Hello, my lovelies!

So, this is a little later than I would have liked it, but I managed to get it done. The conclusion of my insane work schedule has come and I work regular hours, but I still seem to have trouble getting stuff done in the evenings... writing included. But oh well!

This is a story that I am going to try and update once a week, but if you are a regular reader, you probably know that you probably shouldn't hold your breath. XD October is gonna be a crazy busy month for me, but hopefully I can get some daily writing in there. If only my brain could write without the use of my hands. I'd have finished 30 stories by now if I could just actually write the novels out in my head at work, cause writing is what I think about 90% of the time there. As a result, all six chapters of this story are planned out, I just gotta sit down and actually write them. XD

Anyway, if you have not read my story, "The Fox's Net", you might be a little confused. This has a bit of a recap, so you might be able to read this without previous knowledge, but this story is a direct continuation of that one.

Hope you enjoy!


Many people in the five kingdoms would be surprised to know that the rumor-mill in Camelot was incredibly tame; at least when it came to the affairs of the ruling families. After a battle or during a scandal, residents of Kent or Nemeth could reliably walk into any tavern or brothel they chose and be told sixteen different versions of events. In the lower towns and commonplaces of Camelot, where royalty was spoken of in hushed awe and citizens were given little to complain about, rumors tended to concern neighbors and market competitors rather than nobles and kings. Up in the brothels and inns and taverns of the nobles and knights, tongues would wag more freely, but since the scandal of Arthur's courtship and marriage to a serving girl, there was little to talk about.

Until the siege.

In the months that followed that night of terror, Camelot's rumor-mill had become like any other kingdom's. Gossip was kept in every building that could house a group of people, and if an outsider were to ask what exactly happened on that chaotic night, they likely would have no earthly idea once everyone had given their stories. 'The army flooded the gates with the dead magicked to life at their sides,' would one say. 'Oh no,' would say another, 'they were druids! Menacing with their hoods and tattoos.' 'They were beasts that took the forms of men, with the strength to lift horses above their heads!' 'They called to the sky and a dragon descended to destroy us!' They would speak of flames and gods that lifted the earth to do their bidding, but none could point directly at the damage any such things had caused. The lower towns were left looted and burning, but where was the sign that a dragon had descended from on high or that anything had happened that an invading army could not do with their hands?

But the king! He was another story! For a great many days, the citizens of the city had clamored around the tale of Arthur appearing in a flash of divine light, holding toward the sky a regal sword with a great glowing red gem at its hilt. It was all illusion, assured the nobles, and even the king himself- only a glamour cast by the enemy to ensure panic and fear. More than once, he had shown them the sword he ever carried at his side, turning it over in his hands and showing them that no such gem existed. But surely, the knights at the citadel's entrance saw such things and would back up the claims of those who caught a glimpse of them through the windows of the guest chambers.

But no knights would come forward and tell such tales. Conspiracies began circling. What if the knights who had seen all that happened that night had been taken away- locked up or even killed to ensure their silence? But no knight was unaccounted for. Despite the size and chaos of the siege, very little life had been lost that day, and no death was deemed unusual, either by family or decree.

Morgana, the traitorous witch was behind all, they were assured. Such illusions and glamours were tricks used to spread terror and panic. All were the ways of magic users, after all. Citizens of Camelot knew well the horrors of magic.

But the council seemed to suspect more. Not that they said so, nor even used the suddenly lively rumor-mill to suggest so. Arthur wondered if it was because they feared repercussions or if they simply didn't know to tap such a tool, but he imagined it might have been easier to deal with if they did. Outright accusations would've been easier to deal with than these suspicious looks and constant questioning. They repeatedly demanded the same details over and over again, as though attempting to catch him in some falsity. They questioned his lack of action since. They even brought up the bizarre rumors that had spread through the lower towns.

Even as crazy as things had been that night, the rumors were crazier still.

But the months carried on. By the time Winter had melted into Spring in the Five Kingdoms, Arthur mused to himself that the council had become quite tight-lipped on the subject. He sincerely hoped it was because they figured they finally had the whole story and there was simply nothing left to wring out of the king, but he worried more it was because they had begun to come to their own decisions on what to do about their situation.

Little had been said about the maelstrom of a storm that had hammered Camelot three months after the siege, and Arthur considered that a blessing. There were bound to be conspiracy theories as to the use of magic within the city walls, but the utter lack of anything interesting happening afterwards quelled most suspicions. 'Such events,' people said, 'signify a great change by the gods. Magic within Camelot- a great shift in our way of life is surely to follow.' And yet there was none. Life settled back to normal. There were no more dragons, or flashes of light or even mentions of magic in the castle. Tongues still wagged, but it had resumed the docile level that was characteristic of Camelot.

However close they had come to being exposed, Arthur was impressed at how well they had all managed things. Proud, certainly not. He had deceived his entire kingdom, and to prevent further scandal, even if things changed the way he wanted them to, he would never let the city learn the truth of what had happened that night. And yet, uncomfortable as he was with deceiving both his people and his council, the king couldn't find it in himself to regret it. Merlin was still at his side, serving him as always. As long as the city never discovered how the siege had truly been prevented, nothing about that needed change. Thus, the knights who bore witness to his appearance on the steps of the citadel had minds changed with a spell Arthur could not grasp, no matter how many times Merlin explained it to him. Cobblestones and cracked masonry had been made whole to erase any proof of Kilgharrah's dramatic landing, and the stone-encased suits of armor brought to life by Morgana's spell had been freed and the floors and walls that had caved in repaired. It had been work Merlin had done surprisingly well prior to his trip to the lake, even bleeding off a large portion of his magic to regrow the burnt crops of his farmers outside the city. Despite everything, the heart of Camelot had hardly missed a beat.

Arthur knew well how his city would react to his sudden acceptance of magic. As deluded and mad Morgana was with both evil and hate, she had made a good point. His father's hatred of magic had infected more than just his soldiers and knights. The council was made up almost entirely of like-minded men and the city viewed magic as aberrant and shameful. If he was to turn his city toward acceptance, he would need more than a single warlock that fought for them, powerful though he may be. He would need allies, and he would need to watch the council as closely as they now watched him. Too many opposing council members banded together could spell a coup for the prosperous kingdom, and Arthur was more than determined to prevent losing all he had built and repaired since his father's death.

Winter was beginning to fade into spring when Arthur finally decided it was time to start addressing the issue of his council. The rumors had died down, and he had heard back from several discreet missives sent using birds Merlin conjured. But as he planned for trips to Nemeth and Caerleon, he knew one thing needed done first. He had called a meeting of his closest knights- which now included Bedivere- and Merlin and one cool spring evening, took them on what was touted as a hunting trip North of the city. North they began, but once Camelot's towers were well-hidden by the trees, they bent their horses Southeast. By the time they reached their destination, the moon was high in the sky and each knight hefted a large torch in their hands.

The Darkling wood had never seemed so sinister. Daily was it full of Camelot's folk: hunting, gathering, playing, and working. There were some that would attribute the wood's close proximity to the city as the prime reason for its prosperity. It teemed with life both flora and fauna, and its thick trees and rough trails sheltered it from greedy outside eyes. Nearly impossible for outsiders to navigate anywhere but its primary Northern trails, the locals knew the area as well as their own streets and more than once such knowledge had saved their lives. The people of Camelot could flee the city and vanish into the woods where no invaders could find them. But tonight, the trees seemed looming and oppressive giants. Every snap of a twig was a potential spy instead of an animal.

The group dismounted and tied their horses near a stream where the animals lapped gratefully at the cool water. It took them no more than ten minutes of hiking to reach the only place Arthur could think of to perform such a thing. They entered through a sharp valley with walls reaching higher than two men on either side. The narrow passage lead into a depression deep in the earth surrounded by sheer walls of rock. It was a place familiar to the knights of Camelot, perfect for trapping enemies and prey alike. Only the narrow valley to the Southeast provided escape or entrance and it was here that Bedivere was stationed as a lookout. He nodded gravely, and stabbed his torch into the earth at his feet and set his keen green eyes to scanning the area.

The other torches were placed along the edges of the cup of earth they stood in. Using the extra torches they brought along and a few makeshift ones, they managed to light the area fairly well. Merlin looked decidedly uncomfortable as the knights slowly took up positions around himself and his king.

"You're sure of this?" said Merlin. His eyes traveled past the king to look at Gwaine.

Arthur shrugged one shoulder. "Not entirely, but you agreed. You said we needed to see for ourselves so we aren't caught unawares if something happens."

Merlin glanced down at the palm- sized amulet which he caught up in his hand. A flawless blue gem sat at the center surrounded by thin curls of silver that had been masterfully intertwined to form a subtly elegant design. The leather chord that suspended it around his neck had worn a string of thin callouses across the back of his neck.

With his free hand, Merlin twirled an index finger up toward the tree canopy. "I did say that, and we do. I was asking about here." He shrugged. "I had thought we could use the North wing like before. You know... something with a door we can lock."

Arthur rolled his eyes and gave his blond head a shake. "Yes, Merlin. Lets test your unknown abilities inside the castle in the heart of the kingdom that lead the Purge." He did little to hide his sarcasm. "I didn't want you to do it then, either. That was one of Gwaine's ideas." He jabbed his thumb at the roguish knight who promptly gave his hair a toss and flashed the manservant a rakish smile.

"You let me do it, though," muttered Merlin.

He was almost surprised Arthur heard him. "Yes, I let you show us your magic... not that I could have stopped you- you brought a whirlwind in the window." The king let his voice drop for a moment before speaking up again. "But even if I had known ahead of time that Gwaine would suggest it, I could not have expected you to be capable of such things. And, I trusted you not to do anything that would expose you. I don't even know how you managed not to alert anyone, shaking the earth like you did."

"Only the room shook," argued Merlin with a twist to his lip.

"Oh, well that's far less impressive, then." Arthur flipped a hand at the warlock.

It was Merlin's turn to scoff and roll his eyes. "So you don't trust me now?"

"Merlin, the last time you had access to this kind of power, you summoned a maelstrom... in your sleep." Arthur's tone softened a little. He poked the amulet's blue gem. "You have no control without this."

Merlin glanced down to the amulet again. He turned it over and heaved a sigh. "Hopefully I won't need it long. Bathing while keeping the leather dry is a chore."

Arthur held up a hand. "Inform me any more of your bathing routine, and you'll regret it," he said. "I'm not above throwing you in the stocks for old time's sake."

The knights around the circle joined the warlock in a small smile and chuckle and the tension in the bowl of earth relented a little.

"You ready?" Arthur's voice suddenly went solemn. The concerned look in his eyes and his large hands upon his shoulders was all entirely too sincere for Merlin's taste.

The servant took a cleansing breath and sighed it out. "You recall your promise?" he asked suddenly. "If this puts me back into the state prior to the trip to the lake, I get a day off?"

Arthur already had the amulet in his hand, and he stopped. "I recall. Though what I do not recall is how you managed to talk me into that. I'm not sure this is worth suffering through George's care taking for an entire day."

Merlin blinked and then stared him dead in the eyes. "You can't tell, Sire, but deep inside, I am positively distressed about the idea."

Gwaine snickered, and even Arthur couldn't help but smile. "Shut up, Merlin." He took hold of the leather strap at the back of the servant's neck. "Are you ready?" he asked again.

Merlin took another deep breath and nodded, bracing himself for the war that was about to erupt beneath his skin. There were no structures to knock down, and hopefully nothing with which to harm the allies that stood around him, but he found himself hoping, more than anything, that the following headache would be brief. Arthur met the eyes of each of his knights in turn and then slid the amulet's chord over Merlin's head.

Excalibur pulsed at his hip. Merlin's head fell forward like a marionette's whose string had been cut, his chin resting on his chest. The air around the group grew thick. The wind picked up and the trees whispered to one another. Arthur's stomach turned over and a shiver raced down his back. A blanket of invisible blades descended upon them and Arthur felt his knights tense violently. Leon's sword rung against its sheathe as he drew it, and Elyan's followed it. Slowly, each knight bared their weapons, more for comfort than any real need for them. Even Bedivere's blade glinted in the flickering light of his torch as he felt the tension of the group behind him. Arthur could hear his knights shifting uneasily in the bed of dead leaves under their feet.

Even Gwaine, close as he was to Merlin, nervously adjusted and readjusted his grip on his sword. "This... this doesn't feel like Merlin's magic," he mused quietly, a wary smirk playing at his mouth.

Arthur gave a tiny wave of his free hand. "Trust me. It is. It felt this way at the tower." He could easily tell this brought the group no comfort. He narrowed his eyes and chewed his lip. Merlin stood still as a statue. The king took a step forward and bent at the waist a little in an attempt to see the servant's down-turned face. "Merlin?"

"Arthur." The response was breathy and quiet. Still, he remained motionless.

Arthur craned his neck further. "How do you feel?" the king continued.

The air was suddenly unbearably warm, banishing the cool night. The magic around them bubbled like a boiling cauldron. The bladed shroud that encompassed them sent bursts of sensation down their limbs intense enough that the king heard the knights swat a few times at their own flesh as though slapping at bugs.

"I feel..." Merlin's voice dropped in pitch. It no longer seemed to come only from his mouth, but was accompanied by whispers that breathed directly into Arthur's ears. Behind him, Gwaine spun in place, glanced around, and then slowly turned back to look at his friend.

Merlin gasped, a dry hissing sound and his head snapped back as though someone had taken a handful of his hair and yanked on it. Arthur suddenly got the impression that he was being gently cooked in this bowl of earth. Merlin's head came slowly level as he sighed his gasp back out. The air stilled. The uncomfortable shroud seemed to calm, though the tiny pricks of power remained pressed gently against their flesh- threatening cuts that would not bleed. When Merlin at last opened his eyes, Arthur had to catch his breath.

Merlin's irises and pupils had vanished. What stared back at the king were liquid planes of pure white. Was it the light of the torches or his own magic that made his eyes glow? Black marks like ink swept out of his hair and scrawled down both temples. The design was looping and elegant as it meandered past his large ears and faded at his jaw. His mouth had settled into a thin line and all emotion had been purged from his face.

Arthur didn't realize he had taken a few steps back until he had to re-approach his servant. "Merlin?" Arthur said again, louder. White orbs shifted in their sockets, but he didn't seem to be acknowledging his king. Instead, his empty gaze had settled on Leon, who had sunk into a defensive stance. His blue eyes were transfixed on the warlock in the same way one might eye a predator.

"Sire, I don't like this," grumbled the Captain.

"You will step away from my king."

The deep voice echoed unnaturally around the cliffs and whispered at their ears. Even Bedivere spun in place to look for the voice that had so eerily breathed in his ear. Arthur's feet reflexively took him back a few steps. Merlin's eyes shifted to Leon's left and eyed the blade in Percival's hands.

"Merlin, it's us," said Gwaine, taking a step forward.

Merlin's head snapped to the side and his white eyes froze Gwaine where he stood. "You will surrender," Merlin said, all emotion gone from his voice. It was neither command, nor request. It was a statement- merely informing them of what was to happen.

"Merlin... it's us, mate," said Gwaine, his mouth clinging desperately to his half-grin, as though it alone could return Merlin's senses to him. He seemed to gather his wits again and took a small step toward the warlock. "Don't you know- !"

Gwaine yelped. His sword wrenched itself free of his hand. He cradled the offended extremity against his stomach as an unpleasant grinding sound echoed off the stone walls of their earthen basin. Arthur spun to see the blade of Gwaine's sword bury itself to the hilt in the rock wall.

The king spun and threw up his hands. "Merlin! What are you doing?"

If the servant heard him, he showed no sign. "Down!" he barked at the disarmed knight. The command was accompanied by an oppressive wave of magic that weakened the legs of all who had gathered around the sorcerer. There was no physical push, nor pressure to compel them to drop to their knees, only the overwhelming urge to drop away from the angry magical shroud. The amount of bewilderment in Gwaine's eyes did nothing to alter the lifelessness in Merlin's.

Beside him, Arthur could hear Leon shifting closer. The Captain seemed to bring with him his own heavy aura of tension. "Sire... I don't like this," he grumbled.

"Nor I," agreed Arthur. "He's not himself."

"Down," said Merlin again, his white eyes locked on Gwaine's. The knight only stared back with a little shrug of his shoulders and wave of his hands, as though requesting an explanation. He received none, and with a sudden cry, Gwaine found himself flat on his belly, the wind driven from his lungs.

In the stunned silence, Arthur could hear the leather of Leon's gloves grind against the grip of his sword. "Sire, I don't think- AH!" Merlin's head snapped to face the Captain, and the blade in his hand suddenly tore itself away and shot over his shoulder. The noise that followed left no doubt in Arthur's mind that the weapon had joined Gwaine's. Before he could blink, Leon's hand had fallen to his side and produced a small knife, which he now brandished at the warlock that was not Merlin. The servant's white eyes locked anew on the weapon, and his brows drew to a point.

"Wasn't that what the woman said?" said Gwaine through a cough, his voice muffled by the leaves that crowded his face. "She said that Merlin and Emrys would one day be one and the same again."

Arthur's blue eyes widened in realization. "He doesn't know friend from foe." His gaze finally left his manservant and leaped between each of his armed knights. "Your swords! Put them on the ground."

Leon suddenly yelled into the night air and his small knife hit the ground at his feet. The handle glowed a faint red as though a blacksmith had set it to his fire. He glared defiantly back at the warlock, whose gaze had somehow turned hostile.

"Down!" he ordered. Leon growled under his breath, but with a glance at Gwaine, and a tiny nod from Arthur, he lowered himself to the ground and mimicked Gwaine's prone position.

Elyan and Percival exchanged a glance, and beyond them, Arthur could see Bedivere mimic their hesitation. They both tensed as Merlin now spun to face them. Behind the warlock, Arthur mimed disarming himself.

"He doesn't know us?" asked Percival quietly, his sword drooping from its ready stance.

Arthur shook his head. "Freya said he doesn't know friend from foe. You're standing around me, weapons drawn. He must think you're threatening me."

Elyan's arms relaxed a little. "Does he not remember coming here with us?" He asked, stealing glances at the blonde king. Beyond the two armed knights, Arthur could see Bedivere suddenly abandon his sword. For a brief moment, the royal felt a pang of sympathy for the young knight. He was the most recent to be let into the King's inner circle of knights and with that station came the knowledge of his all-powerful servant. The young man had initially reacted well to the information, but Arthur could tell he had not been in any way prepared to so fear the skinny servant.

"It doesn't appear that he does," growled Arthur, fixing his gaze once more on the back of Merlin's head.

"You will surrender," said Merlin.

With another exchanged glance, Elyan and Percival nodded slightly. They each held their blades out to the side and slowly dropped to their knees. As they placed the swords on the bed of leaves at their sides, they prostrated themselves against the earth.

More grinding echoed off the walls, as Elyan's, Percival's, and even Bedivere's swords buried themselves in stone. Merlin's eyes shifted slightly, and Arthur could see Bedivere flinch, Merlin had no need to speak again, for the young knight quickly followed the examples of his seniors.

At last, Merlin turned to face the king, the hostile tautness of his face relaxed. The king glared at him. "You aren't Merlin. Not completely. Who are you?"

As Arthur spoke, the warlock took a knee, and bowed his head to the sovereign. "I am Emrys, my King."

His grip on the leather chord of the amulet tightened, but he forced calm on himself. "You have no cause to treat my knights so!" he said in his most authoritative tone.

Emrys seemed unbothered by the scolding. "I exist to serve you, my King." There was a pause, and as though sensing his King's dissatisfaction, he bent his head up to lock Arthur's brilliant blue eyes with his empty ones. "The blades of friends have sought your head before. I shall not allow it."

Agravaine popped suddenly into Arthur's mind, but his frustration was not quenched. He motioned to the prostrated knights. "If you recall Agravaine, how do you not recall your friends, whom you love?"

Emrys' head dropped down, resting his chin on his chest as though in submission. "Morgana was your friend. Those whom Merlin blindly trusts, I will suspect."

Arthur's thoughts seemed trapped behind his mind. He couldn't quite form an answer. Deeper though it was, it was still Merlin's voice, talking about himself as though he were a separate person. Perhaps at this moment... he was. He grit his teeth. "How do I bring you to your senses?" he demanded. "Return to me my servant."

Emrys did not look up, only raised a bony finger to point at the amulet that hung limply in the King's hand. "I go willingly, now that my duty is done."

Arthur scoffed and draped the chord over Merlin's head.

The sickly magic retreated with a rush, as though the air around them was suddenly more breathable. Merlin dropped heavily to his knees, just managing to catch himself on his hands. His shoulders quivered with effort and his breath came in huge gulps as though he had been trapped underwater. Leon was on his feet in an instant, his small knife back in his hands and eyeing Merlin as though he were a wild beast. No other knight moved, but they bent their heads up to await orders from the king that knelt before the servant.

"Merlin?" Arthur ventured.

Merlin's head shot up, his blue eyes wide and confused. The flesh at his temples was pale and clean. A thin sheen of sweat had covered his face, but no trace of the strange Emrys remained. "Arthur?" He looked around, and seemed alarmed by the face-down knights around him. The servant's body jolted in an attempt to bring him to his feet, but his weakened muscles foiled him and he fell to his side. "What happened? Is everyone alright?"

Arthur stared into the servant's eyes as though searching for the answers to his questions. "Everyone's fine." The knights seemed to take the slight nod of the king's head as permission to regain their feet and they began to right themselves. "Do you not remember?"

Merlin blinked. "Remember what?"

A calm realization seemed to settle into Arthur's face. "So... you and Emrys truly are two different people," he muttered under his breath. Merlin didn't appear to hear him and returned his gaze to the knights around them.

Gwaine seemed determinedly unaffected and clapped Merlin on the shoulder. "Gave us a scare there, Merlin." He hauled the thin man to his feet.

"I did?" asked Merlin, leaning on Gwaine for support.

Arthur caught up Merlin's attention as he stepped forward. "You did." He set a finger to the amulet's blue gem and flicked the servant's thin nose when he bent to look. Merlin snorted and waved drunkenly at the hand. "See that you don't lose this."

Arthur strode past the unsteady servant and toward Bedivere, who remained on the ground, watching the others over the edges of the leaves surrounding his face. "On your feet, Bedivere," he ordered, offering the young man a hand, which the knight cautiously took. As he stood upright, the dark-haired man's eyes never left the warlock and Arthur chuckled clapping him on the shoulder. "Still grateful to be a part of my inner circle?"

That seemed to jolt Bedivere and he straightened so hard it nearly threw him off balance. "Absolutely, my king! Very honored!"

Gwaine laughed aloud, and received a wide-eyed and red-eared look from the young knight as Arthur continued up the path out of the basin and toward the stream where they'd left the horses.

"Merlin!" shouted Arthur, not turning his head. The servant perked up, but didn't speak. "See that you give them their swords back!"

Merlin looked around at the knights that had gathered around him again, and shied away from the hostility that seemed to eek off of Leon. "Your swords?" he repeated, looking to Gwaine.

Gwaine locked his arm around Merlin's shoulders and swung him around to point at the hilt of his own sword embedded in the wall.

As the sound of metal grinding against stone echoed out of the clearing behind him followed by the chatter of lively knights, Arthur's thoughts turned inward. Merlin changed so much with only the removal of a piece of jewelry.

This would require a great deal more consideration than he had originally thought.


Let me know what you think! Hopefully see you next week!