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The preparations for the midsummer feast were in full swing when the woman burst into King Uther's court.

"Sire!" she cried, throwing herself down on rag-covered knees. "My daughter! I beg of you!"

That was when things started to go wrong.

===

"I am to search for her daughter," Arthur said. "I will bring her back her child." He paused. "Or justice."

He was standing at the window, back straight, as if he was using all his strength not to start pacing around the room.

From his seat on the floor, surrounded by Arthur's half-polished armour, Merlin did his best to make sympathetic faces. He nodded earnestly, the effect lost as Arthur continued to stare out of the window at the torchlit courtyard below. Eventually, he shrugged and went back to polishing the armour.

"Must you do that here?" Arthur snapped, turning round in irritation.

It didn't seem wise to point out he was only doing it here because Arthur had told him to, cutting off his excuses of chores with the curt instruction to do them here. "You can scrub and listen at the same time, can't you?" he'd sneered. Merlin had bitten back the retort that in private, he could scrub, polish, shine, dust and read a book.

Instead, Merlin kept his head down. Whatever was eating Arthur, it wasn't the missing girl.

He could feel Arthur looking at him.

The noises from the courtyard below floated up into the room, mixing with the rhythmic sounds of polishing. For all that, the slap of Arthur's palm against the wall rang out far too loudly.

"Come here," said Arthur.

Merlin did.

"Look out there."

They stood there for a while, side by side at the window, looking out at who knew what. There was a man tidying away the last of his wares; two women in rags sitting together for warmth; a dog curled up into itself, minding its own business.

"Lancelot fought bravely," Arthur said into the silence. His voice was softer now, but still strained. "While you watched."

To be fair, Merlin couldn't help thinking, Arthur had probably taken a lot of blows to his head in his time. Maybe the conversation made sense to him.

"He did," he said as the silence threatened to stretch on.

Below them, two boys had started chasing the dog around the courtyard. Its yaps echoed up in protest.

"Very bravely," Arthur said, each word slow and measured, "against a beast that could only be destroyed by magic."

Ah. So that was it.

When Merlin was a young child, he had dropped his mother's favourite bowl. He'd tried to use his powers to save it, but though it had stopped in mid-air, it had still shattered there with a loud, terrifying crash, the fragments spraying out inches above the ground.

He took a breath, then let it out slowly.

Arthur pressed on. "Do you know what my father will do if he finds out you've been practising magic?"

"Kill and eat me?" Merlin offered, not bothering to look up. He felt, rather than heard, Arthur's quiet, unwilling snort of laughter.

He had been expecting this moment to feel much worse than it did. His head was still attached to his neck, which was a start.

"That talk's treason," Arthur said. His sternness was belied by the calming press of their arms.

Merlin couldn't stop himself. "Kill me, eat me and then try me for treason?"

They stood in silence for a long moment. Merlin let his eyes flick up for a moment to examine Arthur's face, but he couldn't read what he saw there. Either Arthur would tell his father or he wouldn't. There was nothing left for him to do.

There was a clank below as one boy upset a pail chasing the dog around a pillar. Through the gloom, Merlin could just make out the shimmer of water before it soaked into the dusty ground.

Arthur snorted again, this time without humour. "My father is not a reasonable man when it comes to that word. I'm not going to tell him."

"No?"

"No. I pray I am not making a grave mistake." Arthur kept his eyes down. "You idiot."

Merlin's fists clenched. "I'm not an idiot," he ground out. "I--"

"You should have trusted me."

The two boys -- no, underneath the dark, formless clothes one of them was a girl -- had cornered the dog. From their jerky, sudden movements, it didn't look like they knew what to do with it. Merlin felt a twinge of sympathy, and a second later the boy faltered, leaving just enough of a gap for the dog to escape.

"You should have trusted me, Merlin."

Arthur was looking straight at him now, and Merlin had to turn to meet his eyes.

"Right."

It was suddenly, unbearably cold. Merlin brought up a hand to tighten his coat around him; his knuckles brushed against Arthur's chest.

Their eyes flickered down.

With a deep breath, Arthur stepped back. "I have the sudden urge to punch something."

Merlin let out a sharp bark of laughter. "I want to set something on fire," he said, realising the truth of it as he spoke. He nodded to himself. "And watch it burn."

"Yeah." Arthur was smiling too, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Do me a favour, though?" The smile fell away again. "Don't-- Just-- Use a torch, okay?"

===

"You could still tell him," Merlin remarked. They were riding -- alone, of course; he wasn't an idiot -- to Sparsholt, the village where the missing girl had last been seen. It was early enough that he could watch his breath chill in front of him.

From Merlin's not-that-lofty viewpoint, this looked like just another of the king's tests. If he really cared about the girl, he could have sent out a battalion, or all of Arthur's knights, or both. But Arthur and a manservant, even Merlin, was not a rescue squad. It was a trial.

Arthur had drawn ahead as the path grew narrow, and now didn't seem to hear him. He'd shaken off the foul mood from yesterday, and had greeted Merlin bright and early this morning with the sort of cheer that came with knowing his manservant must have been up even earlier than him.

"I said--" Merlin started again. It was like picking at a scab, or using magic to make Arthur stumble. Knowing you shouldn't just made the urge worse, and oh so satisfying when you finally did.

"I heard you." Arthur looked back to shoot him a look of purest scorn. "And I am Uther Pendragon's only son, and could have a mere servant hanged on a whim. Doesn't that worry you?"

"You wouldn't." Merlin was sure of it.

"Of course I wouldn't."

Merlin couldn't see Arthur's eyes, but he could take a guess they were being rolled.

"You know I wouldn't," Arthur continued, "because you know me. But what do I know about you?"

"You can trust me." Merlin's horse let out a snort of protest: in his agitation, he'd been clutching the reigns too tight. "You can." Under him, the horse sidled and snatched at the reins

"How can I know that when I trust you," Arthur said, almost as if he hadn't heard, "I'm not trusting a spell? Is this just another enchantment?"

"I'm-- My lord," Merlin said, hurt bleeding out as he tried to make himself sound like sincerity itself, "I wouldn't."

"I hope not. Or I'm a lot stupider than you look." He spurred his horse on.

Merlin's sigh of relief stopped halfway. "Hey!"

===

The first thing Merlin noticed about Sparsholt was the smell. It was like rotting cabbages and five-day-old fish had curled up together and died. A week ago. It brought tears to his eyes.

Arthur noticed his expression. "Remind you of home?"

Merlin glared. "I've never smelt anything this bad in my life!"

"Yeah," said Arthur, swinging down from his horse in one easy motion, "when you came to my father's court you smelt of roses and sunshine."

"I--"

Arthur cut his protest off with a glare of his own. "Yes, my respectful manservant?" He jerked his head towards the small crowd of villagers -- children and old women, of course, but at least as many grown men and women -- gathering a nervous distance away.

"--am yours to command, my prince," Merlin finished. He sneered, though, which helped.

Arthur gave him another sharp look, but didn't press the point. He made no move to secure his horse to the tethering post, instead waiting for Merlin to hoist himself off his horse and come to take both bridles.

If he'd know saving the prince's life would get him this much work, Merlin would have-- No, he wouldn't. But it made a good daydream to soothe his aching bones. With Arthur so close, he hadn't dared to ease the ride with a little well-placed magic.

"My lord?" he prompted, horses tethered and Arthur's robes dusted off.

Arthur turned towards the villagers. "Better see what they have to say for themselves."

The answer, it turned out, was a lot.

The girl -- Isolda, her name was Isolda -- had last been seen by the blacksmith. Or was it the pig farmer? No, no, it was Mother Lackey's son, he's always up to no good, and-- No, of course, it was--

Merlin had a headache.

"Tell me," Arthur muttered without turning his head, "do you think they'd agree on the colour of the sky?"

Leaning forward, Merlin whispered back, "Of course, my lord. It's green. Or, no, is it purple?"

Arthur's mouth slammed shut. After a moment, his breathing evened out. "I swear it was yellow yesterday, sire," he said.

The noise continued. A woman with a wart on one cheek was talking at a fast pace. The wart wobbled as she swore blind before all the earth and heavens, sire, that she had seen Isolda not two days ago running towards Worthy Down. A man with no teeth had last seen her heading into the woods.

"Enough." Arthur's voice was quiet, but it carried. In the silence that fell, he spoke again. "I have heard enough. You." He looked at a young woman standing near the back of the crowd. "Your son is missing too?"

Merlin hadn't even noticed the woman, and from her shocked expression it was clear she hadn't thought anyone had.

"Yes, your highness. Sorry, your highness." She looked down as she spoke. She was trembling, pulling her shawl tighter around her frame.

"Step forward."

The crowd parted, muttering quiet enough to ignore. Arthur's stance shifted, and they fell silent again.

"Your name?"

"Lionore, sire. Sorry, sire. My son--"

Her son, she said, in fits and starts and apologies, had gone missing two days ago, the day after Isolda's mother had last seen her daughter. He'd been sent into the woods to gather flowers for the midsummer wreaths, and had not returned. She never should have sent him out alone, she said. He was such a delicate boy.

"I will find him for you, Lionore," Arthur said firmly. At her name, she looked up, and he looked her straight in the eye. "I will find him."

===

Which was all well and good, Merlin took great pains to point out later, but they'd left Camelot with one missing child, and now they had two.

"And for your next trick?" he said, kneeling to adjust Arthur's boots. "Are you going to make their crops fail?"

"That's more your area, Merlin."

Merlin's hands froze. "...yeah." He made himself continue, methodically adjusting the spurs.

"Oh, no." Arthur cuffed Merlin lightly round the head. "None of that."

Merlin looked up, not bothering to keep the scowl off his face. "Your motivational speaking could do with some work."

"That's better." Arthur smiled down at him. "Now hurry up with my boots, o loyal and faithful manservant. My armour needs polishing."

They rode on to Worthy Down the same day, where for his next trick Arthur uncovered stories of two more missing children, last seen heading into the woods.

===

Missing children or no missing children, it was too late to go into the woods that evening, and the good villagers of Worthy Down wanted to throw Arthur a party. Arthur's princely training, it seemed, didn't include the ability to turn that down.

The village hall was bright with reds and golds, the torches burning fiercely to keep out the evening chill as servants scurried around with goblets overflowing with wine. Fortunately, Arthur hadn't made Merlin pack any ceremonial robes, so he could stand behind Arthur's chair wearing nothing more fancy than his tightly drawn jacket.

A woman in a deep blue dress stepped in front of the main table, her hair spilling down onto ample breasts. The room fell silent as she raised her flute to her lips.

"My prince," said the head of the village, a man called Thatcher, "may I introduce my daughter, Hida."

Hida swept out a long, graceful curtsey that set Merlin's teeth on edge, to which Arthur raised his goblet. "Hida," he said, sounding like he was enjoying the name. "The pleasure is all mine."

She began to play.

If you asked Merlin, which no one did, she looked kind of stupid. Her nose was too big for her face, and there was no need for Arthur to be staring at her like that. She couldn't even play that well, not compared to the court musicians.

He leaned forward to whisper as much, but as his lips brushed Arthur's ear, Arthur flinched.

"Sorry," Merlin forced out, moving backwards as quickly as he could. So much for Arthur's assurances of trust. He could have kicked himself. The prince had been raised to believe magic was the greatest evil that could befall a nation; of course he wasn't just going to turn around and think it was fine just because it was Merlin.

If a servant's word wasn't worth anything, a warlock servant's word was worth even less. How could Arthur trust that?

Arthur turned round, his eyes shining brightly in the torchlight. With a twitch of his eyebrows, he asked Merlin about the interruption.

Merlin shrugged.

Arthur rolled his eyes, but nodded as if answering some request Merlin hadn't made.

When the flute player finished, Arthur stood, clapping fiercely. "Beautiful," he said, "truly beautiful. But my kind hosts, I must bid you goodnight. I must set out at first light tomorrow to find your children and bring them back safely."

With that, he -- and everyone else -- stood. He jerked his head at Merlin to follow him out of the room.

A serving girl lead them to Arthur's quarters, a large room with ornate wooden furniture and fresh flowers adorning every flat surface. She left them there, Merlin still admiring how thoroughly they had got rid of the traces of which ever important villager normally lived here. After a moment, though, he noticed something else.

The room only had one bed. Merlin looked at it, then looked at Arthur.

Arthur was watching him with amusement. "You learn fast?"

Merlin swallowed. What was Arthur saying?

"You're taking the floor, idiot." Arthur threw himself down on the bed in one graceful movement. "After you've polished my boots, hung out my clothes, tidied away that mess and closed that damned window, of course. It's freezing in here."

For one beautiful moment, Merlin thought longingly of treason. Then he sighed and slumped down on the foot of Arthur's bed to take off the prince's boots. "You can't even undress yourself these days?"

Arthur peered at him with half-closed eyes. "Why bother?"

===

"Nights are drawing in," Arthur remarked.

Merlin, twisting to get comfortable in a pile of cloth on the hard, wooden floor, muttered a response into the bunched up robes serving as a pillow.

He woke before dawn with a thought. "But they're not," he said, loud enough to wake Arthur.

"Mrfh?" said Arthur, the epitome of princeliness.

"The nights aren't drawing in. It's midsummer in three days."

"Brwh?"

"You said, last night you said the nights were drawing in, but they're not."

Arthur had managed to prop himself up on his elbows. "You woke me up at god knows what time in the morning, when we have to be up tomorrow to find not one but four missing children, to tell me that? Fine. The nights aren't drawing in. And you can wake me up when you've made breakfast."

Merlin ignored him. "But they are."

"But they are what, Merlin?" Arthur's venom was no less sharp for the early hour.

"The nights are drawing in. They shouldn't be, but they are. And it's getting colder. That's not right."

"Let me get this straight." In the pre-dawn grey, Arthur's hair was standing at an angle it would never admit to in daylight. "You woke me up now, this instant, to talk about the weather?"

"It's not natural."

"Right. Fine. Wasn't it nice yesterday? I did enjoy the blue skies, but it was very bracing in the evening. Yes, I do like some sun, don't you?"

"My lord, I think it could be magic."

That got his attention.

"Magic?"

"The days are getting shorter, it's too cold, and I heard people in the market saying the wheat wasn't going to stand this chill. Yes, sure, it could be just a cold snap, but the days are getting shorter. I think someone may be trying to harm the kingdom."

"That," Arthur spoke slowly, measuring out every word, "is not good."

"No, my lord."

"Hmm."

Merlin started speaking quickly, the words tripping over each other in his hurry to get them all out. "We need to go back to Camelot. Gaius will have books we can use, we can find out what is causing this and fight it."

Arthur nodded to himself. "We will find the children, and then we will go straight back to Camelot. We may gather more information as we search."

"But the kingdom could be at risk," Merlin protested. "You can't--"

"My father is a great man," said Arthur, as if that ended the discussion. He paused for a long moment, as if running through an argument with himself. "He can weigh lives against each other. Are four children worth a kingdom? I don't know. But I know a kingdom without those children is a kingdom diminished."

Merlin sighed. "So I suppose we just have to save everyone?"

Arthur's smile was bright in the gloom. "We just have to save everyone."

===

The woods were dingy even in the bright mid-morning light, and Merlin's clothes kept getting caught in the branches. Every time he pushed them out of the way with his mind, they just slammed back a little harder; it was weird, like he wasn't concentrating. It was cold, too. His lips were painfully cracked and dry, and his cheeks were stinging. He tried to conjure a gentle warmth around him, but with every snap of a branch, it just dissolved away again.

"My," said Arthur, striding on ahead without a single snag or curse, "but perhaps it is a little chilly here."

"Really, my lord?" Merlin offered. "I hadn't noticed." The effect was spoiled by the chattering of his teeth.

Arthur continued dryly. "Let's wander further into the magically freezing woods where all the small children have disappeared." He pushed another branch out of the way, letting it swing back just in time to hit Merlin in the stomach.

Wincing, Merlin stumbled on. "I can't help noticing that we are." This was ridiculous. Two months ago he wouldn't have thought twice about scurrying into woods like these to collect herbs for his mother, and now look at him, tripping over his own feet. Camelot life had made him soft. "Wandering further into the doom-laden woods, that is."

"Honour's a bastard, isn't it?"

Before Merlin could agree, Arthur stopped dead, holding up a hand for silence.

"Look!"

They had reached the mouth of a cave, its entrance covered in ice crystals. As Merlin stepped forward to join Arthur, he could feel the air around him get colder. Arthur shifted back a little, his arm pressed against Merlin's, but Merlin couldn't feel the warmth.

"We have to go in there, don't we?" Merlin said glumly.

Arthur nodded. "Of course. Well, you could wait out here, I suppose."

Merlin jostled him in annoyance. "Yeah, go into the magically freezing cave without a warlock. That makes sense." He knew the words were a mistake the second they left his mouth.

Arthur stiffened, but did not step away. "Come on, then." He walked forward, ducking past the ice hanging from the roof of the cave.

Merlin raised his eyebrows. Those were the words of leadership that were going to unite a kingdom? But then, of course, he followed.

The children were starkly, horrifyingly easy to find. There were dozens of them -- dozens -- lying in neat rows, their arms folded over their chests and their lips blue. A dull light shone from their skin, like moonlight through half-closed drapes.

Arthur ran forward to kneel by one of them, a girl with bright red hair.

As Arthur reached for her, Merlin found his tongue. "No!"

Arthur jerked back as if he'd been stung. "But she's--"

"It's magic," Merlin said through dry lips. "Don't touch it."

Arthur stayed where he was, his eyes still firmly on the girl. "Since when were you sensible?" But at least he didn't try to touch the girl again.

Merlin reached out with his mind, trying to sense what-- He recoiled. He couldn't-- He couldn't feel anything. The absence was overwhelming, a smothering blackness that made him ache. Panicked, he tried to conjure a moment of warmth. The words, his powers, faded away from him as if he was trying to grasp mist. There was nothing. "Arthur, I--"

And then the floor fell in.

===

Merlin woke to see Arthur leaning over him, peering down with a mixture of worry and concentration. His head hurt, and he could feel Arthur's rapidly cooling breath against his face.

As he came into focus, Arthur's expression flickered from worried to annoyed, going through relief so fast Merlin almost thought he imagined it. "You idiot," Arthur said, but there was no malice behind it. "Are you all right?"

His head still hurt. Merlin tried to sit up, and realised he was already sitting, his back pressed against the hard rocks lining the walls of the hole they were now in. He blinked, and saw Arthur wasn't looking down but across, the faint light behind him coming from the unearthly glow of the walls. "W-what happened?" He was freezing.

"The floor fell in." Arthur had leaned back a few more inches, but their legs were still jumbled together and Merlin could feel him shivering. "Do you think you can climb?"

Merlin tilted his head back. And back. And back. The walls of the hole seemed to stretch up forever, taller than Camelot itself. "Yes." He tried to push himself up, shifting his weight to his hands for just long enough for the agony to set in. "No."

"Ah." Arthur's teeth were gritted into a humourless smile. "Now," he forced out, "might be a good time for some of that unspeakably evil and corrupting magic I hear so much about."

In the silence, Merlin tried once more to summon words of power to his lips. Nothing came. The syllables rang out empty and meaningless, not even the faint tingle he felt when he was still trying to master a spell.

He winced. "Ah."

Arthur nodded to himself. "Right. Sure. Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Don't go into the cave alone, my prince," Arthur mimicked -- and hey, Merlin didn't sound like that -- even as they sat there shivering. "Take me with you. My magic will save you."

Merlin bristled. "It's not my fault you didn't want to go back and get help. I'm just a servant. What good's my opinion?"

His words echoed up the sides of the hole. He hadn't realised his voice was so loud.

They sat in silence for a moment, then Arthur seemed to shake himself. "If I'm going to climb up there with you on my back, I'll need both hands. You might as well make yourself useful." He held up his stiff, white-blue hands. "Open your jacket."

Merlin looked at him, then looked at his hands, then looked at him again. Understanding dawned. "Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

And that was how Merlin ended up with the prince's freezing cold hands pressed between his clothes and the bare skin of his chest. The two men were twisted around, pressing up against each other to let none of the heat escape as Arthur warmed himself.

"What do you think about Morgana?" Arthur asked, his voice indistinct against Merlin's shoulder.

"Is now really the time?" Merlin said into Arthur's hair. If he never had to get up close and personal with this part of Arthur again, it would be too soon.

"We've nothing else to do until I'm in a fit state to climb. What do you think of her?"

Merlin forced himself not to shrug. "She's very beautiful."

"Mm. And her maid?"

"She's-- She's all right, I suppose."

"And Lancelot?"

Merlin started backwards, almost dislodging his clothes enough to let the chill air in. "What?"

"What did Lancelot think of Morgana?" The 'you idiot' was silent, but Merlin heard it.

He didn't answer. Arthur's hands had begun to heat up -- or maybe Merlin was just losing sensation in his chest -- and were starting to curl against Merlin's skin. Merlin could feel each breath a rising pressure against them, their weight an almost comforting distraction from the pain in his legs. For terrifying, eerie doom, it was strangely not bad.

"If I had to be stuck in a strange, glowing hole in the middle of a magical winter--" he said into Arthur's hair.

"Mm?"

"It would almost certainly be your fault."

===

He'd been half expecting Arthur to leave him there. Without magic, he was useless -- a dead weight for the climb to the surface. So, for all the indignity, he didn't complain too much when Arthur slung him unceremoniously onto his back and began to climb.

This worthy resolution lasted until the third time his head bumped accidentally into the side of the hole. "Ow!"

"If you don't like the ride, I could just drop you," Arthur said through gritted teeth. His breathing was becoming laboured.

Merlin clung a little tighter. It became suddenly, unbearably important to know, "You don't trust me, do you?"

"As I believe you once said," Arthur said slowly, "is now really the time?"

"Gaius told me not to tell anyone. And your father, he had people burned to death. He had them beheaded. I was going to tell you. One day." Merlin felt himself trailing off. "I was."

Arthur's only reply was the steady rasp of his breathing.

"Gaius told me not to," Merlin said again, a little weakly. It had sounded more convincing at the time.

Steadily, steadily, Arthur lifted himself up from one foothold to the next. "Was it you?" he said.

Maybe the cold was going to his head. "Was what me?" Merlin asked cautiously.

"The light."

There was a terrible jolt.

It took a moment for Merlin to realise they weren't falling to their messy deaths, and another for his heart to start beating again.

"Handhold," said Arthur by way of explanation.

Fragments of stone trickled down from the broken handhold, bouncing off the walls for a long, long time before they came to a thudding stop.

Merlin tightened his hold. It was going to take all of Camelot's knights to pry him from Arthur at this rate.

When he was sure he had his voice back under control, Merlin managed to ask, "What light?" He could hear the quaver in his voice, but perhaps it was lost in the echos. He hoped so.

"Last time I was doing this, someone sent a light to guide my way," said Arthur. "I was hoping--" He cut himself off with a heavy, indrawn breath. "Hold on tight."

They lurched to the side as Arthur swung for another handhold. Merlin was seriously considering the merits of a nice, gentle freezing to death.

"If the light had been you, that would have been one less mystery."

Still holding on for dear life, Merlin found himself wishing it had been him. "Still, the more friends you have, the better?" he offered, trying to keep his voice even.

"Mm." Arthur climbed on in silence.

===

When they got to the surface, Merlin could no longer feel his face. He was so cold, so very cold, and the closer he got to the children, still lying there in frozen, glowing rows, the more sluggish he felt.

Arthur, on the other hand, was stamping his feet and blowing into his hands like a child. "--save them," he said, looking at Merlin expectantly. "--more traps--"

Merlin blinked back, trying to keep him in focus.

"--head--?" Arthur asked. "--do?"

If he could just, if Merlin could just hold on to some of that energy, he felt sure he could think again. "I need--"

He blinked, and suddenly Arthur was right in front of him, holding him by the shoulders and staring straight at him.

Merlin watched his lips, trying to turn the strange, indistinct sounds into words.

"--said, anyth--"

He took a deep breath. "Trust me?"

He couldn't hear Arthur's answer, and it was too late anyway. He fell forward, inhaling Arthur's warmth in a sharp, stinging breath.

Everything swam into focus. Arthur was still holding him, keeping him upright. He was watching Merlin's lips with a shocked expression. "What was that?" He looked paler, somehow, even the redness of his cheeks a little faded.

"I needed your warmth." Merlin's lips still tingled. "I'm sorry. But I see what to do now."

And he did. It was beautifully, painfully clear, like the crash of a breaking glass. The words came to his lips as naturally as breathing.

"U svetu," he said, stepping backwards from Arthur to look straight at the frozen children. "Postoii. Iedno carstvo."

There was nothing. He slumped for a second, fear hitting him like a physical blow. If he couldn't do this, if he couldn't save them, if he couldn't save Arthur-- "U svetu. Postoii. Iedno carstvo."

Something stirred deep in his gut. This was right. He knew it was. "U svetu. Postoii. Iedno carstvo."

A third time, nothing.

"Merlin." Arthur's voice was sharp, bringing Merlin back to himself. "What can I do?"

Merlin shook his head. There was nothing. This was his moment to fail, his moment to make Arthur's struggle pointless.

Arthur looked at him, then drew himself up into the firm, regal figure he might one day be. "I trust you," he said. "Make this right."

With that, he seized Merlin by the shoulders and pulled him towards himself. Their lips met, and for one awful moment all Merlin could feel was the cold seeping into Arthur. Then Arthur exhaled and suddenly, suddenly, he could feel the words tumble into place.

He stood back, leaving Arthur pale and shaking, and spoke the words of power.

"U svetu. Postoii. Iedno carstvo."

Something snapped in the air, and Merlin swayed under the force of life flowing back into the children's bodies. The spiderweb of magic binding the children's souls to the weather snapped apart, each breaking thread jolting its neighbours to life. The power rushed through him, fiercely exhilarating, and he felt like a million flames, burning together against the night.

With one shuddering breath he drew back into himself, warm summer air filling the numb hollowness the spell had left.

The children were waking up. Their voices mingled with the birdsong, a confused babble of life and energy.

Merlin realised with a start his eyes were still closed. He took another deep breath before he opened them, savouring the warm air passing through his lips.

He opened his eyes to see Arthur collapsed in front of him. The colour, thankfully, was back in his cheeks.

===

"I can't believe I'm carrying you," Merlin grumbled, not for the first time, as they made slow, painful progress through the woods. The children were following behind, awed eyes fixed on Arthur.

"You're not carrying me," said Arthur, leaning heavily on his shoulder. "You're giving me a little support after I risked my life to save innocent young children."

"You saved the children?"

Arthur was silent for a moment. They trod on, one aching step after another. "That was why Lancelot left, wasn't it?"

"What?"

"He couldn't take the credit for your magic."

Merlin stumbled for a second. He was too drained to do anything but keep walking, and now Arthur wanted to ask him this?

"It's all right," Arthur said, when it became clear Merlin wasn't going to answer. "When I am king, they will honour you."

Behind them, some of the children started to sing.

===

They returned all but one of the children -- Isolda, whose mother would still be waiting in Camelot -- to grateful, adoring families, Arthur accepting their praise and thanks with grace. If Merlin hadn't been looking for it, he wouldn't have caught the flashes of discomfort on Arthur's face as yet another wide-eyed parent lauded his courage in single-handedly saving so many young lives.

On Arthur's instruction, Merlin went to collect their horses, hoping to speed their departure along. He was leading them out of the stables when he noticed Arthur leaning against the wall. The sight sent a shock of warmth through him.

"We still don't know who it was," Arthur said.

Merlin swallowed. "I think--" He paused. "It felt like the beast you fought, the one who was poisoning the water. It had the same stink to it, of Nimueh." Saying the name out loud made him cringe. He looked round, quickly, not sure what he was looking for.

Arthur nodded to himself. "Did you use magic then, too? Was that victory yours, not mine?"

"I think," Merlin said, trying to echo Arthur's more measured tone, "you are missing the point."

As emotions flitted across Arthur's face, Merlin started to feel more and more like a third wheel in some epic conversation between Arthur and Arthur.

"We should go," he prompted. "Isolda's mother will be worried."

Arthur nodded again, sharply. "Yes. Of course." But he didn't sound convinced. He took his horse from Merlin, mounting it in an easy, fluid motion and trotting back to the crowd of grateful parents while Merlin was still trying to persuade his own horse to stand still.

They rode back with the girl sitting in front of Arthur, beaming happily at her position in the world. Merlin rode behind, keeping himself amused by gently nudging the late afternoon insects away from himself and towards Arthur.

There was something calming about it, quite aside from how funny it was to watch Arthur flinch. It was reassuring, like a first deep breath after being held underwater.

The third time Arthur casually slapped a bug away from the back of his neck, he turned in his seat to glare at Merlin. "Is that you?"

Merlin made a face of purest innocence.

"It's not too late to have you put to death," Arthur said, his smile taking all the sting out of it.

Merlin grinned back. "You just try it."

Arthur shook his head in mock despair. "You still can't address me like that."

Their laughter carried them all the way back to Camelot, where later, much later, after Isolda and her mother had been tearfully reunited, after Uther had clapped his son around the shoulder and muttered a few words of quiet pride, after Merlin had taken Gaius aside and told him in worried, breathless detail about what really happened, after all that, Arthur jerked his head for Merlin to follow him.

Merlin, of course, did.

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End
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