A/N: This is written as a follow-up to my story "Royally Disired" but can be read on its own, I think. I know this idea has been done just about to death (pun intended), but I needed to write it, so bear with me. Like Royally Disired, this will be canon (mostly)… until it's not.

The Day in Crystal

I could blame it on the ale. I could blame it on the mead. I'd had both tonight, and probably too much of either. This was why I didn't drink – it made me hilariously reckless. Doing magic right to Arthur's face, while he was watching me closely to discover if I was cheating, for no better reason than to win a game of chance.

It was the stress, maybe. The six months given me by the Disir were up within the week, and I still had not found or made an opportunity to fulfill my bargain.

Maybe part of me hoped that Arthur would see, would comprehend. It filled me with panic, the thought that Arthur would find out. It filled me with absolute relief, the thought that Arthur would discover my magic on his own, call me out, demand an explanation.

I opened my mouth and said to him, "I knew you'd discover my secret in the end. There is just no fooling you, my lord." Arthur only rolled his eyes and took the teasing of the tavern crowd with poor grace.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

There was nothing like almost smothering to death to sober a man up in a hurry. And wake him up, too. "What happened?" I said to Gaius. I was lying in my bed in my room, looking up into my mentor's worried face. I could remember not being able to breathe, something moving, something wriggling on my face. "What was that thing?"

Gaius seated himself by the bed. "Morgana's work, that's for sure," he said. "Mordred would have told her of your powers by now, Merlin. It was only a matter of time. We can only be grateful that she failed."

Morgana. And Mordred. Another reason I'd been in the tavern. Another problem I had not been able to find or manufacture a solution for. The Disir had told me that the duid's boy's life, fate, and time were not in my hands, that each made his own choices. Mordred's choice had been to betray Arthur for Morgana. Just as I'd known he would do.

Was there really no getting around destiny? What use were prophecies if the future was set in stone?

A matter of time. I would have to fulfill my bargain. I would go to Arthur in the morning. I would not fail.

I reached for my cup of water on the cupboard beside the bed, and found I was too tired to stretch the extra few inches to reach it. "Strangath," I said, to call the cup to my hand. It didn't move. It didn't so much as twitch. "Strangath," I tried again, with no result. "Strangath!" I ordered, feeling panic rise. "Gaius!" As he turned to me, I realized the truth. The creature who had attacked had not meant to kill. My time was up; my punishment meted out. "I don't think she failed."

"Whatever do you mean?" Gaius said.

"I've lost my magic," I said.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

I stood useless as a statue in the council chamber, listening to the discussion of Morgana's attack and intentions.

Leon said, "We have sufficient time to prepare our defenses, sire."

Oh, hells. There was no time. There was no defense, not against Morgana. I heard Arthur making other plans, not to defend Camelot, but to attack Morgana's army before it reached our lands and our people. The chamber cleared, leaving Arthur's handful of trusted knights to finalize the plans. I didn't move. I couldn't move. And it didn't matter.

I watched them consult the map, listening to Arthur choose the ground. It wasn't a surprise to hear him say, "Then it is at Camlann that we make our stand." But it was a shock. It seemed Arthur's time was up as well.

He'd kept his word. There had been no persecution of druids or other magic folk, though magic was nowhere practiced openly. The one trial of a druid had been of Mordred's friend Cara – but that had been for attempted murder on the king, not magic. There had even been talk of going over the old laws, Geoffrey had brought copies to Arthur's chamber for the king to study. But nothing had changed. I knew it would be no use to return to the grove at Breneved, but Camlann – I wished never to go there, either.

"I hoped never to hear that name again," I said to Gaius, back in the physician's chamber.

"He cannot go, Merlin," Gaius said to me. "You will have to persuade him."

"I know Arthur better than I know myself," I said. "He'll not listen." Bitterly I thought, if he knew my magic, my power, he might listen. Or he might banish me from the kingdom.

"If Arthur goes to Camlann the prophecy will come true and he will die," Gaius said.

"This battle is the only way he knows how to save his people," I said. "If he's going to lose his life, he'll still go."

"Then what are we to do?" Usually this was a question I posed to Gaius. It felt odd to hear it from him.

"If I can't prevent him from going, then I must protect him the best I can," I said.

"But you can't protect him without your magic," Gaius protested.

I smiled for the first time in days. "Then I must regain my magic." An idea had begun to form. Not to Breneved, not to Camlann, but I had a good idea of where I could go.

"I can't restore it," Gaius reminded me gently. "It is beyond my power."

I touched his shoulder to let him know it was all right. "I know. Perhaps it's beyond anyone's power. No, if there's an answer, I must seek it elsewhere."

"But where?" Gaius said.

"The birthplace of magic itself," I told him. "The Crystal Cave."

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

"I think you'll find that's everything, sire," I said. We both looked over the table in Arthur's chamber, where all his equipment was spread out – armor, weaponry, everything he would need. Well, not everything, but I couldn't tell him that. I should have already told him that.

"Impressive," Arthur said, his arms crossed over his chest. "Very impressive. I've never seen work like it – well, not from you, anyway."

"Thank you, sire." I'd take a back-handed compliment from him any day. Especially today.

"So what are you after?" he said, crossing the room to his desk.

"After?" I asked.

"Come on, Merlin. You're the worst servant in the history of the world. Now suddenly this. Is it money?"

"No," I said, smiling to myself.

"No, it can't be that. You've already won all of mine." He retrieved a scroll from his desk, turned to face me again, though I couldn't quite face him. "Time off?" he said.

Yes, please. A day or so to retrieve my magic, and then we can ride to face your sister and her army. "Arthur," I began.

"No, it can't be that either," he teased me, "you don't really do anything."

Oh, if you only knew. But he didn't, because I never said anything. "I just wanted to make sure you had all you needed for your journey to Camlann, for the days ahead," I said.

"Thank you," he said, then looked up from the scroll. "Merlin, what do you mean, my journey?"

"I'm afraid I won't be coming with you." I turned to face him. As much as it hurt, I deserved to see his face as I let him down, as he realized what I was saying. "Not this time. I'm sorry." I hated to see that look in his eyes, so I took refuge babbling the lie that Gaius and I had agreed on. "I have an urgent errand to run for Gaius. Vital supplies that I can't obtain here." That part was true. Ye gods, how vital.

"Vital supplies?" There was an edge of disbelief in his tone.

"Yes," I said. "It's not that I'm –"

"No, no," he said quickly, as if he didn't want to hear any more. "It's fine, I understand."

No, you don't, how could you? "Arthur –" I said, and in my mind I released the secret – I have magic, I'm a sorcerer, I've protected you for years with my magic. Don't be ridiculous, he would say. Why would you say such a thing? He wouldn't believe me, not without proof. Proof which I was no longer capable of producing.

"You know, Merlin," he said, that funny look of twisted disappointment on his face, "all those jokes about you being a coward… I never really meant any of them. I always thought you were the bravest man I ever met." My heart soared for a brief moment, until he added, "Guess I was wrong."

I guess he was right. The lies had formed a tangled web, spoken for all the right reasons – for his basic protection, for my continued safety to ensure his protection, to stop the wrong questions being asked so my presence in Camelot continued in order to ensure his protection… my confession should cut across the web like a knife, one quick slice.

I said nothing.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

Gwaine and I approached the entrance to the Crystal Cave, an unprepossessing hole in a hillside. Gwaine moved in a battle-ready crouch, his sword drawn, as if he expected enemies to come pouring out of the hole. Knowing better, I passed him. "I can make my own way from here," I said. I was so thankful he had come with me this far, but the draw of the cave was strong and I was impatient to get back to Arthur. If it was even going to be possible.

Behind me Gwaine said, as if he hadn't heard me properly, "Sorry?"

I didn't turn. "You needn't come any further. I'll be fine."

"How will you get back to Camelot?" Gwaine said reasonably. "There are bandits everywhere."

"Once I have what I'm looking for, I'll be perfectly safe, I promise you." I would look til I found it. The alternative didn't bear contemplation.

I heard him take a step toward me. "What are you looking for?" he said.

"I can't tell you that, Gwaine." I turned. I was supposed to have told Arthur. Maybe it made no difference now to tell Gwaine, but… Arthur deserved to hear it from me, and to hear it first. Only I had no idea if it would ever come to that, anymore. "You'll just have to trust me." Gwaine nodded slightly, still unsure. "You should get going," I told him. "Arthur will need you by his side."

"Look after yourself, Merlin," Gwaine said seriously. He didn't say, what about you? Why aren't you at his side? Instead he gave his sword a little toss to catch it by the blade and offer the hilt to me. "You know to use the sharp end, right?"

I couldn't help chuckling. "Oh. Yeah."

Gwaine grinned, then reached to clasp my forearm. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

Me, too, Gwaine. Me, too.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

There was nothing. There was darkness and pain. And I deserved them. Because there was also failure.

It occurred to me, as I crouched there, choking on the dust of Morgana's rockfall and my despair, that it might have been six months this very day since I had followed Arthur from another cave. It might have been. I did not know what day it was – they had all run together since Morgana had left the gean canach for me to find.

There was something, though. There was a blue light. I scrambled toward it over the rocks and dirt – into a cavern sprinkled with crystals. I took two steps and collapsed.

"Merlin," someone whispered. Someone familiar, someone loved.

I opened my eyes to see a tangle of blue-lit crystals. "Father?" I mumbled, turning my head to see who had spoken.

There he stood, clean of woodsmoke and sweat and blood. "My son," he said with compassion and sympathy, neither of which I deserved.

"Are you here?" I said. "Are you real?"

"Dead or alive, real or imagined, past or present…" My father shook his head. "These things are of no consequence. All that matters is that you heed the words of your father who loves you. Do not let go, Merlin." A bit of steel entered his words and his look. "Do not give in."

"I have no reason to go on," I told him. "The battle is already over. Morgana has won."

"Only if you accept defeat," he disagreed. "But if you fight, if you let hope into your heart, Morgana cannot be victorious."

I wanted to believe him. But – "What hope is there without my magic?" I said.

He crouched down next to me, close enough to touch if I lifted my hand. "Merlin, you are more than a son of your father," he said. "You are a son of the earth, the sea, the sky. Magic is the fabric of this world and you were born of that magic. You are magic itself. You cannot lose what you are."

I didn't understand. "But how do I find myself again?" I asked.

"Believe, Merlin," he said, soothingly, encouragingly. "Believe what your heart knows to be true. That you have always been, and always will be."

"Always will be," I repeated. No, still beyond my comprehension.

"Rest now," my father said, instead of explaining. "Rest, my son. And soon," I closed my eyes as he was still speaking, "you shall awaken into the light."

Some time later, I opened my eyes and sat up, letting out a groan, remembering. But something was different, something had changed. I touched my face, but felt no blood. I looked around – but there was no fear like I'd felt before, when Taliesin brought me into this cave. I looked at each crystal as an individual thing, each with a heart and soul, a personality of its own, and an idea blossomed in my mind, a feeling, an instinct.

I looked down at my hands and rubbed my fingertips together to warm them briefly, then clasped them together, making a small hollow between my palms. I whispered, "Gweyrc an lif."

I could hear it fluttering, the tiny life that had been created, I could feel it brushing so softly against the inside of my hands. I opened them to release a butterfuly whose wings bore the blue-green shade of the crystals.

I leaped up, turning in a circle – hope, joy, forgiveness – but I had no time for that. It wasn't for myself that I wanted the magic back, a second chance. I searched the crystals with determination, it was in the one to my right… no. Which one? Four, or five to the left…no, not that one. I turned to a crystal over my left shoulder and reached out to command it.

Fire swirled in its depths, and I stepped closer.

Kilgarrah breathes fire on the serkets. Wrapped in Morgause's chains, my body rises. Morgana's hand grips the dagger high, ready to plunge down. Arthur's face submerged below the waters of Avalon as he is offered to the sidhe. A dorocha shrieks.

I gasped, wincing like my palm had been burned by the series of visions, and stepped back, wiping my hand down my jacket.

No, it was something I must do. I gazed deliberately into the crystal again.

The trinket of Avalon water from the Fisher King. Arthur's sword rising from the water. Mordred in black, not the red of Camelot he'd forsaken, riding at the head of an army.

I bent my head closer, concentrating.

Kilgarrah roaring fire. A sword is lain on a knight's pyre. I gasp as the dragon imparts the healing spell for Morgana's head injury. Saxon boots march a path in the dark.

"Arthur, where are you?" I said aloud.

A white dragon swoops down to the battlefield breathing fire. I lie in bed pale and clammy with poison. Morgause lifts an ax. The phoenix-eye cuff falls. Arthur opens a door on a blaze of sunrise glory. Red-cloaked knights gallop through Camelot's gates. Arthur's face submerged below the waters of Avalon as he is offered to the sidhe. Frozen before a unicorn. Rider and horse crash through a stained glass window. There the white peaked tents in rows, Camelot's army. Arthur sleeps with one arm around Gwen, cuddled at his side.

"Arthur," I said. It worked. I leaned closer to speak softly, as if we might be overheard, somehow. "Arthur, I'm sorry I had to leave you. I didn't want to. I hope one day you'll understand why." I'm a sorcerer. I have magic – had magic – have it again. If I said it now, he wouldn't believe the rest of my words, my warning. So I went on, "Your plan is a good one and you may yet save this kingdom, but you must beware. Your army's flank is vulnerable. There's an old path over the ridge at Camlann. Morgana knows of it. She means to trap you, Arthur. Find the path or the battle will be over before it's begun. Find the path."

I searched deliberately into the future to see the result of my message.

A/N: FYI, I don't personally believe Merlin is to blame for any of these events, in "The Disir" or in this episode. However, I do think Merlin blames himself, which is why the feelings of guilt and failure are fairly strong for him in this story…