AN: So, Book 6, Snapshots- is a space where I can continue to add any further short stories to the Bond universe. So it will remain 'in progress' and never completed. You'll see in the chapter names where the stories change from one to another. The Book will remain rated T, but I'll put warnings in place for anything that may rate Higher. Keep in mind the slash scenes from the other Books! Lol. This follows the same lines.

Title: Going Home CH 1

Timeline: Immediately following events Chapter 16 of Book 5 (RE-UPLOAD Version: Immediately following 17. Chapter 16) {Before the Epilogue}

Description: The road home isn't always a straight path. Why is it old enemies always show up at the happiest of times? Established Merthur. Slash.

Overall Story Warnings: Slash, of course. There is one chapter which may present Trigger warnings (you'll see it in the AN), but it's an emotional state, not graphic recall. I think that's it. With the exception of a few of the slash parts, I'd still feel comfortable putting most of this story as rate T.

AN: For my loyal reviewers, who wanted a happy (No Whump :0) Setting. No idea if I can deliver, but let's give it a go… UPDATE: I failed. I can't NOT hurt him. I need help. Lol. I just love my H/C too much! I didn't hurt him much, if that counts? Lol.

Also, for Mithian lovers... I'm sorry. I strongly dislike her. However, bright side, I do acknowledge that she was the only Princess with any kind of a deep enough character to do this with. I saw hints of its potential in the two episodes she was in, how fast her moods could switch.

MERLIN101010101010101MERLIN

"MERLIN! Wake up!"

Merlin groaned as he was lifted a little off the mattress by the heavy flop of a body next to him on the bed. Without hesitation he wrapped his arm tightly around the body and pulled it closer to him as he adjusted his position. "Shhh," he murmured. "Sleep now."

Gwen laughed. "Did you hear?"

"Sleep," Merlin mumbled in answer.

"Merlin!" she growled, turning around in his arms to face him. "It's past mid-morning. You should be up, and I have news."

"Hmmm."

She waited. Her friend, however, seemed determined to return to sleep. His breathing evened out again surprisingly quickly. She was about to poke him awake again when the chamber doors opened, and Arthur came in. He paused for a moment, taking in the scene. A fond smile graced Arthur's face, though something flashed through his eyes she couldn't place.

"Won't wake up?" he asked, moving toward his desk.

Gwen pouted at him. "I wanted to tell him."

Arthur laughed, holding up his hands. "I won't say anything. You might as well get comfortable, though, if you're waiting on him waking up. He doesn't get up until mid-day."

"You shouldn't let him sleep like that, Arthur," Gwen tsked, settling herself. Merlin's arm around her was surprisingly strong. "He has responsibilities to see to."

"Not as long as we're here, he doesn't, so I'm inclined to indulge him while I can." Arthur looked up from his paperwork and grinned, waving his quill at her. "By all means, try to wake him," he challenged.

Gwen took in the boy was she tucked into. His face looked relaxed, peaceful, in his sleep. Those dark lashes rested lightly on the alabaster skin. His raven locks flopped loosely to frame a delicate face. He was beautiful, she thought. There was a restfulness about him that wasn't there in the daylight. His muscles, despite the firmness of the arm wrapped around her, were completely slack, and carried none of the natural energy that came with his waking personality.

And knew she couldn't do it.

She shot a glare at the King, all the more irritated for his knowing smirk.

MERLIN10101010101101010MERLIN

"…. dare disturb…."

"…. Lady's attendants are looking for her…"

Gwen sighed as she became aware of the voices across the room from her, surprised to realize she'd fallen asleep! She stretched, realizing that arm was still around her waist, trapping her easily.

"I'll have your head, Ian!" Arthur threatened the manservant who was apparently complaining to him. "Tell them she's in a meeting with the King and her Betrothed."

Gwen flushed when she realized that meant Prince Durstan was in the room as well. She opened her eyes, surprised to see gold crowned azure shining back at her in amusement. She couldn't have stopped the smile from gracing her lips if she'd tried. She watched as he winked at her, then Merlin turned away, stretching that gloriously long body as he did so.

"We're awake, Arthur," Merlin called. He turned back to Gwen. "Good sleep?"

She blushed. "I didn't mean to fall asleep," she yawned, rearranging her rumpled dress. "I came in to wake you."

Merlin twisted himself a little, letting out a satisfying groan. "You came with news?"

Gwen's smile lit up as she sat up, remembering her excitement. "We're going home!"

Merlin sat up as well, running a hand through his hair, not caring about the scars that showed on his bare back. With Ian coming and going, and Arthur working from his desk in here- which often meant meetings- he'd become far less modest about the nudity of his top half. And Gwen, dear Gwen, had helped nurse him through most of those injuries. She knew him well enough not look at the scars with pity, which he appreciated.

He grinned at her. "Really? When?"

"Arthur says we'll be ready to leave in a few days!" she squealed happily. "Home, Merlin! I feel as though I've been gone forever!"

"Home!" Merlin repeated fervently, hugging her, sharing her excitement.

MERLIN10101010101010101MERLIN

Arthur ignored Gwen's glare, turning back to return to his work. He didn't look up again until he noticed a lack of movement on the bed. Gwen, it appeared, had also fallen asleep. He watched them fondly, waiting for any kind of jealousy to rise in him. He was surprised when none came. He'd been shocked, of course, to see them together when he'd first walked in, but it had looked so natural, he hadn't been able to feel anything but warmth. He loved them both so much.

He knew why she'd come in. He'd made the announcement just an hour prior. When she had escaped the meeting as quickly as she could afterwards, he had guessed her next stop. He knew they missed home as much as he did. News from Camelot had come letting them know everything was calm and in fine order. He was still eager to go back. Especially as he knew there would be the slight delay of needing to stop in Dumnonia before actually going home.

For a moment he was tempted to wake her, but he decided against it. She must have been a little tired to have so quickly gone to sleep, and he knew she was up with the sun most days. Her duties had not lightened while she was here, since he involved her heavily in the negotiations. As when working together in Camelot, she had reserves of patience he did not.

She also acted as a firm barrier between himself and Mithian. He was still angry with the Princess, and as much as he tried to hide it, he couldn't quite bring himself to be friendly with her. Cordial was the best he managed, and only when there were others present. He hadn't even been able to manage much of that once Merlin had filled him in on the details of the Ritual. Unfortunately, it was becoming well known that Nemeth had fallen from the King's favor, and she was having a difficult time making up for it with the other dignitaries.

Merlin had begged him on more than one occasion to show her some compassion, but he couldn't find it in himself to be any more decent than he was. Whether it was the loss of the strong father she'd once known, the loss of her babies, her husband, the battle, or a combination of all, he didn't know, but she'd changed from the friend he once knew. They had once shared a common promise of protecting Merlin as much as possible, but that promise had faded quickly from her. She was becoming bitter and obsessed, manipulative. She'd be a strong Queen, he had no doubt, and she still worked tirelessly to secure only the best possible position for her people. It was what she was willing to do to obtain it that was getting under his skin.

It was too close to seeing the same changes in Morgana. His sister had once been a kind, loving woman too. While he didn't think Mithian would ever be capable of becoming the true evil Morgana had, she certainly walked a fine line. He knew, of course, his own actions played a part as well in those changes in the Princess. But there was something in the way she looked at Merlin that put him on edge. It was calculating, like watching a knight size up his opponent, trying to figure out their weakness. She wanted something from him, only he couldn't think of what. That gaze became more predatory every day. He shook it off. They'd be gone soon.

Gwen had stepped in, smoothly as ever, and made it known Nemeth was indeed favored, and had made concessions that were considerably more tolerant for the Kingdom than the others. When he had objected- in private, of course- she'd pointed out that anything he did now would only improve the inheritance of the expected Heir to come from his marriage to her. He'd backed down, appreciating that Gwen had her eye on the future, trusting her judgement while understanding his own was unreliable when it came to Nemeth. While he hadn't told her the details of the Ritual, he had explained Merlin's vision of the son that was to come from this. He remembered how thrilled she had been for them- for him and Merlin! She'd called his son their child, too, and he'd loved her desperately for it.

He looked up at a knock at the door, quickly making his way to answer it himself rather than yell. He smiled when he saw Prince Durstan, and held up a finger to his lips. His desk was on the far side of the room away from the bed, and he watched the Prince carefully as he took in the scene, leading him back to the desk.

"I'm sorry. I understand that may not be appropriate," Arthur offered quietly as they sat. "I know she's your betrothed…"

Durstan grinned at him, waving it away. "As he is yours. They will be brother and sister in truth soon, as they have long been in their hearts. Gwen made no secret of her feelings regarding my brother. It is sweet to see them together."

Arthur nodded. "They've been friends for a long time. What they've seen each other through- Durstan, there are no words. I don't have the heart to wake them," he said as he poured his guest a goblet of watered down wine. "To friendship," he toasted.

"To friendship," Durstan replied, leaning forward with a wink. "And beauty. We are, indeed, blessed men, Arthur."

Arthur took a drink, glancing at the scene, and considered Durstan was right. Tucked up against each other, his light skin contrasting her dark, they did make a stunning picture. "Truly we are!" he agreed, smiling. "It's hard to believe I'm actually going to marry him. I never thought it would be possible." It still gave him a thrill whenever he allowed the thought to pop into his mind.

Durstan nodded, waving the scroll he'd been carrying. "I have a reply from my mother, actually. She is honored, and pleased, that not only have you accepted our proposal, but that you've decided to have the wedding in Dumnonia. There is, however, the small matter of his defeating you in battle. I tried to describe the special circumstances, but she won't listen. My mother is a stubborn woman, and very much a traditionalist."

Arthur arched his eyebrow. He'd forgotten about Durstan's warning to him the night he Challenged Merlin. "Yes, I remember you saying it might change things." He hesitated. "Does it cancel things?"

"No! Certainly not. If anything, his status has been increased by it. As I said then, he joined the ranks of our warriors the moment he went through with the challenge- whether he won or lost. Mostly, it requires changes to the ceremony itself. There is, however, the small matter that you don't own a ship."

Arthur laughed, then frowned, realizing Durstan was perfectly serious. "I'm sorry… what?"

"In our Kingdom, the status of the marriage is established by the rank of the highest citizen in it. Under normal circumstances, your rank as a Knight King- notice the order of priority- would have established it. It was decided that in fairness, your marriage would not take in the religious status of marrying Emrys himself. That would be unfair to you, because no mortal man can stand on equal footing with that," Durstan explained.

Arthur nodded. "Yes, I remember that from the proposal. I won't pretend to fully understand what it means, but I think I get the basis of it. The proposal often referred to him as Battleguard of Ships."

"At the time, while his religious status would be ignored, there was a subtle allowance that he has, given the nature of his identity, been victorious in sufficient battles to take legitimate claim to Battleguard of Ships, a status equal to a Knight. There are no special requirements to marry royalty, Arthur, but to marry a warrior is different. Warriors must be on equal footing to each other."

Arthur frowned. "I don't understand… by that Gwen would have to be Knighted in order to marry you."

Durstan laughed, shaking his head. "I am not a warrior, Arthur. In marriage, I am a Trade Master first, a Prince second- my requirement to fight in this battle is one of birth, not station, and I did so voluntarily. I could not, for example, ever marry Eliam, our Battle Master, because I am not worthy of his station. In marriage, and only marriage- the order of priority is what you do, not who you are. Gwen is a Queen, though she was born merely a citizen- I mean no offense, but we don't use the word peasant. So our marriage will recognize her authority over my own. You see, now, why I have no interest in being a King of Camelot? By our culture and laws, I would never legally be permitted to lay claim to that title. I could do so only if King was my profession, which it is not. And by Camelot laws, as Gwen is Queen regent and not born royalty, I would equally have no legitimate claim."

"So, when you said you had no throne to give her," Arthur puzzled out, "you literally meant it. That's why you're paying a dowry to Camelot for her, rather than Camelot having to pay you. She has the higher status, and you are paying to be associated with it."

"Yes! Very good, Arthur! It truly wounds my heart that Camelot will not recognize your marriage to my brother, but if it had, then because you are born royalty, he would be permitted to lay claim to the title as a King of Camelot through his marriage to you. Even that title, however, would be secondary to the warrior ranking he holds in Dumnonia."

"When he accepted my Challenge, which is a thing of Knights, and used mortal weapons to do so, he gained warrior status in truth. As Battleguard of Ships, as well as now- if I understand your men correctly- a Battle Mage- who defeated me in single combat, his ranking is now higher than mine as a Knight?" Arthur asked slowly. He nodded to himself, sitting back in his chair. "So it's now I who must pay the dowry."

"A very specific dowry, Arthur. You must prove yourself able to benefit his status in order to be worthy of it. In this case, as you cannot add to his status as Battle Mage, you must add to that of Battleguard of Ships."

"But he doesn't own any either?"

Durstan laughed. "He does, actually. Three of them. Two, now, as one was lost in our skirmish when another small Saxon fleet arrived. Remember that all Bursus owned is his. He is an exceptionally wealthy man, even by our standards. Bursus had a natural knack for trade, as well as ownership of several other enterprises." There was a fleeting look of grief in his eyes at his brother's name, and Arthur lost any doubts he'd ever had as to the Prince knowing why Gwaine had gone missing that day.

Arthur scrubbed his hand over his eyes. "It takes months to build a ship, Durstan."

Ian entered then, frowning at the bed. He brought over a fresh pitcher to put on the desk, shaking his head as he set up the goblets. The glances he kept sending toward the two sleeping figures was enough to figure out what he intended to do next.

"Ian," Arthur growled lightly. "Don't you dare disturb them!"

"But Sire, it's mid-day and my Lady's attendants are looking for her!" Ian objected. "She's already missed an appointment!"

"I'll have your head, Ian!" Arthur threatened the manservant. "Tell them she's in a meeting with the King and her Betrothed."

"We're awake, Arthur," Merlin called from the bed, turning back to speak with Gwen, their low voices murmurs in the background.

Arthur sighed, glaring at the servant. "Ian, I swear I'm going to sack you one of these days. If I choose to indulge my Consort with some much needed rest…"

"You indulge him entirely too much, Sire, in many things. He has a practice session with Leon and Gwaine in an hour. I will see him dressed and fed before that," Ian replied calmly, perfectly secure in knowing that Arthur would never actually dismiss him, no matter his increasing threats to do so. "And you, Sire, have a meeting with the Lothian Representative in half that. You, also, need to eat."

He placed the tray of food he'd brought in on the table and began preparing plates.

Durstan laughed. "For a Kingdom that can be so rigid in so many things, you do seem to tolerate a lot from your paid staff."

"Merlin and the Queen both adore him," Arthur growled. "That's the only reason he hasn't been sacked a hundred times over!" He made sure Ian could hear him, but the manservant pointedly ignored him. He sighed, turning back to the Prince. "Are there specific rules for how I acquire the ship?"

"No, Sire. In fact, I have many. I would happily trade one, but I have a steep price."

Arthur laughed. "Of course you do. As Trade Master, I would assume you've been thinking about this since I issued the challenge."

"I won't deny it, Sire. We've had a report from our land surveyor. He insists there is no land capable of growing the wheat to provide our own citizens the opportunity to make an ale, of which there has been significant interest since our initial purchase from Camelot," Durstan explained. "Dumnonia produces largely meads, which are made with honey."

"You want a plot of Camelot land," Arthur sighed. He considered.

"Your Highness! Really! You're meant to be eating that!" Ian complained loudly. "Your Majesty, surely this is beneath you…"

Arthur chuckled at the minor food fight happening on the bed, feeling his heart swell at the little squeals of laughter. The last years had been rough, and there was much ahead, but he was more than happy to enjoy these moments as they came. He same a similar indulging smile on Durstan's expression, and appreciated it. The man was obviously secure in Gwen's feelings for him, and really… if you watched Merlin and Gwen together they truly did come off as brother and sister more than romantic partners. He admitted to taking a petty satisfaction in Ian's frustration as well. He liked and respected the servant well enough to enjoy having some fun with the man. Whether Merlin admitted it or not, the servant was more than capable of holding his own against Arthur in a battle of wits.

"I will accept that trade, Durstan, on the condition that you pay taxes on the land, and a percentage of the yield will belong to Camelot. In exchange Camelot will provide workers to teach your people how to grow and tend it. The land will, of course, be subject to both Camelot and Dumnonian Laws, with Camelot justice taking precedence where they differ. Camelot will forfeit their percentage for the first five years of crops, which will be considered a learning curve and yields may be low." An expensive ship, but from his understanding, owning the ship would give him access to the established trade routes and would fly Camelot colors, especially since Merlin's two ships would fly both flags. The trade for land for access to water would be a new beginning for their Kingdom.

"Excellent, Sire. I'll have my clerks draw up the details. I'm sure mother will be pleased. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I will escort my Lady to her chambers to clean up," Durstan smiled as he stood, bowing.

MERLIN1010101010MERLIN

Merlin scrubbed a hand through his hair, confused. "I'm never going to understand this," he complained, shoving away the paperwork involving all the sources of his income and managing his estates. He looked longingly at the floors, wishing he had nothing better to do than scrub them. Not that there was anything to scrub. Ian was meticulous. At the moment, he felt very irritated at his manservant for his efficiency. He flicked a rolled up scrap of paper onto the floor just so it wouldn't mock him with its perfection.

"You will, your Highness. In time," Ian reassured gently. The manservant showed exceptional patience in trying to teach the stubbornly bored warlock.

"Ian, I won't ask you again," Merlin growled.

"Then stop asking, my Lord. You are a Prince, whether you like it or not. With that comes certain privileges that are given because of the responsibilities that come with it. Addressing you appropriately is a sign of respect not only for the title, but for the burdens that come with it."

"All those years watching Arthur, and I never clued in to any of this. I hope I'm paying you considerably better than Arthur ever paid me. I can obviously afford a fair salary," he snarked. "And you put up with enough. I'm truly starting to feel awful for how I treated Arthur! I was, in fact, a terrible servant."

Ian chuckled. "I am more than generously compensated, your Highness. The Queen saw to that. Now, pay attention, this report is your expenses for the DeBois Estates, and this one details your income…"

Merlin groaned, wishing not for the first time that there was some magical disaster he needed to look after, or another battle. At this point, he'd take Gaius's leech tank! Anything other than the endless lists of numbers Ian was trying to drill into his head. He had a sinking feeling he was never going to be a very good Prince.

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Arthur frowned into the darkness of the room, something having woken him suddenly. Then he felt the bed shift again, and looked beside him, his heart breaking.

Merlin was sweat slicked and tossing his head, mumbling in the Ancient Tongue. A nightmare, again. Since nothing was flying around the room, Arthur was grateful to know it wasn't that nightmare, the one of the attacks his lover had suffered through at the hands of his Uncle. A small reassurance, since that excluded only one of hundreds of other possibilities.

"Merlin," he whispered, laying a hand on the bare arm carefully. He'd learned a long time ago not to startle his warlock awake. "Merlin!" he called more strongly.

The younger man shot up into a sitting position, calling out "Stop!" as he did so, muscles shaking like they had been strained for hours, chest heaving as he desperately tried to draw air in.

"Easy, Love," Arthur soothed, gathering him into his arms, rubbing his hand quickly over the shaking back. "Shhhh… you're alright. I'm here. Socair síos, mo ghrá. Calm down, my love." He repeated the words over and over again in the mixed languages until he felt the panicked breathing begin to slow.

"Arthur," Merlin gasped as tears flowed down his cheeks, his arms going tightly around his steady King. He felt the fingers carding through his hair, and let that ground him. "Why won't it stop?" he begged.

"What was it?" Arthur asked gently. Merlin shook his head against him, and he frowned. "Merlin, the things you hold inside can have dangerous consequences. You need to get it out."

"I was an awful servant," Merlin sniffled.

Arthur fought down his initial instinct to chuckle. He kissed the boys' temple. "You were never meant to be a servant, Love, it was just a role, a way to act as a bodyguard. And you weren't that terrible." He felt the warlock tense in his arms, and suspected that wasn't what he'd needed to hear. "What's this really about?"

"I'm an awful Prince, too. I can't understand the numbers Ian keeps throwing at me, I'm rubbish with politics…"

"Merlin," Arthur frowned. "Those things take time to learn, and you weren't born to them."

"I was born to kill," Merlin whispered, sobbing. "It's the only thing I seem good at." His shaking got worse as he tried to burrow into his King, tried to hide from his own mind. "Thousands of voices call to me, Arthur… thousands… it's so loud…Why won't they stop? I didn't want to do it... I had no choice... it's so loud..."

Arthur closed his eyes, understanding now what had caused the nightmare, where he'd gone wrong with his bodyguard comment. Ghosts had invaded his lovers mind again. He hated this nightmare. There was never anything he could say to reassure his kind hearted lover turned Battle Mage.

"Oh my Love," he whispered regretfully, tears filling his own eyes. "It's a terrible thing we've done to you."

There was nothing more he could say, nothing more he could do except keep a tight hold of the tortured soul in his arms as he sobbed himself back to sleep. There was no way to protect him from this, for all the power of the Bond.

This nightmare he hated most. Because this one at its core, though the details changed often, was built on years of doing what had to be done. Hated it because he was entirely helpless to prevent it, and there was no way to put up shields against truth. There was nothing he could offer that was louder than the voices of the dead.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

It would never be enough.

MERLIN101010101010MERLIN

"Your Highness, I strongly urge you to reconsider this," Ian begged from behind his master, concern etched in every line on his face.

"It's just a meeting, Ian."

"But she shouldn't have called it this way, your Highness, and she did so deliberately for a reason. The King will be most displeased."

Merlin whirled on his manservant, frustrated with him. "First of all, Ian, if you're going to insist on calling me that, then at least have the decency to remember what it means. It means I go where I please, when I please. Unless the King has expressly forbidden it, which he hasn't, then this visit is none of his business!"

"At least let me go with you, your Highness, please," Ian requested. "Something isn't right, and the King is not wrong in his desire to be cautious of her."

"This is between her and I, Ian," Merlin growled. "I don't need Arthur to fight my battles for me, and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop hinting that I do!"

He turned away from Ian, continuing on his route, pleased that the man didn't follow him. He was aware he was agitated, aware he shouldn't be doing this- his irritation sufficient to make that clear to him- and he certainly knew how Arthur would feel when- not if- he found out about it. That thought flared his anger again. He was tired of everyone treating him like he needed Arthur's permission to get dressed in the morning! If they wanted to insist on this Prince rubbish then they could at least do him the courtesy of pretending like he made his own decisions. However foolish they may be, a small voice in his head whispered. He shoved it viciously away.

This had to be done. He knew it did, knew it was miracle it had taken so long. But he couldn't silence the part of him that wasn't looking forward to it. Made worse by the fact that Ian wasn't wrong. Nothing about this felt right, and he had that same crawling feeling he always did whenever he was heading into a trap. That voice, too, he shushed, berating himself for being paranoid. She was a busy woman these days, and this, this was long overdue. Her methods were less than ideal, true, but even that he decided had more to do with his irritation of them than suspicion.

His irritation bothered him, too. He wasn't accustomed to being summoned by anyone these days, except Arthur. And Arthur rarely did it unless it was important, usually choosing to track Merlin down himself just to get a break. Had he really come so far from the peasant boy he'd been to be annoyed that a member of royalty had ordered him to appear before them? Not half a decade ago he'd bowed and scraped with the best of them. Who was he to be frustrated by a summons?

He chastised himself, deciding that must be the real reason he had doubts about attending this meeting, almost managing to convince himself that it had nothing to do with the lengths that she gone to in order to keep it secret that worried him, sending a messenger directly to him. Wasn't feeding more into the feeling that Ian had been right… that he should have turned around and gone to get Arthur, or Gwen, rather than answer it himself.

And that thought infuriated him even more. He didn't need their protection! This he had created himself, and this was his to deal with! His responsibility! It wasn't fair to any of them, but ultimately, he had asked this of Arthur, had forced his lover to do something that he was so adamantly against. This was a consequence of that choice, and it was his to meet.

He sighed, steeling himself now that he was outside her door. The fact that it was her personal chambers did not bode well for how she thought this encounter would go. He hoped, however, that he was wrong, that this would simply be an attempt to repair their friendship. He couldn't think of anything else she could possibly want, and so decided to have faith in that. This would be about hope. He'd once cherished her as friend, and he owed her a chance to express her feelings, to explain why the friendship had been lost once she'd made the request to marry Arthur. Yes. This was just another debt he owed.

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Mithian breathed a sigh of relief when Merlin knocked, then swept into his chambers, alone. She'd half expected him to have someone with him, and was pleased he didn't. She'd spent a vast amount of time deciding how to go about this, especially once her counsel had discovered the terms of her agreement with Arthur. Given the King's current attitude toward her, going to him would be pointless. "Merlin, thank you for coming."

"Mithian," he greeted carefully in return, taking a look at her. She'd aged a little, in all of this. There was a tension in her normally easy manner, and her mouth seemed permanently pinched at the corners. Her eyes, however, made him shiver. They danced between coldness and passion. He'd seen that before. "How is your father?" he asked, concerned for a moment that was why she'd called him.

She gave him a half smile. "As well as can be expected, thank you. His mind is nearly gone. My coronation will be taking place in four days. I don't expect those of Camelot will stay for it?"

Merlin shook his head. "I'm afraid not, My Lady. But for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I really did try to heal everything I could. I was hoping my attempts afterward would be more successful, but I'm afraid my window was lost after the first attempt."

"Arthur shouldn't have stopped you."

"He had valid reason, my Lady, in understanding I would be needed to re-take your Kingdom. When he forbade it, he didn't do it lightly." Nor had she been particularly fond of the idea at the time, either, but he refrained from mentioning that. He was beginning to get a sense of how unstable she was- everything about her screamed tension one moment, then the next disappeared. His heart ached for her, for the losses that had driven her to this. She'd had no time to recover, to gather herself, and those wounds had only festered with time. He had no healing for this.

Mithian snorted. "And you always do as Arthur says?"

Merlin tensed, the words too close to his own previous thoughts on the way here, and he forced his irritation down. "Why did you call me here, Princess?" he asked, reminding himself none of it was her fault. At least with Morgana he was actually guilty and deserving of her animosity. He wasn't entirely convinced he was deserving of Mithian's. He felt he owed her a debt, yes, but ultimately, she had made her own choices that had led to this.

The Princess realized she'd stepped wrongly, sighing, flashing him a smile that never came close to being sincere. "I'm sorry, Merlin. I didn't mean that. Arthur has been less than kind to me, in private and in public. I'm frustrated and saddened by the friendship I lost with him. And, with you."

She sat down on a chair. "When Arthur told me the price for this marriage… Merlin, I swear to you I would have taken it all back. I truly only ever wanted an alliance from him, and I never meant to hurt you with it. But… a child! And my only chance at one, no less. I couldn't throw that away no matter the cost. Do you understand?"

"I do, Mithian," Merlin answered softly. "I know how much you wanted one, how much you were willing to risk. Destiny is rarely kind to its pawns. It's unfair to you to bear this burden. The vision was clear, however. It can be no one else. The energies I'll be channeling to accomplish it needed two wounded destinations to bridge." He shifted, uncomfortable with the conversation. Arthur had been furious when he'd discovered exactly what the ritual would entail. It hadn't softened his behavior toward the Princess any, despite the fact it wasn't her fault. She would be as much a victim as the two of them. None would even dare consider it were it not for the absolute guarantee of the son that would come.

"Is that all I am, Merlin? A wounded destination?"

"I'm sorry, but yes," Merlin answered honestly. "Through no fault of your own, I'll confess. I simply can't reconcile what needs to happen with the way I feel. It's not your fault, I know that, but a small part of me can't help feel that it is- because you asked him. There was always a chance you wouldn't have done."

"And what about how I feel?"

"Mithian, for the friendship we once had, I mourn that loss, and I'm deeply sorry for it. But I warned you before the battle that there would be a price to pay. I'm merely a tool of Destiny, not the one who writes it. I wish things could be different, but they aren't, and there's nothing I can do about it. You are welcome to withdraw from this agreement at any time. Neither Arthur nor I would think any less of you. It's a lot to ask of anyone."

"Is that the only solution, Merlin? Do it or don't, no in between? No compromise?"

Merlin shook his head. "There isn't, I'm afraid. The rules we're bending are ancient and normally rigidly set. We've been given an extremely rare window of opportunity, but ultimately, the decision is ours. Arthur and I will respect yours, regardless of how we personally feel about it, you need to know that."

"And if I choose not to go through with it? Will that restore our friendships? Restore my good name in Camelot?"

"I... No, Mithian. It won't." He wouldn't lie to her. He couldn't exactly explain why, but it was a truth he knew in his heart.

He watched it happen. Watched as her normally kind brown eyes went dark, watched her body tense. He wasn't coming close to saying the right things in this. And she'd changed so much since the battle, he was falling into every trap she set for him. Better than most, he understood losing too much, knew what it could do to those not strong enough to bear it, but this... this was heartbreaking.

"Why? Because Arthur is angry? Because Arthur doesn't want to share his favorite plaything?" she snarled at him, ignoring his flinch. "Because Arthur can agree to marry me and then treat me like the dirt under his feet? Like I'm nothing but some royal bitch to bear his whelp? I will marry him, Merlin, but it is up to me to decide whether I pay the price afterwards. Neither of you can force me into it. I can get everything I want and leave you with nothing."

"This isn't the way to do this." He wasn't sure which was rising faster, his anger or his fear. He needed to leave… now. Before things were said or done that couldn't be taken back. He'd tried, but there was nothing left to salvage. She'd become a survivor, ready to sacrifice all to get her own way. Merlin turned to leave, but she grabbed his arm, using his own momentum to swing them so she was closer to the door, her back to it. It would force Merlin to go around her to get to it.

"No! You don't get to run away!" she yelled at him. "Neither of you have taken into account what I have lost through all of this! If you're going to play the victim, Merlin, then the least you're going to do is convince Arthur to change the conditions of the agreement!" she commanded him, tightening her hand enough to bruise him. "His attitude has cost me with the other dignitaries! Wiggle your arse a little more, if need be, but get me what I want!"

"Mithian, I'm sorry you've been hurt in all this, but I don't have the power to change his mind. I've already asked him to be kinder to you, at least in public. And I know Gwen has made sincere efforts to back you up, giving considerable advantage to Nemeth. If you're losing track with the representatives, it's of your own doing, not ours," Merlin said softly but firmly. Her choice of words too closely related to the voices in his mind that had been screaming at him of late. He tried to push them down, knowing the dark places they wanted to lead him to. "Please let go. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come."

"Alone, you mean," she raged, her temper once again in full control of her. "I'm tired of being treated like I committed some terrible crime! The request I made was politically strategic, nothing more. I don't have the ability to see the future, Merlin, and I don't deserve to be humiliated in public. You will change his behavior toward me, and you will see to it that the child is raised here regardless of our stance on magic! You owe me that much, at least!" She tightened her grip.

She'd tried to be sweet about it, but her temper was fueled by the frustration of being pushed by the council, being pushed by her father to honor his legacy regarding magic. If sweet wouldn't work, then command would! This was her only chance, she knew. Merlin was the only bridge she had access to, and she didn't care if it burned once its purpose was served. If that friendship was truly gone, then there were other ways to get what she needed. She pushed back the part of her mind that whispered of all Camelot had done, that the only reason she still had a Kingdom was because of them, choosing instead to focus on her father's voice, begging her to keep the Kingdom strong, no matter what it took, no matter what she had to do.

"I'm well aware of my debts, Mithian. But I can't!" Merlin growled. "I've told you, I don't have that kind of sway over him. Please let go. I don't want to hurt you," he asked again, trying to fight down his magic, which had risen instinctively in defense. He closed his eyes to force the molten gold down, reminding himself she hadn't been treated fairly in all this and was deserving of her right to be angry. It wasn't helping. Her hand on his arm burned as it twisted viciously, hurting him the only way she could, calling up his defense instincts. He truly had no desire to hurt her more. "Let go."

"You do and you're lying to me- too much of a coward to upset your precious Arthur! I saw it the very first time we met! Yours is the only opinion he cares about, even before you became his favorite bed warmer!" She yanked hard on his arm. "You will do this! Or so help me I'll have you executed! You're still in my Kingdom! Arthur will replace you quickly enough." A desperate threat. She could do it, of course, but her much needed alliance with Arthur would be broken the moment she did. Still. The flicker of hurt in his eyes had been enough.

She had only the split second warning of seeing Merlin's eyes widen in fear before she felt the steel at her throat.

"Let. Him. Go." Arthur pronounced each word carefully, and in it she could hear tightly contained rage. She dropped her hand as if burned.

"Arthur-" Merlin started- prepared to defend her even as her awful words stirred his magic violently inside him, brought flashes of memory of having so often been used before about him- but stopped when cold, ruthless, gold crowned blue eyes met his.

"Leave, Merlin. Wait for me outside." There was nothing in his voice or the coil of his body to indicate it was a suggestion.

"She didn't-"

"NOW!" Arthur commanded, and Merlin fled, fearing pushing his lover any further and still struggling to get his magic under control. He knew that icy tone. There would be no reasoning with his lover.

"Arthur, we were just talking," Mithian defended quickly, all too familiar with the temper of her future husband. For all she had been willing to do whatever it took to gain Merlin's influence over the man, she wasn't willing to give up the power that came with her marriage to the High King, nor the baby that would come from it. He couldn't have been there long enough to hear much, given Merlin's reaction on seeing him. "It's been a while, after all. And we did say we'd keep things friendly."

"Hear me well, Princess," Arthur hissed into her ear, disabusing her of hiding her intent in the meeting. "As of the second you laid a hand on him, you are nothing more than a broodmare- which is the only thing keeping your head on your shoulders! If you ever go near him, or threaten him, again, I'll put you down like the bitch you are, do you understand me?"

She swallowed, believing the deadly calm of his tone and voice, the barely restrained promise of the brutality he was capable of. "Yes," she whispered. She breathed a sigh of relief when the sword was removed from her, and he turned to leave.

"The terms of this alliance are already in place. If you don't like it, by all means, call it off," Arthur challenged as he left, slamming the door behind him.

MERLIN10101101010101MERLIN

Merlin was leaning over his knees, breathing hard, eyes squeezed shut, when Arthur slammed the door behind him in the corridor.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Arthur barked immediately, using the flat of his hand against his lover's shoulder to push him roughly up against the wall.

"Arthur… don't…" Merlin panted. He opened his eyes, and heard Arthur gasp.

"Merlin," Arthur said, carefully calm now, immediately removing his hand. "You need to calm down." His lovers' eyes were flashing between their normal azure and the magical gold like a storm. He could feel the gathering power in the air, now that he'd taken a moment to pay attention to something other than his anger. There was sweat trickling down Merlin's face as he wrestled with the forces inside him.

"Trying," Merlin gasped, closing his eyes again. He leaned forward again, as if making his body smaller could somehow work to better contain the power inside him.

Arthur took his arm- gently- and fast walked him down the hall to their chambers. Once in the door, Merlin threw himself to all fours on the floor. Objects immediately began to lift into the air as the wind picked up. Clothing flew around the room, pottery smashing into walls.

Blue flames sprang up around the struggling warlock, then died out, then sprang up again. Arthur recognized all of it. It was the same out of control expulsion that happened during the warlock's nightmares- only this appeared much more powerful.

"Bloody hell," Arthur cursed. "What did she say to you?" He ducked as dishes flew by him, shattering nearly to dust with the strength they hit the bedposts. He tried to push down his own rage as he focused on his lover, tried to silence the nagging in his mind of what might have happened had Ian not come to get him, had not told him what was going on.

"Leave…" Merlin gasped out, tears leaking from his eyes. He didn't have the breath to give details, to tell his King this was so much worse than he was accustomed to dealing with, and he wasn't at all confident in his ability to contain it. He hadn't used his magic much since returning to life for the second time, but it shouldn't be like this. Shouldn't be so hard to control. There was no binding spell this time! Why was it so strong? There was so much of it! It wasn't like before, with Morgana, or in the Cave or any other time when he was calling on all those different sources. This was just one source, just his own. For the first time in his life, it felt strange to him.

"Not going to happen," Arthur returned without hesitation. He desperately wanted to slip into the Bond, use it to calm the warlock, shield him, but he was still quaking with rage himself. He didn't think adding that fuel to the current firestorm would be of any help. "Just like your nightmares, Merlin. We can get through this."

Merlin shook his head, but couldn't answer his lover. Not like his nightmares… those he gained control of as soon as he returned fully to waking. This… Agravaine's voice echoed in his mind, mixing with hers, with other voices, trying to return him to a darkness he'd thought long carefully contained. He winced as his magic swelled again, trying to protect him from the attacks it had failed to previously, not understanding the danger was only in memories. Mithian's words had brought them too close to the surface. Her predatory eyes following him everywhere had begun the whispers. He'd been a fool to go alone!

He cried out when Arthur's gentle touch on his shaking shoulder made him startle, letting loose a tendril of his magic, the floor beneath them beginning to shake. Too strong! He tried desperately to call back the little that had gotten loose, but the building only shook more violently as he almost lost his grip on the rest of it. Gods why was it so strong?

Arthur took his hand away immediately, understanding he had caused the increase in output. He wished now he'd killed her, but he forced that thought away. He startled as thunder could be heard in the distance, cracking violently even as the winds outside began to howl. The shaking building around them groaned under the strain.

"Merlin, I don't how to help you," Arthur called to the younger man. "Tell me what to do!" he begged, desperate. "You're going to bring the whole castle down on us!"

Merlin coughed as he tried to draw air in too quickly, feeling like he was going to shake apart, tried desperately to concentrate on cutting off the flow that was going from him to the ground and storm. His efforts only made it fight back harder and he cried out, trying to curl further into himself. The more he tried to fight the immense build inside him, the more determined it became to be loosed. He'd felt similar with the binding spell, but he understood on an instinctive level that there would be no control if he let this go, if he stopped fighting it.

Arthur swore as the balcony outside cracked and fell, and screams were beginning to be heard outside. Not his Kingdom, not his people, but he was still a King, and his lover had become a threat. He had no choice. "I'm sorry, Merlin, but I have to stop this," he whispered, turning his sword around in his hand, raising it. He hesitated.

"Do it," Merlin cried, turning storm swirling eyes toward his King, nodding.

Arthur brought the hilt of the sword to the back of the younger man's head.