A/N:

though I said I'd update soon, it's already been so late :'( D:

Sorry, sorry. But I'm here now. I haven't written in a while so I feel a bit out of sorts but here's the new chapters my loves.
Please leave me a little message and tell me how I'm doing !

Chapter 6: See Him Again

"Gwai- Oh for the last ti– GWAINE, could you perhaps deign to join your company as they leave with YOUR KING!" Arthur would admit that this specific moment was perhaps not one of his finer moments and he tried not to think about the fact that everyone in the castle seemed more amused by him and not by his delinquent Knight. Said Knight, who was at this moment hugging Merlin's mother, and if the way she was coloring at his words was anything to go by, Arthur would bet his life that his cad of a knight was once again telling her inappropriate jokes, even he'd been expressly forbidden from doing so.

"I'm comin' princess, don't get your knickers in a twist."

"Gwaine!" Leon's scandalized gasp from Arthur's right was enough to crack him and he couldn't help but grin. Gwaine's insults reminded him of when Merlin would deliberately heckle him just to see how far he could take it. Now, at the very least, the pain of losing Merlin was dulled only slightly by the minute glimpses of him that Arthur could get in his daily life. Not that he would tell anyone that he could see Merlin whenever he picked up a shining gauntlet, picturing the man grousing about how Arthur was only going to dirty it anyhow and he would have to clean it all over again. He also couldn't see himself telling anyone that he could swear that when he woke early in the morning, when the faintest hues of pink washed over the night sky, that he could hear Merlin in his ear, bright and slightly sarcastic, telling him to wake up, that he was a nightmare to wake up and that if the King wasn't out of bed in the next 30 seconds, Merlin would have no choice but to confiscate the covers. Hunith very rarely had to wake him after that.

He nodded to the rest of his knights, signaling the lot of them to mount their horses. There was minimal grunting from the act of actually getting up on horseback, exacerbated by the fact that it was early in evening and in only a couple of hours, it would be well into the night hours as they worked their way through the forest on their monthly patrol of the area.

These patrols were usually uneventful and were punctuated by having to drag Gwaine out of taverns in every town they crossed, not because he kept getting drunk but rather because he was flirting with very available and unavailable maiden in the vicinity. Telling people that he was the King didn't work as well as one might hope either, leading most of the tavern dwellers to yell in response "an' I'm King Uther, ya daft lads!" Ergo, that meant that most of the time, he was unfortunately left running with his Knights out of villages like common tavern drunks on the wrong side of the law.


This patrol was shaping up to be equally as banal as the last, Arthur thought, barely paying attention to the jostling of his steed as the horses meandered through the forest leisurely, while he listened absent mindedly to the conversations of the knights around him. Arthur was suddenly hit with the memory of the last time Merlin had come with them, remembering the bickering they had engaged in as they saddled up.

He considered it progress when the memory no longer froze him in place and he could instead welcome it with sharp pain instead of agony. It was pain that he knew would likely never leave him until the day he died.

Sometimes, and Arthur had never voiced the thought out loud, but sometimes he found himself in-averse to the idea. After all, death was the only remaining barrier between him and Merlin. Would it be so awful to finally see him again in the throes of his mortality? Though it would be prudent to notice that he failed to observe the fact that he was thinking about dying to see his manservant and the idea of it didn't seem to bother him at all.

Of course, the moment he thought such things, he was assailed by memories of Merlin and that horrified look that he oft wore on his face when he perceived his Lord to be doing something beyond his comprehension.

"Have you actually gone insane? Have those training sessions finally broken your head?" Arthur imagined Merlin would say, complete with the man most likely dropping whatever he was carrying in shock.

It was just as well, Arthur mused, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself and Merlin would never forgive him if he abandoned his Kingdom like that, furthermore, he would never bring himself to abandon Hunith like that. He doubted that she would be able to endure another loss like that. In the 2 and half years she had been working at the castle she had become an irreplaceable figure to him, he took care of her just as she took care of him. Some nights, he couldn't help but call Hunith and just immerse himself in talking about Merlin, and even though on some level he was aware that it could be causing her pain to revisit the memory of her son so often he couldn't help himself.

It wasn't a waste either as Arthur realized that he was learning far more about his manservant than the man had ever voluntarily given up himself. He shouldn't have been thinking about this, not now, not here, right before leaving for patrol. He shouldn't be lost in the thoughts of his manservant and consumed with a dull ache inside, something he wasn't sure anyone could take away, even if he didn't understand why he hurt for Merlin so much.

If Arthur had been paying attention, he would have noticed the eyes watching. And waiting. But he didn't.

None of them did until it was too late.


It was only just after sunset when they decided to halt for the night. By Leon's calculations, they only had two more days of patrol left, as a result of managing to cover significantly more ground this time. There were a few grumbles and moans from the others about how running from Gwaine's lovers jilted lovers were mostly to blame but the culprit himself cheerfully ignored them.

Arthur couldn't bring himself to complain, content that even though they all carried the weight of Merlin's death on them, the other's seemed to be adjusting. Even if he wasn't.

He settled in, putting his back comfortably against a tree as the others prepared dinner, watching the men he trusted with his life, converse amongst themselves. Arthur put a hand unconsciously on his wrist, feeling the rough pull of the handkerchief comfortingly under his fingers.

Even if he was gone, Merlin was still here. To Arthur, the crystal, the handkerchief were both worldly anchors to a man that was long gone, even if he himself couldn't bear to face that truth in its finality.

So he sat, refusing to lose himself in the memories of a broken past while the world whirled on without him and instead pulling out his sharpening tools and setting to work on his blade.


"Shouldn't we at least try to get him out here?" Lancelot glanced back worriedly at his King who sat idly scraping at the remains of his meal, absentmindedly, it certainly made for a concerning sight.

"And say what? Forget about it, just come chat with us? You know as well as I do that he hasn't been the same. He does this all the time, pretending that he's moved on when we all know that he damned well hasn't." Gwaine said, poking at the flames in the fire a little harder than needed. Leon sighed, knowing full well from having stood outside the King's chambers for the last few weeks before waking him, that the nightmares persisted.

"I have tried everything. Lady Hunith even complied with a request by the King to put him to sleep but it did nothing to repel the night terrors. I fear losing Merlin has had more of an effect than we could have anticipated."

Elyan snorted disdainfully at that.

"'More of an effect'? The trauma is eating the King away. He has seen and done things far worse but this, I don't know why but this has affected him more than losing even his father, dare I say."

There was silence after that, and soon, wordlessly, the company stood, and without argument decided on the order of night watches, with Gwaine taking the first. They paused only to help Arthur with putting out his bedroll, despite his rather colorful protests that he could do well enough on his own, though he was skillfully ignored by pretty much everyone.

Soon the camp was filled with the sound of sleep whilst Gwaine kept watch over them. He thought as he sat about the things they had endured over the years. He could barely believe it sometimes, the fact that the man that had convinced him to stay had been the one to leave first. It seemed a betrayal on the rawest level and yet, knowing that he shouldn't feel like it, Gwaine felt resentful, that Merlin hadn't tried to hold on, that he gave in so quickly to death. Merlin who would have fought tooth and nail for Gwaine to save his life would forfeit his own so quickly seemed hypocritical and insulting on a level he couldn't explain, even to himself. All he knew was that beneath his laughter and healing, burned an anger he couldn't understand, no matter how hard he tried.

It was during these musing that Gwaine made his first mistake, he noticed it too late. The glint of a blade in the distance, reflecting the firelight, and before he could react, a ball of fire launched out of the dark and into their midst, setting the camp ablaze and effectively becoming more of a wakeup call than Gwaine could ever hope to be on his own.

Filthy, broken men poured out of the forest in what seemed like hordes, and Gwaine was quickly beset, unable to even to communicate with the knights beyond a battle cry.

"TO ARMS!"

Every knight had rolled out of their bedrolls the instant the fire had made contact, ready to for combat despite being unaware of the nature of the threat they faced. They like Gwaine were quickly beseiged by the sheer number of assailants.

The site became a noisy, full of the clanging of metal on metal, the scraping of it enough to set the teeth on edge. They would have emerged victorious in this instant, when they grouped and fought back as a whole, their skill intimidating enough to drive them back, until another player emerged. A man looking far more smug with himself than he should have, given the state of the bandits, with at least a third of their party felled.

"Tsk tsk tsk. King Arthur, you really should be far more careful. Wandering around so cavelierly like that? Why it's almost as if you're begging for it." His haggard appearance coupled with the overly luxurious fabrics that he had swathed himself in, led Arthur to come to the conclusion that this man had loftier opinions of himself than he was worth.

Arthur had barely a second to blink before the man did something, twirling his fingers and he felt the sword in his hand grow iron hot, making it impossible for him to hold on. Hearing the curses from around him, he knew, rather than saw the other knights quickly lose hold on their weapons. Arthur had no qualms about engaging in hard fist to fist combat but he could tell they were out of their depth with the sorcerer involved.

"What do you want?" He grit out, unused to being in a position of negotiating with the enemy. As it was, he couldn't risk any of their number being taken out, considering how little they were to begin with.

"Really? All of this and you still have to ask, Sire?" He adjusted the fabric cloak/coat he was wearing and jerked his head towards one of the men who stood nearest to Arthur. Arthur and the knights didn't make any sudden movements, assessing their situation. They were very firmly outnumbered, and if they made the wrong move they could very well end up dead. Not something any of them were particularly looking forward to. "If I want Camelot, My King, the easiest way to get it, would be through you." The man's mouth quirked up into a grin that instantly ignited loathing.

Arthur's blood ran cold at the thought. He could see from the restless way this group moved that they didn't have a particularly elaborate plan here. It looked like they gearing themselves up for a simple slaughter that would easily secure them the throne of Camelot with next to nothing of a fight. After all, who was going to go into hand to hand combat with the group that brings back the slain body of the King and that of his Knights.

With himself and the knights backed into a corner like this, Arthur thought frantically for an out. Night had fallen a long time ago and the visibility had gone down considerably, despite the flickering fire they had made when they had settled camp. His fists tightened, reminding Arthur of his vulnerability, and swiveling his head around, the King realized that his options were severely limited. They were tired, outnumbered at least five to one, odds that he wasn't liking in the least.

Before he could do anything else however, the sorcerer motioned to the burliest of the men standing on guard of his right.

"Right then, I suppose we should get to business. Camelot awaits the dawn of a new era. The Rule of King Brutus!" With an authoritative flick of his hand, the man obeyed, stomping towards the king, sword drawn. He got as far as grabbing Arthur by the wrist before Arthur found himself yanked back by his collar by Leon, drawn into the center of the circle they created, completed flanked on all sides. He barely had time register protest before they closed ranks amongst themselves.

"We are Knights of Camelot and we will drag you to the depths of Hell itself before you we let you touch our King." Elyan snarled, bringing his fists up, eyes unyielding.

"Also, there isn't a chance in purgatory that your name is Brutus, you absolute mouse of a man." Gwaine couldn't help but remark from his left and grinned. "I don't make it a habit of getting taken down by rats see."

Before any of them could tell what had happened, Brutus' eyes flashed into a liquid silver, and the leaves rustled around them until gale force winds quickly split apart the makeshift group they had made amongst themselves. The winds seemed to have a mind of their own as well, separating Arthur from the Knights, and keeping them apart.

It didn't take too much after that, seeing as the winds did not seem to affect Brutus' own men and they were able to quickly tie up all of them without much fuss, no matter how much fuss they wanted to create. Arthur had been tied to a tree next to his Knights, with his hands and legs bound as well as his torso being bound to the tree itself. Gwaine and Lancelot were not taking being tied up very well and were constantly struggling against their bindings.

"When I get out of here, the first thing I'm going to do is crush you into the ground, you utter maggot." Brutus was entirely unperturbed, strolling around them as his bandits finally stood around them in a circle, smirking to each other. He had picked up Arthur's own sword and held it inexpertly, while Arthur tried not to wince at the rough treatment of his weapon, seeing its finely honed tip scraping across the stones.

"Hm. What have we here?" Brutus paused in his pacing and knelt to the ground and picked up something. When he straightened and Arthur caught sight of the object, he wasn't even aware of when his mind went blank.

"Give that back." He said and the Knights paled, upon seeing the red handkerchief, the crystal lying loosely in its confines. Arthur couldn't bear the sight of the crystal lying so cavalierly in the hands of a stranger. It should be on him, it was his, without it Merlin didn't exist. He didn't have anything else. He needed it. He needed it.

"What's that? Is the prisoner," Brutus spat the word gleefully, "making demands now?"

"Give. It. Back."

"Arthur, Ar-Arthur, just rela - "

"GIVE IT BACK!" The King roared, the sound so loud that their captors were momentarily stunned into silence.

Brutus took a moment to collect himself and held out the handkerchief, nonchalantly.

"What this? Of course Sire, here – oops, silly me, I seem to have dropped it." Lancelot watched apprehensively as the kerchief, crystal and all fell to the ground. It made no sound as it made contact with the ground and yet they all palpably felt it, as if it were glass shattering on stone.

"It's rather dark in here, Your Highness, one cannot help but stumble around a little."

"He cannot do that!" Percival spoke for the first time, whispering quietly next to Leon. "If the King loses that, I fear it will be too much for him."

"I know, but I'm in no position to stop him! As it is, our first priority is to get the King to Camelot safely and even that's looking rather undoable."

"Well we have to do something," Gwaine's voice joined them, "I am not going to meet Merlin in the afterlife and tell him I got punted in because a scrawny twit of a magician killed the King!"

"I hate to say I agree with Gwaine, but I cannot disagree." Leon grumbled. "Besides, the King doesn't appear to be entirely in control right now."

And he was right, Arthur's eyes had taken on a vaguely crazed look as he fought his bounds.

"You don't know anything! A mere filthy sorcerer like you should be executed for simply touching it." Even Brutus was taken aback by the vehemence in the eyes of the King.

"What's this then, the King who kept his composure despite threats of execution suddenly starts spouting his own ultimatums all for a measly crystal?"

"Give. It. Back." There was no mistaking the deadly intent in Arthur's eyes and the Knights thought that even though he was bound, Brutus appeared mildly frightened by the intensity the King had. But before anyone of them could escalate the situation any further, a powerful gale of energy flew through the clearing, taking out the fire as it did. They were now all plunged into darkness, while the Arthur stayed silent, he could hear Brutus barking orders, unnerved at the sudden absence of light.

He had but seconds before the entire clearing was filled with the sound of growling, so loud and overwhelming that it was impossible to tell from where the sound originated. As dark as it was, Gwaine could tell that whatever was happening was unnatural. The way their surroundings responded to the voice was unnerving and for a reason he couldn't explain the mere sound of it sent chills down his spine.

There was the brief sound of scuffling which confused him and Arthur could hear the other exclaim when the darkness fell, trying to make sense of what was happening around them. All to suddenly Arthur felt the pressure of the ropes lessen significantly and he realized with a start that someone had cut him free of the ropes and if the sounds of his men getting to their feet was anything to go by, then it was the same for them. Then, slicing through the night, they heard agonized screams and horrific squelching, dragging on for what felt like hours until the smog of night was abruptly lifted from their eyes. Arthur and the Knights made the wise decision not to move, for they could neither make heads or tails of their situation and it seemed like the safest option, was to gather around their King and wait out the threat. As luck would have it, it seemed that the threat had passed because, suddenly they could hear no more, the forest had gone deathly quiet. The same way it had been before the whole mess started in the first place.

Now, being Knights, the lot of them had seen their fair share of carnage but what awaited them once they could actually see was something that none of them could quite fathom.

To say that their assailants were killed, would have been like saying that Arthur was only fond of Hunith. That is to say, it would have been grossly untrue.

Their assailants had been eviscerated, it seemed to Arthur that there were no bodies to bury or inspect because whatever had come upon them had left everyone in its wake reduced to nothing more than bloody lumps of flesh that still almost seemed to beat. In fact, Arthur thought, the particular lump he was looking at, was a heart. One that beat feebly still, apparently thinking it still had a body to live in.

Arthur ignored it, and instead looked around on the ground for the item that Brutus had been taunting him with. The panic grew as he looked and looked and failed to find it, he could hear Lancelot whispering quietly to Percival in the background. He knew, that to the others he appeared crazy, unhinged even, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Arthur gave up all pretenses now and began crawling on all fours despite protests from the others.

"Sire, I'm sure we can find it. Please, stand up."

"You don't understand Elyan, that was mine. It's all I have, and I can't lose it. I can't. That was – It's – I just can't go without it." Arthur didn't know it, but for Elyan it was as if he were seeing the King for the first time, not as a ruler but as a man who had lost something precious to him. "Please."

"Sire!" Leon's call broke them out of their exchange and they looked over to the older knight, he stood at the opposite end of the clearing and pointed at something. No more words needed to be said, because everyone who stood in that clearing understood. Leon had found it and had the good sense to refrain from touching it himself.

Arthur got up from where he knelt, barely sparing a glance for Elyan, so focused was he on the kerchief. When he finally got to it, Arthur picked it up from the grass, the pieces of cloth and crystal having been split up, no one could miss the longing way in which he looked at it. Arthur lay the crystal flat inside the kerchief, folded it again and wrapped it around his wrist. As soon as he'd done so, the knights didn't miss the way in which a certain amount of tension seemed to seep out of him, like he'd once again, become whole. Arthur felt calmer and more reassured, with that piece of crystal tied to him like an anchor to a world in which he sometimes felt hopelessly lost.


Merlin knew he shouldn't. Standing outside the room, with his hand on the door handle, Merlin could feel every bit of his common sense wailing at him to walk away. But he couldn't handle the curiosity. He'd avoided it for three years, ignored the whispered beckons every time he passed it, and pretended it didn't exist when the allure became too much.

He should turn around, he knew, and go on his duties for the day. He had a job to do, one that had been of his own making but a job nonetheless. He had to make his rounds, check on the villages in the area and keep them safe. It was his duty, and as long as he didn't get close to humans, he would be fine.

Sometimes, the temptation would be so great the Merlin would physically have to leave the dwellings in order to avoid walking in there. He didn't know what lay in that room, but he knew that if he opened the door, his life would never be the same.

Although if he were honest, he didn't think it mattered much considering how much his life had already changed. However, did he want to risk changing it again? Merlin stood in the cold, dark, damp castle he called home and tried to will himself away from it.

He moved his hand from the stone door and turned his back to the door and managing only three steps before he stopped.

Will you deny it?

The whisper was so faint that Merlin couldn't be sure he'd heard anything at all.

Will you close your eyes, like you always have and pretend that you cannot hear us call, O Great One?

Merlin bit his lip, feeling silly. Three years into solitary living and he was already starting to go senile? If Arthur were here, he would crying hard enough to shed tears.

Merlin.

The sorcerer ignored and flexed his hands, he just needed to walk away. The same as he'd always done.

Merlin.

He was imagining it. He was imagining that the voice sounded like someone he knew. That it sounded like it was calling for help.

MERLIN!

That was it. Merlin could bear it no longer. He turned back the way he came and gave himself no time to reconsider and just pushed the door open. Expecting more resistance from the stone door, Merlin found himself barreling through harder than he anticipated and came to a stumbling stop. It was bright. Brighter than he thought it would be. Merlin blinked like a newborn babe, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the light and then stopped.

Whatever he had thought he would see was pushed firmly out of his mind when he looked at the large luminescent oval on the wall, swirling with crystal white energy. It pulsed violently when he walked toward it, as if responding to him.

He had stood in front of it for a moment, watching the swirling of kinetic energy internally. Until, finally, Merlin summoned up the courage to touch it, or at least try to. Immediately, as soon as his index finger made contact, it sent an electric current through Merlin's body, almost like it was bonding itself to Merlin somehow, and the entirety of the oval changed.

It turned from a white silver tone of swirls and curls, to a forest tableau. At first Merlin was lost, and comprehension of the picture eluded him until a dark mahogany colored stallion caught his eye, and as if it could sense Merlin's attention, the image shifted again and Merlin could see, clearly the image of his King and the Knights being held hostage, tied against trees, with a group of men threateningly encircling them.

Merlin could see Arthur yell, and could tell that the man holding them seemed to be some kind of mage himself. Try as he might, he was having difficulty controlling himself, he could feel that primal part of his consciousness begin to grow inside. There was something territorial Merlin felt, when it came to Arthur, likely an extension of his fealty to the King, he'd reasoned with himself, and though most times he was able to control it, Merlin felt unable to do so at the current moment.

He watched in abject horror as the more the man taunted his friends, the angrier the wolf inside him became. The tenuous hold that Merlin had had on his inner demons was fraying quickly, and soon he was gasping for air on the stone cold floor of the room, in front of the enchanted images he was seeing.

Merlin tried to reason with himself. He had no reason to consider anything he was seeing as being real but he couldn't take the chance that it wasn't. He had to find out, he had to. That was Merlin's last conscious thought before a guttural snarl escaped him and he was more wolf than wizard.

In seconds, as if he intuitively knew, Merlin leapt through the mirror of images, and remembered nothing more.


The sounds of wet, dragging flesh were revolting, but in that moment, as he tore through muscle and sinew and heard strong men shriek like children, Merlin hadn't been himself. He crawled on the floor, soaked with sweat and his hands, feet and mouth dripping with blood. The sorcerer could barely comprehend what had just happened. He felt something in his mouth and with barely concealed disgust, he spat it out and refused to look at the emission, only used the now un recognizable form of his old trousers to wipe it clean. Merlin, uncaring of the smearing of the blood on his limbs and his sheer nakedness, sat down on the floor, looking at this – this – portal. He saw Arthur and the Knights look around, confused, and gather their things.

He saw Arthur mount his steed and the others follow his lead, riding out of the clearing and dashing at a remarkable pace to Camelot, the red cloaks of his Kingdom rippling the wind as the horses galloped towards home.

The tears came on their own this time, and Merlin let them, but this time, they were not tears of shame.

He had seen Arthur again. Against all odds, he had seen his King, heard him breathe. It shouldn't have but Merlin could feel himself become elated and miserable in the same breath. Merlin had saved Arthur. Even in this state, Merlin had helped him. He had been useful even after becoming a monster.

Merlin could still protect his King.