October had come and gone since Merlin had reopened his eyes.

The brief glimmer of hope Arthur had held back then had been cruelly crushed when Gaius had examined his unresponsive ward, delivering the shattering news. The smoke, the physician had said, had deprived Merlin's brain of the air it needed to function properly. His consciousness had left him.

Every day since then, Merlin had spent his days sitting in an armchair in the physician room, healing legs propped on a footrest, vacant eyes staring at nothing.

And every day since then, the monarch had spent almost every moment he could spare sitting by his friend's side.

Sometimes, he spoke to him in a futile attempt to tear Merlin from his torpor. Other times, he simply sat by his broken servant, tormenting himself with the horrible consequences of his actions, of his own intolerance and betrayal. His once quick-witted friend was a mere shadow of the man he used to be. Merlin used to fill a room by his simple presence.

Not anymore.

Nothing could ever assuage Arthur's guilt.

The king mournfully observed the empty shell of his manservant, sitting a bit crookedly in a hideous cushioned chair in the physician's quarters. He had not uttered a single word, made eye contact with anyone or gave the tiniest hint of consciousness since he "awoke".

Gwen had been a lot of help to Gaius, making sure the burden of his boy's care did not rest entirely on the old man's shoulders. It was her way of coping, Arthur was convinced. She was usually the one feeding Merlin, who only ate when fed. How Merlin would have resented being spoon-fed that way, he thought bitterly. Gwen also made sure he stayed warm, swaddling him in blankets. He was always cold to the touch.

So very cold and pale. Like some living, breathing corpse, Arthur morbidly thought.

Despite having survived his injuries, Merlin was still lost to them. The light in those once cheerful blue eyes had gone out. Arthur would never see that goofy smile again.

Gaius had lost almost all hope of his ward recovering when he had failed to show any signs of improvement weeks after opening his eyes. Even the druids had tried to help Merlin. While his burns on his feet and legs had lessened, efforts to bring him back to true consciousness had been to no avail.

"I worry that, despite our best efforts, Merlin will eventually die," Gaius predicted, to his own chagrin.

The king felt as if his breath was taken away from him. "But he is awake and eating."

"Merlin's body is getting weak. He is not getting enough sustenance. He is slowly losing weight and his muscles are getting atrophied from the lack of movement."

Arthur had already seen it. There was no way he could have failed to notice how Merlin had shrunk into a frail thing in so little time.

"It hurts me to say it," the old man continued, "but it is only a matter of time before his body gives out entirely."

Arthur froze for a moment, taking in the crushing information.

"You are telling me that Merlin will remain a vegetable, just wasting away until he dies. I cannot accept that, Gaius!" Arthur despaired. "I can't lose him. There has to be something! A way to reach Merlin. A magical cure. Anything!"

"I do not know, Sire. If I did, I would already have told you. You know how much that boy means to me."

Gaius paused, and Arthur sensed an hesitation in the old physician.

"But the great dragon might know something I don't," he added.

"You mean the one that attacked Camelot? The one Merlin was speaking to that night?"

Gaius nodded, his features grim.

Arthur furrowed his brow. Would he be willing to confront the dragon if it meant saving Merlin's life?

He didn't have to reflect on it a long time.

"How can we reach it?" he asked.

Gaius eyed Arthur severely. "So, now that you need something, «conspiring with a dragon» is acceptable?"

Arthur looked away from the physician, his eyes landing on the ugly armchair and it's fading inhabitant. "I'm so sorry Gaius. You know I am," he apologised. Arthur had been so overwhelmed by his own guilt, he had not noticed the silent resentment growing in Gaius.

"I am the one that should apologize, Sire. That was uncalled for."

"You have the right to be angry at me, Gaius. I can't forgive myself for what happened to Merlin."

A heavy and uncomfortable silence filled the room.

Gaius cleared his throat. "As for your question, there is only one way to reach the Great Dragon. One unfortunately unavailable to us as only a dragonlord may summon him."

Arthur frowned. "And the last one died years ago."

"Actually, there is another," Gaius corrected. "A dragonlord inherits his power when his father dies. When Balinor passed away, his power transferred over to his son."

"Then we have to find him!" Arthur said eagerly. "Ask him to summon the dragon!"

"Unfortunately, he is sitting right there," regretted Gaius, looking dejectedly at the boy wrapped in blankets.

"Merlin?" Arthur stammered, astonished by the revelation. "You mean… Balinor was his father? He is a dragonlord?"

"Yes. And that is how the dragon's attacks on Camelot were stopped. And it is also the reason it would be difficult, if not impossible, to locate him since Merlin forbade him from coming near the city without his permission," Gaius explained grimly.

Arthur attempted with great difficulty to envision scrawny, clumsy Merlin commanding such a powerful creature.

"So if we want to find the dragon, we have to do it on our own."

"I will look into it in the morning, but I fear my books will have little to offer. For now, you should try to get some rest of your own, Sire."

"Of course, Gaius. I had not realised the hour was so late."

Before taking his leave, Arthur crouched in front of Merlin. As usual, he tried to catch his friend's gaze, with no success.

"I'll come back tomorrow," he whispered. "Good night, Merlin."

A gloomy drizzle fell upon Camelot's knights as they returned from their patrol. Lately, groups of mercenaries had been found closer to Camelot then ever and patrols had consequently been doubled.

Arthur felt the cold piercing him and he tightened his cape around him. It did nothing to numb the dull ache that had settled in him. Without Merlin steadfast presence at his side, he felt like he was missing a limb, or worse. The knights were demoralised too. They had come to consider the young servant as one of their own and all grieved deeply for their friend. Disheartened by their leader's melancholy as well, troop morale was hopelessly low.

On their way home, the patrol encountered a flow of a new group of refugees walking towards the city, strenuously dragging their feet along the muddy road. Arthur dismounted his horse near a young family.

"Hi, my name is Arthur. What's yours?" he asked with a gentle smile, addressing a young girl in a raggedy dress.

"I'm Elvie," she timidly replied.

"That's a pretty name. You look tired, Elvie. Would you like to take a ride on my horse instead of walking?"

She looked to her parents, who promptly nodded their approval as they saw their king seating Elvie his royal steed. Arthur was glad to see his men doing the same, lending their horses to the young and the elderly. Percival even picked up three wide-eyed toddlers, amazed at by the brawny knight's strength. He put one on his shoulders, settled the other two in his arms, and headed to Camelot.

"May I?" he asked Elvie's mother, gesturing to the sleeping infant she was holding to her chest.

He entrusted the baby to the girl and took the horse's reins in his hands, slowly guiding it back to the city.

"Thank you, my lord" said the two children's father, a sturdy man who seemed about his own age. They were traveling light, Arthur noticed. When he asked the man about it, he learned that they had left their home hurriedly in the middle of the night. There had been no time for packing anything more than bare necessities.

"Don't worry," reassured the king. "We will take good care of you and your family."

Arthur was weary, but it was nothing compared to the exhaustion of the people they ware assisting. Many had been walking for days, with no shelter from the chilly November weather, sometimes relying on foraging for what little food they could find.

The kingdom had fallen into dark times. Arthur could not believe how quickly they had gone from peace to a genuine threat of civil war.

Instead of leaving as ordered, the banished nobles who had disobeyed his orders had returned to their lands where, along with a few powerful retainers, they had raised levies against Arthur, daring him to make the first move. However, the king wouldn't wage war on his own citizens, even if it meant weakening his own power. He would have to find another way.

Refugees had been steadily arriving from those lands, consisting mostly of loyal citizens who refused to be conscripted to fight against Camelot or who feared retaliation for their allegiance to the king. Camelot's citizens were nothing if not kind to the refugees, welcoming them in their own homes, but if they kept coming, Camelot's authorities would soon lack space to shelter them and food to feed the ever growing population.

According to the reports the king was receiving, even the once peaceful druids were fighting amongst themselves. Over Merlin's fate, of all things. Apparently, a number of magic users saw Merlin as some kind of saviour. Some had even proclaimed him a martyr. Arthur wasn't sure they were wrong.

The king now spent most of his time in discussions with his advisors or at round table meetings, trying to come up with solutions to the unrest and deciding where to send soldiers, as they were already stretched thin. If he wasn't able to keep peace within the land, it was only a matter of time before enemies attempted to take advantage of Camelot's weakened state.

Night had fallen when Arthur finally able to head back to the castle, having left Elvie and her family in the care of a compassionate couple of cobblers. He shuffled wearily along the streets of Camelot, cold, wet, and utterly exhausted. It would be too late to visit Merlin, he reflected miserably, looking up at the moon shining brightly above Camelot.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" someone called nearby as Arthur felt a stranger's shoulder bump into his own.

"I'm sorry, my friend," Arthur apologised, eager to get back home and not wanting to cause a scene.

Somebody scoffed nearby.

"Be careful now," a gruff voice warned. "You don't want to know what our dear king does to his friends."

Arthur turned around to recognise Gwaine, standing near the Rising Sun tavern, where the dark haired knight often went nowadays to drown his sorrows, particularly after having visited Merlin.

"Watch what you say, Sir Gwaine," Arthur cautioned.

"Or what? You will send me to the pyre too?" Gwaine taunted, his tone dripping with contempt. "Because if you do, please don't bother getting me out at the last minute."

Arthur shoved Gwaine, making him back away a few steps.

"I did it! It's my fault!" Arthur yelled, his face flushed. "I condemned the best friend you ever had to a slow and painful death. What are you going to do about it?"

"Don't test me, princess." Gwaine clenched his fists, his jaw tense, as he repositioned himself to stand face to face with the king.

"Come on, Gwaine! You have been aching to do this since that day!" Arthur bellowed, his arms held wide in provocation. "Well, now is your chance!"

He shoved Gwaine again, yearning to replace the dull ache he was constantly feeling inside with real pain. In a quick move, the dark haired knight used Arthur's momentum to send him sprawling to the pavement. He stood above him, features severe and arms crossed.

"Yeah, it is your fault. There's no denying that. But provoking me won't work. For what it's worth, you are doing a pretty good job of punishing yourself." Arthur blinked in surprise as the sullen knight went on. "Merlin wouldn't want to see you like this. You're a mess. Pull yourself together."

Gwaine turned his back on him, heading back inside the tavern without looking back at the deflated king lying on the rough pavement.

The following day, after long, tedious hours with various advisors and administrators, followed by a round table gathering, from which Gwaine was obviously absent, the worn out king was finally able to visit the physician's chambers.

"Sire, could you please look after Merlin for a little while?" Gaius asked when Arthur stepped in. "I have an errand to run at the guard's barracks. I should not be gone long."

Arthur nodded and took a seat next to Merlin, sitting as usual in the physician's cushioned seat, his hollow eyes staring into nothingness. It pained him to see Merlin in this condition, seeing him fading day by day, yet things often seemed clearer whenever he spoke with Merlin.

Spoke to Merlin, Arthur mentally corrected himself, not with Merlin. That would never happen again.

"Every decision I have made since that dreadful day has been the wrong one," he stated in anguish.

"I don't know what I should do anymore. I am doubtful of every single decision I take. And those so-called advisors! They're either worthless bootlickers, only telling me what they think I want to hear, or they put their own interests above Camelot's."

Merlin had never done that. He had spoken his mind at every turn, never minding the consequences, addressing the King of Camelot as he would anybody. His royal status had never mattered to him. Of course, Arthur hadn't known back then that Merlin was an all-powerful sorcerer. One who had lowered himself to the modest position of servant to an arrogant prince.

He had always been too proud to show Merlin how much he truly valued his opinion. How ridiculous that felt now that he was yearning to hear the wise advice that, he knew, would never come.

"I am lost, Merlin," Arthur confessed, distraught.

"We are on the brink of civil war, even the druids are fighting amongst themselves. The city is overflowing with refugees, Camelot's border defences are stretched to their limits and mercenaries terrify the outlying villages."

Arthur slumped in his chair. "I don't know what to do. I can't even trust myself to make the right decisions anymore."

Without a strong leader, Camelot was like a ship without it's captain, drifting in a merciless sea of unrest and rebellion. Merlin had been his compass, guiding him whenever he had lost his way. His servant's constant presence beside him had made him a better person, a better king. How could he have been so blind, never realizing what he had until he lost it?

"Please tell me what I should do," implored the despairing king, his voice breaking as he grabbed his servant's thin shoulders.

He stared at the broken man's face, foolishly hoping for a sign from him, any indication that he was doing the right thing, taking good decisions. All he saw was the same expressionless face, devoid of anything that made him Merlin.

"Snap out of it!" he shouted, his voice full of sorrow, losing the firm grip he usually had on his emotions.

He shook his friend, aching for a reaction from him. The dark-haired head lolled back and forth, offering no resistance to the abuse.

"Come on, Merlin! Wake up! Please!"

Arthur suddenly unhanded the boy, as if shocked. Even in this condition, he was still hurting Merlin. Hadn't he already done enough damage?

"I'm so sorry," he choked, backing off with shaky steps.

An instant later, the physician reappeared in the room. Arthur hurried out without a word, leaving a confused Gaius in his wake.

Gwen found her husband brooding in his study. She approached him silently. She had noticed how Arthur had been struggling since Merlin's botched execution, they all were, but she was concerned. Arthur was spiralling into a dark place.

"Gwaine told me what happened yesterday," Gwen started gently. "How you tried to provoke him into a fight."

"Then Gwaine should learn to keep his mouth shut," he snapped, his shoulders tense.

"He is worried about you. We all are."

"Gwaine hates me." Arthur paused a second. "I hate myself."

She took his hand in her own. "Arthur…"

"Don't touch me. I ruin everything. How can you even stand me?" He asked, disgusted.

"I love you." He pulled at his hand but Gwen held if firmly. "You should give yourself a chance. You are overworked, stressed out and grieving. When was the last time you slept a full night?"

Arthur had never told her about the nightmares plaguing his guilty mind. In his dreams, he was the one who lit the pyre, observing coldly as Merlin screamed in pain as the flames engulfed his body. Whenever he dreamt of something else, Merlin followed him like he used to, but his ravaged skin hung in bloody tatters and he glared at him with accusing eyes.

"I don't know," he confessed. "I don't even feel like myself anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Ever since that cursed day, I feel like there is this gaping hole in my chest." Arthur clutched at his chest, taking in a shaky breath. "As if a part of me burned on that pyre along with Merlin."

"You never truly realized it before, but there is a strong bond between you two."

"I know."

"Then you also know that Merlin wouldn't want you to blame yourself for what happened."

"I don't even care about the magic and the lies anymore. Or about that bloody dragon," he admitted, morose. "I just miss my friend."

She caressed his cheek. "I know you do," she said, empathic to her husband's chagrin.

"But I killed him." He looked away, his eyes wet. "I killed Merlin."

"Arthur, you didn't light that pyre," she pleaded earnestly. "You saved his life."

"We might still be breathing, but I destroyed everything that made him Merlin. By getting him out of the fire, I condemned him to a slow death instead of a quick one. I only made it worse."

"Don't say that. I, for one, still believe Merlin might somehow make his way back to us."

Arthur looked at her sadly. "I wish I shared your optimism. Even Gaius has given up hope."

"You made a mistake. A dreadful one. But no amount of self-loathing is going to change that. Camelot needs its king. We all need you."

She tenderly wrapped her arms around his waist and held him close, wishing she could make everything better. For the moment, she would have to settle for comforting her love in his time of need.

TBC
Thank you for reading! And my promise of a happy ending still holds!