CREDIT TO DAROH, my great friend and teacher, for her idea to have Gwen give Merlin her house. :D And thanks to the Merlin Wiki for some of the information I needed for this chapter.

Disclaimer: Merlin's not mine. Unbetaed.

The Afterfall

The earliest dawn rays didn't stab at his eyelids to lift them—they pried, rather gently, instead. He woke to find himself surrounded by soft tattered blankets on a bed that smelled like soot and home.

Merlin couldn't even remember walking here to Gwen's old house but, although he realized he hadn't set foot in the place for at least a year, it looked exactly the same and reasonably clean. He wondered if Gwen had anyone looking after it, or if she still came here to do so herself, maybe even for the relief of her old chores.

Chores, Merlin thought, haven't done those in a while. Chores. Duties. Arthur.

Gwen.

Iseldir.

It wasn't with a jolt that he sat up in the old bed, it was with a snap of the solid. The present. The current danger.

Merlin couldn't tell if it was care he suddenly felt, but it seemed to be a less painful emotion than he carried yesterday. Maybe this was something like responsibility.

He'd fallen asleep in his clothes the night before and only removed his scarf—the tattered blue. After retying it with a steady pace he walked out the door to a perfect cold morning, just beginning to shine with dew. It was real. For now it felt like enough.

The horses were ready by the stone entrance to the palace, looking strangely bare without the Camelot crests underneath their saddles. Gwen was awake and speaking to Percival while Gwaine tightened his horse's strap. She was fully dressed but Percival and Gwaine were wearing simple attire, no speck of red or gold in sight. Leon, standing on the uppermost step and in full armor, looked so tightly-jawed Merlin could only assume he wasn't coming.

Gwaine stepped away from his horse, turned his head, and was the first to spot him. "Merlin," he nodded. The rest of the company shot their gazes his way.

Merlin kept himself steady and met the nod and all of their eyes. Gwen began walking his way, looking exhausted, so unbending that she was nearly broken. It was a look he was starting to recognize. "Did you sleep well there?" she asked.

He felt the sudden urge to hold her and tell her everything would be all right, but knew that would be a lie he didn't yet believe himself. "I did," he said, "…and thank you for, you know, letting me—"

"You're welcome," she cut him off and he let out a relieved breath. "Really, you can stay there whenever you need to."

The two of them just stood there for a held moment. Fragments of the night before flew through his mind and he wondered how much more they had left to say. "I'll come back," Merlin finally settled on. Gwen raised her eyebrows. "I'll make sure we all come back. I promise."

She frowned, and then nodded. "That's definitely not a lie," she said as if to herself.

Before Merlin could think anything more than That's a little strange, Gwaine's voice interrupted. "You ready?" he asked.

"Yes."

Gwaine gave him a half smile. "Okay. Umm…here," he held out something in his hand. Merlin accepted it—it was a shirt. His own purple shirt, washed and folded. "Gaius stayed up with Maro the whole night," Gwaine continued, "—and he thought you might want to change in the morning since he knew you were staying at Gwen's overnight, so…I found that."

Merlin blinked. "Thank you."

The whinny of Percival's horse as he mounted it broke through the strained conversation. "She gave us a few locations near the site of the attack," he held up a coiled map, his face grim but firm. "We can start there."

Gwaine mounted his horse and Merlin ducked behind his own to switch shirts. Iseldir's sharp, weathered face passed behind his eyes and he realized he hadn't seen the old druid in at least a year. He had also never seen Iseldir attack another living soul. That was how he knew to believe Maro's story.

Someone hurt because he believed in me.

Merlin met Gwen's dark eyes once more before climbing onto his horse and following Percival and Gwaine off the cobbled stones and out of the town itself.

Leon couldn't be sure if he heard a shallow inhale of breath from Gwen standing in front of him, but he forced himself to keep his eyes on the ground. Look anywhere but at her.

When the last echoes of the three horses clopping hooves faded away and they became silent figures bounding over hills in the brightening dawn, Leon spoke. "You didn't want me with them."

Gwen did not move. "No," she answered.

"Why not?"

She shrugged. He didn't have to look at her to know. "I didn't trust you alone with him."

Merlin. It was always Merlin. "And I suppose you would trust him alone with me?" Leon couldn't resist asking as the image of those golden eyes bearing down on him seared through his brain.

"I don't actually know." He couldn't believe Gwen's voice, which actually sounded mildly curious, before she turned around and met his unprepared eyes without hesitation. "Gaius is expecting us," she said simply before moving past him.

Leon followed her, staring at her gorgeous shoulders until his vision blurred.

After they discovered Maro in the woods, Gwen had visited both Gwaine and Percival's rooms to ensure they were getting rest before the morning journey. Leon heard her through his door and waited for her to knock, but she left their hall without a word to him. It wasn't difficult to guess why, but he wanted to hear her say it out loud. She was gone by the time he decided to leave his room and ask her, so he went back outside to the hill he and Gwaine kept watch from only an hour before. He stayed all night, staring at the bumbling young guards falling asleep around the stable, imagining the white dragon whimpering peacefully inside.

Peace and sleep. Two things he hadn't experienced in days. He doubted the woman in front of him had either as he nearly tripped over the train of her gown.

A curt Gaius and an awake Maro both looked up as Gwen opened the door. "Have they set off?" the physician asked, a concern in his brow that Leon knew was also all for Merlin.

"They have," Gwen confirmed, walking to Maro's bedside. "How are you feeling?"

The druid smiled tiredly and put her breakfast down on Gaius's end table. "Better, majesty, now that I know your best are looking for him."

Her best. Leon couldn't pretend seeing Gwen nod immediately at those words didn't hurt. "If you're not too tired, Maro…" the queen began tentatively, "—I actually have some questions. Is that all right?"

"Of course, my lady."

It caught Leon off-guard to see Gwen do something he hadn't seen her do in years—bite her uncertain lip. "Could you tell us who Iseldir is?" she finally asked.

Maro frowned. "Surely you've heard of him from Emrys?"

"I did not even know he was called 'Emrys' until shockingly recently," Gwen responded flatly.

"Of course Sir Leon could tell you then," Maro replied, gesturing to him.

Every once of self-control his training awarded him couldn't keep him from wincing visibly as both Gwen and Gaius jerked their gazes his way. He hadn't recognized Maro at all, so he'd hoped to avoid this. No such bloody luck. "Leon?" Gaius's eyebrow was arched expectantly while Gwen looked extremely confused and angry.

"I…I didn't actually recognize the name," he lied, "I just…suspected."

When Gwen's mouth opened, seemingly in preparation for something like a threat, Maro interjected instead. "We found Leon were after an attack by Cenred near our land," she spoke slowly and clearly, as if aware of the situation she needed to diffuse, "Iseldir was the man who gave Leon water from the Cup of Life to ensure his survival."

He could have kissed her for ending the tale there. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you," he said.

Maro shook her head. "You were barely conscious, no need to apologize."

True. The only face I remembered from that night was his.

"It's the sort of thing he would do," Maro continued, eyes far away.

Gwen turned her head down. It's as if she can't bear the sight of someone else so lost and Leon felt that familiar weight in his chest grow heavier. "Where does Emrys fit into the picture?" she asked carefully.

Maro glanced at her. "You mean the most powerful foretold sorcerer of all ages?" she sounded grimly amused. "Iseldir one of the last druid leaders. He made sure to keep track of Emrys from the moment he was born."

For a jarring, insane moment, Leon set aside all his reservations about sorcery and thought about Merlin as he used to think about Merlin—skinny, fragile, big-eared, over-grinning Merlin. Most powerful foretold sorcerer of all ages, bloody Merlin?

Gwen, next to him, seemed only a little less stunned.

Arthur protected and loved Merlin above everything and everyone else. Leon remembered that much, and he'd never been able to understand it. Merlin was always hilarious, loveable, and loyal, but he was insubordinate as they come and never seemed to display an ounce of common sense—only a blind intuition that managed like magic to keep himself alive. Of course that made sense now, although Arthur's affection did not.

Foretold, powerful, and famous? He's Merlin. He's nothing like Iseldir. He's a kid. He might have almost killed me, but he's just a kid.

"I'm sorry, I—" Gwen blinked twice and shook her head at the ground, "You've come at a time when…we're just not used to all of this yet, Maro, I…" she trailed off into a horrible stillness that shook Leon to the core.

Maro's eyes widened and her lips pressed firmly together as she reached out and took Gwen's startled hand. "I am so sorry for your loss, Queen Guinevere," her voice suddenly reminded Leon of Iseldir's, capable of channeling all the calm, sincerity, and age of nature into a single syllable. "Your husband was always good man, no matter what he might have done." Gwen blinked back at her, looking small as a child.

Leon felt his stomach turn at the sight of the queen's full eyes. Whatever Arthur might have done. What did he do?

The morning was stunning. Blue-skied sun and black cool shade streaked through the fields and forest in perfect balance. Both tones melted into his skin in a way that was almost enough to make Merlin forget he was on a mission to save a pacifist from torture.

Druids would have it easier if they saved themselves for once.

"So, how well do you know him? Maro's brother in law, I mean."

Merlin glanced to Gwaine, leaning back on his horse as if he were pounds lighter—he was wearing the same clothes he wore on the day Merlin met him. It would have been so easy to imagine the past few years never happened if it weren't for something almost like a shyness coming across in the way Gwaine kept his eyes glued to the road before them as he spoke.

"Not well," Merlin said, "…but I trust him. He always seems to be right about everything." In front of them Percival turned his head just slightly.

Gwaine's mouth turned up at one corner. "Imagine it would be nice to have someone like that around."

Merlin shrugged. "Only if you can bring yourself to listen to them."

Silence, save for the horses clopping hooves. Percival seemed to hang his head before digging in his heels and speeding up his horse.

Gwaine stayed his pace.

"I wouldn't have cared, you know," he said quietly, after a minute passed. Merlin's neck suddenly burned. He darted his eyes sideways for the tiniest pinprick of a moment—Gwaine was staring straight ahead. We used to face each other… "I wouldn't have cared for a single second what you can do," Gwaine continued, "—you're still the same man who brought me here when you could have just left me in that bar. You're still the best person I know."

With that he jerked his reigns and his horse trotted past Merlin, who was left gaping at his back.

"Gwaine," Merlin said, so weakly it reached no ears except his own. Why do you believe in me? Like Lancelot, like Finna, like Freya, like Arthur, even though he couldn't admit it, he trusted me. Iseldir. Why am I all you've got?

"Whoa," Percival suddenly halted and held up his hand.

Merlin's horse skidded its hooves to a stop. "What's wrong?" Gwaine hissed.

Percival dismounted and crept, silently as possible for a man his size, towards a tree up ahead. "Merlin," he called, voice barely above a hush. "What is this?"

Merlin moved past Gwaine to look over Percival's shoulder. A symbol was carved into the bark, a symbol with three curls forming a triangle.

"It's a triskele," Merlin whispered.

"All druids have that tattooed on them, don't they?" Gwaine stepped forward apprehensively.

Merlin nodded absently, frowning at the symbol and running his hand over the bark once Percival moved out of his way. "It's not clockwise," he muttered.

Percival raised an eybrow. "Say that again?"

"The spirals, they're not facing clockwise, it's…" a bolt of smoke flashed through Merlin's mind and he tore his hand away. "I think Iseldir left this here."

"Is he close?" Gwaine's hand hovered over his sword.

"It's backwards," Merlin continued, "—it means malice. He's warning us not to come."

For a moment, the only thing making any sound was the forest.

Next came the scrape of Percival's sword from his scabbard. "Bugger for him," he said and turned around. "All he did was show us the way."

Gwaine, although still looking stunned, snorted. Merlin felt his jaw hang open. "Didn't know you cared," Gwaine voiced for him.

Percival kept walking without glancing at either of them. "Sorry I don't want to find myself wondering how we ended up in another war."

Somehow, that response made Merlin feel better. After everything, Percival still had all the stoic common sense of a rock.

"How far are we from Maro's guess?" Gwaine asked.

Merlin took the map from his pocket. "Not very. Here's where they were camped, here's where her hunting party got attacked, and we're right—" he stopped and felt his blood race all at once. "Come on," he said, grabbing a sword from his horse's saddlebag.

He heard Gwaine's astonished, slightly angry, voice and footsteps chase after him. "Where are you going?"

"The cursed site!" Merlin yelled back. "Where that ghost from the well possessed Elyan, we're too close to it—just hurry up, you two!"

Of course he was right. Gwaine slowed his run at the top of a hill. Percival was right behind him, and the two of them stopped and stared at the waving, threatening, colored ribbons tied to the trees. A different world owned this part of the forest. Merlin kept up his own stride down the hill and through the thick blanket of dying leaves and seemed to belong in the scenery. It's his, Gwaine thought, his world.

"Don't touch anything," Merlin warned as Gwaine and Percival began their unsteady, cautious way down the hill and under the dim druid rainbow. Gwaine tried not to scoff at Merlin. Elyan—a pang ripped through Gwaine at the thought of another dead friend's smile—told the knights all about the possession, eventually. He lived in fear for half a year of his life. Gwaine felt his own hand clench into a fist at the image of Elyan's horrified dark eyes, darting in between reassurances of I'm fine. A banished sister, a druid ghost, a nathair from Morgana…

"I hate being here," Gwaine said suddenly. Both Percival and Merlin turned to look at him.

"Why exactly are we here?" Percival asked, a little tentatively, as if the ribbons sucked some of the earlier bravado out of him.

Merlin's eyes twitched around the entire site. "No, we're where we should be—there's a cave a little past this shrine the soldiers would have wanted to take Iseldir, but they couldn't have come through here unscathed while carrying him as prisoner—" he jerked his head to the left and the eye his profile displayed gleamed with gold.

Gwaine took an involuntary step back and gulped. Not because it's magic but because it's Merlin…He realized he had yet to see those eyes—he'd been at Merlin's back during the attack on Leon.

The gold dimmed and there Merlin stood, even and unshaking, surrounded by the fluttering warnings of the dead. Gwaine realized his heart sped up. Beautiful.

An outstretched hand and pointed finger, "There," Merlin said.

As if all three of them were one body, they ran. Gwaine could have sworn he saw was crushing leaves dropped with blood beneath his feet.

The cave loomed less than a mile away from the shrine. None of them were prepared to see three bodies on the ground inside.

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