I know that this has been the longest gap between my updates, but I assure you I have a good excuse! I was on holidays, far away from my laptop or the internet for that matter! I'm sure you can all understand…

And to make up for it, here is a nice, long chapter… :D

Enjoy!

Chapter 10 : The black and the white, the darkness and the light

Gaius' head was spinning.

Emrys had left Camelot…

Emrys…

For a moment, he couldn't realize what Alator had actually said. Then it hit him. Alator had just referred to Merlin as Emrys in front of both Arthur and his knights. And they hadn't reacted at that at all.

Alator said that he was gone. That he had left…

It can't be…

The old physician felt almost sick, as countless dark thoughts and fears filled his mind and the dread he had been feeling since he first heard of Morgana's attack, overcame him once again, this time stronger than ever before.

Merlin was gone… Merlin would never leave on his own… He just wouldn't. But if Arthur knew he was Emrys, if he knew he was a sorcerer… If he had somehow found out… Did he- could it be that the King had banish him?

Gaius felt cold sweat drip down his forehead. It was the only logical explanation. How else would Merlin give up his place by Arthur's side?

But… how did it happen?

And, more than that, what on earth was Arthur doing in the company of Alator, another sorcerer? Did he even know who he was traveling with?

The bewilderment and fear that Gaius was feeling must have been written plainly across his face, because not a minute passed before the Catha addressed him again, and this time his voice was full of understanding, perhaps even pity. If the physician hadn't been sick with worry he would have laughed at the irony that, in a group full of his friends and allies it was the man that had kidnapped and tortured him that was showing his concern for him.

"I'm sorry, Gaius," the sorcerer said, his accent even heavier as he spoke in a lower tone. "This must be… hard for you."

No, Gaius thought, shaking his head in denial. No. Arthur wouldn't, he couldn't be that stupid. That harsh. That unforgiving. He wasn't Uther.

Arthur was fair and just. He was Merlin's friend. His best friend. He wouldn't throw away almost a decade of friendship for the sake of one lie, one secret. One logically guarded secret!

The old man turned his head, finally daring to look at the King. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, he was hoping to see Arthur denying what Alator had said, or even grinning and saying Merlin was just behind them and all this was a -bad- joke, but what he saw in the King's eyes made Gaius' chest ache, his eyes scrunch and his mind reel.

Guilt and anger. That was what was written across Arthur Pendragon's features. His eyes could barely reach Gaius' own, his stance was tensed, as if waiting for the blow to come. But it was the rigidness of his shoulders, the stiffness of his jaw and the vein on his neck that bulged, that betrayed the boiling rage the King must have been feeling. All this emotions were emanating from the young King's entire being and it was scaring the old physician more than anything ever before.

Oh, Arthur… what have you done?

He couldn't help but feel disappointed, even if it was for one second. He couldn't spare more anyway.

Gaius had really thought better of Arthur. These past years, with a great deal of help from Merlin's part, Arthur had changed immensely, and it had been for the better. He was less impulsive, tried to think things through as much as he could before making a decision, and he actually listened when others advised him. All this had made Gaius hope that even if he learned Merlin's secret before he was ready, Arthur would have the maturity of mind not to rush to any actions, but to investigate the matter from all aspects. And Gaius believed that even if Arthur's mind wouldn't change in regards to sorcery in a fortnight, at least he would find it in his heart to forgive and trust Merlin. And that slowly, after much hardship and hopefully less anguish, they would manage to salvage their friendship.

But then again, it wouldn't be the first time Gaius would've been wrong to put his faith in someone. Old age didn't make him any wiser at that aspect.

"You know then… About Merlin's-" he choked, his eyes never leaving Arthur.

"If you mean that I know about Merlin being in fact a sorcerer, hiding in Camelot and practicing magic all this time, then yes…" the King replied, lifting his head and fixing his eyes on the old man. His tone was bitter, if not a little accusing as well. And the way he moved when he spoke, it made him look and sound far older than his years.

But Gaius' thoughts didn't linger on Arthur for long, because soon, it was the image of Merlin that filled the old man's head, and the old man tried not to tear up as thoughts of his ward's guileless smile and the brightness of his eyes overwhelmed him. He could only remember how proud he had felt each time he regarded Merlin, the young man that had become as dear to him as only a son ever could be.

And Gaius couldn't control the feelings of anger that enveloped him, as the injustice of it all hit him. He didn't want to remember all the things Merlin had had to put up with through the years, the tears the boy had shed, the dreams he had given up, the innocence he had been forced to abandon. And all those times, Gaius had to hold his hand and remind him that one day everything would change, and it would change for the better. That one day Arthur would recognize Merlin, thank him even for everything he had done.

How completely unfair this had been for his poor ward…

"How did you find…" he managed to mutter in the end. He had closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts as best he could and find strength to continue. He would reason with Arthur, he knew he could. He knew he must. He owed it to Merlin, and did not intent to let him down. He opened his eyes and looked at the King, who was regarding him hard, and spoke, determined to solve this.

"Whatever it is you think Merlin has done, Sire," he began, his voice trembling with intensity, "you must understand this… Merlin has always been your most loyal servant. He would gladly die for you a hundred times over. He didn't want to lie to you, Arthur. He did it because he didn't have any other choice…"

Gaius saw Arthur's rigid form faltering, a small frown appearing on his face.

Perhaps he already regrets his actions…

Gaius continued with urgency, choosing not to give the King a chance to reply.

"To send him away… Punish him, like that. Arthur, how could you? If only you knew how many times Merlin has saved your life… saved all of us! You made a grave mistake in banishing him, Sire. You must believe me," he finished, almost pleadingly.

The people around them had gone silent, as all eyes fell to the King's still form, awaiting his reactions perhaps just as anxiously as Gaius was. But Arthur didn't answer right away. Instead he looked confused, his frown deeper.

As Gaius stood there waiting for the King to say something, he let his gaze wonder to the rest of the party, and finally noticed how all of them were avoiding looking straight at him.

"You think… you think that I sent him away?" The king's voice cut through the uneasy silence. It sounded monotonous, lifeless, and made the old physician feel a shiver traveling up his spine.

Arthur looked at him even more intensely, his eyes now burning with rage but it was in Gaius' nature not to be easily phased by the glare of a Pendragon.

"You think I wanted him gone?" Arthur added, more forcefully, through his teeth.

That came as a surprise to the older man. Was Arthur implying that things hadn't happened as he had first feared? That he hadn't sent Merlin away?

Then what had happened…? Could he had rushed into the wrong conclusions? He couldn't bear it any longer. The confusion. The worry. He was too old for this.

Arthur clenched his fists tightly.

"Merlin chose to leave, Gaius. He left us," he deadpanned.

Impossible.

There had been many times in the old physician's life when he had felt as if the world around him had gone mad, and nothing made sense any more. The Great Purge was the most characteristic example. And yet, no other sentence he had heard in his many years on this earth had sounded stranger, more foreign, than the insinuation that Merlin had left Camelot -Arthur-on his own.

He looked at the others for explanations, for help. But what he got was only a straining silence.

His mouth ran dry, but he had to be sure he hadn't misunderstood.

"What are you saying, Sire? M-Merlin would never…"

Arthur's outburst was almost predictable. "Oh, but he did, Gaius!" the King all but shouted. The old physician cowered as Arthur took a long stride towards him and lifted his hand pointing at him. "Merlin was the one who…"

Gwaine grabbed Arthur by the shoulders, effectively stopping him.

"Arthur, enough," he said lowly. Strangely that seemed to work with the King as he deflated almost instantly, shook himself off of Gwaine's grasp and took a step back, looking almost contrite. The knight gave Arthur a concerned look and then turned to Gaius apologetically.

"It would be better if we continued this conversation somewhere more private… don't you think, Gaius?" he said, gesturing to all the gathered people.

The physician nodded. Of course with all this new, disturbing information he hadn't even given a second thought about privacy and secrecy. It just hadn't seem important enough…

"My friend's hut is over there…" he pointed with a small, tired wave of his hand.

"We will not be disturbed…"

Arthur was crouching by the small hearth inside the wooden hut where Gaius had brought them in almost an hour ago. He was pretending to be tending to the fire, when in fact he was just avoiding being part of the conversation that was –still- going on around the small dinner table at the back. There, Gwaine, Elyan and Leon were informing Gaius as to what had occurred during his absence in Camelot and how they had all ended up in this situation. Even Alator, the sorcerer, had added a few things at one point, giving the white haired man his side of the story. Gaius had only interrupted them a few times, asking questions, uttering no more than three or four quiet words each time. But Arthur hadn't said a thing. Instead he had taken seat away from them, and actually managed to rest for a little while, enough so that he could speak with Gaius as soon as the others were done explaining what had happened. Truth be told, Arthur felt ashamed of the way he had acted before, how he'd let anger consume him like that. And he was glad he had had a little time to cool off.

He hadn't even been angry with Gaius. Not really. No, if anything, he was angry at himself. He just didn't know how to deal with it. All his life, Arthur was afraid of letting people down. People that mattered to him. His father first of all. And then Morgana until her betrayal, and Guinevere and Gaius. And of course, the reason for his current turmoil, Merlin.

He had responded with anger because that had been the easy way to go. And because he had let all this frustration boil inside him for too long. Even now, while appearing calm on the outside, he was struggling to keep himself together, to find something to hold on to, a safety net of some sorts. He tried to remind himself that it was his duty as a King to be strong, to be collected and to deal with these kind of situations. But at the same time, he was haunted by memories of how each time he had faced a similar situation in the past, it had been Merlin that had worked as his anchor, his one constant that made him feel sure about his strength and his ability to work through every obstacle. And hearing the story of how he'd come to lose him, his greatest ally, with every detail, had made it all even worse somehow. As if rubbing salt on a fresh wound. Every single reminder burned holes through the meager defenses he had raised to save himself and left him bleeding, feeling bare and exposed.

Defenseless.

The strangest thing was that what Gaius had said outside, how Merlin had always been loyal, how he had saved them all, had actually satisfied Arthur's need for truthful answers concerning magic. Though he had already heard it in Lucan's speech, seeing Gaius' eyes as he'd spoken, the sincerity written across his features, had made it sink deep in Arthur's skin. And at that moment, he knew that, if he survived this, he would no longer fear magic, or think of it as evil.

He understood then how it was all a lot more complicated than that. There was no black or white in magic. Just different shades of grey. Like in any form of power.

And he didn't want Gaius to be the one to tell him what Merlin had done. Perhaps it was egoistic of him, but Arthur wanted it to be Merlin himself that confided it all to him. Like it should have been all along.

He realized they must have finished telling the tale, because Elyan had come to him with a mug full of hot herbal tea in hand, which he offered to Arthur wordlessly. On the back of the hut, the others had grown silent. Gaius had yet to offer any kind of comment. Though the King understood it was a lot to process, he really needed to talk to Gaius about it all.

If there is someone who can figure this out... What we should do. What I should do...

What a King he made. Even now, he was desperately seeking others to tell him how he should proceed.

Gaius will know a way to take back my Kingdom and save my people. To bring Merlin back.

He would be willing to do anything it took for that. It was true. He hadn't realised it until then, but now, it was so very obvious. He had let Merlin down, and he would try everything to make it up to him. To be forgiven by the sorcerer and accepted. To have him call him his friend once more. And then, all would be right. The two of them would triumph again, just as they always did.

"Gaius..." he said, as he slowly approached the seated physician and carefully sat beside him. Up close, Gaius seemed as if he had aged a decade in a matter of minutes. He was tired and hunched, his eyes fixed on a spot in the distance, the light in them gone.

The old man turned his head and looked at Arthur. He held the King's gaze for a few moments, and then stared at the walls again.

"I should have seen it," were the first words he muttered. Arthur noted that even his voice sounded older. "I should have realized something was wrong with him. That he wasn't happy. That he was so... affected. When I think back to the night before I left, it was so clear, right there..."

He was talking to himself more than anything, Arthur realized.

"How could I have missed it?" the King heard the old man ask. A scoff escaped his lips and he added. "That boy... he's getting better and better at hiding the truth as the years pass."

Arthur could feel the pain in Gaius' words. They were words he too had thought of, questions that had also plagued him.

The older man continued. "He used to confide everything to me... When did I lose that privilege? This Prince... This Lucan, what he said..." he whispered, searching the eyes of the King once more.

And Arthur was shocked to see that there were tears running down Gaius' face, and his voice cracked as he uttered, "Arthur... What have I done? This is my fault..."

He didn't have any idea how to respond to that. He could understand that the old man was feeling responsible for not being observant enough, not caring enough to figure out in time that Merlin had been that desperate, but that hadn't been the case. None of them had treated Merlin right, as he deserved. And most of all Arthur. If anything, Gaius had been the less guilty, as far as the King was concerned. First person to take the blame should be his own royal self.

"What do you mean, Gaius. You didn't do anything wrong..." he was shushed by the vehement shake of the old physician's head.

"You're mistaken, Sire," he said. "Merlin... he wanted to tell you. So many times. It was me who dissuaded him, who kept him from revealing his secret."

And Arthur could see it in his mind clearly. Merlin eager to tell the truth, to trust Arthur with his life, and Gaius reluctant. Afraid of the consequences. The young King couldn't blame the old man, not really. Perhaps if Gaius didn't love Merlin that much, if he didn't consider him a son, then he would have been able to let him take the risk. But that had never been the case.

If I hadn't been so prejudiced, so narrow-minded... everything would've been different.

"The number of times that boy cried on my shoulder because he had to once again deny who he really was... and all I could do was ask him to be even more patient, to have faith things would change. Urge him to keep up with the lies and the deceit."

Behind him, Arthur sensed Gwaine moving closer. The grave atmosphere had affected everyone inside the small house. It gave the King an odd impression he was at a wake. Like they were mourning for the death of a beloved.

Gwaine's voice startled them all, sounding surprisingly loud.

"I think there was a time when Merlin was happy in Camelot."

Gaius lifted his head to meet the other man's eyes, but Arthur's mind was stuck at what Gwaine had said. Yes, there had been a time when everything had been easier, lighter, happier. When he wasn't the King, and Gwaine wasn't a knight, Gwen had her father, and Morgana was by their side. And Merlin, he had been the servant come friend to the prince of Camelot.

But when they all moved on, Merlin was left behind. He had been unhappy because they made him feel he didn't belong amongst them.

And Arthur wished to change that as fervently as he needed to reclaim his Kingdom.

"And you're absolutely certain you can't help Percival escape?" Gwen asked the servant.

"No, your Majesty. He is too weak to move, and too heavily guarded, I'm afraid. But I have hidden the sword in the broom cupboard near the court physician's chambers. The other members of the staff rarely use it, so it will be safe for now..." George finished. He was looking at her wide eyed, Gwen could feel his trepidation and worry over all that was happening around him, and his integral role in them. But she could also see that more than anything, the man was determined to help them.

The news he brought them, along with Mithian's breakfast which had been the pretext of his visit, had given Guinevere, if not strength, then definitely the motivation she had been lacking since Camelot's fall. They could form a plan now, and maybe, just maybe, they could begin to hope once more.

She turned to Mithian. The two women exchanged a meaningful look, both seeing only one path to take.

"You need to take the sword to Arthur, George," Gwen told him in a firm voice. The man nodded solemnly, not looking surprised by what she had asked of him.

"Where is Morgana now?" Mithian inquired.

George fidgeted on the spot he was currently occupying."She left a few hours ago. The mercenaries stayed behind, but she took many of her bloodguard with her."

Gwen knew what that meant. They had only a few hours until Morgana would realize she had been led on a false trail. They needed to act fast, before she returned. She didn't want to think of Morgana's wrath once she got back.

Time was of the essence. But how could the servant escape without getting caught? The castle gates where still very much guarded.

One man can be stealthier than a group of people...

Mithian was apparently having the same thoughts as she spoke next.

"Is there any way he could make it to the stables? Perhaps, from there he could steal a horse and make a run for it..." she suggested. George's expression hearing that was almost comical.

"I-I really don't think I could do it, m-my Lady..." he stuttered. Gwen took a moment to wonder if the servant was talking about the escape or the stealing of a royal horse...

But George was right. That was most likely impossible to achieve. The Queen tried to empty her mind save from one thought. How to get out of the castle safely.

Perhaps with the help of an outsider? Someone who lived in the lower town... But who. Who would be brave enough to go against Morgana like that? To risk their life, the lives of their family... And even if they found someone, could they be trustworthy?

After Morgana's last take over, it had taken months for the common people to find ease. The terror that witch had inflicted had been carved into their minds... Now, things could only be worse. Who would dare to aid them- wait a minute...

Morgana's second raid of Camelot. But of course! The siege tunnels!

"I know how you'll get out of the castle," she said, excitement evident in her voice. She turned to both Mithian and George who were regarding her with interest. "After Morgana was defeated last time, Arthur reformed the siege tunnels she had used to infiltrate the city. He closed all the old exits, on both sides, and made new ones. The plans and the keys for the doors are kept in a hidden compartment in Arthur's desk," she finished, feeling hopeful.

This could actually work.

She saw the servant nod in agreement. Giving him a faint smile, she continued."All you have to do, George, is find a way to slip into Arthur's chambers, steal the key and the maps and then you can escape! The only entrance to the tunnels that I know of which is in a not very guarded area is in the small storage room near the vaults. The others are either outside the castle or connected to the dungeons."

And now was the perfect time to sneak inside Arthur's rooms... Morgana was gone and many of her men as well. The ones left behind would more likely be guarding the prisoners than empty rooms.

Mithian gave her an encouraging nod. At the same time, George got up, ready to leave, since he had already stayed longer than necessary.

"Wait!" the Queen called him before he knocked to let the guards know he was done in there.

She approached him in a hurry. With a smooth motion, she threw her hair on one side and unclasped one of her earrings. It was a small ruby nested in gold, elegant and beautiful, a gift Arthur had given her on their first year anniversary. She placed it in the servant's palm.

"Tell him I have faith in him..." she whispered. George regarded the item carefully and looked her in the eye, almost shy.

"I- I will..." he said, and Gwen noted how it was the first time he forgot to address her properly.

Like Merlin always did. She felt her chest clench at the thought of her friend.

"And, George," she added, taking a small step back. "If... if Merlin is by any chance with them... Please tell him I am sorry."

Merlin had never seen so much white in his life. Here, winter had already arrived. The valley they were now crossing rested between two different chains of high mountains, and all was covered in fresh snow, creating a vast landscape that looked like it had been carved in alabaster. The sight was simply breathtaking. The air had a smell of wet ground and a strange, almost sweet taste. It reminded the warlock of honey and milk. Though the temperature had dropped, as they were getting higher, Merlin was comfortably warm in his new travelling clothes.

Declan had took him aside that morning and presented him with the items. A thick tunic and pair of trousers, both dark coloured and made from a very soft fabric, a pair of travelling boots, high to the knee and as the Druid informed him very 'waterproof', a silver buckled leather belt and, finally, a lavish coat made of grey wolf fur. All in all, they were gifts fit for a royal, and Merlin knew it very well.

He had thought of refusing, telling the other man that he did not need pretty things to be pleased. He really wasn't a girl.

But then, the weather had grown colder and the clothes he had left Camelot in were simply inadequate to keep him warm enough. And if he wanted to be completely honest, he liked the idea of a new outfit. It spoke to him of change and seemed like a logical step to take in order to distance himself from his older self.

He wasn't Merlin the servant any more. Not even Merlin of Ealdor.

No, he was Merlin, the sorcerer Emrys, and these clothes were much more fitting. So he had accepted the offerings gratefully.

He was riding along with the rest of the group of Lucan's knights, not at the back but not at the front either, keeping a small but meaningful distance between him and the Prince. It wasn't only because of what he had learned last night.

Yes, Lucan's actions, though noble in what they seeked to achieve, had been questionable –to say the least- in their nature. But Merlin had thought about it a lot during the night. And he found that not only could he relate to Lucan's need for forgiveness, but to the questionable acts themselves.

Had he not taken Arthur's will without a second thought to what that truly meant, not two years ago? He had rendered the King to a fool and it had been just a means to an end. He hadn't even felt guilty about it. That in itself was a violation. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it had been the easy way out for him. He could have fought with Arthur, persuaded him to leave, but he just hadn't had the patience to do so. And so he had made a puppet of the King of Camelot.

Perhaps he was worse than Lucan on that aspect. Perhaps not.

It didn't matter anymore. It was all in the past now. And Merlin was almost glad to realize that he could think of Arthur much more painlessly now. And less bitterly too. Though the subject of Camelot was a tender point in the warlock's heart still, the ache and the disappointment had receded, and Merlin had been surprised to find his mind slipping into the fond memories of the past. As he watched the way the Ostian knights talked and jested with each other, he couldn't help but recall the numerous nights spent by a warm fire, sharing stories and jokes with the people he regarded as his closest friends.

It was a dangerous trail of thoughts, Merlin knew it. And thus he willed them away and tried to concentrate on what lay ahead of him. A future, and hopefully a brighter one.

Merlin needed some time to prepare himself for the people he would meet when they would arrive at Ostia. He had talked with Declan about meeting the Druid elders, and he knew Lucan wanted him to be presented to his father officially. It was thrilling and slightly intimidating for Merlin to think that for the first time in his life he could introduce himself as who he really was. No more lies.

It was so alien to him. It was a dream he hadn't dared to dream in a while, and it was happening. And so he had chosen the company of the knights, who had never addressed him, always keeping a respectful distance, than that of either the Prince or his Druid companion, who would be bound to bring up the matter in one way or another.

Thinking of dreams, his mind travelled at the one recurring nightmare that just wouldn't leave him. If he hadn't known better, he would say it was a vision. But the dream in itself couldn't be anything more than a nightmare due to the stress and the anxiety he had been experiencing lately.

It always began the same. With screams and cries. And then he would see the faces of the people he had lost, calling him, dying in his arms, and he would be unable to stop any of it. And Freya would weep and his father's eyes would lose their inner light as they would drift away from him, always leaving him alone. And then he would see them. Gwen crying, Camelot burning... Arthur walking away from him with dead eyes.

"See that hill over there?"

Merlin almost fell off his horse as he turned abruptly to face the knight that had addressed him. It was the captain, Sir Gilbert. The older man pointed ahead with a gloved hand.

"Once we're up there, we'll be able to see the city. It's only an hour's ride from there on..." he provided.

Merlin thanked him with a nod. There, so close. Just over that hill...

He thought of the city of Ostia, how it would look like. He imagined the houses, simply built but sturdy, the smoke from their chimneys rising lazily to the clear winter sky. He pictured little alleyways and the crowded streets, so much like Camelot's and yet so different. As for the castle, Merlin thought it would be nothing like the gleaming white palace of Camelot. Instead, his mind travelled to greying old stones and intricately carved walls, low turrets and colourful banners.

Inside that castle he would find rooms filled with magic books and numerous enchanted artefacts. Druids living peacefully amongst the common people, sharing their knowledge and wisdom.

He smiled.

Ostia, here I come.

It was close to nightfall. Arthur had already met with the village elders, as well as Sir Lamorak, one of the two knights he had sent to escort Gaius. The other knight, Sir Brenn had left that morning to find out what had happened in Camelot. Lamorak took the news of Morgana's victory fairly well, given he hadn't been around during the first two times she had conquered the city. The young knight had surprised Arthur even more when, after hearing the truth about Merlin, he had actually said that it had made more sense to know the servant was in fact magic.

Have I been the only one completely in the dark?

Gaius had recovered from his earlier emotional breakdown very quickly, not that the situation allowed any one of them to waste precious time doing nothing but wallowing.

The old physician was in a very serious conversation with Alator, discussing the odds they had against Morgana and her army. The two had seemed to overcome their initial unease and had gone straight to business. The King had tried to contribute at least something to their talk, seeing as it was technically his job to come up with a plan, but sooner than later he had given up. He could follow only half of what they were saying, seeing as they were using terms he had never heard of before.

"The creature was a Golem of Stone, of that I am certain," Alator said gravely.

"If that is true, then she has grown even more powerful. A Stone Golem won't be easy to kill..." the old physician added.

Elyan had been lingering close for a while, and as soon as he heard that, he asked the two men concerned.

"Are you referring to that terrible stone monster under Morgana's commands?"

They just nodded in response. Arthur saw the fear in his knight's eyes. He had seen the magical creature they were talking about and he knew it was not a matter to be taken lightly.

"Can it even be killed?" Arthur asked suddenly.

Gaius looked troubled for a moment and then he answered.

"I believe so, Sire. But swords can inflict no harm on a Stone Golem. I seem to recall that only blunt weapons, like maces or war hammers, can destroy it. And still it would be a long process. I doubt anyone could really survive a battle with a Stone Golem long enough to actually kill it. Though..." the old physician paused, thinking.

"What?" Arthur asked after a moment had past and Gaius hadn't continued.

"I'm not sure, Sire. But I think that, given it is a creature of magical nature, it is logical to assume that magic can affect it. Though it would have to be very powerful magic at that..."

Alator intervened at that point.

"That is why our first action should be to bring Emrys back. Though how is still another matter. As long as he is on the move, we cannot send word to him, even with magic. And we can't wait for him to reach his destination, because we simply don't have the time. But you know it too Gaius, if there is one person that can defeat Morgana and her magic, it is him. He has done it before, he can do it again."

It was amazing how that one last sentence, coming from the mouth of a man Arthur hardly even knew, changed everything inside the King in a matter of milliseconds. In a rare moment of clarity, Arthur thought back on all those other times when Merlin had played the key role in everything and had secured Camelot's safety.

All he could think of until that moment was how he could make Merlin come back and then, with his help, take Camelot back from Morgana. Now that he had finally understood his mistaken ideas over magic, Arthur assumed that Merlin would forgive him and gladly resume his position by Arthur's side.

How utterly foolish of him. Childish even.

Merlin had left because of a combination of reasons, but the main one was that he had ultimately lost his faith in Arthur. Not only concerning Arthur's views on magic, but as a friend and a King. He had finally realized that all King Arthur had ever been was a front for Merlin's own accomplishments. And as much as he hated it, Arthur had come to accept that as true.

So why should Merlin come back? So that they would use him once more to win? How could that ever prove to the sorcerer that Arthur was now worthy? That he was a good king? His Once and Future King...

He would simply be doing what he had been unknowingly doing for years. Depending yet again on Merlin for a solution.

No. It was time for Arthur to take on his responsibilities. It was time for him to start acting like his own man, like a proper king. To finally be a man that had something to offer, instead of one that only knew how to take.

And though a proper King would be wise and humble enough to ask for help when he could not deal with a situation on his own, Arthur knew that he couldn't ask for Merlin's. Not anymore. Because he had lost that right. And if he ever wanted to regain that privilege, then he would have to earn it.

He had decided.

George could feel his heart beat wildly against his ribcage as he pressed himself to the walls and prayed to every god that listened for Morgana not to spot him.

It had been a few hours ago when he, rather easily, had stolen the key and the map from the King's chambers, slipping between the patrolling guards that were sweeping the castle's corridors. After retrieving the sword and packing it neatly in thick fabric as to not really be recognizable as a weapon, he had set off to the lower levels of the palace, towards the vaults of Camelot.

He had heard her distinctive voice first, and thankfully had the time to hide in a nearby shadowy alcove.

Then he saw her. Morgana. She was walking towards him, and her rage was palpable. He had never felt more scared in his life.

"Brog!" she yelled, stopping just before the stairs that led to the dungeons. George wasn't surprised to see the mercenary captain coming almost running towards the witch.

"Your Majesty! You're back!" he exclaimed. George thought the huge man was sounding less pleased than one would expect of him about his Queen's quick return.

"How astute of you! Yes I'm back! It was a dead end! There wasn't a trail... none of the villagers knew any of the knights... And trust me, I made sure none of them was lying. That leaves only explantion... That snake of a prisoner, Arthur's knight, he lied to me... He'll pay dearly for misleading me." Her eyes glowed as her anger manifested in them. "Bring Guinevere to his cell. I had warned him this would happen. She will suffer for his lies..."

George's eyes rounded and a soft gasp escaped his lips. Thankfully for him, the mercenary had covered him by speaking.

"My Lady..." he heard the man say. This time he sounded definitely apprehensive. Morgana, though, didn't get the underlying tone of fear in Brog's voice.

"What are you doing, you insolent fool? I gave you an order!" she barked, turning to head towards the dungeons.

The mercenary captain intercepted her. "Queen Morgana, please listen to me. There is... something you must know," he said, almost flinching at that last sentence.

From Morgana's changed expression, George came to the conclusion she had finally understood something was amiss.

"What? Out with it!"

For a moment George dared to hope. Could it be possible that Sir Percival had managed to escape?

Then Brog spoke again.

"The knight, the prisoner... He's dead."

George's heart skipped a beat. This couldn't be true. It just... couldn't.

Morgana was now looking at the mercenary as if he had grown a second head.

"What did you say?" she asked slowly.

The man took her initial calm reaction as a leave to speak a little more freely.

"He succumbed to his wounds earlier this afternoon, your Majesty. There was nothing we could..."

"YOU ARE LYING!" the witch exploded. Her eyes burned gold and in an instant, the mercenary was suspended in the air, his hands desperately grasping his throat, unable to draw a single breath. George was left completely frozen by everything that was occurring before his eyes.

"When I left Camelot," Morgana continued harshly, "he was nowhere near death. I know very well what I did to him. So I'm giving you one chance to tell me what really happened..."

With that she lowered the man, letting his feet touch the floor. The mercenary crumbled down, taking deep gasps to fill his deprived lungs with air and simultaneously coughing loudly.

Morgana couldn't care less.

"Did you, or did you not, kill the only prisoner who could give us Arthur's whereabouts? ANSWER ME!"

The mercenary looked up to the witch Queen. There was real terror in the man's eyes. But there was also anger.

When he answered, his voice was rough from nearly being strangled.

"He had taken down three of my men before we managed to capture him. I only let them take revenge for their fallen comrades. They never meant to kill him, it was an accident..."

Morgana slapped him then. The sound echoed through the empty corridors.

"Comrades? You are mercenaries! You lot would kill your own mothers for a few pieces of silver!" she grunted through her teeth.

Grasping the kneeled mercenary's head by the hair, she shouted.

"Do you have any idea what you've cost me? I should cut your throat open and let you choke on your own blood!" she hissed at him, moving to reach for her dagger with her free hand.

The mercenary's eyes widened.

"No! Please, my lady! Perhaps... perhaps we could use the Queen to extract information from someone else! Like... the palace staff! They seem to be everywhere, surely they must know something they're not telling us..." he blurted. Morgana had stopped mid-movement and appeared to be considering what the man had said.

Finally, she let go of him, the mercenary letting out a relieved sigh as he tried to get to his feet.

"There is but one solution..." the witch said once he was standing. "If we can't find Arthur's hideout, then we must make him come to us."

George felt goosebumps hearing the darkness in Morgana's voice. He knew instantly that something really bad was about to happen.

"I want you to gather up a group of your men, at least twelve, as well as any messenger or herald you can find. You are to send them out of the gates with the order to spread these words as far as they can, as fast as they can... If Arthur Pendragon does not surrender to me for his execution within the next three days, on the sunset of the third day, Guinevere Pendragon will meet her end at the stake."

The hidden servant didn't catch the mercenary's reply. All he could think of was that he needed to find the King now more than ever.

So, what do you think? Am I forgiven for taking so long? :P

I'll be eagerly waiting for your reviews!