Hello, all! Sorry this story has been taking me so long… I know where I want the story to end up but I'm having trouble getting there. I'm hoping to be more consistent in my updates for the next few weeks. Anyways, the plot thickens...

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Merlin thought he had grown used to the pain. It was always there, crouching under the surface like a viper waiting for the perfect time to strike. But now, it had struck and Merlin could feel it with his entire being. The endless burning at his neck was bad enough, but the ache of his magic severed from him felt like he had lost a limb. His own emptiness screamed at him, begging to be filled once again. Merlin had never known life without his magic there until now, and it was killing him. He had a feeling that if the collar didn't come off soon, he wouldn't have long for this world.

The warlock heard rustling near him, and then a sudden, cool cloth was resting on his forehead. His eyes cracked open and he winced at the dim light invading his eyes. He merely glimpsed Guinevere sitting there with a furrowed brow while she tended to him. Merlin wanted to call out to her, but his neck twitched at the thought and he felt despair twist up in his chest. Merlin's eyes slipped closed against his will and he faded away.

The next time Merlin resurfaced, it was lighter in his room, though it hurt his eyes less. He registered Lancelot and Elyan in the corner, speaking in hushed tones. There was still a cool cloth resting on his brow, meaning that someone had been consistently changing it out. Merlin smiled at the thought, wanting nothing more than to be able to thank his friends with his own voice. He tried to shift, hoping to catch the knights' attention, but he found that he was still too weak to move more than a few centimeters. Merlin wanted to yell out in frustration despite his better judgement, but instead he found himself slipping under again.

When Merlin opened his eyes the third time, it was light out, though he was unsure as to how much time had passed between his bouts of consciousness. The warlock shifted and was surprised to find that he had quite a bit more mobility this time around. He turned his head, searching out a glass of water, then froze when he saw Arthur sitting there, wringing his hands distractedly.

"Merlin? Oh good, you're awake!" Arthur smiled brightly, though his eyes were tired and crinkled around the edges.

Merlin was stricken with the intense flood of relief that someone finally knew that he was conscious. He hadn't heard anyone's voice in what felt like a week. Merlin hadn't even realized tears were falling until he felt Arthur swipe them away gently with his thumb.

"Come on, Merlin. None of that, it's alright. Are you in pain?"

Merlin shook his head. For once, he really wasn't, except for the aching throb of his severed magic. There wasn't anything anyone could do about that anyways.

Arthur deflated a bit. "That's good. You scared the shit out of us the other night." Merlin felt his eyebrows rise, and Arthur quickly clarified, "mostly Gwaine."

Merlin rolled his eyes, but he felt his lips curl into a smile despite his exasperation. He turned his head again, reaching out towards the cup of water he noticed at the edge of his bedside table. Arthur straightened, grabbing the glass before Merlin could even get close and placed it in his hands. Merlin nodded gratefully before drinking the soothing liquid with controlled gulps. Arthur took it back when he had finished with it.

"I'm glad I caught you. I wasn't sure if you'd be awake before I left."

Merlin gazed up at Arthur, his eyebrows drawing together in an unspoken question.

"Morgana has been spotted on the Plains of Denaria. We think she's headed to the Isle of the Blessed. She's up to something, and I need to go find out what."

Merlin felt his breath catch in his throat. Did Arthur really think it was a good idea to go chasing after Morgana after everything that had happened? The warlock sat up, feeling dizzy but hopefully capable of standing.

"Merlin, sit down. You're not going anywhere after all that you've been through. Besides, you don't even have your magic to defend yourself."

Gods, Merlin just wanted to scream. He wanted to wrench that god forsaken metal right off his neck with his bare hands. He seethed, unable to articulate what a complete arse Arthur was being. Did he really think he could take on Morgana, especially at a place like the Isle of the Blessed? And did he really think he could stop Merlin from coming with him?

"I know you're upset, but I can't ignore this and I can't let you come with me. Not this time. I'm sorry."

Arthur looked just as torn up as Merlin felt. He stood from his stool, turning to leave. The warlock reached out, grabbing desperately at Arthur's arm. Arthur pulled away, but Merlin just tightened his grip. He shook his head when Arthur looked back at him.

Don't. Don't leave. I can't protect you like this.

"I'll be fine, so stop worrying like a mother hen. I've got the best knights in Camelot at my side. Now get some rest, or I'll have Gaius come in here and make you." Arthur slipped out of Merlin's hold.

Arthur hesitated at the door, his hand hovering idly for a moment. Then he was gone. Merlin huffed, sitting back up and planting his feet on the floor. The warlock was quite familiar with the Isle of the Blessed. He'd get a later start than the rest of the patrol to ensure that no one would try to stop him on his way, but he'd make fast time by cutting through the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Merlin didn't even have to think twice about it.

There was no way in hell he was staying behind.