Merlin rolled his eyes at the antics of the knights and his King. He was pleased to see them happy, though. It had been a rough couple of months. The loss of Uther, and then Lancelot. Both still pained him, sometimes, too. He had failed both, in a way. He should have noticed the charm on Uther, and Lancelot had sacrificed himself to save not only Camelot and Arthur, but Merlin himself. Gwen's pain at the loss of her husband had been unbearable to watch. He'd been thankful when Arthur had grown closer to her, titling her as Queen Regent to help keep her busy. He thought she may be Queen in truth, someday.

Percival especially seemed to be having a difficult time with Lancelot's sacrifice. He had considered leaving Camelot, Merlin knew. Thankfully, Elyan had managed to talk him around, and had made special efforts to include him in more of his and Gwaine's fun.

But today was a good day. The sun was out, Arthur was smiling for the first time in a very long time. It had been ages since he'd been out on a patrol himself, and Merlin was, for once, glad the King had decided to go- even if it meant being dragged out too.

The laughter coming from his friends was a balm to his soul. It wouldn't last, he knew. Sooner rather than later something was bound to come along to disturb their hard won peace, but he would appreciate it for the moment.

"Mer-lin," Arthur dragged out sarcastically. "Head in the clouds, I see?"

"Well," he replied without missing a beat, "they're prettier than you lot."

Percival hooted with laughter, obviously giving Merlin the win of the point in this one. Arthur frowned at them all for a moment, then smiled too. "Fetch us some water, Merlin," Arthur commanded lightly. Grinning back, Merlin grabbed the water skins from his hand. Elyan continued to chuckle, while Leon shook his head disapprovingly at all of them.

Chores. Arthur's only concession when the Knights deemed he'd lost the round. They were fairly evenly matched in the points, so far as he knew. Gwen thought it was odd that they kept score. Arthur seemed oblivious, as always. Only Sir Beonin failed to jump into the light mood, stark and serious. He was new, and this his first patrol. Merlin thought he might be a little nervous, so at first had tried to include him. After a few rebuffs, however, he gave up.

"C'Mon, Mate. I'll come with you," Gwaine offered, throwing an arm around Merlin's shoulders. "After a half a day with these uglies, I need some decent company."

Smiling warmly at his friend, Merlin led the way to the stream tucked behind a few rows of trees. At only midday, they shouldn't really be stopping, but this area had recently been patrolled. They were all keen to enjoy the lightness when it was made available. They had all needed this.

He listened happily as Gwaine recounted a tale of a recent drinking binge he'd had and somehow found himself almost married. Merlin never knew if half the stories were true, but he didn't care. Gwaine lived for adventure. There wasn't much that could keep him down for long. A master swordsman that nearly surpassed Arthur's skill, the rogue loved a good, honest, bar fight. Merlin asked questions in all the right places, laughing where needed, gaping in astonishment in others.

He looked up as Gwaine stopped suddenly, putting a quick hand on Merlin's shoulder, a signal long between them that requested silence. Frowning, he followed Gwaine's gaze. Across the stream there was a hill, and the knight was focused on it.

Putting the water skins down, they moved in unison to cross. Something was over that hill. Arthur would never credit Merlin with the stealth he was capable of when he had to be. Perhaps that was for the best. He needed to keep an image in order to protect his other secrets.

There, below the hill, was a large gathering of men, marching steadily directly toward them. Too many, Merlin thought. How had they gotten so many into Camelot? Surely some one must have seen them. He glanced behind him when he heard a sound from the stream.

"Oy, you two! What are you…." Beonin's voice carried loudly toward them, not paying the slightest heed to their gestures for silence. When a couple of the men near the front looked in their direction, Merlin didn't hesitate. His eyes glowed, and the young knight's voice was silenced. It would only last a moment or two. They had to retreat.

"Gwaine," he whispered urgently. "We have to warn the others."

Gwaine looked at him, then looked at the young knight behind him frantically clutching his throat. "There's no time. We couldn't make it back first." He drew his sword. "Go, Merlin, and do what you can to protect them. I'll buy you some time."

"Gwaine-"

"Go!" Gwaine roared, standing his full height, moving over the hill. Merlin watched for only a second before crying out in frustration and whirling into a dead run. He ignored the glaring Beonin, his eyes flashing as he released the spell. It was pointless now.

"Arthur!" He called out once he was within hearing range of their stop. "They're coming, Arthur!" But there were other sounds filtering to him now. The unmistakable clash of swords. Was there a second army?

Running into the clearing, he saw them. An advance Scout of perhaps 30 men. Now down to 10, despite the knights being outnumbered. There was no time to celebrate. The clash of swords got louder behind him too. He looked around for Arthur, and saw him. And saw the man coming up behind the already battling King.

"No!" Merlin roared, sending the man sneaking up on Arthur flying. He didn't care who saw him. They weren't going to win this fight. He knew that. Men poured over the hill from the opposite direction of the stream. Almost as many as were behind him.

How? He moved forward, intent on his goal, picking up the sword of a fallen attacker. After all these years of battles with his King, he wasn't quite as completely useless with a sword as he had once been. Slashing his way through the growing number of attackers swarming into the clearing, he fought to get to Arthur's side.

Pain seared across his right wrist as his current foe brought the hilt of his own sword onto it, hard. He felt bones shatter. His suddenly numb hand dropped the sword. He stumbled back just in time to miss having his head lopped off, but felt a score open across his forehead.

It didn't matter. He had to get to Arthur. His head felt fuzzy, but he ignored it. His eyes flashed a number of times, tripping either those in front of him or those near his friends, heating sword hilts, knocking down trees branches, or simply knocking their enemies back. Each time he focused on enemies near his King or friends, he took wounds himself. He couldn't protect all of them as scattered as they were.

The battle raged on around him, and Merlin knew he'd have to make a choice. Protect his friends, or protect Arthur. He couldn't do both. At the rate their enemies were cutting into him-nothing overly serious so far, but he was starting to feel the accumulated blood loss- he would be useless to both soon.

It was a never ending sea of enemies. For every three the knights and Arthur brought down, more came over the surrounding hills. Where? How?

Arthur. That choice would always be Arthur. In his heart, he apologized to Percival, Elyan, Leon, and Gwaine. He started to lift his hand to cast one last spell, when two things happened. A blade slipped through his own ribs, sliding in deep, and another slid into Arthur's back.

Merlin watched helplessly as Arthur's sword fell from his hands, and both men fell to their knees. Merlin saw Leon- closest to their King- finish off the cowardly attacker, even as Arthur fell sideways. Ignoring the pain blossoming through him, Merlin forced himself up and into a run. He was done with being subtle. His magic let loose with bolts of fire, designed to strike down those battling the knights. He needed them all together. He needed them to protect Arthur if he failed.

Almost as one, they turned toward their downed King, reaching him even as Merlin slid to his knees beside him. He didn't need to look to know the wound had been a mortal one, but he did anyway.

"Arthur?" he asked. For some absurd reason he felt like he needed permission to do what he was about to. Not that it mattered. He would have done it anyway. He turned to the knights. "Protect us," he shouted, placing his hands on Arthur's chest, and closing his eyes. It never occurred to him they wouldn't obey.

He let his magic explore, let it find the wound. The blade had pierced Arthur's heart. He could heal it, after a fashion. He took a deep breath, wincing as his own injury protested. His magic tried to move to heal it, but he forced it back to Arthur. Concentrating hard, he saw his magic repair half the wound before it was too exhausted to continue. He'd used it a lot to get here.

Here, Merlin breathed, lending his own life force and energy to aid it in its task. He must live, he told it. He was dizzy, but he ignored that too. Metal clashed around him, and he didn't hear it. He must live. His only thought, his only awareness.

Never proficient at healing magic, Merlin cursed his own limitations. Even lending every ounce of strength he could muster wasn't working. There had to be another way. Yes. He couldn't heal. But he could redirect.

Without hesitating, he sent the command to his magic. It obeyed him slowly, absorbing the remaining injury and putting it on himself. He cried out- a small nick in his own heart compared to the gaping cut it had been on Arthur's, but it still hurt.

He sat back, breathing heavily, exhausted. He looked around. There were no more men pouring into the clearing, but there were hundreds of them left, trading off to rest and then take on the circle of knights that stood around the two men on the ground.

He caught Leon staring at him. Sadness looked back at him, regret, confusion. He didn't care. Arthur would live.

"Merlin-" Leon started, but he interrupted the knight's obvious intent by standing.

"Arrest me when- if- we make it safely back to Camelot. Arthur will be fine. He needs rest, though, and fluids. Lots of them." He winced as he took another breath. He was so tired. But this wasn't over yet. They were still in danger.

He ducked between Leon and Percival, a golden flash shoving away their current opponents. His action noticed, their enemies stopped taking turns and rushed the circle. Flinging up his hands, Merlin created a shield to protect them. It would hold, for a time.

The knights looked shocked for a moment, then realized he was standing outside the shield. Percival began to hit it with his sword, realizing to some degree what Merlin's intentions were. They were shouting at him, though no sound carried through the barrier. He felt a warmth in his heart that had nothing to do with his injuries. They had seen. They knew. And still they looked grieved for the sacrifice he was about to make. He offered them a small smile- a silent goodbye- and turned back to the rushing horde, stumbling a little. One last thing, he told himself. He needed to hang on for this one last thing.

Closing his eyes, he took up the last reserves of his magic, gathering it into him. There was no control. He had only one Command. Destroy. Arthur had to live.

"Merlin!" He heard Gwaine's shout, even as the man fought to clear a path to him. Merlin realized in horror that he was outside the shield. But it was too late. He had already asked too much, and it was too late to stop what he had started.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and as his magic loosed itself into the spell. The screaming started almost immediately. He forced his eyes open to see what he had done. He was taking lives. He would watch. But even he couldn't see through the blinding light.

Moments later, he felt two things. One was Gwaine's presence beside him, grabbing his arm, the second was an intense heat. Without thinking, he threw up a weaker version of the shield he was maintaining behind him around Gwaine.

He cursed as the knight, obviously guessing what he was doing, pulled him into a tight hug so that the shield covered them both. It weakened the shield in some areas. Merlin felt the skin on his exposed left shoulder, chest side, and calf bubble, crack and sizzle in the heat. He couldn't help it. He screamed. But it didn't matter. Gwaine was safe. They were all safe.

And then the heat was gone. He wasn't strong enough. The shield around the two collapsed. He wanted to fall with it, but Gwaine grabbed him again and pulled him forward. Merlin didn't think the Knight could see where he was going anymore than he could. That light was still bright. For a brief moment he was oddly curious about how long it would last.

The pain caused by his stumble brought his thoughts back to the current need. He was so tired. He needed to rest. To stop. He felt the shield behind him still standing strong. Whatever he had released, he couldn't feel it drawing on him anymore. It must be over. But he couldn't see. He would hold the other shield until he could see. He had to be sure.

Gwaine continued to pull him forward. Neither had spoken a word. The swordsman must be as exhausted as he was, he thought. He was dizzy. It was getting hard to think. He had demanded too much, from both his worn and damaged body as well as his worn and abused magic. He stumbled again, and this time Gwaine pulled his arm around his shoulders- taking on a fair amount of Merlin's weight- to keep him on his feet and moving.

"Keep going, Mate," Gwaine gasped raggedly. Merlin no longer understood fully why they had to keep moving. The nauseating smell of burnt flesh plagued every breath he took. He had done something absolutely awful, and he was sad that it had taken those lives. He would do it again, he knew, if it meant saving his friends, his king. But he felt like the monster Uther had always accused all magic users of being. So much of his soul sacrificed on the Pendragon altar.

The light was starting to fade now. Frowning, Merlin realized he had lost track of time. Now he'd never know. That was annoying. He looked back. The light was dimming around the center- yes. He could just barely see the top of the shield. Safe. They were safe. He was trying to remember how to turn it off- he couldn't think, and it was hard to breathe. Pieces of him were shifting inside, hurting him. The burns, along with the various cuts were making themselves known.

Suddenly, he felt himself going forward in a downward motion. He and Gwaine were both falling. He moaned as he hit the ground, hard. Another groan from his friend let him know the knight hadn't done so any less gently.

Gwaine was on his feet in a flash, his sword out and seeking enemies in the now quickly fading light. Merlin knew he should get up. But- it felt so good to rest, to stop. He was used up. Breathing took energy he'd never realized before.

"Who's there?" he heard Gwaine shout.

Beonin stepped into view, snarling, his sword also out. "Move aside, Gwaine. I don't want to hurt you."

In a moment, Merlin felt both their gazes rest on him. Unexpectedly, Gwaine growled, while Beonin raised his sword. Why? He didn't understand. He needed to think, to get up, to help. He didn't remember why. He just needed to rest. Then he'd remember.

"You won't hurt him, either," Gwaine insisted. "You'll surrender now."

"He's a sorcerer! A traitor! A snake hidden to strike at our King when most opportune. Now, Gwaine, I will ask only one more time- stand aside," Beonin hissed. And Merlin knew. He had seen. Of course he had. Merlin himself had all but shouted his best kept secret from the towers of Camelot.

"Then he's Arthur's to deal with. I don't want to do this, Beonin. But understand, I will if I have to," Merlin heard the rogue promise. No. This wasn't right. Not knight against knight. Brother against brother.

"St'p" he tried to say, but it came out as a croak. So tired. And still being drained. The shield. He had to let it go. Somehow. He must live, echoed back to him, resisting his command to stop.

It didn't matter. The two men were so busy facing off against each other that they didn't hear the others surrounding them. Brown and black leathers. No bright red of Camelot. So some of the mercenaries had survived. Unfortunate, at this moment, but Merlin couldn't bring himself to feel sorry. Every life spared was always measured against those he had taken in duty.

"Lower your swords, gentlemen. We outnumber you, and it looks like your little pet sorcerer is about as drained as can be," a voice called from the group. Both men had noticed them, moving as one to defend- Beonin himself, and Gwaine to defend Merlin.

They were outnumbered, though, at least 3 to one. Merlin tried to call up a spark of his magic to defend them, to protect them, but he failed. The leader had been right. He had nothing left. He shuddered as the walls protecting him from his pain shattered. It overwhelmed him. Nausea washed over him. His head hurt so much. Nothing left to give.

"Take the Sorcerer," Beonin called out. "And we'll call it a fair fight and go our ways, as was my agreement with your Master."

"And the other knight? He doesn't look as ready as you to give up. No. This was supposed to be easy money. No one mentioned a powerful sorcerer. We were hired to take a King and his court Fool, a doer of tricks. Do you understand your pet took out almost 500 men by himself? Burned to ash where they stood. No, no I wouldn't call that a fair fight at all."

"You lay a hand on that boy and I promise I'll remove it for you," Gwaine threatened. Merlin tried to call out a warning to his friend, but it was too late. The other knight had clubbed his skull with his sword hilt. No!

"That will shut him up while we negotiate," Beonin spat. "You entered Camelot without contest. Do you think that was all done of your Master's cleverness?"

The leader shook his head, turning to spit on the ground. "Negotiate, is it? I don't think so." Merlin felt no such need to warn Beonin about his own clubbing. Arthur would be terribly disappointed in the man, he thought. Arthur held the knights to such high standards.

He saw someone kneel in front of him. "Now you, lad, may be worth something. Pretty banged up though. Looks like you got a little caught in your own spell." The man patted Merlin's burned side with his knife, forcing a cry from the young man. He stood up again. "Take them all," he ordered. "I don't think we'll see a payday on this one, so we'll have to fetch it from the Slave Markets."

Arthur, Merlin thought, closing his eyes at last. At least Arthur was safe.