The day was fading quietly in the west before Arthur at last began to stir. After performing the life-saving spell, Kilgarrah had bade Merlin a final goodbye and flown off. Watching the great dragon lift cumbersomely, when once he had soared effortlessly, into a pale blue sky, Merlin's heart was filled with equal measures of gratitude and sorrow. He knew he would never see Kilgarrah again.
For a few moments, he pondered the fate of Aithusa. Where was the baby dragon whose birth had promised such optimism for the Kingdom of Albion? Was she grieving for the loss of the one person who had loved her, watched over her?
Morgana! The once caring and passionate girl who had grown into a hate-filled, vengeful woman. Such destruction she had wrought on Camelot, and yet Merlin couldn't wipe out his feelings of guilt and despair for her death. Could he have saved her? He felt like he had failed her too.
Perhaps Morgana had inherited too many of Uther's traits to embrace redemption. Though they fought in opposite camps, father and daughter had wielded their powers with the same unremitting loathing and unquestionable force. Neither had ever doubted their actions, unlike the son or brother, who had shown himself more open-minded and more reasonable than either of his relatives.
In the future, the dragonlord might go in search of Aithusa, but for now he had more pressing tasks. Kilgarrah had revived Arthur, but The King was still extremely weak and exhausted. It was up to Merlin to see that Arthur survived.
The cloudless day had given way to a damp, bone-chilling evening. Not the ideal weather to spend a night outdoors for a man who had been so close to death, who was even yet lingering within its shadow. Merlin had made sure Arthur was not resting on the earth by gathering clumps of broom and heather, over which he had spread his own blanket. Tonight they would lie together underneath Arthur's thick red cloak, keeping each other warm.
It was unfortunate the horses had been lost along with most of their gear and, so far, he had been unable to find them. He had managed to collect some water from the lake, but had only eaten a meagre meal of edible berries. Thankfully, Arthur had remained unconscious during the day, but The King would need to eat something soon to regain his strength.
Merlin was hoping he could find the horses the next day and perhaps they could start making their way back to Camelot. Would Gwen send out a search party for them? Gaius had hoped to persuade The Queen to wait, to give Merlin a chance to reach The Sidhe and persuade them to cure Arthur, but when they didn't return, would Gwen be able to resist trying to discover the fate of her husband?
He sincerely hoped she would ignore any advice and follow her heart. Now Arthur was relatively safe, Merlin needed all the help he could get to keep him that way. But for this night, neither human relief nor horses were available. If he weren't so concerned, Merlin might appreciate a night spent alone with his king, particularly as Arthur seemed to be showing signs of returning consciousness. This could be the first time they spent together when Arthur knew of Merlin's magical ability, without having the threat of death hanging over them. Though the weather might not be very warm, there could well be some angry sparks ignited between them.
True to form, Arthur uttered a feeble groan, which after a couple of further attempts, finally, formed into Merlin's name. The King's tired gaze frantically roamed the area around him, searching for his servant, his friend.
The warlock was immediately at his king's side, pleased to note that though Arthur's skin was still pale, the greyish tinge of death had receded. "I'm here, Arthur." He took hold of Arthur's hand which protruded shakily from the cloak. "Please, sire. Don't try to talk."
Arthur's head shook back and forth, minutely, on his makeshift pillow. "Merlin... you suc... succeeded, or am... am I still dying?" he finished on a breathy whisper.
"I succeeded. We succeeded," Merlin added a little cagily. Now might not be the best time to reveal Kilgarrah's intervention in Arthur's improving health. He had already made up his mind to come clean with Arthur on everything, but when they were safely back in Camelot with Arthur comfortably ensconced in his own bed. However, whatever questions Arthur asked him this night, Merlin would not evade. "But you are still very weak, sire, and we have no supplies but what you see, so we must make do as best we can."
"Merlin, please." Arthur tried to take a deep breath, which ended in a croaky cough. "No more 'sires' or 'my lords'. I am now and always Arthur to you."
"But..."
"No!" Arthur, scraping enough air into his lungs to continue, spoke with a little more force. "Don't argue with your king, or a sick man."
A tiny grin curved Merlin's mouth. "You always were the most stubborn person I've ever known. As you will, Arthur. Would you like some water?"
Arthur nodded and his eyebrow raised in question, while Merlin hurried off to fetch The King a drink. He returned moments later with a battered old bowl he'd found and cleaned by the water's edge, but before he placed the cup to Arthur's lips, he used a short magic spell to warm the water.
At the flash of gold in Merlin's eyes, The King frowned a little disbelievingly. He was grateful for the liquid on his parched throat, and glad that it didn't chill him to the bone. He took another sip.
"Merlin, is this the best your magic can do?" he said, surveying the ancient drinking vessel and the rest of their barren camp. "Couldn't you magic me a bed... or even the horses and our gear."
Once more Arthur's words ended in a racking cough, and Merlin held his breath, praying that the spasms wouldn't shake loose the piece of sword still lodged in Arthur's chest. Yet Kilgarrah's enchantment held true, and with a jolt, he realized he would have to get used to that underlying fear and attempt not to treat his friend like an invalid. The dragon was right about Arthur's reaction to that kind of treatment. The King would hate being cocooned.
"Even a fire would be nice," Arthur suggested wistfully, proving that he wasn't averse to a little pampering. "Being near death chills you through and through."
"I just remembered you were an impatient clotpole too." Merlin smiled broadly, relieved to be sharing some old-type banter with Arthur. "A fire I can do, but I have to collect some more wood." He pointed at a small pile of burning twigs situated near Arthur's feet which were in danger of going out. "We'll be warm again soon, and hopefully I can find us something to eat.
"Please, not rat stew!"
"You must be feeling better now you're getting all demanding again," Merlin complained, though secretly loving it.
"I am still a king!" Arthur declared with just a hint of his old swagger, yet seconds later he visually deflated. "Am I not? I don't even know if we truly won the battle... or who is still a... alive?"
The very slight halt at the end of Arthur's statement alerted Merlin to the fact that The King was almost too afraid to ask. He knelt by Arthur's side once more.
"We did win the battle, and now you're going to live, it is not a hollow victory. But our losses were great." At Arthur's shuddering sigh, Merlin placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "Thankfully, the Saxons' were greater."
"Due to you, Merlin. To your sorcery."
A grimace crossed the King's face, telling Merlin he was still in pain, or had he still not come to terms with Merlin's magic, or the years he'd been lied to?
"I have to thank you for the victory." Arthur's hand covered Merlin's and squeezed feebly.
Perhaps, while Arthur thought he was dying, he'd found it easier to accept Merlin's secret, but living with that magic might prove harder for The King, though that too was a problem for the future.
"You've already thanked me, and to tell the truth any more would be boring," he said, trying to lighten the mood, but it appeared Arthur was not to be sidetracked. At Arthur's continued frown, Merlin proceeded. "Arthur, remember I had already left the battleground with you before the final accounting. I know only what Gaius told me."
Arthur nodded. "We know Gaius is alive, if he made it back to Camelot safely..."
"I think we can assume that Morgana's men were too busy fleeing to attack an old man... and, no, I cannot use magic to scry. I don't have the tools and no one ever taught me."
"Hmph! Your magic isn't up to much then. Is it? If I'm going to have a sorcerer at my court, I want the best. " Arthur attempted a joke, but appeared almost too scared to laugh in case he exacerbated the ache in his chest. "Besides, according to Gaius, you are supposed to be more powerful than any sorcerer that has ever lived, and you told me you can see the path ahead."
"It's a very long path to Camelot, Sire."
"Merlin, stop 'siring' me, and try to discover what is happening. I need to know!"
Seeing the strain in Arthur's deeply shadowed eyes, Merlin relented. He felt sure there should be a scrying glass, or a bowl of water, yet Balinor, his father, had faith in him. He should experiment with these new powers he'd acquired. Of course, he could go down to the lake; the waters of Avalon were magical, but Arthur wasn't yet in any condition to be left alone.
"Very well. For you, I'll give it a try, but I can't promise success."
He closed his eyes to concentrate, or to shut out Arthur's eager, expectant gaze. Within seconds, he had the strangest feeling of flying disembodied across the land towards Camelot, covering miles in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, he was inside the citadel, twisting his way through the familiar passages to the royal solar to find The Queen. A huge lump formed in his throat to see Gwen sitting alone at dinner, allowing her tears to fall since there was no one to witness her heartache.
"Arthur, oh my love, how can I go on without you?" she sobbed, though Merlin heard her words inside his head. She had not spoken aloud. "You have to live, you have to!"
The door opened, and Merlin continued to watch as Leon made his report to The Queen. With an aching heart he saw Gwen fight to compose herself and listen as the knight delivered his account to his lady.
A hand clutched at Merlin's arm, more strongly than he had expected from Arthur, and he was yanked back to the reality of their desolate bivouac.
"What did you see? What's wrong with Guinevere?"
"Nothing! Nothing!" Merlin took hold of Arthur's shoulders and tried to push him back into the springy bracken. "Lie down. Gwen is well, physically, but she misses you."
"You can see her?" Arthur asked in wonder.
"I could, but you interrupted me."
"Try again, Merlin. Please. I promise to keep quiet."
"You will?" Arthur nodded. "Good. Lets do this."
He closed his eyes for a second time, eager to explore this new talent, but when he felt his hand clutched by Arthur's he didn't draw away. In his mind's eye, he returned to the scene in Camelot.
"Gwen has your seal, so Gaius must have returned."
Arthur's whisper came out of the darkness. "Then she knows I'm alive, though that must have been two days ago, and without any word, she might believe I've died. Oh, Guinevere."
Merlin lifted a hand to silence Arthur. "Leon has joined her. I think he must have taken charge of the army because he's giving her a report."
"Good. I trust Leon. He's a skilled fighter, experienced in strategy too... a good man to take my place."
"Arthur, no one can take your place. Not in the hearts of the people of Camelot, nor in Gwen's." Merlin mused that for all Arthur's arrogant front, what drew people to his side was the fact that he cared deeply for all, no matter what their station. "Besides, you will return." Merlin hadn't forgotten Kilgarrah's speculation about the length of Arthur's life, but that was another topic best kept for another day.
"Wait! Gwen is talking. She's telling Leon she believes you to be alive. She says she feels it in her heart. I don't think Leon is so sure, but he will not hurt The Queen with his doubts."
"You reached her?" Arthur's voice trembled with emotion. "Once more I thank you from the bottom of my heart, my friend."
"I didn't do anything," Merlin said quickly. "It's the love you share that bridges the gap between you. Nothing to do with magic." He pushed up from the ground, his knees stiff and cramped, and stretched his back to ease the tension. He stifled a yawn. "Let me tell you, scrying is the hardest thing I've ever tried. I think we both need to rest, and I have to get you back to Gwen safely. For that you need to eat and sleep, and I need to go find us more firewood and something to cook."
"Wait, Merlin." Again Arthur stayed Merlin by catching his hand. "What of the others... Gwaine, Percival? The rest of the knights?"
Merlin bit down on his lip. The information Arthur wanted could very well be distressing, and he wasn't sure he was up to discovering the fate of his friends, never mind repeating it to Arthur. But The King shared a special bond with the Knights of The Round Table, and Merlin doubted Arthur would rest easily until he knew the facts.
"Arthur, I don't know, and it's getting late. After I build up the fire and we eat, I promise I will try again and tell you all I can discover."
Dusk was almost upon them, and finding food would be harder in the murky light, so Merlin set out on his search, warning Arthur to keep still and try to get some sleep. It was a measure of Arthur's weakness that he didn't defy his friend.