing next to him when he greated his regal visitors, not as a servant, but as, well, Merlyn. The Sarrum certainly had his own reputation, and some of the rumours he'd heard... Morgana may have turned his back on him, but once they'd meant something to each other. He'd need Merlyn, his Merlyn. She was his, wasn't she? Soon, he would plaster her fingers in rings, but they'd never really needed any of that. They were Merlyn and Arthur, two halves of the same soul.

"Merlyn!" he tried once more, hearing the door to his chambers open. He turned, hoping to see the ocean eyes he loved so much, but instead, was met by the plump, less appealing face of his uncle.

"What is it, Arthur?" he questioned lazily, leaning back against the door. "I've told you a thousand times that if you cannot rely on your servant to be found, then you must replace her. George, I hear, is exceeding in his duties. His polishing is quite-"

"Enough, uncle." Arthur interrupted, not really wanting to know what, exactly, George had been polishing. "I'm not sacking Merlyn. I just can't find my comb..."

He trailed off, throwing yet another strange piece of fabric from his draw. Agravaine looked at him as if he were a troublesome child, folding his arms as he walked further into the room.

"Where have you looked?" he asked, apparently ready to stoop far below his pay grade. Arthur winced. His hair must be atrocious to provoke such action from his uncle.

"Everywhere." he sighed dramatically, falling back on his bed. Agravaine walked up to the cabinet Arthur had been searching in, plucking his comb from the draw.

Arthur blinked. "It must've been under something." he stammered, flushing red.

"Your nose." Agravaine muttered, looking incredibly unimpressed. "Honestly, Arthur, you're just like your mother..."

He walked back towards the threshold to the king's chambers, pausing in the doorway. "I came to tell you that you need to prepare for the Sarrum's arrival."

"Yes, uncle." Arthur nodded absentmindedly. It didn't occur to him until much later that this was the first time he'd ever heard Agravaine mention his mother.

Now, if only he could find his robes...

~

"Merlyn!" Arthur shouted for the umpteenth time that morning, barging into the physician's chambers. He expected to see his servant there, crushing herbs or completing some other mind-numbing task, but to his surprise, Gaius was alone.

"She's, ah, garnering herbs, sire." the physician stuttered, lying terribly. Arthur checked that Merlyn wasn't hiding behind the door, refusing to put anything past his servant, even for a second.

He looked back at Gaius, who didn't meet his gaze. "Well, I need her. Now."

"She might be some time." the physician said, a little flustered. He concentrated on whatever he was grinding, only looking back to the king when he stood directly in front of him.

"Where is she?" Arthur asked, a little calmer, placing his hands on his hips in an attempt to look imposing. It didn't really work.

"She's gone in pursuit of a young agrimonia." Gaius answered, as if the king was meant to know what it meant. His confusion must've shown on his face: the physician was quick to explain. "An agrimonia, sire. A noble, but shy plant, not easy to find. It could take her all day."

Arthur peered into Merlyn's room as Gaius spoke, but saw no movement from beyond the door. However, the physician's last words caught his attention. "All day?"

"It is invaluable, sire." Gaius nodded, almost pleading with the king to believe him. "Its properties open up both the liver and the spleen."

"She's in the tavern, isn't she?" Arthur couldn't go along with this pretence any longer. He was king, after all. His time was valuable.

"No, sire." Gaius gasped, taking a moment too long to reply.

"Well, when she's finished opening up her liver and her spleen, tell her that she has exactly one hour to sober up and get to my chambers. We have guests to prepare for."

Slamming the door behind him, Arthur took a moment to breathe. She would return to him, he knew, from wherever she was. The dread at the pit his stomach was nothing: she was fine. Lazy, but fine. He needn't worry. In an hour, she'd burst into his chambers with a goofy smile, waving away his concerns as she dressed him, muttering something about Gaius' chores or some hapless maidservant spilling crockery over the floor.

~

They were making good time. The path was frozen beneath Merlyn's feet by the early frost, the air crisp, the forest comfortably quiet. Daegal kept close to her, seeming to find comfort in her sword, occasionally asking her about life in Camelot, but still oddly nervous. She wasn't sure if he was keeping something from her, or if he was just worried for his sister, but Merlyn felt for the boy. It wasn't easy, living with only a young girl for company, especially as a druid. In a way, she admired him, risking all he was for just the slightest chance of salvation.

"Here." she passed him her waterskin, well, it was Arthur's actually, but he wouldn't notice it was missing. Daegal drank as if he was dying of thirst, but the movement must have triggered some kind of injury, for a moment later, he dropped the waterskin, gasping in pain.

"What's wrong?" Merlyn questioned, picking up their only source of pure water.

"I fell getting into the citadel." he replied, as if his injury was unimportant, squeezing his arm.

Merlyn frowned deeply, knowing what could happen if even small cuts were left untreated. "Here, let me have a look."

Daegal moved his arm back into his cloak, speeding his pace. "It's my sister who needs caring for, not me."

Merlyn scoffed. "Wait." The druid stopped, looking back to her with new impatience. She almost rolled her eyes, knowing that she had once felt the same restlessness. "We have a long journey ahead of us. You don't want this getting any worse."

She motioned for him to sit on a rather large tree foot, delving into her bag to find the right concoction. She motioned Daegal to roll up his sleeve, a shallow cut marking his forearm, slightly swollen with some sort of infection. Merlyn almost smiled, reminded of her first injury upon coming to Camelot, a cut across her arm from a fight with Arthur. Gaius had sat her down, taught her of each potion, explained exactly how to properly treat the wound. It seemed such a long time ago.

"Comfrey will help stem the blood flow, take away the swelling." she remarked, ripping a bandage from the material in her satchel.

Daegal watched her work with evident surprise, his eyes wide as she secured his bandage. "Where did you learn all this?"

That was an odd question. Merlyn had thought that part of the reason Daegal had come to her was because she was a physician's assistant. Strange, she thought, that he was unaware of that fact. Perhaps he'd just expected her to heal his sister with magic.

"Gaius." she answered after a moment. "When I first came to Camelot, he took me in and taught me everything that I know."

She bent his arm, happy that the bandage would remain in place, packing the remaining material back into her bag.

"What about you, your family?" she asked as she worked, a sudden sadness crossing Daegal's gaze.

"I only have a sister." he said, shifting uncomfortably on the root. "My mother's dead."

Merlyn nodded, taking a moment to remember all that she had lost. Sometimes, she forgot that others had their own burdens, their own hurt.

"Was she a druid too?" she questioned, watching tears spring to Daegal's eyes. He nodded silently, clearing his throat as she looked away.

"Gaius taught you well." he tried to smile, his voice wobbling a little. "You're lucky to have him."

"I am." Merlyn smiled, thinking fondly upon the old physician. She stood, wishing that Gaius was with her now, sticking her hand out to help Daegal up. "Come on."

~

Arthur had spent the past hour hopping around in his trousers, just about managing to fasten them when he heard a knock on the door. Not Merlyn, then.

"Yes?" he said breathlessly, glancing around his room to see the sheer quantity of clothing cast over the floor. It looked as if Merlyn was attempting her 'spring cleaning' once again, only somehow far worse. Gaius walked through the door, eying the mess with disdain. He clearly wasn't impressed with the young king.

"Where is she?" Arthur asked, fiddling with the laces to his shirt. He had no idea how it was meant to go on.

"She's still not returned." Gaius said gravely, still absorbed by the sheer chaos exploding through Arthur's chambers.

The king huffed in annoyance. "How am I meant to get dressed?"

"Well, surely that's not too difficult, sire." Gaius chuckled, raising his eyebrow at the shirt in Arthur's hands.

"Really?" Arthur stared at him. "You think you can do it?"

Ignoring the confusion in the physician's face, the king threw the shirt at him, bending over with his arms outstretched, awaiting his fresh shirt.

"Come on, Gaius." he exclaimed impatiently, wiggling his fingers in emphasis. "The shirt. Quickly."

The physician unfolded the item in his hands, pulling it over Arthur's arms, but rather than fitting over his head smoothly, the king became entwined within the fabric.

"What are you doing?" he gasped, twisting in attempt to free his face.

"It's stuck." Gaius hissed, pulling it in every direction. "It's too small."

Now Arthur had to admit that he'd been gaining weight recently, but certainly not to the extent that his shirts failed to fit. Merlyn would've told him.

Gaius gave it a final yank, ripping the fabric at the seam. The king finally managed to free his head, his arms twisted at odd angles, only to see the lace decoration following the hem. He blushed red, not quite managing to meet the physician's eyes.

"It's Merlyn's nightdress." he stated, the clothing a gift he'd given her maybe a year ago, kept in his chambers for the nights that she spent by his side. He sighed. Now, he'd have to buy her a new one.

~

"I tell you, if I catch this fly, I'm going to eat it." Daegal promised, doing his best to squash the buzzing insect between his hands. Merlyn snickered, sure that the fly would lose interest of them eventually, taking an apple from her pocket.

"Here, this will be better for you." she grinned, watching the druid smile as he bit into the fruit. She threw him her own, diverting off the path for a moment to retrieve her waterskin, not particularly wanting to put her bag in the dirt.

"Don't you like them?" Daegal asked incredulously, staring at her apple as if it was poisoned.

Merlyn smiled. "Yeah, they're my favourite."

"Then why are you giving it to me?" the druid watched her as she placed her bag on a tree root, genuinely mystified.

"I don't need it. I had a big breakfast." Merlyn lied easily. The truth was that Daegal needed it more than she. He didn't know where his next meal would come from, would give up his food so that his sister could eat. Merlyn had been lucky to have a better life than most, but she'd had bad winters. She didn't want the druid to suffer, not for the sake of an apple.

"Why are you being like this?" Daegal asked, something akin to guilt lacing his tone. "People I've met, they're not like you. They don't care. I don't matter."

"Never think that." Merlyn responded instantly, knowing that it was what Daegal needed to hear. "We all matter."

In all honesty, she wasn't sure why she still cared. It would be easier not to, to ignore every act of hatred, every broken cry screaming out for nothing but a tortured dream. Perhaps, with all the suffering she'd seen, that she'd caused, doing things like this, taking a simple journey to save a dying girl, reminded her that she was human, that there was still good amongst the thieves and crooks, the traitors and brutes. Arthur had always given her hope; she had always believed that he would become king and he would save her kind. He would one day do what was right, but when she looked at him, sometimes it was hard to believe it. He still slaughtered those with magic; they was no closer to Albion than Uther, and yet, part of her knew that his time would come. She grasped that hope with everything she had, but somewhere along the way, she had lost the part of herself that believed she was doing the right thing. She loved Arthur with all her heart, thought of the knights as brothers and knew that the kingdom was starting to flourish, but she'd failed Morgana, killed thousands of men when she'd overturned the cup of life, and for what? So that Arthur could have a chance at being the man she believed him to be? Sometimes, she wondered what her life would be like if she'd chosen Morgana, told her of her magic rather than watched her struggle with spells, taught her everything she knew. It was too late, but she often wondered what kind of queen Morgana could've been. Right and wrong had once been so obvious; now, her life was nothing but a grey blur. But doing this, saving innocents, ignoring her destiny, even for just a day, this she knew was right.

She handed Daegal her waterskin, expecting the astonishment on his face. He looked almost like Morgana when Merlyn had handed her hemlock, confused, wronged, vulnerable. She should never have let Morgana go to Morgause. She wouldn't fail Daegal, she promised herself that.

"Have a drink." she insisted, pulling her bag off the ground.

"Thank you." Daegal murmured, almost in disbelief, taking a sip.

"Come on." Merlyn jerked her head towards the path. They needed to get going if they wanted to reach the valley before the sun began to set.

~

Merlyn, Arthur realised, wasn't coming. It wasn't that he needed her, he was fine on his own, or at least, he would have to be, but she'd run off so suddenly that he worried that he'd done something wrong. His mind raced through their night, but, although a little distant, his lover hadn't acted particularly strangely, chatting about some servant gossip as if it were as important to him as his various stately affairs. He loved her more than he thought he should; sometimes, he wondered if he put too many of his own burdens onto her shoulders. She was officially just his servant, after all, but she'd stuck by his side even through his darkest moments. Morgana would've let her stay in Camelot, he was sure. She'd have given her a title, maybe a castle, even. Arthur was meant to be the love of her life, and what had he done for her? She'd saved him so many times, saved Camelot, even if he wouldn't admit it, and what did she have to show for it? She was probably the most patient woman he'd ever met; he supposed that, for all she had been through, he owed it to her to be patient too.

"You're very quiet, sire." Gaius spoke up, finishing the fastening on his cloak. They'd manged to find his shirt; Arthur's days as a squire had helped when fixing his chainmail into place. It didn't fit quite as Merlyn managed it, but she'd always had the magic touch. Arthur realised he hadn't spoken aloud for a while, deep in thoughts about his lover and his visitor.

"Can you blame me?" he scoffed, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt.

Gaius winced. "The Sarrum does have a reputation."

"Even my father feared him." Arthur shivered. The old king had always kept an iron grip on his emotions, only cracking at the betrayal of his own daughter. He couldn't imagine a man that his father could possibly fear. "They say he takes joy in impaling men."

"Not just men, sire. Women and children too." Gaius remarked, handing him his gloves. Arthur shuffled on his feet, uncomfortable with the imagery. "He also has a fondness for assassinating his friends."

"I doubt we'll ever be that close." Arthur smirked, wishing he had Merlyn here to cheer him up. She wouldn't tell him stories that would keep him up at night. "Although we do share one thing, our hatred for Morgana."

"So you've heard the rumours." Gaius didn't sound surprised. "He once had her under lock and key."

"I'm hoping he'll tell us more." Arthur murmured, fiddling with his gloves. He didn't know if he really hated Morgana. He wanted to, but part of him thought he could have understood her, if only she had told him the truth. Then again, he'd hardly given her any reason to trust him. He regretted never asking, never trying to make things right. Still, she hadn't just betrayed his father when she'd taken the throne.

"Given the Sarrum's reputation, are you certain it's wise to seek an alliance?" Gaius questioned, his words very similar to Merlyn's when she'd heard of the upcoming visit. But Agravaine seemed so certain that this could only be good for Camelot; he trusted his uncle to know what was best.

"If we are to achieve peace in the five kingdoms, we've got little choice." Arthur sighed, reciting the same words Agravaine had told him time and time again. "I don't agree with his regime, Gaius, but dealing with him may be the only way to achieve our aims."

"You're right, of course." the physician said far too quickly for the king to believe that he truly agreed. Merlyn did the same thing. Gaius handed him his sword; though his words were unconvincing, the proud smile upon his face was genuine. "You are becoming a true statesman, Arthur. I hope you realise that."

Arthur couldn't help the way his lips twitched upwards.

"I'm going to be late." he realised, sheathing his sword. Agravaine's earlier words came back to him, his nerves flaring his anger. "I'll tell you this, Gaius, the Sarrum wouldn't put up with an idle-brained servant like Merlyn. She's got a lot to answer for."

He didn't really mean it, but when Merlyn returned, she was going to truthfully tell him where she'd been. He was sick of her lies.

~

They arrived at the edge of the valley whilst the sun was still high in the sky, a bird screeching overhead, the peculiar stones dark despite the gaps in the canopy. Merlyn descended into the valley before realising that Daegal was yet to follow. He stood at the top of the bank, scanning the treeline, as if expecting to be ambushed any minute.

"What is it? Your arm?" she questioned, relatively concerned. Despite herself, she liked Daegal; his sudden reluctance made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

When he shook his head, she sighed. "Come on, we need to get to your sister."

Daegal still didn't move, frozen in what appeared to be fear. Merlyn walked back up to him, wondering what was suddenly wrong.

"When you last saw her, how bad was she?" she inquired, looking into Daegal's eyes for any glimpse of deceit.

"I told you, the life had nearly gone from her." he refused to meet her gaze, shuffling past her, stumbling into the valley. Then, he paused, turning around passing her apple back to her.

"Here. I don't want it." his voice was wracked with guilt. Something was seriously wrong; the druid was lying to her. But as he hurried off through the valley, she realised she had no choice but to follow. She cursed her own curiosity, desperate to know what he was hiding from her. Perhaps his sister wasn't as ill as he said, or maybe there was another reason entirely that he'd brought her out into the woods, but she had to know.

She'd just about caught up with him when she heard a twig snap above her. She looked over her head just in time to see a band of armed men walking on the higher path, their swords glinting in the sun. They hadn't seen them yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Ducking behind a convenient tree, Merlyn crouched, realising that Daegal was oblivious to the presence of the dangerous men.

"Daegal, bandits." she hissed through his mind, but he didn't seem to hear her.

"Get down!" she tried again, but it didn't seem to be any use. Glancing up at the men, she leapt forward, grabbing the druid and pulling him back to her hiding spot.

"What are you doing?" he cried out, but she shushed him, pointing at the men above their heads. He seemed to understand.

"Didn't you hear me?" she whispered, concerned when he shook his head. Something wasn't right. He was a druid. She'd thought all druids could hear her.

"Thank you. You saved my life." he murmured, but once again he kept his head low, focused at the ground. It was as if he couldn't even look at her anymore.

"We're not safe yet." she hissed, checking for any straggling bandits. "Come on. The sooner we get to your sister, the better."

If, of course, there was any sister at all.

~

Arthur awaited the Sarrum on the steps of his castle, Agravaine and Leon either side of him, a number of specifically elected knights flagging behind them. Gwaine, unsurprisingly, had not been chosen. He'd decided to waste the rest of the day in the tavern; as Arthur watched a number of well-trained, intimidating men march straight for him, he realised that some of his more... reliable knights were certainly more fitting for this occasion.

"Where's Merlyn?" Leon muttered in his ear, his eyes darting across the courtyard. The servant should've been somewhere in the welcome party, preferably somewhere close to the king, where she could put his mind at ease. That day, however, it was not to be.

Arthur shrugged, knowing that now was not the time to fully discuss the absence of his servant. "I don't know."

Leon looked oddly worried, but Arthur dismissed his own concerns, doing his best to fix a pleasant smile upon his face. The Sarrum's men appeared truly fearsome, a bow strapped to each of their backs, few of them wearing anything more durable than a tunic and trousers, evidently confident in their abilities. The only armour could be found on the bodyguards to the Sarrum, the man himself wearing an odd, leather breastplate with far too many buckles for it to be even remotely convenient. His brown cloak seemed fastened to it, the darkness in his expression troubling. His men seemed to share his stormy countenance, not a flicker of a smile amongst them.

Perhaps it was better Merlyn wasn't here. They would never get on.

"We are most grateful to the Sarrum for accepting our invitation and gracing our palace with his presence." Arthur declared when the soldiers were just far enough away for him to remain comfortable. "We welcome him and his warriors with friendship."

Ideally, not so much friendship that the Sarrum would find time to impale the king, if such things could be avoided.

"The last time I met you, you were ten years old." the Sarrum sniffed. "Uther held a tournament in your honour."

"I fight my own tournaments now." Arthur stated firmly, trying not to sound like some kind of eager child.

The Sarrum smirked. "Well, we shall enjoy putting you to the test."

Arthur didn't really like the sound of that.

~

Daegal had taken Merlyn off the main path a long while ago, heading up through the denser trees, muttering something about hiding his sister some place safe. Merlyn wasn't sure if she still believed anything about his sister, but she felt that she had no choice but to follow, her curiosity getting the better of her. This wasn't a robbery, she knew that; besides, there would be no reason for Daegal to take her so far into the woods. She was hardly the most likely target, anyway. No, if Daegal was lying, something far more sinister was afoot.

"We're here. She's just on the other side of those trees." Daegal pointed into a clearing up ahead, his voice trembling terribly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, putting a hand on his arm. He was shaking.

"Nothing." he said, staring down at the mud. "I just hope she's still alive."

They reached the clearing; Merlyn couldn't say she was particularly surprised to find it empty. They were at the top of a sheer cliff; although the fall wouldn't be considered deadly, it set her nerves on edge. She dropped her bag in a pile of leaves, unsheathing her sword, turning to narrow her eyes at Daegal.

"There's no one here." she croaked, glancing around for any sign of movement. "Why have you brought me here? What is this?"

"I- I can explain." Daegal stuttered, his eyes fixed on her sword.

Merlyn shook her head. "You're not a druid." she hissed, grabbing Daegal's arm and pulling up his sleeve to reveal his smudged tattoo. She sighed, suddenly very wary. "Who are you?"

She had just enough time to see Daegal look over her shoulder, his gaze fixed on something in the distance, before some mysterious force pulled at her, smashing her head against the rocks.

~

Morgana almost winced when Merlyn's head collided sharply with the stone at the edge of the cliff, but managed to repress her guilt. None of what was happening was Merlyn's fault, not really, but there was no way she would ever get her hands on the throne of Camelot with her by Arthur's side. Perhaps there were less... permanent solutions, but this fate, this would ensure her success.

"You've done well." Morgana smiled warmly at the boy, casting a fake sneer of disdain towards Merlyn's body. "I knew it wouldn't be difficult. Merlyn has a weakness for outcasts. Especially druids."

She threw a coin bag at the boy, listening to the clink it made as it hit his hands. He didn't look quite as eager as he had been when she'd first enlisted him for this task, but then, Merlyn had a tendency of making people like her. Morgana certainly had, still did, even if it hurt to admit it. She could hate Arthur and Uther and Gwen, even. She could resent everyone who stepped in her way, but never Merlyn. The servant had always understood her; their... friendship had almost been enough to convince Morgana to wait, to forgo her power in the hope that Arthur would show more leniency towards it. Out of everyone she'd left behind, the witch knew that Merlyn was the only one to comprehend her actions, to see them, not as evil, but simply wrong. There was nothing malicious in magic; Morgana knew that the woman knew that. Even so, it wasn't enough to prolong her life, not when she was so meddlesome.

"Why are you doing this?" the boy asked as Morgana went to kneel beside her former friend, doing her best not to look at her face. There were too many memories in those eyes, far too much hope.

"Because Merlyn has meddled in my plans once too often." she answered, trying to hide her shaking hands. Agravaine had told her to kill the boy, but she saw no reason to do so. He was an innocent in this war, like she had once been.

Uncorking her poison, Morgana tilted Merlyn's head so that she could fill her mouth with the black liquid, throwing the bottle into the brambles.

"I'm sorry, Merlyn, but it has to be this way." she murmured, a tear falling from her cheek. "I can't let you live, not anymore."

Morgana stood, kicking Merlyn over the cliff edge, watching her fall onto the ground below. She stared at the motionless body, the colour already drained from its skin, almost flinching as it hit the dirt. Part of her wanted to gloat, but sadness overwhelmed her. Merlyn didn't deserve to die like this. But she had to. The crown was too important.

"Are you really going to kill the king?" the boy, Daegal, Morgana was tired of pretending not to know his name, questioned, staring down at Merlyn with obvious torment.

"Hold your tongue." Morgana spat, still transfixed by Merlyn's body. She wouldn't survive long. It was an odd thought, that those brilliant eyes would never shine in the light of the sun again.

"Not a word of this to anyone. You're forgetting I still have a few drops left." she threatened, turning back towards the woods. She would mourn back in her hut, feel her heart grow cold as she realised what she'd done. If she didn't succeed, killing Merlyn would be one of the greatest mistakes of her life. She could only hope that all of this was worth it.

~

Arthur hadn't encouraged his men to join the Sarrum's aggressive warriors, quite simply because they terrified him. They were split between two tables, although Arthur knew he had to sit with the Sarrum himself, so not to appear rude. Agravaine sat at his other side, strangely quiet, leaving the king alone with his awkward nature. He would have given anything to have Merlyn with him in that moment, even with her clumsiness, whispering rumours into his ear. There was only so much stilted conversation that Arthur could partake in before he drowned himself in his wine.

"I feel that we have much in common." he stated, wondering when, exactly, was the right time to bring up the rumours surrounding Morgana. "We share many allies and friends."

After a moment of hesitation, he gave in to his curiosity. There was only so much talk of swordfighting he could take. "Also an enemy."

The Sarrum looked at him with genuine interest for the first time that night.

"Sorcery." he sneered, but didn't offer any more information.

Arthur debated whether he should broach the subject delicately, but the Sarrum seemed like a rather straightforward man. "There is a rumour that you held Morgana prisoner. Is it true?"

"She's nothing to be feared." the Sarrum spoke dismissively, his mouth half full of lamb. "I kept her like an animal."

Arthur fought his revulsion, hoping to display nothing more than polite intrigue. "How did you capture her? She's a sorceress and a high priestess."

The Sarrum shrugged, but his nonchalance was ruined by a proud glimmer in his eye. "I found her weakness. Everyone has one, even a high priestess. Her sister."

He took a large gulp of wine, eying the young king carefully. "She was injured, her very magic damaged. Her love for that terrible woman caused her to suffer more than she ever imagined possible. But not more than she deserved."

The Sarrum's grin felt dirty; Arthur could almost picture his sister's terrible fate, lost and alone whilst Morgause perished before her eyes.

"I knew that she wouldn't dare to use magic against me, not whilst her beloved sister was at risk of harm. We managed to heal her, you see, just enough to keep her alive whilst she was in the pit, never quite strong enough to escape."

The Sarrum's smile became twisted; Arthur knew he would hate what was about to come from his mouth.

"It's such a shame..." he said greasily. "All that power, all that beauty, abandoned and forgotten in a living grave."

Arthur suppressed a shudder, forcing his hands away from his sword. He may have hated both Morgause and Morgana, but he would never dream that either of them would have to suffer like this, trapped at the bottom of a pit, barely alive with only each other for company.

"You're a harsh judge, Lord Sarrum." the king remarked, trying to shake the awful image from his head.

"When it comes to sorcery, we must be merciless." he stated, chewing at the remnants of food left on his plate. "I was not merciless enough. Morgana escaped. A lapse on my part. I'll not be so foolish again."

Arthur took a sip of his wine. He doubted he would be able to sleep that night, not with the Sarrum sharing his castle. It appeared that he certainly didn't want to get on the man's bad side. Merlyn's absence stung at his heart. What the Sarrum had done was dreadful, evil, even. He wasn't sure if he could go through with this treaty, not with such a truly callous man. He hadn't understood the truth before, not really. The thought of Morgana in pain still hurt him; he wondered if he'd ever be able to let go.

~

Morgana awaited the shadows of the night sky before she set out from her hovel, carving her face into an impassive mask as she ventured to meet Agravaine in the woods. She didn't want him in her home, not that day, with so much guilt coursing through her veins. She needed her own private space, a place where she could sprout roses and adorn the walls with sparkling lights to mourn the one woman she... No. She couldn't dwell upon that now, not if she didn't want tears to well up in her eyes.

"My lady." Agravaine greeted her with a grim smile, a grotesque excitement glinting in his eyes. "What of Merlyn?"

"She's gone to her death." Morgana did her best to sound pleased, as if her fragile heart hadn't cracked. "And the Sarrum?"

"He's feasting with Arthur as we speak." Agravaine reported, something malicious in his voice. Just the thought of the Sarrum, the man who had made her sister's last days a living hell, who had confined them with only their screams for comfort, made the witch shiver. He would pay. She would ensure it.

"Then we must act quickly. We cannot afford an alliance between Amata and Camelot. It would put the throne beyond my reach forever."

Agravaine sighed, a grimace set upon his face, his eyes set in a look of something akin to pity.

Morgana frowned, impatient. "What's troubling you?"

"The Sarrum." he put a hand on her shoulder, looking almost hurt when she flinched away. "Are we right to enlist such a man? Is there not another way?"

"Don't you see how perfect this plan is?" Morgana exclaimed, resentment creeping into her voice. This was not the time for Agravaine to display such an uncharacteristic sense of worry. "The Sarrum's reputation precedes him. There is no deadlier assassin in the five kingdoms. Arthur will not stand a chance, especially with Merlyn gone."

Agravaine seemed mostly satisfied, but Morgana sensed that he knew more about her torment than she would have liked. "Are you sure he'll agree?"

"You're forgetting how well I know this man." she said, smiling sinisterly, her face morphing into cruel hatred. "For two years, he tortured me and Morgause, his the only voice we heard. I know the Sarrum. I know his lust for power. He will not refuse your offer. He will think he can control you, but he will reckon without me."

Agravaine seemed encouraged, a sickly grin twisting his features. "And once Arthur is dead?"

"The knights will turn on your guest and make you their king." she said simply, knowing that her uncle's lust for power rivalled the Sarrum himself. He wouldn't last long; she had no intention of letting him survive to see her reign. Still, he had his uses.

"You must promise me something." Morgana held Agravaine's gaze, unable to stop her voice from shaking, desperate for this last request. "Promise me that the Sarrum's last moments are filled with agony."

Agravaine leant towards her, his breath heavy with wine.

"It will be my pleasure." he hissed in her ear, something evil playing with his tongue. He would do it. He would make the Sarrum pay for what he'd done to her. She was sure of it.

If only she could rid herself of the guilt surrounding Merlyn's demise.

~

Merlyn awoke to see the sunlight filter through the canopy above her head, the morning light doing nothing to relieve her constant pain. She wasn't sure if she should have lived this long, but she wished she hadn't, agony sparking through her veins. It felt as if she was on fire, her limbs burning, her lungs so filled with Ash, clogging her throat so that she couldn't dare to scream.

With far too much effort, she lifted her head, black liquid trailing from her mouth, doing her best to assess the damage to her body. She was surprised to find all her limbs intact, although, as she slowly reached for her leg, she found it bloody, a gash torn through the flesh in the side of her calf. It was from the fall; as she tried to touch it, she coughed up white liquid, the sick splattering over her neckerchief. It was a good thing she'd brought a spare.

Time seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly, but Merlyn couldn't even speak, couldn't call for anyone to save her. Every so often, she managed to get her eyes to glow gold, to try to perform some instinctual magic, but nothing seemed to work. She was dying. It seemed strange, that after all she had seen and done, this was how she would meet her end. She'd do anything to see Arthur's face just one last time, but it seemed impossible. She hoped he'd find her, one day. She didn't really want to simply lie here, alone, waiting for her body to return to the earth.

~

Merlyn was still awry, but Arthur had given up on searching for her, knowing she would return to him eventually. Gwen had offered to help him into his armour that morning, knowing how he felt about other servants. None of them could compare, not to Merlyn.

"You're much better at this than Gaius." he remarked as she fastened his gardbrace, her delicate hands making quick work of the tricky buckles.

Gwen smiled shyly. "I was a servant, remember?"

"Oh, Guinevere." Arthur grinned. "You were always so much more than that. I think you were Morgana's truest friend, at least before..."

He trailed off, grunting as Gwen pulled sharply on a buckle strap, tightening it uncomfortably.

"Stop moving then." she teased, her eyes sparkling with mirth. He forgot, sometimes, how like Merlyn she could be. The fond thought, however, was cut off when she did the same to another strap, constricting his chest far too tightly.

"I want Merlyn back. Where is she?" he gasped, inhaling air as Gwen released the buckle slightly.

She giggled, shaking her head softly. "You mustn't be too hard on her."

"I am a bit worried. You don't think something has happened to her, do you?"

By the way she smirked, Arthur knew that Gwen would be telling his lover exactly how concerned he'd been.

"She's probably overworked. You do seem to keep her late most nights..." Gwen couldn't help but raise her eyebrows as Arthur flushed. He hadn't realised they'd been so obvious.

"I'm sure she'll turn up. She always does." Gwen said seriously, handing him his sword. "Besides, you have other things to worry about."

That, Arthur realised, was true.

~

The Sarrum had chosen his best fighter, a tall, lean man with a curved sword, something foreign, a weapon Arthur wasn't sure he'd ever seen before. He wore an odd, brown neckerchief; the king wondered when such things had come into fashion. He wasn't heavily armoured, meaning he could move far faster, but he was hardly unlike anything Arthur had fought before. If Merlyn was a couple of foot taller, he reckoned they'd be about the same. It was almost like battling a much skinnier Percival.

He attacked first, surprised by the sheer strength behind each of his opponent's parries, grunting as he was forced to stumble back, reevaluating his position. As his opponent stalked forward, he held his ground, managing to swipe at the man's head. He ducked, much to Arthur's annoyance, knocking the king back with a blow to the edge of his sword. He twisted away, glad to find that the warrior didn't attack him when his back was turned, recalculating his efforts.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Sarrum chuckle, as if amused by his failure. Ignoring the man's taunts, Arthur faced his opponent again, stepping into a number of quick slashes, before ducking under his arm, hitting his back with the flat of his sword. At the same time, however, the warrior struck him with his elbow hard enough for the king to bruise. Spinning quickly, he glared at his opponent, irritated as he staggered carefully backwards, closer to the middle of the ring.

They circled each other the foreign warrior seeming grudgingly impressed. Arthur flicked his sword in his hand, catching the man off guard when he launched himself forward, catching him on uneven footing, managing a heavy punch to his face. The king tried not to look pleased, especially at the sight of blood trickling from his nose, but his opponent recovered quickly, beckoning Arthur towards him.

He hurled himself forwards, perhaps a little over confident, only to be kicked, almost tripped, his blade missing the warrior by miles. They stared at each other once more; as Arthur jabbed at his opponent's head, the man ducked, seeming to know what he was about to do before he even managed it. He rolled under the king's arm, landing just far from his reach, taunting him with a sly smirk.

The king wasted no time. He ran forwards, jumping the leg that was kicked out towards him, but failed to see the hilt of the warrior's sword, which hit him hard in the back, catching him off guard. He collapsed to his knees, the point of a sword against his neck.

For anyone else, perhaps, this would have been the end of the match, but Arthur wasn't so reckless. Merlyn had taught him better.

In what should have been an awkward move, Arthur twisted his sword arm around, knocking the foreign blade away from him as he rolled onto his back, kicking his legs to topple his opponent. It worked, just about, the warrior's sword clattering into the dirt as he fell, surprised, to the ground. Arthur was upon him in an instant, trapping him with his weight, his sword to his neck. It was a cheap shot, but by the look on the Sarrum's face, certainly worth it.

After a moment, Arthur released him, standing to wipe some of the mud from his armour. Merlyn would have been proud.

"You fight bravely." the Sarrum declared, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. Arthur doubted that he was meant to win that fight, let alone allow the man to walk free when he had done so.

The king sheathed his sword, turning towards the Sarrum. "He wields a sword better than almost any fighter I've ever met."

The Sarrum looked like he wanted to question him on that point, but refrained.

"I trained him myself." he said instead, sounding rather proud. "Perhaps, one day, I'll teach you."

"I'd be honoured." Arthur said through gritted teeth, not particularly wanting to spend any more time with the man than he had to. Still, the warrior's fighting style had been relatively unique to anything he'd seen; learning such a method would certainly be interesting.

The Sarrum chuckled again, patting Arthur on the arm. When he turned his back, the king sighed with relief. Finally, it seemed, he'd got the man's approval.

~

Agravaine had spent the dinner the night before rather nauseous, the thought of Morgana suffering in some terrible pit ridding him of his appetite. He'd seen the way that she'd reacted upon hearing the mere mention of the Sarrum; it sickened him to see her so shaken. There wasn't much he cared about in this world, but Morgana had wormed her way into his cold heart; he would do anything for her. Ensuring that both Arthur and the Sarrum fall from their pedestals was really the least he could do.

He couldn't say he was particularly surprised to collide with the Sarrum in one of the corridors leading to the guest chambers. He had, after all, planned it that way.

"My lord." the Sarrum greeted, nodding his head in respect. Agravaine attempted a warm smile, but the feeling felt odd to him. Not even Arthur looked to him for warmth, for any kind of familial love. Kindness just didn't sit right with him.

"Your man showed great skill to be so close to beating my king." he praised, careful to hide his conceit behind his tone.

The Sarrum stared at him for a moment, as if trying to detect any deceit. "The men of Amata are born with swords in their hands. I must admit, I was surprised that King Arthur defeated my man with such cunning. I always believed Uther's teaching methods to be a little too... formal for such techniques."

Agravaine very much doubted that the former king had anything to do with Arthur's effective fighting style.

Sick of the Sarrum's despicable face, Agravaine decided he'd rather get straight to the point. "Perhaps. I can't help but believe that Camelot would benefit from a leader like you."

He leant in, trying to hide his malice. "You should've had your men kill him when they had the chance."

The Sarrum gestured for his trailing men to leave him, narrowing his eyes at the king's chief advisor.

"I must've misheard you." he hissed, watching Agravaine's lips slip into a sly smile.

"I don't think so." he shook his head meaningfully, reveling in the malicious surprise upon the Sarrum's face.

"You aren't happy with your king?"

Agravaine chuckled darkly. "I'd be happy if he died tomorrow. If someone who can make that happen, I'd ensure they were richly rewarded."

The Sarrum seemed to take him in again, reappraising Agravaine with eager eyes. "I'm not sure I believe you."

As if wary of the guards, Agravaine glanced around him, enjoying the hunger upon the Sarrum's face. Morgana had been right. His lust for power would be his doom.

"Meet me outside the king's solar tonight. We can speak openly there." he murmured, continuing down the corridor before the Sarrum had any chance to reply. Guards walked past him in the opposite direction moments later, impressively on schedule. They were hardly the most reliable men, but Agravaine knew he couldn't be too careful. The Sarrum would bend to his will. He was sure of it.

~

Merlyn could hear birds chirping somewhere above her, a death song far too cheerful for her miserable passing. She'd thrown up more white foam, but the substance seemed to harden like wax, stopping her from talking. She couldn't even open her eyes anymore, breathing becoming almost impossible. Woeful, her magic seemed hopeless, pain drawing through her lungs. Her hearing was the only thing that really remained, but at the sound of footsteps, she assumed that she was simply hallucinating.

And then she was shaken violently, the movement confusing her dazed thoughts. She was meant to be dying alone and uncared for; someone seemed intent on disrupting her agonising pain.

Briefly, she thought that, seeing as she'd taken a rather nasty fall, moving her wasn't a very good plan. But the notion seemed inconsiderate, especially considering whomever it was could be her only chance of survival.

"Come on." a familiar voice muttered, pouring what she hoped to be water down her throat. She tried to open her eyes; through hazy vision, she saw Daegal's traitorous face looking down upon her.

"You." she wheezed, admittedly rather astonished. "You came back. Why?"

"I couldn't leave you to die." he said, sounding so very honest.

Merlyn gagged, her hoarse voice almost failing her. "You're too late."

"No, I can help." Daegal promised desperately. "You're a physician. You tell me what to do."

"There's nothing!" Merlyn exclaimed, staring up at Daegal with sad eyes. It wasn't true, but she was simply too tired. All she wanted to do was close her eyes...

"There must be a cure. You tell me which herbs, and I'll find them for you." the boy pleaded, his hope alighting something similar in Merlyn's chest. She could hang on a little longer. She had to.

"Come on, what do we need?" Daegal asked, forcing Merlyn to concentrate on all that Gaius had taught her.

"Rue." she gasped. "It's got yellow flowers."

"And feathery leaves." Daegal nodded. Merlyn vaguely remembered pointing it out on the journey from Camelot.

"Milfoil." she continued, suppressing a cough.

"Yarrow." Daegal seemed to understand, his gaze concentrated on Merlyn's face.

"Ground into a tincture." she managed, knowing that she didn't have much time. Daegal was already off, scurrying through the wilderness to search. Merlyn didn't have long. She could feel herself shutting down, shivering despite the warmth in the air. If she was to survive, the boy would have to be fast.

~

Merlyn could only gasp at the sound of footsteps. She tried to open her eyes, but it was as if they were welded shut. She felt someone open her mouth, pouring some potion down her throat.

"You'll be too late, now. Arthur will be dead by the time you return." a familiar voice whispered in her ear, but Merlyn could barely comprehend the words, let alone their meaning. She thought it a hallucination, but the burning in her limbs had already lessened. Whomever had come to her was already gone, anyway: she listened to footsteps retreating into the woods.

~

When Daegal returned, Merlyn was able to open her eyes. She coughed, drinking the tincture that Daegal gave her, spluttering as she felt seizures overcome her. She shivered uncontrollably, fighting for air, and then, all that she knew went black.

~

Agravaine was intentionally late to his meeting with the Sarrum, enjoying the irritated look the man sent him as he finally arrived, doing his best not to appear too smug. If the man had the audacity to make Morgana deteriorate in a pit for two years, he could wait a few minutes.

"Forgive me, I was waylaid." he lied, trying to sound at least a little remorseful. It was hard, considering how much he despised the man in front of him.

The Sarrum didn't look impressed. "Speak."

That wasn't very polite. Agravaine curled his hand into a fist, his nails digging into his skin. This was not the time to argue with such a powerful man, not when his most painful end was drawing so very near.

"I have a simple proposition." he said, meeting the Sarrum's horrid gaze. "One that would be mutually beneficial. You kill Arthur, I assume the throne, and in gratitude give over a third of Camelot's lands to Amata."

There was a moment of silence where the Sarrum simply stared at him, almost in shock, as if trying to see straight through the king's supposedly most trusted advisor. Agravaine was trained well enough not to fidget, but there was only coldness in the Sarrum's gaze, the promise of death looming at his lips. In that moment, he was certain that every single thing he'd ever heard about this terrible man was horribly true.

"You think the people will accept this?" the Sarrum asked after a long moment, finally giving in to his greed.

"I will be king. They shall do as I command." Agravaine stood as tall as he could, doing his best to look down on the ruler's shorter frame.

The Sarrum's fingers touched his sword. "And the knights?"

"They will remain loyal to me. They'll do whatever I say." Agravaine spoke quickly, knowing that this was absolutely not true. They'd probably put Morgana on the throne before him.

The Sarrum, however, simply nodded. "How do we kill him? The king is surrounded by armed guards at all times. Besides, he's a fine fighter himself."

"Guards who answer to me." Agravaine smirked. "You appoint the assassin, I will deliver the means. Although, I suggest not trying something too close range."

The Sarrum smiled slyly. "I have just the man."

"Then make him ready." Agravaine was sure he knew exactly who this cowardly traitor had in mind. "Arthur has proposed a treaty. The signing tomorrow will provide us with the perfect opportunity."

With that, Agravaine walked away, not particularly in the mood to be caught conversing with the deadly visitor to the city. Arthur would die tomorrow, as would the Sarrum. His only regret was that the troublesome Merlyn wouldn't be around to see it.

~

When Merlyn's eyes opened, it wasn't to the sight of heavenly lights, no gods nor angels nor pagan delights. The ground was cold beneath her, earthier than she'd thought heaven to be. The sky was dark, a cool breeze blowing gently against her face. She could feel all her limbs, her stiff joints aching softly. If she didn't know any better, she'd say that she was still alive.

"You're alive."

She turned her head, wincing at the pain in her throat as Daegal came into her hazy vision. He'd saved her after all, then. That was nice. Unless Morgana had killed him too, but she very much doubted that his would be the first face she saw in death. That would be disappointing.

Morgana... She had some sort of memory of her former friend, a presence next to her as her life had begun to fade.

"You'll be too late, now. Arthur will be dead by the time you return."

She sat up, touching her face, wincing at the pain in her back. Morgana had come back.

"You have to believe me, I did not know what Morgana intended." Daegal gushed, but Merlyn wasn't really listening. Morgana had come back, she'd saved her life, if she remembered right. But why?

"You betrayed me." Merlyn croaked, turning to Daegal. It was simpler to be angry at him, to stop herself from descending into her confusion. Why had she come back?

"She offered me money. You've seen what it's like." Daegal spoke so quickly that it made Merlyn's head spin. She closed her eyes, trying to stop her thoughts from swimming around her head.

"You'll be too late, now. Arthur will be dead by the time you return."

Her eyes snapped open.

"Do you know what Morgana is planning?" she asked, wishing she could get the taste of death from her mouth.

Daegal, disappointingly, shook his head. "I met the Lady Morgana only once."

He was lying. Merlyn was certain.

"I don't believe you." she said, a trace of anger in her voice. Daegal looked away, confirming her suspicions. "Please, whatever you know."

The boy stared at her, blatant fear in his shadowy eyes. "I think they mean to kill the king."

"You'll be too late, now. Arthur will be dead by the time you return."

So it had been Morgana. Merlyn ran a hand through her limp hair, brushing it away from her face. Arthur. Damn it.

Standing on unstable legs, she did her best not to groan in pain, wondering how long she had to save the foolish king.

"What are you doing?" Daegal asked, suddenly alarmed. He moved to grab her, but Merlyn evaded him, picking up her fallen sword.

"I need to warn Arthur before it's too late." she hissed, wincing as she put weight on her injured leg.

She didn't need to look behind her to know that Daegal was following her, his heavy breathing only matched by her own. She would need to heal her leg, but as they made it over the first ridge, they almost stumbled into a camp, a small fire glowing in the clearing beyond.

"Bandits." she declared. "They haven't seen us."

"No." Daegal shook his head, fear etched into every line in his face. Merlyn cursed, looking up into the darkened sky, praying for some kind of luck. "We'll have to go around the outside. Let's just hope they don't have lookouts."

Gritting her teeth, Merlyn stood, running across the ridge, Daegal not too far behind. They made it maybe halfway before Merlyn's leg gave out from under her, toppling her down a steep pathway, falling next to the bandit camp. Daegal slid down behind her, helping her to her feet, but they'd already been spotted.

"Go." she ordered, drawing her sword. She could survive this, but she was in no state to protect the boy. "I can look after myself. Run."

"No. I'm not going to leave you this time." Daegal said bravely. His heroic attitude was appreciated, but this was hardly the time for it.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Merlyn murmured, rolling her eyes. Fine. He could stay and die for all she cared.

There were maybe fifteen bandits, each of them armed with some kind of weapon. Merlyn considered fighting them fairly, but it was really a a waste of time.

"If you value your lives, you won't take another step." she shouted at the crowd of men, deciding that she might as well give them a chance of life.

"What are you doing?" Daegal hissed, staring fearfully at the chuckling bandits.

"What are you going to do? I bet you can't even use that sword." one of the bandits sneered, edging closer to them.

Merlyn sheathed her weapon. She'd hardly planned to use it anyway.

"I don't need it." she glared, her eyes flashing gold as the offending bandit was hurled through the air, hitting the ground with a loud thud. She couldn't say she was surprised when the other men turned and bravely fled, evidently valuing their lives. Merlyn didn't really care to continue attacking them. Daegal appeared stunned; the witch supposed she had a lot of explaining to do. She tugged him in roughly the direction of Camelot, deciding she could talk on the way.

"Come on. Let's go."

~

The sun had started to rise before Merlyn thought again to heal her injured leg, tired of her hobbling. Daegal had remained silent, pondering what he'd seen, whilst Merlyn wracked her brain for the right spell. She couldn't afford to make her injury worse, not with Arthur's life in danger.

Finally, she leant against a tree, sitting on the root in order to examine her leg. She needed a rest: she couldn't stand the continuous wave of pain any longer. Gasping in relief, she simply watched as Daegal crouched in front of her, clearly ready to ask his onslaught of questions.

"You have magic, Merlyn." he stated. Merlyn just looked at him. Funnily enough, she'd noticed.

"And you live in Camelot." Daegal continued, oblivious to Merlyn's terrible mood. "Does anyone know?"

"Only Gaius." she admitted, rolling up the leg of her trousers.

The boy looked surprised. "Not Arthur?"

"No!" she exclaimed, partially in pain. "And if he ever found out, he'd probably have me hanged."

Whether that was true, Merlyn didn't really know. She didn't like to think about it.

"But you still help him." Daegal sounded surprised, but there was an edge of something akin to pity in his voice. Merlyn wasn't used to being pitied. She didn't like it.

"I have to. It's my job." she said softly, cursing at her swollen ankle. She'd twisted it during her fall, only adding to her wound. It would take time to heal.

"But he would kill you." Daegal didn't seem to comprehend the enormity of her destiny; Merlyn had no interest in explaining it to him.

She could only shrug. "In his heart he's a good man. And I know that one day he'll bring about a world we all dream of."

Understanding shone in Daegal's eyes. "You love him?"

Merlyn met his gaze, feeling more honest than she'd been in a long time. "With all my heart."

"He must be a great man." Daegal murmured wistfully. Merlyn couldn't disagree. She tried to stand, but the boy put a hand on her shoulder, forcing her back to the ground.

"Merlyn, you may be a witch, but you need that treated. I'll help you, please."

He was right, she knew it. She was in no condition to save anyone. Looking up at the sky, she wondered how long she had to save her king. Calling Kilgharrah wasn't an option: he was far away, training Aithusia somewhere in the mountains. If she wanted to get back to Camelot in time to save Arthur, she'd need to be able to walk properly.

Merlyn nodded. "All right."

~

Merlyn watched as Daegal fastened a bandage around her leg, using her magic to soothe his apprehension, wishing that she were so competent in physical healing magic. Emotional wounds had always been easier to feel, to smooth like creases in ancient parchment. She healed faster than most, but Gaius' books on magical healing had all been burned away, leaving her lost, stuck with the ghosts of memories that haunted her mentor.

"You're doing well." She remarked, subtly adjusting one of Daegal's knots. He looked up at her, startled, promise shining in his beady eyes. The witch doubted he had ever been praised before, his existence hardly one of true purpose. If she made it back to Arthur in time, if she could forgive him, she would have to remedy that. Perhaps he could become Gaius' apprentice, take some of her burdens as his own.

"Really?" A flicker of a smile played on Daegal's lips. "I don't think I've done many good things in my life."

"Well, you've done something good now." She pointed to her ankle; the previous swelling diminished substantially. "See? I'm better. You've got a gift."

Daegal smiled at that, glancing shyly at the ground. "It must be from my mother."

"So that bit was true?" Merlyn asked awkwardly, guilt tugging at her heart when Daegal winced, reminded of his past deceit.

"It was all true, except about my sister." The boy explained, fidgeting uncomfortably under Merlyn's confused stare.

"She's not sick?"

Daegal chuckled softly. "I don't have a sister."

Merlyn scoffed. Of course he didn't. With a pained grunt, she stood, leaning on Daegal for support. She'd make it to Camelot, just about.

"And your mother?" she questioned, hardly afraid to pry. "She wasn't a druid?"

Daegal shook his head, a sudden sadness overcoming him. "No, but she was like you. She had magic, and Uther killed her for it."

There wasn't much the witch could say to that. There were too many people, children, even, who had suffered for Uther's hatred. She would not let Arthur follow the same path, to choose revenge over mercy. She couldn't allow it.

"I'm sorry." She murmured, steadying herself upon her own feet. Tears shone in Daegal's eyes; Merlyn felt it time to change the subject. She tested her leg, finding the pain far more bearable. "Feels good. Let's go."

~

Arthur had begun to feel apprehensive about Merlyn's absence, but he refused to let it show. The Sarum would sense even an ounce of weakness; the king was sure that his servant would return to him soon, preferably with some very good answers. Gaius, he knew, was also concerned, but Arthur couldn't afford to lose soldiers to some pointless search. With his guest's reputation, he'd much rather keep the garrison at full strength, even with them so close to a peace treaty. As he entered the hall, Agravaine at his side, he could feel the tension in the air, his crimson knights awaiting his presence. Soon, Camelot would be safe from Morgana. He only wished that Merlyn was here to see it.

~

Merlyn and Daegal reached the citadel when the sun was high in the sky, urgency flowing through their veins. Merlyn had begun to hobble once again, but Daegal helped her stagger through the gates, heading straight into the castle, the guards lost from the hallways. The witch burst into Arthur's chambers, only to find them empty. Cursing her luck, she realised that he must already be with the Sarrum. She could be wrong, perhaps the assassination was meant to happen later that evening, another day, even, but something told her that, if she didn't get to Arthur soon, that she would be too late. She'd learned to trust her gut: it had saved her more times than she could count.

She ducked out of the room, sprinting down a familiar corridor, Daegal not far behind. Her legs gave out from under her as they neared the great hall, but Daegal helped her to her feet; she stole a spear from a convenient supply store in order to continue their journey.

Staggering forwards, her only plan was to stop the treaty, to get to Arthur's side as soon as humanely possible, but out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an inconsistency, perhaps inconsequential, but wholly peculiar. She stopped, eying an open door.

"What's wrong?" Daegal asked, obviously confused.

"This should be locked." she murmured, almost to herself, leaning heavily on the spear as she ascended the steps to a walkway overseeing the hall. Merlyn and Arthur had hidden there once, spying on Morgana as she accepted the crown. It seemed such a long time ago, but the witch had no time to contemplate the past. She had a king to save.

Appearing upon the walkway, Merlyn shoved Daegal behind her, narrowing her eyes at an unfamiliar man, a dangerous crossbow between his hands. He noticed their unwelcome presence a moment later, turning his weapon towards them, shooting a bolt through the air. Merlyn deflected it with glowing eyes, lifting her spear to defend herself from a number of daggers thrown in her direction. She missed one, the rest embedded in the wood of the spear, but it didn't find its mark, sailing somewhere behind her.

She thought to draw her sword, but knew now was not the time to use that particular skill. Aiming her spear at her target, who had turned back to the hall below, another bolt directed at Arthur, she used her magic to push it forward, thrusting it forcefully into the assassin's side. He cried out in pain, his bolt deflected, the groan far below certainly not belonging to Arthur. The assassin fell to the ground, very much dead.

"Leon!" she heard the king shout, although not even Merlyn knew what exactly the knight was meant to do. She hobbled over to the balcony, looking down to see, whom she presumed to be, the Sarrum slumped across the table, Gaius standing grimly over him. Merlyn felt that she should feel some kind of sorrow, but truly, she could only find relief. Arthur was alive.

"We did it." she grinned, turning back to Daegal, her smile fading when she saw him slouched on the floor.

He exhaled sharply, his hands covered in blood, a knife buried in his chest. Merlyn cursed as she hurried to kneel beside him, looking for something that could be done. But with all the blood, she already knew that there was no hope.

"Did I save Arthur?" the boy questioned, looking at her through sleepy eyes. Tears threatened to overwhelm Merlyn at the sight, not wanting to lose Daegal so soon.

"Yes." she nodded, trying to stop her voice from shaking.

"Did I do something good?" Merlyn nodded again, causing Daegal to chuckle. "Finally, eh?"

His breathing quickened, but slowed once more, hissing in pain as he closed his eyes. Finally, Merlyn let her tears fall, a dead friend still bleeding in her arms.

~

When Arthur saw Merlyn, he didn't know if he was relieved or irritated. He'd caught a glimpse of her talking to Gaius, blood soaking her clothing, a morbid look upon her face. He'd been whisked off to placate the Sarrum's men, but Leon had told him that Merlyn had been found holding the body of some young boy, the person responsible for saving his life, at least, according to his servant. Arthur didn't know if he believed her, unconvinced that the boy could've thrown a spear with such power, but let the matter rest. He had to believe Merlyn was telling the truth; otherwise, he didn't think he'd know who she was anymore.

She served him dinner in tense silence, pouring plenty of wine into his cup. Glancing at his face, she sighed, fetching her own goblet, filling it with the crimson liquid. She sat in the chair next to him, meeting his heavy gaze.

"Ask me." she stated, almost challenging him to say what was on his mind.

"What?" Arthur exclaimed, startled. He'd expected to toe around the subject, perhaps starting with the identity of the boy.

"Ask me where I've been. I know you think I've been lying to you, I can see it on your face." she gave him a timid smile, reaching out her hand to delicately brush his hair from his face.

"Merlyn," he murmured, taking her hand from his hair, entwining their fingers. "You've been gone several days with no word; even Gaius seemed worried about you. At first I thought you were in the tavern again, but now... I don't know. Tell me the truth. Where have you been?"

"Morgana took me." she replied, squeezing his hand. "That boy... That boy saved my life. He told me of her plan and helped me return to Camelot to save you."

If Arthur had been expecting anything, it wasn't this.

"I could've lost you." he whispered, tears brimming in his eyes. "I didn't even know you were in danger, I thought..."

"It doesn't matter now." Merlyn smiled thinly, as if trying to reassure him. Arthur shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Morgana had gone too far this time, threatening Merlyn, an innocent. She was in danger because of him, because of what she was to him. Here, Morgana had shown her true colours.

"Give him a proper burial." he said, knowing that it was what Merlyn wanted to do. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it gently. "I wish I'd have known."

"You, couldn't have, Arthur. That was why Morgana struck when you were distracted, you weren't to know." Merlyn spoke with such passion, that the king could almost placate his guilt. "Thank you."

He gave her an odd look. "For what?"

"For knowing me so well."

Arthur managed a small smile. Perhaps he'd been wrong about Merlyn's lies. Maybe, one day, they would be okay.

~

Merlyn stood with Gaius over Daegal's grave, marked only with a number of stones, insignificant when surrounded by the beauty of the forest. She layed flowers, statices, on the rocks, listening to the sounds of nature around her.

"His life had only just begun." she breathed, looking up at the physician beside her.

He nodded solemnly, looking down at the grave. Merlyn stood, a tear sliding down her cheek, a sudden memory flickering through her mind.

"She came back, Gaius." the witch muttered, unable to take her eyes from her flowers. "Morgana, I think she cured me."

"But why, Merlyn?" the physician stared at her in surprise. "You must've been dreaming, Daegal saved you."

"I'm not so sure." Merlyn had never believed that Morgana had been entirely evil; killing her out of convenience, it just didn't seem right. They had suffered through so much, battled and fought and burned in the ashes of their desires, wishing for something more than what they had been given, than the destiny they had never asked for. Merlyn hadn't been enough to save her friend, but she had always believed in her, known that her heart was a shade of grey, not infinite black. Morgana would never see Uther as anything more than a tarnished soul, Camelot as anything other than her birthright, but that didn't make her bad. Merlyn couldn't hate Morgana, just as Morgana could never hate her. They lived in the wrong world with the wrong notions of freedom, sacrifice nothing compared to a broken heart. They couldn't survive each other, couldn't live peacefully in a world where they both wished for another chance, where they both wanted their dreams to be recognised. One day, one would die by the other, but staring down at Daegal's grave, she couldn't help but hope that the day didn't come any time soon.

Chapter Text

Merlyn was running. The forest was just coming into view, green trees climbing high in the distance. She wore a red cape, Arthur's, hurried chainmail haphazardly thrown over her chest; she felt like a mockery of a troubled knight, a man with no where to go but into the woods ahead. The heavy metal weighed her down, but she continued forwards, the vile screams of her pursuers as loud as her pounding heart. It wouldn't be long now, the open sky giving way to a leafy canopy above her head as she raced towards the valley. Arthur would be waiting for her there. He had to be.

Reaching a steep cliff, she stopped, breathing heavily as she scoured the earth above her head. An axe came close to hitting her, but missed; she picked it up, brandishing it as the bandits got ever closer. Eying them carefully, she could only watch as their leader made his way to the front of the pack, giving her a greasy smile.

"Trapped, are we?" he laughed, just as an arrow found purchase in one of his men, a shriek catching him off guard. From above, the Knights of Camelot came into view, their many numbers circling the terrible men.

This time, it was Merlyn's turn to smile. "That's the idea."

~

Arthur hadn't much liked the idea of sending Merlyn into trouble, but she was by far the fastest and, though he hated to admit it, the most capable bait for their dangerous trap. She'd been more than happy to do it, and yet he hadn't been able to help the sigh of relief that left him when she'd finally made her way into his line of sight.

The bandits had been rounded up, their weapons pried from their hands as Arthur ensured Merlyn's wellbeing. She was fine, thank god, but as Elyan guided him away, muttering something about the captured, Agravaine's voice rose up from behind him.

"Your majesty!" he cried, looking rather out of place in his oily armour. He was holding one of the bandits by the scruff of his neck, hauling him towards the king. "Look what we have here."

"He comes with us. I'll deal with prisoners when we get back to Camelot." Arthur declared, waving his uncle away. He had more dire commitments on his mind, wondering how exactly he would reward Merlyn's efforts upon their return.

"I fear this is no ordinary prisoner, Your Highness." Agravaine insisted, ripping something from the bandit's armour. He handed it to Arthur, who held it up to the light, a familiar crescent moon staring back at him.

"Well, well." he murmured in surprise. This was not what he had expected to find amongst his prisoners.

"What is it?" Merlyn asked from over his shoulder, her breath fluttering past his ear.

"This, Merlyn, is the royal crest of Caerleon." he explained, turning sharp eyes towards his grim prisoner. "Is it not, Your Highness?"

~

Night fell before Arthur could dwell on Caerleon, his men struggling to deal with the restless bandits. Eventually, a quiet calm lay about the camp, most of the knights warming themselves by the fire, leaving Arthur to contemplate his options. Even Merlyn had left him alone, sensing his uneasiness, although Agravaine had no such qualms about interrupting his notions. Part of Arthur welcomed some input into the situation, someone who would dare to say what he could not.

"This is not the first time he's trespassed on our lands." Arthur stated, feeling his uncle shift beside him.

"No, sire." Agravaine shook his head. "Only last week he seized the village of Stonedown on the western border."

This did nothing to calm Arthur's tensions. "We're not on the border now, uncle. This is the heart of the kingdom. He took a grave risk coming here."

Agravaine hesitated, his gaze falling to the ground. "Perhaps he doesn't see it that way. I fear that it's no coincidence that all this has happened since Uther's death."

"What do you mean?" Arthur questioned, although he expected he already knew the answer. Merlyn always told him that his compassion was a strength, but sometimes, he wasn't so sure.

Agravaine seemed to agree with his deepest fears. "Arthur, your father was a strong king. His enemies feared and respected that strength."

"Are you saying I'm not worthy of respect?" Arthur exclaimed, concealing his insecurities behind his tone.

His uncle seemed to realise his mistake, a hesitant glint in his eye. "No, sire, not at all. There isn't a citizen of Camelot who wouldn't lay down their life for you. But you were almost assassinated in your own castle, Arthur. You must understand that your enemies see that as a weakness. You are still untested as a king; you must send a clear message that any action against Camelot will be met without mercy."

"Did we not achieve that here today?" Arthur questioned, desperate to salvage what was left of his wounded pride, but the look his uncle was giving him was more than sufficient as to where the answer lay.

"No, sire. Not enough." he said sadly. "Not enough to deter the likes of Odin and Bayard and the countless others who covet Camelot's wealth."

Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What do you suggest?"

"I suggest..." Agravaine paused, his murky eyes flickering in the candlelight. He regarded Arthur with a solemn gaze, so terribly troubled. "I suggest we force him to accept a treaty on our terms. He must withdraw his men from our land, return our territories to us. He must surrender Evorwick."

"He'd rather die than agree to such terms." Arthur said bluntly, wondering when his uncle had become so cruel.

"Then you are left with no choice." Agravaine said, almost eagerly. He hardly held the grim face of a man who had just suggested murder.

The king shivered. "I can't just kill a man in cold blood."

"Arthur, you must do what is necessary to assert your authority on this land." Agravaine pushed, oblivious to the king's blatant turmoil.

"There must be another way."

Agravaine took this moment to close his eyes, his expression one of perfect grief. "There is no other way. You must decide by tomorrow."

With that, his uncle stood, leaving the young king with a heavy weight upon his shoulders.

~

If Merlyn was to say that she hadn't meant to conveniently be collecting firewood within earshot of Arthur and his snivelling uncle, then it would be a lie that not even a guard of Camelot would believe. She didn't trust Agravaine, his greasy mannerisms doing nothing to appeal to her senses, his advice often falling flat. His underhanded plan didn't exactly surprise her, but she hated the way that Arthur continued to consider it. He was better than this. He had to be.

She took Agravaine's place next to him, twisting her fingers through his hair. "Arthur-"

"Not now, Merlyn." he murmured, but sank into her comforting touch. She kissed him on the cheek, leaning into his side. They didn't have to talk tonight.

~

Merlyn awoke early, turning in her bed roll to find her king gone. She shifted, sitting up to find Arthur perched on a log by the dim fire, deep in thought. Yawning, she fetched him some water, knowing that he'd barely drank anything the day before. She tapped his shoulder, wordlessly handing him the cup.

"Thank you." he managed, wiping his red eyes. Merlyn doubted he'd had much sleep.

"You must be cold." she smiled weakly, kneeling down to rekindle the fire. "Have you slept at all?"

Arthur shook his head slowly. "I've been thinking."

That didn't sound good.

"About what Agravaine said?" Merlyn frowned, concerned. Arthur managed a nod, a haunted look in his eyes.

"So, what are you going to do?" she inquired, sitting on the log adjacent to Arthur. If she were honest, she was dreading her king's answer.

"My father was a great king, but I don't have his wisdom nor his conviction. I can only follow his example and do what he would've done." Arthur stated, clearly troubled.

Oh dear.

Merlyn couldn't hide the look of disgust that crossed her face. "You're going to draw up this treaty?"

Once again, Arthur nodded. "I need to show my strength, to show that I'm worthy of my father's name."

"Caerleon won't sign it." Merlyn folded her hands together, resisting the urge to comfort her king. "You know that."

"Caerleon brought this upon himself." Arthur said sharply, but Merlyn couldn't bring herself to watch the king descend into the same hate that his father had prided.

She kept her voice soft, praying that the knights wouldn't hear them. "You've always shown mercy in battle. You've never sought to humiliate your enemy in this way. This isn't like you. This isn't who you are."

"You have no idea what it is to make these decisions, decisions that will shape the future of this land." the king said sternly, ignorant, so terrible ignorant, of everything that Merlyn had done. How dare he-no. That wasn't fair. He didn't know.

"Arthur-" she tried, but he wouldn't listen.

"Please, stick to what you do know." Arthur stood unable to even look at her. Merlyn wiped a tear away from her cheek, suddenly reminded of Gilli. She wondered what his life had become, if he still lived in the realm of men. He'd said something similar to her once, called her an obedient servant in a fit of anger. But sometimes, Merlyn found it hard to believe that there was no truth in what he'd said. Clearly Arthur thought the same. What was she to him but the first person to stand up to his foolish ways, who had battled for him a thousand times? What did it matter what she thought? She'd expected better from him; when the crimson dawn arrived, she wondered if he'd apologise for his own stupidity.

~

Agravaine was the one to hand the treaty over to Caerleon, the foreign king regarding him with obvious disdain. The knights stood around him, a show of force Merlyn couldn't stand to see. It was bad enough that Arthur was going to kill the man; he could at least have the decency to do it privately.

"What is this?" Caerleon spat, eying the parchment handed to him. He unfurled it scanning the terms with a prideful sneer. "You expect me to sign this? To humiliate myself before you?"

"You invaded our kingdom, took what did not belong to you." Agravaine countered, admirably severe under the king's gaze.

Caerleon, however, was not impressed. "And if I do not sign?"

"Then you will pay with your life." Agravaine spat, true hatred in his eyes. Merlyn glanced between the two men, wishing that it hadn't come to this.

Caerleon chuckled. "And who makes these terms?"

Arthur stepped forward, his head held high. Merlyn could barely look at him, see the coldness in his heart. This, she knew, was the reason that she hadn't told him about her magic. This ruthlessness, the glimmers of Uther tainting his soul. In those hard eyes was the man she loved, and yet, when the time came, she wondered whether she would see that contempt directed at herself. He wasn't ready.

"I, Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot." Arthur proclaimed, not a tremor to his words.

If Caerleon was surprised, he didn't show it. He strode forward, holding Arthur's uncomfortable gaze, brushing off Percival as he tried to grab his arm.

"Very well." he said, dropping to his knees in front of Arthur, staring up at him with furious anguish. "Then make it quick."

For a moment, Merlyn thought that Arthur was about to raise his sword, but his hand only rested on the hilt as he looked down at the foreign king.

"Think what you're doing, Caerleon. This treaty could seal a truce between us. There would be peace, like there was between your father and mine."

"I am not my father." Caerleon said evenly. "And you are not Uther. Do you really have the guts to kill me?"

"You leave me no choice." Arthur hissed, an edge to his voice that made Merlyn shiver. This was wrong. Arthur wasn't his father. She didn't want to believe he would do this, but a small part of her knew that he would, that Agravaine had convinced him that this was just.

"You do not choose anything, boy." Caerleon smirked victoriously. "It is I who choose to die, and I alone. Now get on with it."

He lowered his head, revealing the pink flesh of his neck. Merlyn looked to Arthur, who looked almost feral, his lips curled up into a snarl.

"So be it."

No.

~

Merlyn hadn't spoken to Arthur since his blade had cut through Caerleon's neck, lagging behind with the knights as they'd returned to Camelot, staying oddly quiet. Even Gwaine looked grim; Arthur chose to ignore it, riding into the citadel with a face as impassive as he could muster. Agravaine had ridden ahead to alert the court of the situation, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to care about his people's opinions, not when Merlyn looked so glum.

He made his way slowly to his chambers, where Merlyn was already unpacking, her gaze fixed on her tasks. Arthur went to his desk, where a bowl of clean water was already laid out for him, the coldness refreshing against his skin. He could still feel Caerleon's blood upon him, stuck to his clothes like mud.

"It can't have been easy to have a man killed like that." Merlyn spoke up for the first time in hours, her voice hoarse. She still didn't look at him; Arthur could only watch as she folded a shirt, placing it in his wardrobe with shaking fingers.

"I had no choice. A show of strength was necessary." he said, almost able to believe his own words.

"Don't you think that compassion can also show strength?" Merlyn questioned, something so very sad within her tone. He'd disappointed her, but his actions may have saved his kingdom. He had to believe that.

"Not to the likes of Caerleon, no." he shook his head, wishing that Merlyn would just face him. "No, an example had to be made for the good of the kingdom."

Merlyn's movements stopped for a moment; Arthur could hear her shaky breath. "So you don't regret what you did?"

"My conscience is clean, Merlyn, which is more than I can say for my room." he joked, trying to catch her eye. "Just do your job, will you?"

There was something icy in Merlyn's voice as she spoke, a hurt that made Arthur's heart ache. "I'm just saying that, if there's something bothering you, you can talk to me. Don't push me away, your friends, even, not when you need us the most."

"You're wrong, Merlyn. I don't need anyone; I can't afford that luxury. The kingdom's my responsibility now. Mine to bear alone. And you must learn to accept that."

"That's absolute bullshit, Arthur Pendragon." Merlyn hissed, something cracking in her frozen facade. "Don't you dare tell me that you are alone in this. We've always been a team; I just wish that you could understand all that I've done for you."

With that, Merlyn stormed from the room, leaving a brooding Arthur in her wake. He wanted to ask her what she'd meant, but by now, he knew he wouldn't get a straight answer. Besides, he didn't deserve one: Merlyn, as always, was right. He couldn't rule alone, wouldn't, not like his father, not when she could sit beside him upon her own throne.

~

By sundown, Merlyn was still absent; it seemed strange for Arthur to take dinner in his own chambers alone, so he sat in the great hall, taking his father's old chair. It seemed odd, to sit at the head of an empty table, but Arthur welcomed the silence, lost in his own moral crisis as he flicked through a number of regal documents. That was not to say that when Agravaine knocked, however, the intrusion was unwanted. His uncle understood his actions; as thunder roared through the room, it was nice to feel quite so lonely.

"I am sorry to disturb you, my lord." Agravaine sounded sincere, forcing the king to put down the paper he had been reading over his dinner. Merlyn's neat hand was scrawled in the margins, her various points engaging Arthur far more than Leon's tedious reports, but thoughts of his lover would have to be set aside for the moment.

"Is something the matter, uncle?" he questioned, taking a long gulp of wine from his goblet. By the look on Agravaine's face, this wasn't going to be an easy conversation.

"I dare to hope that my advice has been of some use these past months." his uncle started, striding over to the table, only to lean against the back of one of the empty chairs. It was an odd move, but Arthur thought nothing of it.

"Of course it has. You know that." he smiled indulgently, absentmindedly tracing the lettering of one of Merlyn's notes.

"There is something I wish to discuss with you." Agravaine hesitated, clasping his hands together. "But it is a delicate matter."

Arthur waited for him to say more, but his uncle did not speak further. "Yes?"

"It concerns Merlyn."

This Arthur hadn't been expecting. "What about her?"

"Well, she's a beautiful woman, sire, and possessed of many fine qualities, I have no doubt. But she is a servant." Agravaine stared at him imploringly, begging him to understand.

"That doesn't matter to me." Arthur shrugged. Merlyn was so much more than just a servant to him; sometimes, he felt his actions betrayed his sentiments.

"Nor to me." his uncle assured quickly. "I assure you. No. It-It's your people that concern me."

Arthur sat back in his chair, wondering what, exactly, Agravaine was expecting of him. "Surely, as king, I can do as I see fit."

Agravaine looked surprised that he'd even consider such a thing. "No, sire. You cannot. You must do what is expected of you. You must present yourself in an appropriate manner. The people, your people, do not wish to see their king with a simple common woman."

Merlyn was far from common, neither in her heritage nor in the way that she had captured Arthur's heart, but the king had no intention of sharing this information with his uncle.

"This isn't a matter of state. This is a matter of the heart." he said tersely, hoping that the subject would not be pushed.

"You cannot rule the kingdom with your heart, Arthur. Your father understood that." when the king didn't respond, Agravaine finally took a seat, seeming to consider this an opportunity to continue his push. "You didn't want to kill Caerleon. I know that. But you were strong. You didn't let those emotions cloud your judgement. You ruled with your head, like a strong king must. And now you must show that strength again. Set aside personal feelings for the good of your kingdom."

Arthur had had enough. "I appreciate your concerns, uncle, really, I do, but Merlyn has done nothing but good for the kingdom. She has saved my life more times than I can count, sacrificed more for Camelot than any of my knights. She is the queen my people need and, quite frankly, without her at my side, I'm not sure I want to rule at all. "

For a moment, Arthur thought he saw a look of genuine hatred cross Agravaine's face, but he dismissed it, too tired to wonder of the truth.

"Very well, my lord." his uncle nodded slowly, rising in his defeat. "She is a remarkable woman. Just think upon what I have said."

Arthur couldn't deny him that. "Very well."

~

Merlyn begrudgingly made her way up to Arthur's chambers the next morning, suppressing her anger as she picked up his breakfast tray. He could be a stubborn arse sometimes, she knew that, but she also knew that the king was not entirely to blame. In some sense Caerleon had been right: Arthur was untested, unsure in his role as a new king, hardly realising that all of his time spent as regent, those years with her by his side, was really the beginning of his reign. Now, he held the title of ruler; she supposed that he had only just begun to see all the burdens that came along with it. Agravaine wasn't helping, but it was understandable that Arthur would look up to his older, potentially wiser, family, even if his choice was misguided. Merlyn couldn't help but dislike Agravaine, but it wasn't he who had forced Arthur to push her away. The king had made that choice.

Grumbling to herself, Merlyn pushed the door open with her hip, intending to put the tray down and leave, but was surprised to see that Arthur was already up, waiting for her, sitting pensively at his table.

"Arthur?" she asked, realising that he hadn't seen her enter the room. He looked up, startled, but upon realising who she was, seemed to regain his composure.

"Merlyn." he gestured towards the chair opposite him. "Come. Sit with me."

Hesitantly, Merlyn put the tray down on the dining table, walking over to Arthur's desk. She sat, staring at him curiously.

"What do you want, Arthur?" she asked, suddenly very tired. She was in no mood for small talk.

"Agravaine came to me last night." he began, pouring her a goblet of water. "He wanted to talk about some rather... Sensitive matters."

Merlyn couldn't help but stare, Arthur's hair tinted gold in the sunlight. "And what was the subject of these 'sensitive matters'?"

Arthur took a sip from his own goblet. "You."

"I see." Merlyn lied, clasping her hands in front of her so not to fiddle.

"He told me that I should put an end to our relationship, that it wasn't for the good of the kingdom." Arthur paused, shifting uncomfortably.

What a pig-headed turnip. Merlyn knew that her dislike of Agravaine was returned, but she had never thought that he would get involved in something like this.

"And do you agree?" Merlyn asked, trying to keep her voice even.

Arthur sat forward, meeting her gaze with fierce certainty.

"No."

Merlyn breathed deeply, a thin smile pulling on her lips. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Arthur cut her off.

"And I also realised that the way I have been treating you over the last couple of days, dismissing your opinions, treating you like nothing more than a servant... If I want us to truly be together, I can't keep ignoring your views. I'm not saying that I will always agree with you, but I promise that I will try to do better, to consider you as an equal. You've helped me so much over the past few years; I should know better than to ignore you. I'm sorry. "

"Arthur..." Merlyn had no idea what to say. She could see the truth in her lover's eyes, see that he would really try. She was saved, however, from her speechlessness, by a loud knock on the door.

The king looked mildly disgruntled, but leaned back in his chair, eying the door in annoyance.

"Come." he commanded, the door opening to reveal a rather disturbed looking Leon.

"Sire, a messenger has arrived." he announced, his eyes flickering between the two of them.

"What is it?" Arthur signed, resigned to whatever council meeting was about to occur.

"An army. It crossed our border at first light." Leon looked understandably worried, the report obviously taking Arthur by surprise. He stared at his knight incredulously, his eyes wide.

"An army? Whose army?" he asked, frowning deeply.

"Caerleon's queen."

~

Morgana had never stepped foot in Caerleon, the region far too brutal, barbaric even, for her taste. She had to admire the simplicity in which most of their people lived, their kindness, welcoming her into their homes without a second thought. It reminded her a little of Ealdor, the warmth of the fire, finding comfort in the shelter from the howling wind. She supposed that she didn't look like much, cloaked in mud, her straggly hair pinned away from her face. She was a shadow of the woman she had once been, but she didn't envy her past self. It wasn't worth the ignorance. One day, she would find who she was meant to become.

A kindly woman had offered to wash her clothes in the last village she'd visited, asking no questions as Morgana did her best to look innocent, fragile with wide, lost eyes, shivering in a coldness she didn't feel on her skin. Her hand often grazed the knife she still hid in her boot, Merlyn's tricks playing on her mind. At least, she supposed as her eyes burned gold, unlocking a door into an ancient, stone castle, she could meet the queen with some semblance of power.

Torches lit the tunnels through the haunted, grey walls, amber light flickering through her vision. She listened for footsteps, but when none came, she ascended the steps, pulling her cloak tightly around her.

"Hault!" a cry came up from behind her, a knight pointing his blade into her back. Morgana was impressed: she'd never particularly met any entirely competent guards, especially in Camelot. Another man came up in front of her, his beady eyes glinting maliciously. Morgana doubted that there was a single brain cell between the two of them, but she put on her kindest smile, glancing between the strong men.

"Please, I mean you no harm." she turned to the taller one, guessing he had a little more authority. "I wish only to speak with your queen."

They brought her to the throne room, neither sheathing their swords. Perhaps here, within the castle, there were more rumours of her magic. One roughly pulled her hood from her face, allowing her to properly survey the room. It was hardly ornate, circular shields lining the walls, drapes embroidered with Caerleon's symbol hanging behind two, golden thrones. Queen Annis sat in one, her red hair clashing horribly with her purple clothes. She wore a golden circlet, her stormy eyes staring at her in repulsion.

"Morgana Pendragon." she spat. "Stealing into my castle in the dead of night. You must have a death wish."

Morgana held her head high, meeting Annis' gaze with utter defiance. "Sorry for the interruption, Your Majesty, but I've come on urgent business."

"What business could you possibly have with me, witch?" the queen asked, her lip curling up into a feral snarl. Morgana resisted the urge to curse her for such an insult, keeping her expression emotionless.

"I come in the name of my father." she said, watching Annis' hands clutch tightly to the arms of her throne.

Her face, however, did not betray her fear.

"Is that so?" she hissed. "When I last heard, you and he were -"

"I speak not of Uther, but of Gorlois." Morgana couldn't dare to think of Uther as her father. He was nothing to her. A pestilence upon her people.

"Gorlois?" Annis seemed calmer now, staring at her in confusion.

"Uther is my father by blood alone. Gorlois raised me as a child. He made me who I am." Morgana smiled genuinely for the first time in... She didn't want to think about that, the ghost of her memories touching her mind.

Annis nodded slowly, a touch of her own smile upon her lips." I remember him well. He was a good man, an honourable one."

"He was, Your Highness, and his sole reward was death, betrayed by his king." Morgana spoke softly, wishing for a world where she could still speak to her father, could ask him what he thought of her decisions.

"Well, then. It seems that we have both lost something at the hands of a Pendragon." Annis swallowed her eyes lingering on the empty space beside her. She rose from her throne. walking forward, the queen eyed her suspiciously. "Now, for the last time, what are you doing here?"

Nudging an overbearing guard away from her, Morgana stepped forward herself, trying not to appear too eager. "Your Highness," she kneeled at the queen's feet, bowing her head. "Your Highness, Uther was a curse upon this land, as is his son. I seek revenge for the wounds they have inflicted, as do you."

She looked up, meeting Annis' gaze. "If you'll accept it, I've come to offer my help."

~

Caerleon's men were moving fast, their rapid pace enough to put them at Camelot's gates before the next sundown. The knights would have to intercept them before they made it to the Ridge of Landshire, Arthur knew that. They'd leave at dawn with the hope that they would make it. Frankly, he didn't have a choice. If they didn't, Camelot could fall.

"Off again?" Merlyn piped up from where she was straightening his bed. Both of them knew that it wouldn't be slept in that night. "Another week in the wilderness?"

Arthur shrugged on his coat, turning to face his servant. She was in a strange mood.

"Eating weird animals, being eaten by weird animals. No hot water and no baths..." she trailed off, watching him fasten his cloak. "I can't believe you kept it."

"What?" Arthur squinted in confusion, smoothing the worn material with his fingertips.

"That cloak... I gave it to you years ago when you fought as Sir William... I'd just assumed you'd thrown it away."

Arthur's face grew hot. Part of him wanted go reject the tender moment, to pretend that he had kept it out of convenience, and not because it reminded him of her every time he wore it. But at the look on Merlyn's face, he softened.

"I like it. It reminds me of simpler times." he smiled fondly, wishing that he could go back to threats from the odd assassin in place of those from his own sister.

Merlyn strode forward, straightening the fabric and reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. "Where are you going?"

He stepped away, his features hardening, trying not to arouse suspicion. "That's my business."

He expected Merlyn to push the subject, but there seemed to be a new understanding between them.

"Okay." she nodded, stepping away from him. "Just be careful."

"I will." Arthur pulled the cloak tightly around himself, bracing for the cold. With that, he lifted his hood, leaving his chambers and disappeared from Merlyn's sight.

~

The fact that Arthur hadn't been stopped by a single guards was rather worrying considering he had left both the citadel and the lower town, but then, he wouldn't have particularly wanted to explain why he was endangering himself in the darkened forest in order to pick flowers. Merlyn hadn't mentioned the bunch of bluebells that had mysteriously been left in Gaius' chambers, but her smile had been rather wide that morning, especially considering the fact that they would soon be marching towards battle. She'd even woken him up with a kiss, her normal 'rise and shine' reserved for another day. Arthur couldn't help the smile on his face as he descended the stairs into the courtyard, his men lined up in ordered rows, each of them the very epitome of a heroic knight.

They made it to the ridge just as the opposing army crossed the horizon, their numbers far greater than had been reported, but Arthur wasn't surprised. If someone had severed Merlyn's head from her shoulders, he was sure that he would have raised double the number to avenge her.

He stood on the ridge, watching the other camp whilst his men clamoured to build his own. Agravaine had told him that it wasn't seemly for him to do such work, and whilst Arthur privately disagreed, he didn't want his uncle to feel as if he was ignoring his advice. Said uncle had not touched any of the tents that were being pitched, wandering around the camp like some strange fool, barking orders about nothing in particular. Perhaps realising that he was out of his depth, Agravaine now came to stand by Arthur, a grim expression upon his face. This was going to be a hard battle.

"Ensure the men have everything they need. They must be well rested by morning." the king didn't take his eyes away from their foe, his heart pounding in his chest. He had done this. So many would die, so many slaughtered by his own foolish choices. He'd been a coward; Merlyn had been right. This was his doing, his burden.

"I'll see to it, sire." Agravaine said, a serious edge to his voice. He, at least, understood what was at risk.

Arthur couldn't even acknowledge that he'd spoken. "The battle commences at first light."

He didn't know when his uncle left him, still watching the men down below. It wasn't just his knights who would perish at his stupidity. Thousands would die tomorrow; Arthur wasn't sure that he could allow it.

~

Merlyn's face was a little flushed, the ale getting to her as she sat around a glowing campfire with the knights. They laughed, joking about their chances, knowing that this may be the last night they spent in each other's company. Percival nudged her a little too hard at one of Elyan's jokes, but the servant was sure it would only cause a little bruising. She would be fine, probably.

Taking a moment to look around the camp, she spotted Arthur staring at them, something inscrutable on his face. The other knights seemed to notice him too, staring expectantly at the king. He should be with them, they all knew that, not hiding away in his tent.

Arthur opened his mouth, but seemed to forget what he'd been trying to say.

"We should all get some sleep." he said, disappearing into the shadows.

"Is he all right?" Gwaine asked, drawing Merlyn's gaze from the ghost of her king. It was a complicated question, one she wasn't sure she knew the answer to.

"He's our king." she said instead. "If anything were to happen to any of us, he'll hold himself responsible."

And really, what could any of them say to that?

~

Arthur was brooding alone in his tent, Merlyn silent as she lit a number of bright candles, something playing on her mind. The king wasn't expecting company, but part of him wasn't surprised when his knights entered the room, something serious upon all of their faces. Even Gwaine looked vaguely sincere.

"Elyan?" he stared at the leading knight expectantly.

"Sire." Elyan nodded at him, his gaze sweeping the crimson walls of the tent, the fine bed that Agravaine has insisted be carried for Arthur's sake. The king sat on the end of it now, knowing that his men had no such luxuries. It wasn't fair, but he had no choice but to accept it.

"Well?" Arthur raised his eyebrows, suddenly feeling rather small.

"We just want you to know..." Elyan started, gesturing to his fellow men, "there isn't a man among us who would not die for you. We made our pledge, and we wear the Pendragon crest with pride. Tomorrow, we fight in your name, sire, for the freedom and justice in this land."

Arthur didn't know what to say.

"Thank you, Elyan." he managed, trying to hide the sudden dread seeping through his blood. "Thank you, all."

The knights left without another word; Arthur knew that they all agreed with what Elyan had said. The thought made him sick, the idea that they would die for his own pride. This was ridiculous. He couldn't go through with it.

"They meant it, sire." Merlyn spoke up from her corner of the room, her chores abandoned. "Every word."

"I've never once questioned their loyalty." Arthur frowned, allowing Merlyn to take a seat opposite him, pouring him a tall goblet of wine. "I do wonder if I deserve it."

He managed to meet Merlyn's gaze, but was surprised to see her smiling, the sight almost reassuring. "No one could care more for their men than you do. To send them into battle is not a decision that you would make lightly. They know that."

"But was it the right decision?" Arthur asked, voicing some of the insecurities that he'd been holding close to his chest.

"If there was any other way out of this situation, you would take it. But you must defend Camelot, you have no choice." Merlyn looked down at her fingers; she picked up a sword, finding comfort in the familiar action of sharpening it; Arthur refused to simply admire her, not when he knew that he could speak of the worries laying heavy on his mind.

"I had a choice." he said, in no mood to be pitied. "To let Caerleon live or die. I made the wrong decision, and now I've brought this war on Camelot myself."

Merlyn wouldn't have done it. She wouldn't have killed the foreign king, no matter what her advisors might say.

"Arthur." Merlyn said softly, tearing the tired king away from his thoughts. "No one is prepared to sacrifice more for the sake of this kingdom than you. Your decision was made in the best interests of Camelot."

Perhaps she was right, but Arthur's good intentions didn't rid him of the army at his doorstep.

"Maybe." he sighed, finally taking a sip of his wine. "But now my men must pay for it with their lives."

~

Many of the knights had found themselves in a drunken stupor, eventually simply collapsing on the ground, hardly making it to their tents. It was a warm night; Merlyn had insisted in finding herself a spot on the ground, knowing that Arthur would want to be alone that night. He was in no mood for her empathy, not with such a burden on his shoulders.

Her thin blanket did little to soften the hard ground, however, so Merlyn struggled to sleep, listening to noises in the night. She was surprised to hear familiar footsteps; she cracked open her eyes in time to see a familiar cloak fading from the camp. Standing shakily, she tripped over a tent peg, collapsing loudly into the canvas. She bit her lip, peering from behind a tent flap, watching Arthur turn sharply, scanning the camp. Luckily, he didn't seem to see her, disappearing into the gloom.

Merlyn watched him scramble down to the enemy camp, wondering if he'd lost his mind. A couple of guards spotted him; she couldn't hear what was being said, but the fact that they didn't instantly try to kill him had to be a good sign.

Sneaking through the camp wasn't too difficult, but it wasn't as if Merlyn lacked practice in such things. She watched as Arthur was headed into, what she presumed to be, Annis' tent, his cloak torn from him. She found a hole in the side of the tent. It was sparsely decorated, a far cry from Arthur's own, lined with a few furs. She couldn't say she was surprised: the people of Caerleon were hardly known for their frivolous luxury. Peering through the canvas, she couldn't understand what Arthur could possibly have planned.

"What is the meaning of this?" a voice, Annis, questioned, sheer rage seething through her tone. Even Arthur seemed to cower as she stalked towards him, a lioness hunting her feeble prey.

The king opened his mouth, but didn't quite meet the queen's eyes. "Your Highness, I've come here to-"

Annis slapped him. Merlyn winced, watching a red mark bloom on Arthur's cheek. To give him his due, even as his courage failed him, the king continued his little speech.

"Your Highness, I know that you feel nothing but contempt for me." he gasped, a tremor to his voice. "You feel I've done you a grievous wrong, and you would be right. I'm ashamed of what I did. It was cowardly, it was unjust, and I am deeply sorry."

"Sorry does not bring back my husband. Sorry does not give my people back their king." Annis sounded furious, but Merlyn didn't blame her. She was right, after all.

Arthur nodded, finally meeting the queen's gaze. "I realise that. I know that there's nothing I can do to repair that loss."

"Then what are you doing here, Arthur Pendragon?" Annis spat, dragging his name through the mud.

"I want to call off the battle." he stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was a nice effort, but Merlyn very much doubted that the queen would accommodate such a request.

"It's a little too late for that." she hissed, her eyes narrowing. Merlyn couldn't see much from where she spied on the monarchs, but things didn't seem to be going very well for Arthur.

"I don't propose a truce, but an alternative." he took a deep breath, straightening his posture. "I invoke the right of single combat. Two champions settle this matter between them."

Merlyn almost rolled her eyes. Why Arthur was explaining such a simple concept to the queen who currently held him captive, she didn't know.

"And why should I grant you this favour?" Annis asked, but she didn't seem quite as angry as before. Perhaps Arthur had got through to her.

"There has been bloodshed enough already, Your Highness." Arthur answered earnestly. "Many hundreds of lives will be saved this way."

Merlyn couldn't see the expression on Annis' face, but the two men holding Arthur let him go.

"And your terms?" she asked tersely, seeming to reevaluate the young king.

Arthur didn't hesitate. "If my man wins, you must withdraw your army."

"And if my man is the victor?" Annis questioned. Merlyn watched Arthur struggle with this, almost failing to form his words.

"Then half of all Camelot is yours." he managed, the idea seeming to physically pain him.

Now perhaps Merlyn had been too enthralled in what was happening inside the tent, or maybe she'd just had a little too much ale, but something stopped her from hearing a man creep up behind her, pulling her away from her hiding place. He yanked her hard, dragging her into the tent and setting her on her knees in front of Annis. It appeared, unfortunately, that she'd been caught.

"Merlyn?" Arthur exclaimed, staring at her murderously.

Annis squinted at her, but soon turned to Arthur. "You know her?"

The king swallowed. "She's my servant. She must have followed me here. I-I knew nothing about it."

Annis nodded. "Kill her."

Merlyn wasn't exactly going to let that happen seeing as they hadn't bothered to disarm her, but before she could do something stupid, Arthur spoke for her.

"Wait, please. let her go. She's just... a simple-minded fool."

Merlyn glared at him, but knew enough to keep her mouth shut. If Annis didn't know who she was, she certainly had a better chance of surviving.

The queen stared at her for a moment, but gave no indication as to whether she believed the king.

"That is two favours you've asked of me this night, Arthur Pendragon." she murmured, turning to sit in her wooden throne. She paused for a moment, surveying the pair. "Very well. You shall have your trial by combat. Announce your champion by noon tomorrow."

Pure relief flooded Arthur's face. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"And take your... fool with you." Annis eyed her with a vague curiosity, but made no move to sate it. She was hauled to her feet and pushed out of the tent, Annis' gaze heavy on her back.

~

Arthur had to admit that he hadn't expected Merlyn's presence, but then, he probably should have told her where he was going. He couldn't really be surprised that she'd followed him, but his mind had been set on slightly more important matters. The death of his knights, for example.

"Simple-minded fool?" she hissed as they made their way back to their camp, stumbling over the rocks at her feet.

"Oh, I was being kind. Believe me." Arthur said, but there was no anger in it. He just sounded tired. "You almost got me killed in there?"

"Me?" Merlyn scoffed. "You seemed to be doing a pretty good job of that yourself."

"What is wrong with you?" Arthur turned, sudden fury blazing in his eyes. "Why can't you ever just let me be?"

"Arthur..." Merlyn looked away, refusing to let him see her hurt. "I was just worried, that's all."

"I know." the king sighed. "I know, I'm sorry. You were just looking out for me; I appreciate it, really I do. I'm just..."

"I'm proud of you, Arthur. What you did in there, it could save so many lives." Merlyn found herself starting forward, placing a gentle kiss against his lips. "Come on. You're going to need your rest."

She didn't give her king time to reply, hopping over a fallen branch as she trudged up to their camp. He needed her more than ever; in his own stubborn way, she knew that he could see that, but now was not the time to argue. They needed to be good to each other if they were going to get through this.

~

Arthur was almost startled at how disappointed his knights were when he announced that the battle was off, their bloodthirsty nature vaguely worrying. Still, at least it was directed at his enemies. That was something, he hoped.

"But, sire, we can win this battle. I know we can." Leon insisted, his men all nodding in agreement. Arthur looked warily between them, reminding himself that it was these lives he was fighting for.

"I don't doubt it." he reassured them, slightly amused as they all seemed to unanimously relax, Gwaine leaning against the centre pole of the crimson tent. "But at what cost? How many men would be slaughtered?"

"And what if we were to lose this trial? We cannot give up our land?" Elyan protested, but the king's mind was already made up.

"That's the deal I've struck." he said gravely. "I believe it to be fair. I'll stand by it."

"Well then," Agravaine spoke up, as pragmatic as ever, "all that remains, my lord, is for you to choose your champion."

Knights started walking forwards, crowding his line of sight. From behind their heads, Arthur saw Merlyn's faint smirk. She met his gaze, nodding once in acceptance. She'd always known him better than anyone else. She knew what he was going to do.

"It would be a privilege, sire." Percival said earnestly, but was shoved to the side by Elyan, who took his place.

"Sire." he agreed; before Leon knocked them all to the floor, Arthur knew that he had to end the bickering.

"There can only be one choice, one choice that is just an honourable." he paused, glancing at Merlyn once again. She'd have made a fine champion. "The fight is mine."

There was some murmuring from the knights but no one actively challenged his decision. Arthur couldn't let any of them sacrifice their lives for him, not this time. Lancelot had died in his place, his father killed in front of him. He wouldn't let another die for him, not again, not when he could choose this.

~

Morgana had always found Arthur's heroic acts sickening, his desperation for approval causing him to do some of the strangest things. When he was ten, he'd outwitted his guards, slipping away from them to hunt in the forest, determined to appease his father. He'd been found hours later, shivering from the cold, a dead squirrel clutched between his frozen hands. Morgana knew that her brother no longer yearned for Uther's approval, but his actions with Caerleon would have disappointed Merlyn. She wondered what the servant had said to him when she'd told him that he shouldn't kill the foreign king, wondered why he hadn't listened. For a peasant, Merlyn had always had a strange grasp of politics, her soul untarnished by the truth of court. Arthur had protected her from it, the witch supposed, but Merlyn had never been one to be left in the dark. Morgana would've listened to her if she were queen, that she knew for certain. Arthur relied too much on the wrong people; now, it was time for his reign to end.

"I don't like it. It must be a trick." Annis hissed, tearing the witch away from her melancholy. Morgana didn't doubt that the queen would probably like Arthur if she gave him a chance, but then, such things could be rather difficult when the foolish king had been the one to cut off her husband's head.

"What concerns you, Your Highness?" Morgana asked, keeping her voice sickly sweet. Now was not the time to toy with Annis' emotions.

"Arthur." the queen stood from her throne, her hands on her hips as she paced the cool tent. "Why would he choose himself as the champion?"

Morgana hadn't quite realised how little Annis knew of the young king.

"Because he's Arthur." she said, as if it were obvious. "He'll always risk his own life before those of his men. Trust me, it's no trick. Arthur will fight."

She couldn't keep the smirk off her face, folding her arms in front of her. Such an opportunity to watch the king perish would not arise again so soon.

"It's as if you were pleased, Morgana. Whatever else he is, Arthur is a great warrior. You have as much to lose as I if he wins." she eyed the witch with an odd sense of contempt. "You desire the throne of Camelot, do you not?"

"I don't deny it. It's rightfully mine after all." Morgana spat, before realising herself. She let the anger fade from her eyes, settling into a well bred sense of composure. "Arthur will not win."

Annis regarded her with her uncertain gaze. "How can you possibly know that?"

"Because I have the power to ensure that he doesn't." Morgana smiled, her eyes glinting in malice. There was something reluctant in Annis' expression, but the witch knew her fire, her desperation for revenge. She felt it herself.

"Then you must use it." the queen said swiftly, her long, amber hair glinting in the firelight. Morgana did not need her permission to carry out her plan, but found a certain glee in the bloodthirsty expression on the woman's face. Arthur would pay for ripping Camelot from her clutches, for forcing away from her home, for pulling Merlyn towards her doom.

~

Scaring Agravaine was one of Morgana's few consistent pleasures, the way he almost jumped out of his oily skin as she appeared behind him sending a shiver of delight up her spine. He was nervous, regarding her with breathless fear, as if he expected her to run him through at any moment. She was tempted, but unfortunately Agravaine hadn't yet surpassed his usefulness.

"Morgana." he gasped, edging away from her slightly. The forest around them was quiet, an excellent meeting place for a traitor and a witch. They were invisible from either side, concealed between the tall trees.

"Did you get it?" Morgana asked, hardly in the mood for pleasantries, especially with Agravaine.

He smirked, far too proud for someone with such terrible hair. "Of course."

Morgana reached for the sword in the traitor's hands, smiling at the familiar blade. It was Arthur's favourite, perhaps one of Merlyn's gifts to him over the years. The witch fought the urge to touch the pendant hanging from her neck, a reminder of a time that had long since passed. Merlyn wasn't hers. She needed to remember that.

Arthur was right to treasure his blade, the balance near to perfect. Tearing her eyes away from the sword, she felt them burn gold, lighting three fires around her. She knelt, holding the sword out in front of her, concentrating her magic. Agravaine's presence annoyed her, but she could hardly send him away. Closing her eyes so that she didn't have to look at him, she inhaled slowly, listening to the silence in the air.

"Efencume, eala gastas cræft ige: ecg ahefigie; ahefigie mid þære swærnesse þusenda geara; ofercume þone sweordboran."

She tilted the blade so that it was pointing upwards, flames licking at the metal. Agravaine gave a startled cry, but Morgana ignored it, intent on watching the fire die, a wicked smile upon her lips.

"Arthur is as good as dead." she murmured, her heart pounding in her chest. Soon, she would have Camelot. Soon, she would be Queen.

~

Arthur winced as Merlyn tightened his armour, trying to suppress the adrenaline pumping through him. He'd made the right choice. His men would survive another night; all he had to do was ensure that he shared their fate.

"Not too tight, Merlyn. You don't want to kill me before I've even started." he chuckled, relieved when she loosened his chest plate.

"Sorry." Merlyn grinned, finishing the last buckle. For a moment, Arthur thought of the silver ring under his glove, the dragons entwined around his finger. He thought to present it to her now, to propose in what could be his final moments, but he knew this was not how it was meant to be. Merlyn deserved more than a dying man's final wish.

He turned towards her, but before he could say anything, she smiled up at him, her sapphire eyes mesmerising in the shadowy light.

"I'm proud of you, you know." she said softly, brushing some errant hair from his face. "You've saved many lives today, but Camelot needs you, Arthur. I need you alive."

The king gave her a crooked smile. "I don't know what will happen. But for the first time since I became king, I know in my heart that I've made the right decision."

There was more to be said, but before Arthur could form the words, Merlyn's mouth was on his and all his thoughts melted away. There was no need for 'I love you's, no words that could express just shy of a decade of some half-forged destiny. Perhaps even a kiss wasn't enough, but there had been so many demons swimming around Arthur's head for so long now that he could no longer remember how he had coped without Merlyn. He couldn't live without her, didn't want to even try. He would never feel like this again, no longer how long he may live.

"It is time, my lord."

Arthur broke away from Merlyn, somewhat reluctantly, tearing his eyes away from her and towards his solemn uncle. He didn't have it in him to feel embarrassed about being caught. Agravaine would live.

"Very well." he nodded grimly, his eyes flickering back to Merlyn. He cleared his throat, drawing his sword from its sheathe. The king could only hope that he would live to look upon his love once again.

~

Merlyn watched as Arthur picked his way across the stones far below, scanning the opposing army from her position on top of the cliff face. She stood next to Agravaine, feeling the sudden urge to push him over the edge, but decided to wait until after Arthur's match. If he lost, she was sure that enough chaos would ensue for the twat's death to be labeled an unfortunate accident.

Arthur's opponent was rather large, a giant who appeared to be growling at the king, his sword almost twice as long as Arthur's. There were no words spoken between the men before the giant attacked, beating Arthur back towards the bottom of the cliff, his roars echoing through the valley.

Despite his opponent's strength, it became quite clear that Arthur was the better swordsman, ducking under the giant's blade to launch his own series of offence, forcing the man to retreat. He was almost hit by a wide thrust of the giant's weapon, and Merlyn's heart stilled, but the king managed to spin away, slicing his opponent's cheek as he staggered a short way downhill.

The sight of his own blood only seemed to enrage the giant, who almost missed Arthur sneaking up behind him, barely managing to parry the blow. It wouldn't be long before the king found victory, Merlyn was sure of that.

And then everything seemed to freeze, a strange ringing bursting through her ears. She felt a chill creep up her spine as Arthur almost dropped his sword, punching the giant in the face when he got too close. Still, he seemed unable to lift his blade.

Something was wrong.

Merlyn watched in horror as the giant swiped at the king, his sword barely missing Arthur's head. Still, the king could not lift his sword. This was magic, Merlyn was sure of it. Annis, perhaps, but instinct told her that this was someone else. Finding the queen amongst her warriors, Merlyn saw a cloaked figure beside her. She couldn't make out the identity from so far away, but the witch could certainly guess the face that lay under the hood. It didn't matter, not now. Arthur was in danger.

The giant tried once more to murder the king, but Merlyn's eyes glowed gold and the blade stopped in midair, much to the giant's surprise. Arthur wasted no time in barreling into his opponent, all knightly codes scattering to the breeze as he sent the both of them tumbling to the dirt.

The giant was the first up, kicking Arthur onto his back. He went to raise his sword, to finish the king once and for all, but Merlyn was hardly going to allow that. He should have acted faster.

"Ecg ætstande."

Miraculously, the giant dropped his sword. Once again, Arthur was up before anyone had time to think, grabbing the fallen blade and cutting at the giant's legs, causing him to fall. Arthur kicked him onto his back, finding Merlyn's gaze amongst the crowd. She smiled at him weakly, hoping he could see her expression.

Nodding at her, he turned back, burying the sword in the ground next to his opponent's face, his action punctuated by the cheers of his knights. Arthur had won.

~

Annis seemed much less angry than the night before, most likely because she hadn't just caught an enemy king wandering around her camp. She even smiled at Arthur, a glimmer of amusement twinkling in her eyes as she neared him, eying the remnants of his crimson encampment.

"You are victorious, Arthur Pendragon." she announced, as she planted herself in front of him, squinting in the sunlight. "And you may rest assured that I shall comply absolutely with the terms of our agreement. My army will be gone by nightfall."

The king eyed the retreating men warily, glad for his high vantage point. His knights may be the best in the land, but he'd hardly been looking forward to the fight.

"Thank you, Your Highness." the king nodded, grasping her wrist in a sign of respect.

"Tell me something." Annis looked at him curiously. "You spared my champion. Why?"

Arthur knew better than to answer with anything other than honesty.

"It's not victory I seek." he said earnestly. "It is peace. I hope that today will mark a new beginning for our kingdoms."

Annis gave him a long look, a thin smile spreading over her lips. "There is something about you, Arthur Pendragon, something which gives me hope for us all."

The king could've sworn that he saw Annis' gaze waver, just for a moment, her eyes lingering on something behind him, but soon she was walking away, heading back towards her army. When Arthur turned his head to see what she'd been looking at, all he could see was Merlyn; he couldn't exactly say he was sad about that.

~

Morgana was no idiot. Arthur, if left to his own devices, should be dead, his blood staining the cliff rocks crimson. She had seen the way that Annis' champion had faltered, how he'd conveniently dropped his sword just as it was about to hit Arthur. Someone was protecting the king, someone with powerful magic.

The witch stormed into Annis' tent, relying on her courtly manners to remain polite. She needed allies if she had any chance against this mysterious foe. Agravaine wasn't enough.

"It seems that you do not have the power after all, Morgana. Arthur was made of sterner stuff than you imagined." Annis commented, not even looking up from her scrolls. This did not bode well.

"There will be other opportunities, Your Highness, and next time he won't be so lucky." Morgana felt like an overeager courtesan sacrificing her dignity for power.

"There won't be a next time." Annis stated firmly, finally turning to face Morgana. "Not for me anyway."

"What are you talking about?" Morgana frowned, stepping closer to the queen. This was not going how she'd planned.

"I believe I may have misjudged our young king." Annis stated diplomatically, as if the witch was truly one for such talk.

Morgana scoffed. "Don't be taken in by his fine words."

"It wasn't Arthur who misled me. It was you." Annis looked at her with pity; Morgana did her best not to scowl.

"You are consumed by bitterness, Morgana. It spreads within you like a disease. In my grief, I let you infect me with your hate."

"That is untrue." Morgana said through gritted teeth, but a part of her couldn't help but see Annis' point. She was bitter, but that didn't mean she didn't have reason for it. She deserved Camelot, wanted it more than anything. She'd given everything up for a chance at her birthright; of course she was bitter that Arthur had everything she'd ever wanted.

"Do you deny that you sought revenge?" Morgana hissed, sneering at the queen.

"Yes, I sought revenge." Annis admitted. "But that didn't mean that it was the right thing to do."

Morgana laughed, stepping away from the queen. "You are weak, Annis, as I thought you were. Go ahead. Make peace with Arthur. But I will not rest until all of Camelot bows before me."

The witch turned to leave, but the queen called her back.

"Morgana." Annis waited for her to turn, something pitying on her face. "You came to me in the name of Gorlois, but I fear you're more like Uther than you realise."

It took all that Morgana had not to smite the queen in that moment. She didn't need Annis, didn't want her wisdom. If there was a darkness inside the witch, then it would only help her regain what was hers. Annis wouldn't stand in her way. Nobody could, not even Emrys.

~

The streets of Camelot were painted bright with colour and laughter when the knights returned to Camelot, Merlyn and Arthur at their lead. The townspeople welcomed them, waving streamers in the air, children running between the horses with dragons painted on their faces. This, Merlyn thought, was rather dangerous, but she was hardly going to tell the children what to do. They'd be fine, as long as no one trod on them.

"You're a hero." she grinned at Arthur, gesturing to the cheering hoards.

He raised his eyebrows, looking almost surprised. "Thank you, Merlyn."

"Not to me." she added quickly, realising she was being too nice. "To your people."

"Right." Arthur nodded slowly, seemingly stunned by the brightness of the lower town. "You think different?"

Merlyn nudged her horse forward, not really wanting the king to push her off her horse to be engulfed by their legion of fans.

"Maybe I know something they don't." she shrugged, biting her lip to stop herself grinning.

"Which is?" Arthur questioned, falling right into her trap.

"You know, that you're a cabbage head." she laughed, glad to hear a snort from Leon behind her. The king narrowed his eyes at her, but, rather than doing something rather unkingly, he simply shook his head.

"You know, it's times like these that I question my choice in loving you." he sighed dramatically, chuckling at Merlyn's exaggerated gasp.

"Why, sire, I would assume that would be obvious." she beamed. "You just couldn't live without me."

Arthur smiled softly.

"That, I couldn't." he murmured, staring at her fondly. Merlyn felt her cheeks heat, a smile curving her lips. Sometimes, she forgot how much she loved Arthur.

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Merlyn wished that she hadn't become maidservant to the prince. Granted, she'd found that there were certain perks to the job, but as she followed the knights towards yet another rather gloomy, mysterious valley, she fantasised about what her life could have been like as simply another servant of the court, Gaius' bumbling assistant, her only danger resting in the physician's formidable eyebrow. Admittedly, she had faced tamer beasts than the old man, but she felt her life would be much simpler, less taxing. For example, she wouldn't be about to blindly follow her king into impending danger, something which would certainly put her in a foul mood.

"Arthur, you are not serious." she sighed, passing the cracked stone head of a fallen king.

"What else do you have in mind?" the king asked, smirking sideways at her. This was the fastest way back to Camelot, as much as Merlyn hated to admit it.

"Anything?" she tried, shifting uneasily in her saddle. For a moment, she thought that she saw movement somewhere in the green, sloping sides of the scenery, but dismissed sighting as nothing more than her keen imagination. "Nothing good ever happens in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. No one in their right mind would go in there."

"Exactly." Percival grinned, chuckling at Merlyn's evil look. He'd basically been a druid once; the witch was fairly sure that meant that he was meant to be on her side.

"The route's a secret, Merlyn. That's why we chose it." Arthur tried to assure her, but his attempts were cut short by abrupt shouting from their left side. Merlyn could only watch as what must have been fifty men ran over the crest of the hill, hugely outnumbering them.

Merlyn almost laughed. "Not so secret after all."

"No need to get cocky." Arthur shouted, ridding himself of his cloak and riding forward, his sword glinting in the dim sunlight.

Merlyn drew her own blade, glancing back to find more bandits heading for them, several on horseback, her heart pounding fiercely.

She turned just in time to see Arthur being ripped from his horse, quickly dispatching the man who had forced him to the floor, but entirely missing another charging at him, his sword leveled at his head.

"Arthur!" She shouted, her eyes burning gold as the bandit flew from his horse, dragged away by his reigns. She smiled, but turned too late to dodge the mace aimed at her chest, the weapon cutting through her skin. Falling to the ground, the last thing she heard were Arthur's panicked screams before her world turned into black.

~

Arthur had never been so scared in his life. He'd managed to get away from the bandits with Merlyn, hiding between the trees as their enemies searched for them, his fingers slowly staining crimson with her blood. As they lay in a small ditch, resting before Merlyn's legs gave out from under her, Arthur could feel his heart break as his lover looked up at him, a glimmer of humour in her eyes.

"They need to work through their anger." She grinned, wincing at the movement.

"They just did. On you." Arthur said shakily, watching Merlyn's pained chuckle. He reckoned that the mace may have been poisoned, but he couldn't be sure.

~

"A night's rest and you'll be polishing my armour." Arthur announced as he and Merlyn moved in the direction he hoped to find Camelot, trying to ignore the fact that he was mostly carrying her now. She was weakening, her wheezing breath tickling his ear. "It could definitely do with a scrub."

Placing her down by a fallen tree, Arthur checked her wound, doing his best to will the tears away from his eyes.

"I've seen worse." He lied, trying to convince himself. "Definitely seen worse."

Merlyn raised her eyebrow at him, almost amused. Only she could find humour in her last moments. "On a dead man."

"You're not going to die, Merlyn. Don't be such a coward." Arthur scoffed, determined to make his words ring true. She wouldn't die now. Not when he needed her most.

"If I do die, will you call me a hero?" She asked, leaning heavily on the trunk behind her. For a woman with little cause for hope, she seemed remarkably blasé about the idea of her death.

"Probably." Arthur shrugged, wondering how many statues of her he would have made, whether they'd remind him of her absence.

"But whilst I'm still alive, I'm a coward." Merlyn sighed dramatically, peering at him with disbelieving annoyance.

Arthur almost smiled. "It's the way these things work, I'm afraid. You get the glory when you're not around to appreciate it."

There was something in Merlyn's face then, but whatever he'd seen was gone before Arthur could even register what it was.

"Unless you're the king." She scoffed, but there wasn't much resentment in her words. She knew what he thought of her really.

"Come on, it's got to have some advantages." Arthur managed, trying to ignore Merlyn's pained grunts.

She pondered this for a moment. "You have a very good servant."

Arthur could only stare at her. "You're right. I do." He swallowed, his eyes filling with tears once again. "A servant who is extremely brave and incredibly loyal, to be honest. Not at all cowardly."

Merlyn just looked at him for a moment, almost stunned. He'd never been good with feelings, with expressing all that he thought, but in that moment, Arthur knew that he'd said something right.

"Thank you for saving my life." she croaked weakly.

Arthur wasn't sure how to reply. "You'd do the same for me."

He was right about that; they both knew it.

~

Dawn broke far too early for Arthur's liking. He awoke to the sound of men in the forest, an eerie shout driving him out of his slumber. Merlyn was already awake, her eyes unfocused, pain bleeding through them.

"I'd love to say we can stay and rest, but another ten minutes and we'll be mercenary mincemeat." Arthur spoke quickly, picking Merlyn up and throwing her over his shoulder.

"Leave me." She groaned, agony seething through her voice. The king couldn't even contemplate it.

"Now is not the time for jokes." he murmured, turning in an attempt to get his bearings.

"Please leave me." Merlyn tried again, but she couldn't force him to do anything.

"Sure, whatever you say." Arthur didn't put her down.

They made it to a vaguely familiar stone path, steps carved into the rock, before the king spotted a bandit up ahead of them. Looking around quickly, he lifted Merlyn from his shoulders, placing her down behind a convenient piece of rock, partly obscuring her from view. He unsheathed his sword, taking down the bandit with no trouble. Another came from behind, but he too was easily dispatched, quickly falling to the ground. The king was about to turn back to Merlyn when a shout of alarm sounded, and a dozen men ran from behind her, heading straight for Arthur. He raised his sword to meet them, but just as they were about to reach him, rocks began to fall.

"Merlyn!" He shrieked in desperation, realising that they were going to be separated. She hadn't been spotted yet, but he doubted the men were paying much attention to his screams. He could see another rock about to fall, one which would block him completely from the bandits. He'd be safe, but Merlyn...

Without a second thought, he jumped through the gap, landing heavily on the stone steps. Quickly, he sprung up, slaughtering a couple of men who got too close, but knew he couldn't fight them forever. He had to get them away from Merlyn. He bolted, climbing the ridge and sprinting away, ensuring he kept all the bandits on his tail. Nobody had spotted Merlyn; perhaps, if he was fast enough, he could circle back. Maybe they could both make it out of this alive.

And then he was thrown forward, tossed like a ragdoll into a rather solid oak tree. His world spun for a moment before he descended into darkness, his last thought a prayer for Merlyn, that against all the odds, she would live.

~

Morgana looked down upon her unconscious brother with a mix of pity and disdain. He'd killed far too many of her people, men who had pledged allegiance to her power. Part of her felt that she should be glad, that she had the King of Camelot in her grasp, that with him dead, she could ascend to the throne, but still, she felt hollow. This had not been their mission, after all. To separate Merlyn and Arthur was one thing; to try to keep them apart was pointless. Camelot would not truly be hers whilst Merlyn lived; she'd been foolish to save that woman's life all those months ago. She should have let her rot. For her plans to succeed, Morgana needed both Merlyn and Arthur dead, no matter how little Agravaine thought of the servant.

Speak of the devil, the slimy git trudged up to her now, a greasy smile plastered over his face. His happiness faded, however, when he saw her face.

"You lost how many men?" she asked, watching the sorry state of her small army stagger towards them, a fair portion of them pulling Arthur's body up the hill. Agravaine didn't answer the question, watching as the false king was dumped unceremoniously at her feet.

"And you bring me how many men?"

Agravaine looked like he was about to protest, but almost thought better of it. Almost.

"I don't understand. Arthur is within our grasp." He exclaimed, kicking over the unconscious king to reveal his face.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Morgana hissed. "Where is Merlyn?"

"The men say that she was gravely injured. Even if she did slip through our fingers, she is not long left for this world." Agravaine tried, but not even this news could placate Morgana.

"Did you see a body?" She asked, feeling almost frantic. "You don't understand. Merlyn has survived serkets, Agravaine. Did you see a body?"

If her uncle was surprised by this information, then he did not show it, his face remaining impassive, his eyes downcast.

"No, my lady. There was no body." He glanced up, daring to look her in the eye, something grim upon his face. "I must show my presence in Camelot. The old physician already suspects me."

If that was true, then Merlyn would also doubt her traitor. Morgana cursed: Agravaine was already starting to outlive his usefulness.

"Gaius is shrewd. You should take care." Morgana said, her voice sickly sweet. "After all, if your true nature is revealed, I really don't know what use I'll have for you."

"Morgana-" Agravaine started, but he stopped at the look upon her face. He understood his place, at least. "I shall dispatch the king."

"You shall do no such thing." Morgana glared pointedly at Agravaine's drawn sword. "Even with Arthur dead, I cannot simply march into Camelot and claim the throne. There are those that would forbid it. He could prove useful."

Thinking back to the meddlesome servant, Morgana gave Agravaine a twisted smile. "Very useful indeed."

~

Merlyn had woken Arthur with an incredible range of inventive methods over the years, but he had to say that she'd never shown such disrespect as to thrown a bucket of icy water over his head, soaking his clothes to the point that they stuck to his skin. He opened his eyes to admonish her, but quickly realised that he was not in his chambers in Camelot. Gasping for air, he found his hands tied to a chain above his head, his arms sore as he swung helplessly around, trying desperately to find his feet. Once he did, he spotted a figure in front of him, her tangled hair and sinister smile a far cry from the last time he'd seen her.

"Good morning." Morgana smirked, watching him blink water from his eyelashes.

"Is it?" Arthur asked, suddenly aware of a terrible throbbing in his head.

"Oh, don't be like that." Morgana said, pouting wickedly. "We've got a lot of catching up to do. After all, I haven't seen you since you and your knights condemned my sister to a slow and painful death, thwarted my plans to take over Camelot and forced me to live in a hovel."

Arthur rather thought that most of those achievements could really be attributed to Merlyn, but somehow, he doubted that saying such a thing out loud would improve his situation. He stared at her for a moment, taking in her hollow skin, her sunken eyes. She was malnourished, he thought, not badly, but there was something unhealthy in the whiteness of her skin. A thought struck him suddenly as he peered around the dirty cottage, little light filtering into the room. There were various potions stacked on shelves, a small bed shoved into the corner of the hut. He wondered how long it had taken for her to get used to the absence of luxury she'd once been accustomed to.

"I wouldn't have turned you in, Morgana." he said hoarsely, voicing a thought that he'd contemplated through the past years. "If you'd told me, I wouldn't have told our father. You didn't have to become this."

For a brief moment, Arthur saw something falter in his sister's face, a flicker of the woman she used to be. But it soon hardened, her expression returning to a hateful sneer.

"You're lying to yourself if you think that. You're as bad as your father." She spat, fiery loathing in her eyes. "To you, magic is only evil; that's why Camelot can only suffer under your rule. There is too much hatred in your heart."

Arthur stared at her for a moment, surprised by the outburst. She wasn't wrong: the king couldn't stand the thought of magic, not when it had brought him only loss, but he was shocked by the passion in Morgana's words. Magic had corrupted her, ruined her, and yet, she loved it. A spark of suppressed curiosity flared within him, but he did his best to stamp it out, knowing no good could come from questions of magic.

"We were friends once, Morgana." He said instead. "You were so... good. And then you found your magic, and suddenly, you became this. How can you believe that sorcery is something to be treasured when it has tarnished your soul?"

There was fear in Morgana's eyes when she spoke. "It was not magic that made me like this, Arthur. It was you."

The king wanted to question further, but knew he wouldn't get anywhere. The witch was done with her vulnerability, her face hardening. He took a moment to study further the small cottage he found himself in, looking for an exit, but found he couldn't focus in the darkness, his head still pounding relentlessly. He wasn't sure how exactly he'd got the wound. All he remembered was leading the bandits away from-

"Where's Merlyn?" He asked suddenly. "I can die happy if you tell me she escaped."

Morgana gave him another twisted smile stalking closer so that she could speak directly into his ear. "You're not going to die, oh no. I'm not going to make it that easy."

~

Percival was getting a little sick of the forest. They'd been searching for Merlyn and Arthur for hours now, following what they hoped to be their tracks with little hope of ever seeing the pair again. If it were anyone else, they may have given up by now but the thought of the loss of the king, of Merlyn... It was unthinkable.

They made it to a set of stone steps where the tracks stopped, the way forward barricaded by a series of boulders. Percival looked up, furrowing his eyebrows: there didn't appear to be any natural reason for them to fall. Something told him that it had something to do with magic, strong magic at that.

Merlyn.

From behind them, he heard a groan of pain. Twisting around, he scanned the passageway, feeling Gwaine's presence behind him.

"Did you hear that?" Percival asked, gripping his sword tightly as another sound came from somewhere behind them.

"Yeah." Gwaine hissed, the pair of them slowly advancing in the vague direction of the noise. Leon and Elyan weren't far behind them, the four approaching a large rock Percival hadn't seen before. He felt Gwaine's hand on his back, a moment of comfort before they faced whatever was concealed from them. It sounded injured; Percival could only pray that it was exactly what he dared to hope.

Rounding the corner, he was the first to find familiar raven hair. He grinned, but it soon faltered when he saw the state she was in, blood running between her fingers.

"Merlyn!" he cried in a mixture of relief and alarm, crouching down to inspect the damage. He turned back to the other knights, looking grimly between them. "She needs to get to Gaius."

"Arthur..." Merlyn breathed, her hooded eyes unfocused. "He's gone... Arthur..."

Percival paled, glancing back at three worried faces. "We need to get back to Camelot."

~

Merlyn had been lucky. Any later, and Gaius wouldn't have been able to give her the antidote in time but, due to the quick- thinking of the knights, all she would need was a day or two of bed rest. Luckily, the physical wound was mostly superficial; she would be up to her usual antics in no time.

Gwen was relieved, but a somber mood had overtaken Camelot since the news of their missing king. Leon had allowed her into the council chambers if only to keep her vaguely busy. With Merlyn barely awake, she had little to do at her bedside; at least here she felt that she could be of some use.

Agravaine had mostly taken charge, making plans to search the forest for their lost king. They had just finalised the patrols when Gaius strode into the chambers, eying Agravaine suspiciously.

"How's Merlyn?" Leon asked from his position by the maps, genuine concern flooding his face. The amount of worry towards the servant had taken even Gwen by surprise, but then, Merlyn had always been some kind of honorary knight.

"She's alive." Gaius said tiredly. "She'll recover quickly, I think."

"Good." Agravaine spoke from the king's throne, sitting greedily in the chair. He turned to Leon, gaining the attention of the room. "Dispatch patrols at first light. Scour every inch of that forest."

"Yes, my lord." he nodded, turning to leave, the knights moving to follow him. Before they could, however, Agravaine stopped them.

"Whilst the council is assembled, there is a matter I wish to speak of." He said delicately. "Usually, in the absence of the king, he will have elected a regent to stand in for him until his return. King Arthur, however, has never seen fit to choose one. As his most senior advisor, I think myself the obvious choice for such a task."

There was silence for a moment, as if nobody could quite believe what Agravaine was saying. Gwen wasn't quite sure what to think. Yes, a regent would have to be appointed, and soon, but the confidence that Agravaine had was almost stunning.

"That's not quite true, my lord." Gaius stated, causing a murmur to stir through the eager court. "Arthur did appoint a regent in the case of his absence."

Agravaine chuckled, but it didn't take a genius to see that he was agitated by this news. "And who exactly did he appoint without consulting me? Do you have proof of this?"

Gwen had never seen Gaius so smug.

"Yes, I have proof." He produced something from his pocket, a seal by the look of it, but Gwen couldn't quite make out the inscription. "This is Ygraine's seal. Arthur gave it to Merlyn on the journey where they closed the veil between our world and the next, clearly intending to sacrifice himself. By our ancient laws, the bearer of this seal takes precedence over all natural heirs, such as you, Agravaine."

"You can't expect me to believe that Arthur gave a servant this seal." Agravaine scoffed. "Perhaps she stole it."

The was a loud intake of breath as everyone stared at the greasy twat; Gwen watched a number of knights reach for their swords. Agravaine certainly felt the tension in the air, paling considerably as he realised what he'd done.

"Of course, Merlyn is very much deserving of the regency." Agravaine smiled sweetly, trying to placate the court. "She has a good heart. I only wished to express my concerns that a servant may not quite comprehend what it takes to be queen."

"Merlyn has shadowed Arthur in everything he's done for years, my lord." Gwen found herself speaking up, relieved to find the encouraging stares of those around her. No one liked Agravaine. "I would think that she knows better than anyone what it takes to rule."

"And I think you'd be surprised by the number of Arthur's speeches she's written since becoming his servant." Gaius smiled, a glimmer of amusement in his eye. For the first time since the news of Arthur's loss had found its way to Camelot, Gwen saw humour in those around her. Agravaine flushed a heavy red, not even bothering to question the authenticity of the seal.

"Very well." He chewed his lip, failing to suppress his anger. "When she recovers, Merlyn shall become regent. But for now, we must exhaust all our efforts into finding our king."

~

"You know, there's one thing I don't understand." Morgana spoke with genuine curiosity, standing intimately close to Arthur as she applied some cold substance to his head. He looked at her through hateful eyes, trying to ignore his sore muscles. It was dark outside, but the king wasn't sure how long had passed. Part of him wished to hear the sound of hoofbeats, wanted Merlyn to swoop in and save him, but he didn't even know if she was still alive. Morgana was the only thing that reminded him that time still moved on; he had to hang on to her brief sneers just to keep himself sane. He wouldn't die, that's what she'd said. He wished he knew what that meant.

"You have always claimed to hate magic, and yet, when your father was on his deathbed, you called upon it to save him." Morgana stated, watching Arthur carefully. "How could you do such a thing?"

Arthur knew better than to lie. "Because he was dying, Morgana. I know you hated him, but he was still our father and, for a foolish moment, perhaps driven by grief, I... I thought that maybe magic wasn't quite as evil as he'd always said it was. I thought it might save him."

He smiled, shaking his head, but couldn't quite muster the energy to laugh. "Do you know what the sorceress asked for in return for our father's life?"

Morgana didn't respond, but Arthur knew that she was awaiting his answer.

"She asked for freedom. I promised her that, if she saved our father, then I would legalise magic. If you'd done nothing, you would be free." Arthur paused, contemplating his own stupidity. "Merlyn found the pendant, you know. She told me it was you that had killed the king and it made me realise... It reminded me of all the evil I have seen in magic, what it did to you. I think if anyone else had interfered, I'd have kept my promise to that old woman but you... I can't let anyone else become twisted in the same way that you have been ruined."

If Morgana was shocked, then she didn't show it. Tears glistened in her eyes, but she didn't try to hide them, a strange contrast to her blank expression.

"This isn't just about magic, Arthur. Not anymore." she said quietly, her hands shaking as she wiped dried mud and blood from his hair. "This is about taking what is rightfully mine; when all of this is over, you won't be here to stand in my way."

The king let the icy words wash over him, but tried to move away when Morgana went to touch his head again.

"What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously, his chained arms only letting him move so far.

To his surprise, Morgana grinned, looking almost feral.

"Have you never seen Gaius treat a head wound?" she teased, sounding chillingly like her old self.

"All right, I know what you're doing. What I don't know is why." Arthur croaked, but Morgana only smiled at him, grabbing his face with one hand.

"Ic ðe ðurhhæle ðinu licsar mid ðam sundorcræft ðære ealdan æ. Drycræft ðurhhæle ðina wunda ond ðe geedstaðolie."

Arthur's eyes grew heavy; a moment later, he found himself in a deep sleep.

~

Merlyn had no idea what was happening. One moment, she'd been recovering from something very close to death, the next, she was being shoved into Arthur's throne by Gaius, who muttered something about a seal, forced to listen to council business whilst the king was still missing. To say she was angry with the buffoon was an understatement: only Arthur would put her in line for the throne without bothering to mention it, probably knowing that she'd refuse. Even Agravaine had been outwardly kind to her, although she was sure he was plotting something terrible. As tedious as these council meetings were, at least she could keep an eye on him here. Granted, she'd much rather be out in the forest, searching for Arthur with a tracking spell or two, but she was still recovering from her injuries and Elyan had promised her that they would find him. She had to believe him. For now, at least.

Merlyn had just finished listening to the wisdom of one of the cleverer lords when Leon burst into the chambers, gaining the attention of the room. He met Merlyn's eyes; in that moment, she knew that Arthur was still lost.

"We have scoured the forest-" he began, but Merlyn stopped him before he could continue.

"Scour it again." She ordered, hardly caring if she was being rude. Arthur must be found. He had to be.

"My la- sire," Leon paused, unsure of her title. Nobody really knew what to call Merlyn, but she couldn't find it in her heart to care. If they found Arthur, they could call her anything they wished.

"There is no sign of Arthur." Leon continued, pausing for a moment before walking towards her, sorrow in his gaze. "None but this."

It was the Pendragon crest, one that Merlyn knew Arthur had sown into his chainmail. The edges were frayed, burnt, by the look of it, singeing Merlyn's hope. This was not what their destiny was meant to be. This was not how it ended. She stared at it, barely hearing Agravaine's words in the background of her thoughts.

"It is a sorry day, for we appear to have lost a loyal and-"

Merlyn raised her hand, half surprised when Agravaine stopped speaking. She swallowed, turning to Leon once again.

"The mercenaries- what news of them?" she asked, watching the way Leon shifted a little uncomfortably. This wasn't going to be good.

"We found no trace." He said gravely, but it was the news that Merlyn had been expecting.

"Surely sent by that snake, Alinor." Agravaine suggested, pacing behind Arthur's throne. Merlyn frowned, shaking her head slowly.

"It can't be." She knew she was right; it felt strange to be allowed to voice her opinions unquestioned to the court. "How? Our route was known only to a few within Camelot."

"Then there's only one conclusion we can draw." Leon met Merlyn's eyes, something bewildered within them. "We have a traitor in our midst."

The fact that Merlyn glanced at Agravaine did not go unnoticed. She couldn't prove anything; even with her new title, she couldn't really just have him thrown in the dungeon. He was uncle to the king, after all. But something told her not to trust him, that the greasy man was up to no good.

~

"Astige ðu wyrm fah ond geþéowe ðæt mod ðisse þeowes. Hine bind ond ða heold ond awendaþ he ealle."

Morgana felt Arthur's eyes upon her as her own burned gold, the medallion in her hand glowing faintly. An intrinsic design was etched upon it, ten snake heads rising from a singular stem. She threw it in the fire, watching the flames rise before disappearing completely, the snake-like creature returning in its place. It hissed at her; she could almost taste Arthur's fear.

She turned to him, feeling almost gleeful. "I take it you've never met a Fomorroh before."

Reaching out to stroke the creature, she chuckled, listening to the hissing growing louder. "Oh, he's a little grumpy. He's not used to being out in the light. Well, my friend, I have called you from your depths for a very good reason."

Reaching for a knife, she cut a head from the creature, wincing at its squeal. Another head quickly grew back upon the neck she had cut, leaving her with the spare wriggling within her hand.

"The Fomorroh are creatures of dark magic." She explained, doubting that Arthur would be particularly interested. "Even if you cut off their heads, you cannot kill them. Another will just grow in its place."

He didn't reply, terror bleeding through his expression; Morgana took the opportunity to continue. She hadn't had many people to talk to about such things lately. Besides, it was only fair for Arthur to know what would happen to him.

"In the days of the old religion they were revered by the high priestesses because they allowed them to control people's minds." She stated calmly, nearing Arthur slowly. "The Fomorroh will suck the life force out of you, and everything that makes you Arthur will be gone. In its place, there will be just one thought. One thought that will grow until it has consumed you completely. One thought that will be your life's work. You will not be able to rest until it is done."

She found herself behind Arthur, the Fomorroh still lively in her hand.

"And that one thought is simple." She whispered in his ear, lifting the Fomorroh to his neck. "You must kill Merlyn."

"No..." Arthur managed before howling in pain, the creature piercing his neck. Then, he slumped forward, all fight gone from him. He was hers now, a puppet of her will. Soon, Camelot would be hers, Arthur and Merlyn nothing but a bad memory. She would have everything that she had ever wanted.

Well, almost everything.

~

Merlyn had really had enough of council meetings. She couldn't do it, couldn't stay locked up in the palace for a moment longer, not with Arthur missing. The lords seemed quite capable of organising themselves for a day, especially with Gwen alongside them. She needed to look for him. She had to know if she'd truly failed her king.

"I'm as worried about Arthur as you are." Gwen said from behind her as she descended the steps of the palace, glad to see her horse already saddled. There were some perks to her newfound rank, at least.

"You're not going to change my mind." The regent replied shortly, clutching the cloak wrapped tightly around her. It was Arthur's, recovered from the forest by one of the patrols. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself. It still smelt of him.

"Who knows if the mercenaries have even left the forest." Gwen tried, but not even she sounded convinced by her own words. Arthur was the rightful king; if anyone could find him, it would be Merlyn.

"I have to go." She insisted, glancing back to see the desperation upon her friend's face. She knew why Gwen was trying to stop her from leaving, but it wasn't enough. Arthur was worth all the danger she was putting herself in.

"The patrols found no sign of him." Gwen tried a gentler tact, but as Merlyn neared her horse, running a hand through its mane, they both knew that her mind was made up.

"Do you really expect me to accept that-" her words got caught in her throat. She swallowed, blinking away tears. "-Expect me to just sit here and take their word that Arthur is gone? I won't rest until I at least try."

"I know." Gwen stepped forward, her gaze ripping through all the walls Merlyn had carefully constructed, everything that stopped her from breaking apart. "I know, Merlyn. But you are all that stands between Agravaine and the throne. We can't lose you. Just.. Just do one thing for me. Please don't go alone."

"She won't be going alone." Gwaine's voice rang out through the sunny courtyard, the sound of horses hooves clattering towards them.

Merlyn beamed at him, turning to Gwen with a playful roll of her eyes. "See? Now you've condemned me to a day of mindless chatter."

"Good." Gwen managed a small smile. She was still worried, Merlyn could tell, but the sight of Gwaine seemed to put her mind at relative ease.

"We'll return." Merlyn promised, wrapping her arms around her friend. "We'll bring him home."

~

Merlyn had missed Gwaine. It wasn't that she didn't see him, but there was something different in the way that they interacted in Camelot, their friendship limited to evenings in the tavern and laughter on the training field. Yes, there had always been this superficial element to her relationship with Gwaine, but there was something deeper, darker, perhaps, between them. They had both known loss, anger and resentment. They knew what it was like to live in a world where they were powerless, where there was no choice, no way to save everyone they loved. Arthur had never quite understood that part of her, but she didn't need to explain to Gwaine when she was hurting, when old scars had started to burn. It was a similar kinship to what she'd had with Lancelot, she supposed. But Gwaine wouldn't end up like him. She wasn't sure what she would do with herself if she lost someone else she loved.

"So, Gwaine... You and Percival?" Merlyn realised she needed to distract herself from old wounds, grinning at the knight's reddening face.

Gwaine smiled easily, but there was something panicked behind his eyes. "Eh? What about me and Percy?"

"I never took you as the kind of person to play coy with your love life." Merlyn wasn't surprised to find herself highly amused. "We all have bets on it, you know."

"What are you- there is no me and Percy." Gwaine shook his head, almost embarrassed. Merlyn smiled to herself, her eyes sparkling with mirth. The knight was hardly shy when boasting about his latest tumble, a pretty barmaid or swooning noble, but with Percival... She'd seen the looks shared between them, seen them on Arthur's face when he stared at her. There was a spark between them; Merlyn would be damned if she let it fizzle.

"Not yet, there is-" Gwaine shushed her abruptly, staring into the misty forest. He stopped his horse, Merlyn following suit, the pair dismounting and drawing their swords. Merlyn noticed movement from somewhere just beyond her sight; she strode forward, raising her blade.

"Declare yourself." She ordered with all the authority she could muster. A figure rose from the marsh just beyond the trail, covered head to toe in mud. She watched the familiar shape turn towards them, his blonde hair caked with dirt. Arthur laughed in what appeared to be genuine amazement as he registered their disbelieving expressions, seeming unbothered by the mud.

"Arthur!" She cried, rushing forward, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck and kissing him with everything that she had. He was alive. He was alive.

He was alive.

~

Merlyn found herself grinning ear to ear as she burst into Arthur's chambers, a breakfast tray in hand. Not only could she give up her regency, something which she would be talking to the king about once he had rested, but she had Arthur back. Part of her had believed that she would never see him again; finding him exhausted but uninjured caused hope to bloom in her chest. Her destiny wouldn't be forged alone.

Humming a half-forgotten tune, Merlyn placed the tray on the table, turning to the king's bed only to find it empty.

"You're late." a terse voice spoke from the corner of the room. The servant turned to find Arthur awake, dressed, his eyes narrowed as he stared at her. If she didn't know any better, she would almost believe the expression on his face to be revulsion.

"No, I'm not." Merlyn frowned. For once, she was right. The sun still brushed the skyline; she had been too eager to see her king to wait another moment.

"Don't answer back to me." Arthur glared at her, sneering as he walked towards the table. For a moment, she thought he would strike her, but instead he picked up a slice of fresh bread, staring at it as if it had personally offended him. "What is this?"

"It's a special welcome home. You're favourite." Merlyn smiled, trying to hide her confusion. Arthur's plate was piled high with sausages and cheese; normally, he would have wolfed it down, ignoring his servant as she occasionally stole the odd crumb from his plate. Now, he simply turned his nose up at it, stalking towards the window, his back to Merlyn as he spoke.

"I think you should stick to boiling water for my bath, Merlyn. That smells like the bog you found me in." He sniffed, evidently completely unaware of how one actually cooks sausages. The servant didn't think this was a good time to correct him. She chuckled uncertainly, her eyes fixed on the king's back. There was something off with him, that much was obvious.

"How did you escape from the bandits?" She asked, deciding to turn the conversation away from breakfast. Moving to make his bed, she heard Arthur's impatient sigh, as if she'd asked the most ridiculous question in the world.

"With great skill." He said, his eyes still fixed on the courtyard below. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course. Anything." Merlyn obliged, trying to shake the feeling that something was desperately wrong.

"What is the strongest poison that Gaius possesses?"

Merlyn paused, turning back towards her king. He gave no indication that he was going to explain whatever was going through his head; she wondered what on earth was wrong with him.

"That would be aconite." She stated, suddenly frustrated by the fact that Arthur wouldn't look her in the eye. He'd never been like this, not even when she'd first met him.

"Good. You can go." The king waved his hand in the vague direction of the door. Merlyn felt the sudden urge to slap him, but refrained. Something told her that Arthur hadn't escaped quite so unscathed as she'd first thought.

~

Gwaine was vaguely surprised to see Arthur appearing from the kitchens, a plate of fresh chicken in his hands. If the knight remembered correctly, then fetching food was really what Merlyn was for. Then again, he wouldn't put it past the king to have given his servant the day off: she had been queen in his absence after all.

"Ah, bog man. I'm glad to see that you're smelling better." He greeted Arthur with a signature smile, surprised by the flicker of irritation that flit across the king's face.

"I am your king, Sir Gwaine. You should show me some respect." He growled, swiping the plate away from the knight's reach.

The knight raised his hands in mock surrender, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Whatever you say, my liege."

Arthur didn't seem to recognise the sarcasm, but Gwaine had never really thought the man's brain one of his strong points. He reached out to grab some chicken from the plate, as he had a thousand times before, although, usually out of the king's sight, surprised when Arthur pulled it away, scowling angrily at the knight.

"This is food I had specially prepared for Merlyn to offer my gratitude for the role she played whilst I was lost. It is not to be soiled by your dirty fingers." He hissed, darting around Gwaine with a dexterity he'd never before appeared to possess. The knight blinked, confused by the man's odd behaviour. Then again, Arthur had never really acted normally when it came to Merlyn.

~

It wasn't often that Merlyn and Gwen ate together, what with their stations and new duties, but they always ensured they looked out for each other, especially when they found their freedoms at the same time. They sat in the physician's chambers, Gaius long lost to an errand or two, leaving them alone for the hour Merlyn had before Arthur's whining voice usually echoed through the halls. Gwen had brought enough lunch to fill a thousand men, but the two women just about managed it, giggling to themselves over watered-down wine. Percival, apparently, had been spotted leaving Gwaine's room at a rather unusual time of night; the pair found themselves in a fit of laughter when Arthur stormed into the room, a plate of food in hand. Merlyn frowned: she had fed the king merely an hour ago. He couldn't possibly be hungry so soon after she'd left him.

"Oh, I might have known." The king sounded livid, his face twisted into genuine anger as he stared at Merlyn and Gwen.

"Hello, Arthur." Merlyn said uncertainly, glancing towards Gwen, who seemed just as confused by his resentful expression. Once again, she felt that there was something wrong about the king, as if he wasn't quite himself. She'd originally put it down to the stress of being stuck in the woods, but now she wasn't so sure.

"What's this?" He asked jealously, stalking towards his servant as if she were some kind of prey.

Merlyn clutched the corner of the table, so terribly confused. "Uh, lunch."

Arthur didn't seem satisfied with that answer. He turned towards a cowering Gwen, sneering at her as if she was nothing more than pig shit.

"Look, I know that you like to take every opportunity to be by her side since Lancelot died, but this is just getting ridiculous. You'll be moving in together next."

"Arthur, is something wrong?" Merlyn asked, reaching out to grab Gwen's hand. She was trembling slightly, the pair of them shocked by the king's outburst. He'd never been so upset by their friendship, never wanted his lover to be entirely consumed by their relationship.

"This is what's wrong." He gestured towards Gwen, glaring at her as if he wished she would disappear off the face of the earth.

Gwen swallowed, but she was always braver than she appeared. "I was just trying to help. Merlyn's had a lot on her plate recently and I-"

"Do you know how long it took me to prepare this meal?" Arthur cut her off, placing the miserable meat in front of his servant. "I cooked it myself."

Merlyn laughed uneasily. "In which case, I'm glad Gwen did come. Your skills hardly lie in the kitchen, Arthur."

"I just wanted to thank you for all the work you've been doing." The king said through gritted teeth, his forceful nature causing Merlyn to shiver. "You can't take Gwen's side because she's a widow."

"Excuse me?" Merlyn was almost lost for words. "Arthur, you must be tired. You've been through quite an ordeal."

"I just want to show my appreciation for you." The king snarled, his words hardly matching his tone. Merlyn couldn't make excuses for him. What he'd said to Gwen... No. Something had happened in that forest. She was sure of it.

"Arthur..." Merlyn stood, uncertain of what to do. She didn't know what the king was planning, nor why he was acting so strangely. Deciding to act relatively normally, she was sure that all would become clear. "I know that you appreciate me. You don't need to bring me food or flowers."

She placed the plate back in his hands, kissing him on the cheek. "I'll see you for the knighting ceremony later."

For a moment, Arthur's gaze became unfocused. He nodded jerkily, twisting around and leaving without another word, Merlyn and Gwen rather unsettled in his wake.

~

Percival had been having a rather good day before he found Arthur in the armoury, pacing backwards and forwards, twirling his sword in his hands. He didn't notice the presence of the other man, intent on his troubles. The knight sighed, wondering if he should fetch Merlyn. When the king was acting strangely, she was usually the one with some knowledge as to what might be going on with him.

Instead, Percival approached Arthur carefully, wishing he knew what was going through the king's mind.

"Sire, are you all right?" He asked hesitantly, watching as Arthur didn't even break his stride. For a moment, Percival thought that the king hadn't heard him, but then the man's head snapped towards him, his eyes unfocused, a permanent sneer lining his face.

"I-I'm pacing." Arthur stated, folding his hands behind his back as he continued his movements, something about him unnerving the knight.

"Yes, I can see that." Percival didn't roll his eyes, but did fold his arms, leaning against the doorway.

"A man who is 'all right' does not pace, Percival." Arthur said smartly. The knight contemplated hitting him, but reckoned he should probably show more control. He wasn't quite as pretty as Merlyn; he didn't want to risk the king's wrath.

"No, well, that's why I asked." Percival couldn't shake his uneasy feeling, that this snappish king was not the man for whom he had risked his life. There was something off about him.

"I am wrestling with a problem and there are many factors to take into consideration, and I have not yet come up with a solution." Arthur said, hardly sounding like himself.

Percival frowned. "Can I be of assistance?"

The king, to his surprise, chuckled, regarding him with a dismissive look. "No." He said, continuing to pace.

"Would you like to share the problem with me?" The knight suggested, unsure whether he would be much help with kingly troubles. Still, he was wiser than he looked.

"No." Arthur spat, halting his steps, examining the rack of weapons with worrying fascination.

"Sometimes, two heads are better than one." Percival piped up, trying to direct the king's gaze to something less... Pointy. Arthur turned towards him, something mocking upon his face.

"Yes, but not when one of them's yours." He said brightly, turning back to the weaponry. Percival sighed, clearly out of his depth. He had no idea where Merlyn was meant to be, but the knights were out on the training field. Maybe Leon would have better luck.

~

Leon wasn't entirely sure why Percival had sent him to the armoury, but when he saw the king staring at a rack of blunted swords, he quickly realised that something was out of place. Arthur had barely been in the armoury since Merlyn had become his servant; the woman was far more equipped for dealing with his strange moods than Leon could ever hope to be. But the knight had been a friend of the king's long before the servant had entered the picture; he was sure he could help the poor man with whatever struggle for independence he was attempting to muster.

"What can I help you with, sire?" He asked pleasantly, glad to see blue eyes light up at the sight of him.

"Sir Leon." Arthur greeted. "I'm looking for a crossbow."

The king seemed to spot something out the corner of his eye, heading towards a rather pathetic, old weapon. He should've known better, really, but then, it was hardly the king's duty to choose his own weaponry.

"That ones ancient. Probably wouldn't hurt a fly." Leon commented, watching as Arthur put it back down rather brashly, turning to him with almost eager eyes.

"If you did want to hurt a fly, or even a human, what would you use?" he asked, his obliviousness making Leon pause. Arthur should know this. Merlyn hadn't always been in his life; before she had arrived, the king had never struggled to pick the most suitable weaponry for his missions.

Still, if there was one thing Leon liked to talk about, it was Camelot's mighty arsenal.

"You would use a thing of beauty like this." He breathed, picking up a polished crossbow as if it were an infant. "Carved from fifty year old ash."

He held it parallel to Arthur's hungry gaze, handing it to the king with vague concern.

Arthur aimed, shooting a bolt at a empty barrel, which exploded with the impact. Leon flinched, concerned by the king's recklessness. If anyone had entered the armoury in that moment, they would have been skewered.

"Will that do the job?" Leon asked, ignoring his sense of foreboding. Arthur chuckled, eying the knight with a familiar smirk, the gesture putting him at ease.

"It will do the job nicely." He grinned, fetching a few more bolts from the wall.

"What is the job exactly?" Leon was sure that he should be aware of any mission that required such a weapon.

"To kill Merlyn." Arthur said matter-of-factly, swinging the crossbow onto his shoulder.

Leon smiled. "Driving you mad, is she?"

"Not for much longer." Arthur smirked, Leon laughing at the king. Gone was his worry: there wasn't anything more Arthur than messing with Merlyn. Likely, they would be having rather an intense training session. He shook his head, rather glad he wasn't in the servant's shoes.

~

Merlyn was quite surprised to see, upon entering his chambers, Arthur standing by his bed, holding the curtain outwards, as if to conceal something. She stopped a few paces away, staring at him incredulously.

"Shouldn't you be preparing for a knighting ceremony?" She asked, her gaze flickering between his face and his hand.

Arthur nodded, a sudden scowl upon his face. "I would be, if my lousy servant deigned to be here on time."

Merlyn scoffed, folding her arms. "There's no need to be so rude." Arthur shifted, revealing what appeared to be... No. Surely it wasn't the end of an arrow sticking out from his bedpost?

"What are you hiding?" She questioned, furrowing her eyebrows as she moved around him to see if her eyes were deceiving her.

"Nothing of your concern." Arthur sniffed, glaring at her as if she'd personally offended him. He shifted to keep the object out of her eyeline.

"Fine, keep your secrets." Merlyn huffed, walking past him to pick a variety of his clothes from the floor. She heard a bang behind her, turning just in time to see Arthur standing in front of the previously open wardrobe, his hands tucked neatly behind his back. Merlyn blinked.

"You do realise that I'll need to get in there? You always complain about that shirt itching."

Arthur gave her a devilish smirk.

"Of course." He stepped away, watching her intently as she stepped towards the wardrobe. Merlyn frowned, meeting his gaze as she opened the door, picking the shirt from its hook and handing it to the king. Outrage flew across his face, genuine anger causing her to take a couple of steps back.

"Are you okay, Arthur?" She questioned hesitantly, completely at a loss as to his strange behaviour. He seemed somehow less moody than earlier, but this still wasn't her king. She'd need Gaius to examine him.

"Of course." He said stiffly, staring down at the shirt as if wishing to burn a hole through it.

Merlyn nodded slowly. "I'll just fetch your ceremonial sword."

As she plucked the blade from the dining table, she heard a loud thud behind her. Turning to see Arthur once again by his bedpost, she found the wardrobe door wide open. Something was clearly wrong.

"My ceremonial sword." Arthur seemed to finally register her words, dropping his red shirt from his hand. "Hand me my sword."

Reluctantly, Merlyn gave it to him, every fibre of her being telling her to run to Gaius, to explain everything, to be told that she wasn't going mad. However, it was soon obvious that she wouldn't need such confirmation: the moment that Merlyn let go of the blade, Arthur aimed it at her in an attempt to run her through. She sighed: she couldn't even get one day off.

"Arthur, what are you doing?" She questioned as she sidestepped the blade, ducking his next swing as she contemplated her next moves. Reaching for a dagger in her boot, she parried the next blow, elbowing the king in the face, forcing him back.

He didn't reply, whatever was wrong with him was clearly far too intent on killing her. Receiving no answers meant that there was little reason for Merlyn to prolong the fight; she looked around for inspiration as Arthur charged.

A heavy candlestick caught her eye; knocking Arthur back once more, she used his distracted moment to flare her eyes gold, the heavy metal hitting him square in the head.

The king fell to the floor, thankfully unconscious. Two crossbow bolts clattered to the ground. Merlyn stared at him. She needed Gaius.

~

When Gwen had come to Gaius' chambers with a selection of torn chicken, the physician had been mildly concerned for the poor girl. She'd explained that the butcher's pigs had died suddenly during the night, that she had a bad feeling about the waste food fallen in their trough. It wasn't often that such plagues befell Camelot; Gaius knew not to let Gwen's suspicions go wasted. Her intuition was often right; it would be wrong to foresake her completely.

He sniffed the chicken, a bitter, woodsy smell wrinkling his nose. Gwen was right: the pigs had not died of natural causes.

"Aconite." He murmured in astonishment. Noting Gwen's confusion, he realised that not everyone had spent their lives studying poisons. "Wolfsbane to you. The most deadly poison known to man."

"What was it doing on Merlyn's food?" Gwen asked, as if Gaius would know the answer.

"Merlyn?" He furrowed his eyebrows, staring at the royal silver plate that had apparently been simply thrown into the pig pen.

Gwen nodded. "Arthur wanted to treat her, but we had already eaten." Gwen paused, seeming thoughtful. "He was oddly angry when he realised that she wasn't going to eat it."

Gaius sighed heavily, worry causing him to shiver. "Merlyn said that Arthur was asking questions about it yesterday. She said he'd been acting strangely."

"But why would Arthur want to kill Merlyn?" Gwen shook her head, trying to make sense of it all.

"Arthur wouldn't. Not if he were in his right mind." Gaius swallowed. There was, of course, one reason that Arthur may want to kill his servant, but somehow, the physician doubted his methods would be quite so subtle.

~

Gwen practically flew through the castle, her heart racing as she cursed her own foolishness. She should've been more protective, wary of Arthur's strange outbursts. Often, she found that Merlyn had a tendency to protect everyone around her; Gwen realised that, in times like these, where Merlyn was in danger, she often had to suffer alone. Lancelot had promised to look after Merlyn, had died for her. Gwen refused for that to be in vain.

"Have you seen Arthur?" She asked Leon, tugging him to the side of the corridor. The king hadn't been at practice that morning, what with his kidnapping, but Gwen could only hope the knight had seen something.

Leon shrugged. "He was in the armoury.

Gaius frowned beside her. Since Merlyn had arrived, it was common knowledge that Arthur barely chose his own weapons. "What did he want in there?"

A smile played on the knight's lips. "A crossbow. I think Merlyn might be getting on his nerves."

"Why?" Gwen asked, so very concerned.

"He said he was going to kill her." Leon chuckled, still laughing to himself as he walked out of sight.

Gwen and Gaius shared a horrified look. They needed to find Arthur, and fast.

~

Gwen and Gaius burst into Arthur's chambers to find the king lying lopsided on his bed, Merlyn staring incredulously into a wardrobe. She looked up at the newcomers, spreading her arms in astonishment.

"What on earth is going on?" She exclaimed. "Arthur tried to run me through with his bloody ceremonial sword and, when I open the wardrobe, I'm almost impaled by a damn crossbow bolt!"

She lifted the offending weapon between her fingertips, completely overwhelmed. "Why is Arthur trying to kill me?"

Gaius opened his mouth, as if to say something, but froze, gaping in horror. Gwen, however, acted quickly, grabbing a rogue metal pitcher and hurling it over Merlyn's head. There was a familiar clang, and another thump. Merlyn turned, glaring at the fallen Arthur, once again unconscious.

"Thanks, Gwen." She smiled weakly. "Now will someone tell me what on earth has happened to Arthur?"

~

Sneaking an unconscious king to the physician's chambers was far easier than one would think for a castle filled with guards. They mostly used servant corridors; anyone who they came across knew enough not to question what they saw, especially when it came to Merlyn. She was in an odd place, a queen with no kingdom, a servant with too high a regard. Mostly, she tried not to think what this meant for her future. Arthur wasn't ready.

Sitting the king on a errant bench, they leaned his head against the table, the back of his head visible to the three conspirators. Merlyn winced, looking down at Arthur's neck in disgust. There was something slithering just beneath the skin, like a black leech had wormed its way into his neck. It was a miracle she hadn't seen it earlier.

"It's just as I'd feared." Gaius said, his tone full of dread. That was never a good thing.

"What is it?" Gwen asked apprehensively, seemingly just as repulsed as Merlyn.

Gaius reached for one of his large tomes, flicking through the yellowed pages. Finally, he pressed his finger to an image, the two women peering at the monster.

"It's a Fomorroh." He stated, almost in fascination. Merlyn looked at the illustration, the scaly torso branching out into terrible snakes. Quite frankly, it looked nothing like what was wriggling around in Arthur.

"Whoever put it there was very highly skilled." Gaius said with definite admiration. "In the days of the old religion, they were used by the high priestess to enslave the minds of her enemies."

That sounded lovely.

"Once a thought was planted, the victim would not be able to stop until they had accomplished it."

Merlyn didn't like the sound of that. If it was all the same to everyone else, she'd rather Arthur didn't kill her.

Gaius turned the page, scanning the information for something useful.

"First we must paralyse it." He read, gesturing to a small metal bowl. Gwen picked it up, handing the poultice inside to Gaius, who dabbed it gently on Arthur's skin. The leech stopped it's movements, seemingly asleep.

"Is it dead?" Gwen asked, watching Gaius shake his head.

"Sadly not. Merely dormant." The physician was quiet, as if scared to wake the beast. "Now for the tricky bit. Pass me the blade."

Merlyn grabbed it from the tray, finding herself oddly quiet. She felt powerless as Gaius cut the Fomorroh from her lover's skin, feeling as if all of this was too easy. She was sure Morgana was behind this; she couldn't imagine that witch thought her so incompetent as to allow Arthur to simply kill her.

"Is that it?" Gwen sounded just as surprised.

"I believe so." Gaius said hesitantly, wiping his blade on his sleeve.

Gwen smiled in relief. "Then we have the old Arthur back. Merlyn is safe once more."

Merlyn returned her friend's fond smile, unable to help but wonder how long exactly her safety would last.

"Let us hope so." Gaius, ever the voice of reason, managed, concentrating on healing the incision in Arthur's neck.

~

The birds were chirping in the early sunlight when Merlyn burst into Arthur's room, breakfast tray in hand, a pleasant smile upon her face. She had managed to haul the king back to his rooms undetected, pulling him onto his bed with about as much propriety as she was accustomed to. There he still lay, his golden hair shining like a halo in the crack of sun peering through the curtains.

"Morning!" She grinned, planting the tray on his dining table, moving to sweep the curtains open with a grand gesture. "How do you feel?"

Arthur's eyes opened to slits, sitting up slowly as he blinked at her. He shook his head, an endearing smile spreading over his own face.

"Upon waking up to you, never better." He managed, standing on surprisingly strong legs.

Merlyn felt relief spread through her, glad to find Arthur surprisingly amenable for such an early morning.

She strode towards his wardrobe, the crossbow trap no longer active, pulling out a blue shirt. "It's good to have you back." Fetching his belt, she turned to him, raising her eyebrow as she caught him staring at her. "What do you remember?"

"About what?" Arthur asked, rubbing the back of his head, completely clueless. It was probably a good thing that he had forgotten his attempts at assassination: she was in no mood to tell him how Gwen had managed to knock him out, nor how a candlestick had mysteriously floated through the room.

Merlyn shrugged, hanging the shirt over the king's changing screen. "Oh, nothing."

Arthur gave his servant an odd look, which she probably deserved, turning his back to her as he disappeared behind the screen. Merlyn's smile faded as she caught a glance at the back of his neck, the outline of a black monster obvious against his pale skin.

"I have a feeling today is going to be a good day." The king declared, causing Merlyn to pause. Arthur was never this optimistic in the morning.

He threw his sleeping trousers over the screen before the servant could manage another thought. She caught them, absentmindedly turning to place them in her washing basket, when she heard muted footsteps heading straight towards her. She turned, blanching at the sight of a very naked Arthur heading straight towards her, his letter opener in one hand, as if he hoped to butcher her rather terribly with the small weapon. Usually when the king was naked, Merlyn expected to be penetrated by something less sharp than a glorified knife, but she doubted such pleasures would be afforded on this occasion.

She sidestepped her mad lover, thrusting a pillow between them, the letter opener slicing through the soft silk. Merlyn was fairly sure that Arthur shouldn't sustain any more head injuries, but she had few other alternatives when it came to restraining the king. Her gaze fell on the curtain cord; as Arthur grappled with her, she felt her eyes flash gold, the rope slithering across the floor, snaking its way around the king's wrist.

So enthralled in his curse, Arthur didn't even notice the obvious enchantments going on around him. He continued to fight her, his weapon discarded somewhere out of reach on the ground. The king was far stronger when it came to brute force; as he pulled himself on top of her, she knew she had very little time to save herself. She pulled the cord tight, snapping Arthur's arm behind him, pulling him off balance as the rope wound its way around his other wrist. Merlyn pushed him off her, suddenly remembering that he was completely disrobed as she sat on top of him, grabbing the cord to tie it in such a way that rendered his arms useless. Staring down at him, she pondered her next move. He was unarmed; she didn't particularly want to risk moving him on the off chance he simply called his guards and had her beheaded. She wondered why he hadn't tried that already, but supposed that perhaps whatever enchantments he was under did not allow for such convoluted planning.

Merlyn frowned. Arthur was still writhing below her, shouting obscenities, kicking his legs in an effort to push his servant off of him. Luckily, they had fallen near the bed; Merlyn was able to hang onto the bedpost in order to keep her position on top of him...

She had an idea.

Taking the end of the cord, she tied it around the bedpost, careful to keep the knots away from Arthur's skilled hands. Once she had finished, she stood up, jumping out of the king's reach to admire her handiwork. The servant picked up the letter opener, setting it on the king's desk, in no mood for the man to have any method of murdering her when she returned. Satisfied that Arthur wouldn't escape, she winked at him, suddenly amused by the outright fury upon his face.

"I'm going to get Gaius." She told him, edging towards the door. "Don't move."

As Merlyn exited Arthur's chambers, she was suddenly glad for the silencing charms she'd set around the room. If someone was to hear his shouts, there would be no way to explain a naked king tied to his own bed without going rather red in the face. At least he wasn't expecting visitors that morning.

~

Merlyn stared down at the sleeping king, his countenance rather peaceful as he lay across Gaius' worktop, a thin blanket keeping him modest. His hair, which had lengthened since he had gained the throne, just about hid the black creature embedded within him; Merlyn reminded herself that she really needed to cut it. Still, there were more pressing matters at hand.

"So let me get this straight." Merlyn closed her eyes, doing her best to focus on the vague annoyance of the king trying to run her through. "If you kill one, another grows in its place."

"I've heard such stories in the past, but never thought they were true." Gaius shrugged, wafting another poultice in the air over Arthur's neck. He didn't appear particularly worried, but then, near-death experiences and a mind-controlled Arthur had become practically regular occurrences within Camelot. Merlyn sighed. She needed a holiday.

Gaius dabbed the poultice on the king's neck, the black sludge within seeming to still.

"That will silence it for a while." He murmured, glancing over to Merlyn. She nodded, staring at the king as she calculated her next moves.

"Do you have anything to keep him sedated?" She asked as Arthur's eyelids began to twitch. As confident as she was in Gaius' knowledge of the Fomorroh, she would rather not have to worry about being impaled, beheaded or just generally killed. Arthur was the king; sooner or later, he would remember that his title brought him some kind of power.

"Of course." The physician retrieved a small phial, uncorking it to allow the steam inside to escape.

Merlyn wrinkled her nose. "What is that?" She coughed pointedly. "Arthur's socks?"

Gaius gave her a look.

"Fine." She looked back down at Arthur, touching the blackness to his neck, wishing she could sleep just as peacefully. "But how do we get rid of that thing if it keeps growing back?"

"There's only one way, I'm afraid." Gaius said gravely. He fetched his tome, pointing down at the large image of the Fomorroh. Brilliant. That meant more work for Merlyn. "You have to kill the mother beast."

Merlyn stared at it. "You want me to steal this creature from Morgana?"

Gaius nodded sheepishly, not quite able to meet her eye.

"Great." Sometimes, Merlyn wished there was some other witch that could go, sort out her troubles on the days that she was not particularly feeling like putting her life in mortal peril. "How long have I got before Arthur and that thing wake up?"

"A day. No more." Gaius admitted. "And I wouldn't face her alone."

Merlyn stood up sharply, knowing what she would have to do. "Oh, don't worry. I won't be there at all. Well, not exactly. She won't recognise me if I'm eighty years old."

Picking the antidote from a shelf, Merlyn grabbed her Dragoon clothes. She stuffed them in her satchel and headed for the door. There was really no time to lose.

"What should I say if anyone asks after you or Arthur?" Gaius shouted from behind her.

Merlyn couldn't give less of a shit. "Just say... Say that Arthur is ill from his time in the forest and that I'm out picking herbs for him." She walked out of the room, but paused, ducking her head around the door. "Don't say the tavern."

~

Quite frankly, the fact that Merlyn had not thought to do some kind of tracking spell on Morgana was genuinely astonishing. Admittedly, she had no idea what she would do when confronted with the witch, which, in hindsight, was the exact reason she hadn't bothered with the spell, but it was still rather embarrassing that the thought had never crossed her mind. All it had taken was an item from her chambers, a red rose, preserved with magic so very long ago, and Merlyn was following a golden path that, hopefully, would lead her straight to the witch's dwelling. It wouldn't take long for her to seek the Fomorroh, she hoped, although she doubted she'd be able to sneak in and out of Morgana's home without being spotted. Merlyn had no idea what sort of allies the witch had; she had no desire to finish her bout with the serkets. If she was lucky, maybe the Fomorroh would be the only terrible creature in this adventure.

She'd borrowed a horse from the stables, encountering no resistance as she left the city, trotting through the forest as she followed the golden trail. As the colour became sharper, Morgana somewhere just beyond the trees, Merlyn dismounted. Morgana could not see her in her usual form. A disguise was needed; Dragoon seemed to be the perfect fit.

She transformed, her skin wrinkling, her hair a strange shade of pearly white. Briefly, she wondered if Morgana would recognise her from the first time that she had used this disguise, where she had pretended that she was enchanting Arthur to fall in love with herself- a complicated issue. Those worries were dismissed, however, by the sudden soreness of her limbs. She very much doubted that she could hoist herself onto her horse.

Still, she had to try. Scrambling to reach the saddle, she was seconds from seeing if her powers extended to flight when she heard four sets of footprints behind her.

Turning with a huff, she saw the brave knights of Camelot, Elyan, Leon, Gwaine and Percival, their hands planted confidently on their weapons. Merlyn paused, unsure whether Percival knew about this disguise, glancing between the angry men. Leon, she realised, should have recognised her, but he didn't seem to do so, just settling her with a wary look.

"Ah." She chuckled, turning to face them with a wide grin. "Gentlemen. What a pleasant surprise."

"I wish we could say the same thing." Leon said, serious as usual. Merlyn caught Gwaine's frown, the way he looked at her as if she reminded him of someone he knew. Merlyn cursed. If anyone was to see through her disguise, it would probably be Gwaine.

"Move away from the horse, please." Leon, at least, was being vaguely polite. She wasn't quite sure what crime she had committed, but then she was a rather strange presence in the woods.

"What lovely manners." Merlyn, or rather, Dragoon, croaked, trying to straighten her back. "I do admire a man who says 'please'."

"Now." Leon drew his sword. Merlyn didn't really appreciate that. The others followed suit, apart from Gwaine, but then, he had always disregarded orders.

Dragoon watched the men circle her, turning to Percival with a smirk. She might as well have fun with this. "Have you got bigger?"

"You'll be getting shorter if I have it my way." Percival snapped. How feisty. Dragoon was still unsure the exact crime that she had committed, so this seemed rather harsh. The trail she had been following was long since extinguished. She'd needed all of her magic for this transformation.

"Nice. I like it." She nodded, still smiling widely. Deciding she was getting no where with Percival, she turned to the head knight, eying his sharpened sword.

"Leon, really, there must be something in the knights' code about how to treat an old woman."

"You're not just any old woman though, are you?" Leon hissed; Dragoon realised that she had been mistaken. He had recognised her. That wasn't good.

"You escaped the flames once. You won't do so again." Gwaine spoke as the four men closed in, surrounding her. He still hadn't drawn his weapon, but then Dragoon was still baffled about how the fuck he knew about her first escape. He hadn't been there as far as she knew. What a strange guy.

Dragoon decided that the best course of action was to create as much confusion as possible.

"Ah!" She pointed at him. "And you are not what you seem."

Gwaine's eyebrows furrowed as he finally drew his weapon. "What's she talking about? I've got a good mind to run you through right now!"

Well, didn't that show that he had some secrets.

Leon, thank god, stopped him, thrusting his hand out, as if to catch the blade. "I think Arthur would prefer to see her alive."

"Oh, oh, no." Dragoon shook her head. "Arthur doesn't want to see me, believe me. In fact, if Arthur does see me, he will be in grave danger."

"Are you threatening the life of our king?" Elyan's sword was getting a little close for comfort. Arguably, telling knights of Camelot that she was going to kill the king probably wasn't the smartest thing the witch had ever done.

Just as she was about to placate the knight, something pointy pushed into her back.

"Percival!" She growled, unimpressed. "That is a sword. It does hurt."

Fine. If they were going to stab her, then she would pretend to want to kill of Arthur. God knows he deserved it with all the attempts he'd made on her life recently.

"Yes, I'm afraid to say..." She turned, looking each knight in the eyes. "That if you don't let me go, then there is every chance that I will kill your king!"

"Say that again!" Gwaine roared.

"Why? Do you have ale in your ears?" Dragoon shouted back, watching him rush forward, slicing at her with his blade.

Dragoon held up her hand. "Stop!"

The knight froze, pushed back onto the dirt. With glowing eyes, Dragoon chopped off the end of Percival's sword, pulling both he and Leon together and pushing them straight into Elyan. The three tumbled next to the horse, lying like steps, making it far easier for her to get up onto her steed.

"Ah, thanks, gentlemen." She smiled, placing her boot upon Percival's back. "So considerate to help an old woman!"

She laughed, cackling as she rode away, leaving the prestigious knights of Camelot in a small heap. They'd be fine, of course, except for their bruised pride.

~

Dragoon looked down to a small hut carved into the woods. The trail ended inside the hovel; as she peered from a small, concealed ledge down into the valley, the door opened, revealing both the unkept witch and, to her vague surprise, Agravaine. She shuffled back slightly, so that her long, white hair was hidden in the branches of a useful bush, staring at the traitorous twat shuffling off in the rough direction of Camelot. Morgana watched him go with an expression of distaste. Clearly the witch wasn't a fan of her greasy uncle, although Dragoon could hardly blame her. He just wasn't a very likable man.

After Agravaine disappeared from vision, Morgana trudged in the opposite direction, heading deep into the woods, probably to retrieve some horrible creature for another terrible spell. Or perhaps to catch some dinner. Dragoon realised she probably should've eaten before this mission.

Scrambling down the valley was much harder than she thought it would be, struggling to keep her long robes in order. She made it, albeit very clumsily, staggering to her feet and heading towards the door of the hut. It was unlocked, which was nice. She appreciated not having to break in.

Closing the door behind her, Dragoon was surprised by the absence of light in the small room. There were windows, that arced blinding sun through small portions of the space, leaving the rest cloaked in shadows. She stepped into the light, admiring the shelves littered with a thousand different herbs and pots, glistening phials filled with all kinds of magic. She really was a high priestess. Dragoon hadn't realised how Morgana had grown.

Scanning the items, she poked a white sack, watching it swing from a thin piece of twine. She searched the room, checking baskets and under blankets, wishing that the Fomorroh had been kept on display, perhaps with a helpful arrow pointing towards it. Sadly, life was often slightly more complicated; it became even more so when Morgana opened the door, a pile of sticks between her hands.

She glanced up; upon seeing Dragoon, dropped everything she was holding, backing out the door as fast as she could and slamming it, as if the elderly woman would be hindered by such a thing. If she were an ordinary fool, perhaps she would be.

Dragoon shrugged, returning to her search with a vague sense of amusement. She considered simply asking Morgana where the creature was hidden, but doubted she'd get much of a response.

Finally, just as she found a rather promising jar, she noticed Morgana start towards her, her face the picture of absolute terror. Dragoon couldn't quite remember what exactly she had done to cause such a reaction, but was honestly glad for it. Her job was easier when she wasn't being cursed or set on fire.

"You're not real." Morgana managed, the words almost sticking in her throat. She swallowed, her eyes glued to Dragoon.

"Whatever you say!" The elderly woman growled loudly, hoping that Morgana would simply flee. She heard the telltale sound of a knife being drawn, but Dragoon ignored it, pulling the cloth off the jar, repulsed by the Fomorroh lurking inside. She stared at it in awe, its dark magic seeping through the air.

"You're just my imagination." Morgana's voice quavered, speaking mostly to herself. That was probably good. It was easier to get away with things if she simply didn't exist.

Dragoon nodded agreeably. "That's right. I'm not really here. Just pretend... that I'm not really here. I'll just take this and go."

Morgana lurched forward, but Dragoon was quicker. With golden eyes, the witch was sent tumbling back into her own supplies, shelves falling, the sound of breaking glass filling the air. Dragoon took her chance with the distraction, hobbling away as fast as her legs would carry her. Unfortunately, that wasn't particularly rapidly. She'd barely made it into the valley before Morgana caught up with her.

Turning to face the witch, Dragoon knew it was pointless to run. Morgana's eyes were already burning like molten fire. It was too late.

"Ablinn ðu; forlæte ðu nu."

Ah, fuck.

Dragoon was sent hurtling backwards, her back cracking as the Fomorroh tumbled away from her. She gasped, groaning from the pain of age.

Morgana approached her with a knife, smiling down at her fallen prey.

"So, Emrys." She smirked. "It seems you will not be my doom after all."

If she had simply stabbed the injured woman, perhaps those words would have rang true, however, with the time gifted to her, Dragoon was ready.

"Forþ fleoge."

This time it was Morgana's turn to tumble to the earth, her dagger lost in the autumn leaves.

Panting, Dragoon found her feet, stumbling over to the weakened witch. Morgana looked up at her, but made no move to attack. She seemed so defeated, so alone.

"If I am going to die by your hand, you can at least tell me who you are." She coughed. "Did Arthur send you?"

Dragoon remained silent.

"But you're no friend of his. Magic has no place within Camelot. It never will. Not until I take the throne. Please spare me. I only want what is rightfully mine."

She really believed that; truthfully, it broke Dragoon's heart.

But then her tone changed.

"Perhaps... It can still be so!" Morgana's eyes flashed, and her dagger hurtled towards Dragoon. She managed to dodge, just, but couldn't miss the force of sheer magic that pulled her off her feet, sending her gasping into the solid ground.

Morgana ran to fetch the Fomorroh, but this fight wasn't over. It couldn't be. Dragoon simply wouldn't allow it.

"Ic her aciege ænne windræs! Færblæd wawe! Windræs ungetermed: gehiere! Ic ðe bebiede mid ealle strangnesse ðæt ðu geblæwest ond sierest strange! Ge spurne þeos hægtesse."

A whirlwind appeared, heading straight towards Morgana. She tried to stop it, but not even her powers could combat those of her mighty foe. She was blasted back for the last time, finally unconscious. Arthur could have his mind back. He would be free.

~

Dragoon looked down at the jar of hate, the Fomorroh hissing viciously as her old hands pried the cloth sealing the container away, revealing the terrible creature. It lurched up towards her, snake heads with open mouths, their fangs glistening in the fire light. She had escaped Morgana, settling far away in the forest, comfortable in the knowledge that she wouldn't be found in a hidden corner of the trees.

Without a second thought, Dragoon flung the Fomorroh into the flames, finding brief satisfaction in their shrill squeals.

"Ontende þisne wyrm þæt he licgeþ unastyred a butan ende."

Her eyes glowed and the creature fell silent, Arthur's mind his own once more.

~

"This is becoming something of a habit." Gaius remarked in the early morning, plucking the final part of the Fomorroh from Arthur's neck. This time, however, the king was very much awake, wincing at the sight of the still creature that had been formerly buried in his head. Merlyn had explained his dreadful attempts of assassination, how he had tried to kill her under the influence of Morgana. Privately, Arthur reckoned that a part of him had fought back against the ghastly Fomorroh, had prevented himself from truly harming his lover, but that didn't stop the endless teasing he may receive from his target.

"I hope not." He murmured, shuddering at the thought.

"Don't worry. It cannot grow back again." Gaius assured him, ever the kindly physician, even as Merlyn chucked at his squeamishness.

"So, sire," she smiled. "Do you still have any desire to kill me?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes at her. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On the state of my chambers upon my return."

Merlyn rolled her eyes. "I've just saved you from a mind-controlling monster. A thank you might be nice."

Arthur grinned. "I'm sure it would."

Gaius coughed, reminding the pair that he was, in fact, still present in the chamber.

"I'm afraid you may have to head to the council chamber first, sire." He stated gravely. "It seems that someone gave them the idea that both of you have spent the last two days in the tavern!"

Merlyn stared at him. "And I suppose you wouldn't know anything about that, Gaius?"

The physician had the good graces to look sheepish. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Although, I suggest that you do not mention that Arthur has spent the past days being controlled by Morgana."

"No, I suppose you're right." Arthur nodded slowly, a frown creasing his expression. Someone had betrayed him, had allowed him to fall into Morgana's clutches. He had a traitor in his court, someone he deeply trusted. It couldn't be his knights, of course. Those who had known the route were all loyal, handpicked by himself and Merlyn, men he trusted with his life. Gaius, he couldn't doubt. If Merlyn was the traitor, it would break his heart. He couldn't face that thought. And so, there was only one option, one other person who could possibly have betrayed him.

Agravaine.

~

It didn't take much to placate the lords, thanking them for their hard work in his absence, although he was careful to be vague about the reason for his disappearance. His father had once told him that a king does not apologise to his subjects; Arthur wasn't quite sure if he believed in the philosophy, but it worked well when trying to hide the true grip Morgana could have had over the city. The lords soon dispersed and, with a murmur to Merlyn to meet him in his chambers, Arthur followed Agravaine to his rooms, knowing he had no choice but to confront his suspicions.

Agravaine was reading a letter when Arthur arrived in his chambers, his letter opener in hand, the image triggering some distant memory, something he couldn't quite reach. He couldn't remember anything from the past few days, his last memory Morgana's smug expression.

Before Arthur could delve into his amnesia, his uncle turned, sensing his presence. He smiled, his happiness not quite reaching his eyes.

"Arthur. An unexpected pleasure." He said, standing from his chair, leaving his letter opener on his oak desk. The king tracked his movements, wondering if his own uncle could really betray him. Then again, his own sister had. His father also, in some ways.

"There's something I wish to discuss with you, uncle." He said slowly, walking further into the room, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Of course." Agravaine seemed puzzled, his earlier show of delight fading.

Arthur cleared his throat. "I'm afraid that I don't take the matter of the traitor as lightly as you do."

Now, his uncle looked downright worried. "Sire, I hope you don't think that I meant-"

The king held up his hand, silencing his uncle. "I have been thinking about how the mercenaries discovered our route through the forest. None of the knights had the opportunity to betray me. Only three of the counselors were aware of the treaty and, of those, none but yourself knew of the route I was planning to take."

Agravaine swallowed. "Are you seriously suggesting that I-"

"It brings me no pleasure to doubt you, Uncle." But he had to.

"Then let me reassure you that you have no reason to doubt." Agravaine almost begged, stepping forward, as if the closer proximity would be any more convincing. "You are all that is left of my dear sister. If I betray you, Arthur, I betray her. And that, I will never do.

Arthur stared at him, hoping to find truth in his eyes. Agravaine wasn't a Pendragon. He'd forgotten that. He didn't share his father's blood. Perhaps he wasn't as twisted as Morgana, as bloodthirsty as Uther. Maybe he really did have his best interests at heart, a real family.

"Th- there is one other person who knew your route." Agravaine pushed, Arthur's certainty in his guilt starting to waver. "Gaius."

The king hadn't even let himself think that the physician was guilty. Gaius... The man had been like a father to him. Of course, he'd dabbled in magic in his youth, but he'd been loyal to his father, to him, even if he disagreed with the decisions they'd made. It couldn't be Gaius, but then, had he not looked after Morgana with the same love and protection, the same fatherly eye? Arthur didn't dare to believe it, but it was Gaius or Agravaine; when it came down to it, he didn't know who he'd choose.

~

Morgana was tired of waiting, of wondering whether she was doing the right thing. Perhaps Emrys had been too late. Maybe Arthur had succeeded before the Fomorroh could be killed. Merlyn didn't deserve to die. But she had to, didn't she? Every time she had made a play for the throne, the servant had stood in her way, fighting for her king, for a city which seemed to love her more, perhaps, than any of its choice of rulers. For whatever reason, Merlyn loved Arthur and without her gone, Morgana couldn't succeed. Of course, the witch could hardly waltz into Camelot and drive a spell through her heart. Merlyn would see her coming. Arthur was the best assassin; once the servant was dead, the king would simply fall.

"I trust you bring me news of the untimely death of my brother and his meddling servant." She addressed Agravaine the moment he stepped through her door, wishing not to waste pleasantries on such a man. If he was shocked by her broken shelves, the shattered jars lying across the floor, he didn't show it. She carved absentmindedly on her wooden table, trying to appear nonchalant, as if her heart wasn't pounding hard in her chest.

"I wish it were so, my lady. It seems that Arthur proved a worse assassin than one would have thought." Her beloved uncle couldn't quite meet her eyes, focusing on removing his riding gloves. Still, he seemed almost eager despite the terrible news, her plans foiled once again. He sat opposite her, despite having no permission to do so, something twinkling in the depths of his expression.

"But I do bring information of an equally enticing nature. I have planted the seed of suspicion in our young king's mind. I have struck a blow at the very heart of Old Camelot."

This piqued Morgana's interest. "Go on."

Agravaine was happy to oblige, glad to prove his uses. It could not have come at a better time: Morgana had vaguely considered getting rid of the greasy man.

"Arthur grew unsure of my motives. But I have turned the situation to our advantage."

Morgana finally managed to meet his eyes, raising a thin eyebrow. "How so?"

Agravaine smiled. "I used it to implicate an old friend of yours- Gaius. I think there are some interesting times ahead for our physician."

Gaius. Morgana had never understood her feelings surrounding the old man. He had been kind to her, or so she thought, but it hadn't taken much to realise that the physician must have known about her nightmares, the truth that lay within them. He had kept her in the dark: it seemed only fitting that she should return the favour.

She smirked, ignoring the fact that Agravaine helped himself to her watered wine.

"You have done well." She acknowledged. "But it's hardly information of an 'enticing' kind, is it?"

Agravaine furrowed his brow, clearly confused.

"Is Gaius dead?" Morgana expanded.

There was a pause.

"No." Her traitor admitted, looking sheepishly down at his drink.

"Is Gaius mortally wounded?" The witch pressed, leaning forwards in her seat. "Does Gaius have so much as a sore head?"

"No, my lady." Agravaine whispered, realising his error.

"So, my lord," the title tasted like dirt in her mouth, "you can do better. And you will do better."

She would make sure of that.

Chapter Text

Emrys.

The name haunted her dreams, flashes of the old woman's face cursing Morgana's resting moments as she mourned her own failures. Arthur was alive. Merlyn hadn't been killed; she couldn't help but loathe the tiny part of her that was glad of it. She had done the right thing. Even if Arthur had somehow survived the Fomorroh, the loss of his beloved servant would be enough to end him. Merlyn was the key to Camelot; if she would not take her side, then Morgana had no choice. Still, it didn't help that the pair had a omnipotent witch on their side, even if she was eighty years old.

"Emrys was here? She knew of our plans?" Agravaine exclaimed from beside her. Morgana almost startled. She'd forgotten he was there.

"She knows all our plans, all our secrets. She knows everything." Morgana shivered, panic shuddering through her core. Her house was empty now, silent except for the shallow breathing steady through the crisp air. The pair sat at her dingy table, her belongings hardly in order. There was a damp smell, like the very wooden shack was rotting, waiting to topple at the most inopportune moment.

"Someone's telling her." Agravaine murmured, deep in thought. Then, he sighed, coming to a realisation Morgana couldn't quite grasp.

"Gaius." He hissed. "When I first asked him if he knew of Emrys, he claimed not to know, but he was lying. I knew he was lying!"

Her uncle slammed his hand down on the table, the old wood creaking under the impact.

Morgana could barely understand what he was saying, struggling to keep her thoughts together.

"Gaius." She breathed, uncertain of the realisation.

Sensing this, Agravaine pushed. "He's the only one in Camelot who would know of the Fomorroh. It has to be him. He's been telling Emrys everything."

Morgana wasn't sure if that was true, but he was certainly the most likely suspect. She stood, turning away from her uncle in an attempt to get away from his slimy face.

"Good." She sneered wickedly, twisting back on her heel to face her uncle once again. "Then he can lead us straight to him."

Agravaine stood himself, a faint frown upon his face. "Gaius is loyal... and very stubborn. He won't do that willingly."

Oh, Morgana knew the extent of Gaius' loyalty. She had spent years terrified of her own dreams, only to realise that the physician had known of her magic all along. Perhaps he kept it from her in a misguided attempt to save her from herself, but it was a trespass she could not ignore.

"Who said he had to be willing?" She smiled sinisterly, glad to see genuine fear in Agravaine's eyes.

~

Merlyn flung open the curtains, beams of light penetrating the warm darkness of Arthur's chambers. He lay with his back to the windows, his bare shoulders barely covered by his covers. With a lazy smile, Merlyn turned to him, pulling his blankets back to reveal more skin to the cold air.

"Up you get." She ordered, picking a piece of cheese off of Arthur's plate.

"What for?" He groaned, refusing to move. But Merlyn couldn't let him stay in bed forever. She'd had enough of being told off for her king's lateness.

"A bath."

"What about breakfast?" Arthur groaned, still refusing to move away from his comfortable sheets.

Merlyn wasn't having any of this. "Say 'ah'."

"Ah?" The king realised his mistake as a dry bread roll was shoved delicately into his mouth. He tried to say something, but it was indistinguishable amongst the bread crumbs.

Merlyn made her way to Arthur's desk, safely out of hitting range. She fumbled with some papers, glad to see that the king had at least moved to spit out the bread.

"I've set aside some practice time." She said cheerfully, frowning at the poor attempt of paperwork in front of her.

This seemed to perk Arthur up. "Wonderful, what for? Quarterstaff? Battle axe?"

"Your speech." She reminded him, reminding herself to fit in some kind of battle training before lunch.

Arthur frowned. "Who to?"

"The guild of harness polishers." Merlyn stared at her confused king. Suddenly the awful speech made some sense. Honestly, if he didn't have her, she didn't know what he'd do.

"The guild of who? I don't know anything about polishing!" Arthur cried. Merlyn fought the urge to roll her eyes. That was hardly a surprise.

She brought her own speech from her pocket, unravelling it whilst smiling sweetly at her king. "Fortunately, I do."

Arthur could only stare at the length of it. "That will take hours to learn."

"You don't have hours." Merlyn stated, suddenly wistful. If magic wasn't so terribly banned, such a thing could be transferred to memory in seconds, and yet, here they were, with Arthur stuck in such a predicament.

"First, you are to receive Odin's envoy." Merlyn used one of Arthur's quills to mark her list, enjoying the genuine horror upon her king's face.

"Do I have to give a speech?" Arthur sighed.

"No." Merlyn couldn't fight her grin. "You have to listen to one. Then you're to inspect the guards, perform a freeman's ceremony- and, oh..." She clicked her tongue, knowing Arthur wouldn't like this. "And be a judge."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Preside over a trial?"

"A garland competition!" Merlyn beamed. It looked like she would be making herself scarce all day... Well, perhaps other than the competition. She thought the king would look awfully fetching with some flowers around his head.

At that, Arthur fell back into bed, heaving his blankets over his head.

"I never get any time to myself." He grumbled.

Merlyn leant on the desk, raising an eyebrow. "I know, it's almost like having to work. Come on! We don't have time for this."

She raced towards Arthur, pulling the king across the bed and, as a last resort, onto the floor.

"Noo!" He wailed, but it was too late. The king had unceremoniously been dumped on the hard ground.

"You're doing very well, Arthur." Merlyn walked away, fetching the king's shirt from the wardrobe.

Arthur was yet to emerge from the covers. "I don't think so."

"Everyone's saying it." Merlyn exclaimed, glad that her encouragement got the king to his feet.

"I'm glad your friends at the tavern approve." He remarked stiffly, collapsing back onto the bed again.

Merlyn smirked, distracted for a moment by the king's lack of clothing. "I'm serious. You are becoming a very good king."

She pulled him back to his feet, handing him a shirt.

"Thank you. You're still the worst servant I've ever known." Arthur said rudely, but Merlyn just smiled.

"I love you too, Arthur. Now, put on your bloody shirt."

Before the king could respond, there was a knock at the door. Merlyn moved swiftly away from him, tidying absentmindedly.

"Enter."

"Good morning, my lord. May I have a word?" Agravaine strode through the door with impressive purpose.

Arthur wiped the sleep from his eyes. "Of course."

Merlyn could sense a new tension in the air, the way that the king regarded his uncle, how nervous Agravaine appeared. His gaze flickered over to her; she wasn't sure whether what she saw in his eyes was worry or disgust. Probably a little of both.

"The matter is of a delicate nature, sire." Agravaine remarked, glancing pointedly to Merlyn. "Perhaps it would be better if we talked alone."

~

Arthur hadn't wanted to let Merlyn leave, wanted her there, by his side, but he couldn't afford for his uncle to believe that he was still suspicious of him. As he pulled on his trousers behind his changing screen, he felt strangely vulnerable, glad that Agravaine wasn't in view. Arthur couldn't trust him. Not until his name was cleared.

"We know that there is a traitor amongst us." Agravaine said carefully, his words sounding rehearsed.

Arthur was, unsurprisingly, rather aware of that fact. "I wish I could deny it."

"We have to consider everyone... Even those dearest to us. No one can be above suspicion." His uncle continued. Arthur was fairly sure that Agravaine did not mean to include himself in this list of people, but the king was in no mood to point out such a thing to his uncle. He had no use for his pandering.

"Of course." He agreed instead, fastening his shirt.

"So." Agravaine paused, his footsteps halting just beyond the screen. "One of your knights?"

If the matter was not so serious, Arthur would've laughed. Percival's family had been killed in Morgana's war; Leon had saved his life countless times. It couldn't be them.

"No." The king shook his head.

"You sure?" Agravaine inquired, although Arthur didn't truly believe his uncle suspected his men.

"I would vouch for each and every one of them." He swore, vaguely concerned that his uncle would mention Merlyn's name next. If it came to such a thing, that would be the end of this conversation.

Instead, Agravaine remained silent, seeming to ponder his next accusation. "Well, I have suggested Gaius before, but... I can't believe that he would betray you."

"Nor I." Arthur said forcefully. "Gaius has always been a loyal servant. Indeed, a friend to me and my father."

Agravaine returned to his pacing, his footsteps echoing across the room. "Well, it was Gaius who told you where to find the sorcerer that killed your father."

"Morgana killed my father." Arthur said shortly, hardly thinking. But it had been Merlyn that had told him of the medallion, and where would she get such information but from Gaius?

Seeing the seed of doubt, Agravaine pushed further, helping Arthur into his jacket as he questioned the physician's true loyalties.

"We do know that he has dabbled in sorcery. What if his interests in the dark arts has been rekindled?"

"I've always believed I can trust Gaius." Arthur stated, sounding far more calm than he truly felt. He hadn't ever truly doubted the man that had been by his side since his birth, but he knew for a fact that Gaius had never truly turned away from magic. A dragon made from fire had seemed so trivial, so beautiful when he was a child. Now, it left him questioning the physician, wondering if he had used his powers for something far more sinister.

"Oh, me too." Agravaine chuckled, obviously lying. "Perhaps I am being a little hasty. But it wouldn't do any harm to ask him some questions, would it?"

Arthur had no idea where he was meant to fit such an interrogation into his day,the hours filled with Merlyn's list of chores, but suddenly it did seem rather important.

"I'm not sure there's any need." The king said slowly, buttoning his jacket to stop himself from fiddling. It wasn't that he thought Gaius was guilty, but if he were innocent, he would have to believe that the last piece of blood family he had left was a traitor. He wasn't ready for that.

"Oh, I believe there is, sire. We're talking about your safety and the safety of the realm. Somebody is plotting against you, and it is my duty to investigate every possibly, however unlikely. I'm sure that Gaius himself would respect that. Agravaine smiled tightly, something in his expression making Arthur's skin crawl. He still didn't think that Gaius was guilty, but he couldn't deny that his uncle had a point. Besides, he was only willing to question the physician; he expected it to end any of his weak suspicions.

~

It had been a long ride for Morgana to reach an unfamiliar place, the streets filled with bright colours, scarves shielding sand from the people's eyes. A goat bleated in the distance as she walked through the market, admiring the beautiful fabrics, the intricate lamps, street performers that seemed to shift away from her as she neared. Cloaked in black, she stuck out in this other world, but then, Morgana had never really been a part of the crowd. It was like an odd parallel to Camelot, beautiful, but to her it was a simple parody to the place she had once called home.

She couldn't help the relief that swept through her as she ducked through an inconspicuous door, finding herself in a plain hallway. A shirtless man stood at the end of the corridor, strange markings dotting his chest.

"I wish to see the Catha." Morgana declared, meeting the man's stifling gaze. "He's expecting me."

She went to move past him, almost surprised when he let her through. Then again, the Catha hardly needed armed guards. He sat in a room perfumed by scented oils, hundreds of candles flickering as Morgana swept by. The Catha didn't stir, his eyes tightly shut as he muttered in the old religion, only seeming to notice her presence when she was directly opposite him.

"You are Alator of the Catha- warrior and priest." She smiled, watching the man's eyes open.

"You are Morgana Pendragon, high priestess of the Triple Goddess and last of your kind." Alator stood, his bald head shining in the firelight. He wore a dim cloak which almost covered his markings, muted in such a bright city. "What do you seek here?"

The witch's smile faded. The Catha was clearly not one for games. "I need you to abduct someone... from Camelot."

"Camelot is no friend to our kind." Alator said slowly. "From what I hear, the young king follows Uther's ways."

Morgana refrained from mentioning that no one had been executed publicly since Arthur took the throne. Her brother had never had the taste for such senseless violence. Besides, it wouldn't help her cause; the false king had not gone as far as stopping the executions altogether.

"You are a Catha." She stated. "Such things would not stop you."

"Why should I risk my life for you?" Alator asked, admittedly rather fairly. Morgana almost scoffed: the priest could probably take Arthur from his bed without sounding an alarm. Well, if it wasn't for Merlyn.

She approached him, holding out her arm to let her sleeve fall just shy of her wrist. A bracelet, carved in gold, given to her by her sister a long time ago, adorned her arm, the pattern distinct enough for Alator to realise what this was. It was the last piece of Morgause that Morgana had.

"Because I'm willing to give you something in return." She murmured, trying to stop her voice from shaking. "It was forged on the Isle of the Blessed by a high priestess. Its healing powers are without equal in the Five Kingdoms."

Alator pressed his cold hands to her arm, pulling the bracelet from her wrist. Morgana knew he could feel its magic, feel the truth in her words. He would know what this was.

"There is true power here." He managed, entranced by the bracelet. "This is a precious gift. The person you seek must be important to you."

"Yes." That was one way of putting it. "I hope the man will lead me to my mortal enemy, Emrys."

For a moment, Morgana saw hesitation in the Catha's eyes, but whatever reluctance he had soon disappeared.

"It is as you wish." He nodded. "I will perform this task for you."

Morgana bowed. As she left, she had no doubt that Alator of the Catha would keep his word.

~

Arthur had spent his early afternoon talking to some rather irritating lords about the treasury within the council chamber, clinking coins between his fingers, when Gaius swept into the room, flagged by two guards. The lords bowed and left, although Agravaine remained, leaning on the chair beside his own. The physician seemed mildly concerned, but more annoyed at his summons than anything else. Agravaine gestured to a chair, sending Gaius a tight smile.

"Please." He said, pulling the chair out slightly, as if it were him in charge of this discussion. "Sit down."

Gaius remained standing by the doors, his guards receding with his withering gaze. "Why have I been brought here in this manner?"

"As the king's right-hand man, one of my jobs is to ensure his safety." Agravaine paused as Gaius walked reluctantly forwards, graciously pulling out the chair for him. "If that means asking questions even of his most trusted servants, then so be it."

Arthur watched as his uncle spread his arms, manoeuvring around the table to sit across from Gaius. The king remained standing, observing the proceedings from just below the large window with an air of suspicion. If anything, Agravaine seemed the more nervous of the two, his insistence in Gaius' guilt almost concerning.

"No one is to take offence to this." Agravaine continued, as if that was his decision to make.

Gaius, after one curt look at Agravaine, turned to Arthur. "Have I done something wrong, sire?"

"What is your attitude to sorcery, Gaius?" Agravaine interrupted any answer the king was willing to give, speaking very much out of turn. Still, Arthur didn't know best how to answer the physician's question; perhaps he could overlook his uncle's presumptiveness just this once.

Gaius glanced at Arthur again, but the king just kept his head down, unable to look the old man in the eyes.

"It is against the law." The physician said steadily, although Arthur could see his posture stiffen.

"And do you agree with that?" Agravaine pushed, watching Gaius intently.

The physician shrugged. "I understand the reason for it."

"Oh," Agravaine chucked. "That's not an answer to the question that I asked."

Arthur watched Gaius swallow, taking his time. He wouldn't lie, he knew that, and part of him hated him for it. If the physician could simply say that magic was an atrocity, that those who use it are corrupt, then Agravaine would have no case. But the man was foolishly honest. It wasn't a trait that helped him now.

"The law is needed to prevent the abuses that have been perpetrated by sorcerers." Gaius stated, Agravaine rolling his eyes at the response. Arthur knew that the physician wasn't entirely convinced by the laws, but that didn't mean that he would plot for their appeal. He wasn't lying when he said he saw the reason for them, wouldn't risk allowing witches and wizards rampant on the streets.

"Can I ask you to be a little more direct with your answers?" Agravaine asked impatiently. "Do you agree that magic should be banned? Yes, or no?"

There was another pause.

"Yes." Gaius said. Arthur had hoped that the questions would end there, but Agravaine was nowhere near done.

"Have you ever practiced sorcery?" He questioned, his eyes never leaving Gaius' face.

The physician sighed, glancing at Arthur again. "A long time ago."

"Recently?"

"No." Gaius shook his head. He wasn't lying, Arthur supposed. The incident he remembered had happened when he was just a curious child, hardly the stuff of recent times.

"Then how did you know the sorceress that killed Uther?" Agravaine looked to the king, but Arthur ignored him, intent on staring at his shoes. He thought to reprimand his uncle, remind him that Dragoon had not, in fact killed his father, at least, that is what he believed. The fact remained, however, that Gaius had known of a sorcerer, had not reported her to the crown. Technically, that in itself was treason.

"I'd heard of her." The physician said quietly, not bothering to correct Agravaine. It wouldn't help his case.

"You told Arthur where to find her." Agravaine pointed out, raising his eyebrows.

Gaius just looked back to Arthur. "Yes."

"That suggests that you did know her."

Gaius shifted his head to look back at Agravaine, seeming fairly unimpressed. "I was told of a dwelling where she could be found."

Arthur winced, disliking how well Gaius seemed to be incriminating himself. His uncle, on the other hand, appeared rather pleased.

"Who by?"

Gaius seemed to weigh his options, bowing his head in a moment of acceptance. "I cannot say."

Arthur frowned, cursing the physician's evasiveness. If he hadn't had an inkling of suspicion before, now it had sparked into existence. It certainly sounded like Gaius still had contact with magic, with those who still used the dark arts. He'd trusted the old man, who had spent his life in service to his family, but now that seemed foolish. It wasn't that Arthur thought Gaius was guilty of being the traitor, not exactly, but something told him that the man was hiding some secret, some mark upon his character.

Agravaine, on the other hand, seemed delighted with Gaius' answer. "Have you ever met with her?"

The physician seemed reluctant to speak.

"It's a simple enough question, Gaius. Have you met her, yes or no?" Agravaine was getting on Arthur's nerves.

"No." Gaius said with newfound confidence, perhaps riled by Agravaine's attitude.

Arthur wished he hadn't agreed to this meeting. His uncle chucked again, this time in disbelief. "And you would be prepared to swear to that?"

"Yes." Gaius replied, as if he could say anything else.

"On oath?"

The physician wasn't deterred. "Yes."

"Hmm." Agravaine paused. "Thank you, Gaius. It's been most informative."

Arthur supposed his uncle was right.

"Is that it?" The physician inquired, seeming surprised.

"Mmm." Agravaine nodded. "For today."

Arthur could not look at Gaius as he stood, closing the oak doors behind him as he left the room. The king walked forward grimly, suppressing his anger at his uncle's blatant disrespect of a man so dear to the kingdom.

"Was it really necessary that you treat him like that?" He asked, barely hiding his contempt. Although his certainty towards Gaius' innocence had waivered, his suspicion of his uncle had stayed fixed in place.

"Your life is at stake, sire. We cannot afford to be fainthearted." Agravaine stood just as Arthur sat in his throne, staring at the king imploringly. "And you saw with your own eyes that he was lying."

Arthur twisted a ring on his finger, closing his eyes to focus his thoughts. "He's definitely hiding something. But we can't be certain. We have no proof."

"No." Agravaine agreed immediately. "You're right, sire. We do not."

Arthur watched as his uncle headed towards the large doors, but the man paused for a moment, turning to his king.

"But I fear that if we keep investigating, we might find some."

As the doors shut behind his uncle, Arthur stared at his empty council chambers, wishing that he had someone that could guide him on this issue. Merlyn would be biased, his uncle hardly a loyalist. Part of him wished Morgana was here to put his head straight. Then again, if she were, he doubted he'd still be king.

Sometimes, he wondered if that would be such a bad thing.

~

Merlyn had been surprised to find herself summoned by Agravaine, knocking halfheartedly on the doors to his chambers as the evening sky faded into black. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her: the king's uncle had always been rather self-important, looking down upon servants as if they were mud under his well-polished shoes. Besides, she did know that he was the traitor in their midst; she'd have thought that Agravaine would want to avoid her whenever possible. It didn't take a genius to see her heavy contempt for him. She wished that she had evidence, but the servant knew better than to accuse such a powerful man without proof. It was not a matter to be taken lightly.

As Merlyn peered around the door, she found Agravaine sitting at his desk, a strange object sat upon the table. He smiled greasily at her, the servant's curiosity quickly melting into concern.

"Come in." Agravaine said, sounding almost friendly. Merlyn stepped forward, the door squeaking as it bumped against her shoulder.

Agravaine gestured towards it. "Close the door, would you?"

Ignoring her alarm, the servant did so, silently walking towards Agravaine. She kept her expression neutral, hoping not to give the man cause for concern. If Agravaine was unaware that it was she who spread the rumours about his love of consuming live toads, then it would be better for her that he didn't suspect.

"Merlyn, I realise what a loyal and trusted servant you are, so I have a very special errand for you." The servant glanced at the partially concealed object on the table, wondering if she could refuse the king's uncle. Probably not.

Agravaine stood, holding what now seemed to be a sheathed dagger between his hands. He drew the knife, presenting it and the jewel-encrusted sheath to her with a wide grin. It was a beautiful blade, Merlyn couldn't deny that. She liked the way the gems sparkled in the candlelight, blood-red rubies dancing along the golden hilt.

"What do you think?" Agravaine asked, holding the dagger a little too close to her neck for her liking.

Merlyn shook her head, removing herself from her stupor. "It's beautiful."

"It's a present for Arthur." Agravaine smiled again, his yellow, cracked teeth rather unappealing up close. Then again, there wasn't anything Merlyn found particularly appealing about the aged man.

"Oh." She said, unsure what Agravaine wanted from her.

"It's been crafted by the sword-smiths of Gedref, but unfortunately, the blade has become somewhat dulled during the journey." Agravaine explained, sheathing the weapon. "Would you sharpen it for me?"

"Of course." Merlyn nodded, giving him an uncertain smile. It wouldn't take long, although she wondered why she specifically had been chosen for the job.

She turned to leave, deciding she'd spent long enough in Agravaine's lair, when he stopped her.

"Oh, and Merlyn?" He called out. "Leave it for the king to find in the morning."

The servant nodded, oddly suspicious, although she wasn't quite sure what was nagging at her. "It would be my pleasure."

~

Arthur had awoken to the tolling of bells, Merlyn standing beside his bed, apparently on some errand for his uncle. With bleary eyes he stood, glad for his servant's presence as he dressed quickly, worry for his kingdom battling his tiredness. The king felt almost bewildered as he was ushered to the physician's chambers, Merlyn equally puzzled at his side, only to find his own guards tearing the place apart, apparently on Agravaine's orders.

"My lord, he was seen riding away from the city." His uncle reported as soon as he was alerted to Arthur's presence.

"No, that can't be true." Merlyn murmured, something Arthur couldn't quite read upon her face as she looked at Agravaine. She'd never liked him, thought undoubtedly less of him now. Merlyn wasn't stupid, she'd known too many raids not to see what this was. The way her eyes skimmed the room, darting towards overturned pages of notes, scattered powders and broken bottles... There was a quiet fury building inside of her; Arthur wasn't sure what he could do to quell it, especially if Gaius was-

"Sire." Sir Leon entered the room, flaming torch in hand, nodding to the king as he strode forwards. He turned to Agravaine, seeming grim. "You were right. A white stallion has been taken from the royal stables."

"Well where would he be going? Why leave at this time of night?" Arthur questioned, hoping someone could give him a plausible answer that didn't frame Gaius with such guilt.

Agravaine could never be that man. "I could hazard a guess, sire, but I think a thorough search of his belongings may well provide us with the truth."

Arthur sighed. Agravaine had already ordered the work; he could hardly call it off. He'd just have to hope that nothing was found.

~

Of course, he couldn't be so lucky.

As daylight just began to sneak through the windows of the council chambers, Agravaine presented Arthur with a number of incriminating texts, books full of various enchantments.

"And this was found in Gaius' chambers?" Arthur finally asked his pacing uncle, holding one of the books aloft. He couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it. The physician had always been so loyal, so kind. Yes, he may have disagreed with some fundamental points of the law, but to break it so completely? The spells in these tomes were a far cry from a sparkling dragon. They could do harm, were meant to kill and hurt. He hadn't thought Gaius capable.

"I am as disappointed as you, sire." Agravaine seemed to be sincere. And yet, Arthur didn't quite believe him. Perhaps it was relief to have finally caught the traitor, but there was something gleeful in his voice, a relief that the king couldn't quite understand.

Agravaine, he realised, was still talking. "Someone so close, so trusted... And it's not merely the discovery that he was a sorcerer, is it? It's- it's the lies." His uncle sighed, leaning heavily on the council table. "Lies and years of betrayal. I know it's hard to believe, isn't it, sire? But we both saw him refuse to condemn magic. We both knew he was hiding something. Neither of us wanted to believe it, but now, with this hasty departure in the middle of the night... These are not the actions of an innocent man, sire. There can be no doubt. Gaius is the traitor."

Arthur threw down the books, leaning back in his chair. No. This couldn't be it. Gaius couldn't, he wasn't-

"I'll send out a search party as soon as possible." Agravaine spoke gravely, turning to leave the king in peace.

"No." Arthur said, resigning himself to the evidence placed in front of him. "What purpose would that serve? Let him run."

For a moment, Arthur could swear he saw a flicker of a smirk on his uncle's lips. "As you wish, sire."

The king listened to Agravaine's footsteps retreat, echoing faintly as he disappeared through the door. For a moment, the room was silent, Merlyn leaning against a column, tears shining in her eyes.

"How can you believe this?" She said quietly, her gaze fixed on the floor in front of her.

Arthur swallowed, wishing there was something he could say that would take away her pain. "I know how you must feel. We questioned him. He's been consorting with sorcerers. He more or less admitted to it."

Merlyn still didn't look at him, so clearly tortured. "And that makes him a traitor?"

"Why run if you have nothing to hide?" Arthur wished that Merlyn would just look at him.

"He's given his life to this kingdom. He would never betray you." She hissed. Arthur closed his eyes, yearning for a reality where she was right.

"Then explain his actions." Arthur tried not to plead, but if anyone could wave away his worries, it was Merlyn.

She finally turned to him, so broken, utterly hopeless.

"All right." She swallowed, searching for her bravery. "They're lies. Gaius would never run off in the night."

"Look, I know it's hard. No break-ins were reported. His possessions are missing. A horse has been stolen." Arthur knew he could never convince her, but he had to at least try.

"He would never leave without saying goodbye to me." Merlyn's voice broke as she turned away from him once again, perhaps unable to face his disbelief. "Agravaine has made this story up."

Arthur frowned, refusing to believe that Merlyn had been just as suspicious as he had once felt. But this was conclusive evidence. It had to be Gaius.

"I shall ignore that last comment." He said sternly, looking down at the table in front of him.

Merlyn sounded hoarse, but so terribly angry. "Because he is your uncle, you will not see who he really is-"

"Merlyn!" Arthur warned. "I've had my heart broken enough already today. I don't want to lose you too."

He stood, brandishing one of the books in front of him. "Gaius condemned himself. There's no more to be said."

The king stormed passed Merlyn, slamming the book back down on the table. She would get over this.

He could only hope.

~

Morgana looked down at the pitiful Gaius, his sweaty, red face glowing in the candlelight. Inside the caves, silence reigned, the sounds of the woods barred by thick stone. The only sound was that of the physician's loud breathing, something frightened in his eyes as he peered up at her.

"You've had a difficult journey. You must be tired." Morgana said gently, brushing Gaius' face with her fingertips. "It's time to wake up. It's time for the fun to begin."

The physician tried to raise his head, grunting with the effort, but failed, seeming to find peace in his demise.

"Get on with it, Morgana." He croaked. "Whatever you want to do, just do it now. I'm not afraid to die."

"Dying is the easy part." Morgana sniffed, looking down at Gaius with faked sorrow. "I wouldn't be in such a hurry if I were you. My friend here is going to help me get some information, information you may be a little reluctant to give."

She looked back to Alator, smirking at his stony face. Gaius would know who he was, what he could do.

"I want you to tell me where Emrys is." She stated evenly, watching the physician wince.

"I don't know anyone called Emrys." He said, closing his eyes. He was lying, he had to be.

Morgana raised her eyebrow. "Oh, I think you do."

Gaius sighed, unfortunately not in defeat. "Do what you will. I will never tell you anything, Morgana."

She'd been expecting that. Perhaps Gaius needed a reminder of the pain that lay ahead of him if he refused to cooperate. If she didn't have to hurt him, she would offer him a painless death. It was more than he deserved for turning his back on his own kind.

"Alator is no ordinary torturer." She smiled, leaning over the physician. "He's a Catha, priest of the old religion. He has at his disposal some skills only known by initiates. But you're a learned man, Gaius. I'm sure you know exactly what he can do."

Gaius smelt of fear.

Good. Perhaps this would take less time than she had thought.

~

Merlyn had almost cried when she'd stepped into Gaius' chambers, a whirlwind of paper spun out in front of her. She didn't have the heart to right it with magic, not with the trouble it seemed to find. Instead, she knelt in the middle of the room, scanning parchment with a semblance of understanding, slowly starting to reassemble the life work of a scorned man.

After what could only have been moments, the door creaked behind her; Merlyn turned with hope in her eyes, praying to see Gaius walk back through the door, but instead she found Gwen. Her smile fading, she turned to look out of the small window, the sunshine wrong on such a horrid day.

"I thought you were him." She said quietly, dropping the papers in her hands. Never before had she felt so defeated. Gaius had left before, but never without leaving her even a simple note.

She heard Gwen's footsteps as she examined the devastation, crouching down next to her friend. She patted Merlyn's shoulder in a comforting gesture, remaining silent. Gwen always knew when to listen.

"Agravaine's behind this. He's done something to Gaius." Merlyn murmured, knowing that Gwen would never report her for any kind of treason. She was too good for that.

"Arthur told me what you said." Gwen's voice shook, staring at Merlyn imploringly.

Merlyn frowned at the mention of her foolish lover. "He won't listen to me."

"Agravaine's his uncle. He- he trusts him more than anyone." Gwen clearly felt hopeless; Merlyn was certainly able to understand why.

"Yeah." She whispered, straightening her back as she turned to her friend. "It's just... We've been through so much these last ten years, god, Gwen, he claims to love me, but refuses to listen to anything I say."

Gwen pursed her lips. There was a moment where Merlyn thought that her friend was going to argue with her. But her expression changed, something accepting deep within her eyes.

"Perhaps," she said. "If Arthur won't help you, you'll just have to find Gaius yourself."

Merlyn smiled weakly. She shouldn't have expected anything different. "Thanks, Gwen. I think you might be right."

~

Merlyn knew that Agravaine wouldn't be in his chambers as dusk fell, having disappeared from the city in the late afternoon. She'd watched his horse trot into the forest, glaring at his back as he disappeared from sight, wondering what would happen if he spontaneously burst into flames. It wouldn't be the best way to find Gaius, but Merlyn at least would find some satisfaction in his demise.

Still, his absence made her search far easier, shifting through his cupboards and wardrobes in an attempt to find anything incriminating. She scowled at the books laid innocently upon a shelf, the awful tunics Agravaine often wore, mostly black to hide his bulging figure. Checking under his bed, she found a rather promising chest, glowing eyes springing the lock. Inside, she found books of sorcery, worn tomes identical to those found in Gaius' chambers. She'd been right. Agravaine was behind this.

She closed the box, sliding it back underneath the bed. Arthur wouldn't believe her, he'd shown where his trust lay. He'd think she'd planted the books, or questioned her on the vaguely illegal search. No, the king was not ready for this information.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed some leather boots on the stone floor, rather muddy for someone with so many servants. She crawled over to them, running a finger through the dirt, surprised to find it quite similar to clay. There was no mud like this anywhere near Camelot, especially with the red tinge and odd smell.

Before she could explore further, Merlyn heard the sound of the door opening, creaking as she flung herself behind the changing screen. In the reflection of the window she watched Agravaine storm in, ridding himself of his jacket. Breathing shallowly, Merlyn hurried back around the screen, just in time for Agravaine to take her place behind it, praying that the man hadn't seen her own image in the glass.

~

Merlyn was surprised to find a presence lurking in the physician's chambers as she swung open the door, Gwaine sitting on a righted bench with a shy smile upon his face, an apple in hand.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, although she already knew the answer. Gwaine, she had often thought, was perhaps the one who knew her best, without really knowing her at all. If he were Arthur, he wouldn't have doubted her for a second, would have hung Agravaine's head on a spike for all the world to see. Everybody knew that he was loyal to her, not to Arthur. Well, herself and Percival. A Knight of Camelot, a warrior for nothing more than his own private hopes. Merlyn could understand that.

"Got bored with playing soldiers, and I thought I'd come and see how you were." He answered her question the way she knew he would, the sad lilt to his voice betraying everything he believed. Gwaine didn't think Gaius was guilty, but that didn't matter. It was how his friend was coping that was important to him.

Merlyn closed the door slowly behind her, fighting the sudden urge to cry. Sometimes she forgot that her time in Camelot meant more than her destiny.

"I'm busy." She said softly, heading towards Gaius' workplace, hoping to examine the clay closer under candlelight.

There was a squeak of a bench as Gwaine turned to look at her. "Doing what?"

"What do you think?" She snapped, taking a shaky breath. Gwaine didn't deserve her anger. "I'm sorry, it's just-"

"You're looking for Gaius." There was no judgement in the knight's voice.

Merlyn nodded, turning to face him. "I know that everyone thinks he's a traitor, but he's not. He's been abducted, Gwaine. He may even be dead."

She tried not to whimper as she mumbled the last word, refusing to believe such a thing could be true. She hadn't saved Freya, nor Lancelot. She hadn't saved her father. She would bring Gaius home if it was the last thing she did.

"Probably don't need my help then." Gwaine raised his eyebrows, drumming his fingers on the table. Merlyn looked at him, then back to the mud on her finger, an idea starting to form.

"Do you know what this is?" She asked, sticking her hand out. Gwaine had traveled near and far; although she doubted he took time staring at the ground, this mud was rather distinct.

He shrugged. "Might do."

Standing, he closed the difference between them. "Here, let me see."

Merlyn let him swipe some of the mud from her hand, looking up at him expectantly. He sniffed the clay, frowning thinly.

"That's iron ore." He said, sounding suspicious. "Where did you find this?"

For a moment, Merlyn contemplated telling him, but she didn't need Gwaine glaring at the king's uncle in every council meeting. It was too dangerous.

"I can't tell you yet, but does it help us?"

Gwaine seemed to understand. He sat down, evidently uneasy. "Iron ore is pretty rare in Camelot. In fact, I've only seen it once, on a patrol."

"Where?" Merlyn questioned eagerly.

"Uh, The Ridge of Chemary." Gwaine stated. "They've been hewing iron from the rocks there for hundreds of years."

It had to be where Gaius was being kept. It had to be.

~

Gwaine insisted on accompanying Merlyn on her quest, but she could hardly complain. He would probably come in handy and besides, they were friends. It didn't take much to get out of Camelot, choosing a gate where the guards were weakest, galloping through on stolen horses with enough speed that the men on the ground had no choice but to let them pass. As they rode through the night, they barely rested, hoping to make it to the caves by dawn. Merlyn could do little more than hope that they weren't too late.

~

Morgana really should've known that Agravaine would at some point burst into her hovel, his blotchy face streaked with panic.

"It's Merlyn, she's onto us. She's out searching for Gaius as we speak. She may even know where he's hidden." He exclaimed frantically, as if he hadn't already foreseen this turn of events. The servant had made it quite clear that she was rather adept at saving those she cared about, that she wouldn't let them die without even trying to rescue them. This was why she had recruited Alator: no matter Merlyn's luck, Morgana very much doubted it would surpass the magic of a high priest.

Dropping the firewood she had gathered just before dusk, the witch followed her traitor into the night, determined to see her plans succeed. Merlyn would not foil her, not this time.

~

Gaius could barely remember his own name. Heat surged around him, Alator's echoing questions pounding in his head. He couldn't stand this much longer. But he had to. He would die to keep Merlyn's secret, would fight through all the...

The pain. It was awful, a suffering worse than any ailment the physician had seen. He had lived a relatively sheltered life; he was not built to withstand torture. No matter his will, he didn't know how much more he could withstand.

"Tell me about Emrys." Alator ordered once again, Gaius trying desperately to wrench himself from his pull. He didn't know how many days had passed since his kidnapping, didn't know where Merlyn was. He hoped she was safe.

"Tell me, Gaius." The Catha continued, his orders sounding so very seductive. No. He had to fight. He had to-

"Where can we find Emrys?" Alator questioned, magic lacing his voice. Gaius, trying desperately to cling onto any strength he could find, realised that the end was nye.

His mouth opened before he could even think stop it.

"In Camelot." He croaked, beads of sweat trickling down his face.

"Where in Camelot?" Alator pushed, leaning on the stone next to him. Gaius tried to stop himself, but the truth felt so good, so right.

"Emrys is- Emrys is the name by which she is known to the druids, but to me- I know him by a different name." He managed, groaning as the pain began to ease.

Alator was silent for a moment, but leant towards the physician, his foul breath filling Gaius' nostrils.

"Tell me."

Gaius opened his mouth, almost sobbing, but caught himself just before the name could slip.

"No." He shook his head, wincing as the pain flared once again.

Alator did not take this lightly. He placed his hand on Gaius' forehead, the flames conjured in his mind growing so very tall.

"Who is she?" He hissed, his influence too powerful to ignore. The physician simply couldn't take anymore.

"She- she is the most powerful sorceress who has ever lived. Her name... Is...

Merlyn."

Gaius turned his head in shame, a sob stuck in his throat. He had betrayed everything he believed in, and yet, as he closed his eyes, he could care for little more than sleep.

~

Gwaine, like the true hero he was, had managed to find an entrance into the caves, waving a blazing torch around the twisting tunnels. Merlyn scraped a bit of the mud off her shoe as they started into the blackness, her heart pounding in her chest as she realised that it matched what she'd found on Agravaine's boot. Gwaine had been right; Gaius had to be somewhere along this path.

It wasn't too long before a loud shout came from behind them, a bald man flying at Gwaine. His bare chest was littered with intricate markings, but Merlyn had no time to examine them as a blade was brought down, blocked by Gwaine's torch. The knight waved the fire at the stranger, forcing him back, giving Gwaine just enough time to draw his sword. They fought, Merlyn barely able to keep up with the sound of blades crashing together, but eventually Gwaine was tripped, his sword skidding out of his hand. He lay there, completely defenceless.

With a surge of gold, Merlyn watched the bald man fall forward, knocking himself out on the cave wall. She helped Gwaine to his feet, smiling obliviously at their luck. At least they knew they were going the right way.

~

Eventually, the path split; Merlyn knew that it was time that she and Gwaine went their separate ways. She was glad to have brought him: this search would have taken far too long on her own.

"We should split up." She stated, looking down each dark path. There was no way to know how long they had been in the tunnels; she didn't want to risk staying in them any longer than she had to.

"Yeah." Gwaine agreed, watching as Merlyn headed towards the left path.

After a few steps, however, she paused, turning back to her friend. "If you find him, don't wait for me."

With that, she plunged into the darkness, magic lighting her way. Gwaine would understand what was important.

~

Morgana couldn't say she was very surprised to see two horses outside the cave entrance, their dark manes glistening in the sun.

"The black horse belongs to Gwaine. He's a hothead. We've got to be careful of him." Agravaine reported, staggering down from his own horse.

Ah, yes. Morgana remembered Gwaine. He'd almost been executed, for breaking one of Uther's pompous codes, or something like that. A friend of Merlyn's too. Agravaine was right, for once. He'd never stand a chance.

"Go to Gaius." She ordered as they entered the tunnels. "If he lives, we're all in danger."

"You can rest assured, he won't breath another word." Her traitor promised, although Morgana wasn't stupid enough to trust his words. Agravaine was not anywhere near as capable as he thought.

She nodded anyway. "I'll deal with Merlyn and this hothead." She sneered, praying that she found them before they reached the physician. It was time for Merlyn to be dealt with once and for all.

~

Now, Gwaine wouldn't say that he was one to jump to conclusions. He liked to think he was a rather reasonable man. However, as his tunnel opened up to reveal Agravaine standing over a rather still Gaius, knife in his hand, the knight couldn't say that he wasn't a little bit suspicious.

"Agravaine!" He cried out sternly, hoping that he wasn't too late. Drawing his sword, he pointed it directly at the potential traitor. "So it was you. You abducted him."

"What? No!" Agravaine claimed, but Gwaine couldn't quite believe him.

"Then what are you doing?" He questioned, pointing to the knife with his far larger blade. If it came to a fight, Gwaine was quite confident in the outcome.

For a moment, Agravaine appeared almost angry, but the look was soon replaced by more general annoyance. "He's unconscious I'm trying to help."

"With that?" Gwaine gestured again to the knife, which was rather close to Gaius' throat.

Agravaine rolled his eyes, as if what he was doing was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm checking to see if he's still breathing."

"And is he?" Gwaine demanded, surging forward to place the point of his sword at Agravaine's neck.

There was a pause as the royal twat placed his knife under Gaius' nose. "Just. You can see the breath on the blade."

The knight could see that Agravaine was telling the truth about that at least.

The man tried to knock Gwaine's blade away. "Now do you believe-"

Gwaine replaced his sword at Agravaine's neck, unable to trust his story. Something was wrong here.

"How did you know he was here?" He asked, noting the mud coating Agravaine's boots. There was a long pause where the blood drained from his face, the idiot apparently lost for words.

Then, he regained his composure, staring at the knight with icy regard. "Guards on the western gate saw you and Merlyn leave. Knowing Merlyn's concern for Gaius, I thought there must be some new information at hand, so I just followed your trail."

Gwaine called bullshit, but in the moment, he saw an opportunity to clear Gaius' name. "You agree he was abducted then?"

Again, there was a pause.

"Yes, of course he was." Agravaine managed, sheathing his knife. "Now let's get him back to Camelot without delay. Come on."

Gwaine shook his head, picking up his torch. "We have to find Merlyn first."

"No!" Agravaine exclaimed far too powerfully. Gwaine stared at him; realising his mistake, the suspicious royal seemed to calm himself. "I fear Gaius will not survive if we delay. We've no time to lose and I need your help to carry him."

Gwaine still wasn't convinced, glancing towards the tunnels. Merlyn had said to leave her, but if Agravaine truly meant to bring Gaius back to Camelot, then Merlyn was far more in need.

"Look, the abductors have already fled. I saw them with my own eyes from the ridge. We must get back to Camelot by nightfall. Come on, Gwaine. Help me! Please."

Sheathing his sword, the knight relented. Merlyn would be fine. She could look after herself.

~

Merlyn didn't know how long she'd been traveling through the tunnels, but had only almost ran into another bald man, hiding just before he came into sight. Still there was no sign of Gaius. She prayed that Gwaine had found him, that they were free of these caves, that soon she too could see the sunlight.

Her thoughts were interrupted, however, when she was suddenly thrown across the room, landing hard on the muddy floor. She groaned, lifting her head to see a rather furious Morgana stalking towards her.

"You really are a thorn in my side, aren't you?" She spat, drawing a dagger from her sleeve. Merlyn frowned. She'd taught the witch that trick.

"When will you learn to stop meddling in things you couldn't possibly understand?" Morgana continued, throwing the knife. She used her magic, pushing it towards Merlyn's throat, forcing her to scramble backwards, lest she be impaled on the blade.

Finding herself up against the wall, Merlyn could only glare at the witch, watching her smirk in grim satisfaction. "It's difficult, isn't it when there are so many ways I could be rid of you. I wanted us to be friends, do you remember that?"

Merlyn nodded shakily, wondering how she could get out of this situation without magic. Even she wasn't quick enough to block the knife almost piercing her skin.

"Morgana," she said tiredly. "I don't care what you do to me. I want to know what you've done with Gaius."

Morgana gave her a twisted smile. "Gaius had some information I needed- the whereabouts of the sorcerer Emrys. If he gave it to me willingly his suffering wouldn't be prolonged. But if he did not..."

"If you have harmed him..." Merlyn swore, glaring at the awful witch in front of her. How had she become this?

"Why are we discussing his fate when it's time to decide yours?" Morgana looked almost contemplative, smirking wickedly. "Either you can die here in this godforsaken place, or I suppose that you could join me in renouncing Arthur and help me take my rightful place."

Merlyn stared at her for a moment, wondering if she could see vulnerability in the witch's gaze. She didn't want to be alone, that was understandable. But Merlyn could no longer be the person she needed. It was too late; too much had happened.

She opened her mouth, probably about to say something that would get her killed, when a man appeared behind Morgana, his curious gaze disrupting her thoughts.

He was the bald man she had hidden from in the tunnels, his purple tunic covered by a thick cloak. In his hand was a staff, simplistic in design, a warrior of some kind, judging by his bearing. Morgana noticed her divided attention, turning to see the man stand behind her, recognition crossing her features.

"Alator." She acknowledged before looking back to Merlyn, who had used the moments distraction to divert the knife at her throat. Even with the immediate danger gone, she was concerned by this new figure.

"This is Merlyn." Morgana nodded towards her with a scowl that didn't quite sit right on her face. "She's just a serving girl, but she's the most troublesome serving girl I've ever known. I take it your time with Gaius was fruitful?"

Alator was unreadable, his eyes fixed on Merlyn, who now held Morgana's knife in her hand, concealed by her sleeve.

"Gaius told me everything." The man admitted, glancing for a moment, before returning his heavy gaze to Merlyn.

"So you know who Emrys is?" Morgana questioned, new hope in her voice.

"Indeed I do." Alator murmured, stalking towards Merlyn. He kneeled next to her, almost in wonder.

Ah, shit. This couldn't be good. On an ideal day, one of Merlyn's allies wouldn't know her true identity. Clearly things were going much worse than she'd thought.

"Not only do I know who Emrys is," Alator hissed, "I know exactly where she is."

"Then tell me!" Morgana exclaimed impatiently, only able to watch as the man turned to her.

"Never." He stated boldly, pointing his staff at her.

"Forþ fleoge."

Morgana was thrown back, hitting her head on the stone wall. She slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Merlyn's heart pounded in her chest. She had no idea what was happening but she did like where this was going.

She scrambled to her feet, feeling the dagger in her hand as she staggered away from this strange man, wishing for an explanation. Luckily, Alator seemed inclined to give her one.

"Merlyn, I am Alator of the Catha. I am honoured to be of service. I understand the burden you carry. I have lived with magic all my life. I have been shunned, persecuted and hunted in every corner of the five kingdoms. I understand what that feels like. You're not alone. From what Gaius told me, I do not have your great powers, Merlyn, but I share your hopes. For I and others like me have dreamt of the world you seek to build, and we would gladly give our lives to help you do it."

"I would rather you didn't have to do that." Merlyn smiled grimly.

Alator knelt, bowing his head in deference to her. She grimaced, wishing people wouldn't do such things.

Still, it was nice to know that there were others that waited for something more than this.

~

Merlyn was missing.

Arthur didn't know what to do. He'd known that she'd taken Gaius' betrayal hard, realised that she would need time to process all that had happened, but to run off? To disappear into the night without even a goodbye? Could she not face him? He had to know.

And yet, as he was whisked away into council meetings, Agravaine's absence hardly noticed, Arthur had not had the time to shout and scream and demand that his servant's return, that she look him in the eyes and tell him that she didn't love him enough to stay. He too was grieving the man he thought Gaius to be, but even that was set aside by the ache of his heart, his desperation to catch just one more glimpse of Merlyn's dazzling smile as she pointed her sword at his neck, one more stupid insult that he loved so dearly.

But Gaius had returned in the late afternoon with his uncle and the vanished Gwaine, so obviously injured that Arthur began to doubt his entire reality. Merlyn wasn't with them, but he pushed that thought back for a moment, confused at the sight of the physician.

"What happened?" He asked his knight, Gwaine looking at him with distain, as if he wasn't quite the man he thought he'd be.

"We found him. He'd been kidnapped." He said shortly, brushing past the king. All the blood drained from Arthur's face as he realised the truth. Gaius wasn't guilty. He'd condemned an innocent man. And Merlyn-

Where was Merlyn?

~

"It appears that I misjudged Gaius. Merlyn was right." Agravaine admitted from beside him as they watched Gwen tend to the physician. It seemed wrong to see him in his own patient bed, seeming to have aged a thousand years.

"We were lucky she found him." Arthur murmured, his servant's location still unknown.

"Indeed. If it hadn't been for the tenacity of your girl, Gaius would be dead." Agravaine said gravely. "We both owe Gaius and Merlyn an apology, my lord."

Arthur feared he owed them both more than that.

~

Morgana awoke alone in the mud, her head pounding as she sat up. With a groan, she looked around the cave, only to see a trinket shining in the sand.

Her bracelet. Alator had truly abandoned her. She'd thought they were the same, that they shared a dream for what she hoped to build. Then again, she should've learned by now that there was no one alive that would stick by her. Turning the bracelet over in her hands, she didn't let her tears spill, didn't let herself wonder if she liked the woman she had become.

~

Merlyn had slipped into Camelot just after nightfall, avoiding the guards as she made her way to the physician's chambers. She wasn't quite sure why, but she didn't want anyone alerted to her presence just yet. Enjoying the silence, Merlyn sat beside Gaius, holding his hand as he slept, glad to see that he was relatively okay. She'd thank Gwaine later, when the magic of silence had subsided, when she had to do more than just sit.

Dawn broke before Gaius opened his eyes. He looked over to Merlyn, grief etched into his face.

"I'm ashamed." He managed; Merlyn frowned, concerned that these would be his first words since his torture.

"Why?" She asked, confused.

"Your secret. A secret I thought I'd protect with my life-"

"Gaius, you could've died." Merlyn interrupted, in no mood to humour this nonsense. "Alator didn't tell her anything. I'm safe."

Gaius shook his head softly.
"But if Morgana had found out-"

"She didn't." Merlyn silenced him. Everything was fine; there was no point worrying about what might have been.

The physician sighed. "I worry that one day I will let you down."

Merlyn didn't know what to say to that. Leaning in to listen to Gaius' dying voice, she squeezed his hand. "I worry about Arthur."

Gaius closed his eyes, seeming to resign himself to defeat. "We can't tell him about Agravaine."

"He needs to know." Merlyn said tersely. Nothing in her life could ever go smoothly.

"We don't have any evidence." He explained fairly. "And you've seen how dear he is to Arthur."

Merlyn knew he was right. It had become quite obvious what Arthur thought of her opinions. Hearing a soft knock on the door, she knew who was situated on the other side. She couldn't keep Arthur waiting.

~

Arthur stepped shyly around the door to the physician's chambers, stopping short at the sight of Merlyn in the room. He stared at her, relief flooding through his heart. She was home.

Her gaze was like ice as she stared at him, anger boiling through her blood. It wasn't unfair for her to blame him, not when he had ignored all her instincts. Merlyn had been, once again, proven right; it had begun to make him wonder why exactly he clearly didn't trust her fully. It wasn't a conscious choice, but he felt that something about his lover was hidden from him, lurking in the corners of his mind. It had put a wall between them; it hurt him to feel that she couldn't quite trust him enough to share her soul. Merlyn knew everything about him, and yet he felt as if, for all her love, she held secrets far too close to her heart. He stepped forwards uneasily into the room, knowing that the conversation he needed with Merlyn would one day come, and with it, perhaps a change for the better.

"I think I owe you both an apology." He spoke with vulnerability, fidgeting in the silence that followed. He coughed, wishing that he had just listened to Merlyn, that he could wrap his arms around her and say that everything would turn out all right in the end.

"Merlyn, will you give us a moment?" Arthur asked, knowing that whatever apology he made to her would need to be a feat of communication he couldn't quite pronounce in front of Gaius.

She hesitated, glancing at Gaius before answering. "So I get the morning off?"

"Yes." Arthur nodded. "Yes, you can have the morning off."

"Good." Merlyn's eyes softened fractionally, but the king could still see the warning there. If he ever accused Gaius of something like this again, it would be the end of him.

She strode past Arthur with a lack of deference that he had learned to respect, pausing for a moment to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. It was all he could do not to follow her out, to chase her and tell her how worried he'd been, how much he'd missed her. But this conversation couldn't wait. He'd betrayed Gaius, almost let him be killed. He should've known better.

As Merlyn's footsteps disappeared down the hallway, Arthur approached Gaius' bed, taking his servant's vacated seat.

"Are you all right?" He asked stupidly, watching the physician shudder at the thought of the past few days.

"I'm just glad it's over." Gaius croaked, something haunted in his eyes.

Arthur buried his face in his hands, trying to gather his thoughts. "I made a mistake."

"I've looked after you since you were a nursling, Arthur. You should have known that I love you far too much to ever betray you." The physician said with sincerity, only worsening the king's grief. He should have known better, should have listened.

"Gaius," he said slowly, but as he opened his mouth, he found he couldn't voice his sorrow. "Who abducted you?"

"I don't know." Gaius sighed, sounding rather old. "But I'm certain they were in league with Morgana."

Even now, the mention of her name made Arthur's heart twinge.

"What did they want?" He questioned gently, wishing not to tire Gaius. He'd had an awful ordeal after all.

"Information... About you, Camelot... To help bring down the kingdom." The physician managed, shivering slightly.

Arthur pulled a blanket from the table behind him, spreading it over the old man. "Did they get it?"

Gaius almost smiled, shaking his head softly. "Morgana got nothing from me.

The king chuckled, placing his hand on the physician's arm, trying to suppress the tears in his eyes.

"I'm grateful." He said, pausing for a long moment. "But there's a matter that still concerns me. When you were asked about the sorcerer that, albeit accidentally, killed my father, you lied."

Gaius swallowed, seeming to understand. "I did, sire."

"You admit it?" Arthur was surprised Gaius would confess so willingly. Then again, he was hardly going to harm him now.

"I chose to protect her. I feared that you would seek her out and execute her out of anger for your father. That would've been a grave mistake. The sorceress did not kill your father. Uther was dying; she tried everything in her power to save him."

Arthur looked down, trying to process all that Gaius had said. He felt ashamed: even after realising that the sorceress was not a killer, part of him had resented her for his father's death. Magic had still killed the king; Arthur couldn't bring himself to even contemplate any idea that sorcery could be...

He'd done far too much to start believing that.

Gaius seemed to understand his conflict. "Contained within this great kingdom is a rich variety of people with a range of different beliefs. I'm not the only one seeking to protect you. There are many more that believe in the world you are trying to create. One day, you will learn, Arthur. One day, you will understand just how much they've done for you."

If Arthur hadn't been confused before, he certainly was now. The physician seemed to know more than he was letting on, but the king thought it best that he kept those secrets. He didn't trust himself with whatever knowledge Gaius possessed, not for now, at least.

Chapter Text

Arthur had spent a long time thinking. He'd failed two of the people closest to his heart, had refused to trust Merlyn's instincts despite the countless times she'd proven herself worthy. He couldn't explain his actions; the king knew he would have to truly find trust in his servant. After all, soon she would be his queen.

Hopefully.

Gwen had broke him from his muddled thoughts, knocking on the door to his chambers during a quiet moment of his day. Merlyn would've given her his schedule. She had a habit of handing it out to the knights.

This time, however, the matter was a little more serious than a badly executed prank. Gwen had brought a friend, Mary, if he remembered correctly, who seemed to shrink in her chair, obviously frightened. The two women sat at his dining table, but Arthur stood, pacing as he listened to their tale. This was a complicated matter.

"Guinevere informs me that you live in Longstead, in the Feorre Mountains. Is that right?" He asked, resting his arms on the back of his chair.

"That's right, sire." Mary nodded meekly. "Our village... we're blighted by a sickness. Three good men it has taken now. We have no physician, sire. It is beyond our understanding."

"I see." Arthur frowned. He doubted Gaius could make such a journey, especially after the ordeal he had just lived through.

Mary glanced at Gwen before directing her gaze to the table, seeming to shrink even further into her muddy clothes. "Forgive me. I have no right to bring such a small matter before the king."

"You have every right." Arthur assured her, wondering how his father would have reacted. He sat down in his chair, glancing at Gwen's concerned expression. "It is my responsibility to protect the people of this kingdom, whoever they may be."

Mary looked up in that moment, stunned hope shining through her eyes. "You'll help us?"

Arthur was sure he could work out some solution. "I'll do whatever I can."

Mary turned to Gwen, pressing their hands together. "Thank you."

~

Merlyn frowned down at the still man laying on the cot in front of her, pressing a damp towel to his forehead. She'd barely noticed Arthur burst in, doing her best to soothe yet another patient. A sickness was spreading through the city; Gaius had been practically swept off his feet. He really needed another assistant.

The physician was talking, she realised. "This is the fourth case of sweating sickness I've seen today. In normal circumstances, I'd be happy to travel to this village to investigate, but-"

"Of course." Arthur cut him off, sounding grave. "I understand."

"Might I make a suggestion, sire?" Gaius wasn't really asking, but even Merlyn was curious as to what he was thinking. "Why not send Merlyn in my place?"

That was not what she was expecting. The servant turned to stare at the physician, wondering if he'd finally gone mad.

"Merlyn?" Arthur questioned, as if his hearing had deceived him. Merlyn just about restrained herself from lobbing a heavy book in his general direction.

Gaius simply shrugged. "She has a knowledge of the healing arts. If the diagnosis is straightforward, she can prescribe a remedy, I'm sure."

"And what if it isn't?" Arthur waved his hand flippantly, comfortable to have a conversation about his lover's intelligence whilst she glared at him.

"Then she can bring her findings to me." Gaius didn't seem at all troubled. Even Merlyn was rather concerned. He'd never seemed to appreciate her, admittedly limited, intelligence before.

"Findings?" Arthur cried. "She can't find her own backside half the time!"

A spoon flew through Merlyn's fingers without another thought. It hit the king square in the head, earning her a glower. She ignored him, wringing out her towel and returning to tending to her patient. Arthur was such a twat.

"I think she's capable of much more than you imagine, sire." Gaius said slyly.

The king paused. "You think she'll be able to handle the responsibility?"

Merlyn almost laughed. Sometimes, she forgot how little Arthur knew.

Gaius, however, seemed far more serious. "Yes, sire. I do."

~

Merlyn frowned at her notes, squinting at her scrawled handwriting in deep contemplation. An apple sat in her hand, but she barely remembered it, taking bites absentmindedly through her work. She could do this.... At least, she hoped she could. Her magic should help: it had rarely let her down before. Part of her wanted to test it, to send a butterfly soaring through the physician's chambers, flying high over the scorched work benches and dusty potion bottles. She needed a reminder that magic could be beautiful.

"Do you really think I can do this, Gaius?" She asked, looking up at the elderly physician. There were new lines in his face, a life hidden behind those ancient eyes. He knew so much; what she had learned could only be a fraction of what he could teach.

"I know you can." He said sincerely, setting his knife down on his chopping board.

"I'm not a physician. I don't have anything like the knowledge you do." Merlyn sighed, gesturing to the thousands of tomes scattered around the bookshelves. Gaius had read them all, written some, she was sure. There had to be someone more qualified than she.

Gaius' earnest expression almost made her smile. "You've been working for me for many years, Merlyn. I suspect you know more than you think you do."

"I just do what you tell me to do." Merlyn scoffed. "I don't have to make the decisions myself. These people will be putting their lives in my hands."

"I put my life in your hands every day, Merlyn." Gaius exclaimed, wandering over to sit opposite her on the bench. "As does Arthur and Gwen and all of Camelot, though they may not know it. You're the one who holds the fate of this kingdom in the balance."

And in that moment, Merlyn wasn't sure that Gaius understood her at all. This wasn't something she was born to do, something that had made her eyes shine since before she could even remember. Magic came as easily as breathing. This... This was something else, a talent of her own mind. She'd never really had to learn before, not properly. This wasn't a test she could be sure she would pass.

"But that's different." She tried. "That doesn't require a lifetime of learning, just-"

"Intelligence, courage, compassion." Gaius interrupted her, meeting her gaze with his own determination. "All I know is that I have every faith in you."

And really, wasn't that everything she needed?

~

"Merlyn."

The witch looked up from her packing, vaguely surprised to see Gaius standing in her doorway, a strange object in his hand. It was shaped like a bowl with a leather pyramid sitting on top of it, the whole thing held together by loose pieces of string. She didn't think she'd seen many things so peculiar.

"Before you go, you'll be needing this." The physician said, holding out the thing. Suddenly, Merlyn recognised it, staring at Gaius in horror.

"Oh, I can't take that, Gaius. That's your medicine bag." She murmured, her eyes fixed on the strange contraption. The physician had never let her anywhere near his precious supplies, swatting her away with mutterings of impatient youth.

But now, he only shrugged, as if this moment didn't mean everything to Merlyn. "Don't worry. I've got plenty of spare supplies."

For a moment, the witch didn't move, but soon her legs were carrying her forwards, the weight of the medicine bag suddenly falling into her hands.

"Thanks, Gaius." She smiled, seeing a flicker of pride in the physician's eyes.

"Are you ready?" He asked, ignoring her gratitude. Secretly, Merlyn thought him sad to see her go, something faltering in his voice.

She had no other answer. "As I'll ever be."

Gaius nodded. It was time.

~

The knights flew out of the gates, their crimson cloaks flying through the morning breeze. The sun was already bright, running through Leon's miraculous hair as they flew towards the forest, shining knights indeed. Gwen accompanied them, her hair tucked in the hood of her cloak as she muttered about the knots in Gwaine's unruly mane. He'd never be able to get them out.

They reached the village by nightfall, their horses trotting through the muddy paths lined with meagre homes, dusk just brushing the horizon. It was beautiful really, lying at the bottom of great mountains, almost completely concealed in the thick forest. Mary dismounted first, hugging a man Merlyn had only ever heard about.

"John." Gwen smiled as she threw her arms around him, the moment almost comforting surrounding by the pallid faces of the townsfolk. "It's good to see you. We came as quickly as we could."

"Words cannot express our gratitude, Gwen." John said with true sincerity, looking past his friend and towards the horses still trotting through the village. "Where's Gaius?"

Merlyn dismounted, her heart pounding in her chest as she jogged towards Gwen, knowing what she must look like. She was nothing compared to the wizened old physician these people were expecting.

"I'm sorry. He was needed in Camelot, but I will help in any way I can." She tried to sound at least a little knowledgeable, but none of the villagers looked impressed.

John turned to Gwen, a grimace upon his face. "We're living in fear for our lives. We need a skilled physician, not a girl."

"Her name is Merlyn." Elyan said firmly, stepping forward to her side. He put a hand on her shoulder, staring challengingly into John's eyes.

Seeing the man's resolve waiver, Gwen took her chance. "She was appointed acting physician by King Arthur himself."

There was a moment of silence. John still didn't seem happy, but Merlyn knew she was the only choice.

"Where are they?" She questioned, almost raising an eyebrow as John pointed in the vague direction of a derelict barn. Clearly she wasn't worth an escort. She heard Gwen's footsteps behind her, sighing deeply. Another thankless mission, it seemed.

~

Putting a mirror to the mouth of one of the patients, Merlyn let relief sweep over her as a faint fog smothered the shine. The men were barely moving, lined up in a sordid row amongst the hay, light slanting through the wooden beams.

"They're alive, but only just. How long have they been like this?" She asked, turning to John, who stood next to the lone fire. The flames covered the thin walls with shadows, Gwen's expressionless face partly concealed by the gloom.

"Two or three days. We've tried to feed them, keep them warm, but nothing seems to make any difference." He reported, hiding his worry behind a poorly constructed sense of indifference.

Merlyn turned back to the victims, a wrongness making her shiver. They were like corpses trapped in the breath of the living.

"And you've no idea what happened to them?" Gwen questioned, if only to find something to help Merlyn's diagnosis.

John shook his head. "No. It just strikes suddenly, without warning."

"Well we need to stimulate the blood flow." Merlyn muttered, turning to Gwen. She, at least, would listen. "A poultice of patchouli oil should work, and... A tincture of belladonna to stimulate the heart."

Merlyn started towards her patients for further examination, but John stopped her, something urgent in his tone.

"Will it cure them? Will it... Bring them back?"

Merlyn couldn't answer that. "Let's see what the morning brings. Right now we need hot water and plenty of blankets."

Gwen nodded, ushering John out of the barn. Merlyn listened to the door close before quickly turning to her first patient, laying a hand over his heart.

"Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare."

Nothing happened. She waited for a moment, her eyes widening as she realised her magic had truly failed her.

~

Reading by candlelight, Gaius had once told her, is awful for the eyes. Still, Merlyn couldn't fathom what was inflicting her patients; she saw the way the townsfolk looked at her, as if she had no right to cure their people. She couldn't let it get to her, not with so much pressure building inside her.

In the darkness, she heard a creature hissing. She looked up, a shadow passing a small grate in the wall of the barn. Her heart started to pound; glancing at the dying men for a moment, she headed to the door, grabbing her sword before she left to investigate.

All was quiet in the chilly night, Merlyn's footsteps slicing through the silence. She heard the hissing again, drawn towards it with every fibre of her being. As she rounded the corner, she spotted movement, raising her sword the moment before she recognised the moonlit face.

"Gwaine!" She cried, relieved to see a familiar face. Maybe the stress was getting to her.

"Sorry." He shrugged. "Call of nature."

"I could've killed you!" Merlyn exclaimed, brandishing her weapon.

Gwaine snickered. "I'd like to see you try. Sir Gwaine was slain by a woman. Stuff of legends, eh?"

Merlyn kicked him. "I could beat you in a fight any day."

"That, you could." The knight nodded. "But if I were to die, I'd like it to be a little more impressive than by accident in the middle of the night."

"I'm sure something can be arranged." Merlyn said thoughtfully, smiling at the way her sword glinted in the shortening light.

Gwaine smiled at that, patting her on her shoulder as he turned back towards whatever house he'd been sleeping in. He was a good friend, Merlyn thought. Better than she deserved.

But as Gwaine disappeared, Merlyn heard the hissing again. She couldn't identify where in the woods it came from; frowning, she returned to the barn, realising she'd need some sleep with what the day would bring.

~

The town was lively the next day, people going about their business as if these men weren't dying in a pasty barn. Merlyn checked each man, wishing she had some kind of straightforward cure.

"I barely feel a pulse." She mumbled to Gwen, who seemed enough heartbroken for all the village. Merlyn couldn't understand what was going on.

She heard footsteps behind her, John's, she thought.

"How are they?" He asked, his voice far too hopeful.

Merlyn closed her eyes for a moment, deciding how to break the news. She spun around, trying not to seem too grave.

"I'm afraid the treatments have had no effect."

"You mean they're dying." John spat, as if it were her fault.

"I'm sorry." Merlyn swallowed. "There's something at work here that I don't understand."

John seemed surprised. "Are you suggesting sorcery?"

"That's possible, yes." Merlyn managed.

"I feared as much." He murmured. "The other night, when I found Aldrif, I felt a- a presence. An evil in the air."

That didn't sound good.

Merlyn turned to Gwen, who had moved to stand just behind her. "We need to get back to Gaius. Only he can explain this."

~

They rode out of the village as the sun just broke the morning sky, Merlyn leading the charge towards the sturdy mountains that marked the way to Camelot. She'd never felt so powerless before, so weak against her invisible enemy. This was not something that would disappear with a whisper, nor a dagger through the heart. There was something deeply wrong inside those victims, a festering of black magic that should not thrive in this world.

The knights weaved through the trees in silence, all shadows of humour lost. Merlyn knew that the mention of sorcery had pricked a certain fear that lay embedded in their hearts. Percival seemed to ride the hardest, glancing at her worriedly as he sailed past. She couldn't help but wince at that look, knowing how the man saw her. After all, if Emrys couldn't break this curse, then who could?

Leon signalled for them to halt, abruptly raising his hand to warn them of smoke rising from a leafy valley. They couldn't see the source, most of the way ahead obscured by foliage.

"Dismount and muzzle your horses." He ordered quietly, his gaze flitting around the forest. "Not a sound, any of you."

Merlyn obeyed, watching the others follow suit. Gwen stayed close to her as they tied up their mounts before following Leon, sneaking closer to the valley. Merlyn saw Gwaine pause, the knights crowding around him to see what lay below. It looked like bandits, a number of men laughing around a campfire, swords glinting at their sides.

"Bandits?" Gwen murmured, frowning deeply at the scene.

Elyan nodded. "Looks like it. We'll skirt their camp. With any luck we'll reach the plain unnoticed."

The knight's words were followed by a wail of fright. Gwaine drew his sword, always the hero.

"Over there." He hissed, pointing his blade towards a bedraggled woman. Her clothes were torn, her hair knotted. She was being pushed around, hands tied together, the men grinning wickedly as she sobbed.

Before Merlyn had time to digest the scene, Gwaine was off, sprinting towards the camp with all the wits of a feckless god. He yelled, ruining any advantage of surprise, slamming the hilt of his sword into the first bandit's head.

Elyan was quick to follow, the pair dispatching another two men before the rest of them had made it down. Soon, the bandits were upon them; Merlyn struggled to keep track of the knights, Leon now leading the charge. She stabbed and kicked, smiling as she saw Percival pick up a man, swinging him around to hit another before dropping him on his injured comrade. These men may have swords, but they were not knights.

As Gwen sent yet another man to his grave, the bandits fled, leaving the knights to their victory.

"Over here." Percival shouted, crouching against a tree as he cradling the still form of the girl Gwaine had been intent on saving. She was rather beautiful in an ethereal kind of way. Her brown hair was a shade lighter than Merlyn's, her pale skin reminding the witch very much of Freya.

"Looks like we were too late." Percival said solemnly, staring down at the girl. Merlyn furrowed her eyebrows, placing her hand on the girl's forehead.

"No, she's-" but Merlyn didn't have time to finish. A shrill scream shook the air, the girl bolting up at the witch's touch. Percival jumped, clutching her closer to his chest whilst the other knights drew their swords once again.

"Hey, hey. It's all right." He said soothingly, stroking the girl's hair. "It's all right. We're knights of Camelot. You're safe now. You're safe."

"Here." Gwen whispered, taking the girl's hands. "My name's Gwen. What's yours?"

The girl looked scared out of her wits, pressing herself into Percival, as if he could save her from all the troubles in the world. Still, she met Gwen's eyes.

"Lamia." She whispered. "My name is Lamia."

Merlyn fiddled with her medical kit whilst Gwen undid Lamia's binds. "What happened to you, Lamia?"

The girl didn't look like she knew how to respond. "I was travelling home when the bandits took me."

She sobbed, clinging once again to Percival, who honestly had started to look a little uncomfortable.

"Your hands. Did they do this to you?" Merlyn asked, gently moving to see the wounds. She didn't want someone who looked so much like... No. This was not Freya. "Let me clean them."

"No! No!" Lamia gasped, glaring at Merlyn with a hatred the witch didn't quite understand. Leon ripped her away with more strength than he needed, taking her place next to Lamia.

"Are you strong enough to ride?" He questioned, watching for the girl's feeble nod. He turned to his knights. "Then let's get out of here before they return."

~

Sunlight was just piercing the canopy above them when Leon stopped in a small clearing, scouring the dense trees as if he could see through the crowded forest.

"We'll be safe here until morning." He announced to the group, as if dawn was not just breaking. They would have little rest, but Merlyn supposed she needed to get her reports back to Gaius. The village could not be kept waiting.

Merlyn's gaze turned unwittingly to Lamia, her pale skin almost translucent in the filtered light. Riding on Percival's horse, her gaze was transfixed on the man, frowning at the back of his head as he nudged his steed forwards. Since he had found her, Lamia seemed to act colder to the man, as if he had wronged her. She looked so much like Freya. Without another thought, the witch stepped towards the frightened girl, her water skin in hand.

"Here." She said, holding it out to Lamia. The girl looked like she was about to scream again, but closed her mouth abruptly, her eyes widening as she stared at Merlyn. If she had the presence of mind, the witch would've seen the smirk, the telltale signs of something profoundly wrong. But in that moment, all she could see was Freya. She wouldn't let her down again.

Percival, who had clearly watched the interaction, took the water from Merlyn, gulping down his fill. He turned to offer it back to the Lamia, who's smug expression suddenly turned sour, hissing at the man like an untrained cat. Merlyn felt like she should react somehow, feel something more than guilt and... She couldn't quite place her emotions. But if Percival had caused such a reaction from Fre-Lamia, then she knew he must be wrong.

"Get away from her." She spat, shoving the knight back. The urge to protect the scared girl flared up within her, Percival seeming so very dangerous.

Gwaine, glowering at Percival, helped Lamia down from the horse and carrying her towards Leon's makeshift campsite. Merlyn followed, ignoring Gwen's soothing mutterings to Percival. She couldn't care less about how she had acted, not when he was a threat to...

Fuck. Merlyn stopped, closing her eyes as she fought to focus her thoughts. Freya was dead. Lamia was not Freya. She couldn't forsake the memory of her lost lover with an inadequate copy. Still, Lamia needed her help; she would be damned if she let another life go to waste.

~

Percival was rather confused. For a girl who had been happy to curl up in his arms only moments earlier, Lamia certainly seemed to be acting rather hostile, glaring at him every chance she got. Even Merlyn appeared to be under her spell, but that shouldn't really have surprised the knight. That woman had a hero complex that rivalled the king's, although she often hid it well. He volunteered for first watch, sensing something off with the others. Something, he was sure, was deeply wrong.

Perhaps they were just tired. The knight threw a few pieces of kindling on the fire Merlyn had built, lost in his thoughts. He'd seen her amber eyes as flames roared from the damp twigs she'd managed to find. Part of him wanted to warn her, to tell her to be more careful, but as always, he was stunned by his companions' lack of observance. He supposed he wouldn't expect such a thing of Merlyn himself if he didn't know her. Still, she really couldn't be so blatant, especially with Morgana still around.

His gaze drifted to Gwaine, who lay curled up in his cloak, something soft in his expression. Gwaine was a natural liar, his self-assured smiles hiding his conflicted heart. Camelot suited him, Percival thought. He had a purpose. And yet, the knight knew that there was very little truly tethering Gwaine to the city. Sure, he had friends, but loyalty sparked brightly in the drunk. If Merlyn was to go, Percival wasn't sure he could convince Gwaine to stay, despite... Well. He wasn't quite sure what was happening between them.

Much to his surprise, Percival liked Camelot. It wasn't anything like the small villages he knew, the heavy crowds filling the air with laughter and noise. He missed home, missed the druid camps he'd wandered through, but there was a magic that ran through the heart of Camelot. He could love it one day, he was sure.

A whimpering interrupted his thoughts. He picked up his sword, standing slowly as he approached Lamia, the girl tucked away from the others, kneeling behind a large tree. He hushed her, crouching beside her as he stuck his sword in the ground. Gently, he moved to touch her face, to soothe away her worries, but the moment his fingers brushed her cheeks, Lamia lifted her head, letting out a bloodcurdling scream.

In an instant, the other knights surrounded him, Merlyn pulling him away from Lamia as the others directed their swords towards him. There was a moment of tense silence where Percival was sure his friends were about to run him through. He searched their faces for any inkling of kindness, but all he found was utter hatred.

Then, they each dropped their swords. Merlyn let go of his arm, staggering backwards, as if she had snapped out of some trance. The others, however, crowded around Lamia, comforting her as one would a frightened lover.

"Don't worry. No harm can come to you now." Elyan whispered as he pulled her into a tight embrace, seeming reluctant to let go. Lamia said nothing, staring at Percival. For a moment, he was sure that he saw her eyes glow a deep shade of green.

~

Arthur hadn't spent so much time without Merlyn since... He honestly couldn't say. Perhaps since he'd known her. She was always by his side, ready for anything. He felt like he'd lost a limb. It was embarrassing, really, how little he could function without her. He barely knew how to dress in the mornings. She and his knights had been gone for far too long, the days dragging on the more time he spent without seeing her face. God, he was lovesick. Reaching into his pocket, he felt the cool, silver ring he had been carrying around so much lately. If only he could find the opportune moment, ideally when Merlyn was back by his side. He needed her here again.

"They've been gone for two days." Arthur exclaimed, pacing his council chambers as yet another night fell on what seemed to be an empty castle. The king hadn't realised how much he relied on his knights and Gwen and Merlyn to entertain him during his endless duties. Agravaine and Gaius stood with him, the latter's face lined with worry. His uncle, however, appeared unconcerned.

"There must be some delay at Longstead, sire." He suggested, sounding far graver than he looked. Then again, he was probably right, but that didn't help deflate Arthur's nerves.

He shook his head. "If there was a delay, they would've sent word."

"Then it must be that the bridge is down at Brechfa." Agravaine piped up again, but Arthur remained unconvinced.

He leaned against his chair, frowning with increasing worry. "No, I've already checked. A patrol passed through there yesterday."

Agravaine didn't even hesitate for his next suggestion. He was on it today. "Shall I send some scouts out to search for them?"

Arthur ignored him. "Gaius, is your work done here?"

The old man had been standing patiently, eyeing Agravaine with growing dissatisfaction.

"Yes, sire. I believe the sweating sickness has all but passed." He said with understandable relief.

"Good." The king pointed to the physician as he marched towards the door. "Then we leave for Longstead at first light."

He could shake the feeling something awful had happened; he wouldn't stand idly by when Merlyn was in danger. He would lead the charge to Longstead. His duties could wait.

~

Merlyn didn't quite know what was happening. She needed to get her emotions straight. It was as if she had been daydreaming, and then she was holding Percival back, her magic leaping through her skin as if she was no longer in control. She saw how Lamia reacted towards to the knight, towards Gwen, even, but perhaps it was triggered by whatever she had been forced to endure. She would work out her own problems in time; she couldn't stop them from protecting the poor girl.

Gwen approached her, wandering slowly as if in a daze. Clearly Merlyn wasn't the only one troubled by their new companion.

Her friend knelt next to her, a forgotten piece of bread in hand.

"She won't even eat." She said, looking towards Lamia with pity. Merlyn knew the feeling.

Leon, however, seemed to have more important things on his mind. "Pack your bags. We ride east with the rising sun."

Merlyn refrained from pointing out that the sun had, in fact, fully risen, but couldn't stop her confusion. "Wait. East? Camelot lies west of here."

Percival also looked troubled, but the rest of the knights stared at her as if she were mad.

"Lamia has asked that we take her home." Elyan announced, seeming eager to please. Merlyn glanced at the girl, only to see her staring straight at her. Of course. They couldn't just let Lamia wonder off into the woods. It wouldn't be safe.

Still, there was something nudging at the corner of her mind... Something-

"We need to get Gaius." Merlyn said firmly, surprised that she had forgotten about the village. That was odd.

"Gaius can wait." Gwaine said sharply, standing to join Elyan in fiercely glaring at Merlyn as if she had personally offended them.

"We were sent to help the people of Longstead. Their lives depend on us." She protested, looking around the knights, wondering if the world had gone mad. Gwen touched her shoulder in silent agreement, Percival seeming strangely relieved. The others however, stared at her as if she had suggested pillaging the next village they came across.

"You dare to question our judgement?" Leon strode forwards, so very angry. Merlyn had never seen him like this before. "You are not a knight. You're not even a physician, just a servant that doesn't know their place. You have no right."

"Please." Gwen stood up now, staring imploringly at her brother. "Listen. Merlyn's right. We have to get back-"

"No, Gwen." Merlyn smiled, meeting Lamia's gaze. "They're right. We can't leave her alone out here. I can't fail her again."

"Again? Merlyn, you're not making any sense!" Distantly, Merlyn could feel Gwen shaking her, but she was transfixed.

"Stay out of this, Gwen. It's none of your business." Leon seemed to have calmed down, but Merlyn couldn't bring herself to care.

Gwaine helped Lamia to her feet, he Leon and Elyan pulling her back towards the horses. Merlyn sat there for a moment, dazed. She could feel eyes on her, feel tears streaking down her face, but none of that seemed to matter anymore. She had to protect Freya. She had to-

No. Freya was gone. She needed to remember, needed to truly believe it this time. There were no more vials of magic water, no more spells she could learn to see her again. Freya was gone forever; there was no point trying to find her in Lamia. She wasn't there.

~

There was something wrong with the forest.

It had been haunting Arthur as he'd galloped through the trees, a feeling that shook him to his very core. His hair stood on end as he finally stopped, the sun hidden behind a canopy of thick leaves. They were deep into the forest now, the trees around them seeming so very still.

Arthur dismounted, throwing his cloak over his horse as he listened to the forest. Gaius approached him, his muddy footsteps trampling on the eerie silence.

"Is anything wrong, sire?" He asked, oblivious to the oddness surrounding them. Merlyn would've noticed. She'd have made a comment about the quiet before Arthur had spotted it; he'd have called her a coward and by now, they'd have walked into some trap together.

But there had been no trap, no I told you so, no together. This wasn't how they were meant to function.

"No birdsong. Nothing."

Arthur shivered. For a moment, they stood there, warding off every sense of foreboding, when a flash of red cape caught the king's eye.

"Sire!" A young knight whispered, gesturing for Arthur to follow. The king grabbed his sword from his saddle, ducking through low branches, keeping sight of the red cape. Eventually, they made it out to what seemed to be an abandoned camp, a few bodies strewn around the clutter of cooking pots and makeshift tents.

Arthur checked the first, frowing. His eyes were closed, he was not moving, and yet...

He checked the second. It was the same.

"Do you notice anything odd about these bodies?" He asked the old physician behind him.

"I do, sire." Gaius had seen enough battles to notice something this peculiar. "There's not a mark on them."

"Not so much as a scratch." Arthur murmured, bewildered. Before he could truly comprehend what he was seeing, a voice rose from the other side of the camp.

"Over here, my lord!" Agravaine beckoned him over.

"Southron slave traders by the looks of it." Arthur spoke mostly to himself.

"What were they transporting? Some kind of animal?" His uncle questioned, pointing his sword towards a large, metal box with thick bars on the windows. Whatever had been kept in it was surely dangerous.

"No, those marks were made by a human." Gaius pointed towards some scratches on the door. "And whomever they were, they did anything they had to so they could get out."

Arthur wasn't sure what to say to that. Luckily, at that very moment, a man previously thought dead began to groan; the king ran towards him, hoping he could have some kind of answers.

"Can he be treated?" He asked Gaius, crouching by the man.

Unfortunately, the physician hardly
seemed confident. "I-- I could try, sire. But I'll need time and somewhere to work."

Arthur nodded.

"He comes with us." He ordered to his knights, wishing to hear some stupid joke from Gwaine. "We'll make Longstead in a matter of hours."

~

Percival wasn't sure what to feel. He and Gwaine had never been exclusive, never had the conversation the knight hadn't thought they'd needed. There were whispered promises, of course, gasps of breath between the sheets as they collapsed beside each other, sweaty bodies clinging together in ecstacy. But Percival didn't take those with any certainty. Much could be revoked from the bedsheets. Still, he couldn't say it didn't sting, watching Gwaine prance around after this Lamia girl, snatching water skins from Leon in an attempt to win her favour.

"Enough!" He shouted as they began to shove each other, fighting like hot-headed squires. It was pathetic. "What's gotten into you?"

For a moment, it looked as if the men relaxed, but as Leon shoved Gwaine once more, swords were drawn. They fought determinedly, anger radiating off of them. With a knowing glance at Elyan, Percival joined him in pulling the fighting men apart, tugging fiercely at Gwaine's chainmail. Lamia remained silent, watching this all go on; out of the corner of his eye, Percival could swear he saw her smile. There was something strange about that girl.

"I'll get the medicine bag." Gwen declared as Percival fought to keep Gwaine from breaking his hold. Eventually, the stupid knight relaxed, calming considerably from his initial fury. Leon did likewise, Elyan releasing him to Gwen to wrap his injuries. Merlyn, Percival noted, stayed silent throughout the exchange. She too seemed lost.

~

As Arthur approached the small town, he scanned the scant houses for any sign of Merlyn. And his knights. And Gwen, he guessed. He couldn't really afford to lose any of them, but with the absence of their horses, he doubted he'd find answers here.

After a preliminary search, Arthur called his knights together, trying not to show his true fear. He was a king, after all. He could function without Merlyn.

"Spread out and speak to everyone. Someone must know something." He ordered, turning towards Agravaine as they dispersed, who had just appeared from one of the hovels.

"Did you speak to the village elder?" He asked, praying for some good news.

"It appears they left yesterday morning." His uncle announced gravely. That was disappointing.

"Where were they headed?" Arthur really already knew the answer.

"Camelot, my lord." Agravaine stated, the word a dagger to the king's chest. It wasn't a long ride; they should've reached the city long before Arthur rode out.

"Something must have happened." The king murmured, staring at the forest as if Merlyn would simply appear along the treeline, making some joke about him worrying far too much.

"We can't go after them tonight." Agravaine said pointedly. He was right, of course. The sun was almost set, dusk's light finally fading. There was little they could do at dark other than lose themselves in the dense forestry.

Arthur nodded slowly. "Then we ride at dawn. See that the men are prepared."

"Yes sire." Agravaine walked away, but Arthur barely noticed. He wanted Merlyn to give him some wise speech, for Gwaine to regale him of his dreamed apples, for Gwen to tell him everything was going to be okay. His father had always said a good king ruled alone. Arthur hadn't realised how little sense that made until that moment.

~

Gaius was baffled. As an old physician, he had seen almost any illness known to man, and with Merlyn and her troubles, he'd seen many more. But these men had no mark upon them, no physical sign of disease. They were simply still.

"And they've been like this for four days?" It wasn't really a question, but Gaius could scarcely believe it.

"And each day they grow weaker." The man- John- affirmed, something helpless in his gaze.

Gaius had thought as much."Merlyn is right. This is no ordinary illness. There is sorcery at work here."

~

"I think it's something to do with her." Gwen hissed at Percival as they watched the rest of the knights apprehensively. Merlyn had barely said a word, stitching Leon's shallow wounds without a thought. She looked... Empty. Not exactly hollow, but there was such grief in her eyes that Gwen barely recognised her.

"Lamia." Percival nodded gravely. "Earlier, I hardly recognised Leon and Gwaine."

Gwen shuddered. "Elyan's a completely different person. And Merlyn."

Both of them turned to look at the servant, who seemed so lost in her own world. It was terrifying.

"How could she affect them this way?" Gwen couldn't comprehend the strength of the tiny girl to control her friends in such a way.

"I don't know." Percival could do nothing but helplessly glare at Lamia, as if the power of his stare could break her. Gwen wished it could. Perhaps if Merlyn could snap out of whatever pitiful state she had fallen into, they would have a chance.

~

Arthur hated waiting. He knew he would be no good fumbling through the forest in the dark, but sitting next to a small fire in a relatively sheltered hut, wondering if Merlyn was lying dead in the woods somewhere... He couldn't face it.

Standing, he began to pace, ignoring his uncle's brief attempts at conversation. This was not the time for mock empathy.

Gaius saved him, creaking slowly through the door with a grave look upon his face. God, he must be worried. Arthur hadn't notice how much the man had aged recently, the new lines carved into his face. Gaius had always been old to him, old to his father, even. Now, with Merlyn gone, he seemed faded.

"Any luck with the Southron?" Arthur asked, realising he was staring.

Gaius seemed weary. "I've done my best, sire. His condition is perilous, but he lives."

Arthur nodded. Good. "Was he able to tell us anything?"

"He is a slave trader, as you suspected. They were traveling south with a girl."

God. Arthur could only hope nothing bad had happened to her, but it was unlikely that she'd survived.

"Did he say what happened to them?" Arthur questioned, concerned by the way Gaius wasn't meeting his eyes.

"He claims they fell under some kind of spell. Quarrels and fights broke out among them. They began to suspect the girl was bewitching them. It seems they were right."

Arthur frowned. "Why? What happened?"

"The girl escaped and killed all but him."

That didn't make any sense. There were few that could manage such a feat.

"How is that possible? She's just one girl." He asked, flummoxed. Merlyn could probably do it, but she'd struggle. There were so many of them.

"Not a girl, sire." Gaius stated, as if that wasn't how he himself had been referring to her. Even in times like this, he thrived in dramatic effect. "A lamia."

Arthur felt as if he should be worried, scared, even. "A lamia?"

"A creature of magic." Gaius explained. "In their wars with the ancient kings, the high priestesses of the old religion took the blood from a girl and mingled it with that of a serpent. The creatures they created had ferocious powers. They could control the mind of a man, suck the life from him with a single embrace."

"Which is why none of the traders had a mark on them." Arthur realised, finally returning to his seat by the fire. This was not a creature he wanted wandering in his woods.

"But the lamia proved more deadly than their makers had ever imagined." Gaius continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "They could transform at will and become terrible monsters. And they kept on killing, sire. They would not stop."

"So this girl, this creature, is still out there somewhere." Arthur felt shaken to his very core.

"I'm afraid so, sire." Gaius whispered. He looked absolutely petrified.

~

Merlyn couldn't think. She was encompassed in a world of pain, of fear, the fierce urge to protect... Something. No. She had to remember. It was Lamia here, not Freya. And there was something... Something was wrong with the girl. She didn't feel right. The thought of her left a sour taste in her mouth, the feeling of... If only she could remember. If Gaius was here...

No, not Gaius. Nimueh. She'd felt the same around him, the odor of bad magic overriding her senses. Lamia felt like bad magic. She had to-

"Elyan?" Leon's shout punctured her thoughts. She looked around blearily, surprised by the early morning sky. She couldn't remember making camp, couldn't remember much before that either. She needed to snap back to reality, to leave Freya in the recesses of her mind. For now, at least.

"He was supposed to be on guard." The echo of Gwen's voice, the worry... It stirred her. Gwen was her friend. She needed to help her.

"He should have woken us up long before now." Gwen was standing. Merlyn struggled to her feet, grabbing for her sword. The others continued to shout, Percival pulling her in Leon's vague direction. She hadn't heard the instructions, but the further she got from Lamia, the less her mind swam. That was good.

~

Arthur had forced his men to awaken by sunrise, the group of them marching through the forest with new intent. They scoured the ground, following a set of tracks Arthur had found leading into the forest. They had come quite close to the trader's camp; the king could feel bile rise in his throat. It would be Merlyn's luck to come across a murderous magical creature on her travels.

"Six horses heading east. The tracks are no more than a day old." He announced to his men, wondering what on earth had forced his men away from Camelot. If he was honest with himself, he already knew the answer.

~

Leon and Percival carried Elyan back into camp, Merlyn and Gwaine scurrying ahead of them for medical supplies.

"Elyan!" Gwen cried at the sight of her brother. "What happened to him?"

"I don't know. We found him like this." Leon said gravely. Merlyn could feel some quiet drifting into her mind, but she pushed it away, focusing on the potentially injured knight. She saw Gwen and Percival share a knowing glance, but there was no time to swap theories.

"We need to get him back to Camelot now." She said with force that surprised even herself. The knights nodded, but at that moment Lamia stood, gazing at them with mock earnest.

"I know this area. There's a castle not far from here. We could take shelter there. You could tend to your friend." She suggested, speaking more than Merlyn had realised.

Leon seemed convinced. "Then lead the way."

"We don't need shelter, thank you." Percival swept in, far more polite than Merlyn was feeling. "Elyan needs a physician."

"He's right." Gwen piped up, but it was no use.

"Silence! Both of you! I outrank both of you and I say that you can either come with us or you can stay here. It's up to you."

Merlyn considered challenging him, but he and Gwaine seemed intent to drag Elyan along to this castle; she still wasn't sure what magic Lamia possessed. Besides, it didn't sound so bad, did it? She could tend to Elyan, and Lamia would be safe.

~

Gwen had been so sure that Merlyn had snapped out of whatever daze she had fallen into, but as they gathered the horses, she did so obediently, riding up front with Gwaine by her side. Percival fell back with her, the pair a few metres behind the next horse, plotting their next move.

"We could try reasoning with them, tell them Lamia's responsible for what's happening." She suggested, knowing her plan was doomed the moment it left her lips.

"They won't listen to reason. You've seen how they are. It's like they're under an enchantment." Percival's gaze was fixed on the back of Gwaine's head. It was odd that he hadn't been affected like the rest of the men.

"We have to do something." Gwen wondered what Merlyn would do if she was in her right mind. Probably something heroic. Or stupid.

"Arthur's our only hope now. We've been gone too long; he must know something's wrong. Besides, he can't function without Merlyn." A flicker of a smile appeared on Percival's lips. He knew something Gwen didn't, perhaps. Then again, she was far more observant than most thought.

"He'll never find us now. We're in the middle of nowhere." Gwen sighed, glancing over her shoulder, as if hoping to see a red cape fluttering in the wind.

"We need to give him some help." Percival said slyly. He had a plan.

~

Arthur was lost. Not in the woods, he knew where they were, but as he stared sorrowfully at the ground, no more prints appeared.

"We could be wasting our time, sire." Agravaine appeared over his shoulder like an annoying fly. "For all we know, they could have gone back to Camelot already."

"No. Camelot lies west of here. Tracks are heading east." Besides, he just knew Merlyn was in trouble. He turned to his men. "Fan out, see what you can find."

There had to be something.

~

They left the horses at the top of a steep ridge, scrabbling down towards a dark cave below the castle. Percival had watched Gwen fasten parts of her ripped tunic to trees, hoping it was enough for whatever phantom rescuers followed them into the gloom. Leon had miraculously managed to light a torch. How he had done it, Percival didn't know, but he found himself at the back of the group, reluctantly following Lamia into the black.

"This way." She motioned for them to move past a fallen grate, leading the enamored knights into the tunnel. Gwen followed them, glancing back at Percival worriedly: neither of them knew how this would end. If Lamia was really controlling the others, who knew what else she could do.

Merlyn, he soon realised, had fallen back, stopping just shy of the sunlight. Gwaine moved round her, Elyan on his back, but Percival wondered if he could contact her again. There had been times that she had pulled herself away from the spell, but he couldn't be sure how she managed it. He had theories, of course, as to why he wasn't affected, but nothing he could confirm.

He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her round to face him. She seemed off, her eyes glazed over, almost as if she was listening to something far away. Still, she struggled away from him, as if someone else was working her body.

"This is madness, Merlyn." He hissed, praying that the others didn't turn on him once again. "Elyan needs help and we know nothing about this girl. You've no idea where she's taking you. We need to get back to Gaius, to Arthur."

At the mention of the king, Merlyn paused. The fog in her eyes receded a little; she looked up at Percival, confused.

"Arthur?" She murmured slowly. "Arthur... But what about Freya?"

That name again. He'd heard it before, whispered nightmares in the witch's sleep. A lost love.

"Freya isn't here." He said firmly. "We need to return to Arthur."

"Is he in trouble?" There was concern in Merlyn's voice, more emotion than she'd shown in the hours of riding.

Percival almost smiled. Even bewitched, there was nothing Merlyn cared more about than her king. "I... I don't know. But you are, Merlyn. You need to snap out of this."

Whatever spark the witch had possessed died in that moment. The knight swore, feeling foolish. There was no point in appealing to her desire to survive. Her will to live for herself had burned long ago.

"We need... We need to follow them." Merlyn nodded towards where the others had disappeared, pushing Percival away. She started into the darkness, barely waiting for Percival to follow.

He did, begrudgingly. But not without hope. Merlyn was still there. He just had to reach her.

~

Gwen felt goosebumps crawl up her spine a moment before the torches went out. She heard the clang of swords being drawn, trying desperately to see her way through the dark.

"Is everyone all right?" Leon asked urgently, just as Merlyn's torch came back to life. That girl had to be- no. She wasn't meant to know about that.

Merlyn lit Leon's torch with her own, the knights squinting in the sudden light. Elyan looked almost dead on Gwaine's back, his body completely limp.

"Where's Lamia?" Leon asked, surging forward into the caverns. The knights followed himself, Gwen finding Percival's alarmed gaze as they followed, unable to shake the feeling that they were walking directly into a trap.

~

Percival felt all the blood drain from his face as the company finally started upwards, bursting out of the tunnels, finding themselves in the dusty halls of the promised castle. Perhaps he'd be glad of the natural light fading through the large windows, but it only shone upon the bones littering the floor.

They were skeletons, complete humans fallen along the walls. Percival wrinkled his nose at the smell of rot, unable to tear his eyes away from the hundred skeletons basked in an unearthly glow.

"What is this place?" He whispered croakily, his voice hoarse. Even the other knights seem to have forgotten their mission, a queasy feeling burning through the pit of their stomachs.

"Whatever it is, it isn't safe." Leon's voice shook. They hadn't been anywhere like this before, no where so utterly wrong. "We need to find Lamia. She could be in danger."

"No, we're the ones in danger Leon. She's brought us here to..." Merlyn had sounded so strong, but as she reached the end of her sentence, she seemed to fade, her eyes glazing over again.

"She's lead us to a trap." Gwen pleaded, trying to find anyone that would listen.

"That's a lie!" Gwaine shouted, but Gwen wasn't giving up.

"She's poisoned your minds and you can't see it. It was Lamia that attacked Elyan."

"Enough!" Leon roared, starting forward towards Gwen. Percival found himself in between them in an instant, reaching his hand out to stop Leon.

"Please, Elyan is hurt." He said as calmly as he could manage. "We need to find him somewhere warm."

Leon heard him. Still glaring at Gwen, he stormed out of the room, intent to find some fireplaces inside these chilling walls.

~

It didn't take long for the knights to give up on their marching, Merlyn shuffling behind, lost in thought. Gwen didn't know what was happening with her friend, but she hoped she would snap out of it soon.

"Gwaine and I will search for Lamia." Leon announced as Percival lamely tried to start a fire with the rotten wood around him. Merlyn knelt next to him, the fire roaring to life a moment later. Merlyn seemed to have a gift with fires.

Leon grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, twisting her around to face him. "You will stay here and you will do what Percival tells you to do. Do I make myself clear?"

Gwen nodded shakily, privately glad to be abandoned by the stupid knights. It was scary, the way they spoke to her. She wasn't sure how long they had before Percival wouldn't be able to stop them from... She didn't want to think about that.

~

Arthur was beginning to get cross. The woods felt like they were against him, each path leading to another dead end. All was silent but the sound of horse's hooves, the animals struggling forward after a tiring day. They wouldn't have long left before darkness overcame them.

"It's impossible." He felt frenzied, his muscles aching as they failed miserably to pick up the trail. "They can't have just disappeared."

He ran his hand through his hair again which, by now, he was sure stuck up in multiple directions. He was probably quite a sight to see.

"It could be that we're following the wrong tracks, my lord." Agravaine suggested, riding uneasily towards him. "Any number of people pass through these woods."

Agravaine's voice of reason only annoyed the king. He couldn't bear to think that he had lost them. Her.

"It was them. I know it was." He couldn't explain it, but he knew he was right.

His uncle knew better than to argue further. "Maybe we should go back to Longstead, try again in the morning."

The sun was starting to set through the trees, but Arthur was in no mood to give up. "By morning, they could all be dead."

"They're knights of Camelot, my lord." Agravaine said frankly. "They're more than capable of looking after themselves."

Arthur couldn't deny that. Still...

"Maybe so." He acknowledged. "But you're forgetting one thing, Uncle. Gwen is with them."

It was a flimsy excuse. Gwen was perfectly capable of looking after herself, but he couldn't turn back on them now. He couldn't stand another night without knowing that Merlyn was safe.

"We keep going." Arthur decided, in no mood to argue. "All night if necessary."

He started away from Agravaine, determined to find them. Her.

~

Merlyn was eerie, sitting up against a wall, rocking slowly back and forth as they stared into the darkness. She was so pale, even in the yellow of the flickering flames, something awful behind her eyes. Gwen sat with Elyan's head in her lap, stroking his hair softly. Percival stood near her, sword drawn. They hadn't heard anything in a while now, the echoes of Gwaine and Leon receding deep into the castle. Gwen wasn't sure if she'd ever see them again.

"I don't understand it. Why haven't we been enchanted? Why only the other knights? Merlyn?" She couldn't look up, listening to Percival sigh, finally retreating towards the fire. He sat next to her, placing his sword on the solid ground. When she looked up, he was staring at her, something tired in his eyes.

"I can't be sure." He said slowly. "I can only speak for myself, but this curse... It's made them obsessed with her. Perhaps they think they love her, but I know..."

"That you never could." Gwen finished for him. The look Percival gave her was one of vague surprise, but he nodded thoughtfully.

"I've never really felt anything towards a woman before. But Gwaine and I..." Percival trailed off again, his eyes glazed over.

"It's okay. I understand." Gwen rubbed his very broad shoulder. "It makes sense. Lancelot and I... I could never love another."

There was a moment of silence.

"I don't think that's true." The knight spoke softly, staring back into the fire.

Gwen didn't know what to say to that.

"What about Merlyn?" She asked finally. It was odd to see her friend so vulnerable. Unnerving.

"Merlyn loves Arthur." Percival said with certainty. "I think that's why Lamia can't get her fully under her spell, but Arthur wasn't her only love."

"Freya?" Gwen remembered the name from the forest.

Percival nodded. "It was a long time ago."

"Do you know what happened?" Gwen asked, suddenly realising how little she knew about Merlyn's love life... Well, anything that wasn't Arthur.

Gwen was expecting Percival's voice, but it wasn't he who spoke.

"She died." Merlyn turned to face them, her face streaked with tears. "She died and I couldn't save her."

"Merlyn..." Gwen put Elyan gently on the floor, crossing the room to her friend. She sat beside her, wrapping her arms around her and squeezing her tightly.

"It was my fault. If I'd just been faster..."

"No, Merlyn." Gwen said sharply, wiping her friend's wet cheeks. "It wasn't your fault."

"How would you know? You weren't there." Merlyn pointed out, always so clever even when it came to her own suffering.

"Because I know you, Merlyn. I know you would have done anything you could." Gwen could feel the self-hatred radiating from her friend, a hotness so overpowering, it took everything she had not to fall into the same pit of despair.

"She's right, Merlyn." Percival crouched just in front of them so very gently. "It wasn't your fault."

There was something in the way he said it, some deep understanding that Gwen couldn't quite comprehend, but it was like his words had awoken Merlyn. She looked up at him, holding his gaze, a brave smile gracing her lips.

"Thank you." She said quietly, squeezing Gwen's hand. "I think I understand now."

As if to punctuate her words, Gwaine's scream burst through the dusty air.

Merlyn leapt to her feet. For the first time in a while, her eyes were clear. She brushed a hand through her hair, her expression grave.

"Whatever you do, don't leave this room." She ordered to the two of them, glancing at Elyan.

"No, I want to come with you." Gwen pleaded. "You haven't been well, Merlyn. What if..."

"If she enchants me again?" Merlyn almost grinned. "I'd like to see her try."

And without, she ran off into the darkness. Gwen wanted to shout after her, to follow her to the end of the world, but something told her that, just this once, everything was going to be okay.

~

Merlyn had been on one hell of a ride.

She didn't remember much, but that didn't seem to matter as she crept through another crumbling archway, following a hissing that certainly did not belong to the fragile girl she'd helped in the forest. Never before had she felt so much clarity, truly understood her purpose. She was put on this earth to save Arthur, to bring Camelot to its golden age, and instead she had fucked her once and future king, fallen in love with him and made friends that she would be damned if she let go. Will, Freya, her father, Lancelot... It wasn't a list she would let get any longer. Lamia may be powerful, but Percival had been right. All the guilt that was eating her up inside wasn't exactly healthy. She couldn't blame herself forever. She had to move on.

And if that meant killing a sour, evil beast, then so be it.

"Gwaine." She whispered, trying to listen for any kind of footsteps. There was nothing but her own, but as she rounded a corner, the glint of chainmail caught her eye.

She moved forward quickly grasping Gwaine by the shoulder to pull him to face her, but as she did he fell, Merlyn struggling to hold him up. He was completely limp, his face gaunt, his skin cold. If she didn't know any better, she would say that he was dead.

~

Arthur almost laughed when he saw the first piece of fabric tied to a branch.

He could feel his men's exhaustion, their sluggish movements as they trotted behind him, none of them looking forward to searching in the dark. Agravaine had made numerous comments about finding somewhere to camp, but Arthur had heard none of it. He was getting closer to Merlyn. He could sense it.

"Agravaine!" He shouted, tearing it from its branch. The material was familiar, a certain shade of pale blue. He remembered Merlyn mentioning it once for a birthday gift, Gwen's favourite colour.

"It's Gwen's." He announced, relief flooding his senses.

"How can you be certain?" Agravaine questioned, always so very careful.

Arthur stared at the fabric, Merlyn flashing through his mind. She'd held the tunic up for him to see as she shakily embroidered it, the brief glimpse of a daisy imprinted onto the blue. She'd never had the patience for such work, but he knew Gwen had slowly been teaching her. She'd been so proud of this piece.

"I just know." He explained, tucking the cloth in his cloak. "We must be close."

He rode off into the forest, leaving no time to argue. They couldn't be too far from them now. He had to believe it.

Eventually, the treeline broke, the king suddenly confronted with a view of the mountains peaking at the horizon. The sun was getting dangerously low, but Arthur wouldn't give up now. Ahead was a castle, the weary brick sticking up in the distance. It looked abandoned, but he could only hope it may hold some clues as to the whereabouts of his friends.

"Come on." He ushered his men forwards, determined to squash the fear pounding in his chest.

~

Merlyn wasn't sure what she expected as she sprinted around the next corner, but it certainly wasn't a hissing Lamia leaning over an unconscious Leon trying to kiss him. She blinked, images of Freya flooding back into her mind, but she dispelled them in a moment. This was not Freya. Lamia wasn't even close. She wouldn't besmirch the thought of her fallen lover with this mockery again.

She strode forward, refusing to cower. "You won't find me such easy prey."

Lamia stood, a bold smirk upon her face, her eyes flashing green. "Your magic holds no fear for me. You fell under my spell just as easily as the others. I could have killed you any time I wished."

Merlyn stared deep into her eyes, power throbbing in her veins. "Then... What are you waiting for?"

Hissing burst through the air as Lamia's eyes turned green, Merlyn thrown back against the stone wall. She stayed down for a moment, looking for some kind of weapon she could use. Her own sword was beside her, but Leon's, abandoned much closer to Lamia on the floor, caught her eye.

"Þurhdrif hie ecg."

The sword hovered before launching forwards, running Lamia through in an instant. She gasped, staggering backwards before tripping over a fallen column, disappearing from sight.

Merlyn wasted no time in reaching Leon, checking for his pulse. He had one, although it was weaker than Merlyn would have liked.

Hissing erupted through the halls again. Clearly Lamia hadn't just decided to die. Disappointing, really.

Cautiously, Merlyn approached the column Lamia had fallen behind. All she could hear was her shallow breathing, the creature nowhere in sight. For a moment, Merlyn thought that she might have imagined the hissing, but then, out of nowhere, a large tentacle hit her in the face.

She fell back, disorientated. As she looked up to where she expected Lamia to be, in her place was an awful monster, like nothing she had ever seen. It had long tentacles protruding from its face, the whole thing a deathly shade of purple. Merlyn scrambled back, its green eyes awful in the dark. Frantically, she ran, hoping to keep its eyes off of Leon. She needed to do something before it caught up to her.

"Feall hushefen."

The ceiling crumbled, burying Lamia under a pile of debris. Seconds passed and there was no sound.

But with a terrible screech, Lamia pounced, hitting Merlyn once again. She struggled to her feet, drawing her sword as she ran. She'd need all the protection that she could get.

"Merlyn!" Gwen shouted from just ahead. Merlyn had almost stumbled into her. Grabbing Gwen, Merlyn pulled her away from the monster, glad to see that she was armed. Even if she hadn't wanted Gwen to get into this trouble, it was good to know there was another sword on hand.

Eventually, however, they had to stop running. Merlyn felt a tentacle wrap itself around her ankle, pulling her to the floor. Gwen tried to help her get away, but it was no use. Twisting her sword free, she was about to throw it when Gwen was brought down beside her, knocking into her arm and sending the blade flying away from them.

"Give me your sword!" She shouted at Gwen as Lamia pulled them both towards it, something smug in those horrible green eyes. Gwen shook her head, seeming oddly exasperated for the situation.

"Just use your-" she never did finish that sentence. The tentacles became limp, Llamia tumbling forward, a shiny sword firmly thrust into its back. Behind the monster, stood Arthur.

Thank fuck.

"Arthur!" Gwen exclaimed, clearly surprised. Merlyn just stared at him, watching him stare back. Slowly, she stood up, stepping over the Llamia to reach her king. She met his gaze, wondering if the same crazed panic, the same overwhelming relief was reflected upon her face as it was his. And then she wrapped her arms around him, doing her best not to cry. They were going to be okay.

"It's almost good to see you, Merlyn." He whispered in her ear. She could feel his grin against her ear.

"Likewise." She mumbled into his neck, hoping she would never have to let go.

"You carry on. Don't worry about me." Gwen murmured from behind her. Merlyn reluctantly let go of Arthur, feeling his hands retreat from her waist.

"Sorry." She smiled weakly, extending an arm to help Gwen up. Her friend took it, groaning as she stood. Merlyn had the feeling she wasn't the only one that never wanted to see this place again.

~

They returned to Longstead, Elyan, Gwaine and Leon needing a good rest before they headed back to Camelot. Arthur had spent most of his time with Merlyn, the pair of them wandering through the muddy streets, telling the local children stories of their adventures. The events of the past few days seemed to have gotten to Merlyn, however: it wasn't long before her head was resting on his shoulder, her eyes drifting shut. He'd carried her to the hut he had been so graciously given for the night by one of the townsfolk, leaving her to sleep off her travels.

It would be a simple life, he thought, watching his sleeping beauty rolling in the furs. They would be happy here, or some other tiny village, with no more responsibilities than tending to cattle and making sure the crops grew the right way. Merlyn would love it, he was sure. But then, it was nothing but a foolish fantasy. Arthur couldn't leave Camelot and Merlyn, well. Merlyn wouldn't leave Arthur. Her devotion scared him sometimes, more so than her wisdom and courage. He didn't deserve her.

Walking back into the daytime, leaving his fantasies behind him, Arthur headed to where his knights were being kept, supposing he should probably check on their well-being.

"How are they?" He asked Gaius, who was merrily potting about around his patients. He too looked liked a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"I have given them the same compound that cured the villagers, sire. They're fortunate that you got to them when you did."

Arthur was quite glad he hadn't lost any fine men.

"Thank you, Gaius." He said quietly, patting the man on the shoulder. Percival sat up, reaching his hand up to grasp Arthur's arm with all his usual strength. They would be better soon. For now, at least, it seemed that Camelot was safe.

Chapter Text

Arthur had sent Merlyn home early for the evening, ignoring her raised eyebrow, her light-hearted confusion. She hadn't argued, joking about some long-awaited trip to the tavern before she had left, her dark curls disappearing through the door in the early evening. Arthur poured himself a goblet filled with wine, standing by his window as he waited for the familiar footsteps, gazing out upon Camelot as his uncle entered the room.

"Uncle." He greeted, not quite ready to turn and face the man. He swallowed another mouthful of wine, glad for the drink. No matter how sure he was with his decision, he couldn't help his relief at the calm that washed over him with each sip.

"It's late, Arthur. What's troubling you?" Agravaine questioned, his voice edged with concern. The king could almost hear his eyebrows furrowing.

Finally Arthur tore his eyes away from the city below, fixing them on Agravaine. "Nothing. Nothing at all. But I've made a decision, and I felt it only right to inform you right away, though I fear you will not like what I have to say."

He didn't give Agravaine any chance to reply. "I'm going to marry Merlyn. That is, if she says yes."

His uncle, predictably, did not look happy. "Sire-"

"No." Arthur didn't need this. He knew what he felt and there was nothing that could be said to change his mind. "I know what you're going to say. She's a servant, I'm the king. It's not the done thing."

"I fear it's a little more serious than that." Agravaine muttered, but Arthur was ready to argue his case.

"Merlyn has proved herself a valuable support to both me and the kingdom. I will not ignore the role she has played in my life for a moment longer."

Agravaine scoffed. "You don't need a woman for support, sire. I'm your council."

Arthur could have hit him. He span back towards the window in an attempt to hide his disgust. It was true that his uncle had guided him on many important matters of court, but Merlyn... Merlyn had saved his life, his kingdom. She had never lied to him, at least, not without good reason. She was good and brilliant and looked towards him as if he could change Camelot for good. He wanted to be better, to be braver when he was with her. Agravaine couldn't compete.

"I fear you have rather too much stubble to be my wife." He quipped, suppressing a smile at his uncle's stony face. "Good counsel, solid support and true love... She's exactly what I need. I don't want a queen who spends her days floating around the castle, agreeing with my every word. And the people don't want that either. I've made up my mind. I want Merlyn to be my queen, and I want you to accept her as such."

He was asking a lot, Arthur knew that. Agravaine represented many of the nobles when it came to the unspoken code that restrained his court. He had already bent their will by allowing lowly born men to become knights; this would not necessarily go down well with everyone. Merlyn was a popular servant, yes, but that didn't mean everyone would accept her as queen. But quite frankly, Arthur couldn't bring himself to care. Contrary to what he'd told Agravaine, if Merlyn wanted to spend her days wandering around in floaty dresses making small talk with courtiers, he would be happy. If Merlyn staged a coup to put herself on the throne, he'd get over it. He loved Merlyn. If she agreed to marry him, he would fight whomever got in their way so that they could get somewhere towards their happy ending.

Agravaine smiled tentatively, nodding slowly. Good. He seemed to realise that he had no choice.

~

Morgana heard Agravaine wander into her hobble, but waited until his hand was on her shoulder before pulling out her knife, directing it towards his throat. He needed a little terror in his blood. His life was too easy.

"My lady." Agravaine hissed, eying the blade. Morgana retracted it, glancing at him with disdain.

"You better have a good reason for interrupting me at this hour."

"I'm afraid I do." Agravaine did seem oddly grim. He stepped backwards, sitting on the only other shoddily crafted stool in the hut. "Arthur is to make Merlyn his queen."

Morgana's heart almost stopped.

"It's just like in my dream." She murmured. "I will not see her on my throne!"

Not with Arthur. She couldn't stand the thought.

"I don't see how we can stop her." Agravaine seemed helpless, a genuine loathing hidden in his eyes. Merlyn, Morgana supposed, represented everything he despised about Arthur's reign. She had thwarted his every attempt to get close to Arthur, had tarnished his reputation. This was personal for him.

"Leave me." Morgana waved Agravaine away. "I need to think."

She didn't have much time, but there had to be a way. They didn't belong together.

~

Merlyn had been rather enjoying her night off. She lay on her bed, her eyes burning as she stared at the ceiling, twirling amber sparks around her head in swirling patterns. It was mindless, the cooling embers reassembling into Arthur's face, Gwen's, Lancelot's, Morgana's... It was these quiet nights that she missed her friend. These days, being alone always left her tinged with sadness, a remembrance of all she had done that could be hidden with the business of the day.

Slowly, she let the shining embers die, one by one, the sparks fading into the gentle breeze wafting through her open window. Staring up into the darkness, she listened to the world around her, the soft clunk of metal somewhere in the distance. The guards, she thought.

Sitting up, Merlyn realised she was being watched. A familiar figure stood in her doorway, his expression invisible in the shadows.

"Arthur." Merlyn greeted him, lighting the candle next to her bedside. He couldn't have been standing there for long; he didn't seem to have seen her light display.

"Merlyn." The king echoed her, but didn't move, his gaze firmly upon her.

"Is something wrong?" Merlyn was puzzled. This wasn't the first time Arthur had visited her in the dark, but he wasn't usually so motionless.

"No, no." He shook his head, finally stepping into her room. Merlyn stood herself, curious. The king lifted his hand, a strip of fabric held loosely within it. If she didn't know any better, Merlyn would have thought that this was one of their games, but Arthur's manner wasn't right for that.

Wordlessly, she stepped towards him, close enough that she could feel his breath on her face. She turned, allowing him to blindfold her in silence, feeling his hand tug her out of the door.

She almost fell down the stairs, but Arthur caught her. Normally, he would have laughed at her clumsiness, but all he did was pull her out of the physician's chambers. He was nervous.

Although Merlyn prided herself on her knowledge of the castle, she was led down so many twists and turns that she had no idea where she could possibly be. Her heart started beating in her chest, but she refrained from breaking the quiet that hung between herself and Arthur. Whatever this was, she was sure all would become clear soon enough.

Eventually she felt grass beneath her; she knew she was out of the castle itself. Arthur stopped suddenly, causing Merlyn to bump into him.

"You are a clumsy one, aren't you?" Arthur let out a stilted chuckle, but he didn't sound so sure of himself. Merlyn frowned, mystified as to why the king was behaving so oddly.

With shaking fingers, Arthur removed the blindfold. Merlyn couldn't help her mouth from falling open as her vision returned.

They were on the training field, where she had first challenged Arthur so very long ago. It was dotted with candles, their shimmering light amber in the night. The stars too twinkled above them; Camelot seemed so empty, utterly quiet. It was if there was only the two of them in the whole world, in this illuminated paradise.

It was beautiful.

And yet Merlyn's heart sunk in her chest. She knew what this meant. Arthur wasn't ready.

She looked back to him, only to find that he was on one knee, a silver ring held out towards her. Two dragons encircled each other upon it; Merlyn was almost sad that the irony was lost on Arthur.

"Marry me." Arthur said, never truly one for long speeches. They knew how they felt about one another. There was nothing left to say.

Merlyn could feel the tears on her cheeks. She knelt, wrapping her arms around Arthur, placing her head against his chest so that he couldn't see her cry.

"Merlyn?" Arthur sounded concerned. Then again, he certainly should have been. He wasn't ready to know.

Merlyn released him, taking his face in her hands, trying to ignore his worry. She stared into his eyes, memorising every inch of love and devotion within them. "Just look at me one last time with love in your eyes, Arthur. Just look at me. Once I tell you, I don't know if you'll ever see me in the same way again."

"Tell me what? Merlyn, you're scaring me." Arthur didn't understand; perhaps he never would. But she couldn't marry him, not when he didn't know what she was.

"I love you, Arthur. I love you more than anything. But I... I can't marry you. Not until you know..." She had to focus, had to wipe the tears away. This was the moment, even if it was the wrong one.

"I have magic."

There was a long moment of silence. Arthur just stared at her.

"Look, if you don't want to marry me-"

"No." Merlyn cut him off. "I want to marry you more than anything. I just can't hide this from you anymore."

Arthur stared at her in disbelief. He couldn't believe it, she supposed.

He gestured towards her, seeming to question everything he'd ever known about his servant. "Prove it."

Merlyn nodded shakily. Without breaking eye contact, she felt her eyes glow. The flames from the candles merged together, forming the dragon from the Pendragon crest. It flew above their heads before dispersing, returning back to the individual candlesticks.

Arthur's sword came to rest on her throat.

Merlyn didn't break his gaze. She nodded once, trying to keep her expression neutral. She would not beg for her life.

"You know every part of me now, Arthur." She said, doing her best to keep her voice steady. "If you choose to kill me, then so be it."

She waited to feel the cold metal slice into her neck. She waited for crimson to leak from the cut, staining her clothing. She waited for Arthur to move, to attack, to scream, to act. But there they stood, statues in a silent world.

And then the sword was gone. Arthur staggered back, turning his back on his servant.

"Guards!" He shouted, punctuated by the sound of moving metal in the distance.

They both stood in the middle of the field, one turned away from the other. As the men approached, Merlyn did her best not to crumble. Honestly, this hadn't been an outcome she'd anticipated. She thought she'd now either be engaged or dead. Honestly anything would be better than this purgatory.

And then it struck her.

"Arthur, I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but please, don't tell Agravaine of my... Powers. You won't believe me, but he's working with Morgana. He plotted to kidnap Gaius, to kill your father. I don't know what you have planned for me, but he cannot know."

If the king wished to reply, he did not have time. The guards soon rounded the corner, looking around for some invisible enemy.

"Take her to the cells." Arthur ordered, sounding eerily calm. His men paused, but eventually complied, grabbing Merlyn by the shoulders. The king refused to face his former lover as she was silently carried away. The last Merlyn heard of him as she was pulled into the castle was the dull thump of a lost man falling to his knees.

~

Gaius was getting far too old for his own good. He'd known it for a while, his old joints creaking as he staggered up stairs, the groan of his muscles if he stayed on his feet for too long. His body was slowly failing him, his lungs gasping for air as he descended the steps to the dungeons. News traveled fast, even in a sleepy night. It hadn't taken long for a flustered guard to come banging on his door, practically pushing him towards the cells. He hadn't got any real information as to why Merlyn had been sent there, but he could guess. She had been living on borrowed time, after all.

It took a moment for Gaius' eyes to adjust to the overwhelming darkness, for him to find Merlyn with her knees to her chest, her eyes fixed on the floor, in the far corner of her cell. There was little light, a few candles flickering across the stone walls, casting long shadows into the enclosed air. No one had stopped him as he approached her, the guards shifting out of sight as he reached the bars. Only when Gaius was the only one left did she look up. She seemed to have aged a thousand years.

"I had to tell him." She croaked, looking beseechingly at her mentor. "He proposed and I... I couldn't hide it from him anymore."

"I know, my dear." Gaius sighed, wincing as he lowered himself to the ground, leaning on the bars for support. "We both knew that this day would come."

Merlyn nodded slowly, but didn't seem to hear him.

"He hates me." Her eyes welled with tears. They were bloodshot, stained red in anguish.

"No, he doesn't." Gaius knew that he spoke the truth. Arthur could never hate Merlyn, just as Merlyn could never truly hate Arthur. Their destinies were entwined, as, it seemed, were there souls.

"I wish he'd killed me." Merlyn spoke bitterly. "It would have been easier."

"When have our lives ever been easy?" Gaius questioned, arching his eyebrow. "Merlyn, Arthur loves you more than anything, more than Camelot even. He will not turn his back on you now."

"And if he does?" It wasn't often Merlyn showed such uncertainty. She really didn't know the depth of the king's devotion, Gaius realised.

"He won't. He can't. Arthur is upset, yes, but he will eventually understand."

Merlyn looked so lost. "When? After he cuts my head off? After I've wasted away in here?"

Gaius shook his head."We won't let that happen. We'll get you out-"

"No." Merlyn interrupted, something blazing in her eyes. "I forbid it. I will not let anyone else risk their lives for me. If Arthur orders me dead, then I will die. I have defied him enough."

Gaius was taken aback by her sudden show of passion, but he knew enough not to disagree. Merlyn was a stubborn fool; there was nothing he could say that could change her mind.

"Gaius, you are like a father to me. You have taught me so much. I am sorry it has come to this, but my fate is Arthur's to decide. I hope you understand." Merlyn wasn't looking at him anymore, her expression resolute as she stared at the wall behind him. Gaius knew a dismissal when he saw it.

"I will talk to him." He said, standing shakily. He didn't know if he could survive Camelot without Merlyn. He took a few steps towards the exit, but her voice stopped him.

"Gaius," she called, "don't endanger yourself. You have helped me so much over the last few years; don't you dare throw away everything you have to end up in a cell next to mine."

The physician didn't reply. He couldn't promise anything; he was sure that Merlyn knew that. He would do what he could to secure her freedom. He could only hope it would be enough.

~

"Why the fuck is Merlyn in the dungeons?" Gwaine shouted as he stormed into Arthur's chambers, the king sitting at his desk, a goblet in hand. "You can't arrest her just because she refused your proposal."

"Stand down, Gwaine." Arthur spoke through gritted teeth as the others piled in. Percival and Elyan grabbed Gwaine's arms, restraining him from doing anything rash. Leon, looking suitably embarrassed, followed them in, closing the door behind him.

"Well?" Gwaine asked, slightly calmer as he saw Arthur's bedraggled state, unfazed by the knights holding him back.

And in that moment, Arthur knew he had a choice. He could tell them, watch their reactions for repulsion or disgust. He could brandish Merlyn's secret, break their hearts in two just as she had his. He could tell them and watch as they grappled the magic with the image of the Merlyn they knew, tried to understand how she could possibly be evil enough to learn magic.

And then he looked at them.

Gwaine wouldn't care, he realised. Hell, he probably already knew. Neither would Percival: they had both been brought up outside of Camelot, hadn't learned of the true nature of magic. Elyan... Elyan had heard the stories, but he'd traveled far beyond Camelot's walls; who knew how his opinion had been warped. Leon would probably take his side. He knew of the evils of magic, what it had cost the land.

Arthur met Gwaine's fierce gaze.

"Leave me." He said, ready for the argument. It had all been so easy before that night. Magic was bad and Merlyn was good. Now he didn't know how he was wrong.

There must have been something in his eyes, in his voice, but whilst Gwaine continued to stare at him, fury in his eyes, he let himself be dragged away by Elyan.

"This isn't over." He vowed, the door shutting behind him.

Percival, however, hadn't moved.

"I told you to leave." Arthur growled, wine sloshing in his head. He really needed to be alone.

"She told you?" Percival asked, ignoring the king's order. Arthur paused, looking up at the large man. He hadn't been expecting that.

"You knew?" He asked, surprised. Percival and Merlyn had never seemed particularly close, certainly not enough to share this secret.

Percival nodded, seeming a little sheepish.

If Arthur had the strength, he'd have picked up his sword.

"How?" He said instead, unable to believe that Merlyn would have entrusted something so serious to his knight, especially when...

When she hadn't trusted him.

"She didn't tell me, my lord." Percival assured him, as if he could read his thoughts. Could he? "When my village was destroyed, I was taken in by druids. They showed me nothing but kindness, and in return, I vowed to protect Merlyn."

"But why?" Arthur asked, his curiosity overcoming his resistant discomfort.

"Merlyn is very important to their faith." Percival shrugged. "As are you. They say together you will bring about the Golden Age."

The Golden Age. Arthur had only heard stories, whispers of a perfect land. He had never thought there was any truth to them, was still hesitant to believe it.

"What does she have to do with this? She's just a servant." Arthur frowned, his cloudy head full of puzzles.

Percival gave him a sympathetic smile. "That woman has saved your life more times than you know."

Arthur nodded, but he didn't really understand.

"Can you..? He gestured vaguely with his hands. Percival seemed to know what he meant.

"No. I can't use magic."

Arthur hoped he was telling the truth.

"Percival, you spoke of my destiny." He didn't know if he wanted to know the answer to this question, but he knew he had to ask it. "Did that include what I feel for her?"

There was a thin smile on the knight's lips. "No. I don't know much about fate, but your feelings are your own. As are hers."

Arthur didn't know what to say to that. He was saved from responding by a knock on the door.

"Arthur?" Agravaine sounded grave.

"Enter." The king ordered. Percival gave him a short bow, taking the cue to leave. Arthur wasn't sure what he would do with the knight yet. His honesty had saved him, perhaps.

"Arthur, what has happened?" Agravaine asked once they were alone, obviously confused. "I thought the two of you were happy; what has gone wrong?"

This was the moment. She had warned him that his uncle wasn't to be trusted, had pleaded in her final seconds of freedom that her secret would be kept from him. That had to mean something. But did it matter? If she was truly evil, why should he listen to her cries? If she wasn't the woman he thought she was, what did he owe her?

And then there was Percival. This big destiny. Did she know about it? Probably. Was that why she had come to Camelot? He had so many questions, so much only she could answer. Should he have killed her where she stood? No. Instinctively, no. For the first time in years, he felt truly alone. He couldn't ask her what she thought, couldn't rely on her advice. He supposed if she was truly malicious, she'd had ample time to watch his kingdom crumble. Still, his father's warnings span in his head, that sorcerers were conniving, clever. He didn't know what to do.

"Arthur?" Agravaine appeared worried, but was that an act? This was too much.

No, it wasn't. Arthur knew what he had to do.

"It is none of your concern, uncle." He said, repressing all emotion. "I have things under control."

If Agravaine was surprised, he didn't show it. Perhaps he sensed that the king was in no mood to talk that night.

"Very well, my lord. Goodnight."

And a moment later, Arthur was alone again, wondering if he should be making yet another arrest that night.

~

"Could you bring him back?"

Merlyn hadn't slept, that was obvious. Gwen knelt by the bars, pressing her face between them as she stared at the hunched figure imprisoned by the cold iron. She had known, of course. There were too many coincidences surrounding the mysterious servant. Lancelot had only confirmed her suspicions.

Merlyn had never looked so defeated. She eyed her friend wearily. "Gwen-"

"Could you do it?" It was a difficult question, one she hadn't been bold enough to ask until this point. She knew there were more important things happening, but as she'd descended towards the dingy cell, strange after the morning air, it had been the only question on her mind.

"Perhaps, but he wouldn't be the same." Merlyn answered reluctantly. "He would be but a shadow of his former self."

It wasn't the answer Gwen had expected. She felt tears start to form in her eyes, but she shook them away. "That would be enough."

For the first time, Merlyn reached forward, crawling until she could press her hands against her friend's, their foreheads touching.
"Gwen," she whispered, seeming desperate to make sure she understood, "I won't disturb his rest. He deserves peace; I won't take that from him.

It was clearly something that haunted her. Gwen squeezed her eyes shut, resisting the urge to shout, to cry that it wasn't fair, that Arthur was throwing away his chance at true love when hers was forever lost. But Merlyn didn't need that, not now. "You're right. You're always right."

The witch laughed humourlessly, shuffling back slightly. "No, I think if last night proved anything, that is absolutely not true."

Gwen frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I made a mistake with Arthur, with all of you. I didn't let you see me for who I truly am, didn't trust you with what made me whole. I have magic, Gwen."

Wasn't that obvious. "That's not a bad thing." Gwen shrugged.

"No." Merlyn shook her head. "No it's not. But hiding it from you all was the hardest thing I've done. In some cases, perhaps the worst. What would Morgana be now if she knew that she wasn't alone?"

It was a question Gwen had privately wondered about herself on her sleepless nights. What would she have done if she knew about Morgana's magic? Would Merlyn's confession have made a difference? It seemed likely, but she couldn't find it within herself to blame her friend, not with Morgana's position.

"You were alone too, Merlyn, and you still saved us. You're good; you can't blame yourself for the paths of others forever." Lancelot had taught her that, to forgive herself for her own ignorance.

There was something dark in Merlyn's eyes. "You don't know all the things that I've done."

Gwen smiled certainly. "Merlyn, I know you. I know your heart. Whatever else you may be, you're not a monster. You still have friends, people who believe in you."

Merlyn's expression soured. "He used to believe in me."

Arthur. Of course.

"He still does, he just doesn't want to admit it." Gwen truly believed that. Once he got his head out of his royal behind, he would see what was right in front of him.

"Lancelot knew; he accepted me. You know." Merlyn spoke sadly, more hopeless than Gwen had ever seen her.

There was no point denying it. "I do."

"He told you?" She didn't seem upset, simply curious.

Gwen grabbed one of Merlyn's hands. "Yes, although I suspected. Don't be angry with him: he knew I'd understand."

The witch's eyes widened. "I'm not, I could never be. I wish you'd told me."

That surprised Gwen. She'd assumed this wasn't something Merlyn spoke about "What difference would it have made?"

Merlyn gave her a sour smile. "Oh, Gwen. It would've meant everything to me."

"I'm sorry."

That took her by surprise. "For what?"

Gwen stared at her incredulously. "For not telling you that I knew."

"No." Merlyn shook her head. "I'm sorry for not telling you in the first place. I trusted you, but..."

"You were scared?" Gwen understood.

"Terribly. I was terrified of what would happen if I died, to you, to Camelot, to..." Merlyn trailed off, tears pricking at her eyes.

"He still loves you." Gwen said after a moment of silence. It was true, of course. She believed it.

"Perhaps." Merlyn shrugged. "But it doesn't matter now."

"That's not true!" Her friend exclaimed. "It's the only thing that matters. He'll forgive you eventually, you know that."

"Maybe you're right." Merlyn murmured. "But how long will that take?"

Gwen didn't have an answer to that.

"What will you do?" She asked instead, sure that Merlyn knew what she was implying.

"I shall await his decision." Merlyn stated, as if it were the only answer. "I shall stand by what he decides."

Gwen felt herself nodding, certain that Merlyn would not be dying anytime soon.

~

Morgana hadn't expected to hear the gallop of Agravaine's horse so quickly. He rarely risked riding to her during the day, preferring to sneak out at night to prevent curious eyes from spotting his movements. For him to arrive shortly after their conversation, there must have been some mighty developments.

"You have news?" She asked as soon as he entered her hut, his sweaty frame striding towards her, a slimy smirk across his face. She perched on her desk, feeling rather uncomfortable at the smug character. She was much more used to his weakness.

"I do." Agravaine practically beamed. "It seems our problem has sorted itself out. Arthur had Merlyn arrested last night. She's currently awaiting judgement."

Morgana felt like she should be happy, that finally her plans were coming together, but it was a hollow victory. Her relationship with Merlyn was... Complicated. The idea of her suffering had always made her uncomfortable.

"What happened?" Morgana frowned, lines creasing her forehead. There was something very wrong here. Arthur would never imprison Merlyn, not without some incredible reason.

Agravaine's smile faded. "I don't know. I assume something happened at his proposal, but there are no witnesses."

That made the witch's next move more tricky. She'd have to tread carefully.

"You'll have to get Merlyn out of Camelot." She said, knowing her plans would work far better without that meddling servant. "Get her banished or killed, I don't care. She's been a thorn in our sides for too long."

The idea of Merlyn dead made Morgana's stomach turn. Sacrifices had to be made, but she wasn't sure how she'd react if Agravaine returned triumphantly announcing Merlyn's death.

Agravaine's smugness was back. "As you wish, my lady."

He strode out of the hut; Morgana listened to the sound of his horse fading into the distance before she collapsed onto her rickety, tiny bed, staring up at her ceiling as she wondered how, if a love like what she saw between Arthur and Merlyn could fail, anyone else had a chance at all.

~

"That dummy's had enough, don't you think?"

Arthur hadn't even noticed Gwaine's arrival, busy hacking at the straw in front of him with every fibre of his being. It was early, the sun low enough that few had come across his frustration other than the guards patrolling the castle. A pair would pass him now and again, neither turning their heads to stare at the bedraggled king. He hadn't slept. Now as he looked at his dummy, the thing was barely recognisable, a crude imitation of a dying man. It was fitting, he supposed. He did feel as if he was drowning under the weight of his indecision.

"I don't think that's your call to make, Sir Gwaine." He said icily, shaving straw from the dummy's side.

He heard his knight laugh, but it held none of its usual mirth. The king should've known that the scene in his chambers wouldn't be the end of Gwaine's anger. "Of course not, you're the king after all. You can do anything, even leave your most loyal servant to rot in those godforsaken cells."

Arthur saw red. He span to face Gwaine, swiping at him with his blade. The knights reflexes saved his pretty little face, his sword clanging loudly against his beloved king.

"Have you spoken to her lately?" Gwaine spat. "Given her a chance to explain herself? 'Course not. She's just a lowly servant."

Arthur launched himself at the knight, grunting as he pushed the man to the grass, his sword stabbing where Gwaine's head had been just milliseconds before.

"Come on, princess." Gwaine goaded, staggering to his feet. "You can do better than that."

The king swung at the knight's head, but he ducked, kicking out and striking Arthur in the stomach. Arthur tried to kick his legs out from under him, but Gwaine jumped, leaping forward, the point of his sword at the king's throat.

Immediately, there were guards upon him. Arthur wasn't sure why they hadn't interrupted the fight sooner. He stood shakily, wincing at the pain in his stomach. He met Gwaine's gaze, surprised to find his anger gone, replaced with the horrible sensation of pity.

"Take him to the cells. Maybe some time alone will help him reflect on his actions." Arthur waved the guards away, watching them tug Gwaine forward.

"You can punish me, Arthur, but you know I'm right." He shouted as he was led towards the castle. "Your anger is misplaced. You can't condemn her without hearing her out."

Arthur waited for the guards to disappear, to be left alone in the early morning breeze. He slumped against his beaten dummy. God, Gwaine was right, wasn't he? If he wanted answers, he wouldn't find them in the edge of his sword. He really did need to talk to her.

~

She was asleep when he arrived at her cell.

She looked smaller now, more tired than he'd ever seen her. Scrunched up in the corner of that tiny cell, he could hardly recognise her. Still, even with the faint sound of Gwaine's curses, there was an odd peace to her, a lightness to the heavy weight that she always seemed to carry. He understood that now.

For a moment, he considered waking her up, his pressing questions bursting from his mind. But he didn't have the heart. His father would be ashamed of him, he thought. Here was a... A witch. A sorceress? It hardly mattered. Here was a controller of magic, a woman that could destroy all that he held dear; her fate should be obvious. Love had no part to play in his duty. Perhaps he had let it get in the way of what was right, what he had always been told.

But there was a voice in the back of his head, a reminder that he hadn't exactly followed his father's teachings. He had men in his ranks with no noble blood, had aspirations to bring about something akin to the Golden Age Percival had mentioned. If it took witchcraft to get there, then was his father's stance necessary?

He knew what Merlyn would have said before all this. She'd give him a soft smile, told him that he wasn't his father, that he didn't have to let his expectations control his rule. She would have told him to do what he thought was right, to use his judgement.

Looking upon her now, he wondered if he'd ever see her smile again. It didn't seem likely, not in this rancid place. She didn't belong here, that he was certain about. He just wasn't sure where he wanted her to be.

~

Arthur awoke with a sore back, a thick blanket covering his chest. He opened his eyes, stretching, only pausing when he saw Merlyn's eyes open, staring straight at him. He lowered his arms, crossing his arms, the blanket sliding down his torso. She'd got it to him, he was sure of that. He didn't know what to feel.

"Did you really let them all die?" He asked, startled at his own abrupt question. Then again, this wasn't a situation that required pleasantries.

Merlyn knew what he meant, her eyes lowering to the dusty ground. "Some... Some deserved the death your father gave them. Those who killed or hurt for nothing more than their own gain, their deaths were real."

"But?"

Merlyn swallowed, managing to return his gaze. "But... But I couldn't let all of them die. Children, Arthur. People caught using harmless magic, they were the people I saved."

She had played god, then. Queen. He wasn't surprised, just utterly confused.

"There is no such thing as harmless magic." He sneered, finding it easier to fall back into his father's rhetoric. When everything was black and white, he didn't get this dreadful headache.

"Of course there is!" Merlyn exclaimed, seeming almost cross at his perceived deliberate obtuseness. "You don't believe that. You aren't like your father."

Despite everything, Arthur couldn't find it within himself to disappoint her. He couldn't disagree, turning back to the topic at hand. "What did you do with them?"

"The ones I saved?" Merlyn shrugged, oddly detached. "I sent them to the druids. They had no place in Camelot anymore."

"You're a traitor." Arthur spat, trying to find venom behind his words. No matter his feelings, she had betrayed Camelot with her actions, destroyed the foundations that the monarchy were built upon.

Merlyn didn't even blink. "If that's what you truly believe, then I suppose I am. There are things I regret, Arthur. I wish I had told you of my magic earlier, that I had managed to save Morgana. But I won't pretend to regret saving them."

Arthur was taken aback. It was the most emotion Merlyn had shown in their short conversation, a flicker of resentment catching the dim light. She really did care, even if she tried not to show it. He wondered how many she'd saved. Hundreds, perhaps. She'd make a good queen of her people, those she had chosen.

"Why did you choose to learn such a thing?" Arthur asked, realising this probably should have been his first question. It had been the one that had been burning within him, a furious spark that he couldn't quite quench.

There was so much earnesty in Merlyn's expression, an honest sort of pain. "I was born with magic, Arthur. I didn't have a choice."

He flinched at the mention of his own name, a strange fury building within him. How dare she refuse her own responsibility in this mess. "You always have a choice, and you know it. I understand that you didn't tell me when we first met, I was an arrogant ass back then, but it's been years, Merlyn. Why didn't you trust me?"

"I did trust you! I learned to trust you." She paused, sighing deeply. "But I've hidden it all for so long, it became harder and harder to tell you."

"That's not an excuse." He could understand it, he supposed, but he and Merlyn had known eachother for so long... He couldn't believe she'd only found the bravery at the moment of their engagement.

"I know..." There was silence as Merlyn found the courage to ask her next question. "What are you going to do to me?"

"I- I don't know yet." Arthur was never anything other than honest. "I wish I could believe you were still lying, that you are evil..."

"Don't you?" Merlyn almost seemed shocked. He hadn't realised that she'd assumed her own death the moment she'd been barred from light. He couldn't blame her for such a thought.

"Do you believe that you're evil?" He asked, more out of his own curiosity than anything.

She hesitated. "I... I don't know."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "You're too honest for your own good."

Merlyn smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I don't think that's true."

"No. I suppose it's not..." The king frowned, realising how easy it would be to forgive her, even without knowing what she'd done. "Tell me one thing. Look me in the eyes and tell me if any of what you said to me was true."

Merlyn finally moved, grabbing the bars and pressing her face between them. She wasn't so far away from him, so close he could practically smell her desperation. "Everything. I shouldn't have ever tried to be a hero, Arthur. That was always you. I shouldn't have let myself become special to you. A true heroine would put their duty before anything else, their love, their friends, their hope. I could never do that, not when it meant losing you. I would let Camelot fall, let my destiny burn for a last kiss goodbye. Perhaps my heart is that of a villain, but I would do anything for you, not for Albion. I've loved you with such intensity that I gave up my freedom for you. I'd give up my life."

So she had known about their destiny. The passion in her voice scared Arthur, her honesty overpowering. He'd never seen her like this. "I don't know who you are anymore."

"You do, Arthur." Merlyn insisted. "You just don't want to admit to yourself that the person you know me to be is someone you can love."

Of course she knew what he was feeling, knew exactly who he was. "You always knew me better than myself."

Merlyn smiled faintly. "And I always will."

"It's not the magic I have an issue with." Arthur said, unsure why he felt the need to comfort a lying witch.

Merlyn saw straight through him, of course. "Yes, it is. I know you hate that I lied to you, and maybe it's what has hurt you the worst, but you have spent your life hunting sorcerers. My secret isn't just about us, not really. It reflects your father's views, forces you to chose between all that he taught you and your lowly servant."

The choice should have been easy. "You were never just a servant, Merlyn. Not to me."

"Maybe, but perhaps I should have been." She was serious, he knew. It was an odd thought, a life without Merlyn's constant presence. He didn't like the idea of it.

"No." Arthur shook his head. "Know that I don't know if I can forgive you, nor what will happen to you, but I don't regret the past years. I'm a better person now."

Merlyn began to reach for him, but realised herself, pulling her arm back between the bars. "You were always a good person. You were just afraid to show it."

Arthur wasn't sure if he believed that. He shuddered to think of what he would have become without Merlyn's guidance.

"I don't know if I can kill you." He stated, wondering what kind of person his indecision made him.

"I'd rather you didn't." Merlyn quipped, oddly light-hearted.

At any other time, Arthur would have laughed. "I don't know if I can hate you."

"Nobody can ever hate the one thing that makes it whole." Merlyn said, a sentence that rung very true. Merlyn did make him whole. This was her true self, he realised. Those sparks of wisdom... They came from experience.

"They can certainly try..." He grumbled, looking up from where his eyes had drifted to the ground at the sound of Merlyn's chuckles. "Why are you laughing?"

"When I first found my destiny, realised I was tied to yours, that's exactly what I said." Her mirth faded at the sight of his expression. He stared at her fondly, wondering what life would have been like if she hadn't had magic. Short, he assumed.

"I wish..."

"Me too." Merlyn smiled. In another time, they could have had everything.

They were silent for a time, each of them engrossed in their own thoughts. Then, Arthur looked up at her, curiosity getting the best of him.

"Could you make me forget?"

He thought she would be horrified by the unspoken proposition, but for a moment she simply looked thoughtful. Her eyes glowed amber as they became unfocused; Arthur couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before.

Then, she snapped out of her daze, fixing her eyes back on her king. "I could. But I won't. I can't go through this again, Arthur. And I won't hide who I am anymore."

It was the right answer; even the king wasn't sure if he'd been entirely serious. He deflected, burying his desire, narrowing his eyes at Merlyn. "I thought you said you were the same person you've always been."

"I am that person, but that's not all I am." Merlyn tried to explain; he could tell she was finding it difficult. "Magic is as much a part of me as you are and, if I can help it, I'm not giving either of you up."

Arthur wasn't sure what he felt about that. He dropped any pretence of hypothesis. "If you let me forget -"

"No, Arthur" Merlyn said sharply. "You know what you're asking is wrong. If I made you forget my magic, I wouldn't have you, not really. You wouldn't really know me."

"But I did know you." He pleaded. He wanted life to be simple, to forget everything that made it any trickier than it already was.

Merlyn wasn't so keen. "Yes, you knew a part of me. A big chunk of me, but not everything. If you were to truly ask me, I would let you forget, but I wouldn't stay. If you can't accept me for who I am, then execute me, banish me, but don't make me lie to you all over again. I won't do it. If you choose to forget, I will walk out of the city gates and never return. You will break my heart into a thousand pieces and burn them to ashes."

She was right, as she always was, but Arthur was feeling spiteful, wishing she didn't make his life so difficult. "I thought you loved me."

Merlyn fell back from the bars, wrapping her arms around her knees as if they would protect her from his words. "Don't say that, you know I do. And that is why I can't go through this again. I love you more than anything, but you can't love me properly if you can't even remember my magic."

He sighed, pressing his back into the wall. "I don't want to forget, Merlyn. You're right. Your lies are a part of you. Your... Magic is a part of you. I have to remember if I..."

"If you what?"

"If I make this choice."

Merlyn seemed to understand. "I know what I'm asking you to do is difficult, Arthur. Would you like to know what I've done?"

He couldn't take that right now. "No."

Merlyn frowned. "Why?"

"Because I'm scared of who you could be." Arthur clutched his hands together, suddenly finding his fingers rather interesting. He realised he was wearing Merlyn's ring.

"You really think I could be evil?" Merlyn didn't seem offended.

The answer came easily. "No."

There was hope in Merlyn's voice. "Then what are you scared of?"

"That you're telling the truth." Arthur didn't know why he was telling her this.

"I know I'm not the right one to tell you this, but magic is a tool used by both good and bad men." He could feel her eyes on him, but couldn't quite find the courage to meet them. "In the hands of the honest, it can be beautiful, but I suppose you haven't seen much beauty in magic here."

Arthur couldn't help but look up. He'd never thought of magic as beautiful. Useful, yes. But not something to behold. It seemed to corrupt, tarnish what it controlled. "What do you mean?"

Merlyn didn't struggle to answer. He supposed she'd been awaiting this conversation for a long time. "Do you remember when I first came to Camelot? The first time I saved your life?"

How could he forget? "Yes."

"Mary Collins." Arthur hadn't known her name. "I'd never killed anybody before her. She was seeking revenge for her son. What about Edwin?"

The king recognised the name, a scarred face coming to mind. "The physician?"

"He was avenging his dead parents. Even Morgause was trying to seek vengeance for those who died in The Great Purge." Merlyn had thought about this. He wondered how many people had died at her hands to protect him.

"But Morgana." His father's ward had certainly not shown any trace of evil before her magic had manifested. "She was corrupted by magic."

Merlyn shook her head, a defeated look upon her face. "Morgana wasn't corrupted by magic, Arthur. She was lost to her fear."

"Fear of what?" He asked incredulously. She'd been safe within the castle walls.

"Of Uther." Merlyn paused. "Of you."

"Why would she be scared of me?" The king couldn't comprehend a version of Morgana who saw him as a threat.

Merlyn didn't try to be tactful. "What would you have done if she had told you? What would you have said?"

Ah. He'd have been in the same place that he now found himself, only with a living father to please. "I... Don't know."

Merlyn wasn't finished. "Arthur, you claimed to love me and as soon as I revealed my magic to you, you sent me here. You don't even care what I've used it for."

"That's not important." Not to him.

"Of course it's important." Merlyn snapped. "You don't see the difference, do you? You can't see that there are different types of magic. You know, when Morgana first started showing signs of her own powers, I used to sneak into her rooms at night and help her practice."

Arthur almost gasped at the realisation, staring at Merlyn in horror. "How could you?"

"Flowers, Arthur. She made flowers with her magic. Everlasting flowers. There's still one in her room. A red rose. Hardly threatening. She was so alone, surrounded by people who would kill her at any moment. I couldn't leave her to fend for herself."

A sudden thought crossed Arthur's mind. "Does she know about your magic?"

"No." Merlyn's voice was full of regret. "But I wish I had told her before she turned to Morgause."

"Why didn't you tell her? I'm sure between the two of you, you could've taken the throne. It wouldn't have mattered what I thought, then." Arthur was feeling sour. Merlyn was looking at him as if he'd grown two heads.

"Arthur, I don't want your bloody throne. I'm your servant, I see what it does to you, why would I want the weight on my shoulders?" She physically shuddered. "Besides, I told you once that I would happily be your servant until the day I die. That's not ever going to change."

"I asked you to be my queen." He'd wanted them to lift the burden together, to make whatever they'd always had between them official.

Merlyn smiled. "And if you were to ask me now, knowing my final secret, I would say yes. I would be yours forever if I could, but I hardly think you will ever trust me again."

Arthur felt like he was about to cry. "Why did you tell me? We could've been so happy."

Merlyn nodded, wiping away a tear. "We could. But you know why I had to tell you. What would you have done if I had told you after we married? You would've resented me, hated me so much more than you do now. I couldn't do that to you. Besides, nobody is going to bat an eye when you execute your servant. If I were your queen, it would be a different story."

"You think I could order your death?" Arthur wished he could.

Merlyn looked at him, as if trying to peer into his very soul, to judge his thoughts. "Honestly, I don't know. I would like to think not, that in your heart you know that I'm not wicked or evil, but I will never forget the utter hate I saw in your eyes when you ordered me to the dungeons. That look will haunt me for the rest of my life."

He didn't know how to process this. "I need some time alone."

He stood on sore legs, remembering his stomach wounds from earlier. He'd have to go see Gaius...

Gaius. God. He had to have known.

"Arthur?" Merlyn drew him from his thoughts.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry." She said with great candour. "I know you see this as another betrayal, and I suppose, in a way, it is. You don't deserve to be treated like this."

"Maybe I do." It seemed like it. He'd been abandoned by almost everyone he'd ever thought dear.

"No. Don't think that. I know it doesn't mean that much to you at the moment, but I do love you." She meant it, he thought. "Don't punish others for my crimes. All they've done is tried to help you."

They were a problem for another time. He didn't react, slowly starting his walk away before Merlyn stopped him."

"I wanted to tell you the day your father died, but do you remember what you said to me? How could I tell you that I had magic after that?"

Arthur couldn't answer. "Goodbye, Merlyn."

~

Arthur slammed his chamber's door shut, collapsing back onto the wooden frame. He was exhausted, consumed by the collision of notions he couldn't quite grasp. Anger deserted him, replaced quickly by a thick shade of loneliness. Everything he'd ever known, everything he had always believed, was battling against what he hoped to be true.

Perhaps he'd always known. Deep down, Arthur felt that he had never fully trusted Merlyn, had ignored her in ways that had nearly cost him his kingdom. He owed his life to her, had wanted to marry her, even feeling that she was holding something back. She disappeared so often, lied to him so easily, and for what? He hadn't asked, hadn't wanted to know. Which of his achievements were his own? Had the whole of Camelot been laughing behind his back as his father declared that his beloved son had saved the day? If his father was alive, he'd have responded differently; he hated himself for not knowing which side of the line he'd have fallen. No. She should have trusted him. He wondered if he would ever be the man Merlyn thought he'd become.

"Sire?" Agravaine cleared his throat, acting embarrassed to have caught the king in a private moment of weaknesses. "Is anything the matter?"

"It is none of your concern, uncle." Arthur managed a weak smile, cursing his lack of observance. Agravaine was in the far shadows of his room, undetectable in his current state.

"My lord, there are rumours surrounding the location of your servant." Agravaine paused, trying to be delicate. "The people wish to know how such a... trusted woman has offended you. They wish to know what kind of punishment she will face."

Arthur felt the sudden urge to be sick. To sentence Merlyn to... He couldn't think about it, couldn't reflect on the feeling of his own sword at her throat, what he would've done if he hadn't found her hopeful eyes. She had surrendered herself to him completely, would have let herself die if he so chose. Whether Merlyn would remain in Camelot remained to be seen, but even as he'd watched that beautiful dragon flutter into the sky, he'd known death had never been in her cards.

"This is a private issue." Arthur said shortly, cursing himself for failing to question Merlyn further on her distrust of his uncle. "It is not the people's - or yours for that matter- concern. I will deal with this myself."

"Very well, sire." Agravaine nodded, stepping past him towards the door. He paused, turning to Arthur with a thoughtful look in his eye. "You are becoming a fine, young man, Arthur. Without her flawed presence beside you, I hope you will flourish into the king you ought to be."

When he heard the door close, Arthur flopped onto his bed, staring up at nothing in particular. He'd seen some papers on his desk, but they could be discovered later. For now, he refused to move, turning over Merlyn's words in his mind, trying to decide whether he could ever truly trust her word.

~

The sky was beginning to darken by the time Gwen made her way to Gaius' chambers. It was eerily quiet, especially after the whispers that had followed her that day. People assumed she knew what had happened to Merlyn, but few had dared to approach her. Then again, few spoke to her much anymore. She was in a strange limbo, no longer a servant nor a noblewoman. She had no husband, no true rank and yet here she was. A lady. Her old friends didn't know where they stood with her; the noblewomen had no interest in a woman without their sacred blood. Merlyn, she supposed, shared her purgatory. Perhaps that's why she sought her company. But Merlyn had Arthur. She had always had Arthur. Oddly now Gwen and Merlyn were probably more alike than they ever had been.

Gwaine sat at one of Gaius' benches staring vacantly into the middle distance. She wasn't sure when he'd escaped from the dungeons, but doubted Arthur would care. Besides, Gwaine didn't look in any position to start another fight. He'd been drinking. She could smell it.

"Gwen." Gaius looked up at her grimly from where he sat opposite the knight, a candle between them. It was oddly romantic, in a strange kind of way, the amber light colouring the physician's air a lovely orange. The mood was too serious, however. The consequences too big.

She sat beside Gwaine, resting her elbows on the table. Silence hung around them, each of them too sad to break it. If they had the night to spare, perhaps no words would have been shared between them. But Merlyn didn't have time. Arthur was unpredictable.

"She won't go willingly." Gwen shattered the gloomy quiet.

Gaius looked up at her warily. "No. No she won't."

"It doesn't matter what she wants." Gwaine slurred his words. Gwen wondered how long he'd been drinking. "We can't leave her to die."

"No." Gwen was sure of that. "But how do we get her out?"

Gaius stood on old legs, seeming to creak as he shuffled towards his shelves of potions. "I think I have the answer."

He squinted at the phials, struggling to read his scribbled labels. Finally, he palmed a deep blue bottle, walking back to place it on the table.

"This is an elixir of opium and mandragora." He explained. "It's a strong sedative."

"You want to knock her out?" Gwen wasn't sure what she felt about such action, even if it was for Merlyn's own good.

Gwaine nodded. "It's the only way. I can deal with the guards. I'll talk to Percy."

"Gwen, if you can put this in Merlyn's food, we can smuggle her out of Camelot. I know this feels wrong but she won't let us help her and I... I can't let her die." Gaius wiped a tear from his cheek in an uncharacteristic show of anguish, clearly unable to comprehend the notion.

It felt strange, drugging Merlyn. She wouldn't go on her own: she was too stubborn for her own good. She still felt she owed Arthur, no matter what she'd already done in his name. A spark of anger flashed through Gwen, wishing that the king had just understood Merlyn's position. She'd hoped he would have forgiven his beloved servant by now, would have let her back into the castle. Perhaps he was scared. Accepting Merlyn was not only rejecting his father's indoctrination, but the last of his starkest beliefs. It must be easy to see the world in black and white. Gwen's life would be far easier.

"Alright." She sighed, taking the bottle. "I'll do it."

~

Gwen had barely slept, nerves wracking through her body, her very soul. She didn't know when the plan would go into motion, part of her wishing to give Arthur more time. He would come around eventually. Then again, it wasn't worth the risk. Grief was unpredictable.

There was something calming in finding herself in her old role, nothing more than an inconspicuous servant. Few had dared to enter Arthur's chambers; less of them were servants. With his changing temperament, one of the cooks had discreetly asked her if she would mind collecting his plates, hoping their friendship might save her from any kind of anger.

She knocked, entering quietly when she heard no reply. Arthur was on the bed, sleeping deeply. Gwen wondered how long he'd slept these part few days. She almost felt guilty at her sense of relief of the fact that she didn't have to speak to him. She didn't know what she'd say.

Moving over to his desk, she found most of the food uneaten, silver platters encrusted in mouldy chicken. It was pitiful, really. Gwen leaned over to pile the plates up, wrinkling her nose as something caught her eye.

Glancing back at the sleeping king, Gwen picked up the papers on his desk. She skimmed them, her eyes widening as she realised what they were

Execution papers.

He wouldn't. They weren't signed, but he couldn't be contemplating such a thing. Killing Merlyn? He wasn't capable of it. Staring at his sleeping form, he seemed so innocent, unburdened by the troubles of his world. But he'd been so angry.... Angry enough to throw Merlyn in the cells without a second thought. Even now, when the heat of the moment surely must have subsided, Merlyn still languished within them, her usual strength forgone. Arthur couldn't kill her. He wouldn't. Briefly, Gwen eyed the knife in her hand, knowing an accidental slip could be the end of all these troubles.... But no. Merlyn would never forgive her. Besides, Agravaine would probably take the throne and that was certainly not going to help her friend. She wouldn't allow this. Time was now absolutely of the essence.

Gwen scarpered from the chambers, heading straight for the kitchens. She'd find Gwaine on the way to the dungeons. They couldn't wait a moment longer.

~

As Gwen descended familiar stairs to the dungeon, a plate of bread and cheese and a cup of dosed wine in hand, she did her best to calm her nerves. Merlyn wouldn't go willingly, she knew that. The guards had been dealt with, Gwaine and Percival waiting in the shadows, ready to haul Merlyn through a secret tunnel when the time was right. It would take them out to the forest, far enough away that the other knights wouldn't find them. It wasn't a perfect plan, but it would have to do.

Merlyn was awake. Gwen wasn't particularly surprised, placing down the plate and goblet besides the bars.

"I brought you something to eat." Gwen offered, feeling oddly timid. "I thought you might be hungry."

Merlyn gave her a pained smile, but made no move to touch the food. "Thanks, Gwen."

"Please," Gwen gestured to the plate. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry." Merlyn said, leaning back on the wall.

Gwen should've realised this might be an issue. "Merlyn, you've not had anything since coming down here."

"Is that really a surprise?" Merlyn scoffed, flinching at her own tone. "Sorry, that was uncalled for."

"It's alright." Gwen knelt by the cell. "But starving yourself isn't going to make Arthur forgive you."

The look Merlyn gave her felt like it penetrated straight to her soul. She did her best to meet her gaze, knowing her friend's life rested on her nerve.

"You're right." Merlyn said finally. She paused for a moment, glancing around her before her eyes glowed. Gwen had never seen Merlyn perform magic, the sight taking her breath away. The plate and goblet flew towards her, resting on the ground without spilling a drop. How Arthur could hate such brilliance was beyond Gwen.

"That was incredible she breathed." Watching Merlyn tearing off a hunk of bread.

Merlyn smiled between mouthfuls. "Thank you. It feels good to be able to trust you."

She took a sip from the goblet.

"I'm sorry, Merlyn." Gwen watched her friend's eyes widen a moment before she fell sideways, her head hitting the floor.

Gwaine and Percival rushed towards the cell. Gwen felt her heart beating loudly, listening to the keys jangling in the lock. Gwaine helped her up, Percival throwing Merlyn over his shoulders. She nodded at the both of them, heading straight for the tunnel. Who knew how much time they had before the whole of Camelot would be looking for them.

~

Someone had been in. The plates were gone, his goblets cleared. Arthur sat up, running a hand through his unruly hair. He didn't know what time it was, but the sun was already strong through his window, bathing his room in its golden glow. Standing groggily, grimacing as he realised that he was wearing the same clothes from the day before, he headed to his wardrobes, pulling out some kind of assemble that he could thrust over his head. He missed Merlyn.

Kicking his worn clothes to the side, he marched over to his desk, remembering the papers Agravaine had dropped off the night before. The pile was slightly rumpled, as if some nosy git had ruffled through it. It didn't really matter: there was nothing overly confidential in the files, at least until Arthur found the last paper flung to the end of the table. It had probably been on the top of the pile.

Execution papers.

Arthur felt his stomach drop. Merlyn's name was written neatly in his uncle's handwriting, the rest left blank. He had never ordered these, not even in his worst moments. Rage bubbled up within him. How dare Agravaine assume, how dare he...

But what had Arthur expected? He had locked away his most trusted advisor, his true love, without any kind of explanation. Surely people were going to think she had acted treasonously. Why else would she be subjected to such punishment?

That was the moment Arthur realised what he'd done. In the eyes of his people, Merlyn's death warrant had been signed the moment she had been thrown in those cells. The king would never punish his servant unless she had acted outrageously, had committed every crime under the sun.

In a way, she had. But staring at those papers, Arthur felt sick. In a moment of clarity, he realised that the thought of killing Merlyn was utterly abhorrent. He couldn't do it. Nor could he banish her or force her to live in the dungeons forever. It would rot him from the inside.

So he only had one choice, had only ever really had one choice. He'd have to forgive her.

And then the warning bells rang.

Maybe it was already too late. Arthur bolted from his room, sprinting barefoot down the corridors. He practically jumped down the stairs to the dungeons, rounding the corner to Merlyn's cell.

It was empty.

No.

~

Morgana wondered whether she could enchant Agravaine's horse to throw him off as she heard it approaching her cottage. She didn't want to hurt him badly, just give him a few bruises. It probably wasn't worth it, not with the influence he held at court. As much as she hated to admit it, if she was ever to be accepted as queen, she needed him.

"Morgana." He burst through the door, triumph shining in his eyes. "Merlyn is gone."

Morgana's heart stopped in her chest. "Gone?"

"She has fled the city. Arthur does not wish to pursue her." Agravaine's smile made her skin crawl. "The king is broken. Camelot is ours for the taking."

Merlyn wasn't dead, then. Morgana knew she should be disappointed, but couldn't help her admiration. Once again, the woman had escaped from death's clutches. Good for her.

"You have done well, Agravaine." She said, doubting that he actually had any part to play in this turn of events. "Arthur will be destroyed. Without his precious servant beside him, there is no one to foil our plans."

And yet, even as she felt Camelot's crown almost upon her head, she could only think of where Merlyn was now.

~

Gwen had always found the forests beautiful, but sitting in the middle of a small glade, she realised that what she'd seen was only half of what the woods offered. She'd always traveled through them, never stopping to truly admire the tall, wispy trees, the small animals that raced through the undergrowth. A family of rabbits had hopped through the clearing, each of them stopping to stare at Gwen and the sleeping Merlyn. One nudged the witch with its nose, scarpering away as it met Gwen's gaze. Gwaine and Percival had left long ago, knowing that their absence would be far more noticeable than Gwen's. They'd promised to delay any search efforts for as long as they could, leaving a couple of swords at their sides.

"It's incredible, isn't it?" Merlyn's eyes were open, staring up at her friend. She didn't seem angry, just defeated.

"It is." Gwen agreed, shuffling uncomfortably. "Look, Merlyn-"

"He wouldn't have killed me, Gwen." Merlyn sat up, leaning against an old oak. "He was so angry, but he wouldn't have done it."

"There were execution papers on his desk. We couldn't risk it." Gwen explained, knowing little could justify her actions.

"Were they signed?" Merlyn asked, oddly matter-of-fact for someone who's life had been on the line.

Gwen shook her head. "No."

She expected Merlyn to respond, to say anything, but instead she simply turned her head, looking back to the glade in front of them. A squirrel sprinted through the centre, jumping over a fallen log and into the midst of the shadowy trees.

Gwen let the silence linger, but knew she couldn't ignore their problems forever. "Are you going to return?"

"No." The answer was quick, faster than she had expected from Merlyn. It was a complex situation.

Gwen frowned. "Why? If you're so sure that he won't hurt you, then I won't stop you."

Merlyn raised an eyebrow, her eyes flecked with gold. She rested her hand on the sword Gwaine had left for her. "As if you could."

"I did have a good teacher." Gwen shrugged, suppressing a smile. Merlyn grinned anyway, moving her hand back to her side.

"I've already put Arthur in a difficult position. He could only choose to kill, banish or free me, and I don't think he wanted to do any of those things. If I'm already gone, he doesn't have to make the choice." Merlyn sounded so monotonous; Gwen felt that she was doing her best not to cry.

"What will you do?" Gwen questioned. Arthur and Merlyn had been together for so long; it seemed wrong for them to be torn apart by this.

Merlyn shrugged. "Maybe I'll head to the druids, see if I can learn more about my powers. I won't stray too far, just in case he needs me."

Gwen's heart broke. "I think you should leave Camelot behind for now. It's time you found your own path."

"Perhaps." Merlyn said sombrely. "I've been working towards my destiny for so long, I'm not sure who I am without it."

Gwen didn't know how to reply. She leaned over and hugged her friend tightly, wondering how long it would be before she next saw her again.

~

Arthur was numb. He staggered towards the physician's chambers, half expecting Merlyn to appear before him, that same goofy smile and wise countenance overcoming all his senses. He hadn't chased after her, regretting that decision with every waking minute. He needed her, wanted her to explain away his fears, to make him trust her again.

Loving Merlyn was like breathing; without her, Arthur feared he would drown. He didn't remember what life was like without her constantly by his side and now that she was gone, he wasn't sure if he wanted to find out. A part of him knew that he'd made a terrible mistake, but at the back of his mind, he heard his father congratulate him, celebrate how he had made her disappear, leaving his heart hollow. Somehow, even after a lifetime of seeking his father's approval, the voice didn't help, only adding to the king's pity. Was this what he wanted when he'd thrown her in the dungeons? Had he wanted her to leave, to make his difficult decision for him? He hadn't believed she ever would. He'd made her fear for her life, forced her out of her home. And for what? One secret, and a good one at that, something Arthur could hardly blame her for hiding. But he'd thought she could trust him as much as he trusted her; he'd been so very wrong. If it had been the other way around, if he was the one that could make fire light up his fingertips, there was no doubt in his mind that he'd have told Merlyn the truth. But still, she'd never been against magic, never ranted about its evils, never murdered a man simply for possessing a power that she did not. It seemed so obvious, now, when she had disappeared into the night, that everything he had believed in was wrong. What he wouldn't give to wrap his arms around her, to hold her close just one last time. And then he remembered that she'd abandoned him, given up on him, on her hopes and fled. Arthur wasn't sure that he could forgive her for that, no matter how unfair the thought may be. She should've known.
She should've known.

When he opened the door to Gaius' chambers, he could do nothing but stare into them, at the old man pottering about on the other side of the door. He avoided looking at the door to Merlyn's rooms, knowing it would make his heart break again.

"My lord." Gaius didn't look up from whatever potion he was concocting, uncharacteristically sullen. Arthur watched him, trying to find the words for what he believed.

"You knew." He whispered, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. "You knew she had magic."

"I did." Gaius still didn't turn, holding a blue bottle to the candlelight. "She used it to save my life the first time I met her."

Arthur felt that he should be surprised by that, but couldn't feel anything more than hollow. "Why did you protect her?"

Gaius looked at him then; the king could feel the disappointment radiating from his expression. "Because she was worth protecting. I thought that, with my guidance, she could become truly exceptional. I used to think that about you too."

That stung. Arthur did his best not to flinch, but couldn't help the way his heart sank in his chest. "I always try to do what I think is right, Gaius. You taught me to always believe in myself."

"Sire, with all due respect, you are acting like your father." Gaius wrinkled his nose.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "My father was a fine king."

"Yes, but he had a knack for refusing to listen to those that only had his best interests at heart. I thought you were better than that." Gaius turned back to his work, seemingly uninterested in speaking to the young king any longer.

Arthur wished he could say the physician was wrong, but couldn't quite find the words.

"I wouldn't have killed her." He said instead, trying to convey his honesty. "I couldn't do that."

"No." Gaius said. "And she'd have waited around for you to realise that, but the rest of us didn't have the patience."

Arthur left the physician's chambers with most of his questions unanswered. He wouldn't punish Gaius: he'd proved his loyalty countless times, but he supposed that, just as he had lost his lover, Gaius had lost a daughter. Only in Arthur's case, it was his own fault.

~

Merlyn wasn't sure how she found herself by the lake. It was a lovely night, the sky clear enough to see pinprick starsn illuminating the mountains in the distance. She'd come here often enough, spoken to the girl she'd submerged in the depths all those years ago. The surface was smooth, like glass, framed with errant trees swaying in the wind. It was picturesque, so calm against the shitstorm that whirled around Merlyn, her life cracked into pieces. For the first time in years, she had no purpose. She didn't know what to do.

Reaching forward, she submerged her hands in the water, attempting to feel closer to the perished souls entombed within it. Small ripples died around her hands, the night returning to quiet. Merlyn smiled, a new sense of calm settling upon her heart.

"Hello, Freya. I know it's been a while. I would say I've been busy, but you probably know about that. Sometimes, I still dream about the life we could have had together, maybe even here, watching over Avalon. He found out, well, I told him, but there's not really a difference anymore. I thought he would react differently, that he was a better person, but clearly it wasn't meant to be. No, that's not true. It's not his fault. Well, not entirely. He didn't kill me, at least, he hadn't killed me before the others decided to intervene, but Gwen... Gwen said that she'd seen the execution papers. You'd have liked Gwen, Freya. She's so kind. She knows now. Lancelot had already told her. I think she might be one of the strongest people I know. She'd be a good queen.

They weren't signed, the execution papers I mean; I don't think he would've watched me die. Part of me thinks it might be a ploy on Agravaine's part, but I can hardly investigate now. The truth will come out soon enough and besides, Arthur got what he wanted. I'm banished, never to be seen again, disappeared to somewhere far, far away. I think Gwaine wanted to come with me, but I could never do that to him, to Percival, even. They might not have figured it out yet, but someday, they'll become inseparable. Anyway, Gwaine has spent far too long running. It's time he found a home.

I miss you, Freya, so very much. Sometimes, I wonder if I had killed you, if it was destiny trying to keep me in Camelot. It only delayed the inevitable, I suppose. I don't know why I thought that Arthur would accept me. I'm a monster at heart. Do you know how many people I've killed for him? And for what? What does it matter now? I was meant to be the salvation of magic, to unite Albion from the shadows or the limelight... I don't think it mattered. We would've done great things together, Arthur and I, but I can't even blame him from sending me away from my home. A half can never truly hate what makes it whole... Kilgarrah told me that once. I don't know if he was right, but no matter what he does, I can't hate Arthur. I think he could burn me and I wouldn't love him any less.

I still love you, Freya. I always will. Perhaps not in the same way that I love Arthur, but don't ever think that I love you any less. We could've been great together, on our little farm. I wish you could reply to me, but I know you're listening. I wish I could see you. Maybe then I would feel less alone.

But that would be selfish. I'm probably interrupting your rest, talking to you like you should care about me now. Your death haunts me more than any other, on par maybe with Lancelot. I wish he were here now. He would say the right thing, would've convinced Arthur to hear me out. I've often wondered if I can still, somehow, save him. But whatever I brought back wouldn't be him, I know that. He would be a shadow of his formal self; nobody deserves to live that way.

I don't have anywhere to go now, Freya. I could return to Ealdor, but that would mean confronting my failures and I don't think I can do that just yet. Besides, it could put my mother in danger; I can't allow that. I told Arthur once that I would be happy to be his servant until the day I die; I don't want to abandon him. He doesn't understand the threat he's facing, but I can hardly return to Camelot. I'm too recognisable, or too much of a coward. I just can't look into his eyes and know that he doesn't love me anymore.

I could travel, forget everything I've ever known and live for myself, but I've seen what that life does to a person. Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan... None of them were truly happy until they found Camelot. In my heart, I know that I'll never find a new home.

What would you do, Freya? I could find the druids, but I don't want to face their disappointment. I wonder what Arthur's doing now. He's probably realised that I've gone, if he even cares anymore. I can't forsake him, despite how clear he's made his feelings. I can help him from a distance, accept my fate as a thankless presence, hidden behind the shadows. It's hardly a new experience. I suppose that it's the only option I have left.

The stars are beautiful tonight, Freya. You would've loved to see them hanging over the mountains. They make the lake sparkle like its made from a thousand tiny diamonds. Its beautiful."

~

Gwen was waiting when Arthur returned to his room. He'd disappeared for the day, unable to stand the thought of the castle without Merlyn there. Gwen was just standing there, as if afraid to touch anything, staring at him as if he were a china doll ready to break.

"I take it you knew." Arthur said, walking straight past Gwen to pour himself some wine. He didn't pour her a glass.

"Lancelot told me." Gwen didn't seem apologetic despite declaring vague treason. It didn't really matter anymore. "But I already suspected. I thought you did too."

Arthur dropped the goblet. "Of course I knew! In my heart, I knew." He watched the cup roll, liquid splashing over the floor. He sighed, his anger receding. "It's not the magic that matters. I loved her because she was the only person I could trust, because I didn't think she could lie to me about anything that mattered. But I was wrong. She didn't trust me, and... And I could no longer bear to wonder why."

Gwen wasn't sympathetic. "She did so much for you and you threw it all away. You didn't even let her explain, not properly. I saw the papers, the execution letters awaiting your signature. How could you even consider it? You said you loved her for fucks sake. If this is how you love, my lord, then I think she might have escaped more than death."

Arthur collapsed in his chair behind his desk, his head in his hands. "I wasn't going to sign them. I would never."

"We couldn't take that risk." Gwen stated, sounding almost apologetic. "I'm sorry, Arthur."

~

Arthur ascended the staircase to Morgana's chambers for the first time in years. After her betrayal, he couldn't face any thought of the woman he had once thought of as a sister, any trace of her presence burnt from his mind. Even now, as he pushed open her door, his heart hurt, the room beyond the threshold nothing more than a bad memory. Gwen, he knew, had kept the space relatively tidy for the first few months after Morgana's disappearance, so he wasn't surprised to find the bed made, a thick layer of dust smothering the covers, her mirrors a nest of cobwebs. She hadn't come in a while. Merlyn said that the final time had been the day after she'd heard news of Lancelot's death, although by the looks of things, that visit wasn't exactly used for cleaning. Everything was in its proper place, and yet, the room felt aged, as old as Arthur's crumbling soul.

He started forward with a hesitant step, his boots leaving footprints in the dust, knowing that he hadn't come here to reminisce upon the fallen. Part of him wanted to retreat, to close the door and never venture into this room again, but he was a Pendragon. He had too much pride for that. If he wanted to find any peace, he knew he had to validate one of the only stories Merlyn had managed to tell him before... Before she had left him. It was his fault, really. He should have let her explain, but he could dwell upon that regret later, once he found the truth.

The curtains were closed, leaving the chambers in dim light. Arthur strode towards them, his fingers brushing the cool material, flakes of dust floating in the air. Refusing to allow himself another thought, he pulled them open, looking through the dirty window and into the clear night sky. For a moment, he allowed himself to marvel at the view, staring up at the twinkling stars, the imposing moon. From here, he realised, he could see the training grounds; he wondered how many times Morgana had watched him spar, watched Merlyn fight against knights twice her size. She'd have seen their late-night trips to the training field, he was sure. Arthur would give anything to go back to a time before he was king, before Morgana had turned, when the worst he had to face were Merlyn's terrible insults. Her words from earlier haunted him: even now, he didn't know what he would've done if Morgana had told him of her magic. He wouldn't have turned her over, he didn't think that he would have done anything to harm her, but he doubted he would have trusted her if he'd known. Shaking himself away from the past, he tore his eyes from the moonlit sky, knowing that not even a shooting star could save him now.

He'd come here for the object on the windowsill. It sat there, untouched by the same dirt that seemed to have infected every inch of the room. Its petals sparkled with unearthly power, a perfect crimson rose, as crisp as if it had only just been plucked from the ground. It sat in a glass vase, devastatingly beautiful. Arthur didn't notice the tears rolling down his cheek as he stared at it, the flower so innocent, so harmless, so magical. It was Merlyn's favourite flower, he realised; he wondered if Morgana had known that. It seemed odd to think of his sister as she once was, using her magic to create rather than destroy. The fact that she had been tarnished, her heart hardened by the hatred he and his father and shown towards her kind... Arthur had never understood what had changed Morgana into the monster she had become. He had always blamed magic, but now, he wasn't so sure.

Fear, Merlyn had said. Fear had reshaped his sister, pulled her towards the darkness, fear that she would be discovered, that she was alone. Fear as to how he would react if he had found out. Suddenly, Arthur realised why Merlyn had chosen this flower as her example, a precious moment of good magic, a kind that he had never quite managed to see. Regret built in Arthur's throat; he had forgotten who Merlyn had always been to him, what Morgana had once meant to Camelot. She had never been corrupted by magic, neither of them had. He had watched Morgana's hope die and ignored her suffering. Now, he had done the same to Merlyn.

Turning back towards the door with a heavy heart, Arthur wiped away his tears. He glanced back just once, looking at the perfect rose, his symbol of all the good left in magic, closing the door behind him.

"I should have listened to you." he murmured under his breath, praying that, somehow, Merlyn could hear him. "I'm not saying that I forgive you, but I should have let you explain. I'm sorry."

With that, he descended the stairs, returning to his rooms with a new wave of misery. He would find her, if he could. He needed to understand. He wanted to.

Chapter Text

The forests were dark, the cloudy day allowing little light through the trees. Arthur was the first to admit it was eerie, something about the way such idyllic beauty could scarper to the confines of darkness, brambles looming above them, imposing on their bravery.

"All right. Who drank all my water?" Elyan sighed, snapping Arthur from his morbid feelings. He was leant against a tree, his empty waterskin tight in his grasp. Arthur glanced around to his knights, smirking as Gwaine belched.

"I believe you have your answer." He tried to suppress his grin, unsurprised at Gwaine's lack of shame.

"You said I could have some." The knight shrugged, unabashed.

"I said you could have some." Elyan hissed, clearly annoyed, throwing the skin at Gwaine. "I didn't say you could drink every last drop."

Gwaine caught it. "I was thirsty."

"Here, have some of mine." Leon, pragmatic as always, reached out to pass the water to Elyan, but at the very last moment, chucked it behind him, Percival catching it with a chuckle.

Elyan laughed sarcastically. "That's very funny."

Percival stepped forward, squeezing between Gwaine and Leon. "Here, unlike these ignorant fools, I share with my friends."

Just as Elyan's fingers brushed the leather of the waterskin, Percival flung it towards Arthur. He caught it, tossing it unthinkingly towards Merlyn-

The skin landed in the soil. Of course.

The knights were suddenly silent, their mood subdued. No one moved to pick up the waterskin, a sharp reminder of the absence plucking at their heartstrings.

Arthur couldn't meet their eyes. He turned, scanning the forest absently, frowning as he squinted through the trees. There was something hidden between them, odd scraps of cloth drifting in the wind.

"There's something... Look, there." He pointed, drawing his sword. The knights followed, picking their way through the rocky ground until they found a small clearing. It was lined with rags strung up on lines tied between trunks. Strange objects lined the shrubbery, feathers hanging from old staffs. There was a thrum to the air, an energy that made Arthur's heart beat faster against his chest.

"What is this place?" Gwaine breathed, a gentle breeze tugging against the fabric.

This is a shrine.

It's what she would say, what Arthur felt to be right. Something told him he should turn his back on all of this and run as fast as he could towards Camelot, never looking back.

"In the time of the old religion, they built shrines like this to appease restless spirits." Percival whispered, almost in awe.

We shouldn't be here.

She'd be right, of course. There was something here that terrified Arthur to his very core.

Places like these... They're cursed. Run.

The wind whipped around them, a crow cawing as it flew over their heads. Arthur almost jumped, sudden panic causing him to shiver. This was not somewhere he was supposed to be.

"There's nothing here for us." He said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "Move out."

If the other noticed the speed in which he fled the camp, they didn't acknowledge it. He wondered if Leon recognised the place, whether it haunted him as much as it did the young king.

~

She would ask.

Arthur stood in the armoury, slowly undoing his arm guard as his knights pottered around him, the sound of metal clanging in the air. Leon brushed past him, placing his helmet on the table in front of the brooding king, a strange silence falling between them.

"You all right?"

Arthur glanced to where she should have been, wishing to see her concerned face, her worry for his mood. She could always tell when something bothered him.

"What do you mean?" He found himself mumbling, ignorant to the inquisitive expressions of his subdued knights. It was easier to pretend she was still here.

Merlyn would touch his arm, force him to properly face her, to tell her what was wrong. "You're very quiet. You didn't say a word on the way home."

"It's called thinking, Merlyn. You should try it sometime." Arthur couldn't help but feel exasperated with himself. He wouldn't have told her, wouldn't have wanted to burden her with the defeated notions that ran through his head. Arthur couldn't help but wonder why that was.

"Arthur." Gwaine rarely spoke to him anymore. The king turned, facing his knight just in time to catch a small pouch. He fumbled with the tie, surprised to find the bag filled with white crystals.

"What is this?" He asked, bewildered, staring at Gwaine incredulously.

His knight didn't look up from where he sat by the window, focused on sharpening his sword. The light bounced off his hair, reflecting upon the shiny metal of his chainmail. "Salt. Percy's stories are enough to keep even princesses like you up at night. Pour it in a circle at the foot of your bed. Helps to protect you from evil spirits."

Arthur couldn't help but feel like he was the butt of a poor joke. "And that works, does it?"

Gwaine nodded, holding his sword to the light. "Absolutely. If it doesn't, maybe the cook could use it for once. Just give it to Mer-" Gwaine put down his blade, finally meeting Arthur's stony gaze with bitter eyes. "Ah. I guess you'll have to deliver it yourself."

Arthur didn't say another word. He stormed towards his chambers, searching for respite. For a moment, he could swear that he heard familiar footsteps behind him; he waited for a grasp on the shoulder, for her to pull him into an alcove and kiss him until he forgot his troubles. He waited for her to whisper something soothing in his ear, to tell him that everything would work out in the end.

He couldn't stand the silence.

~

Percival had found himself in Gaius' chambers a lot lately. Despite Merlyn's infrequent letters, the knight could tell that loneliness was creeping upon the physician, an absence of light illuminating the dreary castle rooms. No matter how much the rest of them missed Merlyn, it simply didn't compare to Gaius. Percival had watched him age so quickly in such a short time, as if the years were finally catching up on him. He had taken to having dinners with the physician, reminiscing like old friends. She would be back one day.

Percival picked at the hunk of bread in front of him, sitting across from Gaius, his elbows resting on the old, wooden table between them, the shrine still on his mind. The air had felt so wrong, every fibre of his being screaming that something wasn't right. Even now, safely tucked back into Camelot's fold, he couldn't help but shiver at the thought of that space, the torn fabric whistling in the strange wind.

"I'm surprised that such a shrine exists so close to Camelot." Gaius remarked, his plate left untouched. The chambers were lit only by candlelight; it cast an unworldly shadow over the physician's face. It was an unnerving sight.

Percival nodded slowly, trying not to shiver as a sudden cold set upon his skin. "And it was cursed. I could feel it."

Gaius stared down at his gruel, his voice monotone. "You were right to be wary. The druids built shrines to bring rest to tormented souls... Souls that were so badly wronged that they could find no peace in the other world."

Percival had known this, but he felt that Gaius needed to share his knowledge. He became more of his old self when consulted on such things.

The knight knew he had to question further, that it would take both their minds away from a great absence. "Why do they hang all the ribbons and flags?"

"The ancient rituals heal the ground so that the souls of the victims can find rest." Gaius sighed. "But the magic that binds the earth is delicate and is easily undone, so the ribbons and flags act as a warning."

The physician paused, turning his scrutinizing gaze upon Percival. "Did anyone touch anything?"

"No." The knight shook his head. As if any of them were that stupid. "I don't think so. Why? What is it?"

"Anyone who disturbs the resting place risks releasing the spirit." Gaius poured himself some water, his voice hardening suddenly. "Percival, you must promise me you'll never return to that place."

A ghost of a smile fell upon Percival's lips. "Don't worry. I have no intention of going back there."

The knight wondered what Merlyn would have made of the shrine, whether she would have broken the inevitable promise she would have made to Gaius. He doubted it. It would take an idiot to return to such a place.

The pair ate the rest of the meal in silence, Percival doing his best to finish the thick porridge. He'd get something from the kitchens later: the cook had a soft spot for him.

As he stood to leave, Gaius stopped him, an earnest expression upon his face.

"Percival, I know..." He trailed off, unable to find the words. "I just wanted to say, thank you."

The knight nodded. He had nothing left to say. He slipped through the door and into the corridor, smiling sadly to himself as he wandered into the cool night air.

~

Arthur woke to a loud clang, startled. He whipped his head up, realising groggily that he'd fallen asleep at his desk. It had been a difficult night, guilt eating at his chest. Wincing at the ache in his back, he stared bleary-eyed ahead of him, surprised to find the room empty. Strange.

He blinked, doing his best to think coherently. It was a losing battle.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Arthur ran a hand through his hair. These whispers were becoming more frequent, her voice often unprompted, the fleeting image of the woman he'd lost.

"You didn't scare me. I was asleep." He said aloud, an image of her materialising in the corner of his eye. He turned to look at her, doing his best to remember she wasn't real. Merlyn was gone, no matter how realistic this smiling figure appeared.

"Why have you got that stupid smile on your face?" He asked, his voice echoing into the empty room.

Merlyn shrugged. "It's nothing. Why were you sleeping with your head on the table?"

Arthur scrambled for an answer, doing his best to keep his face neutral. "I fell asleep while I was reading."

"What were you reading?" Merlyn smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Arthur paused, desperately scanning the room for inspiration. Even in his mind, Merlyn was infuriating.

"I am the King of Camelot. I don't have to answer to the likes of you." He sat up taller, hoping to command some kind of authority. The act only made his dastardly servant's smile widen.

"Oh, you're in a good mood." She rolled her eyes, folding her arms. "You obviously got out on the wrong side of the table."

Merlyn laughed to herself, watching Arthur try to keep a straight face. "The wrong side of the bed, but you slept on the table so,-"

"That's extremely clever and funny, Merlyn. There really are no limits to your wit." Arthur deadpanned. "Now, will you just get me some breakfast."

"Your wit, sire." Merlyn corrected, all traces of humour gone from her face. She'd already started to fade. "You've got a little of something on your face, you know. You might want to get it off before you get to training."

Arthur looked down, realising his dinner was still in front of him. It looked a little... Squished. Picking up a silver plate, he used it as a mirror, staring at his slightly misshapen face. Half of it was brown and sticky, the residue of a stew plastered in his hair. He opened his mouth, glancing up from his makeshift mirror to make some clever remark, but Merlyn was already gone. He didn't know whether he should be glad.

~

The king had overheard Gwaine whispering, something about Elyan acting rather strangely the night before. The knight in question was rather subdued that day, something haunted in his eyes. Arthur knew that look. He'd seen it in his own eyes far too much lately.

"Pair off. Concentrate on counter-cutting." He commanded, trying to shake away his misery. His knights turned to him, a curious expression on their faces. "Gwaine, you're with me.

"What's that in your hair?" He asked, ignoring the order.

"It's stew."

He could hear her again. Arthur closed his eyes, trying to rid himself of that voice.

"It's stew." He murmured, suddenly sheepish. Part of him knew he should answer to Gwaine the same way he had the phantom: that would be the kingly thing to do. But he couldn't, knowing his knights' reaction would be to freeze, an icy smile ghosting their lips. They wouldn't tease him anymore. It would be wrong.

Leon stared at him. "Why do you have stew in your hair?"

"Because he was reading."

Arthur fought the smile, knowing the truth would be easiest. "I fell asleep at my desk."

There was a shared quizzical look, but none of them questioned him further. That was probably for the best.

~

The practice was going well enough, Gwaine oddly complacent. Percival had been paired with one of the newer recruits- a farmer's lad from one of the neighbouring villages- whilst Leon and Elyan battled a little further afield. The clouds brooded above them, turning an uneasy grey. It was probably best to head inside: there was no point in letting their armour rust.

He turned to call his men, sure that they would be glad for the lengthy practice to be over. They passed him, relieved and sweaty, until Arthur could see only two men left on the grass.

Elyan and Leon were fighting ferociously, far beyond their drills. There was true power beneath those blows, a bloodthirsty intent in the swing of blades. Arthur met Leon's bewildered gaze; he ran towards them, glad to hear Percival's footsteps only a few yards behind.

"Elyan!" He shouted, watching Leon falter, falling to the ground. The knight held up his shield, helpless to the sharp metal of Elyan's sword.

Elyan raised his blade. Arthur managed to grab his arm before he dropped it, finally managing to drag his attention away from poor Leon. "Elyan, I think he's had enough."

Panting, Elyan stepped away, walking back towards the armoury. He didn't manage a word, leaving the others to watch him disappear in bewilderment, unsure how exactly they should react.

~

Percival kept half an eye on Elyan as he fiddled with his armour, doing his best to undo the clasps. Leon stood next to him, telling some story about the tavern from the night before. Still, Percival couldn't help the chill that ran up his spine, the suspicion that there was something going on with his friend. Perhaps he was just being paranoid, what with the druid shrine still on his mind, but still... He knew better than to ignore his gut.

"No! No, no." Elyan whispered shakily, his gaze fixed on the corner of the room. Percival's smile faded, sickened by the true fear on Elyan's face. He looked to the corner, chilled to see that there was nothing there.

"You alright?" Leon asked, his eyebrows scrunched in concern for Elyan. The knight didn't answer, backing away from that corner, seeming to muster every ounce of bravery he could manage.

"Leave me alone!" He hissed, backing into Gwaine.

"Watch yourself." Gwaine hissed, putting his spear back in its slot. He pushed Elyan away, but the knight didn't seem to care. He pushed Gwaine back, his eyes still fixed on the far corner, scrabbling desperately into Gwaine. He continued to shove; it was clearly the wrong move. Gwaine had been tense since... Well. He punched Elyan, watching as he fell to the floor, hitting his head. He didn't get back up.

"Elyan." Leon rushed to his side, shaking him. "Elyan. Elyan!"

Percival exchanged a look with Gwaine. Clearly he wasn't the only one to see that something was dreadfully wrong.

~

When Gaius was called to the knights' barracks, it was often for some superficial wound, often a treatable cut, perhaps a headache if they'd been hit a little too hard. Elyan's case... This wasn't something he was used to. Not with Merlyn... Away.

The knight lay in his bed on his side, his eyes wide open. He stared directly ahead at nothing but the grey wall, silent despite his questioning. It was as if he was looking at something none of the rest of them could see.

"Why doesn't he speak?" Leon questioned from beside the bed, he and Gwaine hesitant to leave their friend. It was honourable, Gaius supposed.

The physician looked around the scantily decorated room, trying to find inspiration in the deer antlers on the wall, the green of the bedspread. It was so dreary, as if life had been sucked from the chambers as well as Elyan's soul.

"I don't know. It's strange." He answered slowly.

"It's like he's lost his mind." Gwaine remarked, folding his arms.

Gaius glared at him. He'd heard that the drunk had hit Elyan pretty hard, resulting in this state. The physician had seen many a head wound with terrible, permanent consequences; he only hoped that Elyan wouldn't suffer the same infliction.

"When I want your medical opinion, Gwaine, I'll ask for it." He said sharply, glad to see him suitably admonished. "Perhaps you would leave me alone to treat my patient."

He practically shooed them out, but Gwaine stopped just before the door.

"It would be better if Arthur didn't know of this." He said shiftily.

Gaius furrowed his eyebrows. "Why do you want to keep it from Arthur?"

"Elyan hasn't been himself recently." Gwaine admitted. "But Arthur... There have been times where..."

"Where what?" Gaius asked. He hadn't spent much time around the king lately.

"It only happens occasionally." Gwaine seemed uncomfortable. "Sometimes he just stares off to space for a while, but sometimes-"

"He talks to her, Gaius." Leon managed, taking a shaky breath. "It's like he thinks she's still here."

"Arthur has enough on his mind." Gwaine was being strangely reasonable. "We don't know what will tip him over the edge."

Gaius swallowed. Merlyn's absence had put Camelot in even more of a precarious position than he'd thought.

"Arthur doesn't need to know about every accident that happens in the castle." He decided, turning to look at his staring patient.

"Thank you, Gaius." Leon nodded, evidently glad they'd come to this understanding. He and Gwaine left Gaius to his work. The physician approached the bed, unnerved by Elyan's unblinking eyes.

"Elyan, can you hear me?" He bent down, examining the unmoving face. "Blink if you can hear me."

The knight remained still. Gaius frowned, unsure what else he could do. Perhaps the answer was in one of his various tomes back in his chambers.

He picked up his satchel, about to leave the rooms, when a white powder caught his eye. There was something peaking out from just below Elyan's bed.

He moved the blanket, finding a white circle shaped on the cold floor under the bed. He put a finger to the crystals, sniffing them and placing a couple on the edge of his tongue.

As he'd suspected. Salt. How peculiar.

"Would you like me to make up the bed, sire, or will you be sleeping on the table again?"

Arthur closed his eyes. He was facing away from the voice, staring out of his window and into the starry night. Perhaps he shouldn't reply, ignore the ghost until it disappeared to bother another troubled soul. Then again, he'd never been any good at ignoring her, no matter how hard he'd tried.

"Is this about me? You miss me? I'm touched."

Arthur could hear the smile in her voice, a glimmer of something he had always strived to see. It hadn't been so frequent before... No. He couldn't play with these fantasies. She wasn't really here.

"Leave me." He ordered, begged of the... Hallucination? Spirit? He couldn't turn to look at her, couldn't see the fresh sorrow in her eyes. The moon was bright, illuminating the castle turrets in an unearthly hue.

"Arthur-"

"Get out!" He bellowed, half expecting his guards to come rushing in. He waited for the inevitable response, the comforting remark or something akin to disappointment, although she'd never admit it. Merlyn would not leave him like this. But as he found the courage to turn his back on his window, scanning the room beyond, he found it empty. She was gone.

Not for the first time, Arthur felt the hot tears building behind his eyes. It was going to be a long night.

~

Percival found himself standing outside Gaius' chambers as if on instinct, his arm raised as if to knock on the hollow door. It was a chilly night; he wished he'd brought his cloak on the long journey to the other side of the castle. Still, he was here now. Gaius' chambers always had an unusual warmth to them, almost supernatural against the cold.

He didn't hear Gaius' reply to his sharp knock, but opened the door anyway, glad to find a little comfort in the candlelight. It did not last for long, however. Gaius was sitting at his desk, an old tome open in front of him. He glanced up at Percival, clearly deeply troubled. Maybe it had been wrong for the knight to assume that Merlyn had attracted Camelot's problems.

"What is it?" He asked, trying to keep his spiking fear at bay. Elyan. His heart started to beat faster. He was fine, surely. There would have been some kind of announcement, the castle would not be sound asleep if the worst had come to pass...

"Did Elyan disturb anything yesterday at the shrine?" Gaius questioned, folding his arms over his chest. He stood, pacing slowly as he thought.

"I'm not sure." Percival said carefully despite his alarm. They hadn't exactly stayed there for long.

Gaius narrowed his eyes. "I need you to be sure, Percival."

The knight wasn't exactly sure how he was meant to be any more certain. Elyan had slipped away for a moment, but it seemed unlikely he'd had the time to break anything. "I don't know, he may have done. I can't exactly keep track of everyone's movements, especially when we're all so worried about..."

He didn't need to finish that though.

Gaius sighed, looking down at the creaking floorboards as he paced closer to the knight. "I'm sorry, Percival. I must admit that I am deeply concerned for Elyan, he hasn't spoken a word since he regained consciousness and I can find no physical symptoms to explain it. The only thing I could find was a pile of salt at the foot of his bed."

"Oh no." Percival whispered, a new chill tingling down his spine. This was very bad indeed.

Gaius furrowed his eyebrows. "What is it?"

Percival gulped. "He's trying to ward off an evil spirit."

The physician practically scoffed. "A pile of salt? That's utter nonsense."

The knight wasn't exactly sure why that mattered in this moment. There was no time for snobbery. "Elyan believes it to be true."

Gaius took a long breath. "Then I fear that Elyan may have disturbed the spirit at the shrine."

Ah shit.

"What?" Percival knew there would be dire consequences. "What could that do to him?"

Gaius met his eyes, his expression nothing less than utter horror. "I dread to think what horror it might unleash. You must tell Arthur what happened at the shrine, you must tell him that Elyan is possessed."

That seemed a lot for Percival. Surely Gaius would be a better source of such speculation. He frowned, shaking his head slowly. "I'm not sure he'd believe me, especially in the mood he's been in."

Gaius didn't seem pertubed. "You must make him believe you."

What incredible advice. How helpful. How hadn't he thought of that?

~

Elyan felt as if he was struggling to hold onto the shards of his rationality, tormented by a partially visible mind. He remembered Gaius coming to examine him, Leon's concern, Gwen mopping his brow, humming songs he hadn't heard since he was a child. He regretted leaving her. She didn't deserve the life she'd lived, watching the men in her life die prematurely at the will of their king. Perhaps that wasn't fair. He had no love for the Pendragons, not in any real sense. He loved Gwen and his station as a knight: it meant he could keep her safe. Arthur, on the other hand, had his own demons, problems both of his own making and his father's.

Elyan shook his head. He needed rest, in no mood to delve into those vaguely treasonous notions. If only that blasted dripping would stop.

Wait.

He'd heard that sound before. Opening his eyes, he startled, bolting upright as he struggled with his sheets, trying to untangle himself from the bedding. The boy was standing there, water falling from his skin. He was pale, a ghostly white, staring dangerously at the terrified knight. Neither moved for a moment, Elyan transfixed, trying to catch his shuddering breath.

"L-leave me alone!" He pleaded, pushing his back against the headboard to gain some kind of stability. The boy just stood there, unaffected by the outburst. It was as if he was frozen.

"Please don't be angry with me." The boy spoke. He was too calm. Elyan could barely find the brain function to reply.

"I'm sorry." He said softly, swallowing his fear. Slowly, he pulled himself out of bed, hesitantly approaching the boy. As he got closer, he held out his hand, going to touch the child on the shoulder, but the boy flinched, staring up at the knight in awe.

"I'm sorry." Elyan said again, doing his best to be reassuring. He wasn't sure why he felt so protective over the boy. "Don't be scared."

He moved to touch the boy again. This time, he made contact with his shoulder, gasping at the feeling of icy skin beneath the thin tunic.

"You're so cold!" He knelt down, wrapping his arms around the child, as if to give him some of his body heat. The chill of the castle certainly couldn't help, especially this far down.

After a moment, Elyan pulled away, trying to find a flicker of emotion in the boy's eyes. There was nothing there, no more than a dead stare. "What do you want from me?"

The boy did not hesitate. "I want you to bring me peace. You must right the wrong that was done to me."

Elyan nodded. "How? What should I do?"

"It's easy." The boy stared. "You must kill the king."

Elyan couldn't find it in his heart to disagree.

~

It was too easy to sneak past the guards. Despite its reputation, Camelot's security was absolutely pathetic. Quite frankly, Elyan wasn't sure how Arthur had lasted so long, even with Merlyn's help. The man was an idiot.

He found Arthur at his desk, various papers scattered across the room. The king often had trouble sleeping, that was common knowledge. It had gotten worse since Merlyn's absence. Elyan didn't have much sympathy.

The king noticed Elyan just as he got to the doorway of the chambers. Arthur's hand went for his sword, but it relaxed as he recognised the knight's features.

"Elyan, you startled me." He chuckled humourlessly. "Everything all right?"

The knight did not reply. Arthur was a skilled warrior; his best chance was to take him by surprise. Staggering forward, he unsheathed his sword, plunging the blade towards Arthur's abdomen.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?!" Arthur cried, falling backwards in his chair to avoid the sword. He rolled away as Elyan tried to strike again, using his stool as a shield as a hail of blows rained down upon him. Elyan found that he could not reply, forcing Arthur back towards his fireplace, knocking the seat off the stool so Arthur was left only with two short legs.

"Guards!" Arthur roared, dodging another long swing. He found another small table, throwing it at the knight as his men finally came running to the sound of the commotion. Seeing that the battle was lost, Elyan deflected the guardsmen, running back along the corridor, falling far beyond the reach of sight.

~

Agravaine gave some very rousing speech about how evil Elyan had turned out to be, how no friendship should get in the way of loyalty to the king. Percival had been unconvinced personally. Then again, he thought that Agravaine was a greasy twat that had no business commanding any of the knights. Perhaps he was a little biased.

Ignoring Agravaine's orders, Percival stormed straight into Arthur's chambers. There was no time to argue with Gaius now. He would have to convince Arthur... Somehow.

The king was just sheathing his sword, blind fury in his eyes when Percival stormed into his chambers. Arthur looked up, clearly apprehensive that another knight might fancy his chances.

"What is it, Percival?" He asked wearily, hardly in the best of moods. Understandable really.

Percival opened his mouth, trying to find the words to make Arthur listen. Then again, maybe simplicity was best. The king wasn't one for poetry. "I think Elyan is possessed."

There was a pause. Arthur looked baffled, but didn't immediately scoff. There had been enough supernatural ongoings to make this vaguely plausible. "What do you mean possessed?"

Percival scratched the back of his neck, wincing at his thoughts. "He may have disturbed a spirit at the shrine. I think that spirit is possessing him. Why else would he attack you?"

There was something akin to hope in Arthur's eyes, if only for a fleeting moment. He had been betrayed so much in the last few years, had been lied to and deceived. Perhaps this was something he could believe in, that Elyan had not chosen to cast away his loyalty.

But the king just shook his head, as if to clear it. "When we catch him I wish to ask him that very question."

He stepped past Percival, heading towards the corridors beyond. But before he reached the doorway, he stopped, turning sharply on his heel. Arthur's gaze had shifted to something just beyond the reach of Percival. He seemed to be listening intently to the silent air, haunted by his own spirit. The knight didn't turn. He knew that he wouldn't see what Arthur saw there.

A moment later the king turned back towards the castle, racing through the shadowy tunnels as if he were running away from a threat far larger than the one Elyan possessed.

~

Elyan had been caught. Gwaine and Leon had found him, the latter knocking him out with the hilt of his sword. Gwaine had apparently made a few comments about knocking some sense into Arthur too, but they were generally ignored. He had helped catch a traitor after all.

After brief consideration, Elyan had been thrown in the cells whilst Arthur decided what to do with him.

Agravaine had practically pulled him into the council chambers, his greedy eyes narrowed as he stared at the king. No points for guessing what he wanted.

"Elyan must be tried and punished in accordance with our laws." He stated. Arthur was hardly surprised that this was his position. He was too old to see the world differently.

Arthur shook his head, collapsing in his throne. "That would mean putting him to death."

"Well so be it!" Agravaine said incredulously. "We can't afford to show favouritism."

Arthur put his head in his hands, sighing deeply. Maybe he was being too soft, letting his feelings cloud his judgment. He just didn't want to find another traitor in his midst, didn't want to believe that everything he'd ever thought to be true was a lie. Percival was right. There was no reason for Elyan to act like this.

"But if Elyan wasn't acting of his own volition..." He let the words hang in the air, watching his uncle frown.

"What do you mean?" Agravaine questioned, more than a little bewildered.

"M- Percival believes that Elyan has been possessed by some kind of spirit." Arthur knew he sounded stupid even as he said it. Luckily for him, at that moment Percival walked through the large doors of the council chambers, taking in the scene in front of him. Cautiously, he stepped towards Agravaine and Arthur, as if waiting for some signal that he may interrupt their discussion.

"Ah." Agravaine turned to the knight, shuffling back slightly at the sight of his imposing figure. Swallowing, he glanced back at Arthur, putting his back to the giant. "I have no doubt he is merely trying to protect his friends."

Percival did not seem impressed. "Why else would Elyan attack the king?"

Agravaine scoffed, rolling his eyes immaturely. "His motive is obvious. Clearly being a knight was not enough for him. He wanted more power!"

"I know Elyan. He has no interest in such things. All he wants is his family's safety. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardise it." Percival was calmer, standing a step behind Agravaine. Arthur nodded slowly. It was true, he knew, that Elyan enjoyed being a knight, that he loved his sister and would not attack him if it meant putting her in danger. Power was not enough motivation for someone like him.

Agravaine could see that he was losing the king. "Can't you see? All this talk of possession and spirits is just a ruse to save Elyan's neck!"

"But what if it is true?" Arthur implored, enjoying his uncle's silence. "I'd be executing an innocent man. More than that, I'd be executing a friend."

He'd lost too many friends already.

"You cannot be seen to allow someone who tried to kill you to then escape punishment. You will appear weak." Agravaine spat, almost sneering at the king. "That puts the whole of Camelot in peril."

Arthur could see her again. She was standing by a column, looking down at him with genuine sorrow. Agravaine was right, of course. It would make him look weak. Besides, what could he do with Elyan? Banish him? He couldn't stay as a knight, not unless his innocence was proven beyond doubt.

"Sire-" Percival tried, but there wasn't much more to be said.

"Leave me." The king ordered. He needed to think. He glanced up. She was still there. "All of you."

And there he was. Alone again.

~

Percival burst into Gaius' chambers, too frustrated to deal with any courtesies. The physician looked up from his scales, weighing out ingredients for some potion or another, opening his mouth to complain about the knight's abruptness. At the sight of his face, however, Gaius stopped, letting Percival fill him in on the most recent events. The knight had an idea, but it wouldn't work without Gaius.

"Agravaine is just pushing for Elyan's execution." He grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. Perched on the edge of an old bench, he couldn't felt but feel a little out of place in all this political business. It was far more complicated than he was used to.

Gaius gave Percival a grim look. "Arthur may have no choice but to sentence Elyan to death."

"We can't allow that to happen." Percival said sharply. Elyan would not die abandoned by his friends.

"What do you suppose we do?" Gaius cried, exasperated.

Percival paused. "There must be a way of ridding Elyan of the spirit that possesses him."

"It would require very powerful magic." Gaius stated, as if that were not obvious. "Without Merlyn, I fear our efforts would be wasted."

"Then we must find her." Percival said, as if that was as simple as it sounded.

"And what? You want to smuggle her into Camelot to cast a spell in the cells under the noses of the guards?" Gaius shook his head. "It's too dangerous. We can't risk her life like that."

Percival narrowed his eyes. "I suppose not. But in that case, you'll have to do it."

It made sense after all. Gaius was powerful, even if he hated to admit it. He had an aura around him, a power that few Percival had ever met possessed. He was sure that he could find Merlyn if he needed to, but there seemed little point when Gaius was capable.

He expected an argument, that Gaius would refuse, would downplay his magic as he often had over the decades. But the physician seemed to realise the stakes, remaining silent as Percival's brain worked.

"Of course, we'd need to break Elyan out of the cells first." He murmured, doing his best to ignore Gaius' tired expression. "If I bring him to you, will you try?"

He couldn't really ask for anything less.

Gaius sighed. "Yes." He said. "I will try."

~

Night fell quickly above the castle. Percival had considered roping Gwaine into his exploits, but quickly realised this was something he had to do alone. If he was caught, he didn't want the blame to be shared amongst his... friends.

There was a knock on his chamber's doors just before Percival was to leave for the dungeons. It was Gaius, holding out an aged water skin.

"Elyan will have to be unconscious when I expell the spirit. I have laced this water with a powerful sedative." He handed the water skin to the knight, not quite meeting his gaze.

"And how am I meant to get him to you if he's unconscious?" Percival raised an eyebrow.

Gaius almost smiled. "I'm sure those muscles aren't just for show."

Percival rolled his eyes. He was sure be could take care of Elyan, but perhaps the water was a little less conspicuous. He wanted to comment, but Gaius' serious mood had returned.

"Remember, Elyan is not himself. You cannot trust him."

Percival nodded grimly. "I know."

~

It didn't take much to get past the guards. Merlyn probably would've used some clever magic, but Percival simply dropped some heavy pots on their heads. They clattered to the ground, in no shape to stop him from going anywhere.

Elyan's cell was one of the first ones down the damp tunnel. Percival had swiped the keys from one of the unconscious guards, twisting them in the iron lock. Elyan looked up at him with cloudy eyes, disbelief written across his sunken face. He was huddled in the far corner of the space, making no move to rise as Percival opened the cell door.

"Percy?" He squinted, as if not daring to believe his eyes. Percival winced at the nickname. Only Gwaine really called him that.

"There's no time to explain." Percival held out his hand, pulling Elyan to his feet. "You have to trust me."

There wasn't really a choice. A moment later the pair were rushing through the corridors, a burning torch in Percival's grasp. They walked in silence, the alarm bells only sounding as they reached the final tunnel, causing the pair to rush towards the woods.

They made it through the small iron door, locking it behind them as Percival scanned their surroundings.

"We need to make it to the cover of the woods." He decided, realising it would be easier to bring Gaius to Elyan than the fugitive back to the physician's chambers. He started off down the path, glad to hear Elyan's footsteps not far behind. They rushed forwards until the castle was just out of sight, the pair in a familiar clearing. They could see the moon between the trees.

"Thank you, Percival." Elyan said sincerely, breaking the silence between them. He patted Percival on the shoulder, a surprising gesture of affection. "You're brave, going against your king like that."

Percival shrugged. "I had to do it. They were going to execute you. I know that you would never hurt Arthur, not of your own volition."

There was a new chill in the air. Elyan's smile had faded, his gaze flickering to something beyond the knight.

"Here." Percival held out the water skin. "Have some water. After all that running, you must be thirsty."

Elyan took it, but stopped before taking a sip. He looked back into the woods again, suddenly suspicious.

"Where are my manners?" He chuckled. "You must be thirsty too."

"No, after you." Percival stepped back, wondering if he should just punch Elyan and be done with it.

"No, I insist." Elyan persisted, looking back into the trees again.

"What are you looking at?" Percival turned, but saw nothing more than the breeze between the branches. He frowned, oddly afraid.

"I'm sorry, Percy." Elyan whispered, as if he didn't want the knight to hear him. Too late, Percival turned back to Elyan, only to be hit by supernatural force. Elyan himself would struggle to knock someone like Percival to the ground, but the force of his blow sent him sprawling, the world fading to black before he even hit the ground.

~

Gaius had been awake all night waiting for word from Percival, ignoring the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. As the sun had begun to rise, it became apparent that their plan had failed. The physician could only hope that Percival had made it out alive, that Elyan hadn't lost his mind enough to harm the giant.

His worries were partially abated when Percival staggered into his chambers, a nasty wound on the side of his head. Gaius had found a cold compress, placing it gently on the reddened area, questioning the poor knight on what had gone wrong.

"Before he jumped me there was a presence there." Percival shivered. "He kept looking past me into the woods. I feel like I could sense it."

"It was Elyan who was supposed to be knocked out, not you." Gaius muttered, unsure what his next moves would be. "Arthur is under heavy guard, has been since Elyan's escape."

Percival winced as the compress was removed. "What should we do?"

"This shrine... Do you think you could find it again?" Gaius asked, doing his best not to sound eager. As much as he hated to admit it, he was fascinated. The magic at work was so old, like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Besides, he felt like he was back on his adventures with Merlyn, her absence less painful when there were tasks at hand.

Percival hesitated. "I'm not sure I want to. You said I was never to go there again."

That was true. The shrine was dangerous, but a venture there was necessary to finding the reasoning behind this devilish spirit.

Gaius stepped closer. "We need to find out all we can about this spirit. Unless we know what we're dealing with, we won't be able to help Elyan or Arthur."

Percival couldn't argue with that.

~

The woods were noisy, birdsong loud as they moved through the forest, only silencing as they reached the druid camp.

"It's just through these trees." Percival mumbled, heading slowly ahead, reluctant to find the camp once again. Gaius had known that Percival had spent time with the druids, but hadn't quite realised how in touch he was with their teachings. He was clearly uncomfortable here, able to sense the blackness that flooded this area of the woods. Gaius was only thankful Merlyn had never come here. It may have overwhelmed her.

The site was eerily beautiful, covered in torn rags of multicolours, a tribute of respect that left the physician in awe. He and Percival stood in the centre of it all, the spell only broken by the sound of the knight's voice.

"What are we looking for?" He asked, fidgeting where he stood.

"I'm not exactly sure." Gaius felt the need to whisper. "But remember, don't disturb anything."

"Trust me, I won't." Percival murmured, ducking under the unearthly bunting as he wandered amongst the rags.

Gaius was slower, leaning heavily on his walking stick, wincing when he loudly knocked over a pile of rubble.

"Sorry." He mouthed to Percival, ducking under another string to reach a small well.

Gaius had never felt particularly in tune with his magic, especially in recent years. He truly believed it to be a force to be wielded, had never felt the thumb of such a force hidden in the air, no matter how much Merlyn explained it. And yet, staring down at the small pool of water, he felt as if he was transported back, the sound of ghastly screams, crying, defeated shouts echoing around him. It was awful, steel thrashing through the air, last words of dying men cemented in his mind. They were begging, pleading for life. All he could do was stare, transfixed, lost in a world of smoky doom.

"Are you all right, Gaius?" Percival asked, placing a hand on the physician's shoulder and tugging him away from the past. He didn't even know he was crying until he brought a hand to his face.

"Something terrible happened here." Gaius couldn't say any more, wiping water from his cheek. He managed to glance back down, focusing on the symbols on the outside of the well. "These runes are in the druid tongue."

He pointed at them, noticing something in Percival's hand. "What is that?"

"A crossbow bolt." Percival answered, furrowing his eyebrows in concern. "They're scattered all around."

There was silence between them for what felt like a long time.

"This was Uther's doing, wasn't it?" Percival spoke up, forlornly staring at the ground.

"It is revenge for Uther's crime that the spirit seeks." Gaius said wisely. This would not be a problem easily solved.

Arthur stared down at the scrolls in front of him as he sat in the council chamber, his vision blurring slightly as he stared down at his own messy scrawl. The sun was high in the sky, bearing down on the parchment, forcing him to squint as he wrote. His hand was cramping slightly, the twinge of pain making him wince as he tried to finish this damned speech. It was for some banquet or another, something about the flourishing prosperity of the kingdom, how marvelous Camelot had become under his rule. Still, sitting there alone, with only two guards stood silently behind him for company, the king couldn't quite bring himself to believe that the shallow words rung true.

He was rudely awakened from his despondency by a loud clatter of armour. Twisting in his hard, oak chair, he found one of his guards lying still on the ground, completely unmoving. As Arthur stood, his other guard fell, his helmet rolling across the floor.

Ah fuck.

"Look out!" That ghost of a voice whispered, her presence thick in Arthur's mind, even if she did not appear before him. "Behind you."

The king spun on his heel just in time to see Elyan step out from behind a column, a large crossbow in his hands pointed directly at Arthur. The king barely had time to throw himself out of the way of the bolt before it sailed past him, fixing itself in the chair behind him.

Scrambling back to his feet, Arthur grabbed his sword from his sheathe, barely having time to find his balance as Elyan discarded the crossbow and reached for his own blade.

"Why are you doing this?" Arthur cried, shuffling back slightly. He didn't want to harm Elyan, not when he had been such a loyal knight, but soon he would have little choice. Elyan did not follow him, simply staring at the king with a hatred that made all of Arthur's hair stand up on end.

And then, the king paused. It looked as if... No. Surely not. But he couldn't ignore what was in front of him. Elyan was soaked through, water gushing over his face, from his fingertips... Where was it coming from? The liquid pooled at his feet, creating a large puddle in the middle of the chambers.

"I must avenge my death." Elyan spoke, but the voice was not his. What was he talking about? He was not dead. Besides, he sounded almost like a child?

This was above Arthur's paygrade. As Elyan moved to strike, he parried the blow, his mind racing.

"What have you done to Elyan?" He questioned, trying to keep the fear from his voice. But Elyan- or rather- whatever was possessing Elyan- said nothing, launching into an attack that Arthur had difficulty in deflecting. He couldn't attack, not without harming Elyan. He didn't know what to do.

"Don't make me kill you. I don't want to kill you." He gasped in a short moment of respite, pushing Elyan away. The knight slammed into a column, but barely registered any sort of pain before he was back in front of Arthur, his blade arced towards his head.

Arthur ducked, sidestepped Elyan's sword for the final time before pushing the hilt of his blade between the knight's ribs with all the strength he could muster. Elyan fell, his sword clattering away from him; Arthur raised his above the fallen knight, the point of his blade angled just above his heart. Maybe it was time to put him out of his misery.

"Stop! That's not the Elyan we know!"

It was that voice again. That righteous, good for nothing voice that acted as his decency in times like this. Part of him wanted to ignore it, but it was firmly quashed beneath the part that knew she was right.

He sheathed his sword, watching Elyan's disbelief as he scarpered away, fleeing the council chambers in the blink of an eye.

Arthur could only hope that he had made the right decision.

~

"The palace is secure. No one is able to get in or out. We're searching the Lower Town even as we speak. Fear not, my lord, Elyan will be hunted down and slain. I will see to it personally." Agravaine reported sternly. Arthur had called he and Gaius into the throne room, but in that moment the king wish he hadn't bothered with his uncle. He couldn't help the sense of disgust that overwhelmed him as Agravaine described the brutal murder of another with such a laissez-faire attitude. He was clearly no knight.

"Thank you, uncle." Arthur said through gritted teeth, glad to watch the man leave. He couldn't help the deep distrust he felt for the man, the sliminess that made him shiver.

Turning his thoughts away from his uncle, he faced Gaius, praying that the physician may have some sort of explanation for what he'd heard.

"You do not believe that was Elyan, my lord?" Gaius frowned grimly. "Surely you would have killed him if you thought such a thing."

Arthur often forgot how astute the physician could be. "When Elyan spoke to me, it wasn't with his voice. It was the voice of a boy, a child."

Gaius didn't seem surprised. "That is the voice of the spirit that now possesses him."

The king swallowed. In an odd sort of way, it made sense. "What do you know of the shrine, Gaius?"

"I believe the site was once a druid camp. There is evidence that the camp was attacked." The physician looked rather uncomfortable at the prospect. "Your father was relentless in his persecution of the druids. Many died. I believe it is now one of those tormented souls that possesses Elyan."

His father...

"And that's why he seeks his revenge?" Arthur turned, pacing slowly along the long room. It felt so empty.

"The spirit craves peace. He wishes to find his proper place in the other world, but the unjust nature of his death has denied him that." Gaius spoke technical treason, but Arthur wasn't going to deny him that. He was only telling the truth, after all.

Closing his eyes, Arthur stopped, twisting back towards Gaius.

His father.

"Is there anything that can be done to change this?" He demanded, unable to believe there was nothing that could set this right.

Gaius' face was ashen. "In druid law, only the atonement of the perpetrator can bring the spirit peace." He sighed. "Unfortunately, your father is dead. And even if he were not, I fear he would not give any kind of restitution, even for Elyan's sake."

"What about Elyan?" Arthur needed to know what would happen to him.

Gaius shook his head. "Elyan is no longer the man you knew. The spirit has a hold over him that may be too powerful to break. All we can hope is that he'll be found before he has a chance to enact his revenge."

Gaius didn't need to say killed. They both knew the word hung thick in the air.

Arthur nodded slowly. Still, those words echoed in his head.

His father. His persecution. His misdeeds.

If only Gaius knew Arthur was no better.

~

Arthur sat alone in his chambers, his food already stone cold. There was a candle flickering in front of him, although he couldn't tell you when it was lit, nor who had done it. Still, he stared at the flame, trying to find comfort in the spark of light against the darkening of the night.

"It's not your fault. You can't be held responsible for everything your father did."

The king tore his gaze away from the fire, unsurprised to see Merlyn standing just in front of his desk. He looked at her for a moment, pondering her existence. Was she a spirit? Would he end up like Elyan? It seemed unlikely. Merlyn, as far as he knew, was still alive.

But what if she wasn't? The feeling sank like a stone in his gut, the terrible feeling that all that was left of his Merlyn was this feeble shadow. He could not know what had befallen her in the time since he'd last heard her true voice. He stared at the figure in front of him. Was that what she had looked like? Had she really been so beautiful? God. He was a fool. Was he going mad? Would he descend into a world where she was still at his side? Where he'd never driven her away, where she didn't have...

Magic. There. He needed to feel the words, to accept his own reality. Merlyn had... Magic. Merlyn had used said magic, apparently quite a lot during her time in Camelot. Merlyn did not come without her magic. And he wasn't really himself without her either.

"You can go now, Merlyn." He said at last. "Thank you."

She smiled softly. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

Arthur shook his head. "I think you've earned your rest."

~

Percival had struggled to sleep. Perhaps he still hadn't broken out of his habit from his nightly shift as a guard wandering around the castle. More likely, it was his worry for Elyan. Gwaine had found his own bed long ago, muttering something about Percival taking up too much space in the slim beds allotted for the knights. At some point, Percival would look into getting one that would actually fit his frame. But that would have to be another night.

Roaming through the corridors had always been a favourite pastime of his, especially at night when there was scarcely a soul around. Quite frankly he thought the security was a little scant for a night after there had been an assassination attempt on the king. It was probably Agravaine's doing, that pompous old sod. Still, it made it easier for Percival to move around. Sometimes he headed to the armoury to clean his chainmail or sharpen his sword. In fact, he'd been heading to do just that when he'd spotted a shifty figure sneaking away from the king's bedchambers.

Spinning around, he moved as quietly as he could, trying to follow the cloak without being spotted. He recognised it, obviously. It had been a gift from Merlyn many years ago. Percival was sure Arthur would remember it. Besides, if it were a thief, then that cloak would not be the thing to steal from the king's closet.

Percival found himself in a small clearing, frowning as he glanced around. He'd lost Arthur. He turned, trying to see if the king had doubled back, only to feel a light tap on his shoulder a moment later.

"Percival." The king raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

The knight smiled broadly. "My lord. Fancy meeting you here."

"What are you doing creeping around in the woods?" Arthur asked sternly, although it was difficult for Percival to take him too seriously due to the height difference.

He shrugged. "I'm following you. What are you doing creeping around in the woods?"

"Something I should've done a long time ago." Arthur murmured, discarding his cloak. It had been a poor disguise anyway, especially as the night was unusually warm.

Percival folded his arms. "Elyan could be out here. You know how dangerous that is."

Arthur grimaced, but remained strong. "I have to face him."

Percival had no words.

"Feel free to go back to Camelot anytime you like." Arthur began to head deeper into the forest, pausing for a moment as he heard Percival's steps behind him.

"What?" The giant bit back a smile. "Thought I might tag along. Don't want you getting lost and scared."

Arthur almost smiled, but said nothing, heading back towards the thicker trees. Percival walked behind him, comfortable in their silence.

~

They reached the edge of the druid camp before the sun had risen. Arthur stopped at its edge, surveying the scene. He didn't remember it this way.

"You don't have to do this. Or we can wait until it's light? You know, when everything is a bit less scary and dangerous." Percival reminded him, but Arthur thought they both knew he didn't have a choice. They couldn't wait a moment longer, couldn't risk someone getting hurt.

They descended into the camp, goosebumps forming along the king's skin. He didn't remember it being so eerie. When they reached the well, he unsheathed his sword, leaving it on the ground. Percival did the same. They probably wouldn't be much use against a spirit anyway.

Gathering his courage, Arthur scanned the camp, searching for any signs of movement.

"I'm here!" He shouted, suppressing his nerves. "It's what you want isn't it?"

"What are you doing?" Percival murmured, his face gaunt.

Artur glanced towards him. "Gaius said only the atonement of the perpetrator would help free Elyan. He assumed that was my father, but he was wrong."

Percival's eyes widened. "Then who was it?"

Arthur felt the knight already knew the answer, but he needed to find the words, to acknowledge his burden.

"It wasn't my father who lead the raid on the druid camp. It was me."

Dripping echoed through Arthur's ears, the splatting of cool water on the ground. He looked up, Elyan's ghostly figure visible only by the moonlight.

"My blood is on your hands." It was the child's voice again. "I cannot rest because of what you did." Arthur did his best not to shiver at the sudden chill in the air.

"I know." He said evenly, a strange sense of peace washing over him. He knelt before Elyan, meeting his gaze, doing his best not to let his words tremble. "I am responsible for what happened to you and for all the violence that happened here. When I lead the attack on your camp, I was young and inexperienced. I was desperate to prove myself to my men, to my father."

Arthur caught his breath. Elyan began to trudge towards him, squelching in the water that still ran down his face. He didn't break eye contact, silent as he listened.

"I told the men to spare the women and children but I know that some of them ignored the order. And there was so much happening. I wanted to stop it... I froze. I didn't know what to do."

It was all Arthur could do to stop the tears from falling down his face. He'd hated it then, this dredged up memory he'd hoped to forget. Hated it. Had felt the chaos, the pain, the suffering and couldn't stop it. Wouldn't, perhaps. Even now he wasn't sure which was true. He'd needed to prove himself to his father, and yet in the moment, it had all felt so wrong.

"I can still hear the screams." He admitted, closing his eyes for only a moment. "I cannot right this wrong. Nothing I can do will ever change the horrors that happened that day. But I can promise that now that I am king, I will do everything I can to prevent anything like this from ever happening again."

Arthur barely noticed that the water had stopped. Elyan was dry, his face expressionless.

"From this day forth the druid people will be treated with the respect they deserve. I give you my word." It was a step in the right direction. Arthur knew it.

Elyan only stared at him for a long moment, Arthur's heart pounding fiercely. Then, the knight drew his sword, but the king remained still. If this was what the spirit wanted, then so be it.

"I am truly sorry for what happened to you." He stated, breathing heavily as he readied himself to die. Maybe Morgana would make a good queen. Perhaps she'd invite Merlyn back to Camelot. At least, with his last words, he had found a final truth.

And then, Elyan dropped the sword. He took a disbelieving Arthur by the shoulders and raised him to his feet, hugging him tightly. The king wasn't sure if he could reciprocate, but the spirit didn't seem to mind.

"I forgive you." He whispered into Arthur's ear, releasing him from his grip. And then, as Elyan turned his head to face the sky, he breathed out a kind of white smoke, the spirit drifting up into the air before vanishing from sight.

Arthur caught Elyan before he fell, watching the knight's eyes come into focus.

"Arthur?" He managed, his voice returned to normal. He slumped against Arthur's chest, out cold, but very much alive. The king managed a sigh of relief, glad to have Percival with him to transport him back to the castle. That had gone far better than he'd dared to hope.

~

Elyan was set to make a full recovery according to a rather astonished Gaius, who elected not to ask too many questions. Arthur was glad for it, far more important things on his mind than to relay the night's events.

The new law for the acceptance of druids had been welcomed by the council with far more enthusiasm than Arthur had been ready for. There had been some reservations- Agravaine voicing most of them- but the druids were generally friendly people. Few of them these days had any proper magic anyway. Still, the small change had made the king wonder what else the council would accept, whether the ban on magic was really as popular as he had thought. Granted, he had absolutely no plans to overhaul such a thing in the near future: he couldn't help his fundamental distrust of magic. Nor did he think the people would be particularly happy with such a rash decision. Still, he knew one person that could perhaps sway him, who he hadn't given a true chance to speak. She deserved that much. He'd been wrong to deny her of her voice, of the time to explain. He wasn't sure if he would come to regret the decision, but perhaps it was time to bring Merlyn home.

~

Chapter Text

Merlyn had never been so angry.

It had taken a while, of course, for that twang of love to fade from the forefront of her mind. Her heart still yearned for him, she knew that, couldn't help it, but that feeling was souring. Perhaps it wasn't his fault. She'd tried to convince herself that she was being irrational, that it wasn't really his fault, that Uther...

No. He couldn't hide behind his father anymore. This was his decision, his hatred for her kind. If he had been different, he never would have thrown her in that cell, never even have thought to build a pyre. It was clear to her now that Arthur had never loved her as much as she had him. She never could have been so cruel.

It hadn't taken her long to find a druid's camp, almost as if they had been waiting for her. They'd welcomed her with a homely sort of kindness that had warmed her. It was strange, something she wasn't sure she'd ever felt before. Even if her first few weeks were carved by misery, a raggedy heartbreak which she wasn't sure would ever truly heal, it still made her smile to see small children gasping in awe as she made sparkling butterflies appear, watching as they swooped around their tents in absolutely glee. She helped with the cooking, kneeding the bread as if it has harmed her in a past life. It was easy, really, to see how all of this could be hers.

Still, she missed her friends. The camp was on the eastern border, not far from Ealdor. Merlyn hadn't dared face her mother, to tell her that she'd failed. Camelot, on the other hand, was far more reachable.

The first time she saw it, she could go no further. Looking up at the white walls, feeling the tears threatening to fall, she could only stare. She'd stayed there until early morning, when she'd heard the first scatterings of life, finding her senses and returning to camp. No one asked where she had gone, and she was glad for it.

Eventually she made it past the walls. She saw Gaius, Gwen and Gwaine, ensuring to avoid him. She saw Percival, mostly from a distance, but occasionally she could leave them small gifts, tokens of thanks for what they had done for her. Usually it was small bundles of flowers that reminded her of them- Gwen's were usually purple- and whilst she didn't dare linger for long, it warmed her heart to know that they were safe.

And then, after her latest adventure, she had seen one of the camps elders awaiting her on the edge of the last line of tents. He watched her approach, something solemn in his gaze.

"This has to stop, Emrys. It's tearing you apart. You need to move on."

His lips didn't move, but Merlyn heard his voice echoing through her head.

She felt the tears roll slowly down her cheeks as she nodded, knowing he was right.

"I know." Her voice was hoarse. "I know."

It was doing her no good seeing them. She needed to move on.

Not long after, rumours began to flow thick and fast, men cloaked in red searching the forest, golden dragons adorning their shields. Everyone knew what they were looking for; Merlyn could tell by the way conversation stopped when she was near. Her time here was coming to an end, she knew that.

"I think it's time for me to go." She announced one morning, pretending not to hear the sighs of relief from the elders. "Your hospitality has been so generous. I hope I can repay you all one day."

"Nonsense, Emrys." One of the elders murmured. "The honour was ours."

The others nodded their agreement. None of them, however, tried to stop her as she left, unsure of where exactly she was heading.

That was how she ended up in a small farming village a couple of miles over the boarder of Essitir. It reminded her a bit of Ealdor, god, she missed her mother, although the people here seemed rather cold. Given that, they didn't ask many questions; she didn't want to put anyone in danger if she could help it.

An elderly couple had given her a bit of work on their small plot of land, mostly tending to their modest lifestock and fixing the decrepit wall that marked the perimeter of their land, but at least it gave her something to do and a bit of money. She missed the druids, her friends and family, even him when she lay on the hard floor at night, wandering about what could never be. Life was boring here, but she didn't mind the mundane rhythm of it, the lack of danger at every corner.

Well, that was a dangerous thought.

Merlyn was working outside, dragging her pitchfork through the mud, when the bandits came. For a moment, her heart stopped, but upon realising that there was no red cloak, no golden shield to be found, she felt the wave of nausea recede. She waved her arm and a number of the men fell off their horses, bouncing across the ground, their steeds bolting in fright. Still, more came, flooding the narrow street with terror.

One came for Merlyn, but she stabbed him with her pitchfork, blood spilling from his wounds as he fell. His cries lead more men to come at her, twirling their weapons like silly batons. She felled them with ease, using the base of her pitchfork to crack their skulls, the points to gouge through their skin. Her magic strained against her control, the urge to obliterate this insignificant land singing through her blood. She scowled, distracted for a moment. This part of herself - her magic- had never acted like this before. For her attackers, however, that solitary moment was enough. There were too many of them. One moment, Merlyn was stabbing her enemy, the next the back of her head began to sting, her vision blurring. When she hit the ground, she did not get up again.

~

Arthur could almost sense Merlyn's incessant ramblings as he headed for the council chambers. He stalked the corridors, ignoring the way the servants cowered away from him when he neared. It had been months of searching, months of stumbling through the woods in the hope he would catch but a glimpse of her. Part of him had hoped that, when she'd found out that he was searching, she'd run straight back into his arms, forgiving everything he'd done and vowing to love him, even in his stupidity. After the first few weeks, that vision had faded, dwindling with his hope of ever seeing her again. He knew there were whispers in the court, that their king had gone mad, that he was no longer fit for rule, but he ignored them, dismissing their concerns with a wave of his hand. He didn't have time for this. He had to find her.

Agravaine had called him to court that morning; Arthur- who had dismissed every servant sent his way- was late. He'd left his uncle largely in charge lately, heavily reliant on his support. Still, he'd been reluctant to join this council, desparate to spend another day in the forests, searching for someone he wasn't sure he wanted to find. What would he say to her? Perhaps this would be a good distraction. He couldn't spend his whole life believing she would return. He did have a kingdom to run.

Agravaine stood in front of the crowd of courtiers, smiling approvingly at Arthur when he appeared. He spotted Gaius in the crowd, his knights off to one side. This truly must've been an important matter for so many of Camelot's finest to be present.

"My lords, knights, gentlemen." Agravaine began, a smug smile set unabashedly on his face. "As you are all aware, Camelot's claim to the lands of Gedref has long been in dispute. Today I can announce that after many months of confidential negotiations, the kingdoms of Nemeth and Camelot have reached an agreement."

There was a quiet murmuring around the room as Arthur tried to hide his surprise. Whilst he had authorised Agravaine to rule in his absence, this was highly irregular. Whilst this may be good work, he would have to have a word with his uncle later about keeping him informed in such dealings.

"There is nothing to fear." Agravaine soothed the audience, standing proud. "It is a fair and honourable agreement that befits two great kingdoms. Furthermore, our friendship will be cemented by a union that cannot be broken. The hand in marriage of our king to her Royal Highness, Princess Mithian of Nemeth."

At this, everyone turned to look at Arthur, the meager claps at the news quickly falling silent. Any pretense was now gone from his face; he kept his expression stony, doing his best to contain his anger.

"Leave us." He said quietly, his lords seeming paralysed with shock. "I said, leave us!"

This seemed to break the spell. His men began to spill out of the room, practically tripping over each other to get out of the door. Arthur turned his glare to Agravaine, clenching his fists when he saw that his smile had not faltered. When they were the last two remaining in the room, Arthur narrowed his eyes into slits.

"What is the meaning of this?" He seethed, unable to believe what his uncle had dared to do.

"I don't understand." Agravaine frowned, seeming genuinely puzzled. "I thought you'd be happy."

"Happy?" What the actual fuck. Arthur could scarcely believe it. "What would on earth would possess you to think that I'd want this?"

"Gedref is in a very powerful position for us. Ensuring that it remains that way is important to Camelot." Agravaine sounded rather patronising, as if he was talking to an ungrateful child. Arthur resisted the urge to kick him, resting his head against a nearby column to collect his thoughts.

"Uncle, you've seen what I'm doing. Every day I go out to search for -" His voice cracked.

"For Merlyn?" Agravaine scoffed. "She betrayed you, my lord. Now, she must face the consequences."

Arthur closed his eyes, muttering to himself. "She didn't..."

"What?" Agravaine barked, almost eagerly.

Arthur shook his head, unwilling to speak more on the matter. "Nothing."

His uncle smiled.

"Exactly. That is why I've worked so hard for this marriage." He said proudly. "I think you will find her most suitable."

"But I don't love her." Arthur pleaded, unable to imagine a world without Merlyn as his wife. He hated that he'd managed to lose control of even this part of himself.

"My lord, you are a king." Agravaine said, not unkindly. "Your duty is to your people and, in this case, what is best for your people is for you to marry Princess Mithian. Besides," he breathed, "if Merlyn wanted to be found, you would have done so by now."

It wasn't a new thought for Arthur, but hearing it outloud still stung. He was right, of course. He couldn't out his needs above his people, especially when Merlyn clearly didn't feel the same way.

"You're right, uncle." He bowed his head, suppressing every fibre of his body that screamed to refuse this trade. "Thank you. I'll call off the search."

It was time to let her go.

~

Morgana did not like to be kept waiting. Agravaine was certainly taking his time, a far cry from the beginning of their shared endeavours. He wasn't quite so scared of her now, she realised. Perhaps it was the power he'd gained in Camelot, or the realisation that he was entirely expendable to her. He had plans of his own, she was sure of that, but she didn't quite know where he'd got his audacity from.

Her wooden door creaked as the slimy man entered, his eyes squinted as they adjusted to the darkness. She waved her hand, a candle on her desk lighting mysteriously.

"You're late." She said tersely, setting down her quill. She'd been sitting down so long her back had begun to ache. "You have the plans?"

Agravaine grimaced, not meeting her eyes, nor moving from his position by the door. "There have been some unexpected developments."

Morgana raised an eyebrow. "I hope you're not going to tell me you've failed me once again."

"I'm sure there'll be other opportunities in the future." Agravaine was always so very diplomatic. He was a good courtier, she could say that much.

"Camelot grows in power every day, despite my brother's madness." Morgana hissed. "If we don't act now, there will be no future. Particularly for you."

Agravaine finally managed to tear himself away from the door, pacing as he stared at her imploringly. "It is not easy, my Lady."

"Not easy?" Morgana scoffed. "Merlyn is gone, Arthur is in shambles and has left you in charge! How much more do you need to do your job?"

"Be that as it may, the plans for the siege tunnels have always been very well protected." Agravaine was always quick to make excuses. Morgana didn't fully understand his reasoning for patience. He'd assured her that this was the best plan, and yet Camelot had spent months unguarded, the king absent, no Merlyn sniffing around. Granted, Morgana needed to catch Arthur if she truly wanted full control, which would be unlikely if she attacked the city without him in it, but Camelot had been weak. That had been her chance. Then again, conquering the city was not the same as retaining it.

"You assured me you could bring the plans to me." Morgana said icily, a smirk playing on her lips. "Or were you exaggerating your own importance?"

"No." Agravaine shook his head quickly. "Not at all. But it will take time-"

"Enough!" Morgana was sick of his voice. Agravaine remained silent; she could smell his fear in the air. She stood up to her full height, smiling wickedly.

"A man of your standing can go wherever he pleases." She met his terrified gaze, wondering how long she would have to put up with this awful man.

Agravaine's eyes widened in incredulity. "You're not suggesting I take the risk myself? If I should be caught..."

Morgana shrugged, unfazed. "Best not to be caught, then."

If he was, she could always find a new lackey, perhaps one with better breath.

~

Merlyn was having a confusing day. She'd woken up with a sore head in what seemed to be a small bedroom. There was no window, just a bed, some new clothes and a bucket of clean water. Quite frankly, she was surprised she wasn't dead.

Uncertain as to what to do next, Merlyn did the obvious, washing the grime off her the best she could with the water and changing into these strange clothes. The dress was beautiful, whilst not the court finery she was often surrounded by, the material was hardly plain. Feeling slightly bewildered and disorientated, she looked around, examining the solid, oak door that lay between her room and her freedom. To be brutally honest, she had no idea what she had gotten herself into. She had no idea what lay beyond that door. Perhaps it would be better to wait, to find out what they had planned for her before she made any difficult decisions.

A serving girl opened her door, ushering her down the corridor. Merlyn did try to speak to her, but got no reply. Instead, she looked around, trying to memorise her route. She was in a fortress of some kind, she thought, but had little time to focus on anything else before she was herded into a large space and motioned to sit on the floor, on top of a large blanket. Merlyn was completely bewildered. What on earth was going on?

"So you are the one who has been causing me a whole lot of trouble?" A voice echoed from the entrance to the room. Merlyn turned her head to see a tall, rather muscular man, his bald head glistening in the candlelight. At the sight of her face, he smiled. "I was not mistaken. The filth of the pig-sty cannot disguise true beauty."

Merlyn stood awkwardly, pursing her lips. She didn't know what to say.

The man bowed, but refused to tear his gaze from her. "Helios. I'm only sorry that we had to meet under such circumstances."

"Merlyn." Merlyn nodded to him stifly, still not quite sure where her place was in all this. "I suppose I have you to thank for my life. The villagers were not so lucky."

Helios didn't seem bothered by the comment. "These are difficult times. I need new recruits and the youth of today are not always.... enthusiastic."

He shook his head, looking at her curiously. "Who are you? From what family do you come?"

"I am no one." Merlyn answered as Helios stepped closer, in no mood to divulge the family history.

Helios smiled. "I find that hard to believe."

"Nevertheless, it is true." Merlyn shrugged.

Helios didn't bat an eyelid. "No matter. I have no interest in where a person comes from, only in what they can become."

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Merlyn did not like this.

"Would you do me the honour of dining with me?" Helios asked, even though they both knew she didn't have a choice. She gave him a tight smile and nodded once, not trusting her voice. This was going to be a long night.

~

Arthur hated his stupid crown. It made his hair itch. Agravaine had essentially threatened him into wearing it, as if without it, everyone would just forget that he was king. He had to admit, the knights did look rather grand in all their armour, his lords in their finest tunics. The banners blew gently in the wind; Arthur was sure they made quite the sight. Despite everything his uncle had done, none of it stopped him thinking about Merlyn, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, the way she moved so effortlessly. Accepting this marriage felt like losing her all over again, losing the chance of her beside him for the rest of his days.

The princess rode behind her own knights, her face covered in a veil. Arthur didn't really care. It wasn't like he was going to fall in love with her anyway. She could be a troll as long as the kingdom was happy.

The knights stopped their horses just in front of Camelot's procession, seeing to survey them. Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, composing himself properly. It was time.

"Knights of Nemeth, Camelot welcomes you and extends the hand of friendship." His voice boomed across the square as the knights parted, the princess riding forward.

She stopped before him, lifting her veil. For a moment, Arthur was stunned. She was beautiful, chestnut hair with identical eyes, her white clothes complimenting her pale skin. She was a true princess, he was sure of that.

He strode down the steps, watching the grace in which she dismounted her horse. He was almost lost for words.

"Princess Mithian, you are most welcome." He managed, a tinge of pink sweeping across his cheeks.

Mithian smiled. "Thank you, Your Highness. I have heard much about you. And you are more handsome in person than reports suggested."

Arthur wasn't sure if he should be offended by that. He stuttered, unable to form proper words.

Luckily, Mithian saved him. "Are we going to stay in this chill all day?"

Arthur gathered himself. "Forgive me." He took her hand, turning towards his court. "Tomorrow there will be a great feast to welcome our worthy friends."

His men clapped, although the sound felt hollow to Arthur's ears. Mithian was beautiful, yes, but she wasn't Merlyn. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get over that thought.

~

Merlyn was vaguely surprised to find herself in a cave- like room, the rocky walls illuminated by flickering candles. It was sort of beautiful, really. The central table was piled high with fruit, the floor decorated with the same rugs and pillows. It almost reminded her of the things Arthur used to do, the picnics in the woods, an intimate winter evening snuggled under blankets by the fire, their bellies full of wine. It seemed strange to think that those evenings were in her past, that Arthur would never look at her in that way again. She didn't know what she would do if he did.

"Were you expecting something different?" Helios asked, tearing Merlyn away from her thoughts. "Perhaps campfires and raw meat?"

Merlyn actually quite enjoyed a good campfire, but couldn't exactly say she was a fan of raw meat, or any meat for that matter.

"I'm not sure what I was expecting." She answered honestly, if a little hesitantly. She hadn't quite come up with a plan of escape yet, wasn't even sure if it was in her best interest to leave. Where would she go? The village was gone, she had no home.

"Please, sit." Hengist urged, gesturing to the pillows. "I want to know all about you."

"There's not much to tell." Merlyn lied, almost tripping over her skirt at she sat.

Helios, at least, had the grace to pretend he didn't notice. "Except how a beautiful woman ended up swilling out pigs in the middle of nowhere."

"It's a long story." Merlyn frowned, unsure what she should say. Helios sat opposite her, watching her intently.

"I have all night." He smiled, perhaps trying to put her at ease. For a moment, it worked, Merlyn relaxing into the cushions. He would believe anything she said.

Merlyn opened her mouth, ready to lie as well as she could, but was cut off by the intrusion of a young guard.

"My lord." He bowed shortly, clearly wishing he was somewhere else.

"I told you that I was not to be disturbed tonight." Helios hissed sternly. He was not happy, his glare sharp at this poor man. Merlyn almost felt sorry for him.

"The Lady Morgana requests an audience." The guard spoke firmly. Merlyn tried her best not to show any emotion, tried to prevent her eyes widening, to stop herself fidgeting at the news. Oh dear. If Morgana was here, that meant bad news for Camelot. She was plotting something. Merlyn hoped it was something new. The immortal army thing had been quite a good idea, but it was getting old.

"She's here?". Helios stood, all anger subsiding from his expression. "Make her welcome. Tell her I will see her right away."

The guard nodded, fleeing the room as quickly as he could.

Helios turned to her, frowning slightly. "Are you all right?"

Merlyn hoped she didn't look like she'd seen a ghost. She smiled weakly. "Yes, of course."

"You don't mind if someone joins us?" Helios asked, arching an eyebrow. It wasn't really a question.

Ah, fuck.

"I had thought we'd be alone." Merlyn fluttered her eyelashes, but Helios ignored her.

"It'll take but a few moments." He waved away her worries, but Merlyn was in no mood to stick around.

"I should retire."

Helios shook his head. "There's no need."

"I'm very tired." Merlyn insisted, already moving towards the door.

"But we've barely begun to know each other!" Helios stood himself, his eyebrows furrowing.

Merlyn stepped towards him, smiling reassuringly. "I'm sure there will be time enough. Thank you for your kindness."

"Until the next time, then." Helios appeared reluctant to let her go, but didn't fight for her to stay.

Merlyn nodded hurriedly, giving an awkward curtsey. "Yes."

She fled the room hurriedly, in no mood to catch sight of Morgana before the end of the night.

~

Morgana wasn't sure if she liked Helios, but she certainly enjoyed her meetings with him more than those with Agravaine. His face was far more pleasing, although perhaps it was his capability that she enjoyed most.

"You have company." She noticed as she swept into the room, seeing the table set for two. "You never change, Helios."

"Do you have the plans?" He asked, ignoring her remark, pacing the length of the room.

Morgana's smile faltered. "Not yet."

Helios crossed his arms, stoping to stare crossly at the witch. "That was our agreement, Morgana! Without them, any attack on Camelot would be suicidal."

"Well I hear your force is not up to strength." Morgana countered, but Helios' expression remained stony.

"Preparations are nearly complete." He said through gritted teeth, not foolish enough to question her sources.

"But not quite yet." Morgana smirked. She knew that he had not beaten her this time.

Helios looked almost offended, his eyes narrowing. "Are you doubting me?"

"No more than you, me."

Helios held her gaze for a moment, but was first to break away, picking up a jug to pour them both some sweet wine.

"I'm sure we understand each other perfectly." He said, holding a glass out to her. "Come. You must be thirsty after your ride."

Morgana took the goblet, remaining silence as she examined its contents. It wasn't exactly Camelot's finest.

"You are welcome to stay." Helios stood close to her. She could feel his breath on her face.

Morgana did not step back, but scoffed, unable to stop her smile. "Take care not to get too distracted, Helios, there's still much to do. Once I am crowned Queen of Camelot you may indulge yourself all you wish."

Morgana could almost feel Helios' excitement.

"I may keep you to your word." He murmured, his gaze hungry.

"I look forward to it." As Morgana turned to leave the cave, she did her best to hide her reddening cheeks. She had every intention of keeping that promise.

Agravaine had called Arthur into the Council Chambers rather early in the morning. The king half expected his uncle to parrot on about Princess Mithian, but at his grave expression, he could only worry, taking his seat at the head of the long table. This was clearly a serious matter.

Agravaine handed him a letter, the seal of Odin stamped plainly on the parchment. He resisted the urge to turn to his right, to show it to the woman that no longer lingered behind him. Some reflexes took a little more time to unlearn.

"Young Eoghan was the mapmaker's apprentice." Agravaine explained, outlining how the boy had been found dead that morning, the letter in his pocket. "He was a good lad, from a decent family."

Arthur frowned. "Yet willing to sell his country's secrets for a few pieces of gold."

If Merlyn had been there- Arthur thought- she would have had something to say about the way Agravaine flinched at that remark.

"And he had access to the city's most sensitive plans." His uncle stated, as if Arthur was unaware.

"The location of the siege tunnels." He stated, staring at Odin's seal. This was not good.

"I fear so, my Lord." Agravaine murmured, folding his arms over the top of the nearest chair. "And I don't need to tell you what an enemy could do with such plans.

Arthur folded the letter, far more alert than he had been when first summoned. "Was anything else found with this letter?"

Agravaine shook his head. "No, sire."

"Then it's possible the boy succeeded in his mission and was murdered for his pains. " Arthur swallowed. This was not what he wanted for his morning. "We need to check the vaults."

He stood, unwilling to wait for his uncle's reply. There was no time to lose.

~

"No sign of a forced entry." Agravaine remarked as he followed Arthur into the vault. They each held torches, illuminating the dusty tomes, careful not to wave them near the old parchment.

"The boy would have had full access - no need to break the locks." Arthur mused, browsing the dull covers of each book. He'd taken Merlyn down here once, although they hadn't done much reading.

"A complete inventory will be necessary, my Lord." Agravaine disturbed the king's thoughts, ignorant of his momentary lapse in concentration. "With your permission, I'll start right away."

Something in Arthur's bones screamed to decline Agravaine's offer, but he couldn't find a reason to decline.

"Meanwhile, double the guards and bring the mapmaker-" he decided reluctantly, "the boy might not have been acting alone."

Arthur could only hope that he was.

~

Morgana had taken to fantasising of the days where she would never have to see Agravaine again. She hadn't quite decided what to do with him. Granted, he had shown her great loyalty, but he would betray her easily if her position weakened. Perhaps she would send him to some far off castle where she'd never have to see his face. Killing him didn't exactly seem kind, but then he took every opportunity to be cruel.

She hadn't bothered to light more than one candle, her eyes long accustomed to the darkness. Agravaine could only squint at her as he entered Helios' tunnels, speechless as she snatched the scroll from his hands.

"I hope you won't disappoint me again, Agravaine?" She murmured, unrolling the parchment. He was useful, she'd give him that. On a good day.

Agravaine only smirked. Morgana did not enjoy the sight.

"Plans to the siege tunnels of Camelot. Good as a key to the gates." He declared, as if they had taken the city already. What a fool.

"But a good deal more deadly." Morgana tried to hide her smile. They wouldn't see her coming. Placing the scroll over a blank piece of parchment, she let her eyes glow bright.

"Dae gelicnesse ond afestna tha thim clute tha."

Removing the original, Morgana could see her handiwork, an identical copy of the map burnt into the previously empty parchment.

"You've done well, Agravaine." She said, turning to him with half a smile. "Finally."

She enjoyed watching his pride falter. Maybe he could be her jester. It would fit him, she thought.

~

Gwen was tired of watching Arthur gush over Mithian as they sat beside each other at the banquet table. It didn't seem fair. Merlyn had been forced to flee for her life, and had lost everything. But here was her wonderful king, his soon-to-be bride, stuffing their faces with lamb and wine, surrounded by their gushing noblemen bathed in red and candlelight. How pathetic. Mithian was beautiful, intelligent, brilliant. Gwen knew that, she'd seen it in her mannerisms with servants, in the way she looked at Arthur. It wasn't her fault. Still, Gwen couldn't help but feel that all of this was terribly wrong.

And then Arthur spilled soup down himself, the contents of his spoon muddying his chainmail. Gwen suppressed a smile. Mithian seemed unbothered by it, wiping the soup away with her napkin before staring lovingly into Arthur's flustered eyes, but it made Gwen feel a little better. At least there was some magical presence on Merlyn's side.

~

Arthur was surprised by Mithian's company. He had met many a wonderful princess in his time, and yet Mithian seemed to outshine them all. She had a humour that matched his own, an understanding of the hardships one may be under when ruling such a place as Camelot, what it was like to have the weight of so many people on one's shoulders. The only other person he could ever speak to about it was... Well. Perhaps he understood her a little better now.

He pulled his thoughts away from Merlyn, doing his best to stay in the present as his uncle approached him, a firm hand grasping his shoulder.

"The vaults are secure, my lord." He murmured, his voice low to blend with the chatter around the banquet table. "And there were no plans missing."

"Thank you for performing your duties with such haste, uncle." Arthur spoke sincerely, worry fading from his mind. He couldn't be suspicious of everyone on such a happy occasion.

"Now," he suppressed a smile. "You have to make up for lost time. We are to have dancing and I hear that your jig used to be something to behold."

He glanced at Mithian, glad to see that she seemed rather amused.

Agravaine seemed to turn purple, his face flushed.

"'Used' is the word, sire." He stammered. "Alas, I am not as nimble as I once was."

"Nonsense!" Arthur smirked.

"I do feel that dancing is best performed in youth and appreciated in age." Agravaine declared, making his escape rather swiftly.

Arthur shared a smile with Mithian before taking a sip from his goblet, looking around him at all of his cheerful knights and nobles. Life wasn't so bad, he supposed.

~

As darkness coated the sky in brush strokes of inky black, Arthur offered to escort Mithian to her chambers. It wasn't a long walk, but a slow one, the noise of the crowd dwindling with each step.

"I'm afraid the festival of Ostara will soon be upon us." Arthur said to fill the void of quiet that had fallen between them.

Mithian frowned, creasing her beautiful face in the candlelight. "Should I be worried?"

"It's a tradition in Camelot to have a hunt that day." Arthur explained. "But Guinevere can arrange a tour of the city."

Mithian didn't seem pleased. "A tour?"

Arthur blinked. "Some of the buildings go back many centuries-"

"Arthur-" Mithian interrupted him. "I love hunting."

The king stopped, unable to speak for a moment. "Really?"

"Really." Mithian didn't seem phased by Arthur's confusion. He could only stare at her, stunned for a moment.

"I believe these are my chambers?" Mithian eventually broke the silence, seeming faintly amused.

Arthur gathered himself. "Of course."

"Then I bid you good night, sire." Mithian held out her hand, which Arthur kissed delicately.

"Good night, Princess." He said softly unable to take his eyes off of her.

They lingered for a moment, Arthur's thoughts a blur.

"If I may?" Mithian arched an eyebrow. It took a moment for Arthur to realise he was still holding her hand.

He laughed uncomfortably. "Sorry."

She turned to enter her chambers, making it to the door before Arthur remembered what Agravaine had asked of him.

"Mithian?"

She turned around, quizzical, the gems in her dress glinting so brilliantly. "Yes, my Lord?"

"I was thinking, perhaps..." Arthur didn't know how to get his words out.

"Yes?" She seemed slightly impatient.

".. you might like some breakfast?" God, he was bad at this.

Mithian just stared at him. "Breakfast?"

"Tomorrow." Arthur nodded. "With me. A picnic... Somewhere. Somewhere nice."

Smooth.

"I look forward to it." Mithian smiled softly, gracefully taking the final steps to her room. Arthur could only watch her, part-stunned. He didn't know what he felt when he looked at her, but he knew she was the safer choice. The right one, perhaps.

~

Morgana always enjoyed surprising people. As a girl, she had learned the harp so that she could play it for Arthur's birthday after he'd mentioned that it was his favourite instrument. She had often surprised Merlyn with new spells during their time together, creating starry nights on the ceiling of her chambers. Even now, even when most knew what she was capable of, they still underestimated her.

"Where did you get this?" Helios asked, amazed as she presented him with the map she had copied from Agravaine.

Morgana shrugged. "The source is impeccable."

Helios studied the map, his forehead creased in concentration. "If I'm to risk my men against Camelot, I need more than impeccable, Morgana."

The witch stepped closer to him, almost able to taste his sweat. There was no reason to play her cards close to her chest now. They were so close.

"The King's uncle and most trusted adviser, Lord Agravaine." Since Merlyn's departure, that was surely true. "I doubt you'll find a source more impeccable than that."

Helios smiled, careful as he rolled up the map, turning to face her, his eyes glinting in the darkness. "Then it is only a matter of time. I will send word the moment our forces are at full strength."

Morgana nodded, brushing her hair away from her face. "Don't delay. The treaty with Nemeth will be sealed within days."

Helios understood, as he always did. "It will be soon."

Morgana opened her mouth, thankful for Helios' pace. He was a good man to have on her side, that was for sure. Before she could speak, however, the echo of falling rocks vibrated through the tunnel, the sound coming from far too nearby to mean nothing.

"Someone's listening." She cursed, unable to believe she could be stupid enough to forget to check. It was all this excitement, her eagerness to return home. She had grown sloppy.

Helios followed her as they headed towards the sound, but whomever had caused the disruption seemed to have vanished into thin air.

"Did you see who it was?" Morgana asked frantically, unable to keep the panic from her voice.

Helios shook his head. "I can't be sure." He turned to his guards, shouting with all the authority he could muster. "Seal the camp. Account for everyone."

A number of men rushed ahead, blazing torches illuminating each tunnel. It didn't take long for them to return, however, forlorn as they met Helios' gaze.

"Any sign?"

One brave guard stepped forward. "She has taken nothing."

Morgana narrowed her eyes. "Who is this woman?"

"A serving wench I recently acquired, nothing more." Helios spat, turning back to his guards. "Check the river."

It was in that moment that something caught Morgana's eye. It was dirty, having been trampled upon by many of Helios' men, but the red neckerchief was unmistakable.

Morgana resisted the urge to sniff it, the familiar fabric oddly comforting.

"Does this woman have a name?" She asked tersely, needing some kind of confirmation of what she already knew.

Helios sighed. "Merlyn."

Morgana could have cried. She didn't know what emotion she was feeling in that moment but knew that, whatever it was, she could not betray it, not in this moment.

"Your appetite has betrayed you." She hissed, doing her best to appear seething. "She's no serving wench. We must find her. Now!"

And there it was. Despite everything, no matter how many times Merlyn chose Arthur, Morgana's heart beat faster at the very thought of seeing her... Seeing Merlyn again. She didn't know what she would say, what she would feel, but if there was ever a time that Merlyn could be hers, it would be now.

~

Even with a headstart, Merlyn wasn't sure how long she could outrun Helios' men. She had no weapons- not that realistically she needed any- but she'd rather Morgana's allies not find out she had magic. It had already been a long day.

It was about to get even longer, she realised, as she approached a river. The men were closing in on her, their weapons glinting in the sun. There were too many of them realistically, but then, she had never much believed in realism. Besides, her only other option was to jump and hide within the river, and she didn't much fancy that. If nothing else, she didn't particularly want to get her hair wet.

And so, a few feet from the river, she stopped, waiting for the charging men. The first came at her with his axe, clearly in no mood for mercy. As she ducked behind a tree, she couldn't say she felt bad when he tripped over a convenient tree root, his axe burying itself in the mud.

As long as it was subtle, maybe she could use a little bit of magic.

Merlyn lunged for the axe, scrabbling to get it into her clutches just in time to block the next soldier's blade with its handle, the sword sticking into the wood. She kicked the man back, sending him stumbling, wrenching his sword out of the wood.

This was more like it.

Merlyn wouldn't say this was where she was happiest, but she certainly was comfortable, parrying blow after blow, breaking an inconspicuous branch from a tree, watching as it fell onto those below it. The trees in this part of the woods must really be rotting. Perhaps it was the time of year.

Within minutes, the men began to retreat, in no mood to be battered. Merlyn too felt a little worse for wear, bruised and cut from those who'd managed to get a little too close to her. Still, she seemed to have escaped worse damage, just about finding the strength to flee in the vague direction she believed Camelot to be.

Even if he didn't want to see her, Arthur had to know. Camelot wouldn't be safe for much longer.

~

Arthur wasn't sure why he'd suggested a picnic. It was something he and Merlyn had often embarked upon together, riding aimlessly through the forest until they'd found somewhere with a view or, at the very least, enough space to put some kind of blanket. Usually they would be visited by a number of animals as they ate, the odd doe, certainly a few birds which would land far too close to them. Arthur used to joke that if he'd brought his crossbow, they would be an easy target, which would often cause Merlyn to punch him gently or push him over, laughing as he lost his balance and fell into the mud. They'd been his escape when he'd first become king, a moment away from his duties. How long ago that all seemed now.

Holding her arm to ensure that she didn't fall, Arthur helped Mithian towards the edge of a short verge, the view of forests and mountains climbing into the skyline.

"How about here?" He suggested, as if the view wasn't simply brilliant. "What do you think?"

"The view is certainly spectacular!" Mithian breathed, smiling as George placed the blankets and pillows upon the ground. Arthur almost opened his mouth instinctively, ready to wind him up, before quickly remembering that Merlyn was no longer his servant. That pang was sharper than he wished it to be.

The breakfast was lovely, calming Arthur's nerves as he spoke to Mithian about... Well. He couldn't really remember. Time seemed to fly by, pausing only when he felt sudden pressure build up in his throat. He couldn't help it, a tremendous belch echoing far into the trees, his cheeks flaming red in moments.

He looked at Mithian, who seemed concerned, absolutely mortified. "I'm sorry, I really don't know what came over me. I, er-"

Mithian only smiled, before burping so loudly that Arthur could barely believe that it had actually happened. The pair of them chuckled; the king could barely believe his luck. Mithian truly was something special.

~

Merlyn hadn't heard another soul for hours. She'd stopped to rest, the smoke of her fire concealed by the darkness, fog looming around her clearing, obscuring her vision. Sleep was but a fantasy: even if she thought she was safe, the thick brambles entangled in the dirt pricked at her skin. She was comforted by the crackle of her fire, the speed of her heart slowing.

And then it was dawn. She'd been so stupid, letting herself drift with her fire still so bright, the smoke essentially a beacon to her location as the morning sun had appeared over the horizon. She sighed, listening to the sounds of Morgana's horse as it approached, picking the thorns out of her skin. There was no point in running now, not when she was so obvious a target. Besides, Morgana could use her magic. Merlyn couldn't. It sort of put her at a disadvantage.

"Merlyn." Morgana greeted her a few minutes later, dismounting her horse. That seemed a rather stupid thing to do, but then, she was a High Priestess nowadays. It would take a bit more to kill her than the rusty blade Merlyn had stolen from Helios' soldier.

"Morgana." She said stiffly. "Nice to see you again."

The priestess sighed, seemingly in no rush as she sat opposite her once friend. "What happened to you, then?"

Merlyn shrugged. "I fancied a change of scenery. Camelot just wasn't doing it for me anymore."

Morgana looked at her plainly. "I hear that Arthur banished you."

"Ah, I forget you have your traitor in the court." Merlyn crossed her legs. "Agravaine is an... He's a choice. How did that little alliance come about?"

"I can't say I'm here for an idle chat." Morgana deflected, leaning back, cursing as a thorn drew blood. She murmured something incoherent, the scratch healing quickly.

Merlyn raised her eyebrow. "You've gotten stronger."

"I have." Morgana smiled softly, obviously proud of herself. It was real emotion, her mask slipping. "As have you."

Merlyn frowned. "What do you mean?"

Morgana let out a deep breath. "You know that I don't hate you, that I never could. It is Arthur I want." At her lack of reaction, she continued. "You have been abandoned, just as I was. You are as alone as I have been the last few years. All I want is what is rightfully mine. I know you don't believe that people with magic are inherently evil, otherwise you never would have helped me. You have no reason to be loyal to Arthur. Despite everything you have done for him, he had no qualms in discarding you when it suited him. You deserve better than that. Join me, Merlyn. We could be great together."

For a moment, Merlyn was stunned, imagining what her future could be. She could see it now, a tempting fate so close to her fingertips, the taste of magic on her tongue. Morgana would be at her side, the pair of them marching into Camelot with blazing golden eyes. They could rebuild the city with all the hopes and dreams she had buried deep inside of her. Arthur wouldn't stand a chance. Camelot would fall to them in an instant. She didn't need Arthur, didn't need the comfort he could give. She didn't need his forgiveness, his love.

But goddammit, despite everything, she wanted it, ached so badly without him by her side. He was her other half, the other side of the same coin. She couldn't abandon him, no matter how tempting the offer may be. Morgana was right: he wasn't perfect. He had abandoned her. But it was not as if the priestess was entirely innocent. She had tried to kill Merlyn multiple times, even sending Arthur after her. To Morgana, she was collateral, a sacrifice that could be made for her kingdom. Even when she had ruled, it had hardly been with love. She had killed and maimed and tortured to gain her position. What would happen to the knights, Gwen, Gaius? Even if her ends were pure, she had no desire to save those that she could. Morgana would watch Camelot burn if she couldn't have it.

But Arthur... He was her destiny, her choice. Perhaps it was her fault that Morgana had ended up this way, but that did not mean she had to follow her. Arthur hadn't given up on his good. She didn't need him, but she loved him, wanted him to understand her the way that she did him. Maybe she was a fool. There was a pretty good chance she was, but she really did believe he could learn to understand her.

"I'm sorry, Morgana." She murmured, forcing herself to meet the priestess' gaze. "I really am, but I can't trust you anymore."

"But you can trust him?" Morgana almost growled, her eyes flashing.

Merlyn knew it could never really make sense. "As much as I can trust myself."

She barely had time to react as her vision turned black, haunted by the orange of Morgana's eyes. Perhaps she should have tried to run.

Almost despite himself, Arthur was enjoying the hunt. In the early dawn, a thin mist had spread across the trees, the eerie beauty quickly trampled by the blast of the hunting horn as he galloped through each clearing, focused on what prey may lie ahead. A buzz of excitement washed over his men. Here, he didn't feel so alone.

Merlyn would have complained. There was something about wild creatures that had always tugged on her heartstrings, a protectiveness she didn't often display when battering their- her- enemies. Mithian, on the other hand, seemed delighted, sharing the rush he felt at the eager shouts of the crowd, wielding her crossbow expertly. They hadn't caught much, but Arthur didn't mind. It wasn't exactly the prey he was hunting for.

"Deer!" Leon shouted, kicking his horse into action. Arthur followed, Mithian close behind him, his knights relieved to have something to chase. They raced through the trees, the deer unusually nimble as it darted away, desperate to outpace the horses. Eventually, however, his men surrounded it, Leon's weapon trained on the animal.

"It's yours, sire." He lowered his bow, begrudgingly nudging his horse so Arthur would have a clearer shot. He was a good man. A good knight. He knew how to best serve his realm.

Arthur nodded in thanks, training his own crossbow on the deer. He squinted at the animal, pausing for a moment. In an odd way, it looked familiar, something about its face making him rather uncomfortable. Part of him didn't want to shoot it, but he had to impress Mithian. He could not risk everything he had planned due to one odd feeling.

Before the bolt even left his bow, he knew it would strike the deer cleanly, right in its heart. Arthur felt his stomach drop, suddenly sure he'd made a terrible mistake.

Filled with regret, Arthur could only watch as his arrow flew true. Merlyn had really changed him. And yet, as the bolt reached the deer, it changed course, suddenly ricocheting into the ground. Arthur frowned. If he didn't know any better, he would've said that the deers eyes had glowed golden, if only for a moment. It stared at him, its blue, sad eyes overwhelming his senses.

Mithian, however, didn't seem to feel the same somberness, oblivious to his dismay. She aimed her own bow, the deers eyes still fixed on his- a familiar shade of blue...

'I thought you were a good shot, my lord." She smirked, firing a bolt before Arthur had a chance to stop her. "A gold sovereign says she's hit."

Arthur urged his horse after hers, shaking his head. He had to stop thinking of her, seeing her in everything. She wasn't here, had moved on. He was being ridiculous. It was just a deer.

She was long gone.

~

Merlyn did not appreciate being shot.

Waking up in an unfamiliar body had not been part of her weekend plans. Nor had she particularly fancied running for her life through the forest on shaky legs, chased by Camelot's finest men and an unfamiliar, but incredibly beautiful, woman.

Granted, whomever the woman had been didn't know that she wasn't really a deer. She couldn't really blame her, although Merlyn couldn't say she liked how close she'd been to Arthur. He was going to move on one day, she supposed. Why would he stay loyal to someone he hated?

It shook her, if she were honest, how Morgana had Arthur hunt her, how she worked in such potent metaphors. She'd always been clever, but even now, Merlyn was always surprised by her callousness, yearned for the friend she'd once had. Morgana was right about a lot of things, perhaps even Arthur, but Merlyn refused to give up on him now. She knew who he was. She'd have to try.

Still, she had just been shot. It had taken all of her strength to flee, hiding in the hollowed trunk of a large oak, her eyes glowing as she covered her tracks with leaves and fallen twigs. The knights had searched for a long time, but as the sun had begun to set, they reluctantly returned to their city, discouraged from their failures.

Merlyn barely noticed her body shift, her legs lengthening alongside her torso, her hair growing and darkening, humanity restored to her soul. She sighed, collapsing back against the wood as the sky lost it's light, an untreated pain shooting to the forefront of her mind.

"Ow." She hissed, finally ready to look down at her leg. The bolt appeared intact, which was positive. This would hurt, but she would survive.

Gritting her teeth, she ripped the bolt from her leg, placing her hands on the wound to apply pressure, in no mood to lose too much blood.

"Ic haele thina throwunga."

Immediately, relief coursed through her veins as the pain subsided. She wasn't completely healed by any means: despite her time with the druids, she still found such magic rather difficult. Still, the wound had closed... Partially. Tearing cloth away from the bottom of her dress, she bandaged her leg tightly, praying that it wouldn't bleed too profusely. Merlyn closed her eyes. She needed to see a healer. Luckily, there was one relatively nearby that owed her a favour or two.

~

"What are you doing here?!" Gaius spluttered, his eyes wide at the disheveled sight of his former apprentice as she collapsed onto one of his wooden benches, clothes crimson with blood. Merlyn had worryingly little trouble slipping past the guards, her time as a servant certainly handy as she navigated her way to the physician's quarters, praying that Gaius was alone. She was in luck, the darkened room no different to the day she had left.

"You're injured." Gaius murmured, shuffling towards his supplies. Merlyn had no idea what he was looking for, but felt surprisingly glad at whatever liquid he forced down her throat, sighing deeply.

He examined her wound as she told him about Morgana, kneeling next to her to apply a rather strong-smelling paste and a fresh bandage. Gaius didn't seem particularly interested in her time as a deer, oddly far more focused on the pressing threats to Camelot's general safety.

"The Southrons, Helios and Morgana plan to attack Camelot?" He sounded almost incredulous, but this was hardly the most far-fetched plan they had come up against. "They'd never succeed. They must know that."

Merlyn fancied their chances. If Morgana turned every unsuspecting knight into deer, Camelot's defence wouldn't last long.

"They have help." She conceded, sure there was another time for this debate. "Agravaine gave them plans of the siege tunnels under the citadel."

Gaius finished fastening her bandage, creaking as he stood, taking the seat next to her.

"Agravaine?" Gaius swallowed. "Arthur will never believe us."

Merlyn didn't flinch at the mention of his name, but turned away, unable to face the one man who had stayed by her side for all this time. Deep down, she still felt guilty for abandoning him. "I'm sorry, Gaius. I can never see Arthur again. Please, you must go. Tell him of the danger."

Merlyn didn't expect Gaius' arms around her as he pulled her into his chest, didn't feel the tears wet his brown shirt. They sat there for a long time, shrouded in candlelight, neither saying a word. Still, Merlyn knew they couldn't stay this way forever.

"Go, Gaius." She murmured, clearing her throat so that her voice strengthened. "Please, go to him. Perhaps he will listen this time."

She didn't mean to be bitter, but being back here brought up memories she'd suppressed. When she'd left Camelot, it wasn't just Arthur she'd left behind. It was her life, her hopes and dreams that she'd built up over their time together.

And now, if he were to ignore Gaius, it wouldn't just be his life he were risking.

For the sake of Camelot, she could only hope he'd taken his head out of his arse.

~

Arthur couldn't say what it was that had led to him opening the bottom drawer in his desk, reaching for a silver ring he really had no reason to keep. In the palm of his hand it seemed so small, glinting foolishly in the specks of sun. He stood, edging closer to the window so that he could fully inspect the tiny dragon he had designed himself. He wondered if she would have liked it if he had given her the time to wear it. She could be anywhere by now. Part of him liked the idea, wanted her to live her own life, even if it was without him. In his mind, she had set up a small farm, herding sheep and pigs to her content.

There was still a small part of him that hated the secrets she had kept, but that voice was getting quieter every passing moment. Perhaps he was still bitter, but if he were honest, he would do anything to turn back time, give her a chance to explain, to become his wife.

He was thankful for a knock on the door to his chambers, worried that his fantasies may be running slightly wild. He had the lovely Mithian to think about now. He grunted, surprised to see familiar white hair appear around the door, Gaius' solemn expression startling him. The physician had avoided him for months; it seemed strange that this was the moment he had sought him out, when Arthur was indulging his most suppressed impulses.

Wrapping his fingers around the ring so that it was concealed from Gaius, he raised his eyebrows, wondering what on earth could have happened. "Gaius?"

"Sire, I need to talk to you." The physician said gravely, shutting the door firmly behind him. "It's important. Very important."

Arthur frowned. "What is it?"

"It concerns your uncle." Gaius sighed, doing his best to be delicate. Arthur closed his eyes. This was hardly the first time someone had come to him about Agravaine. If he were honest, he himself had some suppressed suspicions. Even Merlyn had begged him to conceal her... Abilities from his uncle. Still, he was family and, quite frankly, Arthur didn't want to believe it.

"What about him?" Arthur asked icily.

Gaius hesitated, as if there was a good way to phrase his accusation. "I have sources which seem to believe that he is in league with Morgana, that he has stolen the plans for the siege tunnels and is helping her to gain control of Camelot."

Arthur blinked. Instinctively, he knew he had to react, to deny. With a deeper frustration than what called for the particular situation, he slammed his hands into his desk, cursing himself as he felt the ring he held fall from his hand, disappearing onto the floor.

In no mood to search for it, he marched out of the room, ensuring Gaius followed as he made his way down into the vaults below the castle.

"The idea is preposterous. I've known him since I was a child." He spat with far more venom than he'd intended. "I refuse to believe he would ever betray Camelot."

Betray his nephew.

"The plans for the siege tunnels are kept here." He unlocked a dusty cabinet, reaching inside, praying that he would find the plans. For a moment, he felt nothing, but as a scroll brushed his fingertips, he did his best to stifle his relief. With an angry jolt, he grabbed the scroll, handing it aggressively to Gaius, who appeared quite dumbfounded.

"I don't understand." He murmured to himself, Arthur in no mood to listen to his apologies.

"Nor do I, Gaius." The king replaced the maps, locking the cabinet once more. "But I think I would like to have a word with these sources of yours."

Gaius opened his mouth, but was caught off guard by a shadow from just beyond Arthur's shoulder. The king turned, relieved to see it was only his uncle.

"I came as soon as I could, my Lord." Agravaine bowed shortly. "Is there a problem?"

"No, Uncle. Not at all. I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you." Arthur was vaguely surprised with how quickly Agravaine scarpered away, but then again, he'd never been the bravest man.

He turned back to Gaius, suddenly emotionally exhausted. He didn't need to ask Gaius who his sources were.

"You should trust her, my Lord." The physician had always known what he was feeling, although didn't seem worried about adding to his inner turmoil. "Even I don't know everything she's done."

"Trust?" Arthur scoffed, leaning back against the cabinet. "How can I trust someone who has so obviously turned their back on me?

"I cannot think you believe that, Sire." Gaius was a terrifying man when he wanted to be, never raising his voice, yet so bitterly full of disappointment. "If you'd sent her to the pyre, she'd have burnt in the flames. She loved you more than life itself."

Arthur laughed mirthlessly. "And yet she still left me?"

Gaius shook his head. "You had left her for so long, my lord. I'm afraid to say we were scared. We saw the pyre being built... Even then she would have stood her ground and... How could we know that you wouldn't kill her?"

"Because I love her, goddammit, I love her more than life itself. I could never kill her. Never." Arthur didn't know if he was shouting, but in that moment, he didn't care. This was Merlyn- how dare Gaius ever even think-

"We knew." Gaius seemed sorrowful now, his gaze full of pity. "You were so angry, but, maybe we should've let you choose. That was what she wanted. I've known you since you were a boy and wanted you to make the right decision, believed that you would, but when? You may love her, but you forget that we do too. We are her family, her friends; not one of us could see her die."

How could Arthur respond to that? Perhaps this was the moment that what he had done, who he had lost, truly hit him. He sunk to the ground, head in his hands.

"Leave me." He managed, waving a hand vaguely towards the vault door. He needed to be alone; this was as good a place as any.

"My Lord-"

"Go." Arthur couldn't help the sob that escaped his throat. Merlyn would have stayed with him in that moment, no matter what. Gaius left.

How could he ever think he could stop loving her?

~

Arthur didn't know how he made it to his own chambers. He had been sitting on the end of his bed for hours before Gwen came in, his mind completely blank.

"Have you slept at all, Sire?" Gwen questioned, frowning at his dreadful state. He could probably do with a bath.

"How can I love someone who's betrayed me?" He asked her, feeling rather hopeless. "It doesn't make any sense."

Gwen didn't say anything, staring at him slightly incredulously.

"Yet how can I make myself love another?" He laughed humourlessly. "Tell me that."

Gwen didn't scoff. She didn't laugh, nor shout. She was rare, Arthur had always thought that she was perhaps the kindest woman he'd ever met. Still, when he met her gaze, he could see the fury boiling inside of her, the way she was biting down everything she wanted to say.

"I want to hear it, Gwen." He said miserably. "Truly."

She seemed to soften at that. Still standing beside him, looking down at the poor king like an angel of wisdom, she sighed.

"If you truly believe Merlyn betrayed you, I don't think you deserved her." She said gently, as if the meaning behind her words had not choked him.

"She left me." He said childishly, as if petulance would get anywhere with Gwen.

"For God's sake, Arthur, of course she didn't leave you!" Gwen's calm demeanor vanished in a moment, as if she'd been waiting to say this for months. "Gaius told you- she didn't want to go. I drugged her. Gwaine and Percival smuggled her out."

Arthur could feel his heart beating. "So none of you trusted me?"

"You were going to kill her." Gwen spat, folding her arms.

Arthur blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"The papers!" Gwen gestured elaborately towards his desk. "I saw them, Arthur. We all saw the pyre being built."

Arthur shook his head. "Agravaine ordered the pyre."

"But-" Gwen gestured towards his empty desk again, as if she could still see papers sitting there.

"He put the papers on my desk." Arthur met her gaze. "I have no reason to lie."

Gwen nodded haltingly. "Does he know?"

Arthur didn't need to ask what she was talking about. "No."

"Arthur, you can't trust him. Merlyn never did."

"I know she disliked him, and her secret was not mine to share, but there has never been proof that he is anything other than what he seems. He didn't like Merlyn, but that doesn't make him a traitor." Arthur leant on his bedpost, as if the very act of speaking was exhausting him.

Gwen scoffed. "You're being ridiculous."

"Am I?" Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Am I truly being foolish for wanting to believe that the only piece of family I have left is still on my side?"

There was silence for a moment, as Gwen gathered the courage to speak.

"Merlyn could've been your family."

What could Arthur say to that? He knew, hated to admit it but knew that he had reacted badly, that all her fears had come true. He knew why she hadn't told him. He wasn't worthy.

Gwen sat on the floor, looking up at him with an intensity he didn't know she possessed. "Did she ever tell you what the first thing she saw was when she passed the city gates?"

Arthur shook his head.

"A man being killed for using the very thing that she had always possessed. She tried to hide it from you because she was terrified."

If he were in her position, Arthur would have fled in that very moment. Merlyn was either very brave or very stupid for staying. He wasn't sure if he'd ever know which.

"Was she scared of me?" He asked instead, glad he'd finally managed to voice one of his many fears.

Gwen shrugged. "Perhaps of the way you would react."

That was an honest answer.

With a long sigh, Gwen found Arthur's gaze, staring at him imploringly. "Look, can you tell me just one thing that she has used her magic for since arriving in Camelot?" She asked, although they both already knew the answer. She was trying to get him to understand, to voice his regret.

Arthur didn't want to admit the truth, knowing he should have asked her. "It doesn't matter. "

"Of course it matters!" Gwen exclaimed crossly. "There are so many things she's saved us all from, and none of us knew what she was doing. Lancelot knew. "

Arthur's heart broke. "She trusted him more than me?"

"No. He found out by accident." Arthur couldn't describe his relief. "But from what he told me, you've had ample opportunity to find out for yourself. "

Arthur ignored the last remark, determined to find out as much as possible. "Do you know where she is now?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, Arthur, I'm sorry, but I don't."

Gwen met his gaze. He stared at her intently, knowing, deep down, she was telling the truth. "Why didn't she come back?"

Gwen looked away, fidgeting silently. Her sudden discomfort worried Arthur, hating the fact that what she had to say was worse than anything he'd dreamed about.

His eyes narrowed. "Tell me."

"Because you'll know that the people you've killed, the sorcerers who died at your hands, you'll know some of them were innocent." Gwen had perhaps uncovered exactly what Arthur was afraid of, that his glory and reign could easily be a cause of shame. "It's easier to live in ignorance, especially when she's not here. "

"I still love her." he gasped, suddenly overcome with emotion, tears trailing down his cheeks. He was a desperate man, struggling to keep his head above the surface, crying out for the comfort he'd so easily discarded. How could he be so stupid?

"I know." Gwen smiled weakly. "So does she, I think, but she didn't want to put you in the position where you had to decide her fate. Besides, it wasn't as if you tried to find her, not really."

"We'd be married now." he said with such certainty, his eyes glued to empty space. "If she's stayed, I'd have freed magic, done anything that she'd asked."

"You should tell her." Arthur didn't know how to reply, knowing that if he were honest, he hadn't tried his hardest to find Merlyn, that there were far more surefire ways to see her again than trampling through the woods. He'd forgiven her a long time ago for the magic; he could now understand her departure. Now, he could beg her forgiveness.

"You can't marry Mithian." Gwen said softly.

"I know." Arthur put his head down, fighting his own tears. His uncle wouldn't be happy, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

"Good."

He didn't hear Gwen leave, too focused on his own sorrow, praying that Merlyn would still hear it.

~

Mithian's contingent were ready to leave Camelot by dawn, the princess clearly in no mood to loiter once Arthur had called off their engagement. Her men stood eerily still in the courtyard, their dark clothes contrasting starkly with the white tiles. Each of their faces were covered, no expression visible as Arthur and his men awaited their departure on the steps of the castle, a sea of red stoicness.

Mithian strode down the stairs towards her horse, barely giving Arthur a second look. For a moment, he thought he may lack the courage to speak, but he knew he couldn't let her leave embarrassed and alone. Merlyn would want better.

"Princess." He croaked, just before she was out of range. She stopped, but did not turn back to him, awaiting whatever it was that he had to say.

"Forgive me." For a king, it was probably very unseemly to beg.

Mithian clearly felt the same. She turned on her heel, her white dress floating angelically despite her callous look.

"The time for words is over, sire." She said through gritted teeth.

Arthur nodded. "I understand."

He paused for a moment, wondering if this was the right decision, if this is what his father would have wanted. But he was not Uther. He needed to do this his way.

Reaching into his cloak, he presented a scroll to Mithian, unsurprised by her confusion. "And it's for this reason that I hereby offer you and your descendants all the disputed land of Gedref."

Mithian blinked. "You would give up your ancient claims?"

"I have no desire for war." Arthur wasn't sure if she believed him. "Or to grieve you any more than I already have."

"Such an offer cannot be rushed into..." This was not the morning Mithian was expecting.

Arthur tapped the end of the scroll. "I have had my scribes draw up an agreement. If you are happy with the terms, I'll sign forthwith."

"And if I refuse?"

There was a moment of silence between them. Arthur could only hold her gaze, feeling strangely vulnerable. He swallowed. "It is all I can offer. I do so most humbly."

Mithian looked at him, finally taking the scroll from him, seeming to judge whether she should ask the question burning in her heart.

She had nothing to lose. "Tell me, who is it that trumps a princess?"

Arthur didn't know what to say. "No-one... And everyone."

"What great family is she from?"

A slight frown creased Arthur's features. "That I do not know. She's the daughter of a farmer in Essetir."

Mithian stared at him, stunned. "And for her you would risk your kingship, your kingdom?"

Arthur could only smile. "Without her, they're worth nothing to me. She is the only reason I'm still here."

Mithian shared Arthur's smile then, a shared fate as heirs suddenly extinguished. "I would give up my own kingdom to be so loved. Farewell, Arthur."

"Farewell, princess."

Arthur watched her leave, a knot unraveling in his chest. He had never been so sure of something in his life. He would find her, no matter what he had to do.

~

Merlyn hadn't seen her old room in months. It was just as she'd left it, the bed hastily made, a couple of books scattered on the floor. Tears welled in her eyes. She couldn't stay here much longer, couldn't put Gaius in any more danger, especially with how Arthur had reacted to him. The physician had left for some feast, anxious for Arthur's temperament. A combination of her magic and Gaius' guidance had healed her wound; whilst she had enjoyed her time with him, she knew it had to come to an end.

Collapsing onto her bed, she realised how much she missed having a home. Perhaps she should see her mother, go back to farming in Ealdor. She could probably stay a month or two.

What was she thinking? Camelot was to be attacked imminently. She couldn't just abandon her people, her friends and... Well, she'd never managed to leave Arthur behind before. Part of her wanted to show him what would happen if she wasn't beside him, how much she truly did to keep the city unconquered, but she couldn't truly be so selfish. Perhaps she could block some of the siege tunnels somehow, warn the knights... Gwaine would listen to her...

And then a faint tapping started at her window, growing louder with each second she tried to ignore it. If this were her last night in Camelot, she didn't want any distractions.

Eventually, her curiosity - and annoyance- got the better of her. Heading to her window, she could see the faint outline of some kind of bird. Hesitantly, she opened the window, half expecting it to hop inside, but it appeared to have no interest, simply extending a leg out to her, a note fastened to it.

A merlin. Merlyn almost smiled. Her namesake. How fitting.

As soon as she took the note, the bird took flight, contrasted against the moon for a moment before disappearing into the inky sky, it's feathers pressed against the dark night.

Merlyn didn't bother to shut her window, sitting back onto her bed as she unfurled the note. How had the bird found her? Was it Morgana again? But what else did they have to say? Some kind of magic had to be involved: only Gaius knew where she was, and he would hardly need a bird to talk to her. He had always had a flair for the dramatic, but this was a bit far. Lighting a candle, she peered down at the familiar handwriting, unable to believe what she was seeing.

Come home. Please.
I'm sorry.
-A

Merlyn could feel her heart pounding in her ears, her resentment melting away. This was all she had wanted, everything that she had prayed for. If Arthur could hear her out, if he would only let her explain...

Maybe they could have their 'happily ever after' after all.

Merlyn lay back down, the note clutched to her chest, exhaling with a newfound happiness, acceptance close enough to touch.

And then, the warning bells rang.