Watching the slow rise and fall of Merlin's chest, Arthur mouthed his knuckle in worry. Gaius stood opposite him, too looking down on his past ward. It was nothing but a faint, a simple passing out, but Arthur couldn't help not to acknowledge the sickening knot of dread that rested in his stomach. He didn't want to know what Merlin thought of his decision, in fear that he would be repulsed, and yet he yearned for his friend's opinion.

Wanting to break the deadly silence and distract his mind from such thoughts, Arthur turned to his physician. "What news on the symbols Merlin drew out for you?"

The silence lingered a moment longer as Gaius drew himself from his own thoughts. "One of the symbols," he replied, "it's a name."

"A name," Arthur echoed back to him, before falling back into his memories.

Arthur was instantly by Merlin's side the moment he fell. He was relieved to see that his servant's bones were all intact, the slap he had heard being that of his flesh smacking against the stone. After Gaius was able to push through the crowd and informed the king that Merlin should be moved to his chambers, Arthur ordered to court to leave. Fearful of the wrath of their king, the people left and Arthur carried Merlin to the physician's courters. There, Gaius had pulled out the patient's bed and allowed Arthur to lay Merlin to rest.

The dreadful silence stretched on into noon and Merlin still had not woken to break it. Arthur willed him to wake. He wanted to know his mind. He wanted to see whatever look that would be on Merlin's face and have it be over with, whether it be hurt, betrayed, relieved, joyous, or even scared. He didn't care. He just wanted it to be in the past. Eventually, Merlin's absence was overwhelming and had to be ended.

"Wake him," Arthur demanded in a monotone voice.

Gaius looked at him questioningly. Arthur merely gestured with his hand for Gaius to get on with it and the physician procured a bottle from his shelf. He removed the lid and let the puff of smoke seep out and around Merlin's nose. The boy sputtered and turned his head away with a groan.

Arthur stepped forward in anticipation. But then, he traced back in fret.

Merlin opened his eyes, furrowed brow shadowing whatever emotion might be swimming in the dark pools below. He sat up and looked around. His features softened as the memories seemed to flutter back to him.

He looked at Arthur. But that was all he did. There was no emotion his gaze. He just stared at him, as if he were frozen or just didn't know what to think. Arthur couldn't fathom what it meant. His arms dropped to his sides the moment their eyes met and he stood stiff.

Arthur held his stare for as long as he could handle before he just had to know what was happening inside Merlin's mind. So he hesitantly addressed him, "Merlin."

The moment his name was spoken with such pure emotion, Merlin's eyes crinkled ever so slightly and he sniffed. He took a deep breath before he lost any hold he had on his own feelings. They gradually began to leak onto his face, his lip curving and curling into something between a smile and a sob. His eyes glazed over and his brow was brought together in sorrow and yet his eyes were bright, sparkling even.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I . . ."

Merlin shook his head as he let his chin rest on his chest. His shoulders arched forward and bobbed with each heave of sorrow. Arthur knelt down before him and placed a hand on his friend's arm. "Merlin," he pleaded again, wanting more than anything for some sort of readable response.

Arthur looked at Arthur, his silent sobbing having come to a gradual end. He grasped Arthur's arm in return and smiled at him. "Thank you," Merlin hushed. And then it was revealed to Arthur that his sobs were, in fact, not sobs, but a tearful laughter. Merlin resumed his hysteria Arthur looked up at Merlin in wonder before letting out a short laugh of his own.

"So you're sure you're okay with it?" Arthur asked yet again.

Merlin smiled. "Yes," he exasperated.

"You fainted," Arthur reminded him.

"I'm aware of that," Merlin retorted.

"You were that excited, huh?" Arthur questioned, unbelievingly.

"Well," Merlin added, "no."

Arthur's brow rose.

"I didn't know what to think at first," Merlin recalled. "Now that I think about it, I think I was mostly scared. Nothing really felt like it was really happening."

"Are you scared?" Arthur said, seriousness creeping back into his manor.

Merlin stopped. He looked down at the broth Gaius had placed in front of them. He noted that he had eaten a lot, strangely hungry after having been unconscious. He looked over at Arthur's. He hadn't taken a single bite. He merely kept stirring the spoon around mindlessly, probably rather repulsed by the peasantry food. Then, Merlin wondered why he was thinking about their consumption of broth when he should be answering the king's question. To be fair, Merlin didn't want to give his answer. After briefly considering telling Arthur that he should eat or maybe making a joke about his fat, Merlin swallowed, looked Arthur in the eye, and answered. "Yes."

Arthur looked down at his spoon and lifted it up, watching as the broth slumped off of it and back into the bowl. As he thought over the many ways he could answer such a response, he looked back at his servant and noticed that he too was fiddling with his utensils. Somehow, that inspired his answer. "So am I."

Merlin looked up to Arthur, slightly surprised. He studied his master's face as he slowly put on a smile. Merlin judged it for a moment before returning the gesture. It would be a long time before either of them was pulled from their solemn, yet warm feeling.

Then came the time to address the matter regarding the sorceress. Gaius collected their dishes, frowning at Arthur's untouched bowl, and sat beside Merlin so that they may discuss the issue at hand.

"A name?" Merlin questioned. "Is there any record of it? Might we be able to track it back to the Druids?"

Arthur pepped up. "Yes! Is there any way that we could use it to find out what camp she is a part of?"

"Sadly not," Gaius said. "I'm afraid the name is not her own, but the name of a Druid leader that has long been dead."

"Who was it?" Merlin inquired.

"Iseldir," Gaius responded.

"He's dead?" Merlin questioned, shocked.

"Yes," Gaius answered, "he is, but not the one you know."

"What do you mean?"

"The Iseldir you know is, in fact, a second, named after his father," Gaius elaborated.

"So she must be a part of his camp, no?" Arthur asked.

"I'm afraid not. Iseldir's camp is nothing like his father's."

"How so?"

"His father, like many Druids, was a man of peace. However, he was angered by Uther's war against magic and thought that force must be used against him. The Iseldir you know thought otherwise. He proved true to the Druid beliefs of passive aggression. Sadly, He could not make his father see sense, nor stop him from leading an attack on Uther's men. He died in battle. Iseldir took the remaining, faithful Druids under his own care to carry on the original Druid teachings."

"So why would the sorceress not reign from there?" Arthur inquired.

"I fear that a small group of his father's men survived and carried on with their war on Uther," Gaius continued. "I think it's only right to assume that they have assaulted your father in the past on individual attempts. Her markings are under their name, but they are of low ranks. She can't have been with these men for long."

"So," Merlin gathered, "she must have joined with them after Alator was killed."

Gaius sighed. "I'm afraid so."

"Well I guess that's a start," Arthur huffed awkwardly.

"Yes," Merlin said, "but we still need to deal to deal with the Druid girl."

"Right," Arthur said glumly.

"I don't know why you bothered coming back!" Kara laughed at them.

Arthur hated the girl, he truly did. However, he couldn't help but be relieved that Merlin was no longer shying away from her. Only, now he appeared terrifyingly inflamed with rage at the sight of her, and Arthur would be lying if he had said that the way he looked at her wasn't frightening.

"Because we have news for you that may inspire a change of heart," Arthur replied calmly.

"Oh?" Kara said. "And what could that possibly be?"

Arthur took a step in front of Merlin and squared himself in front of her. He looked down at the girl, a slim smile on his face, proud to announce the information he was about to reveal. "The ban on magic has been lifted."

A small gasp sucked in through Kara's lips. Merlin's eyes flickered over to the back of Arthur's head for a brief moment before resting back on Kara's shocked, gaping expression.

"You're lying," she mustered.

"No," Arthur responded.

"It's a trick!" she accused. "You wouldn't do that! You're trying to deceive me!"

"No," Arthur repeated.

"But," she stammered, "why would you allow magic into Camelot? You're a Pendragon!"

"Because sorcerers have the right to exist just as any other man," Arthur responded. "It is not a crime to use sorcery any more than it is to use a sword. And I believe that."

"No," the girl gasped. "No, you're just doing this so that I'll side with you! It won't work! I don't buy your little charade for a second!"

"You really think that I would jeopardize my kingdom just for the sake of one girl?" Arthur teased. "You had little to do with this. It was Merlin who showed me the good in magic and he is to credit for my decision and he alone."

Merlin's eyes lingered on Arthur for a moment before they returned to Kara.

"You're mad," Kara breathed.

"Possibly," Arthur shrugged. "But that doesn't change the fact that the new law will go into action by the next half moon. Six days, I think that is." He looked to Merlin, who nodded in confirmation. Arthur had had them stop by the palace library before attending to Kara. He spoke to Geoffrey about making everything official and instated. He did so in the privacy of the library rather than calling him to council. The last thing Arthur wanted was another uproar. The records keep was dutifully eager to grant the king's wishes and ensured it would be done by the promised time.

"It still doesn't change anything!" Kara cried. "I will not forfeit my loyalty to Morgana because of this petty show you've put on!"

"I assure you, this is no show," Arthur stated. "The law will be taken diligently and the only sorcerers dying by my hand will be the ones who commit a right wise crime."

Kara remained silent. Her confidence seemed to have slipped away and it was easy to tell that she was not ecstatic about it. The room was silent for a long time and Merlin had yet to speak. The girl still unnerved him and he didn't dare work his tongue in fear that he may lose his grip.

"Anything you'd like to add, Merlin?" Arthur broke the silence.

Merlin paused, almost considering trying to make another declaration of Arthur's importance for the sake of Albion, but decided against it. "No."

"We'll leave you to your thought, then." Arthur sported a triumphant smile and practically threw it in Kara's face. "In seven days' time, you will be evaluated before the court and, if you choose to repent your crimes and succumb to Camelot's loyalty, you will not be punished."

The king spun on his heel, feeling extraordinarily confident, and left, Merlin clambering behind.

The following day, Arthur and Merlin set out on their own to seek out Iseldir. He was their best shot at finding what was left of his father's followers. He was the closest connection that they knew of. Gaius had spoken around and poked at his connections to see if he could get wind of where the Druids were as of late. Whomever Gaius had connections with was a mystery to Merlin and Arthur both. Merlin assumed it was mostly Geoffrey, he being a walking tome of endless information. But he wondered how someone like him could possibly have so much information on the outside world when he was always cooped up in his studies. Perhaps, Merlin thought, the Druids had cycles that they went through. Maybe they camped in certain places during different parts of the year. The information they had been given on their location had been fairly vague, so it would make sense that it could be something of that sort. The Druids may have revered Merlin but he was still constantly puzzled and bewildered by their ways from time to time. Maybe he would see if Arthur would grant a visit with them, when this was all over. That way, perhaps, he could be better educated in Druidism and their strange, spiritual way of life.

The day had been long and tiring. It turned into somewhat of a hunting trip halfway through, Arthur having noticed that they probably wouldn't find the blasted camp by nightfall and they'd be needing food. Merlin mentally slapped himself for not thinking to pack anything more than a few slices of bread and a bushel of apples. They had been munching on those supplies during midday as they rode, considering it lunch.

Arthur eventually rustled up a pheasant. It was on the small side so they were thankful that they were only feeding two mouths rather than a whole patrol of knights. The royal didn't mention it though and feigned pride in his catch, somewhat gloating to strike up banter with his servant. He eventually ordered that they set up camp. They did so, on the edge of a clearing.

"I'll go collect firewood," Merlin announced once the bedrolls were laid out.

"Can't you just conjure a fire using magic?" Arthur questioned.

"Yes," Merlin said slyly, "But the fire needs something to burn, now doesn't it?"

Arthur huffed and left Merlin to his business. While the king arranged a few stones to keep the kindling in place, Merlin set out to find the driest of branches he could find. After rummaging through the woods for a good quarter hour, he stumbled back to Arthur and set up the wood he had collected.

"Forbearnan," Merlin spelled and the flames burst to life. Arthur marveled, not at the fire, but at Merlin. He smiled up at him briefly before his eyes lingered down to the flames.

"Right, then!" Arthur pepped, rubbing his hands together and warming them by the fire. "Better get cooking Merlin!" he jested, patting his servant on the back before relaxing against a log.

Merlin glared at Arthur. He huffed before climbing back onto his feet and retrieving the pheasant from Arthur's saddle. Later, when the bird had been roasted, they dined, if one can call it that anyway. Huddled over themselves, they ate, trying to be as close to the warm, welcoming fire as possible. The warmer half of autumn was coming to an end and they were definitely beginning to feel the difference as the bitter wind smacked against their backs.

There was no banter between them now. There was but the blissful silence. Neither knew why the other did not speak, nor did they know their own reasoning. Perhaps it was as simple as an admiration; an admiration of how well things had gone between them. They were truly two halves of a whole now, if they hadn't already been before. Arthur understood Merlin and knew of all his pain and all his loss. He knew of his hardships and his sacrifices. But he also knew of his pride, his bravery, and how happy and humble he was to serve him. And, in truth, he was more than glad to have the lad by his side. Merlin, though he did not know all the ins and outs of his master, understood his king, as he always had. Arthur may have ventured into Merlin's mind, but the servant was in no need of such witchery to see how Arthur was. He had always been able to understand Arthur and had always been there to help him in his times of need in any way he could. Merlin was merely sounder with him, resting in the comfort that his counterpart now could look at him with the same recognition that he's offered for so many years, complete and utter understanding.

It was to these thoughts that the pair of them drifted off soundly into a sleep like no other. One would think that a night on the hard, wet ground would be displeasing, but it was not. The other's presence was all the comfort that was needed and, when they were in range, it felt as though they were back at home, sleeping in their own bed.

Mordred was not a knight known for rebellious behavior. Thus, it would be surprising were he to go against the king's orders. However, as he found himself creeping towards the interrogation chambers, the knight assured himself that Arthur, in fact, never prohibited him from seeing his childhood friend.

He turned the key and let himself in, finding Kara in a light sleep by the fire. It had died down over the course of the day, but the coals were still hot and gave off a much appreciated heat to part of the room.

The knight called out Kara's name in a whisper as he closed the door and she stirred from her slumber to meet him.

"Mordred!" she cried, joyfully, sitting up off the floor and sparing him a smile. But the grin quickly faded. Instead, it was replaced by a scowl. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," he said hopefully. "Merlin and the king have left."

"Left?" she questioned. "For what?"

"Nothing," Mordred shrugged. "That's not important."

"But it is," Kara rejected. "Why would the king leave just after lifting such an influential ban? Surely the townspeople are causing havoc!" The way she said it made the knight cringe. It were as if there was excitement lying behind her concern.

"The queen is more than able to manage the court in Arthur's leave," Mordred replied. "Besides, they left upon receiving dire information regarding their quest."

"Quest?" Kara perked. "What quest?"

"To cure their ailment," Mordred responded.

"Of what sort?"

"It is complicated, Kara," Mordred hesitated, "and I fear it is not my place to say."

"Mordred," the girl huffed, sliding her arms down the knight's arm until she reached his hands, pulling him down to kneel next to her place on the floor, "we are Druids. As you well know, I practiced healing for a good four years with Cerdan. Perhaps I can come up with a cure to their sickness!" Kara was deceitful, even to her loved ones.

Mordred sighed. "It is no ordinary illness, Kara. We do not even know if it has a name." Mordred paused, looking back at his old companion. "Wait," he continued. "You do not like the king. Why would you aid him?"

Kara looked away, feigning shame. "I know," she murmured. "But perhaps this show that he's put on has . . . altered my opinion of him. After all, he did spare my life; not something the previous king would have done."

"Are you saying that you succumb to Arthur's request?" Mordred questioned, filled with hope. "You are going to repent your crimes?"

Another sigh escaped her lips. "I do not know what to do Mordred. Whilst I'm in here I feel as though this is all a trick! You must understand. I do not trust this king of yours." She looked at him, putting on an indecisive expression, despite her mind having already been set on what she would do with this new information.

"Once you repent you will be released!" Mordred encouraged. "And you can stay here, in Camelot!"

"But I am not even sure that I trust you, Mordred!" Kara exasperated desperately. "You've gone and made yourself into a bloody pawn! How can I trust you when you are keeping things from me? How am I to know that you are not just as deceitful as them?"

Mordred's eyes flickered about, studying her face. He wasn't sure how she was to be interpreted, but the eager look in her eyes set him off. He could not resist someone so dear to him.

"I will tell you everything," Mordred gave in. "I will keep no secrets from you. I never would."

"Then tell me," she pleaded. "Tell me where the king has gone."

Mordred bit his lips, hesitantly preparing to divulge the information. "I am not certain of their destination. However, I do know that they seek out someone who may hold the key to their cure."

"For what illness?"

"Again, I know not. But, ever since the king and his servant returned from their pursuit on an evil sorceress, they have not been able to leave the other's side."

"What do you mean by that?" Kara questioned. "Are they bound?"

"No," Mordred huffed. "They have the capability to wander from each other, but, when they are apart, a great pain plagues them."

"Strange," Kara responded. "I've never heard of such a thing happening before."

Mordred shook his head. "And neither have I."

An unsettling silence was engaged between them. It dragged on for a long moment before Kara cleared her throat. "You should leave," she offered. "You look tired."

Mordred climbed to his feet. "That I am." He smiled down at his old love, a gleam in his eyes. "Goodnight."

Kara nodded back to him. "Goodnight."

With that, Mordred left and Kara turned back to the fire. She couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face. The information Mordred had given, she was grateful for. She promised herself to put it to good use. Though, many think, good looks different behind everyone's eyes.

Morning came and Merlin groaned as he stretched out his nightly aches. He looked over at the king to find him still fast asleep, his head half buried in the crook of his elbow. The servant stood and trudged over to him, sniffling away at his stuffy nose.

Merlin smiled at his own brilliance when he came upon Arthur and lightly kicked him in the side. The king spastically wriggled away from the warlock, his groggy mind going mad with thoughts of an attack.

"Merlin!" Arthur moaned once he'd come to his senses. "What are you doing?"

"It's morning you lazy, pompous prat!" Merlin replied, nudging him once more.

"Stop that!" Arthur growled. He gathered himself and staggered to his feet, wiping his hands down his face, trying to rub away the sleep. "How much farther have we to go?"

"I don't know!" Merlin said. "I'm not the one sleeping on the map!"

Arthur looked down, noticing that the bag he had used as a pillow was, in fact, the one containing their mappings of the kingdom. He crouched down and picked up the satchel. After rummaging through it, he pulled out the map and laid it out on the ground. Merlin stood behind him, looking over his shoulder.

"Oh," the king yawned, "we're about half a day's ride from where the Druids ought to be."

"If that's even where they are," Merlin huffed, glaring down at the markings on the parchment.

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur complained. "It's not like you're any help at tracking. Can't you just call out to one of them using your magic, or are you useless at that too?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Despite their infatuation with me, I'm not a Druid. I could try contacting them, but I doubt it'll work this far away. I'm sure Iseldir will contact me once we're close, though. He always seems to, anyways."

"I don't understand why they're so loyal to you," Arthur teased.

"Why's that?"

"Because you're an idiot," Arthur grunted as he got to his feet. "Now let's go."

They packed their things and mounted their steeds, headed off towards the far west, near the edge of the Darkling woods. Their bantering went on and on, uninterrupted for some time, before they could see the snowy tops of the White Mountains peeking over the trees and knew that they were nearing their destination.

"The woods shouldn't go on for much longer in that direction," Arthur observed, "considering we can see the mountains. Any funny feelings of yours kicking up yet?"

"No," Merlin shook his head. "But I can try something."

The sorcerer's eyes burned gold. However, unlike previous demonstrations of magic that Arthur had witnessed, they remained so for a few prolonged seconds. A shot of worry worked its way into Arthur before it subsided at the sight of Merlin's eyes reverting back to blue. The servant took a couple of slow breaths before looking back at his master.

"There's a camp," Merlin informed, "a few leagues north." He nodded in the direction that he had spotted the site. "But it's deserted. I think they've moved on from there."

Arthur nodded. "We'll check up on it," he said, "see if we can tell where they were headed."

It didn't take long for them to reach the clearing. The fire had run cold but, by the state of the place, they could not have left more than a day or two prior.

Arthur dismounted and surveyed the perimeter of the camp for tracks to see which way they had been headed. "Most of the tracks seem to draw a path that way." He pointed to the northwest.

Merlin sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was ride for another painfully long day. His back ached and his buttocks seemed to have tied their muscles into knots. However, before he could come up with an excuse to delay their trip, a familiar voice reached out to him. "Emrys," it calls, "you seek my aid."

"Yes," Merlin confirms.

"My company can be found within a cave marked by a large, pointed stone at its mouth," Iseldir informs him, "But be wary, Emrys. It is a sacred place and to bring mortal weapons would be to bring a mortal curse."

"I will mind the warning. Thank you. We shall reach you shortly," Merlin assures.

"Are you listening to me, Merlin?" Arthur growls as he mounts his mare.

The servant twists his head to look at Arthur, having been oblivious to his ramblings while being distracted by the Druid's call.

"We keep heading north," the king reinstated.

"No," Merlin interjected. "No, Arthur they're that way." Merlin gestured towards the west.

Arthur's eyes widened. "You spoke to them?"

"To him," Merlin corrected, "yes. They're in a cave marked by a pillar. It's that way."

Arthur heaved a heavy breath before nodding. "Westward it is then."

Back in Camelot, Gwen was buried beneath a massive heap of frantic questions and concerns from the people. Many wished to know where the king had gone in his sudden leave of absence, others pondered who the sorcerer was that Arthur had named during his declaration of peace with magic. To such questions, Gwen replied to the best of her knowledge, telling her subjects that the king and his servant had left to pursue a possible cure to their predicament and that she herself was unaware as to who the mysterious magician in Arthur's life was.

It did give her much time to think, being left alone and in charge of the castle. Despite the insistent council members and knights that pestered her throughout the day, trying to pry out every bit of knowledge that they could get from the queen, she found herself with a lot of free time. After the first day, she was so entirely exhausted from all the accusations from the court that she refused to answer any more questions the following day. So, after fulfilling her royal duties, she enjoyed a peaceful lunch on her own, which let her suppressed thoughts hang dangerously out in the openness of her mind.

"Is he within the city?" hollered one of the stressed villagers that had approached the lady in court. "I will not have my family live under the threat of magic! Is he in the city?"

Gwen pondered this from her chambers now. Was he in the city? And, if he was, how long had he been there? How long has this mysterious magician been influencing Arthur's life?

"You know him!" a member of the court had accused. "You must! You must know him! You are the queen! Who is he?"

Another question she could not answer crept into her mind. Did she know him? How many times has this sorcerer passed her by on the streets of Camelot? How many times has she met his eyes? How many times had she spoken to him? It all unnerved her greatly, that her own husband could be so heavily governed by such an ascendant without her knowledge.

Then something struck her. What if it had been beyond the king's knowledge as well? The declaration of equality was sudden enough, but the reveal of a hidden magical ally was even more spastic. Perhaps the presence of such a figure was just as recently revealed to him as it were to the whole of Camelot, thus encouraging his decision to lift the ban.

Gwen's mind spun with all the seemingly ludicrous ideas that flew through her thoughts. But she was right. She must be. It all made sense in that way. The only remaining question was who? Who was Emrys? Who would she find out to be the dark stranger that manipulated her husband's thoughts? Perhaps manipulated was the wrong word. However, the more she turned it over in her mind the more it seemed completely impossible to determine. She needed a second opinion. She needed to speak with someone else who was close to Arthur who might have some clue as to who the sorcerer was.

Merlin was the first person to pop into her head, but speaking with him on the matter would be impossible, what with his and Arthur's binding. There would be no way to seek his audience without the king accompanying him.

She thought about the knights but decided against it. Though they were loyal to her, they would not hesitate to keep a promised secret that they may share with Arthur. So, she dare not risk tempting their trust in her.

Gaius. Gaius was the only person she could rationally think of. Arthur may not have been incredibly close with the man, but he had looked over Arthur since he was a boy, so there was no doubt a connection between them. Plus, he knew Merlin more than anybody, so he may also have some insight as to what the servant observed from day to day whilst being at Arthur's side.

A knock on the door and Gaius called out a brief reply for Gwen to enter. She did and, upon seeing the physician crouched over his tomes, greeted him. "Hello Gaius."

"Gwen," Gaius stammered, not having expected her company. He rose to his feet and waded across the room. He looked her up and down and, having found nothing wrong with her, asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No," she assured. "I . . . I was hoping I could speak with you . . . about-about Arthur."

Gaius's eyebrow shot up in surprise. "Is something troubling you?"

Gwen looked down at where her fingers were wringing out her dress in a fret of nerves. "The sorcerer he speaks of," she hesitated, "Emrys, do you know him?"

Gaius stiffened. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I feel like we do," she replied. "I feel as though he's someone important. It's obvious that, whoever he is, Arthur finds great trust in him, if he was to make such a huge decision on his behalf."

Gaius hummed in agreement, though he still did not answer.

"I just have to know, Gaius," Gwen sighed. "Do you know him? Do I know him? Has he been in Camelot all this time?"

The old man looked away. "I'm afraid, milady, that I have been sworn to secrecy on the matter."

"I don't need to know his name, Gaius!" Gwen cried. "Please! I just want to know if I know him!"

The physician let out a long, exhausted breath. His weary aged eyes looking up at the young girl before him, he answered, "Yes, you do know him."

"For how long?" she wondered.

"Many years, I dare say," Gaius supplied. "And he is nothing but a friend to you and the king alike."

Gwen let out a huff of relief. "Thank you, Gaius," she said. It put her racing mind to rest, knowing that her suspicions were entirely rational.

"And please," Gaius added, "do not go searching him out. He will reveal himself to you on his own time, when he is ready. It could be extraordinarily stressful for him. So, please, Gwen, let him come to you."

With a curt nod, Gwen promised.

Trotting along, Merlin began to find the stillness of their surroundings irritating. He had managed to keep up the clatter for most of their journey, but even he ran out of things to say after so long. He almost wished that Gwaine had accompanied them. Almost.

It was a relief to him when the point of a large white stone could be seen in the distance, poking out from the trees. "There!" Merlin called, and Arthur's head followed his gestured.

The pair dismounted and tied up their horses. However, before Arthur could approach the tall, white pillar before them, Merlin stopped him.

"Arthur," he warned, "this place is sacred." His eyes lingered on the sight of Arthur's scabbard.

Arthur followed his gaze and, upon understanding, undid its attachment to his belt and set it with his packs on the saddle.

Venturing inside, Merlin thought it odd that it was so dark. Surely, if the Druids had made camp here, they would have lit a fire or some torches. Druid camps were usually full of life when the company was not peacefully meditating. Alas, Merlin's concerns were comforted at they turned down a winding corner to find a spectacular light show, the walls seemingly painted bright gold by the beaming torches.

"Emrys," a voice called, and both Merlin and Arthur turned to meet a familiar face.

"You're Iseldir," Arthur stated.

"Indeed," the Druid replied. "Come," he beckoned, "what brings you here?"

"I think you already know," Merlin offered as he followed behind him, eyes scanning the camp with awe. Each tent seemed to glow from inside, illuminating the place in a spectrum of colors.

The Druid smiled. "You have come in search for my father's men," he acknowledged. They came upon a rather large, green tent with druid patterns littering the hems. Iseldir lifted the tent flap and beckoned them inside.

They entered to find two cots, a small table, and a fire burning from what appeared to be a candelabra, save that there was nothing attaching it to the ceiling of the tent. It simply levitated in the center, above their heads.

"I can direct you to them," Iseldir continued, "but I insist that you rest for a day to regain your strength before seeking them out."

"Why's that?" Arthur inquired.

"I have much I wish to discuss with your protector," the elder elaborated, nodding towards Merlin who seemed extremely conflicted. He looked, to Arthur, as if he wanted to shrink into himself and disappear from embarrassment but, at the same time, wished not to further humiliate himself in the audience of someone who thought so highly of him. "There are many things that he must know, now that you are aware of his talents."

Arthur's face portrayed confusion and the Druid smiled once more. "When you are readied," he added, "a feast shall be held by the fire. Feel free to join us." And, with that, he left.

Merlin and Arthur shared puzzled looks before shrugging off their confusion and settling in. Merlin helped Arthur out of his armor and relieved himself of his extra layers before the two of them met the druids by the flames in casual attire.

Both were handed massive dishes filled with luscious fruits that seemed to swell with their sweet juices. The bread was crisp and warm and the soup was like silk when it travelled down one's throat. It was truly a meal to savor, for neither of them, even Arthur, had ever tasted such delicacies before. Arthur let a compliment past his lips, which was a real statement, considering how much the king loved meat and marrow. Despite there being no animal contributions to their meal, Arthur found it was the best he had ever had.

Arthur and Merlin enjoyed the chatter, songs, and games of the Druid's around them, all cheerful and celebratory for unknown reasons. A young, hefty man sat down next to Arthur, a wide grin on his face as he clapped for one of his mates to participate in one of the many activities.

"What are the celebrations for?" Arthur asked him as he settled.

"Hmm?" the Druid grunted. "Oh! My king! You see, celebrations such as this are common! We are merely celebrating the earth and its wonders! But, tonight, we celebrate a superb revelation!"

"And what revelation is that?" Arthur pondered.

The man laughed. "Why, it's you! Your knowing of Emrys's powers! It has lifted a great weight from our shoulders!"

Arthur looked to Merlin, who simply shrugged with a nervous smile before returning his attention to his food.

"Well," Arthur started, "I am honored, then, that you are celebrating our reconcilement." The king bowed his head, which made the man laugh again.

Merlin made due to speak but, the moment he opened his mouth, a burst of laughter spilled out and he nearly spat soup into his master's hair. He quickly covered his mouth in surprise as his eyes began to water. His shoulders heaving and bobbing in beat with his muffled giggles.

"What's so funny?" Arthur asked irritably as he noticed Merlin trying to suppress his outburst. Merlin shook his head, but the smile lines would not leave his face.

"That must have been Gilli," the man suggested. "He loves pranks! He got me once; had me scratching for a week!"

"Gilli!" Merlin exclaimed amidst his fit of laughter. "He's here?" he snickered.

"Gilli?" Arthur questioned. "Who's . . . Oh." Arthur stopped as a memory that was not his own sparked itself into his mind. Gilli was the boy who had fought Uther in the tournament all those years ago. Unbeknownst to all but Merlin, he had used magic and promised the servant that they would meet again. Arthur seemed to slip into a short daze as the memory flooded into him, but he was soon brought back to his senses by another whoop of laughter from his friend beside him.

Now there were tears rolling down Merlin's cheeks as he struggled to stop the crowing of his voice. It was all in vain. Nothing could stop him from guffawing and sputtering everywhere, doubling over and splitting his sides.

"Merlin!" a voice called, and soon an odd looking fellow was crouching down beside the manservant, clapping him on the back. "I'm so glad you've found your way here, friend!"

"Wh-what are you – doing here – with the D-Druids?" Merlin choked out, chest still heaving with laughter, making it near impossible for him to speak.

"I took your advice!" the man cheered, admiring his handiwork. "I sought out the Druids and they taught me more about my magic. They taught me how to use it for good, like you wanted me to, and I think this is more than an honorable use for it!" He beamed. There was obviously far more light in the boy than there had been when he last saw Merlin, and the warlock was proud of that, though he couldn't quite voice it at the moment.

"He's made a lot of improvement since he's been here," praised the man. "And that ring of his sure is handy for his tricks!"

"It's all right, Merlin," Gilli sneered. "I only slipped a potion into your soup! It should wear off in two or three hours or so."

Merlin bellowed as Gilli clapped his back again, laughter mingling with coughs. "Three h-hours!" he howled.

"Eh," Gilli smiled. "It's not that bad! At least you aren't Robbin! He had a rat's tail for about a whole fortnight!"

Merlin put his head in his hands as he continued to chortle uncontrollably. Arthur began to muse at his servant's struggles, starting to chuckle as well, afraid for a moment that he too had been drugged.

It went on like this for some time; music playing and people cheering, Merlin struggling to keep his lungs in his chest. Soon his face was red and his attempts to suppress his laughter had stopped. Realizing that it was futile, he simply lost himself and ended up rolling around on the ground, clutching his side and snorting.

Arthur continuously teased and pestered Merlin for his outburst and even threatened to have Gilli make up another batch of "laugh juice", as he called it. It was then that he approached the boy and complimented him on his "fine work".

"Thank you," he replied. "Though, I'm afraid laughter wasn't the only thing I've plagued him with."

"What do you mean by that?" Arthur questioned, slightly alarmed.

"Oh!" Gilli chuckled, "You'll find out in the morning!"

Arthur scoffed. He couldn't wait.