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Chapter Text

In a land of myth, and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young man. His name… Merlin.

The heat was unbearable. The sun beating down on the man mercilessly even through the cascading branches that twisted together and formed a shoddy amount of shade as he rode. Casting a glare at the back of a blond head riding in front of him, Merlin let out yet another weary sigh, his hand falling for the waterskin tied to his side before he pulled it away, knowing what he had left needed to be reserved until they hit the river.

Readjusting himself on his mare, Merlin shielded his eyes from the burning irritation overhead and instead turned towards the bigger irritation in front of him. Releasing another sigh, the horse in front abruptly stopped and the man on it turned, a frustrated glare shot back at him. "Merlin, shut up!"

"I told you it was too hot for this, but you were too stubborn to listen."

"Don't be such a girl, Merlin."

Rolling his eyes, he muttered a quiet "prat" under his breath as Arthur called out "heard that" before continuing on. He took note of the fact that his comment hadn't been dismissed, meaning his royal cabbage head felt the sweltering heat as well. For some reason, that made Merlin smile. If he'd been forced to suffer getting up before dawn and gathering supplies for the impromptu hunting trip, it was only fair that Arthur felt some of the pain from his ridiculously bad idea too.

He was aware that Arthur had been under a great deal of strain, once he'd taken over the throne his duties had doubled, then tripled. Which unfortunately for Merlin, meant his had as well. On any normal occasion when the sun was not determined to scorch the very earth they stood upon, he'd have been grateful for the trip.

Yes, he hated it when Arthur killed the innocent creatures that lived amongst the trees just for fun, but he had a great deal of fun himself scaring them off and causing the other to miss his shots. And despite the work that was always thrown upon him, out in the woods was one of the few, if not the only place Arthur let himself relax.

Back at the citadel and in the Lower Town, Arthur had to keep a presence of authority and leadership. People looked up to him, admired and respected him for all he had done, and all he might one day do. There were endless meetings and floods of paperwork and Merlin had a suspicion that had one more council member asked why the king would not elaborate on one decision or another for the fourth time around, he'd have exploded on the spot. So, the hunting trip was good in that respect, if only it wasn't so hot.

"Hurry up, Merlin. You're lagging behind."

Glancing up, the young warlock realized that in his thoughts he'd allowed his mare to slow, the king further ahead on his own steed. "Perhaps you should bring George next time, I'm certain he would love the chance to spend such time with you, Sire." Merlin's words dripped with sarcasm, urging his horse to go faster until he was riding beside the man.

"At least George might be better company," Arthur spat, turning a reproachful eye at the other. "You've been acting like an infant since we left."

"I have not." Merlin scoffed, reaching a hand up and adjusting the scarf he wore around his neck.

"So your near silence interrupted only by your relentless sighing is due to something besides pouting?"

Narrowing his eyes, the warlock resisted the urge to sigh once more. He had no response to give, irritated though at the small smirk Arthur wore at his minor victory. "How long before we reach the river?" He asked, changing the topic as he resolved to make himself more conversational.

"It's not far. We'll tie the horses nearby and see what game we can catch."

"I'd be surprised if they weren't all sleeping to get away from this heat." Merlin mumbled, not even having to look up to feel the annoyed stare shot his way.

As the two continued on, Merlin sat himself straighter, eyes glancing around them as sweat rolled down his neck. The forest had taken on a stillness that made the warlock tense, not even the slightest breeze daring to rustle a branch or a leaf. He found himself slowing again, blue eyes peering through the brush as a shadow moved beneath it.

"Merlin! Quit lagging behind! If I knew you were going to be so useless today I would have just come by myself!" Coming to a dead stop, Merlin frowned, a gust of dry wind making the brush tremble near him. "How utterly stupid are you? I'd ask if the sun has damaged your brain, but I don't think there's enough in there for any damage to be done!" Arthur scoffed, riding back towards his servant as Merlin glanced up at him.

"We should leave." The words were out of his mouth before he fully knew why, blue hues flickering to the foliage again before looking back at his friend.

"Excuse me? When will you learn that I give the orders, Merlin, not you?"

"Arthur, I have a bad feeling about this. We really should go."

"I came out here to hunt and that's what I plan to do." Arthur stated dismissively, turning his horse back around.

Scowling at the stubborn man's back, Merlin forced his mare on, trailing begrudgingly behind him as a weight settled in his stomach. Something was wrong. He knew something was wrong. Everything had become too still, too quiet. And he felt like they were being watched. To Arthur's credit at least, the man seemed to study their surroundings a bit more, head turning from left to right on occasion.

By the time they'd approached the river, the sound of rushing water filled up the silence and Merlin felt sick from the building unease. "See? Everything is fine, so quit being such a coward." Arthur declared, climbing down from his steed as Merlin followed suit.

"I'm not being a-"

"Merlin! Just tie up the horses, I won't hear another word!" The king snapped, his tone taking one of authority as he fixed his manservant with a hard stare.

"Yes, Sire." Merlin spoke with a small bow of his head, taking the reins of both horses and guiding them away. He had been aware from the beginning how short tempered Arthur was that day, but he still couldn't shake off the feeling.

Going about his tasks quickly, the young warlock secured their horses and watered them before gathering Arthur's hunting equipment and lugging it back over to the man who stood staring into the trees with an odd expression.

"Are you alright?" Merlin asked, stopping a few paces back as the blond turned, ignoring the question as he took the crossbow from his servant's hands.

"Let's go. And be quiet this time." Arthur warned, his tone low as the two began to make their way through the trees.

Keeping one eye on where he was stepping and one eye on the landscape, Merlin ran a hand across his face to wipe away the sweat and grime that had begun to gather as the king came to an abrupt stop. Raising a hand in warning that Merlin nearly crashed into, he paused and watched the man crouch down behind a half fallen tree. Pulling out and notching an arrow, Arthur aimed carefully towards his prey in the distance.

Wincing, Merlin began to shuffle back, preparing to trade the buck's life for a day of further berating. Stumbling forwards suddenly and grabbing ahold of a branch, the tree quivered and its leaves brushed together, alerting the animal and sending it running just as Arthur released the arrow.

The point drove harmlessly into a tree and Merlin felt a smile rising to his face. At least it almost did, until he was met with furious blue eyes that threatened a never ending list of chores for the next several days.

"Merlin! You clumsy buffoon! Can you not walk even a step without tripping over your own feet?” Annoyance turned to anger as the blond strode towards the tree holding his arrow, the man ripping it free and pointing it back at his servant. "For once, could you try not to alert everything to our presence?" He demanded, turning his back and continuing on as Merlin trailed behind him once more.

Arthur continued to murmur under his breath, cursing his manservant while following the trail of the buck that had run off. By the time the sun was high overhead, Arthur had yet to find another target, and Merlin felt dead on his feet.

"We might as well go back, nothing wants to be out in this heat." Merlin finally grumbled, leaning back against a tree and wiping his face again uselessly.

Slowing to a stop, Arthur looked as though he might protest before he sighed, lowering his crossbow. "How is it that you manage to keep your feet beneath you except when I have something in my sights?"

The question was posed with a pointed look, and Merlin smiled sheepishly. "I suppose I'm not that great at sneaking around."

"Add that to the never ending list then." Arthur grumbled, walking past Merlin as he began to trek back the way they'd come. Instead of responded to the remark, Merlin found himself staring beyond the trees, the knot in his stomach twisting painfully as the edge of a cloak disappeared from view.

Jogging to catch up to the king, the warlock glanced back only to find no one following them. "What are you doing?" Arthur demanded, looking over his shoulder as well. "Do you still have that bad feeling? Honestly, Merlin, if anything were going to happen it would have already-"

The man came to a sudden halt as Merlin stumbled to a stop of his own. Down amongst the trees were the remnants of a small camp, hidden from view when they'd first trekked into the trees, but now visible as they came back down. A man wearing a faded blue cloak sat with his back to the two as his hand stretched out and a small fire erupted beneath a dented pot.

Arthur's hand was on his sword before Merlin could speak a word, and as the crossbow was shoved into his hands and the blade was unsheathed, the stranger turned and stared at them with hollow green hues. He stayed where he was perched, a gleam in his eyes as they rested not on the king, but Merlin himself.

"State your name." Arthur commanded, standing taller while taking a step forward and to the left, his body moving partially in front of Merlin's.

"Alard, My Lord." The man spoke, though no respect could be found in the title he uttered.

"Camelot has banned the use of magic within its borders, and you have gone against that law."

"Have I?" The man tilted his head, moss colored hues darting back to Merlin as thin lips twisted into a smile. The young warlock kept his face neutral, though his eyes flickered to Arthur as the king kept his sword leveled at the man.

"Those who practice magic are not permitted within the borders of Camelot, and any who dare try are sentenced to death." Merlin's eyes widened a fraction, his stare moving back to the man who had yet to take his gaze off him.

"Are they?"

Did he know about him? Merlin wanted to curse, wanted to drag Arthur away. He wanted to do anything but stand there trying to figure out what Arthur was possibly hoping to gain from decreeing such a thing. The man had been lighting a fire, he had not been causing any other trouble. Would Arthur allow him to leave? Or did he plan to run him through on the spot? The idea made Merlin sick, his knowledge of his friend and his hatred towards magic leading him to believe it may be closer to the latter.

"You know very little of the magic around you, My Lord, even at this very moment." Alard said calmly, rising to his feet as Arthur tightened his hold on the blade. "Do you not listen to those who say not all magic is for evil? Do you ignore the cries of the innocent that you and your kingdom have damned?" His voice was growing louder, and Merlin could feel the agitation in the air.

"Can you not hear the wailing of the children who have done nothing to deserve such wrath?" He had yet to take a step closer, but Merlin could feel the uncertainty in the king. Arthur had worked hard to be fair and just, despite the way he'd been taught to despise and fear all magic.

He'd had his moments when those who he felt were innocent were let free, when those that proved no harm somehow vanished before their sentencing with no one chasing after them. But the agitation had turned into tension, and it was so thick in the air that Merlin knew nothing would end fairly in that moment.

Before Arthur could speak, Alard held his hands up in surrender, bowing his head to his chest. "If death is what waits for me for such a meager act, then you are not who you claim to be. A wise king listens to the outcries, yet you choose to be oblivious. If you cannot hear the cries of your people, then you do not deserve to hear them at all."

Arthur's sword lowered only a fraction, his feet carrying him a step forward as Merlin looked closer, the sorcerer's head lifting and his eyes meeting the warlock's once more. Only they were no longer the shade of the forest, flashing instead the briefest color of gold as his mouth moved with the faintest of whispers.

The realization struck a moment later, Merlin's body moving into action as he dropped the crossbow and tackled into Arthur, a warm breath of air hitting the warlock's back as the two fell to the forest floor. There was a moment of relief as Merlin's elbows collided with the hard ground, pleased that he'd shoved Arthur out of the way in time. But the relief quickly faded as the pain washed it away.

An unearthly scream pierced through his ears, the man's hands rising to clasp them in an effort to block the sound as agony ripped through him. The noise grew louder, a thousand cries mixing and begging in his head. Merlin's eyes squeezed shut as his body curled inwards, his knees pulling into his chest as he ducked his head down in an effort to silence the screaming. It needed to stop, it had to stop.

Fire danced through his head and burned every nerve, every muscle, every word he tried to speak. His body was burning, the air wrenched from his lungs as he fought to fight the screams. They were begging to be free, pleading to live. Fire that was dry and hot and burning the flesh from their bones rose up higher, and they wouldn't stop screaming.

His body trembled where he lay, tears slipping past closed eyes as heavy hands fell on his shoulder. They had infiltrated his mind and now they were fighting for his body. He didn't dare open his eyes, didn't dare see the fires melting his skin and charring his bones. The fire was pulling at him, grabbing ahold of his arm and his back and his leg, it was trying to reach him, was trying to burn the side pressed tightly into the dirt.

So much fire, so much pain, too many people were in his head, too many were screaming and accusing and dying over and over and over why wouldn't they stop just make it stop.

And then it had.

As if they'd heard his silent plea, the voices faded to nothing and the fire backed away, and all that was left was the ache of his bones and the blessed silence they'd granted him. But those hands were still there, holding him tightly and shaking him desperately. He ignored them for a moment longer, inhaling a small, trembling breath into his deprived lungs before he dared to crack his eyes open.

They were blurry, and he realized it was not due to the smoke from the fires but from his tears as he blinked them away and found Arthur kneeling next to him, a level of concern and fear on his face that he hadn't seen before.

Slowly uncurling his body, Merlin pulled his head from his hands and blinked against the light, allowing his friend to grab his arms and ease him up. The decision was a poor one in the warlock's mind, his stomach lurching as he nearly pitched over, held steady where he sat only by Arthur's firm hands.

Closing his eyes and taking a breath, he felt Arthur shake him again. What was he doing, trying to rattle his head more than it had been? Reluctantly opening his eyes, he focused on Arthur's face, trying to force a reassuring smile that wouldn't quite come. He must have already killed the sorcerer because he seemed unconcerned with anything but the servant in front of him.

And that was when he noticed it.

The way Arthur's lips moved, forming a word over and over again that he couldn't make out. 'Speak louder' he tried to say, but his throat was raw, and he found the words stuck inside. Why wasn't he speaking louder? Why was he trying to whisper? It wasn't even that.. loud.

No, it wasn't loud around them at all. It was silent. Completely, unnervingly silent. No birds were chirping, no water running, no breeze making the trees shudder from its breath.

Looking away from Arthur, Merlin stared at the trees around them, watching them intently. The branches were swaying, the leaves battling against one another, and Arthur was still mouthing something in front of him.

His body knew before his head did.

Panic began rising in his chest as his gaze fell, eyes staring hard at his hands. Hands that were calloused from years of work, hands that were propped weakly against his knees. He was back to staring at Arthur and he was no longer trying to speak, he merely stared.

He looked so concerned, so afraid. Expressions like those never crossed the king's face in the presence of others, and Merlin himself had only seen them rarely, and never to this extent. But he continued to stare, because he couldn't look anywhere else, because as his hand lifted to his head, he himself was afraid.

The pain was like lightening, striking against his ear and shooting through his head so hard and fast he grimaced while those hands tightened around his arms. And as his own pulled away, as they fell back to his lap, his head finally came to the same conclusion that his body had moments ago.

Because there was no way to deny it now. No way to ignore the crimson that stained his fingers. No other way to explain why Arthur had decided now to make himself silent though his lips continued to form words.

Merlin's head tilted up, his eyes meeting Arthur's once more, and he felt his body go cold. There was only one word on Arthur's lips. One word, over and over. And he finally understood what he was saying.

Merlin.

He was saying his name, but he couldn't hear him. He couldn't hear anything at all.

Chapter Text

He should have listened to Merlin. Not that he would ever say those words aloud to his manservant, but he should have listened. He'd needed an escape so desperately he had barely considered what it entailed. Realistically he had no way of knowing the day would be so hot, no way of knowing that there would be little to no game to hunt, and no way of knowing Merlin would be so irritated.

No, that was a lie. Merlin was always irritated when Arthur declared it was time for a hunt. He would get that frown that was never fully concealed, and he would mutter under his breath about how silly it was to kill animals for the sport of it.

On most occasions, Arthur thought the boy had fun. When he would gather the knights and the group would go off together, he was always in the middle either laughing at Gwaine or bickering with Arthur. It was a chance to relax, for all of them. Alright, perhaps not as much for Merlin, who was still tasked with the horses and the cooking and the cleaning of their camp, but on the rare occasion he told the servant he didn't need to come, he could've sworn he'd looked offended.

"You'll starve if you go off alone. Remember the last time the knights had to eat your cooking? I don't think Leon will ever be the same." He had said the last time, that idiotic smirk plastered across his face before he went to pack their bags for the journey.

But this time had been different. He'd allowed his stubbornness to overrule his better judgement merely for the sake of escape. He loved his kingdom, and while his job was tedious, it was satisfying. But out in the forest, especially when he was only with Merlin, he had the opportunity to let go.

For a few blissful hours he could pretend all of Camelot rested on someone else's shoulders and his only task was to hunt and bask in the sun. He could pretend that it was just him and one of the people he was closest too, and that nothing else mattered. Of course, Merlin never got off entirely, he was still tasked with all his normal chores, but there was a sense of companionship, a sense of equality. A sense of brotherhood.

Merlin was loyal to a fault, though he had little to no sense of self-preservation and Arthur was fairly certain that half the time he had no idea what the word 'respect' even meant. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

That annoying, sarcastic, frustrating boy had become one of his best friend's, and Arthur had promised himself long ago that he would keep Merlin safe. But he'd failed in that promise, all because of his indecision.

He'd received reports of a sorcerer in the forest caught many a time doing small amounts of magic. He'd never harmed a soul, but people were frightened. Arthur had sent out a couple of search parties, but none had taken the task too seriously. Since no harm was being done, Arthur had allowed himself to look the other way, if not in the hope that the problem would clear itself.

He knew magic was wrong. He knew it was evil, and the people who practiced it were toying with dark forces. But there were times it could be overlooked. Times when a child was involved, or it was merely someone passing through. Instead of sending them to the pyre or to a beheading, Arthur merely banished them. It had always been a conflict when it happened, but he knew it was right.

But seeing it happen in front of him—watching the fire erupt with merely an uttered word—had sent him spiraling. His father's words were in his ears and he was struggling to make his choice. He'd planned to banish the man, planned to lower his sword and tell him that his death would be his own choice if he were ever to return to Camelot. But then he'd begun to say those things.

He'd spoken of his failure in hearing his people, in listening to their cries. And had he? Had he failed in such a way? He was protecting his people, keeping them from danger. He was doing what he'd been taught to do, what he knew was right. But before he could speak, before he could tell the sorcerer to leave before he changed his mind, that idiot Merlin was tackling him to the ground.

It had come out of nowhere. One moment his servant was protected behind him, the next he was throwing his entire weight—as little though it may be—onto the king and pushing him to the ground. It had taken only a moment for Arthur to regain his footing, to hold his blade up once more and realize the man had tried to attack him. But the look in the sorcerer's eyes had stopped him from retaliating. They were not malicious, nor did they crave destruction. They were merely intrigued.

"Interesting." He murmured, staring not at the king, but his servant still on the ground behind him. "Such loyalty, even for what you have done."

"What have you done to him?" Arthur demanded, trying hard not to be distracted by the crumpled form beneath him. Merlin had yet to rise and had instead curled in on himself, his body trembling while quiet groans echoed past his lips.

"Such a fate was not meant for him; he was foolish to take your place."

"Whatever you've done, reverse it!" Arthur yelled, closing the distance as the sorcerer held up his hands and stepped away.

"Heed my words, Arthur Pendragon. Listen to the cries of your people, or his fate will be cast in stone."

No more words, no more talking. Arthur lunged, slicing his sword towards the sorcerer only to have it cut through air, the man gone from sight. "Where have you gone? You coward!" Arthur shouted, turning around as his gaze fell back to Merlin.

Oh God, Merlin. His sword was back in its sheath in a moment, the king sliding down next to his fallen friend and grabbing ahold of his shoulder, the boy's skin warm to the touch. "Merlin, Merlin!" He called, attempting to shake the boy from his stupor.

His body had tucked in on itself in a protective manner, his knees drawn close, and head bent towards his chest. But his body was shaking, and the groans had begun to turn louder, verging on agonized screams.

Arthur tried to grab his other arm, tried to pull the other up and out of his trance, but the more he fought to right him the more he resisted. Worry began to eat at the king as the next noise was a broken scream barely muffled by his curled body. Arthur was prepared to force the boy up—to carry him if need be—when as quickly as the fit had started, it stopped. No more screams, no more groaning, only silence. That almost scared him more.

"Merlin? Are you alright? Come on, answer you idiot." Arthur murmured, desperation overcoming him as he began to shake the boy's shoulder. He only stopped when he felt Merlin move.

His hands carefully released their vice on his head and his eyes—rimmed red and dripping with tears—blinked strangely up at him. Arthur's next breath shuddered out with relief, grabbing ahold of Merlin's arms and pulling the boy into a sitting position. He should have thought better of it, as the moment Merlin was sitting straight he began to fall back to the side once more, held up only by Arthur's steady hands.

"Merlin? What happened, are you alright?" He asked, forcing the nerves from his tone as he looked the boy over.

There seemed to be no outward injury, nothing to indicate he'd been hurt even from his fall. But he found his eyes returning over and over again to the side of his head, and it was only after the first drop of blood dripped down his face and landed on his sleeve did he understand why.

Any assurances of Merlin's safety he'd given himself washed away in an instant, his gaze shifting to his other side, then back again. Both of his ears were bleeding. It had started slow but had begun to trickle faster until thin lines were trailing down his face and neck.

"God, Merlin, what happened?" He asked, looking back at the boy to find his eyes closed. Shaking him lightly, afraid for him to pass out, Merlin's eyes opened again while pained blue hues studied him. "Merlin? You need to focus, tell me what happened."

No response. Barely even an acknowledgment. But then he spotted it, the brief look of confusion before Merlin's eyes were looking behind Arthur's head, trained on the canopy of trees above them. Dread washed over him in a single moment. Merlin couldn't hear him, could he? He couldn't hear a word he was saying.

"Merlin?" No answer. God he needed to be wrong, please let him be wrong.

"If you cannot hear the cries of your people, then you do not deserve to hear them at all."

It had been a spell, or perhaps a curse. Merlin had saved Arthur from the attack but in return..

The shaking had begun again. Tremors, running through the boy's body as Arthur held him tighter. "Merlin? Merlin?" He couldn't stop himself, the name a desperate plea to tell him he was wrong, to tell him this wasn't happening.

Merlin opened his mouth, a weak, strangled croak leaving him instead of an answer, and the boy's eyes grew wide in fear. Shaking fingers reached for his ear, and as the pads connected the boy grimaced, a sharp, pained cry leaving him as his hand fell back to his lap, staring silently at the blood.

"Merlin, you're alright. You'll be fine. Merlin? Merlin." He said firmer, as if the louder he spoke the more chance he'd have to be able to break the spell.

When the boy's head lifted and watery blue eyes met his, Arthur felt the world shift around him. "Arthur?" The sound of his voice was panicked, his eyes widening even more as his gaze dropped back to his hands, his chest rising and falling at a faster rate. "Arthur!" He shouted his name, the effort clear on his face as a tear slid down his cheek and he struggled to push himself up.

"Merlin, Merlin calm down!" Arthur said, cursing himself at the worried tone his own voice carried. Tilting his head until Merlin was looking at him, Arthur spoke slowly. "Merlin, calm down." He said, doing his best to articulate each word.

He was met only with more confusion, the fear displayed on his friend's face wrenching his heart. "Arthur, I can't hear!" The boy was shouting, eyes focused intently on his face as Arthur winced at the volume.

"I know." He said, nodding his head for effect.

"I can't hear.. Why can't I hear?" Another shout, only his words died out near the end, choking down a sob as his hands reached for his ears again.

"Merlin, don't." Arthur warned, grabbing his wrists before he could hurt himself further. The boy glared at him, his hands jerking to be freed only to have the king hold them steady. "Merlin, lis—" His words cut off, his breath catching as the boy continued to stare and struggle weakly for his hands. Swallowing hard, Arthur shook his head. "Bleeding." He said slowly, making his voice louder unintentionally as Merlin scowled.

"I know." He barked out, his brows drawing together as he finally pried his hands free and clenched them tightly.

"We need to get you to Gaius; he'll know what to do." Arthur murmured, turning his head back towards the small, and now abandoned, camp. Hatred burned within him as he looked back to Merlin, the boy’s eyes squeezed shut once more as his mouth opened and closed repeatedly, small sounds escaping on occasion.

Reaching out and grabbing one of his balled fists, Merlin's eyes flew open and stared at Arthur, waiting for him to speak. But anything the man had ready to say had died the moment his eyes had opened. Round blue hues that were still wide with fear were red and swollen from his crying, tracks from the tears had left marks in the sweat and grime along his face while blood had begun to dry along his pale skin.

The way he looked, though he was sitting, was still curled in, his knees drawn close, and his shoulders hunched in. Arthur had never seen him look so frightened, nor so vulnerable. He'd forced the boy out here and he'd allowed him to get hurt, and now he-

"Stop." A single word, cracking near the edges from the strain, left Merlin's mouth, a determined expression washing over him as he considered his next words carefully. "Not your fault.. prat."

A weak laugh left Arthur, the words so familiar yet foreign. Though Merlin could speak, his words were monotone, and Arthur wasn't sure if that or the silence was worse. Nevertheless, the single statement had brought him to his senses.

"Home." The king uttered, noting recognition in his servant's eyes as the boy attempted to nod before wincing at the motion. "Alright, up we go." The blond murmured aloud, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing ahold of the boy's arm.

It was easy to get him to rise, but the moment Merlin was standing he began to fall again, unable to keep his balance. Wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling his own over his shoulders, Arthur rolled his eyes. "Trying to be lazy even now, aren't you?" He asked, receiving only silence as a response as Merlin leaned heavily against him.

With a deep breath and the determination to help the injured boy, Arthur guided them the way they'd come and back towards the river, hope fueling him the closer they grew towards the sound of rushing water. Though it appeared that the further they walked, the more Merlin stumbled. His feet seemed to catch on every root and rock that stuck out in their way, and with every sudden jostle or jerk the boy complained with a noise of pain.

Something unforgivable had been done to him, but Arthur ground his teeth, knowing full well he couldn't stop until they'd reached the horses. The sooner Merlin got to Gaius, the sooner a remedy could be made. Damn the sorcerer. Damn the spell. Damn his foolish, stubborn side.

The sun had crawled further into the sky by the time the river was in sight, and both boys were sweating profusely from the effort. By the time he'd propped Merlin against a tree and collapsed to the ground himself, Arthur was tempted to merely find shade until the sun had hidden itself in the cloak of night and allowed a cooler return to Camelot.

And he very well might have if Merlin hadn't looked so close to death. He hadn't noticed when they'd been walking, but now as he forced his heart to calm and his breathing to even, he took note of the blood that continued to drip from the boy's ears.

"Damn." The blond murmured, shifting his gaze to the way Merlin had once more curled in on himself.

He'd drug his knees towards his chest and wrapped his arms protectively around them as his head leaned carefully against the rough bark of the tree. His eyes were unfocused and dazed, and he was paler than Arthur had ever seen him.

Pushing himself up and digging through one of the bags Merlin had packed that morning, Arthur retrieved a couple of waterskins and a spare tunic, carrying them over towards the boy. He barely seemed to notice when Arthur sat next to him, only shifting when the king held one of the waterskins out to him.

Merlin took it slowly, staring at it for a moment before he gratefully drank the water offered, careful to keep his head from moving as he did. Arthur took a drink from his own before setting to work, pulling a dagger from his boot and stretching the tunic out, working to keep it from touching the ground as he cut it into a few long strips.

Merlin watched quietly, disinterest in his eyes as Arthur returned the dagger to its hidden sheath and moved closer to his servant. Understanding struck Merlin and he reached a hand out again, brushing his fingers against his neck and staring at the drops of fresh blood that stained the tips. His gaze shifted dully to his friend while dropping his hand, barely tipping his head in resignation as Arthur leaned forwards.

Taking one of the longer strips and placing it behind his head, he brought the fabric around and over his ears before drawing it back up towards the top of his head. As he began to tighten it, Merlin groaned, his fingers digging into the dirt at the pain while Arthur murmured a series of useless apologies. Gently flattening his ears and securing the crude wrap, Arthur offered him a small smile.

"Looks good, your ears don't stick out nearly as much." His comment was met only with a weary stare, and guilt settled over him once again. Leaning closer, Arthur pointed to the horses. "Ready?" He said, forcing the word out slow again as Merlin's gaze flickered to the steeds before back at Arthur.

"Yeah." He mumbled, his voice barely audible as the blond nodded, quickly gathering the remains of his shredded tunic and shoving them back in the bags. A brief thought turned to his abandoned crossbow near the sorcerer's camp as he tied their two horses together with a bit of rope before Arthur led his own steed over to where Merlin had yet to move.

Letting go of the reins and kneeling again, he grabbed ahold of the other's arm and pulled him up, receiving a pained, and almost angry, sounding groan at his effort. "Gaius better fix things quickly, you'll owe me after this." The king murmured as Merlin reached up and grabbed ahold of the saddle.

It took a few tries, a bit of one sided muttering, and a lot of struggling, but at the end Merlin was on the horse and leaning against its mane. With far more ease and grace, Arthur settled behind his servant, making sure his friend was holding on, before he urged the horses forward.

The sudden jolt sent the raven haired boy crashing into Arthur, his hands clasping his head in pain as he hissed out his next breath, his heart beating fast against the other's chest. A flush of embarrassment struck Arthur, imagining the jokes the knights would surely come up with were they to see, before he shoved them aside and forced his steed to go faster.

Merlin's fingers were clutched tight in his hair; sharp, ragged breaths leaving him as he battled against the pain. Allowing his worry to win against his pride, one of Arthur's arms moved around Merlin’s chest to keep the boy from falling, the urge to be back at the citadel weighing heavier as the seconds passed.

"You're going to fine, Merlin." He said aloud, though the comfort was unable to reach the boy in front of him. With no one to hear his words but himself, he pondered if they had been uttered solely for his own benefit.

Because Merlin would be fine. Gaius would aid him, he would find a cure, and Merlin would be back on his feet with that ridiculous grin in no time. He'd annoy the king endlessly, the two would banter, and all would be well. It had to be.

The distressed noises from his servant had begun to fade during the ride, and Arthur found hope rising within him. Had the pain begun to fade? As the boy's fingers fell Arthur nearly smiled; relief daring to rear its head until he felt his form go limp, Merlin's body sagging against him.

The king cursed softly, glancing down at the fabric wrapped around the boy's head that was now pressed against his shoulder, the color stained heavily with crimson that had begun to drip down his face once more. Fear welled up inside him as he forced the horses on faster, no longer worrying of the pain he might cause, but for the fleeting life of his friend.

Chapter Text

The scent of sage drifted through the chambers as the older man settled in at his table, carefully turning the page of an old book and picking up his magnifying glass from off the table to peer at the text. His day had been calm since dawn when he'd awoken to see his charge leave for the day on another hunting trip with the king.

Gaius loved the boy like he was his own son, and he knew Merlin had a destiny greater than any other that rested upon his shoulders. But he also tended to cause mischief wherever he went and with whatever he did; mischief that more often than not pulled the physician in with less than welcoming arms.

So, when the elder had realized the absence of the both of them, he'd relished in the oncoming day. He'd eaten a quiet breakfast alone before gathering his supplies and making a few deliveries he knew his ward would be unable to do for him. A tonic for one of the knights, a sleeping draught for a young child in the Lower Town, and a salve for one of the cooks.

He'd taken his time, even going so far as to walk about the vendors who had displayed their wares for the day. He'd purchased a few specialty herbs for his work and a new vial to replace the one Merlin had broken the previous day in his rush to wake Arthur on time. An act that had been for naught—as it was most mornings.

And when he'd returned to his chambers by midmorning and felt the heat of the sun blazing over him, he muttered a quiet prayer that the two traipsing through the forest would keep their wits about them and manage to keep themselves out of the heat.

By late afternoon, Gaius had sufficiently stocked his cabinet of potions and created a list of herbs for Merlin to collect for him the following afternoon. Sitting on the edge of his table was another set of salves, a mixture he'd finished making that day to aid with burns from the heat. If he knew anything about the king's hunting trips, it was that they never quite went to plan.

As he settled back with an old tome and listened to the water that boiled on the fire, he felt his weary body relaxing into the calm of the day. A calm that he truly should have known wouldn't last.

Gaius was half through one of the scripts when he heard a voice shouting in the distance, followed by the clanging of armor and a sharp tone snapping at another. Casting a wary eye towards his door, he felt a weight settle in his stomach. Heavy footsteps were nearing his chambers, too loud for his ward alone, and as he set his magnifying glass next to his tome, he was almost prepared for what would burst through his door.

Almost, but not quite.

Gaius had learned to expect many things in his time working for the Pendragons. He'd done more for the royal family than he'd ever thought he would, and even more in the protection and aid of the boy in his care. But nothing could have prepared him for the way Arthur stood in his doorway, sweat and dirt clinging to his skin as he carried Merlin through the room and into his view.

Merlin—his foolish, reckless boy.

He'd left that morning with a tired smile and a wave, muttering words of irritation about his king that rang with anything but the anger one would normally associate with them. But now as he returned, his pale, unconscious form held fast by that same king's hand, Gaius felt as though his heart had stopped.

"Bring him over here." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, moving with more speed than his old bones should have been capable of.

"He's still bleeding." Arthur spoke, his words coming out harsh and fast as he carefully placed his servant on a cot that had held the boy too many times already.

"What happened, Sire?" Gaius questioned, the respect and formality more habit than anything as he pulled a stool close and stared down at Merlin.

Just like the king, he was covered in sweat from the heat of the day. His dark hair was plastered against a pale face that was streaked with dirt and water. No, not water—tears. An ache in his chest struck Gaius as he reached up to untie the makeshift bandage Arthur had evidently created from an old tunic. As he pulled it away, the weight in his stomach twisted, nausea running through the old man as his brows drew together in concern.

Thin trails of blood had dripped from his ward's ears and down his skin, soaking into the collar of his shirt and the neckerchief he insisted on wearing everywhere. Most of the trails were dried, only to have new tracks created by fresh drops rolling from his injury.

"We were hunting, and we stumbled on a sorcerer's camp. Merlin, he shoved me aside and was hit with some sort of spell or curse. I'm not sure what kind, I didn't even hear the words. But then he was on the ground like he was having a fit, and when he stopped he.." Arthur trailed off, Gaius' eyes leaving his ward in exchange to fix on the king, the man's own stare resting on the floor as if he couldn't bear to look at the physician.

"Sire?"

"He couldn't hear, Gaius. That sorcerer, whatever he did, Merlin can't hear."

The words settled over the older man in a thick fog, his gaze shifting back to Merlin in understanding. Without a word he rose, moving about his chambers with his mind focused only on controlling the bleeding and aiding the boy, gathering bandages and various vials from his shelves before fetching a pitcher of water he'd retrieved not long before.

"You can help him, can't you? Return his hearing?" Arthur spoke hopefully, worry he seemed unable to hide laced through every word.

Settling back on the stool, Gaius looked at the king before setting to work, taking an old cloth and beginning to clear away the blood. "Magic is a difficult thing. A remedy to calm an aching wound or a nervous heart are far easier than an aid to restore a sense that was lost."

He hesitated a moment, Merlin's face contorting to one of pain as he neared his ear, the elder's hand coming to rest on Merlin's chest to calm the unconscious boy. "Is the sorcerer still alive? Often times a curse may be broken if the one who cast it is no longer among the living."

Arthur gave no reply, his feet only shifting against the floor as he settled at the table across from him. "He is. I was foolish, I allowed myself to become distracted by his words. I should have cut him down the moment I saw his first spell." He spoke quietly, and when Gaius cast a look over his shoulder, he found the man with his head in his hands.

He looked as if he'd spent the entire day dragging Merlin around, his clothes hanging loose and damp off his frame and his hair mussed from his fingers. Blood had soaked through the material on his shoulder and arm where Merlin's head had been against him, and it was only when he shifted that Gaius caught sight of the tear in his sleeve.

Pulling away from his ward for a moment and retrieving an extra cloth, he walked over to the distressed king. As he leaned next to him, Arthur's eyes peered up in confusion, and Gaius motioned to the slit in his clothing. "You're bleeding, were you not aware?"

Blue eyes flickered down momentarily before back up to Gaius, a weary expression clouding his features. "No, it must have happened in the fall. I hadn't even noticed." Taking the cloth from the elder's hands and cleaning the wound himself, Gaius went back to the boy and studied his head.

"The bleeding has slowed, which is a favorable sign. I'm certain the motion from riding is what caused such a heavy flow, but it should stop soon." He said aloud, continuing to wash away the dirt and sweat from the younger's face.

"Gaius, you never said. Can you bring it back with that sorcerer still alive?"

He fell silent again, wincing as his ward did whenever he neared the sensitive skin around his ears. "I'm not sure, Your Majesty. Only time will tell. I will study my books, perhaps there's an old remedy in which I can use."

It would be a tiring endeavor, one which would likely end with the same conclusion he'd already had the moment he'd learned what happened. Magic cured magic, and with such a strong curse set upon the boy, Gaius could only pray for an easy solution.

Pulling the bandages out and carefully wrapping one of the boy's ears, he murmured soft words to keep Merlin calm, the young warlock groaning painfully at the touch.

"Sire, I recommend returning to your chambers. The heat has touched the both of you, and you should take the opportunity to rest." Gaius advised, moving to the other side of the cot to begin work on the other ear as Arthur barely shook his head, dangling the cloth he had used between his fingers.

"Arthur," Lifting his head, the blond looked up at the physician who wore a stern expression, all formality dropping as he addressed the worried young man. "Go and rest, I'll send word when he wakes. It may take time, and you look to be dead on your feet." He'd expected an argument when Arthur opened his mouth, so the elder interrupted again. "And I'm sure Guinevere is worried."

The girl's name was what seemed to do the trick, the king resigning as he stood, depositing the bloodied cloth into a basket near the door. "The moment he wakes, Gaius." He said firmly, disappearing through the door as the older man sighed, looking back down to his ward.

"You can never stay out of trouble, can you my boy?" He murmured, quickly finishing the work to wrap his ear before he leaned back and frowned. All he could do was wait until he aroused, and Gaius was hoping that Arthur had been wrong. Perhaps it was not a curse, but merely a simple spell that had injured the young warlock, one that would heal and return his senses to normal after some time had passed.

Pushing himself from the stool and discarding of the bloodied bandages while cleaning his hands, Gaius settled back at the table and began to flip through the pages of his tome. If he could find a suitable tincture to help repair the damage to his inner ear and keep it from bleeding again, then he could focus on finding a cure.

What had once been a calm day had turned into a studious evening, his table cluttered with books as he studied the text and worked to steep a myriad of herbs.

Night was closing in and the moon had relieved the sun from its hard work, cooling the ground that had been scorched throughout the day. Gaius had just begun to close his books for the sake of a few moments of rest when the warlock stirred, catching the elder’s attention.

He'd barely made it to the boy's side when Merlin's eyes pulled open, glassy blue hues staring up at the ceiling as Gaius sat next to him on the cot. Meeting the older man's gaze, Merlin cracked a weak smile and blinked hazily.

"Gaius." His voice was soft, and the physician drew closer as the smile fell from his ward's lips, his body jolting as he rose. "Gaius!"

"It's alright, Merlin." He soothed, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders as he watched fear creep over his face.

"Gaius I ca-I can't hear." He spoke loudly, his words coming fast and sharp and mingling with panicked breaths as Gaius nodded.

"Breathe, Merlin." He advised, speaking the words slow and enunciating carefully. The look he received was one of exasperation, as if he didn't understand the severity of what happened.

"I can't hear." He repeated, his hand flying to his head before the man could stop him. The effect was instant, his fingers barely brushing the wrapping before he grimaced, his body leaning forwards in pain as he clutched his hands to his chest.

"Oh, Merlin. You must calm down." Gaius shook his head as he held the warlock steady until the moment passed and he stared up at him in a daze. He felt the same ache in his chest from before as he continued to hold Merlin, waiting for his breathing to calm and the strain to fade.

"Where's Arthur?" The next words to leave Merlin were unsurprising, the warlock's head turning slowly to peer around as his body shuddered at the movement.

This would never work; the boy could barely pay attention to a word he spoke when he had his hearing. Trying to get him to focus now would be like asking for a stream to be still. Getting up from where he'd sat near Merlin's legs, Gaius hunted through his books before grabbing a few spare pieces of parchment and a quill. Returning to his ward's side, Merlin seemed to grasp what the man was doing as he watched while he wrote.

'Arthur is fine, he brought you to me some time ago. You must calm down, Merlin, or you'll start bleeding again.' Shifting the page so the boy could read it, Merlin's eyes flickered over them while his fingers twitched, a frown settling over his face.

"Can you fix it?" He asked, meeting his gaze as Gaius picked the parchment up again and hesitated. He could not lie to him, but there were few answers he had found, and each agreed with his earlier suspicions.

'Tell me what happened, everything you can remember.' Merlin's face fell and he looked away, his hands tightening into fists in his lap as he closed his eyes, refusing to speak. The quill scratched across the paper again and Gaius placed a hand on the boy's knee and pushed it closer to him. 'I need to know, Merlin.'

He couldn't imagine what experience had caused the boy to go mute, his eyes darting over the words before he was looking away again, obviously fighting with himself to speak. Gaius never moved, keeping his hand firm against his knee when the warlock finally spoke, his next few words chilling the physician to his core.

"They were screaming." It came out in a whisper, broken blue eyes refusing to leave the floor he'd suddenly become interested in. "They were burning, begging for their lives." He grew louder as he spoke, his words cracking as his hands tightened more, his knuckles turning white as he squeezed his eyes shut. "They wouldn't stop screaming. They were dragging me to the fire, and I was burning with them."

Gaius himself inhaled sharply, sad eyes watching as a shudder ran through the boy's slight frame. Merlin never spoke of it, never uttered a word to him or anyone else. But he had seen the warlock in those moments when smoke filled the sky and the screams of the sorcerer's filled the air. Merlin was terrified of being burned.

He'd come so far in his magic, and Gaius would always chide him on being more discreet. The boy would laugh, would make a joke, and off he'd go. But in the moments when it counted, when he truly thought he'd be discovered, there was only silence.

Gaius refused to believe Arthur would ever harm Merlin if the truth came out. The two had formed a bond stronger than any he'd seen before. But that didn't stop the fear, nor the dreams he knew befell his charge.

"It was a sorcerer, out in the forest." He continued after a moment, his next breath catching on the way out. "Arthur confronted him, told him practicing magic was wrong. But he spoke of the people that were killed and.. who were burned." Gaius' hand was on his arm now, leaning forwards as Merlin opened his eyes, unshed tears gathered ruefully in them as he looked down at his lap.

"It was a curse. I didn't.. hear it. I pushed Arthur away and then-and then the screaming began." He lifted a hand again, not touching his ear but gesturing towards them. "When they stopped, I couldn't hear. Not anything, Gaius. I still can't." His voice cracked and he sucked in a sharp breath, releasing it slowly before he looked back up at his guardian. "Can you fix it?" It was no longer a question, but a plea.

The quill had never left his hand, but it seemed to weigh far heavier than it should as Gaius forced the tip to drag along the parchment. 'A curse of that magnitude will take some time, but we'll find a way.' Guilt settled over the elder as Merlin barely nodded, staring at the paper as if willing his writing to transform into a different answer.

Gaius took the parchment back and had begun to write when Merlin's hand flew out, grasping his guardian's wrist in a frantic manner. The fear and pain had transformed to a smile as he uttered a single word. "Magic."

It was quiet, as if he were afraid to speak too loudly, and Gaius furrowed his brows. "Magic?" He questioned as the warlock pulled his hand away and lifted both to his head. Without touching his ears, he cupped his hands around them and took a breath as Gaius realized what he was doing.

"Merlin, no!" He was lunging forward before the foolish boy could continue, weathered hands grabbing his wrists and pulling them away as Merlin grimaced, his head jerking at the movement. "You can't." Gaius spoke sternly, causing the warlock to frown.

"Why not?" It came out loud as the man held his charge's hands firmly in his lap.

"You can barely manage a healing spell on a good day with a normal injury. You're not in any condition to even try, and given you intercepted a curse that was not even meant for you, you may do more harm than good." While the elder spoke, Merlin's face had contorted into one of confusion, then frustration. Not at his mentor, but at himself. Letting out a breath, Gaius began to pull away.

"Don't." He spoke, the single word one Merlin easily understood as his shoulders slumped, the command eliciting a pout that made the boy look younger in years. Scrawling out the same explanation he'd spoken moments before, he passed the nearly full parchment towards his charge who read it and scowled.

"I have to try, Gaius." Though it was said readily, his voice was hoarse, and Gaius was firm in his decision.

'Rest, my boy. Conserve your energy until you are well.' The stubborn expression was one the physician had seen often, and he'd expected an argument that never came. Instead, Merlin's gaze fell once more, his body shifting as his head barely nodded.

Smiling at his apparent victory, but knowing the boy all too well, Gaius stood from the cot with the page in hand. Replacing the quill and setting the parchment in the flames, Gaius retrieved a cup of water from the table and carried it to the boy.

Merlin took it gratefully, downing its contents quickly before his eyes widened and a cough sputtered out of him. "You didn't!" He accused, coughing harshly at what Gaius knew was an unpleasant taste.

"I did." He confirmed, knowing the sleeping draught he'd mixed in earlier would take effect and force the boy to rest.

"Why?" Merlin croaked, wiping water from his chin as the older man gave him a pointed stare.

"I know you well, Merlin." He said, though unsure whether his ward had understood as his body began to sag. Helping to ease the boy onto his back, he blinked wearily up at the man, his body sinking back into the blanket.

"Gaius.." He murmured as the physician pulled the blanket up higher. "Will I hear again?"

Four words. Four simple words had managed to break the elder's heart, his hands tightening around the boy as the warlock's eyes fell shut. His chest rose and fell as the day's events and the draught drew him into a heavy sleep, and with a small nod of his head, Gaius fought to keep his voice steady. "Yes, Merlin. Whatever it takes, you will."

Chapter Text

Silence.

Crushing, suffocating, debilitating silence. Merlin had never known how much he'd taken for granted in his day to day life. He missed the simplistic sounds of the morning when Gaius would putter about with his potions; when he would mumble a list of ingredients to himself to keep them in mind, or when he would curse the boy for his lack of focus in his rush to start a new day.

He noticed the absence during the afternoon when the voices of vendors and townsfolk did not distract him from his duties, when the sound of laughter and joviality would fill the air and draw those on the outside closer to hear what was being said.

But during the night was the worst. Where he'd once listened to the muffled snoring of his mentor and the crackling of the fire, he was now met with a void that could not be filled. Merlin could see everything with such clarity. The rise and fall of Gaius' chest, the turned pages of his books, even the way his mattress shifted beneath him. But each of those things carried nothing but silence. It was agonizing.

He could remember what it was supposed to sound like, the creaking of armor in the halls as the guards changed their shifts and retreated to their own beds for rest. The sputtering of the fire when a log finally cracked and slipped to the side, the light dimming for the briefest of moments before raging on with new might. The creak of his door whenever it was opened, and the soft footsteps of an elderly man checking on him before he fell asleep.

He had heard each of those more times than he could count in the past, and now as he tried to recall those to mind, there was nothing. It had faded so quickly, far faster than he'd have ever imagined.

Only one thing remained, and that was the screaming. They were in his mind behind a tightly closed door, one he dared not open for fear of what agony they might bring. He'd been foolish once already, desperate for something, anything, that would fill the void his loss had created.

He'd searched tirelessly, trying to recall what he could to the front of his mind. Birds chirping, water flowing, a close friend shouting his name in irritation. Nothing lasted. Whether it was due to the curse or his own weak mind, Merlin was too afraid to ask. But then he'd found the door in his mind, and he knew what it held.

He knew the screams that were bottled inside, and he could feel the flames that dared to draw him in. He'd barely reached for it when it all came rushing back. His body on the forest floor unable to do anything but writhe in pain. The howls of those who were wrongfully murdered, the ones who blamed him for his part.

He'd wrenched himself away and he'd run. He'd run from that door and he'd refused to look back. The silence was suffocating, but behind that door held nightmares he was unable to face, nightmares he wasn't sure he ever could.

He'd spent the following days after his return in an endless void of nothing. It had been harder than he'd thought he grow accustomed to, though Gaius had rarely even given him the chance to leave his sight.

His first day after waking from the sleeping draught had been met with a forced day in bed and a few pitying visitors. Arthur had been there when he'd woken, a guilty expression written across a sleep deprived face as he told the young warlock of the searches he'd sent out to find the sorcerer. 'We'll find him, and he will be put to death for what he has done.'

Merlin was certain his friend had meant it to bring comfort, to show he was doing everything in his power to rectify what had happened, but all it had done was make him feel sick. Another sorcerer would be put to death, another man's screams to fill his head.

Gwen had appeared that afternoon, sitting beside him for quite some time, tears that she refused to let fall masked behind a wide smile and comforting touches. Gaius must have told them of an easier way to converse, because the girl had brought a stack of parchment with her and kindly left it behind when she'd bid her goodbye.

That evening Merlin had attempted his magic once more, only to have his guardian stop him yet again. 'Magic is a delicate thing,' He'd written, the quill moving with as much care as the older man's words often held. 'You know as well as I that a spell cannot work without the proper words and inflections. Give Arthur the chance to find him before you try. The risk is great, and the consequences could be dire.'

He'd disagreed with Gaius' warning, but had listened all the same. Out of respect, out of obedience, and certainly not out of fear of releasing the flood of the damned into his mind again.

The second day had been spent locked in the chambers, though no longer confined to his bed. Merlin had planned to sneak out the moment the chance had arisen but had discovered his loss of hearing had led to a loss of balance as well.

He might have laughed at how ridiculous it all was if fear had not weighed in the back of his mind. And so, the rest of that day had been one of practice and patience, learning how to make up for the missing sense he'd once relied so heavily on, and keeping his feet beneath him.

The third day was one of misery. Gaius had been called to the Lower Town to look over an illness that had struck an entire family, and he'd made the warlock promise to remain in their chambers. A promise that Merlin had immediately broken once the elder was out of sight.

It had been his first breath of fresh air in days, and the first solid blow that confirmed this was not just a normal injury. The citadel was bustling with its usual activity. Servants rushed back and forth with their tasks, knights spoke as they hurried away to training, and children laughed as they ran. And all Merlin heard was silence. If he'd fallen back into the door and felt his world spinning around him, he'd never tell a soul.

He'd thought that would be the worst, knowing what was there but being unable to listen. But no, what was far more agonizing were the looks. It seemed that what had happened to him had become common knowledge, and every stare was one of pity. Sorrow and sadness, smiles that faded to worrisome eyes and downturned lips.

Everywhere he looked, people had stopped to watch him. To study him. To pity him. Just a few days prior he had been stopped often, returning easy smiles and offering pleasant greetings. He got along well with most of the other servants, he often found the guards enjoyable at times, and it was well known that he was a fond favorite of many a knight. But as he walked through the halls and discovered the sweetness the air had once held had become bitter and dry with such condoling stares; he had run.

Pain had shot through him at the movement, and he'd run into the walls more than once, but he had to get away. His world was closing in on him and even out in the open he felt as if there wasn't enough air to breathe. He'd stopped only when he'd reached one of the towers that was rarely visited and had found himself sitting on the edge of the balcony overlooking the surrounding forest.

His chest was still heaving from the exertion—stamina was a quality he'd never possessed on even his best days—and he placed a single hand to his chest. He was breathing heavily, but he couldn't hear his own breath. His heart was racing, and he could feel his blood pumping, and yet even such a basic sound had been taken from him.

There had been no ringing in his ears, no blood pounding in his head, there was nothing. Nothing but screaming locked tightly away in his mind, always ready to escape. Pressing his back against a pillar, Merlin drew his legs up and stretched them across the ledge where he sat, the brief notion that attempting to balance on a ledge so high up was a bad idea pushed quickly from his mind.

Propping one leg up and slinging an arm across his knee, he stared down at the expanse of forest that had once seemed friendly and inviting but had now become hostile and dangerous. Tilting his head, Merlin felt a breeze brush against his skin, the sun far kinder than it had been days before.

The trees swayed below him, dancing to a song of the wild brought on by the wind, and Merlin felt a pang in his chest. He was so cut off from the world around him despite being right in the middle of it all.

If he spoke, he would not hear his own voice. If he yelled, it would be swallowed by the void. Only it wouldn't. No, because others would hear him. The servants would come running, and Arthur would be annoyed, and Gaius would be furious he'd left their home. All the while he would still be deaf to the chaos around him.

He had found it easier to speak than he'd expected, the vibration in his throat an indicator of when he spoke louder than a whisper. Though he did have a problem with pitch and speed, and he’d had to work to focus on what he wanted to say so it would come out correctly. But even then, did it? Such a thing was terrifying in a way he could not express.

He knew what he was thinking, he knew what he wanted to say, but was that what always came out? He had no way to know, not for sure. He could be spouting nonsense, he could be relaying secrets, he could be saying a thousand things that he would never know.

Merlin's fist slammed down against the stone, sending a spark of pain shooting through his wrist, the flesh and nerves complaining against his surge of anger. Reaching up his hand, his fingers brushed gently over the wrapping Gaius had changed the night before. The bleeding had stopped, the curse injuring his inner ear the man had said, but they were still sensitive.

He looked ridiculous, two white mounds on the sides of his head, but Merlin hadn't fought it. Part of him had been afraid, and part of him had hoped. When the bandages came off, would his hearing be restored? Logically he knew it was foolish, an idea held up solely by a misguided belief that his magic would heal him without any effort. And yet..

His fingers had pried the edge of the bandage free in his musings, and he found once he'd started he couldn't stop. He made quick work of unraveling the fabric and wiping away the salve Gaius had given him before he repeated the process for his other ear. After only a few minutes a pile of white that was dotted in the smallest amount of blood sat in his lap, and a chill ran through the warlock's body.

Nothing.

He couldn't hear anything. Not a bird, not a rustle of leaves, not a single breath of his that had begun to fall out faster. There was only pain. Not immense, but consistent. Air had reached the guarded injury, and he grit his teeth against the piercing wave.

He didn't move, nor did he try to return the bindings. It gave him something to focus on, something aside from the void. Something aside from the warmth he refused to acknowledge that had begun to slide down his cheeks.

It was temporary, he knew it was. It had to be. Arthur would find the sorcerer, and he would be killed, and the curse would be lifted. Or he would never find him, and the curse would bind itself to him for the rest of his life.

Closing his eyes tightly, Merlin pressed his back firmly against the pillar, turning his head so the pain in his ear struck again. He needed to stop thinking like that. He needed to stop thinking at all.

It was quite some time before the young warlock opened his eyes again, blue hues darting quickly to the sky before he pushed himself back to the floor, knowing he could no longer avoid returning. Gaius would surely have returned already, and no doubt be furious he'd left without even telling him. He knew the elder was worried, concerned something might happen to him in his vulnerable state, but he'd been suffocating the boy under his watchful eye.

Balling the fabric in his hands, Merlin kept his eyes on the ground in front of him, refusing to look up whenever anyone passed. He couldn't take anymore sorrowful eyes; he couldn't bear to watch their lips move and have no idea what they were saying. His outing had been a relief, but as he neared his chambers he was glad for the solitude.

Or he would have been, had the room actually been empty.

He nearly froze just at the sight of them, the door swinging open and catching the attention of the two men who of course would have to be there on the one occasion he'd chosen to leave. They'd been in the midst of discussing what Merlin had a suspicion was his absence when Arthur strode over to him, concern and anger alive on his face.

He was saying something. No, he was shouting something; Merlin could tell by the way his face had scrunched up. He found the whole situation tiring, and instead of trying to piece together whatever the king was saying, Merlin merely closed the door behind him and gave him a sideways glance.

"You'll have to speak up, I can't quite hear you." He forced the words out at what he hoped was a normal—if not sarcastic—tone and was glad to see it had caused the man to stop his rant midstride.

"Merlin!" Yes, definitely shouting.

Moving past the man to dispose of the bandages, he was stopped by Gaius. Or rather, Gaius' eyebrows. Didn't that man realize how terrifying those things could be? The look he gave was not one of anger like Arthur, but rather one of disappointment and subtle relief. A mixture that somehow hurt more than a scolding would have.

The elder stared down at the mound of fabric in the boy’s hands and jerked his head back up, his expression shifting. And ah, there it was. There was the annoyance. That look was typically reserved for his clumsiness that resulted in broken items or when he'd admitted to using magic for something trivial. Though, in his defense, Arthur tripping into that haystack had seemed important at the time.

The bandages were quickly removed from the boy's hands while Gaius pointed to a stool. Merlin begrudgingly took a seat and glancing at Arthur who had folded his arms and was actually glaring at him. He looked as if he wanted to continue yelling but had restrained himself when he'd realized how futile it would be.

Shifting his gaze to his mentor, Merlin found a piece of parchment placed on the table before him and refrained the urge to sigh. 'Where have you been?'

"Went for some fresh air," He replied lightly, glancing at Arthur before back to Gaius. "You always say it's good for your patients."

He knew he'd struck a nerve, a piece of him feeling guilty for the worry he had to have caused, but there was also a piece of him that didn't care. He hadn't been able to take another minute penned up in his room, and in truth he had originally planned on being back before Gaius returned. And how was he to know Arthur would decide to come by?

'You promised me you would not leave while I was gone.'

Damn, another bout of guilt. Suddenly the room was too small, and Merlin was standing to his feet. "I'm sorry, I couldn't—" The heavy sigh finally broke free as he turned, not looking at either man. "I needed some air, that's all."

When he finally glanced up, the two men were speaking amongst themselves, an action that felt as though they'd struck him in the chest. He turned away abruptly, unable to watch it a moment longer. Anyone could say anything while he was around, and he wouldn’t hear a damned word.

Pulling his hands around and clenching them, he fought the anger that was building. It wasn't their fault; he had no right to take his frustrations out on them. They'd been worried. He'd disappeared without a word and they had no way of calling to him. But that didn't make the weight disappear, nor did it qualm the anger that had steadily been rising.

He hated to feel so useless. He was watched like a child and treated as an invalid. It had been two days, and he had already reached his limit. He was going to go crazy; he was going to—

“Merlin.”

Blinking, Arthur stood in front of him, his face a mask of calm, though the concern in his eyes betrayed him. "I didn't mean to cause worry, I'm really alright." He said, pulling away from his friend and walking towards his room at the back, wanting the solitude he'd craved before.

A hand on his arm stopped him from disappearing inside, and he found Gaius holding out a bit of parchment that Merlin had half a mind to just push away. 'We only worry for your safety, Merlin. Arthur has been searching for you and I'm afraid he might have feared the worst.'

Lowering the paper, blue eyes sought out the king across the room, his arms still folded across his chest as he stared into the fire. "I didn't know you missed me so much, Sire." He feigned an innocent look as Arthur's head jerked towards him, an indignant yet familiar frown settling into place as he turned, hunching over the table for a moment before striding towards him and thrusting a paper into his hands.

'Shut up, Merlin. I was only concerned you'd done something stupid, and I would have to be stuck with George permanently.'

A smile rested easily on the boy’s face as he held the paper out to him. "I'll send him my pity if the day ever comes." Merlin stated as Arthur took the paper back.

"Idiot." Ah, another word he recognized.

"Prat." Merlin shot back, watching as the king spoke a few words to Gaius before shooting him a pointed stare and walking out the door.

Leaning against his doorframe, the young warlock glanced at Gaius who was shaking his head at the two of them. "I didn't mean to worry you, Gaius." His smile had fallen, and he tugged awkwardly at his neckerchief, watching as the elder wrote and beckoned the boy over.

Sitting at the table again, the parchment was slid in front of him. 'I know you are restless, but you must remember you have made enemies, Merlin. If any discover the state you are in, it could lead to terrible things. Arthur has cause to be concerned, and you must learn to be more aware.'

He'd been chided before, but it was somehow different reading it instead of hearing it. "I'm sorry." His words were met with a kind hand on his shoulder, his eyes peering up to find the older man smiling down at him. He made a gesture to his ears, and Merlin's lips curved. "They're fine, still a bit sensitive is all." He assured him, receiving a nod as Gaius pulled away and turned to a basket of herbs that had been placed off to the side.

Taking his escape, Merlin disappeared into his room and closed the door behind him, pressing his back against the wood. In those few moments of normality, bantering with Arthur and sitting with Gaius, Merlin had felt his anger wane. Left in its place, however, was a surge of emptiness.

Sliding down the door and leaning against the panels, Merlin's legs tugged up to his chest as he stared at the wall across from him. He'd never hated his own thoughts as much as he did then, his mind recalling things in the silence that refused to be pushed away.

Senseless worry and burdening guilt, and what of his destiny now? How could he protect Arthur when those around him felt as though he couldn't even protect himself?

Beginning to pick at his fingers, his nails digging at one another, he felt the door in his mind shudder. The voices were pounding on the other side, fighting to force it open and be heard. And just as before, he felt that urge. The desire to fill the looming void with something.

What stopped him was the fire.

As he sat in his room, the stillness and the silence converging, Merlin felt the flames from before crawling up his throat. Soot and smoke clouded his vision and his breathing hitched, his chest constricting painfully at the memory that was all too real.

He curled himself tighter, swallowing down the burning embers that plagued his thoughts. He wished he could bury the door and the people who lay behind it, wished he could protect himself from the fire that raged around him threatening to consume-

Damn.

Wincing, Merlin blinked a couple of times, pulling his hands apart and staring at the drop of blood that had pushed to the surface. His nail had caught the bed of another and ripped the skin while he'd been absorbed by his thoughts, and as he watched a second drop of blood push the first to the side, he let out a weak breath.

He couldn't stay locked up while they waited to find a remedy, he would drive himself mad. First thing in the morning he would return to work, and he wouldn't allow Gaius to talk him out of it.

Chapter Text

It started the same as it always did. He was standing in a part of the forest he didn't recognize with the sun nearly hidden behind the trees while a warm breeze swept over him. He didn't know how he got there, or why he was there, but just as he had in the past, Arthur walked deeper into the unknown.

Everything around him stood still as he moved, and he hardly dared to even breathe. He stepped carefully, afraid to crack a stick or rustle a branch and break the spell that had fallen over the land. The further he walked the darker the forest became, the path fading altogether until he found himself at the edge of a ravine. He could hear the sound of water far below him, but he was reluctant to peer over the side.

There was no bridge, and the distance was too great for him to consider leaping. So, he walked along the edge, just as he'd done before, searching for any way across. He could venture back, could go the other way and see what else awaited him, but he found he was obsessed with the gorge he could not cross. But in truth, that was not the only thing that kept him from wandering off.

It was the echoes that urged him to stay. Whispers that floated up from the ravine and faded into senseless murmuring intrigued the king in ways he could not explain; fragments of words that promised friendship and unity beckoning him closer.

Moonlight poured through the woven branches above his head, creating small spots of shining wonder that had gone unnoticed in the blinding light of day. Tree roots were curved into the strangest of sculptures while moss covered them in a mesmerizing patchwork design.

Despite not knowing where he was, Arthur felt a sense of calm as he settled back against the trees and listened to the whispers dance around him. But the longer he sat the more out of place he felt. He knew it was wrong. He knew he was meant to find a way to the other side, that by sitting idly by and just listening would not accomplish the task he'd first set at hand to do.

A task that was not yet clear but important all the same.

The trees offered warmth and safety, whereas across the ravine was an unknown world. One that could harbor danger and fearsome problems. If he managed to get across, then anything that was on the other side had access to his own world that was guarded and safe. Could he in good conscience allow such a thing? Could he put aside the wellbeing of his people for the sake of seeking answers to the questions plaguing his mind?

He knew what was right, and he knew what he wanted. The problem he'd discovered was deciding which of the two was the correct path to follow. And so just as he had every night before, Arthur kept himself among the trees.

He leaned complacently against their familiar bark and watched as the moon trekked further through the sky before giving way to the dawn of a new day. And just like each time in the past as his eyes fell shut and his mind gave way to the lull of sleep, the whispers he'd been so desperate to hear fell away with murmurings of disappointment and grief.

By the time morning came, Arthur was jerked awake by sunlight glaring in at him from the window, the curtains pulled open as he heard George's shuffling feet around his room. The servant usually took more care when rousing the king, and Arthur buried his head in a pillow to block the light streaming over him.

"Up and at em'!" An overly loud yet cheerful voice urged, eliciting a groan from the blond as he peered groggily out into the room.

"What's gotten into you?" He grumbled, sinking back into his mattress and sighing. His dream had left him exhausted, and he was in no mood to confront his day. However, he was given very little say as the pillow he'd used to hide himself was yanked away, forcing the king to sit up in irritation.

Something about the morning felt oddly familiar, and as Arthur studied the servant busying himself with tidying his room, it took the sight of that ridiculous neckerchief to finally understand why. "Merlin?" The name was said in confusion, the blond still too groggy to understand why seeing him there felt so shocking.

His manservant was moving about as normal, chattering mindlessly about his busy schedule and an evening he'd wanted planned with Gwen, but he knew something was wrong. Something was off.

"Merlin! Your endless chattering is driving me mad; do you love the sound of your own voice that much?" He snapped, pushing himself off the bed and running a hand through his hair, glaring at the dark haired boy who had yet to quit jabbering.

Reaching behind him and grabbing the pillow that his servant had unceremoniously pulled off him, Arthur threw it at the boy and smiled proudly at the way it connected with the back of his head. It was only when Merlin let out the softest yelp at the contact that the early morning haze left him, and Arthur remembered why seeing his manservant was wrong. God, and he'd just pelted the idiot right in the head.

He started forward, hand outstretched as Merlin's head sagged, his body tensing before he was reaching to the ground and retrieving the thrown pillow. "Merlin, are you—"

"You ought to work on your aim, Arthur, you nearly missed." The other whirled around with a grin before he stumbled back a step, surprised at how close the blond had gotten.

Arthur found himself at a loss for words, the two staring at one another before the boy's eyes darted away and his teasing smile returned, scooting around the king. He began to make his bed, adjusting the blankets and returning the pillow to its rightful place, all the while acting like everything was normal.

"Merlin, what the hell are you doing here?" Arthur couldn't stop the pointless question from leaving him as he watched the boy's back, his movements as routine as always. Perhaps the only thing different about him was the fact that he had actually managed to show up on time.

"You've got meetings with the council and the knights this afternoon, although I'm sure it will be rather dull with Gwaine and Percival still gone. Or you might actually get more discussed." The servant joked, not looking up as he finished adjusting the bed and turned to the wardrobe to pull the king’s clothes out for the day.

"Merlin, you're not supposed to be here, would you stop and—"

"I can feel you watching me, and I'm sure you're trying to argue, though I’m afraid it's a bit one sided." He continued on, setting a stack of clothes out before gathering the laundry from off the floor and depositing it into a small basket. "But I'm perfectly fine and if I leave George with you for much longer he'll mess up the way I've organized your things, and I'd be really frustrated to have to go through all that effort again."

The boy’s words were pouring out faster, as if concerned the other would force him to stop as he slipped past the king without looking at him and placed the basket by the door. "Besides, we both know I never listen to you anyway so it's not as if anything will really be any different and I can still—" Merlin's words cut off as Arthur's hands fell on his shoulders, forcing him to turn and look at him.

"Merlin, shut up." He said loudly, watching as the servant’s grin turned sheepish.

"At least I understand that phrase."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur let him go and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're supposed to be recovering. Honestly, you complain I never give you time off and then when you have it you still show up here and complain about not working. You're infuriating and why are you staring at me like that?" He demanded, glaring at the boy who was standing at the edge of his table with a barely restrained laugh waiting to burst out.

"I've no clue what you're saying, but your mouth is moving a bit like a fish flopping about on dry land." Lifting his hand and making it open and close in a mocking manner, Arthur felt his face turn red as his hand reached instinctively for the goblet sitting at his table.

"Merlin!" The boy moved quickly, ducking out the door before Arthur let go of his projectile that would have been aimed perfectly at his target.

Releasing a heavy sigh, he walked over to his desk and pulled a bit of parchment from his stack. His morning had taken a far different turn than his last few had, and he had to fight to keep the smile from rising to his face. Not because he'd missed the bumbling idiot of course, but merely because George had the personality of a brick wall and at least Merlin wasn't scared when things were thrown at him.

Finishing his list and glancing it over, Arthur folded the parchment in half and replaced the quill without another thought. Right on cue his manservant returned, his tray in hand as he placed it on the table and picked up the clothes he'd laid out earlier.

"Do you plan on wearing your bed clothes all day, dollop head?" He asked, beckoning towards the screen as Arthur disappeared behind it and quickly changed while grumbling to himself.

"I'm not sure how you've managed it, Merlin, but you're even more annoying than before." He muttered, settling himself down at the table when they’d finished while Merlin stood stoically nearby. "Here, if you're going to foolish enough to be moving around, you might as well be useful." Sliding the paper he'd written on across the table, his servant picked it up and read through the list before his brows furrowed.

"That's all? No mucking out the stables or fixing your armor? No sharpening your weapons?" Merlin hesitated, narrowing his eyes at the blond as he leaned closer. "Are you ill?"

It was something about that question coming from the boy's lips that angered Arthur. Not anger towards Merlin, but towards himself.

"Because if you're feeling under the weather Gwen will be disappointed, as will the council members. Of course, less so than Gwen. I should hope at least, but that doesn't mean—"

"Merlin!" Arthur's fist slammed against the table, surprising the servant who backed away a step, blue eyes wide. "Go and do your work." Looking up at the boy, he forced down a sigh at the unsurety on his face and pointed to the door. "Go." He mouthed, pretending he hadn't seen the flash of hurt drift across his friend's face before it was masked with an obedient nod.

Merlin left the room without another word, pausing only long enough to grab the basket he'd filled and carrying it through the door with him. Leaning back in his chair, Arthur stared at his food with sudden disinterest.

He shouldn't have snapped. Merlin's chattering often got on his nerves, but there was something about it now that weighed differently on him, especially seeing him trying to carry on as normal. He knew it was guilt from the way just looking at the boy made him feel sick.

Merlin was not a knight; it was not his duty to protect the king. It was not a burden nor a job he wanted Merlin to carry, not for one second. But he'd taken it upon himself anyway. Had he even given it any thought when he'd pushed Arthur aside? Had he considered what it might do to him, or was his only thought to protect his king? And had it even been for that, or was it solely to protect his friend, royal status be damned?

Dropping his head into his hands, Arthur stared through his fingers at the floor. They'd been searching for days but they had no word on the sorcerer and Gaius had yet to come up with anything even close to a working remedy. How long would Merlin have to suffer for Arthur's mistake? How could he not even be angry with the man for what happened?

Pushing himself up and grabbing a stack of documents he'd needed to deliver to his first meeting, Arthur glanced at his tray and quickly grabbed the piece of bread sitting on the side to take with him. If he was lucky, the few chores he'd given Merlin would keep him busy and out of the way for the rest of the morning while others took over the more trying tasks in his place.

By late afternoon Arthur had already had his fill of discussions and trials, and he hadn't even gone to the council meeting yet. He'd been on his way when he was stopped by Leon, a grim expression carved into his face as he approached the king.

"Your Majesty." He bowed his head, and Arthur nearly skidded to a stop in the hall as he acknowledged his knight.

"Leon, what is it?"

"The final search party has just returned from the south." He said, hesitating as Arthur arched a brow.

"Any news of the sorcerer?" He knew the answer before it was spoken, the downcast gaze enough to tell him the man had slipped through their fingers yet again.

"He still evades us, but.." The knight paused again and the blond sighed, waving his hand.

"Speak, Leon, I'm already late."

"Sire, I fear the sorcerer may no longer be within the borders of Camelot. We have searched every outlying sector and every possible expanse of land yet have had no luck. We have not even found a trace of him anywhere."

"He wouldn't just disappear; he must be somewhere."

"If his intention had been to curse you, but struck Merlin instead, would he risk staying when he knows you'd be looking for him?"

"You know very little of the magic around you, My Lord, even at this very moment." The words played back through Arthur's mind, the sorcerer's mocking tone one he wouldn't soon forget.

"He is still there, Leon. He is watching the effects of his curse, and he will be found."

"I will take another group out tomorrow. Perhaps Gwaine will have returned and can aid in the search."

Arthur nearly snorted at that, choosing to shake his head instead. "You'll be lucky if Gwaine lets Merlin out of his sight. I don't envy the man who informs him of what happened while he was away." The blond stated dryly while Leon winced.

"None of us took the news well."

"No, none of us did." Arthur sighed, backing away a step as he waved his hand out to the side. "If you see Merlin tell him he's finished for the day. I don't require him for anything else." Leon nodded his head as the king departed down the hall, preparing himself for another long discussion he was sure he would come to regret.

Arthur wasn't sure when he'd decided to give up on the idea of sleep, though he felt it was somewhere between his pillow falling to the floor for the fourth time and his mind replaying the sorcerer's words for the eighth.

His room was dark, his heavy drapes drawn to block the moonlight from flooding his chambers and his fire having been drowned out when he'd grown irritated with its incessant crackling. But as he lay there staring at the dark fabric above his head, he could see the forest as clear as day in his mind.

"Do you not listen to those who say not all magic is for evil? Do you ignore the cries of the innocent that you and your kingdom have damned?"

He had never ignored his people. He held trials for those who practiced magic, and all were found guilty in going against Camelot's law.

"Can you not hear the wailing of the children who have done nothing to deserve such wrath?"

He'd never hurt a child. He'd never condemned one to such a horrid fate. How many times had he turned the other way? Allowed those of a young age to slip free? It was not he who practiced such dark acts. He had not chosen to break the laws and condemn himself to the consequences.

If his people chose to go against the law, to go against him, then that was their choice. It was their decision to risk the pyre. He could not be seen as weak; he could not be known as the king who allowed those who broke his most important law to live free.

"If death is what waits for me for such a meager act, then you are not who you claim to be. A wise king listens to the outcries, yet you choose to be oblivious."

What had he been oblivious to? He'd ran that question through his mind over and over again until the words were seared into his brain. The people knew of the laws, and they had not fought them. Most even supported such a rule and reported those that dared to break it. The only cries were those who did not wish to lose their lives for their insolence, and how was that his wrong doing? Was he wrong to uphold his law and protect the innocent lives threatened by such dark forces?

"If you cannot hear the cries of your people, then you do not deserve to hear them at all."

The last part struck him the hardest. He should have known what it meant the moment he'd said it. He should have known what it implied. He wished he could forget the way his servant had been curled against the forest floor screaming in agony because of it.

Merlin had been waiting in his room when he'd returned from the council. Arthur had been irritated and tired, and the boy was eager to be of use. But the king had sent him away, telling him there was nothing to be done.

They both knew it was a lie and they both knew he was trying to keep things easy for the servant. And though Merlin had argued, Arthur had been firm in his decision. Anger had flashed in the boy's blue eyes, but he'd muttered out a word in a compliant tone and left the king alone. Something he had immediately regretted.

Sitting up in his bed and throwing his legs over the side, Arthur’s bare feet brushed against the cool floor and sent a chill through his body. He moved about his room in silence, tugging on a tunic and socks before carefully maneuvering around his table to reach his door.

The guards seemed surprised, but fell back when Arthur waved them away, padding through the halls with no true direction in mind. He felt restless, and he had half a mind to wake Merlin up just for someone to talk to. He knew the servant wouldn't mind, he'd never minded in the past. Or at least he'd never said he'd minded.

But it would be more difficult now, trying to rouse the deaf boy quietly so as not to wake the physician or frighten the boy in the process. So instead, the king walked, making his way through different halls and past rooms he rarely visited. He climbed stairwells that had led to hideaways as a child and peered into corners that had once been mysterious caverns waiting to be explored.

He'd walked until he spotted another figure across from him in a tower, their silhouette framed by the moon that washed over the balcony in fragments of light. Arthur considered calling out, curious who would be out at such an hour and in such a place, but a piece of him already knew that there was only one who would hide themselves away where they thought no one would find them.

Merlin sat stretched across the ledge, one arm folded across his chest and his head tilted to stare at the sky. Clouds kept the stars from view, but as Arthur leaned against one of the walls, he got the sense that the other wasn't there to watch them.

The man had half a mind to walk over and join his friend, but given how far he'd come to avoid other people, the king felt as if he would be intruding on whatever it was the boy was doing. Though Arthur did find himself curious, as the longer he sat there the more he could hear the strangest sounds echoing towards him. It sounded like Merlin was striking the stone with a rock, creating odd, jilted rhythms that varied in length and weight.

"I can feel you staring." The boy’s voice was soft, floating through the corridor like a spirit. Merlin had yet to move his head, but the noises had ceased, and he'd drawn his legs up closer to make room on the balcony.

It was a silent invitation; one Arthur had no intention of ignoring.

Nearing the ledge, he sat on the edge and propped one leg up while letting the other hang, their feet almost touching as Merlin folded his arms across his knees and pressed his head back against the pillar.

"I keep thinking something will trigger it. That one sound will spark an avalanche and it will all come rushing back." The boy spoke, his voice quiet as Arthur took note of the rock held tightly in the other's hand. He said nothing however as his gaze shifted to the sky, a warm wind dragging through his hair.

The tapping resumed, and Arthur glanced over to see the servant's hand had fallen to the side, the edge of the stone connecting with the ledge, striking odd rhythms once more. He couldn't remember seeing Merlin so despondent. He'd obviously felt the same as Arthur when trying to sleep, the boy dressed in nothing more than bed clothes and bare feet. The night had called to them both, or perhaps Arthur was not the only one the sorcerer was plaguing that night.

A piece of him wished to tell him of the dreams or to ask what he thought the sorcerer wanted. Merlin often had advice that made him almost seem wise; if the king didn't already know better that was. But as he watched the boy tap repeatedly while staring out at the horizon, he found he did not want to add to his restless mind. He'd done enough already; he could not ask Merlin to help him solve such a pointless riddle.

"Do you know what he meant?" Turning his head, Arthur was startled by the dark hues that bored into him, the rock clenched tightly in the boy’s fist. "The sorcerer," Merlin clarified, his eyes searching the royal’s face for an answer that Arthur knew he didn't have. "He said something about listening to the cries of the people; do you know what he meant?"

"No," He wanted to scream, the weight of his friend's hopeless gaze breaking him apart. "He was a mad man who sought to make me suffer." He wanted to say, easing his conscience and setting his mind at peace. But in truth he'd begun to wonder.

When Arthur didn't answer, Merlin's head lowered, the rock in his fingers sliding to the ground and bouncing a few paces away as the boy wrapped his arms tight around his knees. It was such a small action, but one Arthur couldn't look away from. It had only been a few days, but Merlin was giving up. He could see it on his face, especially in his eyes, and it was something that the man couldn't stand to watch.

Reaching his foot out and bumping the boy's leg, Merlin's gaze lifted, and Arthur tilted his chin, tapping beneath it twice while smiling faintly. "Chin up," He wanted to tease, "We'll figure it out."

He'd never done well at comforting others, knowing very well that his idea of consoling and that of the boy's were very different. But as he lowered his hand back to his lap and watched his best friend's lips curve the smallest bit behind his arms, Arthur decided it had been worth it to try.

Chapter Text

Merlin wished he could say it got easier as time passed. That he'd adjusted to his loss and continued on with his work as though everything were fine. He'd like to think that, but he knew it was a lie.

Days had passed since Merlin started working again and everyone treated him as if he were made of glass. As if one wrong move or one wrong action would push him over the edge. Arthur would send him off with the most menial tasks and Gaius hadn't allowed him to enter the forest to collect herbs for him even once.

‘Without your hearing you are at a great risk to those who have the advantage of surprise. You cannot have eyes around you at all times. It's better if you stay close by until things are resolved.’

Merlin knew what Gaius said was true, but he'd been irritated all the same. The young warlock had then made it his mission to be aware of everything around him as often as he could. It was easy at first, as he just had to keep an eye on where Arthur was when he went about his tasks in his chambers, and an eye on the door in case anyone entered.

In the halls the boy kept close to one wall, peering back occasionally to make certain no one appeared suddenly or was trying to catch his attention. But things became harder whenever he went outside. He'd hated to admit that Gaius was right in his warning, but the boy was always woefully unprepared for the bustling people and constant motion that left his mind spinning when he tried to place them all.

One moment there would be children near the stocks, farmers by their wagons, guards on patrol, and servants completing their tasks. But the next it was all different. Children would suddenly be near the stables, farmers and servants would be walking around, and the guards would all but disappear as they moved about. It was exhausting to say the least.

Merlin had found that trying to keep one eye on the world around him and one eye on his task not only made his work take twice as long, but it had begun to make him skittish. All it took was someone moving in the moment he looked away to throw everything off. He hadn't even realized how focused he was on where he'd placed the stable boys that morning until someone was tapping on his shoulder and he was nearly jumping out of his skin, turning and backing away as he stared at Elyan in surprise.

The knight had raised his hands in a reassuring manner, concern darting through his eyes as Merlin forced himself to relax, a weak smile lifting to his face. "Lost in thought." He explained, his fingers tightening around the shovel he'd been using.

The knight seemed hesitant when he offered a folded piece of parchment to the boy, though a kind smile rose to his face while Merlin glanced over the note. ‘Arthur requested to speak with you.’

"Requested or demanded?" He asked, watching the knight's smile widen as Merlin smirked, holding up the note. "Thanks." He spoke, waiting for his friend to leave the stables before he tucked the page in his pocket and quickly finished clearing the stall.

Brushing his hands against his trousers and making his way to Arthur's room, Merlin kept his gaze locked firmly on the ground. It had become habit when he went anywhere, avoiding others whenever he could. He'd had one too many awkward encounters where people would still try to speak to him or would relentlessly ask how he was doing. If he kept his eyes on the floor then he wouldn't see the people who would stop and watch him or offer to help with what he was doing.

He was not frail, and he was perfectly capable of doing everything he'd done in the past. Yes it was harder, and frustrating on both ends when he didn't have any clue what someone was saying to him, but it wasn't going to stop him from trying. Now if he could only convince Arthur and Gaius to stop worrying over him.

By the time Merlin had reached the king's chambers he walked directly in without knocking, the door falling shut behind him. Not that that was any different either, he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually waited for permission to enter.

Arthur was sitting at his desk, his body hunched over a scroll as he referenced a book beside him while making a note. "You called?" The boy asked, a cheeky smile rising as the man glanced over at him.

His look nearly froze Merlin, and the warlock paused as he tried to figure out what expression his friend was wearing. If he didn't know Arthur any better, he'd think it was one of regret. "Arthur?" He questioned, drawing the man out of his stupor as he quickly recovered himself and extended a sheet of paper out to the boy.

Sighing quietly, Merlin took the page and leaned his back against the wall while he read. "If this is how we're going to talk, you really ought to work on your handwriting, Sire." He commented, hiding his smirk at the blond's annoyed scowl.

‘A dignitary from the neighboring kingdom will be arriving today to discuss the continuation of our current trading agreement. Everyone is to make Sir Elwood's stay as pleasant as possible as he is not only an important ally to Camelot, but an old friend of my father's.’

"So, he's a bit high strung then?" Merlin asked, glancing up in time to catch the smallest curve of Arthur's lips before the king motioned back to the paper.

‘It is customary for the king's manservant to handle the interactions and oversee the visitor's stay, however—'

"However?" Raising his brows in question, Arthur merely pointed at the page again with a firm stare.

‘—due to the current conditions, I've placed another in charge of those duties.’

"Arthur, I'm perfectly capable of handling things, I've done it multiple times in the past." Merlin argued, lowering the parchment while Arthur leaned back in his chair and pointed back to the paper. "Arthur, you can't—"

"Merlin!"

Lifting the page and searching for the spot he'd left off on, the warlock’s lips pressed together into a thin line as he continued to read.

‘There's no use in arguing, the arrangements have already been made and it is important that the next two days carry no problems. You'll be free to aid Gaius during this time and perhaps make further progress in finding a remedy.’

Dropping the paper again, Merlin stared at the other as he tried to find something to say. Part of him understood, especially given the dignitary had befriended Uther. Many weren't fond of the way he and Arthur got along, most even frowning on how casual their relationship was for being the king and his servant. Therefor Arthur allowing Merlin to continue in his position with what had happened would be considered a poor choice in the eyes of others.

However, the other part of him was angry. As the days had passed more of his work had been given to others. Whether it was by Arthur's hand or other servants wanting to be helpful, it had made Merlin's days much slower and far more aggravating.

"So, you don't want me around at all?" The king looked away at the question, his eyes on his desk as his fingers tightened around the quill he held while Merlin's own gaze fell to the floor.

How much longer would this go on? He always gave Arthur grief, but he'd meant what he'd said all that time ago. He was happy to serve him until the day he died. It was his job, his destiny to not only protect the king, but to aid him. And yet by doing one, he was failing in the other.

The warlock's throat tightened as his eyes lifted and found Arthur's mouth moving, though he wasn't speaking to his servant. Looking to his left, Merlin found they were no longer alone. Sir Leon stood a few feet away, speaking with the blond as Arthur shifted, beginning to rise from his seat.

He paused only a moment, guilty blue hues darting over Merlin before he leaned over and quickly scrawled out another note. ‘It's only for a couple of days, Merlin, then things will return to normal.’

"Will they?" The boy asked, forcing his voice soft as he looked away, feeling Arthur's gaze lingering on him before he was walking out the door with the knight on his heels.

Placing the two pages back on the king's desk, Merlin readjusted his scarf and quietly left the man's chambers. He'd do as he was told, even though it hung over him like a fog. He could not risk getting in the way of Arthur settling an important contract, and in truth getting in the way was all he would accomplish.

One couldn't very well serve if he couldn't hear when he was called or what he was told to do. Maybe it was better this way. He was useless in his current state, and the only reason he was being kept around was because Arthur still expected to find the sorcerer. And maybe he would, maybe things would return to normal as he'd said. But as Merlin returned to the stables with his head down and thoughts jabbing at him, he felt very little hope in regard to that idea.

Retrieving the shovel he'd set aside before the blow he'd gotten to his self-worth, Merlin continued cleaning the stables. He knew his heart wasn't in it, although when was it when mucking out the stalls? But he'd taken his time, adjusting the equipment and even brushing down the mare he'd often take when he accompanied Arthur on a journey.

Resting his hand against the horse's neck, Merlin paused mid-stroke. If Arthur were to go somewhere before they found the sorcerer, what did that mean for him? The turnip head couldn't even keep himself out of trouble when Merlin was around, so what would happen if he were forced to remain behind?

He couldn't allow that to happen, he needed to fix things before the restless man set out again. At least within the walls of the citadel there was less of a risk, but out in the forest? Visiting another kingdom? No, he refused to wait any longer. He would have to try his magic, things couldn't go on like they were.

Moving away from the mare and dropping the brush, Merlin turned to leave and stumbled to a stop, nearly colliding with an older man who wore a sneer that appeared to be permanently cut into his face. The man was speaking, or rather he was spitting, small droplets of saliva flying from his mouth as the young warlock shifted away, unable to catch even a single word the stranger was spouting. How long had he been standing there?

"I'm sorry," He started, taking a step back. "But I can't—" His words cut off as heavy hands shoved into his shoulders, pushing the warlock back as he stumbled to catch himself. The man moved closer, pointing a finger at the boy as he continued to speak—though Merlin suspected it had turned to shouting—as he motioned behind him.

"Sir, I can't hear—" The warlock was shoved back again, his foot colliding with a bucket and knocking it over as he lifted a hand to stop the man from attacking again.

The older paused briefly, shaking his head with a scowl as he closed the distance faster than Merlin could move, his hand connecting with the boy's chest and shoving him to the ground. Flailing in an effort to find something to grab and restore his balance, the warlock's hand caught hold of a nail protruding from one of the stall's, the point catching the skin of his palm and ripping it as he fell.

Letting out a sharp hiss as he hit the floor of the stables, the man towered over him, spewing things that Merlin had stopped trying to figure out altogether. Closing his injured fist and bringing it protectively to his chest, he could feel the warm blood coating the inside of his hand.

"Sir, I can't hear you, I'm deaf." Merlin spoke quickly, the words weighing like an anchor on his chest as he pushed himself back, the man's foot shifting as the servant prepared for the boot to collide with him. Only the strike never came. Glancing up warily, he found a disgusted sneer in its place.

".. worthless servant.. you.. useless.. are.. death.."

Merlin could only catch a few of his words, though he obviously hadn't grasped what the young warlock had said about being unable to hear—either that or he didn't care. Who the hell even was he?

‘A dignitary from the neighboring kingdom will be arriving today.’ Arthur's words came back as Merlin grimaced. Please let this man not be Sir Elwood.

He didn't look old enough to have been a friend of Uther's, and if Merlin was lucky it would only be one of his men. The last thing he needed was Arthur thinking he'd caused trouble as soon as the dignitary had arrived.

The tip of the man's boot suddenly connected with the boy's shin, a strike of pain shooting up his leg as he looked back to the stranger. The boy started to tell him once more that he couldn't understand him when the man's words stopped abruptly, and his head turned to the side.

Sagging back and daring to glance at his hand, Merlin found crimson dripping onto his tunic as it squeezed out of his palm. The stranger didn't bother to look at the warlock again when he turned away. He merely lifted his head and strode out of the stables as if he'd been praised by the king himself and had not just beaten down one of the servants.

Sitting up and letting out a shuddering breath of relief, another man knelt down, only this time it was a face Merlin recognized. "Percival?" He gaped, a small smile finding its way to his face as the knight offered him his hand. Taking it gratefully and letting the man pull him to his feet, he watched the knight glance him over.

"Are you alright?" He mouthed slowly, obviously having intervened to stop the conflict.

"I'm fine. Was that Sir Elwood?" The boy asked cautiously, lowering his bleeding fist in an attempt to hide it. The knight shook his head, receiving another breath of relief from the young warlock. "When did you get back? Is Gwaine with you?" Merlin asked, peering around the giant man's arm as Percival smiled.

"Just now." He said, turning suddenly and frowning. "I have to go," He said carefully, beckoning behind him. "You're good?"

"I'm fine, thanks again." He smiled, receiving a wide one in return as the man strode out and disappeared from view.

Merlin's face fell the moment he was gone, lifting his hand and opening it again only to wince at the jagged gash that had torn his skin open. Running his left fingers along the side gingerly, he grimaced and looked out across the field, trying to spot his returned friend. He was sure it was only a matter of time before Gwaine sought him out if Percival already knew what had happened, and judging by the way he’d spoken to him, he’d already been told.

Walking out into the daylight and keeping his head down and fist closed, the warlock made his way back to Gaius' chambers, hoping to stem the bleeding. Not that it really mattered, it wasn't as if he would be doing anything of importance the next couple of days anyway.

Pushing open the door and looking around, the boy found the physician was gone and the room was empty. Slipping inside and closing the door behind him, Merlin sought out a clean cloth and pressed it against his aching palm, biting down on his lip to keep quiet.

Retreating into his own room and kicking the door closed behind him, he fell back onto his bed and cleaned his hand carefully. Without the puddle of blood it looked better, though the cut was sore and burned against the air.

Falling onto his back and holding his hand above his head, Merlin squinted in thought. He was poor at healing spells, he already knew that. But for something so small, wouldn't that be the perfect thing to test his magic out on?

Sitting up suddenly, the boy crossed his legs over his mattress and held his left hand above his right, inhaling a slow, steady breath. "Þurhhæle dolgbenn." He said softly, concentrating on speaking the words correctly and centering his magic. "Þurhhæle dolgbenn." He uttered again, feeling the cut throb painfully.

Gritting his teeth and releasing his next breath steadily, Merlin closed his eyes and focused everything he had. "Þurhhæle dolgbenn!"

His eyes pulled open and his breath dragged forcefully out of him, but Merlin watched in satisfaction as the sides of the cut drew together until they had closed. A breathless laugh left the young warlock while his fingers brushed over the wound. It was still raw, but it was no longer open to the air.

Falling onto his back again and pressing his head heavily into his pillow, Merlin felt his heart pounding in his chest. Healing spells took a lot out of a person, but he felt completely drained for it to have only partially succeeded.

He knew if he closed his eyes he would fall asleep, giving in to the exhausting pull that drifted over him. But Gaius would return soon, and he knew how his mentor felt about him attempting the spells in his current state.

Pushing himself up with more effort than it should have taken, Merlin braced his back against the wall and lifted his hands towards his ears. Cupping his hands, he felt the pull of his magic, focusing again on the words as he spoke a stronger spell than the last.

"Licsar ge staðol nu." A snap of pain shot through his head, the warlock jolting as he heard something slam, his eyes flickering to the entrance as he held completely still.

He'd heard that. He had heard that. It was brief, only the smallest sound and then it was gone. Gaius had probably returned from his rounds, but it was something. Straightening and breathing again, the boy felt a tremor run through his hands as he repeated the spell. "Licsar ge staðol nu."

The pain was greater, his body pushing forwards as he restrained a groan of discomfort. The noise sounded again, only the second time there was a heavy pounding that followed, and Merlin pried his eyes open to see if Gaius had come inside his room. He found he was still completely alone, but as he squinted to relieve the pressure behind his eyes, he started to doubt what he was doing.

Something had begun to feel wrong. Maybe Gaius had been right, maybe he was just making it worse. He wasn't saying it correctly, or without the proper inflections. But Merlin had heard something, and it was the first thing he'd heard in what felt like years.

‘However due to the current conditions, I've placed another in charge of those duties.’ Without his hearing he couldn't do his job.

‘If any discover the state you are in, it could lead to terrible things.’ Without his hearing he couldn't protect Arthur.

"Worthless.. Useless!" The stranger’s words played through Merlin's mind, his stomach twisting as he pushed himself back up straight.

He was tired of their looks; he was tired of their pity. He couldn't tolerate being so.. useless. "Licsar ge staðol nu."

He wouldn't give up. "Licsar ge staðol nu."

He knew his destiny. "Licsar ge staðol nu."

He would not stop. "Licsar ge staðol nu."

He would succeed. "Licsar ge staðol nu!"

‘You may do more harm than good.’

The noise he’d heard finally made sense. The door in his mind that he’d kept locked tightly away shuddered, trembling from a weight pressing against it before it lost the fight and swung open wide. Flames poured out freely into his head while a single scream pierced through the air.

Merlin's eyes shot open; his body frozen as sharp, broken breaths tore out of him. Everything was different. Everything was wrong. His room was gone, his safety nowhere to be seen. All he saw was fire, tall and bright and hungry.

He made a mistake. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He didn't know. It wasn't his fault; he couldn't stop it. He couldn’t stop him.

The flames danced higher in front of him, and a deeper, agonized scream joined the first as one after another jumped in, a crescendo of misery and death flooding over the warlock as he fought to breathe.

Hands covered in bloodied, charred skin began grabbing at his shirt, reaching for his face and pulling at his hair. Merlin struggled and kicked, fighting to break free as his knees dragged against familiar cracked stone, piercing his skin and drawing blood from his legs.

"Please, I-I didn't know!" He tried to yell, but his voice was lost in the crowd that had yet to die down. A crowd enveloped in flames. His back was pushed against a wooden pyre, ropes securing his limbs and tying him down as tears streaked down the boy’s face.

"Please!" Merlin screamed, coughing against the smoke as the fire grew closer, eating away the distance between him and it. "Please, I'm sorry!" But his voice was drowned out by the others, an overwhelming noise that blocked anything else from reaching him.

The flames had touched the first piece of wood and Merlin was fighting with everything in him to be free. Rope cut through his skin as he struggled, and he managed to get an arm loose only to have a hand tie him back down.

"I couldn't stop him, I-I couldn't.. please! Arthur! A-Arthur, please!"

The fire was all around him, the heat burning against his body as pain washed over him in wave after wave after unending wave. His skin cracked and peeled and tore, blood bubbling in his veins as he choked on the bile that rose at the scent of his own burning flesh.

His throat was raw but still he screamed, desperate to be heard, desperate to be freed. But no one came. No one helped. No one listened. And as the flames fully engulfed him, Merlin's last echoed scream joined in and faded away with the rest of the damned.

Chapter Text

Gwaine had been gone for nine days. Just nine days.

When he'd left Camelot Merlin had bid him goodbye, making a joke about staying away from strange taverns and stranger women. Two pieces of advice Gwaine hadn't followed at all. He'd been looking forward to dragging Merlin along to the tavern with him that evening and regaling him with the tales of his adventure. Or at least he had been until he'd heard what happened.

He was gone for nine days and come to find out Merlin had been injured during that time. The man had seethed the whole way across the Lower Town, around the citadel, through the halls, and all the way into Arthur's chambers.

Gwaine was aware he had some issues with authority, though he'd felt he'd made some progress in his relationships with the knights and the king. But as he pushed open Arthur's door and stormed inside—surprising the blond who'd been in the middle of discussing something with one of the servants—he wasn't concerned with trying any further.

Irritation flashed over the king's face, but the knight didn't care as he strode forward with only one thing on his mind. "He's deaf?" His voice boomed and Arthur's expression shifted to annoyed resignation as he waved the servant off.

"I see you've returned, Sir Gwaine." Arthur spoke the words with thinly veiled ire, resting his hands on the back of a chair as he motioned to one beside him. "Would you like to sit?"

"He's deaf, how the hell did that even happen?" Gwaine demanded, ignoring the sarcasm as Arthur sighed, lowering his head and shaking it.

"He pushed me out of the way of a curse."

The room was spinning, though whether it was from the news or the ale he’d incorporated with his breakfast, the man wasn't sure. "Why hasn't it been reversed?" The knight asked, finally falling into one of the chairs while Arthur stared down at him.

"We haven't been able to locate the sorcerer, and Gaius has yet to find a suitable remedy."

"So, he's just been.." He trailed off as Arthur ran a hand along the back of his neck.

"He's done his job as he can."

Gwaine glanced up at that, narrowing his eyes at the king. "Then where is he now?"

It wasn't hard to spot, especially since he'd already been looking for it, but guilt drifted over the blond's face before it was masked, and Arthur was pulling away from his table. "He'll be aiding Gaius for the next couple of days while Sir Elwood is here."

"What happened to him doing his job?"

"This is a very important contract, Gwaine. And although it's not his fault, Merlin would only be a hindrance."

"Because he took a curse for you?" The knight asked, his voice leveling as Arthur frowned, staring the man down with an air of authority.

"Merlin is aware that we're doing everything we can to find the sorcerer and break this curse. Until then, things have had to change. With Sir Elwood's visit its best for him to stay out of the way."

"How's Merlin taking that order?" The man questioned, leaning forward in his seat. "Or have you even asked him?"

"Gwaine, I don't have time for this," Arthur waved a hand at him, beginning to pace his room. "We've had to make changes in most things for this meeting, I cannot be concerned if Merlin's feelings are hurt or not. It is imperative that we keep things civil. Sir Elwood respected my father but has made his opinion about me very clear. Camelot will suffer the effects if this trade is not secured."

This. This was exactly why Gwaine hated nobility. He respected Arthur and he had pledged himself as a knight of Camelot readily. But as Merlin would put it, he could still be a prat. He understood the importance of the meeting, of whoever this Elwood guy was, but to brush Merlin aside after the boy had sacrificed himself like that?

Rising from his chair without another word, Gwaine made to leave when a knock sounded on Arthur's door and the king called out his allowance for the visitor to enter. "Percival, what do you need?" Arthur asked, looking up at the large knight when he stepped into the room and glanced at Gwaine who had suddenly decided to linger a bit longer.

The two had been together when Elyan told them about Merlin, though Gwaine hadn't stuck around to hear the other's response when he'd decided to storm into the king's chambers.

"King Arthur. Sir Elwood and his men are waiting."

"Yes, I know. We were just finishing up, weren't we?" The blond asked, cutting his eyes to Gwaine who glared in his direction.

"Before you go," Percival spoke, hesitating briefly as he glanced at the other knight again.

"What is it?"

"I thought you should be aware that I had to stop one of Sir Elwood's men from attacking Merlin."

"What?" Gwaine's voice melded with Arthur's, both meeting the other's gaze before shifting back to Percival.

"I arrived at the end of it, but it appeared the man was upset because he thought Merlin was ignoring him."

"This is exactly why I told him to keep away." Arthur scowled, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"Who was this guy? Did he hurt him?" Gwaine interrupted, his hand falling to his sword while his friend continued.

"He'd knocked him to the ground, but he appeared uninjured."

"Where is Merlin now?" Arthur asked, pulling away and striding for the door.

"I thought you didn't have time, Your Majesty?" Gwaine commented evenly, catching the near murderous look the royal sent his way.

"Percival. Where?" He stressed as the knight shifted.

"He was in the stables last I saw, but when I'd gone back he'd left already."

"He's probably gone to see Gaius." Gwaine muttered as Arthur pulled open his door.

"Percival, tell Sir Elwood I'll be there soon. I want to hear how this started before I say anything."

Staying right on Arthur's heels, Gwaine grasped the pommel of his sword tightly. "So, this is what you wanted to avoid?"

"Sir Elwood has a poor reputation with his servants, and though he keeps his hands clean, his advisers and guards handle issues for him."

"And Merlin is an issue?"

"At this moment, Merlin is unable to operate at his fullest. In Sir Elwood's mind, and obviously those he brought along with him, that means there is no point in keeping him around."

Gwaine swallowed back his disgust, rounding a corner and slipping around a young woman carrying a basket. "That doesn't give them ground to go after Merlin, they don't even know what happened!"

"It doesn't matter," Arthur muttered, taking the stairs quickly as he glanced at his knight. "Not to them at least. I assure you though, he will be dealt with accordingly. Just as soon as I know how it began."

Pushing open the door of the physician's chambers, the empty room stared back at them as Gwaine walked towards the table. "Where's Gaius?"

"He must have gone to see a patient." Arthur sighed.

"Merlin?" The knight called, though it dawned on him after that calling for the deaf individual was rather pointless. Walking up the few short steps to the servant's bedroom, he pushed open the door and peeked inside. "Arthur!" Gwaine shouted, shoving the door open fully and dropping to the ground, his eyes wide and glued to the young man who was collapsed on the floor, his body writing in pain.

Reaching out and grabbing Merlin’s shoulders, a loud groan poured out of him as fear clutched at the knight's chest. He was vaguely aware of Arthur running in before the king was out in the hall, shouting for someone to find the physician.

"Merlin? Merlin, come on—"

"Please.." The boy murmured, his back arching against the floor as Arthur returned and knelt down beside the two.

"Merlin?"

"I-I didn't know.." The servant's voice cracked; his eyes squeezed shut as he pulled away from Gwaine's hands.

"What the hell happened?" The knight hissed as the king barely shook his head. "Maybe he hit his head or something? When that guy pushed him?" Gwaine offered while Arthur's hands reached for the boy.

"Please!" Merlin yelled, his body thrashing to the side as he wrapped his arms around his head, his fingers digging into his hair.

"Where the hell is Gaius?"

"I don't know!" Arthur shouted.

"Please.. I'm sorry!"

"Merlin." Gwaine called, reaching out again only to have the boy jerk away, his breaths coming out sharp and ragged. He'd begun to mumble, unintelligible words muffled as he pulled in on himself. "We can't just—"

"Arthur!" The cry was heart wrenching, a choked sob leaving Merlin while his body trembled. Arthur leaned closer; a grim expression clear on his face as the boy screamed again. "A-Arthur, please!"

Reaching out, Arthur's hands grabbed the boy's wrists gently while leaning closer, trying to pull his hands away from his head so he could see him. "Merlin?"

"What happened?" Gaius' voice broke through as he pushed closer to the small, huddled group. Gwaine shifted out of the way at his arrival, happier than ever to see the older man.

"We found him like this, yelling and shaking." Gwaine explained, his hands moving as he spoke.

"Just like..?" Gaius paused, sending a look to Arthur who barely nodded.

"Just like what? Has this happened before?"

"When he was first struck by the curse out in the forest." Arthur said quietly, his eyes still on his servant though he'd pulled his hands away when Gaius arrived.

The boy's twitching had finally come to a stop while they were talking, his arms falling limply beside his head as the physician rose stiffly. "Move him to the bed, it seems whatever happened has passed."

Without a word, Gwaine's hands slipped beneath Merlin's arms, shifting the boy against his chest while Arthur grabbed his legs. In an easy motion the two settled the boy on his bed and the knight stood over him in worry while the physician began looking him over.

"He was harassed in the stables, Percival said he'd been knocked to the ground. Could he have hit his head?" Gwaine asked finally as Arthur cursed across from him.

The king stood at the foot of Merlin's bed, barely even moving until Gwaine had spoken. "I forgot about Sir Elwood." He muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"Go, I'll watch over him." Gwaine promised, though the man still lingered.

"Gaius—"

"He's just exhausted, Sire, he'll be alright." The physician assured the king, a kind but tired voice speaking from beside Merlin's bed.

With a final look to his knight, Arthur begrudgingly left the room while Gwaine knelt beside his friend. "What happened to him?" He asked softly, his arms resting on the side of the mattress while the older man stood over his ward.

"Perhaps a side effect from the curse." Gaius mused slowly, his eyes moving over the boy in a calculating manner before he paused, reaching out and turning Merlin's arm. Unfolding the fingers on his right hand revealed a thin, jagged cut across the length of his palm as Gaius' expression suddenly hardened.

"Might've happened when he fell." Gwaine offered, leaning closer to look. "Doesn't look that bad, at least."

"Not anymore, no." Gaius murmured, lowering the boy's hand and casting a frown in Merlin's direction.

"Not anymore?"

"It may be some time before he rouses, you needn't stay if—"

"I want too." The knight cut in, offering the elder a small smile. "If that's alright?"

"I'm sure he will be glad to see you've returned when he wakes." Gaius' smile returned, strained though it was, and the physician left the room as Gwaine stood and pulled a chair closer to the bed to wait.

The next few hours were spent in occasional conversation with the older man, the knight regaling Gaius with the stories he'd intended to tell Merlin. The man didn't appear to mind though, seeming especially amused at the tale of he and Percival fighting for one young woman's affection.

"She chose him by the end, though I blame that solely on the fact that I was already too drunk for her to see the full effects of my charming ways." Gwaine declared, laughing at himself while Gaius smiled and shook his head.

"And what did Sir Percival say about such a thing?"

"Oh, he was very humble about it all, until I'd awoken the next morning and discovered he'd told everyone that she'd not turned her head for me at all!" Leaning back, Gwaine's eyes flickered to the unconscious boy still beside him, just as he'd done a few dozen times already. "I ought to drag Merlin to the tavern again, let him gain a few stories of his own to tell." The knight commented, watching while the physician’s smile faltered. "Shouldn't he have woken by now?"

"It's hard to say." The elder said slowly, rising from where he'd been seated and walking into the main chamber. "Will you fetch some fresh water? I haven't had the opportunity." He asked, holding out a pitcher to the knight who took it eagerly, glad to do something other than wait.

Twilight had fallen and the sunlight was beginning to fade as Gwaine left the confined chambers. He had yet to see Arthur again, and his mind wandered to how the contract meeting had gone. Was it still happening? Or had they moved onto a feast to celebrate their continued union? Had Arthur asked about the man who'd attacked Merlin?

He had too many questions and not enough answers. He wanted a chance to speak to that guy alone, to give him a taste of what he'd done to others. It wouldn't stand for anyone in or out of Camelot to harass those working under Arthur's reign, but least of all Merlin.

Technically he was a servant to Arthur, and the knights themselves were held higher than he. But he was their friend, and he was braver and more loyal than most. That alone was proven by what he'd done for the king in taking that curse. All Gwaine knew was that Arthur would handle Sir Elwood's man, or he would himself. Though he couldn't deny there was a part of him that was hoping for the latter.

Carrying the water back to the physician's chambers, Gwaine heard a muffled voice from inside. "—ish, Merlin!"

Pausing with the door partially open, the man poked his head inside, spotting Merlin's door cracked as the boy's voice drifted towards him. "I didn't know!" Merlin yelled, his voice raw and hoarse.

Closing the door behind him and setting the water on the table, the knight made his way towards the argument. "Gaius, I wouldn't have done it if I'd have known." The boy was saying as Gwaine stepped into the room, spotting the servant upright in his bed, though his head was in his hands.

"You were right, it just made it worse," Merlin continued as the physician looked up, his hand reaching out and grabbing his ward’s ankle. "There were so many, and they just wouldn't stop—" The servant cut off abruptly as his head lifted and pained blue eyes settled on the knight. "Gwaine?"

The boy looked awful, his face paler than usual with prominent dark circles that sat beneath red rimmed eyes. Gwaine smiled however, stepping closer while Gaius stood and disappeared into the other room with his mouth set in a firm line.

"About time you woke up." The knight teased, catching the flicker of confusion that drifted over his friend's face. "Still can't.. you know." He motioned to his own ears as Merlin gave him a small, lopsided smile.

"No, I can't hear. Which is just a shame because I'm sure you had plenty to tell me." Merlin joked, pushing himself up to prop against the wall.

"Oh yeah." Gwaine nodded, watching the boy's smile widen just a fraction.

"There's parchment on the stand," Gaius offered as he reentered the room, extending a cup out to his ward. "It's easier than trying to wait and see what words he recognizes." The physician explained while Merlin quickly drank the water, noticeably refusing to look the elder in the eye.

"Bet the king loves that." Gwaine remarked, grabbing a stack of parchment and settling in the chair once more while retrieving a quill nearby.

Glancing up when Gaius left again, the man peered over at Merlin who clutched the cup tightly between his hands, practically burning a hole in his blanket from how hard he was staring. ‘What did you do to upset him so much?’ Gwaine wrote, sliding the page into the boy's view as Merlin grimaced, tapping a single finger against the rim of his cup.

"He's not angry, just concerned." The knight nearly missed the answer, Merlin's voice forcibly made quiet.

Pulling the paper back, Gwaine held the quill over the parchment as he considered what he wanted to say. ‘Are you alright? What happened before we found you?’

Another grimace, as if the question pained him to read. "You found me?"

Looking over, Gwaine nodded. "And Arthur." He mouthed slowly as Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back against the wall.

"I don't really remember," He finally answered, opening his eyes and staring at the wall across from him with a dull gaze. "It's all sort of foggy."

Gwaine frowned at his reply, the boy's blue eyes falling to his lap as he began to tap at the cup once more. ‘You were begging, calling out for Arthur. You don't remember that?’

He hadn't meant for the question to upset him, but as Merlin’s eyes darted over the paper the boy’s face paled even more, his hand twitching as he clasped the cup tightly. Fear and panic crept over his friend's face—a short breath sucking in before a long one rattled out.

The cup in his hands began to move, the smallest tremor running through him as Gwaine placed a hand on the boy's shoulder in concern. Merlin's gaze flickered up to the knight at the contact, a forced smile rising as he pulled away and pressed the bottom of the cup firmly against his leg.

"Sorry, must've hit my head, still kind of out of it. Like I said, I don't really remember." It was a poor attempt at a lie, even for Merlin, but Gwaine didn't push it, the man simply retrieving the paper as Merlin stared at his hands.

The quill scratched against the page again and a smirk fell into place as the knight held the parchment in front of the other's eyes. ‘Percival met a girl.’

"What?" Merlin gaped while Gwaine laughed, nodding his head.

‘Escorting Lady Ivett was an adventure like none other.’ Gwaine flashed his friend a cheeky grin while Merlin snickered, leaning his head to the side.

"I'm sure it was. Drunk the whole trip were you?"

"Only part." He mouthed, chuckling as he dipped the quill and wrote again. ‘The ale is cheaper here, but the women are far more fun in neighboring kingdoms.’

His words drew another laugh from Merlin, color rising to his cheeks as he settled back, half lidded eyes regarding the knight. "Did you make that strong of an impression on Lady Ivett herself?"

‘It seemed she was immune to my charming ways. She and her maidservant seemed rather close though, so perhaps it was not entirely my fault.’ His joke awarded him yet another laugh, though it was followed soon after by a strained cough and a faint grimace. Setting the parchment to the side, Gwaine leaned forward and caught his friend's weary expression. "Alright?"

"I'm fine. Head just throbs a bit." Merlin shrugged dismissively, looking over the knight’s shoulder when Gaius stepped inside.

The physician appeared to be less frustrated than before as he approached his ward, a small blue vial held in his hand. Offering it out to the boy, Merlin accepted it without argument, glancing at Gwaine and lifting it in a mocking manner.

As he downed the contents the boy coughed again, a harsh hacking sound forced out of him as he leaned forwards, the vial clutched tightly in his hand. "How strong did you make this?" He sputtered, staring up at the elder who gave him a pointed look. Something unspoken passed between the two that had Merlin glancing away, coughing a couple more times and making a face at the taste of the potion.

"He'll be asleep soon, and you should get some rest as well after being here all day." Gaius advised the knight, taking the vial and cup from the younger's hands while Merlin sunk back against his mattress, his eyes staring at his ceiling in a daze as the potion worked through him.

Rising from his chair and resting a hand on the boy's arm, Gwaine smiled as Merlin's eyes started to close. "Rest well, my friend." He murmured, turning away as the servant’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around the man’s wrist and startling the knight.

"What's wrong?" Gwaine asked, leaning closer as the boy's lips moved, though no words came out. "Merlin?" He pressed, hovering over him as tired blue eyes worked to settle on the knight’s face in an unfocused haze.

"He.. has to hear.." The boy mumbled, his eyes starting to fall shut before flying back open, his hand tightening around the knight in a brief moment of urgency.

"Who has to hear what?"

"They won't stop.." Merlin’s head barely shook, dark hair shifting against the pillow as his hand fell away. His eyes began drifting shut, and his final words came out in a jilted tone. "They'll never stop.. not unless he hears them.. please.. he has.. to hear them.."

Chapter Text

Arthur had come to expect the strange day to day behavior from his manservant. The endless chattering, the odd insults, even the random bouts of wisdom that left the king wondering if there was more to Merlin than met the eye. But recently the shift in their dynamic had changed at a rapid pace.

When Merlin had first been struck with the curse and fought to keep working, Arthur had lessoned his tasks where he could. And aside from the hindrance of speaking to one another, their banter continued and the two went about their routines as normally as possible. But since Sir Elwood's visit, things had descended into a downward spiral that Arthur had never expected.

Their meeting had been long and strenuous. The king could not let what occurred stand, even if it had been one of the normal servants. But when it was his personal manservant? When it was his friend, when it was Merlin? They were lucky he hadn't thrown the offender into the dungeon the very moment he'd walked in.

And though he was certain the only reason their contract remained intact was due to the benefits Sir Elwood received from remaining on good terms with Camelot, Arthur had made it clear that not a single one of his men were to touch any of his servants again.

That, and his weaselly adviser who had begrudgingly admitted to shoving the 'useless excuse of a servant' had been banned from coming through Camelot's borders again. It wasn't enough in Arthur's mind though, and certainly not in Gwaine's, whose face had turned the same shade as his cloak when he'd learned the man would not be punished for hurting their friend.

But things had been handled as well as they could be, and Merlin had appeared relieved when Arthur told him that their trading with Sir Elwood would remain despite the trouble. He'd thought that would be the end of it. That as he watched the horses disappear and the guards return to their post that a few days of calm would brush over his kingdom and he might even relax for a couple of days. Though looking back, he was foolish to ever consider such a thing.

Merlin had returned to work just as Arthur had promised he could, but it was evident from the start that things had grown worse for the boy. The endless chatter that had once driven the king up the wall in irritation was sorely missed, replaced instead with tense silence and downcast eyes that barely even regarded him unless forced.

The banter that lightened the air and gave Arthur those brief moments of normality had faded entirely, leaving him poking desperately at his friend to rouse something out of him—anything at all. But each time he was met with a weak excuse of a smile and a broken gaze that left a pit in the blond's stomach.

He'd found himself watching Merlin constantly as the days passed painfully slow. The boy had always been nothing more than skin and bones, but he seemed frailer than usual, his body carefully tucked in on himself as if worried to take up more space than was needed.

His clothes hung loose off his frame and his skin had begun to resemble that of a corpse. Not to mention the dark circles beneath his eyes that had gone from their occasional appearance to making Merlin’s eyes look sunken and hollow all the time. There was no point in questioning what happened, he knew he'd only be met with a forced smile and an excuse that the servant felt would explain everything—when really all it did was pose more questions.

So instead, Arthur watched. And when he couldn't watch, the knights did. No one objected, and Gwaine was more than on board to keep an eye on their friend when he'd noticed the change in attitude as well. Arthur wasn't sure what would be gained by keeping such a close eye on the servant, but he needed to find a way to return things to normal. Unfortunately, the reports that the knights were giving him every time something new occurred weren’t helping.

"Cook's banned him from the kitchen after he backed into one of the girl's carrying a stack of dishes. Wasted a good bit of food and Cook sent him away after having him clean up the mess. Probably a good thing he couldn't hear what she was saying to him." Elyan had informed the royal somberly on Merlin's first day back to work, the knight looking as though he felt guilty for repeating the incident to the king.

"I would suggest keeping him out of the armory for the time being. He nearly impaled himself on one of the swords after we came back from training, unaware we were behind him." Leon had spoken wearily that same evening, his hand firmly on the pommel of his sword as Arthur made a mental note to keep the boy away from any and all weapons for the foreseeable future.

"He jumps at everything. Anyone who tries to speak to him, anytime someone appears around a corner or makes a move towards him. It's almost as if he expects to be attacked so he's always prepared for the worst." Percival's report on the third day had been the worst, and guilt had built up in the king's chest at not having done more during Sir Elwood's visit, which no doubt had played a part in the boy’s constant vigilance.

"He's just not Merlin!" Gwaine's had been the breaking point, the knight slumping down in his chair as he regarded the blond sullenly on the fourth day. "I mean he is, but he's not. Something's happened to him, Arthur. Surely you've noticed it too."

"Of course I have." The king snapped, turning away from his desk and staring across the room at his knight who looked more sober than he'd seen him in ages. "But I don't know what. He won't talk to me, and if I get too close he shies away like a skittish horse."

"I should have spoken privately with that adviser before he left." Gwaine muttered darkly as Arthur refrained the urge to agree.

"It's more than that, Merlin has had his share of undesirable guests to attend to, but this is something different." The king sighed.

"Has anything changed? He seemed fine when he'd first woken up after we found him. Maybe a bit ill, but that's all."

"He hasn't seen any of you watching him, has he?" Arthur questioned, leaning his head against his hand as Gwaine sat up.

"Of course not. Merlin has barely noticed anyone around him unless they get too close. He just keeps his eyes on the ground, like he's too scared to look up."

"I've noticed that too. He won't even look at me unless he's forced to." Frowning in thought, Arthur stared at the desk as his mind raced. "Has anyone spoken to Gaius? He's sure to have noticed his behavior more than we have." The king asked, glancing up again while Gwaine shook his head.

"The few times I've stopped by he hasn't been around. I get the feeling he knows something we don't, though."

"Yeah," Arthur mumbled, leaning back and folding his arms. "I've felt that too. Where is Merlin now?"

"This time of day? Probably up in that tower. We've found he goes there a lot to get away from people."

"Good. I think I'll pay Gaius a visit and figure out what's going on." The king decided.

As the knight rose to leave he paused, a hesitant gaze landing on Arthur. "That sorcerer, has there been any word?"

"No," The blond said quietly, pained blue eyes darting away. "It's as if he's vanished entirely."

"Will Merlin be like this forever then?"

The idea was like a sword to his chest, and Arthur's next breath caught as he shot a harsh look to Gwaine. "No. Whether we find the sorcerer or we find a way to break the curse, things will return to normal."

They had too. Arthur had promised the boy. He'd promised him a hundred times since he'd first stared at him in that haunting silence. He didn't care what he had to do; he would find a way to help Merlin.

With a simple bow of his head, Gwaine left the king's chambers and Arthur sunk lower in his chair. He hadn't given much thought to what he would do if they couldn't locate the sorcerer. He hadn't wanted to consider it, though so much time had passed he didn't have much of a choice anymore.

How far was he willing to go in his fight to protect Merlin? What exactly was he willing to sacrifice for the sake of his friend? He already knew the answer of course, and that was why he was struggling so much.

Merlin was willing to trade his life for Arthur's in the blink of an eye, and Arthur knew that when it came down to it, he was willing to do the same. But there was a voice in the back of his mind nagging at him, telling him what he was considering was foolish and no more than treason. Merlin was a servant, and one didn't go behind the backs of their people to be a hypocrite just for the sake of a servant.

But he's not just a servant. Arthur argued with himself, his fingers tightening into a fist. Merlin was his friend. No, he was his best friend. The idiot was like the brother he'd never had. He would fight for him, he would protect him, and damn it he would go behind those he ruled if it meant saving the boy and returning what he'd lost.

He's just a servant. The voice nagged again, an annoying tone all too reminiscent of his father's as Arthur pushed himself up and strode through the doors of his chambers. He's never been just a servant. He shot back, shutting the voice up for good as he made his way to the physician's chambers.

If they couldn't find the sorcerer and Gaius had no way to rid the boy of that stupid curse, then Arthur would find another way. He would find someone who could help him, even if that required the use of magic to do so. Even if it meant going against the law that had been in place for years. He would do it for Merlin.

By the time he'd pushed open Gaius' door, Arthur's resolve had been firmly set. All he needed was an answer to the question plaguing his mind. When the king stepped into the physician's room he spotted the older man puttering about with his potions, his back to the blond while he called out a distracted greeting. Closing the door behind him and casting a brief look around for his servant, Arthur was glad to see him away from home just as Gwaine had said.

"Sorry, those roots are a bit tricky. Now what—Oh, Your Majesty, is everything alright?" The elder asked, stopping in his tracks as the blond shifted awkwardly. He may have come to the decision to do what was needed, but he'd yet to figure out how to go about asking what was wrong with his servant in the first place.

"Everything's fine, Gaius." He assured him, motioning towards the table as the elder quickly nodded, pushing away a bowl that was still full of whatever it was that he'd prepared for his afternoon meal.

Settling on a stool, Arthur straightened his back and cleared his throat, feeling the man's eyes on him. He'd known Gaius all his life, and somehow he always knew more about what Arthur wanted to say than he did himself.

"Is this about Merlin?" Surely he wasn't that easy to read, was he? Not by anyone but Merlin at least. Or so he’d thought.

"Yes," The man answered, resting his arms on the table and meeting the physician’s gaze. "He's been behaving strangely since Sir Elwood left. Have you noticed anything different about him that might have triggered that?"

He wasn't sure what answer he wanted. Things had been too odd for it to be considered nothing, and it was obvious Merlin wasn't healthy. But Arthur was hoping for a simple answer, something akin to he hadn't slept the previous night or perhaps he'd even come down with an illness that made him look like a ghost wandering the halls.

But as Gaius' expression shifted to one of worry and sadness, the king knew he wasn't about to be so lucky. "Gaius?"

"Merlin has been struggling, Sire."

"Struggling? With what?" He'd done everything he could think of to make things easier on Merlin, everything except for commanding him to stop working altogether at least. Which at this point was the next step Arthur was about to take.

When Gaius didn't respond the blond leaned closer, a hard look settling on his face. "He's barely speaking, Gaius. He's hardly doing his job and when he does he just creates more work for others. Not to mention he looks as if he hasn't slept at all in the last three days."

"He hasn't." The words left the elder quietly and immediately made the king pause.

"What?"

"He hasn't been sleeping," Gaius sighed, a pained look clouding his features. "He complains of bad dreams but refuses a sleeping draught because he says they linger. He just sits in his room for hours when he's not serving you or sitting up in that tower. Yes, Gwaine informed me. I knew he'd been slipping out at night but am relieved to know at least he's still close by."

While Gaius spoke, Arthur noted the growing concern in the man's eyes as his hands absentmindedly moved things around the table. "He'll rarely eat, and he's hardly spoken a word to me. I fear he's given up on the hope of finding a way to reverse the curse." Arthur said nothing, staring hard at the table as he dragged his fingers over the coarse wood. "Has he told you what he dreams of?" The physician’s question surprised the king, the man’s eyes lifting and settling on the kind face that sat across from him.

"No, he's not spoken to me unless it's regarded his work. Why, what are they about?" Did they resemble his own strange dreams? Gaius had said they'd been nightmares though, and while Arthur's had been odd, they hadn't been anything to fear.

"That sorcerer, before his spell struck Merlin, do you recall what he said?"

Of course he knew, he hadn't been able to rid those words from his mind since they'd been uttered. "He said that I ignored the cries of my people, that I ignored the people who claimed not all magic was for evil. He said I was not the man I claimed to be and that I was oblivious to the suffering I'd caused." Arthur repeated, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Is that all?"

"At the end he said if I could not hear the screams of my people I did not deserve to hear at all. Then Merlin pushed me aside and, well, you know the rest." Arthur said wearily, slumping against the table as all effort to remain proper drained from his body.

"He said that? The screams of your people?" Glancing up, Gaius' face had paled, his eyes studying the blond while Arthur nodded.

"Does that mean something to you?"

"Sire, are you certain Merlin has not said anything about this to you? Not anything?"

"I'm positive, Gaius. I mean, a few nights ago he asked if I knew what the sorcerer meant when he'd said those things, but that's all. He's gone out of his way to avoid talking about it in fact." The king explained, leaning against his arms as he narrowed his eyes. "What aren't you telling me?"

"It's not my place to tell you, but perhaps Merlin has a few answers that might aid in finding a cure to this."

"If he knows something, why has he not said anything?" Arthur demanded, his voice coming out harsher than he'd meant it too as Gaius raised his hands.

"You know as well as I how stubborn Merlin can be. But I'm afraid I can no longer stand idly by as he lets his own thoughts pull him into such a dark place."

"If you cannot stand idly by, then tell me what he won't. What does he know of the curse? If he can help himself, why is he being such an idiot and not saying anything?" It was one thing if Merlin didn't know anything that could help, but if he was holding onto something that might fix things, why had he yet to come forward? How could he be so stupid?

"It will mean nothing coming from me," Gaius said slowly, his tone urging the man to calm down while he folded his hands over the table. "Merlin is not in his right mind, something has encouraged him to remain silent."

"But what?" Arthur didn't care that he sounded defeated, he didn't care that in that moment he sounded about as undignified as possible.

The idiot was making his suffering worse by not talking to him. But why wouldn't he? Did he feel like he couldn't trust him? That he wouldn't listen? Why was he so intent on carrying it by himself? If nothing else Arthur was responsible for this, it was his job to fix it, so why couldn't Merlin for once make things easier? Did he not think himself important enough to be concerned about?

He's just a servant.

Is that what he thought of himself? After everything they'd done, all they'd been through, did Merlin not know how important he was? Arthur never actually told him, but then again he wasn't one to be so open with his emotions. But Merlin got away with things no one else ever could. Barging into his chambers, their banter, his insults.

Arthur rarely went anywhere without him, the two often inseparable even on the most dangerous of quests. So how could he not know that the man cared for their friendship? That he was actually worried about the stupid idiot?

"Perhaps all he needs is time," Gaius spoke, beckoning Arthur to return from his spiraling thoughts. "The focus to find the sorcerer has been strong until Sir Elwood's visit, and I believe his encounter with that adviser made everything a bit more real. He was forced to come to terms with the fact that this may not be so easily recovered from, and it's shaken him." As the elder explained, Arthur felt guilt weighing over him once more.

He'd promised Merlin he'd find the man, but the sorcerer had managed to disappear entirely. If the boy had to continue to go through his days unable to hear, that was because Arthur had failed in upholding his promise.

"Wouldn't that be all the more reason to tell me whatever it is he knows?" He could hear the near pleading tone in his voice, the desperation to solve something that he was beginning to wonder even had a solution.

"You must ask him that question yourself, Arthur." Gaius said quietly, a fatherly smile he'd seen so many times given towards Merlin now offered in his direction as the man looked away, feeling worse than he had before he'd come in. It wasn't hard to see why his father had always trusted Gaius so readily though, the older man was a great council in the Pendragon's time of need.

Arthur sat for a few moments longer, mulling things over in his head while Gaius returned to his herbs. He would just have to corner Merlin and force the servant to talk to him. Evidently it wouldn't work to wait for the boy to pick the right time, he'd suffered too long already. So, with his mind made up, the king rose from his seat and made for the door when it swung open quietly and the servant he'd been busy worrying over nearly stumbled into him.

"Arthur?" Backing up, the boy looked up at him in confusion before glancing to the side at Gaius. "I thought you sent me back for the day?" Blue eyes returned to the king's face and Arthur felt his heart sink into his stomach.

Merlin hadn't let him very close since Sir Elwood left, always keeping a distance between them that had made it hard to get a decent look at him. Which had only made him all the more worried because the boy’s pale skin and sunken eyes had been bad enough to see from across the room. But looking at Merlin this closely was an entirely different story.

There was no color in the servant’s face at all, his eyes dull and glazed over as if he weren't even fully present to what was happening around him. The dark circles were like prominent bruises beneath his eyes, making them look empty and lifeless. If Arthur had seen anyone else in such a way, he'd be convinced they were standing at death's door.

"I did." The king murmured, barely remembering he'd yet to speak when Merlin slipped past him, his movements slow and heavy as he skirted around the two men.

Looking to Gaius, he found the physician was studying his ward as much as Arthur had been. Worry that mimicked the man’s own was written across the elder’s face as the servant paused near his door, looking down at his hands.

"Did you need me for something?" He asked over his shoulder as the king stepped closer, determined to get the answers he wanted out of the boy. "Because I can—"

Merlin's words came to a crashing halt as he began to turn. Arthur was nearly at his side as he did and the boy jolted away from him, his arm hitting the wall as he jerked to the side to keep his balance. In his haste to do so, Merlin’s other arm hit a pitcher of water sitting on an end table, sending it crashing to the floor and condemning the water with it.

Arthur barely managed to back up as it splashed against his boot and the royal’s head lifted to check on his friend as the boy stood frozen in silence next to the disaster. The servant’s head and shoulders were slouched, and his eyes had fallen to the now broken pitcher.

"Merlin.." Gaius murmured, starting forward as the servant knelt down and began to gather the shards together. "Go, you silly boy." The elder waved Merlin away as the physician knelt beside him, casting a glance at Arthur who stepped forward to grab the boy's arm before pulling him to his feet.

"I need to clean it up." Merlin objected, though he didn't fight to get away as Arthur dragged him from the mess and looked him over, spotting the water that had soaked through the knees of his trousers.

"You need to rest, you idiot." Arthur chided, forcing him to the other side of the room and pushing him onto one of the stools. "You look like you're a step away from death, what were you thinking?" The blond’s rant continued, too worked up to bother with a quill as he crossed his arms and glared down at the servant who still refused to look him in the eye.

"You're ridiculous, and you're acting like an infant." The king grumbled, crouching down beside his friend and looking up at the boy. "Merlin."

Weary blue eyes swept over the man’s face and exhaustion clouded the boy’s features as Merlin finally met his prying gaze. "Why are you here?" His voice was quiet, his lingering stare unlike anything Arthur had seen before. The king’s mouth opened, but he couldn't find the words. Not like this, not when he had too much to say.

Standing up, Arthur stepped to the side and gathered a stack of parchment and a quill—those two items scattered in many of the places the servant had started to frequent—before he was crouching again and scrawling out his message. When he held the paper in front of the boy's eyes, it took the servant several seconds to finally read it over. ‘Because you look like you're half dead, you idiot. Why haven't you been sleeping?’

Lowering the paper, the blond raised his brows at him as Merlin looked away. "I've been sleeping fine."

With a single movement Arthur's hand knocked against the back of the boy's head, jarring the servant as his head jerked towards him, mouth partially open in complaint while the king glared at him. He couldn't help it. It was as if some force of nature took control of his hand in that very moment in a desperate attempt to knock loose some form of actual sense into the idiot’s head.

"Liar." Arthur mouthed, catching the brief glimpse of shame before Merlin was looking away again. Shifting his weight, the king sighed and wrote once more. ‘It's obvious something is wrong, so tell me.’ Dangling the parchment directly in his line of sight, Merlin's gaze drifted back.

"Can you hear them?" The question was so soft Arthur nearly missed it, the boy's fingers tightening around the stool as he stared intently at a spot on the blond's tunic.

"What?" Out of everything he'd expected, that was one question he certainly hadn't. "Hear who, Merlin?"

The boy's eyes squeezed shut, his breathing nothing more than short bursts before he finally replied. "They're in my head, Arthur. They won't go away." Concern rose inside the king's chest as he leaned closer.

"They just keep begging. Over and over, they want to be heard but it hurts, Arthur. And every time I close my eyes I can feel it.. I can.." Merlin’s words cut off as his eyes flew open, unshed tears heavy in the boy’s broken stare.

"I can't make it stop. Whenever I sleep, they're always there and I can't-I can't keep doing it. I can't keep listening because it burns, and I can feel it. All of it. All of them. They're screaming, Arthur." His words were nothing but whispers, tears beginning to trail down the boy's face as the king sat frozen before him.

"Do you ignore the cries of the innocent that you and your kingdom have damned?" The sorcerer's words came to mind and Arthur felt like he was going to be sick.

"I'm either in endless silence or drowned in agonized screams and I can't.." Merlin’s head fell, eyes shutting tight again as Arthur's hands shot forward, gripping his friend's arms as a tearful gaze met his. "They're all I can hear, Arthur. And it hurts."

Chapter Text

Keeping an eye on Merlin had gone from an easy job to one of the hardest. Not that actually keeping track of the servant was what proved to be difficult. The boy rarely left his room anymore, though when he did it was always to retreat to the tower that had become his favorite hide away. No, the difficult part for the knight was keeping to himself.

Gwaine had watched his friend spiral into someone he could barely recognized. It was bad enough when he'd become so reclusive, but two days ago Arthur had announced that Merlin would no longer be serving him. On top of that, he’d declared that for the time being Gwaine was the one tasked with making certain nothing happened to the boy.

The knights had been confused, not only by the odd order, but the fact that Arthur was behaving strangely himself. Gwaine wasn't above gossip, especially when it pertained to the one person he considered his greatest friend. And in truth the maids seemed privy to more knowledge than anyone else and they were always happy to share it with the flirtatious knight. But what they'd told him was far from helpful, even verging on more worrying.

The king had spent nearly a full day in the physician's chambers, though what he was discussing with Gaius or Merlin was unknown because the door had been locked and no one had been permitted inside. When Arthur finally did leave, he'd gone straight to the library. Not a word to anyone, not even a passing glance. The following morning Arthur had called the knights to his chambers, and Gwaine was fairly certain he hadn't slept the whole night.

He'd never seen the king so bedraggled, and the amount of scrolls, books, and various papers scattered about his chambers was a sight that actually left him speechless. The order had been given and not a single question answered. Though most were posed by Gwaine himself, the worried glances the knights shared between each other continued until they'd closed the door behind them and left Arthur to whatever it was he was doing.

So Gwaine had taken it upon himself to get the answers needed. Unfortunately for him Gaius was not in a forthcoming mood and Merlin refused to speak to him. In fact, Merlin had refused to speak to anyone. Which was what made his job so damn hard. It wasn't about keeping an eye on Merlin; it was merely depressing. Gwaine didn't bother trying to keep himself out of the boy's sight anymore, as he was fairly certain the servant didn't even acknowledge any of the people who came to see him.

Gwen had been by frequently, though her conversations were either with herself or Gaius. She would sit in a chair by the boy's desk while Merlin would be pushed against the wall, his body tucked in as if desperate to make himself smaller.

The only time the knight noticed he moved was if someone tried to touch him. For as weak as he looked nowadays, Merlin was fast when he needed to be. Pulling away, ducking around, even knocking into things on more than one occasion to get away from any gentle touch or concerned grab. So they'd all stopped trying.

Gaius kept his distance except when trying to get Merlin to eat and Gwen sat on the other side of the room. Gwaine kept himself seated near the door, one eye on his friend and one waiting for the king to walk through with news from his search. Because that had to be what he was doing, right? There was no point in having so many old tomes and scrolls if he weren't looking for a way to help Merlin.

Gwaine knew he'd looked; anywhere and everywhere he possibly could. He'd made deals, traded information, even reached out to old contacts from the neighboring kingdoms. But no one had anything. Few had even heard of a curse so powerful and those that had hadn't heard of one quite like this.

So the knight had been forced to wait, something he'd never been very good at. Which was how he found himself outside Arthur's chambers again, his knuckles rapping lightly on the door as a distracted voice allowed entrance.

"Sire.." Gwaine's words trailed off, his body only half through the door when he found himself staring wide eyed and open mouthed at the king. Or rather the whirlwindaround the king.

Leaning his back against the door and closing it behind him, the knight's eyes tried to settle on just one portion of the room but found it impossible. In twenty four hours the mess had transformed into a raging storm of papers and books with one agitated blond pacing around in the midst of it.

"Did you bring the whole library up here?" Gwaine asked in disbelief, taking a hesitant step forward as he tried to dodge a scroll that was half unraveled across the floor.

"There's no explanation, it doesn't make sense." Arthur snapped, though the knight got the sense that his words weren't actually directed at anyone.

"What doesn't make sense?"

"There should be a way, but they burned them. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to burn the only information we had?" Arthur yelled, slamming his hand on the desk as he passed, dropping the paper in his hand while his shoulders slouched.

"Okay," Gwaine said warily, taking another step towards the man. "When was the last time you slept?"

"What?" Jerking his head up and glaring at Gwaine, irritation turned to confusion before settling on annoyance as Arthur seemed to notice the knight for the first time.

"You look like you were chewed up and spit back out by a wilddeoren." The knight commented, tilting his head and staring openly at the dark circles under the royal's eyes and the smudges of ink against his chin.

"What are you doing here, Gwaine? Is Merlin alright?" Panic mixed with exhaustion sent the king towards him as Gwaine raised his hands and caught the man’s arm before he strode past.

"Whoa, Arthur, he's fine." He appreciated the concern for their friend, but Arthur looked damn near unhinged, and that was somehow scarier than Merlin's lingering silence.

"Then why are you here?" The king barked out, yanking out of the knights grasp as he snatched the scroll from the floor and glanced it over.

"I came to ask what went on between you two, but I think the more pressing question is what happened to you."

"What are you babbling about? Nothing happened, I'm fine." Arthur grumbled, dropping the scroll on the table as he resumed his pacing, snatching up a leaflet and glancing on the back where Gwaine could just see scrawled writing.

"Your chambers look like a storm blew through, and no offense Your Majesty, but you look a downright mess."

"Well Merlin's not been working." The man muttered distractedly, stopping in the middle of the room as he tossed the paper away and grabbed a book instead, flipping to the back and running his finger down the page.

"What happened to George?" Gwaine asked, looking behind him as if he expected the servant to be cowering away from Arthur's madness.

"I sent him away!" The king yelled, closing his eyes as irritation pinched his face together. "He was constantly in the way and he kept messing with the order that my things were in."

"Arthur, maybe you should sit down." The knight spoke with the same soft tone one might with a rearing horse.

"Why would I sit down?" The blond asked incredulously, turning and tossing the book onto his bed where several others were lying.

"Geoffrey would have a fit if he saw you treating his books like that.." Gwaine muttered, though not low enough to go unheard as Arthur turned his attention back to the knight.

"I gave you a job, Sir Gwaine, so go and do it."

"And leave you here like this? You're more strung out than I've ever been, and that's saying a lot." He stated dryly, stalking closer and pulling out a chair while the blond glowered at him.

"Do you think you're being funny? Clever? I haven't got time for your games!"

"Arthur—"

"All I've done for two days is deal with these damned books!" Swallowing down his words, Gwaine slid around and settled in the chair himself, watching while the king stormed about his chambers. "When I requested the information on the laws, I was expecting a few scrolls, perhaps a tome written ages ago. But no, Geoffrey instead has all of this brought up! And God forbid I ask for anything, anything about magic, because no, my father had all of it burned!"

Leaning back, Gwaine squinted at the man, trying to place the last time he'd seen Arthur quite so unruly. He hadn't slept, that much was obvious. Had he eaten? Had he even left his chambers in the past two days? He was acting as bad as Merlin.

"Arthur, you need to—"

"Don't tell me what I need." The blond spat, his fists clenching as he stood near his desk in disgust. "Because what I need is to find a way to break this damned curse. What I need is some actual information about the laws of Camelot without having to go to the council and spend hours fighting with them over something I shouldn't have to explain!"

Gwaine's brows lifted, barely reacting as the man sent a stack of papers flying to the floor before he fell into the chair by his desk and dropped his head in his hands. "I've got nothing." Arthur’s voice came out quiet, his anger dissolving as Gwaine rose and walked over to him.

With the way Arthur often treated Merlin and the way they bantered, it was hard to remember sometimes that the king did care for his servant. For his friend. Gwaine considered Merlin one of his closest friends, someone he'd trusted with his most guarded secret. But Arthur and Merlin had always been inseparable, their loyalty and bond stronger than any the knight had seen in the past.

"Arthur," He spoke evenly, kneeling next to his king as weary blue eyes stared back at him. "Take a break. Get some sleep and eat something. You can't help Merlin if you're running about exhausted out of your head." Gwaine reasoned, waiting for the backlash he knew had to be coming.

Only it never did. Instead, ink stained hands ran down the blond’s face while Arthur leaned back, staring past the knight blankly. "I know."

The response was shocking, and Gwaine's mouth opened and closed a couple of times. "G-Good," He stuttered out, more concerned than before. "Shall I send for one of the servants?" He asked cautiously, wondering if it were possible that their king had been replaced when they weren’t looking.

"No," The blond sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I've scared off every one that's come in."

It wasn't meant to be funny. Gwaine knew it wasn't meant to be funny. But the snort came out all the same, which in turn elicited a harsh glare from the fading man in front of him. "You never said why you were here." Arthur said wearily

"I did, but I don't think you were listening."

"Get on with it Gwaine, you're becoming the sole reason for the pain in my head." The king grumbled as the knight pushed himself to his feet.

"I came to ask what happened with Merlin the other day. Ever since you left Gaius' chambers, he hasn't spoken a word to anyone." Arthur winced at that. The King of Camelot actually winced.

That was it, someone had spiked his ale last night, that was the only explanation Gwaine had for why his world had suddenly turned on its head. No chattering Merlin, an unhinged Arthur, what was next? Gaius' eyebrows taking on a life of their own?

"It's complicated."

"Isn't everything?" The knight scoffed while Arthur stood, wavering briefly before he was walking towards his bed. Gathering a few of the books, he started to open one before he thought better of it and deposited them on the table instead.

"How do you feel about magic, Gwaine?" The knight’s mouth dropped open and the man gaped at the king as Arthur continued to clear his bed without looking towards the other. "Is it all for evil? Or are there conditions? Is magic in itself evil, or does it depend on the person who uses it?"

"Magic is forbidden within Camelot." Gwaine finally answered, watching the man's back stiffen.

"That's not what I asked," Arthur said slowly, his voice carefully controlled as he turned with a steeled look in his eyes. "I asked how you felt about magic. You personally, Sir Gwaine."

The knight hesitated a moment before he squared his shoulders and looked Arthur in the eye. "I don't think it's evil. Those who choose to use it for heinous acts are they themselves evil, but magic as a whole I don't believe is."

He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he answered, whether Arthur would start yelling again or if he'd be punished for disagreeing with the most upheld law in Camelot. But instead, the blond turned away, a mere bob of his head indicating he'd heard and understood. Frowning, Gwaine watched in silence while Arthur finished clearing up the small space, though it did little to help the overwhelming mess that still remained.

"You can go." The king murmured, waving his hand dismissively towards the knight as Gwaine rolled his eyes.

"You've got a bit of ink on your face, Your Majesty." He said with all the smugness he could muster as Arthur froze, glancing down at his hands before he sent a dirty look to his knight.

"Gwaine—"

"Sleep well." He said, making his escape while the king muttered angrily behind him and scrubbed a hand uselessly at his cheek.

Closing the door and staring at the wooden panels in silence, Gwaine worked to process what had just happened. Arthur rarely let his emotions cloud his judgement, especially since taking over from his father. So how bad did that mean Merlin was if Arthur was working this hard to find a cure? If he was suddenly asking about magic and trying to find information that had been banned for years?

Gwaine turned away from the door and made his way quickly through the hall, a sudden urgency to find his friend all he cared about. He made his way to the tower first, knowing that given the time of day it would be the place he would most likely find the boy.

As the raven haired servant appeared within his view, Gwaine slowed his pace, worry settling over him like a constant companion as of late whenever he was around Merlin. Normally he kept his distance, allowing the boy the solitude he desired. But today he wanted to talk, and he was determined to get something out of him.

Walking closer to the ledge Merlin was perched on, the knight paused a few feet away, concerned suddenly with what might happen if he spooked the boy. Why did he have to be so close to the edge?

Moving around the side and trying to catch his gaze, Gwaine waved his hand up and down hoping for some sign he was noticed. When the servant neglected to show even a glimpse of acknowledgment, the knight pondered making his move fast rather than slow. If he startled the boy at least he'd be close enough to keep him from falling over.

Just as he ventured towards him, Merlin's body shifted. It was barely noticeable, barely enough to even call it movement at all, but dull blue eyes were staring at him before turning back to the sky, and Gwaine made his way closer.

"Why don't you go somewhere new? Like the tavern? Few drinks and you'll be more distracted than you would be here." The knight mumbled to himself, placing his hands on the balcony beside his friend.

Merlin seemed relaxed at least, his legs thrown over the side and his hands resting lightly beside him. If it weren't for the blank expression he wore or the lifeless eyes that stared lazily ahead, Gwaine might have been able to convince himself that the boy was enjoying his time there.

"At least you've got a decent view." Gwaine said aloud, resting his elbows against the ledge and propping his chin in his hands. "How'd you even come across this place? I never see anyone up here." He continued to talk, his rambling at least filling the air that he knew his friend wouldn't.

"I talked to Arthur. He wouldn't tell me what happened, of course. Just said its 'complicated' like that would explain everything. You wouldn't want to tell me, would you?" Tilting his head to look at Merlin, Gwaine was surprised to find two blue eyes staring at him as the boy's head leaned against his shoulder.

"At least you're making eye contact." He mumbled as Merlin blinked once before turning back to the sky. "Well that lasted—"

"Finally tired of just watching me?" The servant’s voice was rough with disuse, the words cracking as they came out while Merlin's fingers tightened into fists beside him.

"What—"

"None of you are as stealthy as you think, for the record." The bite to his words was lessoned by the fact that he was actually talking.

Standing straight, Gwaine turned and leaned his back against one of the pillars, facing the other as the boy's feet kicked lightly against the balcony a couple of times. "I think I'm perfectly stealth when I want to be." The knight muttered, shifting his weight from foot to foot impatiently.

He had no parchment, nor a quill to try and speak to him. While everyone had kept a small amount in any room Merlin visited, they'd never brought any up here. In just a matter of weeks some unspoken acknowledgment had been spread and the tower had become Merlin's personal spot. Not that any could begrudge him such a thing, but it made this whole situation now rather difficult.

"Did you speak with Arthur?" Looking up, Merlin's eyes were back on him, awaiting an answer.

"How did you know?" Gwaine asked, only to be met with a blank stare. Swallowing, he tried again. "How?" He mouthed, nodding his head while doing so.

That seemed to do the trick, the servant looking away again while drawing his hands into his lap. "You've been around constantly except for earlier. You'd still be gone if you were at the tavern, which means you were most likely talking to Arthur."

Smirking, Gwaine leaned his head back and regarded his friend. Despite all the jokes and the boy’s tendency to prater on, he'd never doubted Merlin was clever.

"He's not learned anything; he would've found me otherwise." The servant replied to himself, flexing his fingers slowly before drawing them back in tight.

More than ever Gwaine found himself wishing he could communicate with him—if nothing else to take his mind off things. He was a master at pointless rambling and the stories he could tell to pass the time would surely help draw Merlin out of his own head at least for a while. But instead they remained, the servant holding his hands tight on his lap while the knight stood close by, offering what support he could from a distance.

"I've failed, you know." The silence was broken again, and Gwaine was shocked by Merlin’s words. "I thought I had this.. purpose." He faltered, his head dropping as he stared down at his hands, his fingers uncurling once more.

Only as they pulled away, Gwaine caught sight of crimson staining his fingertips. Leaning closer, the boy flinched away, and the knight forced himself to pull back. Merlin's nails had dug into the still sensitive skin of the cut from his day in the stables. The man had wondered why it never fully healed, though now he supposed he had his answer.

"But I've screwed it up, just like always." A wry laugh left Merlin then, a sound that wasn't normal, a sound that wasn't like his friend at all. Though Gwaine had found that a lot of things he said and did wasn't like him anymore.

"I'm tired. I'm sick of fighting against it all when nothing I do works. Hell," Another laugh, this one filled with anger. "The one time I tried, I just made it worse." A broken stare landed on the knight and Gwaine fought the urge to grab onto him. The boy looked ready to collapse, his eyes unfocused and heavy as he continued to prod at the cut he'd managed to reopen.

"If I can't do the one thing I was meant to do, the thing I was born to be, then what's the point?" Merlin’s voice cracked, eyes falling to the ground while his body sagged. The boy’s weight shifted as he drew his legs over and around the balcony until his feet brushed against the floor on the other side.

"They all blame me. They won't stop," The servant’s lip twitched, and Gwaine wondered if the grimace that he wore was meant to be a smile. "They never stop. I was supposed to bring hope, but all I've done is cause more suffering."

"Merlin, what are you talking about?" Gwaine couldn't fight it any longer, his body moving towards the boy only to have Merlin stand and stumble away. The servant’s body was shaking and his chest heaving at the movement.

"Don't," He shook his head, dark hair falling against his face as he stared hard at the ground. "Don't." He repeated softly, turning and retreating towards the stairwell, his body swaying back and forth as he went.

And for once Gwaine didn't follow. What was he supposed to do after that? What was he supposed to say? He was missing a piece of the puzzle, that much was painfully clear. Something had happened between Arthur and Merlin and it had screwed with the both of them. But someone needed to do something, and soon, otherwise Camelot would come crashing down around them all.

Chapter Text

He was drowning in a sea of paperwork and dusty old books. He'd lost all track of time, all sense of calm, and God he was tired.

Placing his arms on the table and resting his head on them, Arthur's eyes fell shut as the silence of the library washed over him. He'd finally left his chambers after much goading and a few concerned comments, but after accomplishing the most basic and unavoidable tasks, Arthur wound up back where he'd started.

Well, not exactly where he'd started, he had shifted his focus a bit. Although he was beginning to think just finding a cure in general would be easier than the current path his mind had taken.

Scrunching up his face in annoyance, Arthur pushed himself back upright in his chair and stared at the mess he'd created. Merlin would have thrown a fit if he could see it. Not that the library had ever been perfectly kept to begin with, but he'd really not kept things as neat as he'd said he would.

Although Geoffrey wasn't there to complain; the man had gone off the moment Arthur had arrived and had yet to come back. Any other time the king would be curious as to why he and Gaius were spending so much time together with whispered words and the odd glance exchanged between the two, but he was too exhausted to care.

Grabbing the tome he'd come back to time and again, he rested his chin against one hand and ran his eyes down the small written text for the fifth time. Or was it the fiftieth?

Groaning, Arthur's eyes closed again as the pain in his head beat steadily against his eyelids. He'd tried to sleep, he really had. The first night, the second, the afternoon Gwaine had just shown up without warning. All he wanted to do was sleep. But every time he began to drift off he'd see those blue eyes so full of pain and fear, and a rush of energy would have him back up and scouring the books again for another few hours.

He could still hear Merlin's words in his head, could see the tears in his eyes as he finally broke and told Arthur what was happening. He'd told the king everything, not that he hadn't tried to hide it at first of course, but Arthur had guessed some of it and Merlin was never very good at lying. That open book thing went both ways whether he wanted to admit it or not. But knowing hadn't made anything easier. In fact, it had actually made everything that much harder.

"They're all I hear, Arthur. And it hurts." Merlin had admitted, tears heavy in his weary gaze while Arthur had held onto him, fear and realization coursing through his veins.

Everything the sorcerer had said and yet he didn't know why it hadn't clicked until that very moment. But then it had. Every piece suddenly falling into place with such a strong force it nearly knocked him over.

Merlin; stupid, ridiculous, loyal Merlin. How had Arthur not seen it before then? How many times had the not so subtle hints been thrown into his face? That stupid boy. He should have just told him from the beginning, there was no use in hiding it for so long. If he'd known they could have done something about it. But no, he'd chosen instead to suffer in his silence. Arthur had wanted to shake Merlin for that, but the servant’s confession had stopped him from functioning at all.

They'd talked on and off for hours, the boy huddled on the patient’s cot with his back to the wall and his eyes on the floor while Arthur had sat beside him. Merlin had tried to backtrack once he realized how intent Arthur was to listen, but the blond hadn't let him. He wanted to know everything, and he wanted to hear it from the boy himself.

Merlin had told him about the voices in his head, about the screaming and the accusing and the fire. Arthur couldn't place a time he'd seen the other so broken. Tears that had spilled down Merlin’s face had been quickly wiped away in embarrassment, causing the boy to look away as he'd faltered the first time, not wanting to continue.

And maybe the king had been overwhelmed with wanting to show his friend that he wasn't alone. Maybe it had been sudden and maybe he'd had to swallow down his own embarrassment, but Arthur had placed a hand on the boy's arm just as he'd seen Gaius do in the past, offering what encouragement and comfort he could until Merlin continued with the truth.

He'd told the man what the voices had tried to do; faceless bodies attacking and tying him down as they tried to make him burn. It had made Arthur sick to hear, to watch as Merlin trembled while he spoke and pulled himself tighter as he admitted to the tortures he'd been through in his own mind.

Though what he'd said only plagued the king with even more questions. Because when had it all started? When he'd first been attacked in the forest, had he heard them then? He'd gone about his work just fine in the beginning, so when had the voices started? And how? Merlin had buried his face in his arms by then though and Arthur had sat there in lingering silence, his fingers tightening over the boy's wrist and remaining there until he was ready to talk again.

Opening his eyes, Arthur leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, staring at the old tome and the scroll beside it in thought. Merlin hadn't had an answer to any of his questions, though Arthur had tried. The boy had only looked guilty, as though he'd done something wrong by not having the information that the king had wanted.

Merlin had explained weakly that he must have struck his head in the stables, and that when he'd lost consciousness in his room afterwards was when it first had started to get out of hand. In that moment Arthur had been glad Sir Elwood wouldn't be returning to Camelot for the foreseeable future because he honestly wasn't sure what he would do if he saw him or his party again.

Merlin had also informed the royal that the only time the screaming bothered him was when he tried to sleep. So long as he was awake he remained in deafened silence, but that if he tried to obtain any rest they were there, always waiting to drag him towards the fire.

The boy had shuddered at recounting that, his fingers digging against the threads of the worn blanket covering the cot as he'd refused yet again to look Arthur in the eye. For days Merlin had been tortured by his own mind from a curse that was never intended for him. He was suffering on Arthur's behalf, and the king should have known. He should have seen when it first started. When his servant’s incessant rambling had faded, and his eyes had lost their life; Arthur should have known.

When the blond had finally left his friend that day he'd told him to stay within the citadel. He was not to work again until they found a remedy, and Arthur had promised him that they would. And yet after everything he'd been told, the thing that had struck the man the hardest had been Merlin's lack of an argument.

He didn't fight the order, he didn't even question it. His head had merely bobbed in understanding, dark hair brushing against a too pale forehead before the king had taken an uneasy leave. So no, he couldn't rest. Not until he helped the boy. How could he sleep when Merlin was suffering? When he was being tortured on Arthur's behalf?

The man’s eyes drifted shut again as his head began to fall. "They're screaming, Arthur."

Jolting up, a heavy breath pulled out of the king as he sat up straighter and ran his hands down his face. He'd come to the conclusion that finding a cure was out of his reach, but he'd been inspired onto a different route. If he couldn't find a way to break the curse himself, perhaps he could find someone that could.

All his life Arthur had believed magic to be evil. After every sorcerer that had tried to kill him or his father, after Morgana, he'd hated it all the more. But he'd always harbored doubts in his mind. Doubts that he'd kept secret from everyone, doubts that wormed their way into his mind every now and then and prodded at him to pay attention.

What if not all magic was evil? What if such things were not nearly as black and white as he'd been raised to believe? Arthur had lived under the shadow of his father's single most upheld law since he'd been born; he'd grown to abhor magic and all those that practiced its dark ways. But weren't there times when it could be used for good, times it could be used for healing?

Arthur was aware of Gaius, of what the man had once been able to do. And honestly he wasn't one to push the issue if one of the elder’s ailing patients suddenly made a profound recovery. After all, Gaius was gifted in what he did. But how many times had those gifts been enhanced when no one was looking?

There had been a piece of Arthur that had wondered if Gaius had tried to help Merlin in the beginning, to find a cure that wasn't quite as ethical as most. But the days had passed, and Merlin had remained deaf, and the king hadn't wanted to approach the subject with him.

Whether his speculations were true or not, the repercussions of admitting that knowledge was dangerous, and who was to say the old physician even had the ability to get rid of such a curse? Was it even possible to find someone powerful enough who could aid his servant?

Of course, his doubts even had doubts, and the idea of using magic was one that made Arthur wary. But then again, he'd turned the other way for certain cases in the past. Perhaps it was time to adjust the amendments in the law, to set a safeguard in place for those that practiced not evil magic, but those that used it for good. Was it worth the risk? He had no idea, but he was willing to try it for Merlin's sake.

Propping his elbows on the table, Arthur rested his head in his hands and stared down at the book he'd given up on reading. The only question that remained was how Merlin would react to the idea. The man wasn't sure if it was fear the boy felt, or perhaps disgust, but he was aware his servant was not fond of magic either.

The king had seen him during executions, had watched as he looked away and fell quiet during those times, unwilling to even look towards the sorcerers. During trials Merlin refused to hardly even be present, something Arthur often teased him relentlessly about. But if magic offered a way to restore what had been lost, wouldn’t he be willing to try?

"What are you still doing here?" A quiet voice disrupted Arthur's thoughts, and hands fell against his shoulders as the man turned and stared blearily up at Guinevere. Concerned eyes looked him over as the blond took one of her hands in his and pulled her to his side while an arm slipped around her waist as she moved to perch on the arm of his chair.

"Arthur you must get some sleep, you're running yourself into the ground." Gwen murmured disapprovingly, her free hand rising and brushing against his cheek where he'd begun to acquire a fair amount of stubble. Not that he cared of course, there were more important things to deal with than shaving.

"I will, as soon as I'm done." The man promised, his head leaning back into her shoulder as her fingers made their way into his hair, brushing it back away from his face.

"I know you're worried." She spoke quietly, her words barely audible as Arthur cracked a small smile.

"About Merlin? Please, the idiot will be fine." The jab felt familiar, almost comforting. Because he would be fine. He had to be.

Gwen's fingers ran through his hair again as his eyes fell shut once more, her touch sending a wave of warmth through him. "What do you think of magic, Guinevere?" The question was posed in a low tone while he ran his thumb across the top of her hand.

"What? Where did that come from?" She gaped, her fingers pausing as Arthur tilted his head, intent blue eyes searching her face.

"I mean it. Magic has cast a shadow over my entire life from the moment I was born." He said, looking down at their hands as he intertwined their fingers together. "I'm beginning to wonder if perhaps we've had the wrong idea about it this whole time." As he spoke the man’s eyes darted over the mound of books and papers littered across his table.

He'd met so many who had used magic to try and destroy Camelot, several of which that had been cut down by his own hand. But the doubt still lingered. Perhaps his mind was too addled with exhaustion to think clearly, or maybe it was just the first time he'd dared to entertain such an idea.

Some acts of magic rode the fine line between good and evil, but he couldn't help but wonder how many times he'd condemned an innocent soul because the foundation of what they used had been based on a biased ruling.

"Perhaps that is true." Gwen murmured thoughtfully, turning her head to look at him.

"Sometimes I feel our judgement has been clouded by hatred and fear." Arthur confided, lowering his gaze and glancing back at the books which held the finer details of the law his father had made years before.

He said those things, but he was no different. He'd been raised to carry those beliefs, but it had been his responsibility to argue those points as he grew. And yet he never had. At least not as much as he should have. He couldn't deny the fear he felt, the wariness that trailed behind every thought of magic he dared to give life to. But it was his job to protect his people, and could he really say he'd been doing that if he continued to sentence those that meant no harm to their death?

"Do you plan to repeal your father's law?" Gwen's voice drifted over him as Arthur stirred, unaware he'd begun to drift off again. He found he had no answer for her, however.

How could he get rid of a law that had proven its use in Camelot for so long? Who was he to go back on the years they had benefitted from its protection? Then again, how was he to know that if he allowed magic to return that Camelot would not flourish even more?

Closing his eyes and frowning, Arthur released a short sigh. These were things he'd run by Merlin. Ideas and ramblings and ridiculous notions that he'd bounce off his friend knowing the other would listen to every single word. And if he were lucky Merlin would even have some strange burst of wisdom that would point something out to Arthur that he hadn't seen before. He'd still yet to figure out how the boy managed to do that, but he'd also stopped trying to ask.

"What of Merlin?"

The king’s head jerked up and his body sat straighter as Gwen met his widened stare. "What?"

"You've been searching for an answer for days." She remarked sadly, unaware of how that single question had made his heart race.

Because what of Merlin? Had he suddenly decided to entertain the idea of allowing magic just to help his friend? Arthur had run out of options, he'd chased after every idea he'd had and all came up empty. So was this his last attempt? A piece of him thought so, yet a piece of him felt it was still the right decision to make. How was he to know for sure?

"Arthur?" Blinking, the king worked to focus on Gwen's gaze as she stared at him in concern. "You need to rest." She stated firmly, pulling away from him and tugging at his hand.

"Guinevere, I can't just—"

"You can and you must. I don't think Geoffrey wants you drooling on his books." She said, though she wore a thin smile as the blond rose from his chair.

"I don't drool.." He muttered softly, walking closer to her as they made their way through the halls.

The man struggled to keep moving, his feet dragging and his body heavy while Gwen kept a firm hand in his. He was barely aware they'd arrived until the woman was hovering over him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Please get some rest." She implored as she slowly left the room, the concern never fading from her face as she closed the door and left the king alone.

His chambers looked similar to the library, the same number of books and scrolls cluttering his table. Though at some point someone had come and stacked them carefully, attempting to rid the room of its disorganized feel.

Tugging off his boots and falling onto his side, Arthur stared across his room at the heavy drapes that covered his windows. Had he really lost all track of time? He could not place whether it was day or night, and though curiosity ate at him he could not muster the strength to rise again and see.

As the man’s eyes drifted closed and sleep weighed over him, his final waking thought was of Merlin. The boy was no doubt scared and alone in his room, forcing himself to stay awake in fear of the fire that would come to consume him.

The dream was the same. Arthur was in the forest in the same place he always started that he recognized from nights before. A warm breeze drifted through the branches and the sun was hidden behind the trees just as it always had been. Only now a sense of urgency overwhelmed the king, a feeling of panic spurring him to follow the trail with less care than his previous times.

The world darkened around him and the path faded until Arthur was once more standing at the edge of the ravine. Everything seemed just as it had every other night he’d walked the path, with the sculptured roots and the light sifting through the foliage. But it felt wrong. Something was different, only he couldn't place what.

So Arthur walked along the edge, just as he'd always done, with careful steps that carried him further and further from where'd he'd started. Sunlight gave way to moonlight and as the king approached the section of trees that had always offered such warmth and familiarity, he found himself backing away. There was nothing strange about them, nothing that was different or threatening. But something was keeping him from them all the same.

Turning back to the ravine, Arthur knelt by the edge, placing a hand on the ground and digging his fingers into the grass. He could hear the rushing water far below, but he could not see far enough down to catch even a glimpse of the stream that the noise belonged to.

Leaning closer, his breath caught in his throat and Arthur felt his blood run cold. He knew now what was wrong, or rather what it was that he had been missing. Because he heard it finally, the strained sound that was pained and begging and nearly drowned out by the depth of the ravine.

The whispers that had drawn him in and piqued his curiosity the first time he’d been there were now faded and weak, mere ghosts that drifted up from the chasm and left only the smallest traces of what they once were. And it saddened him.

Misery settled like a crushing weight on top of Arthur's chest the longer he listened until he finally pushed away from the edge. He'd never been able to understand the whispers before and now was no different, but he could feel them reaching out, begging for him to understand.

Rising to his feet, Arthur barely paused before he was turning and walking back the way he'd come. He needed to get away from them, needed to get the suffocating weight that was crushing him off his chest.

But as he stumbled through the trees he could not find the path, and looking over his shoulder the king found the way he'd gone was now different as well. The trees seemed to be growing closer together, moving in on him the further he walked as he picked up his pace.

Closer and closer the trees shifted, their branches beginning to intertwine and block out the moon. Panic seized Arthur as he began to run, jumping over fallen logs and skirting around the dense trees as he let out heavy puffs of air.

On and on he went, the light growing dimmer as the trees grew thicker, walls of bark and moss all around him. He was beginning to lose hope of finding a way out when a single patch of moonlight caught his eye, and he frantically dove towards it. As he did, his foot caught ahold of a broken branch and the king went tumbling through the brush, landing in a heap in the middle of the patch of light.

Sitting up and wincing, Arthur glanced around him and froze, finding himself once more at the edge of the ravine he'd tried to run from. Only this time it was not just an endless chasm with no way across. This time a single fallen tree lay across the gorge, creating a bridge to the other side.

Chapter Text

He was running. Further and faster than he ever had before. He had to get away from them, he had to escape.

Swerving to the right, Merlin's hands grabbed the branch of a tree and swung himself around. Flattening his back against the bark as he pressed his head against the trunk, the boy covered his mouth with his hand to stifle his heavy breathing. He hadn't meant for this to happen. He knew he should've stayed in his room; knew he shouldn't have ventured further than the tower; but he'd needed out.

Sliding weakly down the tree until he was sitting, Merlin ran his fingers raggedly through his hair. He'd only meant to get some fresh air, to get away from the walls that were slowly closing in on him the longer he stared at them.

Gaius had gone to the Lower Town and Gwaine had been passed out on one of the patient cots when he'd decided to leave, but it was only supposed to be for a few minutes. Just long enough to remind himself there was more in the world than the four walls of his bedroom.

Peeking around the tree, Merlin bit down hard on his lip as he settled back, praying he had outrun them. Wrapping his arms tightly around himself, the warlock glanced up through the branches and spotted the sun overhead, late afternoon light breaking apart through the leaves and dappling the ground with its warmth. Not that he felt much of it.

The boy’s heart was racing, and his chest was constricting and God if he could just get back to the citadel he wouldn't leave again. Gaius had been right, the minute his enemies learned of his disability they'd decided to take action. But the question Merlin had yet to find an answer to was who was trying to hurt him.

He couldn't see their face, he couldn't even see what they looked like at all. They were just shadows, creeping along the edges of his vision and darting away the moment he turned to look. But he could feel them there, edging closer and closer until he'd run, panic and fear fueling him until he was deep within the trees that provided spots of shelter and camouflage.

Reaching for his throat, Merlin's fingers drifted over his collarbone as he brushed against the cut along his neck. He'd never been very fast, and his evasive maneuvers could use some serious work as Arthur would put it, but he'd make a mistake that was ridiculous even by his standards. He'd looked behind him a few too many times while running.

In his defense, he'd walked that path a thousand times when searching for herbs for Gaius, and that tree branch had never stuck out so far. But it had caught him all the same, knocking him off his feet and costing him precious seconds in creating a distance between himself and his shadowy follower.

But as he sat there probing the wound and staring at his bloodied fingers in disgust, Merlin realized he'd made another mistake. His neckerchief was gone. It had to have come off when he fell, but that meant there was a better trail to follow, which meant—

"Damn." Merlin cursed, shoving himself up and running again, a sharp pain striking his side as the boy wove through the trees and turned suddenly to the left. He couldn't stop, not until he knew he was safe. But how was he to even fully know? He couldn't hear them coming, he couldn't use magic to protect himself, so what could he do?

Balling his fists, Merlin pushed himself faster, his eyes on the ground as he worked to jump over twigs and leaves that would leave an obvious trail for his stalker to find him. He was so stupid, so foolish. What was he thinking? If he made it out of this they'd all have his head. Arthur first, then Gaius, and Gwaine would be there to finish him off.

Grimacing, Merlin dove to the left again and stumbled into a tree before he pushed away and continued to run. His lungs were screaming, crying out for air that he couldn't get enough of as the warlock's foot caught ahold of a fallen tree limb and sent the boy tumbling to the ground.

Blinding pain shot through his leg as he fell and Merlin rolled onto his side, clenching his teeth to keep his screams silent as he struggled to breathe. Sitting up and grappling at his knee, a large tear in the cloth revealed a mess of dark blood that was smeared against his skin and trickling down the sides of his leg.

Blinking back the tears that burned in his eyes, Merlin shoved himself back into the trees, unsure if the noises of pain he fought were actually leaving him or not. As his back met the rough bark, the boy hid himself in the brush and forced the tear in his trousers wider, his stomach churning at the gruesome mess staring back at him.

A wide gash had cut through his skin, and dirt and grass had infiltrated the wound as he prodded carefully at the sides. Hitting the ground beside him with the palm of his hand to keep another scream at bay, Merlin's next breath came out with a weak gasp. Reaching for his neck again, the boy felt for his scarf only to remember the missing piece of cloth.

Looking over his shoulder, the warlock tore at the ruined trousers again, hating himself with each inch it split away. There was no mending them after this, they were beyond a lost cause. Taking an edge and cleaning away some of the blood, another wave of pain struck him, followed by a surge of dizziness as the boy dropped his head and sucked in a shallow breath.

His hand shook as he gripped the cloth tighter, the tears that had threatened to fall earlier now making an appearance down his face as he wiped them away angrily. Everything ached from his head to his feet, but he couldn't let his guard down. Even as he sat there he could feel his follower growing closer and he needed to keep going.

Blinking through the blurry haze, the warlock quickly tied the torn fabric tightly over the wound and accepted the fact that the shout of pain he couldn’t contain had been heard by anyone in the vicinity. Securing the knot and wiping his stained hands against his hopeless trousers, Merlin struggled to his feet.

The world around him swayed as he stood, the trees dipping down and the light giving way to large spots of darkness as Merlin's hand fell away from the bark. Was this going to be the way he died? Not by the hands of his enemies or by Arthur's massive ego, but by his own stupid clumsiness?

He'd never even been honest with Arthur. He'd never told him the truth about who he was, about what he could do. He'd wanted to, so many times he'd wanted to, but the timing never seemed right. Had he missed his chance? Would it have even changed anything?

How many years had he been by his friend’s side? How long had the two fought and struggled together? Arthur had become someone important to him, not even considering their destiny. Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King was also Arthur Pendragon, the Prat Prince who had grown to be his best friend.

He was still a prat of course, but he cared for his people. He cared for his friends. And Merlin was his friend, wasn't he? After all this time, after all they'd done, there wasn't a doubt about that, was there? If he'd have told him the truth, Arthur wouldn't have had him executed, would he?

A dull ache throbbed in Merlin's head as his eyes pulled open, unfocused blue hues settling on a branch a few inches away. Cool earth pressed against his cheek as the boy shifted, pushing his hands weakly beneath him. When had he fallen? He couldn’t even remember hitting the ground.

Merlin’s arms shook as he shoved himself up, his knee screaming in outrage as the warlock rolled himself onto his back. The sun had traveled further across the sky since he'd last checked, so just how long had he been lying there? Had his stalker abandoned his search?

Merlin laid on the ground for several minutes, staring up at the sky and breathing through the pain as it faded to an ache he could almost pretend wasn't there. If only he could do the same with his endless stream of thoughts.

He was so sick of thinking and he was tired. When was the last time he had slept? He'd pretended to for Gaius' and Gwaine's sake; the two men wouldn't leave him alone about it. But every time he really did try he could feel the heat and he could see the flames. The fire would creep closer, and the blistered hands would hold him down, and the ropes would cut into his skin, and—

Jolting, Merlin jerked upright, his chest heaving as his fingers dug into the dirt. He was okay, he was fine. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. Arthur wouldn't let him burn. He wouldn't sentence the boy to his death, not like that. It was all in his head, it wasn't real. It wasn't real. Please don't be real.

Turning his head, Merlin glanced around the trees trying to place where he was. Would Gaius be home by now? Would Gwaine be searching for him? He felt guilty for leaving, he didn't want to cause them worry, but they didn't understand. He couldn't breathe in that room, he couldn't focus or think about anything but the screaming. Though even being outside he found the lack of oxygen disturbing. Why were his lungs so intent on refusing air?

Holding up his hands, Merlin stared down at the dried blood and dirt that was caked against his skin. Was he losing his mind? He hadn't been sleeping, he hadn't been eating, all he'd been doing was staring at his wall or staring outside from the tower while his thoughts ate away at him.

Arthur wouldn't let him work anymore, Gaius refused his help, and Gwaine had been watching over him like a mother hen for days. When had he become so useless? When had he allowed himself to breakdown in such a way?

Curling his fingers into fists, Merlin dropped his head with a short laugh. He was supposed to be the guardian of the Once and Future King. He and Arthur, two sides of the same coin. He was supposed to be the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth and look what he had become.

He'd been reduced to a crumbling mess all because of a curse. He was pathetic. He was supposed to have a great destiny and what had he done with that information? Nothing. He hadn't done a thing he was supposed to.

Magic was still banned from Camelot and Arthur hated it with every ounce of his being. He detested anything and everything that used it. Which meant he would hate Merlin too if he ever found out what he was. Not to mention the sense of betrayal he would feel if the warlock was honest.

Clenching his fists tightly, Merlin pushed himself up, digging his fingers into the bark of a tree to support himself as pain rippled through his leg again. He needed to get back. He needed to let Gaius look at his knee and he needed to figure out what to do about the curse. There had to be something they hadn't tried yet. Some sort of spell that wouldn't backfire on him.

Because magic could be used for good, it could be used to help people. And if Arthur could just see that than maybe he would come around. Maybe he wouldn't hate Merlin for what he was or for how he was born. Maybe he wouldn't sentence his servant to be burned for something he couldn't control.

Arthur wouldn't do that to him though, he just wouldn't. Would he? No. Merlin was sure of it. He wouldn't have him killed. Banished perhaps, cast out like he was nothing, but not killed. But Merlin didn't want to leave his home. He'd grown attached to so many things, to so many people—his royal Dollop Head included.

Maybe it was best he'd never told him, that he hadn't ruined their friendship. He didn't want Arthur to be put in that position, to be forced to decide what would become of his traitorous servant.

Staggering towards the closest tree, Merlin hissed as he put weight on his injured leg, crashing into the bark as he scowled at the wound. At this rate it would take him forever to get back and Gaius was going to be furious.

Starting towards the next tree, the warlock's hand grabbed ahold of a low hanging branch just as a shadow moved in the corner of his eye. Swiveling around to look, the forest hid away his stalker as the boy swallowed his fear and pushed himself on, forcing himself to move faster.

Merlin was sweating heavily by the time he'd reached his seventh tree and panic clawed up the boy’s throat. Another shadow flew from his left only to disappear behind him as he turned yet again to look at an empty forest. They were just toying with him now, knowing full well he was in no shape to fight back. He was nothing more than prey to them, and they clearly wanted to have some fun before finishing him off.

Limping towards the next tree, a breath of air brushed against his neck and the warlock jerked away, stumbling over the uneven path as his leg gave out and he fell to the ground in agony. "Who are you? What do you want?" He yelled through gritted teeth, struggling to push himself back to his feet as the forest began to darken.

Twilight was falling and his stalker was stubbornly remaining hidden from view. Trembling, Merlin inhaled sharp, gasping breaths as he kept going, one tree after another supporting his weight while bright flares of light speckled his vision. Each step was like a knife slicing through his skin, the boy falling more than once only to shove himself up and continue on at an agonizingly slow pace.

How close would they let him get before they struck him down? How much longer would he fight only to meet a grizzly end by the shadows tormenting him? He never should have left. He should have let himself go mad in his room. At least he wouldn't be here, made to suffer by the hands of Camelot's enemies. Would anyone know what happened to him? Would Arthur look for him? Would he find his friend in the woods a bloody mess with eyes glazed open and breath long since stolen by death?

Merlin shuddered at the thought, gripping tightly to the bark of his current tree. He truly was a worthless servant, wasn't he? He couldn't even follow a menial order such as staying in the citadel. And what kind of poor excuse for a sorcerer had he become? He should turn and face the stalker head on, fight them with everything he had left.

But what did he have left? He could barely stand, his weight resting solely on the trees that kept him upright. And what of his magic? He'd refrained from using it out of fear of the fire, out of the terror that had followed the nightmares that never quit. But should he still have tried? Endless silence or agonized screams; his only two options that made him dread every minute, waking or dreaming.

Reaching for the next trunk, Merlin's leg gave out once again and he fell to the forest floor with a broken cry, unable to summon the will to rise another time. Tears fell down the boy’s face at a steady rate, but he was done brushing them away, his nails digging into the dirt as his chest heaved in panicked hitches.

He'd failed in every job he had, in every order that had been given. He was nothing, magic or not. He'd actually believed his destiny was great, that he could protect Arthur. But how could he protect the king when he couldn't even find the strength to protect himself? When he didn't even want to try?

The forest had grown darker, the trees around him mere silhouettes as the shadows crept closer to the fallen warlock. What did any of it matter? He'd fought, and he'd struggled, and he'd failed. Over and over again, and wasn't it time he just admitted defeat? He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep, to relieve himself of the pain even if only for a few minutes. But the moment he did he knew he would just be met with the fire.

So much fire, so much pain. God he was tired. He couldn't take it anymore, he didn't care. He just wanted to be free of the pain. He just wanted the suffering to be over. Why wouldn't it just end? He just wanted it to end.

The shadows were almost upon him, dark figures that loomed behind every tree. He hated them. He didn't know who or what they were, but he hated them. What had he done to deserve this? To invoke their wrath?

Merlin tried to shuffle backwards, stones and twigs cutting into his palms as he struggled for breath. His body was failing him. His lungs refused to breathe, his heart was beating too fast, and his vision was all but blurred from the tears that wouldn't quit. He had nothing left. Nothing, except— Arthur.

He couldn't let the shadows reach Arthur. If he failed at everything else fine, but he wouldn't let harm befall his king. Not when he could still try to stop it. Just a little longer. He just needed to last a little bit longer.

Extending a hand, Merlin released a shallow breath as he glared blearily at the threat looming over him. "Forbearnan!"

Fire erupted out from him, the shadows giving way to the attack as the warlock's hand fell, darkness closing in on him. The spell was simple, he'd done it more times than he could count in the past, but it weighed heavily over him now. Exhaustion dropped the warlock onto his back as the boy’s head fell to the side, his fading vision settling on a single figure still watching him from among the trees.

If he had the energy he might have laughed. After all was said and done, he'd still failed in protecting Arthur. He'd rid himself of the shadows, but his stalker remained, frozen in his spot just out of view of the boy seeing his face.

How foolish he'd been. How utterly stupid to think he could fight back against the darkness crushing him. Merlin found he wasn't even surprised when the scorching heat began; in fact, he'd almost expected it. He'd never been able to escape it, though perhaps in his death he finally might.

Flames rose up from the ground around his body, but for once Merlin didn't scream. He didn't beg or cry. What was the point? No one could stop it, no one could help him. And he was so tired. Maybe if he let it consume him it would all finally be over. Maybe he could finally rest.

A single figure stood over him, his stalker standing in the midst of the flames though they didn't appear to burn. Merlin envied that, wondering what sort of spell he could cast that might make the pain disappear as he swallowed down the sob that was desperate to cry out.

He had nothing left to give. No fight, no energy. All he had was an apology that poured out of him as he gave into the fire, finally admitting defeat. "I'm sorry, Arthur," Merlin whispered, the figure before him kneeling by his side as weary blue eyes fell shut. "I should've told you."

But it was too late for that now. Too late for useless apologies and pointless ramblings. A single scream pierced his ears, and the chorus of the fallen rose with it. Only this time, Merlin didn't fight it. He didn't fight the hands that forced him towards the pyre and he didn't strain against the bindings that tied him down. He merely dropped his head and stared at the wood around him, the smell of the smoke and the burning flesh heavy around him as the warlock simply prayed for relief after death.

Chapter Text

She was beautiful with her golden hair that mimicked the sun and braids of sapphire tied throughout the locks. Eyes the color of the earth sparkled as she laughed and that sound, oh what a sound that was. If sirens were to walk on land, they would sound as she did.

Purple skirts flapped about her ankles as she danced, and scarlet lips turned up in a wide and mischievous smile that captivated the knight entirely. She would draw closer to him before flitting away, movements of a butterfly alive in the woman as she went about her work.

To say he was in love was an understatement. He was infatuated; he was intoxicated by her beauty and her charm and that strange little skip that accompanied her dancing. She was the woman of his dreams materialized right before his very eyes.

Soft fingers brushed against his cheek and Gwaine was standing before he could stop himself, reaching out for her as she kept just a step ahead. And oh, how that alluring smile had him chasing after her, desperate to know her name.

Closer and closer he got, his fingers catching ahold of her sleeve and her shawl and even nearly catching her hand in his. Yet every time she managed to slip away. But what a dance they created, lust and intrigue and longing driving him ever forward. She was a vision, and he was smitten with her in more ways than one. But unfortunately for him, that's all she had been, merely a vision.

As Gwaine trudged through the forest, a folded section of cloth held tightly in his hand, a piece of him wished to return to that dream. It had been wonderfully captivating; until the disaster that was reality had set in.

He supposed he should have expected this to happen. The tension had been building and everyone could feel it. After Merlin had stalked off the previous night and returned to the physician's chambers without him, Gwaine had tried to drown it all out with ale. And it had worked remarkably well until he'd awoken the following morning as ill as ever.

The knight had been grateful for the boy's lack of wandering, feeling comfortable enough to sleep off the headache on one of the patient cots while he was in his room. The man had made a mental note though that even being deaf Merlin was evidently skillful at being silent; Gwaine hadn't even heard him when he'd left.

Pausing at the side of the path, Gwaine knelt and studied the brush, finding a couple of twigs broken and leaves kicked away that marked a faint trail into the trees. Pressing on, the knight glanced down at the scarf in his hands again and fought back the worry that prodded at him like a hot iron at the sight of blood staining the fabric.

It wasn't much, but there was no doubt it was Merlin's. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into? Gwaine knew that no progress had been made but had the servant really felt the need to look for the sorcerer himself? Or had something else happened he hadn’t considered? Merlin wasn't an idiot, he had to know the danger of being out in the forest in his condition.

When Gwaine had woken and discovered the boy missing he'd looked in all the usual places first. The tower, Arthur's chambers, he'd even checked the stable in case he had gone to check on his mare. But each search had turned up nothing. Well, almost nothing. The knight wasn't sure whether to be grateful or disturbed by the information one of the stable boys had given him.

They'd said they had seen Merlin head into the forest. "He looked different, kept lookin over his shoulder like someone was followin him." Barclay had said, though no one had thought to stop the boy and ask after him. So who had he been running from? And why had he gone to the forest instead of to his friend?

Ducking under a tree limb and pausing, the knight's eyes scanned the ground. Merlin had taken more care in not leaving a trail the further he went, but all that did was beg the question as to why he was taking such precautions. And what had managed to rip his neckerchief free?

Spotting a kicked up patch of dirt, Gwaine continued on, praying he would find the boy soon as darkness began to cover the sky. He couldn't fault his friend, not entirely. Not with how out of sorts the boy had been. Perhaps Merlin hadn't realized how far he'd gone, or maybe he'd lost track of time. Or maybe someone really was after him.

Shaking the thought from his mind, Gwaine stepped carefully over a fallen tree branch before he hesitated, the forest eerily silent as he knelt again. Something was wrong, though the shadows and his pressing thoughts made it difficult to discern what exactly it was.

Running his fingers over the coarse bark of the branch, he stopped at a jagged stone piercing through the dead wood. It was nearly impossible to see, the point mimicking the rotted pieces of bark that peeled away from the limb. But more concerning was the dark liquid staining the rock and trailing away from it.

"Merlin." Gwaine breathed, cursing beneath his breath as he followed the trail of blood back behind the brush. A large stain caught his eye as he did, and a smeared puddle of crimson soaked into the earth and painted the grass with its morbid shade.

Looking around for more of a trail to follow, the knight’s eyes lifted to the tree above and spotted streaks of blood like dragging fingers left behind. He didn't care what the reason was anymore; he just needed to find his friend.

"Who are you?" A distant shout rang through the air as Gwaine rose, trying to determine the direction. "What do you want?"

In a moment the knight's sword was in his hand and the scarf was tucked away, the undeniable voice of the missing boy ringing in his ears as Gwaine crept through the trees. Someone had been chasing his friend. Merlin was injured and deaf and the man was going to kill whoever thought they could get away with hurting his friend.

Darkness spread throughout the trees, but the knight found the boy’s trail again, as sickening as it was. There were ruts in the dirt, as though he were dragging his leg behind him as he walked, and the trees carried the same crimson stains as before across their bark.

Gwaine moved quietly through the brush, keeping himself hidden out of sight when he finally spotted the boy grasping weakly to a tree. He could see the fear on his friend’s face even from his distance, the servant's chest heaving with exertion as the boy pushed himself forwards only to crumple to the ground with a pained cry.

"Where are you.." The knight murmured, peering around the immediate area for the enemy Merlin had called out to. Silent sobs wracked through the boy as he sat defeated on the ground with his leg twisted painfully beside him, and Gwaine started forward without another thought.

What gave him pause was Merlin shuffling backwards, sheer terror clouding his features, and Gwaine froze with his sword at the ready as he tried to see what the boy saw. Maybe it was too dark, or maybe they had heard Gwaine and fled, but as the knight took another step closer, he found there was no one around the servant at all.

Concern overtook the knight’s confusion as Merlin lifted a hand, warding off whatever it was he saw growing closer. Gwaine refused to believe the boy had gone mad, but the way he was acting made no sense. He was surely just stressed, and tired, and he needed to sleep it off. Things would be fine after that and he would be—

"Forbearnan!"

Gwaine's breath caught in his throat as fire erupted among the trees, flames that curled and twisted around in the air sending the knight staggering back in shock. But what was more disturbing than the sudden blaze was his friend. Or rather, his friend's golden eyes.

All the knight could hear was his heart. It was pounding louder and louder in his ears as he stared at Merlin. The boy’s hand dropped and the flames died out before the servant was falling limply onto his back. Gwaine hadn't realized he'd sheathed his sword until he'd begun walking forward, stiff, unsure steps carrying him towards his fallen friend.

Merlin's head lolled to the side and unfocused blue eyes that were drowning in tears stared up at the man as Gwaine knelt beside him. "I'm sorry, Arthur." The boy whispered, his voice rasping out while his eyes fluttered shut, trails of dirt and moisture staining his cheeks. "I should've told you."

Gwaine's next breath was sharp and broken, his hand falling to Merlin's arm as the boy's unconscious form lay motionless beside him. "Magic." The knight murmured, his head spinning as he stared hard at the face he thought he knew so well. At his friend he thought he knew.

The fire had sucked the oxygen out of the air, that was the only explanation for why it was so difficult to breathe; for why it felt like Percival was sitting on his chest and crushing him beneath his weight. Dark eyes drifted over the boy, catching sight of his blood stained leg and the crude wrapping that had been knotted over the injury.

Shifting his focus back to his face, Gwaine’s hand settled carefully in Merlin's messy hair as his head shook slowly. "You could've told me." The knight said softly, crouching over his friend and sliding an arm beneath his knees and around his shoulders as he hefted the boy up.

He could feel the heat radiating off of the servant, his flushed skin apparent even in the fading light as Gwaine stood and adjusted his hold on him while starting back to find Gaius. The man’s movements were automatic, stepping over roots and rocks and skirting around long branches. He barely even noticed when he found the path again, his mind too wrapped up in the swirling mess of thoughts that was his newfound discovery.

How long had Merlin been practicing magic? Was it before he'd come to Camelot? It had to be, because why would he ever start up such a thing when it was banned? When anyone who dared to use it was met with execution?

Gwaine's arms tightened around Merlin as his steps faltered, his mouth suddenly dry at the thought. No wonder the boy hadn't ever told anyone, he was probably terrified of being put to death. But then why would he continue to practice it? That couldn't have been the first time since arriving in Camelot; the fire had been too strong for that. So why? Why purposely endanger himself like that?

By the time the citadel was within view, Gwaine had come to the conclusion that he wasn't surprised. Okay, he was surprised, but perhaps not as much as he should've been. Because when he really thought about it, everything made sense.

Their group had a habit of having incredible luck when out on quests or during hunting trips. Bandits would accidently fling their swords behind them or tree limbs would drop out of nowhere directly on their enemies’ heads. They were such small things in the heat of the moment that no one gave them much thought, but of course that was Merlin. It had to be.

Arthur would mock him when the servant stayed safely out of the way while the others fought, but he was helping in his own way, wasn't he? It was dangerous and he risked being discovered every time he did it, but it never stopped him. Honestly, they were all idiots for never having seen it before.

How could they have missed it? When Gwaine actually thought back on it, a lot of the things Merlin did were blatantly obvious. Not to mention it was a little more understandable as to why the boy never complained about going on every quest no matter the danger.

The man had always assumed Arthur made him, or he just didn't want to be left out. But really he had his own form of protection, something the knights and Arthur knew nothing about. Did anyone? Or was it something Merlin had managed to keep entirely to himself?

If Arthur knew, would that change how he felt about magic? It was obvious the servant didn't use it to cause harm; he could have done something to any of them over a thousand times in the past if so. Though there was a piece of Gwaine that felt a bit hurt.

He understood the fear of telling someone what he practiced, that he went against not only the law but behind his friend and king to use such a thing. But did he think Gwaine would care? None of that mattered to the knight. He'd meant what he'd said to Arthur, about how it was the person who used the magic, not the act in itself. And if anyone could use magic for good and for helping others; it was certainly Merlin.

Night had fallen in its entirety when Gwaine shoved open the physician's door with the boy in his arms, kicking it shut behind him as Gaius turned and took in the two before him.

"What happened?" The elder demanded, drawing closer as the knight placed Merlin on the same cot he'd chosen to nap on earlier.

"He was out in the forest." Gwaine said, pulling away as the physician looked over his ward.

In the light, he looked far worse than the knight had thought. Blood dripped from beneath the makeshift bandage Merlin had created and stained his leg, and though his face was pale, his cheeks were flushed with fever.

"What was he doing out in the forest?" Gaius asked incredulously, motioning for a basin of water on the table that Gwaine carried over.

"Running from something, apparently. Never saw what though." The knight shrugged, wincing in sympathy as the physician untied the cloth and pulled it away from the gash that had created a gaping wound in his friend's leg.

The elder mumbled out a few words that Gwaine couldn't distinguish—though they did sound rather annoyed—as he moved away to gather a few vials from his shelves. "He tripped over a fallen branch, cut himself on a stone that stuck out beside it." The knight continued to explain, standing protectively over the boy while Merlin’s hand twitched, his fingers digging weakly into the blanket beneath him.

"Here, try to bring his fever down while I stop the bleeding." Gaius instructed, passing a small bowl of water and a cloth to the man while he sat on a stool by Merlin's leg.

Kneeling next to the cot, Gwaine did as he was told and rang out the excess water from the rag, placing the fabric across the boy's forehead as the servant shuddered at the contact.

"Gaius, I don't think anyone was chasing him." Gwaine said slowly, placing the bowl beside him while adjusting the cloth, his fingers brushing back the other's dark hair while the elder cleaned the blood from his skin.

"Perhaps not." Gaius nodded, focused intently on his work while he spoke. "He may very well have been hallucinating that someone was after him. Going without sleep for too long can cause ailments to the mind and body. Merlin has worn himself down but has refused to rest." The elder said the words with sadness, trained hands covering the wound with a green concoction while the boy tensed, a quiet groan leaving him as Gwaine's hand moved back to the top of his head.

"I fear what may happen if an answer is not found soon." Gaius murmured, though the knight felt it was more to himself than the man with him.

It was clear how much he cared for his ward, and in that moment Gwaine knew. Merlin may have been able to hide what he practiced from everyone else, but there was no way he could have hidden it from the man who was practically his father.

"Can magic cure what has happened?" The knight asked suddenly, watching the physician intently as Gaius's hands paused over his work.

"It's difficult to say."

"Has he tried?"

At that, Gaius looked up, his weathered face a blank expression as he regarded Gwaine. "Has who tried?"

"Merlin." The knight spoke readily, his fingers moving carefully through the boy's hair.

"You think Merlin has magic?" The elder nearly scoffed, a tense smile lining his features as he began to place bandages across the wound.

"I know he has. In the forest, I watched him. But then, you already knew, didn't you?" Gaius' hands fell and his head lifted as Gwaine offered a grim smile. That fear on his face, in his eyes. Neither he nor Merlin trusted him, did they? "Relax, Gaius. It changes nothing."

Dropping his gaze to his friend, Gwaine drew his hand away and pulled the scarf from his belt, placing it beside the boy's head. "Merlin is loyal to Camelot and to Arthur. Though he may choose to practice what has been banned, he doesn't use it to harm anyone."

"He doesn't practice it." Gaius said carefully while returning to his work, though the air had grown strained between them.

"I watched him, Gaius. I saw the fire and—and his eyes.." Looking up, Gwaine watched as the elder secured the bindings in place and set a hand on his ward's shoulder.

"He does not practice it, Gwaine," He reiterated, meeting the knight’s gaze. "He was born with it."

"What?" The man gaped, glancing down at Merlin before looking back up. "Is that—that's a thing?"

"Merlin is quite unique." Gaius smiled, squeezing his ward's shoulder fondly. "He's very powerful, though he forgets sometimes that even he has limitations." Looking to Gwaine, the elder’s gaze hardened. "No one can know. The laws ban magic regardless of how it came to be."

The words weighed over the knight as he nodded, resting his arms on the cot while offering a smile. "I may talk a lot, but you have my word. I will tell no one of what he can do."

"Good." The physician nodded, a smile of his own beginning to rise as Merlin groaned again. His face scrunched up in pain as Gwaine returned his hand to his friend’s head, fingers moving through his hair in an attempt to soothe the sick boy.

"If he is as powerful as you say, why has he not cured himself? Shouldn't that be easy to do?"

"Curses are a delicate thing." The elder frowned, pulling away from his ward and returning to his shelves as he acquired a few more of his potions. "Magic in itself requires discipline and hard work to control it."
Puttering about at his table, the physician mixed a few vials together in a small dish. "Spells, incantations and curses all require different things to work correctly." Sprinkling a few crushed leaves into the mix, he stirred it thoughtfully.

"This curse is powerful, with magic woven through each word that was spoken. It was a spell that had a single purpose, at least from what Merlin has said." Gaius sighed, straining the concoction into a cup beside him. "Most curses will work on anyone, but when one is made specifically for a single person yet is intercepted by another, awful things can occur."

"Like what?"

"I can't say for sure; each is different. Some cause the curse to last longer, some cause excessive hair growth or constant hunger. I knew a young boy who had his skin turn a shade of blue because he drank a potion meant for his sister."

Nearing the cot again, Gaius pulled his stool next to Merlin's head. With the knight's help he propped his ward up and tipped the contents of his mixture down the boy's throat before laying him back down.

"In Merlin's case, I believe his magic is what led to this."

"I don't understand." Gwaine shook his head, taking the cup from the elder and returning it to the table for him.

"His magic flows through him like a life force. When he took Arthur's place, his magic and the sorcerer who cast the curse's magic collided. Curses can sometimes be broken by normal means, but one as forceful as this that is also fueled by Merlin's own powers? It's the strongest I've ever seen."

Returning to his friend's side, Gwaine replaced the cloth to the boy’s forehead, concerned by the amount of heat still coming from him. "So, there's nothing that can be done? He can't use his own magic to control it?"

"He's tried." Gaius sighed, motioning towards the boy's room. "The day you returned he attempted a healing spell. But the curse is like a poison in him and each time he uses his magic it spreads. His pain worsens, he suffers from dreams, and it attacks him in every way possible."

Merlin shifted again, a ragged breath slipping out of him while they spoke. "I told him not to try. I wasn't sure of what the consequences would be, and I didn't want him to make things worse. But the boy is stubborn and impatient, he didn't listen." Gaius shook his head, running a weary hand down his face.

"He'll be alright though, won't he?" Gwaine pushed, his body leaning closer as the physician's eyes saddened.

"We can only wait and see." As the elder’s hand reached out and grabbed ahold of Merlin's wrist, the knight fought the dread building within him.

He needed his friend to be okay. After some rest, after some time, surely he'd wake and be just fine. And when he did, Gwaine was going to talk to him about his magic. The knight had always known that Merlin was different. He'd never met someone so kindhearted before, someone so willing to help anyone in need no matter the cost. And now that Gwaine knew he had magic, he found it didn't change the way he saw him.

He was still Merlin. Still witty and reliable and often times clumsy beyond belief. He was still someone Gwaine trusted, someone the man held as close as a brother. All finding out about his magic had done was load the knight down with questions. And at some point, he would get each and every one of them answered.

Chapter Text

As a dry wind shook the branches above Arthur's head, the king pushed himself to his feet and stared warily at the fallen tree creating a bridge across the chasm in front of him. The man’s feet shuffled forward cautiously as he peered over the edge of the ravine before narrowing his eyes at the rotted bark. He had been searching for a way across for so long, so why had one appeared now?

Lifting a foot and placing it on the edge of the trunk, the blond felt no give as he climbed up and put his full weight on it. It seemed steady enough, but he was still at the base where it remained on the ground, so could the same be said about the middle that hovered over a darkened pit?

Looking ahead at the forest that stretched beyond his bridge, Arthur felt himself drawn towards it, an unspeakable presence urging him to cross. Placing one foot in front of him and testing the strength of the tree, the king found it just as steady as the one before as he carefully placed his full weight on it.

Another foot, another step, one right after the other. Each step felt as though it lasted an eternity, the waiting and the testing and the breath catching in his throat. Arthur was halfway across when he felt the uncertainty set in. Was he foolish to do this? He had no clue what was on the other side. He was risking his life by crossing the ravine and who was to know if the bridge would even still be there when he went to go back?

Another step, another held breath, and the tree shuddered. Stretching out his arms to keep his balance as the bridge trembled, Arthur cursed his stupidity. He was frozen in the middle of his path, an equal distance behind and in front of him as a breeze whipped his tunic around him. A wind that carried with it the whispers he'd run from before.

No longer were they weighted with misery but instead they laughed around him. Not in a mocking nature but in a lighter way, like children playing together on a summer's day. The trembling stopped and the bridge turned still but Arthur remained where he stood, unsure whether to go back or venture forward.

How badly did he want his answers? Was his curiosity worth the risk? If he went back he would make it there safely, the steps already tested and the tree holding strong, though the same could not be said about what lay in front of him. Each step was unsure, each movement leading to the possibility of falling. Was it worth it?

Looking to the trees ahead of him again, the dark wood stared back with an age old power, and he heard the voices again; quiet whispers urging him on. Keep going, they coaxed. Don't stop now, they encouraged.

Arthur placed another foot forward, a soft crack echoing beneath his weight as he drew back with his heart racing. You must see, the whispers bled around him, though their words were not so easily heard. In fact, they were not heard at all, but rather felt. All around him, drifting on the edges of the wind where they danced, a flurry of unknown voices guiding him.

Placing his foot back in front of him, the king held his breath and shifted his weight, finding the tree once more firm beneath him. A gasp of air rattled out and a weak laugh trailed past his lips as he looked back behind him.

Darkness had closed in on the trees he'd fallen through, the path vanishing entirely from view as he took another step, more confident than the last. If he went back, if he remained where he'd been, then there was no change. There was no opportunity for growth or discovery, no chance at learning what resided on the other side. Perhaps it was dangerous or foolish or incredibly unwise, but it also felt safe in a way he couldn't explain.

Taking the final step that allowed him access to the other side, Arthur stepped off the bridge and took in a deep breath. It was as though he'd stepped into an entirely new land. The air was sweet and carried with it the scents of rich soil. An old path carved through the trees, the dirt trail overgrown and almost invisible in some spots, but he knew he was meant to follow it.

Walking further into the forest, the man's hand brushed against the rough bark of a tree and as he pulled away dirt came back on his fingertips. Find him, the whispers urged, pressing against him with another breeze that ushered the king forward.

They were getting louder; Arthur could feel them everywhere he went. With every breath he took, with every step that sunk into the ground, they were there. And so was something else. Something he couldn't quite place though it felt old and powerful. He’d felt it once before, in a place just off the edge of his memory.

There had been water and he'd stood on the bank, but everything was hazy; an unclear picture laden with fog and wrapped heavily in layers of trepidation warning him not to look. Maybe there hadn't been water at all, perhaps it was all in his head, but it felt the same regardless.

Find him, the wind echoed again, the path turning abruptly as the king ducked beneath a low branch and followed it down a hill. Night still clung to the skies, but he could see remarkably well. Everything was in such refined detail from the moss growing on the trees to each leaf standing out against their branch and every blade of grass that swayed with the breeze.

Help him.

Stopping in his tracks, Arthur felt a chill run through his body. The whispers were pleading now and the sense of urgency he'd felt before had returned.

Find him!

Turning to peer behind him, the man continued on, though he kept a more watchful eye on his surroundings. Was this how Merlin felt every time he tried to tell the king he had a bad feeling about something? Because what he felt most certainly constituted as a bad feeling.

Turning with the trail, Arthur came to another abrupt stop, only this time due to the figure standing in the middle of the path in front of him. Their back was to the blond and a worn blue cloak covered their shoulders while the hood was pulled up over their head. The fabric looked familiar, but Arthur couldn't place from where. He knew he'd seen it before, though, in a time when something else had happened. Something bad.

Help him! Find him! The whispers cried, a heavy gust of chilled air causing the man to shudder, though the figure remained unfazed in front of him.

"Who are you?" Arthur called out, taking a step forward as leaves blew against his legs and the trees above shook fiercely.

"Can you feel it?" The stranger asked in a low tone, his words barely even heard over the wind as Arthur's hand steadied himself against one of the trees.

"Feel what?"

"The magic."

His heart hammered in his chest and the king's mouth turned dry as he felt the same wave of familiarity drift over him. Magic. Of course it was magic. The old, powerful energy all around him. How could he have missed it?

"Who are you?" Arthur asked again, taking another step forward as the stranger took off running, disappearing amongst the trees. "Wait!" The royal called, dropping his hand in irritation as the wind settled.

Find him!

"Why?" Arthur demanded aloud, turning around and staring at the trees above him as if they held the answer. Only they didn't, and he was talking to air. God he was losing his mind.

Hurry!

Scoffing at the panic binding around his heart, Arthur continued on, the pushiness of the whispers something he found reminiscent to that of an annoying servant. Even the way they chided at him felt like Merlin. He missed hearing that.

Following the path as it wound through the trees, the sound of rushing water ahead had Arthur picking up his pace. Ducking under a tree with heavy branches that cascaded down in waves, the king found the stranger now frozen by the edge of a small waterfall, water spraying out and dotting the rocks that were lined around it.

"Tell me who you are." Arthur demanded, standing only a few paces away now as a quiet laugh left the man in front of him.

"You know who I am."

"Show me your face."

Find him! Help him!

"Time is running out."

"What are you talking about? Who are you?" Arthur roared, striding closer and reaching for his shoulder.

"Arthur!" Stopping with his hand in midair, the king turned, eyes frantically searching around him at the faint voice he'd so clearly heard. At the voice he had immediately recognized. "Arthur!"

Find him! Hurry!

"Merlin?"

"Time is running out, Arthur Pendragon. Where will you stand when it all comes to an end?"

Find him!

"Who are you?" Grabbing the stranger's shoulder, Arthur turned him around before he stumbled back, finding hollow green eyes staring at him with a hardened gaze.

"Where will you stand?" The sorcerer asked again.

"Arthur, please!" Clenching his teeth, the king looked behind him, his friend's voice calling out in desperation.

Find him before it's too late!

Turning back, the man found the sorcerer gone as a heavy weight settled over the blond. What did he mean by that? By asking where he would stand?

"Merlin!" Arthur finally called, turning and retreating back the way he'd been in search of the boy. "Merlin, where are you?"

"Arthur!"

Too late, it's too late.

"Arthur, I-I'm sorry."

Too late.

The voices were all around, overlapping one another as the wind gathered, the smell of smoke and ash invading the man’s senses as he climbed the hill and found the boy's shadow ahead of him.

"Merlin?" Arthur's voice cracked, disbelief raging through him as he stared at the servant in shock. Merlin stood frozen, staring at the king but not, with his eyes going right through the blond while tears made their way down his face in unending tracks that glistened in the moonlight.

Too late!

Find him!

Where will you stand?

"I'm sorry," His friend whispered, the slightest shake of his head sending a wave of panic through Arthur as he neared the boy. However the closer he got the hotter the air became, and a harsh cough doubled over the blond as he fought to breathe while Merlin shook his head again. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what? Merlin, please, tell me what's going on." Arthur pled, forcing himself closer despite the invisible hand tightening around his throat. He could see his friend better now, but the sight was sickening. The boy's skin was scorched and burned, pieces of his flesh hanging off the bone as Arthur fought the bile threatening to rise in his throat.

Too late!

"Merlin?"

"Arthur.." The boy murmured, dark blood spilling past his open lips as his hand stretched out towards the king who lifted his own to take it. "Arthur!" Merlin’s scream pierced through the air as fire erupted around his friend.

Arthur stumbled back and fell to the ground as the flames climbed higher and higher, enveloping the boy until he could no longer be seen. "Merlin!" Horror flooded through the king as he shied away from the heat that consumed his friend.

Wake up, wake up!

"Merlin!"

Too late! Wake up, you must wake up. Wake up and find him!

Jolting upright in his bed, Arthur's breaths came heavy and fast as darkness and heat clung to his bones. His limbs and blankets were damp and sweat coated his body as he heaved in large gasps of air. What the hell had that been? What had he just seen?

"Arthur.." Turning to look beside him, Arthur found his sweet Guinevere knelt next to his bed, the last of the light from the dying fire brightening her face and the tears streaked across her cheeks as he fought to free himself from the lingering tendrils of the dream.

"Guinevere?" He asked softly, his hand reaching out and resting against her face as a sob left her, the girl's fingers wrapping tight around his wrist. "Guinevere, what's the matter?"

"Arthur.." Her voice was a strangled whisper as she clung to him, and the man fought back his fear as she forced out two words that had his entire world crumbling around him. "It's Merlin."

Chapter Text

His skin felt like fire everywhere he touched. He burned through his tunic and the water they used to cool him never lasted for long.

Gwaine had surpassed worry long ago and was heading straight for full blown panic. Nothing they did seemed to aid the boy, only easing his discomfort for a bit before it came raging back.

Merlin shifted on the cot with a groan, heavy gasps drawn past his lips as his fingers curled into the bedding beneath him.

A cloth had been draped against his forehead and Gaius had been using a second to cool down his arms and neck but the boy was still sweating heavily. Nothing they were doing was having any effect on him at all and they were running out of ideas.

The knight had made at least half a dozen trips to retrieve more water and on his last he’d stumbled into Gwen. He’d barely even questioned why she was awake so late, only trying to hurry back to the boy fading away right in front of their eyes.

After a hurried explanation Gwen had followed him back to the physician’s chambers and she’d helped where she could.

Gwaine wasn’t even sure how much time had passed when Gaius finally sat back, a weary and hollow look in his eyes. “We’re losing him.” Was all he’d said, pain and fear constricting the knight’s chest in the same way he saw it twisting the elder’s features.

Gwen had murmured something about retrieving Arthur, though her voice was thick with emotion and Gwaine wasn’t paying too much attention to anything but his dying friend.

He’d waited until the door had been closed before he was leaning over Merlin, a hand settling firmly over the soaked cloth he’d placed over the boy’s head that was already warming from the heat of his skin.

“There must be something, Gaius, anything.”

“This is out of my hands now I’m afraid.” He spoke tightly; quickly dabbing at the boy’s fevered skin as water dribbled down the sides of his arm.

“Can’t you give him something to wake him up? Isn’t there a spell, or a-an incantation we can try?”

“Adding any more magic to what is already happening inside him will only make it worse.”

“How can it get any worse?” Gwaine asked in exasperation, forcing himself to calm down as his fingers brushed away Merlin’s hair for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Except to get the water when needed he hadn’t been able to pull himself away from the boy’s side. He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening if he was away too long.

“He’s fighting a battle, his power against the curse that has morphed inside him.” Gaius explained, taking the boy’s hand in his and resting his fingers against his wrist. “If he cannot win, then I fear..” His words cut off, unable to continue as he stared down at his ward while the knight closed his eyes.

He couldn’t lose his friend like this. Not when he’d just learned who he really was. Not when he was so important to so many people.

“Gaius.” The door to the chambers burst open and Gwaine jolted, his eyes darting to the entrance and landing on Arthur in surprise. Not because he was there, the man never seemed to stray far when the servant was in trouble, but because of his appearance.

“What happened?” The King demanded, evidently unconcerned with the looks sent his way as he neared the boy.

Had Gwen just woken him? There couldn’t be much of a different explanation, not for the way his hair stood up strangely or the tunic he wore that looked suspiciously turned around the wrong way as if he’d hurried to dress with little to no care.

“He’s come down with a terrible fever, Sire.” Gaius spoke quietly, his hands never faltering as they soaked a piece of cloth again and pressed it against the boy’s burning form.

“But he will get better, won’t he?” The man asked tensely as Gwaine stood and offered his chair to Gwen. The woman sat slowly, tears heavy in her eyes as she immediately resumed trying to help the physician in cooling Merlin down. When Gaius did not answer Arthur stepped closer, a tone of authority filling the room. “Gaius.”

“I fear he may not last through the night.” The physician admitted weakly, glancing up at the blonde as Arthur paled.

“Heal him.” He said suddenly, his voice a mere whisper as the elder stared up at him.

“I have done everything I can to-“

“Gaius,” He paused, and Gwaine had never seen such a look on his King’s face before. “Heal him.”

Casting a sideways glance at Gwen and the knight, the elder barely shook his head. “I have tried, Arthur, everything.”

The room fell silent, even Merlin’s shifting having ceased as a grim darkness settled over them all. Gwaine knelt near the boy’s leg’s, eyes flickering over the wound Gaius had covered and wondered if this was his fault.

Would this have happened if Merlin hadn’t gone out by himself? If he hadn’t felt the need to use magic? If he’d kept a better eye on him, if he had made sure he had stayed in his room would they still be sitting there watching him die?

The fire crackled behind them as Gwaine leaned closer, feeling the heat radiating from the boy’s limbs as Arthur suddenly moved, his back turning and the King striding for the door.

“I don’t care what you have to do,” He muttered, turning to look over his shoulder at the physician. “Keep him alive.”

“Arthur?” Gwen called, looking after him as the door fell shut.

“Where is he going?” Gwaine wondered aloud, glancing at the other two for an answer that neither could provide.

Directing his attention back to Merlin, Gwaine felt the knot in his stomach twist tighter. What could he possibly plan to do when everything felt so useless? Gaius had tried so many things, magical and non. All they could hope for was for Merlin to keep fighting or for the sorcerer to just-

“Oh, hell.” Gwaine muttered suddenly, shoving himself up and going after the blonde without another word.

It didn’t take long to find him, the man exactly where he’d expected as the knight stood in the doorway of the stables and watched as Arthur began to saddle one of the horses.

“Didn’t know you knew how to do that by yourself.” He spoke, announcing his presence though the other didn’t even look up.

He worked quickly, fingers moving deftly by the light of a single torch. “There was a time before Merlin, you know.” He stated dryly, securing the saddle as Gwaine moved past him and began to lead out a horse of his own. “What are you doing?” He demanded, looking up finally as the knight retrieved another saddle and feigned a look of innocence.

“Going for a dark, early morning ride of course.”

“Go back, Gwaine. I don’t need you.”

“You’re going after him, aren’t you? The sorcerer?” The question halted the King as he cut his eyes towards the knight. “Question is what makes you think you’ll find him now, after all this time? And in the dark no less.” He said, speaking while he adjusted the reigns and ran a hand down the horse’s neck. It was still a couple of hours until sunrise, but there was no way he was letting Arthur go by himself.

“I don’t need your help.” Arthur stated again, leading his horse through the gate as Gwaine followed.

“Is this really what you want to do?” He asked cautiously, closing the gate behind them as Arthur mounted his horse. “Merlin..” The man’s back tensed and Gwaine steeled himself for what he was about to say. “He might not be alive by the time we get back.”

“I have to find him.” Arthur stated sharply, casting a glare at the knight over his shoulder.

“What makes you think you’ll find him? You’ve searched for weeks.” He repeated, climbing his own steed as Arthur turned around and took the reins.

“Because I’m the one he wanted.”

For once in his life Gwaine found himself at a loss for words. The ride through the forest having been quiet on both ends. Arthur hadn’t offered any other information and Gwaine hadn’t even been sure what questions he should ask.

They’d followed the trail towards the lake, one that was thankfully heavily traveled and easily seen even in the dark, though it helped that the horses instinctively knew the way as well. But the forest was creepy in the dark and all Gwaine could think about was whatever Merlin had thought was chasing him. Was there really something there? Or had it all been in his fevered mind?

Arthur came to a stop in front of him and dismounted as the knight warily followed. The King moved as if he knew exactly where he was going and what he was doing, and something about that put Gwaine on edge.

“Through there.” Arthur motioned, the first words he’d spoken since entering the forest as he tied his horse to a tree and started off into the brush.

“Are you sure this is wise, Arthur?” Gwaine’s voice murmured out with all the noise of a stampede in the early morning silence as he followed after the blonde.

“He’ll be there.” The man spoke, not bothering to look back as he made his way over the terrain with ease.

It didn’t take long for Gwaine to decide he was far too sober to deal with Arthur, but trailed behind him none the less, a piece of him praying that they would find the sorcerer against all odds.

What he wouldn’t give to get his hands on the person who had caused Merlin so much pain. And the gods help him if Merlin died because Gwaine would kill him without a second thought and he would make sure it was an agonizingly slow death.

The pair traveled quickly, the air around them shifting as Arthur slowed, reaching a hand out in a gesture of silence as the knight stilled, peering around the King and catching his breath. In the midst of the trees nearly hidden from view was a small campsite and right in the middle sat a man, his back to them and his hands outstretched towards a small fire.

“Would you care to join me?” His voice echoed towards them, the stranger who had to be the sorcerer not moving as Arthur stood frozen staring.

“My men searched this site a dozen times and found nothing, yet now here you are as if you never left.” He stated in a miffed tone as the stranger turned, his blue cloak shifting around his shoulders as he looked at the King with a ghost of a smile.

“They were not the ones meant to find me.”

“You’ve been waiting for me. Why?”

“My work is not yet done.” The sorcerer shrugged, a look verging on enjoyment creeping up his face.

“I’m sick of your riddles.” Arthur spat out, glaring hatefully at the man.

“You carry no sword to threaten me with, My Lord.” The sorcerer’s head tilted, regarding the King carefully as Gwaine edged closer. “Would you feel safer with a weapon to protect yourself from my magic?”

With a wave that gestured to the left, Gwaine’s eyes darted towards a gnarled stump where Arthur’s crossbow sat with an arrow already nocked. “That is how you rule, is it not? With brute force rather than common sense?” The knight could feel the tension between them, though neither moved their gaze off the other.

“If I wanted you dead, I assure you that you already would be.” Arthur stated coolly.

“Would I?” The sorcerer asked as shadows from the fire danced over his face. “Tell me then, My Lord, why are you here if not to end my life?”

“Your curse injured my servant.”

“Did it?” He shifted again, turning his back fully to the fire as his gaze flickered towards Gwaine for the first time. “A pity, truly.” He sighed, clasping his hands together as he leaned forward and peered up at the blonde. “It was not meant for someone of his..” The sorcerer paused as Gwaine stepped closer, a hard look on his face as the man’s lips twisted in surprise than amusement. “Nature.” He finished, staring directly at the knight.

“He will not recover on his own and you’re aware of this.”

“What if I am?” He scoffed, a bored look crossing his face as he waved a hand dismissively. “The boy chose to push you aside. And while I must admit that the curse was unpleasant, it is no more than that. If you’d merely headed my words than it would all be over by now.”

“He’s dying.” Gwaine cut in, stepping beside Arthur as rage burned inside him. How could he be so flippant over Merlin’s life? “Your stupid curse is killing him!”

Genuine surprise drifted over the sorcerer’s face, the man rising as he looked between the two with a narrowed gaze. “What? No, if your servant is dying, it’s not because of anything I’ve done.”

“The screams, he hears them. They’re torturing him.” As the words left Arthur’s mouth a chill ran down the knight’s spine, looking over at the blonde who barely even acknowledged he was there.

What did he mean by that? What did Arthur know about Merlin’s condition that he hadn’t been told about?

The sorcerer didn’t respond right away, his fingers fidgeting as hollow green eyes darted back to Gwaine. “As I said before, he chose to take the curse. The effects are his own doing, in more ways than one.” He spoke the words directly to the knight, his shoulders slouching as he began to turn away.

“He was protecting his King. What occurred was not his fault and the lasting effects could kill him. And I promise you that if he dies by your curse, I will kill you myself.” Arthur stepped forwards as he spoke the threat, his voice low and deadly as the sorcerer shifted, a hint of unease surrounding him as Gwaine looked on.

“What do you wish for me to do, My Lord?” He asked slowly, his cloak wrapping around his leg as he took a step away from the King.

“Reverse what you’ve done. Return his hearing and rid him of the dreams.”

“I cannot reverse such a spell, My Lord.” He shook his head.

“Then we’ll kill you,” Gwaine stated, folding his arms across his chest and shrugging. “That’s one way to break it, right?”

“Such a gruesome fate may await me one day, but if you wish to heal your friend than I’d advise thinking better of it. Enchantments may be easily broken in such a way but not a curse such as this.” He shot out, staring at the knight with disgust.

“If you cannot help him-“

“I never said I could not help him, My Lord. I merely said I could not reverse the spell. However it can be broken.” The sorcerer stated, refusing to look at the knight again. “If you’re willing to pay the price it takes.”

“Then do it. Whatever it takes, just do it.”

“I want my life and my freedom.” The man bargained, lifting his chin and staring at Arthur intently. “If I help you to aid your servant, I want to leave with my life and with my freedom.”

Gwaine glanced at Arthur, expecting the man to deny the sorcerer of any such wish, but found himself instead watching as the blonde nodded. “If you help Merlin, you have my word.”

The knight stood to the side, watching as the sorcerer turned, extending a hand and putting out his fire with a single uttered word leaving him.

“Arthur Pendragon,” He said, turning back with a small smile forming on his face. “Perhaps Albion has hope yet.”

Chapter Text

Run. Don’t stop running. If you stop they will find you. If they find you they will kill you. Run. Run!

Merlin’s boots skidded against stone as he threw himself around the bend and kept running, each breath heaving out of him as sweat fell from his face and rolled down his neck. He couldn’t stop, they were everywhere and they were looking for him.

Pain burned through his side but the warlock kept running, blinking back tears as he dove towards one of the servant’s halls, narrowly missing a hand reaching for his arm. His next breath rolled out with a choked back sob as he forced himself to go faster.

In the back of his mind he was grateful towards Arthur for the ridiculous amount of chores he always gave him, chores that had sent him all over the citadel more times than he could count. He knew every room, every hall, every inch of the place he called his home. Of the place that was now his hell.

Turning another corner and sliding around the edge of the wall, Merlin shoved his back flat against the stone and clamped a blistered hand over his mouth as he struggled to catch his breath.

He could hear them everywhere, their screams had infected everything and they could not exist without their torments wreaking havoc on his mind.

Loud, quiet, muffled, begging. Scream after scream after scream. Some manic, some crying, some angry. They were all different but all tortured. And he’d tried to wake up, gods he’d tried but it was no use. He was stuck in an endless hell filled with fire and smoke and death.

Sagging weakly against the wall, Merlin blinked away the tears as an ache settled over his body and he carefully drew his hand from his mouth to draw in more air. They’d found him twice already when he’d tried to hide and he was running out of ideas.

Watery blue eyes peered down at his hands and arms where the sleeves of his tunic were torn and charred, revealing the burns and the cuts littering his skin.

A crimson soaked piece of fabric had been hastily wrapped around his forearm where his skin had become cracked and broken, the smell of burnt flesh still a sickening aroma all around him. He wasn’t sure which was more disturbing, the fact that the faceless mob around him gave off that scent or that his own body did.

Run!

A deep panic settled over the warlock and he shoved away from the wall with a final deep breath, narrowly avoiding heavily burned hands reaching for his head as he ducked under their arms and took off.

Arthur had always wanted him to get in better shape but he couldn’t keep up the running forever. The time between needing to stop was getting shorter and shorter and his body was going to riot soon and just give up on him all together.

Sprinting through another hall, Merlin stumbled to a stop at the edge of a stairwell, a manic shriek behind him making him flinch before he darted up the step two at a time, hoping to slow them at least a little. Most of them weren’t very fast but they were relentless.

He threw a look over his shoulder before scrambling to the right, the path familiar though the walls were not. It broke his heart in a way, to see the citadel in such disarray.

Everything was in ruins from the crumbling walls and the cracked floors to the shattered glass and broken pillars. Everywhere he looked another piece of the home he’d grown to love had been ruined in some way or another.

Turning left and skidding behind a door, Merlin collapsed inside a room that had once been so important. Only here in this hell, everything was different.

The drapes had been torn down in some sort of fit, the fabric ripped and stained. The floors were covered in scorch marks and trails of crimson that looked suspiciously like dragging fingers led from the window to the door as Merlin huddled in the corner of the room and drew in shaking breaths.

What had once been the bed was now nothing more than a pile of rubble and Merlin worked to keep the panic from rising.

He spent every day in this room. Every day waking up the prat and helping him get ready. Every day sorting through papers and assisting with documents and offering advice and really none of that was his job.

That’s what Arthur’s advisers were for, that’s what his counselors and scribes jobs were. And yet more and more often the King would have Merlin hear out the rulings and the trials and ask for his thoughts as he went about his usual tasks.

He’d never admit it but he valued Merlin’s opinion, didn’t he? Despite their bickering and the endless tasks Arthur threw at him, he still treated him more as a trusted friend than a servant. Would that ever happen again? Would he ever return to his normal life?

Shoving his back against the cracked wall, Merlin listened for the screams to grow closer. He’d learned when to run and when to linger, though he didn’t dare fight. The last time he did..

Blinking quickly, his eyes fell to his leg, the trousers he wore torn and burned at the edges like his tunic, though a large portion of his left leg was uncovered, a bright burn spread across his calf. He hadn’t noticed the pain from it much but then again he had been a bit busy trying to get away. When would his energy fade? At what point would he be forced to surrender?

Closing his eyes, he tightened his fists and forced the thought away. He would fight as long as he could. He wouldn’t burn with them. He wouldn’t stand at the pyre ever again. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. What if he did?

Running his fingers raggedly through his hair, he turned his head and caught his breath, waiting for the scream that never came. In fact, it was unusually quiet. Had they given up looking for him? Merlin nearly cried at the thought, relief spreading over him as he wiped away the sweat gathered along his face.

Everything was unbearably hot, as if the entire kingdom had been set alight when they’d lit the pyre. And there was a strange orange glow that encompassed everything, as if the world were stuck in a perpetual twilight. Not that Merlin was complaining too much, at least there was light. He didn’t want to imagine what his nightmare would be like trapped in a never ending darkness.

As his breathing slowed and the pain in his side lessoned, Merlin allowed himself to relax into the wall. He could see the door across from him and the balcony in front and as long as the screams didn’t come closer he would be fine there.

Should he rest? If he fell asleep, would he wake up to his life? Or was he not waking up because he didn’t have one anymore? He’d been out in the forest, he’d lost himself out there and then that stranger, he didn’t even see his face before he’d passed out. Who was it? Was he dead? Was that why he couldn’t wake up?

Trembling hands pulled close to his chest, his eyes falling shut to block out the world around him. He couldn’t be dead. Not when the pain made him feel so very much alive. And what of Gaius, or Arthur? No, he couldn’t be dead, because he couldn’t leave them. There was still too much to be done. He wasn’t ready for it all to be over. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Run!

Pulling open his eyes, Merlin pushed himself out of the corner and looked to the door that was partially open. He hadn’t been able to get it to close, none of the doors would. Like something didn’t want him to hide for long.

Rising unsteadily to his feet, the warlock shuffled closer, already beginning to choose his next place of rest when an ear splitting howl had him flinching away.

The crazed sound went on, drawing closer as Merlin backed away, eyes darting for anywhere he could hide. But it was too late. The second the body stepped through the door he knew it was too late.

Skin hung loose off the body’s form, blood dripping to the floor in sickening patterns as a hand reached out for Merlin. Where fingernails should have been were now blood covered stumps and what skin remained around the hands were covered in blisters.

Their feet dragged as they moved closer and when Merlin looked down he felt sick. One leg had a piece of shattered bone protruding from the skin, the shard jutting out a little more with each step the faceless body took.

Skirting to the side of the room, the body howled again and lunged at the boy as Merlin jumped to the side, running for the door. His brief respite had been worth it though as the warlock flew through the hall and down a set of stairs used by the servants.

Skimming his fingers along the wall, Merlin jumped the last few steps and side stepped another body reaching for him before taking off towards the pavilion.

He’d stayed away for as long as he could but they’d all gathered in the citadel and he couldn’t avoid it any longer. The smell of burned flesh grew stronger and smoke hung heavy in the air.

His steps faltered briefly as the pyre came into view, his breath catching as fear sent his heart beating erratically. It was massive. It towered to the sky with wood stacked around the sides and fire creating a ring around the outer edge.

Merlin’s hand reached for his arm, the marks from the ropes that held him before still present in his mind, the feeling of it cutting into his skin spurring him forwards as he kept as much distance between it and him as he could. He’d barely managed to break free the last time, he wasn’t sure he could do it again.

Another wail rose around him, a mixture of sobs and screams causing a shudder to run through him as a body shifted in the flames, the shadow of a hand reaching for him as Merlin turned away.

He couldn’t look at them, he couldn’t help them. And that hurt so much, knowing there wasn’t a thing he could do. They were dying. No, they were already dead, and he couldn’t save them from that. They were nothing but ghosts wandering aimlessly as they tried to rid themselves of the pain they felt. But what did that say about him? Why was he there, wandering as lost as they were?

Turning to look over his shoulder, a heavy weight slammed into his side and knocked the warlock to the ground, the jagged stone gouging into his back as he hissed in pain.

Rough hands grappled for his arms as the boy scooted away, trying to get his feet beneath him as another pair of hands collided with his head. Boney fingers dug into his hair and wrenched his head back, Merlin’s eyes locking onto the dull orange sky as he thrashed around, trying to free his body before they could close in on him.

“Let me go! Let go!” He yelled, his voice lost amongst the screams which had begun to sound more victorious by the second. He wouldn’t be burned, he wouldn’t. “Let go!”

Shoving his elbow hard into the body of the person behind him, Merlin jerked his head free and kicked away the second trying to restrain his arms. Scrambling away, the warlock stumbled and shoved himself back up, wincing as a stone cut into his palm.

His body was numb, fear dulling even the worst pain as he glanced to his hand, a deep cut sliced across the skin as he curled his fingers in around it protectively. Why were they everywhere? No matter where he turned they were always there. He needed a way out, he needed to get away from them.

Slipping around a half wall near the stables, Merlin dropped down and inched his way around, the sound of the fire crackling loud in his ears despite how far away it was. The clearing was empty of bodies but Merlin knew it wouldn’t be long before they found him. They always found him.

Pushing himself up and running for the stables, he rounded the side of the building and froze, dread welling up inside. “No, no, no.” He shook his head, the building barely standing in front of him.

The entire structure had been torn apart, much of the wood no doubt used to fuel the never ending fire that burned for the pyre. Only one wall still resembled the building he’d once known and as he crept carefully through the wreckage he found himself more exposed than he’d hoped.

Shifting over planks of wood and over ruined saddles, Merlin worked to never let his eyes linger for long. He could smell the rotten flesh and could hear the bones cracking beneath where he walked and he couldn’t bear to think of what happened to the horses.

Making his way to the back of the skeletal structure, Merlin found a stall still mostly standing and slipped inside, his back turning to the broken wall as he breathed quickly and pulled his body in tight.

They had found him in Arthur’s and Gaius’ chambers and in the library, but would they look in the ruins? The smell was almost worse than the burned flesh, a scent that the warlock had unfortunately become familiar with, but with the floor littered with debris at least he would know when they were coming. Wouldn’t he?

Wiping his face and dropping his head against his arms, Merlin’s mind raced frantically. He needed to find a way to get out, not just of the kingdom but out of his own head. He’d tried running for the forest but they always blocked his path.

He’d tried various routes, different ways that people weren’t as familiar with, but they were always there ready to drag him back to the fire. So he’d been running and running but his body was failing. His legs shook and his arms trembled and it was so hot he could hardly breathe.

He could try fighting again, but there were so many and their pain didn’t seem to stop them. They walked around with injuries he’d never seen before. They crawled and stumbled after him regardless of their broken limbs or the blood that pooled out around them. It was like they weren’t even human anymore. Even thinking about that made him shudder.

He knew why they wanted him though, knew why they blamed him. But what could he do now? They wouldn’t be satisfied until he burned just like they had.

Sagging against a post and leaning his head back, Merlin sucked in a breath of dry air and wheezed another out. Exhaustion fell like a thick blanket over the warlock, dragging him under its weight as he tried to keep himself awake enough to listen for the screams. Just a few minutes of rest, that was all he needed. A few minutes to regain his strength and then he would make a plan.

Merlin’s head tipped towards his chest, the world beginning to fade in favor of sleep. Though really, he should have known it was too easy.

Two hands fell on the warlock’s shoulders and the boy jerked, wrenching back from the grasp as he shoved himself away, wincing at the dirt pressing into the open cut on his hand as he shied away from the body. He hadn’t heard the screams, he hadn’t heard them growing closer he hadn’t-

Oh gods, no.

Merlin blinked once, then again as if to clear away the fog that had left the man kneeling in front of him. It was cruel, even compared to the living nightmare that the outside consisted of. Because he was there but he wasn’t. Merlin had seen him once before in another dream, standing and watching over him as he was tied to the pyre and left to burn. But he’d never been this close.

The blonde’s hands reached towards him again and his mouth moved in a way Merlin couldn’t understand, his ears ringing as he shuffled back again, his body hitting a piece of wood blocking his escape. Was this really how it would end for him? Taken to the pyre at the hands of his friend? Of someone he would’ve given his life for at any moment?

“Not you, please.” He murmured, dropping his head as he tried to push himself further away. “Anyone but you.”

He couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see the lifeless face that would stare back at him or worse, the hatred burning in his eyes. He couldn’t take that, couldn’t take dying at the hands of the man he’d sacrifice everything for. Anyone but Arthur, please, anyone but him.

The hands took ahold of his arms again and Merlin caught his breath, barely shaking his head as he closed his eyes tightly, all his will to fight gone in that moment. “Please, I don’t want to burn.”

He waited to be forced to his feet, to have his arms twisted back and made to walk to the fire but it never came. Instead, the tight hold loosened and one hand shifted to the side of his neck, shaking him gently and turning his head towards him.

His body stiffened, the ringing in his ears fading as his head lifted, warily glancing up at the man before him. Blue eyes were looking over him rapidly, as if assessing any injuries he had as an expression of concern lay heavy on the other’s face while Merlin stared dumbly. When his eyes finally lifted and met the warlock’s gaze, the concern faded to relief.

“Merlin.” He spoke, forming the words carefully as the warlock’s next breath choked out, moisture gathering in his eyes. “Are you alright? Gods, you look like hell. Can you walk?” He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, all he could do was stare. Arthur’s fingers curled against his neck, pulling his head closer and leaning in as the worry began to resurface. “Merlin?”

A weak laugh tumbled out in a wheezing manner as Merlin smiled faintly. “Arthur, it’s actually you.” Before the other could speak Merlin was lunging forwards, arms wrapping around his friend as he quietly laughed again.

“Of course it’s me.” The man muttered, though his arms drew up and hugged him back a moment later. “You’re such a girl.” He murmured without the slightest hint of irritation.

For the first time it didn’t matter where he was or how loud the screams were, it didn’t even matter what awaited him if he was found. Because somehow Arthur was there and for the first time he could hear. He could finally hear.

Chapter Text

Dawn had come and Arthur and Gwaine had yet to return. Gaius had a suspicion as to where they’d gone off to, but he’d refrained from saying it aloud for fear of worrying Gwen.

Leaning closer to his ward, the elder’s hands took one of Merlin’s and held it carefully, the limb limp against his as another shallow breath rattled out of the boy. Merlin had grown so much since arriving in Camelot. Really he was no longer even a boy. He’d grown into a brave, courageous and fiercely loyal man, someone Gaius was proud to consider his son.

He still had his stubborn streaks of course and while his magic had come a long way it was still in the process of being learned and mastered. But as he lay there with his head against the pillow and mouth partially open as he fought for each labored breath, Gaius had never seen him look so young and vulnerable.

His skin was flushed with a fever that wouldn’t break and his body would shudder from the occasional spasm, but what hurt the most was watching his face contort into one of pain every few minutes. He would be completely still and silent and then suddenly be in agonized fits.

Gaius had always wanted children and when Merlin came into his life he’d been thrilled. No, it hadn’t been easy at times, but he loved the boy more than he’d ever imagined he could. And now watching him lying there, fading away and dying before his very eyes, it hurt so much more than he could’ve ever prepared for.

Another labored breath rattled out of Merlin’s lungs, his head shifting as his fingers tightened around Gaius’ hands, a soft groan slipping past his lips as his body tensed and his brows drew together in discomfort.

“He’s getting worse, isn’t he?” Gwen asked softly, delicate fingers tightening around the boy’s arm as he settled back on the cot, a fresh sheen of sweat coating his face.

“Yes, I’m afraid he is.” Gaius cursed his weak voice, clearing his throat as the hand in his fell limp once more.

“Oh where has Arthur gone?” The woman murmured, running her fingers across her forehead and brushing away the strands of hair that had fallen into her face. “If anything happens while he’s away, I don’t think he’ll forgive himself.”

Dark eyes flitted up to the physician though the admittance was one Gaius was already aware of. Arthur and Merlin had such a strange relationship at times, yet one of the strongest he’d seen. He’d never doubted it in the past, but the lengths to which Arthur had already gone to in trying to help the boy had proven more to how he felt about his friend than anything else. Uther would likely be rolling over in his grave at what his son was doing. Even more so if he knew what Merlin was.

The room filled with the sound of a strangled gasp and Gaius jolted, looking to his ward as the noise cut off abruptly and the room became deathly still. “Merlin?” The elder spoke, one hand falling on the young warlock’s shoulder as the other fell to his chest that had stopped moving.

“No..” Gwen whispered, her hands covering her mouth as Gaius pressed firmly against the boy’s ribs, fear sending a chill through him.

“Come on, Merlin.” Pushing both hands down over his chest, Gaius repeated the action a couple of times before a weak cough sputtered out and his ward was drawing in another haggard breath. “Keep fighting, Merlin.” The physician murmured, dropping back into his chair wearily and taking hold of his hand again.

They couldn’t lose him, he couldn’t lose him. He knew the young warlock had a great destiny but that didn’t matter to him now. He just wanted Merlin to be safe, to live. Gaius wasn’t sure he could stand to watch him die.

The room was heavy with looming dread when the door pushed open and Arthur strode through, a stoic expression carefully displayed as he gestured a hooded stranger forwards. Walking into the room with Gwaine right behind him, the man lowered the hood of his faded blue cloak and met Gaius’ gaze with piercing green eyes.

“My name is Alard.” He offered with the smallest bow of his head before shifting his attention to the young warlock on the cot as Gwen rose from her chair and drew closer to Arthur.

“He’s here to help Merlin.” The King clarified roughly, cutting his eyes towards the sorcerer with all the distrust that his father used to hold as the young woman rested her hand on his arm.

“It was your curse that injured Merlin.” Gaius spoke sharply, lowering the boy’s hand back to the bed as the sorcerer took a few hesitant steps forwards.

“It was not my intention to harm him, believe me.” The words were uttered quietly as Alard reached out and placed his fingers against the boy’s forehead. With a flash of golden eyes and a sudden groan from Merlin the sorcerer jerked back, wrenching his hand away as if he’d been burned.

“What happened?” Arthur demanded as he took a step closer, the neutral mask he’d worn slipping as concern filled his eyes.

“How did it grow this strong?” Alard murmured, holding out his hand and staring at it intently as Gaius leaned closer.

“I have tried every remedy I know of, you must stop this before he is unable to wake up.”

“I cannot reverse what has been done.” He shook his head, still clutching his hand as he turned and surveyed the room. “But with the correct herbs, there is a solution.”

“I have a vast collection, use what you need.” The elder offered, acutely aware of the rising tension as the sorcerer made his way around the room. For several minutes the only sounds were those of Alard gathering supplies and of Merlin’s weak breathing as both the knight and the King watched his every move.

“I don’t understand, I thought you’d tried every form of herbal remedy on Merlin?” Gwaine spoke up, standing guard at the door as if he expected the sorcerer to try and run.

“I did, however-“

“However this is not for him.” The sorcerer cut in, returning to the table with his gathered supplies as he quickly located a mortar and pestle and began to grind a few of the leaves down.

“What do you mean it’s not for Merlin? Who is it for?” Arthur asked incredulously as Alard glanced up momentarily before looking back to his work.

“For you, My Lord.” Confused silence lingered as the sorcerer mixed the crushed herbs with a few drops of liquid and stirred it together. Pouring his concoction into a cup sitting next to him he gave it a small frown before adding in a few extra drops from a small blue vial.

Gaius hadn’t seen all the herbs he’d used, but the potion looked familiar. It was hurried and he’d used far too much for its intended use, but had he really just made-

“A sleeping draught.” Alard explained, gesturing towards the cup as Arthur’s body tensed.

“Why would I need a sleeping draught? What is this; you said you would help Merlin.”

“And I am.” He stated, resting his hands on the table and looking towards the young warlock. “He is stuck in a deep sleep, plagued by the curse and.. other things. The spell has grown incredibly strong and as I’ve said, I cannot reverse it.”

“You have yet to explain why my drinking something foul you’ve created will help Merlin in any way.”

“He’s dreaming. More accurately, he’s trapped in his dream and he’s not fighting against it. Maybe he can’t, or perhaps he’s not aware that he can. But I cannot revive him and he cannot remain in that state for much longer.” What he was saying had begun to make sense to the physician, though it appeared it had only succeeded in confusing the others.

“I’d never considered that.” Gaius mumbled out, finding himself impressed with the man’s thinking as Alard smiled thinly.

“Considered what? What is he proposing I do exactly, Gaius?” Arthur asked, his hand around Gwen’s as the elder sat up in his chair.

“There is an old spell, Arthur. Very old and very powerful where by ingesting a strong dose of a sleeping draught and placing yourself into a deep slumber, you can effectively enter another’s dream.” The King fell silent as his eyes returned to the cup sitting on the table, his brows drawing together in thought.

“It comes with a price, however.” The sorcerer interjected, tapping his fingers against the wood in a quick rhythm.

“Your freedom, yes, I’m aware. I already granted that.”

“Not a price for my help, My Lord, a price for helping your servant.” Shaking his head, Alard pointed to the cup and met Arthur’s gaze. “This spell can be dangerous, especially for someone in Merlin’s position. By linking your subconscious to his, if anything were to happen to him while you were connected, I wouldn’t be able to undo it. Your fate will lie with his.”

Blinking once, Arthur looked to the boy before narrowing his eyes. “You mean if Merlin dies before I can help him..”

“You’ll die as well.” Alard nodded, his tapping coming to an abrupt stop. “That is the price you must decide if you’re willing to pay. Your life at risk to save his.”

“Arthur..” Gwen’s hand wrapped around his arm, dark eyes staring up at him in worry as Gaius watched the two. “He stopped breathing moments before you came in. Gaius, he-he helped him but..”

The physician wrapped his hand around the boy’s once more, the weak pulse thrumming beneath his finger causing worry to bind around the elder’s heart. Gwen cared for Merlin greatly, but Arthur had to know the risk before he made his choice.

“What will happen?” The King asked, his hand covering Gwen’s as he looked between the sorcerer and the physician. “What will happen to him if I don’t?”

The two men exchanged a look, green eyes staring hard at Gaius as a silent understanding passed between them. “He will not recover on his own. If he is to live, this is the only way.”

“Then I haven’t got a choice, have I?”

“I’ll do it.” Gwaine announced, stepping away from the door. “You’re the King, Arthur. If you die, Camelot falls.”

“It must be him.” Alard interrupted, taking ahold of the cup and walking around the table. “The price to pay is his and his alone. The curse began with him and so shall it must end. There is no other way.”

“It’s alright.” Arthur waved towards his knight, patting Guinevere’s hand before pulling away from her. “I’ll do it.”

“Good, then we should begin.” Standing beside Merlin, the sorcerer pulled at the boy’s hair, yanking a few of the short strands free and dropping them in the cup.

“Wait, no, I’m not drinking that.” Arthur waved his hand, disgust morphing his face as Gaius refrained from smiling.

“You need a physical connection.” Was all the sorcerer said as he held the cup out and let his other hand hover over the top. “Gielde ic þæt heo onslæpe.” The potion glowed a deep blue for a moment before the sorcerer’s hand fell away and he offered the cup out to the King.

With a turned up nose and a half snarl, Arthur looked over the edge and stared down at the contents. “You’re sure this will work? Gaius?”

“It may very well be his only chance.” The elder nodded as the sorcerer looked around and gestured towards another cot.

“We’ll need to move that closer.” Waving over Gwaine, the two men picked up the cot and placed it beside Merlin’s, leaving a space between where Alard stood holding the potion. “Are you ready?”

“Do all potions smell like a dying rat?” Without a word the sorcerer held out the cup as Arthur took it warily, still frowning down at the contents as he sat on the edge of the cot. Beginning to lift the cup Arthur paused, his head turning and finding Gwen across the room. “The counsel.”

“What?”

“The documents, the ones about..” Trailing off, the blonde tipped his head a bit towards her as her mouth formed a small ‘o’ shape. “I was supposed to take them this morning.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand the delay.” She reassured him as he braced his hand on the edge of the cot.

“No, Gwen, they have to be taken, just in case. They’re on my desk in a stack, the only thing there. Please, will you deliver them?” His voice turned softer at the request as Gwen clasped her hands together, obviously fighting the urge to decline when she finally nodded.

“I’ll be right back, alright?” Walking past and letting her fingers drift against his shoulder the woman disappeared out the doors as Arthur cleared his throat.

“That idiot better be grateful for this.” He muttered out as he closed his eyes and lifted the cup to his lips. In a couple of swigs the potion was gone though the disgust on the blonde’s face remained, the King sputtering out a cough as he ran a hand across his mouth. “That was disgusting.” He groaned, swaying where he sat as Alard took the cup and rested a hand on his shoulder while guiding him onto his back. “What do I have to do?” He murmured, staring blearily at the ceiling as Gaius squeezed Merlin’s hand before letting it go.

“What you were meant to do in the beginning; listen.” Alard instructed as Arthur’s head sagged, glazing eyes settling on the raven haired boy beside him. Reaching out and resting a hand on either of their foreheads, the sorcerer closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Ic ácwice þé. Ic þé bebíede þæt þú ne slæpest. Gielde ic þec þissa meowles sawol.” As the sorcerer chanted a golden glow had blue hues shimmering, Arthur’s eyes falling closed as the enchantment was finished and Alard pulled away.

“What happens now?” Gwaine asked, side eyeing the sorcerer as he looked to Gaius.

“All that we can do, wait.” The elder replied, looking down at the two resting forms that lay side by side.

“How are we supposed to know that this will actually work, that you’ve not just condemned Arthur to a fate as bad as Merlin’s?” Gwaine asked gruffly, crossing his arms as the sorcerer stepped to the side.

“You don’t, all you have is my word.”

“Which isn’t a lot.” The knight scoffed, glancing to Gaius again. “What if neither of them wakes up?”

“Arthur will wake when the sleeping draught wears off in a few hours. So long as Merlin’s health holds, he will be fine.” The physician assured, leaning closer to his ward. “I only pray he will help Merlin to wake as well.”

“He better.” Gwaine uttered, sending a harsh glare towards the sorcerer who eased himself down onto a stool near the corner of the room.

“Your ire is felt, Sir Knight, but believe me when I say this was not my intention. I was unaware of how powerful it would become once he stepped in the way.” Alard sighed, staring at the two with a contemplating gaze as Gwaine scoffed.

“I don’t care what you ‘intended’. If Merlin dies, I’ll run you through before you can make it to the door.”

“If he dies,” He began, his gaze never wavering from the two cots. “I’ll have killed the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the Earth as well as Albion’s only hope. If that happens,” Looking up, hollow green eyes shifted between the knight and the physician as a haunted expression drifted over his face. “I’ll let you.”

Chapter Text

The dry air was the first thing he noticed. The second was the heat beneath him and the third was the dull ache in his head. Staring blearily up at the ceiling, Arthur couldn’t place where he was. Had he fallen asleep without realizing?

Shifting his head, his gaze settled on the blurry shapes across from him. A table and a chair, both broken and shoved off to the side. There was a fireplace too, and as the world around him came more into focus he could make out shattered fragments of glass littering the floor. He was in the physician’s chambers, but why was everything in shambles?

The ache in his head spread towards his eyes, the King wincing as he swallowed and felt the dryness of his throat. Had he come for help? Why couldn’t he remember? It felt like a dream. A strange dream that did not belong to him.

Jolting upright, Arthur turned to look beside him, his body lying on the floor instead of a cot, and found the dark haired servant nowhere to be seen. Pushing himself off the ground Arthur took another look around, eyeing the ruined chambers warily.

Drapes had been torn and left on the floor while the shelves Gaius always kept so meticulous had been broken, the vials of potions and remedies smashed against the floor and thrown into the hearth. A wave of nausea struck the King as Arthur lurched forwards, sweat gathering along his brow as he swayed unsteadily.

They’re coming.

Run!

Find him!

Get away!

Listen.

Placing a hand on the wall to steady himself, the King shook his head in an attempt to rid the feeling of dread rising within him. Why did he feel so much fear? Terror clawed at his chest and twisted tightly in his stomach, yet he couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t his worry over Merlin, no, he’d felt that for days and it was nothing like this. This feeling was something different, something that crept up from the depths of his mind and latched onto him with all its might.

Visions of blood and death filled his head, flashes of his father and Morgana making the man dizzy as Arthur staggered, his body seeming to weigh heavier by the second as he sagged weakly against the wall.

Curling his fingers against the stone, Arthur’s eyes closed and panic wound around his heart, his breaths coming out harder and faster. What was happening? Why couldn’t he breathe? There was too much fear, too much panic, too much pan.

Merlin.

Blue eyes flew open as the wave pulled away, the flashes of thoughts and the aches of misery fading away as the King shuddered, sucking in a shallow breath. Was that what Merlin felt? All the fear and the terror, reliving his greatest regrets and worst moments in unending succession? He could hardly bear the thought as he pushed away from the wall and ran a hand through his hair.

They’re coming!

The faintest whisper drifted over the King, though it wasn’t out loud around him. It was as if the voice had slipped into his mind and curled around him, urging him to listen. This time though he didn’t have to wonder where it came from because he already knew what it was. All around him, pouring out of every surface he could sense it, the feeling of magic. It was heavy, the air practically tasting of the old power as Arthur took another breath and made his way out through the partially opened door.

The halls were cracked and broken, pieces of stone and debris scattered along the ground as the King walked, his eyes looking around at the ruined citadel around him. Pillars had been smashed and glass shattered, everywhere the man stepped he found his home in ruins. When Merlin spoke of his dreams he never mentioned the citadel itself, only the pyre that towered outside. Was this how it always looked? Or was this new?

Making his way outside and down the cracked steps, Arthur nearly froze at the sight of smoke heavy in the sky. His steps slowed as moisture gathered in his eyes and the scent of something burning swept over him. A single scream pierced through the air, loud and long and sending a chill down the blonde’s spine as he ventured further, spotting the mountainous pyre that Merlin had told him of.

He’d never doubted what Merlin said, but he was vastly unprepared for the actual image of it before him. It was the biggest he’d ever seen with large piles of wood stacked along the edges as the flames ate away at the fuel greedily. Thick clouds of smoke traveled through the air, making it even more dry and acrid as the man moved to cover his face.

A shadow shifted within the flames, a trembling hand reaching out to him desperately as his stomach turned. Stumbling away, another scream broke out, followed by two others as Arthur ducked his head at the noise.

Looking to the right where the first shriek had originated, he caught sight of a lumbering form staggering towards him. As it grew closer, Arthur was able to see more defining features, features he wished he could erase from his mind the moment he saw them.

Fingers that had been crushed and mangled reached towards the pyre while burned flesh that hung off the bones of the body’s arms brushed against a caved in side, the chest of the body half exposed and bleeding down its legs as Arthur’s eyes grew wide.

The face of the body was somehow more horrific, due to the fact that there wasn’t a face at all. Instead of eyes there were only two gaping holes, blood pooling from the sockets and down over where the nose and mouth should have been, but instead only had mutilated flesh that looked as if it had been carved away with a rusted blade.

Another wail sounded, coming directly from the creature he couldn’t look away from, and it sounded angry. Arthur’s heart pounded while guilt and horror washed over him as the King ducked behind a wall and struggled to draw in a decent breath.

All this time, is this what was plaguing Merlin? Those creatures and their screams? They were people once, weren’t they? Were they the sorcerers that his father had condemned? That he had condemned?

Arthur’s eyes closed tightly before wrenching back open, an image of the gore burned into the back of his eyelids. He had to get Merlin out of this place. But first that required actually finding the boy.

Glancing up at the citadel, his eyes scanned over the outside which looked just as worn and broken as the inside had. Large chunks of the walls had been wrenched free, the remains scattered in smaller pieces on the grounds. Further off, one far side of the citadel had crumbled all together, debris collecting into a large pile beside what had once been sturdy walls.

There were so many places to look, how was he supposed to find him in time? Before he got worse, before his breathing stopped again? Before they both were condemned to the same fate he’d forced on the sorcerers.

Another scream rose up, one that sounded disturbingly triumphant. Arthur pulled closer to the wall, leaning his head around as he watched two deformed bodies pulling themselves up from the ground as one wailed and stretched out a broken limb. Following the direction of the arm he spotted another blood covered body running towards the stables, though it seemed more intact than the other’s he’d seen.

Save him!

The words hit him like a punch, his body lurching forwards as he watched the form duck down, a mop of black hair sticking up over a half wall for the briefest moment before it disappeared.

“Merlin.” Arthur murmured, starting towards him as one of the faceless creatures turned, a head barely connected to its neck facing directly towards the King. “Damn.” He muttered, backing away slowly before he turned and ran.

The wailing that echoed behind him was inhuman, heavy footsteps chasing after him as sweat poured down the King’s face. The heat was agonizing just by itself, stripping the oxygen from the air and making each breath harder to force out. He had a suspicion though that if he dared to try and stop at one of the pumps he’d only find them dry.

Was this what Alard had planned? To force them into this hell? Or was this because it had struck Merlin instead? But then why had it manifested into such a horrific nightmare? He had too many questions and absolutely no answers.

Leaping over a mound of debris and rounding the corner, Arthur caught sight of the ruined stables to his right, the only place Merlin could’ve possibly been headed. Why had he not gone to the citadel, gone in one of the rooms and barricaded himself in?

“He’s not fighting against it.” That was what the sorcerer had said. So he was just running, but when would that prove to not be enough?

Ducking behind a half standing pillar and dropping to the ground, Arthur peered behind him and spotted three of the faceless bodies working their way towards him. He was faster than them, there was no doubt about that. But what good would running do? At some point they’d need to stop and those things appeared to be everywhere.

Creeping slowly away from the pillar and hiding himself behind the larger pieces of debris, Arthur bolted towards the torn apart stables, glancing over his shoulder as he ducked behind a splintered rafter to be sure he hadn’t been seen. Letting out a slow breath, Arthur waited an extra moment before crouching and carefully moving around the outer edge of the building.

It had been stripped haphazardly, leaving wide open gaps in some areas while leaving fully fleshed walls in others. Making it near the back half, Arthur came to a halt as he spotted that same head of hair huddled in the shadows in the corner of a stall through a torn out opening where it looked as if someone had ripped it apart with their bare hands. He’d drawn himself close as he’d done in the tower, making himself appear as small as possible as he sagged against one of the few posts still standing.

Looking behind him a final time, Arthur crept beneath a fallen beam and inched his way inside, placing his boots carefully on the debris so as not to make noise and draw attention from anything lurking outside. Merlin’s head had begun to fall, his chin resting against his chest as Arthur neared him, looking him over with a worried gaze.

Stepping over the last broken post and kneeling near the boy, Arthur reached out and grabbed his shoulders, hoping to keep him as quiet as possible without frightening him more. Merlin’s head jerked up at the contact and the boy shoved himself away, wincing in pain as wide blue eyes stared up at him. Starting to lift a hand in assurance he watched as fear crept across the boy’s face as he blinked a couple of times.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked softly, though the words didn’t seem to affect him as he reached out again. As he tried Merlin shoved himself further away, his back hitting one of the fallen pieces of wood as he barely shook his head.

“Not you, please.” He murmured, his voice cracking as his head fell and he pushed harder against the wood that kept him from running. “Anyone but you.”

Arthur frowned as Merlin’s fingers curled into the dirt, a small tremor running through him as the blonde swallowed down the hurt that struck him. What had he been through already? Merlin didn’t cower like this, he’d never acted in such a manner before, so why now? Why did he seem so afraid of him?

Inching closer, Arthur’s hands took hold of the boy’s arms carefully, hoping to urge the servant to look at him. If he would just look at him he could try to explain that he wasn’t going to hurt him, that he was there to help. Instead, a weak and broken voice uttered out six words that felt like a sword had been driven through Arthur’s chest. “Please, I don’t want to burn.”

Looking over the boy slowly, Arthur’s eyes drifted over the cuts littering his skin and the bright discolored patches beneath torn and singed clothing as his stomach churned. Just how many times had he been forced into the fire already?

Keeping one hand on his arm, the other reached out and shifted to the side of Merlin’s neck, turning his head and urging him to look up as he tried to gauge how bad his injuries were. There was blood mixed with sweat and dirt on almost every inch of his body, either smeared or pooled or openly bleeding. A newfound hate for the sorcerer rose within the King as Merlin’s head finally lifted, eyes watered down with unshed tears looking at him warily.

“Merlin?” He asked slowly, forming the words carefully as a hint of recognition flitted across his face. That was more than enough for him as Arthur breathed a little easier. “Are you alright? Gods, you look like hell. Can you walk?” He knew he was talking too fast, he hadn’t given the boy time to catch any of the words. He was just staring at him, his mouth parted in shock as Arthur’s fingers curled around his neck and pulled him closer as he leaned his own head in until their foreheads nearly touched. “Merlin?”

And suddenly he was laughing. It was weak, and short lived, but it was a sound Arthur hadn’t heard in ages. “Arthur, it’s actually you.” He breathed out with relief, the fear disappearing entirely. He was about to speak, to ask why he’d been so afraid when Merlin’s body moved forwards. The boy’s arms were around him before he could utter a word, eyes widening at the hug as another softer laugh left the boy.

“Of course it’s me.” He muttered, drawing his arms up to return the hug as he rolled his eyes. “You’re such a girl.” He huffed out as a sense of relief and normality struck him, undeniable joy nearly bringing a smile to his lips.

“Wait,” Merlin mumbled, pulling away after a moment though his hands remained on Arthur’s shoulders. “How are you here? I-I don’t understand.”

“It’s-“ Arthur started, trying to find a way to explain it to him simply as a shrill scream pierced through the air nearby and both men flinched. “We’ve got to go, they’re coming.”

Pushing himself up, Arthur grabbed ahold of the boy’s elbow and eased him up with him. As he did the boy groaned, stumbling forwards and crashing into his friend as Arthur held him steady. “Merlin?” The up and down worry was going to kill him, Arthur just knew it. He was foolish to have believed the boy was alright, not with the way he looked, not with what he’d had to have been through before he got there.

“I’m fine.. My leg just gave out.. I’m fine.” He hissed, bracing himself against Arthur’s shoulder as he turned his leg and looked down at it. Stretched along his calf was a burn that covered the majority of the limb, the trousers he wore torn away to reveal the blistered skin that had been ripped open in a couple of places and leaked blood into his boot.

“What did they do to you?” The King asked uselessly as Merlin grimaced, his eyes unable to see his words.

“I’m fine.” He repeated as Arthur wrapped an arm around the boy’s waist to help guide him out. “Arthur, I’m fine, I can walk.”

Pulling away, he flashed the blonde a small smile that faded the moment another wail drifted through the air. “Okay, let’s go.”

Climbing carefully over the debris, the two made their way back through the hole Arthur had come inside from. Slipping out first and turning back, Arthur offered the boy his hand as Merlin grabbed ahold and was pulled through, stumbling with all of his usual grace onto the ground outside. “Clumsy even in your dreams, Merlin. Now that’s talent.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t tried to yank my shoulder out of place.” He shot back, his eyes on his arm as he stood and brushed away the dirt from one of his wounds with a grimace.

“Maybe if you were faster and-“ The King’s words cut off abruptly, mouth falling open as the servant looked up and gave him a curious glance.

“What? Don’t tell me you’ve thought better of your remark.”

“You heard me.” Arthur sputtered, disbelief raging through him as Merlin’s lips curved into the smallest smile.

“Apparently you’re so loud even the deaf can’t ignore you. Congratulations, Sire.”

“Shut up, Merlin.” He retorted, though the smile on his own face was inarguably the widest he’d had since everything began.

“They’re coming.” The boy’s smile fell again as he looked behind the King, grabbing at Arthur’s arm as the two took off back towards the citadel.

“Have you just been running from them?”

“What else is there to do?” Merlin panted, his pace far slower than Arthur’s as the boy fought to keep up with him.

“Fight back?” He offered, slowing his pace to match Merlin’s as the servant shook his head quickly.

“No.” He murmured, a flash of fear darting over his features. “We can’t fight them.”

“Why not?”

“We just can’t!” His sudden outburst startled Arthur, narrowing his eyes at the boy who looked away guiltily. “All I can do is hide, but they always find me. Always.”

Sighing, Arthur caught the boy’s arm and yanked him to the left, tugging him behind a cracked wall as a faceless form staggered past. “Well where do we go then?” He whispered, Merlin’s shoulder pressed into his chest as the boy practically wheezed beside him.

“There’s not many places I haven’t been. They’re slow, but they never stop. I’ve only managed to hide for a few minutes at a time before one of them finds me.” He grumbled out, sweat running down both of their faces as Arthur pressed his head back against the stone. Maybe if they found somewhere to hide they could work out a plan from there. Besides, Merlin couldn’t run around for much longer, he looked ready to collapse as it was. “Arthur you never said, how are you here?”

“You’re asking this now?” The blonde hissed, glaring at him as Merlin stared back with a pained expression. “I found the sorcerer.” He stated simply, looking around them as Merlin caught his breath.

“Did you..” He hesitated, and his eyes were full of that same terror as before.

“I didn’t kill him.” He found himself assuring the boy, pleased yet confused at the relief that flooded onto his face. “He cast a spell, a second one, to put me here in your dream.” He felt a flush of embarrassment at the admission, glancing away as his servant gaped at him.

“You let a sorcerer cast a spell? On you? Willingly?”

“Well what other option was there?” He replied, still refusing to look at him. “You were dying.”

“Wait, what spell did he cast?” Merlin asked, suddenly staring intently at the King.

“Why does it matter?”

“Arthur, what spell.”

“Some sleeping enchantment, how should I know?” He waved his hand around, already knowing what the boy was getting at. But he couldn’t know what the risk was, could he? “I took a sleeping draught, nothing more.”

“If you just took a sleeping draught you wouldn’t be here.”

“Why do you care?”

“Arthur.” Why was he so intent on knowing? What did it matter how?

“He connected our subconsciouses so that I could enter your dream.” He forced out, meeting the other’s eyes as Merlin’s face contorted into one of shock and then irritation.

“How could you do that?” He hissed as a scream had them huddling closer to the wall.

“What do you mean how could I do that? I came to save your life.” He muttered back, frustration at his response welling up inside him.

“Arthur, I know how bad it is.” He scoffed, anger lighting up his eyes as his shoulder shifted against him. “I know how sick I am. What you’ve done, if something happens to me, you’ll die.”

“And if I didn’t you would’ve.” Arthur shot back. How did Merlin even know about a spell like that? Had Gaius mentioned it at some point?

“You’re the King, Arthur. The life of a servant is nothing compared to the King.”

“You would have rather I let you die?” He asked, his voice falling quiet as Merlin’s mouth opened to respond though no words came out. “You’d have rather I left you here, condemn you to this same fate?” When the boy failed to speak Arthur scoffed, turning away again. “That’s what I thought.”

“My life is nothing compared to yours, Arthur. Camelot needs you.”

“Aren’t you a piece of Camelot?” His voice rose, glaring at the idiot who couldn’t seem to get it. “I wasn’t going to leave you here to die, Merlin, so shut up about it.” Silence lingered over them as the servant stared at the ground, his fingers probing gently at a cut on his forearm as Arthur looked around them. “We need to find a place to go until we figure out a plan. We’re too out in the open here.”

“The tower.” Merlin spoke quietly.

“What?”

“The tower.” He repeated, pulling away and starting towards the pavilion. “It’s one of the places I haven’t gone yet and it will take them longer to go up the stairs.”

Following after him, the two made their way around carefully, keeping distance between them and the hordes when Merlin slowed. His eyes were trained on the fire and Arthur could sense the fear settling over him.

“Quit dragging your feet.” He spoke, jarring the other as he ducked his head.

“I’m not.” Merlin retorted quietly, his pace picking up again as they climbed the stairs and worked their way through the halls.

Giving up caution for speed, the two began to run as they dodged around the debris and over the cracked floors that had jagged pieces of stone jutting out in certain places. Heat and sweat clung to the two, each breath heavier than the last as the blonde swallowed thickly and moved faster. A horrifying screech rose up behind them as Arthur ducked around a corner and kept running, spotting the last staircase ahead of them.

“Arthur!” Skidding to a stop the King looked behind him, cursing at the lack of an annoying servant by his side.

“Merlin!”

“Let go, let go of me!”

Turning back around the corner Arthur found Merlin and one of the faceless horde struggling. The boy’s arm was clasped tightly between bloodied fingers while its second hand reached towards his throat as another piercing screech had Arthur shying away. Merlin was struggling to fight back, a hand already slick with its blood shoving at its arm as he stumbled unevenly over the rubble on the ground.

Reaching down and picking up a piece of cracked stone, Arthur strode forwards as Merlin tugged at his own arm in an attempt to free it. Slamming the stone down hard against the body’s arm, a sickening snap sounded and it screeched louder, the King flinching away as its fingers retracted from his servant and Merlin staggered towards him.

“Go!” He yelled, shoving at the boy’s shoulder as he rounded the corner once more and they made their way towards the next stairwell.

“They’ll never stop.” The boy mumbled beside him, his pace falling slower as the blonde continued to push him forwards. “They blame me for what’s happened to them, they want me to burn, to burn like they did. They’ll never stop.” He was rambling faster now, the words almost incoherent as he stopped and caused Arthur to nearly trip over him.

“Merlin, we don’t have time for this.” He sighed, pushing at him to move though the boy remained stubbornly in place.

“They’re not going to stop until I burn.” His voice was a haunted whisper as Arthur felt a pang in his chest, his hands grabbing Merlin’s shoulders as he turned the boy to look at him.

“That’s not going to happen.” He spoke sharply, staring into the broken blue eyes that didn’t belong on his friend. “I won’t let it, do you hear me? Now we have to go.” Keeping a hand against his arm he ushered him up the rest of the stairs as Merlin’s gaze fell to the floor and his ramblings turned to disconcerting silence.

Reaching the top and walking through the hall Arthur had frequented with the boy in their normal life, he felt a sense of hope. “Come on, we’re almost there.” He encouraged, keeping a firm hand on him as they stepped inside a room at the end of the hall.

It was around the size of the physician’s chambers, though it had obviously been untouched for a long time given the amount of dust that floated through the air the second they stepped inside. Pushing the door closed behind him and catching his breath, he spotted Merlin staring at him strangely.

“What?”

“The door, it closed.”

“That’s what doors are intended for, Merlin. I thought you’d at least be aware of that much.” The shifting of his expression was some relief to the blonde as he walked over and caught sight of the boy’s arm cradled against his body. “What did that thing do?” He asked, reaching out and pushing away his hand as his mouth fell open. “How the hell did that thing manage that?” He gaped, staring at the large cuts that dug into the boy’s arm. Four deep holes that had been driven through his skin bled thin streams of crimson as Merlin barely shook his head.

“The doors never closed for me before.” The servant stated, referring to the question before as Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Or perhaps you didn’t have the strength. You’ve got hardly any actual muscle on you at all. Maybe if you’d listen to me for once and try to get in better shape you wouldn’t have such trouble with a single door.” He scoffed, reaching out and ripping the sleeve of Merlin’s tunic more until he’d obtained a strip of the fabric.

“You have to wake up.” Merlin shook his head, barely reacting as the King tied the fabric around the fresh wound and secured it in place.

“I will, when we figure out how to wake you up as well.”

“They’ll never stop. They’ll keep coming. You’ll be hurt, or killed.”

“This isn’t up for discussion Merlin, we’ll figure out a way.”

“The sorcerer didn’t tell you?” The question had the King glancing up, watching as the boy stood stiffly in the center of the room. “When he cast the spell, did he not tell you what you needed to do?”

“He said to listen.” Arthur said slowly, a muffled scream sounding out in the hall as Arthur moved towards the door and pressed his back against the panels.

“That’s it? Nothing else?” Merlin asked, moving suddenly and bracing his back against the door beside his friend.

“No, he mentioned you weren’t fighting though. That you couldn’t, or didn’t know you could.”

“He said that?” Merlin turned his head to study him as a heavy weight slammed against the door, jarring the both of them.

“Do you know what he meant?” Arthur questioned, another slam jerking him as he dug his feet against the floor. “Because if you do, now would be the time to say it!”

“He can’t have meant that, it won’t work.” Merlin muttered, his eyes staring across the room though he appeared to be somewhere else entirely.

“What won’t?” Arthur asked as an angry screech startled the two, followed closely by two more manic screams as the door shuddered again.

“He couldn’t have meant that. It didn’t work before so why would it now?”

“Merlin, what are you talking about?”

“Unless somethings changed, something he knew would change.” The boy was rambling to himself again, barely seeming to notice as the door shook behind them. “He wouldn’t, would he? Oh, he would.”

“Merlin, answer me!” Arthur shouted, startling the boy back to reality as he looked up at him, an unreadable expression crossing his face as he locked eyes with the blonde.

“Move.”

“What?”

“Move out of the way, we have to let them in.” He spoke slowly, pushing himself away from the door and walking towards the center of the room again.

“Have you been struck in the head? If we let them in they’ll kill you!”

Merlin shook his head slowly, his hands clasping together as his fingers picked at one of his nailbeds in a nervous manner. “No they won’t.”

“Yes they will, you said it yourself!” What was wrong with him? Why was he acting like that?

“Do you trust me?” The question came out of nowhere, Arthur’s hands pressing flat against the door as the next crash sent his feet sliding as the growing horde fought to get inside.

“What are you talking about?”

“Arthur, do you trust me?”

It was asked so intently, his eyes staring hard at him as Arthur swallowed once. “Yes.”

“Then move.”

“Are you planning to throw yourself at them? Because if this is you trying to be noble keep in mind that if you die I will as well.” He warned, a feeling of dread beginning to surface as Merlin’s eyes closed for a moment and the ghost of a smile lit up his face. But then it was gone, and blue eyes that carried the weight of the world stared back at him.

“Move, let them in.”

He tried to think of another way to argue, of a way to get whatever his plan was out of him, but instead Arthur found himself pulling away and walking towards him. Maybe he’d decided to fight back after all?

“I’m sorry.” Merlin said quietly, taking a step to his right and creating distance between the two of them as Arthur froze. The door shuddered again, a splintering noise erupting from the frame though the King’s eyes were stuck on his friend. Something wasn’t right. Something really wasn’t right.

“I’m really sorry, this isn’t.. I-I didn’t want this..” He trailed off, the door crashing again as a piece of wood broke free and the door swung open.

“Merlin?”

“This wasn’t the way I wanted you to find out.” Backing further away from the door, blue hues met the King’s before they turned, moving onto the horde of beaten and burned bodies that began to crowd towards him.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, feeling the dread crash over him in wave after wave. What was he planning? What was he hoping to gain from letting them in? And why did he look at him like he was about to lose everything?

“I’m sorry.” He uttered a final time, shifting back one more step as he lifted his hand out towards the horde.

“Merlin, what are you doing?” Arthur demanded, panic rising in his throat as he took a step forwards.

“Ic þé wiþdrífe.” The spell rolled off Merlin’s tongue with ease as several of the bodies went flying back, crashing into others and knocking them to the floor in motionless heaps. Not that Arthur cared, or could even focus on them. All he could see were eyes that had once been blue that now flashed gold.

Merlin. Idiotic, bumbling, lying Merlin. His best friend, the person he’d trusted with everything, the one who had never failed him or let him down. The man that he’d risked his life to save, the man that he’d considered to be one of the most important people in his life, had just used magic. Which meant that Merlin was a sorcerer; and he’d betrayed him.

Chapter Text

“Do you trust me?” The question came out easier than his breath did, his chest constricting as Merlin met Arthur’s gaze across from him.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, brows drawing together in apprehension as the warlock swallowed down his fear.

“Arthur, do you trust me?”

Blue eyes locked onto blue as a beat of silence followed the repeated words before the blonde’s head barely tilted forwards. “Yes.”

“Then move.” Merlin urged, his fingers picking at his nailbeds nervously as Arthur’s back pressed tighter against the door as the horde outside grew restless.

“Are you planning to throw yourself at them?” He demanded, concern for the boy clear on his face as guilt slammed against the warlock. “Because if this is you trying to be noble keep in mind that if you die I will as well.”

“Move, let them in.” He repeated, his voice turning softer as he watched the internal struggle happening inside his friend. After a moment the warlock’s request won out, the King pushing himself away from the door and beginning to make his way closer to the boy.

“I’m sorry.” The words fell out before Merlin could stop them, his body shifting away from Arthur as the man froze. “I’m really sorry, this isn’t.. I-I didn’t want this..” The door jarred again, one of the creatures thrusting their weight against it and causing a splintering noise to sound as a piece of wood broke free and the door swung open.

“Merlin?” Arthur called, a mix of emotions on his face as the warlock fought to control his breathing. Gods, why did he have to look at him like that?

“This wasn’t the way I wanted you to find out.” And it wasn’t, this was never what he wanted. He had given a lot of thought to when he would admit to his magic, but using it in front of the man was certainly not on the list at all.

Tearing his gaze away from the other and settling it on the horde that had begun to amass towards him, he heard Arthur’s strained voice. “What are you talking about?”

Shuffling back a step to allow more inside, Merlin’s eyes darted over the bodies as he counted them in his head. It was almost time, he couldn’t put it off any longer. “I’m sorry.” He spoke again, his words ridden with guilt as he released a slow, albeit trembling, breath and stretched out his hand.

“Merlin, what are you doing?” Arthur demanded, taking a step towards him.

"Ic þé wiþdrífe." A breath of magic left the warlock, the spell a familiar feeling that wrapped around him as the horde in front of him fell back, bodies crashing into others before falling into motionless heaps at their feet. A surge of energy shot through Merlin and raced through his veins as the throbbing he’d felt so prominently in every inch of his body began to wane.

Dropping his hand, the warlock’s eyes shifted back to the only person who was still standing. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. He’d often wondered how Arthur would react and the scenario had played out in his head multiple times in several different fashions. In some there was screaming, in others things were thrown, and in one he’d attacked him. But in no way could he have prepared for the expression that the King wore so openly. Not anger, not even fear. Just hurt.

The silence that lingered between them was more deafening than anything the warlock had felt in the past few weeks as Merlin stared back at the man nervously. Why wasn’t he speaking? “Arthur?” He ventured, swallowing thickly.

“Magic.” The word came out quietly, the King’s body not even moving an inch as Merlin felt his heart begin to beat faster. “You have magic.” It was a statement, not a question, and it was one that ended with a hint of anger.

“Yes.” Merlin barely nodded, afraid to move himself as his eyes darted away.

“How long?” Glancing up, the warlock’s brows knit together as Arthur inhaled sharply and glared at him. “How long have you been practicing magic?” And there it was, there was the anger rearing its head.

He almost wished the fury was all that was there, but that hurt still resided firmly on his face and Merlin fumbled to find the right words. “Arthur, I haven’t-“

“I just saw you, Merlin, you can’t deny it!” He shouted, the sudden rise in volume startling the boy as his body tensed. “How long have you been doing this behind my back?”

“I haven’t been practicing magic, I was-“

“What? You were what, Merlin?” He demanded, cutting off the boy as his fists clenched by his sides. “Going against the law? Against me? Magic is banned and yet you, you’re a sorcerer.” He said the word as if it were the worst thing in the world, as if Merlin were the worst thing to exist.

“I was born with it!” The warlock shouted back, hurt of his own beginning to surface as a look of confusion struck the blonde.

“No you weren’t.” He scoffed, shaking his head at the notion.

“Yes, I was.”

“No, you weren’t. That’s not possible you can’t be born with magic.”

“Well yes you can!” Merlin extended his arms out as frustration wove into his voice. “At least I can. And I was. I didn’t go behind your back, Arthur.”

“Really?” The laugh that left the man was short lived and filled with rage. “You betrayed me. All this time, you’ve lied to me.”

“I haven’t betrayed you, Arthur!” The boy’s voice nearly cracked, unable to believe that’s what he thought. “I have never once betrayed you! I am loyal to you, Arthur. Only you!”

“You call this loyalty?” Gesturing towards the fallen horde and then at Merlin, Arthur shook his head again. “No, Merlin. This is called betrayal.”

“How can you stand there and say that?” His throat was raw from shouting and his hands trembled beside him. “After everything we’ve done, everything we’ve been through, how can you stand there and say that I’ve betrayed you? I never have and I never would!”

A piercing shriek broke through their argument, both men turning their head towards the door as one of the creatures beside them shuddered.

“We have to go.” Merlin said quietly, his eyes on the floor. “We can’t stay here.”

“No.” Glancing up, Arthur had backed away from him, staring at the boy in such a way he was certain a knife to his chest would hurt less. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Narrowing his eyes at him, Merlin’s fingers tightened into fists. “Why? Because now you know I have magic? Five minutes ago you were ready to follow me.”

“Five minutes ago you were someone I could trust.”

“I still am!” Merlin cried out, his voice strained as a hand lifted to his chest. “Arthur nothing had changed, nothing!”

“You’re wrong.” The King stated coolly, turning his back to his servant as he started towards the door. “Everything has.”

Standing alone in the middle of the room, broken blue hues watched as the man stormed from the chambers and out into the hall. Closing his eyes tight and sucking in a shallow breath, Merlin trailed behind him, an ache that had nothing to do with his injuries coursing through him.

Catching up to where the blonde was walking, the warlock stayed a couple of paces behind as another screech had him flinching. Casting a wary look behind them, Merlin felt panic begin to rise as one of the faceless creatures he’d dealt with began to lumber after them.

“They’re coming!” He yelled, jogging up to Arthur and grabbing at his sleeve only to have the King wrench his arm back and draw away, creating a distance between the two as Merlin looked away. Why did it have to come to this? If they had time to sit and discuss it, surely he could get Arthur to hear him out, to just listen to him. How could he possibly think he’d ever betray him? Everything he’d done was for him, every time he risked his life it was for that prat and he honestly believed he could betray him?

Rounding a corner and descending the staircase they’d traveled up not long before, Arthur turned down a different hall before stumbling to a stop at the sight of two more of the bodies staggering towards them. Without a word the duo turned back and began to run, ducking to the right and coming to another crashing halt at a partially caved in wall blocking their path.

Cursing, Arthur looked behind them as Merlin took a step closer to the destruction, catching sight of a doorway that led to one of the guest chambers that had a small opening still uncovered.

“Through here!” He called, climbing over the larger pieces of rubble and crouching down to slip into the room as Arthur followed close behind. Pulling in heavy breaths of the dry air, Merlin pressed his back against the wall and peered around the small space.

It was in the same disarray as the rest of the citadel was, but there wasn’t any blood which he took as a good sign. Perhaps they’d stumbled onto an area the horde couldn’t get to.

Glancing to his right as Arthur fell back against the wall nearby, he found the anger and the hurt had given way to a blank canvas, the King hiding his emotions from his servant as Merlin’s head dropped with a soft sigh.

Lifting his hand to the arm that Arthur had freed and tended to, his fingers probed at the fresh cuts beneath the stained fabric as he stared hard at the cracked floor while a chorus of screams erupted from the pavilion outside.

“Why?”

Turning his head at the voice, Merlin found harsh blue eyes staring back at him. “Why what?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

A tense pause lingered in the air as the two stared before Merlin barely shrugged. “You’d have had me burned.”

“What?” Shock, horror and hurt all flickered across Arthur’s face as the neutral mask he wore slipped away. “No! No, I-“ He hesitated, his head dropping as he looked away. “I don’t know what I would have done.” He finished quietly as Merlin let out a short breath.

“Exactly.” Looking back up at the warlock, Merlin shifted to look at him better. “I never wanted you to have to be in that position.”

“That’s what worried you?” He asked incredulously as a faint smile tugged at the boy’s lips.

“Arthur, I know how you feel about magic, but not all of its bad.” He said carefully, studying the other man as a hard look settled in his eyes.

“You could have.. You should have told me.” He said sternly, a reproachful glare sent towards his servant.

“I know.” The boy admitted weakly, dropping his head as guilt and shame tugged at him simultaneously. “I’d planned to, but I just never found the right time.”

“Never the right time? At any point, Merlin, at any point you could have come to me. You should have come to me.” Arthur chided as Merlin let out a wry laugh.

“Any point? You mean when your father was alive and would have had me killed without a second thought? Or when you were on a rampage against all magic yourself?”

“No, don’t even go there.” Arthur snapped, pointing a finger towards the boy’s chest. “How many times did I ask you what you thought of magic, how you felt? And what of now? My father is dead, Merlin, you had the chance at any point. You should have trusted me, like I thought I could trust you.”

“You can trust me!” Merlin’s voice rose in pitch as he turned, bracing his shoulder against the wall. “Everything I’ve done, Arthur, It’s been for you! It’s only ever been for you and I’ve never betrayed you!”

“Really?” A dark look passed across the man’s features as a smile that was anything but kind stretched across his lips. “How many times then, Merlin? How many times have you used your magic on me?”

The question struck the warlock like a heavy blow from a shield, the breath stolen from his lungs as he looked away, his guilt mounting as Arthur’s hand hit the wall behind them. “Arthur-“

“That’s exactly what I mean, Merlin!” He shouted, pulling away from the boy and turning to face him directly. “You claim that I can trust you, but how many times have you gone behind my back? How many times have you lied? From the very beginning, all this time, it’s all been a lie!”

“No it hasn’t!” Merlin yelled back, his hands waving in the air as he spoke. “I’m still me Arthur, magic or not!”

“All this time you’ve led me to believe that you’re just some.. some..”

“Bumbling idiot?” He offered, catching the man off guard as he thrust out his hand again. “Well it will please his royal highness to know that that part is still true!”

“Obviously!”

Their voices echoed throughout the room as the two men’s shouting came to a halt, Merlin slouching back against the wall as he folded his arms across his chest and let the silence linger once more between them that was broken only by the continued manic screams.

Pressing the toe of his boot against the cracked stone and prodding at a loose piece of rubble, he peered up at where the King was standing beside a ruined wardrobe, his hands on his hips and eyes on something the warlock couldn’t see.

“Whatever you think of me,” He began slowly, his voice settling into a normal range. “Whatever you think of magic, I am still the same person. Everything I’ve done, everything I am, it’s still me.”

“I can’t believe that.” Arthur shook his head, turning and staring at his servant as Merlin felt his shoulders sag.

“Why not?”

“You lied to me, Merlin. Why can’t you get that through your thick head? Are you really that stupid that you don’t understand why I’m angry?”

“Oh I understand perfectly well why you’re angry, but I also think you’re being unfair.”

“Unfair?” Arthur scoffed, throwing up his arms in disbelief. “Merlin, I’ve known you for years. Years. And all this time this part of you never came out. Not to me at least. Did you honestly think I’d have had you killed? Really?”

The warlock’s eyes fell to the floor in silence, his hands pushing against the wall behind him as the man shifted in front of him. “Well,” Arthur murmured as Merlin closed his eyes tightly. “That’s really what you think of me then.”

“No, I don’t think you’d have had me killed.” He responded softly, opening his eyes and lifting his head, his stomach twisting at the amount of hurt Arthur wore. “But banished? Locked away? I don’t know, Arthur, I didn’t know what would happen.” He admitted, each word scratching against his raw throat as he swallowed uselessly. “Camelot is my home and I didn’t want to leave it. I didn’t want to leave you.”

“You never trusted me, did you?” The blonde asked slowly, his eyes meeting Merlin’s as the boy blinked away the tears that had been gathering.

“Of course I did! I do!”

“No, you don’t, otherwise you’d have told me. Would you have ever told me, Merlin? If you hadn’t been forced to use it, would I have ever known you had magic?” He demanded as the boy’s breath hitched.

“Can you blame me?” Merlin murmured, pushing away from the wall and walking towards the King. “For being afraid?” Arthur’s eyes studied him but he remained silent as the warlock came to stop in front of him. “All the executions, all the sorcerers that I’ve seen killed by your hand, Arthur. I was terrified for anyone to know. I didn’t choose magic, I can’t control how I was born. But would you have honestly listened? Once you hear anything about magic your mind is already made up.”

The King remained quiet, his mouth set into a firm line as he turned away, a hand running down his face as Merlin sighed, looking off towards the ruined bedframe as he swallowed again. His throat was burning and his mouth was a desert and gods his head was pounding. Trying to talk to Arthur was like trying to talk to a brick wall; useless and irritating.

An ear splitting howl cut through the boy’s thoughts, the voice nearby as both men looked towards the doorway to find one of the creatures crawling in the same way they had.

“How are they everywhere?” Arthur groaned, backing away as Merlin shrugged. “Well it’s your head!”

“Well it isn’t my curse!” He shot back, turning for the other door as they pulled it open and slipped out into another corridor, climbing over the pieces of debris that had fallen from the ceiling. “Figured out a way to wake me up yet?” Merlin asked as the blonde scoffed beside him.

“You’re the sorcerer you figure it out.”

“We’re really going to do this?” Merlin scowled, shooting an annoyed glare towards the King that he refused to acknowledge.

Turning a corner and peering behind them, Merlin felt the rubble beneath him shift as he body lurched forwards. Throwing out his hands to brace for the fall, the warlock’s eyes widened at the hole in the floor that loomed back at him, darkness leading down into the dungeons far below as fear gripped at his heart and he prepared for the worst.

Instead, a hand snatched the back of his tunic and caught his arm, yanking the boy upright and to the side as the two stumbled back and fell to the ground. Wheezing out a shaking breath, Merlin stared with a horrified gaze at the hole that had almost been his demise as Arthur shifted against him, his hands grappling at his servant’s shoulder as the two stood.

“We’ll have to go back.” Arthur muttered, and though Merlin caught a touch of lingering fear and concern in his voice he didn’t say a word.

Turning around and starting back the way they came, Arthur strode ahead as Merlin ran his still shaking hands through his dirty hair, glancing to their right as the King let out a groan to his left.

Whirling around, he found the man cornered by three of the faceless horde, one clawed hand digging into the King’s arm while the other two pulled at his back in an attempt to drag him away.

“Arthur!” Merlin shouted, catching the blonde’s eyes as he was wrenched backwards. Groaning, the man kicked and fought as they dragged him, a wail making the warlock’s ears ring as he thrust his hand out without another thought. “Wáce ierlic!”

The creatures flew back against the stone wall, their bones creating a harsh ‘crack’ when they hit as Arthur ducked his head.

“Are you alright?” Merlin asked, taking a step closer as Arthur shied away, eyes flickering between his servant and the creatures as the warlock stopped across the hall from him. Did Arthur really hate his magic so much that he didn’t even want his help if he used it?

The King straightened slowly, the sleeve of his tunic torn and revealing bloody cuts that trailed down the length of his left arm as the boy waited with baited breath. As his eyes met Merlin’s the boy stood frozen, unwillingly to walk closer until Arthur reacted. Yet when he did, it wasn’t in the manner he was expecting.

“Merlin!” Arthur’s hand reached out for him, blue eyes growing wide with fear that confused the warlock a moment before fire burned through his side.

Another scream erupted through in the hall, but it was Merlin’s own as he wrenched away from the creature that had attacked him from behind and clamped a hand against his side. Warmth pooled against his skin as the boy staggered back, a surge of pain turning the world on its head as he hit the ground, glass and rubble digging into his knees as Arthur flew past him in a blur.

Time seemed to slow around him, each breath too short and unsatisfactory as a cold chill swept over him. Looking down in a haze he pulled back his hand and stared down at his left side, his stomach churning at the chunk of his flesh that had been ripped away by the body’s hands.

Blood dripped past his fingers and spotted the floor beneath him as an agonized shriek wailed behind him followed closely by the sound of something heavy crushing bone. Merlin’s body began to sway, unable to stay upright any longer as he fell forwards and was caught by Arthur’s hands.

“Merlin, Merlin!” He called, shaking the boy as his unfocused gaze fell on the King.

“You’re bleeding.” He murmured, his hand lifting towards the blonde’s arm before it fell back, every bit of energy fading from his body as his eyes began to close.

“Merlin! Look at me, stay awake do you hear me?” He demanded, grabbing ahold of the boy’s other arm and dragging it over his shoulders as he pulled the warlock up with a strangled cry. Fresh pain soared through him as he tried to force his feet to move, blindly following where he was guided as his vision shifted in and out of focus.

He could hear more screaming behind them and the labored breathing of Arthur beside him, but the pain was overwhelming and he could feel the blood seeping past his fingers faster and faster as he sank wearily against Arthur.

“Merlin, Merlin! Wake up.” Struggling to open his eyes, the boy felt a wall against his back and found Arthur kneeling beside him, one hand pressed tightly against his side and one on his cheek urging him to focus. When had they stopped walking?

“Merlin? Merlin, stay awake. Listen to me, you have to stay awake.” He sounded panicked, fearful. Arthur still cared about him, didn’t he? He hoped he did. He didn’t think he could take Arthur hating him. “Merlin!” Opening his eyes again, the warlock tried to force a smile that wouldn’t quite come.

“I’m fine.” He murmured, his head heavy against the wall behind him as Arthur rolled his eyes. Shifting his weight he grabbed one of the boy’s hands with his own blood soaked one and placed it firmly over the still bleeding wound.

“You need to heal yourself, Merlin.” He urged, a hard look in his eyes as his thumb brushed against the boy’s cheek and shook his head. “Merlin, focus! Heal yourself, now.” He instructed as the warlock blinked hazily, barely nodding as he worked to concentrate on a spell.

“Þu fornimest adl fram guman.” Pulling away from the boy, Arthur pushed himself up and brushed his hands against his trousers as Merlin felt the pain in his side begin to ease, warmth drifting over him as his eyes shifted colors with his magic.

Pulling his hand away, he found the chunk of skin that had been torn had been mended, though it ached at the touch. His eyes blinked sluggishly, his body drained of energy as he tilted his head to look up at the blonde who stared back at him quietly.

“Thank you.” He murmured, the words sounding slurred even to his own ears as Arthur regarded him indifferently.

“For what?” He asked, scrubbing roughly at the blood on his fingers.

“Helping me.”

Arthur’s eyes flickered to the side before returning to Merlin, his jaw locking as he turned fully away. “If you die so do I, that’s all.” The uttered words hurt worse than the injury had, the breath catching in Merlin’s throat as tears stung at his eyes again.

“That’s all?” He whispered, his voice coming out hoarse and broken as he stared at the King who refused to meet his eye. “So what, now that I have magic, my life means nothing to you? I mean nothing?”

“Merlin, that’s not.. I didn’t mean..” Arthur trailed off, dragging his fingers across his forehead as he barely shook his head with a heavy sigh.

“Do you have any idea what I would do for you? What I have done for you?” Tears were gathering faster as he tried to blink them away, Merlin’s voice finally cracking. “I’ve saved you so many times, Arthur, I’ve saved Camelot, and I’ve never taken any credit for any of it. And that never mattered to me, not ever because you were safe, you were the one I cared about protecting. And I thought..” He couldn’t finished, his head falling as he drew in a weak breath that was followed by strangled laugh, his eyes closing as pain swept over him.

“Merlin, don’t.” Arthur murmured, his words quiet and heavy as the boy opened his eyes and stared blurrily at his torn trousers.

“Does my having magic bother you that much?” He asked softly, his hands balling into fists beside him.

“I said don’t.”

“I’m still me. My magic changes nothing.”

“It changes everything!” Arthur roared, his sudden outburst startling the servant as his head jerked up and found the man across the room from him. “You think this is about your magic? You think I care for one bloody second that you have magic?” Merlin stared in stunned silence as the King paced about the room, agitation fueling him as he spoke.

“Not all magic is evil, I know that. But look at how many times it’s ruined things. That the people who I thought I could trust have ruined things with it.” Stopping in front of Merlin the man crouched down beside him, staring at him intently.

“I trusted you. I thought that you, Merlin, out of everyone were someone that I could put my faith in completely. You’re an idiot most of the time, reckless and clumsy and disrespectful, but I considered you my friend. But you’ve lied to me, used your magic on me just like all the others. And I can’t just forget about that because you thought you were doing it for the right reasons or because you were scared of what might happen if you admitted the truth. You didn’t trust me, Merlin, and now I can’t trust you.”

His words were harsh, but the guilt that settled over the warlock was somehow worse because he couldn’t even blame him for what he knew was true. He’d had his reasons for not coming forwards about it, but were they really as important as he’d told himself they were?

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, the words nearly drowned out by another shriek.

“Yeah, well, it’s a bit too late for that isn’t it?” Arthur muttered, reaching down and grabbing ahold of the warlock’s arm once more and pulling it over his shoulders.

Stifling a groan, Merlin stood and fought to keep as much of his weight off the blonde as he could as they stepped through into a different hall and away from the horde. The tension between the two continued to grow, and while Merlin hated to admit it, Arthur had been right. Everything was changed now.

He’d lost Arthur’s trust and at the end of the day magic was still banned in Camelot. Would he be forced to leave his home, his family? And what of his destiny now? He couldn’t exactly unite the lands or keep Arthur safe if the man could hardly even stand to look him, let alone trust him. Though in truth, he didn’t particularly care about that at that moment. Arthur was his friend before anything else, had he really ruined that by keeping his magic a secret for so long?

Making their way down a set of stairs littered in glass, Merlin felt Arthur’s arm around him tighten as the warlock struggled to keep his feet beneath him. He wasn’t bleeding anymore but his body had finally given in to the exhaustion and he found himself fading in and out of the things around him.

Turning through another hall, Arthur’s foot slammed against a door as Merlin looked up, watching as the entrance to the throne room swung wide. Stepping inside as the door fell shut behind them, both men froze.

“It hasn’t been touched.” Arthur murmured in awe, his head swiveling to look around as Merlin glanced behind them.

Unlike the rest of the citadel not a single thing had been broken or shattered. Each window remained intact, every curtain and drape was still hung, even the walls and the floor lacked a single crack or marred spot that the rest of the ruined citadel held. The only notable difference of the room was the lack of the round table, instead offering a wide expanse of open space around them.

Starting forwards into the room, Arthur lowered the warlock to the ground, easing him back against a wall. “Why isn’t this place in ruins like the rest of it?” The blonde asked aloud, pulling away from Merlin as the boy wrapped an arm around his chest and released a short breath. “Your dreams are just as odd as you, Merlin, I shouldn’t be surprised.” Arthur commented dryly, his voice sounding far away as the pain in the warlock’s body gave way to a numbness that began to settle over him.

They were running out of time, if they waited much longer neither of them would make it out alive. “You need to wake up, Arthur.” Merlin muttered, blinking slowly as the man glanced down at him.

“Not until we figure this out. Besides, I’m not finished yelling at you yet.”

Scowling at his stubbornness, Merlin stared just as angrily at the King as he stared at him. “Arthur-“

“I’m not leaving you here to die, Merlin, so save your breath.”

“Why won’t you just listen to me?” Merlin demanded, forcing as much strength into his words as he could as Arthur scowled.

“I already told you I-“ He cut off suddenly, the aggravation fading as he narrowed his eyes and wore a curious expression, the wheels turning inside his head practically visible as Merlin stared.

“Arthur?”

“Listen.” He said quietly, eyes scanning over the windows above them

“What?”

“Merlin, shut up.” He shushed, waving a hand at him as he turned, looking around the room next. “Listen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Shut up!” Arthur hissed, stretching out his arms and turning slowly in a circle before stopping and gesturing around them. “Listen, Merlin, listen.”

“To what? Arthur there’s no noise.” The warlock stated, looking up at the blonde as he pointed a finger at him.

“Exactly.” Wasn’t Merlin the one who was meant to go mad? What the hell was he going on about? “The entire time I’ve been here, those things have been screaming and chasing after us. But not here. This room, they haven’t stepped foot in here. And since we have, there hasn’t been a sound.” Turning his head towards the door, Merlin’s own thoughts began to race to catch up.

“What is this room used for, Merlin?” Arthur asked, his voice carrying across the room as he made his way towards the center of the floor.

“I don’t know, a lot of things.” The boy shrugged, shifting his weight with a grimace.

Whirling around, Arthur’s eyes fell on the boy and for a moment there was a look on his face that was all too familiar. “Well, you’re right about one thing. You really are still an idiot.” Rolling his eyes at the King, Merlin’s gaze followed him as he walked back towards the boy. “Trials, Merlin, trials. When anyone was accused of breaking the law by magic-“

“Their trials were held here.” The warlock finished, suddenly catching hold of the idea the other was running with as Arthur nodded, grabbing ahold of his arm and tugging him up again. “What are you doing?” He complained with a stifled groan as Arthur kept a hand on his arm and walked with him towards the back of the room.

“You have one last job to do.” He stated, the words hanging heavily over the warlock as he came to a stop beside the throne. Backing away and making sure he was able to stand on his own, Arthur turned away and strode for the door.

His footsteps echoed loudly throughout the room and as he pulled open the door the hall was filled with the faceless bodies waiting. Walking back towards his throne with a tense expression, Arthur’s eyes met Merlin’s briefly before he climbed the steps and stood partially beside and in front of him.

“What if this doesn’t work?” The warlock ventured as the King straightened his back and cleared his throat.

“Then I’ll have killed us both.” He murmured before turning his attention to the creatures that had begun to silently fill the room. “My name is Arthur Pendragon.” The man’s voice rang out strong and clear, his hands at his sides as all movement stopped in front of them. “Son of Uther Pendragon, and King of Camelot.” Merlin caught his friend’s gaze briefly and nodded, encouraging him to continue as Arthur’s chin lifted and his eyes fell on the crowd. “And I am ready to listen.”

For a moment nothing happened, the two men standing silently in front of the horde, not a single muscle moving before one of the creatures began to stagger forwards.

Merlin swallowed down his discomfort at seeing the blood oozing from the body, half of its skin charred and torn away. But as it grew closer the air shifted and the creature stepped forwards, crossing through a shimmering veil as the blood and the burns and the haggard form faded away. In its place was a young woman with long blonde hair and pale blue skirts that swept against her ankles as delicate fingers brushed against an apron tied around her waist.

Kneeling before the King, the woman’s head bowed before glittering brown hues stared up at them. “My Lord.”

“What is your name?” Arthur asked as the woman dipped her head again.

“Ada, My Lord.”

“You have been caught using magic.”

“Yes, but only to save my child.” She spoke quickly, tears in her eyes as she looked first at Arthur and then to Merlin. “He was very ill, he couldn’t breathe and we were in the woods. I would never use magic to harm anyone, only to aid.”

Arthur shifted where he stood as Merlin felt the same twinge of guilt as before strike him. Never to harm, only to aid. Just as he had always done.

“My Lord, it was either use magic or lose my child and I couldn’t just let him die when I had the ability to save him.”

“I understand.” The man cut in, lifting a hand to halt her words. “You may go.”

The woman blinked in surprise before bowing her head again and rising, turning to look at Merlin who nodded his own head towards her. “Thank you.” She mouthed, turning away and walking to the side as another body stepped forwards.

It happened the same as before, blood and gore fading away and being replaced with a man that stood tall with dark skin and darker eyes. Kneeling before the throne, his head bowed as well and Merlin looked past him towards the horde that all stood behind, each awaiting their own turn.

“State your name.” Arthur announced, and as the man looked up, there was hope in his eyes. He began to speak just as the woman had and explanations began to fill the room. Magic used for failing crops, ailing family, even magic from a child to save a beloved pet. And Arthur listened to them all. He allowed each to defend their use of magic and each time he sent them away to listen to the next. The cries of his people were finally being heard, just as they’d deserved to be before they’d been killed.

Glancing to one of the windows, the orange hue that had covered the kingdom had faded, a soft blue filtering inside the throne room as Merlin blinked wearily.

A dull ache spread across his chest as he backed a step away, his hand falling against the throne to steady himself as the corners of his vision began to darken. Arthur was listening to another sorcerer as the boy felt himself giving in, a last look landing on the King that had proven once again to be Camelot’s finest.

The room began to spin and Merlin’s hand fell away from the throne, his body falling backwards though his back never collided with the ground. Instead he kept falling. Further and further as darkness caught hold and wrapped around him. For the first time in a long time Merlin felt peace within the silence, his worries and fears fading as his final thought fell to Arthur, pride and sadness mixing together as the darkness drew him under its veil completely.

Chapter Text

One minute he’d been standing by his throne and the next Arthur was once more lying on his back and staring blearily up at the ceiling of the physician’s chambers. He hadn’t remembered falling asleep, or was this waking up? Things had been calm, he’d been listening to the sorcerers, and then everything had begun to fade to darkness.

Blinking hazily, Arthur’s head shifted to the side as blue hues fell on the unconscious form of his servant beside him. Voices murmured around him, but they were garbled and undefined. Yet instead of trying to focus on them, his gaze remained firmly on Merlin. His servant. His friend. His sorcerer.

Blinking again, Arthur settled his eyes on the person beside Merlin, meeting and holding Gaius’ concerned gaze. The sleeping draught must have worn off, though his body still felt the weight of sleep as the blonde shoved his hands beneath him and wearily pushed himself up from where he lay.

Turning his head and looking around, he spotted Gwaine across the room by the door, sitting on a stool with his sword drawn and resting across his knees as if he were waiting for someone to burst inside. Or perhaps waiting for someone to try and run. Turning and looking to the man near the back of the room, Alard’s eyes met his with a guarded expression.

“Arthur?” His name was the first word to sink in and stick as the King’s head sunk into his hands. “Arthur, are you alright?” A deep ache drilled through the blonde’s skull but he forced himself to look to the knight who had risen from his seat and neared the King, a look of worry flickering over his features.

“I’m fine.” He murmured, though even his voice still carried the thickness of sleep as he ran a hand down his arm. The lingering pain from the dream had faded, but the feeling of clawed fingers tearing into his skin played in the back of his mind like a ghost, making his body shudder at the thought.

His eyes darted back to where Merlin lay motionless beside him and relief shot through him at the lack of blood and charred flesh of his own. Relief that faded quickly however, transforming into hurt and guilt that made its home in his chest.

“What about Merlin? Why hasn’t he woken?” Gwaine asked, the sword lowering in his hands as Arthur turned back towards the sorcerer to find his moss colored hues studying him quietly.

“Why hasn’t he?” He repeated the question when the silence lingered.

“You did break the curse, didn’t you?” The knight cut in, worry hanging in the air as Arthur swallowed, his throat as raw and dry as it had been in the dream. Arching his brows in question at the sorcerer, the man’s head tilted a fraction.

“That depends,” Alard finally replied, his hands clasping together in his lap as he leaned forwards and fixed the King with a firm stare. “Did you listen?”

“Yes.” The blonde ground out, the hatred he’d felt for the man growing as the haze of sleep began to fade. He was responsible for this. For the torture that Merlin went through, for the strain that Arthur had felt. For Merlin’s secret ruining everything.

“Then he’ll be fine.” The sorcerer declared, a thin smile rising as he stood, his cloak shifting against him as Gwaine stepped closer.

“If he’s fine then he should be awake.” He spat, his hand tightening around his sword as the sorcerer narrowed his eyes.

“Can you blame him?”

“Can you blame me? For being afraid?”

Dropping his head and rubbing at his eyes, Arthur fought to rid the boy’s words from his mind as the two men quarreled beside him.

“He’s been in a mentally and physically strained state for quite a long time now. Allow the boy to rest and he will wake in time.”

Taking a step towards the door the knight blocked his path, his sword rising as the tip pointed at the man’s throat. “The deal was that you got to go after Merlin was better. His still being asleep is not better.”

“Do you understand what has happened?” The sorcerer asked, his voice unnervingly calm as Arthur sat up and watched them. “His body has gone through every form of torture, caused entirely by his own mind. He will heal, that I promise you, but he could be asleep for hours if not days while he recovers. You cannot expect to keep me here for that long.” His voice rose as he finished before his eyes shifted to where Arthur still sat across the cot. “Unless you plan on going back on your word, My Lord?”

Glaring at the sorcerer, Arthur finally looked away and waved his hand. “Gwaine, let him go.” He muttered, hearing the knight’s boots shuffle against the floor.

“Arthur, you can’t-“

“Let him go.” He commanded, the ache in his head pounding against his eyes as he met Gwaine’s irritated gaze. Gripping his sword tighter, the knight sheathed it angrily and stepped aside while glowering as the sorcerer regarded the King.

“One more thing before I go, My Lord. Did you decide?”

Looking up at him with a narrowed gaze, Arthur repeated the question. “Decide?”

“On where you stand.”

“Where will you stand when it all comes to an end?”

The words from his dream in the forest rushed through his mind as Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “It was you. You gave me those dreams.” He accused as the sorcerer’s arrogance gave way to disappointment.

“You still haven’t decided, have you?” He questioned as the blonde remained silent, his hands tightening into fists beside him as Alard turned away. “After all you saw, you’re still unsure. A pity.”

“Do not come back.” Arthur called out, staring at the man’s back as the sorcerer paused near the door.

“My Lord?”

“I may have promised you your life and your freedom, to which I will keep my word, but if I find you within Camelot’s borders again you will be sentenced to death. And mark my words, Alard, I will be the one to do it.”

The tension in the air was thick as the sorcerer’s gaze hardened. “You’ve learned nothing, have you?”

“You think this is about your magic?” Arthur scoffed, turning and throwing his legs over the edge of the cot as his feet brushed against the floor. “You attacked the King, and you injured my servant. That is treason, regardless of your affiliations with magic.”

Alard’s eyes fell away, his hands reaching up and drawing his hood up over his head as the smallest curve of his lips indicated a smile. “For his sake, My Lord, I hope you remember that.”

Without another word the sorcerer slipped out the door and closed it softly behind him as Arthur’s head turned back to look at Merlin. What exactly had he meant by that? For a moment no one spoke as the blonde turned away from his servant and rubbed at his eyes again.

“What happened?” Gwaine’s voice broke through his thoughts, the knight shifting in front of him. “Before you fell asleep you talked about screams, that Merlin heard screaming? So what happened in his head?”

Looking up, Arthur’s eyes moved past his knight and instead searched the room. “Where’s Gwen?”

The knight’s irritation at the avoidance of his question was clear, but he merely sighed. “She’s with the council.”

“What?” Sitting up straighter he met the man’s gaze and found him fidgeting. “Why is she with them?”

Gwaine’s eyes darted behind Arthur and when the King turned he found him exchanging a glance with the physician. “Those documents you had her deliver? Whatever they were was not well received by them. In fact they’ve been waiting for you to clear up whatever it was; Gwen’s merely been trying to keep the peace until then.”

Closing his eyes tightly and letting out a shallow breath, Arthur cursed quietly. He’d forgotten about them, and the documents. He still stood by his decision, even after all that had happened. But now with Merlin.. Merlin was going to make things much more complicated now.

“Go find her.” He finally spoke, meeting Gwaine’s pressing stare. “Let her know I’m awake, that I’m fine. And that Merlin will be too.”

“But-“

“She’ll want to know, Gwaine. And if I step foot anywhere near the council I’ll be locked in a room with them for hours. I can’t have that.” He stated wearily, glancing back at where Merlin still lay. “Not yet.”

He could feel the knight’s urge to argue, his eyes darting to his friend in concern, but finally he nodded reluctantly and left, leaving Arthur alone with his servant and the physician. Dropping his head into his hands again and rubbing at his temples, the blonde barely even noticed that Gaius had moved until he was right beside the man extending a cup out to him.

“That spell can leave you feeling disoriented.” He explained, looking down at the man sympathetically as Arthur took the cup gratefully. Downing the contents quickly, the ache in his head continued to pulse but the rawness of his throat had thankfully faded.

“It can’t have been easy.” The elder continued, moving towards the table and gathering a few items as he made his way back to his ward. “I imagine the nightmares that plagued Merlin were far worse than we thought.”

Shifting on the cot, Arthur moved to the other side and dropped his legs down between himself and Merlin and watched as Gaius placed a fresh cloth across the boy’s forehead. “It was.” The blonde murmured, his brows drawing together at the way the physician began to change a bandage across the boy’s leg.

He worked with as much care as he always had, but as the pieces of what he’d learned started to fall steadily into place, Arthur found himself studying the two intently. How could he not have seen it sooner? The excuses that were always readily at hand, the abundance of tasks that would come seemingly out of nowhere. How had he missed it all this time?

“You’ve known from the beginning, haven’t you?” Arthur asked softly, clasping his hands together as Gaius glanced up momentarily from his work.

“Known about what, Sire?” He questioned, a curious expression morphing his features as the blonde frowned at him.

“Don’t treat me like a fool, Gaius. No more. Merlin may have said he was terrified for anyone to find out, but he wouldn’t have hidden it from you. You’ve known since he stepped foot into Camelot, haven’t you?” The bitterness in his tone couldn’t be masked, not that he had tried very hard to do so.

The elder didn’t respond right away, his eyes falling to his ward’s leg as he removed a crimson stained bandage and sat back, a neutral mask settling into place as he regarded the King. “To what are you referring to, Your Highness?” The way he asked it only served to aggravate Arthur more, though he had to admit he wasn’t all that surprised. Gaius loved Merlin like a son, so there was little shock to knowing he would guard the boy’s secret closely.

“His magic, Gaius. Merlin has magic and you’ve known all along.” He stated clearly, his tone leaving no room for any more secrets. The recognition was clear though the moment the words left him, the physician resting his hands on the cot near the boy as his head tilted forwards.

“Yes, I have.”

Letting out a heavy breath, Arthur’s head fell and his eyes burned into the floor. He knew of course, but it didn’t take away the strike of anger he felt at knowing another person he’d trusted had been lying to him. Too many questions were drifting through his mind, too many emotions that all crowded together and made him feel sick the longer he dwelt on them.

“If he had magic,” Arthur began, finally deciding on one of the questions he hadn’t asked Merlin. “Why didn’t he just heal himself?” Tapping his foot a couple of times and pressing it against the floor, his eyes landed on the boy who had yet to stir even once. “I watched him heal himself in his dream, so why didn’t he just do that to restore his hearing?”

“He tried.” Gaius sighed, a gentle hand resting on Merlin’s forearm before he moved to redress the wound. “But his magic reacted poorly with the sorcerer’s and caused more damage. The spell hadn’t been meant for him, and once it combined with his own power the curse grew and became unmanageable alone.”

The explanation only threw more questions into the King’s mind, and the realization that he lacked greatly in the knowledge of magic only fueled the irritation that had been steadily rising. “Is that possible? I’ve never heard of such a thing before.” He’d never heard of a lot of things before apparently, but he wasn’t about to admit to that either.

Gaius let out a quiet hum in response, a fresh bandage covering the open wound on the boy’s leg as the physician gestured towards it. “Think of it like this injury.” He offered, knowledgeable eyes catching Arthur’s while weathered hands worked expertly. “When the sorcerer cast the curse it had one intended purpose, just like a rock cutting through skin. It was meant to injure, but not destroy.”

Arthur turned quiet as the man continued, fingers moving towards Merlin’s head and adjusting the cloth carefully. “But then Merlin tried to heal himself and his magic collided with that of Alard’s. It made the curse stronger, spreading through his body like an infection. Much like an injury of this sort, if left untreated it can grow and attack other parts of a body. Rather than aiding him, his own magic made the curse worse, a deadly virus that spread and sought to destroy everything it touched.”

“Has magic never collided like that before?” Arthur questioned, unable to deny the amount of intrigue that had begun to surface.

“It has, but Merlin’s magic is different.”

“I was born with it!” The boy’s words echoed in his head as the man frowned.

“Because he was born with it?”

Gaius nodded at the blonde’s response. “His magic is strong, and where it should have helped him, it reacted the other way. For as powerful as he is and as long as it lasted, he’s lucky to still be alive.”

“His magic is strong?” Arthur cut in, a short laugh falling out as the elder quirked a brow. “I can’t picture Merlin as powerful. A few decent tricks perhaps, but powerful is a stretch.” He scoffed, leaning back where he sat as a faint smile rose to the elders face. “What?” Arthur asked, narrowing his eyes at the physician who looked up with a glimmer of amusement.

“Merlin is stronger than you might think, Arthur. In fact, there are some that say he is the most powerful sorcerer to walk the Earth.”

“Merlin?” The King gawked, another louder laugh leaving him. “No, no that’s not possible. Merlin? That Merlin? No.” He shook his head, gesturing towards the limp form between them. Merlin wasn’t that powerful, he couldn’t be. He was scrawny and unfit and reckless. And brave and caring and always obsessed with helping others.

Merlin had been weak in the dream when he’d cast that first spell, but Arthur couldn’t deny the power he’d felt come from him. And the look on the boy’s face, it had been one of complete control and confidence. Then of course there had been the magic all around him when he’d first woken up, those voices that had urged him on. He’d thought it had been from the sorcerer’s magic, but had that really been Merlin’s own?

No, he couldn’t believe that. Could he? No. Then again, there were an awful lot of coincidences that followed the boy wherever he went. But Merlin? Most powerful sorcerer? Ever? No, that was too much for him. Not when he was staring at the idiot in front of him that had just been on death’s door.

“He’s done great things, Arthur.” Gaius nodded, his head lowering as he looked back to the boy. Arthur opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a lack for words. What did he say to that? About that?

“If he’s some all powerful sorcerer, why the hell is he here?” Closing his eyes and trying to find some semblance of a coherent thought, Arthur gestured towards him again. “Why stay in Camelot where if what he could do was discovered he’d be put to death?”

“I think you already know that answer.” Gaius said as the smile he wore remained intact.

“No, no I don’t.” He said a bit too quickly, unease building at the way the physician looked at him.

Gaius didn’t answer right away and Arthur’s hands gripped together as the man considered his next words carefully. “The answer is quite simple, really.” The elder finally spoke, eyeing the King before he rose from his chair and stepped around the cots. “He stayed because of you, Arthur.”

The King’s body froze at the words, his back tensing while the physician moved about the room behind him as Arthur swallowed thickly, his eyes staring at the pale face of his servant. “Me?” He scoffed, though there was little feeling put into it as his heart beat faster and guilt began to eat away at the anger he’d been holding on to. “No, you must be mistaken.” He shook his head once, eyes never leaving the sleeping boy.

“He cares a great deal for you, Arthur.” Gaius spoke from behind, the sound of clattering vials nothing more than a background noise as Arthur’s breath hitched. “He’s merely too stubborn to admit it. Just as you are.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur sputtered, whirling around and looking at where the physician was combining the contents of two vials together. “He lied to me, Gaius. Ever since I’ve met him he’s been lying-“

“And you’re still here, watching over him.” Gaius stated, shooting the blonde a knowing glance that left the King fumbling to find words.

“I just.. I haven’t got the answers I want yet.” He finally muttered out, though the brief rush of anger quickly faded as he slouched back and shot an accusatory glare in his servant’s direction.

“Here, drink this. It will help your head.” The physician walked closer and offered a pale green vial out to the man as Arthur took it and drank it quickly, an herbal taste lingering in his mouth as he twisted the empty bottle in his hands.

He could feel Gaius’ gaze lingering on him as he returned to his chair by Merlin’s side but Arthur refused to meet it, instead focusing his attention on the floor between his feet until the ache in his head disappeared. Though with all the thoughts running rampant in his mind he did have to wonder if that would ever happen.

He’d thought finding out that Merlin had magic would be the worst thing, but to find out he was powerful? That he was some great magical force? It was too much for him. Gaius had said he’d continued to work for Arthur because he cared, but was that true? Or was it because Camelot had become his home and he just didn’t want to leave?

When he’d first arrived, he’d had magic then hadn’t he? He knew the risks, he knew what might happen, yet he’d stayed. He hadn’t even met Arthur at that point, and when he finally had they’d hated each other. So was that just another lie?

He couldn’t take it any longer, his thoughts and questions and irritations all colliding and fighting with one another as the King rose from the cot and moved to the chair the sorcerer had been in earlier, the blonde’s back pressing against the wall as his arms folded across his chest and he stared in silence at the boy.

He didn’t look any better than he had, though his breathing wasn’t as laborious as it had been. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to see him suffer, liar though he may be.

“And you’re still here, watching over him.”

Looking away, the blonde’s hands tightened against his chest, glaring at the edge of the cot. He’d trusted that idiot with everything and instead of being told what he had, what he could do, he’d been forced to find out in the worst possible way. Not out of choice, but out of no other option.

Merlin never would have told him, would he? So then what, was anything he’d been told true? He couldn’t believe the boy would outright lie about so many things, but then again he’d have never believed that Merlin had magic either. Although when he thought about it, it did explain his actions. His aversion to the executions, the way he behaved when a sorcerer attacked them. All those times he’d go running off places or when he’d disappear for days on end.

Arthur made jokes, but never for a moment did he believe Merlin to be cowardly. In fact, he was one of the bravest men Arthur had ever met. He’d always thought Merlin just cared too much. That his kindness towards strangers and those in need caused him to never say no. But finding out he had magic, that he was doing all those things even when Arthur wasn’t around made it sink in even more.

“I would never use magic to harm anyone, only to aid.” The sorceress’ words played through his mind from the dream’s trials and Arthur found his eyes seeking out Merlin again. He’d never used his magic to hurt people, only to help them. That was something he could believe.

Guilt prodded at the King’s chest, but he forced it away and allowed his hurt to resurface, his mouth setting into a firm line. Perhaps Merlin had used his magic to help others, to help him even, but he couldn’t get over the lies. Merlin had been there through Morgana, through his father, through just about everything. He should have known how important his trust in him had been.

Arthur still would have been furious, but it would have been different if the boy had come to him. But to be forced into using his magic? It only solidified what he’d believed. Merlin never would have told him, he’d have just gone on, continuing to hide his magic and sneaking behind the King’s back.

Arthur’s time in thought turned from minutes into hours, moving from place to place in the physician’s chambers but never straying far from the servant who had yet to stir. Gwen had come as soon as she’d heard, her relief for his safety and hope for Merlin’s a calming force that helped to ground him. She and Gwaine had pestered for the first few minutes, asking what had happened, but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to discuss it.

He could hardly get his head around what had occurred, what he’d learned. So how could he possibly explain it to them? Besides, there was a piece of him that didn’t want them to know about Merlin yet. It wasn’t his place to tell them, and until he sorted things out with the council the more that knew of his magic the more danger he was in. So instead he’d fallen quiet, letting his spiraling thoughts draw him away while Gaius and Gwen took turns watching over the unconscious boy.

His fever had broken after the first hour, and as the second rolled around he had begun to regain some color. Arthur was relieved, but he felt nerves creeping over him as well. What was he to say when Merlin awoke? What was there that he could say?

The second hour turned into the third and the third into the fourth. Gwen had gone to cancel meetings for Arthur and Gwaine had collapsed in Merlin’s room after being up all night watching over them.

By the fifth hour Arthur was growing restless and Merlin was still as motionless as ever. Gaius had spent his time checking on Merlin and puttering about with his work before he’d gathered supplies together to deliver in the Lower Town. “I shouldn’t be long, but send Gwaine if anything happens.” He’d told the King before he’d gone out and left the two alone.

Arthur had been relieved at first, glad to have some time without the bustling of others around him. But as the time continued to pass and Merlin had yet to even flinch he was growing impatient. By the sixth hour Arthur had moved to the chair Gaius had vacated, sitting beside the boy’s cot as he weighed his options with the council.

He wouldn’t be able to avoid them for much longer, although he really didn’t want to deal with them. He would stand by his decision, wouldn’t he? Even though once word got out about it and Merlin things would get infinitely more complicated. How had all this happened?

Dropping his head into his hands and running his fingers through his hair, he heard the cot beside him shift. Looking up, the blonde’s eyes landed on his servant whose head had begun to move. Sitting up and clasping his hands together, Arthur waited anxiously as a faint groan sounded from the boy before blue eyes pulled open.

He blinked a couple of times before his eyes closed again and his head shifted towards the King. When they opened once more it took a moment for them to settle and another for recognition to flicker across his face.

“Arthur..” He murmured, the strained word barely audible as Arthur swallowed down his relief.

“It’s about time you woke up.” The blonde stated coolly, watching with masked amusement as the boy’s eyes widened and he began to sit up. The effect was instantaneous, his body barely rising before he was falling back and his face was scrunching up in pain.

“Don’t move, you idiot.” Arthur grumbled, gripping his hands tighter to keep himself from moving to the other’s aid. He was still angry and hurt and confused. He couldn’t let things slide out of worry, not just yet.

When Merlin’s expression eased and his eyes opened again, the amount of relief and joy on his face was nearly indescribable. “The curse..” He croaked, and suddenly the King understood.

“It’s broken.” He nodded, leaning back in his seat. “You’re welcome.”

The boy blinked again and the joy melted into guilt, blue hues darting away as Arthur redirected his own gaze. Shifting on the cot, the boy managed to sit up slowly on his second try, a stifled groan slipping out as he shuddered, a tremor running through his slight frame. Neither spoke for several moments, Arthur keeping his eyes firmly on the floor as the servant clasped and unclasped his hands over and over again.

“Arthur-“

“You were right.” The King cut in, the words jumping out and catching the servant off guard as Merlin’s eyes widened. “Just this once, you were right. You didn’t betray me.” Arthur spoke slowly, leaning forwards and propping his elbows against his knees as he studied the boy in front of him. “But I was right too.” Folding his hands together, Arthur worked to keep his voice level. “You lied to me, and I can’t just get over that.”

The boy’s head bobbed briefly, his eyes falling onto his hands. “I know.” His voice cracked with effort, Merlin wincing as Arthur stood and walked across the room, feeling the servant’s eyes on him as he did. Returning to his chair a moment later, he extended a cup of water out to him as the dark haired boy looked up warily. Taking it carefully, his hand shook as he lifted it to his lips and took a long drink.

Another few moments of silence lapsed as he drank, emptying the cup and setting it in his lap, his fingers curling around it tightly. When he still hadn’t spoken, Arthur shifted where he sat, moving to the edge of his seat and staring at the boy’s weak form.

“Magic is still banned within Camelot.” He said with a deep breath as Merlin’s finger ran across the rim of his cup. “And I can’t pretend that I don’t know what you are, what you can do.”

“So what happens now?” Merlin asked, the rawness of his voice gone as his eyes lifted to Arthur’s.

“I don’t know.” He admitted softly, spotting the way the boy’s brows raised. “I’ve just.. I’ve got to get my head around all of this first.”

“Around what?” Merlin questioned, his eyes falling as his finger began to circle the rim of his cup again. “I thought you didn’t care about my magic.”

“What?” Arthur gaped, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, Merlin, I-I cared more that you lied to me, but your magic it.. I still have to process that you have it. That you’re.. you’re a.. a sorcerer of all things, you.”

“You don’t have to say it like it’s the worst thing in the world.” He commented dryly, tapping his fingers against the cup as Arthur stared.

“Isn’t it though?” That got his attention. As Merlin turned his head to face Arthur, the King tossed his hands up while falling back in his chair. “Nothing will be the same again, Merlin. You understand that, don’t you? It can’t be.”

“Because of my magic.”

“Because of the law.” Arthur grimaced, scraping his hand through his hair in frustration. “And the fact that you went against it. Merlin I-“ His words cut off as a lump formed in his throat, concern for the boy rising again. “I can’t change the law overnight.” He finally forced out, his hand covering his mouth as he sighed. “I don’t know what to do here, Merlin, I really don’t.”

He could hear it in his own voice, in the way his words came out in such exasperation. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Merlin, he already knew that. But what in the meantime? What was he meant to do? Let him wander about the citadel? Continue to aid Gaius? If anyone found out about his magic, about what he could do, and they found out Arthur knew? No one would listen to him anymore. He’d be a hypocrite in his own kingdom.

“I know, Arthur.” Merlin said softly, drawing the blonde back to reality as he met his gaze.

“I don’t think you do.” He uttered quietly as the boy barely nodded.

“I do. You’re worried what will happen if people find out. If they learn about my magic.”

“I know why you hid it. I’m not saying I approve, but I know why you did.” The King stated firmly, sitting back up and eyeing him. “But I can’t stand by the law and persecute those that go against it when my own servant practices it. What kind of a King does that make me at that point? What kind of King has that made me already?”

“What do you want me to do, Arthur?” He asked, pained blue eyes focusing on the man wearily. “Do you want me to leave? Because I won’t. I already told you I won’t leave my home and I won’t leave you.”

“He cares a great deal for you, Arthur.”

“I’d rather go to trial for my magic.” He finished, the statement bringing a wave of horror crashing down over the King.

“No, Merlin, do you have a death wish?” He demanded as the boy sighed.

“Of course not, but I know you, Arthur, I trust you.” Gripping the cup tighter, a weak smile tugged at the corner of the servant’s mouth. “Maybe I didn’t with my magic, and maybe I should’ve. But I trust you with this. I won’t leave my home, so whatever you have to do, whatever happens, let it.”

Arthur couldn’t speak. He could feel his mouth opening, but there were no words that would come out. He found however that the anger and the hurt had disappeared almost entirely, and in its place was shock. How could he sit there and say those things?

“Why are you so damned stubborn?” Arthur cursed, a flicker of amusement lighting up the boy’s face.

“I have to be when dealing with you.”

“Merlin-“

“I believe in you, Arthur.” He cut in, an earnest expression resting over him. “I always have. You’re a great King, bit of a prat at times-“

“Merlin.”

“But you’re fair. You listened to those sorcerer’s, and maybe it’s too late for them, but I know what that took. Camelot has never had a finer King, you’ve proven that. So whatever has to be done, I’ll accept it.”

Arthur found himself staring when he finished, the boy keeping hold of his gaze as the King’s mind raced. Damn him. Damn him and his foolishly noble self. How could he sit there and not try to fight? To not bargain?

“I am loyal to you, Arthur. Only you!”

“You’re an idiot.” He muttered out, finally breaking their stare as Merlin’s shoulders slouched with a weak laugh.

“Better than being a dollop head.” He remarked as Arthur rose from his chair and made his way stiffly across the room.

He’d been avoiding the council for hours. He’d thought because he needed time, needed to rethink the things that had happened. But all he’d really needed was a reason. And maybe that was what had kept him there aside from the concern. But he was ready now. He knew what to do, what to say, and damn those that would try to fight him on it.

“Arthur.. Thank you for helping me, for not giving up or leaving me once you knew.”

Because he’d been fighting with himself all this time trying to figure out the reason. Was it for the benefit of his kingdom or those of his people? But the answer had been in front of him all along, hadn’t it? So what was the point in trying to deny it anymore?

“Don’t be such a girl, Merlin. I wasn’t going to just let you die.”

Everything he’d done, it was already obvious for those around him. It was for him. All of it, he couldn’t even ignore it anymore. And as he strode out the door, he found a small smile on his face and a newfound determination rising within him. Because it had finally sunk in that it was for Merlin. It had always been for Merlin. And he’d be damned if he let a law founded on a biased opinion take away someone else that he cared about.

Chapter Text

It was the small things that had him smiling. The leaves that brushed together with the wind and the branches that shook above his head. It was the way the forest came to life around him, the chattering of squirrels and the soft chirps of birds layering over each other as the warlock sat back against the bark of a tree and took it all in. That was all he had been doing since just after dawn, sitting back and listening.

Merlin had never realized how much he had taken for granted when it came to his senses. So he admired the beauty of the forest, marveled at the dirt beneath his palms, tasted the sweetness of the air and caught the passing scents of pine and earth that drifted by with the breeze. But most of all he was appreciating the noise of it all.

He hadn’t ventured very far into the trees, his last roaming adventure having left a bitter taste that kept him closer to the tree line, but the sounds were all around for those that knew how to stay quiet and hear them. Sunlight that drifted through the woven branches and spotted the ground in patches of its warmth set the grass and fauna around him aglow as different shades became more vibrant in the light. His morning was nearly perfect, the day made better only if the worry that ate relentlessly away at him would ease.

Merlin had risen early with Gaius’ approval after more than a week of confinement to his chambers and had made his way directly for the forest. He’d considered venturing off to the tower he’d grown fond of in the weeks past, but he hadn’t wanted to wander the citadel without hearing from Arthur. The warlock hadn’t seen the King since their last conversation nor had he heard from him, the unsurety of his fate keeping the boy out of the way of others until he knew whether or not he would be put on trial for his magic.

It hadn’t been hard of course as Merlin found himself out of a job and forced to remain strictly in the physician’s chambers until he’d recovered from the illness that had kept him out of sorts for two days after waking. He hadn’t complained though, much to the worry of his mentor, but he hadn’t wanted to cause any more trouble for Arthur than he already had. After all, the man hadn’t come to see him even once which Merlin could only assume meant he was still angry at what had transpired between them.

Merlin couldn’t blame him, not really, but had he taken the revelation of his magic to the council yet? He couldn’t stand the endless waiting and the constant worry, wondering if the next person to stop by would be the guards there to take him to the dungeons. Had Arthur even told anyone, or was he keeping it all to himself?

He trusted Arthur, he did. And whatever the King decided, he would follow it, even if it meant being punished for being something he couldn’t control. But the waiting and the wondering and the nerves that were eating away at him even as he sat in the calm of the morning were almost too much to bear.

After the first few days he had stopped even asking Gwen about the man when she would come by, always catching the uncomfortable look she would carry alongside the hurried excuses of meetings or council sessions. She would always change the subject quickly after that as well, but the worry would linger and he hated to see her at such odds.

Gwen had never once brought up his magic though, so he could only guess that Arthur hadn’t confided in her. Merlin couldn’t decide on which was worse, the man telling others about what his servant was capable of, or keeping it to himself and mulling it over endlessly. Regardless he could not bring himself to share the truth with Gwen, not until a verdict had been made.

So he had kept waiting. Waiting for Arthur to come through the door with that annoyed scowl set in place as he chided Merlin for one thing or another. But day after day had passed and he was nowhere to be seen.

“He must come to terms with the news, Merlin, when it is no longer a shock he will be by, you’ll see.” Gaius had attempted to reassure the boy, the warlock unable to hide the worry he felt from the ever present elder. But Merlin wasn’t so sure he would. The hurt Arthur had felt was great, the look on his face burned into the warlock’s mind every time he went back. Was there even a way he could rectify things? And if there was, how was he supposed to try if Arthur wouldn’t even speak to him?

Leaning his head back against the bark, Merlin’s eyes flickered over the twisting branches in front of him. Though Arthur hadn’t been by at all, and Gwen stopped by for only a bit each day, Merlin had been far from alone during his recovery. Gwaine had barely left the warlock alone since he’d woken, even after he’d sworn to the knight up and down that he was fine.

He’d found it strange how antsy the man had been, but he hadn’t had to wonder about it for long. The first time Merlin was awake without being hindered by the sleeping draughts and potions for the pain, Gwaine had declared that he knew Merlin was a sorcerer. He’d admitted to finding him in the forest, at having seen the magic he was capable of.

Merlin hadn’t known what to say, he was already worried about losing one friend, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing another. But after studying the warlock in contemplation for the longest and most agonizingly stressful minute of his life, Gwaine had leaned forward and asked the most pressing question on his mind. “Can you use magic to cure the ill effects of ale after a night out?”

Pressing his back into the tree trunk, Merlin stretched out his leg and brushed his fingers against the healing injury. Gwaine had accepted him right away. No doubts, no questions, he didn’t even ask why he’d hidden it. He wished Arthur had been that trusting.

He knew it wasn’t the same, that the two men were different and had different views, but it didn’t stop the ache at knowing Arthur must still be harboring a grudge against him for what he could do. When his fever had fully passed and he was more aware of the things around him, Merlin had relayed pieces of his conversation with Arthur to his mentor and the knight. Whether it was to inform them of what might happen or to get it out and not have such a heavy weight pressing over him he wasn’t sure. What he did know though was that Gwaine had been furious.

“Trial?” He’d demanded, pacing about the small room with more anger than Merlin had seen in a long time. “Arthur can’t put you on trial! After what you did? After taking that curse for him? He should be thanking you, not treating you like some criminal!”

Between himself and Gaius they had managed to calm the ranting man down, but he’d stayed close to the warlock ever since, as if he were afraid they would come for the boy in the night. He’d even gone as far as offering to go with Merlin if he wanted to leave Camelot. It was a kind offer, one that had truly touched the warlock, but also one that he had promptly turned down. He wasn’t leaving his home, and he wasn’t concerned about what would happen. Not really.

Arthur just needed time, that was all. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself as one day stretched into the next. If he could just see him, perhaps that would put his mind at rest. Gwaine had sought out the other knights and Arthur had hardly been around at all. He was either in with the council or in his chambers and he’d turned the knight away every time he’d tried to speak with him.

“He just needs time.” Gaius had said, but the time was stretching longer than Merlin could stand. He knew better than to try and track the man down himself, knew that when Arthur wanted to discuss things he would find him, but he was driving himself mad at the thoughts running through his head.

Had he overlooked something that was said to him? When he and Arthur had spoken he had been weak, he’d barely stayed conscious during their conversation and when the King had departed Merlin had passed out again not long after. Was it possible he’d said something different than he remembered? Arthur had been concerned, though he’d promised no harm would come to Merlin. But if there was to be a trial shouldn’t he have heard from him by now?

Closing his eyes and sinking back into the tree, Merlin took in a deep breath of the morning’s air and released it slowly, forcing his body to give into the calm of the forest and relax.

“You look well.”

Jolting at the voice, Merlin’s head lifted and found a man standing before him, his head bowed and the hood of a worn blue cloak covering his features. “You’re that sorcerer.” He murmured, his body tensing as the man’s head rose and eyes that looked like the forest around him met his pressing gaze.

“Alard.” The sorcerer nodded, eyeing the boy carefully. “And you, you are Emrys.” Drawing his brows together at the use of the name, he watched as the sorcerer gestured towards a fallen tree limb a few paces away. “May I?”

Barely nodding his head in agreeance, the sorcerer sat and regarded the warlock quietly. “Are you-“

“A druid?” The man cut in, a faint smile drifting across his face as his hands clasped together and he shook his head. “No, but I was taken in by them, raised as one of their own.”

“Weren’t you banished?” Merlin asked, recalling the irritation Gwaine had had when telling him what had become of the sorcerer.

“I was.” He nodded, leaning forwards as his eyes fell to the ground. “But I had one last thing to do before I could leave.”

“Which was?” The suspicion was clear in the warlock’s tone as a wary tension settled between them.

With a soft laugh, Alard glanced up and met the boy’s gaze with a remorseful stare. “I needed to ask for your forgiveness.” Dropping his head once more, Merlin’s brows shot up in shock as he leaned forwards, his tunic catching on the bark of the tree as he pulled away. “I never intended for any harm to befall you, least of all the horrors you endured.”

As the sorcerer clenched his hands together, Merlin kept hold of his suspicion as he stared at the man. “Then why cast the curse at all?”

“I was impatient.” He replied softly, his shoulders slouching as his hands rose to his face. “And though it means very little, it truly was not meant for you.”

“But it was meant for Arthur, you intended to harm him.” The boy stated, a sharp edge to his words as Alard’s head jerked up and he stared with wide eyes at the warlock.

“No, no harm was to come to either of you I swear it. The curse, all it was meant to do was to make Arthur Pendragon listen. To hear the cries of his people, the ones who were innocent. It was meant only to last for a day at most.”

The sorcerer seemed entirely different from when Merlin had first seen him. What had happened to elicit such a change? “Why were you so intent on Arthur listening?”

“I told you, I was impatient.” He muttered, his fingers curling into fists on his lap. “I know of the prophecies, the ones that speak of you, Emrys.” Drawing in a slow breath, the man’s eyes fell to his hands. “I was found in the forest as a child. My parents had been killed by bandits and this druid, he took pity upon me. I was young and he found me asleep amongst my family’s corpses. He took me with him and brought me up as his own.”

Merlin listened in silence, the man’s voice filled with a sorrowful tone. “I grew up with the druids, I came to learn magic and was told of the same prophecies as the rest. When I became older I married a beautiful woman, one that I loved dearly.” A content smile settled into place as the sorcerer paused, his fingers stretching out as he continued. “We had a child together, she and I. A little girl, the greatest joy of my life.”

The smile he wore fell away as he paused again, his head tipping a fraction to one side as green eyes settled on the grass between them. “We were traveling through the forest and Dimia, my child, she was practicing some simple spells to pass the time.” Merlin’s chest tightened as Alard’s head lifted towards the sky.

“We’d warned her not to until we’d returned, but she has such spirit. One of her spells drifted too far and attracted attention from guards that were patrolling the area. They did not care that she was just a child, that her magic had caused no harm, they merely attacked.” Blue eyes fell away as Merlin swallowed the disgust that rose within him, the hesitation in the sorcerer’s tale giving way to heavier breaths that left the man as he recalled the events.

“There were not many, and while I protected my child with everything I had, Ryia was struck, injured in the fight. The guards left her for dead, not a single thought spared for the innocent life they tried to take. For the child that they tried to kill.” Lifting his gaze, Merlin found the other’s eyes staring harshly at him, dark hues practically burning a hole through him.

“I knew of you, Emrys, of what you were meant to do. And yet my family, my child, was put in danger simply because they had magic. They weren’t evil, they weren’t bad, but still they were hurt. Their lives were in danger, because you had yet to fulfill what was meant to be.” The words he spoke cut into Merlin, the warlock’s breath catching as guilt tied around his heart.

“Ryia was physically healed, but she was never the same after the attack, and neither was my child. Dimia swore off her magic, refused to even acknowledge her gift because she was terrified it would get one of us killed. Seeing the way she stared at herself, as if it had been all her fault, that was the night I decided to take things into my own hands.” His voice became harsh as he spoke, the sorcerer pressing his palms against his legs firmly.

“I was tired of waiting, tired of watching so many innocent lives being destroyed. I came up with a plan, a way to show the King of Camelot that killing those that have magic merely because he believed what they possessed was wrong was a pointless amount of bloodshed.” Drumming his fingers against his knees, Alard scowled.

“I worked for so long, finding the exact ingredients I would need to create the curse. And then in the end when I finally found the man responsible for carrying on a law that destroyed the lives of so many, he was with Emrys himself and completely unaware.” Meeting Merlin’s gaze, the man glared at him with such anger the boy felt his body tensing once more.

“And then you stepped in the way. All of my work, everything I had done for the sake of my child was ruined. All because of a sorcerer’s loyalty to a King that would have had him killed in an instant if he knew what they were.” Swallowing back his response, a bitter laugh shot out of the man.

“I was shocked. How could you, Emrys, carry such faith in a ruler who was so against everything you were? Though regardless to how I felt, I wasn’t to know that the spell would react the way it had. I thought perhaps it would take longer to fade, or not even work at all. But then it grew, it worsened, and as time passed I knew something had gone terribly wrong.”

“Why did you care?” It was the first question Merlin had asked, and as the sorcerer stared with a fire still burning in his eyes, the warlock wondered if he should have remained silent. But then all at once the fire was dying and Alard’s body was slouching forwards again.

“I knew what would become of me.” He murmured, a soft sigh heaving out of him. “I knew if I were caught I would either be killed or locked away for what I had done. And if I managed to get away, I knew I would not welcome back home. Not after having attacked you and the King.” Looking up, the sorcerer’s eyes took on a hard determination, though his voice wavered when he spoke.

“But it was my child. She shouldn’t be scared of who she is, of what she can do. I wanted a world where she could grow up unafraid. Where she might grow up accepted. And if that meant breaking the rules, if that meant giving her up for her own sake, then so be it.” Drawing in a shaking breath, the man’s hands rose and ran down his face, his gaze shifting to the side.

“But then you never recovered. You grew worse, and suddenly it wasn’t that time was ticking away while magic remained banned, it was that you were at the risk of dying by magic itself. Because of a single mistake my daughter would never have a life worth living, one where she wasn’t afraid of what she was but one where she would believe that magic had ruined it all.”

Shifting where he sat, Merlin drew his leg up and draped his arm across his knee as the sorcerer continued. “I couldn’t get close to you, people were always around, so I did the next best thing. I tried to give the answer directly to the King.”

“Arthur said he couldn’t find you.” Merlin interjected, receiving a nod in response.

“He couldn’t. I didn’t dare get close to either of you, I knew what would happen to me if I did. So I worked from afar by influencing his dreams. With a piece of someone you can do that quite easily.”

“How did you-“ Pausing, Merlin’s mind raced as his eyes narrowed. “Arthur’s crossbow.”

“Sweat and blood, I had more than enough to work with.” An artful smile curved the sorcerer’s lips as he sat back, waving his hands briefly. “But even then he was stubborn. He kept a firm grasp on his opinions towards magic, partially due to what I did I’m sure, and all the while you continued to suffer. It was a constant back and forth, I could not get him to shift his stance, nothing could. At least, not until you were losing the fight.”

Confusion fell over the boy, but before he could speak the man was continuing on. “When you hit the lowest point he finally allowed the dream to progress, to show him what it needed in order for him to help you. Once I knew he was willing to do whatever it took, I waited for him. It didn’t take him long, either. I’ll admit, I was surprised at how open he was towards the solution.” He shook his head, his fingers drawing towards the edges of his cloak.

“I had thought you were foolish to take a curse that was never meant for you, to take it for someone who allowed the idea of magic being evil to rule rather than looking at the person who used it. But I was unaware that your loyalty went both ways. For as oblivious as he was to your magic, for the mere servant that he thought you were, he still held you in such high regard. He was willing to do anything to save you, even allowing magic to be used on him.”

Merlin’s eyes drifted away, a surge of emotion welling up inside as a twinge of guilt struck him again. Arthur had indeed felt that way, but did he still view his friend like that after finding out what he was?

“You’d planned for me to reveal myself to him, hadn’t you?” He asked quietly, working to keep the accusatory tone from his voice as he met the sorcerer’s hesitant gaze.

“It wasn’t intended, but I did suspect it might happen. You were stuck and you had given up. Your body was failing and you were dying. By having the King there you were forced to protect him, and in turn yourself.”

“You couldn’t have found a better way?” The second question contained a hint of bitterness with the words as the man frowned back at him.

“I could’ve left you to die, if you would have preferred.” He commented dryly. “Besides, it all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

“Worked out?” Merlin scoffed, sitting forwards. “Because of this now I-“

“Merlin!”

Stopping midsentence, the warlock’s head turned at the sound of Arthur calling to him from beyond the tree line.

“For what it’s worth to you,” The sorcerer began, rising from his seat as the boy’s eyes darted back to him. “I believe the curse was broken before the King ever stepped foot within your dream.”

“What?” Looking up at where the man stood over him, Alard smiled thinly. “I thought the curse was broken when Arthur listened to the innocent cries of the sorcerers?”

“It was.” The man nodded once, his hands reaching up and adjusting his hood to cover more of his face. “But let me ask you this, could you hear him in your dream?” Narrowing his eyes at the question, Merlin nodded. “Before he ever heard the sorcerers?” Merlin opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss for anything to say. “I thought that the King needed to hear the outcries of his people, to hear the innocent who were slain in the past to realize that his stance on magic was not as it should be.”

“Merlin!”

Turning back towards the sound of Arthur’s voice which was drawing nearer, he heard the sorcerer shuffle back a step. “It seems though that one voice managed to outweigh all the others.”

“What are you talking about? You said I was trapped and that until he listened-“

“You were, but your own magic warped the curse. It fed off your fear and your guilt, and I believe that is the reason you were trapped, that you couldn’t escape until he heard those voices because you were waiting for him to accept you as much as he had them.”

Merlin’s mind was racing as Alard’s eyes flickered to the right. “But the curse, the original curse, then how-“

“An innocent cry, Emrys, that’s all that was needed. One of meaning that was suffering at the cost of Camelot’s law.”

“Merlin!”

Turning and spotting the blond walking in their direction, Merlin glanced back and found the sorcerer nowhere in sight. Shifting his weight and glancing behind the tree he still sat beside, he swallowed past the lump that had formed in his throat. “I forgive you.” He murmured, any trace of the sorcerer gone.

“Have you gone deaf again?” Jumping at the voice, Merlin’s head whipped around and found Arthur standing above him, an annoyed expression pointed directly towards the warlock. “Did you not hear me shouting for you?”

“What? Yes. No! I mean.. what?” As he fumbled for his words Arthur’s brows drew together in confusion as he glanced the boy over.

“Yes or no, Merlin, which is it?” He demanded, fixing him with a stern gaze as the boy’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times. “Were you talking to someone?”

“What? No!” He said quickly, laughing nervously as he sputtered out a poor excuse. “No I was, I was talking to myself.” The King stared at him as if he’d gone completely insane and Merlin inwardly cursed himself.

“Did you miss the sound of your own voice that much?” Arthur scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. “You certainly weren’t missing much.”

“Better than listening to yours.” The warlock shot back instinctively, catching the glare that was sent his direction. “Sire.” He tagged at the end as a flicker of amusement lit up Arthur’s face before the man was glancing away.

“How’s your leg?” Gesturing towards the boy, Merlin looked towards his knee before he was scrambling up from where he was sitting and brushing his hands against his trousers to rid them of the dirt.

“Fine, bit sore. Gaius thinks I’ll have quite the scar, though it’s not one to be proud of.” It was an attempt at a joke, but when Arthur didn’t respond the boy fell quiet, his smile fading as the King turned, his eyes lingering on the warlock a moment longer before he began to walk slowly back the way he’d come.

Taking the silent invitation and trailing after him, Merlin easily caught up and fell in stride beside the man. “Have you decided then?” He asked softly, feeling the other’s eyes settle on him. “No guards ever came and took me to the dungeons, so-“

“Is that what you were waiting for?” Arthur asked as Merlin glanced his way.

“I’m not sure what I was expecting. You never came back and I haven’t heard from you since, so I didn’t know.” He answered honestly as Arthur ducked beneath a tree limb.

“Do you know what I’ve been doing this whole time, Merlin?”

“Not a clue, Sire.”

“I’ve been in meetings. Long, tedious, endless meetings.” Tilting his head back with a heavy sigh, the man came to a stop and stared up at the sky through the trees as Merlin looked at him over his shoulder.

“Gwaine mentioned you’d sent some sort of documents to the council and that they reacted poorly to whatever was in them.”

“That is an understatement.” Arthur muttered, dropping his gaze onto the warlock before he began to walk again. “They’re not happy with some changes that I’ve proposed.” He continued, reaching out and dragging his fingers across the bark of a tree. “Changes that I fully intend to act upon.”

“What sort of changes?” Merlin prodded, studying the King as they walked in silence for a few moments. It was the first time they’d spoken since he’d woken up and Arthur hadn’t mentioned his magic even once; whether or not that was a good thing was yet to be seen.

“I’ve made an amendment to one of the laws.” He declared, brushing the tips of his fingers together as he stared straight ahead. “Magic is to be permitted within Camelot.”

“What?” Merlin stumbled at the words, stopping dead in his tracks as Arthur’s head turned and a serious look fell on the boy.

“Permitted only by direct allowance from myself.” He uttered, and Merlin felt like his world was spinning. Arthur had allowed magic? Even if it wasn’t for all of Camelot, the amendment in itself was something the boy could hardly believe.

“I’ve never had the diehard belief that my father carried all these years, you of all people know that. Magic isn’t evil and I know that now, without a doubt.” As the King met the warlock’s pressing stare, Merlin swallowed down his shock as Arthur turned and continued to walk. “I also plan to fully return magic to Camelot, though that’s proven to be a bit more difficult.”

“Seriously?” Merlin gaped behind him, forcing his feet to start moving again.

“Yes.” Arthur nodded, cutting his eyes towards the boy as he caught back up to the King. “I’ve encountered problems however, aside from the anger from most of the council themselves. It seems the knowledge of magic has become rather poor based on too many years of biased rulings and forgotten ways. It’s made pursuing this rather difficult.” Arthur moved his hands about as he spoke, glancing towards the other to make sure he understood as Merlin nodded.

“There are simply too many possibilities, too many outcomes that could occur from our lack of knowledge or understanding. Either a decision will be made incorrectly, or what we know of magic will not suffice in the ways we need. Mistakes will be made regardless, but I intend to cut down on that as much as is possible. Due to that, I’ve decided to appoint someone who will assist in those matters.”

“Assist?’ Merlin questioned, peering over at the man who kept his gaze fixed in front of them with an unreadable expression in place.

“Yes, someone to assist and advise myself and the court when need be. That is why I’ve made the amendment, so that a court sorcerer can be appointed.”

Merlin nearly stopped again, shock rattling through him as he stared with an open mouth towards the King. He couldn’t really be serious, could he? All that time he’d spent in those meetings, this was what he was doing? He didn’t hate magic, he was allowing it.

“The job will come with quite a lot of responsibilities.” Arthur continued, seemingly oblivious to Merlin’s reaction. “There will be long hours, countless meetings and dealing with any unrest from the people over the sudden appearance of magic in the kingdom after it having been gone for so long. Of course along with the new position there would be new chambers, more authority, and of course more freedom when using magic. It’s a trusted position, Merlin, you understand?” He stressed, casting a look towards the warlock who was still trying recover from his shock.

“I’m sure whoever you choose will be very honored.” He finally managed to get out while fighting back a smile as the King turned away and nodded.

“Good, I’m glad you think so. I’ll propose the idea to Gaius this afternoon then.” Arthur declared, continuing through the trees as Merlin’s steps faltered, his pace slowing as his breath caught in his throat.

He felt as though he’d just been punched. “Gaius.” He murmured, turning his head away to hide the hurt he knew he could not mask. Was he foolish to have believed that Arthur had meant the position for him? “Of course. Like I said, I-I’m sure he’ll be honored.” He could barely force the words out as he stared hard at the ground.

He knew he should be glad, after all Arthur had actually changed his mind about magic. And he was, truly he was. But he’d hoped.. Well once he’d heard he’d thought.. Was he naïve to think he’d be given the opportunity to work beside Arthur? Would he even be allowed his old job back? Merlin’s thoughts spiraled as he walked until he heard what sounded like a laugh being smothered by a cough come from the man’s direction as he lifted his eyes and focused them on the King.

Arthur wore no smile, but his eyes were alight with mischief as he glanced towards the boy. “Honestly, Merlin, you’re too easy. It’s almost pathetic.” And then there it was, a smile beginning to curve his lips as Merlin stopped and stared openly at him. But then, did that mean..

“Really?” The words came out quieter than he thought as he forced his voice louder. “Are you serious?”

“Would I have bothered to come out all this way to find you if I weren’t?” Arthur muttered, rolling his eyes as if the boy were the most oblivious person ever.

Letting out a soft laugh, the weight Merlin had felt vanished entirely, the boy feeling lighter than he had in ages as he walked forwards to catch up to the King who had continued his trek. He could hardly believe it as the man’s words played over and over again inside his mind.

“You said new chambers?” He asked suddenly, looking over at the other as Arthur’s face contorted into one of disbelief.

“I’ve just told you that you’ll be working long hours, have innumerable responsibilities and that you can use your magic without being thrown in the dungeon, and the chambers are what you care about?”

“Well it’s not as if you don’t work me to the bone anyway, at least now I won’t smell like the stables.”

Blinking at his friend, Arthur rolled his eyes again and heaved out an annoyed breath. “It’s not as if that tower is used for anything else, and you’re up there all the time anyway as of late. Besides, I can’t exactly have my court sorcerer living in the back room of the physician now can I?”

Merlin could feel himself practically grinning, wondering briefly if he were still somehow dreaming. “I’m serious about the workload, Merlin. And of course you’ll have to do something about your wardrobe, you look like a child.” Arthur scoffed, gesturing towards the boy as his smile fell. “You can start by getting rid of that ridiculous neckerchief.”

“That’s like asking me to get rid of a piece of myself.” Merlin objected, his fingers brushing against the fabric as Arthur glared at him.

“A stupid looking piece.”

“Well I’m rather fond of it. In fact, losing it might just kill me.”

“That can be arranged.”

The two’s bickering felt familiar as a content smile settled onto the warlock’s face, the pair making their way back towards the citadel.

“Arthur?”

“What?”

“Does this mean I don’t have to wash your socks anymore?” The King let out an offended sound, a scowl and a glare finding their way to the boy as he turned, walking backwards as he studied his friend.

“Merlin-“

“Because they really are atrocious and not being forced to endure them anymore is in itself a miracle. In fact you really ought to consult Gaius about that, it could be a disease of some sort.”

“Merlin-“

“You know, I might be able to find a spell that would help.”

“Merlin, shut up!” Turning back around and smirking, Arthur’s hand connected with the back of the boy’s head as he let out a quiet yelp, turning and flashing the King a dirty look. “For supposedly being the greatest sorcerer to walk the earth, you’re still an idiot.” He remarked, catching the warlock’s attention.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Gaius told me. He claimed that you’re some all powerful magical user.” He stated, eyeing the boy as Merlin ducked his head and shrugged lightly. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“As powerful as he says?”

Glancing up, Merlin’s fingers ran across the back of his neck. “I guess, yeah.”

“You guess? Don’t try being modest or anything.” Arthur scoffed.

“What like you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing at all.” Merlin waved his hands about as the two fell into a comfortable silence that stretched on as they walked. He’d missed that, the arguing and the jesting, and given the near pleasant expression Arthur wore he was inclined to believe he had as well.

“Thank you.” The warlock spoke up after a few minutes had passed, catching the King’s attention as his brows furrowed.

“For what?”

“For trusting me.” He said sincerely as Arthur glanced away.

“You gave me a reason to.”

The smile on the warlock’s face returned as he tugged at his scarf. “I was right.”

“Right? About what exactly?” The King demanded, giving him a dubious glance.

“You’re a great King, Arthur. With everything that’s happened, you’ve only proven that fact more.”

Lifting his chin, Arthur wore the faintest smile as he replied. “You already have the job and permission to use your magic, Merlin, flattery will get you nothing else.”

“Why would I try and flatter you? Your ego is already the size of your head.” He shot out, catching the offended expression the other displayed once more.

“My ego and my head are of normal size, Merlin!”

“Of three people combined perhaps.” He muttered beneath his breath as Arthur huffed in irritation.

“Are you insulting your King?”

“No, of course not, I’d never.”

“Merlin-“

“Shut up, I know.”

“At least you know how to listen again.” He grumbled as they neared the citadel.

Merlin’s eyes cut towards the King and a soft ‘prat’ was spoken beneath his breath.

“I heard that.”

“What?” The warlock asked innocently as the man displayed a smug look.

“Don’t be such a dollop head, Merlin.”

Turning and staring at him with an open mouth, Merlin himself let out a scoff that only seemed to amuse the man. “That’s my word, Arthur.”

“It can’t be your word when it’s not actually a word.”

“How would you know?” He demanded as Arthur smirked.

“Because I’m smarter than you, Merlin, that’s how.”

“Yeah? I think you’ve just got a lot of hot air up there.” He muttered, gesturing towards the man’s head as Arthur looked directly at him.

“You think you’re smarter than me?”

“Well I can dress myself, you know, by myself.”

“Perhaps if you ran as much as your mouth does you wouldn’t be so unfit.”

“I’m perfectly fit, Your Highness, you on the other hand..” Trailing off, the boy caught the way the blond glowered at him as they began to climb the steps of the citadel.

“I take it back, I think I will choose Gaius instead.”

“That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?”

“And calling me fat isn’t?”

“I never said that.”

“I think I liked it better when you couldn’t hear and didn’t speak.” Arthur’s hand shoved against Merlin’s shoulder as they walked through the halls, though the warlock’s smile never faded, not entirely.

Arthur had been right. Things had changed, and some would never be like it was before. But there were certain things that remained. Their friendship and their loyalty towards each other had remained intact. And as the two walked side by side towards the throne room, Merlin decided that what they were now would never change. After all, they were two sides of the same coin and their destiny together might someday be that of legend.

-END-