The floor bruised his knees, but Arthur hardly registered the sudden sharp pain made worse by the old wounds already there. His travels had taken him to many places, and those in turn had led to many battles and wars, all of them fought in Merlin's name.

The name of the… Skeleton that laid in bed before him.

Arthur had let out a small noise of shock and heartbreak a moment earlier, but those noises had dulled until all Arthur could hear was his own harsh gags and his racing heart. Merlin… His best friend, his brother, the face he had so yearned to see these past five years-he was gone. That face was gone, replaced by one not only significantly older, but… Broken.

Arthur took in every gruesome fact as if it were his own body that lay there upon the bed, and his soul were merely floating above it taking inventory. A thick mane of black hair had taken over most of Merlin's face, added by a scraggly beard.

There were several cuts-whip cuts- zigzagging across Merlin's face, which was sweaty and moist with fever. His formerly thin eyebrows were bushy and lacerated, probably by the cuts, and were puffed up and bloody. Arthur's eyes traveled down. He saw the mark of hands and chains around his neck.

Going further down, Anakin noticed another adoring feature. Merlin had been starved. Arthur could name and see every bone in his body, from the tiny ones that made up most of the wrist and finger bones to the large and long bones of Merlin's ribs. But the worst… The very worst came when Arthur's eyes caught a glint of light from the candle reflecting off the porcelain skin.

And saw a dark, curving slope on Merlin's arm. Slowly, legs shaking, he stood. As hesitantly as if he were going into the worst battle of his life, he approached, and stood over Merlin to get a better view. He dared not touch him. He was afraid that if he did, the body beneath would turn to ash and vanish forever. Arthur couldn't live with that.

One of Merlin's abused hands lay above the bedclothes and Arthur could see what the dark slithering thing was. It was a tattoo, cut and sewed into Merlin's skin. It was a dragon, going from the top of Merlin's shoulders down to the edge of his knuckles. Both arms. Arthur sobbed aloud, and had to cover his mouth quickly to stifle the sound.

It was the Pendragon crest. Someone had carved the Pendragon crest into Merlin's arms.

Arthur turned away, gagging. His stomach roiled with disgust. Oh, my brother, what has been done to you? What monster could possibly do this to you? With tears in his eyes, Arthur looked back down at Merlin and almost let out a shout of alarm when he saw haunted, empty eyes staring back at him. He jumped, quickly backing away, and instantly felt guilt and shame. How could he have just done that? After all that Merlin had gone through, how could…?

And then a different fear crept into his heart. What if Merlin didn't know who he was? He was just staring at Arthur after all, as if he didn't know who he was or what he was doing there. What if he had lost his memory and never remembered the king at all? Arthur didn't know what was worse: death or… That.

Please, he implored whatever force was willing to hear. Please, don't take him from me again.

"My King?" That was Geoffrey calling. Arthur willed him to go away. "Are you alright?" Alright? How could Arthur ever be alright again after seeing what he could see now? How would he ever erase this image from his mind now when there was nothing he could do to ease Merlin's suffering?

Frustration and sadness welled within him. No, Arthur decided as tears ran unhindered down his cheeks and Merlin continued to stare at him blankly. No, I won't accept that. He's my soul-brother, the other side to my coin. If he doesn't remember, I'll make him remember.

"Arthur?" He saw a shadow in the doorway. Merlin's eyes swiveled to take in Geoffrey, halting the older man in place at his spot at the bottom of the stairs. The bookkeeper cursed beneath his breath. "You've woken him! Arthur, come out of there," it was phrased as a command, and Arthur had never been one to follow those.

"Merlin," just saying it was like taking a breath of fresh air. The load on his heart lightened. Merlin's eyes swiveled to look at him again, and the skeleton cocked his head curiously, as if he could vaguely make out a sound in the distance, but had little clue where it came from. "Merlin. It's me. Arthur," no response, not even a flicker of recognition in the pale blue eyes.

"My king, come! I've given you a second. Now…"

"Merlin. You have to remember!"

"He doesn't," Geoffrey sighed, still not moving from the doorway. "His mind… It isn't the same, my king. Please sire, come out now. Let him rest. Can't you see how unhealthy he is?" Arthur's eyes burned. Unhealthy did not begin to describe how he knew Merlin felt. He took a shaking step forward, slowly as to not startle Merlin.

The warlock didn't move, nor take his eyes off him. Arthur tried again. "Come on, you laisy daisy!" He implored, struggling to keep his voice under control. He kept creeping forward, slowly. "Time to get up. The sun will be shining soon, Merlin. You do remember, don't you? How you used to wake me up every day?"

"Arthur Pendragon…" Geoffrey took a step inside, his face having gone red with annoyance. Arthur held up a hand. Geoffrey ignored it, continuing forward. "Come out of here. He's gone, Arthur, don't you see? His mind is gone. Merlin is gone," the anger was tinged with anguish. Arthur sidestepped the hand Geoffrey offered to lead him out with, his eyes locked on Merlin's. He couldn't accept that. He couldn't. His heart quickened in desperation. He held his hands out, supplicating.

"Every day for nearly six years, Merlin! Come on, you stubborn, disrespectful dollopheaded prat! You have to remember! Your druid name is Emrys!" He ducked beneath Geoffrey's hand, and grabbed Merlin by the shoulders. "Your mother's name is Hunith! Your father's name was Balinor," The bones beneath his hands were frail and delicate. Arthur handled them as if they were the limbs of his child.

"Your mentor is Gaius! You were born in Ealdor, you were born with magic, Merlin! You are magic!" Merlin's eyes burrowed into his own, disturbingly empty of recognition or even emotion. Arthur sobbed again. Tears itched beneath his chin and dripped down his face,

"Merlin!" he shouted, giving the emaciated body a small shake.

"Arthur!" Geoffrey's hand was on his shoulder, tugging him away with no little strength. Arthur waved him away.

"Merlin, come on! I know you're in there," Arthur frantically put a hand to the back of Merlin's head, stroked his wild hair, cradled his cheeks and kissed his forehead as if touch could revive the bond they had once intimately shared. His anxiety fueled him. "It's me Arthur, remember? You must remember me, Merlin. The dragon-Kilgarrah-he spoke of me," Geoffrey grabbed his wrist and tried to yank him away. Arthur gripped Merlin's hand as if it were a lifeline, never taking his eyes away. If only he could see something in those empty eyes, anything…

"Stop!" He pushed Geoffrey away violently. "The first night you arrived in Camelot, remember Merlin? He told you about your destiny that night, told you you were meant to be my protector! You saved me that day, Merlin, you… Geoffrey!" The bookkeeper had somehow managed to get his arms hooked beneath Arthur's elbows behind his back, immobilizing him as he forcibly dragged him away.

"Let me go! I am the King, let me go!" He shouted, furious.

"Not tonight, sire!" Geoffrey hissed into his ear, just as furious. He was dragging Arthur backwards towards the door, away from Merlin. The King struggled, desperate to get back to his brother. The warlock watched him being dragged away emotionlessly.

Arthur shook his head, heart hammering. He struggled futilely, kicking and squirming. If only I had Excalibur. Arthur cried out in ire. "No, let me go! I will have you hung for this!" he roared.

Geoffrey was unimpressed. "Fine! But you'll not carry on with this fool's crusade! Merlin is gone! His soul is dead!" Arthur felt as if those words were arrows puncturing his heart. He sobbed anew.

"No," he wept. "No, it isn't true!" he looked back at Merlin, watching the proceedings calmly. "Merlin, Merlin please! I know you're in there! Answer me please!" He screamed.

"Arthur, he's gone!"

"Merlin, I'm sorry I didn't find you in time!" The emotions and feelings Arthur had secretly harbored poured from him like rain being dumped from a heavy sky, sharp and cold and agonized. "I'm sorry I didn't legalize magic earlier! I'm sorry for Freya and Will and Balinor and Daegal and…I'm so sorry. Merlin…Please don't leave me alone again," they were almost to the door now.

"M-Merlin, you have to remember. We're two parts of the same coin, you're my brother, we're supposed to rule Camelot together! I can't do this without you. I can't bear to be alone again," Arthur suddenly almost went limp in Geoffrey's arms, the force of his sobbing draining his strength. Geoffrey grunted as Arthur sagged to the ground, taking the elder with him. Doubt and grief started to seep into Arthur's heart.

His soul is dead. He doesn't remember me.

"No," Arthur wept. "No, no! Merlin!" waves of aching pain enveloped his heart in a shroud of angst. Remorse followed close behind, guilt and anger taking their rightful place at the heads of the line. Geoffrey huffed impatiently, but still gently laid a hand on Arthur's shoulder as the king sobbed.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I shouldn't have let you in here," he apologized gently.

"How?" Arthur whispered, heartbroken. "How could he not remember me?"

Geoffrey sighed, and opened his mouth to reply when a soft, nearly indistinguishable voice peeped: "Arthur?"

At once, both men scrambled to their feet. In time, they saw Merlin sitting up painfully, his entire frame trembling with exertion as the world's most powerful warlock struggled. He looked up, and Arthur saw hints of gold swirling in the blue eyes… Gold hinted eyes also swimming with fat tears of disbelief and awful, searing hope. The expression in them broke Arthur's heart. He took a step forward, almost daring to desire … "Merlin?"

The skeleton blinked several times, and reached a trembling hand towards him imploringly. "A-Arthur. I-is it truly…? Arthur?" he gasped.

Geoffrey gripped Arthur by the shoulder, holding him in place before he could step forward. Arthur needed help standing anyway. Had Geoffrey not been there, he would have collapsed a third time from sheer relief. There was emotion in Merlin's eyes now. Emotion that was excruciating to see, but at least it was something.

"It is me," Arthur whispered back, willing his soul to scream it where his voice could not. "It's me, Merlin. I'm here."

The bearded lips of his friend trembled. His eyes flicked from Arthur to Geoffrey, then around the room, taking in every detail and minor object until his eyes had had their fill and until his mind made the connection. When it did, the gold speckling in his eyes glinted as they grew, taking up most of his skinny face. A large tear dropped from the corner of his right eye. He gasped. Finally, Merlin looked at them and there was realization in his eyes, and perhaps even sweeter, recognition.

"Arthur," it was like a prayer. Merlin collapsed against the pillows with a sound of shock and distress, his body exhausted. But his hand was still reaching for Arthur, desperately. "Arthur, oh Arthur! Let him go, Geoffrey, please… My king, Arthur…" the aforementioned man ripped himself from Geoffrey's grip and dove forward with a strangled sound of relief.

The two men collided in a frantic grip of reunion, hearts and souls melding as the strands of brotherhood between them sang. Arthur cradled Merlin's limp and bony body in his arms. Merlin gripped the back of his shirt with all the strength he could muster, softly crying into Arthur's shoulder. Both were shuddering beneath the waves of emotion that threatened to drown them.

"Arthur… Sweet Avalon, A-Arthur, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Merlin gasped into Arthur's shirt, his spindly fingers and shaking arms roaming over Arthur's chest, his face, tangling in his clothes as if Arthur had been the one mercilessly tortured, and he were checking for injuries. The king nearly laughed aloud. After five years, Merlin was still an over-protective idiot. "I thought you were a dream, that this was all just a beautiful dream but… You're real, aren't you Arthur? You're truly here?" He gasped. Arthur nodded against the top of Merlin's head.

"Yes, you idiot," he agreed, partly laughing. "That's what I've been trying to tell you," he told him. Merlin shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he cried. "I'm so sorry, I just… Five years, Arthur! Oh magic, it's been five years!" He cried. Far too long, my friend.

Arthur nodded and pulled away to cradle Merlin's face in his hands. Tears were running down both of their cheeks. Merlin swiped one of his away, eyes searching Arthur's face as if to commit it to memory, as if he half expected to wake at any second. "I searched for you," Arthur choked.

"I never stopped searching Merlin. I never stopped believing you were alive, that you'd return…" he swiped a tear away with his thumb. "But I never imagined… Oh, Merlin, forgive me. Forgive me please, I was too late. Some monster got a hold of you, didn't he? Someone did these horrible things to you? Kept you from coming home?" Merlin only nodded mutely, head turned away in shame.

"A-Arthur… There's nothing to forgive. It was my fault. I was so naïve, and so stupid! I thought… But I was so stupid!" Arthur squashed him in his arms again.

"Shut up, idiot," he chuckled softly. "It doesn't matter, and it wasn't your fault. You're home now, you're safe and no one will ever hurt you again, do you understand? I'll die before someone takes you away again."