Hello, all! Thank you guys so much for your reviews! I really appreciated them and they encouraged me to keep going! It's good to be back. We get a bit more meat in this chapter, and I'm working on the next one. I hope you guys enjoy it!
To say that Gwaine had interesting dreams was a slight understatement. A storm raged within him. Memories fought to rise to the surface and magic pushed it back down. It felt like he was being torn apart.
One minute he was riding hard down a dirt road. The next he was sitting on a wobbly stool at a pub, lifting a tankard of mead to his lips, laughing. His sword clashed against someone else's, and the knight could hear himself yelling. Scorching heat on his neck. Dirt falling into his armour. Blood falling into his eyes. Then, his arms wrapped around his friend. Thousands of moments passed before his closed eyes in mere seconds. They were blinding compared to the infinite darkness surrounding him. Someone was always a part of the memories: someone who smelt of herbs and books and armour polish.
Gwaine screamed in his dream. "Merlin!" He was falling, falling, falling, screaming.
And then it stopped.
His breath caught in his chest and he gasped. Golden ribbons came out from the neverending darkness, wrapping around his wrist and ankles. The knight thought he should be frightened, but he wasn't. It felt warm, comforting. It was familiar.
Magic.
A voice, disembodied, floated around him, echoing through the vast space. The ribbons made him feel safe, and the voice seemed to ground him. It was calming. The voice of a friend.
"It's okay. Come on, Gwaine. You're okay..."
He woke up gasping.
There was a hand on his back, another soon on his forehead to keep his hair out of the way as he turned and threw up. The voice continued a stream of comforting words until it was over. His mind was full to bursting. A cup of water was pressed to his lips; his fingers wrapped around it and he drunk it greedily. Once it was gone, he pulled it away from his lips and focused on the person who gave it to him. Brown eyes met guarded blue, and surprisingly, Merlin was the one to speak first.
"You had a fever," he started hesitantly. "...how are you feeling?"
Gwaine took just a moment to calculate the young man. His eyebrows were drawn, his lips were held in a thin line. He was hugging himself slightly. He looked worried. He hadn't seen Merlin this worried in ages. And he didn't think he'd ever seen that look of fear in his eyes. He was struck with the sudden realization that he remembered. It wasn't just snatches anymore. It wasn't just dreams. He remembered.
He chose to forgo Merlin's earlier question and instead leapt forward and wrapped the young man in a tight hug. He instantly tensed in his arms, but Gwaine just held him, sighing into his friend's shoulder and breathing in his scent. Oh, how he missed it.
"Found you," he whispered.
Merlin suddenly sagged in his arms, burying his head into his friend's shoulder. His hands fisted into the knights shirt, and he began shaking.
"It's okay, Merlin. I've got you now. I remember, my friend. I remember."
The warlock sniffed and pulled back. There were unshed tears in his eyes, but there was also joy there, and hope. "I... that was me. I think I was able to bring them back. I just... I wasn't sure if it would work."
"It did," Gwaine crowed, a broad smile on his face.
They sat in companionable silence for several beats, just taking in the others presence, and reveling at the mere knowledge that the other was there. Merlin swiped at his nose, grabbing his pack and digging out a draught from Gaius' chambers. He snapped off the lid and handed it to the knight.
"I wasn't kidding about the fever, though. Drink this. It'll help."
Gwaine snorted, but did as he was told. He felt a cool sensation spread through him. For one of Gaius' potions, it wasn't horrible. He handed the vial back to Merlin, who put it back into his pack. Something jumped to the forefront of his mind.
"Merlin."
"Yeah?"
"You have magic."
"...yeah."
Gwaine couldn't decide if he sounded resigned or sad. Or maybe a little bit of both. He definitely didn't sound happy. But, frankly, they could talk magic later. Gwaine had decided days ago that it didn't bother him. In his travels before becoming a knight, he'd seen plenty of magic, both good and bad. And Merlin had every right to hide his magic: he was living in Camelot afterall. The place that was famous for executing people who practiced magic.
"Merlin?"
"Yeah?"
He was definitely more nervous to ask the next question. "...what happened?"
Stoking the fire, Merlin sighed. It wasn't hard to see the line of tension in his shoulders or the way his face drained of some color at the memories. It obviously still caused him grief, but Gwaine had to know. Especially if they were going to restore everyone else's memories. Somehow.
"Morgana attacked," he started. Merlin moved to sit next to the knight, but he wouldn't meet his eyes. His voice began to shake. "I wasn't prepared. I... there was no warning. She didn't even have an army with her. She just... appeared in the courtyard with one other sorcerer. They just started slaughtering anyone who got in their way. Knights fell, Gwaine. Townspeople. And I didn't even know she was there until dozens had been killed. Everything happened so fast."
He paused long enough to take a breath and gather his strength. A single tear slid down his cheek, and the look of horror in his eyes was mirrored in Gwaine's. The knight put a hand on his friend's shoulder, encouraging him to continue.
"She fought her way through the castle, towards Arthur's chambers. Arken, the other sorcerer, was covering her back. I was halfway across the castle fetching his lunch, but you... You were there. When Morgana reached his chambers... from what I could tell, you ran out to fight her. I reached you both just as Morgana... as she..."
Merlin's eyes glancing over at the knight's midsection explained it enough. Gwaine had heard of phantom pains from knights who'd lost hands or limbs in battle, and now he understood what they meant. He could feel a ghost pain right next to his heart, where the witch's blade had sliced between his ribs. It ached, and it took a breath to convince himself that it was gone; that he was fine.
"Arthur... He, uh, he came out of his rooms just in time to see me using magic to fight Morgana. It all happened so fast. I was able to slow down time, I guess, because everything just stopped. And... I don't remember being in control after that. I assume my magic took over, because one moment everyone was frozen, and then... you weren't dying, Morgana and Arken were gone, and Arthur was back at his desk filling out reports with you standing there. Perfectly healthy. It... it didn't take long to figure out that neither of you remembered me."
Gwaine ran a shaky hand through his hair, struggling to wrap his mind around everything that his friend was telling him. It was the strangest story he'd ever been told, but he believed every word of it. His newfound memories were proof of it. He'd been giving a report to Arthur about the latest patrol when they heard the guards screaming. He had told Arthur to hide while he checked it out... And then everything happened.
He looked to Merlin, who was staring at his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Gwaine, I..." There was such guilt and desperation in his voice that the knight cringed. "Morgana wasn't just gone... she was... gone. I couldn't feel her magic anymore. There was nothing. But you lived. I think... Gwaine, I think I exchanged her life for yours. I think... I traded your lives."
Now the knight was truly speechless. Too many questions ran through his head, but he couldn't seem to vocalize any of them. It was still all too much.
"I've only done it once before, but I had the cup of life then. It was for Gaius. But... I shouldn't... I shouldn't have been able to... Gwaine, it's my fault. Everything is my fault."
The warlock covered his face with his hands as he held back his cries. Gwaine couldn't imagine the pain his friend was in. Not only to have to be put through that, but then to also be the only one to remember it, have been forgotten by everyone else, and ultimately killed someone to save another's life. It... any one of those things would be labeled as traumatic, and Merlin had been put through all of it.
"And," Merlin continued weakly, "Arthur found out about my magic, finally. But he doesn't even remember me."
Not even hesitating, Gwaine reached forward and wrapped his arms around his friend, much more tenderly this time. Merlin immediately leant into it, seeking comfort. Oh, his poor friend... Who had he had through his whole ordeal? Who had been there to comfort him? Help him through this? As Merlin's tears continued to roll down his flushed cheeks, Gwaine's own began to fall.
Everything that Merlin told him... the events that happened... it was over a month ago.
Merlin had been alone, mourning the loss of a woman he'd once called a friend, mourning the loss of his friend's memories and, in truth, the rest of his friends. For what were friends if they didn't remember?
No matter what, Gwaine vowed to make this right. Somehow, they would fix this. There had to be a way.
After all, what were recently-dying-but-not-dead-now-remembered friends for anyway?