By mid-afternoon the next day the small party had reached the forests just beyond Camelot. As they approached the break in the trees which would inevitably reveal the castle, Merlin felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had counted the years, the months, the days, since his departure from Camelot and he knew full well how long he'd been gone. He had chosen to live those years alone, telling himself that it was better that he not get involved with any more cases of destiny or build any more friendships that might be unfairly destroyed. And yet, as the white stone of the castle began peeking through the canopy of leaves, Merlin could not hide from himself the truth of his isolation: it was his punishment for himself, for failing at his one great purpose in life.

The trees parted before Merlin as he walked slowly forward, and the familiar sight of the castle took him by surprise. It did not look as changed as he had imagined it – the walls were still strong and tall, the trees still green, and no dark clouds hung in the air. Merlin paused at the mouth of the forest, and a tear ran down his cheek.

How different the castle had seemed on the night he left – it felt too big, like it might collapse on him. It was a week after the battle at Camlan, just two days after he'd buried his best friend. Merlin walked from Avalon to Camelot in a day and a half, pausing only when he felt his legs might give out beneath him. When at last he had reached the city, and exhausted stumbled into the great hall of the palace, Gwen had taken one look at him, seen his sorrow, and let out a great cry. Gaius bowed his head. Merlin was grateful he did not have to say the words out loud. To utter, "the king is dead" might have broken his heart beyond repair.

The next morning, Guinevere was crowned queen. Merlin slipped away during the ceremony when no one was looking, and he never returned.

He never said goodbye to Gaius, or Gwen, or anyone.

"Merlin?" Gwen called softly. She was ahead of him, but she stopped her horse and turned her about. "Merlin, are you alright?"

Merlin shook himself from his stupor and tried to keep his lip from quivering. "I just forgot how beautiful Camelot was," he said.

Gwen smiled, and she and the mare trotted off towards the castle.

The party passed first through the lower town, which seemed as active as ever, though Merlin thought there was a quiet sorrow that hung over the place. The smiles on the faces of the people were like transparent disguises for some more unpleasant emotion, and the greetings of the people to their queen seemed half-hearted. Or, perhaps Merlin imagined these things and it was his smile that was a disguise and his words half-hearted, but having spent so long alone he could not tell which case was true.

Within the citadel business was as usual with knights and noblemen pacing about the courtyard. One by one they paused as the queen passed by, gave a polite bow and said, "My Lady" or "My Queen," before resuming their movements. And most, before turning away from the small party, would take a moment to scrutinize Merlin – some with curiosity, most with suspicion. Merlin made the mistake of retuning one of the noblemen's gazes, and he saw in that man's eyes a cold hatred that shook Merlin to the bone.

There was more than one reason for not returning to Camelot.

Despite the stares and the uncomfortable silence that fell over the whole of the party -save for Gwen, who assumed an air of normality and proceeded as if every day a great sorcerer was escorted into the city – they landed in the courtyard and made their way up the long set of stairs that led to the castle.

For a moment it seemed odd to Merlin that no one greeted them at the foot of the stairs, but he quickly realized that with Leon already on the away party, there was no one of importance left to greet the Queen. Merlin for a moment felt his heart sink, but in an instant replaced that feeling with practiced indifference.

"Is it just as you remembered?" Gwen asked.

Merlin looked around, and was almost startled to find that for the most part it was.

"I can have a chamber prepared for you," Gwen said, "Or if you prefer, Giaus's spare room is still open."

Merlin smiled. "Does he still live in that same room after all these years?"

"Why move?" Gwen said, "He's happy there, and he has so many books and vials."

"I suppose that is true. I'll have to pay him a visit."

"He'd be heartbroken if you didn't," Gwen said. "But before you do—Merlin, remember I said there was something I needed to show you?"

Merlin followed the Queen down one of the castle's many corridors, and as they walked Guinevere put on a serious air. Merlin had scarce seen her with this attitude before, save for a few moments of life-or-death, and the change frightened him.

Gwen stopped suddenly just before an open doorway. Merlin stopped as well, tripping over himself a bit and not bothering to hide it. Gwen's mouth fell half open, but she seemed to lack the right words and so it fell shut again. After a moment she simply stepped aside, and Merlin, with the utmost caution, peaked his head around the door.

Merlin was not sure what he was expecting to see – something terrible, probably, or something valuable, or magical, or really anything other than a little boy stacking wooden blocks. Merlin studied the child for a long moment. His olive skin and dirty blonde hair seemed to glow with a strange regality in the late afternoon light, and there was something familiar about his cat-like eyes.

"I don't understand," Merlin said, turning to Gwen as she joined him in the doorway. "You've brought me here to show me a boy?"

Gwen watched the boy with a strange combination of familiarity and sadness. "He's my son," Guinevere said. "He's Arthur's son."

Merlin's face fell, and for a moment he could not look back at the boy. That was why his eyes looked so familiar – they were exactly the same shape as Arthur's, but with the deep brown color of Gwen's. Merlin could not speak.

"Merlin, I didn't just bring you here to show him to you. I wanted to ask a favor, a big favor. My son is young, and yet already enemies descend upon him because he is a Pendragon. He needs someone to protect him, as his father was protected. Not only that, but someone to guide him, and help him learn…"

"Gwen," Merlin said suddenly, stepping from the doorway. "You can't seriously be asking me to help you raise this kid? I don't know anything about children."

"You and I raised Arthur and he turned out fine."

Merlin tilted his head and let out a sigh, which despite best intentions held a bit of amusement in it. "That was different. He was already an adult."

"Please, Merlin, he needs someone to look after him. Already his life has been threatened. Last week when he and I were riding in the forest an unseen assassin fired an arrow at him. Luckily the assassin's aim was not true, and managed only a scratch. I am sure, though, that if you had been there he would not have even done that."

"Gwen…"

"I know what you did for Arthur all those years, how well you protected him. Could you not do the same for his son?"

Merlin took a great breath and turned his eyes back on the boy. He was stacking his blocks with great speed and ferocity, but without method. When the unsteady pile got too high, a few pieces of wood would tumble back down, and the boy would quickly retrieve them, undaunted, and return them to the heap. It was only when the child stood to gather more blocks that Merlin noticed the bandage wrapped around his leg.

"He is all I have left of Arthur," Guinevere said. "I hope one day he should be as great of a man as his father was."

Merlin nodded, his blue eyes shining.

"Would you like to meet him?" Gwen asked. Merlin turned slowly, but before he could speak, Gwen called, "George, come here, there's someone I want you to meet."

The boy sprung up and ran to his mother, attempting to compensate for his slight limp by moving faster. He barreled into Gwen, nearly knocking her over with a waste-high hug. He then turned to Merlin and wrinkled his nose.

"George, this is my dear friend, Merlin."

Merlin bent halfway down to meet the boy at eye level. "Hello George," he said.

"Are you a knight?" the boy asked.

"No," Merlin said.

"I didn't think so. You don't look like a knight. Are you a king?"

At this, Merlin chuckled. "No."

"Most all of mum's friends are knights and kings and some queens and noble people. So if you aren't a knight or a king, what are you?"

"I am someone who looks not at what people are, but what they might become."

George's nose wrinkled again. "You sound like Giaus," he said.

Merlin looked up at Gwen and smiled. "I really must be getting older."

George studied Merlin's face with a sense of purpose and then said, "You don't look that old. I think you'd look younger without the beard."

"He's not wrong," Gwen said.

Merlin rolled his eyes at no one in particular and settled further into his crouch. "George, I was a friend of your father's. He was…the best man I ever knew. I am not a knight or a king, I was his servant. And I would be honored to serve you as I did him."

George looked up at his mother, who gave a half nod. Then the boy turned to Merlin, straightened up and tried to look kingly. "You're hired," he said.

Merlin stood. "You knew I was going to stay, Gwen, didn't you?"

"Of course you would. You're you."

George tugged on the sleeve of Merlin's cloak. "I've never had a servant before," he said.

"Well," Merlin said, "The thing you have to remember is always treat your servants better than your dogs. If you do that you'll already be doing better than your father."

"I don't have any dogs, so that should be easy."

"Good," Merlin said, "and there's one more thing you should know…" Suddenly, the wood blocks tumbled into the hallways of their own volition, skittered around George on the floor and then assembled themselves into a magnificent tower. Merlin winked at Gwen, and George gawked at the blocks. "I have magic."