*

The day after, Merlin feels well enough to get up. The tiredness still clings to him but he no longer feels like he is dragging lead weights every time he moves. The downside is that he feels well enough to try doing magic and whenever he tries to summon the power within him, the room spins in a nauseating swirl as if he were being tossed around in a whirlwind. Merlin ignores the sickness and pushes himself anyway. His breakfast ends up all over the King's royal bed sheets. For that, Arthur tries to keep him confined to his bed. After he drags the warlock to the physician and had the servants clean up the mess and air the room even though it is an unholy hour in the morning. Merlin narrowly talked Arthur out of getting four knights to carry him to the old physician's quarters that Lavern uses. Arthur chooses to be a stubborn prat at the worst times, the warlock thought. It wasn't like Merlin couldn't make his own anti-emetic.

"You have to let me do something, Arthur, or I'll..."

"You'll what?" Arthur says teasingly. "Were you going to stamp your foot?"

"I'll go insane! Arthur. I'm being serious. I've been doing nothing but lie in bed for three days. Let me do something."

Arthur watches the hustle and bustle of life in the courtyard as he escorts his lover back to their rooms, walking at snail pace. He did not want to tire his lover out – Merlin would never admit to being delicate, he thinks with a smile. "Alright," he relents, stopping in the shade of a pillar to look Merlin in the eye. "But promise me you won't try to use any magic until Lavern says you can. You must not over exert yourself, Merlin." Arthur can see several courtiers greeting him and he nods regally. "I'll send someone over to look after you," Arthur says brightly, pleased with the idea.

"Arthur." The warlock drags out the second syllable, a frown growing on his forehead.

"I'm being serious," Arthur parrots back to his lover. "You saved my life. I need to make sure nothing bad happens to you because of...whatever magicky thing you've done." He waves his hand around nonsensically and everyone around them gives him a deferential sort of bow just in case.

Merlin grins. It's at times like this that he is reminded of the boy Arthur, frank and not yet polished. The raw openness that makes you trust him with your secrets. Continuing to walk, Merlin murmurs in a low voice when they are inside the castle again. "I think my magic...I might have lost it. Like forever, maybe."

Arthur is about to ask what that is supposed to mean but he catches on quickly. He assumes then that Merlin's magic must have been the price paid for his life. He quickens his step defensively. "I...I'm sorry." Though he is not sure exactly what he is apologising for, he knows it was his fault. Arthur wants to tell him he'll do whatever it takes to get it back but he has no idea how to do such a thing.

"Don't be," Merlin says, thinking of Gaius. The late physician who went on his knees and swore to his King that he would no longer practice magic. Gaius, his mentor. The man had been the closest person he'd ever had to a father and a lump sticks in his throat as he realised how much he missed him. How much he missed having someone to go to. Gaius had still respected and maybe even loved Uther even though he had to give magic up. Maybe Gaius had not been born with it but Merlin knows you don't give something up like that without feeling some deep loss. Magic becomes a part of you – of who you are. It isn't just a simple matter of turning it off like a tap. Merlin manages to croak out something to fill the void between him and his King. Something to give Arthur hope. "I'll figure something out. Just be extra careful okay?"

The King nods, turning to leave. He will bury himself in work because he knows how to deal with that. It's easier than thinking that Merlin could end up resenting him. With his newly acquired eyes, the King could see Merlin's disappointment at the loss of his powers. He looks lost without it. Arthur supposes that Merlin has never really been without it – not using magic has always been a choice, even when his father had expressly forbidden it under pain of death. A long time ago, Arthur would have laughed if someone told him his clumsy manservant is actually a powerful sorcerer, maybe the most powerful mage in the whole of Albion. Now, he has gotten so used to Merlin's magic that it would be funny to imagine his lover without it because it is so much a part of him.

*

Merlin stews in his thoughts as he stirs the tincture he is making. It's a modification of one of Gaius' personal recipes. He turns to the other two cauldrons containing a sleeping draught and a wart remover respectively. Almost forgetting, the brunet reaches out his hand to summon the book he left in his room when he remembers himself.

Traditionally, the King's chambers has several studies, all well-maintained by servants but most of which are never used. Uther certainly never touched the library of magic books that had been kept by his predecessor. Arthur had the volumes of books taken from Camelot's restricted archives and re-shelved in the King's personal library as a gesture of his acceptance of Merlin's magic. It is in the room next to it that Merlin takes up residence, converting it into his private lab. It's one of the smaller studies but the warlock doesn't mind. He told Arthur he could magic it bigger if he really wanted to but there is no sense in walking to and from unnecessarily. Like whoever designed the physician's quarters to be reached by a flight of stairs when most common complaints are joint pain and broken legs from falls. So when Merlin became Court Magician and Court Physician and Arthur's advisor amongst many other things, Merlin decided it was time to move the physician's quarters. He had his pick of the castle. One of the perks of being the King's lover. Merlin also accepted Mordred as his apprentice, leaving the guardian duties to Lavern. The latter had been fairly useful in lightening his load as Court Physician when he hadn't been busy playing guardian or Druid Elder.

Mordred. Mordred who was no longer alive.

As Merlin went to fetch his book from the library, he wonders if he should go and talk to Lavern again or if he should wait for the Druid Elder to come to him.

"Right, stir counter-clockwise in a figure eight motion until the solution is an opaque blue," Merlin muttered to himself. He is reminded of how much he relies on magic and he resolves to take it less for granted when it comes back. If. When. When.

Morgana walks in just as he has finished bottling up the medicines, his handwriting scrawled over the white labels.

The warlock is not surprised, merely raising an eyebrow. Morgana is reminded momentarily of the late physician.

"While you're here, you might as well take the sleeping draught I made for you that we both know you're not going to take," Merlin says lightly.

"I didn't order one," Morgana says coldly.

Merlin's full lips curl into a wry smile. "I didn't say you ordered one. Take it, don't take it, it's not my concern. A note: the draught is a new, concentrated formula so don't drink the whole bottle." Merlin did not explain that he had to make the draught stronger compensate for his lack of magic. The less anyone knew about his loss of power, the better, Merlin thought.

Morgana eyes the warlock-come-physician with her perfectly painted features. She would refuse it out of principal however she thinks of the worry lines on Gwen's gentle face and she has made up her mind. Perusing the bottle suspiciously, Morgana takes the solution from Merlin, brushing his cold hands. She can feel it. He is changed somehow. She slips the medicine into the pouch she carries around.

"How is it that he's alive?" She does not bother with niceties. "I saw him die. He died."

"Yes. He did." Merlin smirks with the confidence of one with power, "I bartered with The Reaper for his body and soul. Then I did a Substitution ritual of the Old Religion to bring him back to life." With precise, even strokes, he chops the Valerian root into neat segments. In a conversational tone, Merlin says, "Mind passing me the honeysuckle just behind you, my lady?"

Morgana snatches the ingredient and then holds it out of reach as the words sink in. "Necromancy? Are you out of your mind? You performed necromancy? That is dark...dark...I don't even know the word for it...sorcery! How did you even meet The Reaper?"

"I summoned him, of course," Merlin answers matter-of-factly. "The honeysuckle if you please."

"You called Hell to you?" Morgana paces in front of Merlin's workstation, clearly agitated as she shoves the plants on Merlin's chopping board. "What have you done Merlin?"

Merlin stands back and wipes his hands. In an even tone, he says, "What you asked me to do." He takes the plant, stripping off the leaves. "If you don't mind getting your hands dirty, would you put the berries in a bowl?"

"What kind of game are you playing at?" Morgana says hotly, reaching for the stone bowl. The angular movements of her body are marked by her displeasure. "Why are you doing this?"

"Despite what you think of me, and I know you insist on considering me evil, but truly I am not out to play the villain. I did what needed to be done. As to why I'm doing this, I have just lost my apprentice so I'm just doing my job, my lady."

"I will not stand here to be mocked." Morgana slams the bowl down, task completed in record time.

"I would not dare to mock you Lady Morgana," Merlin says respectfully, his eyes lowered.

"You have done magic of the blackest kind, Merlin! It will rot your soul if you haven't bargained it away already! How much of yourself are you going to give away for Arthur? You are playing with fire. If you don't care for yourself then think of him. Don't bring him down with you. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe he was supposed to-"

"Don't you dare say it. His life is worth everything to me. I will gladly pay the price with my soul if that is what it takes to protect him. I thought you wanted him alive? Or have you changed your mind? You asked me to do everything in my power." Merlin takes up the knife again, crushing the pile of berries with the flat of his blade.

"But not this. I never thought you would cross this line. I wanted no part in this."

"You can't have it both ways." Merlin explains condescendingly. "Arthur's alive. He's here to fulfil his destiny. What more do you want from me?" He grinds the honeysuckle with the mortar and pestle with more force than necessary, refusing to look at her.

"I think the relationship you two have is unhealthy," Morgana says with her arms crossed, tangling her long sleeves, disapproval evident in her stance.

Merlin puts all the ingredients into the cauldron then pauses. "You want me to leave him," the warlock states flatly.

"You've done black magic. It will destroy you."

The warlock gives her a challenging look as if to say, so?

"I don't want Arthur getting hurt because of you."

Merlin laughs, saying, "You think I'm a bad influence?" as if the idea is completely absurd. He sprinkles some rosemary leaves into the pile then covers the mix. "I would do anything to protect him. I love him and I would never do anything to harm him. The magic I did. It was not what you think. It was love."

She snorts in disbelief. "You're an expert on black magic are you now?"

"I know enough." The implication was that he knew more than her and he could tell she was miffed. "Magic is merely a means to an end. Black magic seeks to destroy. I intend only to love."

"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions," Morgana recited to Merlin.

"I don't regret it. I would do it again in a heartbeat." He did not need to tell her that magic this strong could not be undone.

"You're deluded. He wouldn't have wanted you to do this."

"Morgana. Morgana," Merlin said placatingly like he was talking to a young child. "You think you know what he wants. I can give him what he needs."

"Well maybe you shouldn't."

"Why not?" Merlin sounds genuinely confused. "This is my destiny. He completes me. I am happy to give him everything he desires, why would I deny him what he needs?"

"But will he be happy if he finds out you've condemned yourself to hell for his sake?"

Merlin grabs Morgana's wrists in a vice hold, pulling her forward. "You will not divulge the contents of this conversation to Arthur," he says, each word like a command. She can feel him pressing hard enough to cut off her circulation but not hard enough to bruise.

"He's not stupid. Everything has a price," Morgana spits out acidly.

"You must never tell Arthur, do you hear me? I will not make him feel guilty. You will not make him doubt his worth." Morgana muses that Merlin sounds just like Uther with his certainty of being right. Refusing to listen to anyone else. The extremes in which he go to, to protect Arthur. Arthur protects his Kingdom and Merlin protects him. Arthur is Merlin's Kingdom. It wasn't that far of a stretch, after all since Merlin did rule over Arthur, Morgana thinks bitterly.

"I won't tell him but mark my words, no good will come of this." She juts out her chin defiantly. "The Substitution ritual. If he dies..."

"I will die, yes."

This confirms Morgana's suspicions. "You gave up your immortality for The Reaper?"

Merlin's blue eyes lock onto Morgana's. "Yes."

"What did you give to Arthur then?"

"My heart," the warlock says with a fond look on his face so innocent that Morgana cannot stand to continue accusing him.

She could not argue that Merlin did not love Arthur because he had proven over and over that he did. How do you say he loves Arthur too much? What if that meant that it was her that was wrong? That she did not love Arthur enough? The unease and fear had wormed its way back into her consciousness again and she struggled to keep it from consuming her. Tugging her flimsy bolero tighter around her body, she is dismayed to find that she had gone to Merlin for answers and came back with more questions.

*

He's wants to reach out to him but he can barely move his limbs. The pain is paralysing and he has never felt anything like it, his very nerves resonate with pain.

"Merlin! Help me!" He's fallen into Hell. He can hear screaming and he realises that it is his own. Arthur is horrified to find that Merlin is there too. Do something, he thinks, save yourself.

But it is clear that Merlin has no magic left and they can do nothing.

The fire keeps burning and he can smell burnt flesh. He is surrounded by sorcerers and they are laughing at him, their eyes ablaze with revenge.

*

Arthur wakes up with a start, breathing heavily, sheets tangled around his ankles.

One glance at the room tells him Merlin is sleeping fitfully too. The furniture is floating, a crashing orchestra of chests and books.

Merlin's eyes open and Arthur can see that they are a brilliant gold. The warlock sits up and all the furniture slams to the ground. It's back.

Arthur gives Merlin a relieved grin, cocking his head to the side.

A wave of his hand and everything is repaired, returning obediently to their rightful places.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin concentrates on their surroundings. The King's chambers. Arthur is beside him, alive. They're back and they're safe. He needs to know this is not a dream. Merlin kisses Arthur needily and they slide into place, hips, chests, thighs touching. Hands tug roughly at each others hair, lips tasting hungrily. Arthur reaches down between them and rubs their erections together.

"It felt so real," he pants between thrusts, pleasure wearing away at his inhibitions, allowing him to admit that he might have been afraid.

"It was just a dream," Merlin reassures, needing to convince himself. He steadies his voice, "Just a dream, no more." With a mischievous flash of his eyes, the oil flies into his hand. "Need you."

Arthur mumbles his consent into Merlin's collarbone, licking the salt of sweat and sucking at the delicate flesh there.

Afterward, Arthur can barely keep his eyes open. He can feel the scrawny body of Merlin pressed up against him and he is glad things are back to the way they were. He is thankful, somewhat selfishly, that Merlin has his magic to protect them both. Finally able to feel safe again, he falls asleep with Merlin's arms wrapped around him.

*

The morning after, when Arthur is gone, the warlock unleashes a dark curse on both Bayard and Urien. Merlin is not much worried about black magic anymore. He tells himself that it's for Arthur's protection and he feels the tentacles of guilt loosen its hold on him. It is a noble cause after all.

Magic returned to him, Merlin feels more like himself although he can't explain it. He gets his concoctions whipped up in record time so he is able to attend court sessions with Arthur. The brunet does not want to let his King out of his sight.

The warlock also notes that Morgana seems rather uncomfortable in his presence and is treating Merlin like the plague going so far as to avoid diplomatic meetings unless they are absolutely necessary. She looks more ghastly than ever, fatigue tearing her beauty from her.

*

Inevitably, Arthur suspects that there is more to his miraculous survival. Merlin and him, their relationship, it's different. They've always needed each other but now the need is more pronounced, even primal. They have sex more than ever. Arthur isn't complaining but it's not the exactly conducive to discussion. If he had to guess, they are avoiding talking about it. It is so much easier to hold each other and forget.

Arthur wants to know the price. The curiosity gnaws at him like hunger. As a king, knowledge is rarely denied to him and it is difficult for him not to demand to know. There is something about knowing that he could use his power but choosing not to. Arthur had promised his then manservant when they got together that they would be equals because he did not want to be served by an inferior. Arthur is an honourable man. Even though he had to bite his tongue to keep it from betraying him, he trusts Merlin to tell him in his own time.

"The relationship you two have is dangerous...and dysfunctional." Morgana said to Arthur on one of his visits to her. She knows that she is treading on thin ice when it comes to this topic but could not hold it back any long. On the nights that she is sure she is dreaming, she sees Merlin rape him. It is hard to tell the darkness of her dreams from the darkness of the night.

Arthur merely sighs, fiddling with the quill in his hand. "It's not dysfunctional. It's just...different. It's destiny. I've never felt so complete, Morgana. I don't expect you to understand. I just wish you'd stop doing this."

Morgana wonders if they practiced this or if they are both caught up in this delusion. The "it's destiny" epithet is the cure-all to all Arthur and Merlin related ailments.

"He saved my life. Are you saying he shouldn't have?" Arthur says accusingly, twisting the ring around his finger as he paused between signing the parchments in front of him.

She could see that it came at a terrible cost. It will destroy Merlin and then Merlin will destroy Arthur. It is not a matter of chance. In every single case of using dark magic that has been recorded – and she has looked it up – it has never turned out well. The Substitution Ritual is an obscure one and she could find very little information on it except for the fact that the donator usually is not the same as the enchanter. Because the ritual is fatal. By all rights, Merlin should not be alive. Neither should Arthur really. Still, she is compelled to defend Arthur's life. "Of course not," she says vehemently. "I'm glad you're alive. You're a great king." She drips the wax on the completed treaties and seals them for him.

"Then what's the problem?"

After a long silence she says gently, "I don't think he's good for you."

"He loves me, Morgana." He spreads his hands helplessly. His eyes, his golden eyes, so much like Merlin's beg her to understand.

But do you love him, she thinks. The words spring to mind on the tip of her tongue. Morgana wants to shatter that illusion yet she cannot. If he doesn't love Merlin then what could she do? And if he does, he would not listen to her over him anyway. She was twice damned. Finally, she says, "I don't think love is supposed to be like that."

His anger is not unexpected but the force of it is still cruel. Arthur stands, drawing himself up to his full height. "Says who? You?"

Morgana looks away, wincing.

"This is a relationship between me and him. You have to stop meddling. Why can't you just be happy for me?"

"I can't help what I see. I try. Really I'm trying. I just worry about you."

"Then try harder." Arthur snaps, not softening to Morgana's plea like he usually does. "Stop trying to judge us by how you think we should be. This is how we are, Morgana. You don't understand. What do you want me to do? Is there anything you really want to say or are we just going to go over this again?" He paces, crossing his arms. "Well?" he demands.

Spitefully, cursing Merlin inwardly for coming between them, she spits it out. "You have a scar on your chest, right over where your heart is. Merlin has an identical one. Have you ever asked him about it?"

Arthur is surprised but then he knows he shouldn't be. "He'll tell me when he is ready," he says confidently, masking his anxiety with the smoothness of a King. "So he did magical surgery to save my life, its old news."

"Have you noticed he doesn't have a heartbeat?"

Arthur narrows his golden eyes. "And that makes him evil?"

She can tell he's just all the more determined to defend his lover now. She cannot win by hurting him. "I'm not blaming you. It wasn't easy growing up with a king as a father." Choosing her words carefully, "I just think you've always been looking for someone to take care of you."

Arthur raises an eyebrow at the change in her demeanour. "Your point, Morgana? It sounds like you're just as messed up as I am then," he says bluntly.

"Even with love - there is still a right and wrong, Arthur. I thought you should know." She can't say any more. He's her brother and he doesn't deserve to have her insecurities piled on him. This is the gulf that she will never be able to cross. As much as she wants to save him, she knows that sometimes you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved. She can only tell him of the dangers that may come to pass, hope that he will be able to avoid them and save himself.

Arthur thanks her sarcastically and leaves, his cape billowing behind him. Though she knows it's not his intention, with every step, his boots echo ominously in the hallway: she cannot help but think that he is abandoning her.

*

The door to the king's chambers opens with a bang, startling Merlin from his reading. Arthur storms in, clearly troubled.

"I have been waiting for you to tell me because I trust you and I wanted to give you time but I think I deserve to know. What are you keeping from me, Merlin?"

To be continued: All crticism welcome.