A/N so, yeah, really sorry this update took so long. Life has been really hectic as of late, and school has been far more demanding as of late. So much so that even when I had the time to write, I was often too tired to fire up my brain again. Anyway, I am hoping in the next couple of weeks to get out a few more chapters. Stay tuned!

Merlin had no idea what he had been expecting from Arthur after he had been interrogated.

But this was not it.

He could feel every bit of tension within his body, as he tried not to shift too much from the curious glances that the knights were sending him.

Merlin had been hoping that Arthur could have just sent himself and Lancelot, but, oh no, Leon just had to point out that Morgana was still out there, as well as part of a Saxon army, so here Merlin was, stuck with the knights of the round table, out looking for the Dolma, who so happened to also be Merlin.

Suffice to say, he was not enjoying himself.

Lancelot, on the other hand, seemed to be having a ball. The idea that Merlin had an alias that was an old woman seemed to amuse the knight greatly, and while the other knights were thoroughly confused by this mission, Lancelot seemed to uphold an air of general delight, all of which was pointed at Merlin.

This was also adding to the knights' bafflement.

Never before had they ever seen Lancelot this amused by anything, but they had also never seen Merlin glare at him before, which was exactly what he was doing now across the campfire.

Once again Merlin thanked all of Albion that Gwen had convinced Arthur to stay in Camelot and see to all of the paperwork that came with going to war. He doubted that Arthur would have stayed silent on Merlin glaring at Lancelot, although Merlin was surprised that Gwaine hadn't done it already.

But now came the biggest problem that Merlin had to face. How to become the Dolma, while still being Merlin. No matter how powerful he was, Merlin hadn't had much chance over the past ten years to study magic, and even if he had, he doubted he would have been able to find a spell that could split himself in two. There was also the problem that Arthur wished to speak with the witch, which meant that both Merlin and the Dolma had to make their way back to Camelot, which wasn't the tricky part, per se, as Merlin and the Dolma were the same person, but that was also the problem, since Merlin hadn't yet figured out how to split himself in two. Which, now that he thought of it, could be quite useful.

Shaking his head tiredly, Merlin stood up, and, mumbling an excuse about being tired to the knights, rolled himself up in his jacket, and left the night's problems to morning.

Meanwhile, back in Camelot, Arthur couldn't sleep.

Tossing and turning, he eventually gave up, and, moving quietly so as not to disturb Guinevere, made his way to his desk, where he could hopefully get some more paperwork done.

Paperwork! Arthur had always known that there would be paperwork involved in running a kingdom, but never this much.

Oh, how he wished that he could be with his knights right now, instead of being here, doing paperwork.

Of course, Arthur would never admit it, but he was actually worried about Merlin.

He had seen the look on his face when he had tried to talk to him. Merlin had been terrified.

And this scared Arthur. More than anything.

It made him wonder just what his friend thought of him, did he really think that little of him, that Merlin believed that Arthur would kill him just for bringing aid in battle? Of course, there was no denying the fact that the aid had been a sorceress, but still, Merlin's actions had helped turn the tide of battle. Without Merlin, Arthur would most likely be dead, killed by one he first thought was a friend.

Unbidden, Morgana's face drifted into Arthur's mind. Shaking his head, Arthur let go of that thought. Why was it that everyone he held dear eventually ended up betraying him?

He had always thought of Morgana like a sister, and when that became true, she had betrayed them all. His own uncle, Agravaine, had betrayed him for Morgana, and even though they had been enchanted to hurt him, Arthur still felt pangs in his heart when he thought back to the night before his wedding, when he had found Lancelot and Guinevere kissing in the great hall. Finally, Mordred. Arthur had thought he had done everything for him, and oh, how he had tried to make Kara understand that hatred wasn't the answer, but Arthur couldn't in deepest consequence give her a second chance if there was a chance she would turn on his people. Camelot always came first.

The only person who had stuck through with him, through all of this, was Merlin. Merlin with all of his quirks and bravery and wise words. Merlin, who, despite being only a servant, would follow Arthur into the most dangerous of situations, and somehow make it through. Merlin, who was Arthur's first, and best friend. So why, with all of Merlin's declaration of trust and faith in the King that Arthur would be, was Merlin so scared of him?

"He is afraid you will kill him like your father would have done," the voice whispered from the deepest recesses of Arthur's mind, sending shivers down his spine.

"No," Arthur whispered, closing his eyes. "I am not my father."

But deep down, Arthur knew that there had to be something of his father in him, and up until the Horn of Cathbhadh incident, he had believed it had been his sense of justice. But somewhere, in his subconscious perhaps, Arthur had always known this to be false.

Perhaps it was his cruelty. Arthur, it was true, had been undeniably cruel in his words when Merlin had informed him he wasn't coming to Camlann. And yet, he doubted his father would have felt the regret that he himself had felt when he had seen the look on Merlin's face. In hindsight, he wished he could have taken back the ugly words that had been said in pain and fear, for Merlin had come, had been there when Arthur needed him most, like always.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Arthur felt surprised to feel a wetness there, he was crying.

Shaking his head, Arthur turned back to the paperwork in front of him, but found that he could not focus.

Hearing a rustling of sheets, he turned to look at his sleeping wife, only to find her rubbing her own eyes, and getting up.

"Arthur?"

Slipping over to him, she gently tipped his head up lightly, thumb reaching over to brush the tears from his face, and Arthur couldn't help but to bury his head in her shoulder.

He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve any of them. What had he done that was so worthwhile, that could lead to such selfless, loyal friends? Nothing. He-

"Arthur," the soft tone with which she used to say his name brought him from his reverie, and called him to look up into her eyes. "Come back to bed, everything will be alright."

Silently, as if like a ghost, the King of Camelot stood up, and followed his Queen into a deep, but troubled sleep.