A/N: I'm really pleased so far that most of you don't have a problem with my Guinevere. She's very different than she used to be – a kind woman, but in the show she seemed much more "just" as a queen than "kind". With the difficulty of her job, I think that slightly harsher attitude would get more rather than lesser. I also thought that I should take a chance to thank you all for your kind feedback. It keeps me going.


Leon came by and visited several times. He seemed much the same as he always had, though perhaps a little more friendly, and slightly more prone to staring at Merlin as if he was a dream.

Percival seemed to be around whenever Leon wasn't, though he didn't do much talking. It was still good to see him, even though his presence reminded Merlin again that Gwaine was dead. It was sort of starting to sink in, but it still seemed so impossible. How was Merlin supposed to deal with it while Arthur's death was still fresh in his mind?

Guinevere, darling girl, she stopped by whenever she had the chance. She was a busy woman now, but she made time for an old friend. She didn't remind him so forcefully of Gwaine, which was nice. Arthur, maybe, but then, everything reminded him of Arthur, didn't it?

There was a sort of tension between the lot of them. Something they weren't telling him. Merlin couldn't help but wonder if perhaps they knew more than he did about what had happened in the last two years – because he had no memory. He'd thought perhaps that would be slept off, but it turned out not to be the case. Merlin didn't remember how he'd acquired the bruises or the severe exhaustion or the whip marks on his back – probably didn't want to remember. But the thought that they remembered and he didn't made him nervous. He trusted them, he really did, but something was going on and it bugged him. So he immediately told himself that he was imagining it.

Gaius was a relief to him, because the man showed none of the tension, just the honest concern of a physician and the affection of a friend.

Somewhere around the third time he woke up, and was actually able to stay awake, it occurred to him to check on the Dragon. Gaius wouldn't let him out of the chambers, though, insisting that he was still healing and that he could tell the warlock was exhausted. Merlin asked if he could go out in two days. He wasn't willing to wait longer.

Gaius opened his mouth to argue.

"Gaius," Merlin said. "I've lost more friends than I can count already. I'm going to check up on one of my oldest no matter what you say."

Merlin had always been strong-minded, independent, disobedient… But that straightforward defiance towards his father figure was new. He didn't care what Gaius said, Gaius could see that now. In asking for permission he was being polite.

Usually he at least pretended he was going to obey. Something there had changed.

"Two days," Gaius agreed.

Merlin grinned. "Thanks," he said. "We don't want to argue – Guinevere's about to walk in."

"What makes you say that, Merlin?" Gaius asked, lifting that famous eyebrow. Thinking back, he remembered that Merlin had been glancing at the door every so often.

"Percival left almost five minutes ago; Leon is busy this afternoon, and they never leave me alone for longer than this."

Gaius looked so honestly surprised that Merlin felt guilty for being so brusque with him. "They're watching me," he told the old man, not quite believing that Gaius hadn't noticed.

Gaius hadn't noticed. Which wasn't usual for him, but he was getting old, and aside from that, he'd been quite tied up with a mixture of joy and worry recently. But he didn't really have time to doubt Merlin properly before Guinevere walked in the room, holding Arthur on her hip.


Guinevere was late to enter, but she figured that even if Merlin were to decide to get up to trouble, there wasn't much he could do in five minutes.

Leon had been arguing with her.

He hadn't started by arguing. He really wouldn't dare. But he felt quite strongly that perhaps the queen should rethink her decision to bring in Arthur to meet Merlin so soon after Merlin's return.

He listed various reasons, including his fear that seeing how different Camelot was now would upset the warlock. But Guinevere could see his fear for her in his face.

"Are you trying to suggest," she asked him when he paused, "that if Merlin is indeed compromised, it would be dangerous to have him know about my son?"

"It would make sense to be wary," Leon said, but she could see the words hurt him. That was one thing that kept her irritation at bay. She had come to dislike being questioned in the past few years, but she knew well that she needed advice to be a good queen. Here, though, she could see Leon's earnestness, and knew he did not mean to insult her old friend, and so she remained gentle.

"Leon, he will find out soon anyway. Don't worry, I thought of that too, but I feel that it is better to tell him on our time. And he's our friend. Perhaps I want to trust him too badly…" She let herself trail off.

"No, no, Your Majesty. I don't mean he can't be trusted."

"But you're still concerned. I appreciate that."

Guinevere let the silence fester for just a minute, knowing that Leon was thinking and not wanting to cut his budding thoughts off. At last, though, she adjusted the baby she held, and said, "Sir Leon, if you can look at me and tell me that you think that Merlin would be willing to hurt Arthur's child, then I'll hold off the visit. Can you do that?"

Leon had that open-mouth look when he was thinking very hard or when he was shocked. "Of course I can't," he said.

She hadn't thought he could.

"Thank you," she said, as if she hadn't known what his answer was going to be. She smiled at him kindly as she walked away.


"A baby," said Merlin, sitting up and immediately smiling so widely that Gaius would never guess at the suspicion he had just hinted he possessed.

"This," Guinevere said, holding up the curly-headed baby with her brown eyes, "is Arthur."

If Guinevere hadn't been watching for it, she wouldn't have seen the pain flash in Merlin's eyes.

"Yours?" he asked, still smiling.

"Yes, I found out I was pregnant shortly after you left."

"So he's a little more than a year old, is he?" Merlin held out his arms to embrace the child, and Guinevere felt herself smiling. She held out Arthur, who was only too happy to get out of his mother's arms for a bit – and then realized that he was being held by a stranger and stared shyly at the warlock. "And to think I missed your first steps."

"That's right," Guinevere said, smiling as she watched Merlin's eyes light up as he gently bounced Arthur up and down. She could tell she'd made the right choice.

"Guinevere, I love him," Merlin told her, looking up. He looked happier than he'd seemed since he returned home.

Guinevere nodded and looked at her baby, who was starting to smile at Merlin's funny hair and bright eyes. "He'll start crying any second," she warned, but inwardly she was happy. That was something she'd always wished she'd be able to hear Arthur say – I love him. Hearing Merlin say it wasn't at all the same thing, but it was something.


Merlin meant to wait two days, and he made it through one before his worry overcame him.

He was lying in his bed, trying to sleep, glad that Gaius had let him move to his own room – which was still waiting for him after all this time.

He'd managed to push all of his worry to the back of his mind that day and the night before, but it really couldn't be bullied anymore, and suddenly it seemed to erupt in his chest. Kilgharrah. What if he was dead? When Merlin had seen him last (or at least as far as he remembered), he had been old. Old and apparently dying.

If he was dead, had Merlin been with him at the last?

Must I lose another friend?

Merlin called to him in his mind. Kilgharrah. There was no response. Kilgharrah, are you close enough to hear me? It was like shouting into an empty cavern – you could only hear the lonely echoes. Kilgharrah!

He called out multiple times, until his mind felt raw and tired, but there was no response, and Merlin could feel his panic starting to bubble like Gaius's potions. The dragon was probably too far away to hear. He would be allowed to go check tomorrow night.

He knew there was no way he could wait that long.

He'd promised Gaius, but he found it hard to care as he struggled to his feet, testing his wounds (sore, but if he was careful, nothing would get busted). Then he shrugged on a jacket he'd left lying around – and it was huge on him now – and walked quietly out the door.

Percival was sleeping in the hall, and Merlin chuckled a little to himself without any mirth. Really, now, you should try to be more subtle than that.

He walked past the knight and down the stairs, remembering to himself the first time he'd done this – down into the cavern, holding a torch, with a giant reptile talking to him – and he'd dared to talk back. There must be another Arthur because this one's an idiot. He'd been so sure of himself back then.

He walked out into the streets. Guinevere had night patrols, but they did not stop him. He might have sneaked a bit as he was trying to get out of the city, but it wasn't too difficult – he'd had too much practice over the years. And, with that panic still pushing him on, he went out into the woods and looked up into the sky and screamed for his dragon.

Merlin waited, and then he called again. His mouth stretched out and came out guttural; he sounded like he was roaring like a dragon himself.

Sometimes it took a while, and Merlin appreciated that. "Dragon!" he screamed.

He couldn't even breathe properly, and as the minutes passed he felt so weak that he just let his legs collapse under him. Merlin lay sprawled on the ground, staring at the sky, waiting. He'd told himself that he was prepared for whatever might happen. But suddenly the possibility was real. Another friend was gone, one wiser even than Merlin – someone that might have been able to tell him the truth.

Merlin felt tears swelling in his eyes.

"Come on, Kilgharrah," he whispered into the ground. "Please come."

The wind picked up – a rustling in the trees – Merlin lifted his head with hope shining in his eyes as he saw a shape moving over the moon. His heart leapt.

And then the wind settled, and the clouds stopped moving in the sky, and there was silence.

Kilgharrah did not come.

Merlin waited for two hours, watching the moon move across the sky. He wasn't sure at what point all of the hope drained out of him and left him done. He didn't remember when his wet eyes turned into sobs, or when he could no longer support himself for pain. Eventually he just lay there with tears and mucus running down his face, crying as silently as he could into the dirt ground. And suddenly he wasn't just crying for the dragon. He was crying for Arthur. He was crying for Gwaine. He was crying, even a little, for Lancelot and Elyan, and mostly he was crying for himself.

He's not coming, Emrys. He's never coming again.

Merlin felt the truth sink like a stone into his stomach as his tears dried and didn't come back, even though he waited for them patiently.

After a while, he stood up and began to walk back to Camelot, hiccupping and tired.


"You lost him?"

"He must have walked out."

"Either that or he's been kidnapped. Percival, you were supposed to be on watch."

"…Hard training today."

"Where do you think he got off to?"

"Wasn't too secretive. He left the door open."

Leon cursed in the dark hall and looked around. "The queen will be angry if we can't find him. We've lost an injured man who only returned several days ago after two years."

Before Percival could speak, Merlin himself walked up and interrupted them.

"Merlin!" cried Leon.

Merlin looked tired and pale and he was slouching, but smiling. "You didn't lose me. I'm back. I went for a walk. I didn't realize I was constrained to quarters or had to tell you of my whereabouts."

"You don't," Leon said, wondering if Merlin's white smile was hiding anger. Or worse, the duplicity they'd missed for so long in Agravaine and Morgana.

"Oh," said Merlin. "Besides, I didn't want Percival to follow me. Goodnight."

And then he pushed past them and went to bed, leaving them staring at each other.


When Guinevere woke up and went to visit her son, she saw that she wasn't the first person with the idea.

Leon was standing outside Arthur's room, and when she looked confused, he said, "Merlin went inside. I thought I could let him have space."

"Of course," Guinevere said.

She stepped inside, head cocked to the side, and saw Merlin sitting on the floor, with a little boy toddling around, mumbling in gibberish and handing Merlin his small wooden toys.

"Merlin?"

"Leon's outside, no worries. He and Percival have been following me."

"I know."

"I figured you did."

Merlin didn't once look at her, but just looked at Arthur, smiling in a way that made Guinevere inexplicably sorry despite its brightness. "You decided to pay Arthur a visit?" she asked, still standing on the side like a stranger.

"Yes," Merlin said. "Hey, Arthur." The baby looked over. Merlin opened his arms, and Arthur half-walked half-crawled trustingly into the warlock's arms, letting himself be hugged and making a valiant effort to hug back. Merlin pressed one bony hand into the boy's back protectively and closed his eyes.