"Elyan!" Arthur called out from horseback, seeing the familiar face among the confusion in the courtyard. People were milling about, running, carrying things, children were crying, knights and guards were giving orders. Arthur was almost tempted to jump down, join in, and try and help. But he had other places to be that night.

"Sire?" Elyan called back, pushing his way through the crowds to reach him. People jostled him on all sides.

Arthur's horse danced away to the right as his knight came forward, its ears pricked and its eyes wide, already startled by the noises and movement of the courtyard. Arthur pulled it back, patting its neck in an effort to calm the animal.

"Have you seen Merlin?" he shouted.

"No sire," Elyan called back, looking up at Arthur with a strange expression. Arthur couldn't figure it out at first, then realised that word had probably circulated about his father's death.

He was King, he suddenly remembered. And an orphan.

He brushed it off quickly. All such things could wait. "He's gone missing," he explained. "And I'm going after him."

"Out there, sire?" Elyan looked disturbed at the thought. "The woods are full of Morgana's men. Patrols are moving constantly. We've been lucky so far not to have encountered them with the groups of refugees. But we know they're there. If they capture you, sire – if they take you prisoner…"

"I'm not going to let them catch me," he insisted. "I'm going to find Merlin and bring him back. But – if something should happen…" he said, then broke off. If something did happen then they were in trouble. There was no heir now to the throne. If he died… "If something happens," he said. "Don't come looking for me. I'll make my own way back, no matter how long it takes."

"Yes sire," Elyan nodded, clearly not happy, but following orders.

Arthur inclined his head towards him in thanks, then turned his horse skilfully, and kicked it away over the cobblestones and out under the arch into the land beyond.

The fact that Elyan hadn't seen Merlin was a good thing. With so much chaos, one person could easily slip away. But it wouldn't have been so easy on horseback. Someone would surely have seen him. That meant he was most likely on foot, which meant that Arthur had the advantage. Hopefully he could catch up to him and stop him doing this ridiculous spell (whatever it was) and getting himself killed. Then he'd bring him back to Camelot, give him a good talking to, apologise somewhere along the line, and then they could all get some damned sleep!

As he rode, he shook his head to clear it, the cold air fresh on his tired face. He couldn't get the vision of his father's terrified final expression out of his mind. Gods, he hoped he didn't die like that: cold and alone, madness his only friend. He wanted to die old and content – in his bed preferably. He wanted to die having brought peace to his kingdom and reigned there for many years. It was his Camelot now, and he wanted it badly, wanted the kingdom he'd always dreamed of. And he wanted Gwen at his side.

Cautiously, he willed his horse on through the forest, riding fast but not at a gallop, conscious of the dangers the darkness brought, and the noise of hooves that could travel for many miles on cold nights like this. He was heading for a clearing that Gaius knew, a large clearing in the wood. He hadn't known for sure, but he'd guessed that it was where Merlin would most likely have gone.

Arthur rode between trees and bushes, gazing all around constantly, ears alert to danger, nerves stretched. It was much less than a league that he was travelling, but after only a short time, he felt ready to snap. Every roving animal was a potential enemy that night, every shadow a soldier waiting to leap out and kill him.

It was hard to tell exactly where he was in the dark, but he was thinking that he must be close to the clearing, when suddenly, all the air around him seemed to rush forward, as though a great wind had filled the forest. The trees whipped backwards and forwards, leaves picking up from the ground and swirling around him. Dirt and dust scratched at his face, his horse reared. Then a light followed, like an explosion, or something bursting into flames, so bright it broke the darkness in two, splitting the night, making him wince with its brightness and throw an arm up to cover his eyes.

It was only through sheer strength of will that he kept his seat on his panicking horse, and he struggled to bring the animal until control, figuring that losing it right now was really not going to improve his situation. He just wished it would be quiet. Its terrified whinnying seemed overly loud in his ears, and he imagined it bringing the enemy down upon him swiftly, and without mercy.

But then over the top of the whinnying, came the sound of something else, something that put his teeth on edge: a high-pitched scream. Not an animal, he was sure of that. It was human. And it was coming from the direction of the light.

Then all at once it went dark. The wind, the light, the screaming, all stopped, and the woods went back to normal.

Blowing out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding, Arthur calmed his horse again, wondering what the hell had just happened. He feared the worst – it had been that kind of night – and a feeling of dread began to settle in his stomach. Then he noticed that although the bright light was gone, it seemed to have left a legacy behind. Ahead of him in the woods, he could see something like a small fire burning. He wondered if the trees had been set alight. Curious, he urged his horse forward again, feeling the animal's resistance, and knowing the natural instinct of all living things was to run away from fire.

Suddenly, the trees around him moved again, not with the same force (though it did cause his poor horse to stumble backwards and then turn a complete circle as Arthur pulled on the reigns to correct it) but there was definite pressure in the air. And he couldn't be sure, but it did sound very much like massive wings beating overhead. He looked up, but it was too dark to see much through the trees. The moon was out, shining brightly, but all he could see were moving shadows.

He urged his horse forward again, determined now. And there ahead was the clearing, and the light at its centre, a light that seemed less bright now, fading even as his eyes adjusted to it. But it wasn't a fire; he could see that now. The light was coming from something on the ground, something that his eyes were now able to make out as a person.

Oh gods.

Throwing himself from his horse, ignoring the pulling ache in his shoulder as he did so, Arthur wrapped the reigns roughly round a branch before rushing forward out from the trees and into the clearing, his eyes fixed on the figure on the ground.

It was Merlin.

Around where he lay, the grass was black and scorched, steam or smoke rising from it and filling his nostrils with an acrid stench. He ignored it, and skidded down onto his knees beside his servant, feeling the warmth permeate immediately through the cloth of his trousers from the heat of the ground.

"Merlin?"

He lay, his eyes shut, and his skin glowing with an unnatural light, like a star fallen to earth. He didn't move, or flinch, or make any reaction to Arthur's presence at all. In his right hand, held by numb fingers, there lay a stone about the size of a man's fist. The stone was black.

Arthur didn't have a clue what to do. Magic was outside the realms of the every day for him, and he'd never seen anything else like this before in his life. Gaius had described the spell as being powerful, but he hadn't said anything about Merlin glowing. Then again, at least he appeared to be alive, and for that he was thankful. The way Gaius had been talking, he'd been fearing the worst, and whatever this was, it surely wasn't the worst.

Even as he watched, the glowing lessened even further, but he was extremely disturbed to suddenly see what looked rather like smoke coming from his servant's mouth – might have been steam – but whatever it was, it was disconcerting. On instinct, he put his hand to Merlin's cheek to see if he could slap him gently awake. But he drew back instantly with a hiss. His skin was scorching hot, hotter than the heat of any fever. It was surely a non-survivable heat, and yet here he was, living and breathing – okay he had smoke coming out of his mouth – but it passed for breathing.

Fearfully, Arthur looked around. If the light and the noise had brought him here, surely it might bring Morgana's men as well. They were vulnerable, just the two of them, and one too hot to even touch. But he couldn't just leave Merlin. He would have to sit and wait this out, hoping beyond hope that Merlin would recover before any attack came, or at least that he would cool down enough for Arthur to chuck him over his horse and take him back to the castle.

So he sat, listening to all the night noises, waiting for the sounds of twigs snapping underfoot, or rustling in the undergrowth that would signal the arrival of enemy troops. And all the time he watched and waited, while slowly, agonisingly slowly, the light emanating from his friend faded and faded, until it was all but gone, and the glow from the half full moon was all that illuminated them.

Merlin made a small noise and began to move.

"Merlin?" Arthur reached down tentatively to take his hand, relieved to find his skin still hot, but now not unbearably so.

His servant breathed out, wisps of smoke still visible in the cold night air. Then he opened his eyes, and Arthur flinched. His eyes were glowing the same colour that had now faded from the rest of him.

"Arthur?" his voice sounded dry.

"Yes."

"Where are we?"

"Some clearing in the woods," the King said, feeling sweet relief flood through him at hearing him talk. "You've been trying to do some ridiculous heroics that seem to have set everything on fire."

"Sorry."

"Don't be an idiot, Merlin. We just need to get you out of here."

Merlin's face crinkled in confusion, and slowly he shut his eyes then opened them again. "There was a moon," he said cryptically.

"What are you talking about?" Arthur wondered. In his head he was already moving on to the retrieval stage of this operation, and wondering whether it was best to take Merlin to the horse, or bring the horse to Merlin. The damn beast was so jittery, the former option was probably preferable.

"The sky was bright," he heard Merlin say and watched him licking his cracked lips. "It's dark now."

Arthur was confused. "No, the moon's still bright," he corrected brusquely.

"Oh," Merlin said simply.

Arthur froze, realisation hitting him hard. "You can't see?"

Slowly Merlin shook his head.

Merlin had done what no one had managed to do before. But only just.

The dragon's fire had been about him, inside him, burning him away from his very core. He had felt himself dying, the fight to stay alive shredding his soul and threatening to consume him in darkness with every painful, smouldering breath. The dragon's magic had invaded his body, searching out every bit of him, enveloping him, smothering him. He lost himself somewhere, willingly surrendering rather than enduring the screaming sensations that brought eternity into his veins in a crashing stream of overwhelming pain.

Then something had dragged him back from the edge, some will to live had pushed him gasping and flailing like a newborn towards the light, a light that was so bright it was unbearable.

Ironic then, that when he opened his eyes, all he could see was the spiralling blackness.

"The moon's still bright," he could hear Arthur say.

"Oh." His own voice sounded distant to his ears.

Arthur sounded sad with his next statement "You can't see?"

He shook his head.

Well, that hurt.

"No."

"Your eyes are…"

"What?"

"Well, they're… glowing."

"Glowing?"

"Yeah, you were all like that a moment ago, glowing. It surrounded you when I first got here. Now it's just in your eyes."

Arthur sounded slightly scared. "Oh," Merlin said again, then suddenly found it all rather funny.

"What?" Arthur was obviously trying to figure out why he was smiling.

Merlin's smile deepened slightly. "I just wish I could see your face," he said.

"Well," now Arthur sounded uncomfortable. "Maybe Gaius will be able do something about it," he suggested. "Do you think you can stand?"

Merlin shook his head again. That really hurt.

He supposed he should be grateful he was alive at all. In fact, he was amazed he was alive at all. He was pretty sure he'd died somewhere during the process, certainly he remembered not being able to breathe for really quite a long time. Maybe he was undead now, like a wraith, or one of Morgause's soldiers.

"You really should try," Arthur was insisting again.

"Not just yet," he said, blinking his eyes, finding the darkness miserably disorientating, like he was looking into a yawning abyss of nothing. Of course as soon as he thought that, a wave of vertigo swept through him, making his ears buzz and his mouth water.

"Well, you can't stay here all night," Arthur seemed to be trying to take charge.

Probably feeling guilty, Merlin thought. Good.

"These woods are full of Morgana's men," Arthur went on. "And I'm pretty certain that all the glowing lights and magical nonsense that's be going on around here will have acted rather like a beacon. So unless we want to be captured, we're going to have to move."

Merlin just shook his head. He never wanted to move again. His fingers closed around something in his hand: the dragon stone. It felt warm to the touch, different somehow, duller. He wondered if the spell had destroyed it.

"Let's get you vaguely upright anyway."

Merlin felt hands on him, pulling. "No – Arthur," he protested, but it was too late. The new King had levered him upwards off the safe sanctuary of the ground and the bliss of solidity that had come with it. Now sitting, Merlin felt the vertigo turn resolutely to nausea, and he tried to gulp in a few lungfuls of fresh air to calm his seething stomach. The abyss just seemed to lurch up and swallow him, over and over and over.

That thought pretty much ended the battle to hold onto his dinner, and his dignity. Groaning, he rolled himself awkwardly over and onto his knees, ignoring Arthur, who was saying something vaguely unimportant in the background, and was horribly sick.

He felt terrible, worse than any illness he could remember, worse than being poisoned or cursed. He was shivering now too, so weak that even kneeling was a struggle. Whatever the dragon had done to him seemed to be really messing with his body. He sincerely hoped it was going to be temporary. He'd known there was going to be a cost, but if he'd realised he was going to feel like this, he might have been content to let Camelot fall and damn the consequences.

But as he knelt there letting the cool air soothe him, the nausea began to die down. He felt less dizzy, more in control.

Then he felt strong hands take hold of him under his arms, and managed nothing more than a small surprised squeak of protest as Arthur pulled him up and dragged him a short distance away before easing him back to the ground.

The grass here was cool and soothing, but that soon set him shivering worse than before, and he clutched his jacket about him.

"Don't suppose you brought a blanket with you?" he asked Arthur jokingly through chattering teeth.

"No, but I do believe we have such things in the castle, along with food, a bed, medicines…"

Merlin sighed softly. "Gaius will be angry with me."

Arthur snorted. "I think he's more angry with me."

"He was pretty angry with you," Merlin agreed, wholeheartedly. "He called you an arrogant prat."

Arthur frowned. "Actually, that sounds more like something you would say," he pointed out.

"I may be paraphrasing," Merlin admitted, closing his eyes.

"Come on," Arthur said encouragingly. "You can't lie there all night. I wasn't joking about Morgana's army. You can ride my horse."

"Trotting horses being of course well known for their ability to ease a queasy stomach," Merlin groaned. But he did make an effort to move, and even tried to sit up now that he was feeling a bit better and knowing that being outside probably wasn't going to help him recover in the long term. Arthur was there to help and pulled him to his feet, and they stood there for a moment while Merlin got his balance. Then Arthur put an arm round him and together they began to stagger in the direction of Arthur's horse.

"So," Arthur attempted to make conversation, which Merlin found amusing for some reason. It was as if the royal couldn't stand silence, no matter what the situation. "Gaius said you were getting some powerful spell, and that's what all this was about?"

"Power of the dragon," Merlin told him. He felt Arthur stop.

"What?"

"The dragon invested me with his power," he elaborated. "That's what all the fire and burning was about."

"What dragon?" Arthur still hadn't started moving again. He'd clearly forgotten their situation in favour of being confused and generally astounded.

"The one I told you was dead, but actually isn't," Merlin said quickly. "I thought we were getting away from here before Morgana's men found us?"

Arthur made an annoyed sound and started moving again. But he kept talking. "Does this mean you're now going to be able to save Camelot?" he asked frankly.

"That's the idea," Merlin shot back with levity, wondering how the hell he was going to save anything without the ability to see or even stand upright without assistance.

Arthur was obviously wondering the same thing. "How?"

"I'm not entirely clear on that part myself," he admitted.

"The dragon didn't tell you?"

He noticed how Arthur emphasised the word: dragon. "No he was a bit angry at me and didn't give me all the details."

"Angry?"

"I forced him to do this," he said. "He was worried it was going to kill me. Guess he was wrong."

Arthur stopped again. "So the dragon thought this would kill you," he said. "And Gaius thought this would kill you. Why the hell did you go through with it? Just how stupid are you?"

Merlin sighed angrily. Here he was feeling awful, and Arthur was giving him a hard time. "Because," he muttered sulkily.

"Because what?"

"Because you were angry!" he shouted back, pulling away from Arthur, but finding the move disorientating and his legs lacking the strength to match his indignation. He felt Arthur's arm holding him up again, and wished he could shake him off. "And because you don't understand what it's like. You don't know what any of this is like. You don't know the responsibility I have, or how much I've been through to get to this point. I had to do this Arthur. I'm the only one who's able to save Camelot. Even if it kills me, even if you hate me. I'm the only one who can save you. I didn't have a choice."

There was silence then, a silence as there had been in Uther's chambers when Arthur had yelled at him. Merlin realised suddenly that being blind meant you missed out on all the symbols people gave off through their expressions and their body language. He had no idea how Arthur was going to react to his outburst.

But Arthur barely reacted at all. He simply turned him and walked him forward again. When he spoke, his voice sounded measured and calm, but he was speaking almost as though Merlin was a stranger, a hired mercenary. "If you defeat this demon Camelot will be forever in your debt," he said. "I assure you that none shall harm you. I'll make sure things are different."

Merlin heard the tone. He heard it and ignored it. "How about making magic legal?"

"Well, let's not – take that – I mean one step at a time…" Arthur all but stuttered.

Merlin found himself smiling just a little. Under all that bluster, it was still Arthur. And however angry he was at him, he was at least trying to help. And at least he was making some sort of an effort to understand.

They reached the horse, and Arthur lifted Merlin's hands out so that he could hold onto the saddle.

"Wait a moment."

"What?" Merlin wondered. The horse moved slightly, but fortunately stayed more or less still. He heard the sound of ripping. "Arthur, what on earth are you doing?" He felt something touch his face suddenly, and jumped in fright. "Arthur!"

"Sorry," the king apologised. "I'm just going to cover your eyes."

"Oh," that explained the ripping noise, he must have been tearing a strip of cloth from his tunic. Great something else to mend. "Why?" He felt the cloth fall over his eyes, and took one hand off the saddle to hold it in place while Arthur tightened it behind his head.

"Because," Arthur grunted slightly, and then slapped him almost jovially on the back. "Camelot guards, and in fact most people, tend to become slightly distressed when they see an individual with glowing eyes. Or at least, I'd imagine they would. This way we don't have to explain the whole dragon power thing to everyone we meet. We'll just say you – had an accident or something. Hit your head on a branch in the dark."

"Well, that's sounds like me," Merlin admitted.

"Okay," Arthur said, moving around behind him. "Let's get you up and get out of here before we really are discovered. I for one am needing my bed. And I wouldn't say no to breakfast, either."

TBC