Arthur smiled as Hunith placed a plate of food in front of him. He was secretly glad that she had retained the cook he'd sent when this "Hunting Lodge" had been commissioned. He thought he understood why Merlin was so thin. The woman's heart was pure gold, her wisdom without doubt, but her cooking skills left much to be desired.

He smiled to himself. It was such a mundane thought. Normal, for the first time since he had woken to find Merlin missing. The servant was sleeping now, resting. Their shared emotions having drained both. There would be questions to come, on both sides. But that was for the future. One that Arthur was now certain of. Merlin would live. It had been a long, exhausting battle with the illness caused by infection, with the wounds that had been much more serious than Gwaine had reported to him. But at long last, Arthur felt like he could breathe again. He didn't feel like he was slowly suffocating anymore.

It would take more time still before Merlin was ready for the ride to Camelot. Arthur didn't mind the wait. Once they had arrived in Ealdor, he had sent Elyan and Percival back to Camelot to deliver the news that they had recovered their lost friend. He had penned a personal letter to both Gwen and Gaius, explaining his reasons for lying to everyone, explaining what he knew of Merlin's ailments as best he could, and apologizing. He had made it clear they would be staying in Ealdor until Merlin could travel safely, which he would be informed of by the new Healer he had also stationed in the village.

Buying the parcel of land that was Merlin's home village had been a stroke of genius on his part, he thought. Merlin may fight for Camelot, call it his home, but he would always have roots here. Taking advantage of the running of a royal house- even Cenred's- he had used Clerics to negotiate it. Ealdor was of no strategic value to the King, and the selling and purchasing of land was beneath him. Especially as this meant this particular parcel would be paying taxes for the first time.

Of course, so as not to raise suspicion, he hadn't been able to purchase it under his name. Merlin didn't know it, but in title he had been a minor Lord of the Land for some time now. Arthur had commissioned the building of the home they now occupied. A small building, in comparison to some of his other "hunting lodges", but it held a bedroom each for him and Merlin- connected, of course- and a small indoor barracks for any Knights he may be traveling with, as well as additional servants quarters.

He had also commissioned a large and luxurious bedroom for Hunith to dwell in. He had been, in fact, quite upset on his arrival here to realize she had taken up residence in one of the Servant's Quarters, small rooms designed to hold no more than a small bed, table, and chest for clothing. The rooms for the permanently stationed servants- a cook, a stable master, a steward, and a small host of servants for cleaning- were slightly more well equipped.

Hunith, of course, ran the House. When he sent the Steward he had hired, Arthur had been sure to make that very clear. She was, in his mind, the Lady of the House and was to be obeyed with alacrity, no word save his own to be held higher. He hoped Merlin would be able to talk her into taking the bedroom he had prepared. It made the other staff uncomfortable for her to share their space, but nothing he said would change her mind. Nor would she deign to wear the clothing that Gwen frequently gifted her, fond of the motherly woman in her own right.

"So, Princess," Gwaine intoned in between bites, drawing Arthur out of his thoughts. He saw Hunith looking at him with sympathy, and a concerned look. He smiled and patted the hand on his shoulder. He cherished her, he would admit. She had treated him like family from the moment he first laid eyes on her. It was not hard to tell where Merlin got his compassion from. "He's awake, then, is he?"

Arthur nodded. "He was. Armand says he'll sleep a lot now, but he'll recover." Gaius was the best healer Arthur knew. But he had scoured the land to find the second best. The wage he offered was ridiculous and impossible to turn down. While not what he had intended this lodge to be for, he was incredibly grateful for the man's skills now.

Hunith leaned over and hugged him, surprising him. "Thank you, Arthur, for all you've done. And for bringing him here."

The King delighted Leon and Gwaine with his blush, but they didn't tease him about it. Not in front of her, at least. The very first thing Hunith had done when they arrived was send Leon running for the Healer, and Gwaine to fetch water, despite the few servants working around the house. And they had gone. Her tone, much like any Royalty, left no room for disobedience, despite class distinction. A mother's tone never did.

"Can I sit with him, Arthur?" Gwaine asked, scraping up the last of his meal. "You've been at his side for days. You need to rest too."

Arthur automatically went to deny the request- surprised that Gwaine had made it all. But then, both of his Knights seemed to have sensed his need to be with his friend. Neither had interfered much, coming only when Hunith sent them so Arthur could sleep- and only because they were more afraid of disobeying her than him. But he felt Hunith's hand squeeze his shoulder, and found himself nodding at the rogue instead.

He watched him disappear into Merlin's room, a tiny wave of disappointment in him. Armand had been very clear on no more than one visitor at a time unless they were called for.

"You were not the only one grieving, Arthur," Hunith said with compassion. "He needs to see too. "

Surprised again, Arthur nodded. Of course. He'd been selfish. Gwaine loved Merlin too, and just as fiercely, in his own way. He remembered the joy he'd barely paid attention to when the servant had drawn that first, awful, beautiful breath. He had done his Knights, his friends, a great disservice in assuming he was the only one who had gone through the hell of watching Merlin die.

Hunith had never asked for the full details. She knew, somehow, that something precious had almost been lost. That her son had almost never returned. She would need her time too, he knew. He was willing to give it. The war had been won. Now there was just recovery, and rebuilding. They had time.

With Merlin on the mend, it was time he turned his attention to the root of the attack, and to the events that happened during it. There were grave decisions he'd have to make before his return to Camelot, and he was content to contemplate them while in the peaceful setting of Ealdor. Beonin had also returned to Camelot with Elyan and Percival- naked and tied to a horse.

He wasn't sure who had rescued him from the cells- his entire focus had been on Merlin- nor who had tied him to a horse to keep him from running. Arthur hadn't considered even to question it until they had reached the safety of Ealdor. Nothing else had mattered to him save the wavering source of life on the litter.

Once Armand had ejected them from the room, Gwaine had given his report, informing Arthur of Beonin's actions and betrayal. Apparently, the man had also made some comments to Leon about Arthur's attentions to Merlin, and it was Leon who had released- and subsequently restrained- the young knight.

It seemed safest to send him back under guard. Arthur- having lived for what seemed like hours on the edge of a rage that would have laid waste to the entire magical world- had deemed it best to let the knight cool his heels in the Camelot cells while his own blood cooled. He had been on the edge of doing something he knew Merlin would disapprove of. He needed to talk to the servant first- a statement he had made within Beonin's hearing. The man would ride back to Camelot knowing his fate was in the hands of a servant he had tried to kill. For the moment, he would be content with that.

Gwaine, however, had- deliberately, he believed- misinterpreted Arthur's orders when the King had growled that Beonin be stripped of Camelot colors. Not even usually protocol rigid Leon had done anything to nay say the rogue. Arthur was also content to let that be. The Knights of Camelot were a tight brotherhood, and injustice done within their circle was often also handled internally. He was glad of their sense of Justice. Beonin would have not survived the trip back, he suspected, had Arthur not made his intentions that it was Merlin who deserved whatever revenge he may seek. While the Knights were just as angry that the former knight had been invaluable in letting an army into Camelot undetected, none would deny the terrible price that been paid, nor who had paid it.

The days went by quickly, it seemed. Arthur delayed bringing up anything with Merlin that had happened. He would not until he was sure the young man was ready. Beonin passed from his mind. But something else took up residence.

While they all recovered, Arthur was surprised to find himself coming to a startling realization. Under Armand's skill, and the attentions of Arthur, his friends, and his mother, Merlin recovered fairly quickly in the following days. His wounds would scar- there was no way around that. Arthur mourned those- and the others he had watched build slowly on the slim body over the years. Merlin should never have to bear such markings. And yet, he did. Scars. The mark of any warrior. Could he still consider Merlin a servant, after all of this? His secret was out now. Was there still a need to hide behind that role?

Curious, he tentatively shared his thoughts with Leon. The older knight had often acted as his council. Leon served the crown loyally and without fail. He had seen, and done, awful things, as well as seen, and done, wonderful acts under those laws. He was fair minded, and his opinions were slow to form. He liked to take the time to really think about something before deciding on it.

So Arthur was surprised when his casually tossed out mental murmurings received such an adamantly strong response. Leon hesitated, clearing his throat. Ah. So he had an opinion already.

"Speak your mind, Sir Leon, as always," Arthur encouraged, trying to keep his voice level.

"Sire-"

"I think, Leon, that for this conversation, just Arthur," the King interrupted with an additional attempt to ease the Knight's concern.

Leon took a deep breath, and nodded. "I had served your father for almost 10 years. And now I have served you a little more than that. I have watched your training, your youth. I have watched you grow from a spoiled- forgive me, Arthur, but it really does suit- prat, into the man I am now proud to serve. You always had in you the potential, Arthur, to be a better man than you were. It wasn't until Merlin stumbled into your life that you gained the motivation to work at it.

"I have watched you treat Merlin in awful and horrible ways, and I have watched him loyally ride out at your side in spite of that. He has challenged you, disrespected you, and loved you with a devotion I have never in all my years seen from any man. A servant who served, but always because he chose to. An equal when you had none.

"In battle, a man who hid behind bushes, content to be considered a coward, while in truth often he was the determining factor in winning. When your sword fell, he took it up without hesitation. He has put your life ahead of his since the beginning. Long since no longer merely a servant, but a bodyguard in all but name.

"And for that, Arthur, you have to know, to understand, the respect most of us will always have for him. For many years now, his word has carried only a little less weight than your own. In many ways, most of us have considered him an… extension… of you. Ultimately, while any of us would die for you- as both King and Man- none of us could quite protect you the way we somehow understood he could. For his kindness, his loyalty, his compassion toward all others, his eagerness to always be there in case someone needed him- most of us have loved him. A little brother, you see. One we sometimes teased, sometimes lightly tormented, but many of us would die for almost as quickly as we would for you.

"I needed you to know that, Arthur, so you can really hear my next words. I have said 'most' with frequency. Not all. Beonin isn't alone. Even before we left Camelot to rescue him, there were whispers from some of the Knights. From Nobles. Even from Servants. The Laws your father ruled Camelot by allowed for no deviation, not even of thought. Not all are as Beonin, and capable of hating him. But more than a few now cannot remember to see Merlin, and see only Sorcerer. Most, I think, believed you came to capture him. To drag him back to Camelot to face Judgment."

Arthur sat quietly. Of course there were things his Knights would hear that he had not. This was perhaps the longest speech he had ever heard Leon give, and it was very clear he had given it a lot of careful thought. "So you don't believe they can accept him, even if I do?"

Leon shrugged, looking saddened, but determined. "You asked for my council, Arthur. This I give. Too much change all at once is not good. A law can be changed easily enough, but an idea takes long to die. Merlin has long stood, among those who really matter, as so much more than your servant. He is your right hand- always there to do whatever you needed most, even if you didn't know you needed it. He has guided you, served you, fought for you, protected you … and, and died, for you." Leon cleared his throat, looking away. It was still too close for any of them to mention casually. "Whether he sought it out or not, there has always been a level of respect, of recognition for his deeds, and his bravery. More so because we thought him defenseless. Finding out he was not doesn't change the source of our original respect. Many will make this connection. Many, however, will not."

"So you're saying change nothing?" Arthur asked, unhappy with it.

"What he's saying, Clot-pole, is that to the only ones who matter, those changes have already happened," Merlin teased from behind them. Arthur whirled, and then was out of his chair in a heartbeat, crouching down under the arm Merlin was using to support himself against the door frame.

He could feel the slight tremors of exertion in the slim body he stood to support with his own shoulders. "Merlin, you shouldn't be up yet," Arthur growled in concern, guiding him to the chair at the table. "Where is Gwaine?" Out of the corner of his eye, he almost smiled to see Leon hovering close by with a blanket ready to put over the younger man's shoulders. Settling him carefully and kneeling beside him, Arthur made sure to check his bandages. Nothing had opened, he noted in relief. Most were beyond that, but the burns were very slow in healing, and likely the only remaining cause of Merlin's pain.

"Mother called him out to help her," Merlin answered, wincing a little at a particularly rough prod. He ignored the quick "sorry" from his King and lifted an eyebrow. "By name."

Arthur's eyes widened, and he nodded, conceding. Hunith had, on occasion, done the same to him. He, too, then a Prince and now a King, had hopped quickly. Leon placed the blanket over Merlin's shoulders when he shivered. The servants in the lodge had been sure to keep Merlin's room warm, but it left him susceptible to the chill in the rest of the house.

"Is there anything you need, Merlin?" Leon asked, ready to dance attendance on the servant. It made Merlin feel uncomfortable, so he grinned to cover it.

"The stables need mucking out?"

Leon broke out in a surprised laugh, gently ruffling the young man's hair. Younger brother indeed. Grinning, the knight arched an eyebrow at Arthur, then bowed dramatically, "As my Lord Servant wishes, of course. By your leave?" Without waiting for an answer, he left the house, understanding there were words to be had between them. Hunith must have known the same thing, must have known her son's stubbornness well enough to be resigned to this foolish attempt. Shaking his head, he continued to laugh on his way to find Gwaine. No, he'd been right. Nothing would ever really change with the ones who mattered, regardless of what Titles Arthur wanted to give the warlock.

010101010101010101010101010

"Arthur, stop fussing," Merlin requested softly. He understood his friend was a man of action, and illness had never been one of his favorite enemies. He also knew there was a heavy load of guilt that Arthur wasn't quite prepared to deal with.

At his request, though, Arthur stopped, and looked up at him. Without thought, the King put his one hand to Merlin's cheek, which the young man momentarily leaned into. This was new. Arthur frequently reached out to touch him now, as though to make sure he was still solid. While he didn't fully understand its origins, he always made sure to acknowledge the touch in some way, to respond.

That was all that was needed. Arthur stood now, and seated himself across from Merlin. "How are you feeling today? This little trip notwithstanding."

"I felt good enough to attempt it," Merlin answered back smartly, smiling to take the edge off the slight tease. "I'm tired of sleeping, Arthur, and as nice as that room is, I'm tired of being in it," he explained. He'd never been a good patient. Sitting still was never his style. And… "I want to go home," he admitted, plucking at the fluffs on the wool blanket, which fortunately kept his head down.

Arthur's face crumpled a little in sympathy. "I know, Merlin, me too. I hate to leave so much to Gwen," he frowned when Merlin flinched at the name, but continued, "And I have other duties that should be seen to sooner rather than later."

Merlin paled further. "Beonin. That's why you were talking to Leon." He couldn't stand the thought of one more lost life. He had caused so many. Before at least, each one had a face to haunt him with. Now there were hundreds of faceless ghosts stalking his dreams, all crying out for justice for the wrong he had done them. The memory was vague, unclear- but he knew he had killed. He didn't remember much of what had happened after Gwaine spirited him away, but he knew Beonin had somehow been responsible for a great betrayal.

Arthur experienced a moment where he could sense turmoil and regret from the younger man, but dismissed it for now. There would come a time to address it. "I was talking to Leon, Merlin, because I wanted to hear his thoughts. I have been thinking, lately, that since everyone knows about your Magic now, you don't have to hide anymore. I owe you my life, and ordering you about as a Servant just doesn't feel right any more," Arthur confessed. "To be honest, it hasn't felt right for a very long time, but I understood the need for the freedom the cover gave and so kept silent."

Merlin's mouth twisted, like he had tasted something unpleasant. "I've stopped keeping tabs on how often we owe each other our lives, Arthur. I don't think we should judge any measure by that. And as I told you, I'm happy to be your servant, until the day-"

"Don't you dare finish that!" Arthur barked suddenly, bouncing up from his chair, pacing and quite agitated. Not that. Never those words again. Those words meant goodbye. Fear crawled up his spine, making him shiver, panic overwhelming him and he sank to his knees on the floor. He could feel Merlin's dead weight in his arms again, lips blue and lifeless. He gasped, trying to draw air into suddenly starving lungs. From another lifetime, he felt the tip of his sword slide through flesh while Merlin knelt in calm acceptance. In another, an intended sacrifice. Grief welled up in him. A deadly promise that had, ultimately, been kept.

"Arthur?" He felt Merlin's arms go around him, and he buried his head into the younger man's good shoulder, his hands grabbing the thin arms. "I'm here, Arthur," Merlin spoke, firmly, rubbing his hands briskly against his King's back. "I'm okay. I'm here." He kept repeating it. Arthur tried to breathe. Tried to calm himself enough to hear Merlin's voice. But all he could hear was the last, rattled breath being released. Over and over he heard it, heard his howl. He pulled back, trying to get room to breathe.

And suddenly, he couldn't breathe or think or even consider that he had ever existed. There was only Merlin's lips were locked onto his, urgent and demanding. He responded instinctively, grabbing at Merlin's lip lightly with his teeth when the younger man tried to move back, used his hands to grab the face he had almost lost, drawing him back in for more. Merlin came willingly.

I'm here, he felt projected into the kiss. Feel me, it said. Arthur used his hands to grab the raven hair, to feel it offer resistance under his fingers. Merlin's mouth worked with his, changing pressure however he demanded. Gentle, rough, he controlled it all. He took it in desperately. Real. Not dead. Alive. And very responsive in his hands. Here. He allowed the kiss to ground him, to temporarily banish the memory he knew would forever haunt him. Alive. He repeated it until he knew where he was again, when he was. Knew the skin beneath his hands was warm- not cold. Until he was finally released from the awful visions that had overtaken him.

Arthur drew back slightly, panting. "Please, Merlin," he pleaded miserably. "Never again." He felt Merlin nod, and begin to pull out of the embrace, but Arthur held tightly, forcing the warlock to meet his eyes. He needed to make sure Merlin understood. "Never say that again."

Merlin's eyes widened, but he nodded. "Never again," he agreed. Arthur finally loosened his hold, using one hand to brush a stray hair from the warm and very much alive brow. Merlin had no way of knowing, of course, what those words had triggered. But he could see the seriousness in his friends eyes. He knew they hurt Arthur, for some reason, and that was enough for him. He would keep his word.

"I'm sorry," Arthur murmured sadly. "I should tell you, but I can't… I'm not… I can't…"

Merlin nodded, smiling at him in complete confidence. "You'll tell me when you're ready. Whatever wound you carry, Arthur, you know I'm here to share. I know what it is to keep a secret that weighs like chains."

Arthur nodded gratefully, exhausted from the sudden attack. He'd seen it before. In soldiers who had seen one battle too many. For all the horrors he had witnessed, Arthur knew he'd finally found the one thing that would send him over the edge. Control would come, in time. He licked his lips slowly, enjoying that he could still taste Merlin on them.

"We need to get up," Merlin smiled gently. They'd been lucky no one had walked in. It had been a foolish thing to do, but he couldn't think of any other way to bring Arthur back from whatever nightmare he'd been drawn into. Words had not penetrated, and he hadn't thought before he'd acted, thinking only to offer the knowledge that whatever he was seeing, wasn't real.

Arthur blinked, then frowned, looked around, and suddenly seemed to take in their surroundings. The position itself wasn't overly comfortable either- in his attack Merlin had made every inch of himself available for whatever he'd needed to ground himself. The whole thing must have pained the younger man considerably. He stood, slowly pulling Merlin with him, concerned when the boy wavered a little as though dizzy. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

"I'll be fine, Arthur. But I could use some help back to my room." The admission, however gently delivered, made the proud man feel guilty all over again. Something must have shown on his face because Merlin squeezed the arms he was hanging on to for balance. "I'm okay. I just maybe overdid it a little."

Arthur said nothing while he settled Merlin back into his bed, which he was pleased to see the servants had taken advantage of and changed. He didn't miss the grimaces as the boy laid back. "I'm sorry, Merlin."

"How about," Merlin suggested, turning his head toward his friend, "we stop apologizing to each other. Neither of us can change the past, can change what's happened. In the end, we're here, we're both alive," Merlin stressed that last word. "No more guilt, Arthur."

Arthur chuckled. "There's that moment again, Merlin, when I realize I don't really know much about you. Moments of infinite wisdom, and moments of complete idiocy, and I never know which one I'll get."

"You'd get bored if I made it too easy." He hesitated, knowing he needed to finish the conversation that had started all this. "But, Arthur, what you were talking to Leon about. He's right, you know. Half of Camelot will expect me to return drawn and quartered, or at the very least in chains. Half will love you for it, and half will hate you." The twist of Arthur's mouth told Merlin what was coming, and he held up his hand to forestall the instant 'I don't care' on the kings' lips. "In this, my friend, you have to care. And I know you do. I am as subject to the laws of Camelot as any other. I've always known that."

"I'm changing the law," Arthur blurted out, and continued hurriedly. "The soft truce I issued as soon as I became King gives me the precedent. I will not have you returning to Camelot a criminal."

Merlin hesitated, balancing between joy and caution. As much as he had lived for so long waiting to hear those words, a part of him needed to know they were coming from the right place. "How do you feel, Arthur, about discovering my Magic?" he asked. Arthur blinked in surprise at the new direction, and then to Merlin's astonishment, blushed deeply. And then Merlin understood. "You already knew." It explained why he had come for him so quickly, why he had never brought it up in their conversations since his recovery in Ealdor. It explained years of letting obvious lies go, of never looking too deeply into anything, of backing down from vague answers to potentially dangerous questions. How had he not seen this before?

"First of all, Mer-lin, I'm not as oblivious as everyone thinks I am," Arthur defended. Then his shoulders sagged. "Someday, Merlin, I will tell you. I promise. But that takes me to a place far too dark to explore so close to almost losing you. I'm sor- I'm not ready to go there, yet. Sufficient to say I was shown the results of the only two choices the Fates thought I could make, and I couldn't live with either of them. So I made a third choice. One they never saw coming, and in doing so, was promised a future I thought I could live with."

Merlin cocked his head. He recognized, given what had triggered the earlier attack, that he had to walk very carefully around this. He had already promised he would wait patiently for Arthur to share the wounds he bore in silence. This was obviously one of them. "What I'm meaning to say then, is that it likely took time for you to come to terms with it. Your people will need time, that's all. I have waited all these years, Arthur, to hear you say you'd change the law. And I have believed in my heart that it would come from a place of true acceptance. Not because you feel guilty, or as a reward to me, personally."

Arthur bit his lip thoughtfully, studying his tiring young friend. In many ways, they had grown up together, but in totally different worlds. He'd learned some exceptionally harsh lessons over the years, as had Merlin. Had any of them been the same ones? Absently, he touched his lips with his fingers. He thought, maybe, that Merlin might understand this one. Someday.

"It's not guilt, Merlin, and acceptance must be earned. However much I value your advice, on this I won't budge. I am changing the law. I've already sent word to the Clerics in Camelot. I will not drag you into Camelot in chains. You will enter at my side, as you always have. Gwen agrees with me." There. That flinch again. "We are both prepared to fight the battles that will come, whether now or later, because of it. Are you?"

Merlin blinked back his tears, and nodded. It was honest, and it would do. The King accepted him, for all that he was. Had, apparently, for some time. It was a start, and of course he was right. There were magical beings that used their gifts for evil. Changing the law did not change justice. It would all take time. "Did you have any questions?" he ventured hesitantly.

Arthur grinned, and patted his good leg. "Oh, a great many. And we'll get to each of them. But first, you need to rest. You look exhausted."

He stood, watching as Merlin's eyes closed. He reached over and gave the frail hand a squeeze, just to be sure, to know they would open again. The answering tug he got back made him smile.

Healing was never easy, but they would get there.