The lawns outside of the castle were a constant buzz of activity from dawn till dusk in the days following Gaius's funeral. Footsoldiers worked on their swordsmanship under the guidance of knights. Druids perfected spells and tutored those who still struggled.

For a while Arthur practiced privately. George acted as his training dummy, toting shields and attempting to dodge the king's attacks; he even punctuated each blow with a strained remark- "Excellent hit, sire!" and the like. It should have been encouraging to work with a willing servant for once, but Arthur missed training with Merlin, and finally one day he sought him out.

The sorcerer was in his chambers as usual, poring over the Triple Goddess texts for what had to be the fourth or fifth time. He had grown incredibly reserved after the funeral. He never left his quarters, and although servants brought trays of food every meal, he rarely touched any of it. Whenever Arthur stopped by there was something indecipherable in Merlin's gaze, something deep and dark and frightening, and he hoped that getting some exercise might help bring him out of whatever he was grappling with.

"You know, I should really be the one summoning you." He leaned against the door frame, looking around the now-cluttered room. "Being the king and all."

"Are you summoning me?" Merlin looked up from the notes he was writing. The shadows under his eyes were so dark that they might have been scales.

"Yes. It's about time you left this room." Arthur strode to the table and shut Merlin's book resolutely. "Up. We need to train."

"Isn't George supposed to help you?"

"He's too... cheerful. I guess I miss having a useless servant." Arthur grinned.

"If you think I'm hoisting shields for you again-"

"Just follow me."

They walked a ways past the rest of the soldiers before Arthur stopped, unsheathing his sword.

"I don't have a weapon!" Merlin groaned. "How is this any different from-"

"Sure you do. You can... do your thing. Whatever." Arthur shrugged as he assumed a ready stance. Without warning he charged. Instinctively Merlin shielded his face with his arm, ducking. He was shoved back slightly, and he heard a loud clang and a surprised grunt.

Arthur was nodding, looking pleased, and Merlin lowered his arm to discover it plated in scales.

"You... prat!" Merlin didn't know if he was angry or amused. "What if I hadn't been able to do that in time?"

"I wanted to see if it was instinctive." Arthur's face was positively impish. "Anyways, dragons are basically lizards, so... I'm sure it would have grown back, right?"

Silence.

"Right?"

A curious semi-silence fell over the grounds as every training session ground to a halt, save one. The king and the Royal Sorcerer were battling.

It was like watching a man fight a small whirlwind. Arthur seemed at the onset much better equipped; he fought with a sword and shield, and Merlin was unarmed and admittedly somewhat more slight. Every time Arthur struck, however, Merlin brushed aside his sword like it was made of paper. His movements were quick, a blur of black, and the king seemed to move agonizingly slow in response. As the fight continued, some of the onlookers swore they heard the warlock laughing. Even those that didn't hear laughter, however, decidedly heard the shouted, breathless insults which seemed to be traded even quicker than the blows.

"I guess sitting...on your royal ass all-" (smash) "-day isn't doing you... any favors, Arthur!"

"You know, Merlin, I didn't think it was-" (clang) "-possible to find something you're... worse at than being a servant, but you're positively-" (thump) "-useless in a fight, too!"

"Dollop head!"

(bang)

"Idiot!"

(muffled curses)

"Clotpole!"

And so it continued. At some point Merlin began to strike back, his hands becoming claws which rent Arthur's shield, but it was clear he was holding back. He didn't use any magic- probably to avoid besting the king in front of all of his soldiers. At length the fight seemed to end mutually, with neither man willing to admit defeat, although Arthur's insults had been reduced to smaller and smaller words in between pants. When the attacks finally stopped, the grounds burst into cheers.

Merlin was exhausted, but he was surprised to discover himself smiling.

They walked back to castle together, still a little out of breath. Once they'd passed the soldiers still on the lawns, Arthur sheathed his sword, speaking quietly as he adjusted the straps.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on with you?"

"Gaius couldn't find anything that would help me to not... forget." Merlin pushed his hair, still damp with sweat, back from his face.

"So you don't shift until we find a solution." Arthur frowned. "Obviously."

"I have to, you ass." Merlin smiled crookedly, but his eyes were troubled. "Camelot can't fight off a dragon, a dead army, and two pissed off sorceresses. Not at once. Not without a dragon and a lot of luck."

"You can still fight," Arthur said, and something in his tone made Merlin think of Camlann, and he felt the ghost of Mordred's blade in his chest. Arthur sounded small, lost; not like a king but like a child, afraid. "You could have beaten me if you tried."

"Can I get that in writing?" The attempt to lighten the mood failed and he sighed. "It's not enough, Arthur."

"But if you forget everything then how will you know who to fight?" He stopped walking now. "It's too dangerous."

"I'll know." Merlin paused. "I'll know you, Arthur, which is why I asked you... why I need you to..." He looked away, seeing the panic growing in Arthur's eyes.

"I already told you, Merlin, I won't."

"Whatever happens after this battle, I wont be Merlin anymore."

"I don't care! We have time, and I'll be damned if you start building up your pyre now." His voice had risen and it was shaking. He didn't look at Merlin. He didn't want to see the expression on the sorcerer's face, and so he took off in long, hurried strides. Merlin stood and watched him leave, and a wave of loneliness crashed over him.