The walk back to the castle was slow. Merlin was barely mobile, his eyes half-lidded, but he had protested so loudly when Percival tried to pick him up that they had to support him instead. Arthur was silent, fuming, but it didn't seem like an appropriate time to address it.

"Sorry," Merlin mumbled. Arthur didn't answer, and they were quiet for a few more steps. "Would you believe... it's my first time?" His head was bobbing with every step and he seemed to be concentrating on moving his feet.

"Not what Gaius said," Percy countered, and the sorcerer shook his head in a jerky, childlike motion.

"Most of the time I was doing other stuff." Merlin was slurring heavily but he looked up at the knight, almost conspiratorial. "The other times I went to win Arthur's money. Or to pick up..." Merlin hiccuped, his footsteps faltering.

"It's time to call it a night, Merlin." Arthur broke in before he could finish his sentence.

"I thought it might help me sleep," was the last thing he said before Alice opened the physician's door and ushered him back into bed.

Gwen was awake and waiting for Arthur. From her ramrod posture and half-melted candle, it was clear that she was very near to falling asleep and trying very hard not to.

"How did it go?" She set the candle down and pushed herself off the bed, wrapping her arms around him.

"It didn't." He made no move to embrace her back but allowed himself to be held, catching the scent of the rose petals Hunith always put in her bath. "He was at the tavern. Drinking-" He suddenly felt breathless. "No, drunk. He did a stupid thing, Gwen."

"What do you mean?" She stepped back, her eyes wide and searching. "What stupid thing?"

"He made a Druid promise to never become a dragon again." Arthur started undressing and after a moment of shocked silence Gwen began to help him.

"Poor Aithusa," she murmured, and in the candlelight he could see tears in her eyes. "Poor Merlin."

"Nobody made him do it, Gwen. It's suicide." His voice was shaking now, angry. "How could he be so stupid? So selfish?"

"Arthur, you've known Merlin a long time. When has he ever been selfish?" Gwen suddenly stopped fiddling with his clothes, her gaze hard. "You can't possibly understand what he's going through. None of us can. But he's not selfish, and he's not stupid."

"Then how could he do this?" Arthur threw his sword-belt to the ground, the blade clattering against the stone floor. The sound was loud and harsh. "Gwen, his face today. If you'd been there... it would have broken your heart."

"It does," she said softly. "Every day lately. But I trust him, Arthur. Whatever his reasons were for making that promise, I have to believe he knew what he was doing. There must be a reason."

Arthur didn't think that the forgiveness of the villagers was reason enough to sacrifice so much. He sighed, pulling on his nightclothes before sitting heavily on the bed.

"It'll be okay. You'll talk to him tomorrow. I can, too. You'll see, Arthur." Gwen stroked his hair until he fell asleep, murmuring words of comfort that he appreciated but didn't quite believe.


Arthur found him sitting on the castle steps the next day, his eyes closed and face turned up towards the sun with a hint of a smile.

"Morning," the warlock said without opening his eyes.

"Afternoon, more like." Arthur felt that sitting on the steps to his own castle wasn't exactly kingly, so he stayed standing.

"You're blocking the sun." Merlin craned his head back to see the king, finally looking at him. His expression was bright but there was some trepidation in his gaze.

"You ready to tell me what the hell you were thinking last night?"

"Do we have to do this before breakfast? I'm starving." Merlin pushed himself to his feet, his staff clinking against stone. "Don't imagine you saved me any leftovers."

"Can you be serious for once?" Arthur had resisted the urge to help him up, instead crossing his arms over his chest and glaring.

"No." Merlin brushed past him, heading into the castle and leaving the king to follow.

"Merlin!"

The sorcerer's gait, though awkward, had certainly improved in speed. Arthur had to jog to catch up as Merlin strode through the great hall and towards the kitchens.

"Where-"

The minute they entered the kitchen Cook's face turned an unpleasant shade of red. It was clear she wanted to berate Merlin but had remembered at the last second that he was no longer a servant, and that the king was directly behind him, and so had settled for blowing out her cheeks like a pufferfish.

"Breakfast please," Merlin said cheerfully. For a moment Arthur genuinely believed that Cook was going to explode. Her face went from red to purple but she suddenly deflated, scowling instead as she prepared a plate. "Arthur, want anything?"

"Are you offering me food? From my own kitchen?"

"Yeah, do you want anything?" He was being cheeky now and Arthur resented it.

"I ate. Merlin-"

"I can see that." Cook shoved a platter at him, sloppily done but not altogether unattractive. Slices of tomato, sausages, bread, cheese. "Fit for a king."

"Can you at least-"

Merlin held up a finger as he began stuffing his face like a raccoon. Cook threw up her hands and walked away, muttering to herself about servants and manners and something about the stables.

"I'll be a minute," he said through a colorful and very visible mouthful.