A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed and followed the story! I hope you enjoy this next installment.
The first thing he was aware of was pain. Something was definitely laying on him and his chest was definitely unhappy with the situation. The second thing he was aware of was the mop of dark hair in his face. And the third thing he was aware of was the fact he was most definitely not dead.
Arthur blew a breath out and the hair in front of him moved. He shifted, waiting for the shriek of pain in his side, but it didn't come. For a moment, he took stock of his body. Aside from the weight on his chest, he felt remarkably good.
Memories of what had just transpired slammed back into him then and he surged up, effectively rolling the something on his chest onto his lap. That something turned out to be a heavily unconscious Merlin. Arthur shook his friend in concern, looking around for any sign of the dragon or the Sidhe, but all he saw was an empty clearing and a crystal clear lake. The sun was nearly down on the horizon and the chill of night was in the air.
"Merlin?" He shook the young man again, but there was no response. "Don't you dare be dead," he growled, reaching for the pulse point at the younger man's neck and sighing in relief when he found a strong and steady beat. Falling backward, he let himself relax and his heart slow before he slid out from under Merlin and stood shakily.
There was no fatigue and no pain. He felt good. Incredibly good. He set about removing his mail and armor until he could pull his shirt up and inspect where he had taken Mordred's sword blow. There remained no sign of the wound at all, not even a scar.
A rustling in the woods beyond had the young king diving for his sword, but he soon realized he had no idea where it was, and so he stood protectively over the unconscious Merlin and waited with baited breath for the creature to show itself.
And a moment later out stumbled Sir Percival.
"Sire!"
The large knight hurried forward, his own sword nowhere to be found either, clapping Arthur heartily on the shoulders in an embrace. "It's good to see you well, Sire," he said, "we feared the worst when you couldn't be found after the battle."
Arthur nodded, "It's a long story, Percival, but suffice it to say at the moment, I am well." He glanced back at Merlin and shivered at a sudden gust of cold off the lake. "We need to get a fire going, it's getting cold out here and we're definitely not setting out tonight."
Percival spied the lanky form of Merlin then and his eyes furrowed in concern. "Is he all right? How did Merlin get here? He wasn't at Camlann."
The king knelt beside his friend. "That's an … incredibly long, and complicated story, Percival," he sighed. "And one that Merlin must be privy to, so I'm afraid it will have to wait. Would you be a sport and grab some good wood for a fire while I try to rouse this lazy-daisy."
Nodding, Percival disappeared into the growing darkness and Arthur moved to the lake's edge to gather some water. Perhaps a little cool water would wake Merlin? He nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice sounded to his right. "Arthur."
Turning on his heels in the mud of the water's edge had Arthur on his backside faster than an arrow off a crossbow. "Who's there?" He called out, though his voice was more curiosity than fear since he could have sworn the voice was feminine.
A figure emerged from a thicket then, waist deep in water. She was paler than Merlin, which was saying something since the servant was the palest person Arthur knew, and her red dress was in tatters. And while she was undoubtedly drenched, she didn't appear at all chilled. And she almost glided toward him through the lake's shallows.
"I won't harm you," she said. "I have something for you." She reached out a hand. Perched on her palm was a small glass bottle. The blue liquid inside was shimmering in the rising moonlight. "Give this to Merlin. It will replenish his strength. It was dangerously weakened saving you."
Arthur's glance turned to Merlin at that and he frowned. "He could have died, couldn't he have?" He asked quietly, not knowing who this woman was, but knowing somehow that she was otherworldly. Oddly enough, he didn't fear her, despite her obvious magical qualities.
"He could have," she said, her voice closer now, drawing Arthur's attention back. She was right beside him, a head shorter. "He is dear to me," she said. "Don't waste his gift to you. Kilgarrah was a good friend, and Merlin will need the support of his remaining friends in the coming days."
Arthur returned his gaze to the dark-haired man on the shore as Percival appeared at the edge of the forest again, nearly dropping the wood at the sight of Arthur and a strange woman at the water's edge. "He'll have the support of friends," Arthur said. "I swear it."
He shivered as a blast of cold air hit his back then and when he turned, the woman was gone.
Percival did drop the wood at that. "Sire, are you all right? Did she hurt you? Who was that? What's going on? Why is Merlin unconscious? Maybe we should leave tonight?"
Arthur held up a quelling hand. "Peace, Percival, all is well. She did me no harm."
He moved off toward Merlin, kneeling and tilting the young man's head up so that he could tip the bottle's contents into the warlock's mouth. As he gently coaxed Merlin to swallow, he looked up. "Set the wood there," but he said nothing more and Percival sat down across the fire from the two men in confusion.
Moments later, Merlin groaned and his eyes shot open. "Ouuuch," he grunted, gripping his head with his hand and turning onto his side. "Head...ouuuch."
Arthur pried his hand away. "Merlin? Are you all right? I thought you were dead for a minute there. When I woke up, you were on top of me and you weren't moving."
Merlin was still groggy as he shifted into a sitting position, peering around. His gaze flitted past Percival and then back onto the knight before his eyes widened. "I...what...when'd you get here?"
The knight's eyebrows rose. "While you were out cold," he said. "Care to explain how that happened?"
Merlin's eyes clouded as he too remembered the events of the evening. "No," he said quietly. "I would really rather not." He looked at the fire pit and the unlit wood. His eyes flitted to Arthur, who majestically swung a hand out at the firewood in invitation. With a sigh, Merlin turned his gaze back to the fire.
His eyes lit with magical fire and the pit lit with real fire.
Percival jolted back a foot. When he regained the ability to speak, he said, "You have magic?"
Merlin's eyes rose above the flames to meet the knight's and he nodded wearily. Arthur watched the interplay quietly, waiting to see how the first of the knights to learn Merlin's secret would react. After all, if he were to reintroduce magic to Camelot, he would have to start with his innermost circle. The thought, surprisingly, didn't seem alarming. It felt incredibly right.
This was a test to see how it would progress.
For a moment, there was silence around the fire. The wheels in Percival's head appeared to be turning rapidly as he processed all the clues and odd happenings of the years. Finally he spoke. "That's why Gaius didn't seem worried when he told the Queen that Arthur was wounded, but that Merlin was taking him somewhere he might be healed. He knew, didn't he?"
Arthur nodded. "Apparently, all along."
Percival turned his gaze to Arthur. "And you know?"
The king poked at the fire. "I do now," he said. "But I didn't before the battle. I didn't during the battle. I didn't until Merlin told me afterward." He chanced a gaze at Merlin. The younger man was staring forlornly at the fire. Was it a reminder of his dragon friend? How was he to support the warlock when he didn't know the first thing about sorcerors? What would Merlin need from him?
"Are you sure you're all right?" He asked. "That woman in the lake said that potion would restore your strength. You neglected to mention the danger to yourself that your spell casting would pose ..."
He might have continued if Merlin hadn't jumped at the words "woman in the lake."
"You saw Freya!?"
"Who?" Arthur asked, confused.
Merlin described the woman he had seen exactly and when Arthur confirmed he had seen and spoken to her, the younger man appeared to be even more defeated. That was not the outcome he had been aiming for, he was trying to help Merlin.
"You knew her?" Percival said quietly. Merlin nodded, but wouldn't elaborate, no matter how much the others poked and prodded, and finally Arthur decided there was no way he was going to be able to help his friend tonight so he suggested they all get some rest.
As he lay there, he wondered how he would sleep tonight knowing his time in this world was thanks to a dragon that had sacrificed his own life to save the life of a man who would have seen him dead in a heartbeat.
Merlin felt the familiar ache in his heart at the mention of Freya. His body was energized by the lake water she had given Arthur, and he could feel his magic returning to its usual strength, but the place in his mind and heart where Kilgarrah used to reside was a gaping hole and he had no idea how he would ever cope with its presence.
It felt like a piece of his chest had been ripped out and the wound would never heal. In the back of his mind he could feel Aithusa, for the first time since the battle, and the young dragon was wailing in pain at the loss of the great dragon as well.
While they had not been friends in the end, they were all kin and thus all connected. Merlin and Aithusa would feel Kilgarrah's death physically, and the former emotionally, for many days to come, if not longer.
Merlin was glad that Percival seemed to have taken the news of his magic with relative calm. Of course, that could be because the knight wasn't raised in Camelot and was not as accustomed to the hatred of magic as those who had lived under Uther's reign. Merlin chose to take it as a good sign that perhaps things wouldn't be so difficult when they returned home.
Home.
Had it really only been a day ago when he had been dragging a dying Arthur through the forest, uncertain if they would ever return home? It felt like ages ago, or even a different life. It almost didn't feel real. And if not for the gaping wound left by Kilgarrah's death, he could almost pretend it hadn't happened.
Until … "Merrrrlin, the fire's dying down..."
"So poke it, you knights like poking things," he said, drawing a smile from Percival and an eye roll from Arthur.
The King chucked the stick at Merlin. "Why don't you just magic it up some more? You don't have to do much more than blink, right?"
The warlock blinked and the fire roared for a moment, causing both knight and king to jump, before it settled into a larger, but comfortable, size. "Right," he said with a lopsided grin. The grin did fade as he stared at the water. "Things will be different now, won't they?" he said quietly.
Arthur watched the golden flames cast golden hues in Merlin's eyes, similar to the golden tint they took on when he cast spells. Things would be different. He wasn't sure if his incredible light-hearted ribbing right now was a result of his healing or if he was just … free at last. No more Morgana hanging over his head. No mysterious Merlin to figure out. Things were in the open and he felt lighter than he had since taking the throne.
If only that light feeling were shared by his friend. Because it was obvious Merlin was feeling burdened by his responsibilities. "It's not your fault," he finally said, trying to wend his way to the reason Merlin was really so quiet. "You didn't kill him. He chose to give his life, and even I could tell, half dead as I was, that the dragon was near death himself."
Percival remained silent at the revelation of a dragon, wisely realizing that much had happened between King and Warlock. "It feels like I did," Merlin whispered. "You don't know what it's like, Arthur," he said quietly, clutching his shirt unconsciously, right over his heart. "To take a life from someone. And to make it even worse, I'm a Dragonlord and when I took Kilgarrah's life, it felt like I was ripping my own life out because we're kin. It was horrible." He released his grip and tucked his hands under his arms, though there was little chance he was actually cold, it was more likely a nervous habit. "It's not the first time I've mirrored life and death, you know. It takes a lot out of you."
Arthur wisely chose to leave that other time off the table for right now. "Still, Merlin, my point is that you might have done the actual taking, but you didn't kill the dragon. You ended his suffering and gave me the most precious gift of all – a chance to return to my wife, my friends and my kingdom."
Merlin bit his lip. "I suppose you're right."
"I'm always right."
"Prat."
"Dollop-head."
"That's my word!"
A/N: So, the story could end there, I suppose. OR, it could continue on to the arrival in Camelot. What do YOU, the readers, want? I have a few ideas for how the arrival back home could go, since Gwen knows about Merlin but he doesn't know she knows, so that would be fun to play with. Want to see it or leave it here? - Gwenneth
