This was supposed to be a nice long chapter, but I didn't have it finished. So instead I'm making this short scene a chapter on its own. Hopefully this answers a couple of big questions and the other half of the chapter will be updated next time I do a bulk update in the new year.

Chapter 38: How?

Merlin flopped down on his bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. That spell had taken almost everything he had, and then he had had to deal with confused, angry Arthur and confused, angry and elated wizards.

He was spent, but his mind wouldn't stop ticking over.

Merlin had set Arthur up in the room next door, he had asked one of the House Elves to keep an eye on him, discretely, and to let him know if the King left his rooms.

As much as he had insisted that they needed to start planning, Merlin knew that they were none of them in any condition to be thinking. So, with a great deal of convincing he had managed to talk everyone into an early night.

This was less for the others and more for him. He needed to think.

Despite having been hoping and waiting for years Merlin had never really planed on what to do if…when, Arthur actually was resurrected.

Closing his eyes, Merlin let the memory that had been bothering him all day wash over him.

A pair of deep blue eyes watched him, full lips twisted into a superior sneer. "A life for a life Merlin."

A life for a life, Nimue had told him that right at the beginning and she had been right. You could never gain a life without first losing one. Not even the Cup could overcome that.

So how was Arthur alive? How was it possible?

"Dochra?" Merlin called. It was something he had tried long ago and he wasn't expecting it to work. "Dochra I need to talk to you. Please." When nothing happened Merlin repeated the phrase in the language of the Old Religion.

There was a whisper of wind and there she was. The Dochra.

Merlin sat up and slid off the bed, squashing his irritation that she hadn't answered last time he called, but trying to be grateful that she was here now.

"Greetings Emrys." The ancient woman didn't smile at him, but her eyes were gentle.

Despite himself Merlin's opening line was a little snappy. "Arthur was resurrected today, how is that possible?" He bit his tongue before he could go much further. He was in no way up to a magical fight with someone like the Dochra.

Her expression didn't change in the slightest as she answered. "A great and powerful loss had to occur before the Once and Future King could once again walk the earth."

"But no one died." Merlin explained. "At least no one that powerful."

This got him a faint smile. "The wizard Sirius Black, his sacrifice was destined long ago."

Merlin's eyes narrowed, Sirius had died nearly a year ago. The Dochra seemed to sense his distrust. "Sirius Black was descended from a line of druids, their line served the role that destiny planned for them." She looked at him. "You have another question."

Fixing his gaze on the wall behind the old woman Merlin asked the question that he was sure he knew the answer to. "The Veil he fell through, it looked like the same veil that took Lancelot. Why didn't it close when Sirius fell through?"

"You already know the answer to this Emrys." The Dochra replied.

Wishing he was wrong Merlin continued. "It's been sealed open." He swallowed as the Dochra tilted her head in an encouraging nod. "The dementors." He finished on a sigh. "That's where the dementors came from, that's why my magic doesn't work against them."

The Dochra turned to leave, "You have changed greatly since we first met Emrys." There was another whisper and she was gone. Merlin lay back on his bed and closed his eyes.

How many times were they going to damn themselves?

Arthur sat on the cloud-soft bed and stared thoughtfully at the wall opposite. He was in a room which had once been the knights quarters of Camelot's mighty castle and he felt very odd.

Merlin had taken him to a bathroom the size of his old quarters to clean the lake water out of his hair and skin. Even Arthur had to admit he had smelt terrible. Despite a thousand questions pushing their way through his head, Arthur had kept quiet. Merlin had as well, which had been a bit off putting. His servant had helped Arthur undress and had whisked his armour away while Arthur bathed. By the time Arthur had felt clean, and smelling horribly of some fruit or another, and gotten out of the luxurious tub Merlin had returned and was sitting on the floor near the door.

Arthur's closest friend looked exhausted, which had been the main reason for the lack of questions, the last time Merlin had looked like this he had been poisoned and nearly died.

Merlin had refused to specify how long Arthur had been...dead...for, but given the ancient look of pain in his friends blue eyes it had been a very long time.

Arthur hadn't wanted to push anything for now, he was in a strange place surrounded by unknown sorcerers and Merlin was the only thing between them and Arthur. Arthur had almost come to terms with Merlin's magic, it made a twisted sort of sense and they had known each other so long that it was almost instinctual for Arthur to trust Merlin. These other sorcerers were something else entirely, Arthur knew nothing of them and Merlin had told him little which inclined him to trust them.

Arthur wriggled down under the covers and rolled onto his side, he doubted he would get much sleep tonight, but in the morning, when Merlin had recovered from whatever bit of sorcery he had done, Arthur would have more than a few questions for him.