Okay, wow. I just wrote this in three hours in a kind of frenzied trance hahaha. I went to write a history paper, opened up my computer, and this was already open. Next thing I know, ten pages of this is done and not even a word of my history paper.

Anyway, I'm off to write a history paper. Enjoy!

~Ra1n

Previously...

"You can't be here now because you were never here before. You never came back. You never listened. You never showed the compassion that I once believed was in your heart. You never once looked at me, in all those weeks. I prayed that you'd change your mind, that you weren't exactly what I feared you were.

And now? It can't be you now, because you're too late. It can't be you now because…" Emrys's voice was nearly too soft to hear as it uttered the final words of its rant:

"... Because I can never forgive you."

Emrys gripped its hair more forcefully, squeezing its eyes shut. "I can never forgive you, and you're here now, saying you're sorry. I've vowed to never forgive you, and here you are, trying to save me." It looked up. "Are you trying to save me because you feel guilty? Because you need to use me? Because you realize I'm still a helpful tool?! Why? Why go through all this trouble now, comfort all of those versions of Merlin, wield magic and release me now, when you didn't before?" It stretched out its arms. "I'm dying, Arthur! Merlin's destiny doesn't even exist. If I wake up, will it be in chains again? Will it be on a pyre? Will Owain be kneeling in front of me, crying and covered in Merlin's blood? Will you ask Merlin and I more questions that we don't have the answers to? Will Merlin be a criminal? Will our friends ever be able to look at us the same way again? Do they even know where Merlin has been? Do they think he's dead? A traitor? A pathetic prisoner beneath Camelot? Will I get to see them before you kill me? Would they even want to? I just don't know, Arthur! You didn't care. How can I trust you now?"

Arthur began to speak, but was cut off abruptly:

"I used to keep going because I thought, who'll protect Camelot if I'm gone?" Its voice had reached a hysterical pitch, "But now I know that I'm not needed. I was gone for three months and nothing changed. You're fine. The castle didn't crumble around me. The guards switched shifts like clockwork. Nothing changed. Nobody found me. Nobody came looking or tried to stop it from happening. So please. Just let me be. Let Merlin be. Give us this request. If nothing else, just let us die. I'm not asking you to forgive Merlin for lying to you about his magic. I just want you to find it in your heart to allow us to die, if not as a human being in your eyes, then at least in our own kind of peace."

Arthur's eyes had filled with tears. His view of Emrys had blurred until it was nothing but a grey-gold smudge. He saw the damage he'd done in strange, detached glimpses: Merlin, healthy, smiling, carrying his breakfast to him every morning until the day Arthur stepped in and decided to torture him to death. Merlin, unconscious but coming to in the dungeons, confusion in his words. Merlin, fear, then trust, then fear again in his eyes, his arms trembling as he tried to follow Arthur from his cell. Merlin, crying as Owain broke every bone in his fingers. Merlin, collapsing to the ground weeks later, hysterical and broken. Merlin, lying pale and gaunt on Gaius's table, unable to wake up.

What had happened in between those moments? Arthur had never checked. Nobody had, aside from the guards and the report-writers. Leon had probably seen Merlin once or twice- had Merlin seen Leon? What had he thought when his friend had walked by him in his cell and turned the other cheek? Had anybody ever bothered to tell Merlin why his friends weren't coming to see him? Why Gaius never tended to his wounds? Did he think they'd abandoned him to die? Had Owain had the courtesy to tell Merlin that he was believed to be dead? If he had, then Merlin would have had to face his own death in all but body- he would have known that people had mourned for him, buried him, maybe, sold his things. His name was carved into a monument for the dead somewhere, perhaps. Arthur couldn't picture what it would be like to be told you were dead already. He also couldn't imagine what it would be like to not know at all, and just assume everyone you knew had condemned you to pain in a dungeon. From Merlin's perspective, it would have made sense. Arthur had seen him, as had Leon and Owain, and all three had done nothing to stop his torment altogether. How was he to know that all of Camelot hadn't done the same? He must have felt like an animal. A creature. A phantom.

Certainly, he hadn't felt human.

He'd just wanted to die.

Arthur swallowed. How could he possibly tell Merlin of Morgana now? He was in no shape to take on another burden. To take on Camelot's burden. To take on another one of Arthur's burdens. He might've not even been strong enough to take on his own burden, the burden of living, anymore.

"Emrys," Arthur said, though his throat had closed up, and it came out as a rasping whimper. He coughed, rubbed his throat, tried to get his vision to focus on Emrys through the guilt. "Emrys," he tried again, "I- I want to give you what you've asked for." He coughed again, cleared his throat. "I want to...I want peace. For you. For Merlin."

Emrys was looking at him with those golden eyes, and Arthur couldn't read them- were they relieved? Sad? Hopeful? Resigned?

Merlin had never been suicidal.

He just wanted everything to stop.

"I was wrong," Arthur continued, "about everything. About Merlin. About you- about magic. I treated you like something less than human. Treated you worse than even my own enemies would deserve to be treated. I let fear, and hatred, and stupidity cloud my judgement. I ruined so many lives. I ruined yours and I ruined Gaius's and Gwen's and all of the knights and probably so many more that I don't even know about. And I know I don't deserve forgiveness. I won't ask it of you." He ran his hand over his face. "And I want so much to just leave you be, Merlin, believe me when I say that. If I could give you everything you've asked for, I would. But-"

"You called me Merlin," Emrys interrupted. Its eyes had slipped to stare at the floor, "just now. You called me by his name."

Arthur froze. "I'm sorry," his heart was pounding, "It just slipped out."

Emrys nodded. "I see."

"It's just- you are very similar to him."

"Yes, I suppose I am." Emrys sounded thoughtful. "Continue."

What was that about? Arthur wondered, but continued speaking anyway. "I'm sorry. I guess this is more towards Merlin than it is towards you. But Merlin has disappeared. And I owe every part of him a debt greater than I can ever repay, including you. Especially you."

He took a deep breath. Emrys was rubbing its chin, its eyes glazed over in thought. "I know I don't have the right to ask anything of you…" He trailed off. It seemed that Emrys was not listening. "...Emrys?"

The creature slowly looked up, its hand falling from its face. Its eyes found Arthur's and held them, the gold pulsing slowly, chasing itself in circles around the pupils like goldfish chasing wisps of smoke. Its voice sounded very far away when it finally spoke:

"I can bring you to him."

"What?" Arthur must have misheard.

"I said, I can bring you to him."

Arthur's heart skipped a bear. The world around them was no longer cool; it was freezing, the whole great expanse of it like the depths of a bottomless ocean. Arthur's magic prickled. The hairs on his arms stood up. He felt Emrys in front of him as a tangled mass of thorns and vulnerable flesh, of something ancient and tired, holding something soft and naive.

Somewhere far away, a child slept. Or perhaps it was not a child, but Arthur himself. Something confused and small, something different from Arthur but not at all separate, a package of organs and slow, deliberate breaths and wide blue eyes accustomed to the dark.

"But I didn't rescue all of him," Arthur said. "He is still in two pieces."

Emrys twitched its head to the side, cracking its neck and wincing. "He's been broken for a long time. It was the only way to keep him alive. The collar was destroying him, bit by bit. It attacked his body. His mind. His magic."

Emrys took a deep breath. "I couldn't do much for his body. I was...restrained." Arthur looked at the jewels lodged in its flesh and felt the growingly familiar urge to vomit. "I could just keep him breathing, and that was only through a loophole."

"Me," Arthur breathed. Emrys nodded.

"I couldn't protect his mind, either. Not the way it was. And at first, he felt everything. Thought through everything. Remembered everything. I hate to admit that it took me a few weeks to sort everything out enough to be of any use, and at that point his mind had already begun to fracture. If I am being honest, it was the fracturing that gave me the idea. Isolate bits of him. Preserve what I could."

Emrys had begun to walk now, away from Arthur, and Arthur slowly followed, keeping a dozen feet between the two of them. He couldn't see where they were going.

"It worked, but it was a temporary solution. The collar was having an effect on me as well. What started off as safe havens became prisons."

Arthur thought back to the searing heat, the muddy floors, the spontaneously growing chains. The blinding walls and wet tiles.

"Merlin isn't strong enough to put himself together again. I'm not strong enough to free him. Things are crumbling around us."

"I freed him from most of those rooms," Arthur pointed out. "But I don't know how to get him out of the last one."

A smirk spread across Emrys's lips, and it looked back at Arthur. "Fear is a very powerful thing."

"He's afraid of me. How can I help if I am the problem?"

"You can't," Emrys said. "Merlin is afraid of you."

"Then how can you take me to see him?"

"Because, Pendragon," Emrys knelt down, running its hands along the smooth black floor. Its broken nails met an invisible ridge, and it tugged, pulling a square of darkness from the floor, opening up a trapdoor identical to the one Arthur had climbed through. "You were missing a piece of the puzzle."

Hesitantly, Arthur approached the hole. Inside was a short drop, and at the bottom was Merlin, asleep on his side, still dressed in Arthur's tunic and boots.

Emrys slid through the hole, landing silently beside the sleeping figure. Merlin didn't stir at all as Emrys looked up.

"Come on," it said, and Arthur followed, landing with a thud in the center of the dungeon cell.

"What was I missing?" Arthur looked around. The room was the same as before. No debris. No weak links in the chains. No space between the Merlin strung up in the back's body and his bonds.

"You were missing me," Emrys said.

"But you said you're not strong enough."

Emrys was already walking towards the back of the room, where the body of Merlin's fear was slumped.

"I wasn't strong enough to fix Merlin, no," Emrys agreed, resting a hand on the prisoner's cheek. "I couldn't string his pieces back together. And can you imagine what would happen to a person's mind if only their fear was released?"

"So you had the power to unlock Merlin's fear, but nothing else?"

Emrys laughed sadly. "His fear was the only thing I could fully control at all. The collar was completely fine with letting his fear run amok while the rest of him withered away."

Realization struck him. "You locked away Merlin's fear yourself, then."

Emrys nodded. When Merlin's mind had fractured and only fear was left, his magic had done the only thing it could to try to preserve Merlin at all. It had stopped him from feeling anything.

"Merlin," Emrys whispered. Neither of the bodies stirred. Emrys smiled sadly, as if looking upon its own sleeping child. "It's up to you to deal with the damage you've caused," he said to Arthur.

Then, with trembling fingers, it ran its hand over the chain across Merlin's chest. There was a creaking sound, a hiss like water in a hot pan, and the chain crumbled. Merlin took a hollow gasp, his chest expanding fully. His eyes fluttered.

Emrys took his time, running a hand along each of Merlin's bonds, destroying them piece by piece until only his wrists remained and Arthur had to step in to support his dead weight as Emrys finished the task.

Merlin's eyes were open but half-lidded, his body limp in Arthur's arms.

Emrys looked from each Merlin to Arthur.

"You haven't finished your quest," he said, "but now you can."

And with that, there was a flash of light, a deafening pop, and the walls around the four of them had collapsed.

Or, two of them.

Arthur's eyes opened slowly. As the dust settled, he found himself sitting on Merlin's bed. The druids were gone. Gaius and Gwen and the knights had disappeared. The rain outside the window was still. Arthur was sitting with his legs out, leaning against the wall.

And Merlin was across from him, sitting cross-legged, his back towards the low footboard. As recognition came to Arthur, Merlin pulled his bowed head up and rested his eyes on the king.

"Hello, sire."

Arthur's breath caught in his throat. It was him. Arthur could feel it. Not a patchwork of emotions and missing memories. Not a clone or magic incarnate.

This was Merlin.

This was the man that had spent his days scrubbing Arthur's floors.

This was the man who had spent weeks in a dungeon.

This was the man Arthur had betrayed.

This was the man who lay in Gaius's chambers.

This was all of him, maybe more than Arthur had known before.

And he was staring at Arthur like he wasn't sure if he should bolt or fight.

"Merlin?" Arthur squeaked. His magic was buzzing in his brain. That's me, it said, because Arthur knew the magic was only borrowed from Merlin. He knew that his own body was simply a conduit for something much bigger, something that had moments before been glaring at him with golden eyes and jewels embedded in its chest.

Merlin took a breath. His lungs rattled wetly. He looked better here than he did in real life, but only marginally. His fingers were still twisted. His eyes were still bruised. The ring of blisters was still visible on his neck when the collar moved. He was thin and exhausted and should have probably been unconscious, but Arthur suspected that his physical injuries didn't carry over the same when they were both residing somewhere between Arthur's and Merlin's minds and a spell cast upon a magic-suppressing collar.

"What do you have to say?" Merlin asked quietly. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt (his shirt; Arthur's shoes and shirt had vanished with the final transformation).

Instead of continuing his request, however, Arthur opened his mouth and said, "I'm so glad to see you."

The words came out unbidden, and Merlin gave him a strained smile that didn't reach his eyes. The feeling wasn't mutual.

"You were saying you were sorry," Merlin said. His voice was still soft, but it was cold.

"Yes," Arthur said, clearing his throat, "did you hear that? Earlier?"

Merlin nodded.

"Is your magic here, now?" Arthur couldn't tell by looking at Merlin. His eyes weren't glowing. There were no jewels in his skin. He still wore the collar.

Another nod. The collar had looked uncomfortable when Merlin was unconscious, but now that he was awake and moving, it looked even worse.

"Then you know that I want nothing more than to give you everything you've asked for," Arthur continued.

A third nod, but this time Merlin tilted his head to the side. "But there's a catch," Merlin stated. It wasn't a question. He knew Arthur's speech patterns. Knew when a request was being made of him.

Arthur closed his eyes, his fingers coming up to pinch his nose. The way Merlin spoke about his desire for Arthur to let him die was so nonchalant.

"Yes," he forced out. "There's a catch."

"There's always a catch."

Arthur looked around the room. There were no decorations on the walls. The blanket was plain. Merlin had never asked for much.

"Your friends didn't know," Arthur found himself saying. "They didn't know you were still alive. I told them you were dead."

Merlin nodded.

"You knew?" Arthur asked, "Did Owain tell you?"

"No. I didn't know." Merlin murmured.

"That was why they never came down to visit, and why they didn't help you. They thought you were dead."

Merlin smiled, staring into his lap. "Leon knew."

Arthur faltered. "I- yes. Leon knew."

"So Gaius isn't dead?" Merlin's eyes found Arthur's, and they were so dark Arthur couldn't remember how to speak. Of course, it would have made sense to think that. Gaius had known of Merlin's powers. If Merlin hadn't known that his friends thought he was dead, he must have assumed that they'd all condemned him for his magic. But Gaius would never have condemned him. Of course the only explanation for Gaius's lack of intervention would be to assume he'd been killed.

"No, Merlin. Gaius is fine. He thought you were dead, too. Everybody did. Nobody came looking because they didn't know there was anyone to look for."

Merlin shrugged. "They wouldn't have come looking anyway," he snorted.

Arthur felt bile rise in his throat. So Merlin thought his friends hated him for his magic. He thought they wouldn't have tried to help him even if they were given a chance. How had Arthur ruined Merlin's view of himself so thoroughly? How had he convinced Merlin he was something incapable of being loved?

But he knew the answer. Arthur and Leon were enough proof. Merlin had seen two friends give up on him, and had seen nothing else.

Of course Merlin didn't want to go back.

"You're wrong," Arthur said. "They would have stormed that dungeon."

Merlin laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You don't need to lie to me."

Something rose in Arthur's chest. "I'm not! You didn't see what I did- what your death did to people!"

A flinch ran down Merlin's spine. Arthur inwardly winced, but this needed to be said.

"You don't understand," Arthur continued, "Gwaine and Percival blacked out the windows for weeks. They won't look me in the eye. Gwen won't speak to me. Gaius, either. Elyan goes on patrol for days at a time because he can't stand to be in my presence."

Merlin had stopped picking at the hem of his shirt and was now very still, his head cocked to the side as he listened.

"Gwaine won't stop drinking. Every night, he goes to the tavern. He won't let me take the mourning cloths down. Gwen no longer sleeps in the same room as me. She spends her time in Gaius's chambers. The only reason Gwaine hasn't killed me by now is because Percival holds him back. The only reason Percival hasn't killed me by now is a complete mystery, but I suspect it's out of sheer willpower. Elyan, too."

Arthur took a deep breath. He was getting lightheaded.

"And honestly, I deserve all of it! I wish they had killed me! At least then, Owain and and Leon could have come forward."

"They could have come forward anyway," Merlin muttered. "And if you had died, what would have happened? Would I have been released? Killed immediately? Would people have simply forgotten I was there and let me starve to death? Would Leon and Owain have come forward, or would they have continued to keep quiet about the whole thing?"

"They were just following orders."

Merlin laughed. "Right! Because that makes all of this alright."

"Owain tried to tell me to stop. I wouldn't listen."

"And what of Leon?"

"He claims he wasn't aware the situation had gotten so bad."

Merlin crossed his arms. "So you're apologizing for them."

"No. That's up to them."

"No," Merlin snapped, "That's up to me. I decide what's acceptable and what's not. Not you."

Arthur fell silent.

Merlin took a few heavy breaths. "What do you want from me? Do you want me to tell you that it's okay? Because it's not."

"No. I know it's not."

"Fine," Merlin snapped, "then just tell me what you need me to do and get it over with."

Arthur hesitated. Merlin growled.

"Well? Come on! What is it?"

The room was spinning. Arthur could feel the weight of his mistakes crushing him. But he needed Merlin's help. He needed to ask, and he needed to be prepared for Merlin to say no. He needed to be aware that Merlin owed him nothing, owed everybody nothing.

"It's… It's Morgana," Arthur began, and Merlin snapped.

"Are you still convinced I have information, Arthur!?" he shrieked, sliding backwards off the bed. "That's it, isn't it? Do you want me to give you my plans? How about you open me up a bit more!" He fell to his knees on the floor of his room and spread his arms out wide. "Maybe if you chop a couple of fingers off, I'll remember." He got up, crawled across the bed until he was inches from Arthur, waving his long, broken fingers in Arthur's face. "You know how great I am at resisting torture! I couldn't tell you what you wanted even if you killed me!" He laughed. "The best kind of informant is the kind that knows nothing at all, right?" He ran his fingers through his hair. It was like he couldn't feel the pain of his body at all. Maybe he couldn't. "Is that why you came here? I was too far gone in the real world to answer questions anymore, so you had to enter my mind instead? Well, joke's on you! I know nothing of Morgana!"

Merlin got off the bed again, backed himself into the corner of the room. There was a trunk pushed against the wall there. He sat down on it.

"And you'd have been too late, anyway. All I gotta do is wait a little while longer, and this'll be over. You can watch, if you want. I'm sure it'll be bittersweet for you. You won't be able to ask me questions anymore, but on the other hand, there'll be one less monster in your dungeons to deal with. You'll just need to find a place to burn my body. Or, maybe you can just let it rot in the dungeons. I've already had a funeral, right? Don't need another one."

The rapid movement seemed to have drained Merlin of his energy, because he stopped then, doubling over and gasping into his knees. His hands went around his stomach as he coughed and spluttered, blood splattering onto the ground below him. He reached up to grip the collar around his neck.

Arthur leapt up, his heart pounding in his ears. This had gone more wrong than he had imagined. He could feel the way Merlin's magic was fluttering, the last bits of his life draining away.

"I don't want any information, Merlin," Arthur said, frantically hitting him between his shoulder blades, trying to help him expel the blood that was filling his throat. "I want you to live so that you can save Camelot from her. So that you can see that your friends never abandoned you. So that you can fulfill the destiny that you've worked so hard for."

"Then why haven't you released me?" Merlin gasped, spitting more blood into his lap.

"I don't know how!" Arthur exclaimed. Merlin pressed his hands to his face, blood staining his fingers. His breathing was slowing. Arthur was holding him up. The warlock turned his head towards Arthur, his face pale, his eyes rolling back into his head.

"Just take the damn thing off." He gasped. "You have the power. Just. pull. it. off."

Arthur stared. What? He looked at the collar. Could it be that easy? Was that the final step? His mind had been restored. His magic reunited with his body. Was the last step that simple? Arthur didn't have a key, or a spell. Did he need one, now that he'd completed everything else?

He looked at the tiny line that indicated the collar's seam. Letting Merlin fall against his chest, Arthur reached up and wrapped his hands around the metal on either side.

Only one way to find out, he thought.

And he tugged.