Chapter Eleven.
Merlin woke up with tears on his cheeks and with labored breaths. He didn't know how it happened, but some time in the night he had turned to face Arthur and wrapped his arms tightly around him. His arm fitted beneath Arthur's body had gone limp and numb, but it didn't affect the strength of his embrace. Merlin's cheek was pressed hard against the chainmail on Arthur's chest, leaving indentations in his skin.
He didn't know why he was holding Arthur like that, or why he was crying.
Realizing himself, he loosened his hold and cautiously tilted his chin up to look at Arthur, praying he was still asleep. He wasn't. He returned Merlin's gaze with a brow raised skeptically.
"Why didn't you—?" Merlin tried to ask, and Arthur rolled his eyes.
"You were squeezing me too tight," he said. "I thought I'd crack a rib if I tried to move."
Merlin looked away in embarrassment.
"What were you dreaming?" Arthur asked.
"I don't know. I lost you, I think," Merlin said. Slowly, the dream came back to him. It hadn't felt like a dream, though. "We were walking in the forest, on the way back to Camelot, and we came upon a river. It was so deep and I couldn't see the banks on the other side. You walked into it, but I told you not to, but you didn't listen. You just kept going until the water swallowed you up, and I . . . I couldn't save you."
Arthur's chest vibrated against Merlin when he spoke. "You dreamt that I died?"
"No, you didn't die," Merlin said surely, but somehow that was worse. "You were just . . . gone."
When Merlin built up enough courage to look at Arthur again, Arthur was giving him a soft, incredulous look.
"No one's ever had a nightmare about losing me," he whispered, almost in disbelief, but he was wrong.
"I have."
Arthur searched his face until his eyes dragged down to Merlin's lips. He leaned in and kissed Merlin, gently at first. But then Merlin opened his mouth into Arthur's, and the kiss deepened. Arthur shuffled, rolling Merlin onto his back and half-pinning him to the ground.
Merlin ran his hands down the cold chainmail of Arthur's back, wishing it were gone. His fingers bunched the links together as he grabbed at it, and he ignored the stinging of the pins and needles in his limp arm as the blood rushed back into it unobstructed.
His chin itched and grew tender against Arthur's scruff after days of not being able to shave, but he didn't care. He didn't even come up for air. He felt himself stiffen against Arthur's hip, and Arthur must have felt it, too. He pushed his knee between Merlin's thighs, and Merlin obliged by parting them. Arthur rubbed his knee against Merlin, causing a friction that made Merlin writhe beneath him. He let out low moans into Arthur's mouth.
And suddenly Arthur stopped. He hummed regretfully and turned his head away. Merlin watched him silently in the closeness, eyeing the new, plump bruises on Arthur's lips and the sleekness on his chin.
Then Arthur picked himself up from the ground. He barely looked at Merlin.
"We'd better go," he said, trying not to sound awkward. He failed, and he knew it. He cleared his throat. "We'll be in Camelot by sundown if we go now."
Arthur didn't speak much for the rest of the journey. He stalked in front of Merlin with shoulders too tight and feet pounding the dirt too carefully, like he was trying to focus on anything other than whatever he was thinking.
At first, Merlin followed behind him with a hanging head, thinking that Arthur regretted what they'd almost done earlier that day. But, if that were true, Arthur would have shoved those feelings aside and carried on like normal. This was something new.
He was sorry that he didn't regret it.
Perhaps that was worse, but it made Merlin's stomach flutter with excitable butterflies. He let Arthur ponder for as long as he needed.
However, as the sun grew weaker and Camelot grew closer, Merlin couldn't allow Arthur to keep his silence any longer.
Merlin hastened his speed slightly and jogged to Arthur's side. "What's our plan?" he asked.
Arthur regarded him out of the corner of his eyes and with pursed lips. "Our plan?" he parroted in a droll tone. "My plan is to return to Camelot and find this Sir Joseph person, while you make for Ealdor."
Merlin stopped dead in his tracks.
"Wha—what?" he stammered, looking after Arthur with round eyes. Arthur continued to walk without looking back. "But I thought—"
Before he could finish, Arthur rounded on him. "What did you think, Merlin?" he roared, but Merlin knew he wasn't angry. Not really. There was something too desperate about him. "That the laws would change for you?"
Merlin wasn't sure what he'd been thinking. But things had changed; he knew it! Arthur had learned to trust him again.
He blinked rapidly, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but couldn't fathom the right words.
Arthur must have found them for him, because he continued, "They won't. They can't. I have to think of the safety of my people. If you step foot in Camelot, you leave me choice, Merlin." His tone lessened with each breath, until his words became bitter. Arthur shook his head. "At the very least, I could banish you, but you wouldn't go, would you?"
"No," Merlin answered automatically.
Arthur inclined his head, expecting the answer. "And I wouldn't want you to," he admitted. "But, if you stay, you die. I can't . . . I don't want that to happen."
"And if you go into Camelot alone, you'll die!" Merlin said, taking a step forward to punctuate his point.
"Merlin—"
"They'll either kill you on the spot or send you back to Odin," Merlin shouted over him.
"Merlin, please. Just this once, will you think about yourself?"
But Merlin couldn't. He couldn't even remember the last time he had.
"You're not going alone."
"Yes, I am," Arthur sighed in exasperation. "You said my knights were in the dungeon. I'll help them escape and we'll retake the city together."
"And if you're caught?"
Arthur scoffed, like the question was absurd, or like he didn't want to think of that possibility. "Then, I'll die trying to save my people," he answered, too courageous for his own good. "But you're not coming. That's an order."
"I thought you said I was free," Merlin quipped.
"And I thought you said you'd always be my servant."
Arthur knew he'd bested Merlin, but it didn't give him any satisfaction. He gave another tired breath.
"I wish things were different," he said.
"You're the king," Merlin reminded him hopefully. He wondered if they were still talking about magic. "You can make them different."
"No," was the immediate answer. "Not this. It's not that simple. Just because you use your magic for good doesn't mean there aren't sorcerers out there who would seek to destroy us."
Perhaps it wasn't enough for Arthur to trust Merlin alone. He was too blind to magic. He could not understand that when a man is given a hammer, he could either crack a skull or a build a home. The tool did not matter; the man did. Merlin had to believe most people would leave a trail of huts in their wake, especially because he had enough corpses on his back for the whole of Camelot.
Merlin dared to take another step forward, and Arthur didn't retreat.
"Just as there are those without magic who want to destroy you," Merlin told him. "Like Odin, for starters." He felt his stomach do a cartwheel when considering his next words. They might have been unwise, but he said them anyway, "Like Kay."
Arthur didn't react. He kept his eyes downward pensively.
"I know," he eventually agreed. "And you tried to stop them."
"Let me try again," Merlin asked. "We can sneak into the citadel through the crypts. I can get us inside unnoticed."
Arthur's eyes flashed up to him, and he appeared to be thinking hard.
"This is what you want?" he asked carefully.
Merlin thinned his lips and shook his head once, thinking the answer rather obvious. "What I want is your safety," he said. "And the safety of Camelot."
Arthur rolled his eyes lightly, trying not to be touched by the words, but it was no use. He was beaming.
"You know, one day, you won't be so thick headed," Arthur told him, turning back around, and Merlin took that mean Arthur wouldn't stop him from following.
"And maybe one day you won't be such a dollophead," Merlin shot back.
They reached the grating outside the crypts under the cover of darkness. They had to move slowly once they'd broken the tree line as to not be seen, and Arthur asked if Merlin had any tricks up his sleeves that would make them invisible. He didn't, and Arthur was reminded of how utterly useless Merlin was.
But secretly, he was pleased Merlin had insisted on staying. He'd find a way to keep Merlin in Camelot. He could scarcely picture the city without him anymore.
Arthur tugged at the bars of the grate with all his strength. He even propped his foot against the wall for leverage, but nothing came of it.
"They won't budge," he told Merlin, even though both of them expected it, anyway. Arthur knew the passage well, and apparently so did Merlin. He straightened out, accepting his defeat. "But you can open it?"
Merlin blinked, suddenly getting that hunted deer look again. He nodded.
Arthur stepped aside and inclined his head towards the bars, but he didn't take his eyes off Merlin. He watched Merlin swallow his excitement or anxiety, or whatever it was, and get himself into position. Merlin relaxed his shoulders innately; loosening his muscles like Arthur did whenever he wielded his sword. He held out his palm at full length, long fingers splayed in midair. He said a single word in a language Arthur did not understand but appeared to be second nature to Merlin, and his eyes sparkled with flecks of amber softly glowing against the night.
And their way was clear with almost no effort on Merlin's part. Arthur smirked in satisfaction in his direction, and Merlin grinned happily into a relieved breath.
They clamored into the darkness one after the other. Arthur found that sneaking into his own city left an odd weight on his chest. It reminded him of all the times he and Kay would have to tiptoe into bed when they'd gone out passed curfew. Kay had gotten him into a lot of trouble that way, and more often than not they were caught. He wouldn't be caught for Kay's sake anymore.
Silently, they climbed the stone steps at the end of the crypts to the dungeons, and Arthur opened the door a crack to peek through. He didn't see any guards around the cells, so he pressed through with Merlin at his back.
He was aware of the people behind the bars sitting to attention. Some of them had crowded around the bars, wrapping their hands around them and giving him desperate and hopeful eyes. "It's him," he heard some of them whisper, their echoes dripping off the walls like grime. "It's the king. He's come for us."
He also noticed them giving Merlin strange looks, like they didn't quite know what to think about his presence.
Arthur continued on until he reached the first cell, where Leon, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan, along with others, were already standing in wait for him.
"Arthur," Leon said like he couldn't quite believe his eyes. His eyes flickered to Merlin a little warily.
"Merlin!" Gwaine exclaimed in a harsh whisper, rushing closer to the bars with a welcoming grin. He didn't seem surprised that Merlin was there at all. Arthur looked over his shoulder at Merlin to find him smiling back at Gwaine like they were communicating in some silent language.
"We thought you were dead," Elyan said, making Arthur turn back to his men.
"I'm not," Arthur told them, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. "I've returned to reclaim Camelot." He scanned the rest of the dungeon, seeing mostly soldiers, sentries, and servants. There were some noble men and women, too. However, there should have been more people. "Where is the rest of our army?"
"In the lower town," Leon said. "There was not enough room in the dungeon. Sir Joseph ordered the rest of us to be quarantined there until other arrangements can be made."
"From what we hear, he's kicked people out of their homes to contain our soldiers," Elyan added.
Arthur nodded as he processed the information. "And what of Guinevere? Is she still locked in our chambers?"
"Yes," said Leon, seeming confused. "But how did you know—?"
Arthur didn't have time to explain. "Gwaine, Percival, you lead an attack into the lower town and free our men. Leon and Elyan, you will remain in the citadel. But first, get everyone to the armory. Collect your weapons before Joseph's men do. We will force them out of Camelot."
"And what about you, my lord?" asked Leon.
"I will take care of Sir Joseph," Arthur promised, "and find my wife."
"Arthur," he heard Merlin whisper from behind him, and he craned his neck to give his attention. "There aren't enough soldiers here for both the citadel and the lower town."
"No, there isn't," Arthur agreed. "But there are enough people."
He turned away from his knights to address the dungeon as a whole, and servants and noblemen alike clung to his every word like a lifeline.
"The city is not the only place under Odin's control," he told them. "He is seeking power over the villages, the towns, all the lands of Camelot. Thousands of innocent people will die by his hand—our people. We can stop him here, tonight, by taking back what is ours—our home, our city. I will fight for Camelot until my last breath, but I cannot do it alone."
At first, there was silence. He was not addressing his knights, and these people were not soldiers. They may have been easy to inspire, but that didn't take away their fear.
"You won't have to, my lord," one servant, a woman who looked about Arthur's age, spoke up. Around her, murmurs of solidarity arose.
Arthur's lips twisted as he tried not to smile too widely. He looked behind him again at Merlin, who wasn't so concerned with keeping a straight face.
Merlin shrugged. "For the love of Camelot?" he suggested.
"Best to keep our voices down," Arthur decided.
"Yeah, best to."
"Well, then," Arthur said, getting down to it. "No time to lose. Merlin, let's release them the easy way, shall we?"
Merlin's expression still held traces of his smile as he looked passed Arthur at the rows of cells on both sides. This time, he didn't say a word. His eyes flashed quietly, and every barred door swung open in unison.
Two guards sat beneath the stairwell leading up from the dungeons. They rolled a pair of dice on the table between them, causing one man to curse and the other to laugh.
Arthur stepped into the torchlight, catching their attention instantly. They jumped up from their chairs so quickly that the wood clamored to the floor.
"Who are you? How'd you get down here?" one of them said as both drew their swords.
Arthur did not reach for his.
"I am Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot," he said.
Both swords flew out of the guards' fists and out of reach, eliciting choked, shocked sounds from the men.
"And that was my servant," Arthur told them. "I never thought I'd say this, but he's quite good at his job."
He unsheathed his weapon.
Once the guards were taken care of, Arthur gave a soft, quick whistle. Merlin emerged from the shadows, scanning the men on the ground before turning back and waving the others forward. The entire occupancy of the dungeons followed in his wake as Arthur rushed up the stairs and into the lower corridor.
His knights and citizens didn't stop moving as he stepped to the side and called, "Get to the armory! Bring weapons to lower town!"
He didn't wait for the stampede to pass him by before heading for a spiral staircase in the nearby tower.
"Merlin," he called, picking him out of the crowd, "with me!"
Together, they sprinted to the main level of the castle, where the great hall was situated just a few corridors away. Arthur knew that Merlin was used to rushing towards the throne room—when he was late for a council meeting, when he was rushing to do errands, and on the rare occasions, when Camelot was in peril. Arthur bounded in that direction with Merlin on his heels.
They turned the first corridor to find one of Sir Joseph's men jamming their way. Arthur blocked his immediate blow with his sword before pushing back for better leverage. The soldier wasn't as skilled as Arthur, and he went down after a few swings of clanging steel.
A little further down the corridor, Arthur and Merlin rushed up another set of stairs. The tall, black statue of the winged lion stood nobly at the top, as though it were waiting for them.
When they'd reached the statue, Arthur heard raging footsteps behind them, and he looked over his shoulder to find more maroon-clad men barreling after them. Apparently, Merlin had seen them first. He skidded to a halt and commanded something in that foreign tongue, in a voice not quite his own.
"Bebiede þe arisan cwicum."
There was a great roar. It filled up the space, resounding on the walls and making the tiled floor tremor. It was enough to make Arthur's heart skip a beat, and he, too, slid to a stop.
He spun around to find the winged lion no longer black and still. It spread its golden wings and stood on its hunches on its podium. It swiped its jagged talons.
It leapt up, its long tail whipping out behind it, and flew past Merlin. Arthur could not see what was happening beyond the wall on the staircase, but he heard screams. He heard running, too, and then silence.
The enormous creature swooped back into view and perched on its pedestal, where its muscles settled and its fur transformed back into marble.
Arthur realized that his sword was still in his hand, weighing his arm down as it fell limply to his side. He also realized he had to breathe to stay alive, but air continued to elude him. His eyes fixed themselves on Merlin, like just looking at him would make the breath return to him.
He blinked himself back into the moment when Merlin got closer, and his gaze flickered to the statue one more time as though expecting it to reanimate. It didn't.
Merlin was looking at Arthur guardedly, waiting for Arthur to strike him down. Arthur assured him he wouldn't by nodding his thanks and clapping his hand to Merlin's shoulder. The color of the fabric still tied around Arthur's palm matched Merlin's tunic.
His grasp tightened around Merlin as Arthur dragged him forward a few steps until he was certain Merlin had gotten the message to follow. They had to keep moving. If a group of Joseph's men were after them, more would come. It was only a matter of time until the entire citadel was alerted—
The warning bell gonged in the distance, halting Arthur again. He imagined he could hear every soldier jumping from his bed.
"A call to arms," he muttered to Merlin. "Hopefully there won't be any arms left for them."
Arthur shot off again as he said it, hardly hearing his own words over the drumming of his pulse and the echoes of his boots slapping the floor. He had to get to Gwen. They'd use her as leverage against him if he didn't find her first. He couldn't allow them to harm her; she was the best of them all. Better than Arthur. A greater ruler than he could ever be.
If the whole of Camelot burned to ground that night, Gwen had to survive.
However, she wasn't in the throne room when they reached it. She must have still been in their chambers directly above Arthur's head.
There were half a dozen soldiers in the great hall, though. They drew their weapons and circled the Round Table to the side of the room Arthur and Merlin had entered.
As they did so, Arthur redoubled his grip on his sword and asked Merlin, "Three and three? Last one to take their men down is the loser."
He saw Merlin's neck craned towards the ceiling. His eyes glimmered and one of the wooden chandeliers above the soldiers snapped off its rope. Before anyone could jump out of the way, the chandelier crashed down, crushing three of the soldiers and making loose dust soar through the air.
The remaining soldiers leapt backward in surprise, and Arthur took the opportunity to shoot Merlin a distasteful glare.
"Cheater."
Merlin shrugged in apathy.
Arthur rushed forward and swung his blade at the closest man. The soldier swung back, missing Arthur's neck by inches as Arthur leaned back to avoid it. The soldier was unbalanced from the force of his swing.
While that soldier was distracted, Arthur focused on the second man who'd come up on his side. He was too late to react, and the man landed a punch to his face. It stung and caused Arthur's world to turn gray, but he rattled it away and ignored the copper taste in his mouth. It wasn't his gums. He must have bit down on his lip.
The first soldier recovered in that time and attempted to jab his blade into Arthur's back. Arthur stepped out of the way in time, and instead the sword tore through the other soldier's torso. The dying man gave an astonished grunt. Before his body fell, Arthur slashed at the first man, who died with eyes as big as saucers over what he'd done.
Arthur braced himself for the third attacker, but he never came. He heard a struggle from across the room and quickly turned towards the source just in time to see the last soldier fly through the stained glass window. The glass erupted upon impact, and the soldier's shouts chased after him as they rained down into the courtyard.
Arthur gestured towards the back exit of the great hall. "Come on!"
When he and Merlin were on the other side, they ran up the last stairwell that left them in the corridor nearby Arthur's chambers.
Hiding behind the corner, Arthur peered around into the dark adjacent corridor beyond. He saw straight towards the red, gold, and black tapestry of the eagle hanging on the opposite wall. All was clear and calm.
But that only made Arthur uneasy. He'd expected guards outside the chamber doors so Gwen could not escape.
"Maybe she's not in there," he said, taking a breather as his mind raced.
"Where else would she be?" Merlin whispered from behind. "She wasn't in the great hall."
"No," Arthur agreed, closing his eyes as he thought. "You're paying for those damaged, by the way."
He felt Merlin's warm breath on his neck when Merlin released a soft laugh, and it made Arthur's skin prickle. But the laugh was soon replaced with a loud, sharp hiss.
Arthur turned at break-neck speeds. Merlin was on the floor with a soldier standing above him, blade poised in both fists above his head.
"No!" Arthur shouted when the blade was brought down not a moment later.
Merlin reflexively tried to roll out of the way, but Arthur knew he hadn't made it in time. His entire world narrowed down to the strangled yell Merlin let free throughout the hall.
Arthur barreled into the soldier before he knew what he was doing, and the soldier staggered out of the way, dropping his sword in the meantime. Arthur plunged his weapon forward with all his might straight through the attacker's heart. He died instantly, which was too good for him, but Arthur didn't care.
He fell to Merlin's side, eyes wide at the crimson, turned black in the lowlight, which was pouring from the cracks between Merlin's fingers.
Merlin let out a few low humming sounds that went right through Arthur.
"It's fine. I'm fine," he insisted with a struggling voice.
Arthur didn't know what to do. He held his hands out over Merlin, not daring to touch, no matter how much he wanted to. He thought touching Merlin might worsen his condition somehow.
"Can you heal it?" he asked desperately.
Merlin gave another grunt and rasped out some words of magic. His eyes shown dully, hardly enough to light up the shadows, but the wound remained.
He shook his head with effort. "It's too deep."
Arthur took a steadying breath and nodded in acceptance. "We have to take you to Gaius," he said, grabbing Merlin by the shoulders and propping him up. More blood gushed.
"No," Merlin told him. "We have to find Gwen."
"Merlin—"
"I'm alright," Merlin snipped in determination. "It's just my side. It's nothing."
Arthur sat back on his heels, hating how stubborn Merlin was. He would die if he kept bleeding like that, and Arthur added another to his list of people who needed to survive no matter what.
Gwen and Merlin. He hadn't even considered Merlin before, because dying was just not something Merlin could ever do. It was simply disallowed. Arthur would not let it happen. Not ever.
Thinking quickly, Arthur tore the scarf around Merlin neck and untied it. Undoubled, there was enough fabric to stretch around Merlin's torso, so Arthur wrapped it there.
"To stop the bleeding," he told Merlin pointedly, "until we can patch you up."
Merlin nodded, but he'd gone terribly pale. Arthur tried to ignore that fact as best he could. He jumped to his feet and offered Merlin a hand up.
"Time for me to look after you," Arthur said, clapping his hand to Merlin's chest.
Merlin wobbled slightly, and Arthur held both hands out for support. Merlin insisted he was all right, though he was still clutching his side and the blue scarf was turning dark at an alarming rate.
They turned the corner and reached the doors of Arthur's chambers. Preparing himself for anything, Arthur readied his sword and pushed through.
Gwen was there. She was across the room with a small knife held to the tender skin of her neck. A pale fist held it in place, while the other gripped her arm to hold her steady.
"Arthur!" Gwen called, half in relief and half in warning.
"You must be Sir Joseph," Arthur said to the man at her back. Holding his sword in both hands, Arthur lifted his back elbow and leveled the long blade's point at Joseph. He stalked further into the room, aware of Merlin fanning out to the side, ever watchful.
Joseph's eyes ricocheted between the two of them, and he pressed his knife closer to Gwen's throat. The pinprick of blood it drew was the same red as her dress.
"That's lord, actually," Joseph stressed.
"Not anymore," Arthur assured him. "Let her go."
Gwen let out a shocked breath when Joseph jerked her backwards like a ragdoll.
"Don't you come any closer," Joseph warned, "or I'll slit her neck. I'll do it, too. You know I will, my lady." He said it into Gwen's hair, almost intimate.
She let some of her bravado slip when she caught Arthur's eyes, but just for a moment.
"You're not even a lady," Joseph continued. "You're just some serving bitch. What does a king want with the likes of you, ay?" His eyes turned to Arthur. "The People's King, they say. But you're no high king. Not if I can help it."
"Forbearnan," Arthur heard Merlin say, but he didn't dare look away from Gwen.
Just a moment later, the handle of the knife in Joseph's fist turned a glowing red and orange. It started to smoke, and Arthur smelled burning meat. Joseph gave an excruciated cry as his hand clasped tighter around the handle at first.
Gwen used the distraction to elbow him in the gut and release herself from his grasp.
The blade clattered on the floor when it fell, but Arthur was still too far to do anything about it.
"Guinevere!" he called, getting her attention. He tossed her his sword, which she caught with only a slight fumble. She held it firmly in both elegant hands and swiped it at Joseph.
He shouted again and toppled to the floor, still alive. Gwen pressed the point into his stomach.
He glared up at Gwen through slits for eyes. "How does a serving girl know how to use that?"
"I am not a serving girl, not anymore," she told him. "But I will always be a blacksmith's daughter."
She forced the sword through his skin and did not withdraw it until blood poured from his sputtering lips. She dropped the blade completely when he'd gone limp, and spun around to Arthur.
She cried his name as they ran across the room to meet each other. He picked her up in his arms and held her tight, closing his eyes into her soft, scented hair. It smelt of roses.
"I thought I'd never see you again," she admitted when he placed her safely back on the floor.
He grinned softly down at her, and her worry faded. Her lips, too, curved into a gentle smile. Neither of them saw Merlin look away.
Arthur's eyes dropped to the red pinprick on her neck. "Are you alright?" he asked, concerned, and wiped the blood away with his thumb.
"Yes, I'm unharmed," she assured him. Her eyes flashed behind him to Merlin, and her expression once again lit up. "Merlin," she cooed, pushing passed Arthur as she did so. "You, I always knew I'd see again," she said while shaking her head.
She threw her arms around him, making him wince.
"It's good to see you, too, Gwen," he told her, embracing her in return with one arm. However, as he rested his chin on her shoulder, he was looking at Arthur, studying him up and down like he was committing it all to memory.
Arthur returned the gaze. He couldn't look away, though he knew he should have been looking at Gwen.
"Oh, you're bleeding!" Gwen worried when the hug broke and she noticed Merlin's side.
"No, I'm fine," Merlin assured her, his hand going to his wound. The scarf was almost completely saturated now and dark circles were appearing under his eyes, but he shot Gwen his best, most handsome smile. It made Arthur's heart melt.
Apparently, it didn't have the same effect on Gwen, because she said, "We must take you to Gaius straight away."
"No," Merlin was saying as Arthur turned away and made for the window. He didn't catch the unintended urgency in Merlin's tone. "Really, I'm okay."
Arthur stepped over Joseph's body on his way towards the stained glass, only offering him a passing glance. When he opened the window to the courtyard below, he saw Joseph's men scattering and fleeing towards the gates. Those with weapons had given up on using them, and many lay strewn on the cobblestones.
"It seems Odin's men are in full retreat," Arthur observed, feeling a surge of pride as he caught sight of his knights and subjects.
Gwen was at it side shortly. "And good riddance," she added. "Camelot can return to normal now that its king is back where he belongs—as is Merlin."
Arthur's lips twitch up at the words. He had to agree.
He looked over his shoulder to where Merlin was standing, but Merlin was no longer there. Arthur would have felt his heart jump and skin prickle with goose bumps if he hadn't gone so numb.
"Merlin?" he said, softly at first. He scanned the room, but Merlin wasn't anywhere in sight. Arthur wanted to believe that Merlin had gone to Gaius, but somehow he knew that wasn't the case.
Arthur left Gwen's side. She was just as speechless as he was.
"Merlin?" he called, a little louder now. He rushed to the open doors of his chambers and looked both ways down the shadowy corridor. It was empty on both sides.
Arthur closed his eyes to it and opened them again slowly, hoping for Merlin to be there when he did. All remained still.