AN: So, sorry for that last chapter. I have to confess, after so much time was spent in Canon setting up Morgana to be the ultimate enemy, a powerful High Priestess who couldn't be killed by mortal man or blade... well, show watchers know how it went... the 'epic' battle was over? That last chapter was my slight correction to that particular ball being dropped in the show. As always, thank you for those following, reading, favoriting, and most importantly... reviewing!

MERLIN1010101010101010MERLIN

Artemis shook his head as he moved away from the two still forms lying on cots next to each other. Four days had passed since the end of the battle. Four days since every Saxon in the city had dropped, since the deadly waves of power had offered death to any holding steel- Saxon or not- and life to any not. Four days since every magical being on the earth had been aware of the result of the prophesied battle, felt the wash of power as it broke, moving over every surface, returning the borrowed power to their sources. Four days since the storm that had washed off the blood on field and stone, had cleansed the air of the fowl smells of death.

For four days the world had been holding its breath, waiting to see if those two warriors would stop drawing their own. Four days of mourning the dead, of hardly daring to mention the word victory while the two battle leaders lay in a sleep so deep nothing, not even the most powerful of healing powers, could reach them. As they had been since the feeling of power in the air suddenly stilled, and nature let out the mournful cry of the forest animals, while the clouds wept tears of a heavy rain, and the winds loudly howled their grief. Victory had been achieved at the highest of costs.

The old druid closed his eyes, feeling truly hopeless. There had been a part of him that had clung to the strength of their relationship- to the love between them that carried its own incredible power- that it would be enough to see them through this. That power, too, however, had been called upon to overcome the powerful dark magic that Morgana had been capable of drawing on- the one source Merlin could never access. The druid wasn't sure if young Emrys entirely understood what he'd done. He hadn't just killed her- he had cleansed her power source, purifying it. Never again would so strong a dark magic be wielded. A feat that should have been so impossible that it had never been considered even by the most ancient of influences, but he could feel it, feel the change even with his small ability. Emrys had completely balanced every source of magic. It would never again be used in great quantities to accomplish terrible- or great!- acts. While it would always be a part of them, wielded by those closest to it, it would remain forever balanced in perfect harmony.

And doing so had shattered the young warlock, likely beyond any type of repair.

Leaning over, he replaced the cooling cloth that was draped over Merlin's burned eyes. They were too swollen still to get any idea of whether the boy would ever see again, even if he lived. He'd working a healing salve into the skin around them several times a day, hoping to help them heal and grateful that the warlock was too deeply unconscious to feel it. Gently, he wiped the blood that occasionally bubbled from the corners of his mouth whenever he choked on the faltering breaths Artemis wasn't sure how the young man continued to draw.

"How are they today?"

Artemis turned, surprised he hadn't heard the Queen Regent enter. Getting old, he thought to himself. "No change, your Majesty." He sat down heavily on a chair in the corner of the room that was temporarily housing the two. Mithian, he knew, was working on establishing chambers for the two men once- if- they woke. The Princess was compassionate, and not afraid of getting her hands dirty to help wherever she could. He decided he liked her well enough, though there was a developing edge about her that kept me him wary of her. Her people fed off the strength she showed them, and she gave them hope with encouraging words to any who needed a reminder of all they still had. "Though Arthur begins to stir. I'm afraid I don't know enough to guess whether that is good or not."

The wave of combined death and healing that had swept through had sealed gashes, cauterized bleeding severed limbs, healed internal injuries, set broken bones. Even those Saxons who hadn't happened to have a weapon in hand had been spared. The wave had not distinguished. Steel meant death. Arthur's orders to drop weapons had cycled quickly enough through the ranks that they had lost only a few. Those fighting on the west side had, for the few remaining, joined their Glorious Dead. A handful of 20 survivors had come from that group. All had been broken hearted to be spared, to be denied their victorious deaths. Included in those twenty was Battle Master, Eliam. They had all been locked away in prayer ever since- determined not to come out until the fate of their beloved Emrys was known.

Artemis was thankful it had been kept to the city boundaries. Anyone outside those walls could only watch in horror as thousands fell while the walls of the city shook and crumbled. Large rooms in the castle were being used to house the injured from the field, as well as those in the tents. Reports had come of another battle at sea. Prince Durstan had been victorious, despite the sudden storm, and had allowed one ship to return to the Saxon homeland bearing a message of all that had transpired here. There was hope they would take time to reconsider before attempting something like this again.

In the days since their victory, those at the Catacombs had joined them, wagons transporting those unable to walk. Supplies came from Caerleon as promised. Those soldiers who remained able worked on burying the dead. All the dead, Artemis had been gratified to hear the Queen Regent order. When objections had sounded from a few of the Alliance soldiers, Gwen had been stunningly confident in assuring them that a battle lost did not dishonor their devotion to their cause. The fumes from the bodies burning in the mass graves had people retching for days, but Gwen had been correct. So much human blood and decay would have corrupted the soil.

The manservant, Ian, Artemis left in charge of the injured. Though he wouldn't show it, the man was beside himself with worry over his broken master, and the druid thought it best to keep him busy. He had a good head on his shoulders, and a fair understanding of the basics of healing. His outwardly calm appearance helped keep those being subject to the horrific injuries steady. While his rank had not changed, he had earned a considerable amount of respect from anyone who'd been with him during the battle.

Four days of slowly rebuilding the city of Nemeth. Much had been burned, homes ransacked, market stalls destroyed. Some walls had crumbled under the force of Merlin's first attacks, then more with the final waves released from the tower. The tower itself had stood only for a day after the battle before finally crumbling. It would take a long time, but as more and more citizens returned, they proved themselves a resilient people. Artemis had to admire them, though months of losses were written on each of their faces. He knew of more than one that had thrown themselves into the burning pits to end their suffering.

Gwen breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad to hear it. And Merlin?"

Artemis shook his head sadly. "I'm not sure what force is keeping him alive. To say Merlin's injuries were fatally severe would still be a vast understatement, My Lady. By all rights, he should be dead." Every moment straining to listen for that awful breathing, waiting for it to stop, was beginning to take its toll on him. "He'd be better off dead."

"I don't understand," Gwen answered. "He's channeled such magics before, and recovered. Arthur told me he wielded great powers when they traveled in time."

Artemis lifted an eyebrow. "Arthur tells you much," he said, surprised. Then he nodded. "It was, indeed, a significant amount of power, and it came very close to killing him. Whether that was because he wasn't ready, or if the poison weakened him, or if the battle for his mind in the crystal caves, or even the blood magic he cast to take them back... any of it could have made a difference in that outcome. And still, those powers were merely a single drop compared to the ocean he accessed to defeat Morgana and the Saxons, to cleanse and balance the sources of magic."

"But I thought he was born of these magics?"

"Indeed, he was. He is the very essence of all he wielded. They have waited centuries for the Call from him. Unfortunately, his body was too young, too weak yet, to channel such forces- a bucket trying to hold the whole of the sea of Meredor- and they ripped him apart from the inside out, destroying the vessel that restrained them. Even if we somehow receive a miracle, who's to say what's left of his mind? What he did should not have been possible, not yet- some of it, not ever. This battle came too soon. A boy child trying to control the powers of a god." He spread his hands helplessly as he spoke, trying to help her grasp something she really had no way of understanding on any level. Intelligent and a child of destiny herself, she was still merely a simple mortal with no magical ties.

"I thought this was always destined?" Gwen asked, confused. "That was why Merlin and Arthur were brought together in the first place?"

"That it would happen has always been known, My Lady, but the when has always been vague. Our only hint was 'when the strength of two became one'. Most of us that were aware of that much of the prophecy have believed that it meant when the young warlock truly came into his gifts, when Merlin and Emrys were no longer separate entities of each other. He has not reached even the half of his potential yet, and so we didn't see it coming so soon. We thought we had more time, to train him, prepare him as best we could. We were fools to be so arrogant." He shook his head, waving a hand in dismissal. "Forgive the wandering thoughts of a tired old druid, Gwen," he requested when he saw the look of horror pass over her face.

"Two sides of the same coin..." Gwen put a hand over her mouth, shaking her head, feeling like she was going to be ill. "When the strength of two… it's their Bond, Artemis!" She felt tears in her eyes as the realization dawned on her. "The more Arthur used it, gave it power, the closer he brought this day." It would devastate her friend if he ever realized it. To have forced it before the warlock was ready. "Through their Bond they two have become one, the Sword and Shield of Albion, the single force destined to bring it into reality. When Arthur Linked them, he set the final piece on the board, stating his readiness to play this game with Destiny. Oh, Artemis... why didn't you tell me?"

Gwen closed her eyes. For a brief moment, she was glad of the Link, was glad that Arthur would never have to live with the knowledge that he had secured the death of the one thing he loved most. She could barely bear the thought herself. It was that love that had brought them to this so much more quickly than had been anticipated. The denial of the very acceptance Merlin craved had been the only thing preserving his life, the only thing giving him time to grow into his potential.

Her heart broke for her two friends. She thought of the visions Arthur had told her about, though of their endings, showing the then Prince the future paths, each leading to the death of one of them, the other left behind to wallow in grief. Arthur had made a choice, and she thought she understood now that unknowingly, he had chosen to avoid the pain of the loss of the other for either of them. Long before he had Linked them, he had chosen for them to live, or die, together. She sent prayers to any god or spirit that might listen that they be permitted to remain together, either in life or death. Better that than to be forced to live with the knowledge that their epic love had come with at an unbearable price.

Artemis cocked his head, slowly nodding as he considered what she was saying, putting all the pieces together that for her had already fallen neatly into place. He glanced at her appreciatively, and with genuine sorrow. "The young King does seem to have the unique ability to make Fate and Destiny both dance to his own tune." He nodded. "What changes may have come, My Lady, had we told you this sooner, I wonder? Could we have prevented this? Given the young warlock the time he needed?" He sighed. "A regretful thing, the curse of seeing yesterday through the eyes of today."

Gwen took a deep breath, looking hard at the druid. "Arthur must never know, Artemis. It would destroy him. Morgana is dead, the battle for Albion won. They will both live, or they will both die. Whichever way they fall, these words will never be uttered again, lest they hear it."

Artemis looked at her for a long moment, then slowly, dipped his head in a bow. "As your Majesty commands."

She stood then, turning to leave, but then she looked back at the old druid. "Keep Arthur strong, Artemis. Merlin's life depends on it."

MERLIN101010101010MERLIN

Arthur's- yes, a name, he was Arthur he remembered- eyes fluttered open, slowly, and he took in his surroundings, took in the dull ache of his body, the empty feeling of his stomach. Very much the sensations of a mortal body, confusing after so long being separate from it. Had it been so long? It felt like Ages had passed when he was connected to the warlock. So much power! He shuddered, then did it again just to feel the physical sensation again, to feel solid again. He focused on the soft sheets beneath him, the slight hardness of the uncomfortable cot. Slowly, he remembered that once he'd had a bed that felt softer than this. He licked his lips, finding them dry. He forced himself to remember they had once been moist.

Forced himself to remember connecting with his lover on a basic, physical level. Could he ever enjoy those simple sensations again? After being joined to every part that was his Merlin, knowing him on a level so deep he had felt every part, every breath, every function of his physical body, felt every emotion, saw almost every piece that made up that wounded soul.

He gasped, had to remind himself that he had to breathe. Mortal bodies needed to breathe. It was odd to have to remind himself of such a simple thing, when he could remember every second of the battle, every second he had acted as a bridge while the warlock drew more and more power into himself. He remembered when it had been let loose, had felt his lover die a thousand deaths, felt as Merlin became the ancient source of all magic in the world, felt as the small vessel that had been the lithe body Arthur loved so much was willingly sacrificed for the success of the battles.

He remembered throwing up shields he knew were useless, but knowing he had to try anyway. He had been merely a bridge, and what he felt barely an echo from a thousand league distance, so faded by the time it reached him. He had felt it when his lover's mind took in the knowledge of a vast universe, took in the life path of all those that had come before, those that were, and those yet to come. His shields couldn't compare as Merlin became each of them, became connected to every particle, cell, and atom- words his mind now somehow understood- that ever had, or ever would, exist.

He knew he'd been asleep for a long time. Knew his own mind had needed time to deal with what it had experienced. He lifted his own hand, running the fingers of his other against the palm, following the lines in his skin, feeling the movement of muscles as he flexed his fingers. It helped to remind himself of these mortal things. Helped anchor him.

He opened and closed his mouth, experimenting with sounds, feeling his tongue work itself around forming words. One word came very easily. The last word that had been on his lips before his entire world had blended with that of his lover. "Merlin."

"Merlin," he said it again, testing it, changing his tone each time. Yes. He remembered speech now. Such a physical thing, after having been so deeply a part of someone that their souls had whispered to each other, their thoughts merging into concepts rather than words. He slowly shifted all of his muscles, becoming accustomed to being a contained entity again. This was lonely, he decided, but knew it was important he find his path to it again.

Another emotion began to make itself known to him. Fear. That other being he had been a part of was still in danger. There was still a part of him connected to it, if not nearly as deeply. This felt incredibly surface, but he remembered now, the power it held. So much less, but still capable of so much. His Merlin was still so lost, the fragile human mind not being ready for all it had experienced.

He chose to close his eyes again, chose to dive as deeply into that hollow but powerful connection again as he could get. If Merlin's world was shattered, then it was his duty to pick up the shards, to put them back into place, and he set about it, experiencing another remembered emotion- determination. He remembered he had promised the younger man that he would fight to bring him back from whatever darkness he fell into. This unending vastness had not been the fear at the time he'd made it, but it held sway with him still. Confidence bubbled up as he went about putting his lover back together, in reminding him of these mortal things.

A shining glow remained in their connection, and he felt great power coming from it. Exploring closer, he reached for a part of it, felt life flow into him, felt hope, and joy, and love, but always strongly- life. Curious- yes, he remembered being curious before, and that taught him how to smile again- he stretched it toward his Bond with his lover, let it wrap itself around the lost warlock, let it become an anchor. He fed each shard he picked up through it, letting it purify it, before putting it carefully back into place. As he worked, he wove his shields around the shards, seeking to protect them, bind them, and hold them in place.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he took great pains and care to place those pieces back, just so. Nothing would be lost- that was impossible. But he discovered he could make doorways, could seal them away if they were not needed. All those paths, all those futures, all that knowledge wasn't needed, so he sealed it behind a door, easy to tell the difference between those pieces of the puzzle didn't fit with the others that snapped easily back into place.

He had done a good deal when he felt something brush up against him, and he remembered smiling again. Merlin's own magic, recovering as he took the strange threads that didn't belong and sealed them away too. They were faded echoes of the powers that they had been connected to, acting like an ivy wrapped around a great oak tree, slowly strangling it to death. As he worked with them, the tree that was Merlin's natural magic began to breathe again, to live, recovering enough that it helped him in his task. Once it was free of the choking ivy, it left him.

He remembered then, that Merlin had a physical body too. Strange for him to think of making love to it, but not to remember it existed. Perhaps he hadn't needed to remember. He knew all too well just how broken it was. It could never be repaired. Not on its own, even with the help of the boys magic. That physical body took the strength he could offer it, but it wasn't enough. Arthur could sustain it for a while longer- enough to finish his task, but that physical body took less and less as time went on. If he were to purchase time, he needed to tend to his own body. He remembered the feeling of hunger, and thirst. Yes. If he tended to his own body, then he could sustain Merlin for longer. But it wouldn't heal him.

And that's when he looked at the shard in his hand, saw a possible future in a memory of the past. It stirred his own. Yes, there was one possible chance. The magics around him whispered, and he listened.

MERLIN101010101010101MERLIN

Artemis sighed wearily as he closed the door behind him, grateful to enjoy the quiet behind it. He was thankful that after a sennight of smelling nothing but blood and infection, the air in the infirmary room was beginning to clear as the number of people in it reduced. But there were still far too many in there and the losses were beginning to take their toll on him. War was kindest to those who died, never to those left behind. Punishment, he supposed, for daring to be arrogant enough to think themselves so important as to believe they had any control once the deadly conflict had begun.

"Long day?"

His head shot up in surprise, shocked to see King Arthur- dressed in his cleaned brown pants, a loose white tunic and even with his boots on to protect his feet from the cold floor- sitting on the edge of Merlin's cot, running a cooling cloth over the bare skin. The sunlight coming in from the window bathed the two men giving them a strange glow, glinting off the golden features of the King as he tended the raven youth. He was frozen for a moment when he saw fingers trailing the cloth, touching every part of the porcelain skin they could reach, murmuring softly as if reminding the warlock what that sensation was. He watched, transfixed, as the King lifted a scarred palm to the barest brush of his lips against them, whispering against it, before returning it to its place.

There was an ethereal element to it all- a dance performed with purpose and intent. Arthur had always been gentle with the boy but this spoke of an intimacy, sensuality, and tenderness that had never been present before, and Artemis couldn't help but stare at the scene. He was reminded of the stories of his youth, of the secret relationship between a golden god and a dark fey that had led to a terrible curse that they spend forever apart once discovered, chasing each other across the sky. Their only salvation in the few moments they shared the same space each day and night, whispering their forbidden love to each other to this day still, the morning dew the tears they shed for their ache to hold one another again. He would never be able to tell that story to his people again without picturing this moment in his mind.

"It appears so," Arthur answered himself, nodding, continuing his work when the druid didn't answer him. His voice lowering once again to the soothing whispered repertoire he kept up, intended for the ears of the sleeping warlock only. There was nothing about him that indicated he cared whether the druid answered him or not and it felt, odd, distant, to the older man.

"You're awake!" Artemis gabbled out finally, freed from the hypnotic motions and his shock by the King's indifferent tone. He shook his head at himself even as Arthur threw him a sardonic smirk. He felt off centered with how easily it was getting for people to startle him. Old indeed! "How are you feeling?"

A quick critical eye showed a healthy flush to Arthur's skin, and there were no lines of pain- lines Artemis had learned to look for when the King wanted to stubbornly hide his injuries or distress- and the steady, controlled movements spoke of strong muscles. Even to his practiced eye, it looked like Arthur had simply woken from a refreshingly deep sleep.

"Hungry, actually," Arthur answered, turning back to his tender task even as the druid shouted out the door for food to be brought. "He, unfortunately, is not doing nearly so well." It was then Artemis caught a few of the whispered words, recognizing them in shock. The Ancient Tongue- a language remembered by only a few of the oldest druid lines and older than even the spoken language of magic. When had the King learned that? Surely it had never been something his father would have him tutored in. And he had never spoken to the warlock in it before. Why now? For every moment the King was awake, the druid found himself with more and more questions. It was a position he was not accustomed to being in. For all that he explained to the Queen, for all he had felt sorry for her lack of ability to understand what had truly happened during that battle, he was beginning to feel he understood even less!

Artemis nodded slowly, taking a seat on the chair he had been occupying whenever he was with them. "I know. I will confess to a large part of my surprise in finding you awake was my understanding of the Link. I was sure the reason for your own long sleep was because you were keeping him alive," he hinted, hoping it would cause the King to offer a better explanation.

The Druid took a closer look at his King. There was something... 'different' would be both an understatement and overstatement at the same time... about the man. It was in the way he held himself, so familiar and yet so strange, the motions he made as confident as ever but done with a considerable care not seen before. It was when he turned his head slightly to look at the druid that the old man finally grasped what it was. Those gold crowned steel blue eyes, always serious and capable of expressing great love, firm command, or astonishing hate, were as ancient as any he had ever seen. There were lifetimes lived in those eyes, Ages of wisdom long past, Ages of wisdom yet to come. There was youthful delight, in them, too, a mirthful appreciation he had never seen before even as they currently shone with the fear and concern for his lover.

Arthur nodded. "I was. I am, still. He takes less of my strength every day. It's not enough. He… he wasn't ready for this."

Artemis pursed his lips, shaking his head, wondering how much the King knew. It was impossible to tell if there was any trace of guilt in that tone. It had been stated as a tragic fact. "He wasn't. The damage done to him… Some of the greatest Healers of our people have come to help him. Each has failed." Was it his imagination or had the warlock's harsh breathing eased slightly?

"But we succeeded?" Arthur asked, dropping the cloth into the bowl and once again pulling the blanket over his lover. He turned to the druid, keeping a hand on a bare shoulder, as much for his own comfort as for the fact that Merlin sometimes drew more from him when they were touching, connected on a physical level again. It had been important to remind his lover of his body.

Artemis smiled, and he had the feeling Arthur already knew- was merely seeking confirmation. "You did. The battle was won on all fronts. The Saxons defeated, Morgana dead. Princess Mithian is proving herself quite adept at returning some sense of order to her Kingdom, even with all the visiting soldiers and kingdom leaders." He cleared his throat. "All of whom are exceptionally eager to speak with you." He watched the King closely, and stirred with some slight irritation when the King showed no interest in the current political workings.

Arthur hung his head in relief, unconsciously squeezing the shoulder he was hanging on to. The price had been a steep one, but Albion was achieved. It had been difficult to know for sure which path had been true. There had been so many. He nodded to himself, hearing the whispering in his mind, felt the powers of the Bond stirring inside of him. He was aware of Artemis's irritation, just as he had been aware of the druids' shock, his curiosity, his concern. Aware, but not his priority. His priority was lying beneath his hand. Later, he would remember that other physical beings existed in this space, too. Later, he would remember the friendships he held dear. But for now, there was only the other half of himself, taking less of his strength every day. He took a deep breath.

"It's time, then," he whispered, leaning over and running a finger along the bruised cheek of the entirely too still form on the cot. "Logh dom an rún deireanach seo, grá amháin."

Artemis frowned, roughly translating the ancient words in his mind, this time spoken audibly enough for him to hear. Forgive me this last secret, Love.

The King turned back to the healer. "Bring Gwaine to me, and prepare something that can revive Merlin."

"Arthur, at best I could give you only a few moments, and they would likely be his last."

"I only need one," Arthur replied steadily.

One last secret, and their only hope.