Author's notes: First, I have to apologise for missing a whole week of posting. I intended to post the next chapter during the week, but I returned home from my trip with a pain in my back and leg, caused by travelling on winding, undulating roads on a rather old and bumpy bus for a number of hours. The aching is beginning to improve but I am sorry I let you down.

I'd also like to thank everyone who left reviews over the last week or so, both members and guests. I think I have replied to those I could, but for those guests who left a review, your feedback is very much appreciated. You are all terrific and encourage me to keep writing.

This is a slightly longer chapter, and in this one I have tried writing a spell in old English for Merlin. I hope I have interpreted it correctly, but I think the meaning is fairly clear.

Chapter Eighteen

Arthur's Rebellion

Unfortunately, Merlin's wish for a restful sleep was not realised. The storm had broken over Camelot just before first light, rousing the warlock just as he was slipping into a deep sleep. Though he had napped fitfully between the loud peels of thunder and flashes of lightning, he had always been conscious of the crying wind, echoing about the castle turrets, while the steady thrum of the rain pounded against his windows.

After tossing and turning for the remainder of the night, he decided it might be providential to discover a spell which would render him deaf to the elements for a short time, while he was not unmindful of other alarms. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing that his opponents in the city had also had their sleep interrupted by the din. He doubted that many would have been able to rest through the ferocious tempest.

So he was unsurprised when someone came rapping loudly on his door at an early hour, but he was taken aback to find Gwen bursting into his room without giving him time to rise.

"Merlin!" she cried pitifully, pulling her shawl tightly about her shoulders over her nightgown, her hair still tangled from a restless sleep. "It's Arthur. He's gone!" she forced out through shaking lips, while her whole body shivered. "Gone. He was with me when the thunder and lightning woke me up. I was having another nightmare. He held me and soothed me till I fell asleep again. But when I woke up just now... he was gone."

Her words baffled him, his brain sluggish from lack of sleep. Arthur had been weary when he had left him the night before, but he wasn't ill. Kilgarrah's spell had still been working, and his own enchantment and Gaius' potions were keeping his friend in comparatively good health. What could have gone wrong? Was it possible Morgana could have interfered with Arthur's health despite their precautions?

Thinking of the wretched woman he had spoken with a few hours ago, he doubted she was capable of disrupting the combined magic of a dragon, his own talents and Gaius' considerable physician's skills. Not to mention, Iseldir's magic had confined Morgana's powers of sorcery, and he'd reinforced the enchantment when he'd left her.

No, if someone had managed to disrupt the magic that was keeping The King safe, it was someone other than Morgana, and surely no mortal being could have slipped passed the guards, unless they'd been drugged, which wasn't unheard of. Yet, lately, they had been on high alert.

"Not only is he gone, but so is his chain-mail, his armour and his sword. Merlin, what is my foolish husband planning to do?" Irritation coloured Guinevere's question and her toe began to tap in time with the drumming rain, while Camelot's Warlock heaved a huge sigh of relief.

"Oh, you mean he's missing?"

"Of course I do." The increasingly annoyed Queen answered.

"He's not dead?"

A deep frown creased Gwen's brow. "No! Why would you think he was dead? Though if he's gone off to fight with someone, he very soon could be." She crossed to look out of the window, peering through the murk, but the quadrangle was nearly empty; even the sentries stationed there were sheltering in the cloisters from the pouring rain, which had puddled in large bodies of water in the cobbled yard.

Any servants who were out and about, pulled up their hoods and scurried as fast as possible across the square. However, there was no sign of her errant husband. Her knuckles gripping the sill showed stark white against her honey-coloured skin. "You and Gaius both explained to him how strenuous activity could be fatal. I heard you, yet he thinks he knows best, and he's probably off challenging Avebury to a duel."

While Gwen's back was turned, Merlin nipped out of bed and pulled a cloak over his night shirt. "I doubt he'd do that, Gwen. He said himself there wasn't enough evidence to link Lord Avebury to a crime, let alone convict him... and you know Arthur is a fair man..." Merlin's homily halted as his friend turned towards him and he saw tears brimming from her eyes. He hurried to her side and took her trembling hands within his own. "Gwen, calm yourself. I'm sure there is a perfectly plausible explanation."

"A plausible explanation why he got up much earlier than usual, dressed himself in his chainmail, without any help, I might add; took his sword and disappeared?" Gwen's voice was laced with scepticism.

"Yes," Merlin answered with a wry grin, figuratively crossing his fingers.

Actually, Merlin was just as anxious as The Queen. When Arthur took the bit between his teeth, the royal prat could be off doing anything stupid, but he doubted that included confronting Avebury.

"Gwen, call your maid and get dressed and I'll go looking for him. I'll talk to Leon and Percival and I'm sure between us we'll discover where he's gone." As he spoke, he led her to the door. "I know how worrisome it can be, but we have to learn to trust Arthur to handle his own disabilities. It isn't going to be easy for him, and the idiot is always going to kick against the traces every now and then, but I'm sure he'll be fine."

Now that Merlin had established that Arthur had donned his armour, he had a vague notion where he might be, and though he wasn't battling with an adversary, he was probably doing something which was equally as dangerous for a man with his injury. With that in mind he quickly dressed, reverting to his old and more comfortable attire, but adding a cloak due to the inclement weather.

However, on his way to the training grounds, his woollen cloak soaked through quickly and he almost discarded it. What on earth had possessed Arthur to come out in this downpour? Whatever it was, he must have felt dire and Merlin could only hope that The King had already sated his ire, before his strength gave out.

Merlin had already sent a guard to fetch Leon and Percival, in case he needed back up to persuade the dollop-head to return. If all else failed, he supposed he could render him unconscious, but he'd rather not resort to such extreme measures. He'd meant what he said when telling Gwen they had to let Arthur set his own boundaries, but one thing he was sure of, if Arthur did overdo things, his body would let him know. That said, he could only pray that it happened before Arthur did any permanent damage.

By the time Merlin had exited the postern gate to reach the bailey, he already resembled a drowned rat, yet even worse was to come. The grass in the tilt yard had turned into a field of mud and Merlin's feet squelched within his leaky boots with every step he took, yet he had found his quarry.

Before him, in the driving rain, he spotted Arthur on the training ground, knocking seven bells out of a wooden dummy. The King was drenched, his blond hair darkened and sticking to his head while rain coursed down his face, but as Merlin closed in, he realised it was more than rain water which coated Arthur's face. Tears of frustration, anger and hopelessness mingled with the elements as Arthur uttered a painful groan with each strike. So intent was The King on his imaginary foe, that he neither saw nor heard Merlin approach.

"What the hell do you think you're doing," The warlock called as he drew nearer, yet Arthur never halted.

"Training!" he gasped, between tortured breaths.

"Training for what?" Merlin was close enough to touch Arthur now, but he refrained, knowing, that if he did so, he'd most probably end up on his back in the mire with a sword held at his throat.

"For the... next enemy... who targets... Camelot." The King punctuated each phrase with a hefty stab. But Merlin's practised eye could see his friend was tiring fast, each swing more of an effort.

"There are no enemies, at least, not ones coming for you with a sword!"

"You don't really believe that?" Arthur asked, pausing for only a second, before resuming his assault with a flurry of blows, though the sharpness had bled out of his strokes, his sword growing heavier and heavier in his grip. "Don't be naïve!"

Merlin quickly decided enough was enough and with a fierce glow of his eyes he muttered, "Aweorpan hildemece!"

The sword flew out of Arthur's hands and landed a safe distance away in the mud, but the unexpected action unbalanced him and he slid to the ground. "What the hell was that for?" he demanded. His eyes blazed, as he lay flat, too winded to stand, staring up at Merlin's worried face, etched against the grey, storm-laden sky.

"You wouldn't have stopped of your own volition, would you?" Merlin asked, offering a hand to pull Arthur to his feet.

But Arthur ignored the help, struggling to rise instead, which wasn't a completely successful move as the slick mud clung to his feet, sucking him back down. He did, however, achieve kneeling. "I will stop when I want to, Merlin." He paused to regain his ragged breath. "And you promised you would never use your magic against me!"

Standing back out of harm's way, Merlin crossed his arms and surveyed his livid friend. "Unless you're trying to kill yourself. What gave you the stupid idea that you were fit enough to wield a sword, not to mention in a thunder storm?"

Suddenly, the fight went out of Arthur, he leant one arm on his knee and his head sank low, as if he'd lost the strength to hold it erect. "You didn't see her, Merlin," he said bleakly, his words going off in a completely different direction.

"See who?" Merlin really wasn't that dense, but he wanted to hear what had troubled Arthur so much that he'd braved the weather to vent his frustrations in his accustomed manner. He had been certain Arthur had understood the consequences of such actions, but, clearly, that wasn't the case. Though he had assured Gwen her husband would be fine, he was not exaggerating when he'd informed the idiot he was in danger of killing himself.

"Who do you think?"

As Arthur looked up at his friend, Merlin was shocked by the stark pain written clear on his face, and not merely a physical ache. Once again, Merlin had to refrain from sympathising with Arthur.

"Guinevere!" Arthur threw the name at Merlin. "I'm not in the habit of sharing anyone else's bed. She has these dreams... but they're not dreams. You and I both know they are memories. She thinks she's guilty of murder... but not just of killing me. I can quite easily prove that's not true, but last night she was moaning in her sleep about Tyr. She dreamt about killing Tyr Seward... and we know that is true. Merlin, you know Guinevere, if she realises the truth it could destroy her!"

Arthur held back a sob, unwilling to contemplate losing his wife to madness, yet that wasn't the only concern weighing him down. He also had to shoulder the responsibility of Tyr's unhappy end. If only he had listened to Merlin's advice... twice; right after the trial and later that evening, when Merlin had insisted he talk to Tyr to discover the truth. Instead, he'd heeded Guinevere, and an innocent man had died at the hands of his magically perverted queen.

"You have no reason to feel guilty," Merlin offered with calm deliberation, as if he had read Arthur's thoughts.

"Why? If I'd heeded your warnings, Tyr might still be alive, and Guinevere might have been rescued from Morgana's clutches sooner. She would not have all those terrible deeds lurking in her subconscious, just waiting to strike her down..."

"Arthur, you could not have known. I barely understood what was happening back then. I only had an inkling that something wasn't right..." Merlin heaved a sigh and directed his eyes skyward; this dwelling on a past that couldn't be changed wasn't helping. With some effort, he turned his attention back to Arthur, who was still kneeling in the sludge. "Besides, do you think that is a good enough reason to come down here and hack a hunk of wood to pieces? Don't you think talking to her would have been a better option?"

"Probably, but I was afraid of making things worse for Guinevere," Arthur admitted grudgingly. His impotent fury was receding and the sticky feel of his rain drenched gambeson chafed against his skin. "Coming here was just a habit; a way of getting rid of my irritation..."

"These days, it's a way of killing yourself!" But as the fight went out of Arthur, Merlin relented. "You're going to have to figure out some other way of relieving your vexation. Come on." Merlin bent to help Arthur to his feet, but Leon beat him to it.

Unnoticed, both Leon and Percival had entered the tilt-yard and hurried to Merlin's aid.

"Sire, what are you doing out here in this storm?" Leon asked, his voice edged with worry as he pulled Arthur to his feet, while his hair curled damply on his creased forehead.

"Don't!" The King uttered one word, but it was a clear order. "Merlin has already read me the riot act. It was a foolish thing to do and I don't need anyone else to lecture me."

As Arthur straightened up, he started coughing and bent almost double again. Without instruction, Leon and Percival took hold of both his arms and they walked smartly, but carefully, ahead of Merlin, Arthur stumbling, as best he could, between them.

Retrieving Arthur's sword, thank goodness he hadn't brought out Excalibur, Merlin gave a last look around him and caught a glimpse of a raven circling one of the citadel's highest spires. He hoped his spell would work and the bird would fly off, before back tracking to Gaius' chamber. Of course, it could be a perfectly innocent bird, but somehow he thought not. What wild bird would fly in this storm?

By the time the group arrived back inside, all were miserably wet; Arthur the worst of all. Merlin caught sight of George and instructed the manservant to bring a hot bath to the royal chambers as quickly as possible. Since George was hovering around the main entrance, Merlin had no doubt that he was aware of The King's madcap outing and probably had anticipated the need for lots of hot water. Thus, he was not surprised when George informed him the tub would be delivered forthwith. He left the man to do his duty and hurried after Leon and Percival who were now almost carrying their king up the stairs.

Watching them turn the corner, Merlin silently prayed to the fates that Arthur's foolish escapade would not have serious repercussions. Kilgarrah, if you can help from beyond the veil, I beseech you, aid me to reinforce your spell!"

The Queen of Camelot was pacing before the freshly lit fire when the door opened and her husband was escorted in by his knights, who were reluctant to relinquish their grasp under his arms, as though he could not stand for himself. Guinevere stared, while around Arthur a pool of water was spreading across the floor.

"Quickly, Percival, hold him while I remove his armour." Leon set about unbuckling Arthur's vambraces, smiling encouragingly at Gwen when she came to help with his other arm. Between them, they worked quickly, removing the rest of his armour and pulling the already rusting chainmail over his head. Underneath, his gambeson and shirt were soaked through.

"Arthur, what were you doing?" Gwen asked, her fingers struggling to untie the tangled knots which held the padded garment together.

At that moment Merlin entered the room. "Your husband decided to go training this morning," he called, crossing to the fire and throwing on a few more logs, which he quickly set alight with a muttered spell. "And the gods forbid that a little rain should deter Camelot's greatest warrior."

Camelot's king directed a dirty look at his magical advisor's back. "You don't have to rub it in, Merlin. I know it was a crazy thing to do."

By this time, Leon, Percival and Gwen had Arthur stripped to his under garments, but the damp had seeped into his body and he shivered uncontrollably.

"Percival, fetch a dry cloak from the closet, and, Arthur, come sit by the fire." All trace of the anxious Guinevere had fled as she sought to tend her husband. "You need to get warm before you catch your death of cold."

"There's a hot bath on its way. George is organising it," Merlin said, holding his hands out to the heat.

"Thank you." Arthur leaned closer to the fire, the shuddering slowly easing out of his frozen limbs, helped by the heavy cape which Percival had draped around his shoulders. "Thanks. To all of you, but I'd prefer if you could keep quiet about my stupid stunt. I promise I won't try anything like that again."

Pins and needles attacked his fingers and toes as the blood started to flow back into his extremities. He'd be lucky if that was his only health problem caused by his foolishness, though the ache in his chest warned him that luck wasn't on his side.

There was a sharp knock on the door.

Guinevere turned. "Enter!" she called, her normally soft voice edged with anxiety.

George and his minions appeared with a tub and bath water. Arthur looked forward to sinking into its warm, welcoming depths, but he wasn't particularly keen on having an audience. Thanking the servants for their trouble, he dismissed them and sent Leon and Percival off to prepare the hall for this afternoon's meeting, while giving himself up to Guinevere's and Merlin's ministrations.

Once he was in the bath, Guinevere knelt by his side and prepared to help him bathe, rubbing a warmed cloth over his back before massaging the tension from his shoulders and neck. Merlin propped himself on the edge of the table, watching Arthur closely.

"How do you feel?" Merlin asked, his mouth turned down reproachfully. "And don't tell me any lies, because I know you too well to be fooled."

Clearing his throat, Arthur quickly glanced at his wife before answering. "Not so brilliant."

"That's hardly surprising," Guinevere said, unable to cast aside all her censure. "Why did you do it, Arthur?"

"Because he's an arrogant idiot," Merlin cut in. "Who thinks he knows what's best..."

Sinking lower in the tub, Arthur admitted sheepishly. "You're right. I've already said I'm sorry. It was a stupid idea to go training... especially in this weather, but do you know how hard it is for me to give it all up? All my life, my body has done everything I have expected it to, and it's difficult to accept that's no longer true..."

"Arthur..."

"No, Guinevere! Before you say anything else, please just listen, both of you." Arthur glanced from Gwen to Merlin. "I know I've probably mentioned this, but I do mean it. I realise I have to change my habits, but a king needs to be strong; I have to lead my people... I just have to figure out another way to do it than from the back of a horse with my sword in my hand."

"Arthur, you already have!" Merlin said, pushing away from the table. "Can't you see what's happening at these council meetings? The people are listening to you."

"Not Avebury and his friends!" The thought of the quarrelsome noble started Arthur coughing again, a rough hack which sliced through his chest.

"Gwen, quickly, fetch his medicine," Merlin instructed, sinking down by Arthur's side, one arm wrapping around The King's shoulder while his other hand covered the scar below Arthur's heart.

As Arthur's head lolled forward, Merlin muttered the words Kilgarrah had taught him, his eyes glowing intensely golden as he concentrated on moving the sliver of sword back along its path. His magic felt an almost imperceptible shift, and relief flooded through him, as Arthur's coughing lessened.

Gwen's hand held out the bottle. "Drink, Arthur!"

Completely contrite, and nearly unconscious, Arthur swallowed the concoction, though some dribbled down his chin.

"Help me, Gwen. We need to get him dry and back in bed."

Little was said over the next few minutes as the two friends worked together to make the man they cared for comfortable again, but once he was installed in his bed, resting on a mountain of pillows, Guinevere dared to ask.

"Has he done himself any permanent harm, Merlin?"

Once more, Merlin placed his hand over Arthur's chest, while he leaned close to listen. "He could have, but I managed to reverse the damage by repeating Kilgarrah's enchantment. After his soaking, his lungs sound more congested than they were, but Gaius' remedy should fix that. I'll confer with Gaius, but I'd say we need to increase the dosage for a few days."

Arthur groaned at that, and his heavy eyelids lifted. "I am awake, and I'd rather you didn't talk over me like I were a child."

"Then don't act like one," Guinevere said, peevishly. "Have you any idea of the fright you gave us all?"

"Yes," Arthur said flatly, aware he wasn't going to live down his actions any time soon. However, help came from an unexpected quarter.

"No more than you, Gwen." Merlin regarded his oldest friend in Camelot from the other side of the bed. "We are all worried about you, and I think that anxiety drove Arthur out into the rain."

Guinevere began backing off, looking very like a cornered doe seeking to escape the hunters.

"Merlin!" Arthur proved he wasn't too sick as he punched his adviser in the arm.

"Hey, that hurt!" said Merlin, rubbing his aching bicep.

"Honestly, the two of you. I give up!" Gwen decided this was a good time to make her escape. "The only thing you have to worry about me is that I'm over-worked and over-wrought with organising this Grand Council of yours, Arthur. I'll leave you in Merlin's capable hands and trust you will be recovered enough to reconvene the debate." Then she turned and swept from the room, her head held high, though, to her husband and her friend, her exit looked more like flight.

Arthur sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed, but found he had to sit for a second, waiting for the room to stop swaying like leaves in a storm. "Thanks, Merlin. That went down well."

"I did suggest you should talk to her about her nightmares."

"How can I talk to her when that is her reaction?" Finally, Arthur was able to rise, though he did steady himself by placing a hand, nonchalantly, on the bed post. "She changes the subject, or finds she has pressing business elsewhere. But now I'm left with only you, and, since I'm feeling well enough to get dressed, you can help me."

"Are you sure you're ready for that?"

"Yes!" Arthur gave his friend a regal stare, daring him not to argue. "I'm waiting, Merlin."

"But I'm no longer your servant!" Merlin suggested smugly.

"Actually, if you remember, I rescinded that order," Arthur replied quickly with an evil smile. "So you can start by finding me some clothes." Though Merlin rolled his eyes, he did obey. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't we going to put Morgana through some sort of test today, to find out if she is a sh... shadow."

"Shade!" Merlin's disembodied voice came from inside the wardrobe.

"I don't know, Merlin. Any colour will do... just pick something clean." Arthur had retrieved a pair of dry boots and was sitting on the end of his bed... waiting.

Merlin let out a guffaw. "Not a colour!"

But as Arthur glared at him, he said nothing more and there was silence as the two reverted to their old roles, Merlin handing Arthur his clothes and helping him dress. How did Merlin explain that he had already visited Morgana... and how angry was Arthur going to be?

"So, out with it," Arthur commanded, trying to manoeuvre his arms into his jacket which Merlin was, absent-mindedly, holding out somewhat askew.

"Huh?"

"I know you well enough by now to realise you're figuring out how to tell me some news I'm not going to like." Finally, fully dressed, Arthur rounded on Merlin and waited with his arms crossed.

"Oh, that!" Merlin busied himself straightening up the coverlet on the bed. "It's just that it's a Shade, not a Shadow, and it has nothing to do with the colour of your clothes."

"Rubbish..."

"Arthur, I think I know what a Shade is better than you..."

"I don't deny that, but that's not what you're trying to hide from me." Placing his hands on Merlin's shoulders, Arthur turned him round. "Now, we are not leaving this room until you come clean."

Internally, Merlin regretted the fact that his king was beginning to read him far better than he liked. "Alright, but speaking about this isn't going to be easy...!

"Nonsense, Merlin. You just use your lips and tongue as you just have..."

"Prat!" Merlin was about to plump up the bed pillows, when Arthur stopped him.

"Leave that! You're done with your servanty business today. Just sit down and tell me about Morgana... It is Morgana?"

"Yes. You're getting quite perceptive..."

Arthur looked like he could happily strangle his friend, but instead, he threw up his hands. "Then you must realise I am fast losing patience here," he said, sitting in his chair, mainly to restrain himself from shaking Merlin, at the very least. "So what did Morgana have to say?"

Merlin's eyebrows rose and he looked to the ceiling, searching for divine intervention, but needless to say, The Triple Goddess, and all the other gods were no help. "Not a lot," he answered, taking his sovereign's advice and sliding into a chair. "But, in my humble opinion, I don't think she's a Shade..."

"Humble?" Arthur squeaked sarcastically. "You're the most powerful warlock ever, so don't play the humble card with me. And tell me, when did you decide it was safe for you to visit Morgana on your own? I take it you went last night, after you left me?"

Merlin's fingers drummed nervously on the arm of his chair, but at Arthur's pointed glance he gave up and clasped his hands instead. "I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep before I'd confronted her... and I did check the wards were in place before I entered her cell. There are two guards outside, as well."

"Merlin, be careful... Please." Arthur leaned forward in his chair, his clear blue glance showing deep concern. "And before you reassure me that everything is fine, I am aware you are far more powerful than Morgana, but you don't hate, and you don't have her killer instincts. You're too ready to give people the benefit of the doubt." Arthur held his hands up placatory. "Now, I'm not saying that's a bad thing, and I truly don't want you to change... ever, but it does put you at a disadvantage when dealing with someone who once was your friend..."

"I did kill her!"

Arthur nodded. "You did. You had to! But you can't tell me you felt good about having to kill her."

"It made me sad, but Morgana had to die, and you weren't in any fit state..." Merlin stared back at his friend with equal understanding. "It didn't make you happy either. We both remembered the girl she once was."

"That Morgana was lost to us a long time ago," Arthur said quietly, mournfully, as his mind slipped back to a time when Morgana, Gwen, Merlin and he had been an idealistic young foursome, ready to right the wrongs of evildoers.

"What would you say if it were possible we could have that Morgana back?" Merlin edged forward in his seat, though trying to keep his eagerness from seeping into his words.

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Surely that is impossible?"

Merlin pondered the possibility before answering. "To be honest, I have no idea. I don't believe Morgana is a Shade, though you're right and we should do the test, regardless of what I think." His mouth felt dry as he contemplated what he was about to say. "Arthur, since she's arrived back in Camelot, my magic cannot sense any duplicity in Morgana, but I have no idea if that is fact, or if being a High Priestess means she can prevent me from sensing her true aura."

The atmosphere in the room seemed charged with unbelievable hope as Arthur rose, too agitated to remain seated. How did he feel about a redeemed Morgana? Could he forgive all the cruelties she had enacted on the people he loved and on his precious kingdom?

"But how can that be, Merlin? After all she has done, all the pain she has wrought? How can she put aside all that hatred and vengefulness she felt for us?" Arthur's fingers pressed hard into his temples, in a gesture very similar to Morgana's. "And how can we forget; wipe the slate clean? I'm not sure I can put all that behind us... I'm not sure I should!"

"You forgave, Gwen, when she was under Morgana's spell," Merlin reasoned, though truth be told, he wasn't very comfortable with that analogy. "She also forgot what she did when she was enchanted."

"Guinevere was innocent! She never chose the dark path as did Morgana," Arthur almost shouted angrily. "Do not compare them. Their situations are entirely different." He turned his back on his friend.

"Arthur, I never meant it like that!" Merlin jumped up and laid his hand gently on Arthur's shoulder. "Gwen always had a pure heart, because of that we were able to reach her and free her from the spell."

As Arthur's inflexible stance eased, Merlin girded his courage and spoke on... "But Morgana managed to twist Gwen to her own ends in just a few days, while she was under Morgause's influence for over a year. We have no idea what happened during that time, though clearly Morgause turned her against us..."

"Merlin, by the time she disappeared, she'd already begun to hate us." Arthur's voice held no animosity, only sorrow.

But once again Merlin disagreed. He walked directly in front of his king, holding Arthur's troubled gaze with his own. "No, I don't believe that... not completely. She hated Uther because he executed sorcerers, and she was terrified of what he might do to her if he found out she had magic, but I don't think she hated you. That time, when the Knights of Medhir attacked Camelot, she was still afraid for you!"

"Do you seriously think we could have stopped her abandoning us?" There was a faint glimmer of longing deep in Arthur's eyes.

This time the silence stretched out, seemingly endlessly, while Merlin, once again, questioned the wisdom of the choice he had made, so long ago, and Arthur waited with uncharacteristic patience.

"I suppose it might have been possible... but once I had poisoned her, there was no way back."

"You poisoned her?" Arthur backed away, saying nothing while he walked slowly to sit by the fire. He rested his head on the high backed chair, his eyes closed, and it seemed as if he might have fallen asleep. Eventually he sighed. "I ought to be shocked... but I'm not." Opening his eyes, he regarded Merlin with something akin to detachment. "Was Morgana the carrier of the sleeping sickness?"

"You could say that... It was a sickness caused by an enchantment, and Morgause needed a living being to maintain the spell." Merlin walked closer to Arthur. "I'd always thought Morgana was complicit, but now I'm not so sure. How did you know?"

"It was obvious there was something very strange about that sickness, and about those excuses why Morgana wasn't infected. It wasn't difficult to put it together when a High Priestess showed up with her carved minions, but I never thought Morgana was guilty of anything. I just thought Morgause had kidnapped her out of spite."

"Not out of spite. She did care for her sister, and when Morgana was dying, she blasted her way into the council chamber and threatened to kill me for what I'd done, instead I blackmailed her into lifting the spell by withholding the name of the poison. She wasn't happy, but the love for her sister outweighed her hatred for Uther. She lifted the enchantment..."

"And the Knights of Medhir collapsed into heaps of rubble," Arthur mused, remembering his relief.

"I gave her the poison. Everyone started waking up... and, as you saw, they both disappeared in one of those whirlwinds."

Arthur groaned, stretching his rigid muscles and smiling half-heartedly at Merlin. "I thought I would surely die, but once again, Merlin saved the day."

"You're not angry?" Merlin asked, not willing to believe his luck.

"If I was to be angry at every one of your revelations, Merlin, I'd probably spend my time in a permanent state of rage, and, to tell the truth, I don't have the energy." With a swift change of mood, he stood up briskly, grabbing Merlin's shoulder as he passed him. "Come on. We have a witch to test, and a raven to check on... It might surprise you, but I saw it too. It's going to be a busy day, and I'm exhausted just thinking about it!"

I hope you found this chapter worth the wait. I should be back to my normal schedule by next week. Please let me know if you liked or disliked this part, though I'm keeping my fingers crossed that you did enjoy reading about Arthur's escapade and Merlin's handling of the situation.

Thanks again for the reviews, and the fact that my following has now reached 100. I'm amazed and grateful.