"Merlin!" Arthur grabbed the lifeless shoulders and shook them, his fingers reveling in the healthy warmth of the sorcerer's skin beneath the sodden clothes. "Hey. Say something."

Suddenly a violent cough seemed to force its way up from somewhere deep in Merlin's chest and the man surged forwards against the king's grip, sucking in air in heaving gasps like a drowned man. Arthur pulled him into a fierce hug, feeling a pulse as their necks briefly touched.

"Does this mean...you're not going to banish me?" Even while coughing the old sarcasm was there and Arthur finally had to force himself to pull away from the hug, laughing almost deliriously.

"No," he said, some of the mirth dying from his voice as he realized he meant it. After a moment, he remembered himself and stood. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than you look, prat." Merlin smiled and got to his feet, unaided, and Arthur felt a swell of relief in his chest, and then suddenly Merlin pitched forward.

"Hey. Hey, what is it?" He grabbed at the man, who was holding his head in both hands and groaning. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"I need to get to Gauis," he managed, and his eyes snapped open. The blue irises were clouded, swirling with sluggish spirals of gold like water after someone had poured in a pitcher of milk. His heart in his mouth, Arthur pulled one of Merlin's arms around his neck and started walking towards Camelot.

"What did it do to you?" He kept one eye on his friend as they walked. His brow was furrowed, his eyes shut, and he breathed heavily even though their pace was slow at best. There was no answer. Unnerved by the deathly silence, Arthur tried again. "Merlin."

"What." For all their banter Arthur was unused to the hard edge to his manservant's voice.

"When you said… When you told me you were tired—"

"I was delirious, Arthur. It didn't mean anything."

"I don't want to hear that ever again." He didn't want to admit it but it had scared him. Merlin had always seemed so cheerful, making jokes even when death seemed imminent, and for him of all people to say something like that…

"Do you have any idea how alone I felt?" Merlin murmured. "Every day." There was a pause. "Can you imagine realizing that your best friend could never know… who you really were, because if he did, he would hate you?"

"I don't hate you, Merlin," Arthur took a deep breath. "I could never hate you."

"You hate magic. Magic is a part of me, Arthur. And when we get back to Camelot-"

"We're a while away from Camelot yet." He chose to ignore the sharp question in Merlin's words. The quiet became almost tangible and they walked on.

They had made it a few miles when Merlin's knees seemed to give out on him. He fell, clutching with frightening strength at Arthur's arm, and let out a terrible, agonizing scream. Arthur had never felt so powerless in his life.

"Tell me what to do!" He was panicking.

The scream tapered off into a series of miserable, barking cries, with no intelligible answer.

"Tell me what you need. What's going on? I can't—"

"Gaius," Merlin managed before screaming again, curling up like he was trying to protect himself from some invisible force. His hands had snaked themselves into his hair, the knuckles branded a bony white. "Get Gaius."

"I can't leave you alone here!" Arthur could see the man's body shaking, almost seizing as he panted.

"GO!" It was more than a scream. It was a roar, and waves of sound seemed to ripple out from Merlin and the trees around them snapped away as in the face of a hurricane. Arthur stumbled and fell on his backside, half-frozen in shock. Merlin's eyes were no longer hazy but also not the light gold of a sorcerer; they were the fierce, burning gold of the dragon, halved by catlike slits, and when he'd screamed, Arthur had caught sight of incisors and canines elongated almost to the point of fangs.

"Please." As if in contrast Merlin spoke again and he sounded small, breaking into hiccuping sobs. Arthur got to his feet and ran.

Somewhere, far from the clearing where Merlin lay, Morgana's head snapped up from a grave marked only by a sword. An inhuman scream had echoed across her consciousness and across the consciousness of every Druid in the Five Kingdoms. It was a scream of unspeakable agony and yet of equally unspeakable power, and Morgana's tears almost froze on her face.

"Emrys," she breathed, and she pulled the sword from where it had been stuck into the earth.