Hey there, readers! This is Chapter twenty-six! I have to admit, this was one of my favorite chapters to write- I think one of the best aspects of the show was the writing, specifically how sassy and sarcastic Merlin and Arthur are with each other. It's been killing me to not be able to write that kind of dialogue (or really much of any kind of dialogue) for Merlin! Please let me know if you think the characters are, well, in-character. And if they're not, please tell me why! I didn't put this chapter through nearly the amount of revisions I've put most of the other chapters, but I really wanted to get this out to you guys. So if you see any glaring errors, let me know and I will fix them:) If I come back to edit this later for larger mistakes, I'll leave a note in the next chapter's author's note so that you know to look for the changes. But otherwise...

Enjoy!

~Ra1n

Previously...

The two unconscious figures were gone. Sporting Arthur's shoes and tunic, Merlin stood upright where they once laid, his eyes fixed on the king.

"Arthur," Merlin said, a grim smile on his lips.

"Yes?" Arthur squeaked out. "Merlin?"

The muscles in his jaw twitched. "Not Merlin yet," he murmured, looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time. His eyes landed on the darkened doorway of the room Arthur had fought so hard to get to. A scowl darkened his features, then softened. With a lurch, he took a long stride in its direction, the end of his sentence coming out as a half-whisper, "...but I will be."

Arthur moved to follow, his eyes glued to the space between Merlin's jutting shoulder blades. Sweat had already darkened his tunic there, turning the blue fabric a rich purple-black. Arthur couldn't say he missed the shirt sticking to his own back, though he felt exposed now, without it and his boots.

He never imagined Merlin dressed as a king, albeit, perhaps, the broken one that Arthur was. As it stood, Merlin might have even deserved the livery more than Arthur did, as the only one with the sheer power to hold Camelot together.

The thought was humbling.

Merlin stopped just inside the doorway, examining the contents of the tiny room that had housed a part of him for god-knew-how-long. Arthur watched the muscles in his back tense and his knuckles whiten. He took a step, boots squelching in the mud, and turned, just a little, just enough for Arthur to see the ridge of his cheekbone and lashes.

"Well," he said, "are you coming, sire?"

Arthur didn't miss the way Merlin mocked the word "sire." It wasn't the same. It didn't matter how much hoping Arthur did- Merlin had every right to feel however he wanted about the situation. Which, Arthur realized, seemed to only be some bastardization of anger and hope at the moment.

Merlin cleared his throat.

"I said," he grunted, clearly trying to keep his voice even, "are you coming?"

Without a word, Arthur lurched forward, taking up position beside Merlin in the doorway. He, too, took a moment to take in the room, though it held less significance to him. Just a dirty floor and the faint imprint of Merlin's body towards the back.

The moment passed.

"Open it." Merlin's voice was anything but gentle. Arthur's gaze traveled upwards to land on the next door. It was just as beautifully ornate as the others, though dirt was stuck in the crevasses of the goldleaf and carving. Even so, it glowed with that same strange luminosity that both fascinated and confused Arthur.

Merlin cleared his throat a second time. Suddenly, the room didn't seem so harmless to Arthur. His feet were still firmly planted on the searing floor, and the burns and blisters had decided to make themselves known once again. The room before him seemed to stretch, the mud as welcoming as saltwater on his open wounds. Biting down hard on the inside of his cheek, he resisted the urge to tell Merlin to do it himself. Instead, he took a few wobbly steps- he was right, the silty floor did nothing to comfort his torn blisters- and managed to reach the door in a few agonizing seconds. He took a moment to lean against it, trying to ease the pressure on his feet. To distract himself from the pain, he turned his attention to the door, studying the intricate detail work until his breathing settled.

At this point, Merlin had crossed the room and was practically breathing down Arthur's neck.

"C'mon," his voice was uncomfortably close to Arthur's ear, "Try the handle."

Arthur's hand seemed to move on its own accord, his fingers wrapping around the knob and squeezing. He felt the need to say something, anything, before he pulled the door open and faced what was inside, but nothing was forthcoming.

Merlin seemed impatient.

Arthur sighed, and with a grunt, yanked the door towards him. There was a moment of resistance in which Merlin looked resigned and Arthur felt panic bloom in his chest before it gave. Arthur released the handle as the door swung wide.

Light.

Both of them immediately threw their hands over their faces, wincing. The room was bright- blinding after the dark tile and gloomy muck. It seemed to be a solid wall of yellow-white brilliance.

Arthur recovered first. Squinting, he covered the short distance it took to get over the threshold and looked around.

Or rather, he tried to look around. He'd barely had time to adjust enough to see the milky yellow of the walls and call out, "hello?"before he was being bowled over by a bundle of shouting limbs.

"Arthur!" the bundle was yelling, nearly shrieking, "ARTHUR! You're here! You clot-pole, you scared me! I can't believe it! You're here-!""

Arthur immediately went to work untangling himself from the appendages that had found their way around his torso, trying to stand back up in the process. He noted that Merlin was smirking behind him, clearly amused by Arthur's distress. Well, Arthur thought, at least he doesn't look worried. He rolled his eyes and finished prying himself away from the shouting creature, holding it at arm's length as he stood up.

The squirming body stopped pushing against his hands, and Arthur released it, muttering, "stay," as if he were training a dog.

He went to straighten his shirt out, only to remember that he'd given it away. He settled for wiping his hands on his trousers instead, using the brief respite to study the occupant of this new space.

It was, unsurprisingly, another Merlin. Sitting on his knees where he'd been released, the man was vibrating with nearly-uncontrollable energy. Arthur thought that if the man really were a dog, he would be wagging his tail.

It was all very shocking after what he'd experienced up to this point, but what was even more shocking was his appearance. Unlike the other Merlins, this one seemed to have been at least fed relatively regularly. His shoulder blades didn't jut like a pair of wings and his ribs weren't visible through the blue shirt he was wearing. He even had proper attire on- a pair of boots, and a belt to hold his trousers up. If Arthur was only looking at the man from the neck down, he would have believed that nothing at all was amiss.

However, Arthur wasn't just looking at Merlin from the neck down.

The longer Arthur looked, the more sure he was that there was just something...off about Merlin's eyes.

He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, exactly. They were perhaps a little too wide, but it wasn't just that. There was something else, too. An extra shine, a lack of depth- the blue of his irises a little too soft and flat. And his pupils-

Arthur let out a very unkingly noise of realization. The pupils were cloudy.

As Merlin calmed down enough for his body to stop quivering, Arthur watched his eyes wander from just above the floor to somewhere slightly to the right of Arthur's face. They stayed there, rapidly twitching back and forth.

Merlin made a humming noise behind him, reaching the same conclusion as Arthur: this new Merlin was very obviously blind. Blind, and the only thing in the room that Arthur could keep his vision focused on. Everywhere else Arthur looked was the same shade of blinding yellow-white, so consistent in hue that Arthur couldn't be sure of where the walls ended and the ceiling and floors began. What he had originally thought were walls didn't appear to be tangible-the solidity of the light simply gave the illusion of a physical space. If he were to investigate, Arthur was sure there were walls somewhere just out of reach, but it was impossible to tell how close or far away that was. And so, in the middle of the light-fog, Arthur's squinted eyes remained trained on the dark shape of Merlin.

Still on his knees, Merlin's face broke into a wide grin, his occluded eyes crinkling into half-moons.

"You're late, sire," he teased, crossing his arms in mock annoyance. "I should have expected that, though- You wouldn't be able to find your own arse without me."

Arthur was caught between feeling insulted and incredibly relieved. Merlin pulled himself up, swaying for a moment as he planted his feet beneath him. His hands rested on his hips.

"Well? Do you have nothing to say for yourself? Typical!" He threw his hands up as if to brush him off. "You know, I don't even know why I try with you."

He paused again, squinting in Arthur's general direction as if that would help his nonexistent eyesight.

"You… you are there, right?" He rolled his shoulders back. "My words are getting into that big head of yours? Or am I just talking to myself?"

Arthur was at a loss for words. The Merlin behind him gave him a quick, hard shove between his shoulder blades, prompting him to speak. Arthur shot him a look before turning to Blind Merlin.

"Uh…" Arthur cleared his throat, "I can hear you just fine, Merlin." Was he supposed to act normal now? Was he expected to banter like they used to? Arthur wasn't sure he was up for that. Guilt still sat heavily in his throat.

Blind-Merlin had other plans, however. He rocked back on his heels and whistled. "Wow, it really is you. And I thought you said we weren't friends. Changing our mind now, are we?"

Arthur searched the man's blank eyes for any hint of spite, but it seemed he was being genuine. Still, Arthur could not find the words he needed to continue the lighthearted interaction. All he could hear in his head was the Merlin in the dungeons of Camelot, screaming and pleading to just end it all. That had been only days ago, and now he was staring down an aspect of Merlin that he had tried so hard to forget, an aspect that had no doubt been beaten out of Merlin in the weeks of torture he had sustained.

But apparently, the torture hadn't completely driven it out of Merlin. Although strangely enough, it had driven it out of Arthur. The easiness, the casual tone, the sense of companionship - Arthur couldn't relax into it. The memory of their bickering conversations seemed to belong to another man entirely, a man who was greater than Arthur was. Fighting Merlin had been hard, but this was so much harder.

"...Okay..." Merlin tilted his head to the side, angling his left ear towards Arthur. "Should I just...stand here? Wait for you to process what I said?"

It was supposed to be a jest, Arthur knew, but it hit a little too close to home. Of course he understood what Merlin was saying, he just didn't know what to say back. He was trying to calculate it in his head. Should he just come right out and start apologizing? Was that too forward for this Merlin? It certainly seemed like he was comfortable being blunt to Arthur. Did it work both ways?

"Right. Well I'll just stay here, then." Merlin had started chewing on his lip, the first hints of uncertainty playing across his face. He wrapped his arms around his abdomen as if he were cold. Arthur needed to say something, and soon.

Merlin let out a dramatic sigh. "It's not like I've been doing a lot of traveling, anyway."

"...yes... well, me... neither," Arthur blurted. It came out rushed and unevenly spaced, the beginning too quick. There was a strange pause between "me" and "neither." Arthur winced. So much for normalcy.

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Really? So you've spent some time in fathomless glowing rooms, too?" His tone dripped sarcasm. "And here I thought I had a unique experience."

"How do you know it's glowing?" Arthur could have kicked himself. This was not the way he wanted to address the elephant in the room.

Merlin laughed. "Right!" His hands came up to cover his eyes. "Because I can't see, right? At least not anymore. I did say you were late." He dropped his hands. "I assume it's still glowing. It's not like it had any mercy before, obviously. I don't know why it would start now. Although that would be my luck."

No mercy.

Merlin had been driven to blindness staring into the abyss of this room, waiting. Waiting for… Arthur, it seemed? Arthur had to stop himself from picturing what that must have been like. He was late. But he wouldn't have been if he hadn't made the problem in the first place.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, and as an afterthought, "And you're right, it's still bright."

Merlin smirked. "Probably brighter than you." His brow wrinkled. "But what are you apologizing for? Other than for being a general ass."

Arthur turned to the Merlin behind him, eyes wide, and mouthed: He doesn't know?

Merlin shrugged, looking just as bewildered as Arthur. I don't know.

"Merlin," Arthur began carefully, addressing the blind man, "What do you think I'm apologizing for?"

"Would you like me to fetch you a list?"

"I don't think that will be necessary."

But Merlin had already started counting off on his fingers, his eyes closed. "You enjoy putting me in the stocks. You throw goblets at my head. You make me shine all of your boots-"

Arthur glanced down at his own bootless feet, then behind him, where his boots were still around Merlin's feet. That Merlin gave Arthur a smug look.

"- a few weeks ago, you wrung out a mop on my head, after I'd finished cleaning the floor. You keep insisting I go on patrols with you, but you never give me any armor, except once, and that was because I was serving as bait. Speaking of which, how many times have I been a bargaining chip? Or bait? Because I think I've lost count. And you never say thank you, or please, or give me days off, or give me any raises, or-"

"I get it," Arthur cut Merlin off. "I'm an ass. But do you know of anything else I could be sorry for?"

Another confused look. Arthur tried a different approach, desperately trying to avoid breaking the news to Merlin that Arthur was currently wandering aimlessly through a spell he had cast in the hopes of salvaging Merlin's tortured, dying body and magic. "Do you remember how long ago it was that I wrung out that mop over your head?"

"Christ, Arthur. I don't know. Do you think I keep a detailed account? And even if I did, do you think I know what day it is?" He spread his arms out wide. "I'll just use the angle of the sun to keep track of time, you know, after I check my sundial in this shadowless, changeless abyss." His hands dropped. "No, I don't know when you dumped mop-water on my head. I don't even know how long I've been in here for, or even how I wound up here in the first place!"

Ah. There it was. Arthur scrubbed a hand across his face.

"Okay, Merlin, then what do you remember? What's the most recent thing you remember doing before you were here?"

"I… remember waking up in my room."

Arthur nodded, "Okay…"

"And I remember getting your breakfast from the kitchens."

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat. "And then?"

"I went to your chambers - on time, I should add."

"Fine, okay. And after that?"

Merlin wrinkled his nose. "And then there was light."

"...that's it?" Arthur didn't mean for his voice to sound so unimpressed, but it did anyway. The Merlin behind him snorted.

"Looks like you're just going to have to tell him yourself," he whispered behind Arthur's back. He was obviously enjoying every minute of Arthur's discomfort. Arthur shot him a look over his shoulder. Merlin managed to school his face into something resembling guilt, but it was for show and they both knew it.

The other Merlin frowned, clearly disoriented by hearing his own voice having a conversation elsewhere. He couldn't have been aware that there was anybody else with them until now, and he certainly wouldn't have guessed that person was his virtual clone.

"Arthur…" Blind-Merlin's voice was low and the most serious it had been so far. "...you're hiding something."

Arthur didn't respond. The words were trapped in his throat.

"Arthur?" Blind-Merlin had started to breathe a little more heavily, his hands twitching at his sides as if he suddenly had the urge to do something with them. "What are you not saying? I know you. I know when you're avoiding something."

When there was no immediate answer, he brought his twitchy hands up, covered his mouth with his balled fists, and bit his knuckle.

"Tell me," his voice was muffled by his fingers, "What are you apologizing for? What did you do?"

But Arthur was staring into Merlin's pale, blank eyes, lost in thought. They were wide and red-rimmed with the beginning notes of anxiety. They reminded Arthur of a child's; round and unaware. Who was he to ruin that?

But no, he knew that he was wrong. Merlin was a grown man who'd been through more than most. The blindness didn't diminish that. He more than deserved to know what was going on. So why was it so difficult for Arthur to tell him?

"Look, whatever it is, it doesn't matter. I swore to be your servant until the day I die, and I meant it. But I can't serve you if you don't explain what's wrong- are you still there?"

Merlin took a frantic step towards Arthur, one hand outstretched, feeling for confirmation that he hadn't been abandoned. Arthur was out of reach, however, and Merlin stopped, letting out a loud breath through his nose. His eyelids fluttered closed, and he knelt, his knees hitting the floor first. Arthur had the sudden urge to cover the short distance between them and take the boy by the shoulders, but he was stopped abruptly as the Merlin behind him pushed past, wincing at the thrum of pain that came with crossing the threshold of another room. Blind-Merlin gasped, his hands moving from his mouth to his temples, and screwed his eyes more tightly shut.

The two warlocks rode out their respective pain in silence. Arthur watched.

The Merlin who'd been in the doorway pulled himself together first. He had experienced the pain once already, and after a few breaths through his nose, the tremors stopped. Gently, he put his hands on the blind one's wrists, guiding them down until his face was in full view. His eyes were still shut, but they softened as the pain dissipated.

"Arthur?" he whispered, mistaking the hands on his wrists for the king's.

"No," it was the kindest tone Arthur had heard the bitter man use since they'd met two rooms back, and it sounded so strange Arthur actually did a double take, his vision flitting between the clones to confirm their identities. He was largely ignored as the conversation continued without him. "But he's still here. And I'm afraid to say that you and I haven't met in a very long time." He squeezed the wrists gently.

Dull eyes shot open in surprise. That was definitely his own voice. Blind-Merlin was sure of it. He pulled his wrists out of the other's grip, his lips parted. He was caught between speaking and hysterics. Arthur could see the laughter ready to burst from his chest. His world was already blank. He didn't need it to be filled with his own crazed voice, too. Dear lord, he probably thought he was losing his mind.

Arthur only realized Blind-Merlin was muttering to himself when the Angry Merlin murmured, "You idiot. You're not losing your mind. Or… at least any more than we all have. And you know what we are, stupid. You just need to use that mind of yours. Here, I'll even prove you're not dreaming this up..." He shot Arthur a dirty look. "Get over here," he hissed.

Arthur didn't need to be told twice. As if on autopilot, he approached the duo and placed a hand on the blind man's shoulder, clearing his throat. His heart nearly broke when the man tilted his face up at the contact and broke into a wide, relieved smile. The other Merlin gave Arthur a warning look before backing off to watch from his doorway.

"Oh…" Blind-Merlin heard the other retreat, and his expression turned thoughtful. "Oh, I see." There was something akin to realization glinting behind his eyes. He chewed on his lip for a moment before, to Arthur's relief, he started speaking.

"I don't know what you did," he started, then tried again, his words as jumbled as his thoughts. "I don't remember what you did. But I'm starting to, not remember exactly, but, if he's here-" he gestured in front of him, where the other Merlin used to be, "-then… I know why he's here, is what I'm saying… But I must have.. I'm not an idiot, Arthur, I know whatever it was, you don't want to talk about it. But, yeah, I know why he's here, there really isn't another reason for it- him?- we? to be the way he- we- are… But I must have chosen to forget the other stuff, more than I wanted to…"

A beat. Merlin knitted his brow. His eyes had closed again as he focused. "Let me try that all again: I woke up. I got your breakfast. I walked into your chambers and everything was so bright, it hurt, and I couldn't make it go away, even with my eyes closed. I couldn't even fall asleep." He laughed bitterly, "But it got better. I had this awful headache, you see, and I can't remember why, but it just got worse and worse, and it was the only thing that existed."

He ground his palms into his eyelids. Arthur winced. He kept talking, oblivious. "I made a deal. I said- Gods, I'd do anything to make it stop- I said to myself that if nothing happened, then there was no reason for me to feel it. Whatever was happening...I wasn't going to be present for it anymore. And I retreated. I decided I wasn't a participant in any narrative. I didn't even notice the dark until it had sneaked up on me. Greedy little bastard, would've put you to shame. But anyway, the headache stopped!"

He winced. "I did it a little too well, though, I think. Because I forgot the deal and I forgot the events and I forgot why I was here in the first place, what I was, what I am- not a whole but a piece of something much more complex. And now I…" He smiled, softly, gesturing again to where his clone had been. "I need to know what happened at breakfast. There was something there, something happened between your chambers and the light. Something that shattered us. I know it doesn't make sense to you. But when the lights wouldn't stop and the headaches began, I just wanted to silence everything in my head. But it was never my head. It was ours. I just lost my ability to be us. And I can't join us if I don't know what the rest know."

His voice dropped to a whisper. "What broke us, sire?"

Arthur look down at the blind Merlin, then at the Merlin in the doorway, who raised his eyebrows. "Go on. Perhaps you need to take it upon yourself to start fixing what you screwed up."

He folded his arms over his chest, signalling he was done speaking.

Arthur felt the familiar weight of guilt settle in his limbs. He deserved this. He deserved far more than this. And he would relive the horror of what he'd done a thousand times over if it would make Merlin alright. He let out a breath, but it came out as a sigh. His tongue was no longer glued to the roof of his mouth. Regret was much sharper than shame. "Alright," he started, "then I guess I'll begin at breakfast."

And Arthur began to tell the tale of his greatest mistake.

He was only partway through week three of his explanation when Blind-Merlin let out a moan and doubled over. Arthur paused, but the warlock just waved his hand. "No, no. Keep going. I'm fine."

Arthur stared at him a moment longer before continuing. "The reports were getting worse and worse, but I wasn't- Merlin, I was a heartless bastard. I didn't even bother to reflect on what I was doing. I think I was afraid to. Actually, towards the end of the five weeks, I completely stopped reading- Are you sure you're alright?"

Blind-Merlin's forehead was resting on the floor now, his arms wrapped tightly around his skull. He let out a groan in answer. Arthur went to put a hand on his back, but he violently shook it off.

"Keep talking." Merlin's voice came from the doorway, his eyes glued to the figure on the floor. He was speaking the words the other Merlin couldn't say. Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Merlin silenced him. "Keep. Talking."

Arthur had forgotten where he'd left off. "So… the reports, they were coming in, and of course I read them. And the third week we were trying something new, something with…" Another groan from Merlin. "...something with.."

"Fire," Merlin grunted from the ground. "You were...using fire."

Arthur blanched, "Yes, we were using fire. H-how…?"

"And those rods," he moaned, his face still pressed against the floor. "The metal ones?"

Arthur's stomach did a flip. "...yes."

The trembling Merlin let out a yelp and jerked, curling further into himself. The scent of burning fiber and charred flesh filled the air and Arthur heaved, taking deep breaths to keep the bile from rising higher in his throat.

"But I don't have answers," Merlin was choking now. He rolled onto his back in an attempt to get air into his lungs, his hands hovering over his thighs where he'd been burned weeks ago. Hovering, but not touching. The smell grew worse. Arthur saw blood on Merlin's chin - he'd bitten his tongue.

Gods, he was watching Merlin get tortured all over again. There was no way he could keep talking.

Fortunately, the other Merlin seemed to be having a much easier time coping with the situation. But of course, he would. Arthur realized. He'd spent the last five weeks being cooked alive from his feet up.

He'd made his way to the two of them and was trying to get Blind-Merlin's attention while still prompting Arthur to speak. "Arthur, ask him-" a shriek came from below them. They both cringed. "-ask him questions. Talk to him, you useless toad! Don't just sit there staring."

Arthur hesitated, afraid he'd hurt him more. But the Merlin from the other room seized his arm and yanked him over, filling his vision with a whimpering, quaking Merlin. That was all the motivation he needed. He pulled the bleeding, sobbing boy's head into his lap. Sweaty hair was stuck to his forehead, his eyes squeezed shut against whatever agony he was caught up in. Arthur placed his hands on either side of his face. "Merlin, can you tell me what's going on? What's happening?" He tried to keep his voice even. Blind-Merlin just shook his head.

"C'mon, Merlin. Talk to me."

In response, Merlin's back arched off the ground and his mouth gaped open in a silent scream. Bruises bloomed across his face. Blood dripped from his nose. His fingers twitched and scratched at the floor beneath him, leaving long red trails that glowed against the light. Arthur felt something wet and sticky seep through the back of Merlin's shirt and onto Arthur's trousers.

He's going to die like this, Arthur thought. There's no way anybody can lose this much blood.

As if to prove his point, Merlin's body gave a few more violent spasms and then relaxed, his spine finding the floor again. He laid like that for a few moments, his chest heaving. The bleeding slowed. Arthur held his breath.

Eventually, his eyelids fluttered open.

His pupils locked onto Arthur's, the cloudiness gone. He coughed harshly, bringing up blood and bile. Some of it splattered onto Arthur's cheeks, but nobody noticed. Everybody was too focused on the way Merlin's lips were moving. Arthur brought his ear as close as he could to Merlin's mouth, straining to hear the words. "You really. are. an ass," he managed to whisper, squinting. The room was still painfully bright. He frowned, blood running from the corner of his lips to Arthur's knee. "And where's. your. shirt?"

Arthur couldn't keep himself from barking out a laugh. Merlin ignored him, instead turning his attention to his clone.

"I'm sorry," he groaned, "I wasn't. there-" He squeezed his eyes shut, still out of breath.

"But you remember now?" the clone asked, and Merlin nodded earnestly, mustering up as much strength as he could to move his head while it was still in Arthur's lap.

The uninjured Merlin seemed like he wanted to say more, but all he wound up saying was, "Well-"

The lights went out.

Something gold glittered in the dark.