Hey guys!

Sorry for the wait, writer's block and life. Anyway, enjoy!

~Ra1n

Previously...

"Of course not. The magic has to be direct. It has to go through Arthur. The king needs to wield it himself."

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Instead, all eyes turned towards Iseldir in varying mixes of confusion, hope, and dread.

"Could you say that again?" Gwaine asked slowly. Iseldir gave him a sympathetic look.

"I said, Arthur needs to wield the magic himself." He surveyed the rest of the faces in the room, "I realize that this is not something you would like to hear."

Gwaine nodded, more to himself than to anybody else. "Yeah, that's what I thought you said."

The silence that followed was oppressive. It seemed the entire room was at a loss for words. Gaius knelt to feel Merlin's forehead, only to find that the sorcerer had fallen unconscious again, this time in a slightly more natural slumber. He sighed. He wondered if Iseldir had had anything to do with Merlin's miraculous return to consciousness. He couldn't see how, considering the collar had blocked even the most basic of magic. Perhaps Merlin's body had simply sensed it needed to be awake, if only for a moment. Or maybe Iseldir and the Druids were powerful in more ways than Gaius knew. Either way, it was truly a miracle that Merlin had been able to speak to Iseldir, and that Iseldir could comprehend what he had been trying to convey- even if what he was trying to convey seemed virtually impossible.

It occurred to him that Merlin had probably already known about this, had already been aware that his only way out of the collar was through Arthur. How long had he known? Had he been aware of it from the moment the collar was put on him, or had he figured it out later? Had Iseldir speaking to him brought about the realization? Not that it truly mattered, Gaius supposed-the result was still the same. Someone was going to need to speak to Arthur.

Outside, the rain and wind howled and slapped against the windows.

They found him in his chambers.

His crown was laying on his desk, its golden finish dulled by the blue-grey color that leaked through the tall windows. There were some papers scattered beneath them, covered in his thick, heavy-handed scrawl. A few had been blurred illegibly, making it obvious that the windows had only been recently closed; that they had been open during a good portion of the storm. His bed was unslept in.

And Arthur was sitting at his desk. Ink stains on his fingers. Rain in his hair. Jaw in the palm of his hand.

Gwen stood in the doorway once again, unsure of how to approach. The king hadn't noticed her knock or her entrance, and had yet to notice her presence at all. Behind her, in the hallway, she could hear the nervous breathing of Gwaine and Iseldir as they waited for her to signal them in.

She cleared her throat. Arthur didn't look up, and she wondered if he was actually asleep. She took another few steps into the room, and her foot caught on a pile of crumpled paper, scattering it across the floor. She had a moment to glimpse the blurred remnants of the words "decree," and "war," "imprisonment" and "apology," before Arthur jerked and looked up sharply, immediately making eye contact. Gwen suddenly felt like she'd been caught doing something wrong, but shook it off.

"Can I help you?" Arthur asked. The words were formal, but the tone was soft. He sounded tired. Gwen's chest ached with sympathy even as her stomach twisted with anger. She folded her hands in front of her.

"Yes." She broke eye contact, "Gwaine came back."

And although she wasn't looking, she knew Arthur's eyes had widened.

"Alone?" he asked. She couldn't read his tone, and paused for a moment. Arthur remained silent, waiting for her answer.

"No," she said. "Not alone."

This time, there was obvious relief in his voice.

"Has he seen to Merlin?"

"Yes." She bit her lip.

"And?"

"And…" she hesitated again, looking back towards the door. She couldn't see Iseldir or Gwaine, but she knew they were listening. "He couldn't help."

Arthur sank back into his chair. His shoulders slumped for a moment as his hand rose to run down his face and pinch his nose and eyes. He took a deep breath, keeping his eyes lowered towards his desk and covered with his hand as he spoke.

"I see." His voice was tight. His jaw was locked. "And is he still here?"

Gwen took a step towards the door. She did not trust this Arthur. "Yes, he is."

"And he has tried everything within his power?"

She sighed. "His power doesn't matter, Arthur. You know that."

"I know what?" His voice was louder, closer to the edge of his teeth.

"Magic doesn't work on iron."

"Goddamit!" He snapped, standing from his desk and knocking his crown off of it with an angry sweep of his hand. "God fucking dammit!" He ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily through his nose and teeth. Gwen stood stock still, determined to stay and afraid to.

"So that's it, then?" he hissed. "That's all there is?" His hand snapped down to slam against his desk, and an inkwell teetered and fell, shattering against the stone floor, splattering the desk and papers there like dark blood. His fingers curled into a fist. "Do you understand what that means?" There were flecks of ink on his fingers, and as he moved his hand he smeared them against the desk. "Do you get it?"

For a moment, Gwen forgot her anger. "Arthur…" she said softly, but Arthur punched his desk again, cutting her off.

"No, Gwen! You don't get it! Do you know what I did? Do you know? I put that thing on him! It was me! I walked right up and I reached around his neck and snap! It was done. And I liked it, Gwen. I really did. He was delivering me breakfast when- Gwen, he was doing his goddamn job- We hadn't even spoken that morning. I didn't even make eye contact, I just came up behind him and- You know he didn't even say anything, he didn't have any time to, he just dropped everything and there was wine everywhere and I liked it. And now-" He cut himself off, still breathing heavily, before muttering, "Magic doesn't work on iron."

Gwen stood, stunned. This was not the way she had expected it to go.

"Please," he murmured, and his gaze met Gwen's again. His breathing was slowing, hiccuping in his chest like he was about to break down. "There needs to be- there can't just be nothing. It's Merlin, for gods' sake- He can't just- I can't be-" He ran his hand through his hair, and ink darkened his forehead and everything he touched.

"Arthur."

Both the king and the queen jumped at the third voice in the room. Gwaine stood in the doorway, Iseldir behind his shoulder. The king's eyes widened and he bowed his head slightly.

"Iseldir," he said, and his cheeks colored with shame.

Gwaine moved to the side to allow Iseldir access to the room. The Druid stepped delicately, avoiding the paper and ink and broken glass on the floor, until he was standing only feet away from Arthur, just behind the fallen crown.

"I'd hoped we could meet again in better circumstances," Iseldir said. Arthur swallowed.

"As did I."

Iseldir knelt and lifted one of the wet pieces of paper. "Looks like you have been busy, your highness." He tilted the paper, watched as the ink and rainwater ran onto the floor. "A new decree?" He lifted another paper. "Or an apology?"

Arthur didn't reply, only watched the diluted grey drip from the paper's edge. Iseldir placed them on the desk.

"I see." The paper hissed as it was slid across the wood towards Arthur. "But you believe it's too late."

Arthur refused to look at both the Druid and the papers. "It doesn't matter," he said. "It is too late."

A half-smile spread across Iseldir's face. "No, it is not. You still have time."

Arthur laughed. "But there's nothing to be done. You cannot help him. Nobody can. What is an apology going to do? What is a decree going to reverse? I can't go back and change things. I've killed him already. It's just a matter of time."

"A decree could prevent this from happening again. God only knows how many innocent sorcerers have been in Merlin's place. And an apology isn't enough, but it is a start." He nudged the crown with his foot, watched it roll across the floor until it reached Gwaine. The knight picked it up and held it awkwardly in his dirty fingers.

"And," Iseldir said, looking at the crown, "There is something you can do for him."

Arthur started at that, his pale eyes searching Iseldir's face. "I have tried to write the legalization proposal many times," he said, motioning towards the papers, "and I have tried to write an apology. But nothing is big enough."

"This isn't something to write down, sire. It is something to be done. Something that I cannot do."

The king continued to search the Druid's face, trying to find answers.

"How far are you willing to go to save your servant?" Iseldir asked, and Arthur breathed in.

"As far as it takes."

"Are you quite sure?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes."

Iseldir smiled. "Then you better finish writing that decree," he said. "And welcome to the world of magic users."