Fic: The Dragon Within ~ Part 5 [PG-13] Merlin/Arthur

[gfeather]

The chill morning air hung heavy around them, mist shrouding the narrow road ahead. There wasn’t a breath of wind, but Merlin hunched down lower over his horse in an attempt to feel warmer. It didn’t work. The damp fingers of cold slithered their way in at his collar and cuffs and pressed icily in on the back of his knees. It was small consolation that the others looked chilled as well, although their thick gambesons and woollen cloaks were far warmer than his worn jacket. As they plodded quietly along in the pre-dawn, Merlin wondered what it was about this morning that had him feeling the cold so much. Since his wings had manifested, he had spent hours in the cold night air, exposed to the elements without a shirt on, and not felt uncomfortable. But this morning, he felt sluggish and miserable.

The three days they had spent travelling had been pleasant enough until now. The fall weather had a bite to it, but they hadn’t been caught in howling winds or downpours as they moved from town to town. The Council had been reluctant for Arthur to spend his first formal celebrations as regent away from the city, but had been swayed by Leon’s argument that Arthur was the people’s prince. He was well regarded by the peasants because he was regularly seen in the towns and villages throughout Camelot. Showing the kingdom that his concern for them would not change now that he was regent was a strategic move to quell the insecurities of a nervous people, or so Leon had suggested. It had taken a good deal more convincing to keep the travelling party small and unheralded, but in the end Leon, Bedivere, Hector and Geraint accompanied Arthur with no squires or servants apart from Merlin. Their saddlebags were filled to bursting with small tokens for the villages, though thankfully no wagon of supplies. Merlin was inclined to think their group was too large and conspicuous already, but they seemed to be moving quietly enough.

Actually, it was unnaturally quiet. Merlin jerked his head up and glanced around suspiciously. Even in the very early morning, the rustle of small creatures in the trees and the underbrush followed them as they rode. Straining his ears to hear, there was nothing, only the soft footfalls of the horses. Merlin frowned as he glanced up the foggy path and shivered at the penetrating chill. Something wasn’t right. Prodding his horse with his heels, Merlin drew up alongside Arthur and caught his eye.

Arthur gave him a curious look. “Something wrong, Merlin?”

He nodded and softly said, “Listen.”

Arthur cocked his head and frowned after a long moment. “I don’t hear anything.”

“No birds, no squirrels, no breeze. Nothing,” Merlin added, glancing around the trees that surrounded them.

“And the fog?” Arthur asked.

Merlin shrugged. “Doesn’t it feel a lot colder than it did yesterday?”

Arthur held up his hand and the knights halted their horses. He gave the men a few hand gestures that still held next to no meaning to Merlin, but the others must have understood clearly based on their nods of comprehension. A moment later, they rearranged themselves on the path so that everyone was riding two abreast. Merlin found himself in the middle of the group beside Arthur with Leon and Bedivere a short ways ahead of them. Hector and Geraint rode behind, slowing their pace. Soon they fell far enough back that the thump of hooves and shifting of harness became muffled. He glanced back to see how far away they were, and was startled to see how short a distance was needed to obscure the sound of their movements.

Noticing his expression of surprise, Arthur’s lips pulled down into a deeper frown and he nodded. There wasn’t much question now. The quiet of the forest was unnatural.

The road rose with a curve at the top that obscured Leon and Bedivere from Merlin’s view even though they were no more than a half dozen horse lengths behind. Then, suddenly, the silence of the morning was shattered by the panicked squealing of horses and the splintering sound of falling trees. Arthur drew his sword and gave his mount a sharp kick. Merlin dug in his own heels and his horse surged up the road beside Arthur. As they turned the corner, their way was blocked by two large uprooted trees. On the other side, Leon and Bedivere’s horses reared and kicked, struggling to pull their reins free of the branches, their saddles empty.

Arthur leapt from his horse and dashed around the trees, heedless of the danger. Merlin nearly fell on his face as he dismounted, but scrambled to his feet. The ground beneath him was soft and crumbly from the violent uprooting of the trees, but it didn’t seem to hinder Arthur. Already clear of the roots, he was striding forward shouting, “Morgana!”

Pushing himself forward, Merlin didn’t take the time to look at his surroundings. He could feel a powerful surge of magic gathering in the air, and he launched himself forward. His clothes ripped apart as his wings unfurled and wrapped themselves around Arthur. A moment later, a burning stab of white hot pain shot through him.

Merlin’s awareness condensed to nothing more than the man in his arms and the pain in his body. The initial stab became rippling waves of agony as the spell, whatever it had been, flowed over him. He was dimly aware of Arthur’s astounded expression, but there was little room in his mind to make sense of it alongside the pain. When the seemingly endless moment of agony passed, Merlin became aware that he was screaming. He gulped at the air and clung tightly to Arthur, even as the prince struggled to free himself.

Slowly his other senses returned to him and Arthur’s voice shouting, “Merlin! Merlin let go!” over and over again finally registered. He parted his wings enough to see across the clearing and gaped. There was a crumpled heap on the ground in front of a tree that looked like it had been struck by lightning and beside that was Morgana, shrieking and crying, her forehead bleeding.

Merlin released his grip on Arthur and stumbled shakily towards Morgana and the crumpled form. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burnt flesh and ozone. His hand shook as he reached forward and pushed aside the tattered cloth to reveal the singed blonde hair and shocked face of Morgause. The centre of her chest was burnt black. She was very dead. Beside him, Morgana wailed.

Merlin turned to look at Morgana, blinked, and saw Arthur kneeling at her side, clutching her shoulders as she sobbed. Feeling dazed, he watched the trickle of blood from the cut on her forehead gather at her eyebrow and fall in a perfect crimson drop onto her dark green cloak.



When he had seen Morgana, Arthur shouted out to her. It was a foolish thing to do, he knew that, but actually seeing her made all his caution and training vanish. She was alive.

And then he saw Morgause.

He saw the cruel expression darken her features. He saw her eyes flash golden. He saw a bright burst of magic surging towards him. And then he felt a body collide with him and grasp him so tightly it hurt. The world darkened and then there was agonized screaming filling his ears. It had taken a moment to realize that both the fingers digging painfully into his shoulders and the screaming voice were Merlin. His body was jerking and shuddering and he had wrapped something around them that Arthur couldn’t make sense of. The screaming was deafening and Arthur tried to push himself away, but Merlin seemed insensible to the world around him.

When the screaming stopped, Merlin had staggered away towards Morgana and Morgause, or where Morgause had been. Arthur stared in horrified amazement at the sight of the charred tree and the immobile form of Morgause on the ground. It wasn’t until he began to move forward himself that Merlin’s appearance finally registered.

Two massive, leathery brown wings protruded from Merlin’s back. They were spread wide, like a bat’s wing in flight, and the right side had a sizeable black mark on it. The spot, Arthur realized, was where Morgause’s burst of magic had struck him. Arthur lurched towards Merlin, determined to see how hurt he was, when he heard Morgana’s shrieking sobs. He dropped to his knees beside her and held her tightly as Merlin exposed the charred remains of Morgause. Arthur blinked at the size and severity of the burn on Morgause’s chest, eyes darting up to the charred remnants of the tree behind her. Clearly Merlin had been hurt, but his injury had been small in comparison.

Morgana struggled in his grip and he turned his attention back to her. Arthur could see that her clothes were singed, but the only injury he could find was a large cut on her forehead. It was bleeding steadily, but not as profusely as some head wounds did.

Speaking softly, Arthur said, “You’re alright. We’ve found you. You’re safe.”

Merlin turned away from Morgause’s dead body and he moved to take a closer look at Morgana’s cut. As he reached a hand out to touch her forehead, Morgana screamed, “Don’t touch me! Noooo!”

“He’s going to help you. You’re bleeding. Let him help you,” Arthur soothed.

“He’s going to kill me!” Morgana cried, and began kicking her feet at Merlin.

Swift as a striking snake, Merlin grabbed Morgana’s flailing left wrist, snatched the bracelet on it and threw it into the trees. Morgana’s struggles lessened and her screams became wrenching sobs with garbled words of pleading. Merlin ignored her and brought his hand to the bloody wound. Merlin said something guttural and incomprehensible, then his eyes flared with magic and Morgana’s cut closed over and stopped bleeding. Morgana’s struggling stopped and she stared wide eyed at Merlin.

Arthur’s brain finally caught up with all he was seeing and he stared at Merlin too. Merlin was a sorcerer. A sorcerer with massive wings. Arthur gaped, at a complete loss for words.

Merlin looked at him imploringly. “I never meant to hurt anyone. I’ve always wanted to use my powers to help people.”

Merlin turned to Morgana. “Morgause was controlling you. She used you to put a spell on Camelot and I didn’t know how to stop it. I couldn’t find another way. I knew she could save you, though. I didn’t know exactly what she wanted with you, but I knew she would save you. I’m sorry, Morgana. I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to help you. People kept telling me not to, and I listened to them. I’m so sorry.”

Arthur watched as Merlin collapsed to the ground at Morgana’s feet, weeping and babbling for forgiveness. He felt like he had missed something important, or more likely many things. Morgana continued to stare at the man weeping at her feet, seemingly at an equal loss for words. Arthur wondered if she had a better idea what Merlin was raving about, but didn’t think she was in a state to answer him.

Shouting from farther off caught his attention. Arthur looked up to see Hector and Geraint walking cautiously out onto the road. It looked like they had circled around through the trees and approached from the other direction, which, now that Arthur was thinking more clearly, was what he ought to have done when he saw Bedivere and Leon’s horses. Arthur raised an arm to indicate all was relatively safe and beckoned them closer.

“Sire,” said Hector as he approached, “are you hurt?”

“No,” Arthur said with a shake of his head. “I think I have Merlin to thank for that.”

“Merlin!?” said Geraint in surprise. “What did he... Merlin??”

The young knight took in the huddled figure sobbing on the ground, the massive wings still outstretched with the blackened spot clearly visible, and took a few shuffling steps backward. Hector looked at Merlin as well, his eyebrows climbing high towards his receding hairline.

“Your manservant... has wings?”

Arthur shrugged, still stunned by the whole situation, and blurted, “And it seems he’s a sorcerer.”

Hector raised his sword instinctively, and at the same moment both Arthur and Morgana shouted, “Don’t!”

Morgana shifted out of Arthur’s arms and leaned forward to touch Merlin’s shoulder. His tear streaked face jerked up and she reached out to wipe away a smear of dirt from his face. Merlin’s tears seemed to flow harder, but both he and Morgana seemed calmer.

Arthur struggled to his feet and looked towards the frantic horses tangled in the fallen trees. “Leon and Bedivere. Where are they?”

Geraint went to calm the horses while Arthur and Hector walked along the edge of the road. Hearing a pained groan, Arthur climbed over another fallen tree and found Leon laying on the ground clutching his head.

When he looked up and saw Arthur, he said, “I’m going to kill that horse.”

“Are you injured?”

Leon shifted onto his side and winced. “Bruised, but not broken I don’t think.”

“Need a hand?” Arthur asked, reaching down to help Leon to his feet.

Grunting and wincing, Leon managed to stay upright, but needed support to walk. Coming back out onto the road, Leon looked at the damage in surprise. “What happened?”

“We’ll try to put that together once everyone is accounted for,” said Arthur.

Geraint had managed to untangle one of the horses and moved it a good distance up the road. He had found a proper tether in the packs and the beast had settled. The other still stamped and huffed anxiously, but also seemed to have more of its head now that the two weren’t tangled together. The smell that hung in the air was beginning to make his stomach turn and Arthur helped Leon hobble away from the devastation towards where Geraint was moving the horses.

As he passed Geraint heading back for the other horse, he said, “Bring all the horses up the road. We need to regroup and take stock.”

“Of course, Sire,” said Geraint.

When Leon was as comfortable as he could be leaned up against a tree on the side of the road, Arthur hurried back to find Hector waving him over. He cast a glance over at Merlin and Morgana, to find them still sitting only feet away from Morgause’s body, though they had shifted and Merlin was sitting beside Morgana holding her hand and wrapping a wing around her. He shook his head, still not prepared to deal with suddenly magical manservants and loped over to Hector.

Hector’s face was grim. “I’ve found Bedivere, but he’s not doing well.”

Arthur followed Hector around some scraggly bushes and nearly lost his balance as the hillside sloped away from them steeply. Near the bottom, Bedivere lay unmoving with one of his legs sticking out in a very unnatural position. Carefully scrabbling down the slope, Arthur got a better look at the injury and sucked in a breath. He could clearly see the large bone in Bedivere’s thigh protruding from the skin, the jagged edges a mess of dirt and leaves. This was the sort of injury that could easily kill a man, if not from the obvious blood loss, then from infection. The only thing in Bedivere’s favour at the moment was that he was deeply unconscious.

Looking up at Hector, Arthur said, “We’ll have to move him. Even if Gaius has taught Merlin enough to patch him up to ride home, this isn’t the place to do it. Get one of the bedrolls and some rope.”

Hector frowned. “Not to step too closely towards treason, my Lord, but if you intend for Merlin to help him, I think it is very likely that he can move Bedivere more easily and less painfully than we could.”

Right. Merlin was a sorcerer. A sorcerer with wings. Arthur was having a difficult time holding this mind boggling information in his head. Distantly, he knew he should very angry with Merlin. He should be filled with rage and betrayal and clamouring for justice, but such thoughts could find no home in his mind. It was stupid, reckless Merlin, blundering in with outlandish notions that he was there to save the day... which if Arthur thought about it had probably happened before, though never so obviously.

Focussing back on Hector he nodded curtly. “Right. If there is anything to be salvaged in this disaster, we must use the resources we have available to us. Let’s go get Merlin.”



The world around him was becoming too much. Merlin ached. His body throbbed from the magic that had seared against him, roiling over his skin until he was able to push it away. Residual flickers of it danced like lightning across his skin. His heart ached too, not just from the pounding adrenaline, but from the hurt he had felt from the horrified expressions turned his way. He had seen what he had done to Morgause, and that hadn’t even been his intent. All he had wanted to do was protect Arthur, and now he wouldn’t be able to do that anymore. Arthur knew his secret. Arthur had seen what he was capable of. Morgana knew him for the killer he was. There was no question what would happen now. Merlin couldn’t find the energy in him to plead for mercy. All he could do was expunge his guilt.

In the haze of his misery, he didn’t remember moving, but when he was jolted into awareness by Arthur shaking his shoulders, he was surprised to find himself sitting up with a wing around Morgana, clutching her hand in his.

“Merlin, I need your help. Bedivere has fallen down a steep slope and his leg is very badly broken,” Arthur said, staring directly into Merlin’s eyes.

Merlin blinked. “Wha?”

Arthur snapped his fingers impatiently in front of Merlin’s eyes and he batted them away.

“Merlin, you need to focus.”

“Why are you doing this Arthur?” Morgana asked, her voice cracking as she spoke.

Arthur glanced away for a moment, mumbled something Merlin couldn’t make sense of, then fixed his gaze back on Merlin. “If I try to move him, I’ll only hurt him more. Can you lift him back up to the road?”

“Bedivere’s huge. ‘M not strong,” Merlin slurred.

“Stay with me, Merlin. Can you use magic to lift him? Can you heal him like you did Morgana?” Arthur asked.

“I healed Morgana?” he asked, swinging his head to look at her. She was reaching up to touch a thin red line on her forehead.

Arthur grabbed his chin and lifted his face. “You did, and I’m glad. I need you to try to help Bedivere.”

“Wherrizee?”

“Come on,” Arthur said, offering a hand, “I’ll show you.”

Merlin’s head swam when Arthur pulled him to his feet. His vision grew dark at the edges and he gulped at the air. Arthur dragged one of Merlin’s arms over his shoulder and wrapped one of his own around Merlin’s waist to keep him standing. Unsteadily, they lurched towards the side of the road, past some low bushes. Merlin found himself staring woozily down the steep slope at two men. One was standing and looking down at the other laying on the ground unmoving.

With more effort than it should have taken, Merlin turned his head to look at Arthur. “The one on the ground?”

Arthur sighed in exasperation and for some reason that made Merlin feel a bit better. “Yes, Merlin. Bedivere’s the one on the ground. Can you do it, or are you too unwell?”

Merlin snorted. “Magic’s never a problem. Even when I’m sick, it always wants to get out.”

He didn’t know what to make of Arthur’s expression, so he looked back down the slope.

Arthur asked, “Is Hector in the way, or would it be better for him to stay close?”

“Close is good. Moving someone isn’t hard.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah,” Merlin answered, though even he could tell he didn’t sound all that reassuring.

Letting one of the innumerable threads of his magic unwind, Merlin raised a hand and directed the power towards Bedivere. He didn’t need a spell for this. He had been able to move things with his magic as long as he could remember. Merlin could sense that Arthur was watching him closely and heard a sharp intake of breath as the knight lifted off the ground, but he ignored it. The thread of magic running through his hand felt good and helped Merlin steady himself. Hector climbed the slope beside the floating man, occasionally reaching out a hand as if to help, though it was completely unnecessary.

Holding Bedivere’s limp body in the air, Merlin looked for a good place to lay him down. He startled when he saw that Morgana had followed them and was staring at him, wide eyes standing out on her pale face. He wondered what was going through her mind, though she appeared to be in more shock than he was.

Arthur’s voice dragged Merlin’s attention back. “How are you holding up? Can you move him a little farther?”

“I’m fine. Better actually,” Merlin said. The fog that had clouded his mind was beginning to lift and he didn’t need to lean so heavily on Arthur now. “Where should I put him down?”

Arthur gestured to where a horse was tethered on the side of the road. “I brought Leon over there. Is it too far?”

Merlin shook his head. “It’s fine.”

Arthur kept one arm locked tightly around Merlin’s waist, which Merlin appreciated. Using his magic was helping dispel the lingering sting of Morgause’s spell, but the aftershocks continued to ripple over his body without warning, making him stumble. Lowering Bedivere down on a blanket someone had laid out for him, the man didn’t make a sound. Arthur’s grip on Merlin eased and he dropped down to his knees, crawling forward to get a better look at the injury.

It was bad. Dirt and debris clung to the raw end of the bone where it protruded from the skin and the wet blood was seeping steadily from the wound. It wasn’t pumping from Bedivere’s body, though. He’d have long died of blood loss if it had been. Still, there was enough loss to already be a concern. Merlin reached for the knife he had tucked into his belt and began to cut away the trouser leg to have better access to work.

When the fabric fell away, he looked up at Arthur and said, “I don’t know if I can fix this.”

Arthur dropped to one knee beside him and gripped his shoulder tightly. “Do what you can. What do you need?”

“Water. Some to flush the wound and some heated up for an infusion. I have some herbs in my pack.”

Merlin was dimly aware of the others watching him as he tended to Bedivere, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Arthur came and went from his side bringing him skins of water and strips of cloth to clean with. Arthur found Merlin’s small pouch of herbs and medicines and brought him a steaming pot of water for the infusion. He was a solid presence, quiet and confident, which helped Merlin focus.

Even though he was deeply unconscious, Bedivere occasionally jerked and moaned. Merlin was glad the knight wasn’t awake. He had helped Gaius clean a wound like this before. The man had screamed and thrashed in pain and they had needed to tie him down to the table as they worked. Even though they had done their best, the man had lost his leg to infection. He had screamed then too, as Gaius cut through the flesh and sawed through bone.

The infusion was probably still too hot when Merlin flushed the wound with it, but the continued bleeding worried him too much to wait any longer. When he could no longer see any dirt and grit, Merlin took the small flask of distilled spirits from his pouch of medicines and poured it over the wound, silently praying his efforts were enough. He needed both Arthur and Hector’s strength to straighten the leg, though he used his magic to help guide the broken ends back into place. There didn’t seem any point in not using it anymore. Arthur wasn’t just going to forget about it. Merlin looked at the splintered edges nestled back together and hoped he remembered the healing spell correctly as he uncoiled a tendril of magic to fuse the bone. The jagged flesh wound didn’t want close smoothly so he stitched it up instead of trying to spell it closed. Gaius might do better when they got back. Finally, Merlin wrapped a bandage around the leg and stood. He staggered away towards the trees, dropped to his knees, and retched.

When the nausea and dizziness faded, a waterskin swam into focus in front of him. Merlin took the mostly empty skin gratefully, rinsing the foul taste from his mouth and taking a few sips to soothe the back of his throat. He looked up to hand the skin back, and saw Arthur frowning at him in concern.

“I pushed you too hard.”

“I’m fine,” Merlin insisted.

“Stop saying that. You’re pale as a sheet and shaking like a leaf.”

“I’m better now.”

“You were hurt too,” Arthur observed.

Arthur had brought over the pot with the remnants of the infusion in it. He dipped a fresh strip of cloth into the warm water and knelt behind Merlin. Gasping at the contact, Merlin craned his neck around to see what Arthur was doing.

“Quit squirming, Merlin,” Arthur commanded, and firmly held the edge of Merlin’s wing.

It was difficult to see what Arthur was doing, but Merlin felt the wet cloth gently wiping around the spot on his right wing that still stung like blazes.

“There’s no open wound, but the skin looks singed. This must have been where Morgause hit you.”

Merlin clenched his jaw and waited for Arthur to finish. When he was done, Arthur brought the pot over to the small fire someone had made and came back with Merlin’s lumpy bedroll.

“You seem to have lost your shirt. I can’t have you catching cold.”

Merlin shook his head but accepted the bundle anyway. “Generally not a problem, actually.”

“Really?” said Arthur, and sat down with his back against a tree a bit away from where Merlin had been sick.

Merlin shuffled away from the spot too. “Yeah. That’s part of how I knew something wasn’t right. I’m never cold anymore, but this morning I was freezing.”

Arthur made a small grunt of acknowledgement then asked, “So... wings?”

“Um...”

“How on earth have you kept them hidden? I mean, I’ve seen you without a shirt on plenty of times and I can’t say I’ve ever noticed them before.”

“Well, they are a bit new and I can retract them, pull them into my body. Although, I can’t seem to manage that at the moment.”

“And the magic?” Arthur asked dryly.

Merlin let out a heavy sigh and stared at his feet. “That’s not new. I’ve always had that.”

He could feel Arthur’s gaze. “Always?”

Merlin nodded and breathed, “Yes.”

Arthur let out a deep breath and stared up at the sky for a long time. Merlin looked around at the others. Leon was propped up against a tree on the other side of the road, wrapped in a blanket and looking decidedly uncomfortable. Geraint was fussing with the horses, soothing them and checking for injuries, but they all appeared sound. Hector sat watching over Bedivere, occasionally leaning in to check on his breathing. A short way back towards the charred and uprooted trees, Morgana sat hunched inside her cloak, staring out with dazed unseeing eyes. He wanted to go over to her and say something or do something to make her feel better, but he didn’t move.

The damp morning air was lifting and the sun had risen high enough to see through the branches of the trees when Arthur finally spoke. “We need to figure out some way to carry Bedivere and get moving. It’s not yet midday, but it will probably take us until after dark to get back to the castle.”

“What are you going to do with me?” Merlin asked in a small voice.

“Nothing,” said Arthur dismissively.

“But I’m-”

“-the only reason we’re still alive at the moment.”

“But...”

“Merlin. I have some rather bigger concerns at the moment. Be assured that we will discuss this later. For the time being, however, I’m going to run on the assumption that if you had wanted any of us dead, you would have done so sometime in the past two years,” Arthur said with his typical drawl, which went a long way to making Merlin believe him.

Arthur stood and offered Merlin a hand up. Gesturing towards Morgana, he said, “I’m going to check on her. I have no idea what you’re capable of, but we should try to clear the road.”

“Right. I’ll see what I can manage,” Merlin said with a nod.



It was long after dark when the castle came into view on the horizon. In late afternoon the wind had picked up, making the last several hours cold and miserable. Arthur was stiff and sore from a long day on horseback and he knew Leon must have been feeling much worse. They had managed to procure a light cart in the nearest village to replace the crude travois he and Geraint had made for Bedivere, but Leon had insisted on riding. Arthur could see the line of tension in Leon’s jaw whenever he glanced over, but he didn’t mention it again.

The cart had been hitched to Merlin’s horse. It was a sturdy animal and the only horse with them that would tolerate either cart or travois. Merlin sat hunched over Bedivere for most of the journey, hoping the man would regain consciousness, but he had shown no signs of waking. Geraint had taken Merlin’s reins and was leading his horse, taking care to follow the smoothest path he could find while Hector brought up the rear.

Arthur had taken Bedivere’s mount and given his own horse to Morgana to ride. She hadn’t said a word about where she had been or what had happened to her, and when he mentioned that Uther had missed her greatly she became frantic, insisting she could not return to the city with them. Merlin had whispered something in her ear that managed to soothe her enough to convince her to return, but there was a haunted wariness in her eyes that lingered. Arthur wished he knew what was upsetting her so much and why she didn’t want to come home. He had searched throughout the kingdom for her and spent weeks worrying. He had thought she’d be grateful for her rescue, or at the least be her more usual dismissive self, but not fearful and resistant. During the long ride, his gaze kept returning to her, wondering and worrying.

He had a great many things to worry about and hours of slow riding to do so. Bedivere’s injury and unconsciousness were in some ways the most urgent, but his winged manservant was making a valiant effort to be uppermost in his mind. The wings and the magic weren’t the biggest problems in and of themselves, although Arthur did have a mountain of questions and conflicted feelings from the revelation. The greater problem was that it wasn’t just him who knew. Everyone had seen the wings and watched Merlin performing spells at his behest. Gauging from their reactions, Arthur thought his companions more grateful than condemning, but how far would that extend? Arthur had given Merlin his cloak to hide his wings, though he could still see the lumps they made under the fabric, and no one had said a word in the village as they filled their waterskins and bartered for the cart, but how long would they stay silent? He was blatantly ignoring the laws of the land, laws he had helped his father uphold for years. He was at a loss for what to do now. The simplest solution would be to send Merlin back to Ealdor. If he wasn’t in Camelot, Arthur could be justified in not pursuing him.

The fact was, however, that Arthur didn’t want to send Merlin away. Merlin was a terrible servant, but he was a thoughtful advisor, a trustworthy confidant and a true friend. The thought of losing that was more painful than he cared to admit, even in the privacy of his own mind.

When they had crested the final hill and the shroud of trees had opened up into wide fields that extended all the way to the edge of the city walls, Arthur drew everyone to a halt and spoke aloud for the first time in hours.

“The entirety of what has happened today is a matter for us alone. Aspects of it will be shared with others, but full disclosure would benefit no one. When we set out four days ago, I chose each of you personally because you are the people I trust the most. This remains true. Our priority when we arrive at the castle is to see that those who have been injured are tended to properly. I have no doubt that our arrival will be noticed and commented upon. All anyone need know for the time being is that we had an unexpected encounter on our travels that necessitated an early return.”

Leon was the first to respond. “Yes, Sire.”

In the dim light of the waning moon, Arthur could see the others nod and murmur their agreement. He cast a glance at Merlin and the unconscious Bedivere and urged his horse forward without another word.

The gates to the lower town were closed, which was sure to make the announcement of their arrival travel through the city like wildfire. The guards were quick to open the gates though, and the hour was late enough and the wind cold enough that most people were tucked away in their homes for the evening. The one person Arthur was glad to encounter just outside the castle gate was Gwen. She wore the tired expression they all had these days, but when she looked up and saw Morgana with them her face lit up like the sun. As soon as they had dismounted, Gwen threw her arms around Morgana and Arthur saw real happiness in Morgana’s tremulous smile.

Arthur stepped up to them and said, “I imagine you’d prefer to go to your rooms to rest, and Gaius will be rather occupied tonight. I’ll send him to check on you in the morning.”

Gwen frowned. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m fine,” she said reassuringly to Gwen then turned to Arthur, “and I don’t need Gaius to check on me in the morning.”

“Please Morgana, indulge me in this? I’ve been worried sick about you for weeks,” Arthur said, and he knew he sounded less flippant than he would have hoped.

The fight seemed to leave Morgana, and she nodded. “I... I hope Bedivere’s alright.”

Morgana swept away up the stairs without another word, Gwen at her side, as if she had never been gone. Arthur watched them disappear into the castle and turned his attention back to the others and spoke to them each in turn.

“Hector, find Gaius and get a proper stretcher.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Leon, track down a couple pages to take care of our gear and make your way to the physician’s rooms yourself.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Geraint, go to the stables and help the lads tend to the horses. We don’t need to add lame horses to our list of accomplishments today.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Merlin...” Arthur trailed off, unsure of what to say.

Merlin jerked his head up from what was surely his thousandth check on Bedivere’s breathing. He looked so serious, and Arthur found what he wanted most in this moment was for a smile to break across Merlin’s face. As if, somehow, Merlin smiling would mean everything would work out.

“Merlin,” he began again, “Remember when we snuck out to meet Morgause?”

Merlin’s brow furrowed, but he nodded. “Yes.”

“And you were lowering me out of the window on a rope?”

“Yes.”

“And you let go of the rope and I landed in a wagon full of horse dung?”

The corners of Merlin’s lips twitched as he struggled not to laugh at the memory. “Yes.”

Arthur took two steps forward to stand right in front of Merlin and said, “My anger about that incident remains far greater than about anything that has happened today.”

“Arthur?” Merlin whispered.

“Merlin, you are to help Gaius to the best of your abilities, all of them. We’ll work out the rest later.”

Merlin let out a shuddering breath. “Yes, Sire.”

“And Bedivere,” Arthur said, glancing down at the motionless man on the cart, “Don’t die.”



Masterpost | Part 4 | Part 6