A/N: Hurray! It's not unreasonably early in the morning this time (or super late at night...same thing). It's also a tad bit longer than the last few chapters :)

Title: Beyond the Vale
Author: BeyondTheStorm
Rating: T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.
Characters/pairings: Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.
Spoilers: Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.
Warnings: Nothing, as far as I know. Feel free to let me know if you see something.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, though I do rather enjoy playing with the characters :)

So...this fic is probably going to end up being a lot longer than I originally thought simply because of the way I write. However, I don't feel quite so worried for once, because it seems that people tend to like the introspection and thoughts just as much as all the other bits. That's good, because the next chapter will probably have a lot of that too. After all, I couldn't fit everyone's reactions into just one chapter.

Anyway, thanks for all the wonderful support and kind words. It means a lot to me :)

Onward!


CHAPTER 12

For a long while, no one moved. The silence washed over their group as they stood there, unsure what to do or how to proceed, none of them wanting to break the tension in the air. Arthur, Gwaine, and Elyan all still had their swords out, glancing around as if expecting some sort of attack even though they all knew that there was nothing around to cause them harm. Eiwyn was gone, and if what she had said was to be believed, she wouldn't be coming back for them.

Lancelot wasn't entirely sure whether to feel relieved or not about that fact. She had been their only link to figuring out what was going on. She clearly knew about the vale and held the answers that they were seeking, but she hadn't bothered to tell them anything useful, and now it seemed they would never get another chance to ask. They would simply have to continue forward on their own and hope that they figured something out before they all starved to death (their water and rations would only last a few days at the most, and there was nothing in the area to provide them with more).

However, the knight was also grateful that the odd and clearly somewhat magical entity was gone. Her very presence was unsettling, and what's more, she had been able to read them. She had gone as far as to look into them and bare their souls, taking in everything that made them who they are and judging it all against some higher standard known only to her.

For those few moments, it had felt like she was stripping everything away until all that was left was the very core of their hearts…and yet what they had experienced was nothing compared to what she had done to Merlin. Still kneeling next to the warlock, Lancelot could see just how much his friend had suffered in such a short amount of time. Eiwyn had dug into him so deeply and without remorse, leaving nothing untouched, and in addition to all the emotional turmoil he was facing, he also seemed to be in physical pain as well. His brow was creased and his expression pinched as if he had a headache of some kind, and he just looked slightly ill overall.

What was it Eiwyn had said, something about awareness and feeling sick? Was there something about the vale, beyond the obvious problems, that was making him ill? Did it have something to do with his magic?

Whatever was going on, he knew that nothing would be solved if they just stood around waiting for something to happen. They needed to get moving, and for that to happen, he was going to have to find a way to get Merlin to stand up. The warlock seemed perfectly content to just kneel there, staring at the ground while he tried to control his breathing. Lancelot could almost see his thoughts and fears flashing across his face, warring with the distress that was still there, dredged up from Eiwyn's cruel analysis. He found himself feeling angry on his friend's behalf, because if there was one person who hadn't deserved that, it was Merlin. He had suffered so much already. She had had no right to take all his loss, all of his mistakes, and throw them into the world for all to see.

Later, when everyone had calmed down, he knew that Merlin would have a lot of questions to answer, because all of them had bore witness to what had happened, and if no one else, Arthur would have something to say about it. In some ways, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Merlin's heart was burdened by so many secrets, so many things he felt the need to hide, that it would do him good to talk for a change.

Not everything had to be hidden, and there were honestly some things that he believed Arthur should know.

Slowly and cautiously he began to get to his feet, not wanting to move too suddenly and startle his companions. His actions however seemed to snap the rest of them out of their trance. They all began to sheath their swords, still looking around anxiously, but at least they were moving again. The only one who hadn't moved yet was Merlin. He was still kneeling there, his hands clenching around the long grass beneath him. Lancelot reached out a hand, doing his best not to be too sudden. He wasn't sure what kind of state his friend was in, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare him.

"Merlin," he called quietly, offering his hand a bit more openly. To his relief, the warlock very slowly raised his head and turned his attention towards the knight. He just looked so worn out and tired. They really needed to find somewhere safe to rest for a while. "Can you stand?"

At first Merlin didn't move at all, as if he were trying to gather his thoughts. In the end he just nodded and reached up to let Lancelot help him to his feet. The knight clasped his friend's wrist and felt Merlin do the same with a much weaker grip, but in the end it was enough to pull the boy to his feet. He was a bit shaky, but he didn't fall back down, and that had to count for something. He still wasn't talking though, and that was never a good sign.

Their group once more fell into silence, no one knowing what to say to break it without causing everything to shatter completely. Lancelot was rather thankful that Merlin still had his head bowed so that he couldn't see the looks that were being directed at him. All that sympathy and concern (and thinly veiled curiosity) would have unnerved him to no end, and the last thing he needed was to be made more nervous than he already was. The knight knew there would be no way to keep them from asking questions later—that situation was rather inevitable—but at the very least it could be prolonged until Merlin was capable of answering with some dignity and emotional stability.

Despite all his raw power, perseverance, and the strength of his heart, there were times where it looked like he might just shatter under the weight of it all. Everyone had a breaking point. He just hoped that this quest wouldn't turn out to be Merlin's.

As they all just stood there, wondering how to proceed, it was Elyan who finally broke the silence as he looked up towards the mist-covered sky.

"We should find shelter," he suggested. "It'll be night soon."

Sure enough, as they all glanced at the sky above them, it had grown darker than it was before. They couldn't see the sun to tell if it was setting or not, but the fading light was a good enough indication that it was approaching nightfall. They hadn't set out until after midday, and they had been walking for hours before they had finally broken through the heaviest part of the mist. It was hard to tell just how long they'd been wandering around the vale. It was no surprise, really, given all that had happened.

"Alright," said Arthur, his attention once more drifting back to Merlin, and even though he seemed intent to hide it, he couldn't completely mask the concern in his gaze. It was always a welcome sight, the proof that Arthur really did care despite his terrible inadequacy at expressing it. After everything that Merlin had done for the prince and for Camelot, all the sacrifices he had made without ever asking for anything in return, the least he deserved was for Arthur to admit (even if only to himself) that Merlin was more than just a servant to him.

Maybe someday they'd be able to get him to admit out loud what all of them already knew—that Merlin was the greatest friend Arthur could ever have.

"Let's go," said the prince as he turned and began to make his way back towards the castle. There was a tower not too far off that hadn't fallen and that still seemed to have all of its parts. It would provide a decent enough shelter for the night.

"Come on, Merlin," Lancelot said, coaxing the warlock into following. It seemed Merlin had no trouble walking once he got started, and he wasn't so distracted that he couldn't navigate his way around obstacles, but the knight stayed nearby just in case. He noticed that Gwaine was also keeping rather close, only walking a few steps ahead and glancing back every now and then. In fact, they were all walking quite a bit closer than they usually did, slowing or quickening the pace whenever necessary in order to keep together. No one wanted to be too far away just in case something were to happen. There was strength in numbers, and as a group they stood a better chance if something were to go wrong.

They weren't usually so cautious, especially Gwaine. It was proof enough that what had occurred earlier had been more than enough to disturb them all.

When they finally reached the tower, they were quick to realize that it was a lot bigger than they had originally thought. It was taller than even the tallest point in Camelot and wider than the great hall—a lot wider. The rooms within it were likely massive. Maybe they'd actually be able to find something of use, although the odds weren't good. Just about everything in the area had deteriorated long ago.

The five of them entered a stairwell and made their way upwards, searching for a suitable room that they could take shelter in. Most of the ones they came across were blocked by ruble, and some of the stairs were a bit hard to climb since there were all sorts of stones in the way. Eventually though they reached a section of the tower that seemed rather stable. The walls were barely damaged and the stairs weren't chipped and weathered. They even managed to find a very large but empty room, filled with stone columns that actually looked sturdy. There were quite a few doorways into other rooms as well, although the doors themselves were all long gone, but it was always possible that there was something in one of them that could be useful.

It was as good a place as any to rest for the night.

"This should do," said Arthur as he walked into the spacious area, taking a quick look around. There were a few windows along the far wall, although they barely let in any light, and soon there wouldn't be much left at all. After all, if the sun couldn't pierce through the mist, there was no way the moon could. If they didn't find a source of light, they'd be left in total darkness when night fully fell. They needed to start a fire, and hopefully there would be something they could use to do so.

"Alright, spread out," Arthur ordered, already making his way towards one of the small doorways. "See if you can find something—candles, oil, anything we can use to make a fire of some kind."

The knights all spread out to check the connecting rooms, even Arthur, but as they went in search of useful materials, Merlin instead made his way listlessly over to the far wall and slumped against it, sliding down until he was seated on the cold stone floor. He wanted to help, to look for something they could use or to even discreetly use his magic to aid their situation, but he found he couldn't focus enough to try. He was tired and distracted, and he still felt like his stomach was rebelling against him, although he was pretty sure he wasn't likely to get sick from it.

No, the problem went a lot further than mere illness. The nausea and the headache and even some of the exhaustion were all his body's reaction to the magic that coated the vale. It just felt wrong. Something terrible had happened here, and it was still happening. The magic he could feel was old, ancient, and undeniably powerful, but it was tainted with so much sorrow and agony that he could practically feel it himself, as if the feelings were his own.

If he wasn't careful, perhaps they would be.

Bringing his knees up to his chest, the warlock wrapped his arms around them and bowed his head. He curled up like that, making himself as small as he could, closing his eyes to try and block out everything around him. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could push all of it away, but his mind was still filled with those voices, and he couldn't seem to block them out. They weren't as loud as before, but he could still feel them there. They weren't speaking or really making any sound at all, really, but he could sense each and every presence, as if they were all begging for his attention, to just be acknowledged…to be saved.

Thousands of voices, crying out in grief and retribution…and there was nothing he could do but listen. He didn't know how to help them.

He couldn't even help himself.

Merlin pulled his legs even tighter against his chest, trying to choke down the well of grief that Eiwyn had dragged to the surface. He had buried all those feelings long ago, had moved on even if he hadn't always had enough time to grieve, but now he could feel each and every loss as if it had happened only yesterday. She had made him relive each moment, making the pain raw and fresh in his heart and mind. She had done it so easily, and yet it was taking him forever to push everything back down—every loss, every mistake, all his regrets and failures.

He just wanted it all to end.


Lancelot gave a short sigh of disappointment as the room he had picked to sift through turned up nothing of real use. There was no wood (he hadn't really expected there to be given the lack of doors in the castle), no cloth, and no containers of any kind of liquid that could be used to light a fire. There had been only stone, rusted metal, and shattered glass. Anything useful had already been used up or had deteriorated long ago. It made him wonder just how old the castle was and how long it had been abandoned. It also made him wonder what had happened. Eiwyn had said that this land had once been a kingdom, but how long ago was that?

How many years had these lands suffered in unending isolation?

As he made his way back into the main chamber where they would be spending the night, his attention immediately drifted over towards Merlin. The warlock was sitting against the wall, hugging his legs to his chest with his forehead resting against his knees. He looked so small like that, the very opposite of the powerful warlock he was.

Though of course, that wasn't all he was. There were so many different layers to him, so many aspects of his personality, and not a single one was any less a part of him than any other. He was a strong, confident practitioner of magic, able to fight off enemies without lifting a finger, but at the same time he was the clumsy, cheerful, and somewhat insolent servant to the prince of Camelot.

Merlin was a great multitude of things, some of them almost contradicting at times, but what it really came down to was the fact that despite his strength, both of magic and of the heart, he was only human. He wasn't invulnerable—quite the opposite, in fact. Despite the cruelty of her words and actions, Eiwyn had been right. Merlin's was a heart that trusted too easily sometimes, and that kindness was both a blessing and a curse. It made him who he was, but it meant that every loss, every regret and failure struck him that much harder. He hid it well and dealt with things in his own way, but that didn't mean it didn't still hurt.

For a long time, the only person Merlin could talk to and trust implicitly with all his secrets and all his pain was Gaius. Now that he was back in Camelot, Lancelot was going to do whatever he could to help carry that burden. It was the least he could do for such a selfless, honest friend.

The knight made his way across the room until he was next to Merlin. He had made sure to make enough noise to let his friend know he was there so that he wouldn't accidently startle him. The young warlock was dealing with enough as it was. The last thing he wanted to do was scare him.

Merlin didn't say anything nor did he raise his head, so Lancelot just let himself slide down the wall until he was sitting within arm's reach. Still Merlin didn't acknowledge him, and if it weren't for the fact that he was undeniably tense, Lancelot would have thought that he had somehow managed to fall asleep like that. As it was though, that was hardly the case.

"Merlin," he called gently to get his attention, and although there was no outward sign that he had it, he continued anyway. "Are you alright?"

It was a stupid question, a fact he was well aware of, but it was the only one he could think to ask.

For a moment the warlock seemed to hesitate, his arms tightening around his legs, before he simply shook his head in response. He still didn't lift it, hiding away as best he could, but he had given a genuinely honest answer to that question for once. That alone was proof enough of just how wrong this whole situation was.

"Is there anything I can do?" He wanted the answer to be "yes." He wanted to be able to help, because watching Merlin like this made his heart ache and left him feeling helpless. However, he was pretty sure he had known the answer even before he had asked the question.

"…No," came the whispered reply. The warlock hugged himself tighter, releasing a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Merlin. You have no reason to."

Merlin gave a very short, barely noticeable nod even though it was obvious he didn't fully agree before drawing in a shaky breath and releasing it much the same way. If he could have, he probably would have curled up even tighter.

Not knowing what to do to help his friend, Lancelot did the only thing he could think of. Very carefully he placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. As far as comfort went, it wasn't much, but it made him feel just a little less helpless. It was a small, simple gesture, but it would get his message across.

Even if there was nothing he could do at the moment, he would be there when he was needed. For now, that was enough.

Unbeknownst to either of them, the other three members of their group were watching the interaction from across the room, and though they hadn't heard the words that were said, they could tell easily enough from the gestures. They had all returned from their foraging in time to see their fellow knight sit next to Merlin and offer him what little comfort he could.

In some ways, it made Gwaine wonder if Lancelot somehow knew what was wrong besides the obvious. They had all heard what Eiwyn had said to their friend, but it seemed like Lancelot was the one who understood. It was true that Merlin could often be found in the knight's company when not in the middle of doing chores or running errands. The two of them would talk in hushed voices, as if they didn't want anyone else to know what was being said, and sometimes they would even clam up entirely if someone walked over. Also, it wasn't uncommon for Lancelot to share a meal with Merlin and Gaius in the physician's chambers. Gwaine had gone a few times as well, but not as many as the other man had.

The two of them were obviously good friends, but there just seemed to be something more to it than that. Merlin seemed more at ease around Lancelot than anyone else, Gaius being the only exception.

There was just something there, and he desperately wished he could figure out what it was.

Maybe if he could, he'd be able to help Merlin.

"…The rooms in this tower are a bit strange, don't you think?" said Elyan, effectively drawing him away from his musings.

"Hmm? How so?" he asked.

"Well, the first room I checked looked like the rest of the castle. There wasn't anything there, and everything was falling apart, but the second room was a lot like this one. The walls weren't cracked, nothing was broken, and I even managed to find this."

Elyan lifted a stone pot, and in it was some kind of liquid. All it took was one sniff to know what he had found, and Gwaine had to admit he was rather surprised.

"Oil?"

"More than enough to last the night, so long as we don't waste it."

He set the pot down carefully and covered it before turning to look at their uncharacteristically quiet leader. Arthur hadn't said a word for a long time, but it seemed his own search had been as fruitless as Gwaine's. Instead he was just standing there, staring at the far wall with an expression that wasn't often seen on his face. It was a mixture of deep concern and confusion with just a bit of curiosity. It certainly didn't take a genius to figure out why it was there.

Elayn glanced over to where Merlin and Lancelot were sitting. Even though he hadn't known Merlin for quite as long as the rest of them, it still hurt a great deal to see him like that. He was usually so cheerful and full of energy, never just blending into the background despite his station. He was expressive and opinionated, and he often knew what to say to cheer up or console the people around him.

Perhaps that was why none of them seemed to know what to do now that the roles had been reversed. They weren't used to Merlin being the one who needed consoling. They didn't even really know what was wrong.

"…Do you think it was true, what she said about Merlin?" he asked, earning him both his companions' attention. He could still hear those callous words, spoken with no regard for how much damage they could wrought.

"I don't know," said Gwaine, "but judging by his reaction, I'd say it's pretty likely."

He was aware of that. He was certain they were all aware of that, but if that really was the case, then how had they all missed it? It was true that he didn't spend a great deal of time around Merlin, and until recently, Gwaine and Lancelot hadn't gotten to spend a lot of time with him either, so it would have been easy for them to miss something…but Arthur was another matter.

How can a person spend every day with someone and not notice?

"Well, princess," began Gwaine as he turned to the prince, effectively drawing Elyan's attention as well, "is it true?"

Clearly Arthur hadn't expected to be addressed (he probably hadn't been paying attention), because he only stared at Gwaine in slight confusion and more than a little agitation. He didn't like being startled, that much was obvious, but he got the feeling that the irritation had a lot more to do with the slandering of his title than anything else.

"Is what true?" he asked, just shy of glaring at the knight.

"What Eiwyn said about Merlin. You've known him the longest. If what she said is true, then you should know something about it."

"I…"

As unbelievable as it was, Elyan was pretty sure he knew Arthur's answer just from seeing his face fall. He bore the look of a man who had just been asked an important question, one he should've known the answer to but couldn't for the life of him find it. If he didn't know any better, he would have called that look "ashamed" or even "guilty," but he couldn't seem to think of it as being anything other than sad.

"I don't know," Arthur said at last, staring off to the side and away from Gwaine. "He never said anything."

"…He shouldn't have had to."

Those five words, spoken softly in pent up frustration and barely controlled anger, were enough to earn the prince's attention again. Gwaine was angry. Even though he was a bit of a hot head, his attitude tended to be a bit more laid back than most, but there was none of that in his expression now. He was actually angry, much like he had been back in the tavern, and Elyan was sure that that had a lot to do with this reaction as well. Gwaine had still been fairly mad at Arthur although their situation within the vale had managed to subdue a lot of his ire. Now though, all that irritation had found its way back to the forefront, and that only made his words all the more harsh.

"I'd bet my life that Merlin can always tell when something's troubling you," he said, still glaring fiercely at their leader. "After all this time, you should be able to do the same, but I guess that's too much to expect from someone like you."

Arthur's eyes narrowed as he glared right back.

"And just what are you accusing me of, Gwaine?"

Elyan took a small step back, not wanting to get in the middle but at the same time not wanting to leave either. He might be needed if things took a turn for the worst.

"I thought you were different," said Gwaine, his tone dropping a bit in volume but not losing an ounce of its intensity, "but I guess I was wrong. You're just as self-centered as any other noble."

Arthur looked like he was about to object to that when Gwaine delivered his last verbal blow, one that silenced any and all of the prince's retorts. It was said in a tone that was both dangerous and scolding, his words serving as both an attack and a reprimand.

"Merlin shouldn't have had to tell you—you should have noticed."

Without another word, Gwaine turned and strode off towards the other end of the room. They both watched in silence as the knight took up a position much like Lancelot had, sitting on Merlin's other side and speaking quietly, trying to offer solace in the only way he could.

Elyan heaved a sigh, grateful for the release in tension and the fact that Gwaine hadn't resorted to a physical reproof, before turning to regard his prince. Arthur was once more watching the scene before him with that look on his face, although there was a good amount of shock mixed in as well this time. It was almost strange to see him looking like that, because more often than not, Arthur would mask any insecurity or weakness with either arrogance or irritation in order to protect his pride. He didn't like being told that he was wrong or being called out on something that could potentially make him appear weak.

Gwaine had kind of done both of those things, and this time around Arthur hadn't really defended himself. His defense had been halfhearted at best. He hadn't even tried to get in the last word, and Elyan was pretty sure he knew the reason.

Despite the anger that had fuelled his words, to some extent Gwaine had been right. If Merlin truly had suffered the way Eiwyn had described, then Arthur should have noticed. Merlin had been his servant for years now—he spent every day in his presence. No matter how good Merlin was at fooling people (that smile of his was rather disarming, after all), there surely would have been signs. Heartache couldn't be masked completely, not if you knew a person well enough to know what to look for.

After so many years, Merlin could read Arthur's moods better than anyone. He had paid enough attention to learn and understand. He had reached out in his own way and with a great deal of patience. That kind of consideration had nothing to do with the fact that he was Arthur's servant and everything to do with being Arthur's friend.

He knew that even though the prince wouldn't admit to it, he did consider Merlin to be a friend. After all, there was no way he would have put up with all of that insolence from someone he didn't care about. There was a good chance that Merlin was actually one of Arthur's very first real friends instead of someone playing the part simply because he was the prince. All in all, Arthur was probably still learning what it was like to have friends, and if Merlin and Gwaine were to be believed, the prince was rather unobservant most of the time.

Perhaps it was to be expected that he wouldn't know much about the secrets Eiwyn had revealed about their youngest companion. Elyan was sure that there were at least one or two moments where Arthur had noticed something, but for all of Merlin's open hospitality and friendliness, he was a bit of a puzzle, contradicting in a lot of ways. It wasn't at all unreasonable to assume that he would have hidden the more painful occurrences in his life, not wanting to worry the people he cared about. That's just the way he was.

Gwaine had said it himself once before, that Merlin was stubborn. If there was something he didn't want anyone to find out, then no one would. It was a very unique but self-damaging strength that he possessed—the ability to put the needs and comforts of others before yourself even if it means swallowing your grief and pretending everything's fine.

It was all very noble and selfless, and in some cases it was perfectly reasonable, but in regards to Merlin, one very important question still remained, one that would determine whether it was truly reasonable or not.

"There's so much weight on your heart, so much loss… How can you still stand with a heart that heavy?"

Just how deep were the scars that Merlin carried upon his heart?

"Stronger people have fallen in the face of such despair."

He didn't know the answer.

"Why…why are you even still alive?"

He wasn't sure if he wanted to.


A/N: Well, there you have it :) Another week, another chapter. I promise I'll get to Arthur's POV next chapter. In fact, most of the next chapter will likely be from his perspective. I'm rather looking forward to it :)

Review Responses: As always, thank you for the reviews :) I managed to answer all of them this time, I think. If I forgot any, I'm very sorry (the review reply feature is a wonderful thing :) And because I can, I'll always make sure to answer anonymously posted reviewers at the end of each chapter, so here goes!

Felicity P: Yay! Hello again :) I'm glad you're enjoying my new fic. I'm having rather a lot of fun with it. I do tend to be rather mean to Merlin though. The poor boy really does need a hug. I did manage to get through some of the reactions to what happened, and I'll definitely get through the rest next week...I think. I suppose it depends on how long the chapter gets. I'm rather good at making everything longer than I expect it to be :)