HI GUYS! I'm drowning in schoolwork, and right now I'm being stupid and procrastinating by posting a new chapter for y'all. I know, I say this basically every chapter, but I appreciate all of you so much for following and reviewing my story. I mean... 10 reviews last time. Seriously. I was so thrilled. That was a bright spot in a pretty stressful week! And I actually feel a LOT better now that the wisdom teeth are gone. :)

Thank you again to the awesome guest who's been reviewing. And I am sorry about Balinor. But... well, at least it's a better ending than he got in the show.

Alright… on to the show... erm... chapter. I don't own Merlin, in case anyone was wondering... and enjoy the chapter!

Sandyy

Leon's hand was a little unsteady, and Merlin watched the glass of water with a keen eye. He knew the young man wouldn't like to be pampered any more than Arthur, but he was quick to take the glass when Leon finished his drink.

"Can I get you anything else?" Leon shook his head the tiniest fraction and leaned back on the pillows.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"You're in a safe place," Merlin promised. "A friend of mine agreed to put us up." It wasn't long since the young man had regained consciousness after they situated him in Iseldir's home. Moving Leon had been less than ideal at the time, but the onslaught of media attention had worried them all. If reporters gathered outside Arthur's home, others would find him too—like the blue-eyed woman who Merlin was all but certain had caused Arthur's sickness earlier.

"Arthur." Leon's voice was rough, but he was smiling faintly, shifting his head to look to the side of Merlin. Arthur had come into the room, silent as a cat, to stand beside the warlock. "You alright?" Leon rasped, squinting up at him in the dim light from the half-closed blinds. Arthur's forehead was creased, and Merlin didn't think it was from the pain this time.

"You're asking me?" he laughed weakly. There was a mixture of confusion and relief in his face.

"I'm not the one who got buried under a pile of rubble," Leon said—his words painstakingly slow, but Merlin was reassured to hear that they were no longer slurred. Arthur lifted his uninjured shoulder in a half-shrug and touched his bruised temple.

"I'm fine... You're the one who put yourself in the line of fire… literally." His brows drew together. "You shouldn't have done that for me."

"Arthur, that's my job." Leon offered him another small, thin smile. Arthur shook his head.

"It shouldn't be. I'm certainly not worth dying for."

"We'll have to agree to differ on that point," Leon murmured. He closed his eyes and Arthur shifted back a step. He glanced sideways, and Merlin gave him a reassuring nod.

"I suppose we will," Arthur allowed. "I'll be safe. Don't worry about me." Leon might well not have heard the last words. Merlin gestured towards the door, and the two of them moved out into the hall.

"He's still running a low fever from the burns, but that's normal. He just needs a couple days to recover from the trauma," Merlin said in a low voice. "It won't—" Arthur's hand closed on his arm, stopping him from going back into the living room. Merlin turned back to giver Arthur a questioning glance and suppressed a groan. He knew that look.

"What happened, Merlin?" Arthur demanded. "What are you not telling me?" Merlin looked down at the hand clamped around his bicep.

"Does it matter?"

"I wouldn't ask if it didn't." Merlin looked through the doorway at the Patronus, and Arthur followed his glance. "Tell me what happened to Leon."

"Nothing… the dragon tried to… 'fry him to a crisp'… like you," Merlin said haltingly.

"Merlin, I'm not an idiot." Arthur's eyes narrowed. "I saw how Leon looked in the car on the way back, and he was a hell of a lot worse. People don't survive those kind of burns without serious medical attention, and Leon's not even in the hospital. Now are you going to tell me, or do I need to call Iseldir?" Merlin licked his lips nervously. He had rather hoped that Arthur was too out of it to have noticed Leon's injuries. Iseldir had gone, driving Balinor out to speak with Kilgarrah somewhere outside the city before taking him back to the Druids' refuge. The last thing he wanted to do was stir up trouble for the Druid before he returned home.

"Arthur…" He stared at Arthur's fingers on his arm with a growing feeling of apprehension, wishing he could simply escape the conversation as he so often did when magic was brought up. "Leon's alright now… isn't that the important thing?" he asked miserably, no longer meeting his friend's eyes.

"Did he use magic?" Arthur asked. Merlin's throat convulsed. The question hung in the air for a while before he nodded. "Did he use it on me?" Arthur pressed.

"No," Merlin said instantly. Arthur's eyes bored into him. "Balinor did," he admitted. "Your… shoulder looked pretty bad." The grip on his arm loosened. "They only wanted to help," Merlin added, biting his lip. As little as he wanted to acknowledge it, a mounting nausea rose in his throat at the thought of looking up into Arthur's eyes, afraid of what he might find there. "Arthur, Leon would have died. It was his only chance!"

"I know that, Merlin. For God's sake," Arthur cut over him impatiently, finally letting go of his arm. "I just want to know what happened. No one's going to execute you on the spot for talking about it," the blond said in exasperation. An uncomfortable pause followed his words. Arthur put a hand on the doorframe and bowed his head wearily. "Leon can't come with us," he said at last. Merlin nodded. Both of them understood well that Arthur couldn't stay here either. They needed to leave—today if possible.

"He can stay with Iseldir," Merlin suggested.

"Perhaps… that would be best," Arthur agreed heavily. Merlin's eyes widened a touch. After hearing that Iseldir had used magic in his own apartment, he couldn't help being surprised that Arthur would accept the man's help again. "Leon will know how we're to contact my father. When he wakes again, we'll talk to him and find the safest way to rejoin my father." Down the hall, there was a knock at the door, and Arthur straightened. "That'll be Morgana." He turned briskly and strode to the door. Merlin closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. When Arthur wanted to know something, he was utterly incorrigible, and over the years he'd noticed Merlin's reticence about discussing magic… so of course he made it his mission to grill his tacit roommate every chance he got. Merlin wished that it didn't make him so nervous—or at least that he was better at hiding his discomfort. His reaction only made the blond more curious.

It took him a couple of seconds to register what Arthur had said, and when he did, his eyes snapped open just as Arthur let the new arrivals in. Morgana?

"Afternoon, princess!" Merlin pulled himself together at the sound of a familiar but unexpected voice. That was definitely not Arthur's adoptive sister. The greeting was followed by the sound of several feet shuffling in, jackets rustling, and other voices joining the greetings. The first person he saw was Gwen, and it looked like she'd brought a crowd with her—at least three, and probably more as they moved through the doorway.

"Arthur." That was Lance… Behind the med student was a tall, burly man just removing what looked like a uniform jacket, though he was in civilian clothing. He stood close to the med student, and his eyes roved the inside of the building. Merlin didn't recognize him. "You look a little worse for wear," Lance observed, taking in the burn which crept a little ways up Arthur's neck.

"Been better," Arthur commented. Gwaine tilted his head, inspecting the reddened skin.

"I heard you were in the hospital, but not for a burn," he commented with an expression equal parts suspicious and curious.

"Is everything alright?" Merlin startled. He hadn't noticed Gwen approaching until her hand lit gently on his arm.

"Yeah," he said tersely with a jerky nod. Morgana was there, sure enough. She'd interrupted Lance, Arthur, and Gwaine brusquely and was saying something in an urgent, hurried voice to the blond, but he couldn't make it out from here. He'd had no chance to speak with Morgana since Arthur was hospitalized, and there was something up with her. He knew that.

"You're sure you didn't get hurt yesterday?" Gwen asked, frowning. Merlin reluctantly tore his attention from Arthur and his adopted sister to answer Gwen who looked anxious. "You look tired," she added.

"Really, Gwen. I'm fine, I promise." Merlin summoned a forced smile in reassurance that convinced Gwen no more than Merlin himself. But she smiled back and squeezed his arm in silent promise of support before letting the matter drop. Gwen wasn't one to push when someone didn't want to talk. Unlike Arthur, Merlin reflected. He was lucky for now that Arthur had so much on his mind. Perhaps he was lucky that the others had arrived to redirect the blond's attention. He was listening to Morgana still, nodding slowly with a concerned expression, and he almost didn't even turn when Gwen moved to his side.

"So…" Lance interrupted Merlin's thoughts, having left Arthur to his conversation with Morgana. "I heard some rumors of a dragon sighting here in Oxford." There was a knowing gleam in his eyes. Merlin's smile widened a little, genuine now, and he felt a rush of gratitude towards his friend. He lifted his shoulders.

"I wouldn't know," he said mildly.

"Of course not." Lance inclined his head in silent recognition. I really didn't have that much to do with it… Merlin reflected that he'd have to tell Lance the whole story some time.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

"Same thing as you," Lance said, lifting his shoulders. "A friend in need." Merlin's glance wandered to Gwen. Arthur was seated on the couch now with Gwen close at his side, both with their heads bowed over her mobile while she pulled up a map. The emotion in Lance's face was one Merlin understood all too well. Albeit for a different reason, but he understood it nonetheless. Arthur looked up from their consultation.

"Merlin," he interrupted. "We don't have time for chit-chat." Merlin rolled his eyes a little at Arthur, but he recognized the trace of urgency in his friend's voice. Everyone else had gathered in the living room. Even Gwaine had wandered over and was leaning on the back of the couch, waiting for him and Lance. The med student smiled briefly at Merlin and beckoned to his friend who was standing quiet and withdrawn close to the door still. Merlin had almost forgotten he was there.

"Arthur, This is my friend Percival. He's just arrived here from Camelot." Arthur rose to greet him. He extended a hand. Arthur was no small person, but Percival, who towered over him by several inches, still appeared to envelop his hand entirely in a handshake.

"Camelot? Morgana tells me there are rumors of a renegade military force in Camelot searching for support in the population, run by some rogue military general."

"Thomas Cenred." Percival confirmed. "The rumors are true. I've seen him in the city." Arthur's brow creased at the name.

"Thank you for coming. I appreciate all the warning I can get right now." Merlin was no longer listening. His eyes strayed to the figure standing beside the couch. "When she sets the movement in action, I want to be part of it…" Not if. When. How could it be that Morgause was not part of this? If the charismatic young politician hadn't already started moving, she certainly would soon, because this was the perfect moment. And with a general heading up the attack against Camelot, she had in addition the perfect ally. Morgana was typing out something on her mobile, but she raised her head, perhaps sensing Merlin's gaze burning into her, and looked back at him, a long, hard look. What are you doing here, Morgana? Merlin wondered. There was a spark of apprehension in her gaze. She knew he remembered their conversation… Perhaps she was even afraid. He shook his head just a fraction—an unspoken warning, and his fingers flexed instinctively as a prickle of wariness shivered through him. She broke eye contact quickly.

"Magic?" Merlin's head whipped about at the word. Arthur's brows had drawn together in concern. Percival was shaking his head.

"Not all of them. No one really knows. Several of them clearly used magic when they were moving through the streets, so it's dangerous to approach anyone. Altogether it'd be best if we avoided Camelot." Arthur nodded, and he studied the transit map with a somber expression.

"Merlin, Guinevere, Morgana… All three of you are associated with me. They could be looking for you too."

"So we'll split up. We're less likely to be identified if several familiar faces aren't together," Morgana suggested, returning her mobile to her pocket. "We'll arrange a meeting point and reconnect once it's safe."

"Arthur is first priority," Percival said. "He knows the most, so he has to be protected. We get him there first if possible." Arthur looked like he wanted to argue with that pronouncement, but he probably knew as well as everyone else that it made sense.

"You three are coming too," the blond said firmly. "I don't want anyone using you against me."

"Of course," Gwen agreed. "We'll work it out."

"You should go in Percival's car," Morgana said to Arthur. "It's the least likely to be identified by plate number or otherwise. You can pick a station some distance out of Oxford and take a train from there. As long as you keep your head down you'll be fine. Most people don't pay attention to other commuters."

"Lance and I can take his car," Gwen offered. Arthur's gaze darted to the young med student and back to Gwen. Merlin didn't need any response to know that Arthur didn't like that idea. Gwen slipped her hand into Arthur's, squeezing it and giving him a reassuring smile.

"I can accompany one of you," Percival offered. "Arthur is right. No one should be travelling alone right now." Morgana nodded her agreement.

"Gwen's with Lancelot, so Merlin can go with you."

"I'm going with Arthur," Merlin said quickly. Morgana stopped short and stared at him, reminding Merlin poignantly of Arthur's usual reaction when he'd been told 'no'. Both of Uther's children were born and raised leaders, unaccustomed to being gainsaid.

"Merlin," Arthur sighed. "You'll be safer with Percival. If I get caught—"

"Yeah, you probably will if I'm not there." Merlin interrupted. Arthur's eyebrows rose.

"I was starting to wonder where you'd left your sense of humor," he said, and a faint smile twitched at his lips.

"Look, we can't have three of the identified people going together," Morgana said, her voice dropping to a lower tone in annoyance. Merlin looked back at her, and her expression unsettled him. He wanted desperately to believe that Morgana wanted only the best for Arthur. She'd been by his side when he was sick, and she'd never failed to come through for him when he was in need… But he couldn't allow someone with known associations to Morgause to travel alone with his friend: not now when Arthur's life hung so delicately in the balance.

"You're the best known of us next to Arthur," he reasoned. "You two will attract too much attention by yourselves, let alone together. You should go with Percival." A tense silence ensued. Morgana stared him down across the table, and Merlin met her gaze unflinchingly.

"Arthur—" she began to argue.

"Merlin's right." Arthur cut her short. "He'll come with me. Morgana, you'll go with Percival. That leaves Gwaine."

"Considering how much trouble you and Merlin get up to, I think you could use an extra pair of eyes to watch your back," Gwaine said. "You're the one who's in the most danger."

"That's that, then." Arthur said decisively. "It's better if as few of us as possible know exactly where my father is. We'll arrange a meeting point in Cardiff. Once I've talked to Leon, I'll go before and find him then make sure you're all brought safely in." He stood. "Merlin, is Leon well enough to talk to me for a few minutes?" Merlin nodded. "Good," Arthur said brusquely, rising to his feet. "We'll leave as soon as Iseldir comes back"

Perhaps, Merlin thought guiltily, he'd misjudged Morgana. Her expression had read genuine concern when she gave Arthur a fierce hug before they parted ways. She cared about Arthur. Merlin knew that. She'd been willing to forget all previous quarrels when Arthur was ill. Certainly she'd come through better than Uther whose first assumption was that Arthur had brought it upon himself. Right now everyone was on edge. The renegades might be a tiny splinter group, or they could be a second iteration of The Pure. No one knew right now, and they couldn't afford to take any risks. Morgana now faced a threat from both sides, should the one find her and use her against Uther or the other discover her magic. More than that, she was traveling with a stranger, albeit a former soldier, now finished with his tour of duty. He doubted that was any comfort to Morgana who'd harbored a dislike for uniformed men since the incidents with Aredian back in Camelot. It couldn't be easy for her.

Regardless, Merlin felt a little easier once Morgana was well away from them. Gaius would be with Uther. His uncle would have gone to find the Prime Minister as soon as he and Merlin went their different ways. Gaius had known Morgana for much longer than him… and he always seemed to know what to do—how to keep everyone safe. He would have answers surely. Merlin didn't want to be making the decisions alone anymore. He felt stretched thin, trying to watch out for everyone at once… and with Freya's memory still keen in his mind, he harbored the constant fear that he might snap… that he would fail once again.

But that he could ill afford to focus on. For now, he had a task, and he couldn't be fatalistic about it. He jogged a couple steps to catch up with Arthur's long strides and reached over to tug Arthur's hood forward so it cast a shadow over the blond's eyes and covered his bright colored hair.

"Keep your head down," he muttered. "If someone's tracking us, we don't want your face on CCTV footage." Arthur pulled a grimace, but he bowed his head.

"Do you think we should've waited?" he asked, and his voice betrayed a hint of doubt for the first time since their conversation back in Oxford. "Someone could be looking for Leon too."

"Leon will be safe where he is," Merlin promised him. "Iseldir wouldn't have saved his life only to throw it away a day later." He shook his phone impatiently, watching the little loading signals on the screen. "Signal's slow," he grumbled, scrolling through the half-loaded article on recent renegade movements in Camelot. The murmur of voices filled the silence between them for a while and echoed about the high-ceilinged station. On the platform nearby, a train hissed as it pulled out of the station on its way to Camelot.

"Anything new?" Arthur asked close to Merlin's ear, peering over the warlock's shoulder. Merlin nodded.

"It looks like that General Cenred bloke released a statement, but I can't get it to load. Haven't got enough bars in here."

"Give it a sec. Everyone's trying to load it right now," Arthur said. A slip of paper slid over Merlin's screen, blocking the view.

"Mission accomplished," Gwaine announced brightly, raising his voice to be heard over the sudden increase of noise inside the station. "If we catch this next departure, we should make it to Cardiff before dark," He offered the third to Arthur.

"What the hell is all this racket about?" Arthur demanded, frowning at the station doors. There was some shouting outside, entirely indistinguishable from where they stood. Gwaine shrugged.

"Crowds make noise, princess. That's a fact of life. Come on. We've got a train to catch."

"Can you load that on the train?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah." Merlin stuffed the phone in his pocket and jogged after his friends, heading for the stairs down to the station platform. Bang. Merlin's head snapped about quickly. He wasn't sure what had collided with what, but someone was running across the station floor, and he was followed by a couple of other people picking up their pace. The sound was followed by another—that of shattering glass. "Arthur?" He soughed out his friend on instinct. Arthur was standing on the step just above him, the tips of his fingers touching the metal stair rail, frozen. The blond's eyes were fixed on the station doors.

"Oh hell," Gwaine breathed from the step behind them. Every muscle in Merlin's body went rigid. For a split second he took in the black-clad figures pouring into the station, masked, many of them armed with sticks and other bludgeons. One of the glass doors was now merely a metal frame, its panes smashed to tiny pieces on the floor. Angry voices rose inside, blending into a wild commotion so Merlin couldn't make out any of the words, screams, and challenges. Other doors slammed through the station and remained shut. The figures positioned themselves, some in front of the exits, and others advanced menacingly through the crowd, nameless and faceless, identified only by the white mixture painted over their faces (1). They weren't professionals, nor were they armed with high-powered weapons, but Merlin didn't need the spike of mixed fight-or-flight adrenaline and defensive magic to tell him that they meant serious harm.

"Arthur!" he hissed. The blond darted a glance at Merlin, mouth open as if to say something, but Merlin put a hand on his head, and forced his face down before any of them might recognize the Prime Minister's son.

"Get out of here. Go!" Gwaine urged, giving Merlin a shove. The exact same thought had crossed Merlin's mind. He didn't wait for Arthur to respond but seized his friend by the arm and forced him down the stairs. They weren't the only ones who had started moving with renewed urgency. A mass of people poured down the stairs behind them, jostling against one another, tripping and stumbling over each other's feet and legs. Merlin didn't have a chance at keeping track of Gwaine or spotting any of the others for the second. He clutched Arthur's arm tight, dead set on keeping hold of his friend in the press, and a second later Arthur's arm turned in Merlin's grip, and his fingers curled tight around Merlin's wrist with the same intent.

The platform swarmed with panicked commuters. Merlin's eyes flickered for the barest second, allowing his magic to help guide him on the easiest path through the press. Still keeping a grip on Arthur, he plowed his way through and prompted the blond in front of him into the nearest car. They squeezed inside the over-packed space, both breathing hard. Merlin turned in tandem with the small warning in the back of his mind, just in time to see several of the dark figures, sticks and weapons raised, coming after them. Protect Arthur. Protect him, was the only thought Merlin could hold onto for the moment. He shuffled backwards a bit, forcing Arthur away from the doors with him and pushing the other passengers back an inch as he did so, trying to position himself in front of his friend to block the advancing men. He bowed his head ever so slightly, and whispered an incantation, tripping one of the protestors and sending him sprawling at his companion's feet. As they scrambled to regain their footing, the train doors shut with a hiss. Someone screamed. Other commuters were crowding at the edge of the platform. Several hands reached for the windows. Some pressed against them as if they might be able to push their way into the train. Amidst the cacophony of panic, a quiet chime sounded and a cool, calm female voice softly announced departure, then they began to move. As they slipped away, several faces stared in through the windows, wide-eyed and terrified. The chorus of fearful voices on the subway drowned out the voices outside now, but he could still see what was happening between the heads of two other people closer to the door. Just as the train pulled out of the station, Merlin caught a glimpse of armed and armored Patroni arriving at the station, efficient and faceless, equipped with their own masks. A thick cloud of grayish-white smoke which Merlin had often seen on media screens during the previous riots swept across the platform, and Merlin was unable to repress a shudder. As the cloud reached some of the unlucky commuters who didn't make the train, they crumpled to the ground, covering their faces, huddling together, and suddenly Merlin wasn't so sure he knew whose side he was on in this war.

Then the station lights went out.

The train flew away towards the open country.

"They're shutting off power," Arthur muttered. His voice was drawn as taut as the rest of his body. Arthur's fingers still didn't uncurl from round Merlin's wrist. Why they'd shut off power in the station, Merlin couldn't say, unless the protestors were sabotaging power lines. Right now, he didn't know how to reassure his friend. He wanted to back into the darkest corner of the train and stay there until his heart stopped racing and his body stopped trembling from fear and adrenaline. "Gwaine's back there," Arthur added quietly. Merlin swallowed.

"They're not looking for him… he'll be okay." God, he hoped that was true… A small, shaky breath from Arthur alerted him to his friend's ghostly pale face and drawn expression. The reminder of an immediate problem—something he could at least deal with right now—grounded him a little.

"Hey… are you alright?" Merlin twisted about to look at him. Arthur's grip on his wrist was tight enough that it was beginning to hurt.

"Fine," Arthur breathed. He closed his eyes tightly. Merlin sighed.

"Is it your arm?" Arthur nodded, and Merlin pulled his wrist free from his friend's grasp. "Here." He pushed past Arthur, swapping their places, and situated himself so he could shield his friend's shoulder from the jostling of the other commuters. "Put your arm around my shoulders." Arthur looked askance at him.

"Why?" Merlin rolled his eyes.

"So people won't bump it. I'm trying to help, you prat."

Arthur sighed, but he did rest his injured arm delicately over the warlock's shoulders. For a while they were quiet, listening to the murmur of anxious conversation around them amidst the other passengers.

"Do you think…" Merlin looked sideways at his companion. "Did they know I was going to be at that station?"

"They couldn't have," Merlin said firmly, infusing as much confidence as he could into his voice. "No one knew where you were except the people who were at Iseldir's home. That was just bad luck."

"Not just bad luck… that means they could be anywhere."

"They're not, and the police had them under control. We're going to be fine," Merlin insisted.

A few strands of dark hair brushed Merlin's ear, and pressed his face into it, drawing some comfort from the familiar scent and her arms around him.

"Will he be alright?" Freya asked softly. He closed his eyes.

"I don't know." There were a thousand things he wanted to tell her, about the dragon, Morgana, the spell… everything. But not with this many people around. He hadn't been able to find a way to get to Arthur yet, and somewhere inside rankled the fear that it wouldn't work… He felt guilty going outside the hospital for a minute, let alone going to his flat or elsewhere. More than that, he felt guilty for being afraid to try—afraid someone would see him healing Arthur. That he was letting Arthur suffer right now because he had to wait for the right opportunity when no one else was in the room. But God… he wanted someone to talk to. Her fingers threaded through the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. He knew she was only here to stop by, but just for a moment—a bare few seconds, Merlin let himself lean on her, draw comfort from someone else.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly in his ear. "I wish I could stay."

I wish I could stay…

Merlin jolted awake as the train pulled to a stop, wondering when he'd fallen asleep.

"Merlin!" Someone was shaking him. "Wake up you lazy arse."

"Hmmm…" Merlin sat up and scrubbed a hand across his eyes. They burned like he hadn't slept in days. The train had emptied more than half its occupants at a station somewhere between Didcot Parkway and Cardiff—all the people who'd boarded to escape the protest. "Wh-" He paused to yawn. "Wha's going on?" he asked, trying to shove his dream out of his mind. He saw her face every night in the few precious moments of rest he managed. Sleep hadn't come easily since the fire in Gaius' apartment. Neither had consciousness. Either way, his mind persistently turned over every precious second he'd had with Freya, as if he could've done more to help… as if he'd done something wrong.

"This is our stop," Arthur said, pulling his hood back up. Merlin heaved himself to his feet as the overhead voice announced Cardiff. Arthur's arms were folded, and his eyes narrowed as Merlin ran a hand over his face and yawned again. "When's the last time you slept in a bed?" Arthur asked dryly.

"Dunno." Merlin grunted.

"Idiot," Arthur muttered. Merlin opened his mouth as they left the train, heading for the station doors, but his protest died on his tongue. He'd had a lingering feeling of wrongness—imbalance; one that had stuck with him ever since he'd lost Freya. He'd thought it was something within himself at first, but it felt like something tied to the world around him. Like his magic bound him to something greater than himself, and that something was troubled. Most of the time it lingered somewhere deep in the back of his mind, but now, it wrapped itself around his heart with icy fingers

"Arthur," he grabbed a fistful of his friend's sleeve, stopping him before he opened the door. "Wait." His heartbeat quickened as he tried desperately to scan the area for the presence he felt—the warning that was ringing in his very being.

"Merlin, we can't stay here," Arthur pointed out.

"I don't think we should go out there," Merlin blurted, then bit his lip.

"Why?"

"I… just… a funny feeling," Merlin said.

"A funny feeling?" Arthur's eyebrows rose skeptically. He gave Merlin a nudge towards the door, sighing impatiently. "Come on. We've got half an hour to catch a city bus before curfew." Merlin scowled and brushed past Arthur to go through the door first, wondering when he'd started making an occupation out of protecting an arrogant prat who couldn't be bothered to listen to anyone else.

And there, waiting just outside the door, was a familiar figure—though one Merlin had only ever seen before on the media. He stopped in the doorway, and Arthur shouldered through only to stop at his side, frozen. How… Merlin's heart sank into his boots. He didn't need to ask. Morgana… She'd sold them out. He didn't bother saying 'I told you so.' He'd already caught the look on Arthur's face. This was it… they'd come this far only to see Arthur cornered like a hunted animal.

"Arthur Pendragon. I've been looking for you." Arthur stiffened.

"Everyone has," he said through his teeth, ramrod straight and tense. His eyes blazed with cold anger. "Would you prefer me dead or alive?"

"I've never wished you any harm." The blond held up her hands. "I'm unarmed and unaccompanied. I'm not here to threaten you. I only want to talk. I want you to know the truth." Merlin's eyes flitted to the street around them. There were very few other people nearby, most moving away on their own errands, but he didn't quite trust Morgause's word.

"I don't need any of your truths," Arthur returned.

"No, I can't imagine you're used to the truth, Arthur Pendragon," Morgause said. Arthur stiffened, but she carried on in an even and calm voice. "I only want what is best for the people of this country. If I spoke against your father, it was out of no malice but for the sake of thousands of innocents who live in fear in this country. Your father has done us a great wrong." Arthur's mouth twisted into a frown. Merlin knew she'd touched on an iffy subject for him.

"We have nothing to talk about," the blond said tersely and turned to go.

"Haven't you ever wondered why Uther never speaks of your mother?" Morgause asked softly. Arthur stopped. "Did he tell you that Ygraine was his reason for beginning this mad crusade?"

"Arthur," Merlin's voice was low. Whatever Morgause wanted to say, it couldn't be good for either Arthur or Uther. He put a hand on his friend's shoulder and tried to prompt him towards the street again, but Arthur was already turning back, and Merlin's heart sank at the expression on his friend's face, guarded, but also curious, and worse still… hopeful.

"You knew my mother?" he asked. Morgause inclined her head.

"I knew her very well."

AN: (1) the seasoned protestors in Greece knew to wear a certain plaster on their faces which mitigated the effects of the teargas. These guys know what they're in for...

I have a question for you all! There are a LOT of characters I'd like to get into the heads of for this next chapter, and right now... I can't decide which would be more interesting. So... I thought I might as well ask. Whose POV would you like to see in the next chapter if you had a choice? Some possible candidates are Merlin & Arthur, Uther, and possibly Morgana.

Let me know, and I'll take your opinion into account! Hopefully the next chapter will be forthcoming before the end of September, though I can't make any definite promises.

Cheers!
Sandyy