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Chapter Text

Merlin couldn’t really remember what happened, or when exactly it happened. One second he was with the Knights somewhere in the forest, and the other the darkness and coldness surrounded his entire being as he got locked in this unfamiliar place. He was coming back from some village on the border and Gaius couldn’t go to due to loads of work in Camelot, he remembered. There was a mysterious sickness spreading among the people, rising panic. He was sent there by Arthur himself. The Knights were to accompany him (he insisted against it, but the king could be stubborn, especially after these few times Merlin’s life might have been in danger).

He could already guess Morgana was behind this. In his memory, there were bits and pieces of the events that led him here, but they weren’t much for now. Did he hit his head? He was pretty sure he had seen snakes in the grass before being knocked out. Had he been knocked out? Were the others alright? He remembered their shouts, but he didn’t recall the words they spoke. Was it his name they screamed? Flashbacks assaulted his memory, but they were still too unclear.

The floor he was lying on, he noticed, was hard and cold. There was something eerie about the silence that consumed the entire room. Slowly, he managed to get to his knees to take a look around the empty chamber. It was quite spacious, but so dark that he could barely see anything. He had never been as scared of darkness before. There was something weird about this place, something mysterious and magical. He could feel it, but it left him fearful. Something heavy unsettled him. There was this sickness in the pit of his stomach, the one he usually got when trouble was ahead. It smelled of dark magic.

Yet, he was ready to face whatever Morgana had planned for him, he was certain of it. He could always rely on his own magic if things required it. It wouldn’t be ideal, but if this could save his life, he would risk getting discovered. Without him, who would protect Arthur and Camelot? His friend wouldn’t survive even a day, not with sorcerers constantly making attempts on the king’s life. Sometimes, Merlin wished Arthur truly saw why the attacks never ceased. How beautiful the kingdom would be if magic was legal? How many people would start feeling safe? Was he the only one hiding such power?

He knew why it couldn’t happen, however, and he needed to accept it until Arthur was ready to change his mind. It took time, but he would wait forever for the dreams they could build together to become their reality.

Something shrieked in the silence, and Merlin jumped, startled. His thoughts halted and the burst of light entered the chamber, blinding him temporarily. He squinted at the person who just walked in. It was Morgana, he could tell without looking. Her presence was always there, following him like a shadow. Her heavy aura was always so dark and painful. There were many layers under the hatred Uther’s daughter drowned in, she got trapped in her own bitterness, unable to get out. He knew there was no rescuing her now. He would always feel guilty of it, but there was nothing he could do about it. Not anymore. Morgana was too far gone.

“Ah, good morning, Merlin,” the witch exclaimed quite loudly, her voice echoing within the cobbled walls. The chains rattled somewhere behind him as the soft breeze entered the room. It sent shivers down his spine. He wasn’t tied up, or immobilised in any other way, he spotted. Why? Wasn’t she afraid he’d try to escape? Was it possible to run away from here, even? “I hope you slept well.”

“What do you want from me, Morgana?” he asked, impatient. His head was still spinning and his bones ached terribly much. Gods, he was so cold. He would love some warmth from the fireplace opposite him that seemed to be unused for ages. There were cobwebs all over it. Screw it, there were cobwebs everywhere. Wherever he was, nobody had been here for years, if not decades.

Most of the memories were still out of his reach, everything that occurred was like a blurred picture. The snakes he recalled must have been involved. He could swear he remembered the Knights screaming a warning before something scared his horse off. Was this what happened? Was this why his whole body ached? He must have hit the ground pretty hard. There was this faint memory of him walking behind the horse before passing out.

The red marks around his wrists confirmed his theory.

“I see you’re quite confused,” the woman on the other side of the room smiled sweetly, but her eyes betrayed her. They screamed of danger, making the sorcerer almost back away further into the wall that was behind him. “Do not fear, Merlin. I just thought we could spend some time together. Catch up on the things we’ve missed out since you poisoned me.”

“What?” he raised an eyebrow, something he definitely learnt from Gaius. His voice was hoarse and barely recognisable. His throat was dry, as if there was sand in his mouth. “I’m not interested in your schemes. Why am I here?”

Morgana blinked, watching him intently, her cold demeanor never changing. She didn’t even flinch as another wave of breeze assaulted the room. She just kept on staring at him with some kind of satisfaction and fascination. Like she was proud of herself for capturing him, like he was some kind of a trophy. It unnerved him. If only he could use his magic… but it was out of option. Morgana was not to know the truth, it would be too dangerous. Gaius almost died to keep his secret and even though Alator found out in the end, Morgana still didn’t. He would reach for his magic when there was nothing else to do. As the last resort.

“Can’t you figure it out?” she asked next, her gaze flickering from the ground to his eyes. “It’s a harmless experiment. Well, harmless to me.” She grinned. “I don’t think you’ll feel the same way once it starts.”

“Whatever it is you want, you aren’t getting it, not from me.” He claimed stubbornly, his strength slowly returning. His magic still felt quite far away, however, and the darkness left him with dread in his heart. He could feel it thud against his chest rapidly.

“Oh, Merlin,” Morgana laughed and finally made a move to approach and crouch down in front of him, never breaking their eye-contact. Her face was so close, Merlin could feel her warm breath on his skin. He jerked away, only for his back to hit the wall behind him. “It is not you I want. It’s Arthur. You’re merely a pawn in my little game.”

“Your game?” he frowned, trying to make sense of things. He had fallen off his horse, he could recall clearly now. It would explain the ache in his back. Gwaine’s voice rang somewhere in his mind, screaming his name. The Knight never managed to get to him in time. There was an attack. There were snakes. Were they sent by Morgana? It wasn’t entirely impossible.

“To see how much you truly mean to my brother. I didn’t fail to notice he’s rather fond of you.”

Merlin couldn’t help but laugh out over the simple comment. He shook his head, regretting it straightaway when the headache got more intense. He cursed his own stupidity. He shouldn’t be moving much, he wasn’t sure what else was damaged. Was he concussed? He didn’t think so, but it was still better to stay cautious.

“It doesn’t mean he’ll come for me. He isn’t stupid.” He snapped, but Morgana’s eyes brightened up, her smirk growing wider and crueller within seconds. It didn’t feel right. Merlin didn’t like it in the slightest. This woman was deranged. Consumed by her greed, hatred and illusions. Such people were the most unpredictable, thus the most dangerous.

“We will see about that. Some believe he would throw himself into the flames for you. Not very smart of him, don’t you agree?” she reached for his cheek, but he jerked away once more from the cold contact, as if it tore his skin apart. He didn’t want her to touch him. He didn’t even want her near him.

“He’ll know you’ve taken me. He will guess it’s a trap. Your plan won’t work.”

“Yes, he will most probably guess,” she gave him a firm nod, a smile never disappearing from her white face. “But he will come, anyway.” She stood up next, turning around and heading towards the door that locked him away from the outside world. From the sun and warmth. From his friends and home.

Merlin inhaled sharply, trying to act like the situation didn’t affect him in any way, but he knew Morgana was right. Arthur would still come, even if it was an obvious trap. His king was a caring man despite appearances. He wouldn’t leave anyone in need. That was what Merlin both loved and hated about him. He feared Arthur’s good heart would doom him in the future like it did before. After all, it didn’t take a lot for the king to invite Mordred into Camelot, and the boy still didn’t get Merlin’s trust. He couldn’t ignore what the druid seer once told him.

The warlock could only hope he would find a way out of that place before the news of his kidnapping got to Arthur. He couldn’t risk anyone’s life just because he was too weak and let himself get captured.

“In the meantime,” Morgana began just as she halted in the doorway, looking at him over her shoulder. Her green eyes found his, but it was still too dark to see them well. “Enjoy your stay. I prepared something special for you.”

He didn’t even manage to open his mouth before the door was locked and he was left alone, facing only the darkness.

*

Gaius was reading one of his books when the commotion outside his chambers attracted his attention. He looked towards the noise, but it wasn’t long before his peace was disturbed by nobody else but Arthur Pendragon and his Knights. They were in hurry and the physician quickly noticed Leon and Percival were unconscious, dragged by the other two towards the patient cots.

“What happened?” he asked, jumping to his feet, quickly surveying the damage the men may have suffered. Immediately, he caught the sight of snake bites. He frowned.

“We were on our way back to Camelot when we stumbled upon the nest of snakes. They attacked us.” Elyan explained hastily, not looking away from his two friends once they were on the bed. Arthur looked evenly troubled, but he hid it better. There was no fooling Gaius, however.

He raised an eyebrow, staring at each man. He immediately noticed one person was missing, but he decided not to ask yet. Worry gripped at his old heart, but he tried to reason with himself that his apprentice simply stayed behind to take care of some magical threat as he usually did on such excursions. He did have a bad feeling about this, though.

“Can you treat them?” Arthur asked, wearing a grim face expression. Gaius snapped back to the reality, pushing the concern away for now. There were important matters to take care of. The time for worries would come later. When the lives were at stake, he needed to be a physician.

“I can certainly try, yes.” He nodded and hurried to the Knights’ side, examining them slowly and thoroughly. “I need a hollyhock. Two grams of it.”

“A what?” the king raised an eyebrow, and Gaius sent him a stern glare. He was ready to retort (in the most respectful way), when Gwaine interrupted him, passing him what was needed.

“Here.” The Knight said, and both Gaius and Arthur looked at him, surprised. “What?” Gwaine huffed. “When you travel as much as I did, you have to know certain things that may help you survive. I’ve done my fair share of research.”

And the physician didn’t question it further, just decided to do the task at hand. The bites weren’t fatal even though they certainly looked horrible, but he needed to hurry up nevertheless. Besides, he still wasn’t sure what really happened. Where was Merlin? He had been with them when they departed for the village, why didn’t he come yet? Gaius knew him, he wouldn’t have abandoned his friends in the situation such as this one, a magical threat on the way or not.

It was Arthur, who eventually noticed it, too, and his eyes immediately started scanning the room in the search of his servant. The more seconds passed, the more worried he seemed to grow.

“Where’s Merlin?” the question came and it appeared to be enough for the temperature in the room to drop so suddenly. Both Elyan and Gwaine exchanged looks, their faces indifferent, but gazes filled with dread. The silence swiftly became unbearable and heavy. The king made a step towards his Knights, staring at them. “Well?” he furrowed his eyebrows. “Where is he?”

“We don’t know.” Elyan stated quietly, unable to look at the king, his eyes travelling to the floor instead.

“What?” both Arthur and Gaius asked at this point, worry ceasing into their features.

“When the snakes attacked, we told him to run away. Then, Leon and Percival fell down and everything happened so fast we lost him in the chaos. He wasn’t there when we dealt with the nest. It’s like he vanished.” Gwaine continued, snapping his fingers, his voice stained with fear and concern they had never heard from him. The brunet was one of the best actors when it came to hiding his feelings and yet, he wasn’t able to contain them this time.

Arthur was standing still for a few good moments, his face unreadable, eyes getting cold and stern, his body going tense. Gaius knew this look, it was similar to Uther’s when he made a final decision. There was some kind of determination to it, but also a dangerous glint that warned not to approach when not called.

“My lord?” Elyan spoke, at loss for what to do. Everyone knew Arthur’s relationship with his servant was stronger than anything else. He still remembered how their king reacted the first time Merlin disappeared, hurt. He remembered how devastated the man had been then, how he shed a few tears when he thought no one was looking.

“Dispatch patrols immediately. I want every inch of the forest scoured.” The king claimed icily, his tone leaving no room for any argument. There would be none, anyway. “Take me where the snakes attacked you. I need to see it myself.”

“Yes, sire, right away.” Elyan nodded, knowing better. He looked to the side at Gwaine and his unconscious friends, saying nothing, but eventually followed his king outside. He had no desire to return there, he was never a big fan of snakes, but what if Merlin was in danger? He wasn’t sure if Arthur would ever forgive them if something happened to the manservant. They wouldn’t forgive themselves, either. That man had quickly become their friend, they were supposed to protect him from harm. That’s why they were sent with him, after all. How could they fail so terribly much?

“My lord!” Gaius stopped Arthur moments before the king left the chambers. They looked at each other, and the physician was taken aback by the tears shining in the blond man’s eyes. “May I advise caution? By the looks of it, this wasn’t an accident. I can sense the work of dark magic here. By all means, they should be dead.” He nodded at both Leon and Percival, laying next to each other. They were both pale, like all the life was drained from them and death invited them to its cold embrace. Their pulse was weak, but it wasn’t fading entirely. “Whoever did it, they wanted them to survive.”

“Morgana?” Arthur asked, worried now more than ever. His throat constricted and everything seemed to swirl around. He told himself to stay strong, get a grip, he was the king, for heaven’s sake. He was responsible for the entire kingdom. He couldn’t let any kind of fear get to him.

“I’m afraid so, yes.” Gaius confirmed the suspicion, although his voice held stress. The elderly man seemed evenly concerned. His apprentice was incredibly talented when it came to getting into trouble. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if, one day, he just lost him. What would his life look like, then? Camelot wouldn’t be the same ever again, not for Gaius for sure.

The thought was too overwhelming and he held back the shiver.

Arthur swallowed, shifted from one leg to another, and inaudibly sighed. It was hard to gather all his thoughts, they were running wildly all over his head. He had never dwelled on what ifs before, but, just like Gaius, he wouldn’t be able to find himself again if he lost Merlin. The clumsy servant became the essential part of him, he was his first and only friend. He’d do anything to get him back to safety.

“I will find him, Gaius.” He assured softly, forcing a smile and watching the physician carefully. “I promise.”

Gaius just gave him a nod, uncertain and quite scared. He would gladly join the king and his Knights in the search, but there was still some work he had to do before nightfall. People’s sicknesses couldn’t wait. He could only pray for his surrogate son to be safe, eventually.

*

Merlin was freezing. His whole body shook because everything was just terribly cold, and where was this wind coming from? He was inside, it wasn’t normal. His surroundings seemed to have darkened even more shall that be possible. Or perhaps that was his mind playing tricks on him, he couldn’t tell. He felt watched constantly, like his own shadows judged him.

He sighed shakily, lifting his arms to wrap around himself to get some heat. Where was Morgana? How long ago was she here? Wasn’t she going to check on him? Merlin wished he knew what was going on. Then, again, maybe it was better if he was left alone. He still remembered the pain he felt when the witch injected the Fomorroh into his skin. It hurt a lot. And it made him shiver. That little snake made him think about horrible things, about Arthur’s death. He would never have forgiven himself if his king had died because of him. Because he had been too weak to fight Morgana’s magic.

“Merlin?” there was a voice in the air, a familiar one, but he couldn’t name the owner yet. It was a man, but it wasn’t Arthur. He would recognise Arthur everywhere.

He turned around, trying to locate the sound, but there was nothing at first. The soft breeze ruffled his messy hair once more and he frowned, sensing something in the air had shifted. It was a dark presence, watching him. He couldn’t escape the stare of darkness that observed him at all times.

“Merlin!” he jumped as he heard the voice even nearer. His head shot towards the noise and he let out an audible gasp when the face of his father appeared right in front of him.

“Father?” he narrowed his eyes. Balinor was pale. He looked like a ghost. He felt like one, too. But he was here, kneeling next to him and staring at him with those eyes that once glowed. “You’re supposed to be dead.” He whispered, tears already pricking his eyes as he remembered the fateful day of his father’s passing. He thought about it less frequently now that so many years had passed, but it didn’t mean the loss stopped hurting him.

A ghostly white hand reached for his cheek. It was so cold that it made him tremble and he sucked in a breath, closing his eyes. Was it real? It couldn’t be. It was Morgana’s scheme, for sure. People couldn’t rise from the dead just like that. Why was Balinor here? There was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something told him to run before it was too late.

“My boy,” the man smiled, but there was something deceitful in the way his lips curled. “I’ve been meaning to tell you one thing I never managed to say.”

Merlin let the tears go as he let his father caress his cheek. It made him shudder, but he ignored the unpleasant feeling that grew inside him. The coldness wouldn’t bother him as long as he wasn’t alone in this spooky place. The loneliness had been driving him crazy.

“What?” he asked instead, blinking the blurriness away. Balinor’s face became unreadable for a moment, but it was too late to react when the flash of anger shone in his gaze. His eyes grew colder and unforgiving in one single moment as his lips parted and all he said was:

“You have failed me, boy.” He spat, and something inside the warlock broke in half. He could feel his heart shatter. “I regret saving you. I wish you had died that day instead of me.”

“What?” his voice was unrecognisable at the moment, tears spilling further, the words piercing his heart like the sharpest of swords.

“Do you have problems hearing, too? It’s a shame Hunith raised such a failure. Maybe it’s for the best that I’d left you. At least I didn’t have to watch you grow into an utter disappointment.”

“Why are you saying this?” his hands started shaking as he thought about the disgust his father must have felt when Merlin almost got killed. This man in front of him was not the same person he met all those years ago, but something convinced him it was the truth. Real or not, he believed those words, he’d been blaming himself for Balinor’s death, and hearing this from his father was not surprising.

It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, however.

“Because that’s what you are.” The Dragonlord in front of him hissed, his hand leaving Merlin’s cheek, and he started laughing hoarsely. The raven-haired sorcerer slid further away from him, curling into a protective ball, resting his chin on his knees. Tears blurred his view, but once he wiped them away and looked up to see the man he considered his father, the image was gone. The chamber was empty once more and only his quiet sniffs were heard within the dark walls, interrupted occasionally by the howling of the wind.

A failure. He was one, he couldn’t deny. He got his own father killed. He made Arthur hate magic forever. He disappointed everyone around him, surely. Gaius probably considered him worthless, too. He never gave him any reason to be proud of him, after all. He caused only trouble, wherever he went. He couldn’t even stop Lancelot from dying. It should have been him all along. Camelot would be a better place if he wasn’t there to contaminate it.

“Why are you crying, my child?” he jumped one more time, this time immediately gathering his focus on the person in front of him. A woman now. Hunith. She looked down on him, so much pity and disgust in her eyes that it made Merlin want to crawl into the cave and never go out. “You should be stronger than that.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologised quietly, wiping at his face to get rid of the waterfalls of his own tears he wasn’t able to hold back. He truly was pathetic. No wonder why both his parents despised the very sight of him. “I’m sorry, mom, I failed you.”

“At least you’re smart enough to know it.” She snarled, anger staining her face features for a moment. “You caused the love of my life to die. You failed to keep your secret and told Will about it. Is there one thing you’re capable of doing?”

“No…” he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, looking away from the image of his mother, his hands covering his ears to stop the voice from getting through to him. He didn’t want to listen to it. “Go away. I know you aren’t real.” He muttered, afraid of lifting his head. He couldn’t bear the picture of his beloved mother, scolding him and showing her disappointment so openly. She wasn’t truly here, neither was Balinor, he was aware of it. Was this the game Morgana wanted to play? It must have been. These were illusions, certainly.

But they felt so real that Merlin believed everything they said.

“You’re my only regret in life. I should have turned you in long ago. Maybe King Cenred would have taken care of you.”

“Stop.” He croaked, the voice getting louder in his head despite him trying to block it out. “Please, stop. I’m sorry…”

“From this day forward, don’t you dare call yourself my son.” She exclaimed harshly, and Merlin curled in on himself even more tightly, shaking and crying pathetically on the floor. Tears flooded his mouth, leaving only hatred in their wake. “From this day forward, I do not know you.”

It was not real, it was not real, it was not…

“Not real…” He chanted, shaking his head helplessly, and just like that, the presence was gone, he couldn’t sense it anymore. He stayed with his face hidden between his knees, however, not trusting himself yet. What if Morgana was watching? What kind of sick enchantment was this? He’d rather prefer getting beaten to this.

What if it was what both his parents thought of him? He couldn’t possibly bear such a possibility. He loved his mother, he did. More than anyone in this world. Hearing her speak to him in this way, whether it was true or not, it left him rather hopeless. He wanted to cry thinking about these words. Was it what everyone thought of him?

No, he couldn’t go in this direction, it was exactly what Morgana wanted. He wouldn’t give her satisfaction. He would survive. He had to. There was no other way. He would see better days in Camelot yet. He would see his king once more.

*

Arthur hadn’t spoken a word since he left for the patrol with his Knights. Leon and Percival stayed in the castle, still fighting whatever poison they suffered from, and Elyan with Gwaine held such grim face expressions that it was hard to look at them.

Not that he didn’t understand. He did, even too well. The thoughts of Morgana capturing Merlin, it was too worrisome. His servant came out alive from many dangerous situations before, the king couldn’t possibly bear the possibility that this time Merlin might not be so lucky.

It was too much. Arthur felt like he was breaking inside. If Gaius was right and it truly was his sister standing behind this, there might be no time to waste. Who knew what tortures Morgana made Merlin endure? He would go to war for him, he’d move both heaven and hell to keep him safe. Whatever it was they were facing right now, Arthur was ready.

“Sire! Here!” Elyan’s voice called him somewhere in the forest, near the path where the snakes had attacked. Once Arthur looked his way, he didn’t even realise he basically ran towards the Knight, hopeful for some good information. That it all would turn out to be a misunderstanding, that his stupid manservant just got too caught up in picking up some herbs for Gaius.

“What is it?” he asked, looking down at the ground, squinting at the small object lying there. It was a piece of material. A red fabric from one’s tunic. Arthur didn’t like it. “Is there blood over it?”

Elyan moved to pick it up from the ground, carefully fiddling with the ripped piece of clothing. Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat, he’d recognise it everywhere. There was no blood anywhere, but worry didn’t cease at all. Merlin was in danger, now he was sure of it. Why else would his torn fabric lay here? He had to find him as soon as possible.

“He must have been dragged, sire.” Elyan stated quite calmly and Arthur wished he had such level of coolness in himself at the moment. “There are traces of the body being moved that way, along with a horse’s hooves.” His Knight pointed at the path ahead, and Arthur felt his heart jump to his throat. Whoever captured Merlin, they made him walk behind the horse, probably tied up. Like a slave.

The king wanted to scream and tear something apart right where he stood. If it hadn’t been Morgana, who had taken his servant, slavers could have done it. Neither option calmed him down. He didn’t know what would be worse, in fact. He was sure, though, that whoever was responsible for this would pay a high price. Arthur would never let anyone hurt Merlin and get away with it.

He looked around, his jaw set and eyes shining with anger one wouldn’t be able to describe. There had to be something else, something that would indicate what really happened here. From what his Knights told him so far, there were snakes, and they caused too much chaos. Merlin was supposed to get away, but Arthur knew his servant too well, his friend would never leave others in need of help. He assumed that, in the middle of the attack and after the fall of Leon and Percival, nobody could keep an eye on him. That would make him an easy victim. That was why Arthur never left Merlin’s side while they were together on quests or hunts. He always made sure his servant was safe next to him.

He followed the traces of the horse. It wasn’t a group of people that captured his friend. Not slavers, then, they always travelled in packs. Which left only one possible option. Morgana must have planned this. How else would anyone explain Gaius’ suspicions of sorcery having been used?

“Hey, you have to look at this!” Gwaine’s voice boomed nearby and both men turned towards the noise. The Knight was standing by the river, hidden behind trees and bushes. They rushed to his side. “I think I found Merlin’s horse.”

And Arthur narrowed his eyes, examining the brown animal that certainly belonged to his servant. The mare looked quite anxious and scared, she was tied to a tree very carelessly. Elyan already started taking care of her, trying to calm her down, while he and Gwaine examined the reins and the saddle.

“Look here,” Gwaine spoke, pointing at the saddle. “He must have been knocked from his mount by some force. My guess would be magic.”

And Arthur’s jaw gritted. When the sorcery was involved, there was not much an ordinary man could do, let alone a servant with no weapon on himself. Merlin wouldn’t be able to defend. He was an easy target. Why would Morgana settle for a servant, though? Why wasn’t it one of the Knights?

Arthur knew the answer, of course he did. Morgana took Merlin instead of a Knight because he’d do anything for that man.

“We’re going back to Camelot.” He claimed sternly, already going through various worrying scenarios of what might be happening to his friend right now. “We must regroup. Gather my best men.”

“Are you sure, my lord? This might be the work of someone dangerous. Of Morgana. What if it’s a trap?”

“Oh, it certainly is.” He breathed out, clenching his fists. “But I’m not leaving anyone behind. Even if it’s what Morgana wants.”

“But, sire—”

“I’m done talking about this. Do as I say, that’s an order.”

And Elyan knew there was no changing the mind of his king now. Arthur would send out an army to find Merlin.

Chapter Text

Arthur couldn’t stop thinking. He couldn’t focus because everything his mind came back to was Merlin and Morgana. Once he returned with Gwaine and Elyan to the castle, Gaius informed him his other two Knights woke up and were ready to be back on duty, the snake bites not damaging them more than they should have, according to the elder.

Which only made him sure it was a part of Morgana’s plan.

“They are recovering fast, my lord,” Gaius told him calmly although Arthur could see the worry etched into his face, the fear shining in his eyes. Fear for his apprentice. “Faster than they should, in fact. I am hundred percent sure now that it’s the work of magic, sire.”

“Can we safely assume it’s Morgana’s scheme?” he asked even though he already knew the answer. He just had to hear it. To make it real. His head still found it hard to accept that Merlin was gone, just like that day when he got hurt in the attack. Arthur would never be able to forget the terror he felt when all the patrols found was bloodstained piece of clothing.

“I believe so, sire. Whatever it was she wanted, she needed them alive.” The old man explained, walking into the physician’s tower. Leon and Percival were sitting on the bed, seemingly alright at the moment. The snake bites still looked fresh, but the Knights weren’t as pale anymore.

They moved to stand up and bow to him as he entered, but he held out a hand to stop them.

“Have you found Merlin?” Leon asked as soon as the king halted in front of the cot he was settled on. The Knight appeared to be worried as they all were, and Arthur hated to give both him and Gaius such bad news.

“We found his horse tied to the tree in the forest. He must have been knocked from it. There was no other sign of him but this.” He stated, holding back the sadness, and showed them the piece of torn fabric Elyan found on the ground.

The silence had never been so heavy before. Percival and Leon exchanged looks wordlessly while Gaius sat down, his face drawing fear and concern. It was like that day all over again, Arthur couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“We ride out at dawn.” He told them next, knowing they understood him without any further explanations. He’d gladly go back there even now, but it was getting dark and his Knights still weren’t in the best condition to take such a long journey, wherever it was they needed to go. They had to rest first. “Don’t be late. I want to leave as soon as possible.”

“Are you sure it’s wise, my lord?” Elyan asked as everyone in the chamber focused on him, puzzled. “Morgana must have set a trap. It’s probably you she wants. Merlin’s only a means to an end.”

“My decision’s final, Elyan.” It was enough for his knight to back off, the stern tone of his voice advising against any arguing. Gaius and the rest stayed silent although it was quite clear they weren’t pleased with the idea of him joining the rescue mission. “Gaius.”

“Yes, sire?”

“Will Leon and Percival be able to join us?” he asked, giving the men a quick glance over his shoulder. They did seem better than a few hours ago, and Arthur hoped they were ready. He didn’t want to risk their lives, it was enough Merlin’s was in danger, but he needed his best men to complete this quest.

“I think so, sire, but is it really—”

“Great.” He cut him off before the elder could voice his worries. It was the last thing the king needed to hear. His servant, his friend, was probably hurting at the moment, how could they expect him to stay behind and simply wait? Who knew how much time did Merlin have left? What kinds of torture was Morgana putting him through? The sooner he found his servant, the better. “I want you to do your best in taking care of them. Keep this quest a secret. Nobody’s to know where we’re going.”

And he left, leaving his friends in uncomfortable and heavy silence. Arthur was aware none of them agreed with the choice of him going, too, but it was something he had to do. He couldn’t sit in the castle idly, not knowing what was going on with Merlin. He couldn’t lose him, not him. He had already watched too many people he cared for pass away. Morgana wouldn’t take away another one from him. Even if it meant sacrificing himself in the process.

*

Merlin didn’t know how much time had passed since he got locked in here. He guessed it couldn’t have been that long and yet, it felt like he could barely remember the feeling of sunlight upon his face. He forgot the sound of birds and the refreshing smell of the forest. All his memories seemed to be too far away to hold onto them now, and tears wouldn’t stop falling. He was cold. He was freezing.

He couldn’t take it anymore. The screaming voices seemed to replace every single one of his thoughts. His body was shaking though out of coldness or fear, he couldn’t tell. Was Morgana still somewhere near? He was going hungry and thirsty, the constant crying not helping in staying hydrated. He tried to get some sleep, but it didn’t work. As soon as he closed his eyes, the shrieks got louder. They claimed his entire being. The darkness paralysed every inch of him, like it was too heavy, like it made his mind go numb.

Would this torture ever end? Where was Morgana? Or Arthur? Was anyone coming for him? He hadn’t wanted it before, he’d wanted his king to stay safe in Camelot but now, he wasn’t so sure anymore. He just wanted to be outside, away from the demons, the voices and all these fears that took control over him. He wanted to still feel like he was alive. Why couldn’t he stop this swelling ache inside him? It was as if the shadows immobilised him from toes to the head. He couldn’t move, couldn’t escape the claws that tore his sanity to shreds.

“Look at you, all the pathetic crying and begging.” Another voice said, a male one, but he couldn’t recognise it anymore. It sounded like Gwaine, but he wasn’t certain. He didn’t want to be certain in the first place. If he didn’t know who talked to him, accepting the truth they spoke was easier. “Arthur should have thrown you out long ago. You’re useless. I don’t know why we were friends in the first place.”

He stayed silent, not looking up at the ghost. He wasn’t certain if there was any to begin with. It was hard to tell what was real. Maybe it was just his mind projecting his doubts onto him. Or maybe he should just listen to what there was to say and agree with it. It couldn’t be that far from the truth, anyway.

“Leave me alone. You aren’t real.” He mumbled, burying his face in the material of his trousers, pressing it against his knee. He felt more secure in this position, curled up like a scared child. It probably was pathetic, but that’s all he was.

“And you aren’t a hero,” the ghost exclaimed, amused. “You’re just a servant. A bad one at that.” Or maybe was it Leon? He really wasn’t going to look up, he didn’t want to see disgust in the person’s eyes. Maybe if he ignored it long enough, it would just go away? That was probably a wishful thinking, but he wouldn’t bear another person glaring at him like he should have died the moment he stepped in Camelot.

“Leave me alone, please.” He pleaded once more, focusing on the warm tears leaving his cheek. They dropped onto the floor silently. He tried not to concentrate on the feeling he had when they swam down, crashing his soul to little pieces.

“Oh, Merlin,” the cold hand touched his hair and it made him shudder. He jumped, and the ghost used it to grab his chin and force his head to lift. Merlin’s eyes widened as he watched Gwaine’s face, filled with hatred and dismay. A part of him quivered in fear. “But you are alone.”

He jerked away, the hoarse laughter of Gwaine’s ghost echoing around the black chamber. More tears streamed down, he sniffed. His eyes shut tightly and he looked away, knowing it to be true. Maybe he shouldn’t have believed anyone cared for him to the point of actually bothering to save him. They probably threw a feast celebrating his disappearance.

“Go away.” He whispered weakly, the tears flooding his mouth, leaving salty taste on his tongue. He had enough, he couldn’t listen to it anymore. Why couldn’t he just die? Morgana would do everyone’s a big favour if she got rid of him.

The laughter grew stronger, Merlin could swear he could feel the walls trembling because of the awful sound. His ears hurt and he whimpered, running a hand through his messy hair, waiting for it to pass. It was the only thing he could do, just wait. He couldn’t even fight, his magic felt too far away for him to grab it. Besides, he didn’t want to risk Morgana finding out about his powers.

Gwaine’s ghost disappeared, leaving him to the merciless teeth of the darkness that, once again, reached for his heart.

*

The next day, Arthur was ready the moment the first sunray shined on Camelot. A servant that got assigned to him in the absence of Merlin was quick to prepare everything he needed. It didn’t take long for his Knights to gather in the courtyard, either, attracting some curious glances from people passing by. Arthur wasn’t certain if the gossips about reasons behind Merlin’s disappearance had already got out, but he knew the staff talked about the attack on his men. Rumours spread quickly in Camelot, it had always been like that. One could get used to it with time.

As suspected, none of his Knights seemed to be very enthusiastic about him going, knowing that Morgana stood behind everything, but Arthur decided not to worry about it now. It wouldn’t do anything good. Besides, no one would change his mind about coming. It wasn’t up to debate. He would track his sister down step by step and save Merlin no matter what. He was glad his men felt the same way. He’d never say it out loud, but he wanted his servant to find the place he belonged, and he hoped this place was by the king’s side, here in Camelot.

He was more than determined to rescue his friend and tell him how much he meant to the kingdom, to Arthur. He already was too close to losing him once, what if he’d missed his chance? He remembered the emptiness that appeared in his life once Merlin went missing in that forest. He still didn’t know what exactly happened to him, the man declared he couldn’t recall. Arthur often wondered if it’d been true.

The road was quiet and tiring. The journey lacked the usual bickering of the king and his loyal servant, which really took its toll on the Knights, who had been silent so far. The banter and jokes that always accompanied them were gone, nobody could find it in themselves to feel joyful. Even the forest seemed to be dead. No birds were heard, even leaves weren’t rustling the same way. The sun was shining but reached no one. Happiness just wasn’t present. Everyone was focused on the path ahead, being eaten by the guilt of having let it happen.

Arthur wasn’t angry with his friends, of course not, they couldn’t predict an attack like this and besides, it was Morgana. They stood no chance to her. He was concerned. Terrified, even. What would await them on their way? What monstrosities were there to face? Was Merlin still alive? He hoped so. He would never be the same if something fatal happened to his servant. He should have gone with him to that cursed village. Maybe then, Merlin would never have disappeared.

Or maybe Arthur would have disappeared with him.

They travelled during the days without any rest, stopping only occasionally to get enough water and let the horses eat something. While on such breaks, Arthur couldn’t stop pacing around aimlessly, hoping to find any trace of his friend to make sure he was still alive, safe and sound. He wanted to lie to himself that it was a mistake, a misunderstanding. That they misread the situation and Merlin wasn’t Morgana’s prisoner at all. That he wasn’t going through the unimaginable now.

The sun began to set.

“It’s getting too dark.” Percival shouted somewhere in the front, trying to find anything that would lead them on. Arthur ignored it entirely, hoping against everything that there was still something to discover, something to do.

“We’ll keep heading east.” He commanded, voice stern and eyes cold as ice. He couldn’t let more time go to waste.

“Sire, we have lost the trail.” Leon informed, following his king’s horse, trying to catch up to him with his own. They looked at each other. There was a moment of hesitation shining in the blue gaze of the ruler, but it disappeared rather fast.

“Then, we’ll retrace the tracks.” Arthur stated firmly, glancing around and riding away from the group, leaving his Knights in stunned silence. No one was brave enough to speak up, not even Gwaine, who didn’t necessarily want to deal with the king in the current mood.

Instead, they exchanged looks with one another, communicating with no words. Leon was the one to break the silence.

“We will stop here and set up a camp,” he instructed. “I will talk to him. We can’t go on.”

And they all obeyed although some of them were hesitant. Angering the king of Camelot was a risk not everyone would be eager to take. Not when the man that would always get to him and calm him down was gone.

Leon found Arthur behind a huge oak tree, staring out in the distance like it would give him answers he so desperately sought. His horse was nearby, untied but not straying too far away.

“My lord?” the First Knight began, making a move to approach.

“He can’t be far.”

“I know,” he nodded although there was doubt in his voice. Doubt Arthur certainly must have heard. “But we can’t continue, sire. The horses need to rest and we need to sleep. We won’t get far when it’s dark.”

“He disappeared like that once already, Leon. I can’t lose him again.” He admitted quietly, a part of him was embarrassed for showing his weakness to anyone that wasn’t Merlin, but he couldn’t help it. His feelings were close to exploding, he couldn’t hold them in for longer. Leon was his most trusted Knight, they had known each other the longest. Arthur knew he wouldn’t be judged.

“Merlin’s strong, sire. He is going to be fine.” The curly-haired man tried again, and the blond finally did lift his head to properly look at his Knight. Forcing a smile, he sighed.

“I know. I just wish he did, too.” He muttered, glancing away once again, unable to meet that clever gaze. He started fiddling with the ring on his finger instead – anything to take his mind off the worries and fear he had hard time concealing. “You know, Leon, I always joke about him being a coward, but he’s far from one. I’ve never met someone more courageous.” His Knight nodded with a soft smile.

“I’m sure he’s aware of it, sire. You shouldn’t be blaming yourself for anything that happened.”

“Neither should any of you.” The king retorted without a second thought, forcing a smile to give to his oldest Knight. Leon looked away, however.

“We all consider him a part of us.” The latter exclaimed rather proudly instead, trying to change the subject. “He can face everything. He won’t succumb to Morgana.”

“I hope you’re right, Leon.” Arthur sighed heavily, his heart suddenly aching like there was something breaking within him.

“You’d better get some sleep, my lord. You haven’t rested at all since we left Camelot.” And it’s been days, was left unspoken. Arthur knew there was no way he’d fool Leon with his act of being fine. They all were aware he was not. And, truth be told, he was tired. Exhausted, even. Perhaps a nap wouldn’t hurt, but could Merlin afford it? How could he rest if his servant was probably in pain now, unable to do so? “Sire, you won’t help him if you’re too tired yourself. There is no point in hurting yourself even further.” The Knight claimed as if he read his mind.

He didn’t have to, Arthur knew all the emotions and thoughts were clear as day in his face, thus there was no need to argue. He wouldn’t win, and maybe he truly wanted to rest. All the what ifs kept him anxious and terrified, and he certainly wouldn’t make a good leader if he just wouldn’t be able to think rationally.

So he nodded although his heart felt heavy making that choice.

*

The supposedly peaceful night was darker than Arthur ever remembered it to be. The low burning fire was the only sound heard in the entire area, and the king wanted to focus only on the soft noise. It was difficult, knowing that at this time, his servant and a friend might be hurt terribly. No matter how hard he tried, sleep just wouldn’t come.

The same questions haunted his mind over and over, telling him he could have done something more. Why did he send Merlin to that village in the first place? Why didn’t he go with him or send even more Knights to look after him? Maybe if he’d sent someone else, Morgana wouldn’t have had a chance to kidnap Merlin.

He’d never make the same mistake again.

He closed his eyes, but his anxious thoughts never silenced. The noise of the fire burning was slowly fading in the background, the crickets were playing their concerts, but nothing brought him peace. He would rest as soon as they found his friend. He would tell him, then, how much he appreciated him even though he never showed it in a proper way. He would hug him for once, and make sure the servant knew he was cared for. He wouldn’t be afraid of these feelings, he needed Merlin to know.

A sudden scream made him jump to his feet. The others were as quick to wake up. Looking around, grabbing his sword out of instinct, he realised it was not an attack. It was Leon and Percival, who just arose, their breaths hitching and brows wet with sweat. Arthur didn’t waste time and immediately rushed to their side, placing a hand on Leon’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?” it was Elyan, who asked before the king even had the chance to find any words, and the terrified Knight looked towards the dark-skinned man.

“The tower,” Leon gasped, his eyes widening and heart going even more rapid. “Everything in its shadow was dead.” He glanced at Arthur next if only to find reassurance that the nightmare was gone. “The sound, it was like, like children screaming.”

“And the rain that fell was like blood,” Percival finished, evenly frightened. He met Leon’s gaze. “I had the same dream. I was lost in a forest, the trees had claws, and when I finally escaped it, there was a plain…”

“Empty as the eye can see, except…”

“Beyond the skyline, there was a pillar of black stone.” Arthur’s hand dropped from Leon’s shoulder, and the Knight shook his head as the next words left his trembling lips.

“The tower was so dark. It could swallow the sun.” he finished, unable to gather his thoughts in one place, the snake bite that was almost faded now suddenly burning. It was faint, though, just a slight tickling, as if small flames grew around it. He looked to Percival to see the man was feeling the same.

Arthur’s heart dropped, something heavy and unsettling growing in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure if these were his hands trembling, or if his vision just blurred to the point where everything looked and felt like an earthquake.

“The Dark Tower…” he breathed out, fists clenching. “It’s a place which every Knight is taught to dread and highly so. It’s where many have met their end.” And if it meant what he thought it did, Merlin was in bigger danger than he thought. It almost made him vomit the remains of the last meal he ate.

“The Dark Tower? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.” Elyan claimed quietly, finding the king’s worried eyes in the darkness.

“With good reason,” the man told him sternly although it was far from what he was truly feeling. “It is said that a mere mention of it can bring doom to those that hear it.”

The silence stopped being calm, turned into an invisible cloud of fear and anxiety. The Knights looked at one another, even Gwaine arose from his sleep, holding himself back from saying whatever it was he had thought of. Arthur didn’t like it. He dreaded the truth that was within his reach.

The truth where Morgana might have taken Merlin.

“Why would you have the same dream?” Elyan asked, unaware of his king’s current concerns.

“It’s the poison,” Leon exclaimed, lifting his hand to touch the place that still faintly burnt. “I can feel it still coursing through my veins. It’s like it awoke together with that dream.”

“But the same dream?” Gwaine questioned further, reading everyone’s mind. Arthur already knew the answer to it, but he was scared to even think of it. If he said it out loud, it would become his reality, and he didn’t like this reality. He just wanted Merlin to be back, to sit next to him and annoy the hell out of him with his usual rants and blabbering.

“Morgana conjured those snakes,” Percival spoke, swallowing his fear, but his throat was surprisingly dry. As if he was bitten once more. “Gaius told us we’d be dead if that was what she wanted.”

“She planted these visions,” Elyan said what they all started thinking at this point, and his gaze rested upon Arthur, whose face went so pale it looked like he was about to faint. “Sire, it’s a trap. She leads you to your doom.”

“And the tower?” Leon opened his mouth, his eyes shining in acknowledgement as they all seemed to come to the same conclusion.

Please, don’t say it, the king begged silently in his head, trying to convince himself it wasn’t real. That it still could turn out to be some stupid joke or misunderstanding. That Merlin was not being held captive in one of the worst places one could imagine. Don’t. Just don’t say it. Don’t make it true.

“That’s where she’s taken Merlin.” Gwaine finished and all hope Arthur held onto vanished like it had never been there.

A single tear might have swum down his cheek, but he wiped it away before someone noticed.

Chapter Text

Screams. Screams were everywhere. Of those he loved. Those he lost and those, who lost him. His mother and father. Gaius. Gwen and the Knights. They shouted at him, calling him names, proving how much of a failure he truly was. How he couldn’t save Will, or Lancelot. Or even Morgana. Faces he used to know all showed disappointment, disgust. They kept on screaming. They degraded him, belittled, told him he should have died long ago.

Merlin couldn’t stop thinking he should believe them. He was curled up in a tight ball, hands over his ears as if he was a little child trying to block the scolding of his parents out. Tears streamed down his cheeks and fast apologies kept on leaving his mouth even though there was nobody here who would hear him. How long had it been since he ate or drank something? He didn’t know. Wasn’t sure. He wouldn’t deserve it, anyway. He was a failure. He brought upon people only death.

“Merlin!” a familiar male voice spat his name, and he couldn’t stop the urge to lift his gaze and watch the man who just appeared out of thin air. His blood might have frozen on the spot because, out of all the demons that haunted him here, Arthur’s face was the last thing he’d like to see. He just wanted to be left alone to his own despair. Why wouldn’t the screams stop? “Merlin…” the way his king spoke his name came more like a purr now, and something in the warlock’s heart went missing. He didn’t want to be locked in here. He wanted to be safe again. Safe with Arthur and the Knights. How much he missed daylight, he wouldn’t be able to describe it.

“Arthur…” he croaked, wiping the tears away. His puffy eyes focused on the ghostly face and something inside Merlin swelled. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real, he could sense it was another pawn of Morgana’s cruel game. She knew he would never refuse this man. She knew their relationship, had seen it from the beginning. Even if she hadn’t, everyone noticed how important the king and his servant were to each other. It was only a matter of time before someone would use it against them.

“Come here, Merlin.” the king whispered softly, reaching with his hand to help him stand. Merlin tried to fight it, he was aware it wasn’t happening. It was another sick illusion, it must have been. That’s all that occurred here – hallucinations caused by dark magic. Yet, he couldn’t win with it. He was too weak. These manipulations and hurtful words meant to degrade him worked flawlessly. Like Morgana knew what exactly would bring him down.

The ghost of Arthur Pendragon was the last straw. This man, demon or not, was the last person he’d reject. He was the last person he would say no to. Even if it wasn’t true, he couldn’t help it. It was his king, his friend and other half. He wouldn’t be the same person he was now if not for Arthur. There was some sort of an invisible magnet pulling him closer to the ghost of the man he would follow everywhere. It was already a lost fight, he knew it. He would never win against his own mind. Against his own feelings he never learnt to fully control.

He sniffed and crawled up to the ghost, trying to reach him, hoping against all the odds that it truly was his friend coming for him, even though he already knew it to be a lie. Once his fingers touched Arthur’s, the man laughed loudly, jumping away like Merlin burnt. The sound was so terrifying and unnatural that he had to cover his ears to stop it from making him go insane. He didn’t want to be here, he wanted to be outside, feel the sunlight over his face and the wind in his hair. The room became too claustrophobic. Too dark. Too everything.

“You’re an idiot, Merlin. You’ve been lying to me all those years. I’d gladly watch you burn on the pyre for your treachery.” The furious voice spat and Merlin winced. He tried to back away from the pale man, but he hit the wall, unable to move further away. At this point, he didn’t even want to fight it, tears blurring his entire already limited view. “I hate you.”

The words cut through his heart like the finest of swords. He could feel the moment it started bleeding. It hurt so much, it was like nothing he’d ever experienced. His worst fear was coming to pass. If Arthur truly despised him, his life would lose its meaning, and Merlin was aware of it. The young king was his world, the warlock had been his friend and a servant for so long, he wouldn’t be able to become anyone else after all this time. He wouldn’t even know how to be someone else.

“I’m sorry. Please, I didn’t mean to…” he croaked, voice breaking and hands shaking like feeble leaves on trees during late autumn, ready to fall and get forgotten, swept away by the merciless wind. “I did it all for you, Arthur.”

“Do not dare say my name, you liar.” The imitation of the king snapped, his resonating voice seemed to have echoed around the dark chamber. His eyes held fire even though they were still cold. “I can’t believe I kept you in the castle for so long. You should die here alone, no one would cry for you.”

“No!” Merlin shouted, his hand reaching for the blond man as his body jumped towards him, but Arthur slid away and the warlock’s knees hit the hard floor. A sob left his mouth and he wasn’t able to look at his king anymore. He didn’t deserve it. “Please, don’t leave me here. Please, please…” he started mumbling, rocking himself back and forth as if it could give him any comfort. “I’m scared…”

“That’s because you’re a coward,” the ghost laughed in his face and turned away, already on his way to leave him here. Merlin wanted to grab his hand, beg him on his knees for one last chance, for mercy, for forgiveness and understanding. “You disgust me, Merlin. Enjoy your death, I hope it comes to you slowly so you can suffer like all those people you killed.”

“Please, I did it for Camelot!” Merlin shouted in his despair, jumping to his feet. His legs were weak, he could barely hold himself up. “I did it for you, Arthur! I wanted to protect you!”

“And now, who is going to protect you?” the blond ghost asked with an evil grin, something malicious glinting in his bright eyes. “I truly hate you. From the bottom of my heart. I’m cutting all my bonds with you. Die here, Merlin, die here and leave me alone. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“No!” the sorcerer shouted brokenly, grabbing the king’s sleeve in an attempt to make him stay, to apologise and explain everything. His life was falling apart and he couldn’t do anything with it. “No, Arthur, please…”

“Don’t touch me!” the ghost shrieked, and some invisible strong force pushed him away. He went flying and hit the wall, sliding to his knees. His cries were echoing around the black chamber. “You used to be my friend. Now, you’re a nobody.” And with these words, everything went quiet apart from his heart-wrenching sobs. Merlin could swear the fog covered his full view for a second before his surroundings blurred. He blinked the haze away, however, and when his eyes opened again, the room was silent and he was left alone. He could taste a few tears in his mouth as he looked around.

“And you used to be my everything.” He whispered all to himself, staring at the place where Arthur had been standing. It was empty now, just like Merlin’s soul. Tears kept on falling, they wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t make them stop. “You still are. Please, come back...” but his plea went unheard. There was no one here. Not anymore.

Gods, he was exhausted. He was actually terrified. What if these ghosts were only telling the truth? What if their words were what the others truly thought of him? Nobody would come for him, nobody would rescue him from this eternal darkness that stared right into his shattering soul. Arthur despised the thought of him and wanted him dead. He considered him a monster and a liar. And, maybe, he deserved it. Without his king by his side, he really was no one but a weakling. A murderer and a traitor.

He closed his eyes and leant over so his forehead touched the hard floor. Sobbing, he tried to focus on it. On its rough texture and a few cracks in the black tiles. On the cool surface that felt like ice against his pale skin. They were old and dirty. He could feel every little piece of sand, the dust stained his fingers. The puddle of mud beside him felt like his own blood. Ringing in his ears increased.

He desperately wanted to calm down, to steady his breathing and prevent these tears from dropping onto the ground, but it was impossible. He was on the edge of panic and paranoia, he wasn’t able to stop this from happening. The voices kept on screaming at him. As if they lived inside his head, hammered against his skull heartlessly, reminding him of all the failures he tried hard to forget, of all the sins and crimes he committed in order to save someone who would most probably kill him with the first opportunity.

Was there any redemption for him? He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t deserve anything but death for killing all those people, betraying his own kind and hiding everything that slowly destroyed his insides. Maybe it was karma, or maybe he was always destined to fall.

Failure, the voices screamed.

Disappointment, they shouted.

A traitor and a coward, they reminded.

‘Die here, Merlin’

“I don’t want to die…” he muttered under his breath, hands over his face, head between his knees. He would not face the darkness anymore. There was something vile to it, something that made him understand why civilisations had always been frightened of its power.

‘You are a liar and an idiot, I hate you’

‘You are no longer my son’

“Stop, please stop… ”

‘You were the biggest mistake I made in life’, the voice of Hunith was the last straw as he screamed his throat raw for it to stop, to shut up, to leave him alone. He screamed at the top of his lungs until he lost his voice. He screamed if only to hear the echo of his own words, to feel even the slightest pain to make sure he was still alive. His tears kept on falling gracefully onto the ground, creating rivers and waterfalls over his face. He couldn’t stop shaking even if he attempted it. Everything felt like too much. The weight he’d been carrying all those years finally proved to be too heavy.

“Oh, my dear Merlin…” it was a female voice this time and it was so close and so real that the sorcerer had to lift his head slightly, high enough to see the black dress and tangled up hair.

Morgana. Had she been watching him all along? Did she hear anything?

“What happened?” she crouched down and glanced at him, pity and sympathy in her eyes.

“Make it stop… Please, make it stop…” he whispered hoarsely, refusing to meet her glare. His sniffs echoed around the room, making him feel even more vulnerable. To break down like this in front of his worst enemy, how low could he fall?

“Stop what?”

“The pain,” he muttered, shaking his head like it would prove a point. “Please… I want it to stop.”

There was silence for a few good moments, deafening silence that somehow managed to scream at him everything he wanted to forget. He wanted to die, needed to let it all go and just cry himself into oblivion. Ghosts or not, they all were right to despise him. Even he hated himself, why couldn’t others?

“Hush now, Merlin,” Morgana’s voice was so soft, so sweet and poisonous at once, he couldn’t help but listen to her. She cupped his chin, forcing him to look into her green eyes. They were different than he remembered. They didn’t show anger or disgust. “You are safe with me here. I will not let anyone harm you.”

“Just make it stop!” he sobbed, letting her fingers brush his tear-stained cheek. “It hurts.”

“I know,” she nodded slowly, watching him intently. “People can be cruel, Merlin. I will not leave you here like they did.” She stated calmly and gave him a tiny smile that reminded him of the old Morgana that used to be his friend. Standing up, she reached out with her hand to help him get up. “Care to join me for dinner? Come on, you must be hungry.”

And Merlin swallowed the lump in his throat, observing her face features closely. His head ached, but the screams silenced. The High Priestess was standing above him, sympathetic and caring, her hand outstretched and smile inviting. He raised his hand to grab hers if only to feel the touch of someone real, but something made him halt and he stopped with his arm mid-air.

It was Morgana. The very person who abducted him. The woman who held such deep hatred for both Uther and Arthur. She was the reason he was here, she was the one making him suffer in this darkness, haunted by the faces he didn’t recognise anymore. She couldn’t care for him, it was her game.

He jerked away like he was stabbed, and shook his head.

“No,” he choked out, trying not to shed the remaining tears. She had already seen too much of his weakness. “No, go away. I want no part in your plan.” He told her, firmness in his voice surprising even him. He must have looked pathetic – he was still shaking and crying like a child, but he would not let Morgana win. That Arthur he talked to wasn’t real. His friend would never leave him to die. Everyone who haunted him here weren’t the people he knew.

He had to remind himself of that to avoid losing his mind entirely. Even if he was lying to himself, he had to believe it.

Morgana’s jaw set in anger and she pierced him with something murderous, her sweet and innocent façade dropping almost immediately as she scoffed, telling him he was right to reject her dinner offer. He could starve himself to death, at least he wouldn’t let her win so easily.

“Your strong will is truly admirable, Merlin,” she mocked, an arrogant smirk painted in her shadowed face. “But you are a fool if you think that’s enough to stop it from happening. Your pain is your drive, it will consume you sooner or later. There is no point fighting it.”

He wiped a single tear away and blinked, glaring at her like a beaten puppy. He was hopeless, truly, but he couldn’t take her. He couldn’t use his magic without getting discovered, he couldn’t even stand without wobbling. All he was able to do was beg for mercy and that was out of option. He would not stoop so low.

“No, Morgana,” he croaked, his voice coming out weak. “I won’t become like you. I won’t abandon my values for something so shallow as greed. I’m not you. I’m not…”

“You’re worthless,” she scoffed, crouching down once again to stare right into his reddened eyes. He wanted to disappear at the moment, to make her stop reading him like this. The walls he built around himself were crumbling down the longer she was watching his face. “You know that? I offered you food and water. I offered you my hospitality.”

“You’re the reason why I’m here. There is nothing hospitable in what you’re doing. I can withstand your torture.” He lied because, honestly, how could he believe his own words? He had been crying without any break ever since the voices started screaming at him. And she knew it, too. She knew everything he tried to hide. She knew he was in pain and wanted it to stop.

She had everything she needed to break him down.

“Exceptional,” she smirked, her thumb caressing his wet cheek. “This is good, though. I have dreamt of this moment since you poisoned me. Trust me, Merlin, I want nothing more than to see you wail like a pathetic dog you are. I want to make you scream and beg for mercy. And I will break you, I will shatter the very core of your soul,” her mouth got suddenly so close to his ear that he shivered feeling the warmth of her breath upon his cold skin. “And I will enjoy every single second of it. Once my brother gets here, his cute little servant will be gone. His Merlin will be just a shell of a man he used to know. I promise you that.”

Her whisper was haunting. It sent shivers down his entire spine. His heart thudded against his chest as he tried to control the shaking of his hands and the way his chest heaved in panic. He didn’t bother to hold back the tears, they fell like heavy rain. It hurt to admit, but Morgana was right. She was going to break him and she was succeeding. There was no fight in him anymore, no strength to keep pushing. Giving up sounded so easy, so good and relieving.

Yet, he knew he couldn’t. Broken or not, he was sure Arthur was still looking for him. He had to. He wouldn’t leave him like this, would he? Even if his king had given up on him, Merlin couldn’t let it end this way. Maybe he would die here, but he wanted to die with the remains of his honour.

He wanted to die knowing he stayed loyal to the kingdom and his friend.

“Go away.” He choked out, his voice not as strong as he wanted it to be, but it was enough for Morgana to stand up and get away.

“Fine,” she spat, already heading towards the door, her heels clicking and echoing around. “It’s only your choice, then. I only wished to help you, but if you don’t want it, that’s on you. Enjoy the game, Merlin. I have a feeling we won’t be seeing each other anytime soon. Make the best of your pathetic life here. Or rather, what’s left of it.” And she was gone quicker than she appeared.

The voices resumed their heart-wrenching screaming.

Chapter Text

Arthur was walking down the road, following the traces of the horse’s hooves. He was alone, a sword in his hand, a part of Merlin’s jacket in another. The trees he passed by were huge, the woods growing thicker and darker with every step he took. The sun was left behind rather quickly, its rays never getting through the leaves and branches.

He didn’t stop. He would never stop. Not when it was about Merlin.

The path ended. There was a large meadow spreading in front of him. Some dead flowers peeked through the tall grass and Arthur might have stepped on a few. He didn’t care, all he could focus on was a body under the tree on his left. The rest of the torn brown jacket and a mop of black hair contrasted against the green area.

“Merlin!” he screamed, his legs leading him towards the man on their own. The servant did not move an inch. Arthur fell to his knees and turned the body around. “Merlin…”

Nothing. The azure blue eyes that used to be full of life stared back at him, but they were empty. Merlin wasn’t even breathing. His face was white as a ghost, his hands cold as ice. No sign of life.

“Merlin, please, don’t do this to me. Not again.” The king felt warmth on his cheek and realized these were his own tears. His chin quivered, heart pounding and blood rushing to his head. “You utter idiot, you wake up this instant!”

But there still was nothing. Not even a tiny flinch. His servant was motionless, laying in his arms, blood staining his clothes, soaking into Arthur’s own. His world turned upside down as the wind kept on blowing in his face, drying his tears. Everything he loved was gone in one single moment.

“I’m sorry, Merlin. I’m sorry. I failed you.” He whispered, pressing his forehead against the man’s cold brow, his fingers running through the messy black hair. Merlin was dead. He was gone. Forever. All because Arthur couldn’t save him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

Arthur awoke with a loud gasp. Breathing heavily, he looked around only to see everyone already up. The sun was high in the crayon blue sky, no cloud was there to be seen. The air was warm, somehow suffocating, and he fought hard to get his breathing under control. Was he sweating?

“Are you alright, sire?” Elyan asked as the first one, and by the look on the other Knights’ faces, Arthur could tell he wasn’t the only one who wanted to question him about it.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” He answered hastily, getting up from the hard ground. The sound of birds got to his ears, finally, and the realization hit him all of a sudden. “What time is it? We were supposed to be ready at first light.”

The men looked around to exchange gazes with one another. Arthur found the temporary silence haunting. Exasparating. Somehow, it made him angry. His fist clenched on its own as he thought of the time they may have wasted.

“You were tired, sire. We thought it would be for the best if we let you rest properly.” Percival stated although his demeanor crumbled. He seemed shy, as if scared to give him the answer. Everyone kept on staring at him in heavy silence.

The king’s blood started boiling.

“What?!” he raised his voice, glaring daggers at each of his friends. They all took the instinctive step back, squirming away under his stern glare. “You let me sleep while he’s there, probably being tortured?” he kept on shouting. It was unnecessary to say who he meant, everyone knew how much the kidnapping of Merlin affected their king. They couldn’t really blame him for being mad. Yet, saying they regretted it would be an exaggeration.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t need it.” Gwaine snapped, facing him as the only one now. Arthur tried to stay calm, truly he did, but it was edging on impossible. How much time had he wasted? Time they could have used to save Merlin? How could they let him rest, aware of the torment Morgana was putting his, their, friend through?

“It doesn’t matter what I needed,” he retorted angrily, gathering his sword from the ground and sheathing it. “We must stick to our goal. We can’t be far now.” He could feel it. He only hoped his dream wasn’t some kind of twisted magic that would show him the future. He prayed to God it wasn’t. Merlin had to be safe, he had to survive whatever it was he was facing now, and come back to Camelot, to Arthur’s side.

“My lord, you can’t push yourself to your limits,” Leon informed quite firmly, approaching his king. Arthur kept his eyes solely on him, but his gaze softened slightly. Of course, he shouldn’t be mad at anyone. If someone was to blame for everything, it was him, and him only. “There is still a long way ahead of us. We have to get through the Impenetrable Forest and it won’t be easy. You can’t be tired.”

“I’m alright, Leon,” he cut in, his voice turning sharp and eyes cold. How could they assume he was fine with leaving Merlin to suffer? As long as he didn’t fall on his face, he could go on. He had to get to his friend. Had to see him and make sure he was alive. That was the only way for him to find peace of mind. “Next time, just ask me for my opinion before you make a decision regarding my health.”

“Of course, sire. My apologies.” He whispered, bowing his head in submission. Arthur knew he shouldn’t have reacted so harshly, they only cared about his well-being, but he couldn’t help the frustration from bubbling up inside him. It was ready to explode any moment.

“Let’s just go. We’ve wasted enough time.”

*

The forest was truly a challenge as they all seemed to discover as soon as they stepped into the dark thickness of the trees of which the branches wrapped the entire area. It was lifeless, too, nothing like what they were used to in Camelot. Everywhere they went felt dead and it looked like they’d been walking for years. The end of the journey was nowhere to be seen.

Their swords worked as they tried to get through the branches and thorns, their arms already sore due to the endless movement. His Knights were already exhausted, he could tell by taking one look at them, but he wasn’t going to stop. Not until they would leave the forest. Not until he saw the tower and rescue Merlin from its dangers.

“Don’t slow down, we must move on.” He ordered just moments before Gwaine’s red cloak got caught by a thorn. It ripped the material with no problems, and everyone exchanged looks. “Come on.”

Ignoring the quiet mumble of his rebellious Knight, he took the lead, trying to locate where they were. It wasn’t easy, the sun was barely shining here and the shadows ruled in this territory. How long had they been here? It couldn’t have been long and yet, Arthur felt like they’d spent here forever.

Percival’s sword broke in half while he was cutting one of the branches. He looked up at his king, but there was no reaction, only another order to keep going. The Knight threw the remains of the weapon away. Leon passed him a dagger he held by his side at all times.

“Shouldn’t we sit down for a moment and think? We can’t possibly get through the forest like this.” Gwaine asked once they resumed their walking.

“We cannot stop.”

“But we have lost the path.” Percival interjected calmly, catching up to his friends. Despite the way the trees covered most of the sky, making it almost impossible for the light to peek through, the temperature was high. It was very hot. Like they were on the desert.

“We’ll keep heading north.”

“How do we know which way is north?” Gwaine questioned, looking around but seeing nothing. The view was very limited.

“The ivy,” Arthur pointed at the plant. “Pale leaves face south, dull leaves face north.”

“Are you sure, sire?” Elyan was the one to ask this time, watching his king carefully. “Something’s not right here. I don’t like it.”

“Well, we have no choice but to head forward.” The king ended the discussion before it even started. Every minute that passed was like torture. His mind felt like one big chaos. All he could think about was his servant, trapped in a nightmare, unable to fight whatever it was Morgana had made him face.

They continued their quest, everyone being utterly silent. They didn’t want to anger Arthur by accident, and they were too exhausted to engage in any conversation. Just like their king, they couldn’t stop worrying about their friend. Merlin was like a ray of sunshine, without him Camelot was gloomy. Dull. Depressing. The blame that taunted them wasn’t making it any better.

Would they have prevented it from happening if they’d been stronger? Rationally, they stood no chance against magic, but still, there must have been another way to stop it, to save their friend.

Suddenly, there was a clearing, the sun shining over it brightly, and the trees faded. It was similar to a meadow Arthur remembered from his dream, but it was enlightened by the rays. To be safe, however, he looked around but found no body. It was a relief, for sure.

From this hill, in the distance, they could immediately spot a tall, dark building. It was still far away, but at least they were getting closer. The very sight of the tower spread dread through each of the men. Fear and doubt lingered in the suffocating summer air, and nobody dared speak up for the first few long moments.

It was the place where Morgana imprisoned Merlin, the place of doom for many.

“We are on the right course.” Leon commented quietly, deep anguish clutching his throat, the bite left by the snakes burning his skin again. It was a faint ache, fully tolerable but rather noticeable.

“We should reach the tower by sundown. Let’s pick up the pace.” Arthur told them firmly, not glancing at them but staring at the black building instead, his eyes watering against his will. What would he find in there? Was Merlin still alive? Was he alright? Was he still waiting for Arthur to come rescue him? Or did he lose faith in his king? After so many days, Arthur wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.

This thought hurt too much. Out of all the people he wouldn’t give up on, Merlin was the first on the list. He’d move mountains for him if necessary. Wasn’t it what he was doing at the moment? Throwing himself into the fangs of danger and cold claws of death? He was going to his doom, all for a servant. His father would have locked him in the dungeons if he was alive for it.

*

“Why did you let it happen?” Lancelot’s ghost asked him, but he did not look up. He was staring at the floor at this point, unable to lift his gaze. He wasn’t even certain when exactly the demon appeared to haunt him, he couldn’t remember. Time was running differently in here. “Why did you let me die?”

He swallowed thickly, his shaking hands wiping the tears away. He was so tired, so powerless. How long until the end? Morgana had already won, he was broken beyond repair now, why would she still keep him here? Would she ever come back and release him? He had enough. He was ready to do anything to make it stop. Why wouldn’t it, then?

“You sacrificed yourself,” he croaked, sniffing. “It was your choice. I, I had wanted to do this, but you were faster. You jumped into the veil. I couldn’t do anything…”

“I wouldn’t have had to do so if you’d been able to defeat Morgana and the Dorocha on your own. You’d been too weak to face them, just like you’re too weak now. You’re going to die here, Merlin, and no one will be here to mourn you. Your body will rot here, I promise you.”

The words were harsh and slow, but it was true. Lancelot was right. No one ever cared enough for him. Gaius probably considered him a bother, the Knights put up with him out of kindness, and Gwen forgot about him the moment she fell for Arthur. Arthur, who was his king, his best friend and his destiny. Arthur, who wouldn’t risk the kingdom for a worrisome servant that got captured. The king would always find someone more important. It used to be Gwen, but now after everything, after her banishment, it felt like Merlin couldn’t even look at him without being shouted at. Everything he did was always a mistake.

“That’s right, Merlin, I know what you’re thinking,” Lancelot whispered, laughing loudly. As if satisfied after seeing his tears. “You are worthless to everyone. Camelot doesn’t need you. You’re on your own, you always have been.”

“No…”

“You’ve been lying to yourself all your life, trying to convince yourself you mean something. But it wasn’t true and we both know it. Everyone does. You are a fool.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Shut up, shut up!” he screamed, gripping his hair, pulling at it harshly until his skin hurt. Lancelot kept on laughing like it was what he wanted. Merlin wasn’t able to focus, he couldn’t think, and every tear that fell felt twice as heavy as it should be. It pained because it was Lancelot for heaven’s sake. He used to be the only one apart from Gaius who knew his true self. Who admired his magic and loved when he showed it. To think it had never been real, that he had only been pretending to like him, it was way too much to take without breaking down.

“You know I’m right,” the dead Knight continued, grinning crookedly, standing above him like it was the warlock’s final judgement. “Poor little Merlin, so lost and confused. Denial is a powerful thing, my friend.”

“Go away,” the black-haired sorcerer spat, finally glancing up at the ghost, his eyes burning with tears and pain he couldn’t contain anymore. “Go away, please. Leave me alone, I want to be alone…”

Lancelot’s duplicate chuckled, staring at him coldly, his sword raised in the air like it was ready to end Merlin’s endless suffering. Perhaps it was all the servant wanted, to die and find peace. To get forgotten by the world, become one with the wind. Freedom, that thought was somehow comforting. Would he have it if he died here? Or would his soul always stay locked in this awful place?

That was something he was left with to ponder on while the ghost of his friend vanished into the thin air, the sound of his hoarse and spooky laughter echoing around for a few moments longer until Merlin’s sobs became the only noise.

*

“We should have made it out of the forest by now.” Leon’s calm voice boomed around as the Knights stepped further into the woods, the path still as unclear as it was hours ago.

Arthur exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair and looking around. His First Knight was right; the Tower shouldn’t be as far, but they seemed to have lost the track of it once more. It unsettled him deeply. Did they get lost again? They couldn’t make such mistakes if they wanted to get to Merlin in time.

“Look.” his gaze lightened up as soon as he spotted something hanging around the branches. Something red and small. He approached slowly, reaching for it immediately, hope burning in his heart.

“What is it?” Gwaine asked somewhere behind him. The king frowned, grabbing the piece of material, showing it to his Knight. The latter narrowed his eyes and looked at his cloak, at the hole he made earlier. It was matching. The remains of positive feelings Arthur stored in himself evaporated rather fast and anger came in their place instead.

“How can that be?” Elyan questioned, watching the trees and the branches which had already been cut down. They had been here before, there was no doubt. Percival’s broken sword laying on the ground only made it more obvious.

Arthur fumed inside.

“We have gone around in a circle,” he admitted, defeated, and in the wave of anger grabbed his sword, throwing it to the ground. It fell with a clank, hitting a small rock. “We have wasted an entire day!” sinking to his knees, he wiped at his face, not wanting his Knights to notice the tears shining in his eyes. He was supposed to be strong. Nobody else was there to guide them, he was their king. And yet, he couldn’t even keep it together.

Merlin stole a piece of him when he disappeared. It broke Arthur’s heart in half. Would this crack ever be repaired? He wanted to believe it. He wanted to be done with this horrible quest and see his servant beside him, safe and sound. The nightmare from earlier held him in a tight and painful grip, he couldn’t help but fear for the man’s life. What if there was some truth to what he saw? There must have been a reason he dreamt of something so horrendous.

“Let’s make a camp for the night,” Leon suggested softly, not looking away from his king. “We will get some rest and pick up fresh in the morning.”

He said nothing, aware that his Knights needed sleep. A vocal permission was not necessary. They all knew they wouldn’t get one. Arthur was in despair. He was shattered inside, unable to pick up the lost pieces of himself. ‘What ifs’ that haunted his mind terrified him. What if the nightmare he experienced earlier was only an indicator of what was yet to happen? Somehow, that thought wouldn’t just leave him alone.

He didn’t even know how long he’d been sitting on the ground, but the Knights started a fire and the sun set rather quickly. He didn’t find it in himself to join the conversation. Everyone seemed to be in a bad mood, anyway, and he had to gather his thoughts in one place. His head was in too much chaos, however, and it proved to be difficult, if not impossible.

The night visibly darkened. The full moon was hardly seen through the trees, but it was there, staring down at him, as if laughing at his helplessness.

“My lord,” Percival approached him at last once their talk silenced, letting him know the Knights went probably to sleep. “You haven’t eaten anything.” The man stated, handing him a bowl of soup Merlin would normally make on such excursions.

“I’m not hungry, Percival. But thank you. You can eat it for me, though. You might need strength.”

“I’ve already had my share.” He claimed quietly, careful not to wake the others. Sitting down next to his king, he found his eyes and forced a smile. The excruciating sadness shining in Arthur’s gaze was as clear as day. “We will find him, sire. We will bring him home.”

“Will we?” he mumbled, looking away from the man. Sighing, he focused on the grass in front of him. “The more time we waste, the worse torture Merlin endures. I’m not sure he believes in us anymore, Percival.”

“Why would you say that, sire?” the latter questioned, raising an eyebrow. “If there is something I can be sure of, it’s Merlin’s loyalty and faith in you. He never lost it, and he never will.”

“It’s been days.” Arthur’s voice cracked and his eyes shone with fresh tears. He could barely control himself at the moment, all the despair and fear fighting to burst out. “Almost a week in that place, Percival, it’s… nobody knows what happens in the tower because no one has ever come out of it alive.”

“Well, then, Merlin’s going to be the first one.” Percival smiled at him with reassurance and Arthur found this gesture somewhat comforting. “Try to get some sleep, sire. I promise to wake you up on time in the morning.”

“Thank you, Percival,” he smiled back although it was forced. “You rest, too.”

“Yes, my lord.”

And the Knight left him there, alone with his thoughts. He appreciated his friend’s efforts to calm him down, of course he did, but it didn’t seem to be enough. It felt like there was a hole in his heart, the one that kept on bleeding constantly, and every second he wasted on idly sitting here only made the wound bigger. How could he even let this happen? And how come he hadn’t made any progress in finding him so far? These questions would torment him forever.

Something moved in the shadows. It attracted his attention immediately and he glanced over his shoulder at the Knights, checking if they were really asleep. Gwaine was snoring somewhere behind him, but he ignored it and got up, reaching for his sword just in case. The forest was as quiet as ever, and the crickets started playing their concerts. It should have been soothing and yet, Arthur couldn’t feel it at all.

There was no one in his sight, but he could swear something was moving in the darkness so he stepped forward, squinting at the surroundings. There it was, a tiny creature sitting on a rock. He blinked a few times, making himself sure he wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating.

“Who are you?” he asked quietly, crouching down in front of the creature. He had never seen anything like this. It looked like a woman, but one so tiny. Her hair was a mess, and her clothes didn’t look like something he was used to seeing.

“Why, I’m Queen Mab,” she said. “I am the spirit of this place. And all places that bring despair to men’s hearts. Few have ever seen me, Arthur Pendragon. You should count yourself fortunate.”

“You know me.” It wasn’t a question. His tone was stern, but he couldn’t feel anything beside his own confusion.

“Of course I do. You are the Once and Future King.” She informed, as if he wasn’t lost enough. He had heard this title before. Merlin mentioned it a few times in the past, but Arthur never questioned it further. His servant often spoke like he wasn’t right in the head, it was nothing new. Could it be there was more to this than met the eye? “You and your friends have been searching for someone, is it not true? I’ve been watching you walk around these grounds for long.”

“The forest,” he cleared his throat, ignoring her question entirely. “How do we get out of it? We’re lost.”

“Oh, why, you should not have to ask,” she grinned. “It is quite simple. Left is right, right is left. And the way behind is the way ahead.”

“Simple indeed.” he muttered, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. He was certainly not in the mood for such mysteries. If Merlin was here, he’d know what it meant. “Is it possible to get to the Dark Tower in a day from here? I’m looking for someone.”

“Ah yes, I have heard of the sorcerer walking in the shadow of the great king.” The woman nodded with a crooked grin, and Arthur’s thoughts all stopped in one second. He frowned. “He has been trapped in the tower for days.”

“Sorcerer?” he asked, temporarily at loss for words. “No, you must have got it wrong. I’m looking for my servant. Merlin is no sorcerer.”

She started giggling like a child, her high-pitched voice echoing around. It unnerved him, but he chose to ignore it. This creature was his only hope to get out of here and find his friend. Why did she think Merlin was using magic, though? Arthur would have known if something like this had been happening.

“The Druids call him Emrys, he is the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk on Earth. But…” she looked down, sighing somehow dramatically. “Even someone so great can be their own enemy… Beware, young Pendragon, for the tower is not the real place. It is the heart’s rest. The mind’s deeper fear. The stillness in a humming bird’s eye…”

“Stop talking in riddles,” he scoffed, losing patience at last. What did she mean by it? Was Merlin hiding magic from him? No, it couldn’t be true. He would have known, would have seen. Merlin would have told him, would he not? Why would he keep it a secret? “I just want to know if my friend’s alright. Have you seen him? He would be with a woman.”

“The High Priestess, I have seen her pass by, she captured Emrys, yes,” she nodded, looking him in the eye. Arthur decided not to pay attention to the name she used for Merlin. He would think about it later, when his mind was able to focus. “But she was alone the last time I saw her. She must have abandoned him in the tower. A man’s heart might be truly fragile, indeed. It takes so little to shatter it.”

“What does it mean?” he pushed, trying not to freak out by the very possibility of Merlin being dead. He already had so much information to process, magic being one. How should he react to it? Was it true? But Merlin knew sorcery was illegal, why would he choose to practise it right under Arthur’s nose? Moreover, how should he act? His mind was way too chaotic for this at the moment. These questions would be left unanswered for now. First things first, he had to save his friend whether he was a sorcerer or not.

“Once the pieces are broken, it is hard to pick them all up again.”

“But is he alive?”

“Living and being alive are two different things, young Pendragon. You must discover the rest on your own.”

And before he could do as much as open his mouth to ask more questions, she jumped off the rock she had been sitting on, and disappeared in the tall grass and the trees that grew next to one another, leaving him with only more doubts and still no answers. If the creature – Queen Mab – had seen his servant with Morgana, why hadn’t she helped him? He was being dragged against his will, and she decided it was nothing to concern herself with?

Perhaps it was not for him to understand.

Arthur didn’t know what it all meant, but he did know there was no more time to waste. He needed to wake up his Knights. They were leaving now.

Chapter Text

He couldn’t take it anymore. It felt like ages since he last saw daylight. The screams replaced his thoughts at this point, and he couldn’t control the shaking of his body. How long had he been stuck in here? Was anyone coming for him? Would Morgana leave him to die? She never came back since he rejected her offer. While his decision hadn’t changed, he would kill for any company. The echo of his own screams was his only friend now.

He shouted at the invisible ghosts to shut up, leave him alone, let him die if nothing else, but all his pleas were left unheard as he kept on crying helplessly, his sobs tearing from his already shattered throat. His voice was hoarse due to the screaming he couldn’t stop, and tears blurred his entire view. Fear had claimed his whole heart and the only thought he had was to find a way to end this suffering.

But there was none. He already tried scratching at the walls until his fingernails bled, throwing spells that didn’t seem to work, begging whoever listened to him to get him out. The ghosts that haunted him never left and they came every now and then, tormenting him further against his own will. He was too weak to fight these hateful voices. Too weak to get a grip and do something to escape. Too weak to even stand up. His body was too heavy, too aching and too terrified of the awful darkness that swallowed him up piece by piece.

“Help me, please… someone help me…” he whispered, a hand in his messy hair, his body leaning against the wall, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He didn’t want to see anything anymore. He just wanted to die, to forget about the guilt and pain. About his loneliness he drowned in. Why had nobody come yet? Would Arthur leave him like this? He wouldn’t blame him, but it hurt nevertheless. As much as he didn’t want his king to risk his life for him so recklessly, he did wish to see him. He prayed for that man to appear and rescue his broken soul. He was in pieces all over the room. Could he ever be picked back up again? How long had it even been since he saw the sun? Felt the wind in his hair and water in his mouth? Here, all the days looked the same, they were always as dark and cold.

Merlin always considered himself somewhat strong despite appearances. He had magic to rely on, he could defend himself and kill without even a blink of an eye, but it all turned out to be useless when it came to this place. As if the chamber he was locked in was resistant to his magic. As if there was something blocking it. Did Morgana do something to make it happen? No, she wasn’t aware of his powers, it must have been this place. It must have been his own weakness that made the escape impossible.

Truth be told, he had been afraid of the dark before, even if he didn’t show it. Many would consider it irrational, but how could he be sure if he was safe when there was nothing he would be able to see? The darkness spoke his own language, whispered threats to him. There was a reason fire was invented. There was a reason why nobody ever went outside during night. People couldn’t defend themselves from the moon, the black sky and the shadows that wrapped the entire territories when the stars shone above. They were left at the mercy of the demons that hunted, then.

Being here was twice as bad as getting lost in the woods at night. In the forest, at least his magic wasn’t helpless. He could run among the trees, hide in the bushes if necessary. Listen to the sounds and react when needed.

Here, he couldn’t run anywhere. It was only him and these walls. The howling wind somewhere near. The cold, hard floor that made his body ache. The Mandragora roots he was unable to destroy. The shrieks of the dead. The shadows watching every rise and fall of his chest. There was pain within him, pain he couldn’t contain anymore. Why did it hurt so much? He’d never find an answer to this question.

“Help me…” he begged with the last remains of his strength, but he knew nobody was there to hear it. Nobody would reach for him, make him feel alive. It was his end. Arthur would have to find someone else to protect him, someone who wouldn’t get captured so easily by Camelot’s worst enemy.

The king, the Knights, all of his friends he left in the castle, they would be alright without him. He wasn’t irreplaceable, he would get forgotten soon enough and their pain wouldn’t last long. It was good, he didn’t want to hurt those he cared for even after his death. They didn’t deserve it. Sometimes, however, he wondered if they even had noticed he’d been gone. But they would have, right? There was no way they would have not cared.

Right?

He closed his eyes, sobbed dryly as he pressed his palms more tightly against his head, and shook from both fear and sadness accompanying him. He was barely aware of a faint sound of the door shrieking in the distance. He didn’t see the rays of sunlight coming through to shine in this darkness. He didn’t focus well enough on the steps and voices, real voices, around him. He was ready to give up this fight, to leave this world and let the demons consume the rest of him.

“Merlin!” someone shouted, making the warlock flinch. He knew this voice, and he knew he couldn’t get fooled by it again. Arthur’s ghost was the worst to endure so far, it hit him straight in the heart, reopening his wounds and breaking him terribly. “Merlin…”

The steps halted right in front of him but he didn’t react. He didn’t want to. The shadows wouldn’t trick him anymore.

“Merlin, can you hear me?” the question came, but the warlock wasn’t going to grant the ghost an answer. At times, spending his days in here made him wish to be deaf, to be able to ignore the voices. Perhaps they wouldn’t torment him like that, then, and he’d find this solace comforting.

Now he knew there was no comfort in this world. Desperation could make people do horrible things. He experienced this first-hand here in this cursed tower. Afraid of his own thoughts, of the possibility of betraying Arthur just to get out of here. Would he agree to Morgana’s offer now after so much time? He didn’t want to think about it. Despair was trying to control him, it was what the witch wanted. She wanted him to give up, to lose to his own fears. He couldn’t believe how close to achieving it she was.

“Merlin…” There was a hand on his shoulder, but a whimper immediately went past his trembling lips, and the contact was gone. He kept his eyes on the floor, unwilling to face the demons. Arthur’s ghost only waited to taunt him, laugh at his helplessness and tell him how much of a failure he was.

“Leave me alone… Please, I want it to stop…” he whispered, curling in on himself even more tightly, but the presence was still there, never leaving. “No more, no more….”

“Merlin, it’s me – Arthur.” The voice softly stated, but the warlock still wouldn’t risk looking up. He had heard these words before and he wouldn’t believe them again. They meant nothing. Arthur wouldn’t come, not for him. “Look at me.”

A shake of the head. Another sob escaped his throat. He wouldn’t, no, he couldn’t.

“Merlin…” the hand was there again, but this time it caressed his hair, and the touch was so warm. Nothing like the way the ghosts felt. A part of him enlightened with hope, and he held a breath if only to make sure he was still alive. “It’s really me.”

He sat still, refusing to listen to the treacherous voice. It wanted to fool him. It wanted him to suffer. Arthur couldn’t be here.

“No,” he choked out, it was almost like a scowl of a beaten puppy. “You aren’t real. You’re never real…” no matter how much he’d like it to be true. How much he begged for this, prayed for anyone to finally save him, to hear his cry for help that wouldn’t ever come.

“Merlin.” the voice was still as gentle, but the hand suddenly grabbed his wrist, pulling it away from his face. Terrified, he let out a dry sob, struggling with the touch like it was poisonous.

“No!” he cried out, trying to get away, but the wall was stopping him. The grip tightened and another hand caught his second wrist. Merlin tried to wriggle away, sobbing loudly at this point, but his attempts were fruitless.

“Look at me.”

“No! Let me go, let me go!”

“Please.” He kicked, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. He wouldn’t see, he didn’t want to meet those disappointed eyes once again. “Merlin.” But the voice was so soft, so close and real that Merlin stopped fighting it. He was still turned away, only his heavy panting echoed around.

The hands loosened their grip.

“It’s really me, Merlin, I promise.” And something stronger than him propped him to listen, to open his eyes and face the man who pleaded for his attention. Sniffing, he raised his chin and moved his head to the right, meeting the blue gaze that stared back at him.

Merlin noticed just how much he was shivering and crying. The tears didn’t make it easier for him to see this blurry face, but the glint of worry in the ghost’s face was not to be mistaken. It seemed genuine.

One hand let go of his wrist and a thumb caressed his cold cheek. He shuddered at the contact, not looking away. The touch was so warm, so careful and loving that he couldn’t jerk away.

“Merlin…” the man whispered, the tone incredibly gentle and concerned. Nothing like what he heard before, not from the demons, not from anyone else. The blue eyes continued to watch him intently, and there was something weird in the pit of his stomach. Something snapped. He knew these eyes. He remembered this face. He recognised this touch.

“Arthur…” he choked out, the relief not utterly there yet. The king smiled, confirming his theory, and something inside the warlock shattered seeing it. He let out a loud sob and gave in, his body collapsing straight into the man’s strong arms that embraced him immediately, as if sheltering him from the prowling darkness. “Arthur.”

“I’m here,” the latter whispered, his gloved hand going to the back of the servant’s head, the other one laced around Merlin’s torso as he held him close, trying to ignore the wrecking sounds of painful sobs. “I’m here, Merlin, you’re safe.”

“You came,” The raven-haired man exclaimed breathlessly, his fists curling around parts of Arthur’s armour he could grasp, his face buried in the king’s neck. He couldn’t let go, afraid it would turn out to be a dream, that he’d find himself alone one more time as soon as he lost this contact. “You came for me.”

But the king didn’t answer to it, and Merlin was somehow aware of the hands leaving his body. As if on instinct, he reacted fast, grabbing Arthur’s bicep.

“No, don’t let go,” he whispered desperately, horrified of the possibility of losing his king once more. “Don’t let go, please. I don’t want you to let go…”

“Don’t worry, Merlin,” Arthur spoke softly, going for his red cloak instead to wrap it around his servant. Once it was done, arms embraced him once more and just then, the warlock noticed how cold he was. “Don’t worry, I won’t ever let you go.”

The cloak smelled like Arthur, the silky-like fabric soft underneath his bloodied fingers. The sudden feeling of security washed over him, making him smile, and he was barely aware of being swooped off the floor. He must have been very light if Arthur could carry him like it was nothing. How long had it been since he was captured? How much time had passed since he had real food in his mouth?

“Arthur,” he croaked quietly, wondering if it even got the king’s attention. “Morgana…”

“Hush, Merlin, she isn’t here.” His friend told him, the grip on him never loosening. He didn’t say anything more to that, just let himself enjoy Arthur’s sturdy armour and the feeling of his cloak around him.

Hardly focusing on his surroundings, he felt the warm breeze in his hair and the sunlight hit his face as soon as they stepped outside. It blinded him and Merlin didn’t hold back the tears as he could smell fresh air, the voices of the ghosts silencing. He was outside. He was finally outside.

There were people around him, faces he should remember. Smiles he should be able to return. But he was so weak and all the pain he’d been storing over the days got suddenly so draining that he could barely keep his eyes open. The remaining strength and energy left him within seconds, and he only remembered Arthur’s scent and his arms around his thin frame before his world went dark.

*

Arthur couldn’t really describe what he felt like once the door to the darkened room Merlin was kept in opened with a screech. To his (and his Knights’) surprise, Morgana was nowhere to be found. There were no signs of any life, and there was no trap they had all been awaiting. Queen Mab told him his sister had left Merlin here, but it made him wonder what changed her plans. Did she just want to leave his servant to die? Why? It didn’t make much sense, something must have happened between them.

He couldn’t throw out of his head the image of Merlin shivering in the corner, absolutely terrified of him and every single movement. The wild look in his eyes was pain-staking. Arthur would never forget that view, that helplessness and anger he felt when he thought about the torture his servant suffered. He didn’t seem to be beaten, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt. His face was dirty and pale, and Arthur could clearly see the man hadn’t slept at all ever since he was abducted. Merlin’s eyes were also unfocused, as if he didn’t even recognise his king. Arthur was forced to ignore the faint ache in his heart.

Things shouldn’t have gone that way. Merlin shouldn’t have waited so long to be found.

Each sob and whimper his friend let out, it was like a hit to Arthur’s heart. He’d never seen Merlin so shattered, so scared. He was the bravest man alive, what monstrosities did he have to face here? The king wasn’t sure if he was ready to know. Heck, he wasn’t even sure Merlin was ready to talk about it. He didn’t seem alright and getting him out of the tower was his priority.

He was quick to scoop him up into his arms. His friend wasn’t even heavy and Arthur was certain he could count his ribs with his fingers if he wanted to. The trembling man kept on crying weakly, holding onto him like for dear life. The king wasn’t going to let go, his grip only tightened as he went outside to meet his Knights.

He walked past them, seeing concern and shock drawn in their faces. Nobody said anything. They had to get out. Morgana hadn’t been here when they arrived, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t going to return soon.

Merlin fell asleep somewhere along the way and once they started walking away from that frightening place, Arthur could feel the weight of the quest leave. As if a curse was suddenly lifted. The feelings towards the man in his arms – the man he considered the most important person in his life – awoke in his beating heart. They were overwhelming.

He should be happy the rescue went well but somehow, he wasn’t. How could he? Resting his gaze upon the unconscious man in his arms, there was only grief accompanying him. He should have come sooner. Maybe then, Merlin wouldn’t suffer as much as he did. Maybe then, Arthur wouldn’t have felt the blame.

He sighed tiredly, but his grip on Merlin tightened. That way he was sure the latter wouldn’t slip away from him again. He wouldn’t survive this. The thin body resting against his chest made him want to cry, but he held the tears back. Not in front of everyone. He had to be strong as any king should be, and only when the night came would he be able to let go of the sadness. No one could see tears in the darkness.

The journey back home had been eerily silent. Even Gwaine wasn’t talking. Sometimes, a branch would crack under his feet, and leaves would shuffle due to the breeze, but everything else was dead. Merlin hadn’t woken up at all during the trip and Arthur gave an order to set a camp once they passed the Impenetrable Forest.

Gently, he lowered Merlin to the ground, as close to the fire as it was possible. His cloak was still wrapped around the servant, and Arthur couldn’t stop looking at this gaunt face. The man looked scared even when he was sleeping. How could this boy he once met had magic? Uther told him sorcerers were evil, that they wanted only to destroy the kingdom and yet, Arthur had a hard time believing it now. It was Merlin, after all, and he was nothing but good. Perhaps he shouldn’t be thinking about this at the moment. The right time for this would come later.

The Knights kept distance, respecting their ruler’s need for space, but it was easy to tell they had a difficult time doing so. Gwaine seemed to have taken this quest the hardest. He kept on looking at the warlock every now and then, worry etched into his bearded face.

“I’m going to kill her.” He huffed quietly once his king fell asleep next to Merlin. Percival was sat next to him while Leon and Elyan lay opposite. They had been almost silent for the entire day and half of the night, none of them feeling the desire to sleep.

Now, when the emotions dropped to the floor, the thoughts started getting clearer. The words began forming on their own.

“You’d stand no chance to Morgana. She’s got powerful magic on her side.” Percival reasoned, making the other Knight roll his eyes in annoyance. As soon as they were back in Camelot, he was going to go to the tavern and not come out of it.

“Well, it as hell wouldn’t stop me from trying.” Gwaine scoffed. “Next time, she won’t even manage to approach him.”

“Just get some sleep, Gwaine. You can’t change what happened.” Leon suggested calmly, his cool demeanor always in place. He was the most reasonable of them all, and he didn’t want anyone to lose their heads over the thought of revenge that would make no sense. Deep down, Gwaine knew it, too, he was aware they stood no chance to sorcery, but he couldn’t help the anger bubbling inside him. Merlin did get hurt occasionally, but it was never quite like this. Most of the time it was a simple battle wound no one but him noticed, and it went past both of them rather quickly.

Now, it was difficult to watch his friend look so fragile, sleeping hidden in Arthur’s red cloak, wrapped up in it like in a cocoon. Even from here, Gwaine could see he was still shaking. His face was so dirty, half of it was covered by dust, and his nails seemed to be bleeding. He must have scratched the floor rather hard.

These thoughts boiled Gwaine’s blood.

“Aren’t you mad? She’s gone too far.” He argued, challenging Leon with his fierce glare.

“Of course I’m mad,” the First Knight snapped quietly, careful not to wake up the king and his servant. “All I’m saying is, we shouldn’t let frustration control us. It won’t do any good. Merlin will need us and anger won’t help him.”

“I’m not angry with him.” Gwaine stated, pointing a finger at his sleeping friend. “I’m angry with everything else.” He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “We shouldn’t have let Morgana take him in the first place.”

“It already happened, though,” it was Percival this time and their eyes met. Gwaine knew if there was someone able to calm him down now, it was him. “Leon’s right, Gwaine. There is nothing we can do to change it now. And Merlin will need help, not revenge. You’re letting anger speak through you. I think it’s better to leave this conversation for the morning. We’re all tired and allowing the blame to get to you will only make you feel worse. You can’t go down that road.”

Gwaine nodded, listening to the stoic voice of his friend, but deep inside still felt the fury. How could he even think of sleep? There was no way that after all this he would just behave like nothing had happened. Merlin, kind, innocent and sweet Merlin, the ray of sunshine in the entire Camelot, suffered so much, more than they could probably begin to imagine. It was unfair. It was outrageous.

“I know,” Gwaine sighed, defeated. “But it isn’t easy.”

“No,” Percival forced a sad smile, his gaze lingering on the other man. “No, it isn’t.”

None of the Knights felt like saying anything more after that. The invisible weight was pushing them to the ground, making them feel powerless. Only the cracking of the fire echoed around, breaking this deadly silence.

Chapter Text

He awoke to the sound of silence, which immediately surprised him because he was so used to the loud screams at this point that it was hard to believe he could ever find peace again. First thing he noticed, however, was the fact he was laying on something soft and warm, not the hard floor that made his bones ache. Lazily, he opened his eyes, but they needed to adjust to see through the haze.

The sunlight peeking through the small window nearby almost blinded him. It was so bright and his surroundings, in spite of being a little blurry, were somehow familiar. The smell of medicine and potions assaulted his nostrils, the shuffling of an old man getting his attention. Was he back in Camelot? He couldn’t tell yet.

Slowly, he turned towards the faint noise and let out a groan, his throat dry and torn from screaming. Gods, he was so weak, so tired and scared. His memory wasn’t fully there yet, he remembered only bits and pieces. He recalled Arthur – his warm hands holding his, and strong arms keeping him close. He knew he whispered soothing words to his ear, and he knew they got out of that cursed tower safely. But what happened later was one big question mark.

“Merlin, my boy!” the male voice spoke suddenly, and Merlin blinked the daze away, trying to focus on the elderly man approaching him. Grey hair and kind eyes. Dark green tunic and the sigh of relief.

He knew this man. He knew this place.

“Gaius?” he croaked, not really recognising his own voice. He struggled to sit up, but it was difficult. His body ached all over, he felt like he’d been run over the entire army of Camelot at least thrice.

“Thank Heavens you’re alright.” the physician whispered, settling down next to him and reaching out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Merlin flinched on instinct, and the touch was immediately gone. Blood rushed to his cheeks as he thought of being such a shameful person, but Gaius seemed to have ignored his embarrassing reaction. “I’ve been worried.”

“I’m sorry,” he tried, but his mouth felt like it was full of sand. “Water?”

“Right,” his mentor nodded and turned around to look for the glass left on the table opposite the patient cot Merlin found himself laying on. He went to retrieve it and sat back down, handing the liquid to the warlock. “You know you have nothing to be sorry for, Merlin.” He added after a moment of heavy silence, but the young apprentice didn’t reply to it. He didn’t even look up.

Gaius grew more worried than before. Arthur told him everything he needed to know, and what he gathered from the nervous king was quite worrisome. He had heard tales about the Dark Tower before, but the information had been rather hard to obtain then, for Uther had forbidden everyone to even mention this place.

“Well, we’ve all been worried.” the elder man exclaimed with a loud exhale, trying to ignore the gnawing at him sadness. Hunith would be disappointed with him, surely, he was supposed to have taken good care of that boy and yet, it felt like Merlin kept on getting into trouble.

What if this time was too much for his apprentice to face? Gaius wanted to help him the best he could, but he was no expert when it came to any kind of post-torture experiences. Perhaps one of the Knights would be more useful than him. All he was able to do was to take care of physical wounds and Merlin had none except for the injuries on his hands due to his scratching at the walls (at least it was what Gaius suspected had happened).

Merlin held the glass of water tightly in his trembling palm, the cold liquid felt like something heavenly caressed his insides. He knew he shouldn’t be rushing, that small sips were healthier than big gulps he was currently taking, but he couldn’t help it. It tasted so good, he couldn’t remember the last time he had water in his mouth. It soothed his burning throat, for sure.

“Careful, my boy,” Gaius commented on it eventually, taking the glass away and putting it on the small drawer next to the cot. “You can’t overwhelm yourself like that.”

Merlin forced himself to nod although it cost him a lot of strength. How long had he been asleep? Was he really back in Camelot or was it his mind fooling him once more? What if Gaius wasn’t truly here, what if it was just another illusion, ready to snap at him soon and tell him of all his failures over the years?

But it seemed true. Gaius’ concern looked quite genuine, and the chambers he used to know smelled of familiarity. He could recall Arthur pulling him close, whispering words of comfort to him as they left the dark tower and daylight assaulted his eyes. He could remember crying out Arthur’s name as the fear got the best of him and he thought it was the end. He still felt the inviting arms around him, and that red cloak giving him warmth he so desperately had needed.

“Arthur,” he choked out, making a move to look around, but he was alone with his mentor. “Where is Arthur?” he asked, trying to sound like he wasn’t exhausted and afraid. Like he hadn’t spent days in the prison of his own mind.

Gaius raised an eyebrow, something far and unknown reflected in the elder’s bright eyes.

“He’s in the council meeting right now, but he will see you shortly. He’s fine, Merlin.”

And the sudden relief the warlock felt was enormous. It meant Morgana had given up on her original plan, right? She broke him, but at least left Arthur alone. His king was safe. Perhaps it had never been about him, perhaps Morgana truly sought revenge for poisoning her, that was something he would never find out. All he knew now was that he was tired of everything. Every little sound gave him goosebumps, every memory made him want to die there in that cursed tower. How could he look into the eyes of anyone if their disappointed voices were all he could hear?

He should be happy he was free, really he should, but there was something inside of him that spread numbness to his every limb. He didn’t feel like himself. His body wasn’t his own. His thoughts all belonged to that tower, the ghosts and demons that had feasted on his soul. Even smiling took too much effort. He couldn’t come back to his old self, he already knew it. If the past could be reversed, he would do anything to make it happen. To avoid the mistakes he made, to stop all this from occurring. To save Morgana from herself, and help Arthur become the greatest of kings of all time.

Now, Merlin wasn’t sure if he could do it. He wasn’t the powerful warlock Kilgharrah claimed him to be. There must have been some kind of mistake in the prophecy. How could he create Albion, if he couldn’t even save himself? He was too weak. Too fragile and too pathetic. He was worthless, like he had always been. A failure, as the voices kept on telling him. Wasn’t it why his mother sent him to Camelot? She must have been tired of him, ranting about his safety was only a cover-up lie. She would hate him if she knew he had killed Balinor.

“Morgana,” he spoke when he realised he had been silent for way too long. “She, it was a trap. I couldn’t get away, I, I tried, I swear I did, Gaius, but my magic was useless and—”

A hand on top of his palm stopped the wild flow of his words and he looked up to see Gaius’ comforting smile. It took everything in him not to flinch and turn away in fear. He’d been here before, seen that deceitful smile and eyes that hated him.

“You will tell me everything once you get better, Merlin. You still need to rest.” And the physician doubted his apprentice was even ready to mention anything about that tower and cruelty he must have suffered from Morgana’s hands.

Merlin wanted to nod, to agree with the elder for once in his life, but he couldn’t. Rest wasn’t an option. He needed to come back to work, to talk to Arthur and walk these familiar halls once again. He wanted any sense of normalcy, any way not to think about the ghosts and the terrible fright he felt when he was locked up. Being a servant to the king was his life, Arthur was his everything. And he wanted it all back, pretend it had never happened. How could he stand the pitiful gazes others would surely send his way now?

“I don’t need any rest,” he protested although the tremor in his voice betrayed him. “I just want to see Arthur. I want to be back at work.”

Gaius sighed tiredly, his fingers squeezing Merlin’s before letting them go, and he leant back in his chair, watching the young man for a silent moment.

“You have to recover first.” He informed firmly, but a slight pang of pain hit his old heart as he thought of the boy he met all those years ago. It was a man now, but Gaius would never stop seeing him as his son, biological or not. He would always feel the urge to be protective of him, to be there for everything Merlin would face in his life. It frustrated him that right now he couldn’t help him when his apprentice needed it the most.

“I’m not hurt.”

“Not on the surface, no.” he shook his head, but his eyes quickly found Merlin’s. The warlock looked away in shame, his body going tense. He attempted to roll to the other side, away from the physician’s watchful glare, but there was no strength in him anymore. He focused on the ceiling instead. “You should drink the sleeping draught I prepared for you. It will help you relax.” He said when he noticed he wasn’t going to get an answer to the statement.

Merlin didn’t react, just kept on staring at the ceiling in awkward silence he despised with his entire being. He knew he was being unfair. He knew Gaius only wanted to help, but he didn’t need it. Listening to him, accepting that he had to sleep and recover, it would mean he truly had been kidnapped and tortured, and he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want it to be real. If he pretended it had never taken place, he could forget about it and move on.

“I’m going out, I need to get medicine to the sick people in the Lower Town.” His mentor only exclaimed quietly, defeated, and the sound of the door getting shut followed rather quickly.

Merlin was alone again.

*

Arthur couldn’t really focus on what the others were saying. He didn’t listen much because he wasn’t interested in the Saxons spotted on the border. He should be, he was king, after all, and he was responsible for the entire kingdom. Normally, he would acknowledge the information and look for the ways to get rid of the problem without starting a war.

But not today.

Today, all he could think of was Merlin. His servant had been sleeping for two days so far, and Arthur couldn’t throw out of his head the picture of him in that tower. He couldn’t forget what Queen Mab said to him, either. It couldn’t have been a lie. His friend had magic. It was illegal. It was punishable by death. Of course, he wouldn’t kill Merlin, not now, not ever. His heart wouldn’t stand it. Banishment wasn’t a good option, either, he already faced the reality of not having his servant around. Yet, he had to address it, in one way or another.

He wanted to confront his friend about it, ask him why he’d been hiding the truth for so long, and why he chose Camelot of all places to practise sorcery. Surely, he was aware of the repercussions? Magic was considered the worst evil. It corrupted people, it turned them into murderers and traitors. Sorcerers were out to destroy this kingdom, they were supposed to be devils.

If only Arthur could think of Merlin in that way. If only he could consider him being a traitor, ready to kill the king. If only he didn’t know his servant like he did. If he didn’t see all the goodness stored in his huge heart. Arthur couldn’t, he wouldn’t, believe Merlin was capable of betrayal.

He needed to ask him about it, see why he decided to practise magic. Maybe there was another reason, or maybe Arthur was simply wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time someone he cared a great deal for betrayed him.

“My lord?” Leon’s voice snapped him out of the thoughts and he flinched, clearing his throat and searching for his Knight’s gaze. The man seemed to notice he hadn’t been listening. “What do you think about increasing the number of patrols in that area? The Saxons are getting braver, we must let them know this won’t be tolerated.” Arthur blinked, his eyes going down to see the map and the place Leon was talking about.

He forced himself to nod.

“This is a good idea, Sir Leon,” he agreed, trying to block the thoughts of Merlin away for now. He would see him soon enough, as soon as the meeting was over. “Make sure our best men are sent for the patrols there. We need the strongest in case they are to meet the Saxons.”

“Yes, my lord.” His First Knight nodded, and Arthur could go back to his thoughts. It was going to be a hard day, but he needed to talk to Merlin, just to see if he was alright. Gaius already told him there were no visible injuries he’d suffered, but the king knew there was always more to torture than only physical wounds. He’d seen the best of Knights fall due to the experience.

He wouldn’t let Merlin meet the same fate.

Once the meeting was finished, he hurried to Gaius’ tower, ignoring the looks some people sent his way when he almost ran there. The elderly man had been gone when he arrived, but what attracted his attention was Merlin. His eyes were open, he was staring at the ceiling silently. But he was awake at last and Arthur felt the enormous wave of relief hit him full force.

“Merlin!” he breathed, walking over to the cot. The man flinched upon hearing his name and moved his head to take a look at the newcomer. His eyes held pain and fear, but at least he recognised him this time. It was better than nothing. “How are you feeling?” he sat down, observing the gaunt face of his servant, ignoring the ache in his heart as the man turned away from him.

His friend stayed silent for a few long seconds and Arthur started doubting he’d be granted an answer. He was right in the end because Merlin didn’t say anything, only shed a few tears Arthur was able to spot. He didn’t feel like it was the right time for any conversation at this point, but at least he could sigh with relief knowing his friend was awake now. He was growing concerned despite Gaius' attempts at telling him it was normal for sleep-deprived patients to be out of it for so long.

“Well, it’s good to have you back. I will leave you to rest now. I’ll come some other time.” He claimed, deciding it would be better to give up any talk, and stood up, but as soon as he turned towards the exit, a cold, fragile hand grabbed his wrist. Alarmed albeit surprised, he looked back at his servant, only to notice him stare with these huge terrified eyes Arthur wanted to never see again. “Or do you want me to stay?”

Merlin licked his lips, swallowed the lump in his throat, and fought hard to get his voice back. Being in his head for too long hurt too much, he realised he didn’t want to be on his own like this. Not when he was lying in the bed, unable to do anything except for waiting for sunlight to shine upon himself.

“Stay, please.” He croaked, letting a few tears go. Arthur sat back down, and Merlin took his hand away, suddenly embarrassed for having touched his king in this way. But the thought of being alone again was quite overwhelming and as soon as Gaius left for his rounds, Merlin started regretting letting him go. “I’m sorry I allowed this to happen.”

“What?” the king frowned, confused.

“It must have been a bother for the king to go rescue a lowly servant. I was sure you wouldn’t.”

Arthur blinked, taken aback by the statement. Why would Merlin think he wouldn’t come? He would do so much more for him. Did he truly believe he could leave his best friend in need? He’d been worried sick during that time, he couldn’t even sleep. Did Merlin think he didn’t matter?

“Merlin,” he sighed, stunned. “Why would you even… Of course I came. I’d always come for you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you hadn’t.” Merlin whispered, but shed no tear this time. His fist clenched and he tried hard not to show his embarrassment over the entire situation. He didn’t need Arthur to pity him, he didn’t need anyone doing so. Nothing happened. He was still the same Merlin they all seemed to know.

He had to tell himself that, it was the only way.

“Merlin, you don’t think—”

“How’s everyone?” he cut off before Arthur could dwell on his words. He wanted to talk about things that didn’t revolve around himself. It was too much to take at the moment and he wouldn’t be able to face the truth without breaking down. That would be a disgrace, especially with the king of Camelot looking at him.

The blond leant back, eyeing him cautiously although there was no anger or irritation in his gaze. If something, Arthur looked distressed. Troubled. Like he didn’t know what to do. Merlin couldn’t blame him, he had no idea, either.

“They’ve missed you,” the blond replied carefully. “The Knights keep asking Gaius if they can see you. He hasn’t let them so far, and I’m quite sure he would kick me out now if he stumbled upon me here. He says you need to rest.”

“Well, I don’t.” Merlin snapped, cursing himself a second later for taking his frustration out on his friend. Arthur didn’t do anything to him, did he? He came because he wanted to make sure his servant was alright – to know if he was ready to return to work. That was all he could ever be for Arthur Pendragon – just a peasant. “I’ll be back to serve you breakfast tomorrow.”

“Are you certain Gaius will be fine with it?”

“I don’t care what he thinks,” he shrugged, rolling his eyes. “I’m not incapable of doing anything just because I couldn’t… because I was too weak to fight Morgana. But I’m fine now. Nobody needs to worry.”

Arthur blinked a few times to clear his head, comprehend what Merlin was telling him and eventually gather it together. Yet, it edged on impossible. His friend managed to both deflect his worries and admit he was struggling at the same time. He spoke like he didn’t have faith in himself anymore, like he failed and was not worth the trouble. He was worth much more, but the king didn’t feel like it’d be appropriate to admit.

He would never allow his friend to feel this way about himself, though. He only wanted Merlin to smile at him like he used to. He wanted to see this clumsy man trip over things in his bedchambers and rant about the amount of work he was being given. He’d never consider his servant weak or incapable. Merlin was the strongest. He was the bravest and the most loyal person Arthur had pleasure meeting in his entire life.

“Either way, I hope you know I’m not expecting you to get back in shape so fast. You can take your time to recover.” He slowly explained, but the flame that sparkled in Merlin’s eyes hinted he said the wrong thing.

“I don’t need to recover, my lord. How many times do I need to repeat I’m fine? I’m not a helpless child.” The raven-haired warlock spat, looking away and not meeting his king’s gaze anymore. Arthur felt like giving up. He didn’t know what to say or do. He didn’t think that worrying about someone could ever have a bad side. What was he doing wrong?

“Of course you aren’t!” he protested, raising his voice. Merlin flinched quite hard, and he might have let out a soft whimper, Arthur wasn’t all that sure. He did force himself to calm down, however. “Maybe I should just go, Merlin. I’ve dwelled here for too long and you’re clearly too tired for any visits right now.”

And his friend lifted his gaze to find his eyes. Arthur could swear there was something regretful passing through his servant’s glare the moment he stood up, but in the end no word of protest left his throat. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and made his way towards the door, all the while Merlin stayed eerily silent, watching him go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Merlin.”

He disappeared before the warlock even had a chance to stop him. And he wanted to, truly, he did. He had no idea what got into him, but he didn’t want Arthur to feel bad. He just couldn’t help the pain and frustration. They just boiled inside, fighting with his rational mind. The words just spilled like poison, and he couldn’t take them back. He didn’t mean to hurt someone so important to him, but it was too late to apologise, for no one else was in the room anymore.

He only stared at the empty doorframe, wondering if Arthur would ever come back, if he would ever want to see him again.

And here, in this quiet room, he started crying.

Chapter Text

Merlin did come back to work as he said he would despite Gaius’ obvious protest and discouragement. He didn’t need anyone to tell him what he should do with his life. He wasn’t sick, he wasn’t even hurt. His hand was healing well, and he could function perfectly fine. There was nothing wrong with him. He couldn’t understand (or perhaps didn’t want to) why everyone kept on looking at him with these eyes. Like he was worse. Like he didn’t belong and shouldn’t be here at all.

Maybe they were right, but he wouldn’t leave Camelot, he wouldn’t leave Arthur, no matter how much the current king hated him.

Arthur was sitting by the table when he arrived with breakfast. He wasn’t really surprised to see him, but there was no usual joy that shone in his eyes whenever Merlin came. The warlock knew he wasn’t worth anything, he knew he was a disappointment and a failure, but it hurt nevertheless when he realised Arthur was really thinking the same about him.

He wanted someone to see him for who he was, someone who wouldn’t judge him because he couldn’t win against Morgana. Why didn’t things feel the same way like they did before his abduction? He was the same person, he was still the king’s manservant. Still the same Merlin, who loved watching butterflies and admiring sunrises. Why couldn’t they see it? Why couldn’t he prove it? Was he no longer enough?

“You’re early.” Arthur claimed as Merlin placed the plate with his breakfast on the table.

“Brilliant deduction, my lord,” he rolled his eyes, but the grin did not appear on his face. As soon as he woke up today and got ready to work, Gaius advised him against it. They almost argued about it, but the elder gave up before that could happen. “One would think you’d be glad I’m on time for once.”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” The king smiled, but Merlin did not look at him. He couldn’t. It was enough he had to tolerate the gazes other servants sent his way when they saw him, especially George’s. The man looked at him with so much dismay. Like he was disappointed to see him.

He shouldn’t really be bothered by it, it wasn’t new that he and George were not best friends. The other servant seemed to compete with him more often than not, and Merlin was aware he held something bitter towards the warlock. He got used to it in his early years of working in the castle. For the first few months, some servants were quite hostile towards him. After all, he got a job that many had been preparing to take since they learnt how to walk. Merlin simply appeared out of nowhere and stole it from them. Not that he considered it any kind of reward when he was given this place. Arthur used to be a prat.

With time, however, people changed attitude. They saw him as a person, not a competitor. Gwen helped him a lot, too, when he was struggling with their acceptance. Merlin missed her quite a lot. She was safe in Ealdor now, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t worried for her. Was she doing fine? Would she hate him like others did? Would she laugh at his face for letting Morgana capture him so easily?

Arthur asked him something, and it was in this moment that he realised he hadn’t been listening. He stopped pouring the wine and gathered enough courage to glance at his king. He was staring at him, an eyebrow raised, expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t been paying attention.” He apologised, cheeks already starting to burn from shame. If he was going to continue being the worst servant in the entire kingdom, Arthur would surely get him fired. And Merlin wouldn’t hold it against him.

“I asked if you’re alright. You seem tired.”

“I’m fine.” he lied, because truly, he wasn’t. At all. He didn’t have much sleep at night. Nightmares kept him awake until the first ray of sun. He was ready to fall on his face, in fact, but he wouldn’t say it out loud. What for? It’d only prove everyone was right and he couldn’t even do his job properly. And if he failed also in that, then there would be nothing waiting for him in this life.

Arthur exhaled, turning his head away to focus on the plate with his breakfast. There was no way of getting anything out of Merlin in this way. He ran out of ideas how to make him talk. He needed a rest, Gaius was right about it. But his servant could be very stubborn at times, and there was no way to change his mind once it was made up.

It was saddening to watch Merlin walk around his bedchambers in silence, the lack of his laughter really getting to the king. He was still pale, and the azure eyes he liked looking into held so much concealed pain that it made his heart shatter completely. The dark bags under them didn’t help it, either. His movement was stiff, as if he was afraid of being here. And he kept on looking everywhere but Arthur.

“Is there anything else you want me to do, sire?” the sorcerer asked, avoiding eye-contact, his hands fiddling with the bedsheets he needed to change.

“No, Merlin, everything is—” the sudden knock on the door interrupted him, and he didn’t fail to notice how Merlin flinched, dropping the sheets onto the floor. He mumbled an apology, but overall didn’t even turn around to see who came.

“My lord, we apologise for bothering you so early, but there’s news on the Saxons.” Leon stepped in with Gwaine behind him. Both Knights immediately noticed the servant struggling with the pillows. Merlin didn’t greet them, but smiles were already plastered on their faces.

Gwaine was the first one to react, laughing loudly and, not excusing himself, approached the man on the other side of the room, not paying attention he just walked past his king without as much as a nod in his direction.

“Merlin!” he exclaimed and clapped the servant’s back like he always did, but the man didn’t turn towards him. Instead, as soon as his gloved hand rested upon the warlock’s back, Merlin jumped away like he was burnt, his legs tangling and causing him to lose his balance.

The pillows were dropped on the floor, Merlin’s body followed. He let out a frightened sound, something between a gasp and a scream. He crawled away, breathing heavily, his hands frantically flailing around as if protecting himself from any sort of touch.

Gwaine lifted his arms in defeat, taking a firm step back, concern and shock painting on his face. Leon and Arthur focused on him, then on the terrified servant, but as soon as Merlin realised what happened, he struggled to his feet.

“Gwaine,” he croaked, his eyes watering, shaking hands reaching for the dropped pillows. “Don’t scare me like that again.” He still didn’t face the Knight, his eyes travelling everywhere but his worried glare.

“I’m sorry, Merlin, I didn’t realise… Are you alright?” he asked, and the servant nodded a few times, but the tremors of his hands might have told a different story. He threw the pillows onto the bed and swallowed the fear that threatened to paralyse him.

“I’m fine.” He answered fast, a little too fast to anyone’s liking, and his chin finally lifted.

Gwaine kept on glaring at him, and so was Leon. And Arthur, his king stood there stunned, his eyes wide and lips parted in obvious confusion. Embarrassment and anger both stung his insides as his cheeks reddened and eyes got teary even more. His heart went wild, and he couldn’t stop himself from panicking. His view began going dark.

They were looking at him. They knew he was scared. They knew he was not alright. They knew everything he wanted to hide, could read him like an open book. It was too much, too soon. He needed to get out.

“Merlin, I…” the Knight began once again, but Merlin shook his head and jumped away, running past him, dashing towards the door.

“I said I was fine!” he shouted, not giving any of them a single glance. He couldn’t take these looks, this judgement in their eyes. The surprise that someone like him could even get scared. They all considered him weak now, they must have, and he didn’t want to be with them right now. He wanted to go. Escape. Hide somewhere where no one would find him.

Someone called his name, it was probably Arthur, but he didn’t care. He didn’t look back as the door closed behind him and he went into a run. He needed to be away, without anyone watching his every move. It was instinctive, and he didn’t really control his body as his legs led him out of the halls, passing the Knights and servants that seemed to be flooding the corridors all of a sudden. As if they sensed he needed to be alone and decided to mock him. Why was the world swimming?

Everything moved in slow-motion as he was chasing the light that was so far away, out of his reach. The muffled voices echoed in his head, the invisible wall separated him from the outside world, and air suddenly became so hot that it burnt his lungs. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, and he rushed out of the hall, hid in the armoury. Thankfully it was empty and he could shut the door, slide down to his knees and let it all go.

The fear, the exhaustion and this awful helplessness that tore him apart piece by piece. He was free, he wasn’t locked in that tower anymore, so why did the voices refuse to stop? Why were they still there, mocking him, telling him things he didn’t want to hear? Calling him names, pointing out the mistakes, screaming at him for the past events he had no control over? He couldn’t forget the darkness, the cold and the pain. He wanted to believe once he was rescued, everything would be back to normal. But his life was not his anymore. It felt like he lost control of it somewhere along the way, and he couldn’t take the reins back no matter how hard he tried.

The first sob teared from his throat, and he hid his head between his legs like a small child. He used to do it when he was little and scared of monsters. His mom would always calm him down, then. But now, Hunith wasn’t here. She probably hated him just like everyone else. He was a freak. He was an outcast. What was the point of pushing with his life now after everything? Up to this moment, his magic had kept him sane, made him feel like he wasn’t utterly worthless. And yet, when he was locked in there and no spell would work, he was powerless. Just like now.

If there was a way to explain to anyone what he felt like when he was unable to do anything to save himself as his entire life got stripped away from him in such a heartless manner. When everything spiralled out of his control. When even now, after leaving that horrendous place he couldn’t do anything to bring his old self back.

He wiped at his eyes aggressively, one of his hands going to his mouth to muffle the sobs escaping his throat. It was pathetic, he was supposed to be working. He was supposed to be proving he was capable of doing so. Instead, he freaked out like an idiot he was, left Arthur and his friends alone wondering what was wrong with him. It was stupid, really, he just spent a few days in the dark and now, he couldn’t even stand anyone touching him.

There was a sound of steps on the other side of the door and for a moment Merlin wondered whether he should use magic to shut it, but eventually decided it would be too suspicious. There was no point in it, anyway, he was already seen as a weak individual, too shameful to even serve his king a meal.

“Merlin?” it was a male voice, but one Merlin didn’t recognise at first. It wasn’t Arthur or Gwaine, not even Leon. The armour clattered around as one of the Knights stepped inside, his eyes immediately falling to the warlock.

It was Mordred, to his dismay, but he found absolutely no strength to even feel frustrated. Did it even matter who saw him like this?

“Here you are,” the young man tried a smile, but got no reply. “I saw you run in here and wanted to check on you. I’ve heard about the Dark Tower from the other Knights.”

Merlin didn’t grant him an answer, he only sniffed, wiping the rest of his tears away. Mordred stared at him for a second before sighing and moving to sit down next to him. They both leant against the rough wall now, silent.

“It’s alright, I didn’t come to convince you to take a few days off.” The Knight claimed quietly, turning his face to the warlock, and Merlin forced himself to look at him, feeling relief despite himself. “I just, I don’t know, thought you might want to talk.”

Merlin let out a hoarse laughter, shaking his head.

“And what gave you that impression?” he spat although there was no bitterness to it. He was too tired to be angry. He didn’t understand why Mordred would bother with him, however. Merlin didn’t give him any reasons to like him. If something, he was quite clear about not trusting the youngest Knight of Arthur. Any normal person would simply let it go and move on, why didn’t Mordred?

“When people are sad, they usually want company,” the Druid informed softly, smirking a little in encouragement. “Even if they say they don’t.”

He held himself back from saying that Mordred was the last person he’d like company of, but decided against it. A small part of him was even grateful the man chose to come. He found it, somehow, comforting. Yet, he couldn’t forget the prophecy, couldn’t throw out of his head what Kilgharrah told him about this boy.

He stayed silent instead, choosing it to be the safest option. He didn’t want to fraternise with Mordred. He didn’t want to fraternise with anyone at the moment. Being alone, as haunting as it proved to be, was his fate. Being on his own hurt, but when there was no one there, at least he wasn’t judged.

Mordred let out a quiet chuckle, but it was rather sad. He focused on his fingers, fiddling with the gloves he took off.

“You know, some things stay in our memory longer than we want them to,” he began, and Merlin lifted his chin, took a look at the young man. “But it doesn’t mean they won. It just means we’re still fighting them to get better.”

It was pathetic, really, to allow someone who would kill Arthur in the future to calm him down in such moments. And what he hated the most about it was the fact he found it comforting, in an odd way. Maybe because Mordred was not his friend, maybe because he didn’t need to prove anything to him. Or maybe he just didn’t feel like he needed to impress this man, hide his insecurities and worries in order to be appreciated. He didn’t care for Mordred’s approval.

“It’s hard.” He only whispered, glancing down at the grey floor, the tiles that formed some sort of a pattern.

“I know,” the Druid smiled softly and raised a hand to place on Merlin’s shoulder. Yet, he halted mid-air as the warlock shuddered away from the touch. “I really wish you trusted me more often, Merlin.”

“We can’t be friends, Mordred.” He replied coldly. It was harsh, a little bit too much even, and he instantly regretted it as he noticed the defeated look in the Knight’s eyes. He sighed. “What I mean is, there are things that divide us. Things I can’t tell you about. But they’re there, and I don’t know if I can ever get past them to start trusting you.”

“I understand,” the latter exclaimed sadly, letting out an exhale. “You should come back to the others. Arthur’s looking for you. He’s worried.”

“That’s all I hear from everyone. That they’re worried.” He wasn’t utterly aware of the way he basically spat the last word, it burnt his tongue. He was tired of hearing he needed to rest, or that they were concerned. He didn’t want anybody to fret over him.

“Perhaps there is a good reason for them to do so,” Mordred informed quietly and sighed, getting up from the floor and looking back at him. “I won’t tell you to get some rest but… I do hope you talk to someone, Merlin.” He told him and headed towards the exit. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone where you are. You might want to lock this door, though.”

Merlin blinked, his face still wet and red, but at least his hands stopped shaking. He wasn’t going to come out to meet anyone, not yet. He had to gather his thoughts first, think of a good excuse why he ran away even if no one would believe it.

“Mordred,” he called the young Knight seconds before the latter left. The brunet glanced at him over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Mordred gave him a slight nod, but didn’t add anything more. Merlin could swear he saw a small smile forming on his lips, but it was gone fast, just like the Knight.

*

To say Arthur was concerned would be a huge understatement. Inside, he was panicking. He didn’t understand why Merlin ran away like that, but he knew something must have triggered such a sudden reaction. Did he really freak out so bad because of Gwaine touching him? How should he deal with it? He was never good at feelings, or conversations about them. Merlin was an affectionate person, Arthur was not. He couldn’t show it. Didn’t know how.

Yet, someone needed to give support to his friend and he wanted to be this person. If only Merlin trusted him with it. Their recent conversation unsettled him deeply. He couldn’t stand the possibility of his servant not believing in himself. Arthur considered him his main advisor. He considered him his best friend. Life in Camelot wouldn’t be the same without him. Why couldn’t he help him?

He would never forgive Morgana for putting Merlin through so much.

“Any sign of him?” he asked Leon and Gwaine as he met them in the hall. They had decided to split to make the search more effective.

“No, sire,” Leon shook his head. “A few of the servants saw him run across the halls, but no one followed him.”

“It’s all my fault,” Gwaine huffed angrily, his clenched fists hanging by his sides. “I should have known.”

“Don’t go there, Gwaine.” Leon brought him back before he could drift off to the ocean of self-hatred. It didn’t help much, he knew how torture of any kind affected the mind. He’d seen some tough things in his life when he was travelling. All sorts of people, many of them had survived a lot. He sympathised with them all, and he should have guessed Merlin would react this way. It hadn’t been long since they saved him, after all. And they still didn’t have any idea what he’d been through. Merlin refused to speak about it, which was the first sign he shouldn’t have touched him without permission. But he always greeted him in this way and a part of him forgot to ask if he could do so this time. It felt natural, he didn’t put much thought into it.

He made a mental note not to make the same mistake again.

“We won’t track him down,” he claimed instead. “If Merlin doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. I just hope he’s alright.”

“He’s fine,” the third voice echoed behind their backs and all three of them turned around to see who arrived. Mordred, Arthur’s youngest Knight, their new friend. He looked calm and certain of his words. “I talked to him.”

“Where is he?” Arthur asked, approaching the young man.

“I promised him not to tell you, my lord, I’m sorry. He will see you once he’s ready.”

“But what happened to him? Is he really fine?” Gwaine was next, eyeing the newest Knight cautiously. Mordred turned out to be a likeable young man, but he preferred not to start friendships so soon. He’d rather get to know him better before making such decisions.

“Yes.” The Druid responded, nodding, although he wasn’t sure of this statement. He knew exactly how horrid the Dark Tower was. His acquaintances at the Druid camp always warned the fellow children not to mention the name of that place. They advised against going there, too, not that anyone would ever want to.

To be stuck in there for as long as Merlin was, Mordred truly couldn’t believe he didn’t fall victim to something worse. This tower was used by evil spirits to manipulate their prey, Morgana must have known it. She must have tried to take control of his mind, to terrify him to the point he’d do anything for her to just get out of there. The Druid could only admire Emrys’ strength and loyalty towards Arthur. He himself wasn’t sure if he would be able to do the same, to survive something so terrible and frightening. It was no wonder why Merlin behaved like he did. Trauma always stayed rooted deeply in the heart and mind. The Dark Tower was truly a nightmare one couldn’t live through. He supposed it’d take some time before Merlin started coming back to his old self, if it was even possible.

“Thank you, Mordred.” Arthur smiled at him, grateful for delivering such news, and the man realised he was smiling back. “You can go back to your duties, all of you.” He dismissed at last, and the Knight only watched him go back to his bedchambers.

Gwaine and Leon went separate ways, too, and he thought that, maybe, he could visit Lower Town. He enjoyed talking to the people there, their views on life were much different from the Knights and Lords’ he was surrounded with on daily basis. It was, somehow, refreshing.

*

Arthur didn’t see Merlin again for the rest of the day. He asked the servants and Gaius about him, but no one saw him. It was like he vanished, and the king’s heart screamed of worry. The physician assured him his apprentice would come back soon because he always did, but the blond man wasn’t blind, he could see the concern drawn in Gaius’ face as he spoke.

He felt terrible. Whenever Merlin was not nearby, Arthur had an aching sense of loneliness seeping into his heart. There was no one there to talk to about trivial matters when his servant wasn’t next to. And he needed it sometimes if only to feel like a normal person, not someone responsible for the entire kingdom and its welfare. Perhaps he was egoistic for thinking about himself when Merlin needed him the most, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to allow himself one small act of selfishness for once.

It had been a long and a hard day with a lot of work. The Saxons were moving forward, unbothered by the patrols Arthur increased in that area. He feared that war was upon Camelot and there was no way to stop it from happening now. And he had a weird feeling that Morgana was behind this. After all, his patrol did find a dead Knight on their way back, as he learnt from Leon, and Gaius stated he must have been killed by sorcery. It meant his sister was preparing for another bloodbath and he had no idea what to do about it.

He'd love to hear Merlin’s opinion about this, but his friend was nowhere in sight. He couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility his servant was also a magic user. But he knew it was a topic to discuss for different time. He needed to wait for the right moment to come to confront him about it. He didn’t want to be accusative, he just wanted answers. There was so much to discover, so much to understand.

He yawned, the challenges of the day finally taking their toll on him, and as soon as he got to his chambers, the amount of tension and stress holding him tightly throughout the hours let go. Everything was suddenly better.

Then, his eyes travelled to the windows and a man standing in front of the curtain, looking out at the courtyard.

“Merlin?” he breathed, something unexplainable taking control of him for a moment, but the latter didn’t react at first, he kept on staring at the outside world, as if deaf to Arthur’s voice.

The king made a few steps towards him, observing him warily. His servant looked fine on the outside. He wasn’t hurt, he wasn’t even crying. He just kept on staring out this cursed window, a few torches enlightening his face. The silence grew exhausting.

“Where have you been? We looked for you everywhere.” He claimed softly, finally halting in front of his friend. Merlin’s gaze was quite distant, but he seemed lucid. “Are you alright?”

There was no answer and Arthur wondered if talking made any sense at this moment, for Merlin didn’t seem interested in any conversation. Perhaps just being there with him would be enough. He stayed there by his friend’s side, looking at the dark night behind the window, silence of the bedchambers somehow soothing. Neither spoke, there was no need to, everything that mattered was the fact they were together at last.

A tender touch on his side attracted his attention, and he looked at his friend. Merlin was still quiet, but he rested his head against the king’s shoulder, sniffing almost inaudibly. Arthur, rather stunned but glad they made some contact, turned towards his servant all the way, letting him bury his face in the king’s crook of the neck.

Slowly and carefully, he wrapped his arms around the thin man, pulling him close. It was all it took for Merlin to shed a few tears that ran down his cheeks, eventually soaking into Arthur’s white shirt. There was no sound he made, but the blond man knew he had started crying.

“It’s alright,” he whispered to Merlin’s ear, one hand running soothing circles around the warlock’s back, the other buried in the black curls, gently caressing them. The first sob came muffled. “It’s alright, Merlin. I’ve got you, I’m here.” He assured when he felt nails clawing at his clothes in desperate attempt to grab him.

His friend didn’t utter a single word, just kept on crying softly into his shirt, a small sob escaping his throat every now and then. Arthur didn’t care for the lack of audible response, all he cared for was Merlin’s safety. At least he was here with him, far from dangers. Suddenly nothing else mattered, not even the threat of Saxons. He was hugging Merlin, shielding him from the darkness, and it was enough. He wouldn’t let anything happen to him again. He’d protect him from wildfire if needed. He’d protect him from everything.

Chapter Text

Merlin was choking. He was drowning, only there was no water. Something was simply pulling him down and even though he attempted to reach anything to hold on, he couldn’t. There was nothing to grab onto but the darkness. He tried to scream, but his voice just refused to come out. There was nobody to hear him, anyway. He was on his own.

Faces he used to know all flashed before his eyes, but they disappeared as fast. The screams assaulted his ears. He shouted for them to stop, but he wasn’t heard. His words died in the echo of the shrieks, of his pathetic sobs that started going past his throat. It was a torture. He couldn’t even run, he was stuck in this darkness, unable to fight the demons who reached to grab him, to pull him in further into the madness, shatter the rest of his soul, tear his heart away from his body.

The hands shook him and he whimpered, not able to see who it was, not that it mattered. The voices still screamed too loudly to focus on anything.

“Merlin!” one of them spoke but it came as if through the thick wall. He tried to jerk away from the cold hands. “Merlin, wake up!”

And Merlin would if only it was possible. If only the darkness wasn’t so inviting, swallowing him up, embracing him and squeezing like merciless death.

“Merlin!”

Hands shook him again and this time he did cry out, he shouted at them to leave him alone, to stop hurting him. The touch was gone, but the coldness that washed over him still paralysed him.

“Merlin! It’s me, Arthur.”

Arthur. The voice belonged to Arthur, his king. His friend. It sounded utterly scared and worried and Merlin tried, he really did, to open his eyes and control his shaking, but the shadows held him tightly. His magic wanted to get out, to defend him, but it was as if locked in place and Merlin let out a loud scream.

“No!” he jerked away, awakening from his slumber, his breath hitching and sweat covering his forehead. His panicked eyes searched for the man, whose voice had been there before, for the face he wanted to see most of all and as soon as they rested upon it, he grabbed onto his friend’s hand just to see if it was real. “Arthur…”

And the king squeezed back, reassuring him it was truly happening. The warlock tried his best to relax, but his body refused to cooperate. He was tense and shaking like a leaf, tears swimming freely down his pale face. The screams weren’t there, they were gone along with his rest.

He tried to breathe, tried to get as much air back into his lungs as possible, but it was escaping swiftly, away from his reach. He felt like he was set on fire and the vivid flame was ready to burn him to a crisp.

“Arthur,” he choked out, looking around through the haze. He wasn’t in his room, it was much more spacious, with dimmed light coming through the huge windows outlooking the courtyard. These were the king’s bedchambers and he didn’t recall why he was here in the first place. “Arthur… what, what happened?”

“Don’t you remember?” the blond asked and Merlin felt oddly soothed by the way the man’s hand still held onto his. The palm was warm and it gave him a sense of reality he desperately wanted to grasp. He wasn’t dreaming anymore, there was no darkness gnawing at him here.

“I, I don’t know, I… I was here last night, wasn’t I?” yes, he remembered standing by the window next to Arthur, softly crying into his clothes. It was shameful, he went too far. He shouldn’t have bothered anyone with his stupid problems, especially not the king of Camelot.

But he needed, then, a company. Just someone to be there with him. He wanted comfort he knew he wasn’t allowed to get, but one could always hope. In the end, Arthur gave him just that, but at what cost? The king shouldn’t get involved with the insecurities of his manservant.

His memory flashed with a vivid picture of him being led onto the bed.

“You fell asleep here, Merlin, and I didn’t want to wake you up. You seemed…” Arthur bit his lip to stop himself from saying how exhausted his friend looked, it didn’t end well the last time. “quite in need of a pillow.”

Arthur cursed himself for choosing such dumb words, but really, how could he know what to say to make it right? He didn’t want Merlin to lash out again, or escape. Watching him sleep in his bed was an unusual view, but one he couldn’t complain about. There was something harmonic to the picture of his servant like this. Besides, he wanted to keep an eye on him in case things went awry. He was done seeing him in this state.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin spoke, ignoring his perplexity. His voice was almost broken. It was so quiet and hoarse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he shook his head, glancing down at his legs buried under the soft covers of the bed. He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but he felt like he needed to say it.

The king frowned, his gaze following his servant’s, eventually resting upon their hands. He should probably pull away, behave like a proper king with his subject, but he felt like it would be wrong. Most of all, he didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t risk losing Merlin once more and it felt like it’d happen if their hands separated.

Merlin kept silent for a long moment, trying to get his breathing under control. His body trembled, but at least his vision cleared. He ran a finger over Arthur’s ring but refused to look up, ashamed of what his friend just witnessed.

“I’m sorry. It was just a nightmare.” He whispered. A tear rolled down and he made a move to wipe it away, but Arthur was faster, his free hand grabbing his chin gently, cupping it so they could face each other. Merlin wasn’t sure what he felt like when he noticed the softness in the king’s gaze. The sympathy and concern.

“Want to talk about it?” the king asked, but he only gave a shake of the head.

“I’m fine.”

“Merlin,” the warlock could feel the doubt in his friend’s face, but he pretended not to. It wasn’t like there was something to talk about even if he wanted to. Because what could he say? That he was afraid of his own shadow? That every little noise startled him so much that it almost gave him a heart attack? Arthur would only laugh at him. “Fine, then, but I’m sending for someone to bring us breakfast this instant.”

“No, sire,” Merlin grabbed the king’s wrist when the latter moved to stand up. Arthur was already dressed and he wondered if he had slept at all. It was probably his fault. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to fall asleep in the king’s bed. “I can do it, it’s my job.”

“Well, but I want you to stay here. That’s an order. For once in your life, just listen to it.” The blond grinned at him.

Merlin opened his mouth to retort like he always did, but something stopped him the last second. He couldn’t get the words out, he shouldn’t. The ghost of Arthur telling him he was the worst servant in five kingdoms, a terrible friend and a traitor echoed in his head. He shuddered and his shaking hand ran over his face. Was he really at the right place to say something? Disobey his king? A monarch’s word should be final, nobody should ever question it, especially not a lowly servant.

“Yes, my lord.” He mumbled, looking away in shame. Arthur’s grin dropped immediately as he stared at his friend, helpless. Even their usual banter was gone and he had never been so hopeless before. How could he bring the old times back? How could he make Merlin smile again? He thought they were making progress. Clearly, he was wrong.

He gave up, sighing, and sent the guard standing by his chambers to alert someone to send for breakfast. As he was on his way back to the bed, he noticed Merlin had still been shaking, avoiding his eyes like he was embarrassed about something he couldn’t tell him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk?” he asked just to be certain, but his servant immediately shook his head, quite annoyed now at having to repeat himself.

“There is nothing to talk about,” he scoffed, hiding his hands under the sheets. “I apologised for disturbing you. I didn’t mean to. I can go back to Gaius without bothering you just fine.”

“No, Merlin, don’t be an idiot,” The king replied with a playful smile, but it faded quite swiftly as he realised the latter was being serious. He sat back down beside his friend, meeting his fierce eyes. Merlin was getting defensive again. “Nightmares aren’t an uncommon occurrence, you know.”

“And since when do you have such wide knowledge about it?” he snapped but retreated a moment later, unwilling to anger his king. It wouldn’t do anything good. He feared the consequences of making Arthur furious. He had already found himself on the receiving end of it in that tower, even if it hadn’t been real. It had certainly felt so. “I don’t need to talk about it. It happened, now it’s gone. Won’t return.”

“Merlin,” Arthur exhaled loudly, taking a single glance at the desk and the papers all over it. “You’re making it harder than it is.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint, my lord.” The warlock scoffed, ready to get up and leave, suddenly uninterested in further conversation. He didn’t like where it was going. “I don’t know what you expect from me right now, but I do know there is much going on in the castle today. And Gaius must be worried. I’d better go see him.”

“Gaius knows where you are,” Arthur made sure to say before his servant ran away once more. “I sent him a word last night when he was looking for you. He was afraid something bad had happened to you.”

“Great,” Merlin rolled his eyes, finally deciding to stand up. He was already heading towards the door. “I will go and tell him to mind his own business, then.”

“For God’s sake, Merlin!” the king huffed in annoyance, following him across the chamber. “Why don’t you understand we just want to help you?!”

“And why don’t you understand I don’t need any help?! I keep telling everyone to leave me alone because I’m fine and yet, you don’t listen to me! I don’t need your pitiful stares or, or your sympathy. I don’t need anyone.”

“You keep lying to yourself. People who are fine don’t run away from their problems, Merlin, and that’s exactly what you’re doing now.” He spat and closed the door as soon as his friend opened it. The loud noise echoed around the room and the halls, making the warlock flinch and back away. “That’s not going to work now.”

“Let me out.”

“Why? So you can hide all day again?”

“That’s not any of your concern what I do!” Merlin shouted, trying to get past Arthur and rush out of the room that suddenly became so small, but the king was blocking his path. His hands started sweating. “Let me out, you prat, I no longer want to be here with you.”

“You are not going anywhere, Merlin. We’re talking.”

The servant fumed inside, his eyes burning with fire, his blood boiling and magic buzzing. His heart’s rhythm started getting out of control.

“No, we’re not, let me go!” he demanded, and reached with his shaking hands to push the king away, get out and find a good spot to hide and never come back. The chamber walls were closing in, and he needed to go. He didn’t want to be locked up again, no matter if it was the tower, or the place he visited every morning.

The air got suffocating and it was suddenly hard to breathe. The coldness wrapped his entire body as he thought about the tower again, about how helpless he was, just like now. Arthur couldn’t keep him here, he wouldn’t. Nobody would ever do this to him, he swore that to himself once already, even if it was the king of Camelot.

But it had been so dark there, and he couldn’t leave. His hands had bled there on the floor, and he hadn’t been able to get out despite the tears he’d wasted, the screams he’d let out.

“Let me out,” he choked out, eyes watering. Arthur stood there still, piercing him with a stern and stubborn glare. “Let me out, no, let me out. Let me out!” he screamed, jumping at the king, trying to claw at his face, his throat, anything that would grant him freedom.

Hands squeezed his wrists, making him panic even more. No, he wouldn’t be immobilised again, he wouldn’t let the demons win.

But his breaths were so shallow, and his world began to swim as he struggled against the bruising grip.

“Let me go,” he pleaded now, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Let me go, please, let me go, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, just let me go.” Was he crying? These were certainly tears running down his face. “Let me go…” he croaked at last and hands freed him.

He fell to his knees almost immediately, his hands going to his hair, grabbing at the messy strands. He kept on chanting how sorry he was, how he shouldn’t have said any of those things. He didn’t want to go back there to that tower, wouldn’t stand hearing the screams again, seeing the faces of digsust painted on the people he loved.

Of Arthur. Arthur, who was kneeling down next to him at the moment, speaking some words Merlin wasn’t able to decipher. He couldn’t catch them. He thought he heard his name, but he wasn’t sure. Everything was too far away, separated by some invisible wall he couldn’t destroy.

The hands were on his wrists again although their grip wasn’t painful anymore. The touch was tender and almost loving. They pried his fingers off his hair and held them gently. Why couldn’t he stop trembling? Was he hyperventilating? It certainly was hard to take a full breath in, it edged on impossible. The reality was out of focus.

“Merlin,” here it was, Arthur’s voice ringing in his ears. “Merlin…” it was faint, but close to him. The thumb caressed the top of his palm as he wailed, tears speeding up their decent flow. He wasn’t in the tower anymore, there were no ghosts. No darkness. He wasn’t cold anymore. He wasn’t alone.

“Arthur…” he sobbed, lifting his eyes to look at his king’s face. His view was blurred. The blond man forced a smile, but it was stained with sadness and ridden with guilt.

“God, Merlin,” he shook his head to clear it from thoughts. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know, I… I’m sorry.” Hands left the warlock’s palms and went to his face instead, to his both cheeks. They were wet, and tears kept on falling, stopping on Arthur’s palm and swimming down. “Look at me, Merlin, I’m sorry.”

But the warlock didn’t say anything to it, trying to get some air into his lungs. His head hurt and heart bled. How was he supposed to pretend everything was alright? He wasn’t fine, he knew it, but admitting to it would mean he lost something. That he was defeated. He refused to be a loser. The truth was, he wanted to take up this fight and show Morgana she hadn’t broken him, but he couldn’t. He felt powerless and utterly worthless. He was unable to even reach for his magic, and it was his everything. Only with it he was useful to Camelot, but the dark tower took it away from him so ruthlessly. The thought to use it hurt. Because he could if he tried hard enough, but he was scared of his spells not working. After all, they didn’t when he needed them to. He didn’t want to experience this fright once again.

“Say something, Merlin, please.” Arthur pleaded, and the crack in the king’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He blinked the rest of the tears away, sniffing. His friend was looking into his eyes, so much regret and distress shining in the gaze that Merlin almost felt overwhelmed.

He licked his lips, searching for his voice. His insides were trembling and there was something heavy forming in the pit of his stomach, but he tried his best to ignore the nagging feeling.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, glancing to the side to avoid the king’s clever glare. It made him feel naked and it was the last thing he needed at the moment. “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“Don’t,” his king shook his head, his hands leaving Merlin’s clammy cheeks. “I should be the one who is sorry. I shouldn’t… it was wrong to force anything on you. I just, I can’t get used to…” he struggled with words. He didn’t want to be selfish, he should be focusing on his friend right now. Not everything was about him. Yet, he couldn’t help this frustration. “I just wish you talked to me, Merlin. You’re not on your own with this. I want to help you, but you keep pushing me away and, and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Merlin wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his tunic and blinked the remaining tears away. His gaze flickered to Arthur’s worried face. What could he tell him? He didn’t push anyone away on purpose, he didn’t want to hurt them. Yet, the burden he had been carrying got too heavy with time and he started doing it without realising. He was truly an awful person.

A part of him knew he had to be honest, that running away was not a way, but it was difficult to form words. The things he wanted to say all ran around wildly in his head, making him numb. Paralysed, even. It felt like he couldn’t find his voice once he wanted to speak up. This helplessness tore him apart piece by piece and he wasn’t able to stop it in any way.

“I’m sorry,” he finally managed, his whisper coming more broken than he would like to admit. “I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you. I just can’t help feeling this way, Arthur.”

“I understand.”

“No,” he forced out, shaking his head and looking away at last. “No, I don’t think you do. I don’t think anyone does.” He sniffed, finally standing up and glaring at the floor, his hands hanging uselessly at his hips. He could feel the king’s eyes burn holes in him, seeing right through the façade he fought so hard to keep. “I’m sorry, I need to go. I will, I’ll come later with your dinner, I promise.”

And he rushed out of the chambers, walking past Arthur and pretending he didn’t see the pain behind his friend’s eyes. Tears were already forming anew as he cursed himself over and over, hating his own mind for doing this to someone he was ready to die for. Wasn’t Arthur the reason why it all happened? If he had agreed to join Morgana then, he wouldn’t have been so hurt. But he wouldn’t regret his decision. The guilt of even thinking of what ifs was enough to bring him back to his grim reality.

Even if nobody understood, he still had to go on. He still needed to get his life under control. He wanted himself back. Happiness seemed to be too far away now, and it made him want to scream and shout how unfair it was. Then again, what was fair in this life? He’d never find an answer to this question.

He sighed and sped up, wanting to get out of anyone’s sight as soon as possible. He needed to be alone. He already used too much of Arthur’s kindness. Some peace and quiet would help his mind come back to here and now. He wanted to fight the demons, defeat the negative thoughts that tried to take over his life.

But he needed to find a way first.

Chapter Text

Merlin was doing alright. Really, he was. The embarrassment he felt after handling the situation with Arthur so poorly passed and once he explained to Gaius why he decided not to come back home for the night, everything seemed better. His mentor, thankfully, didn’t ask very detailed questions. Merlin wasn’t sure if he would have answered them.

It was afternoon already and he spent the entire day running around the castle aimlessly, looking for a quiet place to hide. People were everywhere, however, and he gave up rather fast. Right now, he wanted to focus on his chores. Arthur didn’t give him any for today, but he did promise to get him dinner. It was the least he could do.

He was on his way to the kitchens when he noticed George carrying the basket filled with Arthur’s laundry. He frowned and didn’t think it through when he simply ran up to the other servant, quite puzzled.

“George,” he began, inhaling sharply as the eyes of the other man rested upon himself. “What are you doing?”

“Why, I’m working for the king,” the latter replied bitterly. “Someone has to do it when His Majesty’s personal servant wanders off to who knows where.”

Merlin decided to ignore the mock in George’s tone and gave him a forced smile. Out of all the people who could work for Arthur while he was gone, of course it had to be George. The best of the best. The obedient, perfect servant everyone would love to have. There used to be a time when Merlin was bothered by it, afraid of getting replaced, but he grew to be certain it would never happen.

Now, he wasn’t so sure anymore. George was right. Arthur needed a servant and Merlin preferred to hide in the corners all day instead of doing his job as he had claimed he would. He wasn’t even there to deliver the king’s meal on time, and he didn’t follow the recent news on the Saxons, either. In fact, he spoke so little to Arthur that it hurt. Was he truly so horrible?

The voices kept on telling him so.

“Well, thank you for your hard work, but I’m here now,” Merlin spat, his eyes going to the basket. He reached for it. “And I’m going to take it now since it’s my job to do so.”

“Are you sure you’re competent enough? As in, you won’t trip and drop it or, I don’t know, run away like you’ve been doing it for days?”

Merlin gritted his teeth and took the basket away from the other servant, preferring to stay quiet. He didn’t want to argue with George, not because he wasn’t competent enough, but there was nothing he could tell him to make him believe he was trying his best. Nobody really knew what he’d been through, all they heard were rumours. He wanted it to stay that way. If they had known, if they had discovered he was afraid just because he’d been locked in a stupid tower for a few days, they’d laugh at him. They’d mock him even more. He wouldn’t give them this satisfaction.

“That is none of your concern,” he only whispered, looking away and trying to make his way towards Arthur’s bedchambers. “The last time I checked, I was still Arthur’s manservant.”

George’s body went rigid as he made a step forward. Merlin, instinctively, made one backwards, his back hitting the wall behind him. He swallowed hard, trying to calm the beating of his heart. He wasn’t a coward, he couldn’t be. It was George, for heaven’s sake, he wasn’t even a Knight. He wouldn’t do anything to him because, deep down, Merlin was sure Arthur wouldn’t let it slip by.

Yet, his reactions weren’t fully controllable. All his eyes could see was him being cornered in the tower while shadows roamed around, looming over him heavily. Their cruel laughter, the coldness, the dark. His unheard pleas for it to stop.

“You can’t even pay enough respect to the king,” George spat rather aggressively, his face being so close to Merlin’s that the warlock felt the sudden urge to escape. But he was trapped between the body and the wall, the laundry basket being the only obstacle between him and the man. “I will never stop wondering how King Uther thought it was a good idea to allow you into the royal household. You don’t belong here, Merlin. You never have. And once King Arthur sees that, there will be many others who would gladly take your place.”

And he gathered as much strength as he could to find his voice and speak up, to stand up for himself at least this time. But he was unable to even think of the words he could use. He never cared for social cues or the titles. He respected Arthur, and he hoped the king knew it. He just didn’t consider it necessary to show it. It was obvious, wasn’t it? He had sacrificed so much for his friend, after all, and he was ready to sacrifice even more if needed. Arthur would never get rid of him, would he?

“Many others? You, that is?” he asked, clutching the basket tightly so George wouldn’t see the shaking of his hands. He needed to act, pretend those comments didn’t affect him at all. There was time that would be true, but not anymore. Merlin couldn’t stop thinking of everyone leaving him one day. “Good luck with that, my friend.”

“I won’t need much luck when you are the one I compete with.” George huffed, rolling his eyes. Merlin wasn’t even aware it was a competition. He wasn’t up for any rivalry, personally. Arthur still chose him as his servant, even after becoming king. It had to mean something, Merlin had to believe it.

“Whatever, George,” he pushed the man away at last, tired of the exchange. He wanted to bring the laundry to Arthur’s bedchambers as soon as possible so he could go back for the meal. He was already running late. “Now, if you excuse me, I have chores to do. I’d advise you to do yours, as well.”

“Of course, Merlin,” the other servant let him go, thankfully, but the sorcerer still felt eyes upon his back as he was making his way towards the king’s chambers. “Make sure you don’t get lost on your way and disappear again, though. I don’t think Camelot has enough resources for another rescue party if that happens.”

Merlin halted immediately, unable to ignore the last remark. He slowly turned around, but George was already gone and he was left alone in the hall, holding the basket like it was the only way to stay on his feet. Tears filled his eyes, but he fought hard to hold them back. Painful words weren’t anything he hadn’t heard before, not from George, not from any other servant, either.

Yet, it hit so close to home that he wasn’t sure if he could just ignore it. Arthur did risk a lot going to that tower. He risked the life of his people and his own, too. What if he’d failed? What if Camelot had been left with no ruler at all? When there was a threat of war hanging over the kingdom, too. It was stupid. No one should ever do that, not for him.

He exhaled shakily and turned around once more only to bump into someone else, making him drop the basket, the clothes scattering all around. Merlin let out a gasp and kneeled to gather them, the knight he’d run into following to help.

“I’m sorry, Merlin, I wasn’t paying attention.” Percival’s voice cut through the air, ringing in his ears. Merlin lifted his eyes to his face.

“It’s alright, I’m the one who’s at fault here.” He responded quietly, hands trembling and voice cracking. “I should have watched where I was going.”

“Still, I apologise,” the man smiled and helped him pick the clothes up, threw them into a basket. “You can tell Arthur I’m to blame for it in case he gives you hard time.”

Merlin forced a smile. It was all about pretending. If people didn’t know what could hurt him, they wouldn’t even try. It went for both the servants and the Knights, even if they used to be friends. He didn’t consider himself as ‘a friend’ to anyone anymore. He wasn’t worthy of even being near Percival. Of anyone of the high rank status, truly.

“Thank you,” he whispered and blinked to stop the tears from falling. The Knight was glaring at him with these kind eyes, with the smile that could steal the hearts of many women in the castle. Probably of some men, too. “I appreciate your help. I really should be going now, though. I still have to bring Arthur his dinner. He’ll eat my head if I don’t.” he went for a joke. He could hide so much behind one smile, behind the laughter and the humour he didn’t use to fake.

It hurt how everything seemed to have changed.

“Right,” Percival nodded, stepping out of the way. “Are you alright, though?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” he answered quickly, breaking their eye-contact in a second.

“Are you sure? You seem shaken.”

“How would you react if you ran into a giant who appeared out of nowhere?” he dismissed, stepping past the man, hurrying out of the hall. “Thanks again for the help.”

And he didn’t give Percival enough time to even think of a response, for he was out the door in a moment, breathing heavily and trying to stop shaking. Percival was also the one who rescued him. Did he regret it now? Did Arthur? They all could have died. If Morgana hadn’t changed her plans, Merlin didn’t even want to think about what would have happened.

Swallowing down the fear of what ifs, he headed towards the king’s bedchambers, hoping Arthur wouldn’t be too angry for the laundry, or lack of dinner. Perhaps George was right all along and he wasn’t a good fit for this job.

*

Some people certainly would describe Arthur Pendragon as selfish or egoistic. Maybe they would call him strict, or emotionless. He couldn’t show attachment and affection like most of them, and he knew there were people who saw it. There were his old counsellors or newer Knights thinking this way, there were even some servants still remembering him for being that self-absorbed Prince he used to be in the past. He wasn’t that boy anymore, but they didn’t know it. They didn’t know him. Not really.

Truth be told, Arthur was a very devoted man. Devoted to the cause, to his kingdom. To his friends, most of all. The opinion of those below him, those who didn’t bother to see the real him, didn’t particularly matter. What strangers thought of his persona was not what he cared for. He knew the things how they were, he knew himself, and he knew his friends also were aware of it. He wasn’t selfish (most of the time, anyway). He just came off as rude, or dismissive, or cruel to some because he couldn’t show his feelings, he was never taught to do that. He was never praised for that. Being affectionate only disappointed his father.

‘You’re the future king, Arthur, people should not feel like you’re incapable of ruling the kingdom. Showing emotions is a weakness you need to get rid of if you want them to respect you.’, his father would say. Arthur believed it when he was little, tried his best to act like the Prince he was supposed to be. With time, feelings became a distant thought. A dream of sorts. He forgot how to show them, and how they affected other people, too.

Then, Merlin came. And everything he had known suddenly crumbled down. Because his servant was different. His servant didn’t care he was a royal and he didn’t strain from showing his emotions. He was quite open about them in the beginning. Arthur used to be confused and conflicted about it. He didn’t even notice when exactly he had started changing. He found out that he cared, too. He always had, perhaps he just forgot about it. Buried it inside so his father would be proud. He had lost himself somewhere in between, and Merlin was the one to help him even though he wasn’t aware of it. Everything became better with his appearance.

Then, Morgana betrayed Camelot, and Agravaine committed treason. And the ghost of his father was ready to kill him for having made different choices. And Gwen cheated with Lancelot. The list went on and on, everyone he held dear to his heart kept on betraying him.

Except for Merlin. Merlin stayed. The bond they had created, it shone so brightly when they were together. It felt good to be near the joyful servant, but ever since he heard Queen Mab, what ifs haunted his mind. Arthur thought about the possibility of him having magic. In fact, it was what kept him awake last night when Merlin was asleep next to him on his own bed. He was taught the sorcerers were evil beings, keen only on destroying the kingdom, plotting against the rightful ruler.

Yet, Merlin wasn’t that. He wasn’t evil, he couldn’t be. When he was sleeping next to him, Arthur saw only his friend. The face of serenity, not evil. The purity and the loyalty. He found it hard to believe someone so devoted could ever commit treason. It wasn’t possible. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, but Arthur wouldn’t accept it. The only thing about Merlin being a sorcerer that truly bothered him was the words he himself used so many times when talking to his friend. That magic was evil, that sorcery should not thrive in Camelot. And while he still had so many questions about Merlin’s secret, he regretted being so blinded by his hatred for things he couldn’t understand. Things he feared, just like his father. How much it must have hurt his friend, he couldn’t even imagine.

And maybe how he felt at the moment was his guilt talking, but he wanted Merlin to be alright again. He wanted to see that beautiful smile and hear that joyful laughter echo in his bedchambers one more time. He wanted to be the one to make it happen, to help his friend with all his might. Merlin was not coping well, no matter what he was saying. He was not dealing with whatever happened during his captivity in that cursed tower. Arthur didn’t want to be pushy or demanding, but he was dying to know what horrors were there to suffer. Perhaps it would help him understand.

He only hoped the damage was not irreparable. Deep inside, he needed Merlin to be fine. It tore him apart to see how much the experience had changed him. How paler his skin got, how darker the bags under his eyes grew. He got startled every time someone did as much as slightly raise his voice. And he didn’t even want to dwell on those terrible panic attacks. Arthur was, in no way, an expert when it came to human’s psyche. He never needed to be one, to be frank. If only life came with instructions. If only he had paid attention to the traumatised Knights when he was younger. He would know how to behave now.

He was so emerged in his thoughts that he barely heard the door open with a slight creak. He was sure he needed a moment or two to actually acknowledge it. Once he did, however, he turned to take a look and the silhouette of his servant appeared in the room with a basket of laundry in his hands.

“Ah, Merlin,” he greeted, holding the door for him out of habit. He eyed the basket carefully. “Did you lose my dinner on your way here or is it just your usual act of incompetence?” he teased, shuffling towards his desk.

“I’m sorry.” The answer came and the king didn’t fail to hear the way his voice cracked. He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the latter. Merlin looked like he always did, avoiding any eye-contact and pretending no one else was in the room. Arthur thought that, maybe, trying to bring back their bickering wasn’t the brightest idea. Perhaps those times would never return and he’d have to accept it.

“No, I…” he sighed, ran a hand over his face, but gave up. “I’m actually glad to see you. We have to talk.”

The servant stopped what he was doing, leaving the laundry alone. His body went stiff, his posture defensive. His eyes still didn’t meet Arthur’s.

“What about? I will bring you dinner after I’m done with your laundry, don’t worry, sire. I was about to do it but things happened and this came up.”

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Honestly, Merlin, I don’t always want to talk just to tell you how awful a servant you are,” the king claimed, but the other man didn’t react to another attempt at cheering him up. It only seemed to have made him worse. His shoulders hunched, eyes went quite empty. There was no joy inside anymore. It hurt a lot. “Sit down, would you?” he pointed at the edge of his bed and Merlin, hesitantly, obeyed.

“What happened? Have I,” Merlin swallowed thickly, his hands clutching his legs. The king noticed it was something he did quite often lately. Whenever he was stressed out. “Have I done something to offend you? If that’s the case, I apologise, my lord. The situation in the morning—”

“Merlin, just stop,” Arthur raised a hand, leaning back into his chair. His gaze never left the younger man’s face. “You did nothing wrong and it isn’t about the morning.”

The warlock did not reply anything to it, just watched him in silence, as if it could give him all the answers to the questions Arthur was scared of asking. He should talk to Gaius before facing Merlin with the truth that he knew. The last thing he needed was his servant to run away again. But at the same time, perhaps letting Merlin know was the key to helping him recover faster. The Dark Tower was magic-related, after all, and he had no idea what his servant went through there. Morgana might have put him through the most horrible things and Merlin kept these memories all to himself, never sharing them with anyone.

“I’m about to ask you something important and, please, promise me you won’t run away. Promise me, Merlin. I need you to do it.” He pleaded, hating the way desperation was clear in his voice. But he couldn’t predict how Merlin would react. Although he might have an idea, which wasn’t anything helpful. Panic attacks wouldn’t be necessary.

The servant frowned, observing him cautiously as if preparing to dash out.

“I promise.” He answered, but he didn’t sound certain of it at all. Arthur doubted he could keep this promise, but he had to believe it.

“Before that, however, I want you to know that I’m not angry. I’m not, I won’t do anything to you, I just want to know the truth. To understand.”

The panic flickering in Merlin’s eyes couldn’t be mistaken for anything. It contained so much fear and doubts that Arthur began regretting bringing this up. He had to know, though. He had to see the entire picture or else, the thoughts of what ifs would haunt his mind forever.

“Merlin,” he inhaled and closed his eyes for a second, calming down his racing heart. “Do you have magic?”

The tears started dropping almost immediately, as if his servant was prepared for it. His silence told Arthur the truth. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about it yet.

“So it’s true, then.” He commented as Merlin’s eyes focused on the floor. He could hear his breath quicken. The panic emanated from him in thick waves, and Arthur felt bad for making him feel this way. “Merlin, look at me.” He ordered, and to his surprise, the latter obeyed wordlessly. His eyes were already puffy, tears glistening in the faint light. “I am not mad.”

“How,” the man began quietly, licking his bottom lip, his eyes darting away from the king. “How did you find out?”

“When we were on our way to the Dark Tower, there was this, this creature. She told me. She referred to you as Emrys, too. I didn’t believe her at first, but it never left my mind. I just, I wanted to know. And I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Merlin looked at him, confused. Under normal circumstances, he would laugh at the face his servant made. It was nowhere near normal, however.

“I never realised. And I told you so many wrong things about magic. I apologise for the pain it must have caused you.”

“I was never mad at you,” the man confirmed with a nod, and Arthur’s heart became lighter. Like something was lifted. “But I understand if you are. I swear, Arthur, I used it only for you. To, to protect you. I was born with it and I’d never use it to hurt you.”

“I know,” Arthur smiled softly and stood up, moving towards the bed, towards his friend. He sat down next to him, enjoying their closeness. The tears were still shining in Merlin’s eyes, but he tried not to think about it. “It would explain how you managed to survive all those battles without a scratch. I mean, you trip over your own foot, how was it possible you stayed alive after so many bandit attacks?”

This time, the chuckle Merlin let out was genuine and it made Arthur want to fly.

“Interesting that you’ve never wondered how you managed to stay alive after so many battles.” He retorted and the king laughed, too, allowing himself to relax now that everything was out in the open. He didn’t suppose Merlin’s reaction would be so calm. He fully expected him to bolt and hide for the next few days. Maybe he should have believed in his strength more.

“I assume it was a matter of my excellent skill.” He exclaimed quite proudly, making Merlin roll his eyes. His heart ached for more moments like this. He wanted to see his servant smile again, be happy and cheerful. It filled him with hope for the future. Perhaps things would be better one day.

Merlin’s smile dropped after a while, however, and his fingers started fiddling with the bottom of his shirt.

“I couldn’t use it,” he admitted quietly and Arthur needed a moment to comprehend what was said. “In the tower, I mean. I couldn’t… whenever I’m in trouble, I just, I just use magic to save myself but… it didn’t happen there. It just didn’t work. I was locked in there, Arthur. It was terrifying.”

Arthur frowned, worried about the way Merlin’s voice sounded. It was filled with sadness and fear. He didn’t know how it was to be helpless against an enemy, he was always able to defend himself with his sword, to be this powerless in the clutches of his sister must have been a horrifying experience.

“What happened in the Tower, Merlin?” he asked, wondering if he didn’t come across as dismissive or rude. But he needed to know. He needed to see the whole picture. If it was magic-related, Arthur couldn’t blame Merlin for hiding it. Yet now, when he made it clear he was aware of his friend’s secret, he wanted to try to discover more. Perhaps then, he’d be able to help.

Merlin visibly tensed and looked down, conflicted whether he should tell Arthur everything or keep it to himself like he’d been doing it for days. He thought he had it under control, really, but his earlier meeting with George, the nightmares and the fact he couldn’t even think of using magic might be signs he truly wasn’t fine. He couldn’t deal with it. Not on his own.

“It wasn’t so bad,” he swallowed, his voice was quiet and doubtful. “She locked me in there, wanted to lure you in. She knew you would come.”

“Well, she wasn’t there when we arrived.”

“Probably because I refused to give in,” the warlock shrugged, lifting his gaze to see his king. The blond was looking at him with concern but also with fondness Merlin couldn’t describe. “She tried to turn me against you. Told me the pain would stop. But I said no. I would never betray you, Arthur, no matter if she’d tortured me further or not.”

Arthur leant in closer, unaware of the way his hand rested upon Merlin’s knee. The servant glanced at it but did not react.

“What did she do to you, Merlin?” he asked with such softness that it caught the warlock off guard. He had never heard this tone before.

Tears pricked his eyes as he remembered the pain, the terror he felt as he had been left to the mercy of the demons. The sounds of their laughter in his memory still made him shudder. He wasn’t sure if Arthur could understand, he wasn’t sure if anyone could. Yet, the feelings he buried inside were ready to explode. They started destroying him piece by piece and he couldn’t stop this process. Perhaps Mordred was right, perhaps he should talk to someone. Arthur was nothing but gentle with him, he wasn’t judging, he wasn’t even angry with him for having hidden his magic.

Arthur was the man he would trust with everything. After all, the king risked his own life to rescue him, knowing Morgana had set a trap.

“She did nothing,” he admitted, uncertain. “She didn’t even touch me.”

The king raised an eyebrow, ready to ask questions, but Merlin interrupted him, looking up to see his face. They were very close, sitting next to each other on the bed. Suddenly, he felt tired.

“I saw ghosts of the people I know. Of you,” he croaked, sniffing. “They told me terrible things. They kept on shouting and wouldn’t shut up and, and it drove me insane, Arthur. It was dark and cold, and I was sure nobody would come for me. That I’d die there with those, those creatures.” He finished, laughing out bitterly. He felt like an idiot. “It’s silly, I know. It could have been worse. It was just a few days in the dark.”

“I don’t think it’s silly,” Arthur claimed firmly although there was a hint of heartbreak heard in his voice. “Those ‘few days in the dark’ hurt you, Merlin.”

“It really was nothing.”

“I don’t think it was nothing if the very mention of it makes you cry,” the king shrugged and, despite himself, reached out to lace his arm over the servant’s back. Merlin flinched at the contact at first but relaxed a few moments later, to Arthur’s relief. “I’m glad you told me.” Even though he still didn’t know the details. But at least there was something to focus on, he knew the roots of his servant’s fear. And he didn’t have the heart to keep pushing him with more answers, Merlin looked exhausted as it was.

Merlin sniffed, his tears flooding his mouth, and he leant in towards his king, seeking comfort he so desperately needed. Not fully aware of it, he hid his face in Arthur’s crook of the neck, his nose brushing against the pale skin there. The king allowed him to get comfortable, his arm still around the warlock’s back, the other already going to the front, pulling him in entirely into his chest. Merlin didn’t even think to protest. He liked the warmth emanating from his friend. He liked being near him, feeling so safe.

“Thank you, Arthur.” he whispered, his fingers curling around the blond’s shirt if only to feel as much of him as he could, afraid of letting go.

And Arthur smiled to himself, happy his friend was eager to talk, to be here with him and seek some comfort. He still didn’t know what to do to help, he wasn’t good with words and he was never taught how to deal with things like that, but at least he could try to make it better. He wanted to be Merlin’s haven when it came to it.

He made a silent oath to himself that he would never let any evil touch him again. He would protect him with his life if needed. Morgana wouldn’t lay her hands on him, neither would anyone else. Merlin deserved the world, and Arthur was willing to give him just that.

Chapter Text

After the confession, Merlin got much better – or at least learnt how to pretend to be better, Arthur couldn’t really tell. Their relationship improved, however, and the king was content with it for now. At least they were talking. His servant still had moments of staying quiet for hours, avoiding eye-contact, but their bickering was back. As much as it could, at least.

Merlin smiled more often, too, and Arthur could swear he’d never seen something so beautiful before. He had never truly thought about it, either. Since Merlin’s rescue, though, he started seeing things in different light. He appreciated little moments they shared, cherished them even. After all, life was such a fragile thing, either of them could lose it anytime and he wanted, needed to spend every single second of it with his friend by his side.

He watched his servant now walk aimlessly around his chambers, silent and utterly focused on the floor. He hadn’t spoken a word since he brought his breakfast and it was noon already. Arthur wasn’t worried, though, he knew these phases came and went quite fast. There was no reason to panic yet. Even Gaius told him to wait such times out patiently. He learnt how to handle such mood swings quite efficiently.

“Do you sometimes think about the past?” the servant asked, at last, and in spite of the question being quite worrisome, something in Arthur’s heart screamed of joy as soon as he heard this voice. “About what happened, I mean.”

The king frowned, temporarily taken aback by the sudden subject. Merlin had been incredibly secretive ever since they met and now when Arthur discovered his magic, it often surprised him to have such conversations. He still didn’t learn everything that happened in the tower but then, did he really have to? Was it not enough that Merlin was here, alive?

“I try not to,” he admitted quietly, looking away to focus on the papers laying all over his desk. He should have read them long ago, but there was no energy within his body to do so. “I just want to be happy it’s over.”

“For you, maybe,” Merlin murmured, approaching him. Arthur didn’t like the tone of his voice. It almost felt like his servant was about to cry and he still didn’t know what to do in such situations. “I don’t think things could ever be the same.” I could never be the same, was what he really wanted to say, Arthur knew. And it pained him to agree with this silent statement.

Truth be told, Arthur didn’t think he could be the same, either.

“Is there something bothering you, Merlin?” he asked, which was truly a dumb thing to do. Of course there were many things that had been bothering his friend for ages, and he never found out how to help him. He probably wasn’t even aware of half the things his servant had been through throughout these years of hiding his magic.

The tears that shone in his eyes only confirmed it.

“Merlin,” he repeated, standing up and walking even closer to face the man that stole most of his sleep recently. The pain reflected in his gaze, the same gaze he used to love looking into, it sent something through the king. Something regretful, something he could never explain. “Honestly, I believe I proved to be quite trustworthy. I didn’t put your head on a spike for being a sorcerer, did I? If there are more secrets between us, I’d like to know.”

“Why? I’m just your servant. Useless one, at that.”

“Well, that is already established,” he teased and the eye-roll Merlin gave him made him smirk. His friend chuckled quietly and shook his head, his eyes dropping to the ground in extreme embarrassment. Or, at least, Arthur thought it was embarrassment. A smile disappeared from his face. “Hey, you know I’m joking, right?”

“Really, my lord, I never would have guessed.” The remark came, and this time it was Arthur, who rolled his eyes. A smirk was back, however, as their eyes met. Merlin’s face was enlightened by soft sunrays, making his cheeks look sharper. There was something about this view that made it impossible for the king to turn away. It was rather captivating.

“Then, what is it?”

Merlin let out a heavy sigh, his fingers started fiddling with his tunic.

“I can’t use it,” he whispered. “My magic. It’s been weeks already but I just… can’t. Not even when it comes to the smallest spells, I… there’s something that tells me not to. I can’t force myself to do it even though I try so hard to make it work.” The first tear swam down his pale cheek, and Arthur held back the urge to wipe it away. He didn’t want to risk Merlin bolting out of the room. It happened less frequently now, but still occurred from time to time. “I’m afraid it won’t work again. Like it didn’t in the tower. And what am I to you without my magic? I can’t protect you without it, I can’t even protect myself.”

And suddenly, Arthur understood. And something inside him broke in half. As if Merlin believed his value depended on his magic. As if he wasn’t worth it otherwise. Which was a lie, naturally, Arthur saw Merlin for much more.

Not that he could ever say it out loud. Not in this lifetime, at least.

“Well, Merlin, I believe you are my friend, most of all,” he began with a gentle smile, attracting the sorcerer’s attention, to his delight. “With or without magic. I don’t care. I mean, obviously I do, just not, not about it.” He struggled with words. He didn’t have any experience with feelings and he hated being so open about them. These conversations made him feel uncomfortable and way too vulnerable than he liked. Besides, how could he tell him everything he had stored in his heart for all those years of pretending they’d been only a king and his servant?

He sighed, annoyed with himself and his own stupidity.

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” he tried to explain more, but Merlin laughed at him and shook his head, amused. He frowned in an almost offended way. “What’s so funny now?”

“You are awful at this, my lord. Sentiments really don’t suit you.” The man teased and glanced at his king, his gaze filled with devotion and love he had always buried inside himself. His smile was genuine and bright, and it enlightened the entire chamber along with Arthur’s beating heart. Merlin was beautiful in every meaning of this word, both inside and out. Sometimes, he even wondered how it was possible for one man to stand out like that. If beauty was a sin, Merlin would be the Devil himself.

“Well, I tried to cheer you up,” he shrugged a little bit dismissively and looked around his bedchambers. The sun was shining, the wind was gone, and the day seemed suddenly better. Yet, it was all an illusion; one they both created so the situation could be easier. “So much for your gratitude, Merlin.”

Merlin chuckled quietly and began fiddling with the bedsheets he still held in his hands. He seemed calm and yet, Arthur was quite certain it was only an act. He proved to be a great actor over the years.

“I do appreciate it, Arthur, really,” he sighed finally and gave his king a gentle smile, the one that awoke butterflies in the blond’s stomach. “At times, I just find it hard to get used to the fact you know. I spent almost a decade hiding it from you, from everyone. You can’t blame me for being cautious about it.”

“I know,” the king assured with another tender smile, and sighed calmly. He wanted to say something more as Merlin kept on staring at him like this, but a knock on the door interrupted whatever it was he was thinking about. “Come in!”

There appeared Leon, having attracted both Arthur and Merlin’s attention. It was quite clear by the look on his face something bad happened, or was about to happen. He seemed on edge and for someone so composed and calm as Leon, it must have meant trouble.

“Yes, Leon?” Arthur urged him impatiently when the Knight didn’t say anything for a few long moments. The king’s voice worked on him like a bucket of cold water, though, and he immediately moved to bow.

“I apologise for disturbing you, sire,” he began, clearing his throat. His bright eyes met his king’s and concern was evident although still well-hidden. “There is something you must see. Now.”

“What’s happened?” it was Merlin, who asked and approached the Knight, who glanced at him unsurely.

“Morgana has made a move.”

*

Merlin didn’t really know how he got to Gaius’ chambers. His legs led him there on their own, he didn’t even think about it. The simple mention of Morgana’s name brought something anxious, something painful to his heart. Arthur seemed quite troubled, too. The witch had got so much more powerful than the last time she tried to take over Camelot, Merlin learnt it the hard way.

There was Gwaine, Percival and Mordred in the tower, waiting for them together with Gaius.

“What’s going on?” Arthur asked as soon as he made the first step inside. The physician gave him a curious look, but his eyes in the end landed solely on Merlin.

“It’s better if you take a look yourself, sire.” Gaius claimed but even though he was speaking to the king, his clever gaze never left his apprentice’s face. He pointed at the stretcher next to the table with tinctures, at the body laying on it. It was a Knight.

Terror struck the king and his servant at the same time as they walked over and spotted the man’s face. Or rather, lack of it. There was only skin, no eyes, no mouth, no nothing. It was a gruesome sight, it made Merlin’s blood freeze.

“We found him just outside the border, sire.” Percival answered the question before it could even be asked. Arthur’s wide eyes looked from the disfigured Knight to Gaius, demanding more facts.

“Do you know what it is?”

“I fear so,” the older man nodded sadly. “The skin has grown across his face until he suffocated.”

“Poor lad,” Gwaine muttered under his breath, but nobody reacted to his words. “Such a terrible way to die.”

“But what may have caused this? It isn’t natural, is it, Gaius?” Percival questioned, frowning. Everyone present in the room seemed to be fearful. Discomfort over such a death took its toll on them rather quickly.

“Dark magic,” it was Mordred, who replied instead. All eyes went to him and the Druid swallowed thickly. “It used to be a punishment a long time ago. The High Priestesses considered it a threat, they sent it to their enemies.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, ready to question Mordred’s knowledge on the matter, but then, remembered he was a Druid. He must have learnt about it. It made him wonder if Mordred had magic, just like Merlin. He’d never seen him use it, but wouldn’t it be logical? Weren’t all the Druids sorcerers? And if so, could he truly have been so blind not to notice anything? Two magic users, right under his nose, serving him. It seemed surreal. Like a far scenario that, somehow, was perfectly reasonable.

He would ponder on it later.

“But what did this poor Knight do to deserve this?” he asked instead, trying not to overwhelm himself with these new realisations.

“He did nothing, sire, apart from being a Knight of Camelot.” Gaius finished, his worry more and more evident on his face. “It is a warning to you, my lord. To the entire kingdom. Morgana has officially declared war.”

Nobody moved. Nobody even dared speak as soon as the words left the physician’s mouth. The silence was so haunting and heavy, but Merlin was sure one would be able to hear a needle drop. His face paled visibly and he might have felt the moment his legs gave way as his knees hit the ground, immediately attracting everyone’s attention. His breath was loud and there was ringing in his ears.

“Merlin!” someone called his name, probably Gwaine, and a pair of hands grabbed his arm, lifted him up and led to the chair. Everything moved in slow-motion as he played Gaius’ words over and over in his head.

The prophecy was coming true, was it not? If Morgana had declared war, that would mean she was ready to overthrow Arthur, even kill him if needed. And what about Mordred? Was he still with them? What if he was a spy? What if he was the one who had used the magic on that poor Knight? The dragon told him the boy was going to be Arthur’s undoing. And that Druid seer, his words bothered him a lot, too.
And Merlin couldn’t even make himself use magic for his king. He was completely useless and pathetic. Morgana would win, she would finally win and there was nothing he could do to prevent it from happening. He would lose Arthur and it wasn’t something he was ready for. He’d never be ready for it.

“Merlin, here, drink this.” Gaius’ voice got to him through the ringing, but it was still muffled. He was barely aware of a glass being handed to him, of fingers gently lifting it up to his chin so he could consume the cold liquor. It felt like ice against his burning insides.

Once his vision got better, he blinked the haze away. His eyes focused on the faces around him, on the worried glances and shadows that seemed to loom over him ever since that day. His heart slowed down a bit, but his thoughts were still wildly running across his head.

The Knights were staring at him and he, at last, noticed a hand on his shoulder, holding him firmly and yet quite tenderly. His eyes followed the arm and found the face of a man he wanted to protect with all his might. Arthur’s kind gaze met his own and for a moment neither seemed to want to look away despite so many people in the room with them.

“Are you alright?” his quiet voice asked and Merlin almost cried hearing it. What if Morgana attacked Camelot soon and he wouldn’t be able to hear it anymore? What if it all went wrong? He was powerless, and nobody else could protect his friends from the threat the High Priestess presented.

What if it was her plan all along? What if she had discovered the truth about him? He wasn’t certain how it could come to her, but it wasn’t impossible, surely. What if Mordred had told her? After all, this man had been the only one who knew apart from Gaius and when Merlin had been captured, who had been there to watch over the boy? Nobody else shared his suspicions. The reason why Morgana had decided to leave him alone, without trapping Arthur, still made him lie awake at night. He couldn’t think of a single explanation except for the truth having been discovered.

“I’m fine,” he nodded although he didn’t believe it himself. He sounded like a scared child, like someone who had just lost everything that mattered. “Stop looking at me like that.” he requested even though he wasn’t sure at whom it was directed – Arthur, Gaius, or the rest of the Knights. Maybe all of them. He spent so much time trying to convince them he was alright, that the past events didn’t affect him any longer and now, they all thought he was a weak liar who couldn’t deal.

It wasn’t that far from the truth, but he had been doing alright pretending. He had wasted days on mastering his act, on making sure they wouldn’t suspect a thing, that he was their old Merlin they all seemed to care for. He had been pretending for so long and so much that he almost forgot who he was, that he still had terrible nightmares at night, or that he jumped every time someone called his name, or when there were shadows following him. Things did feel a little bit better after Arthur learnt the truth but still, everything else seemed as hard and heavy.

“Go back to your duties.” Arthur ordered his Knights and they didn’t seem eager to protest. They bowed one by one and left the room. Mordred looked at him one last time before he walked out, as well, and Merlin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He shouldn’t have trusted that man.

“I believe you should lay down, Merlin,” Gaius’ firm voice rang in his ears, but he shook his head, still too focused on steadying his breath to give an audible reply. “You’ve been under too much stress recently. I told you coming back to work immediately was a bad idea.”

“I haven’t been under ‘too much stress’, Gaius,” he hissed, taking a huge breath in. “I’ve been kidnapped.”

“Well, yes, I hardly see it as a relaxing event.” The physician told him firmly and Merlin had no further desire to argue. His vision calmed down a little and he could gather his thoughts, at last. His mentor stayed beside him and Arthur seemed to watch over him like a hawk, his hand still gripping the warlock’s shoulder. For once, he didn’t want to jerk away. It felt quite nice, even though the humiliation for having let them see him in this state would appear later.

“I’m still capable of doing my job whether you believe it or not. This news just, it shocked me, that is all. I’m fine. You can stop fretting over me now.” He snapped, anger bubbling up inside him. He thought he was over the fact that people pitied him, but it still frustrated him as much. He desperately wanted to be his old self, to make everyone stop seeing him as a poor servant who wasn’t strong enough to defend, who got himself caught up in something he was unable to face.

It was not who he was, he wanted them to see it. He wanted to be their Merlin. He just needed some time to return to the life he used to lead. If only they understood it.

“We’re simply worried, Merlin.” it was Arthur, who spoke this time. Merlin wanted to jump to his feet and scream at them to leave him alone, but once he lifted his eyes to meet the king’s, something stopped him. His friend looked… shattered. Almost apologetic. Like he was the one to blame for everything that had happened, including Morgana’s betrayal. He remembered suddenly that there was a war to plan weighing on Arthur’s shoulders and what right did he have to steal his precious time? To make him worry even more? He was such an awful person, should he even be alive at this point? He only burdened those around him.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised quietly, turning his head away. He wanted to be alone and yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to abandon Arthur in time like this. His friend would need his support, his ideas, his utter devotion. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, sire. I’m sorry, Gaius.”

“It is quite alright, my boy,” the elderly man nodded in understanding and squeezed his other shoulder before walking away and approaching the table. “I will go out now to search for herbs I can use to prepare a sleeping draught for you. It will put your mind at ease.”

Nothing will ever put his mind at ease, Merlin thought, but decided against voicing his thoughts. It was not needed. Arthur was still staring at him with those eyes and it made him feel utterly vulnerable. Like he was naked in front of the entirety of Camelot. He didn’t like this feeling, he preferred when his walls were put up high, unbreakable.

He swallowed rather hard and looked away, embarrassed over his moment of weakness. He briefly wondered what the Knights thought of him after that. Perhaps he was better off not knowing.

He barely heard Gaius’ steps getting further away and the door to the chamber closing. Once he realised, however, he looked up. Arthur was still there, patiently waiting for Merlin to say something though what, he himself wasn’t sure.

“I’m sorry,” the sorcerer finally whispered, too afraid to look into his king’s eyes, too uncertain and hopeless. “I didn’t mean to react like this. I don’t know what came over me.”

“You really should stop apologising for things that aren’t your fault, Merlin.” Arthur smiled and, sighing tiredly, sat down next to him in the chair. Their gazes met but the joy of it was rather short-lived, for his friend didn’t seem to be able to handle long eye-contact at the moment.

“Maybe,” the servant nodded stiffly. “I’m still sorry for taking your time like this. Surely, you have a lot to deal with now and I’m not really helping. The war—”

“Forget the war for now, Merlin.” Arthur cut in softly, his smile never fading but eyes screaming of ache he was unable to conceal anymore. Seeing his friend at the moment, looking so small and defeated, it was unbearable. “I want you to rest well first. We will deal with Morgana later.”

“No!” Merlin protested, jumping in his seat and finding Arthur’s eyes. The king raised an eyebrow as the warlock shook his head a few times. “No, Arthur, she’s grown very powerful. She, she might be at our doorstep even tomorrow and I, I need to be there with you when that happens. Even though I’m no use to you without my magic, I can’t let you face her alone.”

“Merlin,” the firmness was back, the authority that made so many people quiver was clear in his voice, but the warlock had never considered it intimidating. He did flinch and stay quiet, however, just to be safe. “I am ordering you to try to get some rest. Everything will be alright once you wake up. There is no need for you to worry.”

“No, no, you don’t understand,” he exclaimed, standing up suddenly like the chair was made of burning coal. He could already feel the walls closing in, he could hear blood pulsing in his ears, the heart beating unsteady rhythm over his hitching breath. “She is too strong, she is, I won’t be able to protect you this time. I’m too weak. I can’t lose you!”

“Merlin, calm down!” the king’s voice erupted in the dim chamber, but it didn’t do much to make his friend cool off. The latter was pacing back and forth, his hands moving hastily as if trying to protect himself from the shadows that still haunted his sleep. “Merlin!”

“No! No, Arthur, I will be powerless against her just like I was in that Tower!” tears pricked his eyes fast and he didn’t bother to stop them. The very thought of Morgana set him off. He couldn’t show her how much she’d hurt him and once they met, she would see. She would glow and use it against him. “I, I can’t face her, not like this, not... not while I still hear these voices, not when I’m scared of my own magic! What use do you have of me in this state?”

He couldn’t see anything now, all the surroundings blurring and spinning wildly. His own heartbeat echoing in his ears was the only thing he could hear, and his hands trembled. He was spiralling out of control. The light was suddenly gone, the darkness came to swallow him up and even Arthur’s worried face became distant.

Morgana waged war and Saxons would soon be fighting in this territory against Arthur. Arthur, whom Merlin was supposed to protect with his life. But he couldn’t. He tried to force himself to use magic, yet his spells didn’t work. He couldn’t find the reason why, but he knew it was already a lost fight. Morgana took away from him the only thing that made him worth anything. She didn’t just break his soul, she tore his life apart and decided to use it against her brother now.

He might have let out a sob. He wasn’t sure.

“Merlin!” the muffled voice cried out his name but he couldn’t concentrate on it. It was too far away. “Merlin, come on, stop this. Look at me.” He knew the man to be Arthur, and he could feel his shadow rest upon himself.

“No, no, I can’t do it, my magic doesn’t work, you don’t understand!” he screamed at last, startling his friend, but the king didn’t appear to be defeated by the unexpected outburst.

“For God’s sake, Merlin,” hands grabbed his cheeks, steadying him and planting his feet in one place. The fingers were warm and shaky, but he didn’t make a move to grab them. “Breathe. You must breathe.”

“I can’t, I—” hyperventilating, he started shaking his head, his vision swimming and tears falling down. The hands hadn’t let him go, but he couldn’t feel this touch as much as he’d like to. The world was way too blurry for it, he was too dizzy, too frightened. His lungs seemed unable to get any air even though he desperately tried to make them.

“Breathe with me, Merlin,” Arthur pleaded and his voice hid every bit of desperation and terror. “Grab my hands.” Automatically, Merlin did. He squeezed the fingers, which still held onto his face. The king grasped his hands, prying them off his cheeks. He held them tightly for a few moments as the warlock tried to breathe. “The ring, Merlin, can you feel my ring?”

He nodded wordlessly, chest still heaving. It hurt, it felt like his insides were being torn apart. Like he had a heart attack. His lungs ached, every single breath he desperately took felt like hot knives in his body. They burnt. They made him bleed. It was almost as if he was being squished between heavy rocks, unable to get out, unable to move or call for help.

“My ring, Merlin, focus on it.” the voice told him again and he ran a thumb over the piece of jewelry, feeling its rough surface. Arthur’s face came slowly into focus, but the dark spots still danced in front of his eyes. “Stay with me.”

But Morgana’s laughing face still flashed in his memory and he wheezed, feeling like everything around him was dying, including himself. He recalled the words she spoke to him, the pride and satisfaction in her eyes as he lay there on the floor, hopeless and crying for help that had not come.

“You’re doing fine. You are safe, you are alright. Concentrate on your breathing. It will pass soon. Count to ten with me.” Arthur instructed, thanking God he once experienced a Knight having a panic attack near him, when he was a teenager.

The shrieks echoed in his head, Morgana's footsteps getting more and more distant. The door closed, the darkness surrounded him once again. Merlin panted, his body trembling and eyes unable to focus.

“Arthur...” he croaked in between his short breaths, desperately clawing at his king's hands. The ring was still there, underneath his fingertips. It was cold. It was real. He was in Camelot, not in the Tower. He would never be there again. "Arthur.”

“Breathe.”

“Arthur…” the servant panted, oxygen seemed to be more accessible now. His vision wasn’t as terrible anymore as he gasped for more air, and he could focus on Arthur’s blue eyes staring at him with such kindness and worry.

“I’m here, Merlin,” the king whispered, squeezing his hand and smiling tenderly. “I’m here, breathe in and out. Everything’s fine.”

The man waited a few moments longer until his vision stopped spiralling, listening to his friend’s voice telling him to breathe, to count to ten with him. The dark chamber he had been locked in before evaporated slowly and the familiarity of Gaius’ chambers came in its place.

“No, no, it isn’t,” he shook his head, almost not recognizing his own hoarse voice. “I can’t use my magic, Arthur. Morgana has an advantage over me, over Camelot. I’ve been trying so hard to make my spells work, but nothing happens. I’m so scared, I don’t want to be powerless again…” he whimpered, realizing now that his tears created a small puddle in between him and the king.

It made him notice they were sitting on the floor.

“I can’t face her…” he repeated in such a quiet whisper that Arthur wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear it. “When I was there, in that, that Tower, it failed me. And now, it will fail me again. It hurts, Arthur. I want my magic back. I want my life back. But she took it away from me. She took everything away from me.”

“No,” the blond informed rather sternly, pulling his hand away only to touch Merlin’s tearful cheek once more. They looked into each other’s eyes, their faces so close that their noses almost collided. “Not everything, Merlin. She didn’t, and she won’t, take me away. I’m still here and I will not let her touch you. You have my word.”

“But my magic—”

“It will come back in its own time. You will find a way, Merlin.”

“What if I’m not strong enough?” the warlock whispered helplessly. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Arthur nodded, his hand caressing the wet face tenderly. “I don’t tell you this very often, but you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” The king stated. He was hardly ever so open about his feelings, but he couldn’t keep it in, not this time. Not while Merlin was on his knees in front of him, crying his eyes out, believing he was nothing.

“I can’t deal with this,” the man admitted, his gaze going down, but warm breath of his friend still hit his skin. “I thought I could. But now, she’s back. She will be back. She will fight. And I don’t know… I don’t think there’s any fight in me anymore.”

“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice softened twice as much, and Merlin didn’t even know it was possible. Hands grasped his cheeks more firmly, and his friend pulled them even closer so their foreheads could brush. “You will get through this. We will get you through this. Together.”

The words came like a punch to his face, utterly bringing him back now. He sniffed, inhaled sharply, and lifted his tearful eyes to stare into his king’s kind gaze. There was a smile on Arthur’s face, a gentle and supportive one, and his eyes seemed to be shining like the brightest of stars on the night sky. Merlin smiled back despite himself, and lifted his own hand to grab the man’s one, squeezing it weakly if only to feel its warmth.

“Together.” He whispered back and let the last tears go. Since the first time in forever, he truly felt like he wasn’t alone. Perhaps he would never be again, perhaps Arthur was all he needed now. He didn’t know, couldn’t tell yet, but he did know that his king was here like he had always been.

Merlin let out a tiny sob of relief and in one moment, their lips connected.

Chapter Text

Arthur felt his heart stop the moment Merlin’s lips brushed his tenderly, as if asking for both permission and forgiveness. He was hardly aware of his own hand raising to cup his servant’s chin, the other one grasping Merlin’s shaking fingers. The touch was electrifying in a way he couldn’t describe. A part of him suspected it had been only an act of desperation on his friend’s part, for he sought closeness among all the other things, but he preferred to believe that it was an act of love. Simple as that.

He didn’t want to argue with it, he just let Merlin’s lips linger for a while longer, trying to calm down the beating of his heart. It danced to the rhythm of their passion, of their devotion and feelings they had yet to uncover. Most of all, he wanted to enjoy this moment. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that there was a war hanging above his head, that Morgana might strike very soon, or that Camelot was in grave danger. Everything that mattered to Arthur was now right in front of him. He didn’t want it to end.

But it did, very unexpectedly and fast as Merlin, awoken from some distant dream he found himself trapped in, jumped away like a startled animal, his eyes widening and mouth hanging open. With a shaky hand, he put his fingers to his lips, watching the king with fear and doubt.

“I…” he began, but it was evident he lacked words. “I am so sorry. I, I didn’t mean to. It was just… I shouldn’t have…”

At first, Arthur didn’t know what to say so he simply stared like a fool he was, dumbfounded and rather surprised. He blinked, licked his lips, shook his head to gather his thoughts. Merlin turned away, tears glittering in his eyes like tiny crystals.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur, I just thought… I’d better go.” The servant mumbled hastily, moving to get up from the floor, not caring that he was in his own rooms, that he had literally nowhere else to go. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Merlin!” the king reacted at last, grabbing his friend’s wrist as gently as he could, and followed him to be face to face. Merlin avoided eye-contact, but did not jerk away from the tender touch. “Don’t go.”

“I must,” the servant argued and did struggle out of the grip, wanting nothing more than to bury himself under the ground, his cheeks burning from both shame and feelings he shouldn’t have, not towards his king. He turned towards the exit, almost broke into a run. “I disgraced you, I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came over me, I—”

The grasp was there again on his wrist, his skin tingling and begging for more. Arthur held him more tightly now and he kept on fighting, barely able to stop his cries, his embarrassment and hatred towards himself. What was he even thinking?

But his body was turned around once more and this time Merlin was pulled in with such force that he bumped into his king’s chest. He immediately decided to apologise, to find an excuse for such insolent behaviour, but nothing got out of his dry throat. Instead, he was held closely and Arthur’s face was inches from his own. Before he noticed, he was being kissed back. It was fierce and passionate, and he managed to mumble only a few protests before giving up to the lust, to the longing feelings he was unable to keep tamed anymore.

He let go of the tension, of the fear and this undying doubt that had been growing inside his mind for ages. Arthur’s hand grabbed his again, held it close to his chest, their fingers intertwining immediately like it was meant to be. His free one went to the back of his head, gripped his hair. The contact was gentle, however, like a soft brush of summer breeze. It slid down to his neck, tickled it tenderly, and Merlin let out a quiet moan that he hoped was not heard. His heart thundered in his ribcage, his thoughts silencing for once. It was cathartic. It was freeing, he had not felt like this ever since Morgana imprisoned him in the Tower.

He almost regretted it when Arthur finally, after what felt like decades but was probably only a few seconds, pulled away. Merlin opened his eyes slowly to see his king gaze into them lovingly, his pupils wide and glare shining with dark desire that soon would be the curse of their joined hearts.

“I don’t understand…” he whispered as it was his only thought right now. “I don’t understand, Arthur.”

His friend, out of all the things he could have done, laughed. It was a quiet and joyful chuckle.

“What is there to be understood?”

“Everything,” Merlin choked out, something wet that must have been his tear slid down his pale cheek. “I’m just your servant. I’m a disgrace to you, how can you not see it?”

“I think, out of us two, it is you who doesn’t see.” His fingers brushed the sorcerer’s neck again, moved to the front, rested upon his chest. Merlin stood there like a rock, unable to form any coherent thought in his head.

He lifted his tearful eyes to stare into Arthur’s once more, their noses brushing, their bodies almost touching. The king’s hand still held his tightly, thumbing his knuckles. He was smiling, this subtle smile not once only Merlin could spot. Arthur’s pale face was lit only by daylight and he found it rather charming.

“See what?” he asked, trying to shrug the shock off. The kiss still lingered on his lips. The worst of it was the fact he actually enjoyed it even though he knew he shouldn’t have.

“How amazing you are.” the latter informed sternly but there was a bit of softness in this tone.

“I am not, Arthur. I’m everything but amazing. I’m not even worthy of your attention and I will fail you. You should give up on me before I break your heart.” he stared at him, crying softly, and Arthur sighed, somehow defeated. He let go of Merlin’s hand and lifted it to touch his face, to caress his wet cheeks and quivering lip.

“Listen to me carefully now,” he began but his voice held some sort of fondness. The empty room stood still and the outside world silenced utterly. “You know I’m not a very open person and I never tell you what I should have told you long ago. But I’m telling you this now, Merlin. You are exceptional and beautiful in every single way. You are wise and strong, and loyal to the point of irrationality. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through in that cursed Tower and I don’t know what those creatures told you that made you doubt yourself so much, but I can assure you none of it was true. Not one thing, Merlin, do you hear me? I refuse to give up on you, whether you believe you deserve it or not because,” here, the king stopped to take a breath in, hesitant at first. But it went too far and there would be no better time to say it. “because I love you.”

“You don’t mean it,” he shook his head immediately, swallowing the lump in his throat. He looked down in shame and disbelief. In his head, all those words didn’t make sense. The demons’ voices were there in the back of his mind, reminding him why that couldn’t be real. Morgana’s face haunted him, laughing and telling him he was going to die alone, that nothing would be the same ever again. And she was right. Merlin did become only a shell of the man he used to be. “You can’t mean it, Arthur.”

The man cupped his chin so they could see each other and thumbed his cheek, wiping away the newest tears that started swimming down his tired face.

“Do you think I would have decided to pour my heart out to you if I hadn’t meant it? Merlin, you know me better than that.”

“You don’t love me, Arthur,” the warlock protested firmly, surprising even himself. His heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest currently and his hands started trembling. Yet, he still refused to pull away and leave. His king was so close, within his reach. His gaze was captivating, holding him in place. “You love the man I once was. You love the idea of that man. But, but I’m afraid that man, that Merlin is gone. And I’m not sure if he’s ever coming back.”

“That man you’re speaking of, he’s the same person who’s standing in front of me now. Perhaps he should believe in himself a little bit more.”

Merlin let out a quiet sob, but it was rather muffled as he tried to hold it back. He kept on staring at his king, watching him carefully and just then did he notice he wasn’t the only one crying, for Arthur’s blue eyes were now filled with fresh tears that refused to spill yet. He already regretted having let his feelings win, it would have spared them both so much pain.

“I’m lost,” he admitted at last quietly and allowed himself to brush his forehead against his friend’s shirt, his hand curling around its delicate fabric. “I can’t find myself again, Arthur. You shouldn’t love someone who doesn’t even know who he is. That will only hurt you and I don’t want to do this to you.”

“So you’re rejecting me because you don’t think I can handle it? Handle you?” his friend pulled away finally, furthering the distance between them, and Merlin wanted to beg for him to stay, to hug him and be there with him. He already missed the warmth and the tenderness in his king’s each touch.

“No,” he whimpered, sniffing, desperate for more contact. “But I will just hurt you, I will fail you. I can’t use my magic anymore, I can’t sleep at night without fear, I can’t live like I used to. Morgana has destroyed me, Arthur, and I will destroy you if I let you love me. And, and I can’t let it happen! You’re destined for far greater things than that.”

“My destiny means nothing if you aren’t there with me, Merlin,” Arthur stressed, approaching once more and grabbing his arm. He was glaring now, this determined look on his face made Merlin’s heart quicken its pace. “And if there is one person I find worthy of my love, it’s you and no one else. Allow me to prove it.”

“I can’t.” he whispered, turning his face away as soon as he realised Arthur had got too close again. He could feel the latter’s warm breath on his skin, it made him shiver. Denying him what he wanted, denying the love he felt, it was the most agonising thing he’d ever done. His head was such a mess, he didn’t know anything anymore. Arthur couldn’t really love him, could he? Not after everything, not when he was such a failure. Merlin shouldn’t have kissed him in the first place. Why did he allow himself such comfort?

“Please…” the grip tightened slightly, desperation stained the sound of his friend’s voice. There was an edge of begging to it. The next tears fell fast and Merlin tried to ignore the nagging feeling of ache in his heart, but it was almost like a few shards of ice crossed his soul, shrouding it with something so cold and heavy.

Yet, he stayed silent, pretending that nothing was shattered inside of him, that he didn’t feel the same towards Arthur. Acting like the kiss didn’t affect him, like it was something he’d easily forget. That it wouldn’t turn out to be another thing to haunt him in his sleep.

He could hear Arthur’s resigned sigh as his hand dropped, leaving Merlin cold. He still refused to lift his gaze to glance at his friend, knowing well he wouldn’t take that saddened look. But it would pass, surely. Arthur was king, and he couldn’t love him. And even if so, Arthur deserved someone much better – someone like Gwen, or Princess Mithian. Everyone but him.

He didn’t react as Arthur started walking away, his steps echoing in the empty room, getting farther and farther, out of Merlin’s reach. With each step his king took, he felt like a piece of him was leaving, too. It hurt, it shattered his every cell, broke his heart and stole something from him, something he couldn’t name.

“Arthur,” he called just as his friend walked over to the doorstep. The man turned around, hopeful and still upset, tears shining on his cheeks. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, the words weighing on him terribly much, like there were rocks pressing against his body, trapping him in a nightmare he would never escape.

“You know, Merlin,” he began rather quietly, all the fight and determination evaporating from his voice. “You are right about one thing,” he swallowed, searching for the servant’s glossy eyes. “You shouldn’t have kissed me if you hadn’t meant it.”

And not giving Merlin a chance to even think of a reply, he left just like that. A shadow of doubt stained the room, the air grew thicker. Merlin could feel his world crumble down. Somehow, he felt more empty than ever and he knew his shattered soul could never get repaired again.

His tears fell on their own, leaving a heavy touch of misery all over the darkened chamber in their wake. The sun stopped shining and Merlin’s world was suddenly frozen.

*

Arthur didn’t see Merlin again after their heated conversation. He could barely stop the tears from escaping his eyes as he was making his way towards his chambers, having told the guards not to let anyone in unless it concerned Camelot’s safety. His heart ached, literally ached. Like it was fighting not to jump out of his chest, not to give up on beating the steady rhythm that was the only sign he was still alive.

Once he got to his rooms, he remembered crying the entire evening until he ran out of tears. He didn’t plan for this to happen, he didn’t plan to kiss Merlin back. He had been shocked at first, and this shock transformed into some kind of flattery, of happiness and acceptance of things he tried to deny for years. Things that, by all means, should be wrong, but weren’t – not to him.

Sometimes, he wondered what his father would say if he had known. Not only did he fall for a sorcerer, but also a servant, a man. That kiss, as haunting as it turned out to be, it was eye-opening. It finally made him stop and think. Not that he hadn’t been aware of those feelings before, but now they suddenly became much clearer. It was like discovering a new world, creating his own fantasy that he’d live with together with someone whom he was ready to give his heart to. He never wanted to fall in love again after Guinevere, but what could he do? His heart wanted what it wanted, after all, there was no escape to it.

That’s why it hurt so much to have been rejected. Because he wasn’t the one to have started the kiss, he wasn’t the one to have run away from it. Everything Merlin did and said, it assured him the feelings were not only real, but also reciprocated. But still, the love he had been denied, it was so distant, so out of reach that it made his soul bleed. Never before had he been so close to something and yet so far away. How could Merlin not see it?

He opened his eyes with a lazy sigh, realising it already was the morning. The events from yesterday played in his head over and over again. He would lie if he said he didn’t regret his words. His temper had always been too short and he often spoke things in the heat of the moment. He never thought about it being an issue. In fact, he never felt the need to apologise and yet, this time he felt he had been wrong.

But he had been in pain and his heart had just got shattered. At least he had to justify himself in this way. He should have known better, but it was hard to think in that moment. He was guilty, though, it was undeniable. Merlin was insecure, he was broken and didn’t believe in himself anymore. Arthur was probably the only one the servant trusted with this entire situation and yet, he trampled him under his foot, pushed him away when Merlin might have needed him the most.

He was such an egoistic prat. Could he even be forgiven? He wouldn’t blame his friend if his apologies would go unheard. It was all he would deserve, probably. He still couldn’t forget the faint ache in his heart as he thought of the way their first kiss went, but he had to stop tormenting himself about it.

Why did it hurt so much, though? Why couldn’t he brush this off like he always did? Even Guinevere’s betrayal didn’t pain him like Merlin’s rejection did. What would she say to him now? Would she forgive him the way he had treated her? Would she hate him for loving someone else, or would she accept it? He would never know. Oh, how he regretted sending her away, too. He considered her punishment quite merciful as to the alternatives, but the lingering thought still tormented him every now and then.

He exhaled one more time before finally deciding to get up. The sunrays tore through the red curtains, enlightening the chamber slightly. He didn’t feel the usual joy that came with the fresh morning air, however. There was too much going on in his mind that he was unable to force even a small smile.

It couldn’t be very early, for he could hear the people outside, doing their chores. The sun was pretty high, too, and he was going hungry. Suddenly, quite a fearsome thought assaulted his mind. Where was Merlin? Why didn’t he wake him up? Arhtur didn’t want to play this weird cat and mouse game again, he didn’t want to pretend it didn’t hurt him when his servant looked away every time their eyes met, or when he purposely avoided him.

Without wasting more time, he quickly put on his shirt and ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to look at least a little bit appealing. The people shouldn’t see their king in such a terrible state, it was one of the few things he could agree on with his father.

When he was ready, he left the bedchambers, passing by the guards and some servants, but none of them were Merlin. Many of them avoided him, in fact, and he couldn’t blame them. When he was in a bad mood, it was simply better for everyone not to get in the way. After all, the information spread very fast in Camelot and it was not unlikely that people saw him storm out of Gaius’ chambers yesterday.

“Merlin!” he called rather loudly as soon as he stepped inside the physician’s tower. Inside, he found Gaius leaning over the table, writing something down and preparing medicine from the herbs he must have gathered earlier. The man jumped when the door opened, and Arthur stopped in the doorway. “I’m sorry, Gaius, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What’s happened, sire?” the elder asked, ignoring the apology. By the look on his king’s face, he could tell something was going on, that there was some crisis to be prevented. Then again, ‘a crisis’ for Arthur Pendragon could mean one lost shirt, or the whole war.

Gaius was too old for this.

“Merlin. Where is he?” the firmness in his voice disappeared as he noticed the puzzled look on the latter’s face. Like he didn’t know anything about it. It made Arthur frown. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

“No, sire,” Gaius shook his head, leaving the potions he was making on the table, and approached the king. “I didn’t see him this morning. I thought he’d left before I woke up. I was certain he is with you.”

“Well, apparently, he isn’t.” Arthur’s heart suddenly began beating faster. He looked around as if it could help him find the answers but when it didn’t aid him, he just walked past the physician, going straight to Merlin’s room. It was empty, the bed was made and everything appeared to be cleaner than it should be. “Do you know where he might have gone?” he asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. It was hard to focus, hard to breathe even. The worst of thoughts kept on screaming in his head, telling him it was his fault, that something bad had happened.

“No idea, sire. Once I gave him the draught yesterday, I haven’t heard from him at all. I assumed he was deeply asleep for once. He’s had trouble with it since his return.”

“I need to find him,” Arthur stated, but there was an edge of panic in his tone. It reminded him all too well about the day his friend disappeared. This time, however, it would be fully his fault. “He couldn’t go far.”

“Maybe he just went for a walk, it wouldn’t be the first time.” Gaius explained although his justification didn’t convince even himself. A pang of worry hit his heart and he looked for similar feeling in Arthur’s blue eyes. It was clear as day to him. “I’m sure there is no need to panic.” he lied because deep in his heart, he felt there was every need to panic.

“No,” the blond shook his head firmly. He started pacing back and forth around the dimmed room, all the what ifs getting too heavy way too quickly. “No, Gaius, you don’t understand. He must be found.”

“Well, forgive me my curiosity, sire, but is there something you are not telling me?”

The silence could serve as an answer itself. Arthur wasn’t keen on admitting to what exactly happened, though. He’d rather find Merlin and discuss it with him. What if he ran away and would never come back? It would be all his own fault.

“No, why? Did he say something?” he asked instead, but it was quite obvious he was hiding the truth. The older man was watching him cautiously, as if trying to read through him.

“He was acting strange, that is all,” Gaius shrugged eventually. “He refused to tell me why, however.”

Arthur nodded, somehow relieved. It didn’t calm him down utterly, though, and he let out a shaky sigh, looking around as if it could help him gather his thoughts.

“I will tell my Knights to start a search and see if his horse is still in the stable. If he’d left at night, he couldn’t have gone too far.” He simply stated and, without awaiting any response, left the room (almost ran out of it, in fact). Gaius kept on staring at his retreating form for a few moments, but Arthur pretended he didn’t feel his burning glare. He was too afraid the truth would come out if he did as much as look the physician’s way.

The questions he kept on silently asking himself were like torture. What if Merlin hadn’t escaped but got kidnapped again? He had no doubt Morgana would try everything to make him surrender and using his friend as a leverage seemed quite brilliant. He needed Merlin more than air, more than anything the world could offer him. His sister knew it and that was precisely why she was dangerous.

After all, he wouldn’t be able to sacrifice his kingdom for Merlin and losing him would destroy every bit of his soul. He’d become a ghost, a shell of the gracious king people thought him to be. He almost imagined his life without his servant, without those pair of azure blue eyes staring at him every morning, or his deep voice that felt like the most wonderful music Arthur’s ears ever heard. He could already feel the burden of those dark days, of the sunless sky and soulless kingdom.

No, that was not in the cards. Whether Merlin decided to leave on his own, or was captured by the enemy, Arthur would find him. He would rather die than let it end like this.

Chapter Text

The day had been incredibly long and grey in Arthur’s eyes. Everything moved in slow-motion and he seemed to be deaf to the cheerful laughter of his people, his Knights. Life in Camelot looked normal even though to him, it was worse than Hell. Worry had not let go of his burdened heart, and he couldn’t focus on whatever it was they were discussing at the meeting right now.

He sent so many patrols to the forest, told his Knights to search the Lower Town, too, but they had found no trace of his servant. Merlin completely vanished from the Earth and Arthur was slowly losing hope. At least he still held onto the thought that, if it had been Morgana, she would have let him know so far.

It didn’t make him feel any better, though.

Sir Leon was now talking about his findings on the patrol concerning Morgana’s army, it appeared she had not yet been ready to attack. Arthur wouldn’t put it past her if she had decided to surprise them. Honour was lost on her, after all, and he didn’t expect anything less than dirty tricks from her.

Besides, every time he thought of Morgana, he had Merlin in mind. How broken he had been because of his sister. How could she change so much that she wanted to hurt someone who had been a friend to her? He would never understand it, neither would he forgive.

When the meeting was over and he was about to retreat to his bedchambers, Mordred and Gwaine walked in, having just returned from their search.

“We found no sign of Merlin in the forest, sire. And his horse hasn’t been taken. He must be still in Camelot.” Mordred informed him and despite the circumstances, Arthur did feel relief. If his friend was in the castle, it meant he was safe.

Still, he worried terribly much.

“Search the castle, then. I want every single corner of it checked.”

His Knights exchanged looks.

“Arthur, it’s pointless. It isn’t the first time he ran away like that and he came back every time on his own. We aren’t going to find him.” Gwaine spoke, glaring at his king. Arthur had been moody and dealing with him had been exhausting, but he was never the one to back away. He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, even if it might get him in trouble.

“Did you not hear me well, Gwaine?” the blond asked sternly, anger and irritation staining his voice. His eyes held both hot fire and tiredness. “I want the castle searched. That’s an order and if you don’t want to spend the night in the stocks, you’d better move to follow it.”

His Knight was glaring daggers at him for a few rather long moments, but Arthur withstood it proudly, not giving in. He was determined to do everything he could to get Merlin back. He needed to see him, wanted to explain his words, apologise. His guilt was eating him up from the inside, making him miserable. He hated living this way. He hated being apart from his servant – and this time it was all because of him.

“Fine,” Gwaine said finally, his eyes still shining with stubbornness and anger. “But don’t be surprised when we don’t give you good news in the evening.”

Arthur did not say anything to it, just waited for his friend to go away, leave him at peace. In spite of being quite upset, he had no desire to argue, not even with Gwaine. He knew, of course, that his Knight only wanted what was best for Merlin, that he worried as much, but nothing could ever fill this emptiness that claimed his whole heart the moment he realised his servant might not want to see him ever again. Sometimes, he couldn’t help himself and let his frustration go, taking it out on the others (‘the others’ being most often Gwaine, for he seemed to love arguing with him).

His Knight left without anything more to say, but Arthur could still feel a person’s shadow upon his being. It was Mordred, who hadn’t even moved from where he was standing. The king frowned and lifted his eyes to meet his youngest warrior’s glare.

“Is something wrong, Mordred?” he asked when the latter didn’t speak up.

“No. Well, yes, actually,” the man began nervously, his hands flailing in anxious manner. “I just meant to ask if you are alright, my lord. You don’t seem well.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine, there is no need to worry. Do go and get some rest now. Gwaine will handle himself for the evening.”

“I will, my lord,” Mordred smiled but was still quite reluctant to leave. Arthur didn’t want to be angry, but he was growing slightly annoyed. “Forgive me, sire, for I know it’s not my place to ask, but has something happened between you and Merlin?”

“No, why?” Arthur replied a little bit too quickly to be believable. He turned away from Mordred next and sat down by his desk. For once, all the documents had been taken care of and it was incredibly clean. He had been forced to occupy his mind with this or else, he would have gone mad.

“He ran away so suddenly.” The latter shrugged and found enough courage to make a few steps closer to the king. “And he’d been doing quite well these past few days. I guess I just assumed… I’m sorry for asking. I know it isn’t my concern.”

Despite his poor mood, Arthur cracked a small smile.

“You are an observant man, Mordred,” he claimed softly and finally did look at the young Knight. “But I’d rather not share anything right now.”

“I understand,” the Knight smiled kindly and bowed. “I will leave you to rest now, my lord. If there is anything you need from me, I will gladly help you.”

And then, the realisation dawned on him like a burst of sudden light. Mordred was a Druid. Arthur thought it would be safe to assume he also had magic. Why he never connected the dots, he wouldn’t guess, but it would make sense. This man could give him answers to questions that had been tormenting him for the longest time.

“Now as I think of it, stay,” he stopped him before Mordred even opened the door. “There is something I’d like to discuss with you.”

The Knight halted and Arthur pretended he didn’t see the glint of hope shining in his eyes. They enlightened with cheerfulness and that innocence of the youth. Merlin’s eyes shone like this once, too, but these times were long gone. They would probably never return.

“You are a Druid, is that not true?” he asked, not willing to spend more time on it than necessary. Mordred took a step back, unaware of the gesture, and the king chose to speak up before the other man ran away. “It is alright, Mordred, I am not going to harm you. We met once, when you were a boy. You escaped death that day.”

“I thought you forgot, sire,” the man claimed, a soft smile gracing his lips although it was rather forced. “You did save my life, and I saved yours in return when Morgana captured you. For that, I ask for mercy if you decide to punish me. I do no harm, nor do I plan on hurting you. I haven’t used magic ever since I arrived at Camelot.”

“No, Mordred, I don’t want to punish you,” Arthur immediately protested, waving his hand to let him know it was safe to come closer and sit down. Mordred did although the look of puzzlement on his face would haunt the king for long. Not only had he been blind, but he also left his own friends terrified of what he might do shall he learnt the truth. “I promise you can speak freely on the subject, I merely want to hear your take on something that troubles me.”

“Oh,” the Knight exclaimed, still confused, but his body relaxed a little and Arhtur took it as his personal success. “Then, I will be glad to be of assistance, my lord.”

“It’s about Merlin.”

“Merlin? I’m sorry, sire, I appreciate your thoughtfulness, and any other subject might be good for me to advise on, but I don’t think I can help you with anything concerning him. He’s been very distrustful of me.”

Arthur held back the urge to crack another smile. He had heard of the issues Merlin and Mordred had, but he didn’t think it was so serious. His friend was always quite overprotective when he wanted to be and up to this moment, the king had seen no reason to change it.

“So I’ve heard,” he claimed quietly. “But still, you might be the only one able to help me. I believe you must be aware of, of his secret, as well, aren’t you?”

Mordred swallowed thickly, but his posture seemed to have relaxed a little bit more. The fear had passed and it was a good sign. Arthur counted it as progress.

“Well, yes, my lord, all Druids know about him. He is said to be the most powerful sorcerer walking on Earth. We call him Emrys.”

Arthur still doubted the ‘most powerful sorcerer’ part, considering the fact his servant was the clumsiest and the most careless man in the entire kingdom, but he let it pass for now. He had other things to discover instead of focusing on some beliefs.

“And you must also be acquainted with the topic of the Dark Tower.”

“Indeed, my lord,” Mordred nodded. “We are taught to be wary of that place. To fear it, as it is a place so dark and dangerous, even for the most powerful sorcerers. It serves to torture the soul and break its spirit. Merlin must be very devoted to you if he’d survived. I know of nobody else who managed to do so.”

Arthur’s heart was squeezed by the sudden and strong feeling of grief because yes, Merlin had survived, but at what cost? Mordred didn’t know about even half the things Arthur had witnessed. He didn’t see him break down on the floor, he didn’t watch him drown in panic at the very mention of Morgana, and most of all, he wasn’t there when he explained to the king how worthless he was, and how it was impossible to love him.

“Do you know if it can steal someone’s magic?” he asked, ignoring the nagging emotions of sadness and regret, and everything else that his heart had stored.

“No,” Mordred frowned. “I don’t think it can. To steal someone’s magic, an ancient ritual must be performed. It takes a sorcerer of great power to do it successfully. The Tower itself doesn’t have magic.” He finished and then, realisation dawned upon him. His eyes widened. “Did Merlin lose his abilities, sire?”

“He claims so,” Arthur’s voice cracked. “He can’t use his magic, but he told me Morgana didn’t do anything to him. That she didn’t even touch him. Is there a way she could have taken it away without any form of contact?”

“That can’t be possible,” Mordred mumbled although it was more to himself than to his king. “His magic couldn’t have disappeared just like that.”

“Why can’t he use it, then?”

The silence took control of the chambers for a few good moments. Both men got lost in their heads, the sun was slowly setting behind the window, and the noise from the outside had died down.
Then, Mordred, jumped in his seat, his face brightening up.

“What if his inability to use magic doesn’t come from the actual loss, sire?” he asked and Arthur frowned, urging him to continue. “What if it comes from his fear of it?”

“What? What do you mean? He can’t be scared of his own magic, that’s absurd.”

“My lord,” Mordred leant in to get closer to his king. “Merlin is powerful, but he isn’t unbreakable. The Tower, it’s a terrible place. It’s a place of one’s nightmares. Having spent so much time there… it is only admirable he can still function, sire. But at one point, he must have tried to use his magic, and it would have failed him, for there is no escape from that place once the door is sealed from the outside by the High Priestess’ magic. Morgana locked him there, and he wouldn’t have got out on his own, magic or not. It must have left him frightened.”

“Why do you think so?”

“People like us, we rely on our magic heavily, my lord. If it fails us, it feels like we fail also ourselves. I imagine Merlin had used it a lot of times in the past to save himself so when he couldn’t do so in the Tower, it impacted his mind.”

It made sense, Arthur thought. All the conversations about the subject of Merlin’s magic played in his head, and he remembered his friend admitting to being unable to force himself to use it. It still worried him, but at least he could be sure now that Morgana hadn’t hurt him in any other way, that she hadn’t taken away something so precious to his servant. It was comforting.

Then again, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how painful the experience must have been to Merlin. Arthur should have protected him. Most of all, he shouldn’t have said what he did last night. He should have been there for him.

“Do you think he suffered a lot in that Tower?” he asked his Knight unexpectedly, not realising the tears filled his eyes. “Do you think he was in pain?”

“I don’t know, my lord,” Mordred shook his head, uncertain. “The Tower hides many secrets. We can never discover all of them.”

Arthur nodded absent-mindedly, playing with his pen in between his fingers.

“I said something stupid, Mordred.” he didn’t look at his Knight, didn’t feel the need to. He couldn’t bear that bright gaze at the moment, but without Merlin and Guinevere by his side, there was no one to talk to. “And now, I’m facing the consequences.”

“He will be found, sire,” the latter assured him with a kind smile, but Arthur didn’t react, buried too deep in his thoughts. “He would never abandon you. Besides, I do have a feeling Merlin would forgive you even if you ordered his death.”

And without awaiting a response, he stood up and bowed to his king, wondering how Morgana could have declared war on such a just human being. Arthur Pendragon was a man of power, he could execute him as they spoke, but he refused to do so. Instead, his worries focused on Merlin, and Merlin only despite him having magic. He knew then, that the woman he once knew, the one that had saved his life, was wrong. That she was too far gone. She didn’t see the good that was stored in her brother.

Mordred smiled at himself as he was walking out of the room, feeling that, for once, he made the right choice and joined the side of light.

*

Gwaine was tired. Exhausted, even. Being forced to deal with moody Arthur was one thing, but having to run around the castle in search of the wind was the other. He knew by now that Merlin could hide really well when he wanted to be invisible and it was like looking for the needle in the haystack. Besides, no one but Arthur seemed to know details of his friend’s disappearance and he simply refused to speak about them. It was irritating and Gwaine was worried.

Remembering how Merlin reacted the last time he was touched, it left him feeling anxious. Everyone felt the same way, and even the practice today was as dull as it could be without his friend’s snarky comments. The only good thing that came of it was the fact they could watch Arthur kick some new Knight’s backside during the sparing. That fool dared to call Merlin a simple servant that wasn’t worth the time of half the army that had been sent to search for the missing man. Gwaine would have gladly done the same if there had been something left of that Knight after the fight.

The day neared its end, and the sun started hiding behind the horizon, sending a soft glow to the skyline and everything below. It was rather a beautiful view. He, however, wasn’t keen on admiring it. Tonight, he didn’t even want to go to the tavern. Truth be told, he, too, was concerned about Merlin. His previous disappearance changed Arthur a lot, but it also changed him. He couldn’t stop thinking about his friend, sleeping wrapped up in his king’s cloak, so thin and terrified of the monsters that were visible only to him.

He would never see Merlin in this state ever again, even if it cost him his life.

He locked himself in his room, wanting nothing more than to sleep until everything in Camelot would be back to normal. The kingdom had changed a lot recently. Not only because of the threat of war. Gwen’s banishment affected Elyan’s mood, Merlin’s state of mind constantly worried Arthur, and all the Knights seemed to be on edge, too. What used to be a joyful kingdom was now filled with fear for the future and regret of the past. It was annoying and upsetting.

He closed his eyes as soon as he flopped down onto his bed and allowed himself to drift off to the dreamless sleep, but somehow, it wouldn’t come. Instead, his thoughts ran around his head, making the rest unachievable to him even though he tried so hard to just relax, rolling from one side to the other as if it could help him find peace of mind.

A sudden noise from the corner worked on him like cold water and he snapped his eyes open, sitting up immediately and looking around for intruders. The noise disappeared, but Gwaine could swear there was a shadow looming in the other side of the dark chamber.

“Who are you?” he asked foolishly, and instinctively reached for the sword he always kept next to his bed just in case. “Show yourself!” he pointed the blade at the silent shadow, but it didn’t even flinch.

For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating, or that it was just a dream, that he managed to fall asleep after all, but no, it felt too real. Way too real to be his mind’s trick.

“You either come out, or I’ll run you through where you stand.” He threatened, his voice holding danger he never knew he was capable of presenting.

The shaky exhale left the intruder’s lips as he stepped closer. The silhouette looked familiar to Gwaine’s eyes and he narrowed them to focus more on the thin frame he thought he knew. Blue eyes were staring at him in the darkness and he finally recognised the clothes, the shape, the hair. He lowered his sword.

“Merlin?” he called quietly, approaching the figure slowly. Relief washed over him as his friend’s silhouette came into full view and Gwaine might have let out a soft laughter. “Merlin, you bastard! Where have you been? The entire army of Camelot’s been looking for you!”

“I’m sorry,” the other man breathed out and Gwaine noticed just then that his friend wasn’t alright. There were tears heard in his voice, sadness and despair that would throw everybody off track. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go. Please, don’t tell anyone.”

“What happened? Are you hurt?” he asked seeing the miserable state of the servant that made the whole kingdom anxious all day. “Is something wrong?”

Merlin did not say anything. Instead, he turned around and went to the corner, slid down the wall and rested his head on his knees. Gwaine frowned but followed his steps, settling down beside him. His friend was crying softly, refusing to meet his worried gaze.

“You know you can tell me everything.” He encouraged, unsure what else to do.

“I know.”

“Then, what happened? Arthur’s been losing his mind. Everyone’s been very worried. They thought Morgana… they suspected her.”

“I made a mistake, Gwaine. I did something really stupid.” The servant croaked quietly, his voice barely audible, but there was so much layers of pain to this tone, so much to unravel and discuss. “Something unforgivable.”

“What, you killed someone’s dog?” he joked. Merlin shook his head. “Did you, I don’t know, make something explode, then?”

A shake of the head again.

“Did anyone lose their limb because of what you did?”

Another shake of the head. Gwaine smirked although it was invisible to his friend.

“Well then, I believe we can still fix whatever it is.”

This time, a chuckle, a soft and genuine chuckle, left Merlin’s mouth and Gwaine’s heart was flattered.

“So,” he started, sudden optimism growing in him anew. If Merlin was here in this room, at least it meant he wasn’t hurt. That Morgana didn’t attack him again. That was enough for now, he could live with it. “What’s so unforgivable that made you run away and hide in my room all day?”

Merlin’s face suddenly got darker. His eyes were filled with new tears and the smile immediately disappeared as he turned away to focus on the floor. He couldn’t take Gwaine’s kind gaze, for he didn’t deserve it.

“I broke Arthur’s heart.”

The silence that came was rather long and heavy, it screamed at him. The haunting emptiness he felt got twice as painful, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a quiet sob, wiping his tears away. Gwaine was his friend, but crying in front of him didn’t make him comfortable at all.

“You did what?” the Knight repeated in disbelief, blinking a few times as if it could wash the confusion away. “Broke whose heart?” he asked, like the thought of Arthur having a heart was a foreign concept. Gwaine knew his king, of course, and he knew he did feel strongly about his people (especially Merlin) and his kingdom. It wasn’t really unexpected, but he found it quite surprising nevertheless.

“I broke his heart, Gwaine, and he hates me now. I just, I wish I could take my actions back.”

“What actions?”

Merlin’s blush was evident, though if it was out of embarrassment or shyness, he couldn’t tell. He still refused to look his friend’s way, like the truth was easier when he didn’t have to face anyone.

“I…” he began sheepishly, his Adam’s apple bopping as he swallowed. He didn’t pay attention to his tears anymore. They didn’t matter, Gwaine had already seen them. “I kissed him.” He whispered so quietly that it took a moment for his friend to catch his words.

Once he did, however, his eyes widened though it was not out of shock the mentioned action caused. Then, his demeanor changed, body relaxed, and a chuckle left his throat as he pressed his head against the cool wall behind him.

“At last.” Was the one thing he thought of saying.

Merlin frowned and looked at his friend through his tear-filled eyes. Gwaine kept on smiling.

“What?”

“Merlin, don’t take it the wrong way, but we’ve been waiting for you two to stop pining after one another for ages.” He claimed cheerfully, never looking away from the warlock. His smile dropped, however, because he knew that, if Merlin was crying in front of anyone, that would mean he had really been suffering. “Why do you think that broke his heart, anyway? The chances are, he actually wanted it.”

Merlin shook his head because he knew Arthur wanted it. He knew he enjoyed it. And what was the worst of it all, he himself liked it, as well. And that was exactly the problem. He shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have even thought of getting closer to his king, whether Arthur felt like it was right or not.

“You don’t understand, Gwaine,” he stated quietly, sniffing. “I messed everything up for him. Because he kissed me back. And that was wrong. He, he shouldn’t have. I’m just his servant. I’m a nobody, and he’s a king. If I hadn’t tempted him, he wouldn’t have done that.”

“But what exactly seems to be an issue?” the Knight asked and he let out a small chuckle of disbelief. How was it possible that no one understood?

“He shouldn’t have kissed me back, Gwaine,” he croaked, blinking some fresh tears away, trying to stop himself from crying, but his attempts were rather unsuccessful. “I don’t deserve this. He denies it, but I know. He is worth much more than me and he can’t see it. So I had to, I just had to push him away, Gwaine, so he doesn’t make a mistake of falling in love with me. I let him hate me because it felt easier that way. But, but it still hurts.”

Gwaine was stunned, unable to form any coherent thought in his head for the time being as he realised how bad Merlin’s state of mind was. Truth be told, he chose not to meet him after the rescue mission, preferred to avoid him instead, only because he was sure his friend wasn’t ready to talk about what happened to anyone who wasn’t Arthur. The rest saw it, too. Perhaps it was wrong, but they had no idea what else to do. Merlin had always been strong, he hardly ever got even scratches after battles. To see him like this was something very shocking, to say the least.

“Merlin, has it occurred to you that Arthur knew what he was doing? That he wanted to kiss you despite whatever it is your head’s telling you?”

“Yes, of course it has, Gwaine!” Merlin exclaimed loudly, almost impatiently. “But it still is so, so wrong, so shameful. I much prefer him hating me for the rest of his reign than allowing him to waste his life on me. As I said, falling in love with me would be his biggest mistake in life. I had to stop it.”

“Merlin,” Gwaine’s voice softened twice as much as he lowered it to a whisper. It attracted Merlin’s attention almost immediately. “I think it’s way too late for that. It has always been too late for that.”

The warlock’s thoughts all halted like a sudden spell was cast upon himself. The words refused to register in his head. It couldn’t be true. Everyone else just couldn’t see it. How could he let such a mess happen? It was true he shouldn’t have made a move on Arthur, the king was right about it, but still, the heart told him to run to his friend now and apologise, to kiss him again and forget about tomorrow.

Yet, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t disgrace Camelot further. It didn’t matter if Arthur felt the same, which he definitely didn’t.

“No,” he laughed, it was a choked laughter of disbelief. “You’re mistaken. Surely, he doesn’t… he can’t really… He loves the illusion of me, Gwaine. I’m not the same person anymore. And once he realises it, he will be crushed. This is what I want to avoid.”

“You underestimate the weight of his feelings, Merlin.” The man smiled, changing his sitting position to settle in front of the warlock. The raven-haired was glaring at him, silent. “He loves you now just as much as he did ten years ago. It is quite clear to me. He would go to the end of the world for you, you can’t not see it.”

And Merlin tried so hard to protest, to tell him how terrible that lie was, but he couldn’t. Something stopped him. Because Arthur did go to the end of the world for him, he rescued him from that horrid place, kept him close ever since that day. Arthur knew how bad his state was but never turned away from him. But it couldn’t be because of his feelings, could he? His king was a good man, he would do the same for anyone else, certainly.

Right?

“I will disappoint and fail him without my…” he cut off abruptly, realising it was still a secret he shared with his king. Merlin wasn’t even sure if Gaius knew Arthur found out. They had not spoken about it yet. “He will be upset with me sooner or later.” He corrected, aware of the fact it sounded awful. It was such a feeble excuse.

But he couldn’t let his heart love a man that was so out of his league. Merlin was weak now, weaker than ever. Arthur couldn’t rely on him anymore and that would be their undoing. Their feelings would cloud the bright future of the kingdom.

Gwaine stayed quiet for a while longer, wondering what he should say next. He had always known, deep down, that Merlin had a secret he guarded with his life. He had been suspecting the roots of said secret, too, but he never wanted to push. Neither would he do so now.

“Well, Merlin, I still believe you should talk to him. He’s been worried sick about you, sent the patrols to search for you the whole day. He looked terrible, you know. And if it doesn’t tell you how much you mean to him, then I don’t know what will. Give him a chance. Give yourself a chance, too.”

“I don’t deserve one.” He mumbled, pressing his head against his knee, sighing helplessly.

“At least go see him,” Gwaine told him, feeling that continuing the conversation would bring nothing new. He didn’t know how he could help. Truth be told, he thought the world of Merlin, how come the man didn’t see his own worth? Morgana would have to pay for making him think that way. “And if you don’t want to do it for yourself, then do it for the rest of us because there is no way we can get through another day of Arthur being extra grumpy.” He attempted a joke to ease the atmosphere and it seemed to have worked, for his friend let out a soft chuckle, finally.

The sound echoed quietly around the chamber, enlightening it with happiness. Gwaine could listen to it forever. It wasn’t that often Merlin laughed like this, not in the recent time at least. If only there was a way to fix it.

“Come now,” he said at last, as if awoken from haze. The warlock glanced at him silently although the smile was still there on his face. It soothed Gwaine’s worried insides, for sure. He patted his arm, moving to get up. “We can go talk to him together, if you want. Or… we can just stay here and eat something. You must be hungry and don’t even try to tell me otherwise.”

Merlin opened his mouth to protest but the sparkle in his eye returned and in the end, he just followed his friend and stood up.

“I’m starving, actually.” He claimed more cheerfully now.

“Good thing I happened to visit the kitchens earlier. Awful security they have, I’d say.” Gwaine grinned widely, pointing at the small table in the corner of the room. The candles were lit, the soft glow shining over the surface. There was rather a large piece of meat on it. A part of a boar, it would seem.

They both sat down and for a moment, Merlin forgot all about the pain. He simply wanted to enjoy himself for once, without worries or doubts that had been present in his life a little bit too much lately. Yes, things could wait. He would see Arthur later, when he was ready.

Chapter Text

Everything seemed to be horribly quiet and the silence felt like it was spreading with his each echoing step. His heart was pummelling in his chest as he tried to take deep breaths in, his sweating hands hanging loosely by his sides.

The big door to the chambers felt twice as huge as he remembered, and he felt incredibly tiny in these empty halls. Twice or thrice he raised his hand to knock, but every time he gave up, dropping it in the end and turning away to go, only to change his mind a second later.

It was already late, the moon was in the very middle of the black sky, prowling in silence of the dark night. He briefly wondered if he shouldn’t be coming back to Gaius, to his bed. The elderly man must have been worried about his disappearance. It was rather unfair to keep himself hidden from his mentor and yet, he wasn’t ready to see anyone else who would fret over him like he was a little child (and he wasn’t looking forward to a lecture, either).

Finally, he stepped as close to the door as possible, lifting his hand but choosing not to knock. He never knocked, for heaven’s sake. He wasn’t even expecting that anyone would be waiting for him. George must have already been here in the evening, prepared his king for the night, but Merlin felt like he couldn’t prolong it anymore. Gwaine was right, there was much to discuss between them and he couldn’t run away forever. Arthur would see reason sooner or later, he would make sure of that.

He opened the door and walked in, fully expecting the chamber to be dark and cold, with his king sleeping soundly in his bed, wrapped up in the sheets he would need to change in the morning.

Yet, amazement and something akin to fear washed through him as he looked at the table, at the candle still burning softly. At its warm light and finally, at the man sitting in a chair near it. His head was facing the wall opposite and the door to the antechamber, but as soon as Merlin walked in, the noise of his unsubtle entrance echoed around and attracted the latter’s attention.

Blue eyes immediately lightened up and he jumped out of his seat, immediately concentrating on the man who just stepped in.

“Merlin,” the one whispered word held so many feelings that the servant couldn’t define. Hope, sadness and relief all mixed together, and the king approached him, grabbing his forearm. “Are you alright? Where have you been?”

The warlock kept his mouth shut for a few long seconds, staring at Arthur with puffy eyes that had shed too many tears as of late.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, trying to find the blond’s gaze. “Please, forgive me. I know I shouldn’t have made you send patrols for me in times of war. It was a waste of time.”

“Merlin, you utter idiot,” Arthur huffed and let go of his thin arm. It was only, however, because he wanted to pull him into a hug, which he did. It was tight and warm and for once, Merlin couldn’t have felt safer. “Nothing that concerns you is a waste of time, do make effort to remember it in the future.”

“Don’t say that,” he let out a hoarse chuckle, denying the words entirely. “We both know it isn’t true.”

“It is to me.”

“Then, that’s another mistake on your part.” Merlin claimed quite sternly, pulling away from his king and making a few steps away to face the wall and the window outlooking the courtyard.

“Another?” Arthur frowned, crossed his arms over his chest, and sighed, connecting the missing dots. “Merlin, what I said to you earlier, it was not a mistake. I meant every single word and I know I’m speaking the truth you are trying so hard to deny.”

“I’m not denying anything, Arthur,” Merlin exhaled and turned around to glance at his friend. His hand went to his shoulder, rubbed it nervously as if he was breaking under the pressure of that clever glare. “It is you, who fails to see it. But, but I’m here to fix this, I’m here to make you understand that me and you can never be.”

“Why not?” the latter asked, making a step closer and reaching for the warlock’s trembling hand. “Merlin, I was honest with you, so be honest with me, too. Why are you trying so hard to push me away? You wanted to kiss me, I know you did.”

“N-no,” he shook his head, but his hand still stayed in Arthur’s firm grasp. He fought the urge to squeeze it, it was already too much that he was letting his king touch him in this manner. “No, it was a moment of weakness. It was, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to.”

Arthur squeezed his hand on his own without awaiting permission. He didn’t need any and they both seemed to be aware of it.

“So if that’s the truth, then why are you here now? You keep coming back, Merlin, and I don’t think it’s only because of your sense of duty. You run away from your feelings, but you aren’t able to fool anyone. Why fight it? Why pretend you feel nothing towards me? You kissed me, Merlin, and didn’t protest when I kissed you back. You enjoyed it.”

“No!” he cried, finally jerking away from the man’s gentle grip. His heart was beating so loud now that he was sure both of them could hear it. The night was still silent and for a moment, he was afraid their voices would attract someone’s attention. “No, Arthur. We can’t be, there is no way to make it happen. You don’t love me, you can’t love me, I already explained it to you. You must let it go.”

“Well, I don’t want to.” Arthur shrugged, the eyes glistening in the light of the candle, half of his pale face visible, the other darkened by shadows. Yet, Merlin was able to see his sharp features, his strong jaw and full lips he could still taste on his own. “And you didn’t deny it. You claim we can’t be, not that you don’t love me.”

The king was making firm steps towards him and he responded accordingly, making a few backwards until his back hit the wall. Arthur was so close now that it was possible to smell his scent, to feel his hot breath upon his skin.

“Let it go.” He whispered helplessly as tears pricked his eyes and he held them all back like it would tell all of his secrets if he didn’t. He placed his hand on the man’s chest to stop him from closing the gap between them. “Please.”

“I won’t allow my heart to be broken once more because you don’t want to face the facts, Merlin. I’m sorry for saying what I did the last time, but I must inform you I’m not giving us up, not this time.” the king answered as quietly, his hand raising to cup his chin, his calloused fingers were surprisingly gentle, as if he was holding an innocent, fragile rose. “Unless you look me in the eye and tell me to leave it. Tell me that you don’t feel the same, that you don’t love me. Do it, Merlin, and I will shut up and never speak about it again.”

Merlin blinked, the tears swimming down, his bottom lip quivering. Arthur’s nose almost touched his as the king’s hand went higher and rested upon his wet cheek. These eyes kept on staring at him with loyalty, with undetermined love and endless desire.

“Come on, Merlin,” he whispered and the puffs of air hit his skin again, making the sorcerer shiver. He was there, trapped between the wall and Arthur’s muscular body, with his heart going wild and thoughts hammering. Despite his position, however, he wasn’t scared. He could say no, he could tell him to get away and Arthur would, he had no doubt. Yet, no words were leaving his mouth despite his attempts to speak. “Tell me you don’t love me.”

He didn’t even realise he let out a small sob before he heard it in his own ears. His king was holding him in place, but still being very tender and careful, and Merlin could not think to run. He didn’t want to run in the first place. The gaze he was looking into was hypnotising, he wasn’t able to fight its spell. The years of serving this man, risking everything for him, flashed before him, and he couldn’t control anything his heart tried to tell him. All the times they talked in these quarters, laughed and joked together, all the times he saw Arthur for who he was, noticed the change in him from that prattish boy to a graceful man he was proud to know, they were too vivid in his memory. Saying what Arthur wanted him to, it was impossible, it hurt to think about, for the love was there, always had been.

“I can’t,” he said in one breath, as Arthur’s other hand was lifted and placed on his second cheek. He grabbed the man’s wrist, just to have something steady to hold onto. “I can’t, Arthur, don’t make me do it.”

“Stop fighting it, then, there is no point. I told you this before and I’m telling you the same now – you are beautiful, Merlin. You have never been a disgrace to the crown, to me. I love you more than I loved anyone else in my life and believe me when I say this. Don’t hide from me, don’t run away from your heart’s desire. I want you, Merlin, I want you with all your flaws and all your virtues. I want every little piece of you.”

Merlin's heart sped up a little, but he couldn’t give in to it. He couldn’t let anything happen between them. It would have negative impact on the whole kingdom, on Arthur, on the tough times they were facing currently. He wasn’t worth it, and he wasn’t allowed to love a man, let alone a man who happened to be a king. He was nothing in the eyes of many. People would lose respect to their ruler, for sure, if he accepted this growing in his heart feeling.

“You don’t know what you are saying, Arthur. You don’t understand...”

“I do, Merlin. I do understand more than you think. And I know you are afraid, but there is nothing to fear. Just accept the truth. Be honest with yourself. You can’t deny your love so just, just admit it. I want, I need to hear it. Please...”

Every inch of Merlin’s face was tear-stained by now, and he felt Arthur’s hand leaving his cheek and moving to rest on his hip instead. He pressed his back against the wall for better balance and closed his eyes as the king’s lips brushed his. It was a quick kiss, more like a peck than anything else and yet, it revealed so many feelings that Merlin was unable to ignore anymore.

“I want you, too, Arthur,” he stated quietly at last, finding the blond man’s eyes in the dimmed light, not even considering jerking away. “But I can’t have you. You are my king, and I am your servant. If things,” here he stopped to take a deep breath. “if things were different, if we were different people, then it wouldn’t matter, but we aren’t. I was born to serve you, and you were born to do great things. I am a weak man, Arthur. I will fail you without my magic, I will fail you and you will suffer because of me. You can’t trust me. And on top of that, you will lose people’s respect if they find out. That’s why we can’t be. You can’t waste your life on someone like me.”

“This is my life, Merlin, and my decisions,” the latter claimed, his gaze flickering from the warlock’s eyes to his lips. “You cannot change them.”

“This is a mistake,” he shook his head, his fingers curling around the king’s sleeping shirt. “You have a whole kingdom to rule, the people to take care of. Whether you think what we have is right or not, it would be selfish to let it continue. Camelot deserves a Queen, someone wise and loved, someone strong and devoted to you and the kingdom. Someone who would make you and the people happy.”

“Is it a mistake to love someone my heart chose? Didn’t you tell me once that we should marry who we want? Merlin,” the thumb caressed his cheek, the other hand that had been on his hip moved further to rest on his bottom. The contact was gentle, though, like a touch of a feather. “My entire life I’ve been doing what others wanted me to do, trying to get approval of both my father and my people. It almost feels like my life is not my own because of my title. But,” the touch grew more demanding, pushing Merlin’s body into Arthur’s. “for once, let me make one selfish choice of loving someone I consider right. Let me show you that you are the only person in the world that could make me happy. You’ve been hurt, Merlin, and you’ve been lost, but I’m here to show you the way. Just, just trust me. I know what I’m doing and I swear on Camelot, you are not a disgrace to me. We will get through it together, I will help you see your own worth once more. Just, please, don’t fight these feelings. Don’t run away from them. I would love you forever if only you let me.”

Merlin’s face resembled a waterfall at this point as he stopped holding the tears back. Arthur’s voice was quiet and firm, and his tear-full eyes looked into the very core of his soul, begging him to have faith, to give him one chance. It felt like the whole universe collapsed and they were the only ones still standing here in this room, in the dim light of the half-burnt candle, staring at each other and having only their love to hold onto.

Arthur’s gaze was pleading, desperate for acceptance and the same kind of love he just acknowledged. Merlin didn’t remember the last time his king was so open about his own emotions. Not even with Gwen did he look so genuine. Maybe Gwaine was right, after all, maybe he did underestimate the weight of Arthur’s feelings. Did refusing him anything hold any purpose? If his friend wanted to be selfish tonight, why couldn’t he? Perhaps time for games was over, perhaps he didn’t need to escape those demons anymore – at least not when he was here, in Arthur’s arms.

“Do you really believe we could exist as we are, with everyone knowing their king chose his manservant of all the people, to love?” he asked, but there was no defiance in his voice anymore. He was tired of it, tired of being controlled by the past he couldn’t forget.

Arthur gave him a tiny smile, the one Merlin would miss if he hadn’t been looking so closely at his face. The blond's thumb left his face, slid down to his lips, gently parting them. Merlin sucked in a breath.

“I believe they wouldn’t mind as long as it would make their kingdom a better place. But,” the hand went to his neck next, softly brushing every inch of his skin on the way. “if you truly think what you told me, if you truly think we can’t be, and that our love means nothing, say so. I will leave you, then, and we will return to things as they were.”

Merlin swallowed rather hard, his throat going dry and heart beating way too fast to his liking. He felt like he was floating in between the dimensions as he thought of the possible outcomes of the situation. He came here to talk Arthur out of loving him and yet, he was unable to stand by his own opinion, the electrifying touch of his king only making him more and more uncertain of it.

“I fear things will never be as they were, Arthur,” he began in a shy whisper, not breaking their eye contact for once. Slowly and carefully, as if doubtful, he wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck, pulling him closer so their bodies were now directly pressed against one another. “But at the same time, I don’t want them to. I want,” he sniffed, inhaling sharply, resting his forehead against the man’s. “I want you to love me. And I think, I think I want to love you, too. It’s just, I’m afraid. We play dangerous games, Arthur. That can never last.”

“Then, let’s make the moment worthwhile.” Arthur exclaimed and Merlin didn’t even have much time to process his words, for the king’s lips suddenly found his own and he didn’t fight it. Instead, he gave in, opening his mouth a little to let the impatient tongue slide inside, taking whatever it wanted from him.

He let out a moan as both Arthur’s hands landed on his hips, steadying him as he embraced the latter’s neck more tightly. Their tongues began dancing to the rhythm of their heartbeats, and he quickly realized he was being spun around as his leg hit the edge of the table, knocking a few things off its wooden surface. He sat down on top, his thighs spread as Arthur stood between them, helping him get rid of the jacket that soon found its place on the opposite side of the table. His red neckerchief followed.

Their lips separated as Arthur focused more on his now uncovered neck, kissing it lustfully, and the king’s warm hands took special interest in his breeches. Merlin didn’t even think of protesting, all the doubts and fears evaporating with each move of his friend’s tongue over his ticklish skin. He was breathing loudly and his body responded to the gentle touches, working on him like oil on the fire.

He didn’t speak, suddenly forgot how to, as his breeches were loosened and hands went underneath his tunic. Arthur’s lips caressed his jaw now, the touch was tender, loving, slow. His fingers found a way to the king’s hair, gripping it tightly, enjoying every single step they took together. Their bodies felt like they were in harmony, singing the most exquisite symphonies a human ear could ever hear.

His tunic was gone in a flash and, with trembling hands and clumsy movement that only hinted his impatience, he lifted Arthur’s white shirt, too, throwing it somewhere out of their sight. Skin against skin now, his king lifted him up and picked him off the table as Merlin wrapped his legs around the man’s hips to steady himself. Once again he admired Arthur’s strength as they kissed again and again, and soon enough he was thrown onto the bed with a gasp that escaped his mouth.

He watched intently as his friend ridded him of his breeches entirely, leaving him with nothing but cold air against his bare skin. His heart was now not to be controlled as it hammered in his ribcage, his thoughts all over the place. He couldn’t focus on anything but Arthur, standing in the candlelight, shirtless. It was true he had seen his king countless of times naked before, it was his job after all, but to watch him now in his lust and desire was something entirely different.

His cheeks were flushed as were Merlin’s, the eyes dark and desperate for more. The servant observed every stretch of his limbs, of the muscles that made many new Knights quiver in fear. In the haze, he didn’t even think of the fact it was going to be his first time, ever. That he was giving all of himself to Arthur, with no hesitation and no regrets. All he knew was that this man in front of him was his destiny, his life. They were probably making a terrible mistake now, but nothing inside him supported that thought at this moment as Arthur joined him on the bed, unclothed now, and immediately attacked his lips with long and aggressive kisses.

“Arthur,” he moaned in between their act, his fingers buried deeply in the blond hair again as he let his king settle between his thin legs, their eyes never leaving each other’s faces. “Think twice before you do something you’ll regret.”

“Time for thinking has long been over, Merlin,” Was the only thing the king spoke before his fingers brushed his thighs, tickling them slightly, only to spread them apart a little bit more. “And out of my many regrets in life, you have never been one.”

And Merlin let out a loud gasp as his king took his body and his soul, forever entrapping him in the maze of love that could as well be their doom. The night so dark and cold suddenly became warmer and the stars shone twice as bright as they did when he first walked in through that door.

He remembered only his own name on Arthur’s lips as his friend chanted it over and over, and the feelings that resurfaced at last after all this time of keeping them buried. In the morning, he thought, things would be better. He would smile for the first time in forever seeing his king’s face next to his own.

Chapter Text

He awoke to silence and a gentle touch of sunlight upon his face, he could feel the warm rays caressing his skin even when he kept his eyes closed. Although autumn was upon the kingdom, this morning felt like the middle of a hot summer. There was no worry in his mind and for once, he slept well. The nightmares didn’t torment him.

The memories of the night were still very fresh and he smiled at the pictures that played in his head over and over. It felt unreal and he had to stop for a moment to make sure it was not a dream. But no, there definitely was an arm laced over his frame and the warmth of the body pressed against his back.

Slowly, he lifted his eyelids and immediately squinted as the sunlight blinded him. Instinctively, he moved away from it as if it could help him get adjusted to the brightness, but the gesture only made the man behind him groan sleeplessly. He sighed, resigned, and carefully turned around to face his king, who still seemed to be somewhere in his world of dreams. He looked peaceful, so very peaceful that Merlin wanted to remember this view, paint a picture of the beauty Arthur represented.

He kept on watching the other man for what felt like ages until the blond started stirring. His blue eyes searched for a face once they opened and when they found it, a gentle smile graced his lips.

“Good morning, my lord,” Merlin greeted quietly, unable to hold back his joy over the sight. It was almost like the darkness didn’t exist, that his fears were long gone. He knew it wasn’t the case, but still, he saw no harm in trying to enjoy the moment. “Sadly, I must inform you your breakfast is going to arrive late because your servant is unable to deliver it on time.”

“Oh? Well, he’d better have a good reason for the delay, then.”

Merlin giggled like a little kid, somehow unable to control the butterflies in his stomach, and watched as Arthur raised his hand to touch his face. His fingers caressed his cheek tenderly, with delicacy of a seamstress, not a Knight.

“I assure you there can’t have been a better reason for it.”

“Excellent,” Arthur exclaimed cheerfully, sliding a little closer to be almost face to face with his servant, staring into his azure eyes like they were the most wonderful thing in the world. His hand travelled down Merlin’s exposed arm and the sorcerer could swear he shivered. Hairs on his skin arose and he smiled even wider. “You know, I could get used to this.”

“To not having breakfast? Yes, I believe it would help you lose some weight. That belt won’t survive making another hole in it.”

“Not the breakfast, you idiot!” the king argued and before Merlin could blink, there was a pillow in his face and Arthur’s laugh ringing in his ears. He couldn’t help but do the same. “I meant us. I like waking up like this. At least the other side of my bed isn’t cold.”

Merlin smiled softly, observing his king’s face with utter fondness. The gaze looking back at him was filled with unspoken love they both had been holding back for years. The warlock wanted this moment to never end, he wanted to lie here in this bed beside Arthur, whose arm was wrapped around him like he was something precious.

“I was a fool to have held back from loving you.”

“Well, at least you are self-aware.” Arthur teased with a grin, and Merlin rolled his eyes at the words and wanted to think of a quick retort when a sudden noise from the hall attracted his attention.

The knock on the door that followed brought them back, tearing the two away from their trance, and both of them jumped, glancing towards the entrance, then back at each other again, sheer panic in their eyes.

“One moment!” Arthur shouted at whoever was on the other side as Merlin got up faster than he could blink, frantically searching for his clothes, which were everywhere. In the corner of his eye, he could see his king doing the same.

“My lord?” it was Leon’s voice they heard, and the knock repeated. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes!” Arthur assured although his voice quivered, his shaky hands grabbed his trousers. “I just need a second, Leon!”

The Knight stopped knocking, seemingly waiting for permission to enter. While Arthur was finished with dressing, Merlin still fumbled with his breeches like his life depended on it. Maybe it did, neither of them wanted to explain the situation to the Knight. Not until they weren’t sure of their own feelings. Of their future.

The blond man watched his servant finally manage to get dressed entirely and, panting like he had just run a marathon, leant over the wall, his hair disheveled and face flushed.

“Come in!” he called, exchanging glances with his friend. Merlin didn’t look any better. Although he did find all his clothes, there was no mistaking – his tunic was on the wrong side, and his neckerchief was barely hanging there, having been tied very carelessly.

Leon stepped inside slowly, looking around the chambers cautiously. The king smiled at him, and so did Merlin. It was a nervous gesture, like they didn’t even want to be here.

“My lord,” he bowed, focusing next on the servant. He frowned, not daring ask questions about their appearance. “Are you two alright? You don’t look… well.”

“Of course we are, Leon, why?” Arthur answered quickly, too quickly, and Leon forced himself out of his frozen state. He shook his head, glancing away from the warlock and concentrating on his king instead again. “We have just been busy doing… things. Of importance. The matters of the state, really.”

“Poetry, I imagine?”

“What? No,” the king let out a chuckle, focused on the Knight’s face. “What does poetry have to do with the kingdom’s affairs?”

“I believe nothing, sire,” he choked out and cleared his throat, getting a grip of himself. “I apologise for disturbing you so early, but the garrison at Stowell was attacked at night.”

Silently, Arthur looked to the side to meet Merlin’s eyes. The servant, suddenly forgetting about his poor appearance, approached the two, listening in.

“Morgana?” he asked, worry etched into his face.

“I’m afraid so,” Leon nodded, swallowing. He looked collected although his gaze was filled with concern and something akin to fear. “We are awaiting your instructions, sire.”

“Gather everyone in the council chamber. I will be there soon.”

“Yes, my lord.” Leon bowed again on his way out, glancing once more at both his king and Merlin. He truly preferred not to ask. He learnt this lesson long time ago.

When the Knight left, both Arthur and Merlin sighed tiredly. The king plopped down on the bed, his servant leant over the table, all the tension leaving his shoulders.

“That was close,” the blond man stated matter-of-factly and focused on his friend. He grimaced at the sight of his tunic and the neckerchief. “I think it’d be best if you tried that one more time before we go see the others, wouldn’t you agree?”

Merlin looked down at his clothes and forced an awkward smile, nodding in agreement.

“Right,” he whispered, embarrassment already showing on his flustered cheeks. They contrasted with the white colour of his face. “Do you think he noticed?”

Arthur furrowed an eyebrow, staring at his servant, watching him from toes to the head. Amused, he shook his head.

“No, I think we did a decent job fooling him. Not that it should matter. One day they’ll find out the truth, anyway.” He shrugged, running a hand through his messy hair. He had to get changed into his armour, he couldn’t show up looking like he just walked out of the battle.

*

Merlin wasn’t sure how he got to the council chamber. Presumably, he just followed Arthur wordlessly, blind to his smiles of reassurance. Despite their night spent together and the awkward morning, he didn’t feel anything but fear at the moment. Of course, he enjoyed what they did, even more than he probably should, but the thoughts of Morgana, of her recent attack worried him to no end even if he had been able to play it off cool a few minutes ago.

She was powerful and he still couldn’t tell if she knew about his magic. Was it possible he tried to throw a spell in the Tower while she was watching? Was it why she left him alone with the hope he would die? He didn’t remember much of his time as her captive, he could only recall the screams and the pain, but there must have been a reason she abandoned her original plan of killing Arthur and using him to do so. And yet, if she discovered his secret, wouldn’t she act faster? What was her goal now? These questions gave him a headache and his concern must have shown in his face because Arthur grabbed his hand to get his attention just before they entered the council chamber.

He blinked and glanced up at him with confusion.

“What?” he asked, hoping the sound of his voice didn’t betray his true feelings. The king sighed quietly and squeezed his fingers gently, as if afraid of breaking his skin and bones.

“I would be able to feel you tremble even if I was in Essetir, Merlin. I won’t let you come in there in this state.”

“I’m fine.” He protested even though it was obvious he wasn’t. He didn’t feel anything but the beating of his heart right now, and that terrible fear that controlled his entire soul. It had such a hold on him that he couldn’t even compose a single thought around it.

“You don’t believe it even yourself,” the blond man huffed although there was no annoyance or anger in his voice. It was soothing and Merlin loved hearing it. It was like an endless melody of love and serenity. “You don’t have to go with me if you don’t feel up to it. There are people you can help more now, people that came wounded after the attack. I’m sure Gaius could use a hand.”

“No,” he breathed out, shaking his head. “No, Arthur. Let me be there with you. I promise I’m fine. I, I’ll be fine.”

The king laughed quietly in disbelief, but his eyes still held so much gentleness, so much love and devotion.

“You are too stubborn for your own good, Merlin. You know I can just give you an order to stay away and help the injured.”

“And you know I’d rather lose my head than listen to your orders, sire.”

“Right,” the man rolled his eyes, letting go of his hand. “Remind me why I still keep you as my servant?”

“Probably because you’d die on the first day if I wasn’t there. Besides,” he leant in, finding Arthur’s warm but challenging gaze. He grinned widely as he was close enough to smell his king’s scent. The latter did not push him away, nor did he step down. They both were almost glued to each other now in front of the door to the chambers. “You like me a little too much to get rid of me, my lord.”

“Oh, I see you did get your confidence boost today, after all,” Arthur mirrored the smile and found Merlin’s hand once more, intertwining their fingers and lifting them so they could rest between their chests. He made a step forward and pressed his servant against the wall, never breaking eye-contact. The butterflies were flying fast in his stomach. “Don’t get too cocky now, Merlin. I can banish you as we speak.”

Merlin dropped Arthur’s hand only to wrap his arm around the man’s neck, pulling him closer. Not so long ago, he would have run away having been cornered like this – with no means of escape and the wall behind him – but he didn’t feel endangered right now. He felt great, in fact. Powerful. Like suddenly all of his previous fears and doubts evaporated in thin air, leaving only him and Arthur. The thrill of the moment, the awareness someone might come and see them – they only boosted his desire.

“I’d like to see you try.” And he touched Arthur’s lips with his own, so softly that it felt like a gentle butterfly brought here by the delicate wind. It was a very innocent gesture, one that Merlin needed to feel closure and reassurance. He appreciated the fact his king didn’t need him to say it out loud, that he simply accepted the kiss and let it last as long as it could, as if reading his mind.

It had to end, though, because the commotion inside the chambers grew louder and it was high time they took care of the threat Morgana brought upon the kingdom. Almost instantly, Merlin’s negative thoughts returned, but his lover didn’t hesitate and kept him by his side closely as they walked next to each other in a manner that many older Knights would definitely disapprove of.

He looked around discreetly to see his friends all sitting by the table. Only Gwaine was missing and for a moment, Merlin worried for his life. He heard of casualties on his way here, but he didn’t even consider Gwaine being one. He hoped it wasn’t the case. His friend was way too strong to fall on the battlefield. Gaius was absent, too, but he knew his mentor had been taking care of the wounded since the morning. A part of him felt ashamed of having spent time in Arthur’s bed instead of beside him, helping the people as the physician should. He quickly brushed these thoughts off as he already had too much to worry about, however. He had to focus.

The conversation went on and on, Leon numbered all the casualties, presented the details of the attack, and confirmed it must have been Morgana’s doing, for one of the Knights saw her, watching from the hill as the bloodbath started. Such cruelty was unimaginable, Merlin still couldn’t believe how his once-a-friend turned into such a monster. He could understand her hatred towards him, really he could, but Arthur had done nothing to upset her. He would probably have helped her if she’d asked for it and yet, all she wanted was his death.

Merlin couldn’t let it happen. It was his destiny to protect this man, to love this man and face all sorts of dangers alongside him. Even if he was weak, even if his magic was not there to aid him, and he was an easy target during a fight, he wouldn’t run away from it, even if it cost him his life. Better him than Arthur.

“The Saxons attacked us from there,” Leon pointed at the map on the table, everyone’s eyes followed. “They took Stowell in a matter of minutes. It was a bloodbath, my lord, only few people managed to escape. We lost many good men, too.”

“Their deaths will not be forgotten,” Arthur nodded sadly and Merlin could easily tell by the look on his face and the tone of his voice that his heart was breaking. It made the sorcerer hate Morgana even more. “Morgana’s been massing an army for weeks, it is not surprising she won this battle.”

“But now, she has a base at our northern border, sire,” Percival joined in, his worried gaze going around the room to finally rest upon his king. “We all know what it means. She is too close. She will attack Camelot soon.”

“Undoubtedly, Sir Percival. That’s all she’s ever wanted. She doesn’t care for the casualties as long as Camelot is hers.”

“Well, she’s made her first mistake.” The Knight claimed with confidence that Merlin envied at the moment. Inside, he was trembling. Morgana was strong on her own and now, she had a huge army. And he was helpless, which meant she had an advantage. “We will not give in to her, my lord. The Knights of Camelot will stand with you and fight her evil, or die by your side.”

“We do have sufficient time to prepare our defenses, sire,” Leon commented. “We can make our stand here. Camelot walls will hold her army no matter how strong it is. The Citadel will not fall.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. We’ve already deserted Stowell,” Arthur exhaled and looked up. His eyes found Merlin’s on the other side of the room and the sorcerer hoped he wasn’t as pale as he was the last time. He had a weird feeling Arthur was studying him. “I won’t forsake the people of this land while we take refuge here.”

“But we can protect them, sire, in Camelot itself.”

“Some but not all. Countless men, women, and children will be left behind. These are people who I’ve vowed to protect.”

“We cannot save everyone, my lord, no matter how much we may wish it.” It was Elyan, who spoke at last, getting his king’s full attention. It was brave of him to speak his mind at the time like this, but Merlin already knew that his lover was too determined to take his point into consideration.

“There is a way,” the blond man spoke, having swallowed the hard lump in his throat. “We must insure she will not make it this far.”

“Sire,” Percival cut in, somewhat horrified at the thought. “You cannot suggest we ride out and meet them. Morgana commands an army of thousands…”

“Nonetheless, it is our duty as protectors of this land. We cannot stand by and let our people be slaughtered. Those are not the values Camelot was built on. Whatever the outcome of the battle, my sister cannot and will not desecrate these values,” the king explained, his eyes shining with something foreign, something Merlin couldn’t name. His lips quivered as he spoke his next words. “A war has begun.”

Everyone was silent after these words were spoken. Merlin could swear he would be able to hear a needle drop as the unusual and uncomfortable quietness took control over the entire chamber. Naturally, he predicted such course of action. Once Morgana killed that poor Knight, the open war was unavoidable. Yet, he still was taken aback by Arthur’s decision. It didn’t really surprise him, but the choice of facing the Saxons on their way, it sent shivers down his spine. Not because he was afraid, of course not, but he worried for his king’s life. What if Mordred silently worked for Morgana? What if someone would stab his friend during sleep? What if they all lost the last fight and doom Camelot forever? The future had never been so unsteady and terrifying.

“To reach Camelot, Morgana will have no choice but to cross the White Mountains.” Arthur’s voice rang in his ears and he flinched, wondering how long he’d been spacing off. There were maps all over the table, and the Knights watched their king’s every move with utter concentration. “Now, the passage that will enable her army to do so is right here.”

“I know this place well,” Percival claimed with a nod, watching the location on the map. “The path leads a valley by cliffs on the other side.”

“That’s where we must meet them,” Arthur cleared his throat, continuing. Merlin kept on watching from distance, wary of every single Knight in the room. “We may be outnumbered, but if we don’t let them outflank us, we should be able to hold the pass.”

“How long?” Mordred spoke for what felt like the first time since the meeting started. Merlin hadn’t seen him since they found a dead Knight that day. “Morgana has no care for the likes of men, sire. She’s proved it over time not once.”

“She can’t supply for the army of that size indefinitely. Not isolated by the mountains. If we can hold out long enough, she’ll be forced to retreat. Percival, at what point is the path at its narrowest?”

“Here, sire.” The Knight pointed at the place that would decide the kingdom’s fate.

“What is this place called?”

“It’s Camlann, my lord.” He told him, and Merlin tried his best not to allow his legs to give way. Suddenly nothing else mattered but the name of the place, the prophecy that he heard from the Druids. He could already imagine the blood spilled over the ground, the screams of falling men, and Arthur. His lifeless eyes and cold body. And Mordred standing over him, laughing.

“Then it is at Camlann that we make our stand.” Arthur claimed with such certainty, but Merlin could focus no more. It was really happening and he could do nothing.

He could feel his eyes water with tears as he thought about everything he had worked on; on the things that would be lost forever. There would be no Albion, for he couldn’t protect the only man that could create it. He felt like screaming.

Chapter Text

It was raining. The water was pounding against the windows and roofs of the castle aggressively, as if shouting at the people to stay at home. There was no wind and, generally, the day was still warm. The grey skies darkened rather visibly and the muddy roads were empty, however.

Merlin’s tears fell together with the rain, swimming down his cheeks and flooding his mouth. Right after the meeting, he left swiftly, not even waiting for anyone. He didn’t pay much attention to the others, didn’t know if they called after him or not, he simply didn’t want to be near anybody then. He needed solitude and silence of Arthur’s chambers. Running away was a habit he had developed lately and now, he couldn’t break it. Not that he tried to, really.

Camlann. He hoped to never think about this place again, wanted to forget about its existence and pretend he had never heard of it. The very possibility of losing everything that mattered to him right there, it put his mood at its lowest. The prophecy had to be coming true, why would Arthur decide to ride out and meet Morgana’s army there? And what was Mordred’s part in this?

He debated for a few moments if he should find the youngest Knight and follow him until he discovered his fishy business with Morgana but decided against it. He didn’t have enough energy for that anymore. Besides, Mordred was still supportive of Arthur, it didn’t make sense. Yet, the prophecy… it couldn’t have been a tale. The Druids believed it, why shouldn’t he?

He muffled a sob with his hand, watching the rain fall more and more anxiously. He would sneak out and ask Kilgharrah what to do, but he was too scared to leave the castle on his own. Morgana was near Camelot and he didn’t want to risk anything. What if she decided to capture him again? Or worse, sneak into the castle to kill the king while he was absent? No, asking the dragon was not an option, he was on his own.

He knew Arthur allowed Mordred to join him in the fight, and it left Merlin feeling very uneasy. What if it was a part of the scheme? To gain the king’s trust and then stab him during the battle? He couldn’t let it happen, had to stop it somehow. Losing Arthur would be a hit he was not ready to take.

Speaking of the devil, Merlin heard the door on the other side of the room open and fast steps followed. He could recognise them almost immediately. Normally, he would smile and go to greet his king but now he wasn’t able to. His feet were heavily planted on the ground and eyes glued to the empty courtyard outside the window.

“Merlin, I need you to polish my armour, sharpen my sword and most of all, do my laundry,” Arthur came with instructions, hurrying towards his bed and not even looking around as the warlock’s tears streamed down once more. “Make sure the other servants—what happened?” the king stopped mid-sentence and halted his steps as soon as he heard the other man. Merlin did not face him. He didn’t even say anything, but his quiet sob must have left his throat and betrayed his position.

The blond approached him, frowning in concern and trying to search his servant’s gaze.

“What is it? You don’t have to do all that today—”

“You can’t go to Camlann, Arthur.” Merlin finally croaked, sniffing and blinking the rest of his tears away. His friend and lover’s frown deepened even more as his eyes scrutinized him intently.

“Why not? I know it’s risky and dangerous, and I know it won’t be easy to defeat Morgana’s army, but it is our only way to protect the people of this land. I have to do it, I’m their king.”

“No, sire, you don’t understand, it’s… it’s not only dangerous. It will doom you. You will die.”

Arthur blinked, surprised by the protests of the only person who would follow him through the fire. Merlin was staring at him with so much terror and uncertainty, it almost broke his heart. He could barely stand the sight of his friend crying like this, but what could he do? He couldn’t leave his people alone, not in such danger.

“You never doubted my abilities before,” he decided to say, but there was no amusement in his voice. It was difficult to stay positive when Merlin was looking at him like it was the last time they saw each other. “We will not fall, Merlin. Morgana is strong, but she isn’t unbeatable.”

“She has become very powerful, Arthur. You underestimate her skills. Besides, there are, there are things you don’t know, things about the future. Your future.” he whimpered helplessly, trying to enjoy the way Arthur’s body leant towards him. He could tell his king awaited explanations, but granting him this wish would cost them both a lot. Could he hide such things, though? Maybe if Arthur knew, maybe if he heard the prophecy, he’d change his mind. “The Druids spoke to me about the prophecy, about your death, about the things I can’t tell you about and, and it’s coming true, Arthur. It’s all coming true. They said you were going to die in Camlann.”

“Prophecy? What? Merlin,” the latter sighed heavily, looking down and grabbing the sorcerer’s shaking hand. The contact was firm and reassuring, and his knuckles caressed Merlin’s palm tenderly, drawing circles. “You are being irrational. There is no way of knowing the future. I will not die, I know what I’m doing.”

“You know nothing,” the warlock whispered powerlessly, as if it was his last breath. His voice was croaky and eyes red from crying. He couldn’t stop shivering, couldn’t control the tears and sobs and fear. The future without Arthur by his side was horrifying. He would rather die than face it. “The prophecy, the Druids, they predict everything. They predicted Morgana’s betrayal, they, they knew her fate. Arthur, you can’t go there, I can’t let you.”

He decided not to dwell on the fact he was the main reason behind Morgana’s betrayal. He tried so hard to change the future that he made it happen in the first place. But it had also been written in the prophecy, hadn’t it? He wasn’t the one to have read it wrong. Everything was already decided for him.

Right?

“Merlin,” the king spoke firmly, almost impatiently, and his hands touched the servant’s cheeks, keeping his head in place. They were glaring at each other, but Merlin couldn’t see much thanks to the waterfalls of his own tears. He tried to focus on Arthur’s warm eyes, on his sharp cheekbones and the subtle smile that was supposed to calm him down. “I will be fine. It is my duty to protect Camelot. Even if, even if I do die, at least I will do so knowing I did the right thing.”

Hearing those words felt like lashes across Merlin’s heart. The hope he had stored went away within two seconds as he heard the certainty in Arthur’s voice and saw determination in his gaze. He was afraid of hearing it, of being forced to say goodbye. He couldn’t allow his friend to die, no matter the cost.

“Don’t say that,” His voice broke as he spoke the last word, but deep down he knew nothing he was going to say would change his king’s mind. It was more shattering than being in the Dark Tower. In both situations he was too helpless to act and it felt like his every next step would doom them even more. “Please, Arthur…”

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” Arthur whispered, resting his forehead against the sorcerer’s. The raven-haired man exhaled shakily, his heart bleeding and body trembling. “I have to do it.”

Merlin let out a loud sob as he gave up on fighting and trying to influence his lover. A part of him understood it, Arthur was a man of honour and kindness. He was devoted to his people, it was natural he wanted to save them despite the consequences. Yet, Merlin’s heart was screaming at the thought. It felt like it was being torn apart piece by piece having been ripped off his chest, bleeding out now very fast and painfully.

“I don’t want you to die, Arthur,” he admitted quietly. He knew he was being selfish at the moment, knew it was wrong to take such approach, but it was his last chance. Besides, he meant it, he did. Living without Arthur was not anything he wanted. If fate had to take him away, then Merlin hoped they could at least pass away together. “Not now, not when I finally accepted what we have, when I decided to give all my heart to you. I’m begging you, Arthur, I’m begging you not to risk your life and stay in Camelot.”

He heard a quiet sniff and it was in this moment that he realized he wasn’t the only one crying. Arthur’s cheeks were wet, eyes glistening with fresh tears Merlin knew he had caused. The king’s arm wrapped his back and pulled him closer, his big palm resting against the warlock’s head, fingering his hair like it could ease his worries.

“I can’t,” the man spoke so quietly that Merlin wasn’t sure if he didn’t imagine that. “I can’t, I’m responsible for the entire kingdom, for my people. I can’t expect my Knights to fight my battles. Camelot needs me. If I shall die, I want to die with honour.”

“What about us, then? I, I love you, Arthur. After all we’ve been through, after the pain we’ve caused to each other, you’re willing to give us up?”

“Merlin, please,” the blond’s voice broke this time as he inhaled and ran a hand down his neck. The servant pulled away slightly to see his king’s tear-stained face. “Think about it reasonably. What if the prophecy isn’t real? What if it doesn’t happen? These are just words. You can’t blindly believe them.”

“Yes, but… there must be truth to it. Why else would the seer tell me about it? I’ve heard warnings before, warnings I chose to ignore. And it led me nowhere.”

Arthur’s hand left Merlin’s neck and squeezed his hand once again. The gesture was supposed to be soothing but it came off as desperate. Their surroundings seemed to blur, the world spinning and the invisible fears and doubts laughing at their helplessness.

“I won’t die. Not by Morgana’s hand.”

“No,” he shook his head, remembering the dragon’s words about Mordred. “Not by Morgana’s, no.”

“What does it mean?” Arthur frowned, curious now, but his opinion on the matter was clear enough. Neither of them wanted the prophecy to be true, but giving in was not an option, either. It went too far for Merlin to take his words back, though.

“The prophecy says you’ll die by Mordred’s hand. That he’ll betray you and join Morgana. Who knows if he hadn’t already done it? Arthur, I don’t trust him. If you have to go, at least leave him behind. He’s too young and too unsure to fight beside you.”

“What? Merlin, now you’re being exceedingly irrational. Mordred is a promising young man. He’s already one of my best Knights. He won’t betray me.”

“How do you know?”

“He chose me over Morgana. He saved my life. And he’s willing to do so again.”

“You can’t be certain,” Merlin shook his head, sniffing. “You can’t be—Arthur, he might as well be pretending only to get your trust. The prophecies never lie. They always come true.”

Arthur blinked a few times, clearly at loss for words. The warlock knew he was burdening him more than necessary, that he shouldn’t have said half the things he did and most of all, he shouldn’t be playing with the king’s feelings like that and using their relationship to manipulate him. It was truly shameful and if he hadn’t disgraced the crown before, now he surely did. But what else could he do?

“You really believe it,” the latter exclaimed quietly though shock stained his voice. He took a step back, as if Merlin just stabbed him. “You really think I’m going to die by Mordred’s hand. You want me to do what, get rid of him?”

“That would be for the best, yes,” he claimed way too cheerfully despite tears tainting his tone. “Arthur, I know it’s hard for you to accept, but he is not who he seems to be.”

“The only thing that is hard for me to accept is you wanting me to hurt someone who hadn’t done anything but saved my life,” the king continued, astonished. He tried not to pay attention to Merlin’s crying as it would break also his heart. “I have always considered you a good and kind person, Merlin. You would never hurt a fly and now, you’re saying all this just based on some, some people’s belief?”

The servant inhaled sharply hearing these words. How little Arthur knew. If he learnt of every murder he committed, of every sin he was guilty of, they wouldn’t be talking now. A part of him always knew it. Merlin wasn’t a good person, not anymore, while his friend… Arthur was too pure-hearted to notice the cruelties of the world, of the people. He discovered it so many years ago and once his smiles stopped reaching his eyes, there was no going back. The world was rotten to its very bottom and those who didn’t witness its evil were truly the lucky ones.

“Why can’t you listen to me just once, Arthur?” he asked, all the hope having evaporated from his heart as only he looked into his king’s bright stare, the one that hid stubbornness and so much determination that nothing would be able to change it.

“It is you, who refuses to listen. I’m not going to leave Mordred behind just because you think you saw the future. He is a good person. I trust him.”

“More than you trust me?”

“Merlin,” Arthur choked out, his hand cupping the warlock’s chin. “You aren’t playing fair now. You know there is no one in this world I would trust more than you, but you allowed your fear to blind you. I understand you’re worried, but I can’t do what you’re asking of me. Just give him a chance and you’ll see.”

Merlin blinked the rest of the tears away, at last giving up. There had to be another way to stop the future from happening if Arthur didn’t want to listen. What was there left for him to try? He was not able to use magic and he still couldn’t think of Morgana without shivering. The thought of being in the dark terrified him way too much than he’d like to admit, too. Seeking help from the outside would be a bad idea, as well, he assumed, as Kilgharrah would only tell him he should have listened to him when Mordred was still a little boy lost in Camelot.

He didn’t want to hear it. No, there had to be another way.

*

Mordred sighed as his horse turned around to get back to the main road leading to the castle. It was getting dark and the evening was upon them. His patrol went well and was quite uneventful. The other Knights seemed to have accepted him, finally. It took him awhile to gain their trust as he had been an outsider at first.

“I can’t wait to get back and have a drink. This day’s been too long, and his Majesty demands so much more from us now that there’s real danger to face.” One of the Knights said – Thomas was his name. Everyone laughed in silent agreement. The recent times had been stressful. People were nervous about the upcoming war. It wasn’t anything special that his fellow Knights wanted to relax every now and then.

But tonight, he wasn’t joining them. He was tired and there were so many thoughts running around his head. Of course, he didn’t doubt the king in the slightest and was certain he was fighting for the right man, but at the same time, the mystery of what must have happened to Morgana couldn’t let him sleep at night. He still remembered her as a kind, beautiful woman who had been ready to risk her life to help those who had been hunted by Uther’s cruel laws. He, at times, still saw all those other Druids who were slain because of the tyranny. It made him hide all his life, afraid of getting discovered. Morgana was the one he thought he would follow everywhere and yet, he was unable to agree with her ways. They reminded him of Uther Pendragon too much.

Besides, Arthur showed his compassion and kindness so many times that it was impossible to want him dead. Mordred could have been killed as soon as the king connected the dots and found out about his magic and yet, his life was spared. Moreover, his king was only worried for Merlin. Mordred didn’t sense any anger while they were talking about Emrys’ power and the secret he’d been hiding for years.

How could Morgana not see that? How could she want her brother dead? Why did she go so far as to torture Merlin to the point of traumatising him so much? Arthur would show her mercy. Merlin believed he was going to restore magic in Camelot and for once, Mordred believed it, too.

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted as the rustle behind him echoed around the forest. The horses stopped and the Knights exchanged looks. Everything was quiet but he could definitely sense another presence watching him. He didn’t need to have a brain of a genius to guess who it was.

“Continue on, I will see to it.” He commanded rather softly and glanced at his companions. They appeared uncertain for the first few seconds.

“Are you sure? I could swear it was something big.” Thomas exclaimed, his blue eyes staring at Mordred intently.

“I’m sure. Go on. I will join you soon.”

Thomas gave him a firm nod and gestured for the others to listen to his wish.

“Be careful, though. It may have been a Saxon.” And they parted. He tensed and his hand instinctively went to grab his sword.

He maneuvered his horse to close the distance between himself and the thick bushes, and looked around cautiously. He didn’t have much time before the night befell utterly so he needed to be quick.

“I know you’re here, Morgana,” he called, clearly sensing the High Priestess’ magic wrapping the area like a poisoned vine. “Quit hiding and face me. I don’t want to fight.”

A few moments of silence passed, but eventually, a dark silhouette of the woman emerged from shadows. Her black gown was barely visible, but her green eyes still shone as bright as ever. She was very pale, too, and Mordred wondered if she had been ill, or if she had slept at all.

“Hello, Mordred,” she spat his name like it burnt her tongue. “How is serving my brother going? I hope your traitorous backside is having fun.”

“Why have you been following us?” he asked instead of falling for her taunts, watching her grin cunningly. He stayed wary of her and his hand still held the tilt of the sword tightly. It wouldn’t help him at all in case of a sudden attack, but he felt somewhat safer when he could feel the hard tilt of the weapon. “What do you want?”

“What do you think I want?”

“I would assume you want to kill me, but it can’t be it. You aren’t going to attack the others, either. And you already know the routes of our patrols so it leaves only one possibility.”

“Which is?” she smiled wider, taking a step closer. His horse took one back. Mordred decided to jump out of the saddle. Reacting to her eventual attacks would be easier while standing. Besides, he didn’t wish harm upon his mare if Morgana decided to use sorcery on him and the animal.

“You’re here to persuade me to join you.”

She chuckled rather quietly.

“Bravo, Mordred. You are very smart for someone who decided to serve under my brother.”

“The king is a noble man. An honourable one. Your hatred has clouded your judgement, Morgana. You can never win with such anger in your heart.”

“I’m much more powerful than you can imagine, Mordred,” she grinned. The maniacal gaze she gave him almost terrified him. There was so much insanity in her eyes, so much wickedness and stubbornness. “Arthur stands no chance to me. Camelot will fall and so will he.”

“If you truly believe it, then why are you trying to influence my loyalties? You don’t need my help.”

“No, I don’t,” she approached him so closely that they were face to face now, never losing eye-contact. “But as luck wants it, I have grown somehow attached to you, Mordred, and killing you would be a mistake. I’m offering you a chance to redeem yourself and rule by my side as my right-hand man if only you agree to kill Arthur for me. I have something special for him planned.”

Mordred’s thoughts halted if only to make it easier for him to process what had been said. Morgana looked so proud and certain of herself right now that it was truly hard to ignore it. Yet, he recalled how much hatred had consumed her, and how kind Arthur had been to him once he discovered his secret.

“I’m afraid your trip was a waste of time, my lady.” He replied quietly, searching with his gaze for the glint of old Morgana in the eyes of the High Priestess, but there was no memory of her anymore. “My loyalty belongs to the man who stands on the side of purity and good. I wish you saw it, too. Hasn’t there been enough bloodshed in recent years? It doesn’t have to end in war.”

“Arthur and purity,” she huffed, rolling her eyes and ignoring the rest of what he had said. She looked perplexed for the first few moments but then, this cheeky, uncanny grin appeared once more on her white face, which seemed to be even paler in the fair moonlight. “You don’t know what you’re speaking of. He could have ended the tyranny long time ago, but he didn’t. He kept Uther’s laws and persecuted those, who broke them. He gave me no reason to believe in his change of heart about magic.”

“For you, it is not about magic anymore, though, is it?” Mordred counterargued, staring into these soulless eyes. “You are greedy and hateful, Morgana. Perhaps you’d wanted to fight for a good cause, but you let yourself get lost somewhere in the way. I cannot possibly support someone like that. Your brother will change the future and I will gladly see it happen. He’s got more than his Knights by his side.” Emrys was with him, too, but that part the man decided to leave out. He wasn’t sure if Morgana knew, but he had made a promise to keep Merlin’s identity a secret, and even though the servant detested him, he had his honour.

“Oh yes, I know what you mean. Or rather,” she turned away, making a few steps further away, almost circling him. “who you mean. I regret to tell you, however, that he is not a threat to me, nor had he ever been.”

That threw him off guard, but if Morgana noticed the slight change in his eyes and a twitch in his face, she didn’t show it in any way. Instead, she kept on watching him from the distance of few meters, gazing at him rather expectantly, as if she knew something he didn’t.

“We will see about that,” the young Knight exclaimed, already tired of this conversation. He had to go back or else, the others would start worrying. Finding him with Camelot’s worst enemy would not look good. He could be easily accused of treachery. Would it be difficult for him to prove his innocence if such thing happened? He didn’t want to find out. “You’d better leave now, Morgana, for you will achieve nothing in here. And don’t sneak up on me ever again – I will not change my mind.”

He turned on his heel and prepared his mare for the trip, trying to ignore the burning in the corner of his eyes. That woman once saved his life. How could all of this happen?

“You will regret it!” he only heard her shout when he had mounted the horse and set the right path to join the rest. It was already very late, but sleep wouldn’t come to him easily tonight, he could already tell.

Chapter Text

Screams of war echoed everywhere to the point his eardrums heard nothing but them. The moon was high in the dark sky, and the night turned windless. Blade against blade, the warriors fought with one another, both sides being stubborn and relentless. The air smelled of blood.

He couldn’t see his friends anymore in this crowd of people. He couldn’t see Morgana, either. Death was watching him from every corner and he was getting tired of pushing the enemies away. They didn’t think of a retreat. By the morning, no life would have been spared.

“Arthur!” he shouted, desperate to catch a glimpse of his king, but more and more Saxons ran towards him. He had lost his friend somewhere in the middle of this battlefield and his panic never evaporated since then. “Arthur!”

His throat was raw from screaming his friend’s name, and his body got more and more exhausted. He was never skilled with a sword, and his magic still didn’t work. To say he was afraid would be an understatement.

His bloodied blade slashed through his enemies’ bodies and he watched them fall one by one, his heart pounding in his chest and blood flowing through his veins.

Then, he saw them. Arthur was on his knees, clutching his stomach, his sword had been dropped to the muddy ground. His blue eyes searched for him in the crowd, but Merlin was so far away it was impossible to get through. Mordred was standing in front of his king, gripping the bloodied weapon of his proudly, laughing at the man’s misery as Arhtur’s body gave way and hit the ground.

Merlin remembered screaming, but the Saxons were everywhere, flooding the area, surrounding him. He couldn’t get to Arthur in time. He couldn’t save him.

“Arthur, no!” he shrieked so loudly, his feet slipping. He fell down with a thud, losing sight of his king completely.

*

“Arthur!” he jumped awake with a gasp, his chest on fire and the sounds of a battle still ringing in his ears. Looking around the room – his room – he found out he was alone and it was still dark outside, though the dawn was upon them.

Shakily, he raised his hands to touch his face only to discover tear trails all over his cheeks. It was still hard to take a full breath, and he thought his heart would soon explode. He tried to calm down, steady his breathing and hold the terrifying thoughts back, but it was rather fruitless. The dream was way too vivid in his mind, it petrified him to the core.

Barely able to gather his strength, he got out of bed, his legs wobbling and weak, and made a few steps towards the door. Gaius was snoring loudly on the other side – unbothered by Merlin’s earlier scream. He was glad, he wouldn’t like to explain himself.

Silently like a mouse, he left his room and sneaked out of the chamber, wishing to get some fresh air. Besides, he needed to check on Arthur. His lover should be sleeping at this hour but Merlin knew his thoughts wouldn’t stop chasing one another if he ignored his feelings.

The sky was clear, the stars decorating it, the gentle moonlight coming through the windows serving as the only source of light apart from a few burning torches. The castle was eerily quiet, only guards were passing him every now and then, but nobody paid attention to him, probably used to him sneaking around the rooms in the middle of the night.

He walked forward, not looking back until he arrived at Arthur’s bedchambers. Two guards stood in front of the door, quiet. He smiled at them awkwardly but ignored their presence overall, slowly coming inside.

The moonlight seemed to be softer in the king’s quarters, the bed being one of the few things he could spot in the darkness. A smile graced his lips and heart slowed down a bit. Arthur was sleeping peacefully, wrapped in the sheets, apparently comfortable. Merlin could sigh with relief. It had been just a nightmare. Not that he hadn’t known it before, but something in the back of his head urged him to make himself sure.

Not willing to risk waking his king up, he silently retreated to his own room. He didn’t manage to go far, however, because a shadow passing through attracted his attention. He jumped to hide behind the corner, peeking out to see who it was sneaking away in the middle of the night.

It was a Knight, he could already see the red cape of Camelot. The dark curls came next and he didn’t think it through when he decided to act as Mordred appeared in his sight. What was he doing here? At this hour? He wouldn’t let it go, not this time, not when there was so little time before the battle.

“Mordred!” he stopped him, grabbing his arm and pulling towards the same corner he had hidden behind. The young man hit the wall behind him, confused at first before his eyes focused on Merlin.

“Merlin? What the hell are you doing?” he asked, visibly upset with such treatment.

“What the hell are you doing sneaking like this in the middle of the night?”

“Nothing that should concern you.”

“Everything that may endanger Arthur’s life concerns me, Mordred.”

“What?” the Knight frowned, lost, and pushed the latter away from him so he wasn’t pressed against the wall anymore. “I hope you aren’t being serious. I just went for a walk. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Do you really think I believe it?” Merlin asked, his shoulders rigid and body tense. His eyes burnt with fire. That couldn’t have been coincidence. Not a single part of him was fooled by these words. “What are you plotting?”

“Nothing!” the man shouted, making a step backwards to be away from the servant. There was some sort of madness in Emrys’ eyes, some sort of anger and fear. He knew better to watch his tongue in such situations. He couldn’t be certain, after all, how twisted his mind had become after spending so much time in the Dark Tower. “Merlin, calm down. I don’t intend to hurt the king.”

They began staring at each other in silence, in which only Merlin’s breath was heard. Mordred knew he could fight in case things got heated, especially with the other man being unable to use his magic, but he didn’t want to complicate things. He truly didn’t understand why Merlin hated him so much. What had he done? He had been trying his best to prove himself worthy of being a Knight of Camelot and yet, all his attempts seemed to go unnoticed by someone he admired so much.

Now, it hadn’t been always admiration, of course, for he still remembered the days when he was younger and Merlin casually decided to give him up to Uther, but anger for that had long passed. He told himself that the servant must have had his reasons and it wasn’t up to him to judge it. No matter what happened between them then, Mordred couldn’t deny Emrys’ power and devotion to the kingdom. These were traits rarely found in people and with time, he started looking up to this man. The fact they shared a similar secret also helped, though he never understood why they couldn’t team up and protect each other. Merlin had been way too reserved for that.

“You’d better not lie to me, Mordred.” It was sharp, edging on dangerous. Merlin looked ready to kill if needed.

“I wish you could see me for who I am,” he whispered, knowing he was playing with fire. “Whatever I’ve done to you that made you hate me so much, I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”

“It is not what you’ve done, but what you will do.”

“And what is it? Merlin, you can’t judge me for things I didn’t do. Judge me for who I am, for my past actions, too, if you want, but don’t make assumptions based on what someone else told you about me, whatever it might have been. Again, I don’t wish harm upon the king.”

Merlin’s jaw worked in sheer anger. Somehow, seeing Mordred so passive and calm upset him more than he understood. He didn’t sense a lie in the Knight’s words, but how could he believe this feeling if everything seemed to be a contradiction? The seer must have told him the truth, he knew what he saw. Why, then, it felt so wrong? Why did nobody share his worries? Even Arthur decided to ignore them, and he couldn’t allow anything to happen to him. He had to stop the future, had to act fast before Morgana won and destroyed everything he’d been working on. He wouldn’t let his dream come to pass.

“Listen, Mordred,” he whispered rather furiously. “I don’t know if what you’re telling me is true, but it’d better be because I’m ready to sacrifice this entire kingdom for Arthur. If I ever find you snooping around and plotting something, I will make you regret it.”

“I’m not your enemy, Merlin,” the young Knight claimed calmly, no stronger emotion apparent in his voice. “I have my reasons to believe in the king.”

“I wonder what these are.”

Perhaps he was too cruel, too unjust. Too everything. But the image of dead Arthur haunted his thoughts without any break, tormenting him until his sanity was bleeding. The very memory of that nightmare made tears well up in his eyes and he could feel his hands shake. He couldn’t let it happen, not after all those things they had been through. Merlin was ready to sacrifice his own life for his king, for someone he gave his entire heart to. Nobody would ruin it, not even Morgana and her allies.

Mordred had been staring at him, still with no emotion, and a part of Merlin wanted to break into sobs just like that. He was so tired, the constant fear never helping. Sometimes he only wanted to sleep, peacefully and uneventfully. How could he let himself get destroyed like this?

“He knows I have magic, Merlin, and he knows you do, too. Yet, he didn’t order our execution. He didn’t judge us the way his father would have. I think it’s enough of a reason to have trust in him and his reign.” The answer finally came and the warlock halted for a moment. Not one thought raged in his head until he managed to snap out of it, suddenly awakened from the nightmare that kept him trapped.

The other man was still looking at him, quite expectant, but he didn’t know what to say. Not that he had to say something, but he couldn’t possibly just leave it like that. For the first time in forever, he saw truth in Mordred’s words, like the image of him stopped being blurred by all the things he had heard from the seer and the dragon. He saw a little boy they once saved, now a Knight ready to serve the kingdom.

Could it be he had been wrong? It was difficult to believe. All those years he listened to his close ones, doing what they told him to. He didn’t tell Morgana about his magic when he had a chance because both Gaius and Kilgharrah were against it. The same way he had been trying to get rid of Mordred. Even Arthur was disappointed. He failed him, lost his own heart somewhere in the way, blinded by the prophecy. Maybe his lover was right, maybe there was no way of knowing the future.

“What?” he only uttered, frowning.

“He connected the dots and confronted me about it while he could have just arrested me. Uther would have killed me right there but not him. I have faith in him and want to see what Camelot may become under his rule. Trust me, Merlin, we are on the same side.”

And Merlin wanted to believe it. He wanted to let go of the worry and that exhausting feeling of terror every time the thought of the future came at him, and finally make peace with Mordred. Yet, could he? What if he was just trying to fool him? What if it was Morgana trying to get into his head and make him doubtful? One wrong move and Arthur could die.

“How can I trust you?” he asked in a whisper. He didn’t even realise he had started crying at one point, but he accepted these tears. They were giving him a sense of freedom. “I cannot ignore what I’ve been told about you. I know the prophecy.”

“Prophecy? What? Prophecies aren’t always black and white, Merlin. There are hidden meanings in them. There are lies. Playing with the future can get tricky if you aren’t careful.”

Merlin blinked, remembering the similar words coming from Gaius once. He remembered how he had wanted so badly to stop the future concerning Morgana that he made it happen in the first place. If he had been more responsible, it wouldn’t have occurred. Was the situation with Mordred the same? Arthur believed in him. Then again, Arthur believed in everyone. It was the main reason why Merlin didn’t. He was twice as careful when it came to people in their lives. His lover always saw good in those, who didn’t deserve it.

So… what if this time he was the one to be wrong?

“If you’re lying to me now—”

“You’ll make me regret it, yes, I understood the first time.” Mordred smirked and normally, Merlin would roll his eyes in annoyance, maybe even get angry, but right now, something in him felt relieved. It was such a marvelous feeling that he just laughed. It was a light laughter, the one people let out when they felt like the burden was gone.

He wiped his eyes as they got moisty and glanced at the other man once more. Mordred was standing still, watching him cautiously, but there was some sort of lightness to his stance. Merlin didn’t know what to think of it yet, or if he had allowed himself to get fooled, but he’d been living in such distress that he didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t let the past repeat, couldn’t survive another stab in the back as it happened with Morgana. Perhaps he should give Mordred a chance (he would still keep an eye on him, though, just to be sure). Arthur was very adamant about trusting him and even though Merlin never particularly liked listening to his king in such cases, maybe now there was something to it. After all, Mordred hadn’t done anything harmful to Camelot yet.

“We should stand together against Morgana, Merlin.” Mordred suddenly began, snapping him out of his thoughts. “There is something about her you need to know.”

“What is it?”

Mordred swallowed, tension clear in his body now, eyes never turning away from the sorcerer’s face. It was the moment he considered important to their relationship. After all, he spent so many days simply wishing for Merlin to trust him, to work with him. They were both of the same kind in the land where magic was banned and punished. Why not team up? Arthur was not a threat to them as he truly accepted sorcery but still, the attitudes of people differed and once their secret was out and the ban lifted, they would need to have each other’s backs.

“I met her on the patrol. That is what has kept me awake tonight. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You what?” the warlock raised his voice without realizing, frustration already bubbling up inside him. “So you have been plotting against Arthur!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin, I swear I wasn’t. Let me explain.” Hands up in the air in a manner that suggested giving up, the young Knight was staring at the servant for a few seconds until he was sure the man was calmer.

“Oh, it’d better be good, or the first thing I’m doing is going straight to Arthur to tell him how much of a backstabber you are.”

“Calm down and just trust me for a moment. I think she knows, Merlin. She knows who you really are.” The whispered statement sent so much dread through the air, filling him with indescribable pain and emotion of defeat. He could swear his heart stopped beating at some point as his eyes widened and he took a step back, shocked.

“What?” he choked out, already feeling himself crumble. “How, how do you know? Did she tell you?”

“She didn’t tell me, not directly. But, I don’t know, Merlin, there is something fishy going on. I’m sure she planned horrible things. You losing your magic was a part of the bigger scheme.”

It was in this moment that Mordred realized he had said too much, as the other man frowned and glared daggers at him, suddenly losing all his freshly gathered trust.

“You know about my, my loss of magic,” it wasn’t a shout, which was good, but it still held so much sudden reproach and distress that it made Mordred feel awful. He didn’t mean to mess up. “How did you find out? Was it you, who did this to me? Was it what happened?” Merlin’s voice got louder with his each word, and it was rather apparent he was slowly losing it (if the trembling of his hands wasn’t enough of a giveaway). “Tell me!”

Within seconds, Mordred found himself being pressed against the wall once more, but the hands that held him were rather weak and shaky. The warlock in front of him was on the edge of panic, and he didn’t know what to do to stop it.

“No, gods, of course not! I… I heard you talk to King Arthur about it,” he lied because he didn’t wish to damage the relationship between Merlin and the king. Arthur shared his worries with him when he needed an ear to listen, it wouldn’t be fair to betray him like that now. “I swear I didn’t mean to, I was just passing by when you were discussing it.”

Merlin gave him a look. It wasn’t exactly a sign of trust, but it was still better than arguing in the middle of the hall, unaware of ears that might have been listening. A few long seconds were spent in silence of the castle but soon, the hands let go and the warlock looked down, as if ashamed. Tears were shining in his eyes, but he didn’t cry anymore.

“I, I’m sorry, Mordred,” a whisper came, and the Knight frowned. “I don’t know what is happening to me, I… I didn’t mean to attack you like this.”

“You’re worried, Merlin, and these weeks have been stressful,” the man stated calmly and thought about his next move before deciding to raise his hand and place it on the sorcerer’s shoulder. The latter flinched but overall didn’t push him away. “I forgive you, but please, do not jump to conclusions so fast again. I work for the king, not against him.”

Merlin lifted his head quite shyly but found his courage and glanced at Mordred’s white face. Once more, it didn’t hold any stronger emotion. It was rather soft, in fact, and there was something soothing in the way the Knight was looking at him.

He gave him a nod and exhaled shakily.

“What did Morgana want from you?”

“To convince me to join her, but I refused. She thinks she’ll win the war, and she is very certain about it. It is what led me to believe she knows your identity. I thought it was yourself, who was the only obstacle in using your magic, but, but the conversation I had with her… it made me believe she was the one to have stolen it.”

“N-no,” Merlin swallowed the lump in his throat, all the new facts getting overwhelming. “She isn’t responsible for my magic loss. I am. You’d been right. I, I can’t control it. I can’t make it work. I’m too afraid it will fail me again. I don’t know why. I think,” another swallow, another exhale. “I think this had been her plan all along. I had been her target from the beginning.”

“What do you mean?”

“You believe she did something while I was in that Tower, but we both know it isn’t possible,” he shook his head, running a nervous hand through his hair. “She must have known about my magic before she locked me in there… She told me it was to lure Arthur in, but, but it doesn’t make sense. She wouldn’t have left me if that had been her goal. She wanted me to die, and make herself sure I’d be helpless if I did escape. She wanted to break me…” the last sentence was a whisper filled with such pain that it was impossible not to sympathize with him.

It was also logical, in a way, Mordred thought. Everyone in the realm of magic knew about the Dark Tower and the effect it had on those trapped inside. Morgana couldn’t be an exception. She might have known how it would end for Merlin and his magic. How did she find out the truth, though? Was it so obvious from the start?

“She knows you’re the main reason why her plans never worked,” he finished the thought. “She knows she will win the war without your magic. And to make herself sure there is no more sorcery on Camelot's side…”

“She needs you beside her.”

“But she doesn’t have me, I made that clear when I talked to her,” the Knight smiled although there was sadness to it. “She fears us, Merlin. It’s two against one now. We can win the battle and help Arthur build the kingdom together.”

Merlin didn’t reply with the similar smile, his face remained like a stone. Yet, after some time his features softened, and he relaxed more.

“You really do believe in Arthur.” He stated, although the tone still held some disbelief. Like all the things he had been told before suddenly lost their meaning. In one moment, they felt like lies. It was as if lightning struck him with the realization that his world was built on fake beliefs he’d been forced into retelling. “You truly want to see his reign.”

“I have been trying to tell you this for ages, Merlin. The king is a kind soul. He accepted my magic when he found out about it, and he accepts the love he has for you even though you are a sorcerer. I have no reason to plot against him. Now that you finally see it, could we talk about burying the hatchet? Let us work together, Merlin, let us face Morgana side by side and fight for the king as much as we can.”

Merlin blinked, taken aback by the flow of words that followed his statement and at last, he let his tears go. They were warm against his cold cheek and left a wet trail shining in the moonlight. He realized he didn’t want to do this anymore, he didn’t want to lose himself for something he could no longer believe in. Kilgharrah was wrong about so much.

“I don’t have magic anymore, Mordred,” he claimed hoarsely, self-conscious as he always was since that event, and grasped the bottom of his shirt if only to stop the hands from shaking even more. “I don’t know how to break away from the fear I feel every time I want to use it. It’s stronger than me. Morgana defeated me. I can’t fight a war I won’t win. I am useless. Camelot will fall and I won’t be able to stop it.”

“How about we think of the way to help you together? I understand magic more than anyone in Camelot, Merlin, I understand you when it comes to it. Will you trust me enough to work with me on that?” Mordred asked with this tiny smile that told Merlin he was satisfied with the connection they just started sharing. They had a long way to go, of course, because he wasn’t sure if the Knight could truly be trusted with everything yet, but allowing him to help was a good first step.

So he, finally, smiled back. It was an honest one, with so much relief taking over him that he could even laugh about it. Reaching with his hand once more, he grabbed Mordred’s, and they sealed their fresh and young alliance with a firm shake.

And the sun was about to rise soon.

Chapter Text

After the conversation with Mordred, they both went their separate ways, with Merlin’s head spinning from all the new information he had just received. Could he trust Mordred? There were no lies in his eyes when they were talking, but how could he be sure? A half of him disliked this idea, but another one knew he needed the Druid to help him. He wouldn’t win on his own and Morgana was unbeatable without any magic on Camelot’s side. What if Mordred was actually right and the High Priestess knew about his identity? Merlin had been considering it for some time now, but this talk only confirmed it.

The sun already rose, and the castle became busier and busier with every passing minute. Some of the other servants greeted him on their way, the rest simply ignored him. He had already grabbed breakfast for the king and could now join him. They needed to talk immediately. The thought that Arthur might hate him and be disappointed with Merlin’s accusations towards Mordred didn’t let him sleep at night. Especially now that he turned out to be, hopefully, an ally.

As predicted, Arthur was already out of bed, awaiting him and reading some letter. His king used to be a hard-sleeper, but the war changed it. Now it seemed neither of them could rest properly although for different reasons.

“Morning, sire,” he greeted quietly upon entering, and their eyes immediately met. Arthur didn’t smile at him like he always would, which left Merlin feeling rather upset. He did deserve it, though. “I have your breakfast.”

“Ah, you’re earlier than I expected.” the blond said, throwing the letter on the desk and gesturing for him to sit down as well. He invited him to join as soon as Merlin placed the meal and plates on the table, but the warlock silently refused.

“We must talk.”

“What about?” the frown formed on the king’s forehead, and his eyes watched him intently. Merlin swallowed a lump in his throat and exhaled. To say he was embarrassed would be an understatement.

“I owe you my apologies.” He turned his gaze away, suddenly unable to face anyone. “I, I shouldn’t have said what I said the last time. I understand why you’re going to Camlann. And I’m sorry for telling you all these things about Mordred. I shouldn’t have. I let my fear win, and I was so determined to protect you that I stopped caring about people I might hurt. I know it is not an excuse, but please, tell me I didn’t lose you because of it.”

“Lose me?” Arthur asked. There was a quiet sigh, and Merlin could hear the chair shuffle as it was pulled back. His lover stood up and approached him, his hands reaching for the sorcerer’s chin to lift it. “Merlin, we argued. It isn’t the end of the world. It wasn’t even the first time it happened. And, well, it definitely wasn’t worth losing you over.” The smile was back on its place, and something inside the servant enlightened with hope.

Still, he chose to be wary and careful with words. Sometimes, he forgot who he had been before Morgana’s betrayal, before the prophecy and the Tower that stole his soul. He couldn’t say he trusted Mordred entirely – that was not the case – but he needed to give him a chance if he wanted to live with Arthur on good terms. What if he was so blinded by what the seer had told him that he didn’t see who that young man really was?

“Yes, but… I feel like I disappointed you, and that’s the last thing I intended to do. The truth is, Arthur, that I’m simply so scared of the battle, of Morgana, that I lost sight of what’s important. I can’t,” he paused to take a breath. It was shaky, and he could feel his hands trembling. “I can’t think straight when I imagine the future. There are so many unknowns and possibilities coming with that battle. It frightens me.”

“What are you scared of the most?” Arthur asked calmly, his hands going to Merlin’s to squeeze them in a manner of reassurance. There were no tears in the warlock’s eyes, but he could hear how close he was to crying. It must have been taking all his power not to break down right here.

Merlin opened his mouth only to close it and open it again. He glanced down but only for a moment. Arthur’s eyes were captivating and filled with love so simple and yet complex. Deep. He could easily tell the king grew more concerned than angry with their last argument.

“Losing you,” he whispered brokenly and closed his eyes. If he noticed Arthur’s gaze, he would certainly start sobbing, and that was the last thing he needed. “I know it’s selfish, but without you Camelot doesn’t exist, and I don’t want to live in the world in which I’m apart from you. If Morgana succeeds and kills you,” he halted once more because the very thought hurt him enormously. “She will get the throne. She will kill our friends and everyone opposing her. And what if she takes me there again?”

The last sentence was so quiet that Merlin needed to think if he really meant to say it, and if he wanted Arthur to hear it. The first tears pricked his eyes and he couldn’t stop them from swimming down his cheeks anymore. These fears were rooted so deep inside him that he hadn’t even been truly aware of them before he spoke about it.

But it was true. It was a fact. Morgana had only two goals – the crown and revenge. She had explained to him how much she hated him. That she dreamt of nothing else but making him suffer the unimaginable pain. And what could be worse than being trapped there again, this time with awareness Arthur wouldn’t come because he was dead? That would destroy him entirely, and if an old part of him was still alive somewhere there, those events would change it, too. Both losing his king and returning there would be a blow he wouldn’t survive. Would Morgana let him die, though? He doubted it. He saw the madness in her eyes when she spoke about her revenge.

The tears were leaking way too fast now, but he stopped caring. Arthur had seen him cry not once ever since the rescue, what difference did it make?

“Merlin,” The arms wrapped him, giving him much needed warmth and encouragement and soon he found himself buried in a broad chest, his tears soaking into the white shirt. The very way Arthur said his name – with this devotion and worry and care – made him let out the first sob. He couldn’t handle the overwhelming stress, fear and sudden need of reassurance that came at him in waves. Would he ever be able to pick himself up again? The only thing he was able to do was cry. He couldn’t even form a sentence without breaking down. “Surely, you know I wouldn’t let it happen.”

“This is something you can’t promise, Arthur.” he murmured into the shirt, clutching at the material tightly as if making himself sure it was real. He was still shaking, he knew it, but he would be ashamed of it later. Right now he was glad he had his king by his side. It left him feeling secure.

“No, you are right,” the man nodded, his fingers brushing Merlin’s hair. “But as long as I’m alive, I won’t let anyone hurt you, not even Morgana. We will fight together, and we will do our best to stop her tyranny.”

“What if we fail?”

“We must take that risk.”

He didn’t deny the fact they might lose, Merlin noted immediately, and something inside him shattered. Arthur was as scared as he was, maybe even more. He had much more to lose and yet, he was wasting time to cheer Merlin up because he couldn’t deal with anything on his own. The guilt was crushing.

“Of course,” he retreated, pulling away but not enough to get out of the embrace. He liked his king’s warmth. It was soothing. Peaceful, even. “I’m sorry. Your breakfast must be cold by now.”

Arthur’s gaze changed, but Merlin couldn’t describe why. The arms let go of him although uneagerly, and he seemed to have forced another smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” he stated calmly, watching his face like a beautiful work of art. “You look tired.”

“Thanks.”

The man rolled his eyes. Merlin gave him a smirk, slightly better now that they talked. There was still some sort of wall between them when it came to Camlann, but at least they weren’t angry with each other. He was sick of being upset over things he had no control over.

“All I meant was,” the king began and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tenderly. “You should take some rest. Did you sleep at all last night?” he asked, and Merlin shook his head. He didn’t want to tell Arthur about his nightmare, though, it was not the right time. Besides, it would lead to another conversation about Mordred, and he absolutely wasn’t ready for that. “Come.”

A hand grabbed his and silently, he allowed his lover to pull him towards the bed. The grip was gone as their fingers separated, and Merlin felt sudden emptiness when the contact disappeared. He sat down, glancing up to see Arthur’s face. A soft smile graced his lips, making the servant’s heart go faster than necessary.

“Get some sleep here. I’ll make sure to leave a meal for you, too.”

“I can’t,” he protested even though there was nothing he would like more than that. “Gaius will need me to help him with the medicine. He works twice as hard now and he’s only one man. An elderly one, at that.”

“I will send someone to help him,” Arthur declared, sitting down next to him. “Besides, I can’t have my manservant drop unconscious in the middle of the day because he’s exhausted. Just imagine all the bad reputation it might give me.”

A small laugh tore from his throat, and the king followed with the same. He focused on Arthur’s face once more, on his full lips and shining gaze that screamed of so many unconcealed feelings.

“Thank you.” He whispered, reaching for Arthur’s palm. The king held the hand with his two, caressing his knuckles tenderly.

“Do take some rest now. I’m going to be here when you wake up.”

*

Arthur watched Merlin sleep peacefully as he was chewing quietly on his breakfast. He made sure to leave something for his servant, but he worried it would have been cold by the time he woke up. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe his own luck of having him by his side. Other times, he shared Merlin’s fears, even though he’d never admit it. He was afraid of losing the war. Scratch that, he was afraid of dying, too. But even worse than that was the possibility of Morgana taking his lover away to that place again. If he was dead, who would save Merlin? Who would make sure he was safe and sound? He still couldn’t imagine the pains his friend had gone through, but he was certain it shouldn’t happen twice. He was going to win the battle if only to protect Merlin. And if he couldn’t defeat Morgana in a sword fight, there must have been also different options.

Somewhere in the middle of his thoughts, he realized sacrifices had to be made if they were to win. Merlin couldn’t use his magic so it was impossible to do so with its help. No, the witch needed another approach, and Arthur knew the way. Yet, claws of death were always ready to attack, and he was quite certain they wished to reach for his throat. His sister was to be stopped, no matter the cost, however. He wouldn’t let her hurt any more people, especially not the ones he loved more than himself. An idea was born in his head, but it only unsettled him more.

He barely heard his servant start to rouse. Arthur left his breakfast to approach the bed, his steps quiet but somehow hinting his nervousness as he thought about leaving for Camlann in just a few days. He still hadn’t told Merlin the news, but he would have to eventually. Before Merlin arrived this morning, Leon gave him a full report of the patrol that stated Morgana had moved the army closer to Camelot. If they didn’t go soon, they wouldn’t manage to stop her in the mountains. As a man, he didn’t want to face her at all, afraid of the high risks and what was at stake, but as a king, he needed to make sure his people were going to be alright. If she thought she could kill him, if he let her, it would be easy to take her by surprise. Then, everyone would be safe.

He sat down on the bed just when Merlin opened his eyes. He seemed to have been trying to find out where he was before the awareness fully came back and his gaze rested upon Arthur’s face. The blond smiled, though it wasn’t as genuine.

“At last,” he commented. “I began wondering whether I should eat all the food myself.”

Merlin chuckled quietly, and slowly moved to get up, running a hand through his face to shake the remains of sleep off.

“Your waist’s already big as it is. I wouldn’t recommend such approach.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and stood up, having followed Merlin to the table. The servant took a seat, observing the meal that had been left for him. Uncertain as if it was disrespectful, he grabbed a fork, his eyes never meeting his friend’s. Arthur watched him eat, silence having taken control of the bedchambers. It was tense, like there were unspoken words between them. It wasn’t entirely false, and he was aware of it, and so was Merlin (at least he assumed so).

“Merlin,” he began shyly when the warlock had finished breakfast, and looked down at his hands. “There’s something important I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

He sighed heavily, pressing his lips tightly together. Reaching for Merlin’s hand, he led him to sit on the bed once more. His heart was hardly beating a steady rhythm. It was a delicate matter, and the possibility of another argument was quite high. Arthur was tired of those. If these were their last days spent together, wouldn’t it be better if they didn’t waste them on quarrels?

“Morgana’s army is closer every day,” he met his glare finally. “We cannot dwell in Camelot any longer. I’ve already instructed my Knights to prepare to leave within few days. Three, at best, but I would rather leave sooner.”

The colour drained from Merlin’s face in an instant, and Arthur almost felt guilty for making this happen. But it needed to be said. They couldn’t pretend the subject didn’t exist.

The sorcerer swallowed, looking away as if struck. It was easy to spot the tears in his eyes and yet, he refused to let them go. The king reached for his hand to squeeze it, fully expecting Merlin to jerk away, but he did no such thing. He didn’t react, in fact, but it was enough that he accepted the subtle comfort he was trying to give.

“I know you have to go. I understand,” he started, still refusing eye-contact. “I just wish it wasn’t so fast.”

“I’m sorry, Merlin. There’s not much choice.”

“Yes,” he nodded, closed his eyes for a second, and forced a smile, lifting his head to meet Arthur’s eyes at last. “I don’t need to tell you I’m going with you, though, do I?”

This time Arthur laughed sincerely. Nevertheless, it changed rather quickly as he thought about the next topic he wanted to discuss. His face drew seriousness, and he let go of Merlin’s hand, to which the latter frowned, confused. There was no way he could admit to his plan. His friend would never let him go alone if he did. And what would come of his life, then? Merlin, in his current state, had no chance against Morgana, and Arthur didn’t want him to suffer the torture from her hands again.

“If, if something was to happen to me,” he began carefully, glancing down at his fingers, at his ring. “If the battle started going south, and I,” his voice cracked, but he would be embarrassed about it later. “And I died, I want you to run. No matter what, I need you to save yourself.”

“What?!” the man jumped off the bed in a sudden burst of energy. “You can’t be serious, Arthur. I swore I was going to stand by your side to the very end even if it meant my own death, and I am not changing my mind.”

“Merlin,” Arthur followed the gesture and stood up as well, only to face him. “I know it’s difficult for you to accept, but if I die, Camelot will need someone to carry on and bring hope to the people. I want this someone to be you because there is nobody else I trust more.”

“N-no, Arthur—”

“Here,” he took his ring off and swiftly passed it to the other man. Merlin, once again, was too surprised to take his hand away. Once the ring landed in his palm, he glanced at it, lips slightly parted. “I will make a few necessary arrangements to let others know you’re to take the throne if I don’t come back. You will have the support of the Knights, and no one will dare to object.”

“You’re out of your mind! I can’t possibly do that. Arthur, I will fight beside you and nothing will happen to you. I’ll take Morgana on my own if needed. It’s my destiny to protect you, and I am not going to fail. I, I made peace with Mordred, and we will work together to help me with my magic. I just, I need some time. Everything will be fine and Camelot will still have you as a rightful ruler.”

“Merlin,” he placed a hand on his servant’s shoulder. He could feel the man tremble underneath his touch, and the tears he’d been holding back started falling suddenly, as if Merlin didn’t make effort to fight them anymore. “I’m glad to hear you and Mordred found some common ground, and I hope your magic will have returned by the time we face Morgana, but, surely, you must know things are never that easy. I have to consider every possibility, and if that’s what’s going to happen to me, if I shall fall, you are the one who would carry on my legacy. I don’t have an heir, and we don’t have enough time to get married. Please, treat it as my last wish.”

The silence of the room was so deafening, so bothersome. The heavy tension lingered in the suffocating air as they kept on glaring at each other, both tearful and afraid. There was something in Merlin’s gaze, something desperate and lost, and when he opened his trembling mouth, Arthur understood the weight of his words, and the real strength of his feelings.

“You would be willing to marry me?” the servant whispered, sniffing, and it hit them just now how hopeless the situation was. It almost tore him apart to know they could spend a happy life together, side by side. Their love could be out for everyone to see and their future would shine upon them and the kingdom.

If only things were different. If only the war hadn’t disrupted their lives in this manner. If only they had realized quicker.

“Yes,” he whispered back, swallowing the wave of tears that washed over him, and he blinked to clear his view. “Of course I would. There is no one else I imagine to be by my side, Merlin. We have been tiptoeing around each other for so long and now, now when I’m ready for everyone to know, our time is running out. I love you, and I pray with all my heart for Morgana to fall so we could live together with no worries anymore. But I can’t be sure heavens will grant me this wish, so I’m begging you, Merlin, to accept my decision and take this ring. Promise me you won’t risk your life for me, and that you will make sure Camelot will rise from the ruins in case I lose.”

“You sound like you know you’re not going to survive. But you will, Arthur, I know you will. Please, everything will be fine.”

“Merlin.” The sound of his name sounded like the last goodbye, but Arthur didn’t intend for it to do so. It was a plea to stop arguing about it. It was a plea for acceptance. He never knew he could be so scared of dying, but he was so hopelessly in love that the very imaginary picture terrified the hell out of him. This one word covered all the feelings he had buried for his servant, the feelings he could easily admit now, but at the same time being unable to do more about them.

Merlin seemed to have heard it, too, and he let out a soft gasp that was supposed to be a whimper. The cry was so desperate, so depressing that Arthur could feel all the emotions rolling off him. He could also see the deep conflict in these wet eyes. A part of him hated the fact he’d put his lover in such a situation because he was well aware of Merlin’s incredible loyalty and his reckless willingness to sacrifice himself to save Arthur’s life. But his decision had been made, and he wasn’t going to change it now. It shattered his soul to think about it – they could have had everything. They could have been married, ruling the kingdom together. They could have loved each other in front of everyone for eternities and not worry about anything else. He only prayed his death wouldn’t affect Merlin so much, and that he would move on sooner or later. He was doing it for him, as well. The threat of his sister had been hanging over the world for way too long. Without her, Camelot would finally know peace. Merlin would know peace.

He didn’t even realize he was holding the servant’s hands so tightly that they must have been hurting, but to feel his touch right now was like a blessing and a rescue from the black thoughts hammering in his skull. Looking at Merlin now, he knew he didn’t want to die. He wanted to live. To have one more chance, come back in time and repair what had been broken from the start. Could he have prevented that? Could he have chosen a different path that would have, eventually, saved his sister and the kingdom?

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” the warlock finally spoke, his voice void of any faith. “But if, if this is what you want, I promise to do as you told me.”

That brought enormous relief to Arthur’s heart, although he still couldn’t be sure if Merlin would listen to him in the end. He wiped the tears from his eyes, and tried to get ahold of his voice.

“Thank you.”

They couldn’t break their eye-contact now, as if there was a magnet of some sort that kept them glued to each other, hypnotized by the invisible magic that embraced them both. Indeed, their love did not need words, its subtlety making their dark surroundings feel much brighter.

Their lips gently touched, and Arthur could taste the tears on Merlin’s face, could hear his silent plea to do everything they could to stay together. Their hearts were beating in unison, though they felt rather heavy, as if held back by the stones that were ready to separate them. The king never wanted to let go of Merlin ever again, but the grim reality sipped through his secure barriers that threatened to crumble, and he couldn’t lie to himself that everything was going to turn out alright. He could do nothing more but to pray for Merlin to forgive him one day.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Merlin found himself packing for the journey. It could have as well taken him forever with the speed he was rummaging through his things, wondering what he could take. He had nothing left to offer anymore, maybe except for some medicine, but it was Gaius’ responsibility.

“I don’t like the idea of you going with us, Gaius.” He told the elder when he was done with his bag, and the physician stopped measuring the ingredients for potions, focusing on him instead.

“I’m not joining you in battle, Merlin,” he clarified as if it hadn’t been obvious before, and approached the warlock. “I fear my aid will be very needed, though, because I suspect we won’t come out of it without victims.”

“I could do it for you. You may be needed here in Camelot as well. People get ill all the time.”

Gaius smiled, although it was hard to tell if it was to reassure or calm him down. Either way, Merlin appreciated the gesture. Talking about his feelings had never been so hard before. He always considered himself rather open when it came to them.

“As soon as the sun rose, I distributed all the extra medicine for those, who require it. Besides, my obligation is to the king, and I must choose him above everything. I’m sure you understand.”

Merlin wanted to object, but he couldn’t. Gaius was right, of course. He put Arthur above everything else, too, even above his own life and happiness. He hated the fact he was so helpless now, and that he had to turn to Mordred for help. It wasn’t anything personal towards the Knight, not this time, but the thought of asking for such assistance unsettled him very deeply. He couldn’t possibly forbid Gaius from going if that was what the physician felt was a right thing to do. It would be unfair. Deep down, he knew the man had a good point – Merlin’s own knowledge wasn’t enough when it came to a battlefield. They had to consider all the possible outcomes and the amount of the injured that would come with it.

“I know,” he admitted with a sigh, and looked down at the floor. “I’m just worried. It’s enough Arthur’s life is in danger. I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

There was a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Merlin glanced at his mentor. Gaius looked as tired, the old age having been getting to him more than ever. His eyes showed worry and fright, too, and the sorcerer decided it wasn’t the right time to talk about himself. It would be mean and neglectful, and he didn’t want to be cheered up. He hated when everyone looked at him with pity.

“Arthur will be alright, Merlin,” Gaius decided to say, apparently sensing his discomfort with the subject. “He is a great warrior, and he’s got the Knights and you to protect him.”

“I can’t be there for him without my magic, and we both know it’s the only way to defeat Morgana.”

“You aren’t the only one with magic.”

Merlin let out a chuckle but it wasn’t a happy sound. It was forced and hinted his concern.

“Mordred,” he swallowed, his fist curling into a ball. “I wouldn’t count on him in this matter. He had formed a bond with Morgana and in time of need, he might not be strong enough to kill her.” Merlin himself wasn’t certain if he wouldn’t hesitate, as he still remembered that young woman with a kind heart and strong sense of justice to those condemned by Uther, so how about the Druid she once saved? As much as he wanted to improve his relationship with Mordred, he couldn’t entrust such a task to him.

“Then, you will find a way. You always do, Merlin. Now, try not to think of it too much. You have to keep your mind clear.” Gaius patted his back and eventually returned to his duties. Merlin watched him for a few long moments, trying to listen to his advice, but it was difficult. In the end, he gave up and left the chambers with a few words of explanation, and rushed to check on the others.

He didn’t want to bother Arthur yet, he knew his king was probably busy with all the political stuff he never fully understood. Besides, seeing his lover in such a gloomy mood was beyond painful. It was true agony, and he couldn’t help but think there was something between them, something Arthur refused to tell him. He was hiding something. It worried him to no end.

The castle was grey in every sense of this word, and there were no laughs heard in the hallways, nor would anybody smile. Everything was eerily quiet, and it only added to the heavy atmosphere. The servants passed him by with a nod of acknowledgement (at least some of them). In times like these, he missed Gwen. Sometimes he wondered what happened to her, and if she was still alive. Arthur had never spoken about her ever since the day of her banishment. Even Elyan hardly ever mentioned her, though Merlin knew he was hurting. He used to think the man held the grudge against the king for that, but nothing in his behaviour indicated it.

Shaking these thoughts off, he went outside and bumped into the Knights. They weren’t in the best mood, but neither was he.

“Ah, Merlin,” Gwaine was the first to have noticed him. “I haven’t seen you in forever. How are you?”

The others stopped their conversation and glanced at him. His heart sped up a little because it made him incredibly uncomfortable, and he hid his hands behind his back, nervous. The lump formed in his throat, but he knew he couldn’t run away from these emotions forever.

“Fine,” he nodded stiffly, and he cursed himself for his inability to pretend. Suddenly, it was too hard. They hadn’t been talking much ever since he returned. He only saw Gwaine these few times, but even then they didn’t speak a lot. Merlin thought Gwaine was actually afraid of being next to him, as if his every word could harm him. Truth be told, perhaps he preferred it that way. Surely, they had been avoiding him because they were ashamed of his weaknesses. After all, all of them saw him that day, watched his injuries and later outbursts. “I needed to take a break from work. The day’s quite nice.”

“That it is,” Gwaine agreed and exchanged looks with the others. Merlin felt suddenly uncomfortable, like an unwanted guest. A parasite of sorts. His friend glared at him with a gaze he couldn’t read, and he also could feel the rest doing the same. It sent shivers down his spine. “We must talk, Merlin.”

He raised an eyebrow, examined the faces of the Knights, and swallowed thickly. Why were his hands sweating? He knew there was no danger, he knew nothing would harm him or that he was not being judged (too heavily, at least) and yet, the world felt unreal. He wanted to disappear, having started to regret even coming outside.

“Do we?” he asked, looking for excuses to leave. If all failed, he could always tell them Arthur needed him. It was probably true, anyway, but he had no energy to deal with his king now. It made him feel guilty, in fact, because he was certain Arthur would like some company and words of reassurance.

“It’s been long since the Tower, and we still haven’t talked to you about it.” It was Percival this time, who broke in. Merlin glanced at him, blinking. His flight or fight instinct immediately seemed to have been turned on, and he had to try so hard not to run away. His heart sped up, however, and hands were trembling with fear he was unable to conceal. Arthur was the only one with whom he discussed those events, and it still made him uneasy at times. He wasn’t ready for more.

Blood must have drained from his face and everyone looked at him with worry. Taking deep breaths just like Arthur taught him once, he tried to hold on.

“What about it?” he let out, but his quiet voice was filled with tremor. He cleared his throat as he felt the bile of tears forming there. “As you said, it’s been long since then, and I don’t think there is anything left to discuss.”

A second of silence felt like forever, and Merlin’s pulse was faster with each passing moment.

“We just wanted to apologise,” Elyan commented firmly, making a step towards him. The sorcerer frowned but held his ground. He couldn’t cry anymore. “It’s our fault Morgana took you. We should have been able to protect you.”

“What?”

“The king entrusted this task to us, and we failed,” Leon explained in his reasonable, sometimes edging on cold, manner. “Had we been stronger, we wouldn’t have let it happen, and it isn’t fair to you that we haven’t apologised yet.”

“I…” he let out a nervous chuckle, not really knowing what to say. He didn’t expect it. In fact, he didn’t even blame them. It was only his fault he had allowed Morgana to kidnap him, he should have been stronger. “This is absurd. You stood no chance to her. She has magic. Only magic can fight magic. I could have—” but he stopped the moment he realised what he was about to admit to. His cheeks must have turned pink, and he hoped none of them caught on that.

Of course he was mistaken.

“What could you have done?” Elyan pushed, and Merlin became hyper-aware of the surroundings. He could hear his every single breath, he could feel his unsteady heartbeat. For a moment, he even thought he was able to hear every single brush of wind, or sense every gaze that rested upon him.

“N-nothing,” he choked out, shaking his head and, unaware, making a step further away from them. He knew it was irrational. If Arthur accepted the truth, they would, too, but years of hiding it, afraid of death and condemnation, it made him cautious to the point that he panicked internally at the thought of admitting to having magic. “I should go. Arthur needs me.”

He turned on his heel to run, but a hand grabbed his wrist and stopped him. He let out a quiet whimper and glanced at the person holding him. Gwaine was staring into his soul, his face enlightened by sunlight. Merlin jerked away, tears burning in the corners of his eyes, and examined the other Knights carefully in case they wanted to do something rush. He wasn’t sure what it could be and why they would do it, but he had to have control of the situation. Things had already escalated way too fast to his liking.

“Merlin,” Gwaine’s voice was unusually soft. He never heard him use this tone. It made his invisible shields loosen a little. “We are your friends. You can trust us.”

And Merlin knew that but still, the thought of everyone knowing paralysed his entire being. Could he be so unfair to them, however, to let them dwell in their unjustified guilt, knowing that it had always been his fault? Could he be so cruel? He didn’t want anyone to feel remorse about what had happened. He was to blame. No one else.

“I could have stopped her,” he whispered, his voice cracking and all the tension leaving in the moment these words left his mouth. “I am not as defenceless as you think me to be.”

He wasn’t even looking at them now, but he still could tell their stares were burning holes in him. It was incredibly difficult to keep his composure even though it was already cracked. The damage went through his entire body, tainting his heart and closing it to the others.

“What do you mean?” Elyan pushed him a little, and even if he tried (and heavens knew he did), he couldn’t hide it. Gwaine was right – they were his friends. If even Arthur accepted him for who he was, why wouldn’t they? He could bet that some of them knew, anyway.

“I have magic,” he admitted quietly, lifting his chin and glanced at the first Knight next to him, who happened to be Gwaine. His gaze told him everything he needed to know. His suspicions were right. Perhaps he hadn’t been as sneaky as he would like to believe. “Well, I did, at least.”

Carefully, he examined them one by one, trying to detect any sort of emotion. Gwaine didn’t look shocked, he must have known for long. Leon and Percival didn’t seem as surprised, either. Only Elyan’s dark eyes hinted his unawareness of the secret. But still, no one appeared angry. It helped him relax, but the situation was still as hopeless as it had been before.

“You did?” Leon frowned. “What do you mean ‘you did’?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. Talking to Arthur about it was somehow easier, though he couldn’t tell why. Being vulnerable in front of so many people, it made his insides crawl. He had been building himself up since that incident only for these walls to break down around him again.

“Morgana, she did something to me when I was her prisoner. I know she did, but I don’t know what. It’s just, I can’t use my magic. And I need to figure it out before the battle. Arthur’s life might depend on it.”

Seeing their confusion, he forced himself to tell them the entire story, excluding the parts with Mordred. He didn’t feel like he had any right to talk about his magic with others, they probably didn’t know about it, as well. It was the best he could do to recompensate the young Knight all the wrong things he did to him in the past.

“You can’t fight in the battle, Merlin. Not without anyone to help you in case things go awry.” Gwaine protested as only he finished the story. The sorcerer clenched his fists in a sudden wave of frustration but held his tongue enough to stop himself from snapping.

“I will be fine. I’m not a child that needs a protector. You have no idea how many times you avoided death because of me. I will do what I must, and that is fighting alongside Arthur.”

“You cannot. It’s too risky. What if your magic doesn’t return on time?” the man still argued. Merlin was growing more and more upset with his each word to the point he began to regret having told them the truth. He understood his friend’s concern, naturally, but he had been helpless way too long to let it continue. Never again, he kept telling himself.

“I have as many rights to defend this land and the kingdom as you do. Don’t even try to change my mind.”

“Gwaine does have a point, though, Merlin,” Leon cut in, and the warlock glanced at him angrily. He rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I advise you to reconsider.”

“And I advise you to keep quiet when it comes to things that don’t concern you. I’ve been by Arthur’s side all these years, and I’m not going to leave him when he needs me the most. Out of question.”

“We are just worried,” Elyan said, and a part of Merlin appreciated the concern, but another one was mad. “With nothing to defend yourself—”

“Amazing how you’d never cared about it before. I was always there with you, and none of you ever tried to stop me from coming even though you didn’t know the truth. Am I suddenly more helpless now that you have confirmation that I, in fact, have nothing to defend myself with? Spare me these worries if that’s the case.”

His small outburst seemed to have silenced them for a few seconds. Troubled, they were staring at him like he just slapped them. Of course, he was well-aware that they had always cared about his safety, but it really annoyed him that they woke up just now. All these years nobody forbade him to join their excursions. What made the difference now? Even Arthur didn’t discourage him to go and Merlin could tell he was concerned more than anyone else in this castle.

“We can’t allow you to—”

“I am not asking you for permission, Leon. Not a single one of you can understand it, and I don’t want you to do so. I am not a helpless princess in the tower,” he looked away, swallowing the lump in his throat. His next words came out very quiet. “Not anymore.”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to wait for their response so he didn’t. Instead, he left hurriedly, expecting them to call him back, but nothing of the sort happened. He knew they were staring at him as he was walking away, but they didn’t stop him. Merlin decided they needed time to think. Maybe the news wasn’t very shocking to them, but they had to realise he wasn’t as helpless as they had thought. He wasn’t a quiet mouse sitting in the corner. He wanted to be a fighter, bring his old self back. Yes, he was terrified of the idea of meeting Morgana again, more so that it was Arthur’s life that was at stake, but how could he leave the black hole he had dug himself if not by fighting?

No, enough was enough. Now he had something to look forward to. He wanted to spend the rest of his life beside Arthur, help him create the kingdom they both dreamt about, and give him love he had always deserved but never got from anyone. Morgana, as frightening as she currently was, would not defeat him. Not again.

*

Mordred was in his chambers when the door opened rather loudly, startling him. He jumped, turning around, his sword at the ready, and saw who decided to disturb his peace.

“Ah, Merlin,” he welcomed with a small smile, putting the weapon away. “I’m sorry, you startled me.”

“Oh, I, I didn’t mean to. I just, can we talk?”

They were looking at each other in somehow awkward silence, unsure what to say. Things had been better since their last conversation, but it did not erase anything from their past. Deep inside, Merlin regretted having tried to kill Mordred when he was younger. The Druid, on the other hand, knew it was not right to capture them when he still worked with those people for Morgana.

“Of course,” he said at last, deciding to break the silence. He gestured for Merlin to come in and sit down. “What is troubling you?”

Merlin nodded, as if trying to convince himself to talk, and swallowed thickly, apparently nervous. He didn’t sit down. Instead, he approached the Knight, sudden fire burning in his gaze.

“You must have heard the news. Arthur wants to ride out soon.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, I have. What about it? You knew it was going to happen.”

“Of course I did!” he snapped but held himself back the last moment. It was still hard to control his prejudice when it came to Mordred. There would always be doubts in the back of his mind. “But I still don’t have my magic. You need to help me. Now.”

“What? Merlin, you can’t just—”

“Yes, I can, and I will. Please,” his voice broke, and he cleared his throat to keep it together. Tears shining in his eyes might have still betrayed him, though. “Morgana knows I’m helpless and she won’t waste such a chance. You’re my only hope. You have to help me. Or at least, help Arthur. I don’t like the way he talks about the fight. He’s planning something, and I don’t like it. I, I need to figure something out before it’s too late, before everything—”

A hand on his shoulder interrupted his rant, and he immediately shut his mouth, somehow grateful. He could tell when he was spiraling out of control, and he needed an anchor to keep him steady. Everything was too heavy to lift by himself now, and he knew it. The constant pressure didn’t make it better.

“Calm down, Merlin,” Mordred’s voice was actually soft. He hated to admit it, but it sounded good in his ears, it was all he needed right now. Everyone else expected either nothing, or everything from him, and it was refreshing to talk to the person who understood him in a different way. It was easier to find comfort in those, who did not know him well enough to actually have any expectations. “I agreed to help you so I will, alright? But you need to focus if we are to succeed.”

“It’s hard.” He croaked, suddenly feeling as powerless as he did in the Tower.

“I know,” the man nodded in understanding and took his hand away. “You must try, though. Concentrate. I’m certain you still feel your magic within you. Find it, use it. You cannot be afraid forever.”

And Merlin did feel it, of course he did. It tingled slightly, vibrated in his limbs like it tried to get out. But it never could. He whispered spell after spell and yet, nothing ever happened. Mordred kept on telling him to focus, even attempted to aid him with his own magic, but it was unsuccessful. As soon as Merlin thought it would work out, that it almost brought positive results, something inside him blocked it and paralyzed his senses. It even hurt his body. It was a sharp pain, quick and precise, though always left him feeling even more helpless.

They kept on practising until the sun started setting, and Merlin’s exhaustion started taking toll on him. Sweat was shining on his forehead, tears welling up in his eyes, and sobs leaving his throat when he grew too desperate to think of focusing on Mordred’s voice, who told him to calm down, to find strength within himself.

“I can’t, Mordred, I can’t do this!” he screamed at last, all the hope having evaporated. He dropped to his knees, grabbing his hair to pull at it. He was falling to the bottomless dark pitch of self-doubt and hatred. Was he beyond any redemption now? “Nothing works! I feel my magic, I feel it buzz and vibrate and I want to get it out, but I can’t! I’m too weak.”

“You aren’t weak, Merlin,” the Knight told him firmly, grabbing his hands to pull them away from his head, and helping him stand up. Tired, the warlock allowed him to. “Maybe we should try a different approach. Maybe forcing it out is the wrong way.”

“Well, we don’t have time to find any other way. I just need to get stronger. I need to work harder. I need to do better.”

“You’re going to overexert yourself and then, you won’t help anyone, and the king will have my head for allowing this to happen. Unless that was your plan to get rid of me all along.” The Druid tried a joke and somehow, it worked. Merlin had no strength to laugh, but he smiled. Mordred was right, Arthur would be angry. He was already falling on his face and his limbs felt so weak, as if he had been put on a rack. But he had to work. He had to achieve his goal.

“I appreciate the concern,” he breathed out. “But I need to keep trying. For Camelot’s sake.”

“Then, you will try again tomorrow. Please, Merlin, get some rest. At this rate, all you will do is kill yourself.”

“Mordred,” his tone held warning, but the latter didn’t seem scared in the slightest. Of course, he wasn’t half as intimidating without his magic. “Let me do this, please. I can’t fail Arthur, and I will if I don’t fix myself.”

“Fix yourself? You don’t need fixing, Merlin. You need a rest.”

“Why do you care?” he snapped, finally, because the man’s stubbornness delayed his practice, and it annoyed him a lot. He just wanted to be fine again, was it too much to ask for? “I’ve been nothing but terrible to you, and I don’t deserve half the effort you’re putting in me right now. Perhaps I’m no better than Morgana.”

Mordred’s stern gaze softened, and he smiled, though it wasn’t a gentle smile. It was rather sympathetic. Merlin wasn’t sure if he should be mad or let it go.

“We all make mistakes, Merlin,” the Druid began, not a single hint of anger in his voice. “I forgave you because your actions were based on genuine concern. People do stupid things when they’re in love, and you are, aren’t you?”

The statement almost swept him off his feet because it was the last thing Merlin expected to hear from anybody, least of all Mordred. They weren’t even close, why were they discussing it? Why was Merlin so willing to admit to everything?

“What?” he choked out instead. “I, I don’t understand. Me and Arthur, we’re just friends.”

“You can’t expect anyone to believe these words. You love the king. And he loves you. There’s no need to deny it. One look at you tells me everything. But that’s what makes you different from Morgana. You did all those things because you love, and she does them because she hates.” Mordred claimed, and Merlin blinked, the reality of the situation hitting him. He had heard similar words before.

‘She is the darkness to your light. The hatred to your love’, the Dragon once told him. Merlin never wondered what these words meant, not really, and now when it dawned upon him, an irresistible, sudden wave of sadness washed over him. She drowned in the anger and hatred, but Merlin’s love made him drown, too. They both were blinded, although their motives were led by different emotions. She lost herself to loathing, but he was no better. He was ready to kill Mordred. If someone had given him such an opportunity to do so a few days ago, he would have taken it. Who was he, if he could murder for love? Was he truly better and different from Morgana, then?

“You are wrong,” he shook his head. “Yes, that is what divides us, but in the end, we aren’t all that different.” He whispered and turned away. “So I’m sorry. For everything I’ve done and said to you that may have been hurtful. And you have a point, it is time for me to take a rest. Thank you for trying to help me. I appreciate it.”

And he left, without waiting for Mordred’s response. How could he not see it before? How could he stoop so low? If his love was destructive, should he let Arthur love him? Should he love, too? His conscience had never been clean, no, but was he to be redeemed now? What if his magic loss served as a punishment for his past sins? If so, did it mean he was a lost cause, like Morgana?

Whatever it was, he knew he needed to fix this. He needed to find a way to protect Arthur and Camelot, even if it meant sacrificing himself. So what if he lost his life during the fight? It was probably all he deserved, anyway.

Chapter Text

The sun was not shining. Dark heavy clouds were lingering in the grim sky, watching them from above. The wind was rather mild, but it made him shiver every now and then. Nobody was speaking, and only horses’ hooves hitting the cobblestone ground were heard as the people gathered in front of their houses to say goodbyes to the Knights and the king. Merlin tried not to look at all those women and children. For some of them it was probably the last time they saw their husbands, fathers, sons and brothers. There was something heartbreaking in it, and a part of him sympathised with them.

He was riding next to Arthur, who was deep in thought. The Knights were all behind him, observing. Since he told them off, he hadn’t spoken to them even once. Mainly because there was no time, but also because he didn’t feel like apologising. All he did was tell the truth.

His magic still wasn’t working, and he was more and more nervous about it. He tried his best to bring it back, worked harder than he could to the point of fainting once (Arthur was still mad about it), but nothing was ever successful. Mordred kept on telling him to take it easy, but he couldn’t. The battle was closer and closer, and Arthur’s death haunted him in his sleep. He didn’t remember the last time he could rest properly without waking up in tears, glancing at his king, who slept next to him. It was always the same dream, always Morgana (sometimes even Mordred) piercing Arthur’s body with the sword that could kill the dead. And Merlin simply watched, unable to help him. Afterwards everything fell to ruin.

The journey had been long, and no one talked until they stopped to make a camp as sun was going down slowly. It was then that something in the atmosphere shifted, and quiet conversations started echoing around. Gwaine was doing his best to keep everyone’s spirits high. Other Knights weren’t far behind and even if they didn’t feel joyful, they tried to laugh and smile. Merlin’s heart was breaking when he was watching them like it was the last time they saw one another.

“Is everything alright?” Arthur asked him out of nowhere, and he flinched, turning towards the sound of his voice. They were sitting opposite each other, warm fire between them. The conversations were distant in the background, and Merlin forced a smile.

“Just tired.”

“I can imagine,” the king nodded, looking away only to focus on his face once more a few seconds later. He tried a smile, though it was almost invisible. “I can hear you. At night, I mean.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. Of course, he should have predicted his nightmares would wake up also Arthur. It had been quite suspicious that his king never stirred while he was gasping for air and holding back tears. All this time he must have been listening, wondering if he should react or not.

“Oh, I didn’t realise… I’m sorry. I don’t mean to keep you awake.”

“Stop apologising to me for such things, Merlin.”

“Why have you never told me you could hear me?”

“I didn’t want to put pressure on you to talk,” he answered sincerely, managing a tiny smile. “I thought you wanted space. I was, well, I guess I was hoping you would tell me in your own time.”

Merlin swallowed and stayed silent because what could he reply to that? He didn’t want Arthur to think he didn’t trust him. Even if they were better now at communicating, it was still hard to bring some things up, especially when his king had so much on his mind. And Arthur couldn’t help him with it, anyway. Only Gaius’ remedies might have helped, but he didn’t want to trouble the older man, either.

“They’re about you dying,” he admitted quietly at last, but refused to look his lover in the eyes. “And every time, I’m unable to save you.”

Arthur’s smile disappeared immediately and worry appeared in his gaze. Merlin could see him fighting the urge to hug him but instead, he stood up and sat down right beside him on the log, the flames enlightening his face. He placed a hand on the sorcerer’s shoulder.

“These are only dreams, Merlin.”

“I remember Morgana was told the same about hers.”

Arthur turned away, as if considering his next move. Merlin wished he could be a better company right now, he wished he could laugh like the others and pretend they weren’t going to die soon, but it was impossible. He didn’t care for his life, he could throw it away for Arthur, but if he was to lose his lover, his king, his only purpose to get through the darkest days, how could he joke and smile? And what if something went wrong? Would he find himself back in the tower again?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered when there was no answer. “I imagine you’d like a more cheerful company tonight.”

Crickets were playing their concerts somewhere in the background, and the sun was almost hidden now. Loud talks and laughter rang in his ears, the crackling fire warm and bright. Despite the delusionally peaceful atmosphere, all Merlin wanted to do was cry. He was tired, upset, and fearful. He couldn’t find a single thing that would make him smile. Even Arthur’s soothing presence wasn’t enough this time. What if these were their last days together?

Arms were suddenly wrapped around him, and he was pulled into an embrace. His body tensed, air escaped his lungs, but he allowed the king’s hands to brush his hair and rub his back. Soon, he relaxed fully, exhaling and closing his eyes.

“They’re going to see us.” He whispered but didn’t even want to think about jerking away. He wanted to stay like this forever, forgotten by the world – only the two of them and their love.

“Then let them,” Arthur shrugged, still running circles across his back. “I’m done hiding it. These might be our last days, and I want everyone to know whom I really loved.”

The statement, although somehow heart-warming, made Merlin’s soul break. Arthur was as much aware of their situation as him but still chose to pretend everything was fine. Exactly like the Knights. A part of him, however, was glad that the king decided to spend these hours with him and no one else.

“I don’t want you to die,” he croaked, his voice breaking like thin ice, but it was so quiet that he wondered if Arthur even heard it. “I know I promised you to rebuild Camelot if that happens, but, but I won’t be able to go on if you’re not there with me, Arthur. I forbid you to die. Do you understand? You have to survive.”

Though saddened, the king let out a hushed chuckle, shaking his head.

“How can I disobey now?” he smirked, pulling Merlin even closer into himself. A few Knights glanced their way, but they were rather distracted by the noise of other conversations to focus on the pair more. Neither Arthur, nor Merlin seemed to care either way, though. “Let’s just focus on tonight now, there is no need to clutter your head with things you can’t influence.”

Merlin didn’t even have energy to argue. Besides, Arthur was right. As long as he couldn’t use magic, nothing depended on him and, maybe, it was better to just relax together one last time.

“Can I sleep with you tonight? I know I shouldn’t but…” he trailed off, unsure of his next words. Yes, they were quite intimate right now but wouldn’t it be too much to ask for? He needed to feel Arthur’s closure, but he was afraid. He loved deeply, too deeply, and certainly, he didn’t wish anyone to suffer because of it. He had already done enough harm when it came to Mordred. What if he had not realised it on time? What if his willingness to protect Arthur had led to something more serious which would have ruined everything?

Arthur pulled away all of a sudden, and Merlin was close to apologizing again, thinking he went too far this time, but the hands that had been on his back before were now holding his own, and he looked up to see the love reflected in the pair of blue eyes of his king.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Merlin.”

*

Shouts and cries disturbed their morning the next day. Morgana’s men, as he guessed, had appeared out of nowhere, taking them by surprise. There weren’t many of them, but it was enough to spread chaos throughout their camp. Arthur had told him to stay close, but he still managed to get lost in the fight. It was hard to control the battle if he had no powers anymore.

He did have a dagger, but there was only so much he could do with it. And he wasn’t a very skilled swordsman. He could dodge the hits and attack the opponent, but in no way was he able to defeat them.

He parried, maneuvered the best he could and even killed one man, who had found him amidst the chaos and noise. His dagger was painted red, and somehow, the view made him freeze. He had got rid of people before, of course, but usually by using magic. Killing others with a blade, an actual weapon, was different. With shaking hands, he took a look around. He could see a flash of red cape every now and then. The Saxons dropped dead one by one, but he still couldn’t find Arthur. He doubted someone could hurt him, but worry still unsettled him.

“Merlin, watch out!” he heard someone behind him shout, and he turned around to see Gwaine running towards him. A shiny sword flashed before his eyes as he barely jumped away from the enemy’s strike. He fell, the man with a crooked grin standing above him, the sword raised to give a final hit.

The warlock whispered a spell out of a habit, and he could feel some kind of a sparkle in his veins, but nothing really happened. Panicked now, he curled up and covered his face with his arms as if it could save his life. Then, the man’s weapon fell from his gloved hand, and he let out a gasp of pain. Merlin watched him drop to his knees, a bloodied blade running him through. As the sword was taken out of his body and he fell on his face in front of the servant’s legs, a familiar face smiled at him, although fear was reflected in the pair of dark eyes.

“Gwaine,” he whispered and allowed his friend to help him stand up. “Thank you.”

“That was a close one,” the Knight claimed, patting his shoulder blade. The noise of the battle died down slowly as the Saxons appeared to have lost, at last. “Are you alright?”

Not fully trusting his voice, he nodded, trying to take some air into his lungs. He might have still been trembling a little, and he hoped Gwaine didn’t notice it. He blinked, glanced down at the dead man who was almost his doom, and swallowed.

He had to work harder to get his magic back. Then again, he could swear he felt something for a moment. As if it was almost there. Where was Mordred? And where was Arthur? Gwaine asked him something, but he didn’t really hear, already busy searching for his king.

“Have you seen Arthur?” he asked instead once his voice was strong enough to be used. In the crowd of the Knights, he could spot Percival and Elyan. He also found Mordred, talking to his companions. Leon was nearby, assessing the damage. Gaius was safe and sound, too, already taking care of the wounded. No sign of Arthur, however.

“I haven’t, but I’m sure he’s fine. No ordinary Saxon can strike him down. You know it.” His friend attempted to calm him down. A part of Merlin appreciated the gesture, the other couldn’t truly focus.

He started walking around with Gwaine following him close behind, looked at each body. Every time, he was afraid to see Arthur’s face in the dirt, with a bloody hole in his chest. He couldn’t decide whether he was scared or relieved the more time passed on examining the bodies.

“Merlin? Merlin!” he heard, finally, and all the tension left him in one moment as he smiled and looked around to face the owner of the voice.

“Arthur!” his king stood in between two dead Saxons, armour and sword stained with blood. He seemed to be fine, though, and every negative thought escaped Merlin’s mind as he ran towards the man.

Arthur shortened the distance between them as well, and was already waiting for him with open arms. The servant embraced him tightly, the hug being returned. He didn’t care that his lover smelled of death right now, didn’t pay attention to blood that sipped into his clothes. He breathed out shakily, closing his eyes to hold the tears of relief back.

“Thank God you’re alive. When I lost you from my sight, I thought it was over.” Arthur whispered into his ear, tightening the hold. Some Knights gave them curious looks, but neither seemed to care at the moment.

“You aren’t getting rid of me so easily, sire,” he attempted a joke but deep in his heart was touched by Arthur’s openness. He was always secretive, always holding his true feelings back, and it was like a huge compliment to Merlin that it was not the case with their relationship. “You should thank Gwaine, though. I’d have been a puddle on the ground if it hadn’t been for him.”

Both men glanced at the Knight, who simply smiled. Arthur approached him slowly, a tender look in his face.

“Thank you, Gwaine,” he spoke quietly, but his eyes hinted gratefulness. “At least I can be at peace when there is someone looking after him in a battle when I can’t.”

“Of course.” The man nodded, and Merlin turned his face away from both of them as a pang of guilt hit him. It hurt to know they didn’t even trust him to be left alone on a battlefield anymore. Then, he thought they just wanted to keep him safe, and the hate towards himself washed over him. How could he be so ungrateful?

But to think he had to count on other people instead of his own magic was insufferable. He truly was a burden to them all. They didn’t even need him in this war. How could the others focus on it if all they had to look after was him? At the same time, he couldn’t leave Arthur with it. He had to protect him with everything he currently had (which was still too little).

And yet…

He glanced down at his hands, at his fingers. There was something happening when he shouted the spell. It didn’t work out entirely, but magic started buzzing when he muttered the words. Why didn’t it do anything, then? He should have been able to cast spell after spell. It’s not like his magic got completely lost. It had always been there, faint but present. Could it be finally coming back? Was it wise to have hope?

“They almost had us trapped,” he spoke, trying to lighten the atmosphere and make them both stop worrying about his safety during battles. It was not what he needed right now. “We should have seen it coming. I wouldn’t be surprised if another wave came at us in the evening.”

“We’ll be wary,” Arthur nodded and looked at his Knights. Some of them were battered, the others lying dead on the ground. “There are casualties. I don’t want anyone else to die because of our carelessness.”

Merlin nodded in understanding when the king glanced at him. Gwaine had left them alone to look for Percival, and they were standing now eye to eye, wind blowing in their face.

“I’m sorry you had to worry about me,” the warlock whispered and tried to fight down the sudden tightness of his throat. “I promise you won’t have to when the time comes.”

“I know,” Arthur smiled to somehow reassure him, but there was something dark in his eyes. Something Merlin couldn’t really name. He had had suspicions before that his lover was hiding things from him – things concerning the battle – and it stressed him out more than anything. “I saw you train with Mordred not once. I actually wanted to talk to you about it.”

Merlin turned away, embarrassed. He didn’t exactly keep it a secret, nor did he want to, really, but to be aware of the fact that Arthur watched him in his vulnerable moments was uncomfortable. He was supposed to be the one protecting the kingdom. He was supposed to be changing the world. When others could notice his obvious struggle with his own magic, it brought shame upon his heart, made him feel like he was worthless.

When he didn’t reply, the king sighed and cupped his chin. His face was calm, calmer than it probably should be.

“I don’t want you to feel like it’s your duty to go into this battle with me, Merlin. I know you’ve been pushing yourself too hard recently. And I don’t want you to get hurt, whether it’s in a fight, or outside of it.”

“I haven’t been pushing myself too hard, Arthur. I’ve been practising.” He huffed, though there was a hint of anger in his tone.

“Merlin, you fainted in front of me the other day.”

“It was a one-time situation!” he snapped, clenching his fists. “Will you finally let it go? It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

“Listen, I’m not trying to upset you,” Arthur claimed softly seeing how the other man’s mood drastically changed. “But I have a right to be worried. You don’t have to prove anything to me, or to anyone else. You don’t have to take part in this battle, Merlin. It’s all I want you to know. Nobody expects you to do so.”

The wind felt stronger all of a sudden, but both ignored it. Arthur didn’t seem mad at all, and Merlin wanted to shout into his face that he was wrong. It was true that he didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, he knew it. But it was about something else. It was about his independence. It was about love. It was about everything he had been trying to build for years. He couldn’t let it fall apart.

“Why is everyone telling me this? The Knights didn’t want me to go with you, either. Why can none of you respect my decision? I want to be here. I know I’m just a servant, but is my life truly worth less than yours? Do you really think so little of me? Because that’s how I feel when everyone around me tells me to give up.”

“On the contrary, Merlin. I consider your life to be worth much more than mine, and that’s why I’m not fine with the possibility of you dying. And you almost did a few minutes ago.”

“In the end I didn’t,” he knew he was being unfair, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop himself from getting frustrated. He didn’t really mind the Knights telling him to back off, but he would never expect it from Arthur, as well. “And I thought you, out of all the people, would understand my reasons. If you and our friends risk death fighting for Camelot, then I will, too. I won’t let Morgana win and get her revenge for things we hadn’t even done.”

“But I, I don’t understand. You almost died. Why are you so stubborn with this? Why can’t you stay with Gaius, away from the fight?”

“Because,” he spat, suddenly unwilling to be near anyone. His burning glare focused on Arthur’s face. His king looked to be at peace, but concern was shining in his eyes. If it wasn’t for circumstances, he would probably appreciate it. “I’ve been locked up in a place so dark to the point I didn’t even know what was real anymore. I’ve been tortured by the exact same person who wants to kill you now. I cried, I begged for anyone to come to my aid, but nobody did for a long time. Even after you rescued me, I haven’t had a single day of peace because every time I close my eyes, I see her face, and faces of all those people who haunted me. I live with fear that I won’t be strong enough to save both you and myself. And I’d rather die than allow her to lock me in there again with awareness that my king is dead.” The silence came next, and saying it was awkward would be an understatement. “Does this answer satisfy you, my lord?”

He scanned Arthur’s face and before the man managed to even open his mouth, he turned on his heels and walked away, deaf to his lover’s calling him back. There were people around, and some of them glanced their way, but Merlin ignored all of them and moved past the onlookers, straight to the forest. Someone had to collect firewood and give water to the horses.

Besides, he needed a moment alone because no matter how mad he wanted to be at Arthur, a part of him knew the king was right. He did almost die. And it left him shaken.

Chapter Text

The forest was quiet. It soothed him. Recent stress and worry affected him way too much than he’d like to admit. He forgot how wonderful spending time outdoors was. He liked working for Arthur, naturally, and he liked living in the castle with Gaius, but sometimes he just wanted to go out for the entire day with no one bothering him. Today would be perfect if not for the circumstances.

He knew there was probably someone looking for him at this point. He knew it was reckless and simply dangerous to wander around in the woods while the enemy was so near. But he really didn’t want to look at anyone at the moment, not even at Arthur. As soon as he walked away, hot tears let go and swam down his cheeks. The feelings just exploded, and going back to the Knights was the last thing he had on his mind. He did give water to the horses, and spending time with them was much better than being with the people.

He brushed his mare’s brown hair, and patted her neck. She neighed rather cheerfully though Merlin couldn’t help but think she was unhappy. It seemed that even animals could feel the gloomy atmosphere around them.

A branch creaked somewhere behind him, and he jumped, instinctively reaching for his dagger to attack the intruder. Gwaine took a step back, surprised by his reaction, and Merlin felt his cheeks burn with shame.

“Oh. Sorry. I thought it was someone else.” He apologised quietly and focused on his horse once again. “Did Arthur send you?”

“He didn’t have to,” the Knight smiled and approached, following Merlin’s gesture and patting the mare, as well. “I saw you run away and worried when you didn’t come back. It’s dangerous to be alone now. You never know who’s watching you.”

Merlin forced a smile although it didn’t reach his eyes. It felt odd to speak to Gwaine after his earlier outburst. Why was he saying so many things he didn’t even mean? Why had he been such an awful person lately? He never wanted to start a war with anyone.

“I’m sure Arthur’s also worried, though.” the man continued, glancing at his friend every now and then.

“He must be angry with me now. All we do is argue recently. And most of the time it’s my fault.”

Gwaine stayed silent for a while, but there was no tension between them. As if their last conversation never happened. It still gnawed at Merlin, however, and he could barely stand the guilt. He was certain Gwaine never meant to hurt him with anything, and the Knights’ suggestion to stay out of the fight came from their concern, not anything else. Just like Arthur’s.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered but refused to look at his friend. “I’m sorry for my reaction when we talked. I know none of you meant to belittle me.”

“We know, Merlin,” Gwaine assured with a gentle smile, and something fell from the warlock’s heart. “We were wrong to decide for you. All of us understand why you’re doing this. It is your right.”

Merlin looked down, petting his horse’s head. He wanted to be alone, but he realised that Gwaine was the only person he could talk to at the moment without shame or regret. He had helped him not once in the past, after all, and it would be unfair to command him to go.

“Your concerns are valid,” he whispered, not daring to glance at the Knight. “The battle will be unpredictable and dangerous. But I’m doing it for Arthur. I fear he’s planning something stupid, and I must be there to keep an eye on him, with or without magic.”

“Aren’t you afraid?” Gwaine asked, staring at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry for saying this, but Merlin, you admitted it yourself; if I hadn’t been there, you would have been killed. What if there is nobody to do so again during the fight? If your magic doesn’t come back—”

Merlin let out a laugh of disbelief because of course he was afraid. More so, he was terrified. Seeing that blade shine in front of him, ready to strike him down, it was something he would never forget. But what was he to do? Arthur needed him, no matter what the others said. He had to look after him.

“See, Gwaine, this is exactly what upsets me the most – you all seem to limit my skills solely to magic. It’s always about it. Magic this, magic that, I’m tired of you reminding me I’m useless without it. There was a time nobody knew, and nobody cared if I was there with you or not. You’d never thought about it before. What changed now? What makes this situation different? I had been just a servant in your eyes before, and now I’m exactly that. And yet, it bothers you that I want to join you and fight alongside you. I’m, I’m not just my magic, Gwaine. I’m my own person. Maybe I don’t know how to swing a sword as well as you do, but let me feel like I’m worth something more. Please.”

The last word he uttered so quietly that he wondered if the Knight even heard him. When there was no sign of response, he decided to drop it and go back to the rest. But as he was about to turn away and disappear, a hand grabbed his wrist, making him flinch slightly. As he lifted his head, Gwaine’s eyes were staring at him with worry and sadness, but there was nothing indicating anger.

“Wait, Merlin,” he told him softly, letting go of his wrist. “Why have you never said anything? About the way you feel?”

“Would you have cared?” he asked, his voice never above a whisper. It was rather stressful to speak about it like this.

“What?” the man frowned, surprised at the question. “Of course we would! Merlin, we had no idea you feel this way. We were just worried about our friend. And it’s, it’s not about your magic. We want to keep you safe just like you have kept us safe for such a long time. You keep pushing everyone away, Merlin. You pretend you’ve been fine and that you already forgot about your time in the Tower, but it isn’t true, is it? I guess… we underestimated you and didn’t take your feelings into consideration. But of course we believe in you. All of us. Your magic doesn’t define your value. I’m sorry we made you feel this way.”

Merlin barely held back his tears listening to his friend talk. It was probably stupid of him to think they all considered him worthless, but he couldn’t really help it. Morgana took away a huge part of him, and they all reminded him of it constantly. As if he had been too weak to even be in their presence.

“It’s alright,” he muttered, something invisible still squeezing his throat. “I just, I do overreact sometimes. Everything overwhelms me lately. I’ve been too stressed to even take a proper rest. And my issues affect my relationship with Arthur as well, and it hurts like nothing more in this world. I just, I wish it had never happened. That I had never allowed Morgana to take me.”

He shouldn’t have listened to Gaius and Kilgharrah, either. He had wanted to help her in the beginning, but both people he trusted were against it. What was he supposed to do? He was too naïve and too young to judge the situation properly. Now these were the consequences. Maybe he deserved losing his magic.

“I don’t think it would have changed anything, Merlin,” Gwaine exclaimed, and he frowned, wondering if he said it out loud. Then, he realised his friend was referring to what had already been spoken of. “Her taking you was a part of her plan, wasn’t it? She would have declared war upon Camelot sooner or later. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it.”

“Maybe,” he nodded, defeated. “But at least my magic would still be there to keep all of you safe.” He finished and, not waiting for the latter’s reply, walked away as quickly as possible so Gwaine couldn’t stop him. Their conversation did make him feel better, but it didn’t solve anything.

*

He decided to find Mordred first only to talk to him about what he felt during the fight. He hoped the Druid would assure him he wasn’t going crazy or anything, that his magic was truly coming back. What if it was just his mind playing tricks on him, though? What if he felt something not because it was there, but because he just wanted to finally get it back? If Morgana had been able to affect his mind in the Tower, he himself could do that, as well. Right?

He found Mordred near the camp, already packed and ready for further journey. He was surrounded by some other Knights Merlin didn’t really know, but when their eyes met, the younger man, having said words of goodbye to his friends, approached him.

“Are you alright?” Mordred asked first, looking him over as if trying to examine his body for invisible wounds.

“Are you? The fight was quite rough.”

“Nothing a few pain-killing herbs from Gaius wouldn’t fix,” the man shrugged with a small grin, his eyes bright and clever. “It was just a foretaste of what is yet to come.”

They both seemed to have agreed silently, and Merlin took a look around the busy camp. Most Knights were ready to leave, but he didn’t see a sign of Arthur anywhere. He could spot Leon and Elyan on the other side of the river, and Percival was tending to his horse. Gwaine was nearby, too, and a pang of worry hit Merlin’s heart as he thought that, maybe, Arthur decided to go somewhere alone.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Mordred asked all of a sudden, making the other man flinch. He found it difficult to concentrate on the Knight’s face. His thoughts were all over the place.

“Actually, yes,” he nodded, swallowing. The adrenaline from the fight seemed to have been leaving slowly, and his muscles felt exhausted. The fact he almost died right there hit him in the face full-force. “We’ve practised a lot since leaving Camelot.”

“If that’s you trying to persuade me into doing it even more, I refuse, Merlin. No offense, but I’m not going to take the blame if you hurt yourself. Arthur would hang me for that.”

The comment made him grin, but he shook his head, focusing on his fingers instead.

“No, no, I… I’m not here to do it,” he sighed tiredly, running a hand over his pale face. “I just… is there a chance that my magic is coming back just like that? Because, I don’t know, I felt something during the fight. Like it was there. But, but in the end I still couldn’t use it. I swear, though, I sensed it. And nobody believes me. Tell me it’s possible, Mordred. Tell me I’m not going crazy.”

Mordred was staring at him for a few moments that for Merlin felt like ages. If there was someone who could understand his struggle right now, it would be that man. Perhaps he shouldn’t trust him, not yet, but it was hard to stay sane when there was nobody to talk to about things which bothered him so much. He had to get this all out, and no one wanted to listen to him. If he was right and his magic was coming back, it would make him fully capable of fighting, and there wouldn’t be anyone who could object to it.

“I don’t think you’re going crazy,” Mordred shrugged at last, and looked down for a second to put his gloves on. It was time to leave soon. “I believe your magic never truly went away so it would be normal for it to be returning. I told you so.”

Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I overexerted myself and fainted. I know I should have listened to you. I’m sorry. Now Arthur won’t let it go. But I had to try everything in my power, Mordred. If that had been our only way, I would have risked it again.”

“I understand.” the Druid smiled softly, calming something inside Merlin down. Sometimes he wondered if he and Mordred could become real friends despite the past. He seemed genuine when he was helping him to get back on his feet, or when he was speaking of Arthur’s great future. Together they could make Arthur the most powerful monarch that had ever ruled.

“Mordred,” he spoke before the other man left, and the Druid glanced at him, a gentle smile still in his face. “Do you think we could go out together some time? When it’s all over, of course.” He offered and the request must have taken the Knight aback a little because he blinked, trying to process the information.

“What?”

“I’d like to start anew. I had messed up when we first met. I kept messing up even later on. And I’m sorry for that. I mean, in the end you were, still are, the only one who understands me and takes me seriously. And I… I think I have grown to like you, Mordred. I want to be your friend. If you can forgive me my previous rudeness, of course.”

The man stood there staring at him wide-eyed, as if the offer was the last thing he would ever expect to hear from Merlin. Maybe it really was, it wouldn’t surprise him at all considering how terrible he had behaved before. He had been blinded, and Mordred never deserved such treatment.

“Do you mean it?” he asked cautiously, his voice soft and quiet. Disbelief rang within it, and Merlin forced a smile of reassurance.

“Yes. Yes, I do. We should stick together. We have come a long way, anyway, so it is logical for us to try again.”

Mordred blinked, shifted from one leg to another, and gripped the handle of his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He was nervous, it was easy to see, and Merlin was staring at him expectantly, ready to take the refusal and go. Instead, however, the Druid smiled. It was genuine and light, and it seemed to have lifted the spirits of them both.

“In that case, yes. I’d love to spend some time with you outside of battles and the practice.” He told him and again, something in Merlin felt suddenly lighter. He was going to make amends. He was going to make everything right between him and Mordred.

If they survive the war, of course, and that was still a big question mark. Yet, Merlin had too much to fight for now to simply give up his life to someone like Morgana. He would never let her destroy his life, or Camelot, ever again.