A/N: So so so so so sorry this is a day late. The internet decided to stop working on my desktop - and only my desktop, for some godforsaken reason - which is the only computer I have that has both internet and word documents, aka the way in which chapters have to be uploaded. So I had to wait until I could get onto a school computer so I could access my google document of the updated story and then copy and paste it into a word document so I could upload. Jeez. -heavy frustrated sigh-
**EDITED**
They transported directly into Camelot's throne room to find Guinevere, in sensible breeches and fur wrap with her hair tied back from her face, and Sirs Leon and Gerund, both still in battle attire, already in conference there. The chamber didn't look any the worse for wear, and the others looked anxious but not frantic, so Arthur felt certain none of the enemy combatants had broken through the spells Merlin's mages had placed on the castle to prevent entry. He strained to hear sounds of battle, but the only ringing of swords he heard was meager and distant.
The three in the chamber were huddled close to the throne and they startled at the abrupt appearance of Arthur, Merlin, and Raime in the room, staring for a moment. Then they promptly swarmed around the three of them. Arthur embraced his wife gladly and let her jumbled remonstrations and declarations of relief go over his head, too tired to make sense of them just yet.
Merlin didn't seem to be paying the slightest bit of attention to Gerund's rapid-fire questions either, just passively allowing himself to be scrutinized and interrogated. Arthur finally pushed Guinevere back and cleared his throat but before he could get a word out she finally spoke slowly and clearly enough to penetrate the haze in his mind.
"What happened?" she demanded, the strain of her worry evident despite the wash of relief on her features. "You just disappeared in the middle of a battle, Arthur. You could have been dead for all we knew."
"I know," he sighed, "and I apologize, but—"
"That was my doing, Gwen," Merlin broke in, shrugging Raime's supporting hand from his elbow to face her. "We confronted Morgana here and had her cornered. Once it became clear to her that Camelot would not be taken, she turned her sights to Carthis instead."
"To Carthis?" Gerund said. "But how? With the Barrier in place, she couldn't possibly have—"
"Lord Tennison." Merlin sounded more defeated than angry now, too drained to maintain his earlier fury.
Gerund's expression darkened dangerously and he gripped the hilt of his sword, but Merlin shook his head to forestall him. Gwen looked between them, not understanding the name.
"You were betrayed?" she guessed correctly.
"Yes. A member of my court gifted Morgana with new technology to aid her in her escape and then opened the Barrier to allow her passage into Carthis." Merlin sagged further, looking as though the armour he wore, light as it was, was heavy enough to drag him through the floor. The he took a deep breath a straightened resolutely, shoring up his reserves of strength. "It's no matter."
"No matter?" Gerund repeated incredulously. "Of course it is! He must be brought to justice for his crimes immediately."
"Tennison is dead, Gerund," Merlin said bluntly. "And Morgana as well. The battle is over, at least on that front."
All the righteous fury bled out of Gerund in an instant to leave him looking a bit conflicted, angered by the betrayal and still somehow grieved by the death of a longtime peer.
"And here?" Arthur asked, turning to Sir Leon. "What progress?"
"Morgana's forces fought hard for a while," his First Knight reported dutifully, "but then they faltered. We later determined that to be the time you all disappeared. It seems as though, once they stopped receiving direct orders from on high, they lost their determination to fight."
Arthur nodded.
"Fear of one's leader is not a strong motivator," he said. "The majority of them likely fought under threat, or on promise of payment. With her no longer there to threaten or pay, they turned tail and ran."
"The last are being driven out as we speak, sire. We expect the city to be secure by nightfall."
"You're bleeding," Merlin said, stepping forward to gesture toward Leon.
Arthur saw a strip of red fabric, probably torn from the bottom of Leon's own cloak, tied around Leon's upper arm. Leon looked at it as though he'd forgotten it was there, which was entirely possible. Merlin moved to examine it.
"It's just a scratch," Leon objected, but Merlin batted his hand away and unwound the makeshift bandage. Arthur had seen far more gruesome wounds, but it looked painful all the same, and it was still sluggishly seeping blood.
"It will need cleaning," Merlin said, prodding at the gash and making Leon wince. "Honey, and goldenseal or calendula for infection, probably a few sutures. Have you seen Gaius? One of the healers from Carthis?"
"They have plenty of others to occupy them right now," Leon said, but the protest was half-hearted, as though he already knew he would lose this argument. "Their hands are full."
"Then I'll lend mine."
Merlin took hold of Leon by the arm and turned him in the direction of the doors. Leon looked back to Arthur, eyebrows raised. He looked to Merlin and then back to Arthur, his concern for Merlin's pallor evident. Arthur didn't blame him; Merlin didn't exactly look to be at the peak of health at the moment, even with no visible injuries to explain it.
"Merlin." Arthur put a hand on Merlin's shoulder to stop him dragging Leon out of the hall at once. "You're the one who needs a healer right now."
Gerund was at Merlin's side in an instant, scanning him from head to toe even more intensively, looking like he was a second away from frisking Merlin and only restraining himself for the sake of Merlin's position. Then he gave up propriety and reached out anyway.
"Are you injured?" he demanded, lines around his mouth tightening grimly. "Where? What happened?"
Merlin huffed in irritation, slapping at Gerund's hands until he stopped examining Merlin's every inch for the gaping wounds he seemed sure he would find.
"I'm fine," he insisted. "Gerund, I'm fine. I'm just exhausted. You were right in that there is such a thing as overdoing it, even for me. I think I may have finally found my limit today."
That seemed to mollify Gerund, at least enough to get him to step back to a respectable distance once more if not to remove the anxiety from his features.
Arthur marveled briefly at how quickly people came to care so much for Merlin. If he hadn't known better, if he'd been an objective observer, Arthur could easily have assumed Gerund to be a father fretting over his son, not a second in command worried for the safety of his sovereign.
"Are you alright?" Gwen asked, hovering and clasping her hands together in the way that meant she wanted to fuss and mother and was only barely holding herself in check. "I mean, you're not injured? You don't need a physician?
"What I need is a hot meal and a week of sleep," Merlin said. "I can get those later. After the injured have been treated. My magic may have run dry for the moment, but my skills as a physician are still valid."
He took Leon by the arm again and ushered him out of the throne room, and no one stopped him this time. Raime shifted and inched forward, looking awkwardly between Arthur and Guinevere, the two who knew Merlin best.
"Does he always do this?" he asked tentatively, aware that he was addressing foreign royalty and not sure that he actually had the right. But the boy looked as concerned for Merlin as Arthur felt, so he couldn't fault him for the breach of propriety.
"You mean push himself until he drops?" he asked. "Yes."
Merlin had always gone out of his way to help in any way he could. After every battle and every attack, he threw himself into helping Gaius and, later, working more independently to take the load off his mentor's shoulders. And all that on top of following Arthur into battle and, he now knew, usually turning the tide of said battle with covert acts of impressive magic. Arthur had had to order Merlin to take a break and get some sleep more than once during the course of his service. The man simply didn't know when to stop.
Arthur sighed and rubbed his face, remembering the many times Merlin had braved Arthur's fury to take the sword from his hand and the crown from his head and drag him back to his chambers.
"I can hardly blame him for it, though. I do it too."
"And yet Merlin is always the first to tell you to get some rest," Gwen pointed out, tutting. "Honestly, you're both as bad as each other."
She turned to Raime, the fair-haired boy hovering uncertainly beside Sir Gerund, who looked as though he were still processing the revelation of Tennison's betrayal and death. Or perhaps he was thinking of Ellison. Either way, his head was down and his brow furrowed in thought. Gwen smiled at Raime.
"I don't believe we've been introduced," she said.
Raime startled and blushed and dropped into a bow so low he nearly toppled forward.
"My sincerest apologies, ma'am. Er, my Lady. Er, your Majesty. Er—"
"This is Raime," Arthur interjected before the poor boy could ramble on any further and hurt himself tripping over his own tongue. Honestly, he could run a traitorous Lord through and bicker in the midst of battle but he couldn't speak to a Lady? "He is Merlin's manservant."
Gwen looked surprised for a moment before a smile began tugging at her lips. Something of Arthur's own amusement must have shown through on his face because she quickly righted her expression and turned back to the boy in question.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Raime," she said warmly. "I'm Guinevere, but you can call me Gwen."
Raime looked a little faint at the thought of calling a foreign queen by her nickname and Arthur would have laughed out loud if he weren't so drained. He gave as much of a chuckle as he could manage, anyway, but he sobered quickly. He looked between his queen and Merlin's second in command.
"What's the damage?" he asked.
"Not anywhere near as bad as the last two times Morgana attacked," Gwen said pragmatically, "nor as bad as several of the other conflicts we've endured. Having the mages at our backs was a godsend. We lost barely a hundred men. Another three hundred wounded, to some degree or another. The most severe are being treated immediately, of course."
"Many of our mages have some basic healer's training," Gerund said. "Those who are still mobile, and still have the reserves, are making the rounds of those with non-life-threatening injuries and doing what they can."
"Thank you, Gerund."
Arthur rubbed a hand over his face again. A hundred men. Gwen was right in that it was a dramatically lower number than he was used to hearing, a miniscule fraction compared to many of the battles Arthur had studied when he had learnt of the strategies and logistics of war as a youth, but it was still considerable life lost.
"I'm going to drop in on Gaius, get a preliminary report on the injured."
"I will accompany you, sire. I must report to my Lord properly," Gerund said.
Raime stepped forward and then back again, apparently at loose ends and dickering between searching out his master to get orders and trying to stay out of the way. Arthur wondered if it wouldn't have been better to leave the boy in Carthis, but considering what had happened there, perhaps not. The rush of battle was fading and he was likely to crash soon, and hard.
At Arthur's meaningful look, Gwen looped her arm through Raime's and drew the boy off, asking questions of Carthis and what Merlin had been up to all this time. Raime looked stunned and a little star-struck, but he went with her willingly enough. Arthur trusted Gwen to take care of him when the realization hit that he had killed a man. He'd need the support of someone like Gwen, someone with infinite compassion and understanding, if and when he started blaming himself.
Arthur led the way through the castle to the lesser banquet hall that was always appropriated for triage in cases like this, Gerund at his heel. It had been a while since the hall had been used; three years of remarkable peace had rendered it unnecessary. They had been considering actually having a banquet in there for once. Now the hall was lined with pallets once more, maids with jugs of water and stacks of linen bandages weaving among them.
Gaius was in the midst of it all, as well as the three healers that had come from Carthis and a number of lesser physicians and herbalists that practiced locally and offered up their skills when such large numbers of injured flooded in after battles such as this. Arthur could see knights and soldiers from Camelot still eyeing the delegation from Carthis warily, but a few did allow for their wounds to be treated with magic while their less-trusting fellows watched on with teeth gritted in both pain and suspicion.
Gaius spotted the two of them and nodded in acknowledgement before turning back to his patient. Arthur waited, not wanting to take Gaius away from someone who needed his attention more, and scanned the hall until he spotted Merlin. He was wrist-deep in a Carthisian mage's blood, sewing up a deep slice on her side with tight, efficient stitches. He was still pale and wan, but his hands were steady and the smile he gave her when he finished was genuine. He spoke softly to her as he bandaged the wound tightly, then he moved on to the next in line.
"I hear you made a quick detour to another kingdom," came Gaius' voice from his other side, startling him. The old man raised an eyebrow, somehow managing to convey disapproval through that gesture alone.
Arthur had always hated that look; it made him feel like a child again, caught with his grubby little hand among the cook's fresh sweetmeats. He cleared his throat guiltily.
"That was Merlin's fault," he said with a weak gesture to where Merlin was working, now with Gerund waiting at his shoulder.
Gaius looked thoroughly unimpressed at his attempt to throw Merlin under the cart. It was a little unfair since it really had been outside of Arthur's control, but Arthur had to acknowledge that, if Merlin had stopped to give him the choice, he would have gone with Merlin willingly.
"And it turned out well," Arthur said quickly, trying to sound kingly and authoritative. "The battle is won, and likely the war as well."
Gaius held the eyebrow look a moment longer before he let out a deep sigh, for once looking as old as he was.
"She is gone?" he asked simply.
Arthur couldn't bring himself to say the word, still struggling to wrap his head around the notion that his childhood playmate and erstwhile sister was no longer a part of the mortal world, so he just nodded. Gaius closed his eyes, grief settling upon him like a cloak and making his shoulders stoop an inch more.
"I supposed it is for the best."
Arthur nodded again and let the subject drop. Instead, he turned to the hall and inquired of his men. Gaius gave him lists of those who would not last the night, those who might pull through, and those who would not be returning to his service even if they did. Arthur listened as he always did, with his jaw clenched and his head down, fighting the heaviness in his heart. He thanked Gaius for his time and left the man to his duty.
Leon, patched up by Merlin's skilled hand, was waiting for him by the door. He followed Arthur out of the hall to give him a more detailed, blow-by-blow account of what had occurred in his absence. Arthur took note of those who had acted with outstanding valor, and those who had died with the same, to be commended at the commemorative and celebratory feast that would inevitably follow.
He listened carefully to descriptions of how the knights and mages had worked together and what methods had been most effective. It was truly astonishing what a team of two, armed with only sword and magic, could achieve. Arthur dismissed Leon to his rest and retired to his own chambers.
He somehow wasn't surprised to find Merlin sitting in one of the plush chairs before his fire, though he could not remember seeing Merlin leave the hall. He looked as though he'd been there for a while and Arthur had to wonder how long he had stood thinking between the time he had waved Leon off and the time he had actually reached his own chambers.
Merlin was still in his armour, dusty and a little dented but thankfully free of blood. He had abandoned the voluminous blue cloak at some point. He didn't look up when Arthur entered the room, nor did he acknowledge him while Arthur stripped out of as much of his armour as he could manage on his own and laid it out on his table for George to take care of later.
Without a word, Arthur took the other chair.
"Forty-four fighters," Merlin said after a long silence. Arthur didn't ask for clarification; he didn't need it. "Thirty-six men, eight women. Dead. Three more are likely to be lost before sunrise."
It was a slim percentage of the full force Merlin had brought to bear, but that wasn't the way Merlin thought. He didn't have the experience and the practice of thinking of men as an expendable resource as rulers were so often required to do.
Arthur had worried about this, about what leading a campaign would do to Merlin; he'd always been soft-hearted. For him, one death would always been one too many, and that simply wasn't feasible.
"It's war, Merlin," Arthur said gently. "There are always casualties."
"Dozens of children have lost a parent today, and parents their child. What do I tell them?"
Merlin sounded haunted and the firelight flickering on his face made him look oddly skeletal, highlighting the hollows of his cheeks and the circles under his eyes. He was gripping the arms of his chair tightly enough to make the wood squeak in protest. Arthur wished he had something to say to make that look go away, but he didn't. If he did, he wouldn't have had to see it in the mirror so often over the course of his life.
"You tell them that their loved ones fought bravely for their kingdom, and that they died with honor," he said instead.
Merlin shook his head. He hadn't looked away from the flames.
"I know it's not enough," Arthur said. "It's never enough, Merlin, but it's all we have to offer them."
Merlin pushed himself out of his chair abruptly and began to pace, his movements tight and jerky. He ran fingers through his hair, tugging hard. He looked to be chewing on his tongue, or else grinding his teeth hard enough to crack them. Arthur watched Merlin as he became more and more agitated, wondering if he would have to restrain Merlin to keep him from hurting himself.
Finally, Merlin let out a strangled roar of frustration and anguish and the fire in the grate roared in response, leaping out of the grate in a wild rush that had Arthur jerking out of the way to avoid being burned. Merlin froze in the middle of the room, facing Arthur but with his head down and his shoulders hunched almost defensively. Arthur waited, holding his breath, but Merlin didn't move again.
"Merlin?" he said cautiously.
Merlin jerked his head, not quite a denial, almost a reflex. He clenched his fists until they shook and Arthur thought he saw a hint of red as his fingernails dug into his palms hard enough to draw blood.
"It's my fault," he whispered, the strangled confession almost too soft to be heard over the crackling of the flames.
Arthur wasn't entirely sure he was supposed to hear it at all, but hear it he did and it rang in his head like a claxon.
"No," he said immediately.
He rose to approach Merlin, but Merlin took a step back, keeping the distance between them.
"It's my fault," he repeated, shaking his head now, over and over, a mindless motion. "I left them," he said. "In the middle of a battle, I abandoned them. I should have stayed, I should have protected them."
"Merlin—"
"I dragged them into this," he said, his voice getting louder even as he didn't raise his eyes from the floor. "They didn't want to do it. The council thought I was mad. I proposed this plan and I pushed for it when others advised against it."
"Merlin, you responded to a threat," Arthur said. "Your ally was under attack, so you sent aid. That's what allies do in a war."
"But there wouldn't have been a war but for me!" Merlin shouted and the fire flared again. He finally met Arthur's gaze and his eyes were red-rimmed and wet and tinged with wild gold.
"I did this," he said, and his voice broke. "It's my fault, all of it. If I had just…Morgana would never have…" He stopped, pulling at his hair hard enough that it had to hurt, but that seemed to be his intent. He swallowed hard and shook his head. "I made her that way. She was what I forced her to become. I did this, Arthur, it's my f—"
Arthur took Merlin by the shoulders before he could retreat and shook him hard enough to make his chainmail rattle. Merlin cut off in mid-word and stared at him with wide eyes. He looked shocked by Arthur's actions, but he didn't seem quite so close to hysteria, so Arthur shook him again until Merlin scowled in anger and tried to push his hands away. Arthur held on and waited to say his piece until Merlin's struggles waned and he slumped in defeat.
"This is not your fault," Arthur said, slowly and clearly. Merlin immediately opened his mouth to contradict him, but Arthur shook him once more, ignoring Merlin's noise of frustration at the rough treatment. "Look at me, Merlin."
He waited until Merlin met his gaze, though reluctantly.
"This is not your fault," he repeated. "You are not to blame for what Morgana became. Morgana was always volatile, even as a child. A lot of factors contributed to her madness, Merlin, starting long before you graced the kingdom with your presence. We all had a hand in what she became: you, me, Gaius, our father, even Gwen. We all had a hand, but we are none of us responsible for her choices or her actions. You do you hear me?"
Merlin didn't look convinced, but he nodded all the same and Arthur loosened his hold a bit.
"Morgana chose her path," he said with as much conviction as he could muster, trying to will Merlin to believe his words. "She followed it blindly, doing what she believed to be right and damn the consequences. That was always her way, as it was Uther's way. Perhaps her goal was a worthy one, ultimately, and perhaps it wasn't, but her methods were her own and they could not be borne.
"She threatened our kingdoms, both of them. She declared war on us. People die in war, Merlin," Arthur said, his voice sledge-hammer blunt. "That's how it goes, and that's how it always will."
Merlin winced, and Arthur softened his tone. He moved his hands from Merlin's arms up to his shoulders, more comforting than restraining now that Merlin was no longer trying to get away from him.
"Measure success not in lives lost, Merlin," he said, gentler yet. Merlin looked like a misplaced word would shatter him completely, so Arthur chose his carefully. "That way lies only despair. Measure it in the lives saved.
"Morgana was ruthless. She cared not for the lives of her men, nor for the lives of the innocents who got in her way. If we had not met her today, how many more battles would she have waged against us? How many more years would we have fought? How many more lives would have been lost today alone if you had not come to my aid?" he asked, ducking his head in an attempt to make sure Merlin couldn't look away from him, but Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and tucked his chin to his chest. Arthur needed him to listen; he needed to make Merlin understand this.
"You lost forty-four fighters," he said, and Merlin trembled. "I lost a hundred and fourteen. That's one hundred and fifty-eight in total, but out of how many? How many entered the fray today and how many walked away to fight again?"
Arthur shook Merlin until he looked him in the eye again, practically begging him to understand the import of this.
"Thousands, Merlin. One hundred and fifty-eight out of two thousand and eight hundred. That's amazing, you do realize that? It's by far the most successful campaign I've ever taken part in, Merlin, and that is thanks to you.
"You did not start this war, no matter that it might feel that way. But you finished it. You won it, Merlin. You have brought peace."
Merlin's shoulders trembled in Arthur's hands. He shook his head over and over, struggling to reconcile that such a loss of life could ever be considered a victory. Arthur knew the feeling better than anyone.
The first battle, the first life to be given in one's name, was always the hardest to bear. The first time a knight had died under his command, Arthur had raged and raged for days. He had wrecked his room and broken everything he could get his hands on and cursed the gods for their callousness and their cruelty.
Then Morgana had waded through the carnage and put her arms around him, and he had sunk to his knees and sobbed into her shoulder and cursed himself more than any god. It didn't surprise him in the least that Merlin would skip past the anger and go straight to the self-recriminations.
So he did what Morgana had done for him. He pulled Merlin in for a hug. It wasn't the most comfortable of things, both of them still at least partially armoured, but Merlin clung to him like a lifeline.
"It's not your fault, Merlin," he murmured once more, feeling tears wetting his neck and holding Merlin all the tighter for them. "You did all you could. For your fighters, for your kingdom, and for Morgana. You did your best, and that's all that can ever be asked of you. Some things are simply beyond our control."
Merlin nodded into his shoulder even as the tears continued to fall. Arthur didn't say anything else; there wasn't really anything else of substance to be said, and further platitudes would do him no good. Arthur simply held Merlin through his grief, feeling his own just as acutely even if he had exhausted his supply of tears many years ago.
The two of them stayed that way until the sobs subsided and Merlin pulled back to wipe at his eyes, giving him a small and embarrassed smile.
"Sorry," he said with a sniff.
Arthur shook his head.
"Don't be. I've been there, far too many times," he said. "Losing men is hard, and it never gets any easier. But I'm glad. The day we stop grieving for every man, woman, and child we lose is the day we no longer deserve to be entrusted with their care."
Merlin nodded. He wiped at his face once more and tugged at his chainmail to settle it more comfortably on his shoulders.
"I should get back to Carthis."
"Absolutely not," Arthur said firmly.
Merlin looked up, his melancholy expression replaced by raised eyebrows.
"Excuse me?" Merlin said indignantly.
"You're staying here for the night," Arthur said in the tone he always used when he expected to be obeyed. It had never worked well on Merlin before, but he could hope that Merlin's exhaustion, both physical and emotional, would work in his favor just this once. Merlin didn't really look up for fighting about it. "Gerund can take care of things in Carthis for tonight. You are going to rest and recuperate and return when you don't look like a light breeze will knock you flat."
"I'm pretty sure you can't order me around anymore," Merlin pointed out.
"Don't be silly, Merlin. Or course I can."
Merlin looked very put-upon indeed, but was prevented from arguing further by a knock on the door. Arthur called a welcome and the door creaked open to allow Raime to stick his head in. He looked worn out, but no more so than the rest of the servants who had weathered the battle from wherever they could be most useful. He spotted his master and smiled, looking relieved to see him still on his feet instead of collapsed in a corner somewhere.
"Sire!" he said, stepping into the room fully. Merlin cleared his throat pointedly and Raime rolled his eyes. "Merlin, right, sorry. The queen said I would probably find you here." He turned to Arthur and bowed. "Evening, sire."
Arthur nodded an acknowledgement and turned to Merlin.
"He's infinitely better behaved than you were," he said.
Merlin shrugged. "I'm trying to break him of that."
"Of course you are."
"Apparently we're staying here tonight," Merlin said to his manservant, but Raime jumped in.
"That's what I was coming to tell you," he said. "Gwen's already had a room made up for you at the end of the east wing."
Arthur had to laugh at the sour look on Merlin's face and his mutter about overbearing worrywarts, but Raime ignored Merlin's scowl entirely with what seemed to be practiced ease.
"I've drawn you a bath. It's not very hot, though; they're using most of the wood to boil water to clean the bandages for the infirmary."
"That's more than enough, Raime, thank you. I'll be there shortly," Merlin said by way of a dismissal.
Raime nodded to him, bowed to Arthur, and left them.
"If you have it drawn quickly, I can heat your bath for you without needing to steal wood from Gaius," Merlin offered, but Arthur shook his head.
"You've done more than enough for one day, I think," he said. "Don't want you fainting on me like a girl because you don't know when to stop. Go take your rest; you've earned it. We'll talk more in the morning."
Merlin nodded without a fuss or even a rejoinder—evidence enough of his fatigue—and moved to leave. He stopped with his hand on the door frame and turned back.
"Thank you," he said simply.
Arthur nodded to him, and Merlin left.