"However long the night, the dawn will break." - African proverb
Arthur unwrapped the dressings on his hand for what felt like the thousandth time, and stretched his hand, watching the skin ripple over the new scar on his wrist. It was raw and pink and stung ever so slightly. But a permanent etching of the crystal shard now shone brightly on his palm. It felt oddly proprietary, Arthur thought to himself.
It had only been one night since the siege and the people of Camelot were only now just hearing that it was over. The army was doing checks on themselves and the citizens, taking note of the damages and the casualties. It was not an easy thing to do at all, most of the city understood the reason for the siege, but just understanding did nothing to assuage the sorrow for those who lost loved ones in the chaos. Men, women, and children left without their mothers, father, or children. There was nothing anyone could say that would make it easier for them, all they could do was to allow them to vent out their frustrations freely. It seemed a small price to repay them for their families' sacrifice.
But though Arthur knew that his mind should be focused on the task at hand, he could not help but think about the fantastical creature that had appeared in their hour of need. The memory was so vivid even a week later and the castle still remained a buzz from it. Those that had been in the Grand Hall at the time, whispered to others, relaying what they saw, and soon news of the Night Wolf spread throughout Camelot, becoming something of a legend. The story of the being that exploded from nothing to save Camelot from certain doom.
Arthur thought back to the immediate aftermath of the battle.
Flashback
"Will somebody please shut him up?" Arthur had been pacing in the Great Hall trying to think for the last 10 minutes, but Pelinor's excruciatingly loud yelling was proving to be a rather effective hurdle in concentrating. He didn't have to glance over to know that the resounding thwack he heard next and the dull thud that followed were the sounds of Percival clocking the irate man over the head, probably with the back end of his sword.
There was some semblance of normalcy now returning to the castle as the guards worked on subduing those of Pelinor's forces that they could find. The rest seemed to have disappeared into the thick of the woods around Camelot. The remainder of Arthur's army had gone after them if only to remove the threat of further invasion, but the King suspected that he wasn't going to catch them all, and instead, he would have to think of a way to fortify his kingdom.
Arthur looked back to see that Pelinor had been dragged out of the room, most likely to the dungeons below ground, and hoped that someone had had the presence of mind to ask Gaius about the best method through which to contain the small army of sorcerers though admittedly, they didn't appear at all capable of causing any more damage in the catatonic state they were in. Still, he wasn't sure he wanted to take any chances. It was only with the intervention of the Wolf that they had survived, otherwise it was quite obvious that that would have been Arthur's last stand as the King of Camelot.
It was jarring, to say the least. It wasn't that Arthur had never come that close to dying, he had more closely than he would like to admit. It was more the fact that he couldn't understand exactly what had come out of nowhere to save them.
For a moment, it was looking like they were going to be beaten into submission, and then miraculously, this behemoth appeared out of nothing to defend them and lay waste to their enemies. To say he was rendered speechless was an understatement.
The thing that nagged at him incessantly, however, was the sentience in the creature's eyes. Arthur was almost 100% sure that the beast had a full cognizance to what Pelinor had been saying and was in fact acting out of an informed plan and not just randomly decimating an enemy army. That fact was further supported by the fact that not one of his men had been injured by it, only Pelinor's army had suffered casualties.
"Sire?" Arthur finally came out of his thoughts to see the knight standing before him. Well, he said standing but the truth of it was that Percival looked like a right mess. An upstanding man, covered in blood and gore and Arthur wasn't sure which was his and which wasn't. Either answer was honestly distressing, considering the rest of the Knights didn't look any different.
Seeing the blank look in the King's eyes, Percival realized that the King had no idea what he had said. He cleared his throat and said his piece again.
"I don't believe that the remainder of the army will try to double back. We've sent out runners to make sure they don't turn back but I think after our...mysterious helper arrived, they'll think twice before attempting to take Camelot again. In any case, their King is here and so are their sorcerer's so we should be fine for the time being."
Leon now bounded up, having had a kerchief now bound to his head to stop the bleeding from scalp injury.
"My King, I think it's best you had that looked at." He gestured to Arthur's hand, now covered in crimson. "Also, Lady Hunith has informed me that if you don't make yourself appear at her side within the next few moments, she would be exceptionally cross with you." Arthur looked down at his hand and then back at the doors of the Great Hall where Hunith stood, looking rather put out, staring crossly at him.
He smiled to himself and clapped Leon on the shoulder.
"I should probably go then; I had heard she was very strict with her rules. You two, make sure there aren't any more enemy soldiers hiding within our ranks. Those that are injured go to the Infirmary banks, Gaius will instruct you from there. Gwen is in charge of taking care of our people so make sure the men scout out their homes for safety before allowing anyone to return home. And after that, everyone is to get solid rest." Leon and Percival nodded, bowing and then made off to complete their respective tasks before retiring to their quarters in the Soldiers wing of the castle.
He walked somewhat sheepishly towards Hunith who didn't look any more pleased now that he was before her. She gave him a once over and then at his hand. Hunith wasted no time, in grabbing one of the apothecary trolleys and ushering them into the back room of the Great Hall, finally allowing Arthur some quiet as he sat, noisily exhaling once his back rested against the wall.
Hunith tsk'd at him and pulled a stool up to him, setting to work on his hand. She muttered to herself for a while, knowing full well Arthur could make out every word.
"Silly child. Thinks he's invincible. Fighting wizards. Absolute nonsense. Complete tomfoolery. Does he think he's all grown up to fight these things himself? I ought to tan your disobedient backside, you – ". she stopped abruptly when Arthur cupped her face in his hands and laughed at the cross, indignant look on her face.
"Lady Hunith, you would think I was a scrawny boy fighting a battle he had no business fighting, instead of a man, a King, defending his People and his Kingdom." She grumbled and her eyes softened a touch.
"Forgive me, but I just was so overcome with fear. I know you must do these things. But you must understand, Sire. You are all I have left. After Merlin – ". She choked on a sob and mustered forward. "My darling boy is gone, Arthur, you cannot take the only thing closest to a son I have left..." She grabbed his hand, holding it firmly in hers. "Do you understand me? If I lose you too, Sire, I fear will lose the will to live. I may die from grief. Do not make me live that moment again…"
At that moment, there was nothing more Arthur could do than to gather her into his arms, holding her close as she dissolved into tears. He held his own back and marveled at how, without even trying, she had become more important to him than anything else in the whole of Camelot. She may have been Merlin's mother, now, she was what gave him the will to live.
Present Day
Arthur went in search of his knights, it was early midday and training had just ended. He usually told his men to rest after but true to form, instead of resting, they all sat in Lancelot's chambers, groaning about their training and cleaning their weapons.
When he entered, only Percival, Leon, Elyan, and Lancelot stood to attention, Gwaine remained seated but offered him a grin and took a swig of his leather ale flask and held it out to him. From Gwaine, this was probably the highest form of respect the man was able to give. He wasn't one to share his own alcohol easily.
"Ayyy it's princess! How are you mi 'lord?" The jovial Knight quipped at him, entirely missing Arthur's grimace at the nickname. Ale sloshed out of the flask and sprayed lightly on the floor.
"Gwaine, at least pretend to care that you're a Knight of Camelot? And are you seriously drinking this early? It's only midday, you complete buffoon." Elyan pointed to Gwaine in exasperation.
"See? I told you! It's too damn early!"
"It's never too early for a touch of ale my friend. Ale makes you strong!" Gwaine made a show of kissing his bicep and then his flask, to which all the other men groaned in disgust.
"You never cease to amaze me by how much more of a mess you become. " Arthur shook his head. His eyes grew serious then, and the other men seeing this sat up straighter.
"I need to make sure of something. It might make no sense, but it's just a feeling I have." He surveyed his men, who regarded him silently for a moment. Gwaine set his flask in his satchel and stood up.
"It's the wolf, isn't it?" Arthur said nothing, knowing his explanations would sound like lunacy. It sounded crazy even to him.
Still.
"You saw it too. The jewel on his chest. The eyes. It looked like him." It took a moment and he could see when the others caught on to what they were talking about.
"You can't be serious," Leon's eyes widened in shock. "You think -"
"Why not?" Lancelot interjected. Between all of them, he seemed most at ease with the idea Arthur was putting forward. "We never saw a body and you all know how gargantuan he became when he turned."
"Still," Elyan balked at the idea. "You really think he survived? If he had, why wouldn't he have come home?"
"For the same reason he stayed back instead of running out with us. It's exactly the boneheaded thing that Merlin would do." Gwaine grabbed his satchel and slung it over his shoulder.
"You'll come then?" Arthur asked though he knew he didn't have to. If there was anything that Gwaine loved more than ale, it was Merlin.
"Try and stop me."
So there they were, having set out almost immediately after Arthur had mentioned to them his suspicions. They kept a brisk pace, the anxiety of their mission making them trot their horses at a pace that was just a touch above comfortable. The unanswered question ate at them. If Merlin was alive, then why hadn't he come home. Or was he grasping at straws? Was this just merely the side effects of mourning the man he harbored feelings for? Arthur shook his head to himself.
He couldn't think about that now. If he started thinking about the time he lost by being oblivious to his own emotions, he would crumble under the grief of what could have been. He also knew that while half of his men understood what he was thinking, he also knew that the other half thought he was crazy but were playing along just to appease him.
Even this trip was difficult for him. All it did was bring back memories of the last time they had made this trip. He could remember as if it was yesterday, the way he and Merlin had fought all the way here. The fear in Merlin's eyes as he was tortured and the sorrow on his face when he refused to leave the collapsing structure to go to his own death.
It was almost too much for him. Only the possibility of what he suspected kept him going. He kept thinking of the eyes that Wolf had. The ice-blue eyes that recognized him and the pain he had felt from the shard that even now he had wrapped around his wrist.
They arrived in record time to the ruins, in the middle of the night after a day of solid riding.
The fortress looked exactly the same as when they had left it. It was destroyed, a shell of what it had been. The forest had reclaimed much of it, covering it in foliage, and what it hadn't stood out starkly in contrast.
Suddenly, off to his side, Arthur noticed Leon straighten out.
"What is it?" Arthur called out, dismounting, leading all of the other men to follow suit. Leon stayed silent for a little while longer. Confirming what he was sensing.
"Do you smell that sire?" Leon gestured to the rest of them. They all sniffed experimentally but could smell nothing.
"What do you smell?" Leon started to look on the forest floor, as if for something specific.
"Do you remember, Sire, that when we went out on patrol, Merlin would pour a potion around our campsite? He said it would keep large animals away?" Arthur nodded, remembering multiple instances of Merlin splashing the substance everywhere.
"What of it?" Leon finally found what he was looking for, smoothing his hand across the stones of the fortress. He lifted his fingers to his nose and smelled it. His eyes widened and he turned to his King, astonished.
"It's fresh. Poured within the last fortnight. This is Merlin's, there's no mistaking it. I would know that scent anywhere."
The effect these words had on the Knights was instantaneous. Every man's eyes filled with hope.
Except for Arthur's.
His filled with a rage that the others had yet to see, except for the beginning days of Merlin's death.
Arthur marched to the rubbles at what used to be the entrance and putting his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice.
"MERLIN! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE."
The forest behind them rustled ominously, but Arthur paid it no mind. The knight's eyes it nervously. They could see in the distance, large yellow eyes approaching. Not one. Not two. But many.
"IF YOU DON'T COME OUTSIDE IN THE NEXT FIVE SECONDS, I SWEAR TO EVERY LORD IN THIS GODFORSAKEN LAND THAT I WILL TEAR THIS PLACE DOWN AND DRAG YOU OUT MYSELF!"
"Uh Princess?"
"Shut up, Gwaine, I'm trying to get that idiot out here."
"Right, I get that but – "
"But what?"
The sound of snarling made Arthur turn. He found himself staring at a pack of wolves. At least twenty of them. Circling them, it was clear that they had been marked as prey.
Arthur settled into a battle stance.
"If that moron is alive in there, I'll kill him."
