Merlin ran.

The leaves had begun to turn, their autumnal gold a blur around him as he fought to keep up. The ache of his muscles and the burning in his chest reminded him that, old injuries aside, it had been a long time since he'd tagged along at Arthur's heels carrying saddles or armor and dodging whatever object then-Prince Arthur had to hand.

Perhaps this trip into the forest had been a bad idea.

But Niniane had been so lovely and the early morning air so fine, that even Merlin himself couldn't resist such temptations. Their walk had been placid enough, a pre-dawn jaunt to the river, arriving just in time to see the sun clear the tops of the trees and bathe the area in warm light while the birds burst into full-throated song. Then Niniane stood on her tiptoes to tell him something, her lips just brushing his cheek as she whispered, "Catch me if you can," before she darted away, graceful as a deer. Her racing steps were muted by the soft grass and moss on the forest floor.

He followed as best he could, but he wasn't as fit as he used to be. Nor was he a forest child like Niniane, to dodge through the underbrush as though it was a clear city street. He slowed to a walk, hands on his hips as he fought to catch his breath.

"Emrys!" Her voice came from beyond a wall of leaves. There was no urgency in it, no fear or panic. Just a breathless excitement. Merlin pushed through the leaves and low-hanging branches, emerging out of the shadows into a clearing. Niniane waited for him in the center, shielded from the sunlight by an ancient oak tree. She could have been standing in the brightest noon, though, as brilliant as her smile was. "Come and see what I've found," she said, reaching toward him.

Merlin hesitated for a heartbeat, then walked into the clearing and took her hand. "What did you find?"

"Mistletoe." Her smile brightened, if that was possible. She looked up, and his gaze followed, landing on a cluster of mistletoe in the branches above.

"And now I suppose you want a kiss for your efforts," he said.

"Is that so much to ask?"

"I guess not," Merlin said.

"Then why do I have to search the forest for mistletoe to claim one?" Niniane asked. Her voice was light, but there was a sadness in the depths of her eyes. She took both his hands in hers and kissed the back of each. "You are far too young to be so old, Emrys. You're hardly older than I am, yet you act like a man thrice your age."

"And it feels like only a man thrice my age could have been through all the things that I have. Can you forgive me for that?" Merlin asked.

"I suppose I could." Niniane tugged at the laces of one of his half-gloves the covered the burn scars on his wrists, quickly undoing the knot and loosening them.

"Niniane…" He flinched away, but she wouldn't let him go. As uncomfortable as they had been in the summer heat, the gloves gave him a measure of protection, and not just against the physical things that might further damage his ruined skin. People didn't like being reminded of their own frailties, and yet the disfigured and malformed beings among them did just that. When faced with such differences, even people who were otherwise kind-hearted might react badly, even violently. And so Merlin kept wearing scarves to hide the fading marks on his neck and gloves to hide the scars around his wrists. He was different enough. No need to remind everyone of just how strange he was.

But Niniane didn't flinch when she pulled the glove away from his hand, letting it fall to the ground before she started unlacing the other one. "I know these hands too well to be afraid of their scars," she said. Moments later, she tugged the other glove free and tossed it away as well.

"When we reached your bedside last winter" Niniane said softly, "Iseldir was certain you would die. You were feverish and struggling to breathe. On your wrists, there were places where your skin had peeled away, and I could see muscle and bone. I'd never seen a man burned so extensively who lived longer than a few hours, and yet… You are Emrys. We had to try."

'Were I any other man, I would have been released from such pain.' Merlin kept the bitter thought to himself.

"Iseldir nearly burned himself out during the healing ritual. It took him a fortnight to recover his strength. When we finished, I bandaged this hand myself," Niniane said. She ran her fingertips down his arm, tracing the lines of veins and tendons until she reached his hands, folding his fingers around hers, one by one. "Blaise had straightened it as best he could, but his arts were limited to the physical world. Without magic, you wouldn't be able to use this hand."

"What are you trying to say?" He tried and failed to keep a bitter residue out of his voice.

She smiled up at him, repaying his bitterness with her own sweetness. "Your magic is healing you, Emrys. Even now. It's why your sight returned, and why your scars are fading." With her thumb, Niniane drew an invisible line just below his elbow. "Last winter, the scars were up to here. Since then, they've retreated all the way down to here." She moved her fingers toward a point much closer to his wrist.

"I hadn't really noticed," Merlin said.

"You wouldn't. It's happened so gradually I doubt anyone else has noticed, either. Nor would they, unless someone pointed it out to them. I'd be willing to bet that the scars on your throat are fading, too." Niniane reached up and tugged at the end of his scarf, freeing it from the hastily tied knot he'd left it in, and unwinding it from around his neck. She let it fall to the ground, too. "See?" She tilted his head up with a finger under his chin. "I was right about that, too. Just a few marks here and there."

A chill ran down Merlin's spine as she traced the lines on his throat. "I can't see that, but I'll take your word for it." He caught her hand and kissed her fingers, wrapping his other arm around her waist. She melted against him, nestling her head against his chest to listen to his heartbeat.

'I don't want you to go to Rheged.' Her voice sounded in his head, full of fear that she was trying to keep keep hidden from him.

'I'm not going to Rheged,' Merlin replied. 'Only to the border. We're going to negotiate with Urien, not fight him.'

'Everyone knows that's not what will happen. Urien's a treacherous man. He won't keep the peace, even if he's promised to.' Niniane pulled away from him just enough to look into Merlin's eyes. 'Promise me you'll come back.'

'I promise.' He kissed her brow and hugged her close again. "I'm not meant to be part of the fighting, even if there is any."

"You weren't meant to be involved in the battle at Blackheath, either."

"Have you Seen something I haven't?" Merlin asked. His own dreams had been quiet enough of late, filled with visions of gray forests and the scent of mouldering earth when they showed him anything. He shoved away the memory of his summertime vision, where he had been falling, perhaps, or dying, and Niniane was looking down at him, her eyes full of fear.

"No," she said. "I haven't Seen anything. But that doesn't mean I can't be afraid of the future."

"You don't need to be. I'll be fine, I promise." He leaned down to kiss her on the lips this time, as though that would seal his vow and render it inviolable. When they parted at last, her hands were tangled in his hair, and his were at the laces of her bodice. They looked at each other, and laughed, and kissed again.

The rest of the morning seemed to last forever, and yet it was altogether too short a time.

"I don't want you to go."

Arthur kissed Guinevere's brow, his hand drifting to her waist as he pulled her just a little closer. "I don't want to go, either. I would much rather stay here with my beautiful wife. In fact, I'd like to stay in this very spot with her and just let the rest of the world pass us by for a while. Do you think she would agree?"

"Hmm…" Guinevere thought it over for a moment, then pulled the covers up a little more over both of them. "Perhaps for a little while, but your beautiful wife doesn't want to be seen as lazy. We'll have to face the world at some point." She jabbed a finger into the ticklish spot just under Arthur's ribs. He tried to shy away, but with one arm still wrapped around her, the effort was wasted. He settled on catching the offending hand in his and kissing her slender fingers one by one.

"There's something wrong with this hand, you know," Arthur said.

Guinevere raised an eyebrow at that. "There's nothing wrong with my hands."

"Yes, there is. The left one's perfectly lovely. Especially with the wedding ring on it," Arthur said, smiling. "But your right hand is a bit bare. Let me fix that for you." He reached toward the bedside table and the ring that sat upon it- the signet ring of Camelot. "There," he said as he slipped it on her forefinger, "That's better, isn't it?"

"Arthur…" There was no denying the trepidation on her face, or the worry in her eyes.

"I don't do this to flatter you, Guinevere," he said. "While I'm away, you will be acting as Regent of Camelot in my stead. This ring is the symbol of your authority."

Her lower lip trembled, but Guinevere mastered herself before her emotions spilled over. "I'm not ready for this. How can I be? Six months ago, I was nothing more than a simple servant."

Arthur smiled and brushed her hair away from her eyes. "You may have been a servant, but you were never simple."

That brought the sparkle back into her eyes, even if she didn't smile in return. "But will the people trust in my authority? Will they see me as anything but the girl who lived among them in the lower town?"

"You will have the council to back you up, along with Percival and the other knights who are staying behind. And most importantly, you have your own good sense to guide you," Arthur said. He sighed and twined his fingers around hers, breathing in the lavender scent that always hung about her. "My father believed that nobility grants a person the ability to rule, but I don't agree. If it were a choice between nobility and and wisdom, I would choose wisdom to guide the kingdom every time."

Guinevere brushed a kiss along his cheek. "Perhaps you should name Merlin as your regent, then." She chuckled and slipped out of Arthur's grasp and past the bed's gauzy curtains. He watched her move, ghost-like as she pulled on a shift before beginning the long task of taming her curls.

This was his favorite time of the day, just after dawn when he was still foggy from sleep and the only thing on his mind was watching Guinevere, inordinately beautiful in the simplicity of her routines as she prepared for the day before her ladies descended on her like a flock of songbirds. In those precious few minutes, they could exist merely as husband and wife, and not as king and queen. It was a pity that such moments passed by so quickly.

Arthur scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair before he rolled out of out of bed and tugged on his trousers. "Name Merlin as my regent, you say? Do you want me to set the whole of Camelot on its ear?"

Guinevere laughed. "Can you imagine the looks on the faces of everyone at court if you actually did it?"

"Or the look on Merlin's? It might actually be worth it." He closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around Guinevere's waist.

She set her comb aside, a pensive look on her face as she turned to look up at him. "Now that I think about it, though, maybe it wouldn't be so funny now that he's focused on this world again, instead of halfway looking into the next."

"Perhaps you're right about that."

"I usually am, where your silly ideas are concerned," she said.

"My silly idea? You're the one who suggested it," Arthur replied, tapping the tip of her nose for emphasis.

"Did I? I hardly noticed," she said, dodging his hand to plant a quick kiss on his lips before settling against him and resting her head over his heart. Arthur couldn't help but wind his fingers into her hair. "You're leaving at noon, aren't you?"

"That's the plan," Arthur said. "The men have been preparing for days, but you know how plans never quite work out the way you expect them to. I'll probably be looking over some bit of construction in the lower town and some very important thing will happen, and the next thing you know the army will leave without me and I"ll have to run to catch up. It will be terribly undignified."

Guinevere huffed a laugh. "You're trying to make me feel better about all this, aren't you?"

"Yes. Is it working?"

"Maybe a little," she said. "Promise me you'll come home safely?"

"I promise," Arthur said. He cupped her face in his hands and just stared into her eyes. "There isn't a power in the world that could stop me from coming back to you."